9 Works by perfectimprecision
Listing Works
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Summary
It is, of course, at that moment that Yolanda finds her. She doesn’t even have to try.
Trinity.
She watches the younger woman chat with a patient—a middle-aged white man, brunet but balding with a sad stubble where there might be a beard, tall and sturdy but not clearly so while grimacing in a hospital bed. Trinity is open, fluid, almost smiling as she disconnects the tubing from the patient’s IV line. Yolanda, on the other hand, stands still, frozen in place outside Central 10.
or,
The classic conflict intervention fic, except Yolanda is the one to take the hit.
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Summary
So, now, on November 9, the day before Trinity’s twenty-ninth birthday, as Yolanda wakes up beside her—beside her girlfriend—as she has done countless more times since that fateful July morning, Yolanda marvels at how fucking lucky she is.
To have and to hold Trinity.
To wake up beside her, their legs tangled together, and to be the one she kisses good morning.
To love her.
Because Yolanda loves her, and she loves loving her.
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so forgive me, love, if i cry all afternoon by perfectimprecision
Fandoms: The Pitt (TV)
19 Apr 2026
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Summary
Both Trinity and Mel are now onstage, a microphone stand in front of each woman. Yolanda is simultaneously sick with envy and excitement, regret and reverence, heartache and hankering.
“I want you to know,” Trinity drawls, each word distinct, like it stands on its own rather than forming part of a sentence. “That I’m happy for you.”
And with that alone, the weight of the song, the meaning of it—all at once, it hits Yolanda.
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i won’t be happy ’til i see you alone again by perfectimprecision
Fandoms: The Pitt (TV)
08 Apr 2026
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Yolanda turns, already prepared to roll her eyes at Emery’s witty retort, but before she can process what it is, her eyes catch on something, the familiar dark brown hair of a woman she knows very well, visible now that she is erect, able to see above the sea of bodies.
And there her eyes stay.
Because it’s Trinity, sure, of course, but also because she’s swapping spit with some woman, some girl who seems entirely elated by the fact that she’s kissing Trinity Santos—if she even knows her fucking name. Trinity’s hand is in her hair, tugging at the mass of dark curls, and she slides her tongue into the girl’s mouth, and Yolanda wants to scream.
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“Did you have something to say?”
She feels Yolanda shake her head, or at least feels her try to, limited by how she has buried herself in Trinity. “No. Just your name.”
That, too.
There’s something new about that.
Something nice.
Something special about these quiet moments being broken only by Yolanda calling her name.
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“Don’t pretend you care, Dr. Garcia.”
“Dr. Garcia?” the surgeon echoes, now livid as well as confused. “What the fuck is that about?”
“I don’t want to talk to you.”
“Tough fucking luck,” Garcia says. If Trinity weren’t pissed right now, she’d find the determination hot. Maybe she still does, a little bit. Embarrassingly.
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“Stop looking at me like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like… that.” Trinity gestures wildly at Yolanda, as if the motion offers any clarity at all. “If you keep looking at me like that, I’m going to fall in love.”
or,
Yolanda discovers that Trinity can sing.
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it only falls into place when you’re falling to pieces by perfectimprecision
Fandoms: The Pitt (TV)
22 Mar 2026
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Trinity thinks that, maybe, they are over. Truly done now. There isn’t any coming back from this—from Trinity’s “we’re just keeping it casual” and the one Garcia threw back, from being told to let it go and call a therapist instead.
Then, “Can we talk?”
or,
Trinity ruminates, reflects on her work and the nine-and-a-half months she has spent with Garcia.
She prays, Yolanda answers, and everything else falls into place.
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every heavy heart will beckon (and together we’ll respond) by perfectimprecision
Fandoms: The Pitt (TV)
19 Mar 2026
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Summary
At 4:27 p.m., Trinity’s phone vibrates yet a-fucking-gain. Honestly, she has never been this popular.
She muses on the irony of that, but not for too long; five minutes later, her phone is at it once more. It vibrates until the caller is sent to voicemail.
But then, immediately, they call back. Trinity watches her phone dance on the floor.
She doesn’t get up then, or when they call a third time, or with the fourth.
She should. She knows she should.
But she can’t.
And fuck, that scares her.