1-800-wreck-his-home

an adulter who can take care of her sideblog she 20s ao3

[kingdonspirits]

[kingdonspirits]

@kingdonmicrofic • Day 21: Lounge • 462/462 • Rated: M

•••

Obviously, he was hearing things—symptom of non-stop noise from living with children—but Frank had the hotel room for the evening. He ignored whatever clamouring his mind made up before he closed his eyes and lounged in the tub. Warm, soapy water hugged him while the noise became harder to tune out—

“Oh God, I didn’t—uh, oh wow… Dennis said the room was empty.” Frank swung his head to find Mel across the hotel room with only the glass wall separating them. She froze immediately but he found her gaze trekking towards the middle of the tub—no doubt imagining what was underwater—while her blush deepened before she yanked her eyes away. “So sorry, Dr. Langdon.”

“No sweat, Mel. It’s not like you built the place.” Still, she turned away and ran her eyes over anything away from the tub and he wasn’t going to get any privacy here anyway. “PTMC usually cheaps out during conferences and I never get any quiet at home so…”

She shook the thought away. “I’ve got the opposite problem, too much quiet that I start to feel lonely. But that’s not your prob—”

“Shit.” Under the foamy surface of the water, Frank ran his thumb over his ring finger to find it empty. “My ring—” he palmed the bathtub floor “—it must’ve slipped off ‘cause of the soap.”

“Here, I can—” she strutted over the same as she did towards an incoming trauma. Knowing Abby, this classified as an emergency, he lost his ring on a work trip once and she accused him of taking it off intentionally until he drove back to retrieve it from the hotel lobby.

Mel scrunched her sleeve above her elbow and dunked her arm to search through the tub with him. Any other coworker, any other circumstance, Frank would’ve denied the help but he knew Mel wasn’t the kind to make a fuss. This was purely clinical, not an HR violation waiting to happen. Still, he didn't mind her hand grazing his bare skin.

There was an extra pep in his step tonight. Dennis had never been in a hotel, let alone a fancy one with two big beds and an exposed tub in the bathroom. He didn’t understand why they designed the rooms that way but his hands were too full to investigate (he literally had several swag bags and an extra-large pizza blocking his sight). He swiped his keycard—cool stuff, by the way, he recalled telling Samira—and swung the door open to set everything on the counter. He turned the corner to find Frank naked in the tub and Mel sitting next to him with her arm suspiciously moving under the water near his groin—

“Oh shit—sorry, I’ll give you two space.”

[kingdonspirits]

@kingdonmicrofic • Day 20: Stargazing • 314/314 • Rated: M

CW: Infidelity, remorseless homewrecking

•••

Every story had three sides: one side, the opposing side, and the ultimate truth.

From Mel’s perspective, her conscience was clear. She never faced a moral quandary, never looked at anything she couldn’t keep, or took things without asking, let alone steal. All the lackings in her life filled itself or Mel simply trained herself out of her want for them. Mel had a pristine record. And she lived her life with that notion until last night in her best friend’s house where his wife called her a thief. Well, Abby used more colourful language—thieving, conniving, homewrecking bitch—but thief was the main takeaway.

Mel figured that made sense from Abby’s side of things. The woman who looked at her husband wrong, cozied up to him during shifts, spent nights in their bed. Yes, Mel was stealing—she stole glances, stole kisses, stole another woman’s honey, I’m home. He was a stain on her pristine record, a wretched mistake she welcomed between her legs whenever she needed the comfort.

When he kissed her for the first time in the ambulance bay after a difficult shift, she ignored the shift in her morals. He was helping her through a bad day. That was a kiss between friends. When he pulled her into his car weeks later and whispered things between her thighs, Mel thought he was a friend doing another friend a favour. Stress relief.

So when he finally fucked her and pulled her to his chest, Mel figured it was another friendly gesture. He lay over her with the full weight of his body over hers, tracing her skin. His whispers tickled her ear as he told her the love bites and moles on her body were nebulas and constellations, and he was one lucky stargazing bastard.

Ultimately, Mel knew she and her best friend were inseparable—a truth his wife recently learned.

[reciprocityfic]

@kingdonmicrofic day nineteen: heels | 151/151 | rating: e | warnings: explicit sexual content

He's never liked exhibitionism. Abby used to try to make out with him in the middle of her sorority parties in college; whenever he expressed his discomfort, she would pout and call him an asshole for making her look dumb.

So he can't explain how he's ended up in a club bathroom with his dick out, other than the fact that it's Mel. He'd walk across hot coals for her; fucking her in the middle of Javadi's 21st birthday party is an honor.

She wraps her legs around his waist as he lifts her dress, and she lets out the prettiest sigh he's ever heard as he slides his cock inside her. Her heels dig into his lower back, pushing him further into her.

And when she finally breaks around him – he pulses and spills into her moments later – he thinks that maybe he hasn't been giving exhibitionism its fair shake.

[leulahart]

caught that abby bug

after my last post i wanted to doodle some current day abby. one of my favorite abby visuals comes from @avocado-moon’s fic confidence game, when abby comes to the ER in the middle of the night in silk pajamas, boots, and her hair curled- truly foundational in my image of abby

[kmsk8r]

@kingdonmicrofic day 17: crowd | 317/317 | rating: m (sexual content) 

“It’s a 2.”

Frank’s pencil hovers above the paper. “You say that like it’s obvious,” he grumbles, scribbling a 2 in the box, erasing some other markings he’d made earlier in the puzzle.

“If you spent as much time actually doing the sudoku as you do watching me, maybe it would be obvious,” Mel muses, eyes fixed on her own puzzle.

Across the couch, he scoffs playfully, muttering something about multitasking. A self-satisfied smile curls up on her face at his feigned frustration; she’s found she quite likes when she can rile him up. Likes when slow Sunday mornings morph into something else. He’s laughing as he lunges forward, crowding her against the couch cushions. “I’ve created a monster,” he teases, kissing up her neck. 

“I think,” she replies, a sparkle in her eyes as his hands slip under the hem of her shirt, “you just met your match.”

The next Sunday, Mel finds the morning paper spread out in front of her on the marble countertop of their kitchen. The pencil in her grip wavers as she scribbles potential solutions in the margins. No, not seven, there’s already one in that row, she thinks, already flipping the eraser over, but it’s difficult to concentrate on anything other than the feeling of Frank pressed against her, one hand firm on her hip, the other moving steadily between her thighs. 

Lead hovers over the page, useless and hesitant, as his fingers curl inside her, hitting a spot that makes her knees buckle and her vision go a little blurry. He only presses closer, pace unrelenting despite her whimpers.

“Come on baby,” he whispers against her shoulder. “I thought you were good at multitasking.” The hand on her hip trails up her body, gathering her hair into his fist, pulling her head back slightly. She moans at the pressure, the angle. “What do you say? Met your match yet?”

[reciprocityfic]

@kingdonmicrofic day thirteen: smoke | 295/295 | rating: g

“Are you sleeping with Mel?”

He chokes on his drink.

“Jesus, Cassie. What a way to start a conversation.”

He checks the time on his phone, sees they have five minutes until their NA meeting starts.

“Why do you think I'm sleeping with Mel?”

Cassie rolls her eyes

“What, Cass?”

“You have been all over her since that ring left your finger.”

“I have not,” he mutters.

"Every time I see the two of you together – which is pretty much all the time – you have your hand on the small of her back, or are leaning into her side, or tugging on her braid. You’re always in her personal space, which is weird as shit, because Mel flinches away from everyone else. But when you do it, she just stares at you like you hung the moon.”

“She's my friend, Cassie.”

“Okay. Like…a friend with benefits, or?”

He rubs a hand over his face. 

“Do you really think this is an appropriate conversation to have at NA?”

“I'm just saying, where there's smoke, there's usually fire. And there's a lot of smoke with you and Mel.”

“Whatever,” he mumbles, and motions to the front of the room. “The meeting's starting.”

“That's not a denial,” Cassie observes.

“Cassie,” he hisses, pulling his phone out of his pocket. “The meeting.”

Finally, Cassie holds up her hands in surrender. He starts to move his fingers across the phone screen.

Cassie is on to us.

Mel replies almost immediately.

People were bound to figure it out eventually. Are you still coming over after your meeting?

He grins.

There's no place I'd rather be.

“Yeah, you're definitely sleeping together.”

He turns to find Cassie glancing at his phone. He rolls his eyes, but can't wipe the smile off his face.

[langdonmels]

day 19: heels

for @kingdonmicrofic | wc: 151 | rating: g

“Do you regret it?”

Stretched out on the sand-covered blanket, Frank looks over, brows furrowed. The setting sun reflects off the ocean waters and it makes his face glow. “Regret what?”

“Any of it,” she says, hugging her knees to her chest, heels digging into the sand. “Leaving Abby.” Her voice falters. “Me.”

“Mel.” He sits up, crawls closer. “Look at me please?” 

Inhaling, Mel closes her eyes, heart pounding in her chest. When he gently tugs on her hand, she finally manages to meet his gaze. His eyes look bluer than usual.

“Mel, I love you,” he says firmly, no hesitation. His thumb runs down the bones of her hand. “I could never regret spending the rest of my life with you.”

“Even though—”

“Yes.” Firmly, he pulls her closer. “Despite everything. I will always choose you.”

Mel crawls into his lap. In the embrace of his arms, she exhales.

[captainscurvyisajoke]

@kingdonmicrofic

Day 18: parade bang Word count: 258

AO3

“Frank Langdon, I swear to god, if you don't open that door…” Abby's loud voice threatened.

He wasn't sure what she would do if he didn't open their bedroom door —judging by the loud banging from her fists, she could probably knock the door down. It was incredible how much strength such a small person could have.

“You are overreacting,” he called through the door. It only made her groan and bang even harder. 

Jeez.

But really, she was overreacting. He was just lying in bed after a killer shift. Lights out, blinds drawn, comforter up to his chin. The kids were at school, Abby was at work… When the house was quiet, he finally got to rest. It made sense.

“Do you think I should leave?” Mel asked groggily from her spot on the bed, rubbing the sleep off her eyes and reaching for her glasses.

“No,” he reassured her. “Go back to sleep, sweetheart.”

It's not his fault Abby didn't understand that he rested better with Mel in his arms. Her body was covered only by one of his faded college t-shirts —that looked way better on her, and Abby hadn't even liked it— and their hips naturally settled together because somehow that was where they fit best. It drained all that skittery energy and left them calm and pliant.

He'd wait until Abby stopped shouting. It would be much easier to explain then. They didn't even kiss or touch beneath their clothes.

They were like siblings after all.

[leulahart]

The Last Five Eleven Years (Frank and Abby Langdon Version)

I love Frabby’s fail marriage so I had to draw them into my favorite fail marriage movie.

[avalonjoan]

day 18: parade

@kingdonmicrofic / cw: serious injuries/hospitalization / 397 words / ao3

There's something called VIP syndrome, in which wealthy or famous or otherwise important patients receive a different level of care than the standard patient. Sometimes it's a positive (as with nicer rooms with better views) and sometimes it's a negative (such as radiation from unnecessary imaging, done to give the impression of being thorough.) There's a uniquely challenging variation of the syndrome that comes with treating patients who are themselves physicians, where the patient may have input on their own care, or the care team may be overly cautious when looking after 'one of their own.'

Langdon's room, like all the others in the SICU, doesn't have much of a view, and Mel knows that every single millisievert the CT scanner blasted him with was done for the right reason. All the same, she knows that Langdon is getting a different type of care than everyone else on the unit; he's not just a VIP, not just any physician, but one of their own. Surgeons parade through all day, peeking at the chest tube (still fine) and the vent (still working) and the monitor (BP still steady, with the bleeding now stopped,) even though there's nothing to be done but wait.

By afternoon, Mel asks Langdon's nurse if there's any way to get the incessant visits to stop, and fortunately, everyone knows better than to argue with an ICU nurse. The visits stop and Mel is finally alone with Langdon, finally able to talk to him in the way she wants. She's already told him about the logistics—the kids are with their grandparents and Abby is flying home as soon as she can, but most flights are grounded by the same ice storm that sent a pickup truck sliding right into Langdon at the crosswalk outside the ER.

With all that aside, Mel takes his hand in hers. "I'm going to tell you a secret," she says. "When you met Becca, she said that I liked you—but that wasn't entirely true." She takes a deep breath, steeling herself. "I think I've been in love with you since that first day. And I know I can't do anything about it, but—I needed to tell you."

'In case this is my last chance' goes unsaid.

His face, by some miracle, is relatively untouched, and Mel leans in to kiss his forehead, just once, because she can.

[gabriellabolton]

@kingdonmicrofic | july 18: parade | 500/347 words | warnings: none | ao3

“Do you think this is a good picture for my Tinder profile?”

Mel looks up from her phone in slight alarm as Frank holds up his own to her face. They’re sitting on her couch, his legs spread out beneath him while hers are curled up against her chest. They’ve been hanging out in silence until he decided to drop that bomb.

“You’re creating a Tinder profile?” she asks, feeling slightly embarrassed at the wariness in her tone, but he doesn’t seem to notice it, just shrugging in response.

“It’s been a while since the divorce, and I think I’m ready to move on,” he says, and there’s something unreadable in his expression as he stares at her. “I guess this is the first step, right?”

She feels slightly disappointed, maybe even a little heartbroken at the idea, but she covers it up with a smile as she grabs the phone from him.

Looking at the picture, she purses her lips and frowns, before shaking her head. “This is blurry and half of your face is cut off. Also, there’s a stain on your shirt.”

Frank groans playfully, before reaching behind her and tugging at her braid. “Way to rain on my parade, King.”

Swatting his hand away from her, she hands him back his phone. “Sorry, it’s the truth.”

Looking down at the photo again, Frank grimaces. “No, you’re right. It’s just difficult to find a picture without my children or which isn’t my PTMC headshot.”

“Wait, I might have one,” Mel says, quickly swiping through her own phone to find the picture. Her heart aches a little as she texts it to him, because it’s her contact photo for him, a photo she cherishes a lot. Part of her feels possessive of that picture and doesn’t want to share it with other women. But it is a good one.

He’s sitting on this very couch in it, his dog next to him, a hand behind his head and a bright smile on his face as he stares at someone behind the camera – at her. His shirt is riding up slightly, revealing his happy trail. He looks gorgeous.

She watches him carefully as he stares at the photo silently, thoughtfully, and fidgeting a little, she tells him, “Trust me on this one, the ladies will all swipe right.”

He looks up at her, indecipherable expression on his face again as he moves a little closer to her. His eyes flick to her lips as he asks, “Would you swipe right?”

Feeling her face heat up immediately, she lets out an awkward laugh. “I don’t have Tinder.”

Frank hums in response, and she notices there’s a dangerous glint in his eyes as he murmurs coarsely, “You should get it. I’d swipe right on you.”

Cheeks still flushed, she rolls her eyes playfully, before averting her gaze and turning back to her own phone.

As she does, she doesn’t notice that he closes the app and deletes it off his phone.

[reciprocityfic]

@kingdonmicrofic day eighteen: parade | 347/347 | rating: g | warnings: implied infidelity

“I'm just saying, it's inappropriate. He's married, Huckleberry. And he's just parading her around the ED without a care in the world.”

As Trinity complains, Dennis glances up at Langdon and Mel, who are on the other side of central, leaning into each other and talking animatedly.

“It's so obvious what they're doing.”

“And what are they doing, exactly?”

It's a stupid question. But he asks it anyway, hoping the more Trinity has to say it, the more she'll realize how ridiculous she sounds.

“Huckleberry,” she scolds. “Don't be dense.”

“Look, you're so adamant they're…having an affair,” he murmurs, making sure to drop his voice even lower on that last part, keenly aware that Langdon and Mel are literally in sight, “but you've never caught them doing anything more intimate than high fiving.”

Trinity huffs.

“I mean, are you sure you don't just want another reason to hate Langdon?”

She scoffs, rolling her eyes and standing up from her seat.

“Fuck off, Fuckleberry. It's more fun to talk to Princess about this kind of stuff anyway.”

Suddenly, an incoming STEMI is announced over the loudspeaker.

“Mel and I have it!” Langdon shouts immediately, over the noise of the ED.

“Of course you do,” Trinity mumbles.

Dennis looks up to find Mel smiling brilliantly as Langdon reaches and grabs two sets of nitrile gloves, passing one to Mel and beginning to put on the other. Simultaneously, they begin to move toward the ambulance bay, Langdon doing that thing where he shortens his steps so Mel can keep up with him and walks backwards so they're still able to talk as they move around the department. They twirl around gurneys and nurses and supply carts like they're…dancing, or something. What did Trinity call it? A parade.

They rush past him. Langdon tugs on the end of Mel's braid before reaching down and placing his hand on the small of her back, leading her through the automatic doors and disappearing with her into the ambulance bay.

He stares for a moment, then shakes his head. Maybe Trinity has a point.

[kingdonspirits]

@kingdonmicrofic • Day 19: Heels • 151/151 • Rated: G

•••

Metal clinked on Mel's block heel and distracted her from Becca and Adam's conversation. Adam wasn't as talkative as Becca described but maybe he had nothing to talk to Mel about. Either way, the dinner already served its purpose. She met and approved of her sister's boyfriend. Done deal.

Now for the trinket at her feet. It belonged to the restaurant goers in the booth behind theirs. Mel picked it up and examined it. How does somebody lose a wedding band?

Mel wanted to return it immediately but the thud against the other table startled her into silence. Her ears picked up the voices—a married couple on the verge of separation perhaps—Mel couldn't hear over the clamouring and sizzling. Her curiosity snagged on the lady saying her husband's full name.

Frank Langdon.

Hm, Mel smiled to herself as she pocketed the ring, better to return it tomorrow after work.

[valevntine]

has a 17th century french woman alter ego, loves boba, has immeasurable amounts of whimsy, dr mel king every tongue that rises against you shall fall !!

[alissiaaaa00]

holy FUCKING shit

[cryingondowntime]

if taylor dearden were my coworker i'd make a fool out of myself on main too

[nenedotjpg]