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generouslystealthysliver ¡ 3 days ago
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Slow it Down
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Hi! First time writing for Trinity, feel free to leave nice critiques and suggestions. Request are open for Trinity, Robby, Mel, and maybe Langdon. MDNI
Summary: Reader gets home after a long day of work. Her girlfriend, Trinity Santos is there to make it better. (some angst mostly fluff)
(Reader described as being a woman)
Warnings: Talks of animals being put down and hurt (reader is a vet)
Word Count: 2000
MDNI
Not proofread, sorry for any grammar or spelling errors
You get home from work about thirty three minutes after Trinity, according to the notification from your Ring camera. You subconsciously tug on the collar of your scrubs, the neckline tickling you. Similar to your partner, Trinity, you work in the medical field, but instead of working on humans in the ER, you work on animals in the same department. 
Taking a step into your apartment instantly makes your posture poor and you kick your Hoka sneakers off of your aching feet. 
“In here, baby!” Trinity shouts from across the hall.
Following both her voice and the smell of your girlfriend's cooking, you trudge into the kitchen, a gentle smile on your face when the sight of your girlfriend cursing at some mildly burnt chicken breast appears in front of you.
“Youve been home for all of thirty minutes and you're already burning the place down?” Your arms circle her waist and you look into the charring pan.
“You like your food crispy, you 've even used the words ‘kinda burnt’ to me on our first date” she defends fictitiously.
You laugh and kiss the back of her neck, not quite tall enough to reach the crown of her head.
“Smells delicious, need any help?” You gather some dishes and silverware, setting your table for two. Trinity shakes her head,
“All set, just gonna plate this and we can eat, today was a crazy day” she laughs to herself. “Whittaker got pissed on for like, the fourth time in three months.”
You sit down in your usual chair, legs crisscrossed, resting your head on your hands, and watching your girlfriend move around the kitchen. How she has so much energy after a shift always blows your mind. After a few moments, Trinity brings two steaming plates of delicious smelling food over to the table, placing one in front of you. She's right, you do like your food a little crispy. 
“This looks amazing, thank you Trin.” You grab her hand as she lets go of your plate, placing a soft kiss on the base of her palm. The two of you fall into your usual post shift routine, step one being a nice meal and recap of your days. On days like today, when your schedules align perfectly, you take advantage of having an evening together, neither of you on call or working nights. You listen to your girlfriend intently, but quietly, taking small bites of mashed potatoes here and there. 
“Oh, you know those rats that got loose a couple of months ago?” “Mhm”  
“They had babies. Robby found little mouse babies in the breakroom and freaked. It was pure comedy gold” she spoons a forkful of veggies into her mouth, looking at you with a head tilt.
“Are you okay? You usually love quirky ER stories. You hardly let out a laugh when I told you Huckelberry got peed on.” Trinity frowns.
You nod quickly, “Yeah, just a long day, im feeling a bit sluggish is all-” sometimes you forget that you are living with a doctor, the back of Trinity's hand is on your forehead before you finish your sentence. 
“Im okay-” 
“You’re warm”
You gently swat her hand away. 
“Ive had an emotional day”, you confess, “Probably just worked myself up a bit.”
“You hardly touched your dinner, that's my real red flag here.” Trinity mumbles, mostly to herself. 
She was right, though, you weren't one to leave Trinity's cooking behind, especially after a day on your feet. Nine times out of ten, you were a proud member of the clean plate club. 
“Want to talk about it?” Trinity is on her knees next to your chair, hand now on your wrist, no doubt taking your pulse as she looks up at you with her lips parted slightly,  her tell that she is in thought.  
You feel your eyes soften at her, the gentleness of her gaze melting you a little. 
“I just.. I had a bad day, hard to stomach much right now,” you finally break, your voice cracking too. 
Trinity frowns “Awh bub, come on lets lay on the couch.” She stands up, not letting go of your wrist as she gently leads you to your sofa. She makes it a point to lay down first, that way she can tug you gently on top of her. You don't resist, letting her maneuver your aching body into a comfortable position on her lap. She circles her arms around your waist and you rest your back on her chest. You turn so you can see her face better and nuzzle into her neck. One of Trinity's hands moves from your waist to your back, tracing small and then large circles on your back. You breathe deeply through your nose, not wanting to cry, but when her fingers make it into your hair you let out a tiny whine, despite your best efforts.
“Talk to me?” Dinner long forgotten, Trinity pulls away slightly to look you in the eyes, but continues rubbing circles on your lower back and running her other hand through your hair.
“I just-” you take a second “I had to put down three dogs today and two cats. Then there was an awful case of animal hoarding that was discovered so all of those poor animals came to the ER a- and I couldn't even save half of them. They were so malnourished” you let yourself cry now. Trinity listens, not adding any commentary but uses her thumb to wipe away some tears as you continue to tell her about your day, and she nods along so you know she's there, that she's listening. 
“God and this man came in to surrender his kids puppy- he got them the dog as a Christmas gift, who the fuck does that?” you continue to ramble on, feeling hot tears falling onto Trinity's shoulder. You are about to dive into another reason of why you had the day from hell until you find yourself blushing, embarrassment creeping its way up your neck. “But I bet your day was harder, I saw the news today, that car crash-”
Trinity interrupts you “Hey hey hey, come on now, we don't do that. We don't compare. Your day sounded pretty fucking shitty to me.” She kisses the side of your head as you nod, unable to continue your commentary, feeling a bit overwhelmed.
“And I'm on my period.” You let yourself fall limp in her arms now, Trinity welcoming your full weight as she pulls you closer, rotating so you are now lying down on the couch together, you taking the position of a little spoon. 
“Explains the fever.” She says quietly, now rubbing circles on your lower belly. “Did you take anything?” You nod, explaining the small cocktail of over the counter pain medications and anti nausea pills you've taken throughout the day.
“Okay, I'll be right back” Trinity squeezes out from behind you, resulting in a dramatic whine from you as she chuckles lightly “Thirty seconds” she promises you.
True to her word, she is back in no time holding a steaming cup of herbal tea and a bag of your favorite chips. She sits back down on the couch, pulling you back into her chest. 
“Come on, well watch that stupid fucking reality show you like.’
“It's not stupid!” 
“Whatever you say babes” her arms wrap around your lower belly, the pressure and heat relaxing you into a dreamless sleep. When Trinity notices how your breathing slows, she smiles. Thankful you are getting the rest you need, and thankful she doesn't have to watch that god awful reality television show.
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generouslystealthysliver ¡ 5 days ago
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I would love to open up any requests for the Pitt! I’d be open to writing for Santos, Robby, Mel, maybe Langdon. MDNI
I do not write smut or anything overly graphic in general.
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generouslystealthysliver ¡ 8 days ago
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Tis the Damn Season
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Hi! This is my first dip back into creative writing in... at least five years. Inspired by Tis the Damn Season by Taylor Swift (as well as some other songs, if you know you know)
I would love to open up any requests for the Pitt! I'd be open to writing for Santos, Robby, Mel, maybe Langdon. MDNI
I do not write smut or anything overly graphic in general.
Summary: You and Michael grew up together. You dated for years back home until you moved away for work and he started med school. Every year, you return home for the holiday season, always narrowly avoiding your ex, until you can't avoid him anymore.
(Not proof read, just a writing exercise for myself. Possible wrong descriptions of film sets and med school timelines. The ending is weak, I apologize in advance. Fanfic is a bit out of my writing comfort zone so pls be nice!)
Word Count: 3000
Fluff, angst
MDNI
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The two of you were local legends, celebrities in your own right. Him, an author and emergency medicine physician, and you an awarded actress, however, it didn't start out that way.  With time and age, you got busier.  He went to undergrad for pre med, not far from your hometown in Pennsylvania. You settled on a liberal arts university a few states away. The distance was… ok at first. Your last ‘normal’ summer at home was when you were 18. Speeding off in his 75’ Ford, you would spend your summer days together at the lake a couple of miles west. 
Towards the end of August, the mixture of forgetting to reply to sunblock and salt from the lake's water would bring out the freckles on Michaels cheeks and some lighter streaks in your hair. You loved those freckles, but as time went on, you began to feel sad as you traced your thumb under his eye, down to his lips, their appearance signaling your departure and the sun starting to set a couple of hours earlier.
Soon enough Michael officially was enrolled in medical school and his exams took precedence over your rendezvous, and you had booked the lead in your first television show shortly into the academic calendar. Your work and school kept you out of Pennsylvania for a good bit of the year, and his work had him stuck in Pittsburgh, but like clockwork, when you wrapped up with school or filming for the season, you would fly home through late August. 
The air was getting crisp in a salty, breezy way in Downtown Los Angeles. Which meant it was time for you to pack for your flight home for the summer. Your grin was never larger than when he picked you up from the airport, a cheesy “welcome home baby!” sign that he paired with a lopsided grin.
You would giggle, he would pick you up and spin you around, quickly dropping his sign in the process.
“Happy 26th birthday baby” Michael says as he kisses you under your ear. Those dips in the lake became a sacred tradition over the years. It was July 27th now, you've been back in town for a bit over a month. The lake seemed to be your reprieve. The only place in town you could go without pausing for a selfie. As time went on,  plants took over the lake, making it unattractive to swim in to most locals, but the greenish hue of the water became your favorite color.
You were both lying on your bellies, his cheek resting on his forearm as you traced mindless shapes on his back, the sun making his skin hot.
“I booked a movie.” You say no louder than the wind that is gently blowing your hair across the corner of his lips.
“What?” that crooked grin makes a show of taking over his face.
“Its a book to screen trilogy, I got the call this morning, right before breakfast”
You are suddenly on your back, little kisses were being placed all over your face, your neck, your collar bones. 
“Oh my god! Baby” he whispers into your ear. “I am so proud of you.”
You grin back, pulling his chest flush to your own and holding his cheeks in your hands.
As you brush back a falling strand of his hair your smile twitches down “Filming is in Scotland. I have to fly out there next week.”
He pushes his cheek into your palm “then we better make the most of the next few days, huh?”
You left Pennsylvania in tears, but Michaels encouragement, phone calls, and sometimes, an occasional handwritten letter in the mail kept you afloat…at first. The filming for your trilogy was an intense process that held a rigorous production schedule. You end up buying a home in Scotland, a little A frame home not too far from your usual filming locations.
Michael never visited. But it's not like you flew home to visit either. Your schedule was the exact opposite of his, phone calls on your lunch break were phone calls on his commute home. 
Those summers by the lake felt like a distant past, you made a home in Scotland, even after the two and a half years of filming concluded. Michael moved to Pittsburgh to be closer to his hospital. The only time you came home, where both of your schedules half aligned, became the winter holidays season. You would spend two weeks at your parents house, seeing Michael maybe five of those days, if you were lucky. Michael would joke that he wasn't sure why he paid the rising cost of rent when he basically lived at the hospital. You would laugh, but it was the truth. He saw right through your false smiles, just as you saw through his.
“Babe?
“Hm?”
“Move back home.”
You were at the lake, the end of the weekend approaching. His arms around your waste, head resting on top of your own. His puffer jacket and scarf tickle the back of your neck. 
“I can't, not yet.”
“Why?”
“You know I'm filming again next month” you had booked another production in Scotland, your career growing.
“You know there's great hospitals by me”
“You know I can't leave…” he sighs into your neck. Michaels residency was all consuming.
You turn to face him, your arms now around his waist. “You can transfer your residency to the U.K., I have no doubts we can find somewhere to take you-”
“I can't just pick up and leave like you, I have responsibilities in Pittsburgh-”
“Oh and I don't have responsibilities in Scotland?” you knew you were being unfair. 
He takes a step back from you, eyes looking into yours. “Youre the one who chose to leave, Y/N.”
You take a step back too, feeling the cool winter air fill the space between you.
“It was for work, I-i-i keep booking roles on location there, Michael, you know that I would come home more if I could-”
“I see you once a year now!” 
“Well it's a two way street! You haven't come to see me once! I get that you're busy, but-but” 
“You know it's not the same.” His voice is as icy as the lake.
Your breakup was not civil. It ended in tears,  raised voices, a silent drive to your parents house, and the slam of a truck door. But it wasn't an excuse to miss your yearly flights home. As you got older, so did your parents. It had now been a few years since you had last spoken to Michael. Over the last five or so years, occasionally you would get glimpses of one another at the grocery store, the gas station, or holiday shopping. Those interactions ended as quickly as they started, and what the both of you didn't know was that you both felt the same pinching in your chest as you walked in opposing directions. 
What you didn't know was that he had loosely kept up with your career. Watching the TV in the ER’s waiting room with furrowed brows and a sad smile as the local news recaps you accepting your first major acting award. Even giving into the urge to google you every year or two. 
What Michael didn't know was that you had done the same. You purchased his authorial debut, a book about some medical discovery he was a part of in school. But after a chapter or two you had to put the book down, his writing patterns bringing you back to those hand written letters he had sent you when you were on speaking terms. A few years later your mother's friend had sent you an article about him from the local paper, how he skipped a few years of college and was now becoming a reputable physician at the young age of 33.
You were quietly resentful yet proud of one another. You both had dated other people, sure. You even dated another famous actor for a handful of years, the breakup making international headlines. Michael didn't have trouble getting dates.. He was simply too busy to date, he told himself.
It is December 22nd and you find yourself returning home a day earlier than usual. Your flight was uneventful, keeping you occupied was a new script your agent had you reading. On the short walk from the flight gate to a taxi cab, you kept your head down, walking past a display case of Michael's book, which was seemingly haunting you even years after its release. 
When you get home, you are greeted with hugs and of course, a relentless amount of questions about your life. As normal, you answer with joy, returning the conversation by asking your family questions too. Your Mom, Dad, and two siblings' voices filled the home, the glow of candles and smell of fresh baked gingerbread cookies relaxed your shoulders as you fell into a rhythm of holiday spirit. 
Last minute holiday shopping was when you first saw him. He was with his mother and father, same as you. Visiting home for the holidays. Your small home town in rural Pennsylvania however, was an hour and a half drive for him compared to your ten hour non stop flight. As you are mindlessly perusing the shops at an outdoor holiday shopping market, waiting for your family to finish up, you bump hands with someone reaching for the same Christmas wreath as you. 
“Oops, all yours” says the man who is pulling his hand back.
“No no, you take it I was just looking-” you meet his eyes releasing the wreath, sending it to the dirt floor of the market.
“Y/N.” He clears his throat.
“Michael.” You say at the same time.
The other times you had seen each other had been fleeting, never even an accidental brush of shoulders, or an acknowledging head nod. But now, you find yourselves face to face, The condensation of your breaths turn the air white. 
He stuffs his hands in his pockets and sniffs, the tip of his nose red. You haven't seen him this close in nearly six years. His brown hair had greyed in spots along his chin, his crows feet seemed deeper, a representation of how wisdom has aged him. 
You, he noticed, have aged too. The way a soft wrinkle made itself visible between your raised eyebrows, how your posture strengthened, and the way your eyes never left his was telling of the ways you have grown.
“How are you?” Michael's voice is curious, gentle, and cautious.
“Been okay, keeping busy.” You clear your throat.
“Yeah, yeah good to hear, me too.” He breaks eye contact first, looking at his worn shoes.
You let your eyes scan his frame, he's broader now, his hair is a bit shorter and you can tell he still goes to the gym.
Just as the silence was about to become awkward, a woman walks up to Michael's side.
“Mrs. Robinavitch, hi.” Your voice doesn't do a good job at hiding your surprise.
“Y/N? My oh my you look just how you did when I saw you last!” She takes a good look at you.
“And you don't look a day over 35.” You offer her a smile, she gives you a hug.
“Oh stop it.” she chuckles, giving you a rub on the back.
You know it was rude, but before she has the chance to open a conversation, you take a few steps back
“It was great seeing you Mrs. Robinavitch” You nod, “Michael.” wishing them a happy holidays, you turn and walk away, but not before giving him one last glance, confusion clouding your mind alongside a stinging behind your eyes.
The night of Christmas Eve approaches quickly, your parents home is filled with distant relatives, but the laughter around you seems too loud this time. You're polite, you engage in conversation, but you are obviously elsewhere. Your dad is the first one to say something after spotting you wandering off onto the front porch. As always, he had the ability to read you like a book.
“Can you pick me up some more cooking wine from the store? He disguises the momentary escape as a favor, and you gratefully accept the out. 
The fluorescent grocery store lights make you squint your eyes and give you an instant headache, but you find the cooking wine, as requested.
“Oh my god.” You hear from behind you, you turn and see a young girl and her mother behind you.
“Y/N? I'm such a big fan.” The girl squeaks, gripping a loaf of bread a little too tightly.
You laugh kindly and give a genuine smile, thankful for another distraction. You speak with the girl and her mother for a couple of minutes, taking selfies and wishing one another a happy holiday. You exit the grocery store soon after, hopping into your still warm car. You start the car and make the drive home, only to not end up at your parents house, but at the lake out west.
Putting your car in park and snapping yourself out of autopilot, you step out of the car, noticing a light snow flurry in the air. As you walk, the icy layers of snow from the days prior crunch underneath your feet. The air stings your cheeks and as you sniffle from the cold you get a scent of a campfire. Peeking around a tree, you see a man throwing sticks into a small fire, the crackling of the wood the only thing keeping him company. 
The man turns around, his silhouette illuminated by the glow of the fire and the reflection of the moon in the iced over lake.
“Michael?” Y/N.” He states. 
“I didn't see a car out front”
“I walked.”
You raise your eyebrows at him for the second time today. “Thats like, an hour long walk.”
“I had a lot to think about.” He shrugs, you walk closer to the warmth of the fire, your face now illuminated by the flames. The way the light highlights your cheekbones, the way the snow is clinging onto his beard, it has you both in a trance.
“I thought you may come here tonight,” he confessed. “I hoped you’d come here tonight.”
“How long have you been here?” You are having trouble telling if the reason your eyes are watering is from the wind or if it's something else.
“Just long enough to build a fire.” 
There is a moment of silence again. But this time, there's a weight to it, different from the tense feeling of awkwardness. You both take a moment to look at each other, to really look at each other. You take a step closer to him.
“Congrats on the Emmy win. That's huge”
“That was over two years ago,” you say lightly
He shrugs, “Better late than never.”
“Is it though?” you say a little harsher “You could've called-"
“Would you have answered?”
You don't respond. He lets out a bitter laugh and shakes his head.
“Why did you come to the lake, Michael?” You clench your jaw, your voice cracks.
“Fuck.” He runs a hand across his bearded jaw “For years, we've avoided each other like the goddamnned plague, Y/N. Don't you think that-”
You interrupt him "We've been avoiding each other? You're the one who can't even hold eye contact with me. You broke up with me, you.. you- you're the one who couldn't handle the distance and would hide behind milk cartons when you saw me at the grocery store!”
“What are you even talking about? You ran all the way to another country, Y/N! You left me. Not the other way around-”
You blink up at him.
“If I could have picked up and moved to another country for you, I would have. But med school was expensive, we weren't exactly making the same salary, Y/N.” 
The glow of the fire intensified the redness growing up from his neck, a mixture of frustration and the cold.
“Michael I have thought of you every single day from the first day we met. I never meant to run away, I was just- I needed to get out of that town, okay? Of course I missed you and my family, but I left and I realized how much better life was for me abroad and I-”
“A life without me. Life abroad was a life without me, Y/N." You look at him stunned. "I never wanted a life without you! It killed me to drop you off at the airport every year, It physically hurt, Y/N!” He was yelling now, you were too, you had the addition of tears.
“You think I wanted a life without you? Listen, Michael. I know I moved away, okay? But you still put distance between us- I never stopped loving you, I-” 
He was kissing you. You were kissing him. You breathe deeply through your nose as his hand finds the back of your neck, gently pulling you closer. One hand finds his cheek, the other his jawbone. Michael sighs into your mouth, parting his lips and deepening the kiss. Your fingers move to grip onto his t-shirt as you tilt your head to the side and melt into his chest. Both of your cheeks were wet with tears, now. Their warmth is particularly noticeable against the coolness of your cheeks. Your breath catches in your throat at the intensity behind his kiss, years of pent up feelings being expressed at once.
As you finally pulled away to breathe, you seemed to have stunned one another into silence for a few long seconds.
“Maybe there really is such a thing as a holiday miracle.” you tease, not sure you could say anything deeper without more tears.
“Yeah, well. Tis the Damn Season.. But we need to talk more.” Michael swallows, keeping your eyes connected.
You nod in agreement, “I wont be home for a while.. Six months at least. But i’ll be home more often now, I got a place in New York.”
He nods. “We can keep in touch.”
You lean up and give him a gentle, cautious kiss, lips hardly touching his own.
“We can keep in touch,” you agree.
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