please join me in having a kingdon #melpregsummer this july!! 🤰🏼🤰🏼🤰🏼
this is extremely chill, the only rule is to get mel pregnant and post with the #melpregsummer tag here or on ao3. fluffy setting-up-the-nursery or angsty affair baby, i want to see it all. au is great. canon is great. nsfw allowed and encouraged. i don't care how long it is, i don't even care if it's his baby, just have a melpreg summer!
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@kingdonmicrofic july 18, alternative prompt: bang (wc: 306/347)
cw: mature, infidelity
They did this thing, sometimes. It was weird and shameful and like nothing Mel had ever heard of before, and they didn’t do it a lot, but it went like this: first, they’d share a look. This part always just kind of happened - it’s not like they ever planned it. Frank’s face would go all intense and serious, and he’d look down at her lips, and that’s how she would know.
They would slip away then, if they could, into a closet or an empty room on a different floor. He would pull her close, an arm around her stomach, and ease his weight against her back. Then he’d rock his hips into hers like they were having sex. She’d press back and try not to make any noise, even though she was pretty sure he liked it when she did.
They never took their clothes off or anything. They never even kissed, but she still felt guilty about the way he’d groan and his hips would stutter and he’d drop his forehead to her shoulder and just breathe there for a while after. Not guilty enough to not let him do it, though.
It always felt good. One time he had lifted her up and pressed her against the door so that the handle pushed against her just right, and she’d come hard even though she was terrified the entire time that the door was going to swing open and they’d drop to the floor with a bang.
It was risky and she didn’t know what made it worth it for him because they never talked about it. There was only one time, when she was fixing her braid, that he said anything at all. This is going to be different, someday, I promise. She was still waiting to find out what that meant.
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has a 17th century french woman alter ego, loves boba, has immeasurable amounts of whimsy, dr mel king every tongue that rises against you shall fall !!
@kingdonmacrofic Day 17: Crowd (958 words, general audiences, tw: addiction)
“The fuck is happening out there?” Frank asks Charlie, the college kid also working the market today. He’s been in the truck, loading pallet after pallet of berries and peaches, plums and apricots onto big cardboard flats to take out to the stand watching the line grow, not moving an inch.
“Some chick’s holding up the line,” Charlie sighs. “She’s been looking at peaches for twenty minutes.”
Frank frowns. “Let me go handle it,” he says, wiping his forehead just under his hat. “People will start to leave if the line doesn’t move.”
He lifts a box of blueberries, a familiar twinge in his low back that he’ll take care of later with the baggie of pills in his car.
It’s just for a few more weeks, he told himself when he took them from the hospital last night. Until the end of the summer. They need the extra money, and Frank’s sister was doing him a favor letting him work Saturday mornings for her wife’s family farm. Then he would stop taking the pills and try to wean off again, for real this time.
When he sets the box down, he sees a blonde with glasses carefully squeezing a peach, the others in line eyeing her in frustration.
“Hey!” Frank calls, walking to face her on the other side of the table. “Looking for anything in particular?”
Brown eyes snap up at him, cheeks pink from the morning sun. Her head whips between him and the ever-growing crowd behind her.
“Oh my gosh!” she exclaims. “I’m so sorry! I’ve been holding up the line!”
“No problem,” Frank replies even though it very much is a problem. “Just wanted to make sure you’re finding everything okay.”
“Not really,” she says honestly, speaking quickly. “I just moved to Pittsburgh, and I had my first appointment with my new primary care doctor, and she said that I really should be eating more fruits and vegetables, but my worry is that I don’t really like a lot of them because the textures are too weird, and sometimes one is sweet, but the next is sour, but I’m a doctor as well so I really should be making more of an effort if I’m expected to tell my patients the same thing.”
Frank blinks at her. He’s not sure if he’d ever heard someone say that much in that little time, and his jaw hangs loose as he processes it all. The man just behind her clears his throat, and Frank snaps back to reality.
“Here,” he says, moving the table a little bit to allow her to slip through, “come with me.”
He leads the girl back to the truck, Charlie raising an eyebrow as he carries a box of peaches past him.
“Do you have a favorite fruit?” Frank asks her. “That could be a good place to start if you’re trying to eat more.”
“I like apples,” she says, almost like she’s embarrassed given the rich array of summer produce in front of her. “I’ll also eat bananas sometimes if they’re not too ripe.”
Frank clicks his tongue. “Not in stock right now unfortunately. Anything else?”
Her eyes scan the back of the truck, worrying her bottom lip with her teeth.
“Oh!” she exclaims, pointing to a stack of rich, dark berries in the corner. “Blackberries! Blackberry jam is my favorite, but they’re sometimes too tart when they’re fresh.”
“That’s not an issue,” Frank assures her, taking a big step onto the truck bed. “These are some of the sweetest berries the farm’s ever had.”
He grabs a whole pallet, hundreds of berries spread out in the box, along with an empty pint carton and brings them back over to where she’s standing. Frank looks down into the box and pulls out a berry the size of his thumb.
“What’s your name?” he asks.
“Mel,” she answers.
“Well, Mel, I’ll promise you that if this isn’t the best blackberry of your life, I’ll give you this whole pallet for free to make as much jam as you want.”
He offers her the berry, and with a shy grin, allows him to place it in her palm. She inspects it for a moment before biting it in half. Frank watches dark juice run down the corner of her mouth and feels his face get hot.
“Oh wow,” she breathes out. “That’s delicious.”
“Told you.” He extends out the container. “There’s more like that, so this is yours to fill up.”
She takes it, raising an eyebrow in surprise. “Wait really?”
“Have at it,” he insists. “Take the best of the best.”
Her face breaks out into a wide smile that Frank can’t help but match. His chest feels warm, and he doesn’t think it’s because he just earned the farm a customer for life. This girl — Mel — interests him, a new weekly puzzle for him to crack.
It takes her almost ten minutes, carefully judging each berry before putting it into her container, but Mel fills her pint with some of the biggest blackberries Frank’s ever seen. He walks her back out to the front of the stand, the line now much more manageable.
“That’ll be three dollars,” he tells Mel, and she narrows her eyes, pointing to the sign pinned up on the table.
“It says seven per pint.”
“Call it a new customer discount.” He winks, and the look on her face makes him not want to think about the gold band on his finger that’s rapidly collecting sweat underneath.
Mel passes him three bills from her wallet and starts to walk away.
“See you next week?” he calls after her, and she turns. “We’re going to have some cherries that I think you might be interested in.”
“Of course,” she answers sweetly, the stain of blackberry juice still on her chin. “Wouldn’t miss it.”
Mel has absolutely no right to feel as territorial as she does right now.
Still, she finds herself skulking at the nurse’s station, not-so-surreptitiously watching one of the new MS4s talk to Dr. Langdon. No, not talk—flirt with him. Mel’s not confident in her people-reading skills at the best of times, but even she can tell when someone’s trying to flirt with her best friend.
She tries to look nonchalant when Dr. Langdon looks over and spots her. “Mel! Just the person I was looking for. I was just telling Sophie here how we set a new record for a STEMI on your first day.”
Mel can’t help but preen, and for two good reasons. First, it’s touching that he still remembers that even with everything else that happened during her first shift at the Pitt. Second, the MS4’s name is Sophia, not Sophie. She doesn’t point this out though. The MS4’s dejected face does it for her, but it’s not like Dr. Langdon notices.
“And I was just telling Dr. Langdon that I’d love to try and beat it,” Sophia says. She looks like a supermodel, what with her perfectly-fitting FIGS scrubs and pristine Hokas. Mel wonders if Garcia’s given her the nickname of “ER Barbie” yet.
Dana butts in before either of them can respond. “Medic 4 is two minutes out with a sixty-year-old male. He’s presenting with active, crushing chest pain. I need Trauma 2 prepped immediately. Langdon, you’re up.”
He immediately locks eyes with Mel. “STEMI with me, Mel?” The corner of his mouth quirks up, and Mel gets a funny feeling in her stomach.
“Right behind you,” she says, accepting the pair of size-small gloves he hands her. They hurry off in the direction of the ambulance bay, leaving Sophia standing next to Dana, looking dejected.
Mel just thinks to herself, You know what they say. Two’s company, three’s a crowd!
It was surprisingly easy to fall in love with Mel.
After the fourth, they were stuck together like glue. Frank always tagged along on her cases, even if they didn’t need an r3 and r4 on them. Mel liked to come find him over the other senior residents when he was free. They ate lunch together in the break room, sitting on the same side of the table. Often, Ellis or Robby would walk in and raise their brows at them, but it never bothered either of them.
Frank could always pass it off as Mel being one of the only ones to support him after he came back, but then she started inviting him over and he would bring her out to dinner after their shared shifts, or bring her tea and a pastry in the mornings.
It all came to a head five months after he came back. He’d never forget the way Mel had dragged him forward, the way she whined into his mouth, and the way she came so prettily for him.
Now, Frank is parked in front of Mel’s apartment, and she’s on his lap, fingers clenching on his scrub top. Her mouth is warm and wet, and she keeps making these little sounds in the back of her throat.
“Baby… Mel, baby,” Frank manages to detach himself from her, “It’s my turn to put the kids to bed tonight, I have to go.”
She whines and kisses him again. He presses his thumb hard at the hinge of her jaw, and pushes his tongue against hers. He pulls away again after a few more minutes.
Mel pouts now, her lower lip sticking out and shaking. He pushes it back. “I’m sorry, I know. I’ll have to figure out something so we can get some real alone time, yeah?”
Mel nods, but she won’t meet his eyes as she crawls off his lap and gathers her things up.
I love you, he wants to say, but he doesn’t think she’d take it all that well right now. Instead he grabs her hand and squeezes it.
The house is eerily still when he gets in.
He doesn’t think too hard about it as he’s taking his shoes off, at least not until he steps into the house and sees Abby. She’s sitting completely straight, fuming, and holding her phone tightly.
“You good?” Frank questions, confused and cautious.
“Do you want to explain what the fuck this is?”
Frank blinks at the screen. There’s a message from an unknown number, one he recognizes as Mel’s, what the fuck, and it contains only two photos.
The first is one of Frank asleep on her chest, the sheet keeping her modest, but it’s clear what they just got done doing. The second is a positive pregnancy test, what the fuck.
“Abby, I-” He tries, but nothing comes out.
When it’s clear he’s not going to say anything else, she starts screaming. He hasn’t seen her this mad since they were in college. She practically shoves him out the door, with nothing but the clothes he’s wearing.
In the car he dials Mel’s number, but it goes straight to voicemail.
Instead, he gets a text. Doors open it reads, like she hasn’t considered he might stay somewhere else.
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Mel didn’t have many friends, or really anyone that she trusted with this sort of thing. Ideally, she would have asked Dr. Langdon, but… well, that wouldn’t work.
The trouble was, no one seemed to like her very much. But Dr. Mohan had at least been occasionally friendly. Not as gossipy as Javadi, or as judgmental as Santos. She might be able to keep a sensitive secret.
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It took a lot for her to approach Dr. Mohan.
Mel didn’t have many friends, or really anyone that she trusted with this sort of thing. Ideally, she would have asked Dr. Langdon, but… well, that wouldn’t work.
The trouble was, no one seemed to like her very much. But Dr. Mohan had at least been occasionally friendly. Not as gossipy as Javadi, or as judgmental as Santos. She might be able to keep a sensitive secret.
As soon as she saw her in the break room, she pounced.
“Um, Dr. Mohan, hi,” she said nervously, messing with her fingers, getting far too close to her side.
Samira looked a bit perplexed, putting a cap on her protein shake, “... Hi, Dr. King. Can I help you with something?”
“Yes, actually. You don’t have to. But, um,” practically under her breath, she divulged her problem.
“Sorry, this is going to be cold,” she said as she squirted jelly all over Mel’s skin.
“It’s fine. Thank you.” Mel said sheepishly, tugging her scrub top out of the way.
“Now, I’m not necessarily trained to read these,” Samira said and slid the wand down against Mel’s belly, squinting at the screen, “I mean, obviously I have schooling and experience, but— oh, shit!” she yanked the wand away, looking flustered.
Mel sat up with alarm, blinking wildly, “What? Is there something wrong?”
“Uh– sorry, lay back,” Samira said, shaking her head and putting the wand back down, scrolling around the screen with a look of amazement, “Sorry. That was terrible bedside manner. I just wasn’t really expecting—”
“Expecting what? I don’t do well with surprises, I get very nervous, and—”
“It’s just,” Samira turned the screen so that Mel could see, running the wand back down, “it’s kind of crowded in there.”
Pale and wide-eyed, Mel looked with horror at two gestational sacks, two yolks, two thrumming fetal poles.
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