lovin' ain't a crime
baran al-hashimi x fem!reader; w/c: 4.9k
“You are so pretty,” you say, singular and simple and full of adoration.
“You’re drunk,” Baran counters, taking you in, the haziness of your eyes, the sheen of sweat on your brow, how deliciously warm and soft you look. But it’s moments like these that Baran feels the weight of the ring box heavy in her work locker — the only place she thinks you won’t find it.
You’re out for drinks with some of the night shift crew, but you can’t stop texting and calling your girlfriend.
Notes: some tooth-rotting fluff to offset the angst that is to come with other fics. alcohol, hurt/comfort, minor anxiety attack, neurodivergent reader, sexting, masturbation
Baran hears the ping of two text messages from the end table, but it isn’t your text tone, so she ignores it. It’s a Thursday night, and she’s curled up on the couch with a blanket and a memoir she’s been meaning to read for a while, a mug of tea close by.
The house is emptier than usual. Baran’s son is with his dad for the weekend, and you’re at a bar with Shen and Ellis. The three of you try to go out semi-regularly. First it was to blow off steam with fellow “night crawlers” — a name Baran found distasteful but liked the way you said it low in her ear. But then Shen and Ellis started dropping by for dinner, and Baran was grabbing lunch with Shen without you, and before any of you realized it you’d all become friends.
Still, going out is more your thing, and Baran rarely drinks, so she gave you a lingering kiss goodbye and told you to be safe and have fun.
Your text tone sounds in the quiet living room, and Baran sets down her book, reaching over to grab her phone. You usually send her a selfie or two when she’s not out with you, something Baran always looks forward to. Reading the texts on her lock screen, however, draws a frown.
9:24 pm
John Shen: I fucked up
9:25 pm
John Shen: It’s probably fine
9:28 pm
Azizam: do you still love me?
Worry and irritation well in Baran in equal measures. She taps the call button, feeling you probably need to hear the answer in your ear and not from a screen.
9:29 pm
Outgoing call: Azizam
Call declined.
Baran’s worry grows, and her fingers fly. As an emergency medicine doctor, she’s adept at remaining measured and logical in almost any situation, but when it comes to you or her son, something much more urgent and primal fights for dominance.
9:29 pm
You: You know I love and adore you very much.
You: Is everything OK?
9:30 pm
Azizam: can’t talk they’re playing party in the usa
9:30 pm
You: And that’s more important than finding out if I still love you?
9:31 pm
Azizam: needed to hype myself up in case
This does not ease Baran’s worry. She knows you know, on some level, this is silly. If Baran were ever going to say something so devastating — and she had no plans to — she wouldn’t do it over text while you’re at a bar. But you are in your head enough to type it out and send it, which twists in Baran’s gut.
9:31 pm
You: Please call me when your song is over, so you can hear me say it.
Azizam reacted with: ❤️
Baran opens her thread with Shen, her irritation now simmering into something resembling a rubber band pulled taut right at his head.
9:31 pm
You: Are you the reason my girlfriend is asking me whether I still love her?
9:33 pm
John Shen: Shit
9:34 pm
Incoming call: Azizam
“Am I being needy?” are your first words to her, nearly shouted over the club music blasting through the earpiece.
Baran takes the phone an inch away from her ear, blinking, a weary hum catching in her throat. She’s not a fan. And neither are you — too chaotic and overstimulating. Probably Shen’s choice in venue tonight.
There have been times that Baran’s had to keep a steady, grounding hand on the nape of your neck and another on your knee to keep it from bouncing. You’re a good sport — always wanting to be supportive of Shen’s favorite spots, a quality she loves about you — but there are nights the two of you just go home. And in the quiet car, you hide your overwhelmed and embarrassed tears in the window as Baran rubs the top of your thigh.
It’s something you perceive as a contradiction to how cool and collected you are as an emergency medicine doctor. Baran recognizes it as rooted in control because she too needs it in certain ways to feel safe. You’re a skilled physician — you expect all possible scenarios, and you’re prepared for each one. You know how to mentor because you know how residents work, what they need, how they learn. It’s all planned and logical and built from years of experience and practice. Outside of work, things are more unpredictable. And loud crowds are one of your more sensitive spots. You’re ashamed of it, but Baran has never once made you feel that way.
You sound anxious and unsure on the phone. Baran takes a breath and settles deeper into the couch. She wishes she were there with you.
“Honey, where is this coming from?” she asks softly, carefully.
“That’s not a no.”
Baran presses her lips together. We’re not doing logic tonight, she sees.
“Asking me one time if I love you does not make you needy. But it does make me worry,” she says with so much love and gentleness. It seems to break through to you.
“I’m just anxiety spiraling,” you groan, the sounds of the club getting a degree quieter. Baran frowns and circles her fingers soothingly around her forearm, imagining it’s yours.
“Walk me through it.”
Talking through your thought process doesn’t always make you see a situation more clearly, but it’s the best Baran can do so far away.
“It’s stupid. This club is too loud. It’s crowded, and I’m hot, and I’m, like, trying not to make the walls close in by taking shots. And I just…is me being on nights hurting us? Are we okay? I feel like you’ve been distant lately, and —”
“Azizam, pause. Take a breath,” Baran cuts you off, firm but tender. It’s exactly what she suspected was happening, minus taking shots to quell a panic attack, which is something she’ll address in more depth with you later. “If I weren’t happy with any aspect of our relationship, I would tell you. You’ve never had to guess how I’m feeling. That’s still true.”
Baran pauses, listening, but you’re quiet, and she thinks there may be something hot clawing up your throat. So she just breathes evenly on the phone with you, and when she thinks you’re okay, she speaks.
“I love you. More than words.”
“I love you,” you sigh, the tension gone from your voice. There’s her girl. A small smile tugs at Baran, and she’s itching to hug you and kiss your skin where your neck meets your shoulder.
“Are you satisfied?” she teases lightly.
“Can you say it again?”
Baran smiles lazily, chewing her lip. She likes when you ask for what you need.
“Kheyli dooset daram. I love you very much. With all my heart.”
“Mmm. Okay, I’m satisfied,” you hum happily, and Baran’s heart swells.
“Enjoy the rest of your night, drink water, call me if you need me, and come home to me soon.”
“I love you so much.”
When you end the call, Baran takes a deep breath and opens her texts with Shen.
9:41 pm
You: What the fuck did you say to her?
9:43 pm
John Shen: She was saying how she wants to feel closer to you since you’re on opposite shifts, and I told her not to stress it. Everyone goes through rough patches
9:44 pm
You: Are you kidding me?
You: What would possess you to say that?
Especially in a place already known to make you anxious, Baran thinks.
9:45 pm
John Shen: Like I said, I fucked up
John Shen: I wanted her off the trail!
John Shen: 💍💍💍
Baran laughs humorlessly, shaking her head as she types, a scoff under her breath.
9:45 pm
You: ???
You: She wasn’t ON the trail.
9:55 pm
John Shen: I thought you were planning something or whatever??
9:56 pm
You: Yes, and I would prefer she not think I’m breaking up with her when it happens.
Baran told Shen she’s planning to propose specifically so that he could tell her if you started to suspect — not for him to actively make you think Baran is harboring ill will toward you. Most of your shifts were together, so he saw you more than most. He would have a fairly accurate read on your mindset.
You and Baran have talked about your future together several times, and you’re both on the same page. A proposal wouldn’t be unexpected, but Baran wanted it to be a surprise. She didn’t want you coming home one day already knowing. None of this, of course, stops Baran from being terrified you’ll say no. She loves you so much it hurts sometimes, and she cannot imagine doing the rest of this life without you. And asking you to marry her puts that all on the line.
Baran takes a breath and tosses her phone to the other side of the couch. She tries to focus back on her book with little success and wonders if she should get Ellis involved to run interference on Shen. No, that would be an even worse idea.
Her phone pings, and she grabs it.
10:02 pm
John Shen: Well, she seems fine now
Baran rolls her eyes and stands up. She needs a long, steamy shower.
10:35 pm
Azizam: parker is being disgusting
Azizam: she knows i’m yearning and she’s being cruel by making out with someone right in front of me
Baran sees the text when she’s doing her skincare routine and chuckles, the mirror still fogged up. She finishes rubbing lotion into her leg before replying.
10:42 pm
You: I highly doubt it’s malicious, my love.
You: You’re yearning?
You get cute when you’re drunk, clingy and sweet. A little too loud, a little chaotic, but you always come back to Baran and give her the softest, most pathetic eyes as your hand slides places it shouldn’t be in public and you kiss her cheek and her ear until Baran shivers and pulls you reluctantly away.
Your next text comes through as Baran settles on top of the covers, resolved to stay up a while longer and wait for you. She doesn’t always, but you’re dipping into a neediness Baran can never resist.
10:47 pm
Azizam: can you send me a pic of your lips?
10:47 pm
You: No?
10:47 pm
Azizam: pretty pretty please, sweetie
10:48 pm
You: You have many, many pictures of me on your phone.
10:49 pm
Azizam: i want your lips
Azizam: i want to kiss you
Baran’s stomach flips, and when it settles, there’s heat swirling low in her core. She licks her lips, sitting up in bed.
10:49 pm
Outgoing Facetime: Azizam
As soon as the call connects, Baran sees your flushed, grinning cheeks as they come closer to the screen. You give it several exaggerated, smacking kisses before pulling your phone back a respectable distance. Baran hums, a lovesick smile on her face, eyes hooded.
“You know, you can come home and kiss me yourself,” she says, lolling her head to the side as she watches you.
“You are so pretty,” you say, singular and simple and full of adoration.
“You’re drunk,” Baran counters, taking you in, the haziness of your eyes, the sheen of sweat on your brow, how deliciously warm and soft you look. But it’s moments like these that Baran feels the weight of the ring box heavy in her work locker — the only place she thinks you won’t find it.
“Am not. Still true, though.” There’s a slight slide to your words that you clearly don’t hear. You frown. “Did you shower without me?”
Baran’s hair is damp, and her skin is glowing with various oils and creams that you always tell her smell wonderful right before you dip your nose into the skin behind her ear, lips skating. And the only thing Baran can think about is how she wants you in her arms.
“It’s almost 11 pm, azizam. Yes, I showered without you.”
“Baby, no!” You look urgently devastated, a dramatic groan leaving your lips, petulant in a way you only are when you’re disinhibited. Like when you match her son’s early morning grumbles over a healthy breakfast instead of pancakes, Baran shouldn’t, but she finds it endearing.
You love showering with Baran — for more than just the obvious reasons. There’s something reverent in the way you often insist on taking a soapy washcloth to Baran’s body, trailing over her curves as you pull her close and leave delicate kisses to her shoulder. Or, you just watch her with the most loving, steady eyes. And when she lets you wash her hair, you dig expert fingers into her scalp, and she always leans back into you, humming contentedly. You don’t even have to touch her, and Baran has never felt more worshipped than when she’s naked with you.
Before Baran can tell you she’ll shower again if it’ll wipe away that sad puppy dog look, Ellis is sliding up next to you.
“You are bringing down the energy in this whole fucking club,” she accuses playfully, wrapping an arm around you and squeezing. “B, no offense, but your girlfriend is kind of codependent and sappy when she’s drunk.”
“I am not drunk!” you insist, looking at Ellis, who raises her brow and glances between you and Baran as if looking for backup.
“You are, eshgham,” Baran agrees easily. Ellis grabs the phone from your hand.
“Byeee!” she grins at Baran. The call ends.
Both Ellis and Shen have an ease to them that she doesn’t see in the day shift. They have their flaws — both a little too unsympathetic in the ED for Baran’s taste — but they have firm boundaries and shed their work personas like snakes each morning, something she respects. And around the dinner table, they’re funny and easy to be around, and Baran knows you’re in good hands.
11:02 pm
Azizam: [image attached]
It’s a photo of you, Ellis, and Shen in a new, quieter looking bar. Shen is sipping something fruity looking, waving at the camera. You’re grinning, and Ellis is holding up two stiff-looking drinks. Baran knows without a doubt you’re going to be hungover tomorrow, all grumpy and far away and disheveled. Good thing Baran enjoys taking care of you.
You reacted with: ❤️
11:07 pm
Parker Ellis: [video attached]
Parker Ellis: down bad
It’s a short clip of you talking animatedly with Shen. Ellis zooms in on your face and then pans down to your hand, where your phone is open to a selfie of the two of you curled up on the couch last month.
Baran feels her heart swell and contract in her chest, and she pulls up the same photo on her camera roll. She’s molded into your side under a blanket, her head tucked under your chin, her hand around the back of your neck. And you’re smiling like you just won the lottery.
11:21 pm
Azizam: i need you so bad right now
Baran’s scrolling through instagram, missing you next to her, when the notification appears. She smirks, wondering when you’d finally start getting like this.
11:22 pm
You: Oh?
11:23 pm
Azizam: fuck
Azizam: what are u wearing?
Baran rolls onto her back, sighing, hair splayed out. She can picture you, breathing measured, maybe pressing your thighs together. Feeling hot and desperate thinking about her. And Baran loves making you ache.
But you’re also out with friends, and Ellis has already ragged on you for being clingy twice tonight. Do you really want to do this right now?
11:24 pm
You: Shorts and your t-shirt.
11:24 pm
Azizam: looking at a pic of ur neck rn
11:25 pm
Azizam: fuck you. sext me for real
Baran raises her brow and settles deeper into the bed, one hand skating over her belly absently. She knows what photo you’re probably looking at. It’s innocent enough. Baran wasn’t paying attention, smiling and craning her neck to look behind her at a dinner party. If she let you, she knows you’d leave dark marks up the length of her every chance you get. It does something maddening and insatiable to you. Baran, of course, uses this to her advantage.
11:27 pm
You: You want me to tell you my fingers are on my neck, wishing it was your mouth?
You: Running over my chest.
You: Up my inner thigh.
11:27 pm
Azizam: yes
Azizam: are they?
They are. Dancing and light but enough to start setting Baran’s nerves on fire. She spreads her thighs and slides her fingers down over her underwear.
11:27 pm
You: Maybe.
11:28 pm
Azizam: show me
Azizam: need your mouth on me
Baran hums. One hand slides under her shirt — your shirt — lazily, teasing a nipple that pebbles too easily. Her breath catches, and clarity descends on her. You’re out with friends. You deserve to enjoy it — while staying in the present moment.
11:31 pm
You: You should focus on Parker and John. You’ll have me all to yourself when you get home.
11:32 pm
Azizam: [image attached]
It’s a photo of you in a bathroom stall. Your hand is holding up your shirt and bra against your sternum, chest exposed to the air. Your nipples are hard, and Baran’s lips part, her previous text completely wiped from her memory. On instinct or some base need, her fingers slide under the elastic of her underwear. Of course she’s wet.
11:33 pm
You: Baby…
You: You are so fucking gorgeous.
She stares at the photo, jaw slack. What she wouldn’t give to have her hands on your breasts, your nipple in her mouth right now. Baran’s fingers circle her clit, gathering wetness, working herself up as easily and thoughtlessly as breathing.
11:35 pm
Azizam: thinking about u
Azizam: [image attached]
Baran moans. It’s a photo of your hand in the low bathroom lighting. A stringy slickness connects your middle two fingers. She can practically taste you on her tongue, feel how your hand would grip her hair, feel the way your hips would rock into her mouth. And she can feel that familiar tension coiling in her, her muscles tensing.
11:36 pm
You: Oh, sweetheart.
You: That wet and desperate just from thinking about me?
You: I’d get on my knees for you right there in the stall.
You don’t reply right away, and Baran has a sinking suspicion you got pulled away from your phone. She groans, closing her eyes and feeling unfairly frustrated and horny. She should stop, wait for you like you have to wait for her. But you’ll be too drunk for her to fuck you when you get home, and you’re going to throw yourself at her anyway. And she’ll feel less pent up and guilty about it if she’s not hot and bothered when you walk through the door. So, Baran stares at the photo of your fingers and slides two inside of herself.
Her phone pings again when she’s sweaty and twitching and catching her breath, fingers slick as they rest on her stomach, careful not to touch the sheets.
11:44 pm
Parker Ellis: stop engaging with her!!!! you’re intruding on girls night
Parker Ellis: whore
Baran groans and closes her eyes briefly, embarrassed and just about fed up with Ellis and Shen. She just wants her baby in bed with her.
11:49 pm
You: Inappropriate. I am an attending.
12:03 am
Parker Ellis: rolling my eyes rn
Parker Ellis: not My attending
Parker Ellis: don’t be bitter. bar bathrooms are gross. i’m saving her from a yeast infection
Baran decides to ignore that and pointedly not think about what Ellis interrupted you doing.
12:06 am
You: Isn’t John with you?
12:08 am
Parker Ellis: he’s one of the girls
Baran is drifting between waking and sleep when her phone pings and jolts her out of it, her face smashed into a pillow and her bedside lamp still on. She swallows and drags her phone to her face.
12:39 am
Azizam: Parker found me texting :(
Azizam: we’re at a new bar
Azizam: need you to fuck me slow to this song on repeat btw. it was on the radio
Azizam: [Spotify Link] Southland by Lindsay Lou
This wakes Baran up a little, and she’s selfishly happy to know you didn’t get too far in the bathroom. She opens the link and listens as she replies.
12:44 am
You: Noted, baby.
You: Are you drinking water?
12:45 am
Azizam: i’m not a pussy
12:45 am
You: If you want me to go down on you when you get home, you’d better be drinking water.
It’s a ruse, and Baran thinks you know it, but your response is cute.
12:45 am
Azizam: on it boss
Baran is woken up from a deeper sleep to another ping. The song you sent is still playing softly on repeat, and you stop it. Baran can see why it turns you on and already has plans on how she’s going to fuck you to it.
1:21 am
Azizam: r u sure ur ok that m on nights?
The spelling and insecurity in your text tells Baran you have not, in fact, been drinking water. She exhales slowly, an unfair sort of annoyance twinging in her sleepy mind. Not at you, with whom she’s never truly annoyed. It took a long time — some unlearning and careful assurances — for you to be so raw and honest with Baran about your more prickly anxieties. And she took that vulnerability very seriously. No, Baran’s just tired, impatient you’re not with her, and feeling a little needy herself.
1:24 am
You: Yes. But if you want to talk more about it in the morning we can.
1:25 am
Azizam: what if u stat reesnting me
1:25 am
You: Do you resent me for being on day shift?
1:25 am
Azizam: no
Baran rubs her eye and yawns. You’re drunk, and she’s half asleep, and she doesn’t see the point in either of you pursuing such a delicate subject any further.
1:26 am
You: I love you.
1:26 am
Azizam: I LOV Y
Baran smiles, her eyes dry. You’re easily distracted. Giving up on sleep until you’re home, she goes back to scrolling on social media, too tired to pick her book back up.
1:47 am
Incoming Facetime: Azizam
“Baran!” you smile.
“Hi, honey,” Baran coos, her voice raspy and low, her head resting on her bent arm over the pillow. If you were more clear-headed, you would have started fawning over it. Despite how tired she is, Baran loves that you want to talk to her so much while you’re drunk and away from her. It sparks something fond and possessive in her.
“Would you love me if I were a worm?” You’re definitely slurring now.
“What?” Baran is caught off guard.
“If I turned into a worm, would you still love me? Shen said I should ask you.”
She opens and closes her mouth, unsure what that even means, when a familiar voice drifts to her ears, the equally familiar face following quickly into view.
“Dude, you can’t just leave me at the bar. You’re supposed to be my wingman.”
“Dr. Santos?” Baran asks incredulously, shocked into formality. She’s wearing smoky makeup and a swooping top and talking to you with the ease of good friends — a connection Baran is sure just happened tonight.
“Oh, shit,” Trinity hisses, ducking out of view. You blink at Santos, confused, and she slowly, sheepishly returns to the camera. “Hi Dr. Al-Hashimi.”
More awake now, Baran raises an eyebrow.
“How’s your 102-degree fever?” she asks humorlessly, sitting halfway up to offer herself some semblance of authority as she reprimands her resident while laying in bed at two in the morning.
“Better, yeah,” she winces, and you laugh suddenly.
“You didn’t tell me you called out sick,” you blurt, and Trinity glares at you.
“I didn’t want you telling my boss I’m here,” she accuses, motioning to your phone.
“So, you thought I’d go home to my future wife and not tell Baran I saw you and Whittaker at the gay bar?”
Baran’s ears ring, something sharp and hot shooting through her. She remembers the first time she brought up marriage to you, you were watching Bridesmaids together. You’re a few years younger than Baran, and unlike her, you’d never been married before. You didn’t have a kid to think about. Though, you loved Baran’s son dearly, and she loved that you loved him — and that he loved you back.
Have you ever thought about it? Marriage? She asked carefully as your head lay in her lap, and she played absently with your hair. Your fingers stilled on Baran’s thigh, and in the few seconds of silence, Baran thought she might throw up.
Are you asking? You murmured, turning to look up at Baran with unreadable, sparkling eyes.
Yes, she said easily, and then blinked, understanding too late what you meant. I mean, yes, I’m asking if you’ve —
Yes, you cut her off. With the right person. Yes.
She can’t believe she ever for one second doubted you might say yes if she got down on one knee. Baran shouldn’t have then, and she certainly doesn’t now that you’d called her your future wife. The shock quickly melts to a steady warmth that seems to blossom throughout her entire body, an easy sureness she knows is there for good.
“You’re really fucking irritating,” Trinity says to you emphatically, working her jaw, but she knows this situation is her own fault, so there’s no real bite to it. It brings Baran back to the present.
“Whittaker’s there, too?” she drawls, knowing Dennis is definitely on the schedule tomorrow.
“Ooooo, Dr. Santos, you are in so much fucking trouble. I gotta go, babe,” you say, pressing your fingers to your lips and then the camera before the call ends. Truth be told, Baran isn’t really irritated, but she can’t let Trinity know that.
She looks back down at your contact card, a soft, sweet photo of you greeting her. A wave of affection sweeps over her so intensely it knocks the breath from her. Her future wife. Baran swallows down the lump of emotions building in her and focuses on texting you.
1:52 am
You: Be safe. Make good choices. Come home soon. I love you.
1:52 am
Azizam: 😍❤️👅🐱
Baran lays back down, setting her phone by her head and staring at your contact photo like a lovesick teenage girl. She doesn’t wake up this time when Shen’s text comes through.
2:09 am
John Shen: ETA 20 min
John Shen: BTW, I think she’s onto you
Baran is stirred awake by the bed dipping next to her and quiet curses. A groggy noise rumbles in her chest, her limbs too heavy to move, her eyelids like lead.
“Back to sleep, honey,” you whisper, your words coming out a little slurred still, unsteady as you crawl toward her on the soft mattress.
Baran forces herself to turn over, another incoherent, almost whiny noise rising in her. She licks her lips and swallows, her eyes blinking open to see you settle next to her in a t-shirt and underwear.
“Azizam,” Baran mumbles happily, and you grin, leaning over to kiss her.
Instinctually, Baran fists the front of your shirt and drags you closer, her other arm wrapping around your shoulders. Your lips slide against hers, both of you uncoordinated and sloppy from alcohol and sleep but content in it. The thick, sweet smell of the bar lingers on you, along with the faint familiar tang of your sweat, and your tongue dips between Baran’s lips. She moans faintly, and you scoot closer so you can intertwine your legs, your hips pressing into hers.
“I drank water,” you breathe against her mouth, sliding your kisses to her jaw and her neck, wet and open. Baran sighs, more awake now, her core muscles twitching. One thing that really gets Baran going is sleepy sex, and you are definitely using this to your advantage. She remembers her faux promise to you and smiles, tangling a hand in your hair.
“Sleep, eshgham. We have three days together. Just you and me,” she sighs, tilting her chin to limit your access to her neck. You hum softly, dipping your face to her shoulder.
“Dooset daram,” you mumble into Baran’s skin. You know a few phrases in Farsi now, but according to you, this is the most essential, the one you learned first. And every time you say it, it makes Baran weak in the knees.
Her hand tightens in your hair, and she kisses your head, holding you firmly against her. She can feel you drifting off to sleep already, muscles relaxing, breathing even. And Baran feels that stubborn tightness in her throat again now that she finally has you in her arms.
She hadn’t known exactly when she was going to do it, waiting for the perfect time to present itself. This weekend. She’s going to propose to you this weekend.
