౨ৎ hi, lovelies!! my name is cami, welcome to my blog!! ⋆˙⟡
"In a room the size of loneliness, my heart's the size of love. It contemplates its simple pretexts for happiness: the beauty of the flowers' wilting in a vase, the sapling you planted in our garden, and the canaries' song—the size of a window." -- Forugh Farrokhzad
⤷ all works are sapphic/wlw • i usually write for fem!reader but if you include a preference in your ask, i’ll adjust! • i don’t write smut and that's a real good thing bc it would be terribly written if i did • ADDRESSING AI • reblogs/requests are always appreciated!! ゛ ˎˊ˗
𓏲ּ𝄢 fluff ⛰︎slow burn ➴angst ☀︎series ❀ family fic
THE PITT:
baran al-hashimi ⋆ ౨ৎ˚⟡˖
⛰︎➴☀︎ the wound (is the place where the light enters you)baran al-hashimi accepts a new attending position at pittsburgh trauma medical center, hoping for a fresh start after years of hard choices and an uneasy divorce. she does not expect. to run into the woman she once loved with a depth that shaped her early adulthood.
𓏲ּ𝄢☀︎ let my love keep you safe now | part one | part two| part three | part four | part five (coming eventually!)
you have been dating your girlfriend, baran, for about 6 months when she asks you to come with her to celebrate nowruz and meet her family. suffice to say, you’re scared shitless. med!school au
𓏲ּ𝄢❀ sick days kaveh's school calls the hospital: your five-year-old son is a little sick. you and baran compete for who gets to leave work early to pick him up.
𓏲ּ𝄢❀ time and attention (love without measure) this time, baran is sick. you step up to the plate to take care of your wife.
𓏲𝄢 first, do no harm everyone at PTMC knows chief emergency attending baran al-hashimi does not play about strict adherence to medical procedure. but when her wife is injured in a car accident, she has to decide whether she's willing to compromise on the rules.
➴ you come around, i'm ruined this is the part of loving a doctor nobody warns you about: the missed dinners, the late nights, the absence. you miss your wife even when she's around you. you miss her more when she's not.
𓏲ּ𝄢 persuadeable age gap (r is late 20s, baran is 40) - you and baran have been hooking up for a few months, never really going beyond that. one satruday you run into her at your favorite museum, and she has a guest...
𓏲ּ𝄢❀ armed and dangerous is it really any surprise that baran goes all out for her son's bring-your-parent arts and crafts day?
➴ nothingman part 1 | part 2 you had baran had agreed to not start officially dating until she is no longer your boss at PTMC. but when she accepts a permanent position there, the plan falls apart, and so does your relationship.
➴ both arms cradle you now you come out to your conservative religious parents as gay, and your girlfriend baran is there to witness the fallout.
➴❀ my angel two years after kaveh, you and baran decide to try again for a child, but it ends before it really begins.
𓏲ּ𝄢❀ you can't always get what you want (but sometimes...) baran thought it would be a fun, 'cool' mom moment to take kaveh to the park late at night because a special pokemon got released. when it starts monsooning, there's really only person she can think to call
𓏲ּ𝄢❀ the doc is in! on a lazy weekend morning, your 5 year old son decides he wants to roleyplay you and your wife's job... kinda
cassie mckay ౨ৎ˚⟡˖
𓏲ּ𝄢 stop the world for a minute your period is an extra bitch this time around, so it's a damn good thing you have an angel of a girlfriend who’s more than willing to dote on you
𓏲ּ𝄢 the worst possible way to get her number working in PTMC, you have occasionally seen a bright-smiled, kind-eyed, very hot woman in the hallways, but the only thing you know about her is that her id has the "doctor" tag. you haven't had the chance to meet her properly until today. sucks that it's a meet cute from your deepest nightmares.
𓏲ּ𝄢i'll rewrite this whole life (and this time, there'll be so much love) cassie mckay reconnects with you, her estranged friend from high school, through a two-decades long misunderstanding that leads to something more
MARVEL:
natasha romanoff ⋆ ౨ৎ˚⟡
➴𓏲ּ𝄢 clumsy you are an absolute klutz, but natasha is there for you nontheless.
summary: the stress of working in healthcare has its way of manifesting in the body, but luckily, touch has a memory. or, you and baran share the love language of physical touch.
word count: 1.2k
tags: some hurt, lots of comfort; physical touch as a love language; fluff; established relationship
a/n: inspired by a dream i had, and special thanks to @lotties-ashwagandha and lesbian tess anon for encouraging me to turn it into this fic <3
From across the emergency department, you take one glance up from your charting and immediately see the tension gripping Baran’s body. You notice it the moment she exits the trauma bay—her shoulders rigid and her expression firm.
It’s enough for you to abandon your work without second thought and find her side.
“Can I borrow you for a moment?” You gently grab her elbow, leading her towards the doors to the ambulance bay before she can get swept away by another case.
“What’s wrong?” Baran’s voice is tight as she frowns, but she lets herself be guided into the fresh air. Her mind is locked on doctor-mode—though, you’re pretty sure if it never really turns off—and her worry remains focused on everyone else but herself. “This isn’t about earlier, is it?”
You leave the question unanswered. The reminder of your argument sends an ache to your chest, the fighting words echoing painfully in your head. Yet, in this moment you could not care less about who was right or wrong about whether or not the nurse from radiology was flirting with you, not when you can see Baran fighting some inner turmoil, so hard it’s on the verge of eating her alive.
“Give me your hands?” you ask, but she knows it’s not a question, as you’re already reaching to take her hands in yours. While confused, Baran doesn’t have it in her to fight you – again.
You gently but firmly grab her tightly clenched fists and guide her fingers out from their unyielding attack on her palm, which are undoubtedly decorated with crescent-shaped indents by now. As your hands now envelope hers, Baran visibly deflates, and you can see her starting to return to herself. Brushing her knuckles with the pad of your thumb, you offer a soft smile.
“Better?”
The corners of her mouth twitch, and Baran only nods, not trusting her voice.
For a moment, neither of you say anything, the only words passing between you spoken in the soft circles you're tracing against her clammy skin. Another moment passes, and then another. You don’t know how long you’re standing there, but you’re honestly surprised no one has come to whisk either you away.
Taking a deep breath, Baran opens her eyes.
“Thank you,” she murmurs with a small, tired smile as she squeezes your hands.
You take half a step towards her, asking for permission first, and when Baran doesn’t retreat, you step closer.
“I’m sorry about earlier,” Baran says.
You breathe in the warmth of her breath as you drop your head forward slowly, silently accepting her apology. When she meets you halfway, leaning her forehead against yours, you close your eyes.
“I’m sorry too,” you whisper, releasing one of your hands from her grip to tuck a loose curl behind her ear. “I didn’t mean to dismiss your feelings.”
Looking into her eyes, you leveled her intentful gaze with an earnest one of your own. “I wasn’t frustrated or upset with you. It just pains me that you would even think I’d want to be with someone else, and I’m frustrated with myself because there should not be a second in the day where you even question your place or your worth in my life.”
Baran shakes her head. “It’s not your fault, eshgham.”
Cupping your face with both her hands, she kisses you, swiftly but tenderly. “My heart beats with yours. There is never a moment I doubt your love, and I regret that my insecurities got the better of me earlier,” she says, and you do your best to blink away the stinging in your eyes.
“I’ve been in my own head lately, with yesterday’s MCI and Robby returning next week. I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.”
“Just talk to me next time?” You rest your hands on her shoulders, Baran has to bite back a moan, as your fingers work to loosen the knots.
“I will,” she agrees. “Are we okay?”
Baran peers at you through her lashes, her chocolate-brown eyes wide and glossy, and you’re happy to give in.
“I love you.”
––––
A week later, Baran watches as you rush out of the trauma bay, aggressively tearing off your gloves and gown before stuffing them in the trash with the hopes of throwing away your frustrations along with. She sees the way your jaw clenches and your nostrils flare, and she thinks this must have been the expression you saw her wearing the other day.
Her eyes follow you first, as you retreat towards the staff room, but no later are her legs moving to follow in your footsteps.
After splashing some water on your face, you tightly grip the sink counter, your knuckles white, when you hear the door open. The familiar scent of your partner’s perfume makes you second guess your place of refuge, and for a moment the private bathroom seems like the better, more lonely option.
“Hey.” Baran’s gentle voice in your ear helps to ground you. The smell of bergamot and vetiver floods your senses, and out of the corner of your eye you can see she’s only a few feet from you. “Can I touch you?”
If you were feeling yourself, you would have made some smart innuendo. But with your tired bones and a knot in your throat, you can only muster a weak nod.
Baran moves to stand behind you, and her hands land on your biceps. As her fingers press into your muscles, your grip on the counter loosens and you sag slightly against her front. She drops her hands so they rest on your waist, and she gently pulls you closer.
“Hey,” she repeats softly. “Look at me.”
You turn in her grasp, your back now against the cool tile. With one hand, Baran cups your face, the pads of her fingers tracing the curve of your jaw as if willing it to unclench.
Under her touch, the direct contact of her skin against yours, you melt completely, all the tension leaving your body as you practically collapse into her arms. Baran, of course, catches you. As you bury your face in the crook of her neck, she rubs soothing circles against your back, and you’re affirmed in your choice of retreating somewhere she can follow.
“Thank you.” You press a light kiss to her clavicle.
Baran doesn’t need to ask what for, your unspoken words linger in the air and she reads them as easily as she does you.
“No need to thank me, joonam.” She turns a little to press a kiss to the side of your head. “I’m here whenever you need me.”
You hum, comforted by the promise.
“I’m always going to need you,” you mumble into the fabric of her scrub top before lifting your head from her shoulder. Meeting her eyes, you feel lucky you have the rest of your life to get lost in the warm brown windows to her soul.
“Can we pick up Thai for dinner?” You jut out your bottom lip, and you can see Baran fighting to urge to kiss you.
“That’s what you need me for? Your tom kha gai cravings?” Baran smirks, raising a brow.
“Pad see ew,” you correct sassily. You move forward to press your body impossibly closer against hers before lowering your voice and adding, “Among other things.”
This elicits a chuckle from Baran’s mouth, and a cheeky grin forms across your face. Rolling her eyes, Baran pecks your awaiting lips.
“You’re lucky I love you,” she says before kissing you again, and you smile into her mouth.
okay my close and personal oomfs cami and @lotties-ashwagandha we will form a lesbian government and one of us will be lesbian president, lesbian vice president, and lesbian speaker of the house
dibs on not being the president @lotties-ashwagandha
hear me out. academia!au. recent grad samira mohan, just started her first year teaching philosophy at carnegie mellon, where she reunites with comparative politics and ethics!prof baran al-hashimi, whose class she took during undergrad.
[INT. ECLECTIC, WOMAN-OWNED BOOKSTORE IN PITTSBURGH. AFTERNOON]
Baran Al-Hashimi, 40, is enjoying a peaceful, solitary afternoon. Her son is with her ex-husband for the weekend, which means she has some extra time on her hands, which the woman has been spending strolling between shops. She is reaching for a book that’s caught her eye when she spots a familiar head of curly hair, pinned back into a gorgeous bun, red scarf wrapped around the woman’s neck.
i'm begging people to actually interact with emma's character instead of using her as someone's chew toy in your smut fic. where did all her character and personality go? i'm just a little tired of it. she's is canonically incredibly resilient and strong, and she's basically turned into this submissive little princess with no agency or opinion. the amount of sexualisation and infantalisation this character is getting in contrast to the amount of posts that actually discuss her character outside of ships or sex is insane. what are we doing
a night in, gelato, and arguing over who pays at the store. fluff! I’ve had this written for weeks but haven’t been able to decide on a good enough title for it until now. not rllyyyyyy my best work but I’ve been in a slump so whatever.
“I can get it, just let me—”
“No.”
“It’s fine, Gigi.”
Gigi pushes you aside and swipes her card through the reader before you can get yours out of your purse. “There, it’s taken care of.”
The cashier had been watching the two of you behind the counter impatiently, but he seems satisfied now that someone has paid for the bottle of wine and the container of coffee-flavored gelato.
He bags both of them, hands them over to you, and the two of you are off.
“I’ve been needing a night in,” Gigi says as you walk out to the car through the heavy summer heat that has begun to blanket the city. “Work has been absolutely fucked.”
You set your purchases in the backseat and get into the front, claiming the passenger side and reaching for Gigi’s hand after she claims the driver’s and starts the car.
“We have all weekend,” you tell her with a small smile. “We can rest, eat that entire container of gelato, drink all of the wine…”
“Shit, that sounds amazing.”
She pulls out of the parking lot and you start along the familiar roads leading back to her apartment — your apartment, since you’ve recently moved in with her.
You give her hand a squeeze, and you meet her eyes briefly when she glances at you. You never get tired of this: the simple moments with her, trips to the grocery store for silly and unnecessary things that you want like red wine and gelato, quiet car rides back with the playlist you made together playing in the background and the beauty of the city passing outside your window.
“You didn’t have to pay,” you say quietly. “I want to buy things for you, too.”
Gigi shakes her head, parking the car. Already, you’ve arrived at your building — the drive always seems shorter when you are with her.
“I like taking care of you,” Gigi says. She brings your joined hands to her lips and kisses your knuckles. “I’ll always take care of you.”
“I just don’t want you to feel like you have to.”
“I don’t.”
“I have my own money.”
“I know,” Gigi says, and leans over the center console to kiss you, one hand coming to rest on your thigh.
You place a hand at the back of her head, pulling her as close as you can in the confined space. You feel the warmth of her hand on your thigh traveling upwards, feel the quickening of her pulse under your fingertips when your hand drifts to her neck.
“You believe me, don’t you?” she asks, pulling back to meet your eyes. Hers are intense, dark and steady and beautiful, like she could spend hours just looking at you for the sake of it.
You nod. You reach down with your free hand and entwine it with hers. “I do.”
“Good.” Gigi pulls back, returning to her own seat. “I was gonna have to remind you.”
“Wait, wait, can I change my answer?”
She gets out and slams the car door shut, leaving you sighing at the missed opportunity.
—
“There’s one of those cat adoption events happening down at the park,” you say, reading off your phone. “You know, the ones where you go walk through and meet all the kittens and fall in love at first sight with the little grey one in the corner.”
“We’re not getting a kitten,” Gigi says firmly, pouring two glasses of wine. She turns to set one down on the kitchen island in front of you.
“Your kids would like it.”
“Nat just got them a dog.”
“Yeah, and you can be the cool mom that gets them a kitten,” you say as if it’s obvious. “You said you like taking care of me, right? Getting a cat would fall under that umbrella.”
She shakes her head, smiling incredulously. “Pulling that card, are we?”
You shrug. You set your phone down face-down on the island and walk around to meet her, leaning up to kiss her.
Gigi turns you gently, distracting you enough with her hands on your hips and her lips against yours that you hardly notice she’s guiding you anywhere until your back is pressed against the counter. She cradles your jaw with one hand, keeps the other on your hip.
“There are other ways I can take care of you,” she murmurs between kisses, and then pulls back to meet your eyes.
You hum disapprovingly. “There’s no time for that. What about the gelato?”
She tilts her head, brows raising. “Is that your biggest concern right now? Really?”
“That and the kitten.”
“We’re not getting—”
You cut her off with a kiss, drawing her close to you again with a hand fisted into the neck of her t-shirt, which is old and loose and worn out and makes your heart ache when she wears it because it reminds you that she’s comfortable around you without being made up all the time.
You hoist yourself up onto the kitchen island and pull her to stand between your parted legs, kissing her deeper. Gigi’s hands find your thighs, running up and down them greedily before coming up to sneak under your shirt to your waist. They rest lightly there, just feeling you, the warmth of your body.
“Your rings are cold,” you whisper, a shiver running through you. “Fuck, it’s like they’ve been in the freezer. Have you gotten into the gelato already?”
“Can you stop thinking about the gelato while I’m trying to get in your pants?”
“Is that still your plan?”
“I thought that was obvious.”
“Don’t shift the focus,” you say, nodding toward the freezer. “That pint better be intact, Gigi, or we’re going to have a very big problem.”
“Is that really your idea of breakup material?”
“Maybe. I wouldn’t test it if I were you.”
Gigi leans in to kiss you one last time before pulling you a little closer to the edge of the island. She doesn’t try to start anything else, doesn’t try to get anything out of you, just holds you. She stands between your legs and takes you in just for the sake of it, because she wants to be close to you in any way she is allowed.
“Will you paint my nails tonight?” Gigi asks softly. She pulls her hands out from under your shirt and shows you the chipped black polish on her nails. “The polish has started coming off. I hate when it chips like this.”
“Go get the polish,” you say. “I’ll do it now.”
“Are you sure?”
You nod, offering her a small smile. “I don’t mind. It’s a win for me, actually, because I know you won’t get into—”
“Please don’t say it.”
“I know you won’t get into the gelato,” you finish.
yet another banger guys. “i’ve got a crick from my overthinking” YEAH she does!!!! baran stretching herself thin in every part of her life and then wondering why she feels so exhausted 😔😔🤙🤙
Cami i had an 8 hour flight yesterday (hell) and my first thought was to download the full pdf of the wound and it DID NOT disappoint!! My 4th reread btw
HELP i am so touched that you chose my fic (and that you’ve read it 4 times through??? my god???) but also what a canon event. i once downloaded a 200k blackhill marvel fic coming back from france and a time was had so i see you
