i used to write a lot, but now i really just wander, repost, and hopefully try to make friends on here. if i feel like it, i'll write...
✴︎ i write for both x reader and character x character!!
✴︎ i write with either fem reader or gender neutral reader in mind, but i do not write for male characters
✴︎ i don't write smut (i just don't think it's in my capabilities)
✴︎ my main fandoms are the pitt and marvel, but i'm primarily focused on the pitt as of right now.
here you will find a collection of previous works i've written:
⤷ most of these are short and brief, but i'll create an improved an updated masterlist that separates my new and old works once i upload more writing
masterlist
check out #ann’s must reads for recs!
men + minors do not interact with my blog. i do not tolerate hate nor disrespect here. all my writing i post is solely my own and i do not provide permission for reposting on any other platform.
baran al-hashimi x fem!reader, 1.7k words. past yolanda garcia x baran and past yolanda garcia x reader.
inspired by this request. baran neglects to mention that she’s been working with her ex-girlfriend, yolanda garcia, during her time at ptmc. what makes it worse? yolanda is your ex, too, and you find out about her connection with your wife while joining baran at a work gala. this is by no means my best work and is in fact very silly but I’m in a slump so it’s okay.
“This doesn’t fit how I thought it would,” you say quietly, looking at yourself in the mirror. You smooth the front of your outfit down and turn to the side, examining the way it fits.
Baran, who has been sitting on the bed packing her purse with the necessities — extra lipstick, hand sanitizer, bandages for when her new shoes inevitably give her blisters — looks up briefly to meet your gaze in the mirror. “It fits you perfectly.”
“You think so?”
She zips up her purse, gets up off the bed and comes to stand behind you by the mirror. In its reflection you can see her outfit too, the long burgundy dress she bought specifically for this occasion, the black high heels.
“Look at me,” she says, and waits for you to glance back and meet her eyes. Her voice is measured, sure. “You’re perfect. You always look perfect, tonight is no different.”
You can’t hold her gaze. You look into the mirror instead, taking in the way you look beside one another. “We look good together.”
“We do. That’s why I want you with me tonight.”
You hum in feigned disapproval. “Is that the only reason?”
“Maybe.”
“Wow, you’re not even going to pretend otherwise?”
Baran steps closer, takes your left hand in both of hers and raises it to examine. She adjusts your diamond wedding ring, spinning to the center of your finger.
“This,” she says, “is why I want you with me. You’re mine, and I want to show you off.”
Your heart swells and you nod, unable to keep up with the joke anymore. She says it so easily — you’re mine — that it leaves you speechless.
“They’re going to love you,” Baran says. She leans in and presses a kiss to your temple, and when she pulls back there’s a mark on your face from her lipstick. “I love you.”
—
With a drink in your system and a seat comfortably close to Baran’s at your table, you’re feeling amazing.
Introductions went well with her coworkers. You’re able to put faces to names now, conversation is easy, and you’re comfortable as long as Baran stays at your side.
She leans close to you, speaking into your ear. “I told you they would love you. Smart people.”
You don’t deny it. You reach for her hand on the table, entwine your fingers with hers, and watch as the seats at your table keep filling.
“What do you think?” Baran asks. She looks at you hopefully.
“Everyone seems nice,” you say. “Except Robby. You were right about him.”
She nods. “Well, at least now you’ve seen him for yourself. It’ll make my stories more vivid.”
You raise your joined hands and press a kiss to her knuckles. “I like being here with you. We should come to more of these, I want to support you.”
“I’d like that.”
At the other end of the table, Trinity Santos leans in conspiratorially to whisper to Cassie. But she’s a terrible whisperer, you learn this quickly, and the whole table can hear it when she says, “Did Garcia and Walsh ride together?”
Beside you, Baran tenses. Her grip on your hand tightens, she shifts uncomfortably in her seat, and she turns to look at you guiltily.
“What’s wrong?” you ask, leaning closer to her. “Baran, are you okay?”
“I kind of—” she cuts herself off, shaking her head. With every passing second, she looks more anxious. “I’m sorry,” she whispers.
At first, you don’t understand why. Her words only make you nervous, and a thousand terrible possibilities flash through your mind all at once.
“I didn’t know she would be coming,” she continues. “Please stay calm. We can talk about it at home.”
You turn and look at the door to the event center and your stomach drops to your heels.
—
“I can't go back out there, Baran! Why didn’t you tell me?”
She sighs, leaning back against the sink in the restroom. She looks down at her shoes. “I didn’t think it was important.”
“You didn’t think to tell me that you’ve been working with your ex-girlfriend all this time? My ex? Our ex, which I can’t believe I’m even saying.”
Baran looks up to meet your eyes. She gives you a pleading look, begging you to let it go, but you can’t yet — you’re still angry.
“Don’t look at me like that,” you say, voice softer now. “Please don’t.”
“I’m not looking at you in any special way.”
“You’re giving me that look you do when you want me to forget whatever you’ve done to piss me off and pull you into my arms,” you accuse. “But that is not happening right now.”
“Baby…”
“No,” you interrupt. “There’s nothing you can say right now to make this better.”
“We share an ex,” she says. “So what? We’re gay, that’s the landscape. Everyone has dated everyone else, it’s nearly incestuous!”
“I’m not angry about that. I’m angry that you’ve had a thousand opportunities to tell me you work with her, and you haven’t taken any of them.”
“She works in surgery,” Baran says tiredly, as if she’s already thought this over a thousand times to assess the risks and talk herself down — she likely has. “She’s not always down in the ED.”
You cross your arms. “Do you talk to her?”
“When I have to, and it’s always professional. I dated Yolanda in college and it was nothing, less than nothing. I know your relationship with her was similar.”
“Then why didn’t you say anything?”
“Because I knew you would react this way,” she answers. “I knew you would be upset, and I didn’t want to make you upset. And you know very well that seeing Yolanda at the hospital would be at the bottom of the list of terrible things that happened on my first day at PTMC.”
That last part is probably true, and you won’t argue it. But you also won’t bend and tell her that everything is fine, you forgive her, it’s water under the bridge.
The restroom door opens. In walks Yolanda Garcia, who sees the two of you and pauses.
“Evening, ladies,” she says. She looks between you, a small smile playing on her lips as if she knows exactly what you and Baran have been in here arguing about. “Trouble in paradise?”
Baran gives her a sharp glance. “Yolanda, please.”
“No, no, I’m kidding. Seriously, I hope I didn’t cause any problems earlier. I walked in and the two of you disappeared.”
You can’t look at either of them. You don’t trust yourself. You study the floor, the space between the white tiles.
“Crazy how you two ended up together,” Yolanda says, crossing her arms. “Married and everything. I was like the curve in the queer little road that brought you together.”
“You didn’t bring us together,” you tell her bitterly. “If anything, you’re having the opposite effect.”
She clutches her chest as if you’ve just shot an arrow through her heart, like you’re some malevolent equivalent of Cupid. “Harsh.”
You move closer to Baran. You suddenly remember all the reasons you left Yolanda, all the reasons you started seeing Baran.
“Can you two argue about me somewhere else?” Yolanda asks. “I really have to pee, and I don’t want to hear about how much you two hate me while I’m tinkling.”
You reach out a hand for Baran to take. Immediately, she slips hers into it.
—
Despite the heavy summer heat that blankets the city during the day, Pittsburgh can still get chilly at night this time of year. You shiver when you walk out the doors of the convention center, but you don’t stop.
“We can’t go home,” Baran says. “I know you’re angry, but we can’t just leave!”
You lead her through the parking lot, past rows of cars that make you wish you’d parked closer.
“Being around Yolanda is part of my job!” she continues, struggling to keep up with you. “Can you slow down a little?”
You finally reach the car. You stop, turn around, and Baran nearly runs into you.
“You have to stop hiding things from me,” you say. “You know it’s a bad habit of yours to keep quiet about things you find upsetting. That needs to stop.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
“Yes,” she assures you, stepping closer. “This is exactly what I didn’t want. I don’t want to fight with you. After not telling you about her that first night, I thought I could avoid it altogether.”
You shake your head. “Look at where we are now.”
“Yes,” she says again, and grabs your left hand. She compares it to hers, making you look down at your matching diamond rings. “Look at where we are now.”
You can’t argue that.
“I’m married to you,” she reminds you. “You’re married to me. Yolanda has no place in this.”
“Do you promise?”
“I promise,” she meets your eyes. “You know the reasons why I left her. They were your reasons, too. That’s why we work well together.”
You look down at your rings again. You find yourself drifting closer to her, and if you tilted your head up then you would be in perfect range to kiss her.
“I don’t want anyone but you,” Baran says.
You look up, meeting her eyes briefly before leaning in and kissing her, drawing closer to her. The sharpest edges of your anger dull, she softens you.
“I shouldn’t have been so harsh,” you tell her quietly after you part.
She shakes her head. “I should have told you about Yolanda.”
You kiss her again, deeper this time, letting her back you up against the side of the car. The handle of the backseat door digs into your back and you gasp at the sharpness of the sensation, releasing a shaky exhale, and Baran’s lips dip down to your neck.
“Tell me what you want to do,” she murmurs. “Do you want to go home?”
You consider it. It’s appealing to abandon this place and go home with her, let this continue in the privacy of your home. But you’re all dressed up, the night has just begun, and you think Baran would buy you another expensive drink from the bar to atone for her mistakes if you asked her to.
“Not yet,” you answer. “You don’t get off the hook that easily.”
“I usually do. This must be a grave offense, because there’s this spot on your neck that if I…”
You push her away gently, kissing her one more time before taking her hand and leading her back through the parking lot.
warnings: no y/n used, butch/masc!Reader, brat!Baran, son is referred to as “Azizam” (‘My dear’ in Farsi), light smut, swearing, Baran can’t move on for the life of her, Reader is the #1 bird, smoking, mentions of being drunk, mentions of a makeout, jealousy
Ex!Wife Baran who is always late to parent meet-ups. You have been waiting for an hour in the parking lot of a Costco with your son in the backseat. “Work ran late.” or “There was an emergency, they needed me.” are usually the first words that come out of her mouth the moment she opens her car door.
Ex!Wife Baran who hugs her son and ruffles his hair before ushering him into her car. That doesn’t distract her from taking in your appearance as you put your son’s things in her trunk. You’re more put together than usual..
Ex!Wife Baran who stands there awkwardly, How does one usually ask their Ex wife where they’re going at 9 am in the morning? Her mind races, “Is it a work thing? No, your outfit is too casual. Maybe errands? But why put in that much effort. Is it because of me? Wait, oh God no, is it-" “I met someone.” You interrupt her spiraling.
Ex!Wife Baran who is unsure of what to do about this information. Her knuckles have turned white from how hard she has been gripping the steering wheel. Her radio is playing some Disney song that has been engraved into her brain while her son sings along behind her. She wants to scream, or cry, or both. Surely whatever you have with that bitch won’t last right?
Ex!Wife Baran who has been checking her phone for any notifications from you more than she would like to admit. Knowing your hand is most probably down in some girl's panties right now (which is highly unlikely, considering it's 10am and you said you’ll be at the farmer’s market getting to know each other) has set her off. The poor receptionist at the daycare had to handle the blunt end of her bad mood as she dropped off her son. A mental note was made to drop off baked goods next time as an apology.
Ex!Wife Baran whose mood hasn’t gone unnoticed in the Pitt. Her usual patient and understanding demeanor? Down the drain. “Just stop, I’ll do it.” “Dr. Santos, I expected more from you. What is this?” “Did you even go to medical school? Again.” Everyone has started walking on eggshells ever since Baran texted you at 10:17 am to let you know that Azizam was dropped off at daycare and all you sent was a like. A like? Just a like? Even an ‘okay’ would’ve been fine! Sorry if you were too busy ogling your new girl than properly texting the woman you were married to for six years.
Ex!Wife Baran who has to take a smoke break in the middle of her shift. It’s around 2 pm when her phone vibrates in her pocket. A text message from you pops up, “Azizam forgot Ser Monkey in my car. Will drop it off at yours later this evening if it’s alright.” She responds, “no problem, will be home around seven. See you.” You don’t reply after that.
Ex!Wife Baran who has been pacing in her apartment ever since she put her son to sleep which has been proven difficult without Ser Monkey beside him. It’s now 8:30 pm with no sign of you and she has looked in the mirror more times than she could count. She’s in the middle of her pep talk towards herself on why she shouldn’t be this nervous to see you when the doorbell rings.
Ex!Wife Baran who notices the faint lipstick stain on your neck as you hold Ser Monkey in your hand. She takes it from you, your hand brushing hers. “How was the date?” she asks, her voice clipped. You clear your throat, not really expecting her to start a conversation beyond “thanks for dropping it off.” “It was good.” “I can tell.” Your brows furrow slightly at the brattiness of her tone. “Baran, don’t start.” You sigh and pinch your nose, already sensing where this is going. “Don’t start what? You showing up at my doorstep almost two hours late?” You take a step forward, “she was drunk, I had to drop her off-” she interrupts you, “Was that before or after you fucked her senseless in the backseat of your car?” A dry scoff of disbelief leaves your throat. “That is not what happened.” Baran crosses her arms and leans against the doorframe. “Yeah? Then enlighten me.”
Ex!Wife Baran whose meaning of ‘enlighten’ is you in between her legs while she grips onto the bedsheets for dear life. A tattooed hand covering her mouth and another circled around her thigh. You did try to explain. Nothing really happened between you and the girl besides a light makeout which explains the kiss mark on your neck. The girl was young and way too drunk for anything else to happen so you opted to drop her off at her apartment with a promise to call her. A promise that will most probably be left empty from the way Baran’s nails dig into your back.
– summary it slipped out of your mouth before it even registered in your brain, you just called wanda ‘mommy’ by accident and she doesn’t seem to mind ? [f!reader x mommy!wanda]
– warnings mommy kink , fingering, finger sucking, thigh riding, marking, teasing, feral wanda :3, overstimulation, degrading, biting, spanking, name calling (sweetheart, good girl, malysh, etc.), kinda badly written aftercare ngl, not proofread, men & minors dni
– a/n comeback after 5 months, i've been busy bc of school :(( hope yall like this and are as feral for mommy wanda as i am
wanda had you cradled against her. your back against her front as she slipped her ringed fingers in and out of your crying cunt. she spoke the dirtiest words with the sweetest fucking tone as she thrusted her fingers into you, her other hand wiping tears away from your cheek.
"i can't, i can't, please! s' too much!" you cried into her chest, thighs begging to be closed because even you came down from your third orgasm, wanda never stopped the pace.
finally, she pulls her glistening fingers out of your cunt for the first time in… god knows how long, then holds it up to your face, spreading her fingers to show you the string of wetness connecting them.
“if you wanted me to stop you wouldn’t be making such a mess, hm ?” wanda hums, her lips brushing against your ear. she pushes her fingers into your mouth, pressing them against your tongue and making you taste yourself before thrusting the spit-soaked fingers back into your dripping cunt with a low groan.
“your mouth is telling me to stop…” she sighs, “but your pussy,” she lightly pinches your clit, sending waves of electricity up your spine and a loud moan out of your mouth, “is telling me a different story…”
“f-fuck !” you cry, tears brimming in your eyes, your thighs are trying their best to clamp shut but wanda keeps them open by hooking her legs around yours.
your back arches against her front, “mommy please ! i can’t-”
the title slips out of your mouth before it even registers in your brain.
then your eyes widen, you realise your slip up. wanda’s fingers stop their relentless thrusting.
“i- i don’t know why i said that…” you push yourself away from wanda and quickly scramble to explain yourself, “i- i didn’t mean to say that, it just slipped out, im sorry wand-”
before you can even complete your sentence, wanda reaches for your waist and flips your body around so you’re now lying on your back, she hovers over you and her fingers enter you again, “no, not wanda,” she shakes her head lightly, her face right above yours as her eyes darken in a way you haven’t seen before, "i'm your mommy, isn’t that right ?” she fucks into you even harder.
hearing wanda’s words, your pussy clenches around her fingers, a moan slips out of your lips as your hips jerk upwards against her hand, the movement presses your clit against her palm and your thighs immediately attempt to clamp shut despite the intrusion that is wanda’s body between them.
“yeah, that’s it sweetheart,” she mumbles, pressing kisses against your neck, her movements are sloppy and feral, teeth scraping against your skin and her free hand grabbing for whatever part of your body is available to her. she palms your breast before her nails dig into the soft skin, sure to leave red crescent moon shaped marks for the next few days.
but wanda still needs more, needs more contact, so her legs straddle your thigh as she continues pumping her fingers into you, her hips grind against your thigh and you can feel the wet patch forming on her panties.
“w-wanda what are y- too much- fuck…” you cry, her fingers pushing in and out of your pussy in a way you’ve never felt, her fingers repeatedly hit that spongey part inside of you making you let out a whorish moan at every thrust.
then a bite against a particularly sensitive part of your neck, the pain shoots through your body sharply but then melts down into a hot achy feeling between your legs that makes you grind against wanda’s fingers. you gasp and immediately reach for wanda’s head, not exactly pushing her away but your fingers tangle in her red hair, grasping at her scalp.
“what did i just tell you, huh ?” wanda asks you condescendingly, her lips brushing against your neck as she spoke, “just a dumb little girl…” she murmurs.
wanda’s lips finally leave your neck so her head can come up to look you in the eye, her pupils are blown in a way you never thought possible and glued to the way your eyes are brimming with fresh tears. her hand cups your cheek and her thumb brushes against your lips with uncharacteristic sweetness, you lean into her touch as you let out unintelligible whines.
“toomuchtoomuchtoomuch,” you cry, your face almost trying to burrow into wanda’s hand for some form of comfort as you squirm in her grasp, trying to escape the way she's plowing her fingers into your pussy. you were feeling so fucking sensitive after the many orgasms she gave you and she was anything but caring towards the way you were feeling right now. your hands reach between your thighs for wanda’s, grasping at her forearm to try to get her to slow down.
“uh uh, malysh,” she tuts, removing her hand from your cheek to grab your wrists and pin them above your head, “you wanted me to be your mommy, right ?” she asks with a slight tilt of her head, a small smirk forming on her lips, “i’m just giving you what you want.”
“maybe my ears are broken but… i don’t hear you saying your safe word, so lie there and take it like a good girl,” wanda’s voice is smooth as honey as she speaks, “you don’t want me to tie you up, do you ?” and it isn't a threat, it isn’t a question either, it’s a promise of what she’ll do to you if you deny her.
you panickily shake your head, “no- no i dont want that.” you hiccup, already imagining how long you'll be in this position if she ties you up, body vulnerable to everything she wants to do to you and more.
“that’s what i thought,” she smiles and then leans down to kiss your tear stained cheeks “now be a good girl for mommy, hm ? let mommy use you.”
wanda removes her grasp from your wrists, trusting that you’ll leave your arms up there and you do, hands curling up in an attempt to stop yourself from pushing wanda away from your sensitive cunt.
“what’s my name ?” she asks, her eyes scanning your face for every tremor of your lips and flutter of your eyelashes, she wants to make sure you give her the right answer, the answer you were giving her just now before getting so embarrassed.
you know what she wants to hear but that embarrassment adorning your cheeks doesn’t want to give in, doesn’t let you say what she wants to hear or what you, deep down, want to say. you open your mouth nervously, lips trembling as you give her your answer.
“wan-”
wrong answer.
suddenly there’s a red hot sting between your legs. wanda’s hand comes down on your clit, smacking it with precision, your thighs immediately try to clamp shut but wanda’s knee between your legs pushes outwards and makes sure that you can’t.
“no mommy, no !” you cry, hands immediately leaving their position above their head to try to push her hand away, “i’m sorry mommy ! please mommy !” you sob, immediately giving in to what she wants to hear, you didn’t need anymore convincing.
wanda hums, a little sound of satisfaction.
“hands back up.” wanda gives you a look, a reminder of her previous promise. her hand hovers above your clit as well, prepared to smack you again if you didn’t listen.
you agonisingly slowly put your hands back up above your head with a whine, a small protest of your own that wanda chooses not to do anything about. your legs are trembling, prepared to clamp shut again if she tries to smack you again.
“good girl.” she praises, her finger delve back into the velvety walls of your pussy with a small smile on her lips.
as wanda settles back into her rhythm, the pace is no longer just frantic, it’s relentless and methodical, every thrust of her fingers aim to draw a noise out of you, a whimper, a moan, a whine, it’s all music to wanda’s ears. her pussy continues grinding against your thigh, her arousal spreading across the expanse of your skin as she angles herself so that her clit hits against you perfectly every time, when she finally finds that spot her eyes roll back and she bites her lip, she lets out shallow breaths and small grunts as her hips grind against your thigh with the same rhythm that her fingers are fucking into you. her fingers hook deep in your cunt finding that sensitive, swollen spot and your hips buck upwards involuntarily.
“for someone who wanted me to stop, you seem awfully desperate…” wanda mutters, her voice dropping into that register that makes your stomach fill with jittery butterflies.
your cheeks grow into an even darker shade of red if possible from hearing her words. your hips grind against her hand as she fucks you, everything that happened, the way she smacked your pussy, her fingers in your cunt, the humiliation from accidentally calling her mommy, her lower register, it all melted together into a hot tingly knot in your lower stomach.
“fuck…” wanda groans, her hips pushing against your thigh with her head keeled back. she looks down at her fingers disappearing in and out of your pussy and almost has to stop herself from letting out a moan.
“gonna cum all pretty on mommy’s fingers like a good girl ?” wanda watches you get closer, watches that feeling build up again despite the overstimulation, all while knowing that you know she’s not gonna stop.
“i can’t, mommy… its too much…” you whine.
“yes you can, malysh. you’re gonna cum for me one last time, just- fuck- one more and we’re all done,” wanda bites her lip, rubbing your clit even harder, her hips starting to grind against your hips sloppier, her breaths get shallower, clear that she was also close.
your back arches violently with the way her fingers curl into you and your walls clench around her fingers, practically sucking her in.
“just one more lyubov, i know my good girl can do it.” her voice feels like a hot chill running down your spine. her voice trembles as she speaks, she’s almost there too.
every muscle in your body locks tight, your back bowing off the mattress as a loud combination of a moan and whine gets torn out of your lungs. it’s all too much and too everything and all you can do is ride the sensation that wanda is making you endure.
before you know it, your legs shake and you cover wanda’s hand with your release. wanda’s hips press particularly hard against your thigh and she cums not too long after, her fingers in your cunt stopping their motions as her pussy squirts all over your thigh.
“good girl- good fucking girl- god- mommy’s dirty little girl” wanda gasps, she leans forward and trails kisses against your neck, moving up until her lips meet yours.
“mommy don’t stop, mommy please-” you cry against her lips, hips wiggling, clearly wanting her fingers in you again. wanda lets you ride out your orgasm on her fingers, it feels all too much and you were clearly too sensitive down there right now but it just felt so fucking good you couldn’t get enough.
“thank you mommy- thank you thank you thank you” you mumble as you come down from your orgasm, “thank you mommy.”
your head gets fuzzy and goes to that floaty headspace wanda loves you in, you feel like you’re floating, held in place and still on earth only by the weight of wanda’s body and the heavy intoxicating pull of her presence.
when the aftershocks begin to subside, leaving you heavy limbed and too tired to move, you feel wanda’s fingers leave you and you whine, not enjoying the fullness that was taken away from you. then you feel a kiss against your forehead, wanda says a few words that didn’t register in your brain and her presence falls away.
a few seconds after she leaves is only when you truly realise that she’s left. your eyes blink against the lights that look way harsher than usual and you bite your lip anxiously.
“mommy ? mommy where are you…” you mumble, curling in on yourself, missing her warmth.
her voice comes from afar, “i’m coming malysh, mommy’s right here, she just went to grab something to make you feel better, okay baby ?”
it all went in one ear and out the other for you, just a string of words pieced together that didn’t make any sense.
just as you were about to call for her again, she appears in front of you, you smile and your arms weakly reach out for her.
“want you.”
wanda lets out a happy sigh, “we gotta clean you up moya lyubov, afterwards we can cuddle okay ?”
you nod sleepily, feeling wanda press the warm towel against your skin. you wiggle a little when wanda softly rubs the towel against your sticky inner thighs, they still felt sensitive and the towel felt rough against your skin.
“shhh it’s okay baby, we’re almost done,” wanda reassures you, making quick work with cleaning your thighs before moving on. it was probably only 5 minutes but it already felt like hours to you.
when wanda was finally done, she leaves you again for a moment, but this time she gives you a pillow to cuddle while you waited.
she took her time away to put the towel in the laundry basket and clean herself up but before you knew it, you felt a dip in the bed and slender arms wrap around your waist, pulling you closer to wanda.
she pulls you close and guides your head to rest against her chest, pressing a kiss on the top of your head.
“you did so good for me today malysh, i love you so much,” she mutters praises between kisses against your head. all the while, your eyes slowly flutter shut as you drift away, listening to the sound of wanda’s voic as you fall asleep.
– a/n can u guys tell idk how to write orgasms and aftercare idk. i like lowkey need to start reading more orgasm and (especially) aftercare writing this is embarrassing 💔 like i want everyone to know that this fic was delayed by a day bc i didn’t like how i wrote the aftercare, i still don’t and cringed at it but i gave up 🥲🥲🥲
extra a/n this is my third attempt at posting this tumblr pls stop being mean, im just a girl who wants mommy wanda inside of me okay thank you
nothingman, pt. 2 (baran al-hashimi x reader) ˚₊· ͟͟❥ wc: 2.7k
read part one here
tags: angst, hurt no comfort, nurse!reader, boss!baran, exes
notes: this one took FOREVER and was only able to happen bc i discovered the breathtaking poem "reborn" by iranian poet forugh farrokhzad (called تولدی دیگر in farsi!) and was so struck by it it became the organizing inspo for this final part because it was simply too perfect. hopefully it hits you the way it hit me >>> read the original farsi here | read the translated english here |
ꕥ
"Alas, this is my lot. This is my lot. My lot is a sky that can be shut out by the mere hanging of a curtain."
The pitt is quick to remold itself around the lost body. You were beloved, not to get anything confused, but there were simply so many bodies to field and treat and discharge and then admit more that there was no mourning period. At one point there were twelve nurses circulating in the pitt at any given point and now there were eleven.
It’s a mini catastrophe for Baran. She’d never really been in a role before that required her to be personally involved in the hiring process, though it felt like karma coming to bite her that she had to sit through each and every interview knowing that it was you every one was being compared too. It was you that held left because she had made you leave.
Baran sighs and sets down the folder, hands coming up to press deep into her eyes.
“Not that one either?” Gloria muses from her left. Baran likes Gloria, at least far more than the average doctor in this hospital, but she’s been a nuisance the entire hiring process. Gloria suggests Baran calls you and asks you politely to come back. After the fourth attempt, Baran had snapped that if Gloria missed you so dearly, she could call you herself.
“He had no previous experience in a trauma center,” Baran sighs, tipping her head back against the wall from her swivel chair. “That would be fine if we were hiring a new RN, but Y/N was an NP, so we need a new one of those.”
Gloria just stares blankly at her, and Baran is reminded how little this woman actually understands the inner workings of the hospital. She’s a glorified bureaucrat.
“More schooling,” Baran summarizes. She’s too tired to say more.
“There have to be more NPs in the Pittsburgh area,” Gloria says. “Why didn’t we send out a hiring request specifically for those?”
“We did. There’s a job market crisis, though, Gloria, it’s no surprise anyone even semi-qualified decides just to give it a shot.”
“Well, that seems like a waste of everyone’s time.”
“Well, you could try to sympathize with the unemployed people of Pittsburgh.”
Gloria shoots her a look at that, as do the three other men in the room whose names Baran can’t remember but doesn’t care to ask, because no one in this room cares to pronounce her name right. They can all fuck right off.
“Is there a problem, Dr. Al-Hashimi?” one of the bald men asks, and Baran wants to rip out her hair at the butchering of her name even after two years of her fronting the ER.
“Al-Hash-ih-mee,” she corrects, eyes already flipping through the next application. “Once again, it doesn’t rhyme with ‘creamy.’ I spelled phonetically on my application when you hired me, unless none of you actually read it?”
“Baran,” Gloria gasps, head swivelling to her. “Should we all take a break?”
Baran is already standing. “I think that would be wise.”
Gloria and the three men reluctantly stand and automatically move to huddle at the other side of the conference table, but Baran has no interest in debriefing with any of them. She finds the door and shoves it open open-palmed and lets her feet carry her back into the ER.
Samira winces when they see her. “That bad?”
Baran just shakes her head, both hands running over her head to try and smooth down the hair. “It’s ridiculous. They’re all imbeciles who just want to get another body in here so this can get off their plate. Gloria didn’t even know the qualifications for the role.”
Samira grimaces, turning to survey the pitt. From an outward perspective one probably couldn’t visibly detect how understaffed they are, but ask any patient, any doctor, any nurse. They’re drowning. “What, is she suggesting we lower the requirements?”
Baran huffs a laugh. “No. I won’t stand for that. They’re all just lazy, as I said, and aren’t actually interested in hiring someone with the same talent as—”
She swallows your name sourly.
Samira sighs, allowing their weight to rest against the wall as they tuck their chart under their arm. “I still can’t believe Y/N is gone. Trin and I have texted her probably no less than twenty times each asking her to get drinks or something but it’s been radio silence.”
Baran intentionally doesn’t display her surprise. “Oh, really? Nothing? What about with Javadi?”
“Nothing either,” Samira shrugs. “I can’t tell if she blocked all of us or got a new phone or what. I just hope she’s okay, finding a new job right now has to be a bitch.”
Samira pauses, eyes going wide, “I mean—”
“I don’t care if you curse, Samira,” Baran sighed, “I agree with you. It can’t be easy.”
“Just, like, did we ever get a reason? Did she seriously just Irish goodbye all of us?”
Baran’s phone buzzes with a text from Gloria, already, asking if she’s calmed down enough to ‘revisit the agenda.’ Baran scans over the incoming admits out of some mildly masochistic hope someone will come in injured enough to offer her an excuse to ditch. But the ER, probably just to spite her, is relatively calm.
She tucks her phone away. “Y/N had personal leave. She was entitled.”
“Sure, sure,” Samira nods. “It just doesn’t seem like her. But, maybe I didn’t know her very well.”
No, Baran thinks, maybe I didn’t either.
ꕥ
"My lot is descending a lonely staircase to something rotting and falling apart in its exile."
You don’t have enough money to leave Pittsburgh entirely and take root somewhere new, but you have enough self-respect to know you cannot work at PTMC anymore.
Maybe it was stupid think you ever could’ve. You know yourself well enough to know how it would have grated on you, trying to balance the line between Baran as a boss and Baran as a lover. There’s a power dynamic there that you can’t ignore as much as you love her. Or, loved. Whatever.
The past two weeks since you left PTMC have not been fun. The first three nights Baran came to your apartment and knocked for thirty minutes straight, but you just put in your airpods and blasted music and waited her out. You knew she wouldn’t stay forever because her maternal instincts would pull her back to her son, and sure enough she’d always be gone by 9.
The fourth night you printed out a piece of paper that said “WARNING: AGGRESSIVE DOG ON PROPERTY, WILL BITE!” and slapped it on your apartment door. The millisecond you heard her first knock you pulled up a 30 minute long “angry dogs barking” video on YouTube and used that to drown her out. She stopped trying to talk to you in-person after that.
But Baran hasn’t stopped messaging you. Oh, no. Every day you wake up to at least five emails from her to your work email (you’ve blocked her number over text, no clue how she found out.) Usually two of them are long-winded pleas for you to come back to PTMC. A couple others are forwarded notices of another hospital’s job opening. Occasionally she’ll send a link to a government benefit, a detailed infographic on how to collect unemployment, a PDF of a peer-reviewed article about the psychological effects of job loss. Sometimes it’s as simple as “I hope you’re okay. Let me know if you need anything.” Those ones you delete with a shaking finger.
It’s patronizing and oppressive but also painful because you can picture her perfectly, hip against her marble counter in the early mornings, head half-tilted to make sure Kaveh is brushing his teeth, shaky thumbs tapping out message after message out of worry. She doesn’t want you to sink. She doesn’t know if you already have.
You watch the bubbles accumulate from Donnie, Dana, and Perlah who always signs off her messages with a “heart, P & P” so you know Princess is fretting over you too. Those you answer. Nurses look out for nurses, and you know whatever you say to them won’t be passed along.
Most of Dana’s messages are light-hearted and easy. She offers to smuggle you back in, give you a haircut and dye your hair and give you a nose piercing (she reveals she had one in her teenage years, she’ll send you a photo if you come back) so that Baran won’t spot you. They’ll give you a kickass pseudonym witness-protection style. All you have to do is come home.
You answer her always, but refuse and refuse. Eventually, Dana’s messages dwindle.
Samira and Trinity you aren’t as quick to answer. You’re close in age, you’ve gotten drinks with them a few times, and Trinity introduced you to your favorite gay bar so you’ll always owe her for that. But it’s more likely than not that Baran sent them and you aren’t willing to take any chances. You’re not giving Baran a back channel into your life.
After the third week you get accepted into UPMC Mercy, center of the city, level one trauma center. Their scrubs are nicer and their ED is better staffed and they give you a lot of command. The staff is friendly and you like the charge nurse and the chief attending is a similarly strong-willed woman, firm but kind, but you’re mercifully not in love with her. It’s almost, almost perfect.
ꕥ
"My lot is a gloomy stroll in a grove of memories, and dying from longing for a voice that says: I love your hands."
“Fuck, he’s losing too much too fast,” Langdon is panting, stuffing more gauze into the patient’s open chest. “I think I nicked something on the way in, his breath sounds are diminished on the left. Do we go FAST exam?”
“Yes, someone get the ultrasound,” Baran orders, rounding the bed in a rush, gloves snapping on, gown being tied behind her neck. “It’s either tension pneumo or hemothorax. Langdon, get the packing out of his chest.”
He obeys and the blood comes faster, pooling in current up and out of the chest cavity and all over the floor. It just pumps and pumps and pumps.
“Jesus fuck,” Trinity whines, “This guy is gonna crash like this. Two units won’t even touch this.”
“So we call for more than two units,” Baran calls back, probe pressing into the man’s chest. “Can someone get on that?”
“I’ve got it,” Samira rushes to the phone, dodging body after body to the corner. There are so many goddamn people in the room.
Baran remembers you beside her during cases like these. You'd have already had the pressure bag primed. You'd have caught her eye once and jerked your head for which end you were gonna take so she wouldn't have to spend breath asking.
If the case went well you would’ve been grinning luminously with a slightly sweaty-face and you would’ve high-fived her because you found it so funny to watch her awkwardly lift her hand to receive it. Then you’d have ridden her ass about it for at least the next hour, because “you make such a weird face whenever I do this, B,” and she’d jokingly pout for the sake of the bit even though she really wasn’t sure what expression one was supposed to wear when being high-fived.
She would’ve watched you giggle and ride the adrenaline high, and she too would’ve been consumed by the sheer joy that pulsed out of you. She would’ve waited thirty minutes until she was certain no eyes were on the two of you. She would’ve pulled you aside and kissed that grinning face and invited you over for dinner, and she knows you would’ve gotten that twinkly look of smug satisfaction in your eyes from the proof that she liked you and you would’ve said yes.
“Where the hell is CT surg?”
“Who the hell cares about CT surg right now? We can tell something fucked him up, we need to stop the bleed.”
“Langdon, Santos, not now,” Baran snaps. “We need to get a chest tube in. Trinity, eyes up.”
The resident snaps-to immediately and rushes to Baran’s side and the tube goes in, and the blood rushes up into it fast and just keeps on filling. It hits six hundred mils easily and just keeps pouring.
Someone needs to be calling the blood bank, he’ll need a central line, he’ll need to go to the OR, he needs—
“Can someone get Y/N in here?” Baran hears herself beg, overwhelmed, and then she freezes. She physically feels all eyes slide and stay on her as everyone waits.
“Perlah, I meant,” she breathes. “Or Jesse, or Donnie. Whoever’s available. Just someone get me a nurse, please.”
Perlah and Princess fly in probably forty seconds later and immediately jump in. They’re magnificent, and so are Frank and Samira and Trinity, and somehow they keep the man on the cot from pumping out all of the blood in his body onto the floor of the room.
Baran's hands are red to the wrist in the aftermath. Absurdly she thinks of a softer set of hands. It’s not hard to recall the feeling of hard-earned callouses against the apples of her cheeks. The unique feeling of skin, of tracing your current-like veins up the length of your arms to where they disappear under your palms, imagining the life running under your skin where she would press. She really had you in the palm of her hand.
Well, that sounds awful. She means it as tenderly as one can; her memory tilts toward you even now, how she was able to feel the proof of your living body under the press of a finger. She means it the way only a doctor can means it, because she understood that was the ultimate responsibility and because you were young, and breakable, and irreplaceable. You were so beautifully alive in her hands, and now you were gone.
ꕥ
"I plant my hands in the garden soil— I will sprout, I know, I know, I know. And in the hollow of my ink-stained palms swallows will make their nest."
This is my lot.
There is an apartment on the fifth floor of an apartment building on the West End of Pittsburgh with no air conditioning to which she used to have the key. There is a closet in the main bedroom where she used to change into pajamas and crawl into your bed.
This is my lot.
Twice a week she reads a discharge folder from a hospital she doesn’t work at. There is a man at Mercy who owes her nothing, who only answers because she once saved his sister's life several years back. He reports you are doing well, the best hire they have had in years, and she reads it at the kitchen counter and thinks, maybe I’ll try to text her again.
This is my lot.
Voicemails she has recorded and re-recorded, voicemails she has shakily sent. Saved or deleted, she’ll never know which. A needle sliding under skin and pushing in its desperate medicine is all they were, a last-ditch attempt to revive a thing long-dead.
A life does not end because a body, however beautiful, has been lost. She likes to think of it like heat, that beauty migrates and evolves, moves to one and the next and warms each and all. That beauty must be tilled to be found, turned up the way a dark clod of earth will split open to show the pale root threading through it, the smallest, wet proof of life.
How specific of a pain it is to know you held something beautiful in both hands and felt it warm within your palms, and now your palms are just palms again. To know a life opened itself up for you and beckoned you in, and you turned it away.
Come morning, Baran will lean against her counter again. Her son will still turn on the vibrating tooth brush and hold it still until her head pops in and tells him to do it right. Her fingers will find her keyboard as always, pressing that pale root into the dark, and she’ll send you something more. Hope remains in her like that little bird, some poet once compared it, and she thinks maybe that’s a little beautiful too. Maybe the hope is enough. Maybe this time, you’ll reply.
end notes: did we catch that emily dickinson reference :D i know this isn't the style that i usually write but this is actually my favorite style to write in. so depending on what you guys think maybe i'll dip into these nachos more...
summary: it’s been a week since you’d given baran your number and you still haven’t heard from her. to get your mind off of it, you go to the grocery store, only to run into the woman herself.
word count: 1.7k
tags: pilates baran makes an appearance; mcsteamy reader; female reader; flirting in the cereal aisle
a/n: one of the reasons i rarely write series is because i feel like i struggle keeping consistent tone, and this one might be a tad different but i hope you guys still enjoy :’)
<PREVIOUS PART>
Reaching over to the coffee table, you made no real effort to sit up as you grabbed your phone from where you had tossed it only mere seconds ago. When you saw no new notifications, you dropped the device face down on your chest before turning your attention back to the cracked paint on your living room ceiling.
Not even a minute later, you picked up your phone again, the clear numbers of the clock mocking you. Boredom had somehow found its way into your day off, nestled restlessly into your bones, and left you with nothing better to do than check your phone.
It had been a little over a week since your last day off, which was also when you had returned Baran’s jacket and written your number on her cup of tea. This meant it had been a little over a week of silence, your phone void of any contact from the other woman.
Not a text. Not a phone call. Nothing.
Tapping the dark screen once more, you sighed as the lock screen unsurprisingly lit up blank.
“This is pathetic,” you cursed yourself in a huff and threw your legs off the couch.
With your phone now shoved in the pocket of your hoodie, out of sight, you grabbed your keys and made your way out of the apartment, letting the door slam behind you. You had no idea where you were going, but you needed to get out of your own head.
After twenty minutes of weaving in and out of Pittsburgh traffic, you found yourself pulling into the grocery store parking lot with no list in mind, your thoughts completely occupied.
As you aimlessly wandered the aisles, your hand basket scattered with random items, you couldn’t help but wonder why Baran hadn’t reached out.
Did you come off too strong? Had your flirting made her uncomfortable? Though, you could have sworn she was reciprocating, but maybe you had misread it all. Your thoughts were beginning to spiral.
Had she even seen that you’d written your number on the cup? Maybe she threw it away before noticing. You liked that possibility much better than the idea of her rejecting you.
Approaching the shelves of cereal boxes, you were momentarily sidetracked, the multitude of options distracting your thoughts. Your eyes landed on a box of strawberry-milkshake-flavored Frosted Flakes, and you grimaced.
“Who the fuck comes up with these flavors?” you mumbled under your breath.
“Please tell me that sugary cereal is not your breakfast of choice,” a familiar voice interjected, and you whipped your head to the left.
There stood the woman who had been plaguing your thoughts for the past week, her hair pulled back into a messy bun and her face sans makeup. She clearly had just come from some sort of yoga or pilates workout, and you let your eyes flit down, admiring the way the Lycra fabric clung to her figure. Your gaze lingered on the exposed skin of her chest, which was still slightly gleaming with sweat, afforded by a generous v-neck and the unzipped jacket. It was only for a second but it was enough for Baran to notice, her lips curving into a smirk.
You suddenly became very aware of your own appearance—an oversized hoodie and a pair of grey sweatpants—and you were starting to wish you’d put on some real clothes before leaving this morning. But then again, you’d had no plans of seeing anyone you knew, let alone the curly-haired woman, who apparently looked beautiful even in the grocery store.
(You would find out later that, while she didn’t recognize you at first—so used to seeing you only in the context of the hospital—Baran liked you like this, stripped of your blue scrubs and armor, at ease and open.)
Meeting her eyes with your own, you felt your cheeks warm. “Would that be against your professional opinion, Dr. Al-Hashimi?” You wore a lazy smile, hoping to regain your metaphorical footing.
“I thought I told you to call me Baran,” she retorted teasingly.
And I thought I told you to call me. The words were on the tip of your tongue, but you thought better of it and bit the inside of your cheek. Instead, you corrected yourself.
“Well, Baran,” you said her name pointedly, “since you’re evidently off the clock, you’re in no place to judge my cereal consumption.”
You held her gaze—you weren’t sure you could tear your eyes away from hers even if you wanted to—and blindly reached out to grab a box of cereal.
“Lucky Charms?” Baran glanced down at your choice, her amused smirk widening into a grin. “You trying to get lucky?”
Your eyebrows shot up, as her boldness both surprised and impressed you, but you were never one to be stunned for too long.
“I’d say luck is already on my side,” you hummed, causing Baran to tilt her head. “I ran into you, didn’t I?”
A warm laugh escaped her lips, and if angels could sing, you’re pretty sure that’s what they would sound like. “Charming,” she quipped, causing you to chuckle, as if to say touché.
Baran then took a step closer to you, the distinct smell of her perfume flooding your senses, and reached across you, grabbing a box for herself.
When you saw what she’d selected, you scoffed playfully, “Oh, so you can have sugary cereal?”
Setting the box of Cap’n Crunch in her basket, Baran rolled her eyes. “It’s not for me.”
“Uh huh, sure.” You nodded, pretending to believe her. “Pray tell, who in your life eats Cap’n Crunch?”
You asked the question, but you had a feeling you knew the answer. You may not have been down in the ED very often, but word travelled fast in the PTMC, so by the second week of Baran’s tenure, you had already learned she was divorced and had a kid.
Baran opened her mouth, but the words got stuck in her throat.
There had been a reason why your number sat untouched in her phone for the past week. Well, actually, there had been a multitude of reasons, but the main one being she was scared. Or was she nervous? Whatever the feeling was, it had been twisting in her gut for the last several days as she typed and deleted several messages to you, all ultimately going unsent.
It wasn’t the fact that you were a woman that was holding her back; Baran had come to terms with her sexuality decades ago, years before her marriage. No, it was the mere idea of opening herself back up again that planted the seeds of hesitancy.
Already juggling a life that seemed to always be teetering on the edge between calm and chaos, Baran didn’t need to be starting something new with you, someone who, on paper, was the complete opposite of herself.
So, she hadn’t called or texted, nor had she seen you at work, and she had hoped the distance would push you out of her mind. Instead, it had the opposite effect.
Baran found herself hoping a plastic surgery consult would be needed down the ED, just so she could see you. Her thoughts would drift to you when she sipped on her Asaam tea in the morning or when she slipped on the jacket she’d leant you, the scent of your laundry detergent still barely there.
And now, even on her first day off in weeks, Baran couldn’t escape your orbit. Standing here with you in the cereal aisle on her day off, it was easy to forget who you were, a confident—some would say arrogant—plastic surgeon who dripped in flirtatious bravado.
Baran bit her lip, worried you’d be off-put by the fact that she had a son. (There was an itch in the back of her mind that reminded her how you’d surprised her before with your street team and MSF participation, but she didn’t bother to scratch it.)
“Alright, fine,” she relented with an exaggerated sigh. “I do enjoy a bowl of cavity-ridden cereal every now and then.”
She hadn’t exactly lied—she did indulge in a bowl of Cap’n Crunch once in a while, mostly late at night after a long shift—but she hadn’t exactly told you the truth either.
Tilting your head, you narrowed your eyes slightly but wore a soft smile. You could sense there was something left unsaid, but whatever the reason was, you weren’t going to push it.
“I won’t keep you from your day off,” you said, readjusting your basket to your other hand, “but I just wanted to apologize if I’ve made you uncomfortable with all the flirting.”
You scratched your neck and shifted your weight from one foot to the other. You weren’t used to apologizing to anyone you flirted with—in fact, you never did—but Baran wasn’t just anyone.
Noticing your apparent nervousness coupled with an apology she never would have expected, Baran furrowed her brows. For a split second, she was confused, for she didn’t think she’d done anything to suggest she’d been bothered by your comments, and then she realized.
“You haven’t,” Baran insisted as she reached into her jacket pocket, pulling out a folded piece of paper with a pen clipped to it. You watched as she scribbled something down on what could only be her grocery list.
“Here.” Clicking her pen, she handed you the paper, and you accepted it cautiously.
You scanned the list of crossed off items, which you found sort of oddly intimate, before your eyes landed on a line of numbers.
Better late than never? xx, was written underneath, and the corners of your mouth twitched up.
You looked up, meeting her warm but tentative gaze. “You’re just in time,” you said earnestly.
“Lucky me.” Baran mirrored your expression with a coy glint in her eye. “Enjoy the rest of your day—” she said your name slowly, and you clung onto each syllable.
“You too, Baran.”
She nodded and turned on heels, your eyes following her movements as she retreated down the aisle and eventually rounded the corner. For a moment, you stared at the space she had vacated before glancing back down at the paper in your hand.
Retracing her handwriting, noting how surprising legible it was for a doctor, you smiled to yourself.
i think i was having baran withdrawals. this was originally going to be two parts, but i decided i didn't have any patience and made it all one part, enjoy. 🫶🏼🫶🏼
Pairing: Baran Al-Hashimi x fem!reader
Summary: You’re not ready to say those three words out loud to Baran so you default to three little taps. Baran misunderstands the significance and it leads to you two creating some distance between one another. When you get hurt at work and don't reach out, Baran takes it upon herself to try and understand what happened.
Tags/Warnings: fem!reader, nurse!reader, medical inaccuracies, angst, hurt/comfort, trinity santos, dana evans, non-graphic mentions of violence and injury, you and trinity are cousins, misunderstandings, mentions of princess and perlah
Word Count: 7,101
You fell in love with Baran Al-Hashimi the moment you saw her. Part of you hoped it was something that would pass quickly, but you weren’t that lucky.
When she’d strolled into PTMC on her first day carrying bagels you couldn’t help but gravitate towards her and help with the amount of stuff she was carrying.
She smiled at you as you introduced yourself. A tiny part of Baran was grateful that you were not a resident because she felt it too, the pull.
As the shift went on you’d catch her eye every so often and it made your heart flutter. The unfortunate thing was that you wouldn’t know subtlety if it bit you in the ass.
Dana caught on immediately.
“Utah’s calling.” You shook your head as you looked up from your charts. You’d been staring at the computer for the third time in the first hour of your shift not really doing anything.
“What?” Your brain was not at all processing what was happening or what she was saying.
“Human Utah?” Dana tried again and your eyes widened. She smirked at you knowingly and pushed you in the direction of the new attending.
The shift went to hell shortly after that and over the course of the day you’d lost track of Dr. Al-Hashimi, but she was still in the back of your mind.
When the shift ended you were ready to fall asleep while standing as you left the building. You were so out of it you hadn’t realized you’d ended up walking in the same direction as the woman who’d been on your mind.
“Dr. Al-Hashimi?” The older woman turned at the sound of her name and gave you a weak smile. You returned it as your heart beat out of your chest.
She pulled her wired headphones out of her ears and came to a stop as you reached her car.
You were standing so close to her you could feel the heat radiating off of her body in the cooling night. You didn’t mean to be so close, but when she abruptly stopped you nearly crashed into her.
She easily steadied you with her hands on your waist. Neither of you missed the way she was slow to pull away.
Baran really didn’t want to let go. You’d been kind to her all day, slightly flirty which she found herself responding to, and you were an amazing nurse.
Her head was still foggy from the seizures she’d had earlier in the day and when you so freely leaned into her touch it broke something in her.
Someone wanting to be close to her was exactly what she needed. You smiled up at her before it disappeared from your face completely.
She was crying.
Without much thought you pulled her into your arms and held her close. She was rigid for a moment before letting herself be held. Baran’s arms wrapped around your middle like a lifeline. She was completely unable to hide her pain.
Your heart clenched as a few little sobs escaped her lips. You held her tighter and raked your fingertips on her scalp.
You whispered sweet nothings into her hair and it seemed to help. At that moment Baran believed everything was going to be okay because you were holding her in your strong arms.
When Baran was finally able to catch her breath she pulled away and embarrassment instantly seeped in.
“Oh my god, I am so-” she started, but you cut her off.
“Don’t apologize. Today was a terrible day especially for your first day. When I saw you leaving I just wanted to say you did amazing. The Pitt isn’t exactly known for liking change, but I think you’re just what this department needs Dr. Al-Hashimi.”
Baran sighed as her doe eyes bored into yours. You couldn’t help but notice how gorgeous she was with her hair down, perfectly framing her face.
“Baran.” Was all that escaped her lips as she took in every bit of your face. You furrowed your eyebrows in response.
“You just held me while I got your scrubs all snotty. Please, call me Baran.” You bit your lip and nodded at her.
“I’ll hold you any time, Baran.” You couldn’t see her blush, but Baran felt the heat rising on her face.
Just as you were about to walk back to the hospital fireworks began overhead. Your head turned to the sky with a bright smile on your face. You loved seeing all the different colors.
You missed the way Baran flinched at the sudden noise. She wasn’t the biggest fan of fireworks, but as she stood there the sound was drowned out.
She was watching you while you admired the sky. The way your hair was loose after the long shift. How you still had your scrubs on, but they were no longer tucked in. And the way your eyes lit up every time a new color scattered across the sky.
Baran called your name when the show was over and you slowly turned to her. For the second time that night the older woman found herself being vulnerable with a near stranger.
“I shouldn’t be driving tonight.” She stated simply. You could see the quiver in her lip and tilted your head at her for her to continue speaking.
“I have epilepsy.” You nodded and took a step closer to her. Baran reached out to you and you quickly took her hand. Baran’s grip was strong.
“I can give you a ride home.” Baran hesitated, but knew she should take you up on your offer.
…
You stayed with Baran that night, just holding her in your arms and from then on your relationship grew.
You’d been dating for just over three months and everyone at the hospital knew. Some of the nurses and residents liked to tease you, but it was nothing you couldn’t handle.
Throughout the day when Baran would hover you’d smile at her and give her three little taps somewhere on her body, typically her hand. She thought it was a nervous habit at first, but when she learned you were a musician she realized it was more of a comforting stim.
Most times when Baran felt your taps she didn’t mind, but it was slowly driving her crazy. You hadn’t noticed her discomfort because they were much more than musical rhythms to you.
To you, the taps were your silent way of saying the words you’d felt for a long time. You fell easily, but you weren’t sure if Baran was quite ready to catch you. You were scared to say those three words out loud because you didn’t want to scare her off.
You’d done that in the past and you didn’t want to lose Baran in the same way. You knew she was different, but it was hard to not be reminded of your past trauma.
It was something you were working on, but you were only human.
You used the three little taps to say the words for you and that felt like enough for now. Part of you believed Baran felt the same, she showed as much, but you knew this was new for her.
She hadn’t dated since her divorce and she’d only been with one other person. You, however, were no stranger to dating. Granted most of the people you’d dated weren’t serious, but there had been a few who snuck through the cracks, but never stuck.
You felt like Baran would be the one stick, but you didn’t want to jinx it.
Although neither of you said the words there were little things you each did to show you cared. Baran always made you tea in the mornings that you woke up at her house.
She swore it was better than coffee. If you didn’t wake up with her you brought her a cup to work.
She noticed you liked drinking a specific juice after long shifts so she was sure to keep some stocked in her fridge.
She had to double the stash when her son found them because he somehow enjoyed them too. She found them disgusting.
Baran was always cold and wore fluffy clothing around the house. You’d made a habit of “accidentally” leaving your sweaters at her house. It calmed her down on the nights you weren’t there and you found it adorable when you saw her wearing your clothes.
It was little moments that you shared together that meant the world to both of you. You were each other’s calm after the storm.
You’d both been having a particularly difficult day when Baran sought you out. Just being near you made her feel that much better. She hadn’t been having any seizures lately, but the stress of the day had been getting to you.
Before you could see her, you smelled Baran’s perfume and it made you smile. Baran’s hand rested on your shoulder and yours instantly flew to hers and tapped it three times.
You couldn’t see the way Baran rolled her neck trying to relieve some tension, but you heard the groan that escaped her lips.
“I know, I can’t wait to go home either.” Baran looked at you curiously and your eyes widened. You were meant to be going over to her house tonight. It felt like home, but you hadn’t even thought about what you said before it came out of your mouth.
You tried to back pedal, but Baran beat you to it.
“I can’t wait to go home with you either.” Your smile brightened before she was pulled away to another trauma.
…
The next time you tapped Baran she was in the break room grabbing a quick cup of tea. You’d been walking by when you noticed her. You quickly popped into the room and kissed her on the cheek giving her arm three taps.
Seeing her throughout the day made yours that much better.
Baran knew it was you even though you were gone as quick as you’d come and it made her smile, but she couldn’t help the annoyance that lingered.
Baran was torn and she knew her heavy schedule had been adding to her lack of patience.
She was determined to bring it up at some point, just not while you were both at work.
…
The final time you tapped Baran that day was while you were cuddled in bed together. You’d both had a wonderful night together after such a terrible shift. You were laying in her arms, both completely relaxed.
Baran was sleepily playing with your hair. Her brain was finally quiet when she felt three little taps on her hip and suddenly she was completely awake.
You immediately felt her go rigid underneath you. Your mouth went dry and you realized what was causing her discomfort. You tried your hardest not to squirm in her arms. You hoped by not moving she’d drop the entire thing and you’d both be able to sleep.
What you didn’t expect was Baran pulling away from you completely. Suddenly the space of her bed felt like the length of a football field. She was sitting on the edge of her bed wrapped in nothing but her sheet.
You could tell she was tired, but now she was annoyed too and you had a pretty good idea which one was worse.
You waited with baited breath, not sure what to do with yourself. She wasn’t facing you when she finally spoke.
“I need to take a shower.” You moved on the bed to try and talk to her.
“Alone.” Your stomach dropped. You weren't even thinking of joining her in the shower, but the clear boundary made you feel uneasy.
You learned very quickly that Baran loved to shower with you. The intimacy of sharing the small space coupled with the act of things like washing each other's hair was something she enjoyed.
You'd only ever taken one shower without her while she was there and it was the first one you'd ever taken at her house.
It was a conversation she'd broached early on. If you were showering you asked her to join because you knew she liked it, but so did you.
You were so lost in your own mind you hadn't even registered when she'd walked towards the bathroom. You'd barely heard the rest of the words that escaped her mouth.
“And if you could stop the tapping, I'd appreciate it. It's making me uncomfortable.”
Tears silently fell from your face onto the sheets as she closed the bathroom door.
You tried your best to quiet your sobs by muffling them into your pillow.
All that kept replaying in your mind was that you made Baran uncomfortable and that was the last thing you ever wanted to do.
Making her, a woman, uncomfortable felt like the worst thing you could've ever done.
The tears had stopped, but the disappointment settled deeply into your chest.
You knew you were blowing things out of proportion, but it felt like history was repeating itself.
There was something about a three month rule scratching at the back of your mind as you forced yourself to fall asleep before Baran got out of the shower.
Baran had hoped you were awake when she got back so she could talk with you properly. She knew you didn't mean anything by the taps.
She didn't want to take away your comfort and she also knew she hadn’t gone about it the right way either.
She'd been frustrated with the day and let it cloud her judgment. She'd meant to talk to you properly earlier, but one thing led to another and she certainly wasn't complaining about how you two ended the night.
Baran yawned when she got into bed. She tilted her head in your direction when she saw how you'd rolled yourself practically to the edge of the bed.
She pulled you closer, like she always did, and sighed happily. She relished in the warmth you provided. You were a human heater and she was a freezer.
She nestled her nose into the back of your neck and breathed in deeply. In the quiet of the night her heart swelled and she smiled to herself.
“I love you azizam.” Baran whispered before settling into a deep sleep.
…
When Baran woke up that morning you were already gone. She wasn’t sure when you left, but from the coolness of the sheets she could tell it had been a while.
You couldn’t sleep and when you woke up in Baran’s arms you wanted to cry all over again. You carefully peeled away from her and left a note about having to go home and get scrubs.
Baran didn’t work that day, but she wished she did. She wanted to see you and make sure everything was okay.
You were definitely not one to wake up earlier than you needed to.
Baran wanted to text you throughout the day, but she didn’t want to distract you from work either. As the shift went on your heart sank even further into your stomach. You were waiting for Baran’s message, but it never came.
You bit the bullet and reached out, telling her about your day. There wasn’t anything particularly special about the day, but you still wanted to tell her.
Baran got the messages, but she read them without responding immediately. Not because she didn’t want to, but because her son was sick and she had to take care of him.
You, however, didn't know that. When she finally did respond it felt lackluster.
Over the next few days you were on completely opposite schedules until almost two weeks had passed since you’d spent the night at Baran’s house. In that time the knot in your stomach only tightened.
When Baran saw that you were both on the same shift her heartbeat quickened. She’d missed being around you and selfishly she missed working with you. Somehow you were able to anticipate her needs perfectly.
The other nurses were great, but you and her were able to work like a well oiled machine.
You were excited to see her too, but a large part of you was also nervous. The time apart had allowed you to look at yourself in a way you never had before. You were more particular around people.
Never getting too close and making sure you weren’t crossing anyone’s boundaries. You were also a bit quieter around the department, but not enough for anyone to notice.
Well, at least you thought no one had noticed. That could not be said for Trinity Santos.
She was a pro at reading you, mainly because you’d grown up together.
In a family full of boys you and Trinity kept each other sane. You were more than cousins, you were sisters. She was the athlete and you were the musician cheering her on. Along the way you both found yourself in similar professions.
She’d been watching you over the last few days and did not like what she saw. You’d been spending some time at her and Dennis’ apartment, trying not to spiral. She loved having you around, but she was waiting for you to open up.
You were both a bit touchy when it came to relationships, but she knew if she waited it out you’d reach out to her. You both knew you were always there for each other.
That time came when you and Trinity were carpooling to the hospital without Dennis because he didn’t have a shift.
“Baran and I are going to be on the same shift today.” Trinity’s eyebrows furrowed. She couldn’t tell if you were happy about this revelation or not.
“You guys have been on opposite schedules.” She said simply and you nodded in agreement. You were quiet as you clasped your hands in your lap. You’d been trying a lot harder not to fidget as much as you used to.
Trinity noticed. Of course she did. There was always a buzz about you. It had been a family thing. She found calm in exercise and you found calm in making music. It had always been that way.
It was then that she realized you hadn’t been listening to music as often as you used to.
Trinity turned on the radio and was grateful when one of your favorite songs was playing through the speakers. What concerned Trinity more was the way you didn’t tap along to the music.
You wanted to, but you fought the urge.
Trinity was an exit away from the hospital when she decided to pull over on the side of the road. Your head snapped to her and you looked to see if something was wrong with the car.
“Trin, what are you doing? We’re gonna be late!”
“We have time. You always insist on being early and we’re not far.” Trinity turned completely to you and looked at your posture. Rigid.
She raised her eyebrows at you and pursed her lips. You rolled your eyes in response as you looked out the window. Trinity waited. She always did. She knew you’d spill, you couldn’t help it.
You were a talker even if you tried to hide it.
“I’m just nervous. It’s been basically two weeks since I’ve seen her and the last time…” Trinity tensed as your sentence tapered off. If Baran had done something to you she was prepared to kill the attending.
“It’s like we’re just going through the motions. I miss her and I still l- really like her. I’m just not sure she feels the same anymore.” Trinity let out a slow breath.
“What if I’m just delaying the inevitable?” Your voice is barely above a whisper this time. Trinity frowned at you before reaching towards your hands. Your knuckles were practically white from how hard you were trying to keep yourself still.
You both froze when Trinity’s hand reached your own. She carefully pried your hands apart and held them in her own. Soon enough you relaxed and let her hold you.
It was comforting even though you didn’t feel you deserved it. Trinity waited for you to meet her eyes before speaking.
“Baran is not like the people of your past and I know you know that. You have to give her a chance and let her in completely. I don’t know what happened and frankly it’s not my business, but I do know you. And some part of you is purposefully avoiding her so you don’t get hurt. But, newsflash, you’re just the one hurting yourself instead.”
You hated when Trinity gave you advice because she was always right. You huffed in her direction, but nodded along.
“I hate you.” You playfully whispered as Trinity put her seatbelt back on and drove.
“I hate you too.” She responded.
When you walked into the department it was already bustling. Apparently night shift had not been so quiet and it bled into dayshift.
You walked over to the nurse’s station and saw Dana waiting with orders on the tip of her tongue. Before she could get anything out she pointed to the side of the desk. You immediately recognized your favorite drink from the coffee shop down the street.
Baran.
You couldn’t see where she was, but a small smile played on your lips. Maybe everything was going to be okay.
…
Oh how wrong you were. You’d been on your last nerve the entire shift. Normally you loved working with the patients, but not today. Everyone thought they knew better and everyone’s patience was running thin.
One patient refused to eat and for some reason only Perlah could get through to them. Of course this happened only after you had to clean the entire room, especially the bed, from all the food smushed everywhere.
One parent would not shut up. And it wasn’t like they were asking questions, those were warranted. But they would not stop arguing with their kid and it made you want to pull your hair out.
The final patient, an older man, was the straw that broke the camel’s back. He came in needing a few stitches on his forearm, but would not let you help. He insisted on needing a doctor because they were more experienced.
You’d been in the middle of trying to talk him down when Baran walked by.
“Hello, is there anything I can do?” He looked at her hospital tag and immediately perked up.
“Finally, a doctor. This kid doesn’t know what she’s doing.” He wailed on for a few seconds before Baran had enough.
“Sir, I can assure you her suturing technique is flawless. Now, I’d be more than happy to help, however, considering she sutures multiple times a day and I can’t remember the last time I’ve done a mattress stitch I’ll let you be the judge on who you’d rather fix your wound.”
The man immediately shut up as a pout spread on his face. Baran nodded with a smile on her own face as she left the room. You were able to stitch him up in a few minutes and he thankfully stopped talking.
When you left the room you wanted to thank Baran and found that she was already waiting for you.
“Thank you for that.” You walked over to Baran and wanted to give her a hug, but opted to stand a professional distance away. Baran looked up from her iPad and smiled.
“You’re welcome. Next time try walking away then returning to the patient with someone else. It could help with your own irritability. Dr. Mohan is great with geriatric patients, try finding her.” You deflated as you watched Baran walk away.
You had no idea what the hell that was. First she was praising you and now she was reprimanding you for your bedside manner? She technically wasn’t even your boss.
You took a deep breath and closed your eyes for a minute before opening them to see Dana standing right in front of you. You startled when you saw her, but she just chuckled.
“Everyone’s on edge kid, don’t let it get to you.” You nodded knowingly as you pushed away the negative thoughts and continued the day. You knew Baran didn’t mean anything by the criticism.
The rest of the shift wasn’t too terrible until a dad came in with his two sons. It was clear that none of them wanted to be there, but the oldest of the two had a broken wrist. He was ten years old and very sweet even though he was hurt.
The youngest was crying nonstop, clearly needing a nap and the father was frazzled trying to advocate for his hurt son.
Princess and Perlah were giving the older boy a work up when they called you into the room. You’d been on the way to change your scrubs as a baby had thrown up on you, but stopped when they called.
“Can you check the boy? His name is TJ.” The dad was frantically trying to calm the three year old with no luck.
You knew you weren’t going to get out of helping so you carefully rolled up your scrub top and put it on the floor before carefully taking TJ into your arms. He wasn’t injured, which was good, but he definitely needed a nap and didn’t understand what was going on.
You held the boy comfortably to your chest and he immediately relaxed.
“Thank you so much.” The dad said to you and you nodded. You were rubbing TJ’s back when someone stormed into the room.
As you turned to face the door you heard a woman practically screaming in your ear. Before you knew what was happening you felt TJ being ripped out of your arms as a fist collided with your face.
As your body hit the floor you coughed up a bit of blood. You were trying to get your bearings when you looked up and saw Dana coming in and commanding the scene.
You understood then that TJ’s mother had been the one to punch you not realizing you were a nurse. Clearly there was some family drama with that one.
It was quiet when you felt yourself being helped up by Dana. She cringed when she saw your face and led you to a quiet room.
You didn’t even have it in you to fight. You were exhausted and your head was now pounding.
“Jesus kid, I said don’t let the day get to you.” Dana joked as she cleaned up your face.
“What can I say, I just can’t help myself.” You could feel the bruise forming on your face and it was definitely tender to the touch. It was going to be a terrible bruise and you knew it.
“Gotta get Al-Hashimi in here to do a full work up.” Dana says simply. Your shoulders sagged. Before you could respond to the older woman Trinity flew through the door.
“What the hell happened? Is she okay?” Dana nodded as Trinity caught her breath. She’d clearly run from wherever she was in the department to be by your side.
“As far as I can tell she's going to be okay, but we’re definitely going to get a head CT just to be safe.” Trinity was already moving to sign the order before going to your side and checking you herself.
Your face definitely looked worse than it was but the swelling was not a good sign.
“What’s that face for?” You asked, looking between Trinity and Dana.
“There’s some fluid behind your eye and we’re going to have to drain it.” You cringed at the thought. As much as you dealt with needles during the day you absolutely hated them anywhere near you.
“Hey, it’s gonna be okay. I can go get-” Trinity started, but you cut her off.
“No, I’ll be fine. Just do whatever you have to do.” Dana prepped what Trinity needed before going to your opposite side and holding your hand.
You were grateful to her for being there. You wouldn’t have asked for comfort, but having someone hold your hand did make you feel better.
You closed your eyes as Trinity pulled out the needle from its packaging because you knew you’d freak out if you saw it. Within a few minutes she was done and Dana patted your hand with her other one.
“You did good kid.” You gave her a tight smile as you carefully pulled your hand away and threaded your fingers together in your lap. Dana left the room to get you a wheeled chair so that she could take you up to imaging and Trinity finally sat down.
“You scared the shit out of me you bitch.” Trinity breathed. You just smiled at her.
“I’m glad I could make your day a little interesting.” She rolled her eyes at you, but she was smiling. Dana returned quickly and Trinity helped you into the chair.
You knew you could walk, but you also knew it would make her feel better to help you so you let her.
Imaging went fine and by the time you got back to your room it was empty. The lights were a bit bright so Dana turned them off as she left you alone.
You had all of five minutes of peace and quiet before you heard frantic footsteps walking into the room. You didn’t even need to open your eyes to know who it was.
“Why didn’t anyone come get me?” You shifted in the bed as you sat up and the lights were turned back on. You squinted at the brightness, but didn’t ask for her to turn the lights back off.
As Baran got closer you clasped your hands in your lap and looked at her nervously. Her hand stilled on her penlight when she saw the look on your face. You weren’t nervous because of the injury.
You were nervous because of her. Baran took a deep breath to try and center herself.
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have freaked out. Dana asked me to check on you as an attending. It would personally make me feel better to know you’re okay, but if you don’t want me to be the one to check that’s okay too. I can get someone else.” You sighed as you looked down at your hands.
“It’s okay.” You whispered and Baran tentatively walked towards you. She could feel how tense you were under her touch and it broke her heart. When she was satisfied that you were okay given the circumstances she pulled away softly and rolled a chair over to sit by your side.
“Azizam, what’s wrong?” The pet name knocked the wind out of you. You swallowed harshly as you willed yourself not to cry. This was not the time to have a breakdown.
You bit the inside of your cheek as you opened your mouth slightly to talk then closed it. You didn’t even know where to begin. Your body was aching but so was your heart.
Baran looked at your hands again before laying her hands palm up on the bed for you to take, an open invitation.
Your heart lurched and your fingers twitched, but you didn’t immediately hold her hand like you would’ve just a few weeks ago.
Baran tried to hide the sadness on her face, but you could see it and it made you sick. You’d disappointed her again. Baran carefully pulled her hands away, but they were still within reach.
“I won't force my touch on you, but I miss you. I miss when you'd reach for me. It feels like you're pulling away and I can't quite figure out what has changed. Please tell me what's going on.” Her pleading felt like another punch to the gut.
There was still that pull, urging you to tell her what happened. More than anything you wanted to tell her how you felt, but you were still scared.
Your hand shakily reached out to her before Dana’s head popping into the room startled your hands back together. Baran huffed as she turned to the door.
“GSW, two minutes out.” Baran nodded as she pursed her lips before turning back to you. You were back in your shell and it made her whole body ache.
She’d been so distracted over the last two weeks with her son and just trying to get through the days that she had let herself lose track of you. She thought it was just being on opposite schedules, but she’d missed something big and she was kicking herself because of it.
She pushed up from the chair and instinctively moved to kiss your forehead before pulling away to find your eyes. You stared up at her with a soft glint in your own eyes.
“Can I?” Her voice was barely above a whisper and it made you shiver.
“Please.” You practically begged. You missed her too. She placed a gentle kiss on your temple before leaving after promising to come back when she got a chance.
You saw Baran and Trinity have a conversation just outside of your room before the younger woman walked in carrying your things. She turned off the lights on her way in.
“Your imaging looks good, but you’re going home for today and tomorrow. Dana’s orders and no driving.” You pouted lightly, but didn’t disagree. You could use the time to rest if nothing else.
“You’re welcome to come back to my apartment with me, but Baran looked pretty shaken up on her way out.” You clenched your jaw which hurt more than you intended. Some part of you forgot you’d actually gotten punched by a patient’s mother.
“No, I still need to talk to her. I’ll wait until the shift is over, but I’ll go to an on-call room because I don’t want to take up a bed.” Trinity nodded as she left you with your things.
It felt good to be back in your own clothes and not half scrubs. You were also grateful to be laying down. You sat down and before you knew it you were out like a light.
You hadn’t slept incredibly well the night before and the stress of the day had really taken its toll.
You were still lightly snoring an hour and a half later when Baran found you in the room with the help of Trinity’s direction.
Her lips twitched at the sight of you. You looked adorably peaceful. She held her breath for a moment when she didn’t see you breathing. She called your name, but when you didn’t respond she ran to your side, but instantly stilled when your chest finally moved.
She swore under her breath in Farsi as she carefully took a deep breath. You stirred in your sleep and opened your eyes sleepily. You moved to rub your eyes, but Baran caught your hand.
You furrowed your eyebrows before remembering your face was bruised.
“Thank you.” You mumbled as you sat up and stretched. Baran stood in front of you, shifting on the balls of her feet.
“Can we talk about whatever’s going on at home?” You nodded as you stood up and grabbed your bag. Baran’s eyes softened at the dazed look on your face. She wanted to reach out and hold your hand, but didn’t want to spook you.
“I miss you too.” You said suddenly. Baran turned back to you with a dopey smile on her face. She tentatively reached her hand out in your direction and you took it gently. Baran brushed her thumbs over your knuckles.
You both sighed at the contact.
The drive back to Baran’s house was comfortably silent and on the way she picked up food for the both of you.
“Isn’t it your day to have Kian?” You questioned as you walked into the living room.
“Yeah, but I asked Mark if he could stay an extra day or two because I wanted to be with you.” Your heart melted at that as Baran served the both of you food. Your stomach grumbled as the delicious smell filled the room.
Baran smiled to herself as the two of you ate. You happily took a second portion before putting your plate on the table in front of you.
Baran had finished her food before you, but she was pleased to see you eating. It seemed like you hadn’t had a good meal in weeks which she was starting to realize was partially her fault.
Food was definitely one of her love languages and seeing you eat relaxed something in her. After a few minutes you moved to wash the dishes.
“You don’t have to do that.” Baran stated simply as she followed you to the kitchen to put away the leftovers.
“I know, but I want to.” Baran watched you for a second before deciding she wasn’t going to let whatever was happening affect how she’d normally act.
She carefully wrapped her arms around your waist and held you while you did the dishes. Your hand stuttered, but your body instantly relaxed in hers. You really did miss having her close to you.
When you finished the dishes you turned around in her arms and laid your head on her shoulder.
Baran held you tighter as she ran her hand up and down your back soothingly. She kissed your temple as you pulled away, but you didn’t go far. You felt the urge to tap her, but bit your lip hard instead.
“Hey, don’t hurt my girl.” She whispered as she brushed her thumb on your lip. You blushed and looked away. Baran kept her arms around you as she led you back to the couch.
She sat down first and you easily went with her, sitting in her lap. You enjoyed being this close to her, but something within you still made you clasp your hands in your own lap.
Baran pouted at the motion, but didn’t question you right away.
“You know when I tap you?” Baran nodded. That was another thing Baran had noticed. You hadn’t tapped her all day. She never thought she’d miss feeling those taps, but she did.
It was then that the memory of that night came flooding back to her. She’d told you to stop and you did, but at what cost?
“I’m not just absentmindedly tapping you. It means something to me.” Baran furrowed her brows, but nodded. Her heart raced. She’d never thought of it that way. She was so overstimulated that day it didn’t even occur to her to think of it from your perspective.
She’d been doing a lot of staying in her own head which clearly wasn’t that much different from you. She hadn’t meant to snap at you, but as she replayed her words in her mind she cringed.
“I said you were making me uncomfortable.” Baran repeated in horror. You squirmed in her lap as tears prickled in your eyes. You bit the inside of your cheek and tried to calm down.
“Azizam, it was late and I meant to talk to you about it at a different time, but I did not act well in that situation. I’m sorry. I wanted to reach out the next day then Kian was sick and along the way I got sidetracked and I shouldn’t have. I think the overstimulation of the day is what made the taps such a big deal for me. What do they mean?”
You bit your lip again, letting her apology sink in. You weren’t sure the taps were the only thing you needed to talk about anymore.
“Baran it’s not just the taps, but also hearing you say I make you uncomfortable, regardless of how you meant it really stung.” You carefully climbed out of her lap and sat criss-crossed facing her.
She instantly missed the contact.
“I’ve been trying so hard not to be fidgety or repeat the same actions, but I feel like I’m driving myself a little crazy. As it turns out I move a lot more than I thought.” You laughed hollowly.
Baran scratched at the inside of her forearm and nodded as you spoke. She didn’t want to interrupt you.
“I’m just worried that maybe I’m not what you’re looking for because I’ve been down this road before and the last thing I want is to make you uncomfortable by just being myself.” Baran’s eyes widened as tears fell down her cheeks. She quickly swiped at her face.
“And I’m not saying this to burden you or downplay my actions if you feel they're wrong and they hurt you, but I’m just trying to let you into my head. I know it’s pretty fucked up in there though.” You sighed.
Trinity had been right, it did feel good to let Baran in no matter what was going to happen. Somehow you felt ready to have this conversation. Maybe it was the space or getting punched, but something was shifting.
Baran turned to you as much as she could as she spoke.
“You will never be a burden to me.” The conviction in Baran’s voice made you shiver.
“I, fuck-.” She took a deep breath and took your hands into yours. Somewhere along the way you were no longer clasping them in front of you, but they’d been resting on your knees.
“I messed up and I am so fucking sorry, but you, you are everything to me joonam. And I’ve been yours since the moment you smiled at me and stopped me from dropping the bagels on my first day. I’ve loved you from that first minute and I don’t ever plan to stop.”
Your mouth fell open as fresh tears fell down your cheeks.
“You what?” You breathed. It was the softest Baran had ever heard you. She could tell you needed her to say it plainly and was more than happy to do so for you. It felt amazing to finally get it off her chest.
“I love you.” Baran said it like it was a known fact, which made your heart swell.
Baran felt three little taps on the top of her hand and her eyes widened as everything finally clicked for her.
A watery laugh escaped her lips as she pulled you into a fierce kiss. The kisses didn’t stop as she pushed you back onto the couch, laying down, so she could hold you close to her.
“I love you.” You confidently said in between her kisses.
this is not spell or grammar of anything checked icl I haven't even read it through but I'm tired soooo
warnings: age gap (unspecified but legal), oral sex (cassie!receiving), fingering (cassie!receiving), bottom cassie<33
you'd been babysitting Harrison for months and he spoke the world of you, how you always read him his favourite stories, made cookies with him and took him to the playground after school. It had taken cassie months to warm up to the idea of a sitter after she won the custody battle, but getting home to a sleeping kid and a warm meal made it seem like a good choice after all- plus it helped that she found you very easy on the eyes too.
cassie gets home a little while later than she usually does, the bags beneath her eyes only accentuated by the icy blue of her iris, she was tense. You could see it in her rigid shoulders and measured steps, the way her breath was too deep for a true calm. "Long day?" you ask sympathetically, taking her bag from her. "You don't have to-" she starts to protest but you shut her down immediately, "go eat, its still warm." cassies eyes softened at that, hanging her army green jacket up on the hook and kicking off her trainers, she walks to the dining room table in those black sweatpants she loves so much and a loose grey t-shirt, you can hear her sock clad feet padding across the hard floors before stopping at the table, then the chair being pulled put before she sits down for what's probably the first time today.
you follow soon behind her, opening a beer and placing it next to her dinner as she eats. "Thanks, sweetheart," cassie murmers through a mouthful of food, "..its getting late, should I call you a taxi?" she asks as she begins to nurse on the beer, but you decline almost immediately, "I can wait a few more minutes, " you muse, hands finding their way to her shoulders, gently massaging them as her head tilts to the side. "Hon.." she begins, but once again, you don't let her finish that thought, "Just relax for me, Ms.Mckay.." You tell her, voice growing softer and more sensual by the minute, "let me take care of you for once."
cassie visibly relaxes, soothed by your voice and hands as you continue to dig your fingers into the knots in her shoulders. Her eyes flutter shut beneath the gentle touch, blissed out as a low groan escapes her lips. yhe sound, so rough and uncontrolled goes straight to your core but immediately drags cassie back out of that relaxed state as she jolts up, clearing her throat "im- uh I'm sorry," she stumbles over her words, pulling her shoulder from your grasp. "It's okay, Ms.Mckay.. just means it's working," you soothe instantly, gently placing both hands back on the fabric of her shirt.
she grows pliant once more under your touch, her head even falling back slightly in a blissed out pleasure. then you move. under the guize of reaching other muscles better, you stand in front of the woman, leaning over her as your hands brace on her shoulders, thumbs digging into the tense lines inside. cassies eyes try desperately to avoid your cleavage, so pointedly displayed for her in this position. the wine clouding her better judgement had her hands falling to your hips, pulling you down onto her lap before her brain can even clock what she's doing properly.
your hands soften around her collarbones, your face drawing ever closer to hers, breath mingling in the air between you, her eyes flitting nervously between your eyes and your lips, "This is wrong.." she says quietly, but it's obvious all the fight has drained from her as your lips meet hers, gentle at first, like you're guiding her through something entirely new, and maybe you were- you'd only ever heard her talk about Harrison's father. no girlfriends, no girl flings, nothing.. not that her extinct sex life came into conversation regularly. cassie's breath catches against your lips, as hers meet yours, chapped but warm, like something out of a movie she kisses you until you're entirely out of breath.
your hands come up, one cradling the back of her neck, the other her jaw as you two part for air, gentle puffs against your neck as she catches her breath. "We shouldn't.." she says again but the way that Cassies hands stay fixed on your waist despite her objections tells you with certianty that even though technically you shouldn't, it by no means suggests that she doesnt want to.
but you don't wait for her to say anything else, moving down her body peppering kisses down her neck all the way to the base, teeth grazing her collarbone on your descent as she gasps put into the room. "quiet," you hum out against her neck, "wouldn't wanna wake anyone up would we?"
cassie stiffens below you, the guilt bubbling in her throat, you're Harrison's person, you're 20 years younger than her, you're- she's snapped out of her thoughts by your movements on her lap, shifting off of her and onto the floor by her feet.
"Need to taste you cass," your voice comes out breather than expected but as you look up at her with those pleading eyes any remaining resolve crumbles entirely. she lifts her hips for you and you hook your fingers in the waistband of her trousers pulling them and her pants down in one, leaving her cunt exposed to you, flushed and soaking. the sight of how turned on she is by you is almost enough to make you come undone on the spot.
your mouth attaches to her straight away, the dark curls that cover her pussy already wet against your mouth as you latch onto her clit.
The sound she makes is almost pornographic, head tipping back, back arching and hips thrusting forewards into your mouth, but you pull back entirely, "what did I say about being quiet?" You ask in your best 'babysitter' voice.
cassie immediately quiets down, but even so you push your ring and middle finger into her mouth as you go back down on her. she sucks on them oh so obediently tongue swirling around your digits as she drags them further into the wet heat of her mouth.
your tongue runs along the slit of her cunt, pressing lightly against her needy hole before focusing your mouths attention entirely on her bud, pulling your fingers from her mouth now dripping with her spit and pushing them into her pussy. cassie gasps at the sudden fullness but manages to keep it down low catching her bottom lip between her teeth to muffle the sound.
your tongue drags over her bundle of nerves as your fingers plunge in and out of her soaked heat, dragging lewd squelches from sheer arousal. cassies low hums and groans fill the room as you push her legs over your shoulders to better position yourself against her, the change in position forces your digits against that sweet spot over and over making her thighs shake around your head and her walls clench down needily around you, gasping for air like a woman starved of oxygen
"Mm.. you close baby?" You murmur against her, the vibration of your voice going straight to your core. she nods above you, hands tangling in your hair as she holds you against her, a quiet string of pleas spilling from her pillowy lips.
you double down on your efforts, eating her out like its your last meal, curling your fingers against her g-spot whilst her pushes you further into her, grinding her hips up against your face with great vigour for someone who thought it was 'wrong'.
her thighs shake and clamp down around your head as she nears her orgasm, chest heaving above you as your own breathing is restricted by the muscle surrounding you. her back arches once more as she comes undone with a soft cry. you continue to fuck her though it until she slumps down in her chair, thighs releasing you from their chokehold. you ease your fingers out of her, making her whine at the loss.
"Clean." You tell her, returning the digits to her mouth as she licks her own cum off of them, "you taste so good Ms.Mckay." you say with an air of confidence that wasn't there before and cassie feels the blood rush to her cheeks as she looks away.
Summary: Robby throws a Fourth of July party and invites practically everyone from The Pitt. Victoria introduces you to a new face, and Cassie gets too curious
Word count: 4.6k
Warnings: reader leans towards having female genitalia, kissing, spitting, drinking mentioned, drinking from other people's bottles, not so subtle flirting, power imbalance(s), talk of an ex being an emotional cheater, mention of Barsantos, jealous!Cassie, angst, feelings get hurt/ignored, etc.
🎵- Human Nature
God, she was so jealous.
Cassie McKay was so jealous.
But she also had no right to be.
You weren’t hers, and she wasn’t yours. Not verbally, anyway. You two had hooked up once or twice, and while she wants more, she turned you down anyway, telling you she wasn’t a good person, it didn’t fit into her life right now, etc. All these excuses were to push you away from her.
But it didn’t work out that way. You pulled her towards you like a magnet, conscious of it or not. Which was hell for her, but of course, you never realized you were doing it. So how could she fully blame you?
It was Fourth of July Weekend. Robby had put on a small party. His backyard was filled with all-day shift attendants, mostly, except for Doctor Shen and Doctor Ellis. Of course, Jack is always where Robby is, so you expected to see his face anyway. However, there were a few strangers she didn’t recognize, and neither did you.
They would come up and shake your hand, pat your back or your shoulders, introducing themselves one after the other. Meanwhile, Cassie just watched, looking on with disdain. Because she wanted to touch you, shake your hand, pat your back, etc. But she couldn’t; that was one of the rules of this whole dynamic between you and her.
No public display of affection.
The walk to Robby’s house was torture. Cassie had dragged her feet the whole way, mute alongside Dana, Perlah, and Princess, because she knew you would be there. The three of them filled the silence enough with inane chatter. Something about…who is she kidding, she wasn’t listening.
She followed them to the front door, through the foyer, and out into the back yard. And there you are. You’re leaning heavily against the fence, a drink in one hand. You perk up when Cassie approaches and tip your drink in an easy drinking.
“Hey, Cass! Long time no see.” You joke, having just seen her a few days ago.
She swallowed, playing it off with a confident smile. “Yeah. Long time no see.”
“R3 now, right?” You muse. “Too smart for me. You’re a primary code leader now, big stuff.”
“Hardly.”
“C’mon.” You bump her shoulder. “You’re overseeing the trauma floor now.”
She eyes you. “Are you actually excited for me? Or is it just to make conversation?”
The corner of your lip quirks. “You can decide.”
“It just comes with a lot more responsibility.”
“Mm.” You look amused, that’s for sure. Cassie watches as you take a long sip of your drink, and her eyes are glued to you as you swallow. “Well, I bet you could teach me a thing or two.” You eye her and keep drinking. She shifts a little in the silence, trying not to scratch at her skin, a nervous tell.
Because she knows you’re flirting. She knows you are. But what can she do about it?
“Can I have a sip?”
She pauses with her Shirley Temple halfway to her lips. Her brow lifts. But she hands the glass over, fingers brushing yours when you reach out to grab it.
“Yeah, of course.” She agrees.
You take a sip in response. “You look pretty.” You tell her. “In case I didn’t say. Meant to tell you earlier.”
You think she almost blushes, which Cassie never does. That’s not a Cassie thing to do. You nod, half to yourself.
“So do you.” She watches you closely, eyes twinkling because you place your mouth directly where hers was just moments ago. She’s almost smiling. Key word being ‘almost’. It fades when she steals a glance over your shoulder. “You have company,” she says, snatching the drink back from your hand.
You turn in time to see Dylan Marsh loping towards you. Twenty-eight, next-door neighbor to you and Robby, ex-girlfriend. And, most importantly, perpetually and persistently, in love with you. You have enough time to wink at her before she approaches.
“Hey,” she says. She turns to Cassie. “Mind if I steal her?”
Cassie’s jaw ticks. “No,” she says, after a moment’s hesitation. “Of course not. Don’t have too much fun.” She sucks in a breath and just stares as Dylan pulls you away. She watches you go with a sinking heart. You turn to look at her over your shoulder, and she swears there’s something in your eyes, but then you blink, and turn away, and it’s gone.
Baran and Trinity have now pulled up beside her.
“Dr. McKay.” Baran nods towards the woman. Cassie lifts her drink in response but says very little else. All she can do is keep her eyes on your frame as you talk excitedly with your ex-girlfriend.
Your hands flare up in certain moments, and it makes Cassie wonder what the two of you are talking about.
From across the yard, you catch Cassie’s eye finally. You give her a slight smile, but she doesn’t return it. Instead, she tries to remain stoic, the best she can, but it has her heart deflating a little when your expression falters.
She finally pulls her eyes away, forcing them to look at Baran and Trinity. “Hey.” She responds eventually.
She felt happier when you were around.
However, you two weren’t in a relationship and never would be. She’s made that clear a thousand times before. And it sucks because she knows how lovely you are. How kind. She loves watching you interact with your patients. Cassie can’t confront her feelings for shit, and she knows that, but if you put her in a room with a patient, she’s trying to relate in every way she can. She’s making jokes when needed, being sympathetic when wanted, she’ll smile and play feelings, but when it comes to you, you two don’t discuss emotions or anything like that; you guys don’t sit in your wallows together.
You just call her up, or she calls you up when you both can’t sleep, which results in you going over to her apartment, or she comes over to yours, and you two have sex, and then one of you leaves. It pulls you down sometimes. It makes you mad.
But it shouldn’t, because you two made rules for this whole agreement.
No touching in public No talking of feelings in private You two won’t develop feelings at all; you can’t (which sort of ties in with number 2) And four, if any of you decide to act on those feelings, you two have to call it off. Period. No excuses.
At first, the rules sounded great. She knew you had gotten out of a relationship with Dylan just a few months ago, and you needed someone else to take your mind off things. But then, over the course of months, she knew she liked you a lot more than just using each other for late-night hookups.
Yeah, she understands she has a 12-year-old kid, and she’s older than you by a mile; it makes it harder that you understand she’s still closed off in a lot of places within herself. She’s closed herself off to romantic relationships for a long time now, but she wants to be the one person you open up to, no matter how toxic that sounds.
Cassie McKay is not a therapist; she’s an ER nurse, and it’s probably a good thing she’s not a therapist because who else would keep them in business? They would make great money on this push-pull thing you and she have going on.
Her thoughts are suddenly squandered when she notices you have begun to walk into Robby’s house, leaving Dylan all by herself. You’re probably just going to the bathroom, but she still keeps an eye out for you and makes sure Dylan doesn’t follow.
“So, how is it being an R4 now?” Trinity asks, trying to make conversation, and Cassie appreciates it. Really, she does.
“Feels like every other day, really.” Cassie shrugs, taking a sip of her soda. She’s not allowed alcohol or anything, per the sanctioned court order, if she ever wants to regain custody of Harrison.
Baran smiles. “Before you know it, you’ll become an attending as well.” She nudges Cassie’s shoulder with her own.
“Kill me if I ever get that far.” Cassie shoots back, which makes both Baran and Trinity laugh. But it’s true for Cassie. She doesn’t think she could ever be an attending. It looks like it sucks the life out of anyone who inherits the title. Robby has gone on sabbatical for 3 months, which is fair enough, Baran looks exhausted constantly, and everyone is pretty sure the only thing that holds her up is getting to go home to Trinity every night, but Cassie has no one to go home to and she has never been on vacation since Harrison was born so she wouldn’t know what to do with herself if presented the opportunity.
You still haven’t come out of the house, and now Cassie is fidgeting with her hands. Dylan is still out in the yard, conversing with John Shen and Parker Ellis, so there’s no chance you’re waiting for her up there. Maybe you had too much to drink, and you’re currently keeling over the toilet. Or maybe you just got lost. Robby has a big-ish house; it would be easy.
Either way, Cassie doesn’t like the fact that you’re alone in there, so she’s excusing herself from Baran and Trinity for a moment. “Sorry, ladies, bathroom calls.” Cassie walks into the house, the waning sunlight glittering through the windows.
She can’t hear you, per se, but she can smell you. The fragrance you’re wearing drifts through the house and leads her to a bathroom on the second floor. It’s at the end of a hallway.
She knocks lightly before pressing her ear to the door. She listens to you scramble through the bathroom, reaching for the handle before swinging it open, and Cassie pushes herself back so as not to look too suspicious.
“You okay?” She asks. “I saw you walk off from Dylan down there.” She cocks her head in the direction of the backyard. “You looked anxious.”
“Yeah. Yeah, I’m okay. I’m just hiding in here.” You shrug, and Cassie’s nodding. You have no reason to lie to her; you know she’d understand where you’re coming from.
“Yeah, I get that.” She sighs, smiling at you. She looks around the room before saying, “Can I hide, too?”
“Oh, sure. I mean, it’s not my house, come on in.” You step back and let her push inside. You’re locking the door again and pushing yourself through the window to sit on the roof once more.
Without a second thought, Cassie follows, grumbling as she makes it onto the roof.
“Fuck, I’m too old for this,” she mutters.
You laugh, watching as she stumbles over to join you. It’s darker now, the pink sunset has dissipated, replaced with darker blue hues of the incoming night. She makes it to your side and drops down next to you with a sigh.
“I hate parties,” she blurts, after a moment’s silence.
You hum appreciatively. “Yeah.”
More silence.
“What happened between you and Dylan down there?”
Your head whips to her. “Nothing. I just needed to get away for a moment.”
“You sure?” She’s certainly not going to let this go.
You sigh, staring out at the sky now dotted with tiny, twinkling stars. “I don’t know why Robby invited her. We broke up on okay terms, but… It’s just a lot to look at her sometimes. And she acts as if nothing happened between us. Nothing did, really. I had just found out she was having an emotional affair with someone during medical school.”
“Ah, yeah. That’ll do it.” She sucks in a breath through her teeth as she says the words.
You nod, “yeah.”
“Well, any other woman that give you a hard time, you send them my way.” It’s a little forward to say, but who is Cassie McKay if not forward? She watches you laugh then, shaking your head. “So,” she continues. “Dylan,” she holds a finger out, counting. “Anyone else I have to watch out for?”
“Since when are you interested in my love life?”
“I’m just making conversation with my favorite ped’s nurse,” she argues.
You roll your eyes, trying to ignore the way your pulse quickens at the question. “And one you happen to sleep with.” You comment, and she huffs a chuckle. “No one at the ER, if that’s what you’re asking.”
She can read your tone. It’s not exactly subtle. “So there is someone,” she says.
“It’s nothing.” You glance away from her. She glances at your swinging feet and watches the tips of your shoes.
“Have you…told them how you feel?”
“No. God, no.” You shake your head.
“No,” Cassie repeats. She sounds amused. “Why not?”
“It’s complicated,” you say, a little sharper than you intend. “I mean…just…look, it doesn’t matter, okay? Let’s just…”
“Okay. Alright, hun.” She hoists her hands in mock surrender. But there’s something else in her eyes- something darker. It’s gone before she can blink.
“How’s Harrison?” You ask. It’s a terrible attempt at a tone shift, but she lets it go. She shrugs.
“You know, a 13-year-old boy. He’s okay. But I think he misses having you around.”
Your heart tugs a little. “Yeah. I miss him too. I feel kind of bad not being able to see him as frequently.”
Cassie nudges your leg with hers. “Don’t worry about him,” she says. “He does fine enough.”
You nod. It’s suddenly painfully obvious how close she is- how her shoulder brushes yours; how her shoes are pressed inches away from your own.
“We should probably go back down,” she comments. “People will realize we’re missing.”
Her gaze lingers half a second longer. “Yeah, I guess so,” you agree. Cassie stands, brushing off her pants, and offers you her hand. You take it. She helps you up, and your hand stays in hers for a split-second longer than it should. Just long enough for your breath to catch.
“Do we have to?” You ask, your eyes looking down at her lips.
“Yeah, baby.” She whispers, looking down at your lips too. “We have to.”
“I’d really rather stay in this bathroom with you.” You confess to her. “I know you’re jealous. When I talk to Dylan. I can feel it.”
“I’m not jealous.” She shakes her head like it’s a crazy notion. Her hands make the unconscious decision to slip down to your arms. “I’m never jealous.” Cassie tries to argue.
“Yes, you are.”
“You’re drunk. You don’t know-” Now that might be a little toxic to say. She knows you’re not drunk, she knows. But she doesn’t want this to happen again. There have been so many instances where the two of you have become somewhat estranged, just to fall into each other once more, and before the two of you know it, you’re both hurting one another again.
“I’ve had one beer, maybe. Not even. I’m not drunk. I know what I’m saying, Cass.” You cut her off, arguing your point. You’re crossing your arms, making her drop her hands from them.
“No, no, I’m not trying to dismiss you, I’m…okay, maybe that’s what I’m doing, but I’m not trying to, okay? I’m…I’m trying to tell you I really do too, baby, but we can’t right now. Dylan seems…really nice!”
You roll your eyes. “She is. But she’s not who I want.”
Cassie sighs, her lips pulling into a straight line. “I know.” She whispers.
But you understand, too. You can’t adopt this routine again. However, even though you keep repeating in your head that you can’t do it, you can’t have feelings like this for her, you lean in slightly, looking at her with sad eyes as you silently beg for her to kiss you.
You end up dropping your head to her shoulder, whispering an ‘I’m sorry’, over and over and over again. You take a step away from her, going to turn around when she grabs you by the wrist.
“No, no, no, no. Hey, hey, come here.” She coerces you back to her before hesitantly leaning in. And you think maybe this time she will kiss you, but she instead presses her lips to your forehead. “You look really good tonight.” She tells you, as she moves past you, leaving you in the bathroom.
You huff a laugh, once again rolling your eyes, but Cassie is not there to see it. You slowly make your way back down to the now dark house and out into the backyard, surrounded by string lights and candles.
You’re feeling low, now. Like everything has been drained from you. You want to leave, and you might, you might pull an Irish goodbye and text Trinity and Dennis and Vic that you got home okay, but you weren’t feeling it anymore. And you would send a text to Robby, wishing him a Happy 4th.
That sounded like a great idea. Except Victoria had other plans for you.
“Hey!” She runs up to you in heels somehow. “There’s someone who wants to talk to you.”
“Vic, I don’t-”
“It’ll be fun! She’s interested in meeting you, trust me.” She’s grabbing your hand and pulling you across the yard. You drag your feet the whole way, trying to stall as much as possible. Vic loves to do this, introduce you to people she thinks you’ll like. And most of the time you do, but it never goes any further than a one night stand as your feelings drag themselves back and stick onto one person in particular.
“Victoria, I really can’t-”
“Doctor Lorenz!” she cuts you off immediately, shouting the woman’s name to grab her attention. The supposed Doctor is dressed in a nice striped tank top, some bell-bottom jeans, sandals on her feet, and curls in her hair. “This is our favorite Peds nurse I was telling you about!”
The woman turns around, and you’re almost awe-struck. She’s….really pretty. Like unfairly pretty. Like Baran Al-Hashimi, unfairly pretty. She has big, brown doe eyes, the perfect set of lips that are shining in the overhead lights, and her nose is arched. There’s a small indent on her chin, and a little dimple that shows in time with her smile.
You stand in front of the older woman, putting on your best smile in return. “Hello, Doctor Lorenz.”
“Ah, yes. Victoria here has been non-stop talking about you.” She smiles as well, and it’s a nice, warm, beautiful thing. You feel something warm begin to swirl inside you.
“I hope all good things.” You joke, and she laughs, reaching out to touch your arm. The action makes you feel good.
“Of course! Nothing but good things.” She insists.
The two of you fall into easy conversation. Turns out, Victoria had asked Doctor Lorenz if there were any openings at Boston Children’s Hospital, and if you could tour it one day. It would be your dream to work there, as it’s one of the best Pediatric Hospitals in the US, and you couldn’t even begin to imagine the amount of opportunities that type of job would bring you.
From your peripheral vision, however, you can see Cassie standing around, keeping a watchful eye on you. It somewhat infuriates you, because why should she? She has no right. She has no right to you, or to survey you from that far a distance. Actually, she doesn’t have the right to watch you with such a keen eye at all.
An idea starts to form.
It’s not a good one at all. Matter of fact, it’s downright terrible. But you make the excuse that the alcohol is getting to you, and something about the way she looked at you, the way she hesitated before kissing you on the forehead, the way she sat with you on the roof, so close- all of it is telling you to do it.
You need to make Cassie McKay jealous.
So- fuck it. You do.
“What’s that you got?” You ask Doctor Lorenz, and she glances down at her bottle.
“Oh! Smirnoff. Really good. I had originally asked Robby to pick some up for this party tonight, but I decided to just bring some. There are a few left! You want to try some?”
“I’d love to. Can I…try yours?” You question, and Doctor Lorenz holds the bottle out to you. You grab the neck of it. Before you can tip it back, your eyes make contact with Cassie’s across the room. She looks so ticked off, her jaw seems clenched, and she has an iron grip on her soda.
Your eyes rip away from hers to focus on Doctor Lorenz’s, and they’re staring back at you, intently at that. You put the opening of the bottle up to your lips and take a swig, and you swear you watch her pupils dilate, but it could just be the lighting.
You’re giving it back to Doctor Lorenz once you take a few sips. Wiping the back of your mouth, you hum. “Wow. That is really good, you were right.” You chuckle, and so does she.
“Right? I think there are a few more in the cooler over there,” she cocks her head towards a red cooler with a white top, sitting near Cassie, funnily enough. “But you can have some of mine anytime you want.”
You look up at her. Yes. Look up. She has to be at least 5’11, and while you think you have a good length on you, you’re not that tall. And she has to be at least ten years older than you.
And you know she’s making Cassie envious.
Now, is this completely unprofessional? Absolutely. And it’s wrong to use this woman in this way, to make your friend with benefits, Cassie McKay, jealous. But Doctor Lorenz obviously wants this to continue as her hand brushes your arm. And not in an absentminded way that’s for sure. However, you feel Cassie before you see her.
She’s at your side now, slinking there like a shadow. Brooding, quiet, five foot five of her.
“Oh! Doctor Lorenz, this is our R4, Cassie McKay.” You introduce them to one another, and they exchange a cordial enough greeting.
“Hi. Hey, can you help me with something?” Cassie is trying so hard not to seem upset. “Robby needs an extra hand with the margarita mixer machine.”
“Yeah, of course. I’m so sorry, Doctor Lorenz, I have to lend a helping hand in the kitchen for a little bit, but I look forward to talking with you more!” You can feel Cassie’s hands slide underneath your shirt. They’re warm on your back. But then they slip down to one of your pant loops and hook around it.
Cassie is so angry she’s practically fuming. She feels hot all over, watching you with that woman. She drags you past coworkers and friends and strangers alike into Robby’s house. She pushes the two of you past the kitchen, past the margarita mixer, upstairs into the bathroom that the two of you had just practically left.
She shuts the door and locks it.
You swallow.
She’s so close you can taste her: her breath on your lips and her scent in your nose, soda and something so distinctly Cassie. The silence is suffocating. You lean up against the counter and wrap your fingers on the ledge.
She slowly moves to stand in front of you, placing herself up against your body. Her hand slinks behind you, turning the sink’s faucet on. Then she stills, her mouth so incredibly close to your neck that you begin to tip your head back.
She lets the tap run, drowning out the sound from beyond the door. It’s not like anyone else is in the house, but still. You feel her breath heaving against your skin before she finally leans forward and connects her lips to your neck.
Your fingers curl on cool granite. Her hands push you back, into the counter, and the edge of the stone bites into your spine. “Did that get you off?” She asks suddenly. “Flirting with her?”
Her strap crowds your hips, nudging at your core.
“Sorry,” you gasp, but you’re not, really- you did it on purpose, riled her up, and a part of you thinks it’s because you know this would happen. “I’m sorry- fuck.”
“I asked you a question, baby.” She murmurs, rolling her hips into yours, and you gasp. “You need it that bad, you’re that fucking desperate, you go to someone else?” She licks her tongue up your neck, moving to the front of your throat, and stopping at your chin.
Her hand slips under your shirt and splays at your ribcage. Her fingertips move higher, skating up your skin, grazing your nipple. You whine softly, trying to lift your hips off the counter as you chase her cock.
The hand on your waist clamps tighter.
“Open your mouth,” she says.
You stop wriggling. You part your lips for her, and her hand leaves your hip, coming up to wrap around your throat. You watch her thumb settle on the edge of your jaw. It digs into the skin there, kneading gently, forcing your gaze to her. Her index and middle fingers tug at your lip and dip into your mouth.
She raises herself to get a better angle before gathering spit into her mouth and dropping it onto your tongue. You swallow with a whimper before she finally kisses you, tongue and all.
Cassie doesn’t make any noise during the whole thing, but you sound like heaven to her ears. You whine against her lips, moan, whimper, every noise she could come up with, you produce from your throat.
She likes it so much that she wants more. Much more, if you’re willing to give them.
However, you’re pulling away before she can flip the two of you around.
“Stop, stop, stop.” You’re both heaving, chests rising up and down in tandem. Your hand is placed directly in the center of Cassie’s breasts, holding her a few feet away.
“Are you okay?” She hears herself asking.
“I don’t want to do this if it’s going to end up in a one-night stand. I ca-can’t do it, Cassie. I can’t do it anymore.” Your eyes look so sad as they focus on her blue ones.
She knows what you mean. And neither can she. But that would put her in a vulnerable position. A position she hasn’t been in for a long time now. She doesn’t quite know what to do. She’s caught in a crossroads of sorts.
“Then we shouldn’t go any further.” She tells you, and watches as your face falls.
“Fine. Then we’re done? Done, done? Just like that?”
“Yeah. Done, done. Just like that.” The words don’t even sound like something she would actively say out loud. She knows you don’t want to stop this. And she knows herself that she doesn’t want to stop this. But she really can’t. She just can’t.
“Right.” You nod, and she watches as your eyes brim with tears. “Fuck you, Cass,” you mutter before unlocking the bathroom door and pulling it open, stepping through before slamming it closed. She exhales a shaky breath, bending herself over to rest her hands on her knees.
It’s like she’s somehow stabbed herself, right in the heart. She feels like she might throw up, too. Her arms wrap around her middle. She’s acting so stupid, she thinks to herself, because she’s the one who could’ve just said the right words. However, the voice inside her head took over, and soon enough she was agreeing to something she couldn’t let go of just yet.
a/n: Hi guys!! I'm back!! Sorry, I was gone for some time (I'm sure ya'll didn't even notice LMFAO), but I went on a trip with my gorgeous, beautiful mom to London!! And yes, it was to see Harry Styles. And I got barricade (first time I've ever gotten barricade for anyone) and it was hot as well, thought I was gonna pass out, but I didn't! And don't even get me started on Harry, he was hot as ever, literally passed by me three times, and everything. But I'm back to writing now, I promise!!
based on this request. what you have with baran is casual at first, just a way to let off steam. but when feelings start getting in the way, changes need to be made. NSFW! mdni. fingering (b receiving), car sex, can I call this power bottom baran? reader is a doctor.
“Still charting?”
You glance over your shoulder at her, looking up to meet her eyes. “Always. What else am I getting paid for?”
“Certainly not your bedside manner,” says your attending, crossing her arms. “I saw how you laughed at that man with the broken foot earlier.”
You shrug, turning back to the computer. A smile pulls at the edges of your lips. “Yeah, well, he slipped on an actual banana peel. I thought that only happened to people in cartoons.”
“Apparently not.”
“Is that all you came over here for?” you ask, turning again. “Are you that concerned about my bedside manner, Dr Al-Hashimi?”
She steps closer to you, leaning down to place one arm on the back of your chair and the other on the table as if she’s looking at something on the computer. But all of her focus is on you, every bit of it, and there’s a raspiness to her voice that you’re able to understand the cause and implications of.
“Are you free tonight?” she asks.
You swallow hard, looking down at your hands on the keyboard. You itch to reach one over and take hers on the table, but you’re still at work, and you’re not sure if that amount of softness would be welcome in the first place.
You give a quick nod. “Sure, but can we go to yours?”
“Why?”
Because her home is everything yours is not. It is big and cozy and it smells like the rosewater candles she lights. Her bed is giant, the pillows are soft, and you have become attached to the crochet blanket at the foot of the bed.
“It’s closer,” you say, “and closer is more convenient.”
Baran is quiet for a second, as if she might have preferred the answer you kept to yourself. But eventually she hums in agreement, gives your shoulder a squeeze, and walks off.
—
“What’s going on with you and Al-Hashimi?” Trinity asks, nudging you with an elbow as the two of you change clothes in the locker room. “You two are always talking, always taking cases together… I saw you leave in her car the other night, you know.”
You shake your head, zipping up the bag you keep your belongings in and slinging it over your shoulder. “I was having car trouble, that’s all.”
“Oh yeah? That’s it?”
You sigh, running a hand over your face. You’re tired and you wish you were with Baran already. “It’s nothing, Trinity, really. It’s so casual that it’s not even worth talking about, and I don’t want it to become work gossip. We keep things professional when we’re here.”
Trinity crosses her arms. Her hair is loose, she looks more at ease than she does on the clock. “So there is something.”
“It’s not serious.”
“The way you look at her seems pretty serious.”
You frown at that, stepping away toward the door. “That doesn’t matter.”
“She looks at you, too.”
“Yeah, everyone is fucking looking at everyone else all the time, Trinity. We work in an emergency department.”
“That’s not what I meant,” Trinity says. She shakes her head. “Listen, I don’t know your situation, but from an outsider’s perspective… it sure looks like a little more than what I have with Yolanda. That is casual.”
You walk the rest of the way out the door and try not to let that fully sink in.
—
“Are you okay?” Baran asks. You sit at a red light close to the street her house is on, with a takeout box in your lap that’s still hot. “You’ve been quiet.”
“It’s been a long day,” you say. “I’m tired, that’s all.”
She nods, sitting with that for a moment before replying. “Do you want me to drop you off at your place?”
Immediately, you decline. You don’t want to be alone tonight after the day you’ve had, and you think it would do you good to have a distraction. All you want is to be with her, to feel the soft warmth of her skin against yours and the steadiness of her hands on you, grounding you to reality.
“No,” you say, offering her a smile as reassurance. “I’m fine, really. It’s okay.”
Baran reaches across the center console for your hand and gives it a squeeze. She runs her thumb over your knuckles soothingly. “Okay.”
The light turns green and Baran’s hand slips out of yours, going back to the steering wheel. You can’t help the feeling of emptiness that comes over you with the absence of her hand in yours.
“Baran,” you say quietly, glancing at her briefly as she drives. “What would you think if someone from work found out about us?”
She tenses visibly. “Why? Has someone found out?”
“I don’t know,” you lie. “I was just wondering what you would think about it if they did.”
She pulls onto her street, then into her driveway, and she takes the time to park the car before answering.
“That depends,” she says. “If we were serious, I wouldn’t mind. I would like people to know. But this, right now… it’s not serious, is it?”
You look down at the takeout box in your lap. You think that no, your relationship is not serious, but it feels like it when you know her favorite order from her favorite restaurant and pay for it every time even when she sternly tells you not to. It feels serious when you ride home together with hands joined at stoplights, and it feels serious when compared with Trinity and Yolanda’s relationship the way it was earlier.
Baran places a hand on your shoulder, swiping a thumb over it through your shirt. “Look at me.”
You don’t want to, because you think every single thought you’re having about the state of your relationship could be read in your eyes right now.
You look at her anyway. You meet her eyes because they are so beautiful and warm, studying you as if you are the only person she has any interest in looking at for the rest of her life.
“What’s going on with you?” Baran asks. Her tone isn’t sharp or accusing, just curious. “Talk to me.”
Your heart hammers in your chest as you raise a hand up and sweep some of her hair from her face, her curls soft beneath your fingertips. Then you trail it over her face, letting your knuckles brush over her cheekbone, then down to cup her jaw.
You lean over the center console and lean in, meeting her in a kiss that is meant and taken as a distraction.
“I don’t want to talk,” you murmur against her lips, and then lean in again to close the space.
Baran pulls you closer, snaking a hand around to the back of your head. She makes a low, needy sound against your lips, tired but wanting, and for a second both of you forget what you had been talking about beforehand.
The takeout box nearly falls out of your lap, but you pull out of the kiss and catch it.
“Sorry,” you say quietly, smiling. “Come on, it’ll get cold, and if we have to cook a frozen pizza—”
Baran pulls you in one more time, rougher than before, tongue slipping into your mouth and swiping against yours. You feel a fuller hunger from her now, a hunger that is more demanding, and it makes your head spin.
“Backseat,” she says firmly.
“We’re literally in your driveway, Baran. Let’s go inside.”
“Get in the backseat,” she insists. “Balance the food on the dash, we’ll be quick.”
You don’t put up any more of a fight. You would do anything for her if she asked, anything at all, so you balance the box of food on the dashboard and crawl into the backseat.
Baran joins you, climbing into the backseat before lying down across the seats and pulling you down on top of her. It’s not the first time you’ve found yourselves here like this, Baran kicking off her pants beneath you on the leather seats while you make quick work of your top and bra.
“Come here,” Baran reaches out for you, pulling you between her legs before leaning up a little to meet you in a kiss. One of her hands guides one of yours to her thigh, and you drag it teasingly upwards.
You slip your other hand beneath her burgundy tank top, feeling her shiver when you cup one of her breasts, and she inches closer to you on the seats.
“Fuck, I needed this,” she says shakily. “After dealing with those fuckers from surgery all afternoon…”
“And banana peel guy,” you smile, leaning to press kisses down the column of her throat.
“And you,” Baran adds. “You and those looks you gave me all day, you little shit… I noticed, you know.”
You roll your eyes, if not at her accusation then at the amount of swearing. She almost never swears while on the clock, and sometimes it feels as though she tries to make up for it after work. It’s so very millennial of her, but she never likes it when you say that.
“Let me make it up to you,” you say, and when she nods you slide your hand the rest of the way up to feel the wetness gathered between her thighs. It makes your breath hitch, the sheer amount of it, and it convinces you that she really was as affected by you today as she said.
“Look at this,” you say, dragging it up to her clit. You rub tight circles against it, relishing the low groan she gives you. “All for me?”
“Who else?” Baran asks. She sounds breathless, she sounds like she’s yours.
“I don’t know. Like you said, this is just casual.”
“Oh, fuck off.”
“Don’t make me stop.”
She reaches down to hold your wrist in place, as if believing for a moment that you really would. “Don’t stop,” she pleads. “It feels so good, don’t stop.”
You slip two fingers into her easily, feeling the way her walls stretch around you and watching the way her back arches off the leather seats. She gasps, grip on your wrist tightening for a second before releasing entirely.
“Relax,” you murmur. “Let me take care of you.”
She nods, hips jerking up, and gasps when you hit especially deep. She pulls you closer to her like she needs your stability, needs you to be grounded so that she can let herself submit to the ecstasy, and you lean down to press a kiss to her shoulder as if to reassure her that you’re not going anywhere.
Baran pulls your head up so you’ll look at her, and when you meet her eyes you can see just how far gone she is.
Instead of answering you lean down to kiss her, and when your lips meet hers you feel her tense around your fingers and she moans into the kiss, thighs clamping down on your wrist, and she tips her head back as she rides out her orgasm.
The car goes quiet afterwards, the silence broken only by the sound of her ragged breathing and the creaking of the seats as she shifts to sit up a little.
You pull her into you, letting her lean against you and nuzzle her head into the crook of your neck. You run a hand up and down her back as her breathing levels out, leaning down once to press a kiss to the top of her head, and let her rest.
“We should go inside,” Baran says eventually, but she doesn’t move to get up. “Think the food will still be warm?”
“I’m sure it’s fine,” you say. With one hand you tilt her chin up and lean down to kiss her, and then you part from her and study her as if committing this image of her to memory. “You are so fucking beautiful.”
She leans back down to let her head retake its place, and closes her eyes.
You hold her as long as she lets you.
—
Baran’s home is comfortable in a way that is distinctly different from the sterility of the emergency department and the persona Baran puts on while there. It is a place of warm lighting, table lamps and rosewater candles, and family pictures on every available surface.
You asked her once why she still keeps pictures displayed that have her ex-husband in them. You know it’s not due to a lack of pictures without him in them, because you’ve seen her family photo collection personally, but there’s a presence of him in the decor around her house that you find surprising considering their divorce.
‘They remind me of the good times,’ Baran explained when you asked. ‘Kaveh’s father isn’t a bad man, we simply weren’t right for one another.’
‘Why not?’
She shrugged, sipped her mug of tea. ‘Time changes people. It hardens some, softens others. He hardened.’
‘You didn’t.’
She followed your gaze to a picture on an end table by the couch of her and her son in the park, Baran tending to Kaveh’s scraped knee while he sat on a swing.
‘No,’ she said, ‘I didn’t.’
Now, you sit on the couch and look at that same picture.
“Car sex, takeout, and you still look tense,” Baran says, sitting down next to you. “Is it time for round two, or are you finally ready to talk?”
You sit back against the couch cushion, letting it bear your weight. “Trinity got in my head today.”
“About what?”
“Us,” you say. Then you fabricate a bit of the story, because you don’t want to tell Baran that Trinity knows about the two of you. “She was talking about her relationship with Yolanda, and what they have seems so much more strained than what we have. For them it’s just sex.”
Baran crosses one leg over the other and looks down into her lap, anything to avoid looking at you. “What do you think we are?”
“Not that.”
“No?”
You shrug and look up at the picture on the end table again. “How can you do casual relationships? Why do you want it that way?”
Her tone is defensive. “I’ve already gone through one divorce, I don’t need to experience another. I’ve had my fill.”
“Not every relationship is destined to fail.”
“No,” she agrees, “but many do. And I like you, I really do, but if you’re having second thoughts about this…”
“No,” you say quickly. “No, it’s fine. I was just wondering what casual actually entails, since we never really discussed it.”
“We discussed that what happens between us is meant to be a way to decompress,” she says. “That’s all it was ever supposed to be. We were very clear about that in the beginning.”
“But is that still what this is?”
Baran still hasn’t looked at you. She suspects just like you do that what you have now is very much not a casual arrangement, but the thought of that scares her. After her divorce, she shut the door on the idea of any other long-term relationships.
Then you came into her life. You with your softness and your care, you with your way of pulling at her heartstrings, you who she can secretly see herself growing old with — not that she plans on admitting it.
“I’m not him,” you say quietly, and then she tenses and you know you’ve gone too far. You keep pushing anyway. “I’m not your ex—”
“I’m not doing this with you,” she snaps, standing up and rounding the couch. “This isn’t a conversation we need to have.”
“How is it not?”
Baran shakes her head, unable to come up with a good answer but still not wanting to let you win. “It just isn’t. We aren’t anything worth talking about.”
“Are you sure?”
No, not in the slightest. “Yes.”
“Do you want me to leave?”
She doesn’t respond.
“I can leave,” you say more firmly. “Say the word and I’ll go.”
“No.”
“Why not?”
Because I care about you, she wants to say, but she doesn’t. It would feel like letting you win, and by extension it would let in a little of the love for you that she’s been trying so hard to suppress.
“It’s late,” she says simply. “I won’t make you leave, but I’m going to bed. You can sleep here.”
“On the couch? Like we’re an old fucking married couple, and I’ve been banished to the couch for the night?”
Shit.
“That’s not what I was implying,” Baran tries, “but where the fuck else are you going to go tonight? I drove us here, your car is still at work, and I’m not letting you call an Uber this late. Sleep on the couch, sleep on the floor, sleep on the fucking roof!”
You scoff. “Like Santa Claus?”
“Santa Claus doesn’t sleep on the roof,” she deadpans. “He just parks his sleigh there.”
“Whatever, it doesn’t matter.”
She shakes her head, giving you one last assessing look before walking off.
—
The drive to work the next morning is tense, quiet, and long. You don’t speak much and neither does she, both of you still being on edge about the night before, and once you get to the hospital you part ways quickly.
It’s mid-morning when Dana finds Baran in the break room between patients, sipping coffee from a paper cup and trying desperately to keep her head above water.
Dana doesn’t waste time with formalities. “So, what’s up with your girlfriend this morning?”
Baran pauses for a moment, then lowers the cup down onto the table she sits at. “She’s not my girlfriend, Dana, and this is unprofessional.”
“If she’s not your girlfriend,” Dana says, “then how did you know who I was talking about?”
She doesn’t have a good answer to that.
“She’s not acting like herself this morning,” Dana continues, then shrugs. “Thought I’d ask if you knew what was up with her.”
“Her business is her business. I’m out of the picture.”
Dana doesn’t believe that for a second. She’s seen the way you and Baran are together, the lingering touches and long glances, the way you’re the one person in this ED who can make Baran’s stern front falter. She keeps you steady and you keep her from driving herself into the ground, and that’s the way it has always been.
It’s more than a relationship between colleagues, and it’s more than what exists between people who aren’t dating.
“We get drinks after shifts sometimes,” Baran says.
“No, I don’t buy that. I know you don’t drink.”
For once, she wishes Dana was less perceptive. It would make this whole thing a lot easier.
“We’re friends.”
“Try again.”
“It’s a way to take the edge off after long shifts,” Baran finally admits. “I take her to my place, she takes me to hers, we have dinner, we…” she trails off. “Really, it’s no one’s business.”
Dana comes and sits down across from Baran, reaching a hand out to squeeze one of hers. “Listen, babe. Like it or not, you two are kinda the office romance around here. And you might not know that, but there are whispers, and all of us here… Well, to put it frankly, we see something I think you don’t want to.”
“What is that supposed to mean?” Baran asks, but she knows exactly what it means.
“It means you should go talk to her. I wouldn’t overstep like this, but she’s unfocused. She could hurt somebody.”
“Then I’ll send her home early.”
“Yeah? What about tomorrow, gonna tell her to stay home?”
Baran hadn’t thought about that.
“You pack each other’s lunches on Tuesdays and Thursdays,” Dana accuses. “Don’t think for a second that I don’t notice the matching pink containers in the fridge.”
“I’ll talk to her.”
“You better.”
“I will,” Baran says, and tips back the rest of her coffee.
—
“Are you free tonight?”
You sigh, sitting back in your chair. This is exactly how it started last night, how it always starts before Baran is about to invite you over.
“No,” you say simply, without looking at her. You try to focus on the computer, the chart you’re finishing up.
“Are you angry at me?”
“No,” you say again, and it’s not really a lie. If anything, you’re angry at yourself.
“Are you sure?” Baran asks. She steps closer to you, then taps your shoulder as if that might convince you to turn around.
Unfortunately, the gesture is so childish that it makes you smile. You have to try extremely hard to keep beneath your cloud of doom and despair.
“Why are you smiling?”
“You’re funny,” you murmur, “that’s all.”
She frowns. “How am I funny? I’m trying to talk to you.”
You stand, stepping away from your chair. “I know. I’m sorry.”
“I want you to come over,” Baran says. “I want to talk to you about last night.”
“What is there to say? I fucked up, I shouldn’t have implied—”
“Let’s not point fingers,” she interrupts. “You were pushy and you apparently don’t know anything about Santa Claus, but I can look past that. We need to talk, and I’m taking you home with me to do so. There’s only one hour left in the shift.”
“My car is going to get stolen if I keep leaving it here overnight.”
“Good,” she says. “I’m happy to keep driving you.”
“Are you flirting with me right now? I thought we were fighting.”
“We’re not fighting. We’re confused.”
“I’m not confused,” you say. You step closer to her, keeping your voice low enough that only she can hear. “I know exactly what I want.”
She takes in a breath as if to respond, but before she can a new patient is being rushed into the ED and she’s being called over to help.
All she can do before leaving is reach out, give your shoulder a quick squeeze, and nod to the clock on the wall before rushing away.
One hour, her look seems to say.
—
“Trinity,” you say, “where’s your pet country bumpkin?”
Trinity looks up from her charts. “Huckleberry? He’s off today. Went farming. Why?”
“I’ve been calling him and he hasn’t picked up. I was gonna make him run an errand for me,” you tell her. “He seems like the kind of guy I could make do my bidding if I promised him a croissant.”
“A croissant?”
You nod, leaning back against the counter of the nurses’ station. “Baran and I are going to have a talk tonight. Her favorite cafe is close to your apartment, and I thought maybe I could start things off on the right foot if I met her in the parking garage with tea and a scone.”
“And you wanted Huckleberry to go get them for you.”
“Exactly.”
Trinity shakes her head. “You’re fucked, aren’t you?”
You scoff. “Me?”
“You’re in love, you’re in love, you’re—”
“Don’t you dare say it again,” you warn.
“But it’s true.”
You look down at the floor, sighing. You don’t understand why everything has to be so complicated. “Maybe.”
Trinity rolls her eyes. “Don’t maybe me. You’re in love with your boss, and everyone can tell. You’re the office romance.”
While you don’t admit it out loud, you know as well as she does that it’s true.
—
You meet Baran at her car. You get into the passenger seat and she takes the driver’s side, and you sit in silence for a while as you both come down from the day.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” you ask. “We’re both tired, and I don’t want this to end in an argument.”
Baran reaches across the center console for your hand, entwining your fingers. She squeezes lightly. “This is a conversation we need to have.”
“You didn’t think so last night.”
“I’ve changed my mind,” she replies. There’s an edge to her voice. “Are you going to listen to me or not?”
“Sure,” you nod. “Sorry, I’m a little…”
“I know,” she says, and you believe her. “I understand.”
You look down at your joined hands. You don’t know what to say, so you wait for her to take the lead.
“I don’t want to love someone again,” she tells you. She sounds tired, defeated, like love is something she has been fighting back for a long time. “Like I said last night, I’ve already been through one divorce. That relationship was meant to last forever, and it didn’t.”
You’re silent, giving her the time to form her admission piece by piece.
“I don’t want to shake the life I’ve built for anyone,” Baran says. “I refuse to risk it for anyone.”
You understand now. This is a breakup (if you can call it that) and you have ruined everything. You try to pull your hand from hers, but she holds on tight.
“Anyone but you,” she finishes. She tips her head back and rests it against the seat, letting her eyes fall closed. “And I can’t believe I’m admitting to that, but I think we both know that what we have is hardly casual anymore.”
You take a moment to let that sink in, releasing a breath. You are so relieved but at the same time still so nervous, still guilty for pushing and hoping she’s not jumping through hoops just because you want her to.
“Are you sure about this?” you ask. “I don’t want to push you into anything you don’t want, or that you’re not ready for.”
“I’m ready.”
“You don’t have to be.”
“I’m in love with you,” Baran blurts out, opening her eyes. Her voice is level, professional, as if she’s diagnosing an illness. “It’s not a feeling I’ve been open to embracing, but not letting it in seems to have worse consequences.”
It’s all such a contrast to last night. You remember how lonely you felt lying there on the couch, wishing you were in bed with her, imagining her uttering the words she is now.
“One of those consequences is hurting you,” she continues, “and that’s the last thing that I want, besides losing you.”
She looks at you and you see the anxiety in her eyes that she’s trying so hard to disguise. You wonder if her heart is beating frantically in her chest like yours is, if she’s trying to keep her palms from sweating like you are, if she is stunned by the words coming out of her own mouth.
“Do you have anything to say about that?” Baran asks.
It comes to you like a reflex. “I love you, too.”
She sits with that, you sit with it, the moment is soft and yours.
“Good,” she nods. Her voice shakes and her hand still squeezes yours. “I’m glad we settled that.”
“Look at me, Baran.”
She does, and her eyes glisten. She allows you to reach a hand out just like you did last night to run the same path from her cheekbone down to her jaw, and just like last night she allows you to lean in and kiss her.
“I want to see where this goes,” she murmurs against your lips afterward, then leans forward to rest her forehead against yours. “I want quiet nights in. I want to be able to sleep next to you through the night just for the sake of it. I want to introduce you to my son.”
It sounds so beautiful. You cling to the vision of it, let her set the scene. There’s nothing else you could want more.
“I want that, too.”
Baran leans back in her seat and a small smile ghosts over her lips, wry and remembering. “Backseat?”
You laugh at that, sitting back. It cuts through the tension. “Not here. We’ll get caught.”
“Isn’t that half the fun?”
“Can’t you wait fifteen minutes until we get to your place?”
“Fifteen minutes,” she shakes her head. “More like thirty, forty, an hour if traffic is bad...”
“I think you can make it.”
Though she wants to argue some more, she doesn’t. She has all the time in the world with you now, and she intends to enjoy every second of it.
—
Stepping into her house after work again feels right. It feels like a natural progression, a step toward more, even though it’s only the second day in a row that you’ve come home with her. It’s undeniable that a different feeling has been attributed to what you have with her now.
She sits down on the couch and releases a sigh, letting the day seep out of her. She holds onto so much when she’s at work, you can see it when you’re with her at the ED, the tension she carries constantly.
“We should’ve picked up food again,” she says, and it concerns you a little because Baran Al-Hashimi is not a woman who surrenders to takeout two nights in a row. “The last thing I’m interested in doing right now is getting up to cook.”
You slip onto the armrest beside her. You expect her to push you off, maybe make a comment about preserving the structural integrity of her furniture, but she doesn’t. “Let me cook for you.”
Baran raises a brow. You’ve cooked for her before, simple meals after sex where the two of you make the most out of what she has in her fridge, but this is different. This is a more intimate form of care.
“Stay here,” you tell her. “I’ll cook us something.”
You start to move off the armrest but she pulls you back, wrestling maneuvering you into her lap.
“Baran…”
“In a second,” she says. “I’ll let you up in a second. Right now I want you here.”
There’s softness in her voice that makes you stay right where you are. You wouldn’t move for anything, not unless she asked you to, and it doesn’t seem like she’s planning on that.
Baran presses a kiss to the side of your neck, then leans up to press another to your jaw. She holds you close enough that you can feel the steady rise and fall of her chest against your body, and you let her guide your breathing into a similar rhythm.
“I love you,” she says, because she can say it now. She has allowed herself to.
“I love you too,” you reply, because you are allowed to say it back.
— summary: she needed to get you alone, just for the night.
— content warnings: 18+, smut(soft dom! cassie, sub! user, fingering (fem! receiving), mommy kink(i'm sorry), ma'am kink(only once), intox(?), dub-con(?), finger sucking, corruption(?), thigh-riding(cassie! receiving), praise, dumbification(?), soft aftercare, etc.), cassie is probably ooc, babysitter! reader, age gap (cassie is 42-43, reader is 21+), reader drinks wine and likes it, NOT PROOFREAD(i can't have anybody proofreading this), shitty writing, no use of y/n, nicknames/petnames used (baby; good girl; honey; sweet girl; sweetheart), etc.
— authors note: this is purely self-indulgent and first time writing smut(and finishing it), i'm sorry. please enjoy.ᐟ (if you can . . .) (p.s. if this idea was already taken, please tell me.ᐟ)
— word count: 3.6k
dividers by @/chateaubarnes . . .
The call had come late in the evening while you were making dinner. Later than usual.
You were busy waiting for your microwave to finish heating up your nuke dinner when your phone started buzzing. The contact named 'cassie:))', typed by the woman herself.
"Hey, honey. Could you please come quick? I know you're supposed to have off, but the hospital just keeps calling, and calling-" She rushes out over the phone, feeling her guilt and slight panic radiating through the electromagnetic waves.
"Ms. McKay, I promise you are fine, I will be right there."
"Thank you, sweetheart. And it's Cassie." She gently chides, "See you in a bit."
You, of course, rush to get out of the house. Slipping on some suitable clothes, tugging on your shoes, and turning off your microwave before leaving the house with your essentials.
Even though Cassie is ten minutes away from you, you make it in 7, scurrying into her apartment building and up the elevator, texting her to let her know you're there.
You: i'm almost there! in the elevator now:)
Sent: 9:12 PM
cassie:)): Thank you so much!
Sent: 9:12 PM
cassie:)): Door's unlocked for you, honey.
Sent: 9:13 PM
Once the elevator door dings open, you make your way to her door. Apartment 305 in bold letters above as you reach for the door handle, pushing the door open.
"Harrison, buddy!" You call out to the little boy, "We're gonna hang out for a bit while mom works! Which games do you—.." Your words then trail off as you lift your head.
The apartment looked empty, untouched, not pitch-black but dark enough for shadows to roam unknowingly.
You creep inside, hesitant as the door shuts quietly behind you. "Harrison? Ms. McKay?" You gently hum, brows furrowing as you hear shuffling from beyond.
The tranquility of the apartment is broken as a door creaks open, light spilling out, illuminating the way towards Cassie's bedroom.
You silently place your bag down on the ground, toeing off your shoes as you inch closer, about to call out when a dark figure appears in the doorway.
"For the last time, it's Cassie. Not Ms. McKay." The figure teasingly scolds, her quiet laughing letting you know it's just her.
"How come you're still here? Where's Harrison?" You mumble, watching as she turns her broad back to you, walking back into her bedroom.
A sigh escapes her perfect pink lips as she plops down onto her bed, surveying as you draw near the bedroom door. "It's actually one of Chad's weekends. 'm sorry I lied."
As you peek inside, you realise how little Cassie is clothed. The older woman was only dressed in some sleep shorts and a sports bra, her gold chain draped around her neck, twinkling in the warm light.
She's in her own home; she's allowed to wear whatever she wants! Why can't I stop looking at her—
You let out a surprised "oh" at her words, shoulders dropping in realisation, lips curling into a confused frown.
You hadn't even thought to check your calendar to see if it truly was one of Cassie's weekends. "How come you called me?"
"Truth is, 'm lonely, honey." She confesses, "And I wanted to spend some time with you."
Oh.
Your eyes widen at the brunette, just nodding, brows and frown softening. "O- Okay, yeah. Of course!"
Cassie bites back a smirk at your silent flusteredness, already spotting the pink dusting on your cheeks as she nods, "Okay." She repeats, certain.
You silently shuffle inside, shutting the door gently behind you as Cassie reaches behind her to grab an already-filled wine glass.
"Do you drink, sweetheart?"
You shake your head a little too quickly, not wanting to seem irresponsible, but answering truthfully as well.
The brunette chuckles at your quick response, nodding, whispering a small "good girl" under her breath before asking, "Do you wanna try some of my wine?"
You hesitantly glance at her glass, glancing back at the half-filled wine bottle sitting on her nightstand before your gaze settles back on her.
You didn't want to seem reckless, but you didn't want to be rude.
Cassie senses your unease, chuckling harder, holding out the glass to you with a calm smile. "C'mon, it'll be our little secret." She whispers playfully.
You bite the inside of your cheek, just staring at her before making your way closer. Slowly, you take the wine glass from her grip, taking a tentative sip from it.
".. It's not that bad, I think.." You whisper, taking another wary sip.
Cassie grins at you, nodding in approval. "Good, have some more, baby." She purrs, gently guiding the cup back to your lips.
The next thing you knew, you were drinking glassfuls of alcoholic grape juice, vision slightly blurring and head growing fuzzy.
For your first time getting drunk, this was nice, relaxing as you sprawl on the bed next to Cassie, making light conversation with her about whatever comes into mind as you both pass the wine glass between each other, warmth lingering low in your stomach.
"Do you wanna play truth or dare?" The woman murmurs, eyebrows raising challengingly as you giggle.
You bite at your bottom lip, laughter still escaping you as you nod eagerly, Cassie tenderly guiding the glass back to your lips.
"Alright, truth or dare?"
"Dare.." You giggle out after your long sip, handing the wine back to her.
Cassie bites back her smirk, eyes flickering with excitement. Your answer was exactly what she wanted to hear.
"I dare you to suck on my fingers for at least a minute."
The brunette watches as your already bleary eyes glaze over with hidden need, drunk smile immediately wiped off your face as your red cheeks grow darker.
This was probably highly inappropriate for a boss to be asking this, but your drunk brain didn't even put that into factor. All you could focus on was the older woman's intoxicating allure. (And trying not to just stare at her boobs in her black sports bra.)
She delicately grabs at your chin, pulling you closer as you crawl after her, swallowing thickly as you sit inbetween her thighs, feeling her pull at your jaw.
"Open, sweetheart." She breathes out, watching as your mouth falls open, instinctively sticking out your tongue.
She hums as she places her fingers onto your tongue, your mouth involuntarily closing around them as you glance around, trying to avoid her burning gaze as the growing ache between your thighs throbs.
Your cheeks bloom darker as you sit there, too drunk and flustered to follow the dare, your foggy brain still stuck on the fact that she's this close, let alone having her fingers in your mouth.
"Baby," She coos, making you snap your head towards her. "Be a good girl and look at me when you suck on my fingers."
You choke back a needy sound, quickly sucking on her digits as you sheepishly hold eye contact, watching as her eyes slightly light up in desire.
"That's it, good girl.."
God, you were so fucked. Literally.
Your eyes flutter shut as your mouth finds a rhythm that is both comforting and arousing, your thighs discreetly squeezing together. Your inebriated mind letting you slip loose, shoulders lowering.
You don't even notice how close the brunette got until you felt her breath tickling at your lobe, chuckling as she taunts, "I bet if I looked in your pretty panties, I'd find you wet."
Your eyes snap open, shaking your head timidly, your slurred voice muffled as you try to deny, "N-No, ma'am—"
"Ma'am? So polite." She croons, her unoccupied hand trailing down to the fabric of your shorts, sneaking under as you try to keep your thighs clamped shut.
"Open." She tuts, pressing a small kiss to your jaw, grinning against your skin once your thighs fall open obediently. "There we go, sweet girl."
Your breath shakes, pulse quickening once you feel her fingers skim over your heat, feeling you practically dripping onto her fingertips, shivering as she ghosts over your clit.
"Aw, poor baby.." She teased, biting back her grin, "You are drooling into my hand— God, you make this too easy for me, honey."
You whimper from beneath her fingers at her words, cheeks flushing impossibly darker at her tone. "Cassie.."
"Shh, lay back, sweet girl. I got you."
You melt into her touch, letting her guide you back onto the bedsheets as she begins to stroke slow circles on your bud, the alcohol in your system making you even more sensitive.
The older woman slips her fingers from between your teeth, pressing a peck to your cheek, cuffing your cheek as she continues to stroke your folds.
Electricity thrums under your skin as your back arches, whining at her gentle touch, thighs spreading further apart. She comfortingly rubs her thumb over the apple of your cheek, watching as you nuzzel her hand.
"That's it.." Cassie soothed, smiling widely at your dazed-out face. "What do you need, baby? Tell me."
You choke out another whine, burying yourself into her hand, bashful as your clutch at her shoulders.
"Come on, talk to me, sweetheart." She sighs, resting her in the crook of your neck, making you shudder as she mouths at your throat.
You whimper, hands trailing up to her hair. "Need you inside, m- Cassie— Need your fingers.." You hesitantly slur out.
The brunette giggles at your drunk, blissed-out expression, pulling away to quickly get rid of the pesky fabric of your clothes stuck in her way.
She laughs harder at your mourning whine as the friction suddenly disappears, hips and core quivering as the cool air stings into you once your underwear slips down your thighs.
"Sh, sh, I know, baby.. 'm so mean.." She coos, pressing some soothing kisses to your cheek as she brushes against your bare pussy, sending sparks up and down your body.
It wasn't long before you felt the woman's slender fingers prodding at your entrance, tender as they plunged inside, feeding you her fingers inch by inch.
You gasp at the first inch, hand coming up to cover your face, fingers ending up in your mouth as you bite on them for some peace of mind, trying to ground yourself through the aching need and pain of the stretch.
Cassie runs her fingers through her hair, shushing and praising into your skin as she works you open, letting you get used to every inch of her fingers, rubbing easing circles on your sensitive bundle of nerves.
"Such a pretty pussy, such a pretty girl for me.."
"Shh, baby, I know. So much, huh?"
"I've got you, breathe, sweetheart."
"Good girl, taking my fingers so well.."
You shakily reach out to the woman with your unoccupied hand, palm landing on her cheek as she gently rocks her fingers, pumping in and out at a dizzingly slow pace.
"P-Please.. You can move more— fuck, please.." You hiccup, words garbled between your fingers, breath hitching at her thumb circling firmer.
The brunette chuckles, tilting into the palm of your hand as her touch grows further, thumb circling a bit faster as her fingers speed up in a languid, rhythmic pace. "Good girl, so proud of you for askin'.."
You let out a high-pitched whine from behind your fingers at her thrusts and praise, face growing hotter as tingles spread up your spine and heat blooms hotter like a flower in your stomach.
She digs her face into your neck, nosing at your skin as she breathes you in, feeling the vibration of your noises through your throat as they escape.
You quickly grip at the sheets above you, desperate for something to hold on to as your sensitive pussy is pumped open, fluttering around her fingers as they brush against your sweet spot over and over.
"Fuck, mommy..!" You mewl at a particular thrust, hitting deeper inside you than any other, not even noticing what spilled out of your mouth.
The woman above you pauses, quickly, but carefully, grabbing at your chin, forcing your eyes to flutter open to her, the air thickening.
"What'd you just say?" She breathlessly whispers, blood rushing to her own core, as you moan incoherently, brows softly furrowing.
"Hm..?"
"What did you just call me?"
That gets your attention real fast.
Your glazed-over eyes widen as you remember what you moaned, fingers slipping from your lips. "Uh, um—" You croak, slightly panicking as you watch her unreadable expression.
"Say it again." She grits, fingers suddenly picking up back where she left off, pace roughening, catching you by surprise as you yelp, hands gripping at her biceps, nails digging into her soft-toned flesh.
You helplessly wail out at the woman's frenzied tempo, rambling nonsense as your fuzzy mind reels. "'m sorry, 'm sorry— mommy!—"
You hear the brunette grunt at the name, her resolve breaking, pumping her digits faster and finally capturing your lips with hers.
Cassie nips at your bottom lip, instantly soothing it with a swipe of her tongue, grabbing at one of your thighs, pinning it between her own as she sinks down onto it with a shaky sigh against your mouth.
"Good fucking girl." She pants out, pressing some more small kisses to your lips, rutting herself against your leg as she continues to pump.
You whimper at the first grind of her hips, mouth dropping open, nails almost to the point of drawing blood as a coil slowly forms in your stomach at her thrusting digits.
"Ohmygod—" You slur out, back arching, nerves fried, and heart racing as you continue to endure Cassie's gently brutal pace.
She laughs, spreading kisses down to your jaw as she bucks her hips harsher against your thigh, desperate for the friction. "I know, sweet girl, I know.." She mockingly coos against your jaw. "Too much for your pretty brain to comprehend, huh?"
You just whine at her words, noises still pouring out of you as you feel yourself slowly approaching the edge of the terrifyingly intoxicating peak, your walls clenching around her.
"That's it, baby, just let go.." She coaxes, chuckling at your helpless moaning as she bites back her own sounds. "Mommy's got you."
You sob out at Cassie's coo, hands frantically reaching up to cuff her face, just garbling out gibberish to her as you cry and moan, as you reach the tip of the peak, gut tensing and walls fluttering.
"Shh, shh," She purrs, "C'mon, baby.. Cum for mommy, wanna feel it."
You hiccup, just mumbling her name over and over, pulling her forehead down towards yours as the coil suddenly bursts, hips twitching and eyes roll back slightly.
The brunette moans alongside you as you see stars, the waves rolling over you as she humps your leg vigorously.
You grip tighter at Cassie's cheeks, crying softly at her still working you open, muscles untensing as she slows down for your sensitive heat.
"Good girl— Good fucking girl.. Bare with mommy, almost there, sweetheart." She croaks, throat hoarse from fighting back her guttural moans.
The older woman continues to use your leg, every rock her hips hitting her clit just right, the sounds and feeling of your orgasm helping her rapidly approach her own.
Cassie's breath hitches as she feels her own muscles tensing, hips stuttering against your thigh, back arching slightly as she reaches the edge.
With another jerk of her hips, her knees buckles, crying out softly with a hoarse moan as her orgasm takes over all of her senses, collapsing into you.
You whine, gently clinging to her, pawing at her hot skin, brain still foggy with pleasure and need.
Her breath is heavy on your sweat-ridden neck, panting and hot against your wet skin as the two of you ride out your highs.
You slump back into the mattress when she finally eases her fingers out of you, whining up at her suddenly getting up from the bed.
"Mommy..?" You garble out, watching her close with half-lidded eyes as her lips break out into a a soft, tired smile.
She gently hushs you, "'m right here, just grabbing some things to clean up my girl, 'kay..?"
You mindlessly nod, pout still on your lips at the growing distance as she walks away with trembling thighs and careful steps to the bathroom.
The older woman grabs a towel, turning the nozzle on in her tub, face scrunching at the loud sound. She then shuffles back into the bedroom, watching as you pout impatiently.
"Sweetheart, how you feeling..?" She gently calls out, crawling back over to you as you whine, immediately clinging to her once she's close enough.
"Fine.." You huff, yawning softly.
"Nothing hurts, baby..?"
You silently shake your head, rubbing at your eye like a exhausted child as Cassie presses some kisses to your temple.
"Good, good." She whispers, gently wiping at you with the towel. "After 'm done, we can take a bath together.. Unless, you don't want to-"
"Of course I do..!" You quickly mumble, fighting back the urge to wiggle away at her cleaning. "'m okay.." You hum, mind still a bit fuzzy from the wine and your orgasm.
The brunette chuckles, lips brushing against your cheek as she finishes up with wiping your slick. "C'mon, sweet girl."
A giddy sound escapes you as Cassie helps you up from the comforting sheets, guiding you towards the bathroom as you stumble like a fawn learning to walk.
"This is your fault..!" You squeal as you continue to stagger and trip on air, clinging to her as she desperately holds back her own laughter.
You giggle as the woman sets you down on the edge of the tub, hastily turning off the running water as she gives you an amused grin. "So graceful.." She snorts as she begins to help you out of your shirt and bra.
You laugh harder, head tilting back as you beam and wheeze, causing the woman to grab hold of your hips, not letting you fall back into the tub.
"See what I mean?" She mumbles under her breath, thumbs rubbing over your bare skin as she leans, pressing some lingering kisses up your jaw and to your mouth, cutting off your settling laughter with a soft press.
The bathroom grows quiet with only the sound of your shared contented breathing and the dripping from the leaky bathtub faucet.
The two of you slowly pull away once it becomes essential to breathe, resting your foreheads together as Cassie continues to massage at the fat of your waist. You bite back your dopey grin, just melting into the palm of her hands as you grip at the strap of her bra.
"Lemme help you out.." You murmur, fingers gently trailing down to the hem of the sports fabric, as the brunette sniggers.
"You just want to see me naked."
You shrug innocently, biting back your excitement as you tug eagerly at her clothes, helping her out of the fabric as the older woman lets you, stepping out of her shorts, relaxing at the feeling of your fervent hands.
Once the both of you are naked, Cassie tenderly helps you up from the edge, holding your weight and keeping you balanced as you clumsily step into the warm, inviting tub.
The older woman swiftly joins you into the water, slipping in behind you once you've settled in the steam, groaning at your tired limbs as she sits down, pulling you close and hooking her chin around your shoulder.
"Better, baby?" She whispers, pressing some kisses to your cheek as you nod, eyes fluttering shut at her lulling hold.
"Might fall asleep in here.." You sigh, head falling back onto her chest as Cassie chuckles, pressing some more pecks to your skin, wherever she could reach.
You feel her strong arms drawing you in impossibly closer as her lips ghost over the span of your shoulder blade. "I don't mind, sweetheart. I know you're tired." She then mutters under her breath, "Kinda my fault.."
You breathlessly huff out a laugh, turning lax against her, mind slipping deeper into relaxation as you promptly fall asleep.
Cassie fights back her own laughter as she feels you go limp, nosing at your hair and kissing your scalp as she silently begins to wash you.
The next thing you knew was sunlight shining through her curtains, curled up into the woman's chest under the sheets, clad in one of her t-shirts and a pair of her shorts.
You lazily lift your head, looking around the bedroom, cheeks flushing as you slowly remember what happened last night and why you have a headache so early in the morning.
Your gaze then settles on the sleeping woman, your arms instinctively squeezing tighter around her waist as your heart pangs at the sight of her so tranquil.
You gently rest your chin on her sternum, staring up at her calm expression, arm unraveling from her waist to gently trail up to cuff her cheek, thumb rubbing experimentally against her soft skin.
After a few seconds, a rumble escapes Cassie's chest as she leisurely wakes up, lashes fluttering and breath hitching as she rises.
Her eyes open to the sight of you looking up at her with a fond look in your eyes, smiling drowsily as she tilts into your palm like a dog. "Good morning.." She hums, hoarse and soft all at once.
You're about to say 'good morning' back when you hear the front door open from behind the bedroom door, hearing a little boy's footsteps as they practically sprint over to the door.
A few seconds later, the wooden door suddenly bursts open, her 11-year-old, Harrison, running inside as his father stands smugly behind him, Chad's expression dropping when he notices you under the covers.
Part of you basks in the man's look of disbelief. Serves him right for being a piece of shit.
"Good morning, Mom!" Harrison shouts, about to jump onto the bed when he freezes, noticing you lying in the bed right next to his mom. "Is that?—"
baran guilt-fucking her much younger resident because it’s so, so wrong but you’re so, so beautiful, except she fantasizes about taking care of you and making you hers only to quite literally crumble in your arms. she’s all pathetic and wet after a slide of tongues in a heated kiss and every ounce of control flees her body. you recognize the surrender almost immediately and catch her in the fall, cupping her cheek and plainly whispering, “it’s okay to let go, baran.” baran trying to protest as you sink down to your knees and being all, “no, i’m—i’m supposed to be taking care of you,” and you don’t say a thing as you slip her panties down her hips and start to kiss up her thighs, tracing a tantalizing path to her core. “i’m a doctor, too, you know,” you hum between her legs. “and i have just the thing for you.” eating her out until she’s whimpering your name, all protests leaving her body as your mouth latches onto her clit. baran who seldom cusses in front of you, but lets out a whiny, “fuck, please, please, honey,” while you’re devouring her without reservation. slipping your fingers into her heat and feeling her clench around your digits, rocking her hips into your hand with every thrust. it’s nice to see her so shameless, to finally lose control, the one thing she’s been willing herself not to do since the day she met you. except it isn’t anything like her fantasies. no. it’s the opposite, but far fucking better. “yeah, you gonna cum for me? show me exactly who you belong to?” you groan out, aroused all the same from her noises. watching her squirt all over your shirt as she rides out her high, unable to give you more than her loud moans and little whines. not that it matters, because she sounds incredible either way. baran cupping your chin when she finally catches her breath, sighing in adoration as you nuzzle into the touch. “sweetheart, that was. . .” she paused and smiled down at you, albeit with obvious timidity, then, “i’m sorry about your shirt.” you just smile right back and say, “don’t be sorry. now can i do that again?”
