LOE ────➤ 17 , she/her , wlw Tiktok
🤍 : the pitt, mcu, arcane, greys anatomy, criminal minds
(others at request)
ׂ╰┈➤ 16+
ׂ╰┈➤ masterlist
જ⁀➴ : ✦ angst | ✿ fluff | ☀︎ smut |

pixel skylines

Kaledo Art
2025 on Tumblr: Trends That Defined the Year

roma★
Three Goblin Art

Discoholic 🪩

blake kathryn
YOU ARE THE REASON
hello vonnie

PR's Tumblrdome
Acquired Stardust
No title available

ellievsbear
Alisa U Zemlji Chuda

祝日 / Permanent Vacation
Not today Justin

★
TVSTRANGERTHINGS
Jules of Nature
Keni
seen from Argentina
seen from United States
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seen from Germany

seen from United States

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seen from United States
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seen from United States
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seen from Germany

seen from Belgium
seen from Malaysia
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@cxpitt
LOE ────➤ 17 , she/her , wlw Tiktok
🤍 : the pitt, mcu, arcane, greys anatomy, criminal minds
(others at request)
ׂ╰┈➤ 16+
ׂ╰┈➤ masterlist
જ⁀➴ : ✦ angst | ✿ fluff | ☀︎ smut |
forcing a femme down onto her knees and shutting her up with my cock down her throat, parting her thighs with my shoe just to watch her start humping my leg like some kind of stupid fucking mutt
“you poor thing, all worked up from taking daddy’s cock in your mouth. that’s it, make it nice and wet for me, all ready to stretch you out with after”
i am such a pervert obsessive freak but its okay because my heart is pure and i'm a girl
Where's MY public tumblr romance where we flirt in front of everyone???
every clip I've seen of sepideh moafi kissing someone that woman is using TONGUE, she doesn't half ass anything 😭
Cravings ☀︎✿
Baran Al-Hashimi x Fem!reader
Summary: Baran is your ex-wife of two years now, your son, Ali, has an accident at school so you bring him in hoping not to run into Baran while you're there. Fate has a different plan however.
CW: very subtle angst, fluff, smut (explicit sexual content). mama!reader, mum!baran, yearning!reader, needy!baran
I sat in the triage room with my son while Dr. Langdon knelt infront of him, "Hey, buddy... can you show me where it hurts?"
i watched him wipe a tear, pointing at his elbow with a sniffle and tears that were cast over his blotchy cheeks.
"alright, we'll get an x-ray. could just be a fracture, but we'll want to know for sure."
My jaw tightened slightly, "Alright... okay". I watched as a nurse approached, supplies held in her hands and feeling Ali shift slightly further back into the bed. "Its alright, they're going to help you feel better sweetheart."
I gently brush the thick curls off his face while the nurse reaches for his arm with the splint held in her other hand.
"No! i want mum!" he reefed his arm back from the nurse, tucking his head against his chest.
i froze slightly at his words, just for a moment. "mum's working sweetheart, we can't bother her right now... i'm sorry"
i watched as the tear's fell faster "i want her..."
i sighed, taking a breath before looking back toward the nurse who'd slowed her movements. "uh... could you please call Dr. Al-Hashimi?"
The nurse blinked, clearly surprised. She hesitated for a few moments before looking down an Ali who was slowly curling more and more into my side, tiny hand clenching at my shirt before laying the splint back on the tray and leaving the room.
a beat passes before she enters again, another few minutes before a second person enters the room.
I felt the shift as she stared at the two of us sat on the hospital bed, the confused stare that quickly changed to concern when she saw the tears that were practically burned into her son's cheeks.
i looked up at her as she moved to kneel beside me, not yet acknowledging me, but gently grabbing Ali's hand. my eye's darted over her, tall, poised, clad in her black scrubs and stethoscope - every inch screamed professional. not ex-wife who used to sleep against her with a hand tucked under my shirt against my bare skin.
for a heartbeat too long, i stared, her warm brown eyes staring back at my own before retreating back to our son, concern filling them once again.
"it's alright baby... Mommy's here" he leans into her as she kisses his forehead, squeezing his arm.
"he uh... he fell over at school. they-" Baran interrupts, lifting her hand slightly before talking back to Ali and the nurse
"we'll be back azizam. stay with dana, yeah?" i watched at she gently squeezed his arm and gestured to the nurse Dana before she turned and put her hand on my arm, turning and guiding me out of the room and down the hall.
The door clicked shut, leaving us stood staring at eachother. Baran moved to sit on the arm of the couch, "what happened?"
"i'm not entirely sure, the school called and said he fell over on the playground and that i had to come get him. i didn't really have time to ask questions, i just left work and grabbed him and brought him here."
"why didn't you ask? that should've been the first thing you did when you get there?!" she leant forward slightly, shoulders tense while she rubbed her temples.
"i know, i didn't even think about it. when i get to him, he said he fell at lunch which was a couple hours before so i didn't want to stay to chat incase it was worse then it looked." i shifted slightly in my spot, picking at my nails.
i felt her gaze on me, "hey...", i looked back to her from my gaze on the door, watching her stand off the couch and move closer to me, taking my hands in hers.
"im sorry Eshgham, it's not your fault. we'll go to the school tomorrow and find out what happened... yeah?" she squeezed my hands, thumb brushing over my knuckles, looking at me with that same look she used to.
my feet move by themself, inching closer to her and resting my head on her shoulder. feeling her breath fan over the back of my neck.
"i missed this... i miss you." my voice comes out, barely above a whisper against her neck.
i feel the way she freezes against me, 2 years of longing, 2 years of aching all pouring out in the silence that stretched between us.
"say something..." my words barely audible as i pull back to look at her "please-"
Her eyes dropped to my mouth for half a second.
The room tilted. My heartbeat climbed into my throat. Suddenly I was aware of every inch between us like distance had become a living thing.
“Tell me not to,” she whispered.
I should have.
Instead, my eyes dropped to her mouth.
Her hand slid against my jaw like she remembered the shape of me by heart, and that was it. Whatever careful thing I’d built over the last two years cracked straight down the middle.
The kiss wasn’t gentle. It was starving. my hands twisting into the sides of her scrub top while she gripped my jaw.
her lips moved against mine with a quiet urgency, not rushing just savouring, memorising the taste after so long apart. my lips parted just barely as i felt her fingers thread through the hairs on the base of my neck, tugging just barely. the other hand firm on my lower back, keeping my flush against her.
i pulled back an inch, just enough to see her face. "we... we should go back to Ali..." my voice airy as i try to catch my breath.
"you uhm, you can come by after work..? if you want." my voice tightened as i continued to talk "for Ali of course... he loves you more when he's hurt"
she hummed lightly against me, "for Ali... yeah"
i nodded in agreement, taking a breath and pulling away from her.
Which is what led to this moment: her in my house, our son asleep in his bed and her looking at me like the last two years had never happened.
Baran sipped on her wine as she leant against the counter while I sat on the kitchen bench next to her with a glass of my own wine cradled between my hands, turning it slowly like I could find the right words somewhere in the red swirl.
i glanced back down the hall to where Ali's bedroom was, "i missed this..."
i listened to the gap in her breath, then the soft clink of her glass resting back on the marble. her shallow steps of bare feet along the wooden floors, the odd creak as she moved to stand between my legs. her hands resting just between knee and thigh.
subconsciously leaning into her while one hand moved from my knee to my arm, then up to my cheek, pulling me in. the other stopping at my waist.
The second her mouth met mine, every careful thing between us collapsed.
I barely had time to inhale before she kissed me harder, one hand gripping my jaw like she needed to make sure I was real. Teeth knocking briefly. Breath stolen between kisses. Her hand tightening at my waist when I made a sound I didn’t mean to let out.
my hands gripped at the hem of her shirt, "take me upstairs, please."
i look at her for a second, taking in her swollen lips, flush cheeks, that quiet desperation to be close after so long apart.
her hands slip down to mine, pulling me off the counter and down the hall to my bedroom.
as soon as we get to the bedroom, she shuts the door and locks it. pushing me against it with a soft thud.
"baby..." i whisper against her lips, the shadows soft over her face as her hands slide up under my sweater. her warm palms pressing into my cool skin, eliciting a small sound of longing from me as i push her away gently and toward our once shared bed.
as the back of her knees hit the edge of her bed i stand between them, glancing over her face and trailing my fingertips down her jaw and over her collarbone. smirking slightly as her breath gets caught in her throat.
"oh be quiet-" i cut her sentence short, moving to sit in her lap. my legs on either side of her hips as i lean in to kiss her. said kiss no longer gentle, just two women hungry and desperate for love that once was and still is.
my hands thread into her curls, gently tugging and pulling her head back which makes her part her lips just slightly. a quiet moan escaping her lips as my tongue pressed flush against the roof of her mouth.
her hands slide up my back, pulling me impossibly closer and shifting to lay back against the bed. our legs entangled, warm breath fanning across eachother's faces with stolen kisses.
my hips lift into hers, aching, craving for any sort of friction from my wife. my back arches into her as i feel her hand slide under my back, pulling me closer.
my body feels impossibly like jelly as i feel her breathing shift, her breathy moans in my ear before she moves her head away from my neck to kiss me again. stopping as my head tilts back, moving to leave nips and warm kisses down the column of my throat. her hands tugging at the base of my sweater.
i move to sit up, letting her pull it off me, leaving me completely bare infront of her for the first time in 2 years.
as i sink back into the sheets i watch her eyes trail over me before leaning down and kissing one bare shoulder... then the other, each kiss soft and worshipful.
her lips drift lower, mapping the familiar territory, my collarbone, chest, ribs.
"darling..." my voice breaks as i speak, throat feeling full with what feels like need, shame and admiration in one, listening as she shushes me and slides her hands down to untie my pants, sliding them down my hips and onto the floor somewhere.
i slide my hand over my mouth, biting into my palm to keep quiet as her palms kneed at my thighs.
my hands move out of the sheets and away from my face to tighten around her shoulders, keeping her close as i push my head into her neck. biting down on the skin and her hand scratches at my waist and drifts into my underwear.
groaning as she leaves marks scattered along my collarbone and the dip in my neck.
"chenin dokhtar naznini... so good for me..." her words sent a rush down my spine, my nails digging into her shoulders.
i rolled my hips against her hand and felt a shudder run through my spine. i panted through my mouth as my back arched, jellylike at the feeling of her lips on my skin.
it was slow, painfully slow. i needed more. i knew getting into this i would have to be patient but fuck. i needed anything from her. anything.
before i knew it i was a mess, the second she pushed her fingers farther my hands slipped from its grip on my shoulders, scratching down her back. her arm slinked around my back and held me tight against her as she began rocking her fingers in and out.
"just like that." i moaned into her ear, my hand dragging down my spine leaving red welts as my hips rocked against her hand. her thigh keeping me from closing my legs all the way.
i kissed her lips, feeling her hum against my mouth as her tongue pressed against mine. her jaw clenched as her fingers worked through me, her hand digging into my skin as it inched further into my lower body.
i could feel the tension tightening in my stomach and she knew it to. i felt her mouth next to my ear, nipping at the skin as she curled her fingers inside me.
her fingers pressed against my inner walls, sliding in and out and curling against my gummy insides. nothing but incoherent words and breathy moans escaped my mouth.
the combined sensation of her fingers and mouth against my skin threw me over the edge. my legs shaking as my stomach tenses up, my vision blanking for a breath too long as my head dips.
i practically melted into her shoulder as she slid her fingers out of me, leaving me to whimper softly, clenching around nothing.
from the corner of my eye, i watched her stare at her wet fingers for a moment before she locked eyes with me, bringing them up to her mouth and licking them clean. leaving me to groan at the sight.
"s-stay the night... please Baran." my fingers trembled against her skin, taking in the warmth.
"of course." she moved back, sitting back on her knees and slipping out of her shirt and pants before laying back down and taking me in her arms, gently stroking my spine.
The apartment had gone quiet except for our breathing.
I stayed where I was, forehead pressed against her chest while my heartbeat slowly untangled itself from my ribs.
Her hand moved lazily up and down my back.
Familiar.
That was the dangerous part.
“You okay?” she murmured.
I laughed softly against her skin. “Ask me again in five business days.”
She snorted quietly, and the sound did something warm and terrible to my chest.
A minute later she disappeared into the kitchen, returning with a glass of water she nudged into my hands without a word. Like muscle memory. Like two years apart had changed absolutely nothing.
I looked up at her over the rim of the glass.
“You still do that.”
“Do what?”
“Take care of me before I even ask.”
Something in her expression flickered then. Small. Almost sad.
“Could never really stop azizam,” she admitted.
my apologies if this was bad i haven't written smut in so freaking long omg 💔
i will also not be writing smut again in 1st person, this was like the most difficult thing ever
would ya’ll read a sort of long oneshot for Baran Al-Hashimi? smut/fluff type shi 🧍♀️
Hold Still ✦
Yolanda Garcia x fem!reader : ̗̀➛ 2/? (probably around 10)
Summary: Yolanda Garcia has two favourite hobbies: saving lives and annoying the hell out of CT. Unfortunately for one radiology tech, she’s become the primary target.
Between impossible trauma scans, late-night arguments, and hospital staff placing bets on whether they’ll kiss or kill each other first, their rivalry slowly turns into something far more dangerous: attachment.
CW: angst, eventual fluff, eventual smut (explicit sexual content), slow burn, cocky!y, flustered!r
There’s a sticky note on my monitor when I arrive for shift.
STOP GIVING GARCIA PRIORITY SCANS. Underneath, in different handwriting:
counterpoint: she’s hot
And underneath that:
counter-counterpoint: she’s terrifying
I stare at the note for a full five seconds before crumpling it into a ball.
“Cowards,” I mutter.
“You saw it, right?”
I glance up to find Mia from X-ray leaning against the doorway with coffee in hand and absolutely zero shame in her expression.
“Saw what?”
“The betting pool.”
I freeze.
Slowly: “The what.”
Mia grins the grin of someone about to ruin my life recreationally.
“There’s a spreadsheet.”
“A spreadsheet.”
“With percentages.”
“Tell me right now you’re joking.”
“You and Garcia are currently at sixty-four percent likely to either make out in an elevator or commit aggravated assault.”
“That is wildly inappropriate.”
“Actually,” she says thoughtfully, “it’s the most united this department’s been in years.”
Before I can respond, trauma bay doors burst open.
And like a curse summoned by saying her name too many times in fluorescent lighting:
Yolanda Garcia appears.
“CT.”
There it is.
Not hello.
Not good evening.
Just my title said with enough authority to launch military aircraft.
I swivel slowly in my chair. “Garcia.”
She strides toward me already pulling gloves on. Dark green scrubs today. Hair tied back messily. Tiny streak of dried blood near her jaw.
I hate that I notice things like that now.
“We need the scanner cleared.”
“No.”
Her eyebrows lift.
Honestly, it’s the closest thing she has to visible shock.
“No?” she repeats.
“No,” I repeat pleasantly. “Radiology is busy.”
“You’re watching cat videos.”
I click my monitor off immediately. “You have no proof.”
Behind her, one of the residents coughs suspiciously hard to hide laughter.
Garcia doesn’t blink.
“Level one trauma. Motorcycle collision.”
“And?”
“And,” she says slowly, like she’s explaining gravity to a particularly stubborn raccoon, “that means he comes first.”
I stand, folding my arms. “Counterargument: I was here first.”
Her jaw tightens.
God. Poking Yolanda Garcia is like flicking a lit match at a gas leak. Deeply unsafe. Weirdly rewarding.
“You’re obstructing patient care.”
“You steal my scanner every shift.”
“You work in trauma imaging.”
“I work in radiology. There’s a difference.”
“You literally named the machine.”
“Penelope deserves respect.”
One of the nurses walking past mutters, “I’m updating the spreadsheet.”
Garcia points at her without looking away from me. “Delete that.”
“No.”
Her gaze snaps back to mine.
Not angry yet.
Worse.
Amused.
It hits me square in the chest unexpectedly.
“You think this is funny?” she asks.
“I think you’re dramatic.”
“I watched a man get ejected through a windshield tonight.”
“And somehow you still found time to harass me personally. I’m touched.”
The corner of her mouth twitches again.
Dangerous.
That tiny almost-smile should qualify as a controlled substance.
Then the paramedics wheel the patient in.
Everything changes instantly.
The air sharpens.
Garcia turns away from me before I can say another word, already focused entirely on the gurney.
“Vitals?”
“BP dropping. Possible pelvic fracture.”
“Prep blood. Move.”
Everyone moves.
Including me.
Because despite the arguing and the flirting-disguised-as-attempted-murder, this part matters.
The patient’s young. Maybe twenty. Blood soaking through gauze at alarming speed.
Garcia climbs alongside the stretcher while it’s moving, one hand stabilizing the patient’s neck.
“Hey,” she says firmly. “Stay with me.”
I grab the scanner controls.
“On my mark,” I call.
The trauma team transfers him over fast and rough. The patient screams.
Garcia’s hand immediately lands against his shoulder.
“You’re okay,” she says.
And there it is again.
That thing she does.
Like she can split herself in half effortlessly. One side sharp steel. One side unbearably gentle.
I hate witnessing it.
Mostly because it makes her impossible to dislike correctly.
The scan begins.
Images populate rapidly across the screen.
“Pelvic bleed,” I say immediately.
Garcia leans over beside me.
Too close.
Again.
Her arm presses briefly against mine as she studies the monitor.
“We’re losing him,” one nurse says quietly.
Garcia nods once. Calm. Precise.
“OR now.”
Suddenly alarms start shrieking.
The patient jerks violently on the table.
“Hey!” I grab instinctively for the side rail.
Everything erupts at once.
The patient swings blindly, panicked and disoriented, nearly ripping out lines. A tray crashes somewhere behind me. Someone swears loudly.
Then a hand slams against my shoulder.
Hard.
Garcia shoves me backward just as the patient lashes out again.
His fist misses my face by inches.
The room goes dead still for one stunned second.
Garcia’s standing directly in front of me now.
Protective.
The realization lands weirdly low in my stomach.
“Sedate him,” she snaps.
The nurses move immediately.
I stare at the back of Garcia’s head.
At the tension in her shoulders.
At the way her hand is still braced lightly against my arm like she hasn’t realized she’s touching me yet.
Then she glances back.
“You okay?”
Not sarcastic.
Not annoyed.
Actually asking.
My brain briefly exits the chat.
“I,” I say intelligently, “he almost punched me.”
“Yes,” she says dryly. “I noticed.”
“You shoved me.”
“You’re welcome.”
The hand leaves my arm.
Cold rushes in immediately after.
Rude.
The patient stabilizes enough for transport within minutes. The trauma team wheels him toward surgery in another blur of noise and movement.
Garcia stays behind just long enough to remove her gloves.
I lean against the counter. “So.”
“So?”
“You saved me.”
“I prevented paperwork.”
“That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”
She rolls her eyes, tossing gloves into the bin. “You would’ve been fine.”
“Maybe physically.”
Garcia snorts softly before she can stop herself.
There it is.
Actual proof she’s human.
I grin triumphantly. “Holy shit. You laughed.”
“Don’t make this weird.”
“You made it weird when you body-checked me out of danger like a firefighter in a romance novel.”
“That sentence alone should get your license revoked.”
I point at her accusingly. “You care about me.”
“I care about maintaining staff numbers.”
“Mm.”
“You’re insufferable.”
“And yet,” I say, stepping closer without thinking, “you keep catching me.”
Silence.
Tiny.
Charged.
Her eyes flick briefly to my mouth before snapping away so fast I almost think I imagined it.
Almost.
Then a voice rings out from down the hallway:
“THE SPREADSHEET JUST HIT SEVENTY PERCENT!”
Garcia closes her eyes.
I burst out laughing.
And somewhere beneath the fluorescent lights and trauma alarms and exhaustion, I swear I see her trying not to smile too.
Hold Still ✦
Yolanda Garcia x fem!reader : ̗̀➛ 1/? (probably around 10)
Summary: Yolanda Garcia has two favourite hobbies: saving lives and annoying the hell out of CT. Unfortunately for one radiology tech, she’s become the primary target.
Between impossible trauma scans, late-night arguments, and hospital staff placing bets on whether they’ll kiss or kill each other first, their rivalry slowly turns into something far more dangerous: attachment.
CW: angst, eventual fluff, eventual smut (explicit sexual content), slow burn, cocky!y, flustered!r thank you to my darling @onlyhargitay :P
There are exactly three things I hate about night shift.
One: the fluorescent lighting that makes everyone look halfway embalmed.
Two: the coffee.
Three: Dr. Yolanda Garcia.
The coffee at least tries to keep me alive.
“CT!” a voice barks from down the hallway.
Never mind. Four things.
I don’t even look up from my monitor. “Use my government name if you’re gonna yell at me.”
A trauma team parts around her like startled fish, nurses peeling away with practiced instinct. Yolanda Garcia moves through the emergency department like a controlled explosion. Dark curls pinned back, scrub top tucked, stethoscope slung around the back of her neck, draping over her collarbones.
Her eyes lock onto me immediately.
Damn. Unfortunately pretty tonight.
“We need a head, c-spine, chest, abdomen and pelvis,” she says.
I glance at the clock. 7:43 PM. 11 hours down, 1 to go.. round up to 3 now..
“Cute. I need eight hours of sleep and a raise.”
“No jokes tonight, sweetheart.”
I sit back in my chair slowly. “Sweetheart?” I echo. “That’s new. Usually you call me useless before we hit pet names.”
Behind her, one of the residents physically turns around to hide a grin.
Garcia notices.
“Out,” she snaps without looking away from me.
The resident vanishes instantly.
God, she’s terrifying. It’s honestly kind of inspiring.
I finally stand, stretching my back with a groan. “What’s the story?”
“Twenty-six-year-old male. MVC. Possible internal bleeding. Hypotensive in the field.” She tosses a chart onto my desk. “And before you ask, yes, he’s stable enough for CT.”
“You say that every time like I’m the one trying to kill your patients.”
“You drive them through a giant radiation donut for fun.”
“It’s a beautiful machine,” I say defensively, patting the scanner beside me. “Her name is Penny.”
Garcia stares at me.
“You named the CT scanner.”
“You named your trauma pager.”
“That’s different.”
“No, it isn’t.”
“It absolutely is.”
I grin. “You called it Dolores.”
“That information was obtained illegally.”
The corner of her mouth twitches.
Tiny. Barely there.
But I catch it anyway, and for one microscopic second, victory tastes better than caffeine.
Then she ruins it by shoving past me toward the trauma bay doors.
“Move, tech.”
“There she is,” I mutter.
The patient arrives thirty seconds later in a cyclone of blood, paramedics, and adrenaline. The whole department snaps into motion instantly. Someone calls for more fluids. A monitor starts screaming. Shoes squeak against tile in sharp, frantic bursts.
And Garcia?
Garcia becomes something else entirely.
Focused.
Precise.
Every joke gets vacuum-sealed out of the room the second she steps beside the gurney.
“On my count,” she orders. “One, two, three.”
The transfer is smooth. Efficient. She keeps one hand against the patient’s shoulder while barking orders with the other, voice clipped and calm in that terrifying way trauma surgeons master. Like panic simply doesn’t apply to them.
I wheel the scanner into position.
“Can you hold still for me?” I ask the patient gently.
He groans something unintelligible.
“Close enough.”
Garcia glances over at me while pulling gloves tighter. “Try not to flirt with this one.”
I scoff. “You’re jealous because patients like me more.”
“Patients like anesthesia more too. Doesn’t make it a personality trait.”
One of the nurses audibly chokes trying not to laugh.
Traitor.
The scan starts.
For a few minutes, the room settles into familiar rhythm. Machine hum. Monitor beeps. Instructions exchanged in shorthand. I watch the images populate screen by screen while Garcia stands behind me, close enough that I can feel heat radiating off her shoulder.
She always does this.
Claims she’s “reviewing in real time.”
Really, I think she just likes hovering over me like an angry gargoyle.
“Splenic bleed,” I murmur.
“I see it.”
“Rude. I was having a moment.”
“You have too many moments.”
Her arm brushes mine as she leans closer to the monitor.
It shouldn’t matter.
It absolutely should not matter.
But my brain short-circuits like cheap hospital wiring.
Because Yolanda Garcia smells like antiseptic and smoke and something warm underneath it all. Cedar maybe. Or coffee that actually tastes good. Her shoulder presses against mine for less than a second before she straightens again, already issuing orders toward the nurses outside.
And somehow I’m still standing there like an idiot thinking about it.
Humiliating.
The patient gets rushed to OR five minutes later.
The second the doors slam shut behind the gurney, the department exhales collectively.
I lean back against the counter. “You know,” I call after her, “one day you’re gonna thank me for saving your ass.”
Garcia stops halfway down the hall.
Slowly turns.
The look she gives me could probably crack concrete.
“My ass,” she says carefully, “has a medical degree.”
I grin. “And yet you still need my pretty little scanner.”
The nearby nurses immediately go silent.
One actually whispers, “Jesus Christ.”
Garcia walks back toward me with the kind of energy usually associated with apex predators.
She stops directly in front of me.
Too close.
Definitely too close.
“You,” she says quietly, “are the single most irritating person in this hospital.”
My pulse betrays me spectacularly.
I fold my arms. “And yet you keep visiting.”
For one suspended second, neither of us moves.
The emergency department buzzes around us in blurred motion. Phones ringing. Stretchers rolling past. Somewhere down the hall, someone swears loudly in Spanish.
But Garcia just stares at me.
Dark eyes sharp enough to cut skin.
Then:
“You forgot to remove your lead apron.”
I blink.
“What?”
She reaches forward before I can react and unclips it from around my waist in one smooth motion.
Her fingers brush my hip accidentally.
Or maybe not accidentally.
Static floods straight through my bloodstream.
Garcia freezes too.
Barely noticeable.
But enough.
Then she steps back immediately, tossing the apron against my chest.
“Try to survive the shift, CT.”
And just like that, she walks away.
I stare after her for a solid five seconds.
Then ten.
Then one of the nurses appears beside me with the expression of someone witnessing a live electrical fire.
“You two are absolutely insane,” she says.
I keep staring down the hallway.
“Yeah,” I murmur.
Somewhere near OR, Yolanda Garcia shouts at someone loud enough for the entire floor to hear.
The nurse sighs dreamily.
I smile before I can stop myself.
Yeah.
I’m fucked. | Part 2 |
MASTERLIST
જ⁀➴ : ✦ angst | ✿ fluff | ☀︎ smut |
( requests OPEN )
...
𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 The Pitt 01. Hold still. Yolanda Garcia | part 1 | part 2 |
02. Cravings ☀︎✿. Baran Al-hashimi
. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁. Marvel 01.
°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:・°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:・ Greys Anatomy 01.
⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺ Yellowjackets 01.
ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻ੈ✩‧₊˚ Criminal Minds 01.
°‧🫧⋆.ೃ࿔*:・ Arcane 01.
...