ohsocoolappreciation

kait, 20s, she/they your favorite librarian’s favorite librarian kmsk8r on ao3

[rosie-tyler]

[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.

[kmsk8r]

tagged by loml @peachypitt to share a part of a wip! (and i think this is the one she wants out there :P)

tagging @ironcharliee @miracle-and-wonder @soulmaetes if you want to share of course <3

[kmsk8r]

@kingdonmicrofic day 23: milestone | 408/408 | rating: g (cw: discussion of grief + past loss of a parent)

Her cheeks are wet. Mel knows this before she even makes it to the staircase, before she makes it to the window she’s claimed as her spot, where no one bothers her.

Well, almost no one. 

She’s got at least ten minutes before Frank follows her up — he was with a patient, but she knows he’ll be by her side as soon as he can. Probably tearing through the department after Dana clues him in, too.

Curled up in her hideaway she sits, cheek against her knee, watching the world, hazy through lingering tears. Her breathing’s back under control, and the crying has stopped, but her nose is still stuffy and she sniffles occasionally.

The stupidest thing is they saved the dad; they hadn’t even lost a patient and yet—

It’s not stupid to have emotions. It’s human — it’s why she’s a good doctor. She should feel, but everything just feels more raw than usual.

Fuck.

She sniffles again, pulling her feet closer to her body, trying to make herself as small as possible.

There’s a warmth in the air that wasn’t there before and Mel knows that Frank is leaning against the wall next to her, quiet and waiting for whatever she needs.

“It’s been 16 years this month and well… it’s a stupid milestone, I know, but,” she exhales shakily. “It’s been longer without him than with him. And—and one day I’ll be older than he ever was and it just… not fair.”

Another sob shakes her frame and a comforting palm gently settles on her back. Mel twists her head, letting her other cheek rest on her knee as she looks at him.

“No, it’s not stupid,” he offers, along with an outstretched hand. Their fingers lace together effortlessly, and Mel squeezes in thanks. “Not if it means something to you. There’s no good amount of time with grief. There’s nothing wrong with feeling worse on some days.”

“We get so many car crashes, Frank,” she says.

“I know.”

“Sometimes all of it is hard,” she almost whispers. He knows what she means. Shouldering it alone, being strong for Becca, keeping her parents close to her amidst everything they see. Frank’s jaw sets, his eyes growing sadder, and he slides next to her in the windowsill, still clasping her hand. “I wish…”

That’s the final straw it seems as Frank envelopes her in his arms, hugging her close as he kisses her hair. “I know.”

[kmsk8r]

Rules: Shuffle your “on repeat” playlist and post the first ten tracks, then tag ten people 🎶

tagged by @fellowshipincynicism <3

a few of your own - noah kahan

headfirst slide into cooperstown - fall out boy

whatever you wanna - annabelle dinda

start over - 5 seconds of summer

fast car - tracy chapman

that’s all - genesis

paid time off - noah kahan

do what you gotta do - the band camino

stupid song - olivia rodrigo

too busy missing you - asha banks

i’m always tag shy :P but take this as your sign to say someone tagged you! and say i sent you! i love music send me your music

[givemearmstopraywith]

every day i wake up and drink my silly little coffee while God eats my heart like a pomegranate in front of me

[sunlightbuck]

u ok? your tags have been purely categorical recently

[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.”

[kmsk8r]

@kingdonmicrofic day 22: connect | 257/257 | rating: g (implied infidelity)

It’s an awful noise, really.

Metal connecting with metal, tinny scratching echoing in the empty, concrete structure. Each line sends a chill right through her, rattling her teeth, but she simply readjusted her grip, steeling herself for the next swipe. It’s almost over anyways.

The whole thing is easier than she thought. In hardly any time at all, she’d finished the passenger side and the hood, and now she’s almost done with the driver side. Black chrome paint, it seems, gives way to the flat edge of a house key surprisingly easily. She barely had to apply any pressure. Funny how something so permanent could be so easy.

On the drive over, she thought about going full Carrie Underwood, but no, Abby’s pragmatic. As much as she’d love to stab holes in his tires and take his old Victus bat — the one collecting dust in a corner in the basement — to every window and mirror, she wanted the car to work. She wanted him to drive around and let all of Allegheny County and maybe all of Pennsylvania know exactly what he’d done and that the woman he did it to was vindictive enough to brand seven jagged letters across the exterior doors of his 2022 GMC Yukon.

Maybe then he’d think about sneaking around after everything they’d been through. Maybe it’ll be him and her walking out to the car, hand in hand, eyes wide as they discover Abby’s handiwork. Maybe they’d feel ashamed seeing cheater so brazenly carved.

Maybe then, they’d remember about his wife.

[kmsk8r]

(when harry met sally x kingdon)

[fellowshipincynicism]

genuine question bc im super curious

is your favorite kingdon moment from

season 1

season 2

Voting ended onJul 22

(and i'd love to know what people's favorite moment is if you want to mention it in the replies!)

[kmsk8r]

@kingdonmicrofic day 21: lounge | 462/462 | rating: g

Richmond International Airport, USO Lounge, 2002

Her feet can’t touch the ground and the leather of the waiting room chairs is too squeaky for her liking, but there are fewer people in the secluded room than out in the concourse and Mel quite likes not having to press her palms against her ears to quiet the noise.

The Kings don’t travel very often. It’s her first time in an airport, and in an hour, her first time on an airplane, and there’s a strange twist of nerves and excitement in her stomach.

“I like your hat,” a voice sounds behind her. She turns to see a boy around her age peeking over the seats, two blue eyes trained on the logo of her too-big baseball hat. When she doesn’t say anything in response, he asks, “Why’s it say Richmond over the Braves logo? They play in Atlanta.” His nose wrinkles as he says it.

“No,” she frowns. “They play here. At The Diamond. It’d be silly if the Richmond Braves played in Atlanta.”

“Huh. Cool! Well, I really like baseball. North Carolina doesn’t have a major league team, so we mostly just watch the college teams.”

She nods as he rambles on, and it’s very nice, even if she doesn’t really know what he’s talking about. 

“Sorry,” he says suddenly, climbing over the seats to plop down next to her. “I’m Frank. My mom says I can come on strong.”

His hand hovers between them and she lets him shake her arm up and down until they dissolve into a fit of giggles.

“I’m Melissa,” she replies.

“Melissa,” he tries, but his front tooth is knocked out so it comes out more like Melitha. She laughs. “Can I call you Mel?”

Mel. That’s nice. “Yeah,” she smiles. “I think I like that.”

Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Center, 2025

Mel does not like waiting rooms. They’re so loud, but they’re a necessary evil of emergency medicine, and she needs to acclimate better.

She’s on a preliminary tour with an administrator, on her way to finalize some paperwork before her first official shift at PTMC, so she’s understandably distracted.

So distracted that she didn’t notice someone walking in front of her until she runs bodily into them. The world tilts and she grabs onto whatever she can, which turns out to be a very handsome man’s steady arm and his own scrub top.

“I like your hat,” he smiles when he pulls her upright, pointing up to the worn cap that’s now been knocked askew by their collision. “Virginia, right? Flying Squirrels.”

A strange sense of deja vu washes over her, and it only takes a second of staring into his familiar blue eyes for her to figure it out. 

“Oh,” she breathes. “Hi again.”

“Hi, Mel.”

[nicogayngelo]

day 20: stargazing // wc: 314 // for: @kingdonmicrofic // ao3

tags: university/college au, mutual pining

“It’s easy to forget how small we actually are,” Frank whispered.

Mel turned towards him, glasses pressed against the ground. He lay next to her, hands on his stomach, staring up at the night sky. 

Her stomach swooped when his eyes found her. Frank’s smile was small, crooked. He continued, “You know—when we’re in the lab, examining everything up close and focusing on the numbers and trajectories, it all feels close. Tangible.”

“But out here?”

“Out here,” he spread his arms, brushing Mel’s bare arm. “Out here, we’re just ants.”

She hummed, looking back to the heavens. Growing up, she’d always found comfort in the stars. When Becca and her parents were asleep, she’d sneak out to the garden and catalog the constellations. The Big and Little Dipper. Cygnus in the summer. Orion in the winter. It was a comfort that no matter what (regardless of what kids at school said or of how overlooked Mel felt at home), the stars were a comfort. 

The same stars that had been gazed upon for centuries. 

After her parents died and Becca became her sole care, the stars stopped comforting her. They mocked her—highlighting exactly how alone she was in the universe. No one came to save her. 

Mel wondered how she could put this into words. How to explain to Frank—this brilliant, silly, funny boy she met at the start of the semester in their Intro to Astronomy course, bonding over the fact that they were both pre-med seniors finishing out the gen-eds they’d avoided. How to explain that studying with him in the library or grabbing lunch in their breaks made her feel a little less alone. Watching him interact with Becca when he came over to finish a project gave her more hope for the world. 

Frank nudged her, his smile knowing and soft, “But at least the universe introduced you to me.”

[kmsk8r]

@kingdonmicrofic day 20: stargazing | 314/314 | rating: g

There are glow-in-the-dark stars stuck all over the ceiling of Mel’s apartment. Not just in her bedroom like you’d expect, but everywhere. Above the couch in the living room, in the hallways, pressed to corners of kitchen cabinets, over the front door. Little green constellations scattered across crackling off-white paint. 

Frank wouldn’t normally think much of it. They’re just another oddity; another loving, uniqueness of the King sisters. Something he can marvel at when Mel’s head nestles against his shoulder as a movie flickers on the television.

Except the stars don’t breach Becca’s room. They graze the doorframe, but don’t pepper her ceiling the same way they dot her sister's. Instead, they’re uniquely Mel's and they spill across the entire apartment, unabashed in their presence.

She never does tell him why they’re there.

That’s the thing about Mel. 

She has this funny habit of offering bits and pieces of herself, but never fully elaborating on them. She just unfurls her fist, showing off a shiny little pearl of who she really is, and deposits in your palm, walking away before any questions can be asked. 

It’s not because she’s secretive or private, he knows more than anyone that she’s an open book. Such unintentional flippance is only born out of people breezing past everything she’s ever offered before, and each time it happens, he slots himself right into the empty space, asking why or when or simply saying tell me more.

In a way, she’s kind of a constellation herself. A brilliant collection of light pinpricks, freckled and picturesque, imploring interpretation. There’s something beneath the straight lines, something that can’t be seen simply from stargazing, only learned through stories.

He’s grateful for each new star she shows him, even more grateful for what he finds in the negative space between. 

(He wonders if there’s room in the sky to slot in next to her.)

[kmsk8r]

@kingdonmicrofic day 19: heels | 151/151 | rating: g

Growing up, everyone around Frank always knew when it was going to rain. 

His mother would rub at her knees, grimacing as she ground her heels into the floorboards; his father would squint at the still-blue sky, hollering at him to pull the bikes inside; his brother would walk faster when the tree leaves rustled just right.

No one ever explained it to him — how they just knew. So he waited until he, too, gained this preternatural ability. 

He never did figure out that secret skeletal sense. The best he could ever manage is figuring it out right before the skies opened up. Sensing the pressure drop in the silence before that first clap of thunder. Always a touch too late, always leaving him gasping and soaked to the bone.

But the first time he sees Mel King, he suddenly understands exactly how it feels to know a storm is coming.

[rosenfinchzz]

My kind of woman 🎶

[kmsk8r]

@kingdonmicrofic day 18: parade | 347/347 | rating: e (college au academic rivals - sequel to feast, hate sex (kinda)) 

Mel keens loudly, her back arching up off the desk as Langdon pushes into her again. 

She’s not worried about her volume, no one’s ever on the third floor of the science building. Not on a Sunday, not when most of campus is nursing hangovers.

Ever since that day in the library, the first time she kissed him and she realized just how cathartic sex with him was, it’s been like this. Invigorating and hot and always under the pretense of a study session. No dorms, no parties. If it happened anywhere else it would mean something, and this absolutely does not mean anything. 

Her heels dig into the back of his thighs, wanting him closer. Deeper. She can’t help it.

“Someone’s impatient,” he teases, pulling his cock out of her to run it up and down her folds.

“Well, if you didn’t waste so much of Saturday in that stupid homecoming parade,” she grits out as he pushes back in harshly, breaking her words apart. “We really — fuck, just like that — really have to get this presentation done.”

He pauses, smirk spread wide on his face, and she hates that she finds it so attractive. “Uh huh.”

His eyes twinkle with something competitive she’s only ever seen in lecture halls or when they’re like this. It sends a thrill through her — a lingering, electric tingling underneath her skin. It’s just adrenaline or endorphins or any chemical composition she can blame other than what she really knows is happening. This can’t be anything. They’re supposed to hate each other. 

“Oh, but I think you liked seeing me up on that float,” he leans over her, body covering hers. “You were blushing so pretty.” His lips press to her cheek, then move to the other, teeth nipping at the already flushed skin. “Pretty, pretty pink.”

“Just— just move,” Mel whines, urging her hips forward, chasing some friction. “Please Fr—”

“Come on sweetheart, just say it.” His eyes search hers, frantic and pleading. “It’s ok to say it.”

When she finally comes, his name sits heavy on her tongue.