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Baran was always the caretaker in their relationship, the steady one who held everything together. And Trinity? She loved being the one who got to fall apart sometimes, knowing Baran would take care of her without a second thought.
She felt a little guilty about it, sure—enjoying the attention this much probably made her a bit spoiled—but she couldn’t help it. The moment those doe eyes glance her way with that concerned glint in them, Trinity would turn all soft and pliant, following every instruction like an obedient puppy who wanted nothing more than to make their owner happy.
That was exactly why she loved it when the roles reversed. Because now, for once, it was Baran who needed her. And oh, boy, it was a completely different story. Her wife turned into an entirely different person when she was sick. Trinity could count on one hand the number of times it had happened, which made the current situation even more entertaining to watch.
or
Trinity is amused of her sick wife (Baran)
Bookmarked by korraaasami
09 Aug 2026
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Baran is a quick study, and it applies to everything. Including Trinity.
During a particularly stressful shift, Baran discovers Trinity’s hidden… inclinations. The revelation stirs something warm and curious inside her, a slow-building hunger that lingers. She won’t stop until she has mapped out every single one of the younger girl's weaknesses, learning exactly where to press, where to linger, and exactly how long to wait before she starts to unravel.
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Bookmarked by korraaasami
09 Aug 2026
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"Has anyone ever told you that you have incredibly keen observation skills, Dr. Santos?"
Trinity's hand stopped mid reach for the orders as she whirled in surprise towards Al-Hashimi who was still standing in the doorway, hands on her hips.
"Ohhh Robo-Doc has jokes, huh?"
"Very funny," her tone was flat, but a quirk of the lip betrayed her.
Apparently, today was a day of firsts.
Or,
The trials and tribulations of Trinity Santos trying to keep her distance from Baran Al-Hashimi.
Bookmarked by korraaasami
09 Aug 2026
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Trinity goes outside and lights a cigarette. A bad habit, she knows, but not the worst one she could have.
She blows out the smoke and watches the traffic lights cycle through red to green to yellow back to red. The walking bass line of the jazz band leaks through the building’s walls. She takes another drag.
“Leaving so soon?”
Trinity whips her head around to find that Baran snuck up around the corner. She leans her shoulder against the brick exterior, tilts her head, and crosses her arms.
(a barantos story about a chance encounter at a jazz bar)
Bookmarked by korraaasami
09 Aug 2026
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Trinity Santos came here to write the truth. It would be nice to win a Peabody along the way.
Instead, she’s leaving with someone else’s daughter strapped to her chest and thirty miles of open ground between her and the only doctor who might keep the kid alive.
She doesn’t know the doctor’s name yet. She doesn’t know what this baby is going to cost her, or what she’s already decided to become in the four seconds it took to run toward a sound she should have run away from. This isn’t a rescue story. It’s the story of what happens after — to a journalist who stopped being able to tell the difference between witnessing and belonging, and to a doctor who thought she’d already lost the capacity to be surprised.
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If Baran Al-Hashimi had never left Médecins Sans Frontières, this is how fate would have found her — a war journalist stumbling into her clinic with a bleeding baby in her arms.Bookmarked by korraaasami
09 Aug 2026