novared
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- The Pitt (TV) (5)
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“I’m fine, it’s fine.”
“How are the kids? You had to take Penny to dance this week, right?”
“Yeah, Abby’s mom needed a ride to some doctor’s appointments.”
“And that went?” She looks at him expectantly. He is already tired of filling in the blanks, but insurance and the hospital deem another 49 minutes of torture to be appropriate.
“Fine, it went fine.”
OR Frank Langdon goes to therapy. -
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Victoria has always loved Dennis, she thinks. And it wasn’t that grand sweeping love seen in those cheesy romances Nani watched, it was a quiet hum whenever she was near him. He was her best friend, and she his, and they were puzzle pieces that fit snugly together. But she wasn’t in love with him, because of course it wasn’t that type of love, so she accepted proposals to go to dances in high school with other boys, and didn’t cringe when her school friends talked about how hot Dennis got over the summer. She hadn’t really noticed, he was just Dennis. Yes, a taller, tanner, fitter version of him, but he was her Dennis.
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Javadi misdiagnoses a patient. Dr. Al-Hashimi shows her where she went wrong.
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“I told Whitaker I thought you had been on a date and he bet me $10 that you hadn’t.”
“Why were you talking about my dating life?”
“Why won’t you answer the question?” Trinity’s voice starts to rise, and Victoria tries to quickly make shushing noises but she catches the movement of Princess turning to look at them and knows that the whole ER will know within the hour.
“Shutup,” Victoria hisses, and grabs Trinity by the arm, pulling her towards the north stairwell. Trinity looks like she is ready to repeat her questions even louder, so Victoria puts her hand over her mouth, squeezing when Trinity bites her palm.
Inside the stairwell, Victoria tries to calm her voice as she says, “No, I haven’t been on a date. I’ve been too busy with-”
“Being a child prodigy, yeah I get it, okay. We’re going on a date tonight.” -
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Frank forgot to turn his location off and Abby can’t remember the last time she thought about Frank this much.
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The idea of pissing Dr. Langdon’s bed makes tears roll down Mel’s cheeks. She feels so vulnerable, the pressure in her bladder building up by the second. Her stimulated clit barely distracts her. She uses all her willpower to balance the stress in her pussy, knowing she can’t cum without peeing herself. She mumbles, “M’please, please, please.” Begging for something, not even sure what it is anymore.
or: frank forces mel to drink a lot of water after accidentally getting too drunk and then teases her when she needs to pee
Bookmarked by novared
06 May 2026
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She's just letting her head fall back against the wall when the door opens.
Light spills in from the hallway as Dr. Robby steps inside. (...)
Victoria freezes. She's intruding on something private. She should clear her throat. Say something. Anything.
But then Dr. Collins appears in the doorway, a mischievous smile playing on her lips, and the words die in Victoria's throat.The first time is chance, the second is weakness, and by the third and fourth times, Robby and Victoria stop pretending it’s a mistake.
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She used to run into him sometimes in her kitchen late at night — cold chasm of bare white marble under her toes as she tiptoed in for a glass of water and would see him leaning, shirtless, against the counter, reading glasses low on his nose and his phone screen lighting his face as he greeted her, “Hey, Vic.”
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Shamsi and Abbot used to date. Years later, Victoria meets him again.
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The possibility presents itself like one of Al-Hashimi’s last-minute fixes: field tracheotomy. Do or die. A leap that cannot be un-taken.
God, Victoria thinks, am I really about to lose my virginity to this skinny white nerd?
Victoria's night out takes a wild turn.
Series
- Part 1 of First Name Basis
Bookmarked by novared
02 Apr 2026
Bookmarker's Notes
HOLY SHIT I'm obsessed with this writing and simultaneously jealous I didn't come up with these phrases first. incredible dynamic and characterization
He probably goes home to masturbate to The Catcher in the Rye, or something.
Victoria’s staring at the evidence and still half-convinced he must do so only recreationally
“This is like, the trolley problem. No matter what I answer, I’m fucked.”
Ha! That’ll show him. Victoria is winning at sex
This is great. She is going to get a good grade at sex.
It makes her wonder if he looks at her like this all the time, and, more dangerously, if she wants him to.
She’d pictured a sensible number, or possibly zero, but now she’s not so sure; perhaps Ogilvie’s some kind of secret, prodigious whore, and he’s managed to dupe them all by being himself in public.
“I hate you,” she says, and is rewarded by a singular, flat stroke of his tongue where she wants it, before he returns to writing out the quadratic formula or whatever the fuck he’s doing down there. He’s lapping at her like a fucking dog, the wet drag of his saliva slicking her up until the sheets grow damp underneath her.
"I think I hate you too, actually. I hate you so much, and I'm gonna let you ruin my entire fucking life. Fuck."
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Last week Frank offered to help Mel pick up a table she'd found on Facebook marketplace but couldn't lift by herself, which was fine and reasonable, only when he picked her up she was wearing a tank top that showed her collarbones, and Frank's reaction to the sight of it was not even the slightest bit reasonable or fine. Worse, he's been catching himself thinking about it on and off ever since — the delicate line of bone, the pink flush that crawled down her chest. The way she'd said his name when she caught him staring, completely oblivious to what had him so distracted, both hugely frustrating and a huge relief.
"I don't wanna kill the vibe," Frank says, which is definitely not the same thing as no. It is, in fact, conspicuously close to a yes. "I know how important it is for you, getting time with your sister."