pairing: frank langdon x wife!reader
summary: frank langdon is a damn good doctor. he is a good husband and father, but he is an even better doctor. even good doctors make mistakes.
warnings: angsty angst, fluff, no use of y/n, POV switches, hurt/comfort, drug addiction/abuse, drama, romance, pregnancy (briefly), complicated relationships, strained relationships, descriptions of pain, canon-typical content, langdon is an ass sometimes, swearing.
warnings for each chapter will be posted + updated.
currently in production.
prologue: wc 404, fluff-adjacent, franks villain origin story, before season 1.
chapter 1: wc 2188, franks villain origin story continues, before season 1, drug addiction/use/dependency, angst, sprinkling of fluff.
chapter 2: wc 1299. before season 1. drug addiction/use/dependency/withdrawal. angst, lots of angst. no comfort.
coming soon..
sorry i got a new job and have been so busy!! im gonna try and work on it tmr on my day off- im currently rewatching the pitt for the 4th time for inspo 😝
pairing: frank langdon x wife!reader
summary: frank is going through withdrawals . no more pain pills for frank, so he has to ration his remaining prescription. frank finds relief from his pill-rationing in the form of louie cloverfield. reader is suffering (approaching season 1)
wc: 1299
warnings: im sorry in advance. not proof-read. hurt/no comfort. a lot of angst. drug use/abuse. drug stealing. drug addiction. descriptions of drug withdrawal. swearing. this is really sad im sorry.
a/n: sorry it is short. i was lowkey feeling sad while writing it, so i had to cut it. next chapter will be worse i fear. sorry.
masterlist | chapter 1 | chapter 3
Frank was a good doctor. A real fucking good one. He was a good husband and father, but an even better doctor. Even good doctors make mistakes, right? Dr. Hagen was a bad doctor. Couldn’t he tell that Frank was still in pain? He told Frank he wouldn’t prescribe him any more Valium; he could continue the Robaxin. Robaxin? Are you serious, doc? That does nothing to touch the pain I’m in. Of course, he would never say that out loud; he knew what the doctor would say. A pamphlet would slide over the table: we can help. Frank doesn’t need help. He needs his pain to be gone, he needs to sleep through the goddamn night when Penny is crying, he needs to wash away the nagging of his wife. He wouldn’t say he has a problem. The sweats and nausea are common side effects of benzodiazepines; clammy hands gripping the toilet seat as he heaved into it were just results of stress.
He’d been rationing the remaining valium for a while now, his shaky hands leaned over to open the bottle. The lid was stuck, his hands were wet, and he had no grip. “FUCK!” He yelled, voice hoarse as he threw the bottle across the room. It slammed into the wall. His hands ran down his face, his back falling to the ground as he cried. The pill bottle was cracked, the lid separated from the bottle and the small blue pills were scattered along the tiles. His hands pulled on his hair, legs curling into his chest as he cried. He felt like he could barely breathe, breaths coming in gasps. He shakily pulled himself up onto his hands and knees. The tears still rolled down his cheeks, his breath was heavy, and bile rose in his throat as he crawled shakily toward the pills on the ground. There was banging on the wooden door, “Frank! Frankie!” Your voice was shaky, fist pounding on the door. Frank didn’t answer, shoving the first pill into his mouth and swallowing it dry. A second followed. He relaxed, leaning against the wall as his breathing relaxed, skin still cold and clammy. A few pills surrounded him on the floor, tiny pieces of gold around him.
“Fuck! Frank, open the damn door!” Your fists pounded against it, voice hoarse from screaming. The door finally creaked open, and your eyes darted around to find…nothing. Your husband stood at the door, his face a bit pale and his skin clammy. You raked your eyes down his body, craning your neck to look at the room behind him. “What's wrong, darling?” Frank asked, looking at you worriedly. You quickly looked up at him, eyes glassy with tears. “I-I…You…you yelled, and then you didn’t…” The tears filling your eyes finally spilled over, coating your cheeks in salty trails. “I’m fine, I just wasn’t feeling good, might have caught something at work. I was in here…well, I’ll spare you the details.” The lie left his lips easily as he stroked up and down your arms. Well, maybe not a lie, a white lie.
~~~~
Frank was beginning to feel the effects of his rations. He could barely focus at work, he was shaky and nauseous. He needed to find some relief.
His relief was wheeled through the door in the form of a large alcoholic, Louie Cloverfield. Louie was a frequent flyer; he knew Langdon by first name, and Langdon knew Louie like a close friend. Louie didn’t want to change; he didn’t come to the Pitt for treatment for his addiction. He came for treatment of the effects of his addiction. There was one benefit to Louie’s terrible life choices: he never even opened the Librium he was prescribed.
If anything, Langdon skimming a few pills out of Louie’s bottle was a good thing. Louie would not use the pills, so they would go to waste. And he was keeping them from being sold on the street. Frank was doing more for addicts than the street team was, keeping pills from being sold or traded for booze. He was really doing everyone a favour. Frank prescribed Louie 20 pills, 50 mg every 6 hours. He knew Louie was going to waste, not use the medication provided to him.
The Pitt was always so busy. He was the golden boy, the protege, Robby’s boy. No one had to keep an eye on Frank. Frank was on his way to check on Louie, Librium bottle in his hand, when he just so happened to stumble into a supply closet. The door opened easily with a tap of his badge. Langdon slipped into the closet and shut the door behind him. His hands were shaking either from nerves or withdrawal. He took a shaky breath as he popped the top off of the bottle and poured 10 pills into his hand. Was it really so easy? Frank’s lips pressed together in a tight line, the blue capsules slid into his pocket. He shut the bottle tightly and looked around the closet, grabbing an IV kit for good measure before he slipped back out into the chaos that was the emergency room. He rubbed his clammy hands down his scrub pants, swallowing spit to coat his dry mouth. It would be fine; no one was going to notice.
Frank was right. No one noticed. Louie didn’t want to accept the Librium, let alone open the bottle. No one questioned Frank’s trip to his locker. His confidence spiked when he threw one capsule back in the break room, and no one batted an eye.
~~~
Frank was always coming home later, recently. He’d said the Pitt was busier than usual. You didn’t believe him. You weren’t sure why you didn’t believe him, call it feminine intuition, you just had a feeling. The air between you two had grown cold. The chemistry that you two had once shared had fizzled out. For the sake of your kids, you kept your bickering to a minimum. The Frank standing in front of you was not the same Frank that you had once loved. He’d become colder, more secretive, and meaner.
You didn’t bother waiting for Frank to come home anymore. By the time the door swung open at night you had already tucked yourself into bed. Frank came home to the lights off, a cold silence through the house. You hadn’t bothered to leave him a plate of dinner, he probably wouldn’t eat it. You didn’t even leave the bedroom door open, opting to leave a pillow, change of clothes, and a blanket on the couch. You knew it was cruel, he would wake up stiff with an aching back, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to sleep next to a man who was practically a stranger.
You heard him come inside. You could barely sleep, worried sick about your husband and who he has become. You heard Frank’s feet pad across the floor, the sound stopping outside of your door. You took a deep breath and stiffened up–an internal conflict building inside your chest. You so desperately hoped he would come inside, rub your back and leave a soft kiss on the top of your head. You wanted him to come in the room and tell you what was going on with him. You wanted to hold him as he let out his stress and frustrations. You wanted him to go back to the Frank you loved. Instead, his footsteps continued down the hall, toward the bathroom. Your breath came out in a sharp sigh, eyes squeezing shut when you felt the familiar burn of tears threatening to spill. Your shaking hands covered your face as the tears finally broke free. You felt so stupid for hoping–wishing–that Frank was still there.
summary: Mel has a crush on the new psych resident. wc 1.9k
tags: mel king x f!resident psychiatrist!reader, fluff, reader wears bracelets and has hair long enough to be tied up, very brief mentions of psych related cases (eating disorder, addiction, depression), mel pining for reader, based on this request!
“Dana, I need psych down in Central 3 for an opinion on a case.”
“Sure thing kid, what’s the matter?” Dana asks, looking up from her clipboard at Mel.
Mel adjusts her glasses. “I believe the patient has a potential eating disorder. We, um, checked the enamel behind her front incisors and it’s degraded quite a bit, likely due to-”
“Excessive vomiting.” Santos says, pausing her charting. Her hands hover above her keyboard. “Which could mean bulimia. Anyone able to come down?”
Dana nods in acknowledgement. She looks around the ED lobby for any familiar faces, but everyone in sight is either a nurse or a patient.
“Dr. Jefferson is with Javadi and Davis right now. I can call upstairs, see if anyone else is free at the moment.” Dana offers.
Mel’s eyes widen as she realizes there’s a chance you could come down and assist with the case. “Thank you. I don’t think the evaluation would take that long, given what the patient has already said about her lifestyle. Anyone would be great. Even a resident.” She says, trying her best not to seem too eager.
Santos glances at Mel with a smirk. “Yeah, is that psych resident with the bracelets in today? She’s pretty quick.”
Mel reminds Santos of your name before turning back to her own charts, nervously biting her lip.
The first time Mel met you was during your first day at the PTMC. She remembers the day vividly, mostly because you walked in, bright eyed, hair tied up with a bow, wearing a set of bracelets with dainty charms dangling off the chains. You made a good impression on all the ED staff. You showed up immediately whenever you were needed for an evaluation and you were gentle in the way that someone could be before the brutal demands of the ER wore them down.
Robby jokingly bet that it would only take a month before you toughened up and stopped crying outside a patient’s room after talking with them. Mel didn’t understand his apathy. She thought it was better to care too much for your patients than to not care at all.
She only had one conversation with you that day, and it was brief.
Near the end of the shift, a pair of siblings came in after a skateboarding accident. The older brother broke his arm when he fell onto the pavement, and the younger sister blamed herself for his injury because she accidently ran into his way.
Mel had to stitch up some cuts on the boy’s leg, but he was too busy trying to comfort his sister to stay still. Kiara wasn’t around to step in, and Dana was about to separate the siblings so Mel could do her work, but you happened to walk by and peek into the room after hearing the commotion.
You gave Mel a little wave and sat down next to the girl. You were able to calm her down in seconds, reassuring her that her brother was okay and his injuries would heal quickly.
Mel admired how gentle you were with the child. She wondered if you ever considered going into pediatrics. Right as she finished up the older brother’s stitches, the younger girl pulled you into a hug.
You ran your hand down her hair and smiled. When you pulled away, the girl yelped in pain. Mel hurried over, worried that she missed something in her primary check up.
Your hand was awkwardly hovering over the girl’s head, and when Mel bent down to check on her, she saw the problem.
“Oh god, I think my bracelets are stuck in her hair.” you realized, mortified.
Mel bit back a smile. “Yeah. Let me help.”
Mel carefully untangled the charms out of the girl’s hair. She held your wrist in one hand, her thumb over your pulse point, while her other hand slowly pulled strands of hair out of the chain. You ran a hand down the girl’s arm, mumbling apologies. You looked up at Mel and noticed the shape of her earrings.
“There. All done.” Mel exhaled.
The girl shyly thanked Mel and then bolted to her brother’s side, leaning over the bed to look at his stitches. Their parents walked into the room, relieved to finally see their kids, and you smiled as you watched the little girl hug her mom.
Mel followed you out of the room as you two left the family to talk amongst themselves. You leaned against the wall, your arms tucked behind your back as you made eye contact with Mel and gave her a smile.
“Thanks for helping me back there-” You began.
“Thank you for stepping in-” Mel said at the same time.
Mel blinked. She opened her mouth to apologize for cutting you off, but you laughed and gestured for her to speak first.
“Um, thanks for stepping in. I wasn’t sure I was going to be able to finish those stitches while she was crying.” Mel continued.
“No worries. The poor girl was so worried her brother’s arm would be broken forever, I think she just needed a reminder that bones heal after a few weeks,” you grinned, “And thanks for helping me. With the bracelets, I mean.” You lifted your wrist and shook the bracelets around. Mel’s eyes darted to the motion, her gaze flickering up to your manicured nails before returning to your face.
“You know, I actually think we’re matching!” you grinned.
Mel’s eyebrows furrowed. She looked down at her outfit. Your scrubs were a different color, and her striped socks definitely did not match your polka dot ones. She tilted her head in confusion.
“Look,” you said, taking one of your bracelet’s charms into your fingers and showing it to Mel, “A horseshoe.”
“Oh.” Mel brought her hand up to her earlobe to feel the shape of her earring. “Yeah, we are matching.”
Mel swallowed. The idea made her feel warm, like the fluorescent lights were beaming straight down her neck. Mel tried to think of something to say to continue the conversation but her mind was blank. You stared up at her with that sweet smile. You two were so close together she could count every mole and freckle on your face. Mel wasn’t sure why she was so flustered but she was able to calm down a bit after fidgeting with her hands.
“Have you ever considered going into pediatrics?” she asked.
You tilted your head at her in surprise. Your lashes fluttered against your rosy cheeks. Mel bit her lip, squirming under your gaze.
“Honestly no, what makes you say-“
“Hey guys, the patient’s mom is asking about the boy’s treatment plan and something about the girl’s hair-?” Perlah interrupted, leaning her head out the door to get your attention.
You groaned and rubbed your eyes, your bracelets jangling softly with the movement. Mel could see how tired you were. Your eyes were red around the edges from crying throughout the day. This shift was particularly rough. There was one patient that was suffering from addiction withdrawal and another patient with severe depression. Mel wanted to reach out and comfort you.
You gave her a tired smile and walked back into the room. Mel heard your voice, upbeat and positive, as you sheepishly apologized for the incident with the little girl’s hair.
“Mel, we need your help in Trauma 1. MVA with 3 injured.” Mohan called across the lobby.
Mel gave the room one last glance. She figured she could talk to you later and ask how your first day was. She could definitely relate to a terrible first shift.
After the car crash patients were stabilized, Mel looked around the emergency department but couldn’t find you. She asked Perlah where you were and learned that you had clocked out for the night.
Mel sighed, disappointed. She tucked her hair behind her ear, smoothing out the flyaways of her braid. She brushed over her horseshoe earring and smiled.
Since then, you’ve been known around The Pitt as “the pysch resident with the bracelets”. You took the name in stride, but Mel hasn’t seen you wear them again ever since. She missed seeing parts of your everyday style shine through your work attire, especially since you two were matching with the horseshoes.
Mel hasn’t been able to talk to you that much because your schedules don’t align often. Even on days where you are working the same shift, Mel figures it’s better that she doesn’t have to talk to you regarding a patient. It always hurts when she can’t instantly take away someone’s suffering through medicine.
“Hey Mel, I heard you needed an evaluation?”
Mel whipped her head up from her computer. “Oh, uh, yes. Hi.”
Your hair is styled differently today, Mel realizes. You might be wearing a new lip shade too.
You smile at her. “Where do we need to go?”
Mel leads you to Central 3 and takes a seat next to you at the patient’s bedside. Santos enters the room as well, and you all spend some time offering resources for her recovery.
After you finish talking and exit the room, Santos leaves to finish her charting, leaving you and Mel alone.
“How’s your residency going?” Mel asks.
“It’s been good! How about you? I remember you mentioning a deposition last time we talked?” you answer, smoothing out your top.
“Oh, yeah, it’s today, actually.” Mel grimaces.
You look into her eyes and give her a reassuring smile. “I’m sure it’ll be fine. If you need anything, I’m just a call away. Though, maybe don’t use the ED phone? I think Dana would be mad.” you joke.
Mel laughs, feeling some tension leave her shoulders. “Thanks. I’ll use the phone and let you know if we have any more patients with long hair that need untangling.”
You scoff and playfully hit her on the shoulder. “Hey! That was one time and you know it. I don’t even wear those bracelets anymore!” you whine.
“Sorry, sorry.” Mel lifts her hands up in apology. Her eyes shine with delight.
“And here I was, about to say we were matching again.” you huff, breaking her gaze to look around the emergency room.
Mel raises her eyebrows. She does a once over of herself and then turns back to you. You’re already smiling at her.
You take your hair and move it in front of your shoulder. “See? I thought of you this morning and decided to put my hair in a braid.” you look up at her expectantly.
Mel blushes. You think of her? Her hand comes up to her own braid as she mirrors your movement. She wishes she was running her fingers through your hair instead.
“Well, I should go. Here’s my number, text me if you need anything. And um, if you’d ever be interested in matching plans on one of your days off and going somewhere, let me know.” you hand her a sticky note with your number written in pink pen.
Mel blinks and breaks out into a grin. “Okay.”
You give her a wave and walk away. Mel watches you go, biting her lip as her fingers press into the paper. Suddenly, she’s more preoccupied with what to text you rather than what she should say during her deposition. The anxious knot that’s been in her stomach all day evolving into something more pleasant, like butterflies.
pairing: frank langdon x wife!reader
summary: frank's back hurts like a bitch. robby encourages him to see a doctor who prescribes him some painkillers. frank doesn't want his wife to worry about him, so he hides them from her.
reader is at home taking care of 2 kids under 4, she knows frank is hiding something from her, but doesn't know what. (before season 1)
wc: 2188
warnings: franks villain origin story continues, not proof-read, fluffy, illusions to smut if you squint, swearing, hurt/comfort, angst, so much angst, reader gaslighting themself, POV switches, pregnant!reader, drug use, drug dependence, injury/pain descriptions, gaslighting/lying, a lot of angst, heavy topics.
a/n: sorry this is gonna get worse before it gets better. plz lmk if this is getting too heavy i cant gauge it. love u all time for diamond rush see u next week muah.
masterlist | prologue |
Frank tried. He really tried. He gritted his teeth and pushed through the pain, lifting his son, taking out the garbage, filling the dishwasher, and going to work every day. He showered for so long every night that his fingers pruned, the water bill increasing exponentially- but it took the edge off. The stinging of the hot water on his back felt like a brief relief from the pain.
He tossed and turned at night, tears of frustration and pain stinging the corners of his eyes as he tried to find a comfortable place to lie while trying not to disturb you, who slept so peacefully after a long day of taking care of your child. Tylenol didn’t work anymore. Ibuprofen didn’t work anymore. Nothing could take the pain away.
“You look like shit.” Dana chirped. “Good morning to you, too,” Frank grumbled as he walked stiffly toward the locker room. Frank did look like shit, and he felt like shit, too. His back hurt. He barely got any sleep.
When he did finally manage to close his eyes, Tanner came padding into their room, “Mommy. Daddy. I had a bad dream.” He whimpered as he climbed onto their bed. Once Tanner was settled down, Frank looked at his alarm clock, which flashed 3:30 am, and sighed.
His wife was pissed at him, for some reason unknown to him. Hormones, he supposes, but it seems he can’t do anything right lately. “She have you on the couch again?” A familiar gruff voice spoke behind him. He turned around slowly and caught his attending’s eyes. A small chuckle left Frank’s lips as he shook his head,
“Not yet, but the jury’s still out on tonight.” He grabbed his badge, shut his locker, and began walking next to Robby.
“Whatsa matter with you? You have been walking like you have a stick up your ass all week.” Robby’s eyes darted to the side in time to see Frank rubbing his back.
“I just tweaked my back moving stuff for my parents. I’ll be fine.” A brief, tight-lipped smile flashed on his face as he looked at the floor.
“Didn’t they teach you to lift with your knees, or are you just getting old?” Robby teased.
“You should get a CT just in case. After your shift, go see Dr. Hagen. I’ll let ‘im know you’re coming.”
“Really, Robby, it’s not a big deal. You don’t have to do that.”
“Yeah? Well, I can’t have you limping around here. So go get checked out and get yourself fixed up. We got a job to do.”
Robby clapped him on the shoulder and walked away, pulling out his phone and putting it up to his ear.
~~~~~
Frank sat in his car for a long while before he headed inside. He was sure his wife saw him out there, staring at his lap in the driveway. It wasn’t the first time. After rough days at work, he would usually collect himself there before heading inside. This time was different. He stared down at his hands, rolling a small blue pill between his fingers. Herniated disk, muscle spasms in his back.
Dr. Hagen said it would take about a month or so to get better with rest, so in other words, a lot longer for Frank. Valium for the spasms, once a day, preferably at night for rest. Robaxin as needed throughout the day, as long as he didn’t take both at the same time, he would be fine.
But the valium was weighing heavily in his hand. He had seen what dependency looked like; he had seen people coming in off the streets to get help.
He glanced up at the window of his house, where he could see Tanner and his wife setting the table for dinner.
Frank looked back down at his hand holding the pill, then at the bottle thrown into his backpack haphazardly. Without another thought, he raised his hand to his mouth and washed the pill down with a quick drink of water.
You smiled at your husband as he walked over to the dinner table. He placed a quick peck on your lips and leaned down to ruffle Tanner’s hair.
“How’s your back?” You asked, slipping an arm around his waist and pulling yourself as close to him as your belly would let you.
“I told you, I’m fine. I saw Dr. Hagen at work, and he gave me some muscle relaxants. Don’t worry about me.” Frank leaned down to kiss your temple, then straightened up and rubbed his hands together “Alright, who’s ready to eat?”
The effects of the valium began to set in as Frank was finishing the dishes. He let out a breath and hung his head, leaning on the sink. He felt his body relax in slow motion. The stress slid off his shoulders, slinking down his arms like a snake, pulling the tightness in his muscles with it.
“Oh fuck..” he mumbled, closing his eyes gently as he felt the strain in his back get pulled out like a string being undone.
“Hey, you okay?” Your voice was soft, coming up behind him to hug his back.
“I’ve never been better,” Frank muttered, a soft smile filled his lips. He knew this was bad. He shouldn’t rely on this, but it felt so damn good. His back felt so good, his mind felt clear, and it felt like the weight of the world had been lifted off his shoulders.
“The muscle relaxers?” You asked, voice muffled against his scrubs. Frank hummed in response; it's not that he wanted to lie to you. He wanted to tell you about the valium, but he didn’t want you to worry. He would do it later, baby Penny was due any day now, he would tell you after she was here.
The bed beckoned you. Frank followed you to the bed, helping you undress. He was always so caring. He always helped you slip out of your clothes, leaving a kiss in each spot as he did so. He always mumbled thanks against your skin. His calloused hands rubbed against your thighs, placing a brief kiss on the front of your thigh before he helped you into your pyjama pants.
“You know, I can dress myself.” Your voice teased, rubbing your hand through his dark hair as you lifted your hips from the bed.
“Oh really, I had no idea.”
Your arms lifted over your head as he pulled your shirt up and off. Frank dropped to his knees between your legs, his cheek pressed against your belly. Your hand played with the hair at the back of his neck, your other hand rested on the bed to hold yourself up. Frank's lips kissed your navel. He sighed, pushing himself to his feet. “You are such an amazing, wonderful woman.”
A small smile filled your face as you pulled your nightshirt over your head. Your arms reached out behind you to prop yourself up as you watched your husband undress. Your bottom lip found itself between your teeth as Frank pulled off his shirt. His back was toward you, and your eyes watched each muscle contract and retract as he undressed. Frank felt your eyes burning holes in his back. “You know, this is exactly how we got in this situation, twice.”
“I know. No complaints from me.” You licked your lips as he bent over to pull up his pyjama pants.
“You are insatiable.” He turned to face you, and your eyes followed the hair down his chest and toward his waistline. His hands gripped your cheeks as he lowered his lips to yours. The kiss was soft and passionate. He sighed into your lips as he pulled back, “I have to work in the morning.”
You raised an eyebrow at him and pulled back, reaching a hand out for him to help you up.
“I can barely stand up on my own right now, let alone have enough energy for that.”
He wrapped his arms around you, pressing himself close to your back. He trailed a few kisses down the side of your jaw, to your neck, and down to press to your shoulder. He nosed his way into the crook of your neck, breathing in your scent. For the first time in a long time, Frank slept. He closed his eyes and relaxed, his body falling into a deep sleep. It had been such a long time since he had actually slept through the night. Even without his back pain, he usually struggled. Between the stress of work and another baby on the way, he was unable to relax. Now, he was finally able to get a good night's sleep.
~~~~
Frank knew that he should only take the valium once a day when the pain was bad. But being at home with a newborn, a toddler, and his postpartum wife was something twisted. He had to pick up more slack around the house while you were healing, of course he would never blame you for that, but he was fucking exhausted and in pain.
He couldn’t complain to you, who had just pushed out a child, so he just swallowed his pride along with his pills. One a day turned into two, two turned into three. It wasn’t an addiction. He was simply adjusting his dose to fit his needs. He was a doctor after all, he knew the signs to look out for.
“Frank, honey, are you okay? You’ve been in there for a while.” The concerned voice of his wife sounded through the wood of the bathroom door.
“Yep! Yeah, yeah, all good.” Frank shoved the bottle of pills back into the ziplock bag, panicking to get it done quietly. He slipped the lid of the toilet tank off, slowly, quietly, his lips pressed together in focus. He slid the ziplock into the tank and replaced the lid. The breath he didn’t realize he was holding slipped out as he flushed the toilet and turned on the taps. He wasn’t an addict; he wasn’t hiding it from you; he just didn’t want to worry you in such a fragile state. You just had his baby, barely any sleep. He would tell you soon. The door to the bathroom opened, and he embraced you, pulling you tightly against him.
“How are you feeling, my love? Sore? Tired?” He asked, with so much love and affection in his expression that you simply melted into him.
You’d known something was off with Frank. He was hiding something. You weren’t sure what. He had been acting differently, spending more time alone. You were worried he’d found someone else. You’d torn the house apart. Frank had to go back to work, Tanner was at daycare, and Penny was sound asleep. You should’ve taken the time alone to relax, take a shower, take a nap.
But no, you were hellbent on finding whatever your husband was hiding. With the baby monitor placed on the top of your nightstand, you got to work. There had to be something, anything, to explain why Frank had been so strange lately.
You pulled your knees to your chest. The room was torn apart; Frank’s clothes hanging out of his drawers and thrown about the room, his nightstand drawer pulled out and dumped on the floor, and you’d even managed to pull the mattress up and off the bed. Your eyes darted across the room, looking for what you’d missed. The closet was empty, not a single box left unopened. Every pocket turned inside out.
There had to be something you’d missed. Your eyes darted to the ensuite. Of course, how could you forget the bathroom? You pushed yourself off the floor, and pain shot through your pelvis. You shouldn’t be pushing yourself like this, but you couldn’t stop. You needed to figure it out. You marched to the bathroom door, hand just began to turn the knob, pushing the door open–WAAAAAAA–you blinked, shaking your head. Penny, you’d forgotten to check on Penny. How long had you been in here? You turned and looked around the room, rubbing your hands down your face as Penny wailed through the baby monitor.
Your legs carried you to your daughter, your arms wrapping around her as you pulled her out of the bassinet. You hushed her, holding her close to your chest and rocking your body back and forth. “Mommy’s here…” Your hand caressed her back.
You didn’t put her down for the rest of the day, leaving the bedroom a mess. You felt so guilty, you were just so sure that something was up with Frank, but now you feel like you made it all up. When Tanner came home, you pulled him tight to you as well. A whine left his throat as you squeezed him close, “Mommy loves you.”
Tanner wiggled out of your arms so he could play with his toys, leaving you sitting on the couch with Penny in your arms, staring down at your son as he played. Was Frank hiding something, or were you just going crazy?
doing mel's hair before work becomes a two person job. some mornings, you wake up to a mel with furrowed brows and pursed lips as she braids her hair in the bedroom mirror. struggling, she's adamant she doesn't need your help, telling you to go back to sleep. sometimes, braids are too much of a sensory issue on her neck, and you're helping her do another hairstyle—albeit rarely, it happens.
mel lays your outfits for the next day together side by side on the dresser. the visual helps her feel prepared and the convenience helps her sleep at night, even when she's wearing scrubs over it all day anyway. it's part of your nightly routine and when one has a hard day, the other does the heavy lifting of picking out outfits for the other.
mel is the type of girlfriend to wake you up for work as she's leaving if she can, giving a shy smile and setting a mug of coffee or tea down on your nightstand. sitting on the edge of the bed, she leaves a kiss to your forehead and squeezes your hand in hers. she loves caring for you. it comes innately to her to make sure you're situated and happy before she leaves for a tiring twelve hour shift.
one of mel's prominent love languages is physical touch. once she's established that touch is okay with you and has gotten comfortable with it, she's all over you all the time. she's hugging your side every time she sees you even though it's only been a few hours because she was thinking about you every second of those few hours.
mel's not a pda person, but you make it hard. surprise her with lunch during her shift and she'll immediately pull you close and hold you by the waist while you two talk. once a coworker points it out, her hands drop and her cheeks flush with an awkward smile.
you're the first to make mel feel seen. it happened when you bought her a graphic t-shirt that she pointed out at the store one time as well as a real lava lamp because you saw her using the app on the staircase during a long shift. you bought both just because you wanted to. now, the lava lamp lives on her nightstand in your shared bedroom, glowing the same purple and yellow colors as her virtual one. that was when she knew you were different.
mel isn't big on jewelry, but she starts wearing a necklace with your initial on it because you found matching ones on an anniversary trip one time. it lives under her scrubs and nobody notices until the day shift goes out after their shift and sees her in casual clothes, everybody exchanging looks and muttered questions of what it was.
when you first meet mel's sister and get along with her perfectly, she cried after. that feeling never stops even long after that. but to know she found someone that her and her sister loved was overwhelming for her, because mel thought for a long time she never would. when you bring up going out with both her and her sister, she has to swallow back her emotions and give a curt nod and a big smile before replying, "i would love that. i mean—we would love that. becca's always happy to see you."
mel calls you during bad shifts for comfort. only once she's texted you and guaranteed that she's not bothering you, she's calling you in the stairwell and rambling all too much until you tell her to stop and breathe. it's exactly what she needed, a little direction in a place that expects just that of her at all times, and she's calmed down enough within the next few minutes to return to her shift knowing she can come home to you within hours. that makes her day go by way faster and way smoother.
mel who unintentionally gives puppy dog eyes. her brown, beady eyes look up at you through her glasses as she asks for you to stay home rather than go out. she had a long shift and, as guilty as she feels for asking, her heart feels heavy at the thought of you leaving. when you give in so easily, it doesn't even cross her mind that the look she gave you had any part in it. she's just happy you did.
summary: the everyday conversations between pittsburgh's most beloved trauma doctors (mostly.) and you!
warnings: swearing, typical crack fic, slight bullying of frank langdon, nothing craaazy. reader is referred to as burn (crash & burn, get it lol), roommates with santos & whitaker trope, slight hucklerobby if you squint.
a/n: hallo, this has been stuck in my brain and i need to get it out!!! hope u guys laugh a little!
masterlist
୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ and fin! thank you for reading lmk if i should continue....
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