Untitled @quakee4eva - Tumblr Blog

Jul 30

take some of this (it’ll calm you down)

pairing: baran al-hashimi x f!reader. (my first baran au <3)

summary: it’s kismet, putting you and dr. al-hashimi at the right place at the right time, naturally falling into a rhythm neither knows how deep it could lead to. for now, you’re babysitting a beautiful boy who might inspire a similar name to your own one day, whilst simultaneously pushing down the emotions his mother stirs inside of you, electric with just a look. although it’s easy to melt into the older woman’s arms, it’s best to remain professional, clinging onto your principles like a leech, praying it wouldn’t hit a limit.

warning/s: sexual tension, foot massage, feet action, mentions of alcohol, mentions of baran and reader having relations outside of their budding relationship.

word count: 3, 726

author’s note: i know you lesbians are horny for baran smut but let me world build the fuck out of this and put my sexy construction worker clothes on. good things to those who wait. :* interact and send me asks meanwhile. big thanks <3

navigation | series masterlist | part two

men and minors DNI.

it takes a few rings before the front door bursts open, flinging you backwards, almost tripping down the stoop. you catch the stranger’s gasp, staring back at you in shock. you clear your throat as you find your footing, finally noticing the dishevel she’s carrying.

your eyes bulge.

the woman is only wearing a top inside out and green lace underwear.

“where is–?”

“oh my god,” she sighs before haphazardly making a beeline out of your sight.

it seems to be the wrong time, you think, peaking at your wristwatch to be proven otherwise, the analog pointing at nine and five.

confused and slightly ruffled, you knock once against the open front door, ushering yourself in to check what’s the cause of disarray.

before you can further investigate the almost pristine living room, save for the lopsided lamp shade and the pillows lying on the carpet floor, you spot dr. al-hashimi’s son walking groggily down the staircase, one hand gliding onto the railing whilst the other rubbing his eyes.

“hey, superman,” you greet him, setting down your bag, immediately approaching the kid. you ruffle his nest of hair before carrying him into your arms, his entire chest pressed against you in consolation. “good morning,” he says in a chirp, a full-toothed smile on his face.

you return the same face, briefly peaking upstairs to catch a glimpse of a curly-haired brunette, finding none.

you make a noise as you settle him down, “you’re getting heavier by the minute!”, teasing as you lead him to the kitchen.

“you’re feeding me too many pancakes!” he retorts, giggling when you shush him with wide eyes, carefully reminding him what his mother doesn’t know. “your mom’s just upstairs!” you whisper-yelled, and as if on cue, you both hear dr. al-hashimi’s footsteps withdraw the stairs.

you’ve been babysitting the family for over four months now, spending two days out of the week with arash, following a schedule curated by his mother. the role wasn’t posted on craiglist nor a legitimate babysitting site; you and dr. al-hashimi just happened to be at the right place at the right time.

there’s a pediatrics clinic on the far east side of the city where you volunteered to gain a scholarship. it was in late may when dr. al-hashimi came in at eight on the dot, carrying two boxes of bagels and a smile. she wasn’t employed in the facility, she simply had nothing to do for the day. arash was in virginia vacationing with her parents for the summer. the doctor had three consecutive days off.

it was kismet, you thought, locking eyes with her whilst you both were dough deep into the bagel, cream cheese fluff sticking to her nose you couldn’t contain the laugh that oozed out of your mouths.

easy was the word as you both fell into conversation, discussing the facility and your careers in life; the doctor regarding your multitudinal roles just to get by. to both of your surprise, she proposed babysitting for her tiny young boy, automatically giving her a yes before she finished her sentence.

“good morning,” she greets the room, lighting up when she locks eyes with her son. he replies, “good morning, mama,” getting out of the seat to give her a bear hug. the brunette cooes and kisses his forehead, eyes closed, then open to you, doe-eyed and twinkling. you smile at the affection between the two.

“hey, y/n,” dr. al-hashimi sighs, staring at you intensely as she always does. her eyes just do that, you think, piercing and round. “doctor,” you nod, squirming, per usual. she’s clad in a thin silver silk robe, barely hiding the curves of her frame. two nipples poke at the outline, a red splotch at the left side of her chest, exposed by her current exchange with her son.

oh?

“just baran, please,” she insists.

“i’m still getting used to it,” you admit, breaking eye contact.

she bites her lip. “i’ll keep reminding you.”

you both exchange a soft smile.

your heart warms. is this what makes doctors special? how they make you feel better with presence alone?

more specks of maroon and purple are noticed as she gets closer to your proximity, advancing towards the dining table with arash next to her. “i heard somebody loves pancakes for breakfast these days…”

the kid gasps and immediately covers his mouth with two hands, caught red-handed. he looks over at you with fear in his eyes and also a promise that it didn’t come from his mouth. amusement overlaps with alarm, staring at him in return, both of you unable to make eye contact with the older woman. it takes a few seconds of intentional rubbernecking before dr. baran bursts out laughing, spectacle written all over her sculpted face.

“you both are really bad at keeping secrets,” she says, opening an overhead cabinet, grabbing the pancake mix, as well as the designated pancake pan situated on the bottom cabinet. she raises the culprit to the air.

“this may seem like it’s never been used,” she flips the pan to face the butt, “but the slight charred bottom on the left says otherwise,” her gaze lands on you. gathering your realization by your open mouth.

“it’s y/n’s fault!” arash yells, pointing an accusing finger at your face.

“who said he’d cut my hair if i didn’t—!”

you break into sweat as dr. baran echoed fits of laughter in the room.

“i won’t persecute you, y/n. relax,” she taps at the pancake package, “as long as you use the pancake mix i bought—it’s high in fiber, there’s natural sweeteners, and of course, protein—you’re all good!”

you nod your head in agreement. “of course!”

arash huffs, “but the pancakes y/n buys are so much better, mama! fluffy!” your jaw drops.

you provide the older woman a guilt-filled yet apologetic pout. you stare back at arash with denounced betrayal.

dr. baran sighs, “you both are adorable. i’ll talk to each of you separately when i get back from the conference. in the meantime, who wants pancakes?”

arash, like an eager kid with a growing brain, shoots his entire arm in the air. he dramatically tilts his head to face you only to poke his tongue out. he turns to baran, “mama i want!” showing his most adorable smile.

“brat,” you whisper under your breath. baran laughs again.

“can i please have some nutella in my pancakes?!?” he whines, jumping up and down his seat when his mother approves with a nod. “can y/n help?”

he turns to you. jumping out of his seat, he walks to you, opening his arms to give you a hug. “i like you a lot, y/n. i’m sorry i can’t keep the secret. mama’s scary,” he mumbles. he then left to watch his cartoons.

you wash your hands to help.

“i apologize–“

“it’s so precious that you and arash get along so well,” dr., just baran starts, cracking open an egg against the countertop. crinkling her nose, “so mischievous together,” she notes, earning a chuckle. “it sure is brilliant and thoughtful to treat him from time to time, but i’d prefer we consider what’s best for him,” she reprimands, “we could work something out,” her doe-eyes catching the rays of the morning sun. it’s golden, honey-like.

“i will, baran,”

she glances over by the door then back to you. “he really likes you,” she says, pouring the batter into the pan. it sizzles.

“i’m happy to spend time with him,” you clear your throat, “with you too, of course,”

she only gives you a smile.

not only do her eyes catch the sun, her robe as well, glittering and highlighting the reds slightly covered by lapel, yet still obvious. her nipples poking, stiff as ever.

the brunette notices, rearranges her robe, the reds hidden by silver.

“so…how do the kids like their pancakes these days?”

a few hours into the day goes by. lunch was chicken tenders and fries, a parting gift for the ever-obedient, ‘i’m never keeping secrets from mama ever again’ arash. now, you’re both situated in the living room, with you sitting on the couch whilst the other on the floor in front of the television, intently watching ‘journey to the center of the earth’.

this downtime is your opportunity to just be, either catching up with your friends, mindlessly scroll through social media, or wander through the thoughts in your mind.

would it possibly be a potential one night stand?

“hey arash, what time did grandma and grandpa drop you off yesterday?”

he shrugs, “before sunset,” his back turned towards you. “okay, what time did your mom get home last night?”

“dunno,” he deadpan.

“sorry for interrupting!”

he only nods his head.

you sigh, fiddling with your belt hoops.

the thoughts hasn’t left your mind since, well, the moment baran left for a conference. it took some time to register the situation you stepped into this morning, what with the disheveled woman and baran’s state as you helplessly stared at her chest. sure, your curiosity about the doctor’s past had intrigued you, but not enough to ask her directly yourself, nor have assumptions toward the older woman. in fact, you minded your own business, sticking to your babysitting duties on top of school and a recent breakup with a college girl you thought you were going to marry. out of all the adversaries you were dealing with, spending time with the five-year old and his single doctor mom wasn’t one of them.

you sigh again, waiting for the clock to strike a warm summer four o’clock, looking forward to getting out of these four walls and into the park, walking the kid like a dog—with utmost affection—as dr. baran al-hashimi wouldn’t leave two kids (one in an adult body and another in a normal kid body) to their own devices, curating assigned activities to commit to throughout the day. you didn’t question it much since you and arash were pitched into the set idea, asking for your definition of chary enjoyment. you found it admirable that a mother with such a demanding career would make the effort. besides, it was best this way, considering you would haul arash’s ass in the backseat of your sedan and drive him to jump city. you could only imagine the endless scolding dr. baran al-hashimi would detonate on you…

dr. al-hashimi berating you nonstop seems callously hot, a string of saliva helplessly getting caught in between her teeth, a vein protruding in her forehead, all the while her big doe eyes seething in ire.

the realization makes your cheeks flush.

you considered it, sure, once or twice, on certain occasions, like when she stopped you from debating between two chocolate cravings, ending your predicament by stuffing the cart with your options, reassuring that it’s okay to indulge. her littered praises here and there, making sure you hear her loud and clear, usually with a pat on the back or a full-toothed grin. or that one night in mid-july—green satin dress, hair tousled, layered necklaces and chunky statement rings—words slurred and glossy eyes. you’ve never heard her speak intelligibly, let alone look so…genial. exhilarated under the influence. it was stunning. and it never happened again.

“are you excited to go back to school?”

“no one is, y/n,”

arash turns grumpy in the afternoons. meaning he just wants to be left alone or refuses to partake in his nap time. it’s usually both, like today.

you think back about earlier today with the woman leaving the house in disarray. it’s no doubt, considering baran’s privacy and comfort. was it perhaps a spur-of-the-moment ordeal? did she forget to set an alarm? did you interrupt the shenanigan?

you think about the woman, your mind just circling there…her height, her hair, her face.

you gasp, her voice echoing your own.

“hey y/n, you okay?” arash asks, his face laced with concern.

the woman baran was with a few hours ago looked exactly like you.

it’s one of those long, treacherous shifts that almost takes the soul out of dr. baran al-hashimi, eyes shutting closed with an open mouth, navigating the interior by memory. you caught on quickly, arranging the house how she left it; organizing arash’s toys and keeping the living room spotless, especially the stairs where her son usually loves to play mr. superhero who saves the day.

“y/n…” she whines, “you…you don’t have to…” swatting your hands away from her shoelaces to no avail. you refuse, “just sit still,” placing her tired hands on top of her lap. “just relax…”

she surrenders without a fight, groaning as her head lands a soft thud into the couch pillow. two arms clad in light gray purple lululemon jacket fling open in relaxation, sinking slowly into the pads, settling down as you urge her to be more comfortable. “y-you really don’t have to, please,” she poorly insists.

you shake your head. “nuh-uh. can’t make me,” you asserted.

baran exhales when you pop a foot out of her black hospital shoe, relieved and able to breath. “fuck, i was on my feet the whole day,” she sighs yet again. her crassness earns her a chuckle from you. “thank you,”

“always,” you reply quietly, freeing the next, immediately shedding her socks. baran’s feet are warm and veiny, manicured white nails with a toe ring around her left middle toe. she flinches, staring at you with admonition, in which you only respond with long, gliding strokes from the arch to the toes of her foot. “you’re so tense…”

it may seem bizarre, retrieving a bottle of jojoba oil from your tote bag, but it’s one of the belongings you can’t leave the house without. it’s crucial, what with the life you live; wanting to bring some relief to your friends on crampy finals nights and bringing a smile out of pregnant mothers who needed to release fear and fatigue given the stage in their lives.

baran sighs, closing her eyes for a brief moment before staring at you again, big, doe-eyes shadowed with exhaustion. you continue the motion a few more times before you begin kneading.

the doctor lets out a moan when you push the pads of your two thumbs deep into the muscle, tapping and stroking it with your palms, continuing the sliding motion.

“you’ve been on your feet the whole day,” you addressed in a soft tone, moving the tapping motions forward closer to the front and the instep, earning a good flinch from her. “we should get rid of the tension lingering here,” you tap the bridge then proceed there.

she mumbles, “whatever you say…” her body loosening, taking in everything you’re giving her.

“i know you prefer to pass out right after work, but then you wake up really cranky, and arash says he doesn’t like walking eggshells with you. i made a bunch of mediterranean wraps from the recipe you sent me two weeks ago. it’s in the kitchen, just in case you change your mind.”

the brunette groans.

you hum, “i know, i know, i know this is a lot for you right now, baran, but i won’t be here tomorrow to remind you. i’m here right now, though, as long as you allow me?”

you stare at her expectantly.

the question takes the older woman away from the exhaustive stupor, feeling her body tensing up then relaxing at the same time, an audible gulp sounding in the living room.

it’s not a secret anymore, the growing tension between you two. it’s subtle, at least whenever arash’s in the same room, keeping it tame and prevented. baran is tethering at the edge, at least that’s what you tell yourself to sleep at night, her jaw always locked when you're around.

you catch her doe eyes meeting yours every time, it always has in the beginning, yet the difference now would be the lip biting and the lip licking, keeping her hands behind her back when you’re a hair away…sucking the insides of her cheeks as if she’s keeping something from spilling out.

it’s difficult to ignore, when she looks like that, modestly sexy and confident in her own body, her words reaching beyond commitment, performing as she said she would, never allowing doubt to pass through. she’s the mother of your favorite boy, your employer, the one your friends don’t know much about. you see the al-hashimi family more than your own now, their presence meaning more than you anticipated.

the older woman plagues your mind day and night, sometimes wishing to the point of injury, just so you could see her at work with a demanding excuse of an emergency medical treatment. you’d do whatever it takes for her to lay her hands on you it seems, firing up at every pat on the shoulder or a hand on your back, wishing she would do so much more, morale and professionalism be damned.

“o-okay,” she utters, blinking with a sigh on her lips. you lick yours as you spot the part of her cusps, pale and moist with today’s troubles.

“i’ll keep going,” you inform her, massaging her foot yet again, this time going deeper into the muscle. “tell me when it hurts…”

she hums.

it’s quiet for a while, just the sound of your hands’ gliding motions and the slickness of the oil sounding the room. you hum a low tune under your breath, getting lost in the movement, regarding how the knots in her feet dissipate; circling the joints around, causing a resounding pop!

you head to the other foot, doing the same, beginning with gliding strokes, noting the pedicure baran maintains. she’s so put together, it’s overly attractive. she’s definitely the type to have a checklist of sorts, categorizing them in booklets.

baran suddenly moans, jerking her foot from the intensity, catching the both of you off-guard. “right there!” she groans, fluttering her eyes open to you. she fell asleep for a moment then woke up.

you gasp, “you like that?”

immediately causing your eyes to widen with flushed cheeks, the automatic response drenching you in shame.

baran giggles, “yeah, like that,” a seductively lazy smile breaking out of her pretty face. it’s adorable how she’s squinting and can barely open her eyes. she’s staring at you with her neck tilted down, licking her lips, watching you scan her frame. legs eagle-spread open, arms on either side of her torso. you’re absolutely drooling.

your cheeks burn further.

you stutter through your words, continuing the movement your hands have been performing for god knows how long, unable to return her gaze. “i-i’m so sorry! i d-don’t know what came o-over me!”

baran hums, her smile turning into a quick smirk you would have noticed if you just looked at her. she caresses her big toe against your palm, “it’s no problem, kid. it gets heated sometimes,” offering a reassuring smile. you shake your head, too frightened to look up at her. “i don’t think that’s normal,” you decided, biting the inside of your cheeks.

the older woman shrugs her shoulders. “it’s normal for us.”

a huge intake of breath hits your lungs, almost shoving you off your seat. you recover with a cough, locking your jaw, not trusting yourself to respond. baran stares at you for a moment more before accepting the lack of response, flopping her head back against the couch pillow to drift into her own world. the massage eventually ends, like everything in the world does, and you’re unsure whether you’re relieved or frustrated. it can’t be both. either way, you’re happy to leave her to a well-contributed restful slumber.

you feel the vibrations from your cellphone and with a quick swipe you answer, barely looking at the contact name.

“hello?”

your body stiffens at the realization, your best friend’s voice hollering at the other end of the line, house music in the background.

“we’re already pre-gaming without you!”

“wait, what, it’s only nine-“

you look at your phone and watch 11:09 blink back at you.

“i can’t believe it-”

“me neither. hey, i heard your ex might be coming tonight but it’s high time you stop playing house with that MILF and come be with us girls your age!”

you’re shaking your head, the prospect of you and your ex being in the same room leaving a sour taste in your mouth. you turn to see baran shifting in her seat, eyes opening gradually to the noise. “y/n?”

“hey, yeah, yeah, chloe, i’m coming in a bit…” you respond, telling her under her breath as much as possible.

“you better!”

she hangs up.

you immediately shuffle and stuff your jojoba oil in your tote, careful not to aggravate the peace further.

baran chuckles, getting up to a proper seating position. “i was keeping you from a girl’s night out, huh?” she teases.

you shake your head. “no, no, it was my choice to stay! i-i hope you feel better…”

she gives you a soft, knowing smile, holding your gaze. then, an uncontrolled yawn. “thank you, truly. i can’t wait too…” baran slurs, tipping her head back to ride it out.

“yes, of course, i’m so sorry for extending my stay, i-i’ll-”

“y/n,” baran starts groggily, batting her brown doe eyes at you. “i know this goes beyond my boundaries but…can i check in on you? maybe some time tonight or even in the morning when you’re dealing with a hangover…i-i…t-this was a lovely time we had and i’m so thankful.

“i just want to know you’re safe. that’s it,” she soothes, slowly blinking, pupils catching your response.

your eyes bulge, alarmed and surprised and flattered, emotions frying up your already flustered state. “t-thank you, baran, of course. this was…i’m so glad…i, h-here…” whipping up your phone without thinking, you share your location to baran. “what’s that?”

“i’m sharing you my location,” you announce, gulping down your saliva.

the older woman opens her iphone and reads her property’s address, the edges of her lips slightly tucked upwards. “got it, thank you.”

“goodnight, y/n. be safe with your friends and handle your liquor responsibly,” she tells you, giving you a look that makes you immediately obey.

“always, doctor.”

she eyes you. softens when you giggle at her antics.

“sleep well, baran.”

Trending Blogs

Recently Viewed Blogs

Untitled