well hello…

19 ✨ she/her ✨ writer ✨ fool

[escapi3m]

Welcome!! 🌟

Hello! I am someone who like many others am so obsessed with The Pitt.

This page for the time being will be a love letter to the show and I have plenty of one-shots planned. Currently their focus will be Langdon x reader and Whitaker x reader but I am very open to writing about others in the future.

Thank you to anyone who reads anything I write!!

Also I’m open to taking requests!

[escapi3m]

Birthday Shift

Pairing: Dennis Whitaker x f!reader

Summary: You work a rough 12 hour shift on your birthday but luckily Dennis works overtime to try and make your day better.

Notes: established relationship

Word count: 2.3k

You had pretty neutral feelings regarding your birthday. You would never do anything extravagant, maybe just order a pizza with friends. You liked it that way.

This year your birthday would be a bit more occupied, as your first year as a resident meant you were working a full twelve-hour shift. Though perhaps not the most ideal, you enjoyed being busy.

Your alarm blared at 5 a.m. You groaned slightly, rolling over to turn off the bothersome noise. When you rolled back, you noticed the normally preoccupied side of your bed was empty. You frowned ever so slightly, hoping to at least start your birthday being held by Dennis.

You sat up, feeling the ache in your muscles from the long week. You stretched your arms above your head before slipping your feet out of the warm covers and placing them onto the cold wood floor.

Quietly, you walked into your kitchen, which was still dark, only illuminated by a soft lamp in the corner.

Dennis leaned against the counter making—

“Waffles?” Your voice was soft and laced with excitement.

Dennis spun around, his eyes softening at the sight of you.

“I was hoping to bring them to you in bed,” he sighed, looking back down at the stack in front of him.

Your heart swelled.

“Thank you, Dennis,” you said as a smile crept onto your face. You had yet to meet anyone more thoughtful.

“Happy Birthday,” he said gently as he stepped toward you.

His hands slung around your waist as he placed a soft kiss against your jaw and then your mouth.

“You are the best. You woke up early to do this,” you pouted your bottom lip.

“Eeh, just a bit,” he spoke nonchalantly, as if the idea of your boyfriend waking up even earlier, practically in the night to make your birthday special, didn’t make you melt.

Then you looked over his shoulder, noticing in a bowl fresh whipped cream, not from a can. The farm boy made it himself.

“Dennis, you made me whipped cream?” you said in a faux accusatory tone.

“…Yes?” he answered shyly, shifting toward the bowl and placing it in front of you.

“Dennis, I’ll cry.”

A smirk grew on his face.

“No crying on your birthday.”

You kissed him again. You didn’t cry, but you were pretty damn close.

Shortly after, the two of you sat down and ate breakfast with the little time you had. It was just past 5 a.m., but he had already made you feel like the luckiest girl in the world.

———————————

Work started with a rush. Local diversions due to a power outage had the halls filling up by the minute. There was no time to waste, so you and Dennis fell into the rhythm of things.

Your focus was on an elderly woman, Mrs. Callahan, who came in with acute abdominal pain. It could be a handful of things. Diverticulitis? Bowel obstruction? Ruptured AAA? You ran through your assessment with your typical methodological approach. The patient reacted to pain in the lower left quadrant. Diverticulitis seemed likely, but a CT would confirm.

While you waited on the results, you spotted Dennis across the trauma bay assessing a concussion.

You should have been working on your charting, but you loved to watch him work. The way he was so focused. The subtle nods as he listened, like every word mattered.

Even from across the bay you could see it, the balance he carried so effortlessly. Clinical precision wrapped in warmth. Efficient without being cold. God, you adored him.

He scribbled something on the chart, then glanced up.

Your eyes met for half a second.

Just long enough for the corner of his mouth to lift.

Just long enough for your stomach to flip like you weren’t already late for rounds and waiting on imaging results.

It was Dana’s voice that shook you from your trance.

“How are the charts, kid?” she spoke slyly, like she had just caught you committing a crime.

“Oh, um, they’re coming!” You turned back to your work, keys clicking a bit too fast on the computer.

“You got any special plans for today?” She smiled as she nudged you gently.

“If you call a twelve-hour shift and takeout at 9 p.m. special,” you muttered, trying to sound unimpressed, though you were pretty content with the notion.

Dana snorted. “Sounds great.”

You shrugged.

“Uh-huh,” she hummed knowingly, glancing across the trauma bay. “And what about farm boy over there?”

You tried and failed not to follow her gaze.

Dennis had finished his neuro exam and was explaining discharge precautions to the patient’s mother now, hands gesturing calmly as he spoke. Focused. Gentle. Completely unaware he was being observed.

Heat crept up your neck.

“He already made me waffles,” you admitted quietly.

Dana gasped dramatically. “From scratch?”

“…And whipped cream.”

She pressed a hand to her chest. “Oh, he’s in deep.”

You rolled your eyes, but your smile betrayed you. “All done before five.”

Dana leaned closer. “You better keep that one.”

That was the plan.

Before you could respond, your computer chimed. CT results posted.

Diverticulitis. Small perforation.

Your shoulders straightened instantly.

“Alright,” you exhaled, already reaching for the phone. “Time to page surgery.”

You placed the request for Mrs. Callahan’s post-op meds quickly before moving on.

You would later deal with a collapsed lung due to a collision, a broken tibia from an unsupported ladder fall, and appendicitis.

The hours slowly stretched along as you collected as many cases as you could. You were walking swiftly down the hall, a bit unaware of your surroundings as you focused on moving onto the next task. You didn’t even notice Dennis until he took a light hold of your wrist.

“Dennis!” you lit up.

“Hey, how’s your birthday going?” he asked gently, as if he was scared you were having the worst day imaginable.

“It’s alright, busy but good,” you stammered slightly.

He nodded.

“Have you eaten since we got here?”

“Uhhh.” You broke eye contact, looking off somewhere in the distance.

“It’s been hours. I know you’re busy, but please go to the lounge. I packed you some food.”

There it was again, that warm feeling swelling in your chest.

“You’re too good to me.”

He just smiled and shook his head.

There were so many things he did, things he casually referred to as “the bare minimum,” that you had never experienced before in a relationship. You never had to wonder about his feelings for you because you could never escape all the ways he showed his love.

You truly didn’t have time for a break, but the body does need fuel, so you quickly slipped into the lounge.

You opened the fridge and pulled out a familiar Tupperware container.

A small Post-it note sat on top, reading,

Packed your favourite

I love you, birthday girl

-D

———————————

By 4 p.m., the weight of the day had settled deep into your bones. You stretched for a second before being caught off guard by the sound of your phone. You fumbled for a moment before raising it to your ear.

“Hello?”

“Hi, this is pharmacy. Quick clarification, did you mean to start a therapeutic heparin drip on Mrs. Callahan?”

Your brain stalled. Your stomach dropped.

“…I’m sorry?”

“You entered a weight-based heparin infusion. Just wanted to confirm.”

You opened the chart quickly, frantically.

And there it was.

Heparin infusion protocol.

Not enoxaparin 40 mg SQ daily.

Fear ran through your veins.

“No, no, I meant enoxaparin prophylaxis. Forty milligrams. Subcutaneous. Daily.”

The voice on the phone sounded unbelievably calm.

“Okay, that’s what we thought. We’ll discontinue the drip order.”

The phone call ended with a soft click, so the ringing in your ears must have been the doing of your own brain.

Your mind tripped over every possible thing that could have gone wrong, that could have hurt your patient. The thought terrified you. It made you feel like a horrible doctor.

“Are you okay?” You turned to see Langdon staring at you like you had a third eye.

“I… yeah… I…” you stuttered.

“Right,” he responded, voice clipped.

You knew Langdon didn’t buy that for a second because a moment later he was practically shoving Dennis toward you.

He gently held your arm, urging you to look at him.

“Hey, what’s going on?” he asked in a concerned tone.

You didn’t want to tell him, but you had never gained the ability to lie to him.

“I prescribed a therapeutic heparin drip on a patient who just got out of surgery instead of enoxaparin prophylaxis. It never got to the patient, but I really messed up.” You stared at the floor, ashamed.

He said your name in a grounding voice, but you continued,

“Dennis, post-op that could have caused internal bleeding, hemodynamic instability, anastomotic compromise…”

“Stop,” he cut you off.

“Those are worst-case scenarios. Plus they checked for a reason. They called. There are protocols in place.”

“But what if—”

“Our days are full of ‘what ifs.’”

He continued.

“What if I checked blood pressure a bit sooner? What if I discharged that patient? What if my compressions weren’t deep enough?”

You shook your head.

“But Dennis, this was a clear mistake that I made.” You trembled slightly. Your voice cracked at the edges. You could still see the order in your mind, the wrong protocol, the wrong click. Your hands trembled slightly, fingers curling into the sleeves of your scrub top as if you could hold yourself together physically.

“And it’s okay. You’re okay. The patient is okay. Mistakes happen.”

“They shouldn’t happen here.” Your eyes flicked around the unit, the fluorescent lights, the rushing nurses, the monitors beeping in uneven rhythm. “Not when it’s someone’s body. Not when it’s their life.”

“Yet they do because we are all human.” His voice was carefully firm and steady.

You let out a shaky breath, pressing your palm against your forehead. The adrenaline was wearing off now, leaving behind something heavier: shame.

“No one got hurt.”

You nodded, trying to convince yourself of his words.

“You are a good doctor. You care. You’re smart. Please don’t forget that,” he pleaded.

“Thank you, Dennis. I’m sorry for putting this on you.”

“Don’t apologize. You don’t ever have to carry things alone, okay?”

Your heartbeat steadied with his kind words.

“I just want today to end.”

Dennis frowned slightly at what you said. He wanted your birthday to be perfect, and here you were wishing it away. However, he would give you anything you wanted.

“In just a few hours we’re going to go home, order from that Vietnamese place you love, watch a movie, then I will make you forget all about today.”

He cherished the way a light smile returned to your lips.

“You always know the right thing to say.”

“It’s because I know you.”

You squeezed his hand. If it wouldn’t be an HR violation, you would have kissed him right then.

A couple of seconds later, voices in different directions called your names. The ER didn’t wait for sentimental moments, so with a nod toward each other, you two got back to work.

———————————

Today was one of those days when the ER didn’t slow down for a second. A constant flow of patients kept your mind busy, which was for the best after the events of the day. However, it also drained you. Running between rooms or the endless charting, it was emotional and physical whiplash.

So when you and Dennis finally got home, you were quick to fall onto the couch, allowing the day to fall off your shoulders.

You closed your eyes and might have fallen asleep if Dennis hadn’t placed something in your lap.

You quickly opened your eyes, looking down at the box resting on your knees. It was wrapped neatly in pale blue paper with a navy bow on top.

You looked up at Dennis, wide-eyed.

“But you already made me waffles,” you muttered, which only made him laugh.

“So I can’t do anything else?”

“This is too much,” you breathed, feeling a tightness in your chest.

“If anything, it’s not enough.”

This man was far too humble for his own good.

“Open it,” he pleaded, now sitting down on the couch beside you.

You peeled back the wrapping paper carefully, setting it down beside you. You opened the box with a gasp.

It was a new book from an author you adored. You pulled out the book excitedly, the hardcover sparkling.

“Dennis,” you exhaled.

“Check inside,” he added with a smirk.

You raised a brow before flipping open the cover.

“It’s signed!” you nearly squealed.

Your boyfriend sure looked proud of himself.

“How did you? Is this even out yet?” You were sure your voice sounded frantic, slightly insane even.

“You’d be shocked at what can happen when you send an author a really dramatic email,” he chuckled, pleased with the way you were smiling at him.

You were crying this time, just a bit.

You nearly climbed on top of him, wrapping your arms around his neck. He was quick to place his hands around your waist, pulling you into his lap. You kissed him again and again, muttering a million thank yous.

“I’m glad you’re happy,” he spoke against your lips.

“You make me so happy,” you affirmed.

You studied him for a second. The soft crease between his brows. The faint shadow of exhaustion under his eyes from waking up before dawn. The way he still looked at you like you were something extraordinary, even in wrinkled scrubs and mascara smeared under your eyes.

You leaned in and kissed him, softer this time. Not urgent. Not frantic. Just warm and certain.

Your birthday hadn’t been extravagant.

There were no parties. No loud celebrations.

But you didn’t need those things. You just needed this.

[escapi3m]

Cooking on something very cute and fluffy :)) 💕

[escapi3m]

Take a Break

Pairing: Dennis Whitaker x f!reader

Summary: She’s the light of the ER, one who pushes through what no one expects her to. However, when you’re only human, that’s not sustainable.

Warnings: Description of having a panic attack and experiencing burnout.

Notes: established relationship.

Word count: 1,467

Dennis looked down at his watch, checking the time on this ever slow-moving shift. It was 3 p.m., a time when usually the chaos of the ER would begin to pick up, but today seemed to be a rarity of simple treatments and routine procedures.

The calm wasn’t the only strange thing. He realized that it had been far too long since he had last seen you. You were the light of his life, and he didn’t think he could survive going through a shift without hearing your witty comments and the soft laugh that followed. The ER needed people like you. You had a way of bringing joy into each room like it belonged there.

Dr. Robinavitch stopped in the hallway near Dennis momentarily to apply hand sanitizer, so Dennis turned to ask if he had seen you lately.

He paused for a second, seeming to consider what to say.

“Oh, uh…I told her to take a break,” he said, his tone detached enough that Dennis didn’t quite know how to take it.

His brow scrunched. “A break? I don’t think I’ve ever seen her take a break.”

It was rare that you were ever able to, but even when others suggested it, you brushed it off and kept moving. Taking a break, to you, just meant that you were helping fewer people, and that never sat right with you. Thank God for the invention of protein bars.

Robby exhaled. “Yeah, me neither, but I told her she needed one.”

Instantly, Dennis knew that something had to be very wrong. He had always believed you were nearly invincible, the way you moved through the hospital even on the most stressful days with a smile glued to your face.

“Is she okay?” he asked, quiet enough that others around couldn’t hear.

Robby didn’t respond immediately, which only furthered Dennis’s concern.

“She’s strong. She’ll be alright.”

Dennis had a few follow-up questions, but before he could ask, Robby was swept away by Dana.

So immediately, Dennis went to check the lounge, and to his dismay, he couldn’t find you. However, it didn’t take long for him to think of where you might be if you truly needed to get away.

The closed wing of the hospital, the perfect place for a crisis.

He moved quickly toward the elevator. When he reached the right floor, he swiftly navigated the halls, checking each room. That was until, up on his right, he heard the muffled sound of gasping, and Dennis hurried to the door.

Peeking in, he saw you, and the sight nearly broke his heart.

You sat with your knees pulled to your chest, breath heaving, the idea of it stabilizing seeming impossible. Tears streamed down your face, hot and unforgiving. This room, meant to give you space and solace, seemed to do nothing of the sort.

Dennis was quick to your side, sitting in front of you on the hospital bed.

When you felt the pressure dip, you opened your eyes.

The tightness in your chest only seemed to constrict further.

Dennis looked at you carefully, like he didn’t quite know what to say but wanted more than anything for you to feel better.

“Baby,” he breathed, his hand wrapping around your back.

“Dennis,” you choked between sobs. “I’m…I…I’m sorry.” You could barely breathe, but you wished he would go he couldn’t see you like this.

But here he was, and you knew he wouldn’t leave. Your Dennis would never. As much as that thought should have comforted you, it didn’t. He was witnessing the mess you had become, and that made your chest tighten even more.

You cried harder, leaning your face back into your hands.

“I need you to breathe,” he said, his voice warm and steady as he began to rub slow circles into your back.

“I—I can’t,” you gasped as your mind continued to spiral. You couldn’t remember another time you had felt such unmoored terror, like the ground had been ripped out from under your feet. Your whole body felt out of your control.

“I know you can.”

You shook your head.

He lifted his hand to your chin, directing your gaze to his.

“Just follow me. Just try, okay?”

And you did, because you had yet to master the art of saying no to the kindest man you knew.

You tried your best to copy his breathing patterns, though your breath stuttered and sped up a few times before finally synchronizing with his.

“You’re okay,” he affirmed.

When Dennis believed your breathing had fully stabilized, he pulled you into a tight hug. You immediately tucked your head into his neck and clung to him like a lifeline.

How this man had the miraculous ability to make you feel better, you had no idea. Mere seconds ago, you had wanted him to leave, but now, as he held you, that idea alone felt terrifying.

“Everything will be alright,” he spoke softly into your hair. The words felt so gentle, a stark contrast to the storm that still rattled in your chest.

“I’m here. I love you.”

You felt like a boat being guided back to shore.

“I’m so sorry,” you murmured, your words muffled against his chest.

“No, don’t be.” He pulled back just enough to look at you, his thumbs warm as they brushed away tears you hadn’t realized were still falling.

You gazed into his eyes, and echoing through the stillness was a realization.

You sat up straighter.

“No, no—I should be working. I have to—” You tried to get up, but Dennis held you in place with a firm grip on your shoulders.

“You’re not working. Not now, okay?”

“But—”

He cut you off with a firm shake of his head.

“Take another deep breath.”

You did.

His hand remained gentle on your cheek, and he gave you a nod of approval after each steady inhale.

“Tell me what’s going on.”

A shaky exhale left your throat.

“I don’t…I don’t know exactly. A patient yelled at me, said I seemed confused and that they wanted a real doctor.”

You tried desperately to stabilize your breathing before continuing.

“This shit happens all the time. I don’t know why I’m crying. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“Nothing is wrong with you.”

You avoided his eyes.

“Do you hear me? Nothing.”

Your throat tightened, a shaky breath slipping past your lips. “I tried to keep it together,” you admitted quietly. “I really did.”

“I know you did,” Dennis said without hesitation. “You always do.”

“You push yourself so hard. At some point, the human body can’t take it anymore.” His grip around you was soothing as his thumbs rubbed gently against your side.

“I should be stronger than this.”

“No—no one expects that,” his voice was firm, a tone that suggested there was no way you could argue against him.

“You need to go back to work, Dennis,” you whispered, guilt filling your chest that you had kept him here.

“I will, once I know you’re okay.”

You nodded before leaning back into his embrace. He held you with one hand at the nape of your neck and the other at your lower back.

“I’m going to call you an Uber.”

“What?” You leaned back, puzzled.

“You’re going to go home and rest. I’ll talk to Robby, you know he’ll understand.”

“Dennis…” you trailed off.

“Please. Please just do it for me.”

He looked at you with a steady expression that left no room for doubt or pushback.

Your body resisted the idea, heavy with exhaustion and guilt, but your heart knew that going home was the right thing to do. Plus, you loved him too much not to listen and trust him.

“Okay,” you finally replied, and you saw the tension release from his shoulders.

He leaned forward and placed a tender kiss on your lips, an action that said everything all at once: I love you. I’m sorry. Thank you.

⸻

He closed the door gently, an attempt not to wake you if you had fallen asleep.

He crept through the front hallway and into the living room, where he saw you fast asleep on the couch in his favorite blue hoodie. The sight made his heart swell.

He knew he should leave you to rest, but he also desperately wanted you close. So after slipping off his shoes and changing, he returned to the couch. He lay down beside you, then shifted you ever so gently so you could rest on top of him.

You stirred for a second before muttering, “Dennis?”

“Shh, go back to sleep,” he whispered, brushing his hand gently over your hair.

“I love you,” you murmured, your voice quiet, velveted with fatigue.

A soft smile tugged at his lips.

“I love you too, baby.”

[escapi3m]

I love ur fics they are so good. I. Was distressed when I finished scrolling I needed more 🤣 love it

Thank you so much! I haven’t posted anything I’ve written since I was probably thirteen so hearing this is everything. More are coming soon! :))

[escapi3m]

Off-limits

Pairing: Frank Langdon x f!reader

Summary: After a patient crosses the line during a routine shift Frank gets an idea that may make work just a little safer.

Warnings: verbal harassment.

Notes: established relationship, fiancé.

Word Count: 1,109

The sterile white light beamed as you tried to focus your eyes on the finicky gauze in your hands. You had just finished applying a topical anaesthetic to a second-degree burn and had begun to dress it. It was the kind of simple, necessary care that was welcomed on a day filled with chaotic urgencies.

You noticed the man’s eyes sweep over you, but you didn’t think much of it more focused on the pressure of the wrap.

“You sure are pretty,” the man smirked as you wrapped his hands.

You didn’t look up. You just kept your fingers gentle, precise.

“Why, thank you,” you replied lightly with practised kindness. It was very common for these kinds of comments to occur during your shift. Your responses were now almost robotic a set of reflexive courtesies you repeated without a second thought.

You smoothed the bandage, checking the tension. “Try not to get it wet for the next twenty-four hours.”

He nodded.

“Will do, doc.” His gaze lingered on you for a bit too long, his mouth creeping into a smile.

He chuckled. “You married?”

“Engaged,” you said automatically. Your heart fluttered every time you got to say it. You had only been engaged for three weeks, and though the excitement was fresh, you didn’t think it would ever go away.

His eyes flicked down to your hand. “Huh. Don’t see a ring.”

You sighed. Goodness, could some men be persistent.

“I don’t wear it at work the diamond would cut through the glove.” You smiled politely.

“Shame,” he replied, his voice dropping.

Frank hadn’t meant to overhear. He’d been looking for you, actually something about a chart discrepancy, or maybe he’d just needed to see your face in the middle of a brutal shift. But the comment landed anyway, making him pause just beyond the curtain.

The man’s eyes stayed glued on you in a way that made you shiver.

“I would treat you so well,” he said, looking you up and down. “A beautiful woman like you.”

You hated his tone. It reminded you of every sleazy man you’d met who couldn’t take no for an answer.

“Seriously, God, with a body like that…” he trailed off.

Normally, comments never went past a simple compliment. You didn’t have a reflexive response to this. It was like an actor going off script. You felt almost frozen.

When you didn’t say anything, he kept going.

“Hard to tell what’s off-limits these days.”

That did it. You straightened slightly.

“Excuse me? I—”

You didn’t hear Frank step in behind you, but his voice made you turn.

“Everything about her is off-limits.”

His voice was rushed and stern.

The man looked nearly disgusted, sneering. “And who are you?”

“Dr. Langdon, a senior resident oh and her fiancé,” he replied, his words clipped with purpose.

The man looked like he was about to say something, but Frank was quick to cut him off.

“She’s providing medical care,” Frank continued, his voice steady. “She’s not here to be commented on, evaluated, or hit on. I can easily get you kicked out of this hospital for harassment.”

The man shut his mouth.

“Oh, looks like he doesn’t have much to say anymore. Funny how that works,” Frank added in a mocking tone.

“We’re just about done anyway,” you said, feeling the rage radiating from your fiancé and just wanting the whole situation to disappear.

“Lucky you,” Frank replied, holding eye contact with the now-terrified patient.

Soon after, the man was discharged and out of your hair. As he exited, you turned to Frank.

“You didn’t have to do that,” you said honestly, a tinge of guilt in your voice.

Frank shrugged. “Yeah, I know. But I’d go insane if I didn’t.”

You smiled. “Your patient satisfaction is going down the drain.”

“For you? Worth it.”

“Thank you, though, for stepping in,” you said, lifting your eyes to meet his.

“Always,” he replied immediately, his gaze incredibly reverent.

“Plus, it’s my job, fiancé first, everything else second,” he continued, picking up your hand like it was the most natural thing in the world.

You nodded, staring at your intertwined hands.

“Are you okay, though?” he asked, giving your hand a squeeze.

“Yeah… yeah.” You shook your head, as if you could shake the entire situation away. “Just shook me a little,” you exhaled.

“You shouldn’t have to deal with any of that shit.”

You nodded, because he was right, but this wasn’t completely new. Almost every medical professional you worked with, especially women, had dealt with inappropriate comments or advances from the very people they were providing care to.

————— One day later —————

You and Frank moved quickly, grabbing clean scrubs, eating breakfast, getting ready for the day.

Just as you were about to head out the door, Frank stopped you with a soft hold of your wrist.

“I have something for you.”

You raised a brow as he placed a small box in your hands.

Carefully, you opened it, and your heart swelled at what was inside.

A small white silicone band.

“You ordered me a work ring,” you said softly.

“I ordered us a work ring,” he corrected. “So no one gets any ideas.”

You smiled and laughed lightly, and Frank could have gotten drunk off of the sound.

He pulled the ring from the box and slipped it onto your ring finger. He took a moment to admire it, to admire what it meant.

“I know this may not stop everyone from crossing lines, but at least they can see that you’re mine.”

You beamed at how the band wrapped around your finger. The idea that he wanted everyone to know you were off-limits made your heart beat faster.

“I love it. Thank you,” you replied, going up on your tiptoes to place a soft kiss on his lips to which he melted into.

It wouldn’t stop every comment.

It wouldn’t erase what had happened.

But it was something.

A small boundary.

A romantic intention.

A reminder that you were seen, protected, and that you never had to face this world alone.

[escapi3m]

Non-displaced

Pairing: Frank Langdon x f!reader

Summary: a car accident. an er bay. and the moment you realize loving someone means letting them worry.

Warnings: Mentions of injuries related to a car accident (nothing too graphic).

Notes: established relationship.

word count: 1,343

a/n: Inspired by my recent very real car accident (how fun) however, instead of Frank I had my lovely roommate to put me back together 😭

You laid in the hospital bed in the ER bay, staring up at the ceiling and cursing yourself for the entire situation. It wasn’t your fault, at least that’s what the police told you, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that if you had been a tad more attentive, you wouldn’t be here.

You prayed that Frank wouldn’t find out. Not yet. You loved that man dearly, but you knew when it came to any issues involving you, he tended to panic. He had taught you every safety precaution in the book, especially when it came to driving. He always talked about how many car accident injuries came through the ER every day. And here you were, one of them.

Your collarbone ached like hell, and the blood on your forehead began to seep through the gauze a nurse had applied earlier. The accident happened so quickly, you hadn’t even been able to wrap your ahead around what happened before someone pulled you out of the car and you were suddenly on your way to PTMC.

Please, please let it be any other doctor. He’ll worry too much. He always does. I don’t want to be a distraction.

A couple minutes later, the curtain was pulled open and thank God.

“Whitaker!” you forced brightness into your voice, though it came out thin, a little shaky.

Dennis spoke your name cautiously before clearing his throat.

“Car accident, huh?” he said calmly.

“Yeah, someone ran a red,” you affirmed.

He nodded.

“Sorry to hear that, we’ll get you fixed up,” he raised his brow, “do you want me to get Langdon?”

Your eyes widened, “no!- no, sorry, I just…he’ll freak out.”

Whitaker understood. You knew he would, he worked with Frank everyday, he knew his character. However, it seemed that neither your wishes nor his would matter, because as Whitaker began to slip on gloves to start the exam, Langdon snuck in behind him. He was quiet at first. You didn’t even notice him as your eyes flicked back to the ceiling and your thoughts began to swirl.

Then you heard his voice. Frank saying your name in the most devastating tone.

Your eyes immediately found his.

For a second, you didn’t move.

The room felt smaller. Too quiet.

Your breathing hadn’t felt like too much of an issue until this moment.

“Frank, I—” The words died in your throat.

“Whitaker, you can go,” Frank asserted, his tone low and commanding.

Whitaker looked like a deer caught in headlights, his eyes silently asking for your approval. You gave him a nod, and he turned to leave.

This left you alone with your handsome boyfriend, who stood rigid at the foot of the bed, dark eyes frantic as they traced every visible injury, his expression torn between wanting to strangle you and wrap you in bubble wrap for the rest of your life.

“Hi,” you greeted. Your voice was weaker than you had hoped.

“You didn’t call me,” he breathed, clearly upset.

“You were busy and I’m okay.”

He shook his head immediately.

“No, you’re not. And this is important,” his voice cracked with frustration. “Things like this are fucking important.”

You saw the mix of emotions wash over his face. His brow scrunched as he lifted his hand to his forehead, trying to find the words, his voice low when he finally spoke again.

“You’re hurt…and I’m a doctor”

You ignored his statement. Though technically as your boyfriend he shouldn’t be treating you at all, you knew emotions and technicality weren’t always the best combination.

“I didn’t want you to see me like this,” you muttered, jaw tightening.

“That’s the problem,” he snapped, “You never let me!”

You flinched slightly when he yelled which in turn made your chest ache and eyes squint.

You watched the immediate regret wash over his face.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” he muttered moving closer to the hospital bed.

He paused for a moment, eyes on yours again but this time appearing softer. You tried to analyze his expression as he collected his thoughts.

He reached out a placed his hand around your wrist.

“God, I’m not mad. I just can’t stand to see you hurt.” His expression was unbearably defeated.

Frank got to work shortly after that, changing the gauze on your forehead, apologizing and whispering endearments every time you winced. The way your heart swelled from every soft you’re doing great and good girl made the pain in your body feel like an afterthought.

He listened to your breathing intently and, with a sigh, said, “seems like a slight pneumothorax.”

Then came your chest, where he palpated carefully until he reached one spot on your collarbone and you yelped.

“Holy fuck.”

He removed his hands immediately.

“May have a fracture. Can you lift your right arm above your head?”

You tried. You really did, but pain shot through you, white hot and unforgiving, and your arm dropped back to the mattress.

“My poor girl,” he sighed, placing a soft kiss to your temple.

“Okay. You’re going to need some X-rays and I’ll order a chest CT just to be safe.”

You nodded, unsure of what to say. You didn’t think anything you could add would be the right thing. All that came out was, “I’m sorry.”

“No,” he shook his head, “shit, no, don’t be.”

“I’m sorry I snapped, I was scared, when I saw your name on our charts earlier, I fucking lost it.”

His gaze lingered on the bruising from the seatbelt that began to creep across your chest and up your neck. He stared at the bruising like it was evidence of a crime he hadn’t been there to stop and you realized then that this was what scared him most. Not the injuries. The minutes he hadn’t been able to protect you.

A couple seconds later he shifted reaching to grab some pain killers.

“Here take these, they will take the edge off,” he spoke placing the pills in your hand.

You took them and exhaled, “my car is pretty fucked”

“Well I don’t care about the car,” he admitted, “I care that you’re breathing.”

Before you could respond, a nurse peeked in, letting you know radiology was ready. Frank squeezed your hand once more before stepping back, slipping effortlessly into doctor mode.

“I’ll be right here when you’re done,” he promised. “I’m not going anywhere.”

As they wheeled you down the hall, pain meds beginning to dull the sharp edges, you realized something important. That all along it had been your fear of imposing on to other people that kept you swallowing your pain on your own. However, watching Frank unravel to show that you mattered demonstrated that by keeping others in the dark you were only hurting them.

You hadn’t imposed on him by getting hurt.

You hadn’t burdened him by needing care.

You had simply been loved.

And when Frank met you outside radiology, eyes tired but unwavering, you knew he wasn’t angry. He was just grateful he hadn’t lost you.

So it turned out you weren’t as invincible as you had hoped and your collarbone was in fact fractured. You were quick to be fitted with a sling to stabilize the break.

“Non-displaced fracture,” he said. “Which is good. Painful as hell, but good.”

You huffed weakly. “Love that for me.”

He smirked lightly, “listen to me, okay?”

You nodded meeting his gaze. “Sling stays on all the time, six to eight weeks. You can take it off briefly if you’re seated and stable, but no lifting, no reaching, no trying to be brave.”

Your jaw was on the floor.

“This sounds like a nightmare”

“You’ll get through it” he affirmed with steady eye contact, his hand resting against your jaw.

He continued, “but this means you will need help, meaning you will be staying with me. It’s about time you lived with me anyway”

You didn’t think your jaw could drop any further but it did.

You cleared your throat, “so this is a medical recommendation?”

“Doctor’s orders”