The Pitt Oneshots
(Closed, Moderated, Unrevealed, Anonymous)
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Summary
Victoria and Trinity build a home out of exhaustion, love, and shared survival. It’s a story of tenderness in crisis, where “Crash” becomes both a joke, a memory, and the heartbeat of their family.
Or
Crashtos being a family with a lot of fluff
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Summary
Garcia walked into the kitchen dressed in one of Santos’ UCLA shirts and her boxers. She always looked effortlessly beautiful with her messy curls falling around her shoulders and eyes still puffy from sleep. She took in the mess in the kitchen and paused.
“What’s all this about?”
Santos stammered and placed the pancakes down on the kitchen table that she thrifted with Whitaker.
“Surprise…”
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Santos surprises Garcia on the morning of the birthday she wasn't supposed to know about.
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Summary
García wears the saddest disposable scrub caps known to mankind. Trinity decides to intervene.
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Yolanda García has spent years pretending small things don’t matter much. Unfortunately, Trinity Santos keeps noticing them anyway.
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let me stay the night (we might go really nice together) by hahnarms
Fandoms: The Pitt (TV)
14 May 2026
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Summary
She sees Yolanda through her tears, standing on the landing in front of her, eyebrows furrowed and eyes soft. “Shit, Trinity, are you okay?”
“As if you care.” She huffs and rolls her eyes. “I’m fine.”
“You’re clearly not.” Garcia takes one step closer. Santos looks down at her feet then back at her face, trying to tell her wordlessly not to continue.
“I just said I’m fine. You can go.”
“I’m not going to leave.” Trinity is a few stairs up, so Garcia comes as close as she can while maintaining the same eye level. Thankfully, it leaves a few feet between them, but the eye contact makes Santos feel like she’s in a zoo. “What’s wrong?”
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Trinity has a rough case, Garcia finds her afterwards, and they finally acknowledge their feelings.
Series
- Part 1 of every day starts and ends with you
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Summary
Garcia takes a swig of her beer and levels her with a heady gaze, but stays silent as her free hand gently tugs at the baby hairs that fan Santos’s neck.
Unnerved and despite herself, Santos asks, “How was your Fourth?”
Garcia averts her eyes with a turn of her head, hand coming to rest on her forehead, nearly meeting the now prominent vein there; Santos laments the loss of her touch at her nape.
“It was fine,” she says tersely. “I assume yours went well?” She meets her eyes again with pursed lips and a bored stare.
Santos takes a breath at how she’s somehow upset Garcia already, how it would be laughable if she manages to drive her away for the second night in a row.
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santos sends garcia some petty drunken texts on the night of the fourth, but garcia still hits her up the next day