24, she/her, lesbian who enjoys writing stories. as time goes on i'm sure i'll get more into writing blurbs because i live for the little details and character building but i tend to hyperfixate
my blog is 18+ and NFSW
RULES
my asks and inbox are open! maybe it'll help me write with a little more freedom. if i feel inspired i will write a blurb, but be aware these are suggestions. have respect for me and i will have respect for you!
please don't message me about seeing your request because i cannot get to all of them, but i am grateful to all of you for sending your ideas! i am not afraid of the block or delete buttons.
please read the tags and stay safe!
do not post any of my writing anywhere else. i do not consent to any of my work being give to ai. none of my work is ai generated either.
i mainly write for Dana, Trinity, and Baran but i am open to seeing where the wind takes me. blurbs and fanfics (both oneshots and series) will be in my masterlist and tagged either #scarletwidow3000blurbs or #scarletwidow3000fanfic
much love, can't wait to interact more with everyone
barantos request! my alt is goodnightbeas so im j writing this from my main
Baran and Trinity either go to a movie theater, drive in theater, whatever the location and it’s a scary movie, one of them gets scared and they have to watch something chill after to calm down w/ fluff and cuddles idk if this makes ANY sense but yeah 😭
you anon (even though you’re not anon it’s just a good name to give you) are a heartbreaker! @goodnightbeas
you get extra points for this ask because I literally work at a movie theatre so I’ve got…the lore‼️ (I also included a well-themed picture I literally took at work so that was fun)
✨enjoy✨
“I have to admit, it’s kinda odd being here without the O-man.”
Baran smiled as she relaxed into one of the recliner chairs, stretching out like a cat. “You mean it’s quieter.” She said softly. “I don’t think the movies has ever been a calm affair until now.”
Trinity laughed and shook her head. “No, I mean I miss him, I think. I don’t know. Is that weird to say?”
“Not at all. Means you’ve entered the school of divorced parenting.”
“Oh.”
“It’s okay, I miss him too. That being said,” She intertwined her fingers with Trinity’s over the arm rests, looking at her happily. “I’m glad we’re getting a night to ourselves for once.”
Trinity squeezed her hand. “You sure you’re gonna be okay with this? I know scary movies aren’t really your thing.”
“I’m an emergency attending, hon. It’s going to take a lot more than…” She squinted through the dark. “…The Exorcist to scare me. Hey, I thought this movie came out years ago?”
Trinity held back the snark that Baran would know that The Exorcist came out in the 70s and instead just smiled.
“Yeah, it’s an anniversary showing. I’ve never seen it. Dennis wanted to go but I know he hates horror movies. I showed him that new 28 Years Later film and he nearly cried.”
“Oh? So what I’m hearing is that I was your second choice?”
“No, no, I just thought you’d prefer this over some crappy romcom.”
“Are you calling me old as well?”
“No! No! I just- oh my god.”
Baran laughed gently, squeezing Trinity’s hand. “Relax, I’m teasing you.” She dug around. “Popcorn? As an apology?”
Trinity scowled, but her eyes didn’t hold any malice. Then she smiled as the lights started to go down. “Okay, but only because you’re hot.”
Baran chuckled. “That’s better.”
“And old.”
Through the dark, Baran smacked her.
The Exorcist, as it turns out, is a fucking terrifying film that ends with Baran smiling gleefully and Trinity shaking like a leaf.
“Wow, that was fantastic.” Baran said, sitting up as the lights went back up. “Just as good as I remember. I forgot how good the special effects are, you could probably believe some of that blood is real. Linda Blair…wow, right?”
Trinity looked at her, horrified. “You enjoyed that?”
Baran chuckled. “You didn’t?”
“No, I, um, I did-…I just…wow, it was a lot.” Her hands had gone a little clammy. “I just wasn’t expecting all of…that, I guess.”
She’d gone a little pale, squirming in her seat.
Baran’s smile twitched as she stood, a knowing look on her face as she offered out a hand. “Maybe we should bring Omid more often.” She said. “I think his kinda films might be your speed, hm?”
Trinity gulped. “Yeah, maybe.”
“You’re going to be having nightmares about this, aren’t you?”
“Yeah, maybe. What if the demon gets me next?”
“I’ll protect you.” Baran tugged her to her feet. “How about we go home and put something a little less scary on? I’ll keep you safe if you have a nightmare.”
Trinity laughed, her voice a little strained from embarrassment. “You mean it?”
Baran kissed her temple and started to guide them out of the screen. “Of course, azizam.” She said softly. “Though I could say this is what you get for calling me old.”
“Oh, come on.”
“Karma’s a bitch, my love.”
“And so are you. God, I can’t believe you’re a braver horror nerd than me.”
Baran tilted her head knowingly. “I have my moments.”
“You’re picking the next film.”
“A scary one?”
“No way.”
Baran chuckled and kissed her again. “Alright then.”
Summary: You were battle-hardened. Coming back to The Pitt was the only thing that kept you going, but what happens when your old love from across the seas ends up in your ED?
word count: 1.8K
Warnings: Exes to lovers, exes forced to work together, emotional hurt/comfort, past combat medic, war trauma, mention of seizures, light angst, fluff, slow burn tension
Authors note: Here is part 2 :3
The shift had been a nightmare from start to finish. The cyber attack took the computers offline for hours, forcing everyone to scramble with paper charts, runners, and shouted orders. Fireworks casualties kept rolling in, kids with burns, adults with alcohol-fueled injuries. Your residents, your ducklings, looked like they’d been dragged through hell by the time the systems finally came back up. They were slumped over their compuuters now, dead-eyed and muttering as they transferred every last note from scribbled pages into the electronic records.
You were about to tell them to wrap it up and go home when you heard raised voices from one of the side rooms.
Baran.
You moved before you even registered it, storming down the hall. Through the cracked door you saw Robby looming over her, red-faced, while she stood rigid, arms crossed tight like she was holding herself together by sheer force of will.
“Hey, hey!” You shoved the door open and pushed between them, planting yourself squarely in front of Baran. “Robby, knock it the fuck off.”
“You knew!?” Robby exploded, jabbing a finger toward her. “You knew she had these seizures and you allowed her into my ED!?”
Your blood boiled. You reached back and yanked the privacy curtain across the glass door with a sharp metallic scrape, sealing the three of you off from the rest of the department.
“Michael Robinavitch,” you snapped, voice low and venomous, “if you think for one goddamn second this is your ED and not ours, you have another thing coming. I think you need to get off your high horse and go on this journey of yours. Take the time away to really reflect on yourself. I’m handling things now. Goodnight.”
Robby stared at you, mouth opening like he wanted to argue, but you didn’t give him the chance. You turned, took Baran by the elbow, and steered her out the other side of the room before he could say another word. She moved with you, silent and stiff, the exhaustion and humiliation radiating off her in waves.
The two of you slipped through the back hallways toward the attendings’ lounge, avoiding the main pit. The department was finally quieting down, the night crew starting to filter in. You grabbed your bags from your lockers in silence, the weight of the day, of everything, pressing down on both of you.
Baran shrugged out of her scrub top first, revealing a deep red tank underneath that clung to her frame. The familiar sight hit you harder than it should have. You followed suit, peeling off your own scrubs to reveal a simple black tank, the cool air of the lounge brushing against your skin.
For a moment you just stood there, bags in hand, the fluorescent lights buzzing overhead. Baran’s eyes met yours, they were tired, guarded, but with that old spark underneath. The one that said the professional wall you’d both tried to keep up today had already started to crumble.
You didn’t say anything. Not yet. You just nodded toward the door, and she fell into step beside you as you headed out into the night.
The parking garage was quiet this late, the kind of heavy silence that pressed in after a brutal shift. Fluorescent lights hummed overhead, casting long shadows between the concrete pillars. Your footsteps echoed in sync as you walked beside her, the weight of the day of Robby’s blow-up, the cyber chaos, her second seizure still clinging to both of you like damp scrubs.
Baran stopped beside a dark SUV, keys already in her hand. You halted too, turning to face her. You didn’t need to speak. The worry was written all over your face: the tight set of your jaw, the way your eyes tracked every small movement she made, searching for any sign she wasn’t steady.
She met your gaze for half a second before looking away.
“You know you-” she started, voice rough.
“Please don’t say it. I know.” Her shoulders started to wobble, the strong line of them cracking under the pressure. She looked down at the keys in her hand like they might ground her. “I just got my freedom...” Her voice cracked on the last word, and it tore through you like a bullet sharp, hot, devastating.
You felt it lodge somewhere deep in your chest, right next to all the old wounds you’d never quite let heal. The surgery had been her shot at normal. At driving again. At working without that sword hanging over her head. And now, on day one back in your orbit, it was already slipping.
“Baran…” You stepped closer, the bags dropping from your shoulder to the ground with a soft thud. You reached out, slow enough that she could pull away, and cupped the side of her face. Your thumb brushed across her cheek, catching the first hint of wetness there.
“I’m not saying you can’t do this,” you murmured, voice low and steady even though your heart was hammering. “But I’m also not pretending I’m okay watching you push through another seizure in the middle of our ED. Not after everything.”
She leaned into your touch, eyes squeezing shut. That small surrender undid you. You pulled her in, wrapping your arms around her the way you had earlier in the trauma bay. Her arms came around you tightly, face buried against your neck. You felt the way she trembled, the way she tried to hold it together and failed. You rubbed slow circles between her shoulder blades, breathing her in.
“I’m scared,” she whispered against your skin, so quietly you almost missed it.
“I know.” You pressed a kiss to the top of her head, lingering there for a heartbeat longer than you should have. “Me too. But you’re not doing this alone. Not while I’m here.”
You held her until the worst of the shaking eased, then gently eased back. Your hands stayed on her arms for a moment, grounding. Part of you wanted to push—wanted to tell her to come home with you, to not be alone after a day like this. But the other part, the one still carrying the scar from when she’d been the one to walk away, held you back.
You cleared your throat softly.
“I’ll follow you home,” you said, keeping your voice even. “Make sure you get there okay. Then you should rest.”
Baran searched your face, something unreadable flickering in her eyes maybe surprise, maybe relief, maybe disappointment. She didn’t argue. Just nodded once.
The drive was short and quiet. You kept close the whole way, hands tight on the wheel. When she pulled into the driveway of a modest house a few miles from the hospital, you parked behind her and waited while she got out.
She walked back to your window. You rolled it down, the cool night air rushing in.
“Thank you,” she said softly. “For today. For… everything.”
You gave her a small, tired smile. “Anytime. Get some sleep, Baran. And call your neurologist again first thing. If you need anything, anything at all you know where to find me.”
She lingered by the car for a second, fingers brushing the edge of your window like she might say more. But she didn’t. She just nodded, that familiar guarded look settling back over her features.
“Goodnight,” she murmured.
You watched her walk inside, waited until the lights came on and the door shut behind her. Only then did you pull away, the quiet hum of your engine the only sound as you drove off into the night.
You kept some distance tonight. You gave her the space and the choice to come to you this time. After all, she was the one who had ended things before. You weren’t going to be the one pushing for more than the fragile pieces you’d reclaimed today. Not yet.
☤⋆⭒˚｡⋆
The drive home blurred by in a haze of streetlights and quiet streets. You kept the radio off, the silence louder than any siren from the shift. By the time you pulled into your penthouse building, your hands were aching from how tightly you’d gripped the wheel.
Inside, you moved on autopilot keys on the hook, bag dropped by the door, scrubs peeled off and left in a trail toward the bathroom. The shower hissed to life, steam filling the small space almost instantly. You stepped under the hot spray, letting the water beat down on your shoulders, your neck, your face.
For a minute, maybe two, you just stood there. Letting it wash away the sweat, the antiseptic smell, the ghost of Baran’s shampoo still clinging to your tank top from the hug in the garage.
Then it hit.
A sob tore out of you without warning. It was raw, ugly, the kind you’d swallowed all day while running the pit, reassuring residents, staring down Robby, holding Baran together in that trauma bay and the parking garage. You pressed your forehead against the cool tile, shoulders shaking as the tears came hard and fast, mixing with the water streaming down your cheeks.
“Fuck,” you choked out, voice breaking. “Fuck, Baran…”
You missed her. God, you missed her with a bone-deep ache that no amount of professional distance could touch. You wanted her to be yours again the way she had been overseas, when the world was simpler and smaller and narrowed down to the two of you between mortar fire and saving lives. Back then it had felt inevitable. Her laugh in the dark, her hand finding yours in the dust, the way she looked at you like you were the only steady thing in the chaos.
You wanted that back. The easy intimacy. The certainty.
But here, in Pittsburgh, outside the warzone… everything was complicated. The hospital politics. Her surgery and the seizures that still haunted her. The way she’d been the one to end things last time, leaving you with wounds that had never fully closed. You’d held it together all day cool, steady, professional, but now, alone under the scalding water, the dam broke.
You slid down the wall until you were sitting on the shower floor, knees drawn up, arms wrapped around yourself as the sobs kept coming. You wanted her here. Wanted to pull her into this shower with you, wanted to kiss the fear out of her eyes and tell her you’d fight the whole damn world to keep her safe and steady. But you hadn’t pushed. You’d dropped her off. Given her the choice this time.
Because she was the one who walked away before.
The water eventually started to run cold, but you stayed there a while longer, letting the tears exhaust themselves. When you finally stood up, legs shaky, you shut off the faucet and pressed the heels of your hands against your eyes.
“Get it together,” you whispered to the empty bathroom, voice hoarse.
Tomorrow was another day in the ED. Another day of pretending the history between you was just background noise. Another day of giving Baran the space to decide if she wanted to cross that line again.
But tonight, in the quiet of your apartment, you let yourself feel it all. The missing. The wanting. The complicated, aching love that refused to die no matter how hard you tried to keep your distance.
Summary : Trinity leaves without a word after a date with Baran, leaving her to wake up alone in bed. The next morning, Baran finds Trinity at work as soon as possible.
Notes : was going to write smth happy, then thought… mmmmm better not
Baran wakes up to an empty bed. Where there had been warmth beside her the night before, there’s now just sheets tossed aside and the outline of a woman who was laying there just a few hours ago.
It takes Baran a moment to process the sight. Last night, she’d been on a date with Trinity. They had dinner at Baran’s favorite Filipino restaurant just because Baran heard Trinity talking about needing to find somewhere that made decent sinigang. She’d stressed over this for a week (at least), making sure this would be the best first date it could have been. Making sure Trinity would like it. Making sure Trinity would like her.
They’d come back to her place for a glass of wine… which quickly turned into making out in Baran’s kitchen (her son away at his father’s house for the night), Trinity’s hands grabbing at Baran’s waist, intensifying the moment while Baran’s hands slid through Trinity’s hair, slowing her down. They managed to stumble back to Baran’s room eventually, both sliding off articles of clothing until Baran was sitting on the edge of the bed, wearing only her mauve bra and panties, looking up at Trinity, clad in a black bra, her pants still on. Before Baran could comment, Trinity was on top of her, kissing her again while her hands began to roam across Baran’s bare sides. Baran let herself relax into the moment, into Santos’s deep, almost frantic kisses down her neck and chest. The older woman’s hands slid down, down Trinity’s waist until her fingers reached the waistband of her jeans. Trinity was almost too busy kissing around Baran’s collarbones to notice, until she felt the button of her jeans slipping out of place. She shot up, immediately pulling away from the touch with an almost panicked, quick inhale. Baran stopped immediately, sat up, worry clear in the set of her brows.
“Trinity? What’s wrong? Are you okay? Did I- did I do something wrong?”
Her hands had reached to cradle Trinity’s face. Her cheeks heated up, her eyes suddenly focusing on anything but the big, doe-ish brown eyes looking at her with such care she almost felt guilty.
“Nothing. It’s nothing. I’m fine.”
Trinity mumbled. She leaned back in quickly, closing the distance between her and Baran’s lips. Not a moment of pausing. Just… distraction. Baran almost froze against Trinity before slowly kissing her back, trying to slow her down again.
“Just… let me.”
Trinity mumbled against Baran’s lips, a little shaky, but firm. Baran hesitated for a moment, her hands stilling on Trinity’s waist. She gently pulls away, breaking the kiss. The room went silent for a second, filled only with heavy breathing.
“Are you sure about this?”
Baran broke the silence by asking quietly. Trinity froze up, her hands going still.
“Yes. Obviously. I told you, I'm fine.”
Trinity’s voice came out clipped, too forced in its dryness. Baran nodded slowly, giving Trinity a long moment to slow this down, to pause… but she just kissed her again, guiding Baran back down onto the bed again. The rest of the night was lost in Trinity’s mouth attached to Baran’s pussy, taking care of her in a way few people ever had. Baran would have been able to get fully lost in it… I'd worry hadn’t been consuming her thoughts. She couldn’t shake the idea that Trinity was keeping something from her, that she had done something wrong. That she’d ruined tonight for Trinity. When they fell asleep together, Baran took nearly an hour to even close her eyes. She was too focused on trying to piece together what she was missing. Like this was a challenging case she needed to figure out.
But that was all in the past now. Now, the main worry that flooded Baran’s thoughts was: Trinity left. Maybe Baran had misread the entire situation, thinking this was something more. Something more than a casual hookup.
There was a strange… desperation that Baran couldn’t shake. Something that clawed at her, snowballing into an unshakeable anxious feeling. A feeling that Trinity maybe didn’t even like her anymore. What would work be like? Could they still be friends? Go on dates?
Getting changed that morning, grabbing her badge for work, tying her hair up… it’s all haunted by thoughts of Trinity. She can’t shake it. Can barely focus as she climbs into the car, fingers gripping the steering wheel a bit too tight for a usual drive. Her arrival at the hospital is marked by the skidding of tires as she parks. She’s really trying to act normal as she enters the emergency department. But she can’t help the tension in her jaw, the way her fingers tug at her sleeves anxiously.
The night shift is still doing their rounds when Baran enters (10 minutes early, as per usual.) The only other member of the day shift is Dana, who’s already organizing cases at the nurses stand. Baran’s expression softens just a bit as she takes a deep breath, holding it together for work.
“Hey, Dr. Al.” Dana greets her as Baran walks over, her usual warm smile on her face. Until she gets a good look at Baran. “You woke up on the wrong side of the bed today?”
“Something like that.” Baran mutters, giving Dana a tight lipped smile as she slides her stethoscope around her neck. “Have you seen Trinity yet?”
The ED gets crowded within a few minutes of the day shift trickling in. Baran is swept away in a case with Dr. Mohan and Dr. Kwon when Trinity walks in, bags under her eyes, hair messily tied half up. Debateably looking more messed up than Baran. The first one to comment on it is Javadi.
“Jesus, what happened to you?” She asks as Trinity grabs a clip board, scanning over one of the night shift handovers.
Trinity just gave her a blank look in response. “Don’t start, Crash.”
“What? Are you hungover?” Victoria absolutely does not leave it alone.
“What part of don’t start didn’t make sense?” Trinity asks back, the sarcasm a wall keeping her and confronting what happened the night before miles apart.
“Dr. Santos.” A familiar voice interrupts Victoria before she can even start another insult. Dr. Baran Al-Hashimi stands directly behind Trinity, pulling off a pair of latex gloves. “Can we talk?”
Victoria’s eyebrows raise in the most obvious nonverbal “oooohhhhhh” of all time. Trinity’s hands tighten on the clip board so much the wood almost cracks. She doesn’t even turn around. It’s too early and Trinity didn’t get nearly enough sleep to keep her emotions in check for a conversation.
“I’ve got a patient to check up on. Maybe later.” Trinity’s voice comes out clipped and tense, cutting off the talk before it can start.
Baran stands there, frozen for a moment, watching Trinity’s back as she darts off to a trauma room where Princess is busy helping a patient with their IV.
The next time Baran finds Trinity is in the break room, fingers pushing through her black hair, messing up the ponytail in the back. She's mumbling something to herself, something in another language Baran can’t understand. Filipino, she guesses.
“Trinity?” No more formalities. Just them. In the ED break room that smells like cheap coffee and old granola bars. Trinity visibly tenses again, like Baran’s presence has automatically added a weight to her shoulders. Her hands drop as she turns slowly to face her attending.
“Dr. Al.” She nods, hands stuffing into her pockets, a forced casual move.
Baran’s lips turn into a small frown. “You can call me Baran, Trinity.” She says softly, taking a step closer to the younger woman. “You weren’t there when I woke up this morning.” There. Straight forward, not hidden behind any awkward smiles or smoothed out questions. Just honesty. And a faint bit of desperation under a layer of insecurity.
Trinity’s jaw tightens. She looks down, as if there’s any way to not face Baran right now. “I had to go.” She says casually, shrugging her shoulders like this is nothing. Like it’s obvious.
“For what?” Baran steps closer, big brown eyes boring into Trinity’s like she’s searching for a clue about what happened. As if she’s trying to will it out of Trinity.
“For- for work. I told huckleberry i’d drive today.” Trinity responds defensively, avoiding Baran’s eyes adamantly. Even though her heart is beating faster. Even though she knows Baran is standing too close to be professional right now.
Baran stops in front of her, watching her expression. “He could have found another ride.” She says evenly, though more softly than she maybe meant for it to come out. “I was hoping you’d stay the night.”
Trinity finally looks up at that. The older woman is just… telling her. Like it’s easy. To Trinity—the most emotionally constipated R2 in all of Pittsburgh—this is a foreign concept.
“I thought we were just…” Trinity shakes her head, trying to conjure up some reason that might make her leaving seem reasonable. It’s proving incredibly challenging with Dr. Doe-eyes herself staring her down, looking upset in a way that makes Trinity want to kiss her and not stop kissing her until she feels better. “Keeping it casual.”
Baran freezes up again, brows furrowed almost imperceptibly. Casual. Had she really misread last night like that? For once, the attending is lost for words. The break room goes silent for a long moment.
“I’m not looking for casual, Trinity.” she finally speaks up. Her carefully chosen words, the soft way they come out… it all makes Baran seem smaller than Trinity had ever seen her. More like a woman who just wants to be loved. Not the confident, perfectly independent woman Trinity is used to.
Trinity swallows hard, finally meeting Baran’s eyes. She has no idea what to do. Usually, her relationships end after a few dates because her date is sick of her not opening up immediately. Baran has known Trinity for months now. They’ve been close for months now. Trinity has kept her wall of sarcasm and indifference up for months now. And Baran is still here. Standing in front of her. Telling her what she wants. And then taking a step closer.
“I want to be your girlfriend, Trinity.” Baran says more surely. “If you don’t want that, I want you to tell me honestly. Nothing will change at work, I just… need to know what you want before we take this any further.” Baran’s expression is soft. She’s holding her heart out to Trinity, trusting her in a way few people have ever done before. “Please.”
The younger woman now actually can’t take her eyes off of Baran. This moment feels too serious to break. Too serious for sarcasm.
“You don’t even know me that well.” Trinity responds. She’s out of excuses.
“I want to.” Baran responds easily.
“No you don’t—“
“Don’t tell me what I want, Trinity.”
They both stand there for another long, quiet moment. Staring.
Just then, Dr. McKay walks into the breakroom, her presence announced by a quiet sigh. Both women turn to face her with astonishing speed.
“Oh, sorry, am I—“
“Nope. It's fine.” Trinity cuts in before Cassie can even finish asking what exactly she is interrupting. Baran now turns to look at Trinity, looking even more like a locked puppy than before. Trinity tries very, very hard not to look.
Before Baran can say anything to Trinity, she slides past her, back out to the main floor, hands clutching her stethoscope like a lifeline. Baran watches with wide eyes, mouth open, the words ready to come out. Cassie awkwardly walks past her to the coffee machine, trying not to think too much about whatever just happened.
“Trinity.” Baran’s voice comes low and even from behind Trinity just as she’s about to get busy with another case. She doesn’t turn. Doesn’t have to. “I need an answer. Please. Just— just tell me.”
Baran’s voice pulls the attention of Princess and Pearlah, both standing by the nurses station. Baran doesn’t care. Trinity knows people are listening.
“Can we just… not have this conversation here?” Trinity still doesn’t turn, her hands tightening where they hold her stethoscope.
“No.” Baran says simply. Firmly. “Because if you won’t tell me now, I don’t think we’ll ever talk about this. About us.”
Trinity finally turns back, mouth open like she’s ready to argue why she can’t do this… and then she sees Baran’s eyes again. God. Before she can overthink it, she reaches to grab Baran’s wrist, pulling her as she walks down the hall, back to a storage closet she knows is nearly empty. Baran looks, admittedly, caught off guard. But she follows immediately.
“I don’t like how I feel when I'm with you.”
Trinity’s words come out quick, almost frantic. She knows she’ll never do it if she doesn’t just say it. Barn doesn’t speak—not yet.
“You- you make me feel like I actually give a shit. I don’t-“
She scrubs her hands over her face.
“I don’t know what to do with that.”
Baran goes quiet. She just stares for a long moment, lips parted, eyes wide. Then, for once, she just does what she wants. No hesitation. She gently cups Trinity’s cheek and pulls her in, kissing her like she means it. She pours everything into that kiss. Every bit of desire and affection, every last lingering “I want this. I want you. I’m serious.”
When they finally break apart—only because air is, unfortunately, a necessity—Baran doesn’t let go of Trinity. Not for a second.
“You don’t have to know. As long as you want to be with me. We can figure it out.” We. Baran’s patience comes with no strings attached. Just the sureness of someone who knows she won’t be scared away by a woman who needs some time to open up. “Tell me what you need. And… I'll meet you there. Always.” Baran says softly, her thumb brushing over Trinity’s cheek, holding her like she’s the most precious thing in this entire ED.
Trinity catches herself leaning into the touch before she can stop herself. Baran looks serious. So, so serious. The kind of look that says she has no plan to randomly cancel date nights, not even the inkling of an idea to leave in the middle of the night without a word.
“Do you wanna go on another date with me? Tonight?” Trinity asks before she can find some bullshit excuse in her head to shy away from it. “I… will stay the night this time.”
Baran smiles immediately. She knows how big this is. She feels her heart practically swelling.
“And… you’ll talk to me if something is wrong? If you want to slow down?” Before Trinity can even respond
to that, Baran adds; “And not just brushing it off. I mean talking. Actually talking.”
This time, Trinity actually… laughs. Just a bit. Because, god, this woman sounds so serious. And she makes it sound simple. Easy.
“…We can talk. Actually talk.”
Baran releases a breath, her entire expression softening. “I would love that.”
And then she leans in. This kiss is softer, more sincere. Final. Like something has been sealed.
“Okay. Sorry. I’m sorry. I’m keeping you from doing your rounds. Go.” Baran mutters as she pulls away from Trinity, smiles on both of their faces. “…You’re still behind on your charting.”
Trinity scoffs a laugh, despite all of the seriousness. “You make it really hard to not want to take back my invite.” She mumbles as she breaks off, pushing out of the storage room. Baran catches herself practically giggling.
Both of them go back to work looking suspiciously happy. No one dares to say anything about it.
Trinity’s apartment, like Trinity herself, is chaotic but beautiful.
It’s a little tight, given that it’s one of those tenement building apartments, but all the cosier for it. The hallway with the stairs to the upper floor is narrow, but dotted with little things like jackets and pairs of shoes and a string of lights that go from the front door to the kitchen archway.
Baran smiles as she steps over the threshold. “I like what you’ve done with the place.”
“Thanks.” Trinity closes the front door behind them. “M’sorry about the mess, Hucklebe- Whitaker, I mean, he’s um…he’s a terrible cleaner. I haven’t got him completely house trained yet. The, uh, the kitchen’s through there if you want to…”
Baran does as she’s told, chancing more glances around the places as she moves down the hallway and takes the first door on the right.
The kitchen she loves even more than the hallway. Again, it’s tiny but unthinkably loved and lived-in. There are potted plants hanging over the shelves and underneath the window at the end, an apron that says ‘I love MILFS’ folded over a wooden chair, a big movie poster on the wall and tiny little pictures dotted over the fridge with magnets to hold them up.
She peered at them as she set the wine down on the counter.
They’re mostly of Trinity and Whitaker, grinning at various angles with their arms thrown around each other’s shoulders, but there’s others too. She can spy Samira and Mel, and Joy and Dr Ellis, and Princess and Perlah, all smiling or pulling a face at the camera, flipping it off or pointing at it. There’s a couple of Javadi and McKay, Victoria in Cassie’s lap with a beer bottle tipped to her mouth, Cassie’s arms thrown loosely around her waist and her big blue eyes staring at the camera as if she were being held at gunpoint. That one makes Baran hum but it’s the last one that catches her eye.
It’s a tiny little picture at the bottom of the fridge, just over the jut of the freezer, no bigger than the palm of Baran’s hand. It’s a close-up of Trinity’s face, her arm thrown around someone not quite in frame, her grin smug and knowing at the camera. Despite the flash, there’s a visible mark on her cheek, the deep red stain of lipstick, pursed into a kiss and her eyes are brilliant and blue in the light.
Baran smiled. She could feel Trinity watching her.
“I can’t tell if this is sweet or a wake-up call for my entire department.” She said lightly, straightening up and turning to face Trinity. “You throw a lot of parties, Dr Santos.”
She says it in that way that makes Trinity panic.
“They’re not always parties, they just-“
“Where was my invite?”
It’s put so simply and so cleanly that it makes Trinity physically stutter in place for a few seconds, which makes Baran smile even more. She blinked, tilting her head.
“You don’t want to hang out with your boss, is that right? I can get behind that.”
“No, no, it’s just-…”
“It’s fine, really.”
“No, it’s just…you’re, uh-“ Trinity fumbled for an argument. “Jesus, I didn’t think we were going to be talking about this.”
Baran tilted her head, let her smile twitch upwards. She had mercy on the resident. “Relax, I’m only teasing you. It’s good you’re friendly with each other.” She glanced at the floor. “And, uh…I’m glad you have people around you that treat you nicely.”
That statement made Trinity stiffen slightly and she put her tongue in her cheek. She put her hands in the pockets of her sweatpants and looked at Baran as though she regretted letting her in.
“Look, Dr Al-Hashimi, I’m a-“
“Baran, please. Like you said, we’re not at work here, Trinity.”
The names make her stutter again and it takes a few seconds before Trinity speaks again, this time with a tired scowl on her face. “I’m a big girl, Baran. I can take it when people are mean to me or call me a name or say some shit that hurts my feelings. I can deal with it. I don’t need you to pick me up off the floor and kiss it better by hanging out with me.”
Baran’s mouth curled. She knew the words were intended to hurt, intended to push her away in only the way Trinity Santos seemed to know how to do when someone’s just trying to look out for her. She’d seen it before in the ER, with Whitaker, mostly, but with others as well. An eye-roll here, a brush-off there, the occasional snap.
Like a dog that didn’t know how to be petted.
She doesn’t like comparing Trinity to a dog. She’s more than that.
“That’s not why I came over, Trinity.” She said evenly.
“No?”
“No. I figured I might spend Thanksgiving with someone for a change, maybe enjoy the holiday, until I heard you and Dr Garcia arguing.”
“And then you figured you couldn’t leave me like this, huh? Stay out of pity so I don’t get upset or hurt myself?”
“No.” Baran replied patiently although that concerned the living shit out of her. “I figured you needed the company just as badly as I did. And it sounded like you needed this wine even more than I do. I stayed because you asked me to, Trinity.”
Trinity frowned a little, the scowl fading into something soft and uncertain.
“Because I asked you to? That’s it?”
Baran nodded. “That’s it.”
“And if I asked you to leave? If I told you I haven’t cooked anything and I don’t have anything except your wine and some shitty movies that I’ve seen a million times and that I want to be alone? What then?”
“Then I’d leave, if you wanted me to. But that sounds like a lovely evening that I’d like to spend with you, if you’d let me.”
“Yeah?”
“Mhm. I have a feeling that last part isn’t true. You don’t want to be alone, Trinity.”
The resident huffed. “I don’t want you to feel like you have to. I’m a b-“
“Big girl.” Baran finished, flicking her eyelashes. “I know.”
Trinity stared at her. She blinked a few times. “I…I don’t want you to feel like you have to settle for me.”
“I’m not settling.” Baran said, turning and picking up the wine with a smile. “I’m choosing.”
The walls in Santos and Whitaker's apartment are thin.
When Santos has a night terror Whitaker can hear her softly crying in her sleep.
They never talk about it in the light of day, but Whitaker will go lay in bed with Santos so she's not alone.
He's a light sleeper so when he hears her stirring in the morning before her alarm he pads out of the room like nothing happened because he doesn't want to make Santos uncomfortable.
It's in those moments where Santos wakes up to the residual warmth in the bed and understands what happened, but thankfully doesn't remember the nightmares.
Santos always finds a glass of water waiting for her in her bathroom after those nights because Whitaker knows she gets thirsty after a night terror.
When they come back to the apartment after their shift Santos will buy them dinner as a silent thank you.
Santos even lets Whitaker choose the movie they watch and only complains towards the end.
Whitaker enjoys her commentary and will ask dumb questions just so Santos can roll her eyes at him.
Santos is grateful to have a brother who listens and she doesn't need to perform for.
Whitaker can't believe he finally has an older sibling who actually enjoys his company.
Trinity who (on the advice of her therapist) tries to find an alternative outlet when the scalpel calls to her. Tries so many things, 3am workouts, ice packs, journalling.
Trinity who finally lands on baking. Keeps her hands moving, has to focus enough to measure accurately, has to wait watching cakes rise for 25 minutes through the oven door, crossed-legged on the kitchen floor. Will be there as dawn breaks pulling out a sheet of cookies.
Everyone in the Pitt loves her baking. She brings in muffins, banana bread, bibingka. Smiles are thrown her way every time, words of thanks between bites.
Except Baran, who watches as Trinity drops three tins of baked goods onto the break room counter one morning, early enough no one else is around. Who steps close to her, gently pushes her hair back from her face where it's fallen out of her ponytail. Who rubs her thumb, once, twice, over Trinity's cheek.
Whilst sitting on the floor, Trinity finds baby pictures of Kaveh and comes across pictures of a pregnant Baran. In one of the pictures, Baran is lying on a sunbed wearing a blue bikini. There’s a dark stripe running down the middle of Baran’s belly with her bellybutton slightly protruding.
Baran quietly comes up behind Trinity and sees the picture of herself on the sun bed. Her head immediately fills up with the thoughts of having another baby and seeing Trinity become a mother. She loved being pregnant and if her age allows, she would do it again.
Baran had seen Trinity hold and comfort Baby Jane Doe during her first day in the Pitt, weeks before she worked up the courage to ask Trinity out.
Since the first day, Kaveh adores Trinity and has been calling her Mama. He even asks her to pick him up from school instead of Baran.
Baran sits down on the floor and envelopes Trinity from behind. Trinity smiles when she feels Baran behind.
“Maybe we should have another baby?” Baran whispers into Trinity’s ear before softly kissing her neck.
I am actually so sick and tired of straight women complaining about WLW media and in the same breath overly sexualising MLM media. You aren’t an ally. You’re a fetishizer.
