Charlie

She/her | youthful 30something | anxious but who isn’t | ironcharlie on AO3

[ironcharliee]

Prompt: Balloon @kingdonmicrofic | 500 words | Rated G | 31/31 | Birthday Buddies (this takes place in the Birthday Buddies universe (Confetti, Laughter, Connect), no need to read beforehand, but it does help!)

“I have a birthday present for you.” 

Mel looks up to see Frank standing over her holding a balloon. He sits down next to her in the grass, taking her hand and tying the balloon around her wrist. 

“Only the best for my Mel.” 

Mel shivers—both from the breeze dancing across on her skin and the sound of her name on his lips. She’s been getting used to the sound again—a year of being inseparable is nothing compared to the seven years they didn’t speak, to the seven years where she didn’t know anything about his life.

“Thirty-eight today,” she muses, nudging his shoulder. “When did we get old?” 

“Excuse you,” he scoffs, “I am still young.” 

“At heart, maybe.” 

Frank laughs, and the sound makes her want to cry. Addiction and divorce and a hard-fought custody battle have taken years of his life, so hearing him laugh makes Mel’s heart ache. 

“I have made a decision,” Frank announces, taking her hands in his. “I decided that thirty years is far too long to keep a secret from your best friend.” 

“Oh?” Mel breathes, her heart beating faster. She wishes it wouldn’t, wishes she’d learned her lesson, but loving him is something she’d never figured out how to stop doing. 

“I,” he starts, taking a deep breath before saying, “I have had a crush on you for thirty years.” 

Mel stops breathing. 

“Since before we were friends, actually,” he continues, steadfastly not looking at her as her world turns on its axis. “It’s why I picked on you, I wanted you to notice me. And I couldn’t go one more birthday without telling you that I’m in love with you and I want to spend the rest of our lives together.” 

“Frank—” Mel chokes out, the word getting caught in her throat.

“And if this sounds suspiciously like a proposal,” he says, finally looking her in the eyes, “that’s because it is. If you’d like it to be.” 

“Frank,” Mel breathes, stunned. She thought they might be heading this way, especially over the last few months, but never did she think he would be proposing. “I love you,” she confesses, and something in her chest breaks open as the words she’s been suppressing for the better part of thirty years breathes fresh air for the first time. “I’ve always loved you. So yes, to your proposal, if you mean it.” 

Frank smiles deviously, reaching up to grab the balloon hovering above them. He pops it easily, and Mel jolts as something falls out and onto the grass. He picks it up and oh—

“Marry me, Mel?” 

Mel can’t wait any longer—she leans in and kisses him, pulling him closer by his scrubs. He kisses her back immediately, running a hand through her messy hair and tugging at the bottom of her braid, only breaking the kiss when she whines. 

Mel lets Frank put the ring on her finger and says, “Only if you don’t tug my braid.” 

[ironcharliee]

Prompt: Afterglow @kingdonmicrofic | 500 words | Rated T | 30/31 | Good Omens (Angel/Demon AU), this takes place in the Good Omens universe (Sparks, Gift, Smoke, Stargazing, Overwhelm) no need to read beforehand but it does help!

“We could have been doing that for thousands of years,” Frank pants into her chest. 

Mel runs a hand over his wings and he shivers. “I think the wait was worth it, don’t you?” 

Frank hums above her. They’re Celestial beings, they technically don’t need a break, but after the fourth time in maybe two hours, Mel needs a breather. Maybe not physically, but…spiritually. 

The afterglow feels Holy, and she wants to revel in it. 

“I can’t believe we did it,” he laughs. “I really thought the world was gonna end today.” 

“You were ready to run away,” she points out. 

“Run away with you, that’s very important.” 

She lightly traces over his face. “I’m glad you didn’t.” 

“I never would, angel,” he whispers. “Not without you.” 

“Who knew an angel could have this much sway over a demon?” she jokes. “Well I’ll be damned.” 

“It’s not that bad when you get used to it,” Frank says, flipping them over, adjusting his wings underneath him as he pulls her in. “What did you say today?” Frank asks when he’s settled her into his naked chest. “Do something or—” 

“Or I’ll never speak to you again,” Mel finishes. “It was the worst thing I could think of.” 

“That would have been truly heinous. The worst circle of Hell.” 

Mel chuckles, tracing nonsensical patterns into Frank’s chest. “Do you think,” she says after a few moments, “that this was all part of the Great Plan?” 

“The Ineffable one?” 

“That’s the one.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“We thwarted Satan today,” Mel explains. “This feels too huge to have been our own Divine Free Will.” 

“Are you saying maybe the Almighty planned this all along?” 

Mel nods.

“It’s possible,” Frank admits. 

“Do you think She knows?” Mel asks timidly. “About us?” 

“Well, us has existed for all of two hours.” 

Mel slaps him lightly on the chest. 

“Well,” he amends, catching her eyes, “two hours and six thousand years. We can give the Almighty at least a few more hours to try and catch up, angel.” 

Warmth lights Mel up from the inside. She loves being his angel. 

“Where did we even end up?” she asks, looking around at her surroundings for the first time. 

“Uh, a garden, I think? Anathema’s, maybe? She went off with Newt, I think.” 

“Do you want to go inside?” 

“No, never,” Frank says, pulling her in tighter with one hand and pointing up to the sky with the other. “I have the stars and I have you, there’s nothing more I could ask for.” 

Mel hums contentedly and burrows into his chest. She outstretches her wings and lays them over the both of them, her feathers intermingling with his—white and black, angel and demon all melting into one seamlessly. For the first time in a long time, she feels utterly at peace with Heaven, with Hell, even with Humanity. 

She curls into Frank’s side, and falls asleep. 

Because it ends, as it began, in a Garden.

[kmsk8r]

@kingdonmicrofic day 29: orchestra | 241/241 | rating: g

“Do you believe in alternate realities?”

A low hum vibrates in Frank’s chest. “Well, happy,” he squints at the clock, voice thick with almost-sleep, “2am to you too, honey.” 

Mel twists in his arms so she can face him.

“Well?”

“Maybe?” He responds. “Probably. Why?”

“Becca and I watched a weird movie. Infinite possibilities, timelines, just made me think.”

She watches his brow furrow in thought, considering. “Well, I’m glad we’re in this one.” 

Mel hums distractedly as he kisses her hairline. She tries to close her eyes, but after a moment she breaks the silence again.

“Do you — if there are alternate realties — think there’s a bunch of different versions of us?” She wonders, looking up at him. He’s not disgruntled by her inquisition; rather, he looks impossibly fond as she continues. “Like where we met in med school, or we both played violin in high school orchestra, or, I don’t know, we work in an office together somewhere or something.”

With each possibility, he smiles brighter.

“Yeah sweetheart, I’d like to think so.”

Her nose wrinkles. “Well, there must be some where we never meet then. Or—” She cuts herself off, not wanting to envision a world where they aren’t like this. “Nope, nevermind. Only the happy ones.”

He laughs. “So infinite possibilities, but only the ones where we’re happy.”

She makes a contented noise, snuggling closer. “Some infinities are smaller than others.” 

“Nerd,” he whispers, hugging her tighter.

[ironcharliee]

Prompt: Orchestra @kingdonmicrofic | 500 Words | Rated E for Explicit Sexual Content | 29/31 | Professional Musicians AU, Reverse Age Gap/Older Mel AU :) |

“You play the Debussy beautifully.” 

Frank looks up from his sheet music. Mel King—the Mel King, youngest violinist in the history of the New York Philharmonic—is standing in front of his music stand, holding her violin case and frowning at him. 

“Thank you, Miss King,” he stammers out. It shouldn't be so scary, his first week of rehearsals with the orchestra, but he’s only twenty-five, and it doesn’t matter that he’s a prodigy, that he already has his doctorate, that he earned his place here, it’s still nerve-wracking. 

Especially playing with other legends like Mel fucking King. 

“The Bartók as well,” she says, tilting her head at him. Her gaze is analytical, like she’s sizing him up, but it also seems like she’s somewhat impressed. She’s older than him—by how much he’s not entirely sure—but he knows that she’s been playing stages like this since before he’d even picked up a violin. She’s so ridiculously talented and also so attractive he might die if she keeps looking at him. 

“That’s very kind.” 

“You’re floundering with the contemporary pieces, though.” 

Frank nods. That is true. “I don’t have as much experience with contemporary—”

“Most kids straight out of the conservatory don’t,” she interrupts. “You’ll learn.” 

“I actually have my doctorate—”

“How old are you?” 

Frank blinks. “Twenty-five." 

Mel King smiles, her tongue peeking out from behind her teeth. “You can call me Mel.” 

Oh, Frank thinks. I’m in trouble. 

—

“You’re such a fast learner.” 

Frank hums, mouth occupied. 

“I knew you would be,” Mel pants. “I saw how fast you picked up the—faster, please—the Stravinsky and I knew you’d take direction well.” 

Frank hums again, the compliment sending pleasure through his synapses.

“And the way you play, your fingers on the strings, oh fuck, right there—” 

Frank angles his fingers and sucks—Mel moans, clenching down around his fingers, her back lifting off the mattress as she comes.

Frank sits back on his haunches and watches Mel as she comes down. She’s gorgeous—was gorgeous when she stopped by his music stand and coached him through the contemporary pieces, was gorgeous when she invited him to her apartment, was gorgeous when she sat herself down in his lap and kissed him. 

“In all honesty,” Mel says, breathing in raggedly, “I thought you’d need more lessons.” 

“Oh, I need more lessons,” Frank says eagerly. “Anything you wanna teach me, I’m a very good student.” 

“You are, aren’t you?” She appraises him again, looking at him intensely like she’s trying to figure out what makes him tick. Or maybe she’s trying to figure out what she sees in him, because Frank’s certainly not sure. “On your back,” she commands.

Frank makes his way hastily across the bed. He whimpers when she takes off his jeans and his underwear, and then fully moans when she takes off her bra and settles herself on his waist, notching his cock at her entrance. 

“Watch and learn, prodigy. Watch and learn.”

[kmsk8r]

@kingdonmicrofic day 28: pulse | 494/494 | rating: m (implied sexual content)

I. Radial

She learned to take a pulse when she was eight. Two fingers pressed firmly against the inside of her own wrist. Steady and patient as she counted the fluttering beneath her digits, staring ahead at the second hand ticking on the clock in the waiting room. Around 30, she lost count, too consumed in the soft insistence of the throbbing beneath her fingertips. Blood coursing through her in a constant rhythm, always cycling, returning to the same place. A silent reminder with every beat that I’m here. I’m here. I’m here. 

Mel wonders if Frank can feel that same throbbing as he holds her wrists above her head against the sheets. Both of them fit in one of his hands. A thumb on one side, his pinky and ring finger on the opposite, his pointer and middle fingers nestled in between her wrists, almost unconsciously, in the groove over her radial artery.

He’s such a practiced physician, is it second nature to count the beats per minute? Does he too marvel at the life — her life and blood — pumping beneath his fingers? 

II. Carotid

Frank’s lips press against her jaw. Then trail down her throat, languorous and slow, teeth and tongue finding a rhythm of their own. Achingly so. The blood in her ears only roars louder with each nip, each lathe, each kiss. 

She grips at the hair at the nape of his neck, finger nails scratching against his scalp. 

Her heartbeat is stronger there. The carotid artery runs right beneath the curve of the neck, right beneath thin muscles and thinner skin. Impossible to miss. He pulls back, eyes dark and fixed to a new purple mark under her jaw, a homing beacon to the jumping heartbeat she knows is visible under his gaze.

III. Femoral

He keeps moving lower, leaving spit and searing skin in his wake. Even when he veers off path, he keeps his hand pressed against her sternum. A grounding pressure where her heart thumps against his palm, tripping over every lingering kiss.

Frank’s teeth graze against her hip, drawing closer and closer to where she wants him most. On the way, he pauses, lips pressing into the crease where her thigh meets her pelvis. It’s ticklish, more than her neck, more than her hands, and she feels her leg twitch at the sensation before he pushes it back down again.

It’s intentional. It has to be. He’s mapping out her arteries, like she’s his very own cadaver to poke and prod at while he practices anatomy. She’d let him. She is letting him. Completely content to lay beneath his fingertips, to feel his skin over hers, his blood and hers rushing just beneath the surface. Their pulses course in tandem. We’re here, we’re here, we’re here.

He kisses the same spot again, hard. Hard enough to feel the powerful rhythm beneath the warmth of her skin. 

A beat created from the very organ she’d already given to him.

[ironcharliee]

Prompt: Pulse @kingdonmicrofic | 500 words | Rated T | 28/31 | Castle AU (this takes place in the Castle AU universe (Champagne, Gold, Crowd, Lounge) no need to read beforehand but it does help!) | General spoilers for Castle, specific spoilers for Castle Season 4, Episode 23 |

Frank looks over the homemade evidence board in his study. Pictures of Mel, her mother, Robby, and a myriad of evil men—some dead, some not—litter the board. Slowly, painstakingly, he takes every picture off the board, and throws it in the trash. 

He’s done.

Mel had started investigating again, and he couldn’t stop her. One clue led to another clue led to another clue and suddenly Frank was in her apartment telling her about the deal he’d made. 

“I was just trying to keep you safe.” 

“By lying to me about the most important thing in my life?” 

“That lie was the only thing that was protecting you.” 

“Langdon, I didn’t need protection, I needed a lead, and you sat on it for a year.” 

It didn’t even matter that she’d lied in return, that she’d never lost her memory, that she remembered every second of being shot and him confessing his love. 

Nothing mattered, because when he pleaded with her—“Four years, I’ve been right here. I love you, and if you care about me at all, please don’t do this,”—she hadn’t budged. Hadn’t wavered, had been steadfast in her quest for revenge. 

So Frank is done. He can’t watch Mel throw away her life, can’t contribute to it, can’t be a part of it. 

He’s just thrown the last picture away when he hears a knock on the door. He walks over, opens the door, and is shocked to find Mel, soaking wet and shaking like a leaf.

“King.” Not Mel, because that’s not what she is to him now. They’re nothing to each other, they’ve both made sure of that. “What do you want?” 

“You,” she breathes. “I just want you.” 

Frank blinks, and when he opens his eyes again, she’s crossed the distance between them, leaned up on her tiptoes, and kissed him. 

Frank tears his mouth away from hers. 

“I’m so sorry, Frank,” she whispers, her voice shaky. “I’m so sorry.” 

She leans in to kiss him again, but as soon as their lips touch Frank pushes her away again. “What happened?” 

“He got away, and I didn’t care,” she explains softly. “I almost died, and all I could think about was you.”

So she hadn’t…she’d—

“I just want you.” 

Mel leans in again, and this time there’s no hesitation. Frank kisses her back, running his hands through her wet hair and pressing her up against the door. Their mouths move against each other wetly, heat rising between their bodies, pressed together tightly. A little desperately, Frank kisses his way down her throat and unbuttons the first several buttons of her blouse. He kisses his way past her collarbone and into the valley of her breasts where—

There. 

A little oval scar to the left of her heart. Mel takes his hand and places his fingers right over it.

Thump thump. Thump thump. Thump thump. 

Her heart is racing, but the pulse is steady. Steady and fast and loud and— 

Alive.

[ironcharliee]

Prompt: Opalite @kingdonmicrofic | 500 words | Rated G | 27/31 | Witchy AU |

Ding ding. 

Mel looks up from An Advanced Guide to Medicinal Witchcraft to see a man enter the shop, looking very uncertain.

“Can I help you?” she asks, closing the book. 

“Yeah,” he says sheepishly, walking over to her desk. “I’m looking for a…a potion?” 

When he arrives Mel finds herself taken aback by his bright blue eyes. They’re beautiful—captivating, almost—and some part of Mel stands to attention. There’s something here, something about blue eyes, she just can’t remember it. Was it a prophecy she read?

“What kind of potion?” 

The man winces. “I don’t even know, I’ve, uh, I’ve never done this before.” 

Mel brightens. “A newbie, how lovely! Well, I’m Mel, and I can definitely help you.” 

“I’m Frank.” 

“Well, Frank, what do you need a potion for?” 

Frank goes into great detail about a woman named Abby, how she screams at him one day and then loves him the next, how they’ve broken up and gotten back together so many times he’s lost count, how every time he says it’ll be the last time but then he finds himself right back where he started. 

“And I’m done this time, I swear I’m done,” he finishes, “but it would be nice to be certain.” 

“Don’t worry, Frank,” Mel assures him, walking to the back of the shop to light a fire under the cauldron, “I know exactly what you need.” 

They chat idly as she gathers ingredients for strength, courage, emotional healing, even protection. He’s a doctor apparently, which is a beautiful coincidence, given that Mel specializes in healing magic. He’s lovely to talk to, and beautiful to look at, and by the time the potion is ready some half an hour later, Mel feels remarkably drawn to him, more so than any customer she’s ever had.

When the potion is ready, she pours it into two vials, wraps it up in a bag, and hands it to him. 

“Here you go,” she smiles. “Drink one sip of this every day for a month, and then the next time she comes back around, you shouldn’t have any desire to get back together.” 

“Thank you, Mel,” Frank says as she rings him up. “This has been really lovely.” 

“I’m so glad.” The light catches on something behind him, and Mel jolts. “Oh, here.” She walks across the shop and picks up a crystal. “This is opalite, it’s for mental clarity and emotional healing,” she explains, handing it to him. “On the house.” 

Frank takes the crystal from her hand. Their fingers touch, and Mel feels a spark of electricity zip through her body. 

By the look on Frank’s face, he felt it too. 

“I have a funny feeling I won’t need this for very long,” he smiles. 

“No,” Mel says, her heart thumping, the words of a soothsayer finally come back to her. “No, I don’t think you will.” 

Blue, blue, blue. 

Blue eyes, blue heart, blue skies. 

Blue, blue, blue. 

The man with no goodbyes. 

[kmsk8r]

@kingdonmicrofic day 27: opalite | 266/266 | rating: e (sexual content, cumplay)

“Holy shit.”

“Yeah,” Mel breathes in response.

It takes a second for the world to stop spinning and for Frank to really focus and look down at Mel, who is now sitting back on her haunches, opalite beads of his own pleasure dotting across her perfect tits. In the moment, he blacked out and he’s grateful that he managed to only hit her chest and not her hair or her face or oh my god.

Some buried, caveman part of his brain lights up seeing the aftermath of their experiment, him all over her, deriving a sick pleasure from claiming her or something, while the other part of his brain starts spiraling about why he’s thinking that in the first place.

“It doesn’t feel as weird as I thought it would,” she pokes at a glob below her shoulder, smearing his cum around her bare skin, delightfully unaware of his inner turmoil. “Like I thought I’d dislike the texture of it more, but it’s sort of nice.”

After a second of pinching the iridescent liquid between her fingers, she beams up at him, “Was it good for you?”

“Was it—” Frank chokes. “Yeah baby, fuck, I just— I feel like an asshole right now?”

Mel frowns. “Why?”

“I feel bad that I like it. Like I’m being a guy about it. In a bad way”

“Well, that’s silly,” she tilts her head. “I asked for it. You delivered.” Frank watches her swipe another bead off her chest, bringing her finger to her mouth and licking and his brain shortcircuits. “I think you’re thinking too much.”

[ironcharliee]

[kmsk8r]

@kingdonmicrofic day 26: whimsy  bang | 437/437 | rating: g

Somewhere above him, a door opens. Joyous laughter spills into the stairwell before it shuts again with a distant metallic bang.

Frank tips his head back against the wall, exhaling deeply.

He’s always liked the stairwell. Tucked out of the way, quieter than other refuges in the department. Before, he liked to climb to the landing and pace. Now though, he’s perched on the stairs, one foot planted firmly on the floor, the other two steps up. Arms firmly crossed against his chest. The smell of concrete, disinfectant, and dust heavy in the air.

There’s a voice in his head that reminds him it wouldn’t be weird if he joined his coworkers up on the roof. He was invited, maybe out of pity, but invited nonetheless. It’s been a long time since he was invited somewhere. Longer, still, since he’s heard from his coworkers — the so-called tight-knit family of the Pitt who had no issues leaving him in radio silence for the past ten months. 

Seconds pass by, and just as he shifts to push off the wall and head home instead, the door next to him flings open.

He startles, and lolls his head to see Mel stuck in the frame, frozen mid-motion like she didn’t expect to see anyone. She looks disheveled, hairs escaping her braid in thick tendrils, flyaways frizzing out around her temples, haloing her face in chaotic tangles of gold. Her glasses sit askew on her nose, framing the little mole beneath her eye more than normal.

“Oh!” She squeaks, nervously readjusting her bag, barely keeping it on her shoulder. “Dr. Langdon! Sorry— I didn’t mean—”

“Just me, Mel.” He smiles quickly, hoping to ease her nerves. “I don’t bite.”

Her shoulders ease down from her ears slightly. Good, he thinks. Progress. He nods to the spot next to him and sighs in relief when she takes his invitation to join him.

“You headed up?” He asks, gesturing vaguely upward.

She flinches, eyes fixed to the floor. “I, uh, I didn’t get invited.”

A small laugh huffs out, more disbelief than anything, but the noise dies in his throat when he sees she isn’t smiling. Instead, her lips form a tight line, and her eyes nervously shift around, never quite meeting his.

Him he understands, but her? Who would leave Mel out? 

“Fucking jackasses,” he breathes out, malice undisguised. Fuck that, he thinks. And fuck them. 

Frank stands abruptly, extending his hand. She hesitates only a second, then fits her palm firmly in his, letting him lead her out into the parking garage.

“What are we—”

“Starting our own celebration, Dr. King.”

[ironcharliee]

Prompt: Whimsy @kingdonmicrofic | 500 words | Rated G | 26/31 | meet cute at a rescue shelter au |

“I don’t get why you want a bunny.” 

Mel rolls her eyes. Trinity has second guessed this decision a million times, but Mel has remained firm. She always wanted a bunny growing up, and now she’s got her own job working from home, Becca’s settled in at the Center, and the apartment feels too empty. 

So, a bunny. 

“Can I help you?” the man at the front desk asks as she and Trinity walk through the door. 

“I called a few days ago, I’m interested in a bunny?” 

“Yes,” the man smiles. “I remember, you were interested in our older bunnies?” 

“That’s me,” she says, walking towards him, Trinity trailing behind. 

“I’m Frank,” the man says, outstretching his hand. 

“I’m Mel,” she greets, shaking his hand, “and this is Trinity.” 

“I’m here for moral support.” 

“No problem,” Frank laughs before pointing to the door behind him. “If you follow me you can take a look at who we have here.” 

Mel follows him through the door and down the corridor of barking dogs and yowling cats before finding herself looking at an array of bunnies. There’s white bunnies, brown bunnies, and even one excitable orange bunny, but Mel finds herself immediately drawn to a big grey bunny with ears flopped in front of their face, snoozing soundly in the corner of a cage. 

“Who’s this baby?” Mel coos. 

“Well, she’s not much of a baby anymore,” Frank laughs. “She’s five now, so she’s middle-aged.” 

“She looks like a baby to me. What’s her name?”

“Whimsy.” 

“Whimsy!” Mel exclaims. “See, Trin, now I have to get her, her name is Whimsy.” 

“She is cute,” Trinity admits begrudgingly.

Frank opens the cage and wakes Whimsy up, the bunny jolting awake and lazily stepping into Frank’s hands. 

“She’s very quiet,” Frank says, taking the bunny out of the cage. “Very chill.” 

Whimsy is adorable. She’s soft and fuzzy and curls into Mel’s chest immediately, making herself at home in Mel’s arms. 

“Can I take her home today?” Mel says softly, trying not to jostle Whimsy too much. 

“Absolutely,” Frank answers, looking at her kindly. “I have instructions for you to take home, but otherwise we can sign the paperwork and you can take her home.” 

“Hi baby,” Mel coos into Whimsy’s fur. 

Trinity moves closer, hesitantly petting the bunny in Mel’s arms. “She is adorable.” 

“See,” Mel smiles. “I knew you’d come around.” 

“And if you ever have any questions, just call back, I’d be happy to answer them.” 

Mel perks up. “Do you have a bunny?” 

Frank shakes his head. “Nah, I’ve got a very old cat who hates me.” 

“I love older animals.” 

“Me too. And seriously, if you ever have any questions…” 

“Do you work here every day?” Mel asks, confused. 

“No,” Frank says, shyly smiling. “But I could give you my number if you’d like?” 

Whimsy shuffles in Mel’s hands, snuggling closer to her chest and settling with a sigh. 

Mel grins widely. “I’d like that a lot, actually.” 

[kmsk8r]

@kingdonmicrofic day 25: overwhelm | 488/488 | rating: g (inspired by this series of posts)

From: Frank Langdon <flangdon24@gmail​.com> To: Melissa King <[email protected]> Subject: Bird Questions

Dear Dr. Melissa King, This might be a strange request, but my son (he’s 6) has suddenly decided that he wants to know everything there is to know about birds. I can keep up mostly, but recently we’ve delved into territory I cannot help with and my ex-wife is none too pleased at the amount of bird questions that are popping up as “emergency” calls in the middle of the night. You’re listed as the resident ornithology expert on the UPitt biology department’s website (with an impressive authorship list might I add); we’ve already tried the zoo, Carnegie Science center, and the National Aviary, so you’re our saving grace! I know you must be very busy and so sorry if you don’t have time, but would you possibly have time for a short video call to answer some pervasive and hyper-specific six-year old questions? I’d send you a list instead, but I actually think that would exceed the e-mail character limit. Thank you so much, and looking forward to your response. Sincerely, A very overwhelmed parent Frank Langdon

Re: Bird Questions

Mr. Langdon, This made my day!! Of course I’d be available for a video conference, I’ve attached my availability for the next two weeks if any of those times work for you and your aspiring ornithologist! I’m assuming you’re local if you’re scouring bird sites in the city, so you’re welcome to come visit the biology department as well, if a hands-on question session might be more helpful :) Totally up to you, I’m happy to do either! Best wishes, Mel King

Re: Bird Questions

Dr. King, Oh that’s perfect! Next Thursday afternoon works best for us — does 3:30 work? Is it alright if my daughter also tags along? She’s not into birds, but does like everything pink so if you have any pink pictures or something. Thank you for your speedy response, can’t wait to meet you! Best, A slightly less overwhelmed Frank Langdon

Re: Bird Questions

Frank, 3:30 on next Thursday is perfect, I’ll block it off. And yes, please bring your daughter! I have a flamingo plush in my office somewhere so we should be set :) And please call me Mel. Sent from My iPhone

Re: Bird Questions

Mel, Thank you again for our info session, Tanner absolutely loved it and Penny has started to join the bird talk so you’re very persuasive.  I actually had a different request and I’m so sorry to send this through your literal work email, but seeing as I have no other way to contact you I was wondering if you’d be interested in getting dinner or something? Just the two of us. Topics other than birds? Only if you’d like of course. Frank

Re: Bird Questions

I’d love that Frank :) My number is 804-555-8261. For any bird or non-bird related needs :)

[ironcharliee]

Prompt: Overwhelm @kingdonmicrofic | 500 words | Rated G | 25/31 | Good Omens (Angel/Demon AU), this takes place in the Good Omens universe (Sparks, Gift, Smoke, Stargazing) no need to read beforehand but it does help!

“Your father will not be pleased,” the Archangel Gabriel says before poofing back to Heaven.  

Everything is quiet. Even without Mel and Frank’s help, the young Antichrist had decided that life on Earth was worth saving, and thwarted Armageddon. He hadn’t needed Mel, or Frank—who had indeed come to help save humanity afterall—or any of the other people currently gathered. For several long moments it feels like they might actually have done it—but then Mel’s Celestial senses go haywire and the ground begins to shake.  

“What’s happening?” Adam yells.

“They told Satan, I can feel it,” Frank groans, collapsing onto the shaking ground. 

“There has to be something we can do,” Mel says desperately. The world can’t end now, not after all they’ve been through. “We can surprise him, try to overwhelm him—”

“It’s Satan, angel. There’s nothing to do.” 

Mel leaps for the sword that dropped to the ground when Adam destroyed the Horsemen. Mel grips it in her hand, outstretching it towards Frank. “Do something, or I’ll, I’ll—” she stutters, looking desperately between Frank and the sword, “or I’ll never talk to you again.” 

Frank’s eyes widen, the threat hitting him squarely in the chest. She’s not quite sure what there is to do, but Frank groans loudly, bellowing as he gets to his feet, throwing his arms in the air and releasing a holy miracle. 

Mel blinks, suddenly finding herself standing next to Frank and Adam in a desert, her wings unfurled. Frank had frozen time and popped them somewhere else—he’s done it before, usually for just a few seconds at a time as a cheap parlor trick, but he’s completely outdone himself.

“Adam listen,” Frank says, stretching his wings wide, “Satan is coming to destroy you, to destroy us all.” 

“I don’t know what you want me to do,” Adam cries, “I’m just a kid.” 

“That’s not a bad thing to be,” Mel says. He has the power of God for the moment, but he’s still just a child. “I was terrified you’d be Hell Incarnate, I’d hoped you’d be Heaven Incarnate—”

“But now you’re Human Incarnate,” Frank finishes. “You have the power to bend Reality right now, you can change things.” 

“Whatever happens,” Mel says, taking Adam’s hand in hers, “for Good—” 

“—or for Evil,” Frank says, taking Adam’s other hand. 

“We’re beside you,” Mel finishes, making eye contact with Frank and touching her wing to his. 

He smiles, nudging back, and then he closes his eyes and shouts, bringing them back to the present. Adam lets go of her hand, walking hesitantly towards where the earth is slowly bursting apart, but Mel’s hand is only empty for a few seconds before Frank fills it. 

She’s known Frank for millennia, but somehow, it’s the first time she’s held Frank’s hand. 

She likes the feeling. 

Mel’s gut twists desperately as the earth explodes and Satan bursts out of the ground, a hundred feet tall and burning with fire. 

“Where is my son?” 

[ironcharliee]

Prompt: Premiere @kingdonmicrofic | 500 words | Rated G | 24/31 | Notting Hill AU (this takes place after to wish, to hope, to expect, my Notting Hill AU, no need to read it beforehand, but spoilers of the Notting Hill AU!) |

“I just didn’t think it would hurt so much.” 

Mel sets her pint of ice cream on the counter. “Wait, it hurt you?” She knows why it hurt her—watching the premiere of Sense and Sensibility had brought back the melancholy ache she lived with the entirety of filming. But why would it hurt Frank? She was the one whose heartbreak and pining for him is now immortalized on film. 

“The movie is stunning,” he says, taking a big bite of ice cream, “you should win every award that exists, but it was not particularly fun for me.” 

“What are you talking about?” Mel laughs. “I thought you loved it?” 

“I did, don’t get me wrong,” he assures her, setting down his ice cream and putting both pints in the freezer before loosening his tie and making his way across the kitchen to her, “but I also may never be able to watch it again.” 

“Baby, what—”

“Okay, that’s an exaggeration,” he laughs, standing in between her legs and clutching her hips. 

Mel lets her hands rest on his chest. His heart beats steadily underneath her fingers—she’s used to the rhythm by now, but she still marvels at it from time to time, still marvels at the fact that she gets to wake up every morning to Frank. 

“I just kept thinking about how real this was for you,” he says. “You should be so proud, you are…effervescent in this film.” He puts two hands on her face and looks deeply into her eyes, saying, “It was just difficult to watch you in pain. It felt like I was the one making you hurt.” 

“You weren’t,” she says, leaning into his palm. “You didn’t. And anyways, we’re here now.” 

She tilts her face up, begging for a kiss, and Frank obliges her, cupping her jaw as he kisses her softly. When he pulls away, he’s got this look on his face he gets sometimes—whenever she asks he always says he’s so in love with her that he can’t breathe. 

“Breathe,” she jokes, pressing on his heart lightly. 

“Always good advice,” he says lightly, taking a step back from her and kneeling. “Marry me.” 

Mel laughs. “Frank, we already did this.”

“Marry me.” 

“Yes,” she agrees. It’s as easy as it was on the day he first asked, months ago, in the garden where they had their first date. 

“I want you forever,” he promises, standing and kissing her palm. “Endlessly. Indefinitely. Take every synonym for forever and add it all together, and that’s still only half as long as I want you.” 

Mel frowns, tears suddenly threatening to spill over onto her cheeks. She leans up to kiss him, his mouth soft against hers as she marvels at what a revelation it is to love and be loved by him. She breaks apart, letting her hands roam over his beautiful face, and wonders if you can still elope to Gretna Green. 

“Then forever is what we’ll have.”

[pansiesandposies]

@kingdonmicrofic Day 23: Milestone (500) WARNINGS: medically complex child, nanny AU, sexual content, age gap

You would think being a doctor, he would be more prepared for this. He’d noticed some warning signs, but things were so chaotic with rehab, then the divorce, then Abby giving him sole custody— “Penny isn’t hitting some of the developmental milestones we look for at her age. I want to run some more tests.” That had been three months ago. Now, Frank is a single father of two, a recovering addict, a full-time emergency department attending in a level one trauma centre and trying to learn how to properly care for his daughter and her needs now that she’s been formally diagnosed with fragile-x syndrome. In other words, he needs help. Badly. Trusting a nanny with his kids alone is hard, but trying to find one that’s on board with his intense schedule, who knows enough about caring for a child with disabilities to help Penny, and who is also able to give Tanner the attention he needs so he doesn’t feel invisible is almost impossible. Sometimes Frank has dreams that Mary Poppins will float down from the sky with her carpet bag and umbrella, there to save the day. It doesn’t work out exactly like that, but close enough. Mel King is 25, has a BA in psychology and is working on getting a doctorate in psychiatry. She knows intuitively how best to help Penny from the moment they meet and she talks to Tanner about her own sister, and how it had been hard to have a sibling who needed more help, but that she wouldn’t trade Becca for the world. Mel agrees to move into their spare room and work all but around the clock, while working on her doctorate remotely. She makes them all breakfast in the morning and works on sign with Penny to help her with communication. She sends Frank pictures of the kids playing in the yard and talks to him about whatever book she borrowed from his shelf to read once the kids go to bed. Mel is perfectly perfect, and it’s a problem. It’s a problem because Frank cannot fall in love with his children’s nanny. Not when she’s the only one keeping their family from falling apart at the seams. Not when she’s so kind to everyone she meets, not just the Langdon family. Not when she has never once flinched at Frank’s admission to being in addiction recovery. Some nights are harder than others, though. Especially nights when Mel’s on the couch across from him in a thin, large t-shirt and what appears to be little else. Especially when her foot drifts from being draped lazily across his lap to pressing into his hard cock. Especially when she makes eye contact with Frank as her hand dips between her legs. It’s fine. As long as he doesn’t fuck her, as long as he doesn’t cross that one last line in the sand, it’ll be fine. Then again, he’s learning that Mel always gets her way in the end.

[ironcharliee]

I was doubly tagged by @peachypitt and @kmsk8r to share a wip!! And since Kait specifically requested a bit of my omegaverse fic I’ve been working on for six months, here’s an excerpt from C.L.A.I.M., coming to an ao3 near you whenever I get my life together and finish it 🫠

I’m tagging @langdonmels and @starkovzova if you want to share a wip I wanna read it 🥰

(There was no easy way to cut this, so please excuse the four screenshots and a thousand word excerpt 😭)

[ironcharliee]

Prompt: Milestone @kingdonmicrofic | 500 words | Rated G | 23/31 | Survivor AU (this takes place after if you can, if you can, my kingdon Survivor AU, no need to read it beforehand, but spoilers for the Survivor AU!) |

[transcript of interview with Dr. Mel King and Mr. Frank Langdon at the Survivor 50 premiere on February 25th, 2026 with Emma Nolan for Entertainment Weekly]

Emma Nolan (EN): Mel, it’s been a whirlwind few months for you!

Mel King (MK): It has! 

EN: Can you take me back to what that was like? Getting engaged, winning Survivor, and then immediately getting married? 

MK: It’s still pretty surreal, to be honest, I never expected it—

EN: To win Survivor or get married on live television? 

MK: (laughs) I guess both. But at least the win I was mentally prepared for, even if it was still absolutely crazy. 

EN: And what do you make of this milestone season, Season 50? 

MK: I think it’s going to be amazing! I’m excited to see what Samira and Parker get up to, I’m really rooting for both of them. 

EN: Did you get a heads up, did you know they’d gone back to Fiji immediately after your season?

MK: No, actually! I found out in the fall when it was announced, like everyone else! 

EN: And were you called back for 50? 

MK: Kinda? I think they asked me if I was interested in Ponderosa, but I was a little…preoccupied and they moved on from me pretty quickly. 

EN: Preoccupied? 

MK: Well, I—

[Frank Langdon enters and kisses Dr. King on the cheek]

Frank Langdon (FL): What she means to say is that I was distracting her. 

MK: (laughs) You’re a very demanding person, what can I say. 

EN: And you, Frank, were you asked back for season 50? 

FL: I was, actually! Got an official ask and everything. 

MK: You did? How do I not know this? 

FL: Well, I told them no. 

MK: Well, obviously. But how come—

FL: I told them I had more pressing business back home. 

EN: What was the pressing business? 

FL: Wooing my wife. 

MK: Aw. 

FL: And would you believe, I didn’t woo her until the fourth of July, so I could’ve done season 50 anyways. 

[Dr. King smacks Mr. Langdon lightly on the chest]

MK: You didn’t want to go back anyways. 

FL: (laughs) No, I didn’t.

EN: So fans can’t expect a second chance for either of you? 

MK: For me, definitely not. I did everything I set out to do, even something I didn’t ask for—

FL: But that was the best part right?

MK: Oh, no question. 

[Dr. King kisses Mr. Langdon on the cheek]

MK: But I won the game and got a husband out of it. I’ve done everything I need to do with Survivor, and besides, I hated the sand out there. And sleeping on hard bamboo? I’m good. 

EN: What about you, Frank? Are you done with Survivor? 

FL: For the moment, I’m done as well, although I think I would definitely play better a second time around. 

EN: Well congratulations to you both, and have a lovely night tonight! 

MK: Thank you! 

FL: You as well! 

[ironcharliee]

Prompt: Connect @kingdonmicrofic | 500 words | Rated G | 22/31 | Birthday Buddies (this takes place in the Birthday Buddies universe (Confetti, Laughter), no need to read beforehand, but it does help!)

“You’re getting married?” 

She only just got Frank back—after ten years of phone calls and facetimes and rushed visits and being on opposite coasts for undergrad and med school and early residency, he’d finally moved home, she’d finally gotten him back. 

And now he’s getting married? 

“Abby’s pregnant,” he says, running a hand through his hair and pacing. “What am I supposed to do?” 

“I don’t know,” she squeaks. She always thought someday they’d figure it out, that all his girlfriends were just temporary, and that maybe he’d figure out that he loved her too. But now his girlfriend—his supposed to be temporary girlfriend he’s only been dating for six months—is pregnant and they’re getting married? 

That’s not how this is supposed to go. 

“Do you even want to get married?” Mel asks, grasping at straws. They’re twenty-eight today, she supposes it’s not a bad age to get married, but they’re still in their residency for god’s sake. She couldn’t imagine getting married right now, let alone having a kid. 

“I don’t know,” he answers, exasperated. “I always thought I’d get married, someday, I just didn’t think—” He looks away from her and puts his hands on his hips. “I didn’t think it’d be now. With Abby.” 

“You don’t have to do anything,” Mel points out. “You don’t have to—” 

“What would you have me do, Mel!” Frank yells. “Abby is having a baby, my baby, and I’m just supposed to not be a part of the kids life? Or figure out custody and only see the baby a couple weekends a month?” 

“No, of course not,” she agrees. “I just…I don’t know, we’re in residency, we’re so young, I didn’t think—” 

“Can you think of any reason why I shouldn’t marry Abby?” 

Mel’s eyes snap to his. The question comes out of nowhere, but there’s weight to it, desperation to it. Frank’s looking at her like he’s waiting for something, like he’s waiting for her to connect the dots, to say something specific, but her mind goes blank. 

Everything Frank’s said makes sense. He likes Abby, she’s a kind and loving woman who is having his child, why wouldn’t he get married to her? And he’s always wanted kids, why wouldn’t he want to have a baby, this baby, with Abby?

So what if she loves him? So what if she’ll never love anyone else as long as Frank Langdon roams the earth? Frank wants this, and Mel could never take this from him, not ever, no matter how much she loves him and always has. 

“No,” she says softly, shrinking away from him. “No, I can’t.” 

Frank’s face falls. He puts a hand over his mouth in disbelief, his eyebrows raising, the breath huffing out of him like he’s been punched in the gut. 

“Okay then,” he says after a long moment, refusing to look at her. “If that’s what you want, Mel, then okay.” 

“Frank, what do you mean—”

“Happy fucking birthday, Mel.”