treeinthepond

[treeinthepond]

eye contact goes crazy

[treeinthepond]

Top Kingdon moments as voted by my followers

Tied for #6: spinning and door slapping

[treeinthepond]

with great power

inspired by this post and also by @cvldbones mentioning that she'd like to see this. i know it's not a whole story, but hopefully it's okay!

Frank Langdon gets bit by a spider in a research lab on Penn’s campus at the age of 22. Honestly, when it had happened, he hadn’t even realized it. He was working on four hours of sleep and not enough caffeine, having stayed up all night to study for his microbiology midterm. It wasn’t until he was back in his off-campus apartment, scratching at his arm, that he realized he’d been bitten by something.

He decided not to worry about it. He’d grown up camping in North Carolina and had been bitten by plenty of bugs and spiders in his life. There was this one time, when his left hand had blown up to twice its usual size when he had been ten. His brothers told him to get over it. Eventually, his mom had given him Benadryl and that had helped. So really, Frank wasn’t too worried about this particular spider bite. Besides, he was pre-med. He knew what he was talking about. 

But then the bite on the back of his right hand turned a ghostly white color, standing out starkly against his already pale skin. Blue veins cross-crossed over it, and the bite swelled to three times its previous size. Frank was hot and his pulse was pounding so hard that he wondered if his heart was going to beat right out of his chest. The bite was itchy and it burned and it was so fucking painful that it actually made Frank pass out, right there in the middle of his apartment. 

He woke up early the next morning, confused as hell and feeling like he had a bad case of the flu, or something. Everything was too bright and too loud. Someone down the hall of the apartment complex shut their door and Frank could have sworn it was happening right next to him. He stripped off his t-shirt and sweatpants and staggered to the bathroom in his boxers. When he caught sight of himself in the bathroom mirror, he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. He’d always been a tall, lanky guy. Pretty strong and fit, but he was more of a runner than a weight lifter. Now, though… there was a definition to his muscles that hadn’t previously been there. He had an eight pack.

Frank wasn’t entirely sure if he was dreaming, still passed out on his living room floor. He went to turn the cold water on in the bathroom sink, hoping that by splashing some on his face, he could knock himself out of this weird funk. But as he tried to pull his hand away from the knob, he realized that he… couldn’t. His hand was fully stuck to it. And he yanked and yanked and yanked—and ripped the knob clean off of the faucet. 

Yeah, so Frank had been bitten by a genetically altered spider. And in turn, Frank himself had been genetically altered. He’d called his best friend, Yolanda Garcia, freaking the fuck out about how he could climb walls and shoot webs from his wrists. Yolanda hadn’t believed him at first, until Frank had accidentally shot her in the face with a web. Then she told him that it was “so fucking cool” and “We need to start testing out your abilities, like immediately.” Frank was glad that someone was being calm about this, because it sure as hell wasn’t him.

The superhero thing happened by accident. Even before the spider bite, Frank had had a crazy life. He was preparing for med school, he worked part time, he was trying to get an internship at a clinic. Every morning at 5 AM, Yolanda made him get him and they would go practice what Yolanda referred to as Frank’s “very particular set of skills.” Pretty soon, Frank was swinging from webs and leaping over wide gaps between buildings and crawling up the sides of skyscrapers. It was super weird, and it was also super fun. It was coming back from one of these training sessions that Frank and Yolanda came across someone getting mugged in an alleyway. Hood pulled low, Frank easily dispatched the mugger while Yolanda watched from the mouth of the alley, wide-eyed.

The conversation went something like this:

“Dude, you have to do it.”

“No, come on, Yoyo! This is crazy. It’s crazy enough that I can shoot webs from my wrists–”

“You always say that whenever we talk about this. You need a new go-to.”

“–But you’re basically suggesting that I become a superhero!”

“Excuse you, I did not call you a superhero.”

“You told me I should wear a costume.”

“I did.”

“And you said I should fight crime.”

“I did.”

“So what else would I be?”

“A vigilante, obviously! You have a journey to go on before you can claim the title of superhero!”

“...Who knew you were such a nerd, Yoyo?”

“Shut the fuck up, I’m not the one with the alphabetized collection of X-Men comic books.”

“Still. Do you think I have time to–”

“Yes, I do. We already know that you have increased energy and stamina. Come on, Frank. People need help. You can help them. Just try it out.”

“...Okay.”

The costume had gone through a few iterations. Frank needed something with a mask, obviously–his goal was still to be a doctor, even with the whole spider superpower thing. Which meant that he needed a secret identity. He’d wanted to keep the costume dark, but Yolanda was the one that insisted that he needed something flashy, something eye-catching. They settled on the colors of blue and red, and there were a lot of web designs, given the whole spider thing. When all was said and done, Frank had to admit that the whole effect was pretty cool. Yolanda only laughed at him once, too.

It was during Frank’s intern year that he got into a rhythm: fighting crime at night and on his days off, and working crazy hours in the emergency department at PTMC in Pittsburgh by day. Yolanda was doing her general surgical residency at the same hospital, so he had someone who could cover for him when he needed it. Frank thrived on the action, both at work and out on the streets, saving people in a different way. The powers he had meant that he had deep reserves of energy that helped him manage the absolutely ridiculous hours that he kept. Someone on Instagram coined the name “Spiderman.” From then on, that’s what Frank was known as.

The years passed. Somehow, Frank managed to have a life. He even dated for a while, this girl named Abby. It had been pretty casual, and they had broken up when she claimed that he didn’t have enough time for her. Frank hadn’t been too put out by it, because he liked his life the way it was. He had his friends, he had a job he loved, and he had reached superhero status (despite the fact that Yolanda liked to remind him that the super part was all in his head). It wasn’t until his final year of residency that things got completely turned upside down for him.

Her name was Mel King. She was in her second year of residency, she had glasses and a cute braid, and she had the brightest smile that Frank had ever seen. Frank had seen a lot of bad things, both in the ED and out on the streets as Spiderman. Mel King, though, was like a ray of sunshine. Frank was drawn to her immediately, seeking her out to work cases with him. She seemed a little confused by his attention but welcomed it, working efficiently and seamlessly with him in a way that he had never really experienced before. She was smart, she was capable, and Frank was pretty sure that by the end of their first shift together, he had a giant crush on her.

Mel was a little too smart, really. The ED was a busy place, so if Frank had to disappear for a handful of minutes to help someone out as Spiderman, no one really noticed. He’d go out on trauma calls, making up weak excuses to disappear and then he would reappear on the scene as Spiderman, rescuing people from fires or collapsed buildings or car accidents and then showing up a few minutes later at the scene or back at the hospital, ready to treat them. No one had ever really seemed to notice before. The third or fourth time this happened around Mel, Frank noticed her watching him with intent eyes, as if she was trying to figure out a puzzle.

Frank knew that he was getting a little reckless–his secret identity was a secret for a reason–but he wanted to spend more time around Mel, and she was more than happy to do so. They got coffee before their shifts, hung out with Mel’s sister Becca and watched movies and ate pizza after. They’d meet up in the park for runs in the morning and Frank would take Mel around to all of his favorite restaurants in Pittsburgh to introduce her to the city. Inviting Mel into his life, getting close to her like this, meant that she could figure out his secret any day. Frank found that he was pretty okay with that.

They were on night shift together when it happened. It had just rained, and Mel was around the corner of the ambulance bay, taking a break. It was dark but no one really knew about this area, so she was generally okay. Until she wasn’t. Some asshole who had to wait too long in chairs had spotted Mel coming out and had decided to follow her and use her as a punching bag for his aggression. Mel was completely taken off-guard, shoved up the brick wall, his fingers wrapped around her throat as she gasped for breath.

Frank was on a break of his own, and he’d heard Mel’s terrified scream get choked-off. Heightened hearing was one of the powers that he had, and he had been tuned in to Mel for a while, now. He was in costume and out the door before he even realized what he was doing, fury that he had never known before coursing through him when he saw Mel pinned up against the wall by some guy. It was easy enough to knock the man out and toss him aside. He was at Mel’s side instantly, asking if she was okay, hands cupping her face and running over the bruises on her throat frantically.

When Mel had blinked up at him with wide eyes and gasped, “Spiderman?” Frank realized exactly what he looked like and what he was doing. He needed some distance. He shot a web up into the air, disappeared, and came back down again, hanging upside down. Mel was on her feet, now, staring up at him with that same, puzzle-solving look in her eyes. She stepped closer. He asked her if she was okay again. She told him that she was, thanks to him. It started raining again. Neither of them moved. Mel asked him if she could thank him. Frank said yes. She stepped forward and reached up with slow hands, and then unrolled Frank’s mask until she had just revealed his nose. And then she was kissing him.

The kiss was wet. And slow. And deep. And it was the hottest thing that either of them had experienced. Mel had her hands on either side of Frank’s face, her tongue sliding against his, noses brushing together. When Frank felt like he was going to drop down and pull her into his arms and kiss her until neither of them remembered their names, he knew that it was time to go. He shot another web up into the air, pulling himself up and onto the roof. The sound of Mel’s laughter followed him up.

He got the chance to fuss over Mel as Frank Langdon when she came back inside, soaking wet with dark bruises circling her neck. He offered to take her home, which Mel happily accepted. She sat in the passenger seat of his car, hair damp but mostly dry in Frank’s sweatshirt. She was suspiciously quiet, but kept looking over at him with a smile on her face. Frank was beginning to think that the gig was up.

When they were in her apartment, Mel backed him up against her front door and kissed him senseless. Frank responded automatically, his arms wrapping around her to hold her close. When she finally pulled away, she whispered against his lips, “Thanks, Spiderman.”

Yeah, so, Mel had figured him out. The conversation went like this:

“I mean, I always suspected. The times that you disappeared lined up with when Spiderman would appear somewhere. Wait. Why are you laughing?”

“It’s nothing, it’s just–Mel, you’re amazing, you know that? I’ve been doing this for years, and no one has noticed. Not Robby, not McKay, not Dana. Abbot might have known because he’s good at figuring this stuff out, but he’s never said anything to me about it. But you… it didn’t take much for you to figure it out, did you?”

“I had my suspicions, but it was obvious that you wanted to keep it a secret. I figured that you’d tell me on your own time. But, tonight…”

“God, baby. I was so scared.”

“Me, too. But you were there.”

“I was. And then… and then… you thanked me.”

“I did. Do you really want to know how I figured it out for sure, Frank?”

“Yes, please.”

“It was your chin dimple.”

(Mel had had a crush on Spiderman, in that way that you had a crush on a celebrity. It was embarrassing and she didn’t talk about it unless she was three drinks in. Mel also had a crush on Frank Langdon. That crush was slightly more attainable, but Mel still wasn’t entirely sure that anything was going to happen. When Mel had begun to suspect that Spiderman and Frank Langdon were the same person, she made it her mission to prove it. And when she had heard his voice in the alleyway, felt the way he had touched her face, she knew she had him. Then she had rolled his mask down and had seen the chin dimple that she would recognize from miles away. Frank Langdon was Spiderman.)

[treeinthepond]

They say love is a virtue

mel/frank, 60k, e (2/2)

You saw a lot of it in hospitals, actually — a wife who turns out, later, to not be the wife.

Tags: emotional infidelity, infidelity, funerals, rock climbing, show level gore/violence, moral ambiguity, mel pov

The first time Mel saw Frank Langdon, her immediate thought, looking at him leaning very rakishly and very purposefully over the central station, like he was putting the pale curve of his biceps under his scrubs on display, was: handsome. It was less of a judgment and more of an acknowledgement of an empirical fact. Water was wet, the most commonly broken bone was the clavicle, and the new senior resident she would be reporting to had the kind of jaw and cheekbones and hair that Mel was most accustomed to seeing in the ads at every bus stop in the city.

Her second was that Dr Frank Langdon had the kind of energy that could get her in trouble. A little oh of recognition.

[treeinthepond]

truly the most unrealistic thing to me about the pitt is the lack of cute and semi ironic badge reels, especially amongst the nurses

like you’re telling me im supposed to believe princess is walking around ptmc and she doesn’t have “treat em and yeet em” holding her badges together? ok sure

[treeinthepond]

Top Kingdon moments as voted by my followers

Tied for #6: STEMI with (me) Mel

[treeinthepond]

medical bdsm [insp.]

[treeinthepond]

Taylor Dearden and Patrick Ball as Melissa "Mel" King and Dr. Frank Langdon in THE PITT season one (2025)

[treeinthepond]

im actually so scared for the abby langdon casting announcement…it feels imminent and im Scared

(unless it’s followed by “and so and so is joining the cast as a fierce divorce lawyer who comes into the pitt to serve papers to one of the hotshot doctors” in which case ill be popping the mf champagne)

[treeinthepond]

the pitt | episode 9

[treeinthepond]

some fluff for @mateo-diaz.

Frank goes to the Outer Banks with his brothers to celebrate the end of his marriage. They call it an anti-honeymoon. They’ve got surfboards strapped to the roof rack, coolers packed full like they’re twenty again and won’t get hungover. They drink beer with their feet in the sand.

Frank texts Mel about all of it while she house-sits.

She had offered to do it a few days before he left, when he mentioned he was going to have to board his dog. Becca’s got a respite week at the center, and his apartment is closer to work than hers is, so she shrugged, said listen, she can stay at his place. She can feed and walk his adorable, cuddly goldendoodle, she can keep an eye on the little mini succulent that she had put in his locker as a housewarming gift.

And his apartment is exactly what she expected it to be. It’s not ugly, exactly, just a little empty. Typical bachelor-grade furniture, all dark leather and angles. Cheap cutlery with plastic handles. A single bath towel. There’s not a lot of warmth here.

Well, except for the fridge.

The fridge is cluttered with photos - mismatched magnets, curling corners, nothing framed or precious. It’s mostly his kids. Millie grinning through a jack-o'-lantern mouth, Tanner mid-air above a diving board, limbs everywhere. The two of them at some theme park, both squinting into the sun. Frank’s in that one too, shirt wrinkled, sunglasses askew, and a big, open-mouthed smile.

There’s a photo of his mom and dad in matching windbreakers at a rest stop in West Virginia. There’s a blurry one from work of half the ER huddled around a grocery store cake, Whitaker mid-sneeze. And then there’s one of just Mel. She’s asleep in the staff lounge, curled over the table, mouth open. She remembers when he woke her up then, a gentle hand on her shoulder. 

She’s touching that one with her thumb when a text comes through.

don’t let the dog con you into a second dinner

he’s manipulative and plays the long game

Mel sends back a picture of the goldendoodle lying dramatically on the floor in front of his food bowl. She texts: He says you never feed him and he’s starving and cold :( I believe him.

Frank sends a picture of the ocean and then a mirror selfie with his shoulder angled, the shiny skin of a new tattoo only just clear enough to make out.

It’s small and simple, just black ink and thin lines: a compass, pointing north. She looks at it for a while, notices the line of muscle through his back, the visible tan lines on his arm and neck. She doesn’t have the courage to ask what it means. 

He texts constantly. He’s been texting her so much that, if she were a stronger woman, she would tell him to put the phone down and focus on the beach. 

She wakes up in his bed every morning and finds messages waiting: updates about the weather, blurry photos with emoji captions, and once, a poorly shot video of him with his brothers, all a little bit drunk and talking over each other, and Frank rolling his eyes into the camera, like See, Mel? See this shit I have to deal with?

Over time, it starts to become clear how often he must think of her, and how closely he’s been paying attention.

It’s not just the constant texts, it’s little things around his apartment, too.

He stocked the fridge for her. It has her oat milk, her favorite hummus. The freezer’s got the exact obscure brand of frozen dumplings she mentioned one time, months ago. She didn’t ask him for any of it, but he got it for her anyway. 

There’s a stack of books in his bedroom, not many at all. But every title is one she’s read too, books she brought with her to work and left out in the staff lounge just in case she ever got a spare minute to read them. Never Let Me Go. The Left Hand of Darkness. Catch and Kill. A surprisingly beat-up copy of Autism and the Predictive Brain with its spine broken and pages dog-eared.

One night, flipping through his streaming apps, she checks his “Continue Watching” list.

It’s all her shows.

It’s stuff he’s teased her for. Gilmore Girls and Bake Off. He even made it two episodes into The Vampire Diaries, but it looks like he hasn’t watched that one in a while. She presses play, not from the beginning, from where he left off.

The dog shifts on the couch and drops his head on her knee. 

She reconsiders her judgment on the lack of warmth in his apartment. 

By the time Frank comes home, he’s pink across the shoulders and grinning wide. His arms are full with luggage and a souvenir bag that he drops at the front door.

He hugs her first, before anything else.

She goes still, worried about his burn and his new tattoo, but ends up wrapping her arms around him anyway, taking care not to squeeze too hard. “You’re sunburned,” she mumbles into his shoulder.

“I don’t even feel it.”

So she hugs him tighter.

He still smells like saltwater, even after his flight. He hasn’t shaved in days, and his facial hair is growing fast. When he eventually steps back, he pulls something from one of his bags and gives it to her. 

“For you.” 

It’s a silver compass pendant, pointing north. It's tiny, on a delicate chain, and it’s nice, with a real weight to it. 

“I don’t know,” he says, not quite looking her in the eye. “Made me think of you.”

[treeinthepond]

Top Kingdon moments as voted by my followers

#10: Captain Scurvy (x)

[treeinthepond]

made a fic based on my social media au edit 🌇🤳

frank takes a bite of his protein bar and glances at the clock. 10:06 pm. his shift isn’t over yet, not even close. night shift has never been for him, and no, it has nothing to do with having opposite schedules with mel—well, it doesn’t have everything to do with that--he's not obsessed with her. it’s slow. painfully slow. the kind of slow that has him planning what to have for breakfast tomorrow even if he knows he'll sleep through it . he wonders what food she’s eating right now and what drink she paired it with. is she having fun or is she overstimulated? what if she’s texting him and he can’t see it because his phone isn’t on him . he thinks of the way her brows together in that adorable way it gets when she’s frustrated and hopes that isn't the case—

“hey, romeo, you okay?”

frank tears his view away from the wall he didn't even know he was looking at to see abbot walking in his direction with caution in each step. jack holds his hands up, inching closer. “you still with us, frank? you look a little possessed..”

“not possessed, just mel starved.” ellis quips up from the corner of the room.

frank can’t remember her walking in, but at some point she did—and was now heating her lunch in the microwave in the corner of the room.

she has the audacity to laugh at his misery.

"fuck off." he mutters.

abbot lets out a laugh, clapping him on the shoulder.

“if it makes you feel any better, the girls are having fun and in mira’s words—‘consuming an appropriate number of alcohol just to shake the nerves.’”

frank scoffs. the words ‘appropriate’ and ‘alcohol’ don’t belong in the same sentence when trinity santos is involved.

but he’s thankful that jack is showing him pictures samira sent him. the girls look absolutely gorgeous, trinity included, but mel—his mel—is breathtaking under new york city lights. there’s a video of them singing happy birthday to samira captured by trinity (if she wasn’t a doctor, she’d kill it on broadway). mel looks like she’s having the time of her life, thank god, but it makes his heartache just a little more.

okay, so he’s a little obsessed. sue him.

he thanks abbot for the update and downs the last of his red bull before standing up. work has always been a good distraction and maybe saving enough lives will somehow make mel come home sooner.

*

it doesn’t.

he wakes up at half past noon to her side empty and sighs. grabbing his phone, he checks for any updates. no texts, no calls.

she might’ve had a long night, too.

he finds himself opening up instagram after having to redownload it back on his phone yesterday afternoon—if only to get updates on samira’s birthday weekend. his finger swipes up, ignoring updates from cassie on the progress harrison’s made at school and javadi’s latest outfit of the day. frank likes dana’s pictures of her cats and laughs at some stupid medical joke.

his heart flutters like he’s a kid with a crush when he sees multiple updates from mel. he likes and comments on every single one (one with a heart emoji, a picture of her outfit from last night—a little black dress that stops at her thighs paired with a denim jacket—has him commenting with multiple sweating emojis, he types ‘happy birthday dr. mohan’ at the one of samira and her little desert.).

frank finds himself frowning at the caption of her latest post. so what if his little crush is out of control and spiraled into all the ways he needs her?

trinity’s comment on her latest post also leaves him a little perplexed. frank decides that’s enough social media for one morning and gets up to start the day.

almost three hours later, seated on the couch, his phone pings—the shrill of a text tone—then a second later, his ringtone fills the quiet room. mel’s face takes up his screen so of course he’s going to pick up.

“i’m never drinking again.” mel groans before he can even say hello. she’s probably still in bed snuggling under all the covers.

he laughs. “fun night?”

“i think so? the parts i could remember were fun.”

“who knew my baby was such a party animal?” he says, smirking. “maybe i should go to the next girl’s night? you know..be the designated driver.”

“really?” of course she’d perk up at that. she’s been asking him to come for weeks now but clubs and bars were never fun to him, contrary to popular belief. it’s not that fun for her either, she just goes to spend time with her friends.

“yeah. i’d do anything to see you wear that little black dress of yours.”

he doesn’t need to see her to know she’s blushing. “trinity helped me pick it out.”

frank refrains from making a dirty joke about how he can help her out of it. he’ll save it for when she’s actually home. instead, he clears his throat. “speaking of trinity…”

“the comment, yeah. you know how trinity is—she loves to mess with you.” she starts out. “nothing terrible, i swear. a couple guys offered to buy me drinks and wanted to talk throughout the night. i turned them all down, told them i was happily taken. she kept joking that you’d better watch out but i know you. and i know my heart and where it wants to be.”

he wasn’t expecting a whole speech, and definitely wasn’t expecting that ending sentence. his heart tugs like it wants to do something crazy like buy a plane ticket to see her.

“you okay?” she asks.

the thought of men coming onto her when she’s miles away isn’t his favorite (mostly for her safety) but they’ve worked so hard for this relationship. it’s steadier and sturdier than anything he’s ever had. it’s going to take more than a couple drunk men to tear it down.

“yeah, i’m fine.” he finally says. “you know i trust and love you more than anything, sweetheart.”

“love you more.” not true, he thinks. “frank?”

“yeah, baby?”

“if you want to see me in that outfit—all you have to do is ask.”

he’s way past obsessed at this point.

*

frank’s waking up the next morning to a cold something pressing against his cheek. probably peter parker wanting to go out for a walk, if he had to guess. but then the scent of strawberry is all he smells, and he’s bolting awake.

“morning, sleepyhead.” mel’s smiling down at him. she’s here—real and all, and looking at him with those damn eyes that are a hundred times better in person.

she squeals when he takes her hand, pulling her down on the bed with him. he wastes no time peppering her face with kisses, one for every time he’s missed her. it’s only been three days but it feels like years.

“frank. need. shower.” she manages out, trying to pull away.

of course she’d want to shower. he knows her distaste for confined spaces. airplanes in particular. (“over two thousand cfus can congregate in a square inch. that’s just on the tray table” she’d told him during their first trip to visit his parents.)

he lets her go but not before she’s giving him a firm kiss.

“welcome home.” he murmurs against her lips.

[treeinthepond]

rivers and roads

mel king x frank langdon | explicit | 80.7k | ch. 3/4

Once, they’d consulted ortho for a serious leg injury. Mel had stood by while the resident walked the patient through the x-rays. It’s a displaced fracture, he explained. You see this? Two breaks, rather than one. Means we need to operate so we can reset the bones properly with tools – a rod, probably – to make sure everything heals properly. The resident had shaken his head a little wryly and as an aside just to Mel, added, So much more fun when the breaks get a little messy like this, huh?

[treeinthepond]

why did you have to say that about her glasses? i'm now rewatching every scene she's in to see what color they actually are. ahhhhhhh and now i don't know. black? blue? i think a mix of black and blue because the rims definitely look mixed. but the temples look solid dark blue. :( i will not sleep tonight.

omg no anon im so sorry to do this to you😔 tbh i was scrolling thru the kingdon tag and came across the post i just reblogged from milky and thought “are those blue 😀😀” which then led me down a rabbit hole of zooming in on as many pics as i could find. im #teamblue if for no other reason than im delusional but i feellllll like they may be too light to be black in comparison to her jacket/stethoscope??? i may also just be grasping at straws i fear

[treeinthepond]

even they were weirded the fuck out

[treeinthepond]

upon closer inspection im realizing mel’s glasses are in fact a deep shade of blue, not black like i originally thought

mel having blue glasses…frank having blue eyes…the invisible string of it all…i need to sit down