trinity who accepted to get lunch at amy’s farm on a random sunday ‘why do you suddenly want me to meet farm girl after 10 months ? finally making things official are we ?’
dennis just shrugs ‘she told me it wasn’t fair i basically met her whole family but she never met any of mine and i agreed’
trinity’s unusual silence and lack of snarky retort can be explained by the fact her brain glitched after dennis casually implied he saw her as family
last movie: the evil dead (& the odyssey was the last film i saw in theaters)
last song: fix me now by garbage
sweet or salty: both ໒꒰ྀི ˃ ᵕ ˂ ꒱ྀི১
coffee or tea: depends on my mood
working on: writing voulez-vous & snap crackle pop <3 in my person life, pretty much work (lame) + managing my health!!
no pressure tags: @mwah-w4ddingh4m @popecodysgirl @mxmmyprentiss @cherxwine @sonnysideao3 @mckqys + anyone else who wants to participate!♡ i always feel awkward tagging people >.<
hehehehhehe thank you for the tag @mrsmckay. mwah! XX
last series: Hacks (def recommend)
last movie: Ready or Not: Here I Come (the Danforth siblings 🤤🫠 I wanna go to Paris)
last song: Material Lover by SIENNA SPIRO
sweet or salty: sweet but both if it's salted caramels
coffee or tea: uhh neither l'm a water addict
working on: writing ‘I like your big sister', a fic with Soccer Player!Yolanda Garcia, a few other wips and my F1 SMAU with McKay In in my person life, pretty much just settling into my new job (boring, yawning) and learning work like balance
just seen someone make a tiktok of fiona talking about micro bangs being a mistake, then showing pictures of her recent appearances with her almost micro bangs 😭😭 leave her ALONE
hi omg I just came up with an AU where Cassie is a fashion designer who goes to retirement/hiatus after her rumored impending split from her wife (reader) and reader, a small time model who rocketed to fame after Cassie named her her muse.
anyways might be a one shot im still working on it.
there are so many things I want to say about cassie mckay i love her so dearly. she's depressed, emotionally repressed, and going ten million miles an hour at all times. she can't cry. she wants to be loved so badly but she refuses to let her defenses down enough for someone to see the real her. she's lonely. she's wracked with guilt. she wants things she thinks she's not allowed. she's so love starved she won't let anyone hug her but hugs javadi without a second thought. and yet she thinks everything is entirely fine because she's functioning.
baran al-hashimi x resident-turned-attending!reader
summary: you— the new attending— was selected to attend a new medical conference out of town.
warnings: typographical and grammatical errors… outside that? nothing really. musics a bit misleading-
wc : 1.1k words
The hotel bar was crowded, loud, and smelled like expensive gin and warm catering food. It was a far cry from the chaotic noise of the ED, but most of the people in the room were still talking about work anyway.
You stood near a high-top table, nursing a beer and trying to undo the knot in your shoulders.
And then you saw Baran.
She was standing near the center of the room, talking to a couple of hospital administrators. You hadn’t seen her since you left The Pitt to go sign contracts, take specialized boards, and job interviews. She had traded her usual scrubs for a cream silk shirt and a dark skirt that hugged her legs well. Her curly hair down around her shoulders instead of pulled into her usual hair-do. She looked completely relaxed—a side of her you rarely got to see when she was on the clock.
Even without the scrubs she usually wore, she stood out. Calm, quiet, and completely unbothered by the noise around her.
You took a sip of your drink, watching her for a second before looking away. It had been four months since your rotation ended. Within those four months, you had learned each other’s habits, rhythms, expressions— basically everything except how each other felt. Eye contacts were shared for much longer than one would anticipate, fingers brushed more frequently that it felt deliberate, the way each other’s scents seemed to linger even when one of you are far across the floor. But seeing her, out here? If the word seductive was a person, it would definitely be her.
"Mind if I grab the spot next to you?"
You turned to see a guy in a gray suit holding two drinks. His name tag read Dr. Marcus Vance, Trauma.
"Go for it," you said, stepping back slightly to give him room.
"Marcus," he said, holding out a hand. "I caught your presentation earlier. Really practical stuff."
"Thanks," you replied, shaking his hand. “Honestly, I was just glad I didn't forget my own slides."
Marcus laughed, leaning an elbow on the high-top table to face you. "You did fine. Are you still staying at PTMC?"
"Yeah, I signed an attending contract last month."
"Nice," he smiled, leaning in a little closer. "Well, if you ever get tired of the ER, my department is always looking for good people. Or, at the very least, I could buy you a proper drink that isn't from an open bar."
You gave a small, polite laugh, about to answer, when a familiar voice cut in from right beside you.
"Is everything alright here?"
The tone wasn't loud, but it was direct.
You turned. Baran was standing right next to the table, holding a glass of wine. She looked completely composed, but you caught the tiny, instant shift in her expression as her eyes moved from Marcus's arm on the table to the small space between the two of you.
Marcus straightened up. "Dr. Al-Hashimi. Good evening."
"Marcus," Baran acknowledged with a brief, polite nod. "I see you've found our newest team member."
ah, she heard the news.
"Just congratulating them on their talk," Marcus said smoothly, though he took a subtle step back.
"It was a good talk," Baran agreed softly. Her dark eyes slid away from Marcus and locked onto yours. "Though we're supposed to meet the rest of the group across the room in a few minutes."
There was no group. You both knew it.
"Right," you said, picking up your glass. "I lost track of time."
"Clearly," Baran murmured.
Marcus cleared his throat, picking up his drinks. "Well, it was nice meeting you. I'm sure I'll see you around tomorrow."
"I’ll see you around, Dr. Vance." you said.
Baran didn't say anything, simply watching him walk away until he disappeared into the crowd. Once he was gone, she turned her full attention back to you.
“Nice to see you again, Doctor.” You greeted
“Nice to see you too. Heard the news, didn’t expect you to stay at PTMC.” A faint smile appeared on her face.
“Couldn’t get away.” You took a step closer, lowering your voice so it wouldn't carry. "So…Meeting the rest of the group?"
Baran didn't flinch. She took a quiet sip of her wine, her gaze steady over the glass.
"He was taking too much of your time, you ought to meet other people here." she said plainly.
"He was just making conversation," you replied, a subtle smile tugging at your lips.
"He was trying to pick you up," Baran corrected, her voice dropping into a lower, quieter register.
She shifted slightly, placing her body between you and the rest of the bar. Slowly, under the lip of the high-top table where no one else could see, her hand reached out and found yours. Her fingers slid between yours, her grip firm and surprisingly warm.
The contrast between her calm, composed face and the tight squeeze of her hand under the table made your pulse jump.
"Does it bother you?" you asked quietly.
Baran set her glass down with her free hand. Her thumb slowly rubbed the side of your wrist, catching the steady beat of your pulse.
"Doesn’t," Baran said, her eyes locked onto yours.
You looked at her, the noise of the room fading into the background. "Baran..."
"I'm going up to my room," she said softly, her thumb still tracing your wrist. "It's quiet there."
She let go of your hand, stepping back with her usual effortless composure. To anyone else watching, it looked like a normal, brief conversation between two colleagues.
"Don't take too long," she added, giving you one last, unreadable look before turning toward the elevators. She then grabbed a pen from the bar and held up your hand once more.
407
You stood there for a moment, feeling the lingering warmth in your hand, before finishing your drink and heading after her.
The elevator ride up to the twelfth floor felt agonizingly slow. The quiet hum of the cables was the only sound accompanying the floor numbers as they lit up one by one.
When the doors slid open, the carpeted hallway was silent, completely isolated from the dull roar of the ballroom downstairs.
You found room 407 down near the end of the hall. Before you could even knock, the door unlocked with a quiet electronic click and swung open.
Baran stood in the doorway, already having kicked off her heels. She had unbuttoned her cream shirt down to her xiphoid process— faintly revealing a black laced bra. The sharp, formal edge she carried in the hospital completely softened.
"You took your time," she said, though there was no real bite to her voice.
"Gave you a head start. So… Why am I here, Baran?" You replied whilst looking down her chest. You stepped past her into the room.
The door closed softly behind you, the latch clicking into place. The room was warm and dimly lit by a single lamp on the bedside table.
“Company.” Baran simply said.
Baran turned around, leaning her lower back against the heavy wooden desk near the entry. She folded her arms, watching you with that familiar, intense dark gaze—only now, there was no workstation between you, no charts to review, and no medical staff walking past.
"You could have stayed down there," Baran murmured, her eyes tracing your face. "Dr. Vance looked very interested in your career plans."
You couldn't help the quiet laugh that escaped you as you tossed your room key onto the dresser and took two slow steps toward her. "Are you really going to bring up Marcus right now?"
A faint, subtle curve touched the corner of Baran's lips—the rare, genuine smile that used to take your breath away in the department.
"What? Just stating the obvious," she said, her voice dropping into a low, quiet register. "You seemed interested."
"Hmm," You stopped right in front of her, close enough to smell the familiar, faint scent of cedar and vanilla that belonged only to her. "You jealous, doctor?"
Baran didn't deny it. Instead, her arms unfolded. Slowly, deliberately, she reached out and rested her hands on your hips, her long fingers gripping the fabric of your clothes. The touch was warm, solid, and entirely possessive.
She pulled you that last fraction of an inch closer, until there was no space left between you.
"He was standing too close to you," Baran repeated softly, her dark eyes locking onto yours, completely unshielded. "And I spent a long while standing three feet away from you when all I wanted was this."
“I missed you.” She added quietly.
Your heart did a familiar, sudden thud against your ribs. "Baran..."
Her hands shifted, sliding up your waist, her palms warm against your sides, until her thumb rested gently along the line of your jaw. Her touch was remarkably gentle, contrasting with the quiet authority she carried everywhere else.
"No more rules," she whispered against your cheek, her breath warm against your skin. "No more waiting."
When her lips finally met yours, the restraint of the past six months of your residency under her reign simply melted away. It was slow, deep, and deliberate—unhurried, but filled with an intensity that made your breath catch in your throat. You brought your hands up to frame her face, running your fingers through her hair as she deepened the kiss, her hands pulling you tight against her.
For the first time since you met her, Dr. Baran Al-Hashimi was completely yours, with no clocks to watch and nowhere else to be.
the xiphoid process is located at the end of your sternum— your flat bone in your thorax. it is also initially known as the breastbone. anyhow anywho, pt2 smut? im kidding, im kidding… at my big age idk how to write smut.
turnnoffyourmind
areudirty
gracieabrams
pixelskylines
jimmyeatworldofficial
2087
