burningout
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- The Pitt (TV) (1)
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Summary
"You wouldn’t want to repeat your R2 year again because of this.”
“I may need a rain check.”
Two sentences end up sending Trinity spiraling in the middle of her 4th of July shift. When she has a panic attack Trinity finds support in an unlikely place and is reminded that leaning on people isn't weakness. If only it were that simple.
Or: Trinity Santos has lived her life in survival mode for so long she's forgotten what it feels like to actually live.
Series
- Part 1 of If This Is Ruin, Let It Ruin Me
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 56,741
- Chapters:
- 15/15
- Comments:
- 180
- Kudos:
- 1,563
- Bookmarks:
- 244
- Hits:
- 40,857
Bookmarked by burningout
16 Jun 2026
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Summary
For the record, Trinity didn’t do jealousy. But there was just something about the way the scrub tech and Garcia moved around one another in the OR, that had something sour curl in her gut.
//
For the record, she felt quite secured in her relationship with Trinity. But if the attending didn’t fucking stop casually touching Yolanda’s girlfriend, she would do something ugly.
Bookmarked by burningout
09 Jun 2026
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Summary
Trinity Santos can’t sleep. Well, she can, but only if she wants to wake up in a cold sweat or feel like the bed is falling from beneath her. Or have a barrel load of nightmares to go with it.
And she’s only just found her way back to Yolanda’s bed. The last thing she would want to do is ruin that.
Bookmarked by burningout
08 Jun 2026
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Summary
Trinity doesn't celebrate birthdays.
Yolanda doesn't take days off.
Somehow, on Trinity's birthday, both of those things become a little less true.
Series
- Part 1 of A collection of small things
Bookmarked by burningout
07 Jun 2026
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Summary
Trinity knows it’s inevitable. She understand that this–this thing–can only coil so tightly before it snaps. And guess who’s ass is in the trap?
‘Santos. A word.’
Not a question. Not even a suggestion, really. An order veiled as something softer, something less loaded. Garcia doesn’t even look at her; pert buns swaying slightly as she and her perfect posture lead Trinity to the stairwell. How is she still standing like that–after, what, nine hours? Trinity aches. She has blisters from her shitty tennis shoes that Huckleberry insisted she buy–her ratty old gym shoes were fine, by the way–and an omnipresent thudding behind her eyes and the inability to keep her shoulders rolled anywhere but forward. Garcia spins on her heel; her shoes are pristine, white and stitched with fine thread. Trinity wants to die, just a little.
‘You’ve been avoiding me.’
There it is. Trap, meet ass. She’s been told she has a nice one, so hopefully that counts for something.
Bookmarked by burningout
07 Jun 2026