#ch trinity santos

[chiefdirector]

I'll take you up on the Brendon Park asks.

Humorous #8

Going out for drinks with the rest of the er and getting wasted and the top contact is Park the Shark but it says something like Sharkie💙. They get to see the tough guy all soft. Idk if that might be too much info. If it you can take some out. 😁

Drunk | Brendon Park | The Pitt

It had been a good evening. A very good, alcohol induced evening.

Trinity had insisted on a girls night out, with you, King, McKay and Javardi. Cassie had Harrison, and Javadi had- well you didn't know what her excuse was, but it must have been good for Trinity not to push the subject too much.

But a trio for girls night had been a bit too small for Santos’s liking, hence why Whitaker, Robby, and somehow Abbot and Shen from the nightshift all ended up in a dive bar two streets over from the PTMC.

The night had started well, Shen and Mel were killing it at karaoke, Robby and Abbot seemed to be having some form of lovers quarrel. Normally you would want to know what was going on between the two of them, but right now your focus was on the fifth? Maybe a sixth shot in front of you.

It was as you were contemplating if a seventh shot of tequelia was a smart idea (it is not, you are scheduled to work tomorrow morning, although with the state of you, the hangover may cause you to take a sick day), you thump your head down onto the bartop. “I want to go home.”

“Whyy,” Trinity whines, trying to pick your head up, as if that could bring all your energy back. “We’re having fun, me and you are gonna sing.”

“I want my bed, and my dog, and my dog in my bed with my Bren-”

“You can have your bed later,” Trinity draws out the word, shaking you slightly, “We can ding and have another drink now!”

“Noo,” You whine, picking your phone out of your pocket. “Do you wanna come for a sleepover, I need to know.”

“Sleepover where? Your place is tiny.” Trinity takes another shot, already eyeing up yours.

Sliding over your drink, you open your contacts and show Trinity the top result. Someone names ‘Sharkie 🦈’ You hit dial, ignoring the tone as you continue talking.

“Bren will come and get us and we can have a sleepover in our bed with our dog and Bren will drive us home and-” You take a breath as the phone call connects, “Hi baby!”

“Hi! What’s wrong?” Trinity heard his muffled reply. She swotted at you until you dragged yourself and the phone closer so she could hear too over the karaoke party behind you. “I thought you weren’t going to be home till midnight?”

“I wanna come home,” you slur, the image of your cozy bed and your comfy fiance in your mind. “Can I come home? Can Trinity have a sleep over?”

“Not tonight sweetheart, but I'll come get you, I’ll be there in five minutes,” Park said before he hung up the phone. Trinity tried to slip the phone back into your pocket, only to give up half way, and slip it into her own and make a mental note to give it back to you tomorrow. 

If she was sober, Trinity would have thought longer about asking about Park. But she wasn’t sober, and she didn’t think it through at all, “Why the hell is Park the Shark your top contact? He is so- so bitey”

You look up at him, ignoring the way the room was spinning “Bitey?”

Trinity nods at that, as if the word ‘bitey’ explained it all.

“He’s not bitey,” You slurred, wobbling up to stand and put your coat on, “He’s so soft and lovely and squishy and lovely.”

“You said lovely twice.”

“He’s double-y lovely. No triple-y lovely”

Trinity just hummed as she tried to stand herself. She was proud that she only stumbled into the bar once, “Come on, I want to see the Shark be not sharky.”

Somehow, the two of you manage to get out of the bar, and into the front parking lot in one piece (mostly drunken confidence, although a little of it must have been pure dumb luck) just in time to see Brendon pull up in front of you in the Mercedes. The same one he had tried to gift to you last week when your old corolla had died a very slow death.

Quickly, he is out of the drivers side and by you, hooking an arm around your shoulders. “Oh you are very drunk,”

You look up at him, as you allow your body weight to be supported by him, “I’m not drunk, I'm just trip-”

“Tipsy.”

“That’s the one.”

“Okay, baby, whatever you say.” He smiles, pressing a kiss into your hair, before turning back to Santos, all softness from his voice gone. “I’m assuming you’re going to find your way home with somebody else?”

“Huckleberry and I will go together, we live just there” She had tried to point in the direction of her apartment, but it ended up just being a gesture somewhere north of here. Happy that you were safe, she turned around to head back into the bar, forgetting even to say goodbye.

Satisfied that she was safe and had some way home, Brendon turned back to you and helped you into the front passenger seat, before clicking your seatbelt into place before you. “Let’s get you home, hmm.”

Just as he goes to pull away, you grab his arm, keeping him in place, “Thank you baby, you're the bestest.”

He presses another kiss to your forehead, before moving round to the driver's side, and pulling out of the parking lot. “I know baby, but you’re better.”

Masterlist

tags: @ilovefood0710 @fluentmoviequoter @kmc1989 @ilocuras24 @iamheretoreadreally

Feedback is appreciated

[citrusy-lemons]

An Anomaly Turned Norm

Trinity Santos x fem!resident!reader

W/C: 1.3k (not proofread)

A/N: also a jumble of ideas but a more organized one. a little mean santos and loser reader here but its part of their charm. grumpy x sunshine. to be continued... maybe?

Even though she'd deny it, Trinity Santos is an objectively confusing woman. One minute, she'll unexpectedly kiss you in a hospital while you're both working, the next she'll forget your existence and rush past you without so much as a glance. No explanation or talking occurs between these two minutes. You're just supposed to understand and accept that she can have her tongue in your mouth and then give you less attention than she would an empty carton of milk.

You'd started as a first-year resident at the same time as Whitaker, although he had spent his final few months of med school at the Pitt, so he was more acquainted with everyone there. It didn't take you long to become good friends with the group, though; you were very nice and lovely according to the others. Easy to get along with, a blinding smile that could instantly pick up someone's mood, good at your job, just a breath of fresh air.

You'd even worn down Robby with your likability. Dana, Princess, Perlah, and McKay adored you, while Mel and Samira had basically become your best friends. Javadi looked up to you, and Whitaker was a friend, albeit a little distanced. Someone you couldn't figure out was Trinity Santos. She was smart, sharp as a whip, ambitious, competitive, and absolutely beautiful. But she didn't like you. An anomaly.

When you met, you'd introduced yourself the same way you had to the others. With a sweet voice and sunny smile. She hadn't been having a great time that day, she'd sighed, as if your very existence was annoying to her, looked at you for a few seconds before stiffly shaking your offered hand and then turned back to her charts.

You were surprised, but figured you shouldn't bother her. Later, Dennis had assured you that she was just having a bad day and that she was usually nicer than that. You're yet to see that. The day after that, Dennis himself was a little awkward with you. They were roommates. It didn't take long for you to understand why the change in his demeanor had occurred. You moved past it.

A few weeks of the cold behavior from Trinity had you feeling a little down. Especially when you noticed she really wasn't like that with everyone else. She was funny, sarcastic, and thoughtful (although that was rare to see). You didn't know what you'd done. The most gorgeous woman you've seen, and she treats you like an invisible crumb.

You were sure she'd like you if she got to know you, so you tried to get close to her. Jumped onto more cases with her, tried to show her you're competent and trustworthy, that you could be funny too, and get along with her. You don't know if it made her like you more, but it did increase her lingering looks. Something Mel noticed and brought up with you. You were pleased.

You could tell she wasn't adjusting to Dr. Langdon's return well. You didn't know him before rehab, but something had clearly happened between the two of them, and there was a weird energy there. Even with Dr. Garcia, Trinity had some sort of tension with her. Every time she would come downstairs, she'd eye you oddly.

You asked Samira about this. She cleared your doubts with a little knowing smirk. Trinity had caught Langdon pilfering drugs, and she had... something going on with Dr. Garcia. The exact nature of their relationship was a mystery, maybe even to themselves. You processed this with a little hum while Samira asked why you were so interested in Santos' relationships. You shushed her and went back to work.

You brought both of those topics up with Trinity a few days later. Just trying to make casual conversation as you intentionally sat down at the computer across from hers to do your charts during a lull in the day, wanting to know more about her.

You were sure you'd made enough progress for her to share some details with you, and not just ice you out completely. Apparently, you'd hit the wrong nerve because she glared at you over the monitor and told you that it was none of your business, extinguishing all traces of hope for a good relationship with her.

This fact really hit you hard in the gut; you didn't know why. You didn't know why it was so important for you to win over Trinity; well, a part of you did know, but that part shut up every time Dr. Garcia visited the downstairs. You weren't your cheerful self for the following few days, but it seemed that Trinity's mood was even worse. You stayed away from her as much as you could, figuring you were the reason for her woes, and kept to yourself so you could start to forget about it.

Then, one day, when you'd just discharged a patient with Trinity, you were alone in the newly freed up room with her. You focused on the computer, opting to finish up quickly and leave, but she seemed to have other ideas. As soon as you logged out and turned around, she had you pressed against the wall, her lips on yours. You were caught off guard and she relented by the time you pushed back against her mouth.

A breathless apology cut off with a feverish press of lips and possibly four seconds of making out, hands everywhere and nowhere, till she pulled back. Her fingers on your neck, yours fisted in her scrubs, looking at each other wide eyed until she stumbled back and flew out of the room. You had to take a few minutes to gather yourself and try to forget the warmth of her skin before you went out.

Whenever you saw her after that, she was always in a hurry to get out of your vicinity, you didn't blame her but wanted to talk to her, especially after you overheard Princess and Perlah talking about how whatever was going on between Santos and Garcia had decidedly ended. Your hopes were dangerously high.

They were dashed when, at the end of the shift, you got her alone and tried to bring it up and she shut you down immediately. Emphasizing that it was a lack of judgement and a careless mistake that never should've happened. You walked away in resignation before she could tell you to forget about it.

You were done trying to be in Trinity Santos' favor. You wouldn't expect anything from her anymore. You'd treat her as she wished, invisible and ignorant, and continue on as you were. No reason to let her soft hands and vanilla scent ruin your day anymore. You were done.

The second time you kissed, it was more of a mutual decision. After a shift full of lingering touches and yearning apologetic looks from her, the wall behind the ambulance bay became the victim of your back thudding against it. This time it was more heated, you were still pissed with her, hands in her hair, and she couldn't help herself despite knowing it was a bad idea, gripping your waist. You both were immensely enjoying it.

You pushed her away first and immediately said no and told her to explain herself. Her eyes downcast, she disgruntledly groaned and argued that she'd like a drink first. She looked up at you hopefully and there was no chance you could say no, especially after she said she would pay. You followed her to the bar, her hand finding its way into yours and staying there, the sweet-talker.

This became the first of many dates as you turned your anomaly into the norm.

[woahwoahwoahholup]

Garcia x Santos

Nobody ever writes proper scissoring, so I have come to the rescue.

Hatefuck be warned...angst to you know...sesbian lex. dubcon if you squint, they're in an established relationship

The argument had been building for three days, a slow burn of slammed doors and venomous silences that filled their shared apartment like poison gas. It started over something small, a forgotten text, a half-empty carton of milk left on the counter, but it had simmered into a full-blown war, a rehash of every old wound, every whispered insecurity, every time one of them had felt less than in the shadow of the other's fire.

Now they stood in the narrow hallway, chests heaving, inches apart. Trinity's dark eyes were blazing, her ponytail frayed, a strand of black hair plastered to her sweaty temple. Garcia's jaw was set, her hands clenched into fists at her sides, her knuckles white.

"You're impossible," Santos hissed, her voice low and ragged. "You just have to be right about everything, don't you? Even when you're dead fucking wrong."

Garcia's laugh was a sharp, brittle thing. "I'm not the one who stormed out of a dinner party because someone looked at me wrong. That was you. Again."

"Don't you fucking dare—"

"I dare." Yolanda stepped closer, invading her space. The heat between them was suffocating, electric. "You're a goddamn child, Santos. You pick fights because you can't handle being happy. You sabotage everything good."

Trinity's hand shot out, grabbing a fistful of Yolanda's shirt and yanking her forward. Their faces were a breath apart. "You don't know a thing about what I can handle."

And then they were kissing.

It wasn't gentle. It wasn't tender. It was teeth and tongue and a low, furious growl that rumbled from the back of Trinity's throat. Garcia bit her lip, tasting copper, and Trinity moaned into the pain, her free hand tangling in Garcia's hair, yanking hard.

Clothes came off in a frenzy, buttons popping, zippers tearing, fabric pooling around their ankles. They stumbled backward into the bedroom, a tangle of limbs and breathless curses. Yolanda shoved Trinity onto the bed, the mattress creaking under their combined weight, and followed her down, pinning her wrists above her head.

Trinity's legs came up, wrapping around Yolanda's waist, pulling her down, their bodies slotting together like they were made for this, made for violence and heat and the desperate need to win. Yolanda's thigh pressed between Trinity's legs, and Trinity bucked up, a guttural sound escaping her lips.

"That's it," Yolanda whispered, her voice a low rasp. "Fight me."

"Shut up," Trinity spat, but her hips were already moving, grinding against Garcia's thigh, seeking friction. "Just shut up and...MMphh-"

Yolanda released her wrists, sliding her hand down between them, fingers finding the soaked heat of Trinity's cunt. She gasped, her back arching, but she didn't stop the string of complaints spilling from her lips.

"You're such a bitch," she grumbled, her voice shaking as Yolanda's thumb circled her clit. "Always...fuck...always gotta be in control. Can't just let me....s-shitt"

Yolanda silenced her with another kiss, hard and punishing, and then shifted her weight, sliding her thigh out from between Santos's legs and replacing it with the slick, hot press of her own cunt. Their legs tangled, interlocking at the knees, hips tilting to bring their pussies together.

The first contact made them both shudder.

Wet heat, slick and swollen, sliding against each other with a friction that was almost too much. Yolanda settled into the rhythm, rocking her hips, her clit dragging against Trinity's with every slow, deliberate movement. Trinity's hands clawed at her back, nails raking red lines down her spine, but she didn't stop the grumbling.

"Goddamn it, Garcia...ah... you know I hate you...hate how you..." A sharp gasp as the pressure hit just right. "How you do that"

"Do what?" Yolanda's voice was a breathless taunt, her pace quickening, their bodies rubbing together in a wet, obscene rhythm. "Make you feel good? Make you forget you're a miserable fucking mess? mmph-...god Santos get a life."

"Shut up!" Trinity's legs tightened, locking behind Yolanda's back, pulling her closer, clit pressed harder against hers. "Just...fuck...shut up and move."

Yolanda obeyed, but she kept talking, a low, cruel murmur against Trinity's ear. "You love this. You love hating me. You love fighting me. You love that I don't let you win."

"I hate..." Trinity's voice cracked, her hips bucking wildly, chasing the orgasm that was building like a storm behind her ribs. "I hate you so much."

"Say it again."

"I hate you." The words came out broken, desperate, as Trinity's climax crashed into her, her whole body convulsing, her pussy clenching against Yolanda's, wetness flooding between their thighs. "I hate you, I hate you, I fucking hate you..."

Yolanda followed her over the edge, a low, guttural groan tearing from her chest, her hips stuttering as she came, grinding hard against Trinity's quivering flesh. Their legs stayed locked, holding them together, refusing to let them separate.

For a long moment, there was only the sound of ragged breathing and the slick, sticky sound of their cooling arousal.

Trinity's grumbling had faded to a weak, breathless mutter. "…fucking hate you."

Yolanda pressed a soft, unexpected kiss to her forehead. "I know."

Uhhh, I love this. Thank you, @mrspascal0275, for the idea queen.