Aug 2, 2025
@kingdonmicrofic august 2nd, ice cream (word count: 470)
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@kingdonmicrofic august 2nd, ice cream (word count: 470)
@kingdonmicrofic day 20 | candle | 447/447
Frank is pretty sure there's yellow frosting in every room of their house, thanks to the blabbering blonde baby currently unsteadily zooming from room to room in her birthday suit.
“Mattie,” he calls, voice singsongy and silly as he peeks around the corner into her bedroom. There's yellow smeared on her new purple bunny, and sprinkles stomped into the carpet by little feet.
He can't be mad though, because she giggles that high-pitched little squeal and smiles up at him with her copycat-Mel grin. His heart swells impossibly bigger as he quickly crouches down and steals her up, her little fingers poking into his chin dimple. Tanner and Millie used to do it too, but they've long since outgrown it.
“C’mon, one-year-old princess,” he grins. “Let's have a bath so you aren't so sticky, and then it's time for your favorite part of the night.”
@kingdonmacrofic Day 29: Sandcastle (8,615/333 words)
Warnings: is nsfw, hurt/comfort (happy ending, I promise)
Mel's just lifted the bucket off the final sand castle tower when, from one blink to the next, the entire structure is kicked apart.
It takes her a couple seconds to process, staring down at the pathetic remnants of what she'd been creating for the past hour and a half. She finally looks up to the assailant, a boy her age (a respectable eight), whose looking down at the ruined castle, mouth hung open. She can feel her nose burning, and she thinks she's doing a great job at trying not to cry. "Why'd you do that?" She crosses her arms over her chest, standing up. She's irritated to see he's taller, making her have to tilt her head. He frowns, blue eyes going glassy. "I'm sorry, I kind of thought it wouldn't do that. I didn't mean to." He glances down, sees one of her shovels and grabs it. "I can help you rebuild it?"
Mel pretends to consider, puts a finger on her chin and makes him wait. She's seen her mom do this to her dad alllllll the time and it always makes her dad look super nervous. It has the exact same effect on him, but he even starts shifting in place, so she counts it as a huge win. "Okay. Just no more kicking." Decided, she sits back down, beginning to shovel sand into her bucket again. He helps, and it makes her happy seeing how much faster building the castle goes with two people. She had tried to get Becca to help but her sister was adamant about sitting in the shade and people watching. Mel was cross towards her for two seconds until she felt too guilty to be mad. Becca was impossible to stay mad at.
"What's your name? I'm Frank." He holds out his hand, and she does her best at a quick hand shake. They've always felt weird to her. "I'm Melissa, but everyone calls me Mel." She wrinkles her nose, studying him. "Frank is an old person name."
Frank shakes his head, narrowing his eyes at her. "But I'm nine! That's not old."
She shrugs, not particularly convinced. "I don't make the rules." He sighs, and she realizes this is probably something he hears a lot. "Sorry. I didn't mean to hurt your feelings."
"It's okay, I forgive you." He lays down another tower, smoothing down one of the edges. "How long are you here for?"
"Two more days! We've been here for three already! And my Dad said we're gonna come back next year too!" He gasps and leans closer. "Me too! We should totally meet up here tomorrow! I can bring my boogie board."
They spend the rest of the vacation connected to each other's sides. They alternate between building sand castles, attempting (and failing) to balance on his boogie board, and with their parents watching, swimming in the ocean. Sometimes Becca joins them and she worries at first that maybe he won't be nice, will exclude her, but he doesn't hesitate in involving her in everything they do. That puts him firmly in her best friend category, which before him included Becca and her neighbor's cat Stanley.
Mel gets his Mom's number on the final day. They live in different states which devastates them both until they're reassured they can call.
They're both busy between school and its not always easy calling with the timezone difference (an hour, which doesn't seem bad until its 7:30pm for her and he's already in bed.) But they both call at least once every couple of weeks, and it never feels hard to talk to him. Even when one time he talks almost exclusively about sharks the entire call, which she knows nothing about. She's checked out and read three books on them by the next call.
He (through his mom) sends her a gift for her birthday, a bracelet made of seashells. Mel doesn't wear it often, too afraid of breaking it, but she keeps it in her jewelry box and periodically holds it, admires the shape of the shells.
The next summer is much like the first, she brings her sand castle building supplies and he brings a new boogie board. Sometime within the last year he lost the original in his parent's garage, and it was easier to just buy another. Despite the new one being bigger, they still wipe out just as much, if not more. They tell each other things missed in the phone calls, and Mel hates that the days pass as quick as they do.
She's waited to give him his birthday gift until she could see him in person, a small shark stuffed animal she saw at the mall. He's not as focused on them, but he still grins, hugs her tight when he sees what it is. Becca tells her she has cooties now, and she doesn't talk to her for twenty whole minutes, a new record.
Life goes on year after year, and summer after summer they meet at the same beach, spend five days in each other's company before its back to phone calls. They've increased in frequency with age, and once Mel gets her own phone (she's 13, he's 14 and has had one for almost a year), they start texting too. Most of it is forgettable, silly little messages about their day and selfies with dumb filters. They're in the awkward stage of life where everything is weird, most things are embarrassing, and they hover between actions that as kids seemed fine, but all of a sudden it doesn't feel entirely platonic for Frank to tickle her sides until she's gasping and out of breath.
Worse, she's realized that somewhere between last summer and now she finds him cute. In a non-platonic way. Even with his gangly limbs and the braces and acne. He's her best friend, the person that knows her best (besides Becca) and she sometimes really wants to kiss him.
They don't build as many sandcastles, and the boogie board is mainly something he does to make her laugh. Practice doesn't always make perfect, based on how he eats it over and over in the wet sand.
She doesn't try to kiss him, doesn't do anything but completely normal, friend-like things. It makes her ache a little, how much she realizes she likes him.
Another summer is down, and the second they make it back home, she comes clean to Becca. Who doesn't seem to understand what the big issue is. "Why don't you just kiss him? That's what they do in movies."
There's a thousand reasons why she can't, the main one being her fear of losing the most important person she has in her life. But she doesn't know how to properly portray that to her sister, who believes wholeheartedly in true love and fairytales.
They talk a little less once he tries out and makes the soccer team. He's good at it (at least from what he tells her, she knows nothing about), and he sends her selfies post-game, unaware of how it makes her feel dizzy and unmoored. Worse, he starts talking about a girl he met at school, Abby. The way he describes her, she's perfect, long black hair that she styles in waves, tall and flexible and really, everything Mel isn't. Her hair doesn't hold waves unless it's after she lets her braid down, isn't tall, and she's definitely not perfect.
But she pushes down the jealousy that eats her alive and gives him tips, even though she's in no position to do so. He's grateful regardless, and it isn't that long until he tells her about the dates he and Abby go on, first to the movies, then the bowling alley, then the zoo, so on. Mel wipes away the tears when they come, tries to ignore the heartache, and at night, she holds the seashell bracelet to her chest, runs her thumb along the edges, worn from all the past touches.
Frank asks her, once, about her love life, any crushes she has. Lack thereof, aside from the obvious. Is unintentionally cruel with his teasing. Apologizes after she doesn't answer him for two days, and sends her a video someone got of him face planting during a soccer match. She forgives him, and he doesn't ask her again.
She's 14, he's 15 the summer he brings Abby with him. His parents were generous and asked her if she wanted to tag along, and she accepted. Probably with a flutter of her lashes and a demure smile. (She's not a mean person. But sometimes she has mean thoughts.)
Gone are the sandcastles and the boogie board. She spends the five days mostly with Becca (who is lovely and kind and doesn't say anything about her obvious pouting), and there's one day she doesn't see him at all, choosing to walk the pier by herself, feels like her heart's being rubbed raw by the sea's salty breeze. He isn't mean about it, she knows him and knows he wouldn't intentionally ignore her, but in the end there's an obvious winner in who he sticks by. The last night before they leave, she's sitting on the beach alone when she hears footsteps approach.
She wants it to be Frank, but she sees sandals, and her heart beats faster, face flushing prematurely.
"You don't hide your feelings well. How Frankie doesn't notice is a mystery." Even Abby's voice is beautiful, feminine and what she wishes her own was like. She stops at Mel's side, stays standing. "But I do appreciate you knowing your place. I don't mind him having friends, even ones with little crushes." She lays a condescending hand on her shoulder, and Mel wants to tear her skin off, feels bile in her throat. "As long as you remember that, I think we'll get along."
She pats her shoulder, once, twice, before she leaves. Mel can't hold it in anymore and wraps her arms around her knees, hides her face and sobs.
They still talk, but everyday conversation turns into every two days, then every three. Half the time it's Snapchat streaks he sends to everyone, and she doesn't bother replying. He posts photos of him and Abby, and it's like a bruise she doesn't let heal everytime she clicks on the notification that he posted.
Becca doesn't know all the details, but she gets frustrated a couple times with her, doesn't understand why Mel's a coward that's choosing to run. She puts more energy into school, and doesn't care that she's the weirdo smart girl in her grade. Her parents ask about Frank, how he's doing, and she lies when she tells them he's good, makes up stories until they're satisfied.
Five days go from feeling too short to feeling too long. She avoids him most of the trip once more, sees a glimpse of long black hair and turns the opposite way. The good news is it means she explores, finds a family owned bookstore she spends most of the trip in. In another life, she imagines bringing him with her, letting him kiss her against the bookshelves. It's a silly fantasy she doesn't linger on, since it just hurts her anyway.
She's back on the beach that final night, but this time she's laid out a towel so she can watch the stars. She hears someone approach, and she feels a surge of frustration. She has no idea why Abby would need to talk to her, considering she barely said two words to her the entire trip. She stayed away from Frank. She doesn't know what else she can do.
She flinches when it's his voice she hears. "Mel." He sounds angry, tone hard, something she's never had directed at her. Her stupid nose starts burning. She's stubborn, keeps her eyes on the night sky above her and doesn't say anything.
"Mel- come on, you can't ignore me. Or I guess you can, since that's what you've been doing this entire trip. I don't know what I did to you."
If she doesn't look at him, the tears blurring her vision won't fall. She won't have to see the look on his face. "Sometimes people just drift apart, Frank. Just something that happens. We were lucky enough to make it as long as we did, for a thousand reasons."
Her voice is low, shaky and she knows she isn't convincing anyone with it, let alone him. She can hear him start to pace, sand shifting underneath his feet, until he stops and huffs. "Not us. It wasn't supposed to happen to us."
She finds that a little funny, can't hold in the cruel chuckle. "Well, it did. We're two different people now. I don't build sandcastles anymore."
He's silent for long, painful seconds, before he speaks. "Yeah, I guess you don't."
The stars feel cold, after he's gone. After a couple minutes, she grabs the blanket, leaves the beach and the stars behind her.
She doesn't know it then, but it's the last time she'll see him for a long, long time.
Her mom gets sick, goes from good to bad to dead within months. Becca stops talking to anyone, won't say a word to Mel or their dad. He tries, but between work and sleep there's little time for more than a quick check in everyday.
She's hasn't talked to Frank since the night on the beach, but she assumes her dad tells his parents about her mom when he texts her. He tells her how sorry he is, that her mom was great, and he's here for her if she needs anything.
Mel knows the anger is misdirected, knows it isn't him she's mad at, but she can't stop the surge of rage she feels when she sees it. She's barely able to stop herself from responding, pointing out all the ways he hasn't been there for her, actually. Instead, with a couple taps of her phone, she blocks his number. Deletes it off her phone. Does the same for every social media app she follows him on.
Unsurprisingly, it doesn't make her feel better. Or bring her mom back. But there's a finality to it, and she knows she's made a choice she can't undo.
They don't go to the beach, can't afford it anymore. Becca starts needing part time care, and the money that used to go towards the yearly vacation goes to that instead. She's mad at herself for feeling so upset about it. What difference would it make if they had? She wouldn't have hung out with Frank anyway.
The years go by, and they don't go to the beach again. Becca at least starts talking again. Mel mourns what she's lost, but it stops feeling like an open wound and more like a healed over scab. If she picks at it, remembers the summers with Frank, it'll bleed, but she makes sure it doesn't. Focuses on school. She wants to work in the emergency room, knew it after they had to take her mom multiple times.
She graduates valedictorian of her class, kept up with being the weirdo smart girl. She has her pick of colleges, but she chooses the one closest to her home town, since she can't leave Becca. Her dad is getting older, heartache from her mom's death and age slowing him down. They're distant now, after years of small conversations and little else, but she knows he loves her and wants the best for her.
College is hard, and she aside from her family she feels alone. She's friendly enough with some of her classmates, but it's like theres a barrier she can't cross with them. They take her weird thing with touch wrong, as if its personal and not something she's struggled with her entire life. They definitely don't understand the way she couldn't care less about a relationship, and doesn't like the idea of random hookups.
Mel knows who she still loves, despite the time thats gone by, the ache persistent. Sometimes she's tempted to search his name on Instagram, see what his life is like. She stops each time, knows it's only going to hurt.
The bracelet is worn, a couple seashells cracked. She still holds it, thumb running the grooves she's worn into the shells. She thinks of the life he probably has. One of the last big conversations they had, he'd mentioned wanting to be a doctor. He didn't know what kind yet. She thinks he'd fit good with emergency medicine. And not just because it's what she's working towards.
Her dad dies, but she's comforted knowing he's reunited with her mom. She struggles not to sink amongst the mix of bills, selling the house, finding somewhere that has space for Becca. Her role in her sister's life changes, and it causes a rift between them for a couple weeks until she can't hold it in, tells her sister she can't keep going like this. They start a weekly movie night, every Friday. Most times it ends up being Elf, even in the middle of spring. She hates the stupid movie so much.
She keeps going. She's a med student, then an intern, then she's an R2.
Her first day at PTMC is a shit show, but not because she's horrible at her job. Maybe the opposite, in a couple ways. She works hard, has a fast metabolism and is on her feet, only taking breaks when she has to chart. She's worked her ass off for this, hypes herself up with music in the ambulance bay. Pushes past the way she wants to break apart during the MCI, a shooting at a music festival that sends dozens of people to the emergency room.
It's cruel, the way she has no one to talk to about it. She can't talk to Becca about it, refuses to. She sobs into her pillow, sleeps uneasy and goes back to work. She has no other choice.
Seasons change, and summer approaches. Its been years, but she still gets antsy in the time before the yearly vacation. She shouldn't, really shouldn't, doesn't have the money, but she spends a sleepless night wrestling back and forth before she books a hotel, the same one her family would go to. Five days. She asks Becca, but her sister gives her a firm no. She understands, since it's a reminder of when they were a family of four, rather than two.
Robby surprises her when he chuckles, patting her on the back. (She only tenses, she's getting better.) "Didn't think you knew what a break was, King. Have fun."
Mel does her best not to take offense to that, smiles and thanks him. Keeps her mouth shut when Trinity needles her about it too. Thankfully everyone else has normal reactions, even Abbott who learned early on about her aversion to touch and instead gives her a high five, tells her to enjoy it.
Something in her settles as soon as her feet touch the sand. The first day she spends on the beach, sunbathes and dips her toes into the ocean. She sends updates to Becca often, and her sister is genuinely happy to, in her words, see Mel happy again. She stops by a gift shop, and she can't resist it when she sees a couple shovels and a bucket on the shelf.
It's slower with just one person, and she sighs soft as she remembers that first summer. Thinks about how different she is from that Mel, young and innocent.
It ends up being a pretty good sandcastle, all things considered. She takes a photo to send to Becca, leaves her initials in the sand just to be dramatic. By the time she finishes the sun's going down, and she calls it an early night, a little sunburnt (despite her reapplying often) and tired.
She's back on the beach early the next morning, and discovers her sand castle still intact. A little surprising, given how many kids she sees on the beach. Her brain goes back, like it has a thousand times before the moment she got here, to that first summer, the kicked over sandcastle.
She bends down, intends to smooth out one of the walls and maybe redo her initials, which have been somewhat covered by the seabreeze shifting the sand.
"Hey! Don't touch that!" She jolts, barely able to stumble back and not right on top of the sandcastle. Stands back up, ready to yell back because (excuse her language) what the actual fuck, but she freezes when she locks eyes with the man in front of her.
It's Frank. Somehow, it's him. She questions herself on if she slipped somehow, hit her head and is hallucinating. Or maybe she's still dreaming, asleep in the hotel bed.
But her chest rises and falls, her heartbeat pounds, real, in her chest, and even in her dreams, she wouldn't be able to accurately imagine the blue of his eyes.
Her throat feels swollen shut, and for all the times she's been able to blink away the tears, stop herself from crying, this is not one of them. She's aware of the tears trailing down her cheeks, feels the sob catch in her throat, muffled. There's about a million emotions running through her, joy, regret, guilt, fear, anger, relief, loss. As quick as she settles on a name for one a different emotion replaces it, and she's left shaking, furiously trying to clear her vision.
He, at least, looks similarly affected, matching tear tracks run down his face. He moves first, a choked laugh leaving his throat. "Oh god, Mel." Even as she scrambles to hold onto herself, her mind betrays her, notices how beautiful his voice is. She thought he was handsome before, but teenager Frank utterly pales to present day.
He moves towards her, half a step, waits for permission before she nods. Mel blinks and he's got her in his arms, held tight to his chest. Bare chest, her mind supplies. Puberty gave him chest hair too, apparently.
She rests her head in the dip of his shoulder, let's him hold her as close as he physically can. He smells like a combination of the same cologne he always used, sunscreen, and sweat. She tries not to be weird about it, is sure she probably fails. She's stopped crying at the very least. "I can't believe you're here." She mumbles, words muffled by his skin. Her glasses are pressed against her cheek a little odd, so she goes to pull away, but he doesn't let her move an inch. "Hold on, just- just a little longer. Please." He requests, desperation clear in his tone, and she nods (as well as she can).
He noses along her hair, left down for once (she decided her scalp could use a break during vacation), one of his hands moving to run through it. It sends shivers down her spine, and her face flushes. Each second that goes by makes her more aware that one, they're on a public beach, two, she's in just two piece bikini suit, and she's not sure how well she's hiding her physical reaction to him, and finally three, the biggest one, Abby.
She wiggles enough that he gets the hint and she backs up out of his embrace a few steps, fixes her glasses. She doesn't think she knows how to read his face anymore, is unsure of the look on his face as he looks at her. Either way, it makes her blush, and she clears her throat awkwardly. "Umm, do you want to sit down maybe and talk?" She thinks back to the last night they spoke face to face (face to her back, actually), and winces. "If not, I get it, no worries."
He doesn't wait a second before he's taking her hand, leading her towards the hotel. "Nope, we're talking. In private, because I don't need people watching me cry anymore than they already have." She catches up enough that he doesn't look like he's dragging her at least, but in a moment of rare selfishness for her doesn't drop his hand.
They go to his hotel room, and he curses when he sees his unmade bed. "Shit, sorry." She stifles her laugh as he moves to pull the covers back over the bed. "There. Sit, please." She's tempted to argue about all the sand on her legs, the remnants of her sunscreen on her skin that'll track onto the bed, but he gives her a look that sends warmth through her stomach and shuts her mouth.
He waits till she's criss-crossed on the bed before he starts talking, standing just off to the side of her, eyes on the wall. "Abby and I got divorced six months ago." She wasn't sure what he was going to say, but somehow, that wasn't one of them. She's not sure what to say. Congrats? Sorry?
Frank doesn't wait for her reply before he continues, runs a hand through his hair, the strands falling over his forehead. She's a little caught up on it, to be honest.
"It's funny how little you know someone, even after years of dating, marriage, and two kids." She feels like she's been electrocuted, imagines two little kids with his eyes. Grudgingly, she gives them Abby's flawless hair. "After the twins (twins!) were born, she started seeing this other guy. I was stuck in the ER day after day, and she was going behind my back and fucking her coworker." He lets out a short laugh, but she isn't sure what's funny.
Frank shifts his gaze from the wall to her, and she sees his mouth twist in a frown. "I caught her, obviously, because she didn't try all that hard to hide it. Then when we argued, she brought you up. How she 'knew we had something going on back in high school', so she made sure to tell you to back off. Because you loved me." She sees his jaw clench, and he has to swallow before the words come out, low and gravely. "Mel, why didn't you tell me?" His eyes are frenzied, moving over her face rapidly, trying to take in every little shift of her expression.
Excuses fill her brain, and she hates knowing she'll likely start sobbing soon. "I couldn't. You loved her, and maybe the way she did it was a little mean, but I deserved it. She was right to do so." Admitting it, confirming what Abby did, said, feels like a string has snapped, tension loosened off her shoulders. Frank scoffs, shakes his head incredulously.
"No, you didn't deserve that, Mel. Abby was horrible for treating you like that, and if I had known, I would've broken up with her then and there, fuck our relationship." The words are certain enough she knows he isn't lying, but she isn't sure whether the satisfaction she feels is appropriate.
"But baby, that's not what I meant." Baby. Heat travels down her spine, mind replaying the way the word sounded leaving his mouth on repeat. He looks agonized, tortured, ocean eyes locked on her own. "Why didn't you tell me you loved me?" Oh.
Her brain skipped that, she thinks. Didn't really register he'd said it. She's hidden her feelings so long, kept them cradled deep in her chest, away from the light. "I wanted you to be happy. Regardless of whether or not it was with me or her. Even if I hated everytime you'd tell me about Abby and the stupid dates you'd take her on, or all the photos you'd post where you both looked happy." She sniffles and wipes away a tear rolling down her cheek. "I loved you too much to ruin that." A pause. A decision being made. Choosing to shine a light on her longest kept secret.
"Still love you, despite everything." She smiles, shaky and uncertain, feels her herself bleed open, raw, entirely for him to hold or leave.
He collapses on the bed next to her, cradles her head in both hands. Runs a thumb over one of her cheekbones. It hits her, suddenly. Love. That was what she couldn't read on his face, before. He smiles back at her, eyes shimmering with unshed tears. "I love you too. And I'm so sorry I was stupid enough to make you wait this long." He guides her closer, until his mouth is hovering over hers, and she can feel his exhale against her lips. "I love you, Melissa King."
She's the one that moves the last inch, angles up and kisses him. He groans deep in his chest before he moves his hands to her hips, lifts her enough that she gets the hint and settles herself over him. He starts out sweet, kisses her gentle. She's tired of waiting though, now that she's finally getting what she wants, and she smiles into the kiss before she grinds down. Little shocks pinprint up and down her spine and she swallows his moan, not so nicely puts her tongue in his mouth.
They have to pause for breath, but it's barely anytime at all before he has a hand on her throat, angles her head up so he has more room. Her breath stutters in her throat, eyes closing when he kisses harsh along her throat, sucking marks as he goes. He reaches her collarbone and without any warning bites, soothes the shock of pain by licking over the teeth marks. Arousal curls in her gut when she realizes what he's doing, marking her up, making sure he lays his claim. She's been biting back her moans, bottom lip between her teeth, but he stops, tugs at her lip. "I wanna hear you baby. Every noise you make." He waits until she nods, moving to the other side of her neck and repeatedly his actions.
She runs a hand through his hair then unintentionally grips when he bites her again, moan torn from her. "G-God, Frank." He chuckles, moving away from her neck to her upper chest. "Gotta make sure everyone knows you're mine. Never letting you go again." He noses at her tits, still covered by the bikini top. "Can I take this off?" He thumbs at the straps, waits for her breathless yes before he reaches around and pulls at the string tying the top together. They both reach to take it off, hands tangling together, and Mel giggles and kisses him, fond, before she throws the top to the side.
If it were anyone else, she'd be self conscious with the way he's staring. But Mel knows him, trusts him despite the years they've spent apart, feels the arousal flare as he takes in his fill. He leans forward and licks a stripe between her breasts, mutters a so beautiful, baby, into her skin before he take one of her nipples in his mouth. She grabs his hair again, strands silky between her fingers as she pushes his head closer. He switches between sucking and licking, pinches her other nipple between two fingers, alternates until both are peaked, red and sensitive from his treatment.
She feels like she hasn't been getting enough air this entire time, each breath greedily sucked back out with his actions. Her brain feels staticky, too lost in pleasure to form clear thoughts. She's been slowly climbing, desire building steadily, but she breaks when he reaches underneath her bikini bottoms, thumb pressing rough against her clit. She drops her head on his shoulder, moans brokenly, feels two of his fingers swipe through her folds, collecting her release.
He pulls his hand from her bottoms, waits until she looks up from his shoulder to lick his fingers clean. She clenches around nothing, rocks her hips and whines when her still-sensitive nipples rub against his chest hair. Frank runs his nose against her ear, kisses the spot behind it soft before he's gripping her again, moving her until she's laid back on the bed. "Taste so sweet for me sweetheart. Knew you would." He scoots down until he's kissing her stomach, her hips. "All for me, right baby? Tell me."
Mel feels like she's burning alive, face hot enough she's surprised she isn't catching fire. Despite her released desire's still pulsing throughout her body, gathering tight in her stomach. He's right, of course. It's all for him. Every bit of herself has always been his. She's his, and he is hers, and she's never letting herself disappear from his life again.
"All for you. Only yours." He grins, satisfied, smile turning wicked as he moves his attention to her thighs. He pulls off her bottoms, lets them join her top on the floor. He doesn't linger to stare, replicates his actions on her neck, takes a mouthful of her between his teeth and makes sure there's a lasting mark when he lets go. She's torn apart from the pleasure-pain of it all, knows her whole body is going to ache after it's all done and over with. She can forget the public beach for the rest of her trip. She'd be irritated, but she's built her sandcastle and found him, there's nothing else she needs.
He noses his way down her thighs, closer to her center. Her breathing's picked back up, but it staggers when he finally goes where she wants him, pressing a kiss to her clit. Her hands are back on his head, gripping his hair and encouraging him further, nails scratching against his scalp. He groans at the pull and push, flattens his tongue and licks over her. Her legs try to close, body overwhelmed with the feeling but he grabs and pushes both her thighs down. "Shh baby, I've got you." He licks her over and over, sucks her clit into his mouth, tongues over her entrance, barely dipping inside but refusing to go any further. She can't control the stream of noise coming from her mouth, gasps and moans and pleads that he greedily forces from her.
She's coherent enough to realize she's almost to the point of falling over the edge again, grips his hair and pulls his head away from her. "E-Enough. I need you in me. Now." Her voice's trembly, rough from use, but she tries to put force into it. He looks at her from between her thighs, mouth and chin soaked with a mix of his spit and her. It's filthy, and she can't help herself from running her pointer finger along the dip in his chin, sucking it in her own mouth with a hum.
"Oh fuck baby, okay." He looks destroyed, pupils blown wide and hungry, swipes his arm over his mouth half heartedly as he rises onto his knees.
Frank looks away from her, sweeps his eyes over the room. "I know I left my wallet somewhere, I should have a condom in there." She knows its stupid, has had the sex-ed class in sixth grade. Doesn't let it stop her from putting her thighs on either side of his hips, shaking her head no. "Don't want one." He looks shell-shocked, mouth agape. "My Mel. So fucking perfect." He can't help but be cruel, pinches her nipples again and swallows down her wail with a kiss.
He pauses long enough to lift her hips, resting a pillow between them and the bed. She watches, impatient, almost ready to beg as he moves his hips forward and notches himself at her entrance. Twin moans leave them as he thrusts forward, his eyes caught on where they're joined. He hisses, sweat dripping down from his forehead as he pushes in further. "So fucking tight sweetheart. Baby. Perfect, always perfect for me." She doesn't know where to hold, what to grab onto, alternates between the sheets underneath her and him, his shoulders, back. Every little movement elicits more moans, whimpers as he stretches her open. He doesn't shut up, not even when he's fully inside her, hips pressed as close as he could get.
He gives her two seconds to breathe before he pulls back, leaving just his tip before he thrusts back inside. Her nails dig into his back, leaving red lines as he does it again, again, again. Still somehow talking, a mix of praise, telling her how good she is for him, tells her how she's his, no one else's. It becomes too much to keep her eyes open, but he notices as soon as they're closed and halts, pinches her hip when she whines in frustration. "Keep them open. I want you to be watching." Frustration mixes well with the desire, leaves her skin feeling tingly, hair on end as he resumes his thrusts.
She knows she's close, clenches around him as much as she can. Lifts her hips, attempts to move them to meet his. He puts a hand over her stomach, pushes her back against the bed. She can't protest, can't do much more than the ah ah ah's leaving her mouth, so she settles on resting her hands on his chest, gripping the hair on his chest. He retaliates, leans down and licks a stripe up her neck before he bites her again.
His hair's stuck to his forehead from sweat, mouth open and panting as he thrusts a little up, hits a spot inside her that makes her see stars. Another wail, and he starts to aim for the spot, hits it again, a third time, when she can't hold on, tightening around him and coming apart.
Through the haze, she feels him continue once, twice, before he's coming inside, an unfamiliar warmth she can feel within her. He's able to catch himself on his elbows, but most of his weight is on her, leaving her feeling secure, mind floaty post-orgasm. Mel can feel him panting against her shoulder, both of them catching their breath. A drop of sweat drips from his forehead, landing on her collarbone.
He doesn't think, leans forward and licks it off, both of them biting back moans when it causes him to shift inside her.
A few minutes pass and her chest rises and falls slower, mind placing itself back together. They groan as he pulls out, a trickle of his come following with it. She doesn't let himself go far, runs her hands down his arms, encourages him to fully lay on her. "Stop, I want you to." She says before he can argue, mouth opening and closing with a small snap. His weight's grounding, her body buzzing pleasantly.
He rests his head against her chest, shoulders shaking from a laugh when his chin brushes against a hickey, causing her to hiss out air. "I don't remember you being a cannibal." She mutters, but she's not at all upset. A part of her likes it, being covered in his marks. Feeling his come leak from her. It should be gross. It's not.
"Can't let anyone think you aren't mine. Too risky, you're too beautiful." His voice is a little muffled by her skin, since he's pressing small kisses to her chest. She smiles at his words, pets her fingers through his hair. "You don't have any competition. First and only." She snickers when he groans, nipping her playfully. "Be easy on me, Jesus."
"Yeah, like you went easy on my neck. Frank, how am I supposed to go out in public? I doubt even a turtleneck could cover these all the way." She can feel him smile against her skin. "Good, you shouldn't be anywhere but here anyway. I have years to catch up on."
Mel knows she's blushing, isn't sure she's stopped since she saw him on the beach. Unfortunately for him, the beach makes her remember something, curiosity dousing the desire gathering in her stomach. "How did this happen? How did you know I'd be here?"
He lifts his head off her chest, meeting her eyes. "I didn't. Just the universe granting me my biggest want. The serious answer is that after Abby and I divorced, I moved into an apartment by myself. It's been lonely, and I had nothing to stop myself from thinking about you. How much I missed you. I didn't know where you were, what your life was like. If you were married, or had kids of your own. I wanted to come back, one final time to give myself closure after what Abby told me." His eyes are misty now, and her own aren't all that dry either. "Somehow, I got lucky, and I found your sandcastle. Knew it was yours as soon as I saw the initials. I would've waited forever, until some stupid kid knocked it over or the sea claimed it, just to get a chance to see you again."
She laughs, half joy, half sob, pulls him up so she can kiss him. "I missed you so much. I was so alone, and then Dad died, and Becca wouldn't talk to me because we had to move out of the house. And I felt so stupid for deleting your number and still missing you." He presses more kisses to her mouth, horrible because he can't stop smiling for them. "No baby, not stupid. If anyone is, it's me for not realizing how much I loved you until my ex-wife pointed it out. Fuck her, by the way. Just want to make that clear. I would've left her so fucking fast if I'd known she talked to you like that. No one gets to talk to you like that."
He's so serious that she can't help but giggle, giddy and high on her love and his kisses. He lifts an eyebrow, mock stern. "Oh, you think that's funny, Melissa King? I'll show you funny."
He then proceeds to tickle her sides until she can't breathe, only stops when she begs for mercy and almost knees him in the groin. When they settle, he's got both arms wrapped around her, pulling her in until they're skin to skin facing each other. The contact gives her shivers, but she pushes it away, focuses on the warm syrupy feeling swimming in her chest.
They still have so much to talk about. There are blanks they need to fill in, years to catch up on. They spend the rest of the day switching between talking and making love, and they only stop so she can send him to her hotel room to grab her stuff. (She would go, but she looks like she's been mauled. And she was only wearing her bathing suit.)
The third day is, delightfully, much the same, and she feels guilty for the poor room service people until Frank distracts her by, unsurprisingly, mouthing over her existing hickeys to keep them fresh.
She makes Frank buy her foundation on the fourth day, awkwardly applies it (she doesn't wear makeup and it's largely trial and error) until she can get away with going out in public. Frank puts on a tshirt, and it covers all the scratches she's left on him. (He is lucky he's attractive, her best friend, and the love of her life.) She brings him to the bookstore, where the same family recognizes her on sight. Shows him the best spot for him to kiss her, accurate to the fantasy she had years back.
They walk along the pier that night, holding hands and taking in the familar smell of the ocean. She can tell he's got something on his mind, but he beats her before she can ask. "You remember that shark stuffed animal you got me? Way back when?" He grins when she nods, squeezes her hand. "I still have it. It's seen better days and the tail fin's about to fall off..but I kept it. Used to hug it whenever I couldn't not think of you." He ducks his head, a little embarrassed, and he blinks in surprise when she kisses him, smiling. "I have the bracelet still. The strings gotten really weak and a lot of the shells have grooves where I'd run my thumb over them. That's what I'd do, when I couldn't help but think of you."
He exhales, looks stricken and pulls her close, buries his face into her hair. "I think I've said it before, but I'm in love with you." She closes her eyes, rests her cheek against his chest. "Not sure, maybe you ought to say it a few more times so I really understand."
That night, he repeats it over and over. He has her come on his fingers, whispers his love into her hair. Then his mouth, traces his name on her thighs with her own release as he groans out his love against her clit. He enters her from behind, grips her hips tight and when he comes, uses her full name when he tells her again that he loves her.
The fifth day is quiet, spent mostly in his arms. They know time's drawing to a close, and it makes her stomach churn, thinking about leaving him again. He tries to reassure her, but she knows he's just as devastated.
The final night, she takes him back to the beach, sits down on the sand and looks up at the stars. He holds her against his chest, arms wrapped securely around her. The rise and fall of her chest matches hers, matches the gentle crash of the waves against the shore.
She gets his number (again), texts him immediately. (Tells him she loves him.) They kiss goodbye a hundred times before she can't delay any longer, gets on her plane to go back home. She gets the window seat and muffles her sobs with her hand, facing away from the other passengers.
Becca's happy to see her, even more elated when she sees the still pretty present marks on her throat. Tries to tease out of her who she hooked up with. Mel doesn't remember the last time her sister genuinely got this happy, when she reveals her mystery hookup is Frank. Who has sent her a text almost every ten minutes, without much exaggeration.
She has to wear foundation again to work, but she knows she's in deep shit the second Trinity clocks the one hickey she somehow missed. Suddenly theres a bet going on for who it is, ranging from a lifeguard five years her junior (gross), to a cougar really into blondes (also gross, Trinity.) No one gets close to the actual answer, but she figures it's a pretty impossible thing to guess right.
She hears Robby say something about an R3 joining them soon, transferring from another hospital. She doesn't understand why they would, since it means restarting the R3 year from scratch, but she's pulled into enough cases to forget about it.
She hears Perlah and Princess gossip, hears the R3 is a guy, that he's starting in a week. She's quickly reverted back to her childhood habit of texting Frank every small detail she can, so she fills him in, frowns when he answers a little weird. Abby's apparently been causing shit though, and chalks it up to that.
His weird behavior continues though, and she tries to ask, but he's avoidant. She can't help but assume the worst, thinking that maybe, this has all been some sort of revenge plot to get back at her. She doesn't want to believe it, logically knows it isn't true, but she doesn't know what Frank won't tell her. Becca's there for her when she tells her her worries the night before the new guy's supposed to start, and after her texts have gone unread for a couple hours, her calls going straight to voicemail.
She doesn't sleep well, restless and waiting for any sign of life from Frank. Takes out the bracelet, feels along the broken, worn out shells that seem amazingly similar to her own state.
When she walks into work, she sees the locker next to hers is hinged open, a backpack resting inside. She puts her stuff away, grabs her stethoscope and hangs it around her neck before she shuts her locker door. Rests her forehead against the cool metal and closes her eyes. Imagines Frank's voice, calling her name.
Frank's voice, calling her name.
He's right there, expression hopeful, a small smile on his face. She's frozen until she hears his quiet hi baby, then she's on him, hitting his chest with her palms. "Frank! You can't do that to me! You can't do that!" She can't clarify what she means, eyes filling with tears because she's so mad at him, but he's here, in front of her, wearing scrubs and his own stethoscope and he's the new R3, she realizes. He waits till she's stopped before he hugs her, tells her he's sorry, he's sorry. "I wanted it to be a surprise, and I didnt realize how long I'd left my phone on airplane mode until this morning. I'm so sorry sweetheart."
She lets him wipe away the tear tracks, kiss her hair, until she turns and she's every one of her coworkers staring. Night shift is there too, since they were in the process of leaving. She'd like to curl up and never be perceived again, or die on the spot.
Robby's the first to react, letting out a world weary sigh. "Okay, well, guess I should introduce Dr. Langdon, our new third year resident. If you'll excuse me, I have some forms I need to grab." The crowd parts as he walks away, then looks back at her and Frank.
She's stumbling, trying to find anything to say, when Trinity cackles, points at Mel's neck (which has no visible hickeys, thanks.) "Oh my god, guys, we know who mauled her!"
Yeah, she'll take that, whatever.
Frank (he tells people to call him Langdon, Frank is reserved for people he likes, which at the moment only includes Mel, thank you.) and her are, unsurprisingly, great together, working seamlessly and a lot of times without Mel needing to say a word before he knows what she needs. She's still tired from the terrible night of sleep, but he energizes her, keeps her on her feet and happy. He drags her underneath the stairs, whispers how hot he finds her when she sutures, ignores her protests, then laughter when he tickles her.
Becca's spending the night at the center, which is great because Frank drives her home, pretends to be a gentleman and opens her car door for her, walks her to her front door. Throws it all away when he's on her the second her door is closed.
After they're done, him wrapped around her, she wiggles until she's out of his grasp, ignores his childish whine. She takes the bracelet from it's designated spot, holds it careful as she brings it back to bed. His eyes widen when he realizes what it is, and holds it just as, if not more careful, studies it with an awestruck gaze.
She lets him hold her again after she's put it away, worn and frayed but still together, is about to fall asleep when kisses her shoulder. "Y'know, I take something back. I'm not sorry for kicking your sandcastle."
Mel snorts, intertwines their hands over her stomach. "Knew it. Can't believe it took years for you to admit it."
Frank chuckles, squeezes her hand. "Yeah, all part of my master plan. Starts with kicking over your sandcastle, ends with you in love with me." He's silent for a few moments, and she's almost sure he's fallen asleep. "Ends with me in love with you."
for @kingdonmicrofic day 28 — festival
251 words, rated t, AO3 link, alt text under the cut
day 21 // topless
day 21 // topless for @kingdonmicrofic's august challenge with @kayleigh-rae chapter tags: pre-relationship, patient experiencing withdrawal, Mel's crushing hard and Frank is right there with her word count: 499
“Hey, kid,” Dana says, stopping Mel. “Would you mind taking this to Central 14 for me?”
Mel accepts the Red Bull. “Um, who’s this for?”
“Langdon. He’s been here eighteen hours. I figured he was about due, but I got caught up with South 19.”
“I can take care of it.” She pauses and asks, tilting her head, “I thought his shift was over at 7:00?”
Dana’s expression turns heavy. “Abandoned baby came in this morning around 5:00. Poor thing is starting to withdrawal. Langdon’s taking this one personally.”
@kingdonmicrofic
day 21 -> mushroom (488/424) mentions of sex, text-style fic (i promise it's goofy and silly and fun)
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Mel [01.22 AM]
Frank
I have a question
Frank [01.37 AM]
Why are you up?
I mean, ask away. But why aren’t you asleep?
Mel [01.38 AM]
Not important
Why is it that the tip of male genitalia is sometimes described as “mushroom-like”?
@kingdonmicrofic prompt twenty seven: family | 498 words | cw: explicit content, infidelity, car sex, frank + abby’s failmarriage, let mel bite!
Abby was the one that picked the car. Or her tiktok algorithm did, anyway, her for you page a constant scroll of mommy influencers that seemed to Frank like some kind of millennial white woman Hunger Games.
It’s perfect for families, she told him, never mind that it spent half its life in the PTMC parking lot. Sometimes he felt like making him drive something his coworkers nicknamed the Mom-mobile was a punishment, her way of getting him back for ruining her stay-at-home-parenting dream with two rehab stays and an involuntary sabbatical.
He accepted the punishment with a lot more grace when he realised just how easy it was to fuck Mel in the front seat.
write yourself a letter day 9: (nice) sweater, 415/415 words @kingdonmicrofic
He’d written her a letter.
Apologetic, shameful, half-delirious. That’s why Mel came to visit him in the first place. She couldn’t bring herself to be upset at him for any of the self confessed crimes. She knows she probably should feel indignant. Cheated, maybe. He was lying to her after all. He was lying to everybody. She knows all about the pain he caused while he was desperate, the danger to his patients. But Mel finds it inordinately difficult to be angry with Langdon, to find anything other than affection when reading his letters, not to mention actually sitting across from him.
“I thought I didn’t want to talk to anyone about it, especially not someone from work, but…it helped— writing you a letter. I– I feel better.”
Mel feels some form of satisfaction watching him absentmindedly pick at the sleeves of his sweater while he talks. She brought it for him a few visits ago. It hurt to see him so small and pallid, pale-looking in grey and white hoodies. She prefers him like this, warm in a knit sweater, a soft brown color, comforting, she hopes.
She was too nervous to tell him she made it for him, and likewise he doesn’t ask. Maybe he hasn’t noticed the lack of tags. It fits him well.
“I think the treatment’s working. You looked really rough before, but now— You look better.”
“Thank you, sweetheart. I’m just dying to get back home.”
Mel bites her lip. It’s not long until he’s done with his detox. And then she won’t have any real reason to come see him again. The thought of visiting his house is presumptuous and an offer of coffee or lunch feels insurmountable. What she really worries is that he only accepts her visits for lack of any other company.
“We could keep writing to each other then,” she offers.
Langdon stops tugging at his cuffs and fixes her with a perplexed look. “I don’t think that’s necessary, Mel.”
Her mouth twists, disappointment curdling in her stomach.
“Once I’m done,” Langdon starts, “I can take you out properly.”
Mel’s eyes widen, looking up at him in wonder. “I’d really like that,” she says. Mel hopes he wears the sweater out. She wants to see him in it more. It suits him, so fitting that she thinks he must soon notice it was tailor made for him. She wants other people to see Langdon in it too— cared for, by Mel if none other.