I’m as much of a heavans girlie as the next guy but sometimes it surprises me how little cassieheather took off as a dynamic. two older women who came to medicine later in life. who stand by their beliefs and convictions and refuse to be stepped on. cassie clearly having talked to heather about chad to some degree with the way heather starts eyerolling the minute that mf comes into the er. heather wanting a child so bad but having to choose abortion when she’s in a tough spot and a bad relationship versus cassie having harrison when she’s in a tough spot and a bad relationship. just two women who care so so deeply and own up to their mistakes….. heather as a stepmother figure to harrison and cassie supporting heather through adoption…. the guilt they both carry and the ways they could lighten those loads….
victoria who's so desperate for comfort, for a mother, for a father, someone older and wiser to hold her and reassure her that she's doing everything that she can. that she doesn't need to push and push and push until she breaks. that it's fine to let herself be taken care of, to be small in someone's lap, to curl into their chest and cry until her throat is raw. cooing words whispered softly against her ear, warm, unwavering hands cradling her face and calling her a good. is it so wrong to need someone to look after her for once?
oh, and baran is just so perfect at it. she fits like a missing puzzle piece in the mess of her life, in the scatteredness of her brain. the steady presence victoria has been aching for, an anchor who always seems to know when she needs her. she's patient in a way victoria isn't used to, never letting a flicker of disappointment cross her face, soothing victoria's ever-anxious nature. a firm hand in the small of her back, on her shoulders, her bony wrists, guiding her through the day, through complicated procedures, taking victoria under her wing, assuring her, you're a smart girl, dr. javadi. you can do it, mhm? just focus on my voice. and that she can do.
baran's voice, apple-candy sweet, trusting her, teaching her, leaving room for mistakes, properly correcting her when it's needed. never a raised voice, never a sharp edge, just a calm, measured assessment delivered with that half-smirk she does, making victoria's chest go tight, giving her a lovesick smile of her own. those big brown eyes trailing all over victoria's face, grounding her, pulling her back from wherever her mind has drifted. closer than necessary, looking down at her, hovering at her shoulder, her hip, her back, as if she might snap and just take her right there in the middle of the ED.
but she always waits. a lull in a particularly calm shift, when the other attending can handle it for more than five minutes. she calls for her, innocently enough—a consult, a breakdown of a discharged patient, whatever excuse to drag her down into an empty on-call room. on this occasion, victoria had been arguing with her mother; well, not exactly an argument, but a reprimand, doe-eyes stinging, welling up with unshed tears.
dr. shamsi, i would appreciate it if you didn't speak to my doctors in that capacity. i don’t tolerate disrespect.
her mother just scoffs, saying that this is a mother-daughter issue, and keeps her eyes locked on victoria, ready to pick up where she left off. baran steps forward, enough to block her view, and her hand finds the small of victoria's back, squeezing through her scrubs. victoria burns, heart leaping to her throat, her erratic breathing slowing. for once she can avoid the constant nagging, the pressure of always having to exceed, of never taking a misstep. she's safe, baran can handle the situation, she doesn't have to face another berating alone. she can take a step back and simply fall quiet. wait.
this is my department and we don't use that language here. i need dr. javadi for a consult and you're distracting her. baran’s voice is stern, unwavering, when she adds, with a dismissive tone, have a good day, dr. shamsi.
victoria finds herself being steered away, her mother's eyes burning into the back of her head. she focuses instead on baran's firm touch, rubbing soothing circles into her spine, going up and down, up and down, pressing on that sweet spot between her shoulder blades that makes her shiver. she's practically floating through the halls, vaguely aware of the wetness on her cheeks, the pinkish flush spreading down to her chest. baran is muttering something under her breath, clearly affected, jaw set, a slight twitch to her eye. victoria's attuned to her now, knows that she's fighting to stay composed.
they reach one of the almost-abandoned areas of the hospital, a few scattered nurses pointedly avoiding them as they pass by with equipment, their eyes fixed on the floor or the walls or anything that isn't victoria's tear-streaked face. she's sure she looks pathetic, crying and shaking on unsteady legs, baran supporting most of her weight, keeping her upright, her arm firm around victoria's waist. they're being kind enough to avert their eyes and she thanks them in her head, grateful for the small mercy of not being seen. baran manhandles her into the vacant room, guiding her until she's sitting in the cream-colored armchair with victoria straddling her thighs, the door clicking shut behind them, sealing them off from the rest of the world.
she immediately nuzzles her face into baran's neck, sniffing, taking in the amber and powdery notes of her perfume, mixed in with the muskiness of her sweat. she clings to her shoulders, locking her fingers in the thick of baran's curls. baran, she starts, drawing out her name, ngh, please. please, m'sorry, m'sorry. she's not sure what she's apologizing for, maybe for needing her so much, for not behaving like a big girl. she sobs against the soft skin under her ear, trying to pull herself impossibly closer, wanting to fuse against her.
shh, shh, it's okay, sweet girl. i know what you need. just let it all out, you're safe here. you're so good to me always, victoria, you don’t need to prove anything to me.
victoria beams at her praise, her validation, the tears come out faster, in relief; she’s good, she’s good, she can be good. she can cry, sob, let herself be vulnerable and be held throughout it. she pulls back, steadying herself on baran's shoulders, searching for her gaze—so incredibly warm, crinkling at the corners as a toothy smile spreads across her face, saying it's okay, i got you, i got you.
victoria sees it then, the hunger beneath the tenderness, the way baran's thumb strokes her hip a little slower, going under the waistband, digging her nails in hard enough to sting, teasing. she knows baran likes this, being the one victoria comes to, the only one who can comfort her as she falls apart. and victoria knows she's not innocent in it either, that she's leaning into it, letting the comfort blur into wanting, the line between being held and being taken paper-thin.
she bites her lower lip, reaching forward to brush their mouths together, not kissing, just enjoying the closeness, breathing into the heat of baran's mouth. she swipes her tongue over her front teeth, earning a nip, baran's pupils blown wide, fixed on her own. she can see herself reflected in her eyes, disheveled, cheeks blotchy red, tear-stained, trembling with need. baran slowly opens her up, tongue carefully working over hers, tasting the spit and the salt of her tears.
victoria rocks her hips in a small, stuttering motion, the seam of her scrubs giving the perfect pressure against her clit. she moans into baran's mouth, the sound swallowed by the kiss, sloppy and uncoordinated. she gives her kittenish little licks between breaths, chasing the taste of her, but baran takes over, grabbing her hips and moving her at her own rhythm. she groans, fisting the fabric of her pants to pull her back and forth, back and forth, flexing her thigh, the muscle solid under victoria's weight, making victoria whine against her lips.
she won't take long, her orgasm building embarrassingly fast and it’s like baran’s inside her brain when she whispers, voice husky and breathy, i know, baby, i know, make yourself feel good on my thigh. you deserve it, yes you do. my perfect girl, making a mess all over my lap. i bet that pretty head feels all better now, doesn't it? you can come whenever you’re ready, sweetheart.
victoria desperately pulls at baran's scrub top, her fingers clumsy and urgent, earning a delighted laugh from the older woman. she pulls down the cup of her bra and mouths at her nipples, attaching her lips around the stiff peaks, suckling, rocking harder and harder, seeking friction, baran's breath hot in her ear. her mind goes fuzzy, feeling the light pets of baran in her hair, how her fingers tighten the harder she sucks, the small huffs she lets out above her.
victoria comes clenching her thighs against baran's, shuddering, biting down on the tender skin of baran's breast. she babbles against her chest, half-formed words and broken sounds, feels so good, so good, ah-ah, please, absentmindedly licking baran's drool-slick, reddened nipples. her cunt pulsing, fluttering, oversensitive and raw, every little aftershock making her whimper. baran's hand is still in her hair, stroking, massaging her scalp, and victoria lets herself go slack against her, boneless and trusting, because she doesn't have to hold herself together right now.
thank you, thank you, thank you for taking care of me. was i good? was i good for you, baran?
baran cups victoria's chin and gently tilts her face up, a string of spit still connecting her lips to the heated flesh of baran's chest. she smiles fondly at her, caressing her flushed face, the girl panting and looking for approval. you're good, victoria. you're perfect for me, my little doe. so beautiful when you come, when you let me take care of you.
baran reaches up, gently tucking a strand of hair behind victoria's ear, then gathering the rest of her ponytail and smoothing it back into place with practiced ease. she straightens victoria's scrub top, tugging it down where it's bunched, her hands steady and efficient. with a quick, self-conscious glance down, she adjusts her own scrub top too, pulling it back up and smoothing the fabric over the marks victoria left on her chest. if not for the rapid rise and fall of her chest, she'd look completely unaffected.
now, let's get you cleaned up and back to work. dr. javadi is my most important asset out there too, you know?
Trinity being absolutely stunned by this movie trailer she saw on tiktok and bringing up one night while out with her gang. she goes on and on about how much she wants to watch it while everyone is half drunk. Yolanda is beside her, listening intently, though trinity does not notice as rambles on until she slides out the booth to go dancing with Dennis and Victoria.
A couple days later, when Trinity and Yolanda somehow get off shift at a normal time, Trinity is absolutely wiped. She leans her head against Yolanda whining and complaining, so out of energy her feet drag on the pavement. Yolanda lets her lean against her, smiling as they get to her car and trininty leans against it, dropping her voice low to ask her a question.
Anything you really wanna do right now?
And Trinity thinks about it, really thinks about something she can do right now, before Yolanda reaches into her pocket and pulls out two movie tickets, fighting a smile tugging at her lips. And Trinity just absolutely lights up, straightening her back with a smile just as wide as the one Yolanda tries to fight, eyes glowing despite their dark surroundings. And although Yolanda is bad at this part, being told shes appreciated, she lets Trinity pull her into a tight hug before letting go. Yolanda chuckles, her cheeks lighting up slightly and Trinity speaks.
Holy shit, I didn't think anyone was actually listening to my movie rant, when is it?
And now Yolanda just feels overwhelmed with emotions she hasn't let herself feel in a long time, shrugs it off. You're acting like i'm showing you your first born child, Trin.. She trails off as Trinity takes the tickets from her hand. Starts at 9:30, so we can go home and change first. And Trinity squeals, actually squeals like shes a teenage girl, and rounds the car, getting in.
And throughout the whole movie, Yolanda spends a lot more time that she would like to admit focused on Trinity and how happy she looks than the movie itself. But Trinity makes sure to repeat every moment she can remember on the drive home.
And it's all new to Trinity too, actually being listened to and cared for in this way. And it makes her really, really happy.
And when they get home and eventually wind down, Trinity can't help but cling to Yolanda, thanking her over and over and letting her know how much she appreciated the movie. and as they slowly drift to sleep, they both cant help but savor the foreign feelings in each others grasp. <3
Cassie is trying to push Victoria away with "I do care about you. But the way I feel about you, it's... maternal." And Victoria, my beloved mommy issues princess, is just like "Yeah. I can definitely work with that. That works for me. Yup."
I DESPERATELY hope they do not soften or sweeten parker ellis in s3. like. she dgaf. if a patient has a stupid injury she's laughing. she's probably the type that gossips with john and would be gossiping with princess and perlah. (trying to figure out what was going on between trinity and frank in s1)
she's a good person clearly, I'm not saying that she isn't, but empathetic patient care doesn't seem to be her strongest suit. (passing the suicide attempt patient to trinity in s1, not really caring) and I hope it isn't. I hope she's great in a trauma room, quick thinking, intelligent and perceptive. she does have emotional intelligence as well, but like... she's not so super sweet.
her talk with trinity in s1, "you tired? the patient doesn't give a shit." like she's not the type to sugarcoat. even her pep talk to Mel in s2 was firm, not soft. "this isnt a discussion. it's a monologue, so shut up and listen." idk I'm just hoping they stay true to her character and don't coat her in niceties. I'm soooo excited to see more of her and yes I DO need princess perlah parker interactions so bad
a future karaoke date. the whole pitt crew is out—garcia included, as an honorary member. once tipsy, she takes a go at it and queues alanis morissette’s “head over feet.”
the whole bar sees the way she looks at santos as she sings:
you’ve already won me over
in spite of me
and don’t be alarmed if i fall
head over feet
and don’t be surprised if i love you
for all that you are
i couldn’t help it
it’s all your fault
prev reblog making me feral omfg yolanda and emery having a competition to see who victoria calls mommy first. so they do the works: the spoiling, the praises, the punishments and degradation, the pet-names.
so much pet-names—yolanda calls victoria her baby and her princess and her conejita, and she says these with a dip in her voice, affectionate but teasing; emery calls victoria her pretty thing and her sweet girl and her little bird, and she says these like she’s so sure of herself that victoria is hers.
victoria is a shy thing for them, stuttering under the weight of their attention and yet, unknowingly, she wasn’t yielding to the game with how stubborn she is to cling onto their names. the first time that yolanda heard victoria call her dr. garcia in bed, she laughed so hard that she had to take a piss break or else she would’ve leaked on her bed. when she came back, she folded herself on top of victoria, rasping out oh, baby, were you still trying to prove to me that you’re a big girl? victoria’s embarrassment was a sight to behold—all tensed and snappy—and yolanda adored the way this flighty girl started biting back as she rolled her eyes at her and tugged at her hair and demanded yolanda to fuck deeper. what a demanding baby she had in her hands, but yolanda wasn’t complaining. she didn’t even care that victoria had yet to call her anything but a broken keen of garcia because this baby of hers was sweet, her taste lingering in the back of her teeth.
emery was a different experience. victoria was shyer, more docile, and quieter with her. she ducked her gaze away and nibbled on her lips as though emery would kick her out of her apartment if victoria was any louder. c’mon, sweet thing, emery crooned, softly tugging victoria’s lip out from where it was trapped between teeth, no hurting yourself before i could even play with that cute mouth. victoria hiccupped, eyeing her with those adorable eyes that emery decided to change her plans. she heard from yolanda that victoria wanted something overwhelming and debauched but emery decided to tease a different way, curling her tongue so torturously slow to see if this was how she could coax the name from her bird. but all victoria ever sobbed out was a soft, little emy.
it takes a while for yolanda and emery to finally figure out why victoria had yet to slip up—there was a player who they didn’t know was in on the game.
“what?” dana asks, eyeing them both. she’s chewing on a gum, feigning disinterest, but they both could see the smirk that teases the corner of her lips. “you guys’re the late ones, ‘ere. sweetheart’s been calling me that for ages.”
Imagine an Alpha Emery and Omega Samira who become good friends after the MCI.
They have breakfast when Samira works a double, late lunch in the park on days Emery works and Samira doesn't. Spending at least one day a week hanging out outside of work, offering each other a shoulder to lean on after rough shifts slowly falling in love. Neither say a word about it. Silently becoming hopelessly infatuated with the other. Going on like this for months. Years.
Until Samira at dinner one night asks Emery to have a baby with her. Completely platonically of course. No strings attached.
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