smolfangirl

[smolfangirl]

day 31 // heatwave

day 31 // sweat for kingdonmicrofic's august challenge with @kayleigh-rae that turned out to be a @kingdonmacrofic chapter tags:  Band AU, exes, jealousy, dubcon, active addiction word count: 610 notes:  Our last installment of the Band AU featured in day 19 // sunburn, day 28 // jellyfish thirst, and day 28 // festival. warning: this gets dubcon-y. please take care of yourself if that's triggering for you.

His eyes are bloodshot; that’s the first thing Mel notices. Not even an hour after their show, and Frank’s already high. But beneath the redness and glaze-y expression is hurt and jealousy, which she knew to expect. 

She’d baited him all night after all–those tabloid photos of him hooking up with Abby Whitney burned into her memory–first when she stared at him while singing back-up on “Don’t Wanna Know” and then stealing his leather jacket from his dressing room. Mel plans to fuck that roadie who has been eyeing her since Denver, and she plans to do it while wearing her ex’s jacket.

Predictably, Frank gets physical, backing her into a wall until there’s not much space between them. (He’s a physical person when he comforts, when he loves, when he fucks; it’s not surprising that he’s like this when he’s jealous, though Mel notes that his grip on her upper arm is firm, not painful.) She’s been under him like this a hundred times, at college parties and dive bars and tiny venues before their big break. 

Traitorously, her body reacts; he can play her as well as any guitar.

“What the fuck are you doing?” he asks, pained. 

“You don’t get to do this,” she hisses. “There is a sex tape of you. The things you said in it–” 

“I wasn’t thinking clearly, okay?” 

“Of course you weren’t! You’re always high, Frank! You have a problem.” 

Frank brings his palm to rest against her throat. His touch is gentle, but Mel is keenly aware that that could change. (She’d taught him how to do this when he was buried deep inside of her, to help her drift when life hurt too much. He hadn’t forgotten how to take care of her.) He presses his thumb beneath her chin, forcing her to tilt her chin upwards. 

“My problem is that you’re going to let that roadie have you. My problem is that you didn’t want to go public with this and left me. My fucking problem is that I’m in love with you, and you won’t even look me in the eye unless we’re in front of 15,000 people.” 

“Your problem is pills. Don’t put this on me.” 

“I love you, baby,” he says, leaning in for a kiss. “I–” 

Mel turns her head out of spite. Behind her eyes, she sees the sex tape as vivid as if she were watching it again, Frank wrapping Abby’s hand around his dick and promising it was only for her from now on.

Tears gather in her eyes. “Fuck off, Frank.” 

But he doesn’t. Instead, he’s lifting her white dress and slipping into the front of her panties. Her knees buckle, and it’s all she can do to keep the whine in her throat. She misses her Frank so much, but this is just a diseased shadow of that man. 

“You’re so wet,” he breathes against her ear. “Still my girl, aren’t you?” 

She is. That’s her problem.

Mel doesn’t dignify that with a response. She doesn’t trust herself not to admit that she always will be if she opens her mouth. 

“Okay.” He nods to himself, resigned. “He can have you, but not here.” 

Frank pushes two fingers inside of her. It’s not what she wants from him, not by a long shot. And the fact that it’s all she’s going to allow herself to have does make her cry. 

“This pussy is mine, baby. Anywhere else, just not here.” 

He has no right–not after what he did–but Mel lets his touch linger inside of her for a few breaths before shoving him away. She has somewhere to be.

[smolfangirl]

day thirty-one: heatwave

for @kingdonmicrofic | rated: t | word count: 500 | ao3 (some final yearning for the final day this was so fun !!)

“This is ridiculous.” 

Mel doesn’t look at him, her head resting on the edge of the inflatable kiddie pool sitting in his backyard, a happy little smile under the sun. 

“Well it feels really nice,” she says. He tries not to stare at the way the shallow water floats around her body, the cotton shorts and tank top she hadn’t bothered taking off stuck to her like a second skin. Horribly, it’s how he realizes she’s not wearing a bra. “Please get in? It’s too hot out and I’ll… move over.” 

“No, you won’t,” he snorts. 

He tugs his shirt over his head and climbs in anyway, the water veering on the side of too cold but she’s right, it feels amazing. Mel tries to move but it’s useless—this pool was meant for his toddlers, not two grown adults trying to escape day three of the heatwave that, as of a few hours ago, shorted out Mel’s AC and had her knocking on his door. 

She settles her hip half on top of his, her legs, like his, hang over the edge. Her elbow is in his stomach and his hand is almost touching her ass but neither of them move away, only sigh out at the feeling of the cool water. 

They stay like that for a while, quiet, barely moving, just enjoying being in each other's presence. Eventually the water begins to warm in the sun though and Frank can feel his fingers begin to prune. 

“We should probably head inside,” he comments. “I can get you some clothes, we can watch a movie? Order dinner?”

“That sounds really nice.” 

He helps her out, watching as the water droplets roll down her skin. They didn’t grab towels before heading out so he stops Mel in his kitchen, trying not to track water everywhere as he grabs them from the linen closet. 

When he gets back to her she’s got her arms crossed over her chest and she’s bouncing slightly to try and warm herself thanks to the icy blast of his AC. 

“Here,” he says, wrapping the towel around her shoulders. He runs his hands over her arms, warming her over the fabric. “Why don’t you head to the bathroom and I’ll grab you some clothes, hm?” 

“Y-yeah, okay.” 

It’s a bit of an awkward dance between them—Frank listening to the sounds of her wet clothes coming off behind his closed door, knocking and handing her a shirt and shorts through the crack, eyes just catching the reflection of her in his large vanity mirror. 

When she opens the door again, wet hair hanging over his tshirt, legs that are covered in his shorts, sans underwear, sans bra, he just swallows. 

“Thank you,” she says, “For the clothes. They uh, they smell like you.” 

“Oh.” 

“I mean like your cologne,” she rushes, cheeks flushing. “It’s nice.” 

He doesn’t say anything, just moves so she can head to his living room, helpless to do anything but follow her. 

[smolfangirl]

school uniform codes extending to what colours you’re allowed to dye your hair, and what piercings you can have and stuff is so crazy. you HAVE to go to school and you’re not even allowed to have pink hair or pierce your nose about it????

[smolfangirl]

mel/frank | ∼250 words | rated m ↳ for day thirty-one: heatwave of the august @kingdonmicrofic challenge

[smolfangirl]

rating: g | word count: 417 | prompt: heatwave l for @kingdonmicrofic day 31

It was not supposed to go like this.

It was 103 degrees outside, which made the heat go from uncomfortable to fucking unbearable. Even the breeze felt like a hairdryer on high.

But Frank had a plan. String lights, a rooftop dinner, Mel’s favorite playlist playing softly in the background, he had a hand-written letter and of course, the ring.

But he was sweating before she even arrived. He would claim it wasn’t from nerves (which was only half true; there was a heatwave rolling through the East Coast.) The charcuterie board was starting to look questionable, the strawberries looked like they had seen better days, and Frank looked like he was swimming in his shirt.

And then the goddamn power went out.

Lights gone. Music dead. The fan slowly stopped. Everything fell silent except for the distant noise of the city and Frank’s loud, internal screaming.

Mel stepped on the rooftop, squinting to see better. “Is it supposed to be so dark?”

Frank stood there with his shirt clinging to his back, holding a sad plate of food, when he finally cracked. “Okay, listen. I had the perfect plan. But then the food basically melted, I melted, and now the power's out.”

She blinked and then started giggling. “Frank, is this what I think it is?” He could hear the elated tone of her voice, and that made him feel just a little bit better about the whole catastrophe. She had on a pale pink dress and her hair was clipped up off of her neck, he could tell she was hot too.

He hesitated and then dropped to one knee, “I was trying to, but then Pittsburgh decided to become a new ring of hell and then everything went to shit, but yes. I love you. Even with a heatstroke. Especially with a heatstroke. I love you more than anything, and I have a letter that sums up my love for you better than whatever this rant is. But anyway, Mel, will you marry me?”

Her smile was huge. She dropped down on the floor, holding her hand out for Frank to put the ring on; her hand was trembling a little. “Yes. Absolutely, I’ll marry you.”

The kiss they shared was short and quick, they were both a little grossed out with how sweaty they were.

They celebrated back at her apartment in front of a working air conditioner, half-melted ice cream, and a mutual agreement to never plan anything important in August again.

[smolfangirl]

[smolfangirl]

you need to understand that i have two sets of headcanons. there's the set of realistic headcanons based on my genuine reading of the show, and then there's me playing pretend with my dolls.

[smolfangirl]

@kingdonmacrofic Day 31: Heatwave (1,305 words)

(saving the longest for last!)

The first thing Trinity thinks when she gets to the Pitt is, “Goddamn, it’s hot out.” They were calling it a “heat dome” on the news, and it was making her life miserable in more ways than one.

(The primary reason being how Whitaker had taken to walking around their apartment shirtless.)

The second thing Trinity thinks when she gets to the Pitt is, “Why the fuck is Mel King wearing a scarf?”

She locks eyes with her colleague, and Mel’s eyebrows go up to her hairline.

“Trinity!” Mel calls across the lockers. “Hello! How are you today?” she asks formally.

Trinity looks her up and down, pausing at the thick wool around Mel’s throat. “Yeah, fine,” she responds. “You doing okay?”

“I’m great.” Mel gives a smile that doesn’t go up to her eyes. “I just really need to talk to you. In private if at all possible.”

Trinity pauses. Something is definitely up, but she just can’t quite put her finger on it.

“Mel? Are you okay?” comes a voice behind them. Both women look to see Samira putting away her backpack. “You look a little green.”

Mel purses her lips and rubs her hands together anxiously.

“Yes, no worries. I am fine,” she says, and her voice is stilted. “I just really really really need to see Dr. Santos in private.”

“‘Dr. Santos?’” Trinity laughs. “Mel, what the hell is going on? It’s a hundred degrees out and you look like you're about to go sledding.”

Samira takes a step forward, eyes filled with concern. “Anything you can tell her, you can tell me, you know that. I’m your senior resident, and it’s my job to make sure that everything is okay.”

Mel stands there frozen for a second. She squeezes her eyes shut.

“Fine,” she says after a beat, “but you can’t tell anyone.” She takes a quick look around for any more interlopers before carefully unwinding the scarf from her neck.

Samira gasps and her hand flies to her mouth. Trinity smiles like she’s just been given a present.

“Please don’t make fun of me,” Mel says immediately.

“Oh no no no!” Trinity corrects, waving her hands in front of her. “Never. Consider me both shocked but ultimately impressed, Dr. King, that is one hell of a hickey.”

And it certainly is. It’s the size of a baseball, all red and purple splotches. It’s fresh, too, without a single hint of healing yellow anywhere.

“I know,” Mel frowns and starts panicking all over again. “I have no idea what to do, and I tried to cover it at home, and—“

“Say no more,” Trinity says, and turns back to her locker. “You knew what you were doing coming to me with this.”

She reaches inside and pulls out a small clear bag of make-up.

“Wanna come watch the door for us?” she asks back at Samira. She finally removes her hand from her mouth and nods. Mel quickly slips the scarf back on and lets herself be led to the backroom just off the main stairs. Samira leans against the wall by the door, prepared to tell anyone coming in that someone’s been sick all over the floor and she’s waiting for maintenance. Mel stands under the bright lights next to the sinks and lets Trinity get to work.

“This is a teaching moment, Melanoma,” Trinity says. “So just in case this happens again, you know what to do.”

She reaches in her bag and takes out a small compact with many different colors.

“First, we need to color correct to get rid of some of the red. We’re going to use green because that’s the opposite of red on the color wheel, and it’ll help cancel it out.”

She touches a brush to the side of Mel’s neck and she flinches.

“Sorry,” she says. “I know how much these bitches can hurt.” She brushes it again, more gently this time, and Mel relaxes.

“Thank you,” she says meekly.

“Don’t even worry about it,” Trinity smiles. “Do you know how many times I’ve had to do this for other people? Hell, for myself? One time I woke up with one on the back of my knee. How fucked up is that?”

“I didn’t even know you were seeing someone, Mel,” Samira states.

“She might not be,” Trinity suggests playfully. “Could be just a hot one night stand.”

Mel twists her hands together tighter.

“It’s new,” she admits. “Only a couple of weeks.”

“Okay, since the seal’s been broken,” Trinity’s voice practically shakes with excitement. “What’s their name? How did you meet? Do you have a photo on your phone?”

“I’d—I’d actually prefer it if we didn’t talk about him,” Mel says staring directly down at the tile floor. Trinity fires a look over at Samira.

“That’s okay,” Samira says quickly. “You can tell us all about him when you’re ready.”

“You like him, though, right Mel?” Trinity asks cautiously. “Like he treats you well and everything?”

“Oh yeah,” Mel responds, looking up at Trinity to confirm. “Yeah, it’s nothing like that. I just…” She presses her lips together in thought. “It’s hard for me to talk about. It scares me a little bit because I like him so much,” she confesses.

Another shared look across the room.

Trinity steps away to grab another product from her bag. “That’s really awesome, but just remember, he will never be good enough for you.”

Samira changes the subject to the length of the board outside as Trinity continues to work her makeup magic. After using a couple more products, she steps away giving Mel the chance to look in the mirror.

“I’m a little bit paler than you, so it’s not going to be perfect, but enough for plausible deniability,” Trinity states.

She’s pretty proud of her work, honestly. It’s like Mel’s neck has a filter on it, the mark only noticeable if you’re really looking for one.

“Trinity, I could hug you right now,” Mel blurts out.

“Buy me a drink sometime,” Trinity smiles, washing her hands. “And come find me if you need a touch up later.”

“I’ll see you both out there,” Samira calls over her shoulder. “We have a long day ahead of us.”

“Right behind you.” Trinity throws a paper towel into the trash and follow her out.

Later in the shift, Trinity takes a breather outside. The heat hits her like a slap to the face, and as she turns away from the sun, she catches them off in a corner where they think no one can see.

Langdon and Mel.

She’s showing him the side of her neck, the one Trinity spent a solid fifteen minutes working on that morning. Trinity watches him burst out laughing and Mel’s face skew with worry. Langdon takes a step forward and envelops Mel in a big hug, his hand going to the back of her head and pressing it against his chest.

Well, that certainly answers some things. At the very least, Trinity feels satisfied that her observation at the last ED bar night that Langdon was “the kid who bit” is accurate.

It also makes since why Mel was so nervous to talk about him. Langdon’s divorce was only finalized a couple of months ago, and rumors about the two of them were already spreading like wildfire. It also confirms that he is definitely not good enough for her, but Trinity would be open to reconsidering it only because she knows Mel would want her to.

She wipes at the beads of moisture that have already accumulated on her brow and turns to head back inside to the air conditioning. She logs the information for the next ED bar night and aims to make Langdon sweat about it then just as much then as she is now.

[smolfangirl]

@kingdonmicrofic | August 31 | Prompt: Heatwave | 485 words

cw: some sexual content

“Frank, we’re timing this differently, next time. I can’t deal with being this pregnant in the summer.”

Frank perked up instantly at his wife’s words. “There’s going to be a next time?” When he saw the look on Mel’s face, he cleared his throat. Right. Don’t piss off the pregnant lady. He really should know that by now. “If you recall, there wasn’t exactly a plan involved this time.” Whoops, that wasn’t the right thing to say, either. They had decided to start trying, and Mel had gotten pregnant immediately.

Mel’s eyebrows were raised, but she was smiling. She spread her hands over her large belly. “I can’t be this hot anymore. This heatwave is making me miserable.”

“I know, sweetheart.” Frank was at Mel’s side in an instant, lowering her to the couch. He reached for the cool washcloth he’d brought in from the bathroom and laid it across Mel’s chest. He stroked his other hand over her round belly, feeling their baby kick against his palm. Mel was barely wearing anything, just a sports bra and a tiny pair of shorts in deference to the heat. The house was actually pretty cool, but with the heatwave and the end of her pregnancy nearing, Mel was almost always uncomfortable. “I wish I could do more to help.”

Sighing happily, Mel turned her face to kiss Frank’s cheek. “You do help. This helps.” Sliding further down on the couch, she pulled the washcloth up over her face. “I’m just so hot.”

Even though she couldn’t see him, Frank grinned. “You sure are.”

“Frank.” Mel groaned and pulled the washcloth off her face, balling it up to throw at him. “Don’t tease me.”

“But you like it when I tease you.” Frank slid one palm up Mel’s thigh, keeping his touch light. She squirmed underneath him and bit her lip, looking at him from under hooded eyes.

“Frank…”

“Want me to take your mind off the heat?” Frank pressed a kiss to the center of Mel’s belly, eyes trained on where her breasts were practically spilling out of her sports bra.

Mel pretended to think about it, tapping her chin with her index finger. He kissed her belly again, fingers skimming over the inside of her thigh. God, she was beautiful like this, round with his baby, glowing. With sweat, mostly, but still. Frank loved it.

Mel’s thighs parted, and she let out a happy sigh as Frank kneeled between her legs, leaning over to kiss her. The heel of his hand pressed between her legs, and Mel’s hips rolled towards him.

“See, what did I tell you? You’re hot, baby. Scorching.”

“Please, Frank…”

She was so sensitive, so it didn’t take long to push Mel over. She grabbed his face and kissed him again, murmuring her thanks against his lips. He smiled and cupped their baby between them, whispering how much he loved them both.

[smolfangirl]

@kingdonmicrofic Day 31: Heatwave (385) / warnings: implied sex, I torture Dennis Whitaker (as I am wont to do)

Dennis is absolutely fucking miserable today. It’s not like they don’t get summers in Nebraska, but at least when he was working on the farm, he was outside.

Right now, he’s stuck in a patient room with no windows, watching two of his coworkers make eyes at each other over a critical patient.

“Dr. King, what do we do next?” Dennis is pretty sure Langdon hasn’t blinked since he walked in, and he’s barely looked at the patient in front of them.

Mel on the other hand, is focused. She’s assessing the damage of the accidental amputation, of the limb the poor guy’s wife brought in in their Yeti cooler. “The cut is clean, I think there’s a chance at them being able to reattach it. Let’s clean the wounds and page surgery down here, now please.”

Dennis follows the command, easily slipping from the room with relief at being out of Langdon’s line of fire. He might not be such an asshole anymore, but he’s still disconcerting when he’s staring like that.

By the time Dennis goes to find Langdon to give him an update from surgery, the hospital’s AC is down, making him even more miserable. He bursts into the room McKay had pointed him to, ready for Langdon to be an asshole because of the weather and—

He groans, turning around and closing both his eyes and the door. No one else needs to see that. “Sorry, I’m just here to let you know Mr. Phillips’ leg is getting reattached upstairs.”

“Uh,” Langdon says. Whitaker wonders if he’s still got his head between Mel’s thighs, or if they’re scrambling to get themselves dressed again. He doesn’t really want to know. “Thanks, Whitaker. Do you mind if we don’t—”

“I never saw any of this. I’m blind, actually. I’ve never seen a thing in my life.” He puts his hand on the doorknob and sighs. “And Mel, you might want to grab a new scrub top before you go back on the floor. There’s a stain on it.”

Mel makes a little noise. “Oh, thanks, Dennis!”

He hates this fucking heatwave. People go insane when the temperature rises, clearly.

Then again, he can’t wait to tell Trinity all about it when they get home tonight. She was going to lose her mind.

[smolfangirl]

written for @kingdonmicrofic day thirty one - heatwave - 287 words - ao3

and that's a wrap! thanks again to the wonderful creators and mods of @kingdonmicrofic, it's wild seeing how much incredible work and creativity you've inspired over the past month with such limited word counts, it's been a blast

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The movie ended 20 minutes ago, but neither of them can muster up the energy to move. With the temperature in the mid-90s and matching 12 hour shifts under their belts, they’d made a mutual decision to melt into the couch the second they got home.

Frank's head had fallen into Mel’s lap about halfway through the movie, and her hands found their way into his hair instinctually, slightly damp from sweat. He hadn’t even bothered to style it today, forgoing his usual pomade because it’s a waste of product if I’m gonna sweat it all out within the first hour, this shit is expensive, Mel.

His eyes are closed now, but Mel can tell he’s still awake from the soft sighs coming from his parted lips each time she lets her nails scrape against his scalp. 

The heatwave has been brutal, the ED seeing an unprecedented amount of cases of heatstroke and exhaustion. That is bad. The heat is bad. Mel is trying very hard to convince herself of that. But when she looks down at Frank’s face, soft and relaxed with a beautiful sheen of sweat across his flushed cheeks, she can’t bring herself to care. Frank had told her a few weeks ago that she deserves to be selfish sometimes, so technically it’s just what the doctor ordered.

‘Mel, baby, I need to shower,’ he says, his voice a low rumble. He blinks up at her through long lashes and she watches as a bead of sweat traces a path along his hairline.

She leans down, pressing a kiss to where it stops just above his ear, revelling in the tackiness of his skin, the salty flavor of him.

‘In a minute,’ she hums.

[smolfangirl]

I'd find it soo funny if for like two or three more seasons Mel and Langdon would continue with this insane chemistry and do absolutely nothing about it. I want the other characters to be soooo over the tension in the room when these two are there. I want the biggest gossip circle in the ED, and these two lovebirds don't even notice over making heart eyes at each other

[smolfangirl]

Day 30: Bottle

For @kingdonmicrofic II Word Count: 494 II Rated: M II AO3 Link II Description: Spin the Bottle

If someone had told Langdon he would end up at a cramped apartment party with half the hospital staff, playing spin the bottle for Javadi’s 21st birthday, he would have figured he was hallucinating mid-withdrawal. But here he was, sitting quietly on the floor between Garcia and Mateo, doing his best to stay invisible while the bottle spun lazily across the circle. The only reason he agrees to show up is now sitting cross-legged across from him, a half-finished ale in one hand and a relaxed smile he rarely gets to see on her face.

Mel looks beautiful tonight. Not in the dramatic way that steals the air from the room, but in the kind that makes him stare without realizing. There is something about the flush in her cheeks, the easy way she laughs with her friends, the looseness in her posture, like she has finally let go of whatever weight she usually carries. She looks light, happy, and just drunk enough to let herself be carefree for once.

A sharp tap to his leg brings him back. He glances up to find everyone staring. Garcia raises her eyebrows and nods toward the bottle. It is pointing directly at him.

Mel freezes, eyes wide, then lets out a quiet, uncertain laugh and leans back just slightly, like she is already bracing for rejection. Langdon frowns at that. She really thinks he wouldn’t want this? He scoffs softly and motions for her to come closer. She hesitates, then crawls across the floor and settles beside his legs, wedging herself between Garcia and Mateo.

“I can just kiss you on the cheek,” she says quickly.

He almost laughs. “Don’t be silly, Mel.”

She blinks, startled, like she genuinely believes he doesn’t want to kiss her. Seriously? She really thinks he doesn’t want to kiss her? His best friend. The person who saw him at his lowest and stayed anyway. She has no idea how much he wants her.

He reaches for her wrist, guiding her closer until her knees brush his. His other hand comes to her cheek, fingers sliding into her hair as he tilts her face up.

“Tell me if you get uncomfortable,” he says softly.

As soon as she nods, he kisses her slowly at first, testing. He presses into her gently, then deepens it, his hand slipping behind her neck to keep her close. When she lets out a quiet breath, he kisses her again, this time with intent. His tongue grazes hers, and he swallows the soft gasp she gives him, pulling her fully against him.

 Everything else falls away. Until a loud cough snaps through the air beside his ear, causing them to break apart. Mel flushes and buries her face in his chest as Garcia grins, clearly pleased with herself.

“Damn Langdon,” she mutters, amused.

Langdon looks down at Mel, and then their eyes meet. They share a quiet, warm smile.

“I think we’ll sit the rest out.”

[smolfangirl]

mel/frank | 683 words | rated g | ↳ for day thirty: bottle of the august @kingdonmicrofic challenge/@kingdonmacrofic

The little pill bottle is waiting for him in the nightstand, innocuous, right next to his reading glasses.

Except Frank has been tracking every medication coming  into his house meticulously, ever since that particular clusterfuck almost cost him life and limb.

And he sure as hell doesn’t recognize that one.

Coming closer, he takes it in hand and immediately feels the need to dive into traffic.

“What the everloving fuck, Abby?”

She at least has the decency to look ashamed.

She is on her side of the bed, already in pajamas, pretending to read the same book she had on her nightstand for at least three months.

He shakes the bottle at her desperately.

“It’s been eleven months, Frank”, she explodes.

That can’t be right, absolutely not. He would remember if he hadn’t fucked his wife during a whole fiscal year.

“At first I didn’t want to pressure you”, she rushed out, red hair falling from her sensible bun.

“I know things were not great for us after Millie and your injury and the new house. And then you were stressed because of senior year and the bills and…” she hesitates to finish, looking at him warily. 

It makes him unreasonably angry, the way she always tiptoes across the elephant in the room. It’s an ugly feeling, he knows.

He was the one who fucked over their family by getting addicted to fucking benzos, she didnt need to stick it out with him.

“My drug problem. You can say it.” The defeat in his voice must urge her to get on with it.

“I heard it’s common for men to have, you know.. problems after dealing with addiction. Some people in AI-Anon had the same issue with their partners”. She scooched closer to the edge of bed, patting it encouragingly. 

“And I know you must be stressed with going back to work but I am trying here, Frank. You are never home in time for dinner, I lay on your side in fucking lingerie and you turn right over to sleep. We don’t even kiss anymore and you don’t even fucking notice.”

She went in a group setting and talked to other people about their sex life. Their lack of a sex life, specifically.

Frank must’ve pissed off someone very important in the cosmic food chain to deserve this shit. His face must have been doing something funny, because Abby switches her tone promptly to defensive.

“I know you wouldn't want to talk about it, so I just…” she trails off, looking at him despairingly. 

“You just what? Bought a bottle of Viagra at the corner pharmacy, placed an order with the sunscreen and the kids inhaler?, he asks. She says nothing.

“What was the plan here, exactly?” His voice is not sounding too good either.

“Put it there so I can take like a nightly supplement?, slot it in along with the SSRIs?”

“I don’t know, Frank. I just had to do something.”

“You are right, Abs. I have been tired. I have been struggling to fit in with Robby breathing down my fucking neck and pissing in cups every damn day. I have no fucking energy anymore”.

He is not exactly lying, is the thing.

Frank has been having a very tough time reacclimating at work. He does piss in a cup almost every day. He has no energy because he spends all of his downtime fucking Mel on the side.

“Maybe you could see someone?” she suggests, gentler than he deserved.

He was already seeing someone.

Their problem in the last three months is not physical. He feels like he would be cheating on Mel with Abby,is the thing. Which is so absolutely bonkers crazy it sends him spinning out again. 

How can he in good conscience touch another woman, with the memory of her smile, her perfume so close to the surface?

His baby girl deserves the best, always. No way he could do something like that to her.

“I’ll make an appointment, well’ sort this out”.

Abby smiles gratefully.

An appointment with a divorce lawyer, that is.

[smolfangirl]

mel/frank | 500 words | rated t | college au ↳ for day thirty: bottle of the august @kingdonmicrofic challenge

“Never have I ever had a twin.”

Quirking an eyebrow, Mel asks, “That’s the best you can come up with?”

Instead of handing her one of the wine glasses, Frank passes her the entire bottle as he shrugs. 

“Drink, King. Them’s the rules.”

She rolls her eyes but, because rules are rules, she takes a sip from the bottle just the same, wincing a little at the taste. She’s never been much of a wine drinker. Well, really, she’s just never been much of a drinker in general. 

Today, for her twenty-first birthday, she is making an exception. 

For him, she is making all her exceptions. 

“Never have I ever,” she says after she’s taken a couple of seconds to think, “gotten drunk.”

“And you called me unoriginal,” he complains, reaching towards the bottle she is offering, but then he stops.

Quickly, he moves from his position on the couch next to her to sit down on the floor by her feet. Tilting his head back, long neck exposed, he looks her in the eye upside down. 

“Hit me,” he says. 

It takes her a heartbeat to understand. 

Her voice is thin when she tells him, “You’re going to choke.”

He shakes his head, his long fingers wrapping around one of her bare ankles and squeezing tight as he repeats, “Hit me.”

She is careful when she tilts the bottle right over his face. One of her hands is wrapped around the neck, while the other is flat against the bottom, supporting it. 

The wine spills slowly from the bottle, barely making a splash as it reaches his open mouth. She watches his Adam’s apple as he swallows, and swallows, and swallows. The image is so alluring she loses herself in it to the point of forgetting to measure how much wine she is pouring. 

Frank coughs as wine fills his mouth and dribbles from the corners of his lips. He straightens, making the red liquid travel down his neck and clavicle.

“Oh god, I’m so, so sorry,” she apologizes as she hits her open palm between his shoulder blades, trying to help him catch his breath. 

He waves his hand at her before wiping his mouth with it. 

“It’s okay. You did warn me.”

She joins him on the floor, putting the bottle down behind her and then turning back to look at him again. 

“Never have I ever tried to wineboard someone before,” he says.

She can feel her cheeks reddening at the comment, her face probably the same shade as the stain on the front of his white t-shirt. 

She doesn’t know why she says what she says next, if it is the alcohol, or the nerves, or a sick and twisted desire to keep making a fool out of herself. But her mouth opens and she blurts out, “Never have I ever been kissed.”

When Frank’s eyes widen and settle on her lips, it very much feels like they’re not playing a game anymore. 

[smolfangirl]

i’m obsessed with the mum from ponyo. driving single lane on a cliff edge? drift those turns in your nissan cube. husband has to work an extra shift? tell him to fuck off in morse code. pet fish turned into a child on your driveway? adopt her. town drowned in a tsunami? leave your 5 year old in charge, he’s the man of the house now

[smolfangirl]

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