it varies! there's sometimes that i smush all my thoughts together for a fic into one long dm that goes on for half a century and there's others where everything is planned down to every specific detail. i've found sometimes when i try to outline a fic that i just want to start writing to see where it takes me that i'll actually get more annoyed and more likely to never finish it lol. i definitely always keep a list of "these are things that must happen" and "these are words that must be exchanged" regardless of if i have a full outline or just a few random thoughts :)
everyone look away but i truly love starcrossed losers like it’s my baby for reasons i don’t even understand lol but i truly enjoyed everything about writing that one
2 - when and where do your best ideas strike
well considering my sole kingdon week idea struck while i was wrist deep in my kitchen sink doing dishes…..the answer is at random 😭 but no, truthfully i really, really love music and some of my favorite pieces of dialogue or scenes have sprouted because of a one off line i’d heard in a song. i got the idea for so come on and try me because of your dedication to the frank langdon big bicep agenda so my muses are really everywhere
3 - is there any author that inspires you to write
oh god there’s so, so many that i could start a list now and not be finished until next week. i could genuinely talk for days about everyone and everything that they've written that has sparked inspiration in me and i think one of the best things that’s come out of this lil pitt community - how talented everyone is and how unique their writing, process, and perspectives are. there are so many works that leave my jaw just on the floor because of how stellar they are. but i do need to give a lil special shout out to @miracle-and-wonder because, whether she knows this or not (and i think not because i've never told her so HI RACHEL lol), it was her singular comment on a silly post id made about turkey trots last year that sort of opened the door to me getting more involved with the community here! since then, getting to live in her google docs has been such a fun time and honor because everything she creates leaves me absolutely blow away and crushed and a wreck but always in the best way possible. the care she puts into her works is BEYOND and always inspires me to think bigger whenever i open a google doc <3
until the night turns written for the lovely @scarletjohansson! i knew i wanted to set it in new york city because it felt like the best equivalent for where mel and frank would run into each other but i’ve never been to nyc at christmas/nye time so all i was really going off was what id seen in movies when i was outlining before cracking open google and searching “must do’s in nyc at nye” and proceeding to get targeted ads for the rockettes for months after. but because the fic was an au for before sunrise, watching the movie was also involved so i didn't totally fuck up the premise/miss any major lines! i really, really enjoyed the process of writing that one :)
16 - do you make playlists for yours fics?
sometimes! i have one for before the night turns, merry christmas (imy), and a general “melfrank” one but i usually end up just having music on shuffle and putting a list together of everything that i listened to that fit the mood after!
i am unfortunately a #desktruther because my wrists cannot handle writing on anything but a flat surface! i have one of those criss cross sitting chairs which is soooo nice & my desk faces outside so a lot of my writing mood depends on the weather!
8 - what wip are you most excited about?
it’s a little extremely embarrassing if i admit how long this has been a wip, but without a doubt the (very belated) birthday fic turned project for @miracle-and-wonder & @cvldbones! i’d been sitting on the idea for a few months and it’s been extremely slow going because i kind of lost all motivation for writing for a bit (oops) BUT i've started picking it back up and it's been so fun to write something for two of the kindest people :)
#death to the found family trope#more specifically: death to calling mel a pittling#literally javadi whitaker and santos all canonically think mel is weird and took no time to bond with her in ten months#she is not their friend! she is not a fucking pittling!#my s3 campaign: give mel real friends instead of cutesy fake friends who only like her when convenient (via @langdonfranks)
this list is gonna go into less detail than usual, only because there are SO MANY incredible AUs in the mel/frank tag that i'd be here forever otherwise. this list is in no way exhaustive and i'll probably make a part two at some point bc theres just so much good stuff!!! i also started separating these into categories but i can only hoard this in my drafts for so long so GO FORTH AND READ
and please!!! if you read these fics don't forget to leave a kudos and a comment! even if it's something small, it means a lot to authors and it's a totally free way to support their work <3
total au
if you can, if you can by ironcharlie (Survivor AU)
she's everything, he's just frank by sherryvalli (High School Social Media AU)
my heart is yours to fill or burst by @coffeealwayshelps (Mel is Tanner's Kindergarten Teacher AU)
thirstverse by @shedelulululu (NHL!Frank x Indie!Mel
is it wrong if i see him this weekend? by @pansiesandposies (College Roommate's Brother AU)
a losing game by gallopinginsanity (Con Man!Frank AU)
still sitting in a corner i haunt by @prodigalsonfranklangdon (Hockey!Frank)
kissing through the screen (at the back door) by @vanityfaire (Appalachian Farm AU)
staying in and finding out by @fromiftowhen (Journalist/Photographer AU)
to the east by pantonelights (College Summer Program AU)
the injury of finally knowing you by strwberrystars (Fantasy AU)
frayed threads, seashells, and sandcastles by @scorpioseaside (Childhood Friends to Lovers AU)
at the catch by @westcoasthazel (Rowing AU)
pas de deux by @pansiesandposies (Ballet AU)
i highly recommend perusing @sawdustandstardust's #myfic tag because tay has so many incredible tumblr exclusive au's, for example: zumies!frank x claires!mel, gbbo au, lawyer au, severance au, f1 au to name but a few... honestly just spend a night going through the tag on her blog it'll change your life
canon divergent
good for goodness sake (Santa AU) and walk-off (Ex-Baseball Player!Frank AU) by @sawdustandstardust
ghosts by @craftclass (Magical Realism AU)
until the night turns by @treeinthepond (Before Sunset AU)
never quite as it seems by @thelightreflects (You've Got Mail AU)
i'm trying to tell you now, it's sabotage! by @peachypitt (Hockey!Mel)
historical
a heart even more your own by @prodigalsonfranklangdon
simply must add abigail's very own wonderful, beautiful, extraordinarily written palm springs au ('i'll be here in the morning') that will have you laughing one moment and tearing up the next! the care she put into these characters, their adventures, and each and every word shines through from start to finish! ❤️
I think I saw you say you have wips, but a prompt, if you fancy: abby storms into the ed one day hell’s ablazing yelling like “which one of you is fucking my husband?” or “which one of you is mel king?” and that’s how the rest of the pitt find out about mel and langdon
happy holidays, love ✨
read on ao3
Abby hated hospitals. Even the nice ones made her feel vaguely nauseous, and that was including the glossy, expensive facility she'd found for her father's cancer treatment. Frank had plenty to say about that place, vague statements that had the air of criticism, even though Abby couldn't understand the problem. It's all pay to play, he'd sniped in the car, knuckles white on the steering wheel, and she'd kept her mouth shut even as she wanted to snap, Good thing it's my money, then.
She remembered this as she slipped through the throngs of coughing, ill-smelling people gathered in the PTMC ED's waiting room. She had plenty of thoughts she could share, now, but she knew Frank wasn't even here today. She'd made sure of it.
There was a long line to approach a glass window, and Abby joined the back of it dutifully, keeping her arms crossed tight across her chest as if she might protect herself from the general sickness of the room. When she reached the front, she plastered on her best, most unassuming smile, slipping her ID through the slot at the bottom.
"Dana's expecting me," she said cheerily.
The woman at the desk glanced at the ID and then back up to Abby's face. "Langdon," she read, raising an eyebrow as if she had asked a question.
"My husband," Abby confirmed, the word only sticking in her throat a little bit. "I told Dana that - "
"Yeah, she mentioned you might be swinging by." Abby didn't think she was imagining the thread of suspicion in the woman's tone, but then she nodded, clicking a button until a side door buzzed. "Come on in, Mrs. Langdon."
Abby managed a smile and said, "Thank you. Abby is fine," but the woman - her badge was too small for Abby to read from here - had already looked over Abby's shoulder, beckoning the next patient forward.
There was a security guard standing at the door, and he gave Abby a once-over as she entered.
She'd never been to PTMC before. Not inside, at least. She'd swung through the ambulance bay to bring Frank an extra pair of shoes after his usual ones had been in the crosshairs of fluids Abby didn't want names to, but she hadn't even parked the car, just passed the sneakers through the window like it was a drive-thru.
While the waiting room was dark and humid, the ED floor itself was almost comically bright and frigid, the fluorescents and A/C seemingly battling each other. People were walking at clipped paces while patients lounged in beds pushed up against the walls in varying stages of discomfort. One man was watching the proceedings with wide-eyed amusement as he chomped down on a sandwich, while a girl that couldn't have been older than twenty was writhing in pain as a nurse tried to pry her mouth open to administer medication.
Her eyes scanned the space until they snagged on the person she was looking for, and she made her way toward the desk, lifting her chin the way her mother taught her. It conveys confidence.
When she was less than a foot away, she said, in the most measured tone she could manage, "Dr. King."
The woman in question snapped her head up, eyes wide, and Abby was infuriated by how precious the whole thing was. Like a Disney character, a baby deer, something helpless and hapless and begging for someone to save it.
It shouldn't have surprised her. Frank loved to play the hero.
"Oh," Dr. King said. She was holding a tablet, and she pressed it to her chest, her lips tilting into a confused smile. "Can I help you?"
"I sure hope so." Abby smiled. "You're the one fucking my husband, right?"
Dr. King - Mel, Abby remembered, from the text messages and Frank's stories and that awful, red-faced fight - dropped the tablet.
"Oh. Oh, gosh. Um, let me just - Princess!" she called, her words tripping over themselves in her haste to spit them out. "Can you, uh, South 15, I need to - "
A nurse - Princess, Abby guessed - took the tablet from Mel's hands. Her expression was one close to glee, flitting her eyes between Mel and Abby with obvious curiosity, though she at least tamped down on the smile threatening to pull at her features.
Mel didn't look at Abby as she said, "Let's, uh - this room is free, we can - "
They made their way across the hall, whispers and stares collecting in their wake, and Abby forced herself to maintain a measured pace even as Mel damn near sprinted to the glass doored room. As soon as they were both inside, she tugged the curtain around them, effectively barring the crowd evidently intrigued by this new circus.
The women were silent for a moment. Mel chewed her lip and nervously fidgeted with her glasses, taking an obvious breath before finally meeting Abby's gaze.
"So, this is awkward," her husband's mistress said astutely.
Abby crossed her arms and leaned heavily on one hip as she scoffed. "That's a word for it."
"Abby, I'm so - I'm really sorry about this, Frank mentioned that the conversation went, um... poorly," this with a wince, like she knew it was an understatement, "but we really... it's important to him that everything stays above board, with the kids, and - "
"Above board?" Abby echoed. "Maybe he shouldn't be fucking another woman if he was so concerned with keeping things above board."
Mel went still for the first time since Abby had approached. "But... you're, um..."
Anger flared, hot and blinding. "We're what?"
Mel King blinked at her, both hands held tightly by her chest, her eyes darting all over the room like she was hoping if she bought enough time, someone might swoop in and save her. That Abby's husband might swoop in and save her.
He would, too, Abby realized horribly. Thank fucking God she'd planned it like this.
"You said that," Mel rebutted, all the stress dropping out of her body at once. "You... you served him papers, he's been living alone for the last six months, I don't..."
"Oh, please." Abby waved a hand as if she could clear the air of that accusation. "It's part of our process. I threaten divorce, he makes changes, we get back together."
Mel frowned and tilted her head to the side, her expression creasing in a way that made Abby suddenly feel like a patient. Unease wormed its way through her body, clenching around her heart.
"Did you... did you think he was just going to keep coming back if you did that?" Mel asked, her tone almost gentle, and Abby really would've rather she screamed. "I mean this with all the respect in the world, truly, I'd never... I would never come between someone and their family, but he's..." She bit her lip again like she wasn't sure she should continue. "He has a lawyer, Abby. We - he - "
Abby became dizzy, the words swimming in one ear and out the other, triggering a terrible case of vertigo. They'd been playing this game for almost a year, she and Frank, and she knew she'd been skating on thin ice - you can only push a man so far, her mother had said, which really should've been a warning sign; Nina had been the one most adamantly against Abby trying to make it work at the beginning - but there wasn't a world in which she actually thought she and Frank would get divorced. It was just part of his repentance, this back-and-forth. She wasn't serious.
But he was, apparently. In the three months he'd been out of the house, he'd drifted so far from her that she hadn't even realized he'd washed ashore on another island altogether.
"Abby?" Mel asked, taking a step forward with an outstretched hand, like she was worried.
Fucking Christ.
Without a word, Abby stormed out of the room. She wished the hospital doors weren't designed to be so fucking quiet, because she wanted something to bang, glass to crack beneath her feet, Mel King's stupid empathetic eyes to disintegrate back into fear.
When she got back outside, she barreled to her car. The leather seats stung her skin when she sat down. She stared at the bright red EMERGENCY DEPARTMENT sign as she waited for her heart rate to steady, her wedding ring glinting in the mid-summer sun.
Yes, Abby decided. She really fucking hated hospitals.
everyone needs to read tay's frat boy frank/professor mel fic NOW because it lives in my head rent-free
There are other arrangements he's tried, of course. The very tiptop of the lecture hall in the last seat on the right. The first row, slightly askew toward her left. A hundred other configurations, the inconsistency of which clearly irked his peers who'd become accustomed to their seat being taken by Frank's lanky body, his limbs strewn about with practiced carelessness.
But he's found the most success with this spot. Dead center of the room. Her eyes have a tendency to hover there in such a way that he wonders if she trained herself to do it, a learned behavior to ensure she's at least feigning eye contact with her students. It only endears her to him further. He feels a little patronizing for even thinking it, but she's so obviously soft that it raises his protective hackles. He can't help it.
Dr. King treads a small circle, her hands clasped together. She's a fast talker, though he'd known that before enrolling in this class. (Her Rate My Professor had a 4.1 out of 5. He could still remember some of the worst reviews, clearly from her first year in the job: they called her meek, boring, weird. He wishes they weren't anonymous. He has some choice words to share right back at them.) All around him, his peers are scribbling or typing furious notes, their eyes bouncing to the screen and down and up again as they try to take down every last morsel of information.
Frank prefers to do this: sit back, arms crossed, and watch. It gives him a little thrill every time she meets his eyes, her brows furrowing in confusion or consternation, the expression making her look like a disgruntled bunny. He likes letting her know that he's paying attention. That even though his classmates might be frantically taking down each word she says, he's actually listening to her.
And he thinks she knows that, based on the way her cheeks flush and she stammers over her sentences whenever she catches his gaze.
"The review guide is up on Canvas for you now," she says, pausing her pacing. "I've extended office hours this week for anyone who would prefer to meet one-on-one." She glances up at Frank again, and he can see her swallow from here. He grins, despite himself. "I'll see you all on Thursday for the exam."
Everyone around him seems to rise at once, laptops smacking shut as backpacks are tossed over shoulders. Frank stays still, watching Dr. King as she tucks her hair behind her ears, lets out a tense breath, gathers her notes, logs out of the university computer, looks back up -
He smiles at her again.
Dr. King bites her lower lip, glancing toward the door and back again. Frank hasn't moved, a solid rock amidst the waves of other university students filtering out of the lecture hall, and he tries to keep himself still as she makes her way toward him, her gaze fixed somewhere over his shoulder even as his never wavers.
Two seats away, she says, "Mr. Langdon," her voice quiet.
"Dr. King."
She flushes, like he knew she would. "I noticed you weren't taking notes."
His grin widens. "Good."
She sighs. "Frank."
"What?" He keeps his tone light, eyebrows raised innocently. She tilts her head in exasperation. "I learn best by watching," he offers with a shrug, pausing before adding, "but you knew that."
Mel stammers, flustered, and he finally stands up to close the distance between them. She has to crane her neck to see him, though she keeps her eyes trained on his throat. Her hands rest on either side of her neck, the way they always do when she gets nervous.
"You can't say things like that in my classroom," she scolds half-heartedly.
He shrugs. "Okay. Then let's go somewhere else."
She hesitates, just like the six times before this, and he watches the emotions cycle across her face like slides in a projector. Desire and embarrassment and worry and pleasure and guilt, one after the other, until her gaze finally meets his own.
ooh maybe a restaurant au? sleazy line cook frank + painfully earnest paying-her-way-through-med-school server mel does things to my heart
The kitchen is a bit of a sensory nightmare, if she's honest. It's hot and loud, the sizzle of the pans warring with the shouted instructions from the cooks, and that's not even touching on the smell: thirty different spices, browning meat, stale sweat, a hint of cigarette smoke. When she showed up for the interview two months ago, she'd been momentarily overwhelmed, her body going rigid as it tried to adapt to the everything happening around her.
Now, she finds it oddly soothing. The controlled chaos feels not unlike the inside of her brain.
Whitaker is already waiting by the food window when she swings in, his arms crossed in what she assumes is meant to be a confident stance, though it just makes him look vaguely petulant. Mel doesn't bother acknowledging him, standing on her tiptoes to slide Table 12's ticket into the proper spot along the line. It reminds her of hanging laundry, the flimsy paper wavering beneath the weak A/C.
"Two burgers," she adds unnecessarily, just to see if Frank will look at her.
He does, smiling, and she feels warm down to her toes. The kitchen's fault, obviously.
"Comin' right up, King," Frank says. He adds two patties to the grill without breaking eye contact, and she wonders when that sort of thing became attractive to her. "It a zoo out there?"
Mel hums in consideration. She can feel Whitaker's eyes on her, the judgement rolling off of him in waves, but she ignores it. She's gotten quite good at that.
"It's not terrible. Last week was worse."
Frank snorts. "Glad to see you've already gotten used to the pace of The Pitt, then." He slides a finished patty onto the pre-assembled bun on his left before letting the plate clatter into the window. "Here you go, man," he adds to Whitaker, gaze fixed on the griddle.
Dennis mutters something under his breath, but dutifully scurries up and captures his table's meal. Mel glances at him sidelong just in time to catch his irritated frown, but he doesn't comment; he disappears through the swinging door, and Mel lets her shoulders loosen.
"You okay?" Frank asks, a frown puckering the middle of his eyebrows.
She smiles. "I'm fine."
"You sure?"
"Positive."
"Good."
He grins at her - the easy, lopsided one that means today's been a good day - and her chest clenches. She knows she's not supposed to be loitering in here, that she has tables to check on and waters to refill and checks to cash out, but she doesn't want to.
And she doesn't think Frank wants her to, either. He flips the patties and then folds his arms on top of the window, like he has all the time in the world to dedicate just to her.
"What are you doing after this shift?" he asks.
Mel blinks. "Oh. Um." She clears her throat, trying to keep her voice even. "Nothing. My sister's with her boyfriend today, so - "
"You should come out with us."
His voice is casual, unbothered, but Mel can tell he's bouncing on his toes, and she isn't sure if it's from nerves or his general aversion to stillness.
"Us?" she repeats.
"Me and Garcia. There's a bar down the street we hit up sometimes - dingy place, but the food's decent. Better than this shit hole," he adds with a wink. "Beer's pretty good, too. Whaddya say?"
Her answer is easy, tumbling from her mouth without really having to think about it. "Yes."
Frank beams, ducking his head as he nods. "Cool. Great." He returns his attention to the burgers, serving them up for her, and she takes the plates with numb fingers.
"Princess, I'm taking a smoke break," he calls, and then adds to Mel, "Tonight, King!"
"Tonight," she echoes, staring after him until the back door slams shut.
