mel king’s girlfriend

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my works | my ao3

mel king

fluff

a royal accident (mel king x (chubby!)fem!reader)

the caregiver (mel king x fem!reader)

smut

first time jitters (mel king x (chubby!)fem!reader)

blurbs

names mel has made peace with (mel king x fem!reader)

mel just can't take any more (brat!mel king x fem!top!reader)

˚₊‧꒰ა❤︎໒꒱ ‧₊

other pitt x readers

you’ve been stringing mel out like you planned, all kitten licks and kisses on her swollen clit, spreading the puffy lips of her cunt and blowing puffs of air; anything to make her squirm and flush with frustration. and oh boy, was she frustrated. her knees were trembling with every sloppy lap you left behind. she moaned as you wove little ropes of spit and arousal to connect your mouth to her heat.

“please what?” you grinned, nosing her mound and lathing a flat lick over her entrance.

“you’re doing that on purpose,” mel whined, hands fisting the sheets. “i just wanna cum, okay? i feel like i’m dying!”

“awh, melly…” you purred, pulling back with teasing eyes to trace her pussy lips with your thumb.

mel grunted and finally snapped— softly, because she didn’t have a harsh bone in her body: “just hurry up!”

your grin twisted into a nasty smile, and you pulled away completely. you had pushed mel to the edge almost four times now, just to see how many it would take to get her pissed off. seems three is the limit.

mel’s eyes widened in panic, and she began to backtrack. “wait, no, i’m sorry, don’t stop!”

you crawled over her slowly, cupping beneath her knee to push her leg up and open her hips to you. after hooking it over your shoulder for purchase, you gazed down at her and kissed her lips with ease, cutting off her complaints.

mel moaned and wrapped her arms around your neck, and as one set of fingers drifted down to circle her sweet nub again, you slipped your other set between her lips.

“impatient, huh, honey? gettin’ mad at me? i think maybe i should shut you up, yeah? you’ll take what i give, won’t you, bunny girl?”

mel flushed profusely and wrapped around your fingers, sucking on them happily, tongue swirling, spit collecting. her walls fluttered and clenched as you sunk your fingers to the knuckle inside her velvet folds, switching methodically between scissoring eagerly and pistoning hard.

mel whimpered hungrily and bucked into your hand, and you watched her eyes glaze over as she slobbered on your digits, gripping your wrist to keep you there. you leaned down to give her a sweet lick on the cheek before sinking your teeth into the meat, drawing a gurgle of pleasure from her throat.

“that’s my good girl,” you cooed, fingerfucking her cunt until you could feel the squelching wetness coating your palm. “jus’ needed something to suck on, huh, bunny?”

“mm!” mel confirmed, writhing through her beautifully torturous orgasm, releasing all the pent-up desire that you stopped up inside her.

as she came down, you crooked softer, forcing a lesser quake out, a second wave to numb her genius little brain into stupidly. mel’s tongue got soft against your fingertips, too spent to suck, so you pulled them out to drag the saliva down her neck.

“tell me you love me,” you whispered, kissing her neck.

“mm… love you,” mel slurred, deflating on the mattress.

“good job, good girl,” you praised, watching her get shy and adoring it. “i love you too, melly. i always give it to you, don’t i? i always let my pretty bunny cum…”

mel pried her sticky eyes open and gave you what must have been the most fucked-out smile of her life. “always.”

you smiled at the blissful pink in her cheeks and crawled down her body, kissing the dips and valleys, rubbing her hips to soothe the shakes.

“what do you want now, baby? want me to clean you up? give you another? i won’t make you wait this time. i promise, love.”

mel shivered at the thought. “clean me up,” she panted, “with your tongue.”

your eyes flickered up, and you felt your chest construct. fuck, if that wasn’t cute.

Starting your rotations at PTMC would have been terrifying if you didn’t get stuck with the group you follow now. On your first day, you came in off a terrible experience at Mercy upstate, and when you met the other R1s and fourth-year med students, they seemed to be familiar with each other. You were the odd man out. But Dennis was, too. While Mel reconnected with Samira and Trinity struck gold with Perlah and Princess– not to mention Victoria's parents literally being on the upstairs payroll– you two were the only ones who hadn’t made a connection. Well, some might say that your floundering was the connection. You hit it off in your first hour, and have been inseparable since. 

The year was hard on both of you during the transition from student to resident. You were intent on specializing in pediatric emergency medicine while Dennis had his sights set on being attending chief, just like Robby. Outside of the traumas, Dennis followed Robby for teaching, and you used each spare second to pick up younger patients and build on your study. 

You were working on an experimental treatment study that gave kids power over how they treated their pain– letting them choose their dosage, their care, their desired results. Children were more honest when they were trusted, you found, and it was all being done in the hopes of drawing attention not only to the sheer volume of peds cases that came through the ER, but the necessity of having a pediatric resident on at all times, and possibly even a pediatric attending physician. So, you and Dennis technically weren’t so different… Either way, it was a mountain of effort. 

Even though he didn’t have the same academic drive to make change, Dennis admired you helplessly. He thought you were a genius, an angel-doctor, someone who they should give awards to for how sweet you were with children and how devoted to improving patient care you could be. You made him want to be a better agent of change, not just a good doctor. 

While it took twelve months to get the hang of the place, you and Dennis were finally doing well. As a pair, you got accepted into the residency program at PTMC and were finally getting paid. You went in on a shitty downtown apartment with Trinity, hoping to save money by carpooling and splitting rent. And you were hopelessly, disgustingly in love. 

At first, Trinity couldn’t stand you two. It was easy enough to ignore at work, because in order to stay focused you and Dennis decided to be neutral around the hospital. It made your lives easier and avoided any potential teasing or prying, especially from the nurses, who were dead set on sniffing out everyone’s business. But the second you guys were off the clock, he had his arms wrapped around your waist and he was steering you, petting you, kissing you; it made her sick sometimes. The lip smacking, the little giggles. Sometimes she would purposely get a ride home with Mel just to beat you to the apartment and lock the door, if only to preserve her peace for a few measly minutes. The frustrated banging on the wood was better than hearing you guys canoodle. 

But once Trinity got together with Garcia, her frustrations were far and few between… and hard to even see anymore. She was never home. The girl had started keeping clothes and scrubs at Garcia’s place, and if she did come back, it was to do laundry or eat the fridge. So, you and Dennis finally had peace and quiet. After those long days in the emergency department full of staring eyes and stress and death, you could come home to each other and soak up the softness of each other’s silence. Like tonight.

It had been a particularly hard one– nearly seventeen hours on the clock. There was some freak toxic spill in a factory across town, and over twenty patients had come in with chemical burns and gashes from slipping and falling down stairs onto machinery. Hazmat came and closed off half the emergency wing, and everyone had to be cleared from quarantine and hosed down in the frigid air before coming or going. It was torture. Dennis drove home in his truck, the both of you soaked to the skin in paper-thin sterile scrubs, starving and shivering. 

You stumbled through the apartment door, dead on your feet. Dennis took your bag and trotted off to drop the belongings in the bedroom, while you veered into the kitchen, yawning and shaking out the shivers as you yanked the refrigerator open. 

“God,” you pouted, “We forgot to go shopping again.”

The soft patter of footsteps echoed down the hall, and a strong pair of arms wrapped around your middle. Dennis tucked his chin over your shoulder, squeezing your tummy. “I can call the Chinese place. They’re 24/7, right?”

“Think so,” you grumbled, rubbing your eyes. “I’m just hungry. And tired. And annoyed.”

“Anything else?” Dennis laughed, the rumble soothing your spine. You spun in his arms and faced him, leaning back against the counter and moping. 

The apartment was a mess. The kitchen hadn’t been cleaned in days. There were clothes and shoes littering the living room, and Santos had a pile of papers covering the coffee table. Your research scattered the work desk by the bookshelf. It just felt like you never had time to catch up anymore, to take two seconds to clean up; when you got a day off, you slept through it on Dennis’ chest or your sad and forgotten pillow, just in case it would be another week before you got the chance. As you looked around, you felt the overwhelm of it all rushing back, and you dropped your head on his shoulder.

Dennis sighed softly and pressed a few smooches to your hairline. “I can see your wheels turning.”

“Doesn’t it bother you?”

“Bee, I lived on a farm. I’m used to the mess.” 

You managed a tiny smile at the name, nodding to yourself. He was right. It could always be worse. You could still be living in the med student dorms, where the showers were riddled with mildew and your roommate slept with her boyfriend all night, forcing you to get no sleep. At least you had this privacy, and this man in front of you who ensured you kept it. 

“I’ll call in an order.”

You sighed quietly as he pulled away and wandered back to the bedroom to grab his phone. For all the things he admired about you, you admired that about him: his ability to let things roll off, to take the good and leave the bad. You let everything affect you, but he never failed to have a good sense about him. He was way too wise, and it was why patients adored him. That and maybe his warm eyes, or his gorgeous, crooked smile, or the way he said “ma’am” and “surely” with that midwestern charm. 

You rooted through the medicine cabinet to grab some acetaminophen as you listened to the dull babbling of Dennis on the phone, and you rested against the counter as you took the pills dry. Your feet ached, the black work shoes worn down from any support they once offered. You were still cold from the wet roots of your hair. You were in a miserable mood, and the apartment was lonely without his warmth. You closed your eyes and tried to take your mind off it all, and that was when you felt hands scooping you off your feet. 

“Oof– Dennie!” You squeaked, wrapping your arms around his neck in case he dropped you. 

Dennis grinned and hoisted your legs around his hips, bracing you against his chest. The pads of his fingers dimpled the soft, bunching skin of your thighs. “Yes?”

“Why am I being handled like a ragdoll?”

“Because you flail, and it’s cute.” 

“That’s not a good enough reason,” you laughed, and he readjusted so his palms could cradle you dubiously close to the spot where your legs jointed to your ass. “I think you just wanted to squeeze me.”

“That, too,” he hummed, kissing your cheek. 

“Put me down,” you mumbled, nosing his jaw. 

“Why?”

“I’m heavy.”

“You are not,” Dennis scoffed, giving you a comical look of offense.

“Yes I am! Come on,”

“No,” he frowned, and he squeezed the underside of your legs to drive the point home. “You’re lighter than a hay bale.”

“I really don’t think that’s possible.”

Dennis narrowed his gaze playfully and slid you onto the kitchen counter, caging you in. You huffed at the relief of being put down and ruffled his hair, to which he shook the mess out like a dog. 

“Did you get me an egg roll?”

“You’re not heavy,” he interjected. 

“Okay, I’m not heavy.”

“Good. Correct,” he confirmed, and with a tiny glint in his eye, Dennis slid his palms up your legs and sides, caressing the spots where you curved and rolled. The farmboy was quick to trap you in a soft, unassuming kiss, and you melted on the faux marble, coiling around him once again. 

Dennis grunted softly as he pressed close to the counter and wrapped his arms around your back, sneaking his fingers under your scrubs. Your mouths worked in tandem as he drew patterns down your spine with one hand and kneaded the pudge of your tummy with the other, making you squirm. 

“Just been so stressed,” you mumbled, trailing your kisses down his neck. 

“I know, honeybee,” he panted, nipping your ear and pressing you against the cabinets. 

“You always make it better,” you confided, tugging sluggishly at his shirt. 

“Come here.”

The air settled softly over the room as you two gave into the urge. It wasn’t a tense moment, not even a worked-up one. It was just like letting a breath out. His hands were so welcome on your hot skin as he freed your legs from the chafing prison of those hazmat-issued scrubs. Your mouth was so grateful for the traces of soap on his collarbone as you nibbled and suckled on the meat of his chest, caressing the ridges of the abs that formed in secrecy over the last year of hauling patients and volunteering at the shelters and community farms after hours. It was a simple exchange of love between two people who have been leaning on each other for over a year, and who simply didn’t want to function without their counterpart. The mesh of passion in a quiet little safe place.

Dennis tucked his thumb under the cotton lip of your panties, sinking the pad into the wet heat between your folds. He sought the throbbing nub that required his attention. You choked on a moan as your back straightened out, and you curled your fingers in his hair, breathing the air of his mouth as he began to encircle it. 

“I’m sorry you had a bad day,” he murmured, prodding softly at your clit, smearing the mess over your mound. 

“You had one, too,” you wheezed. 

“Yeah, but I’m not upset,” he purred, giving you a little nip and kitten lick at the juncture of your neck and jaw. His palm adjusted to let his greedy fingers tuck under the cloth, and you grunted as he cupped your cunt. “I hate seeing my girl so drained. You’re too pretty… too smart for that.”

“Dennie,” you moaned. 

“Yeah? Right there?” Dennis asked as he sunk two fingers past your entrance, feeling the pulse of your needy walls like a heartbeat around his knuckles. “Oh, baby… you’re so wet, sweetheart.”

“S’all your fault,” you whimpered, grinding gently onto his palm. 

Dennis hooked an arm behind your hips to help angle you forward, and he crooked his fingers inside your cunt, grinning as the familiar squelch gargled around the digits. Your face twisted with need, and he began to gently thrust, pressing the heel of his palm to your clit and working out circles. 

“That’s it, honeybee, come on– just take what you want,” he cooed, giving you every opportunity to rock against his fingers and use him up. “My little bee, yeah? You like it when I’m sweet.”

“Yeah,” you agreed, breathless and dizzy with pleasure. His hands should be exhausted from all the work he did on those trauma patients, but he made no show of it. The man’s fingers petted your g-spot like it deserved a treat. 

“You’re so pretty, baby, did I tell you today?” Dennis whispered, attaching his mouth to your neck. You felt the scrape of his teeth. “So, so pretty.”

“Dennieee,” you begged, feeling the heat building in your gut. The combination of his pressure on your bud and fingers stroking your walls was enough, but the words made it impossible to hold out. 

“Gonna cum, honeybee? Yeah? You can, don’t worry, baby. Come for me, let me see your face.”

Dennis always had that tone when you got desperate. Easy, gentle, as if you were a spooked horse. There was no fighting off the butterflies as they flitted happily around your spinning, floating orgasm, making you shiver and twitch as he wrought a crashing wave of pleasure down on your body. You moaned hoarsely and clung to the corded muscle of his arms, bucking into his palm and babbling weak, “Ah, ah, ah…”s. 

Dennis smiled against the curve of your neck and pulled his fingers free, sliding them between your lips and exploring the hot slick of your tongue. He watched your pouty lips close around them and suck, and his cock twitched in his pants. “That’s it. Good girl, honey.”

You flushed from the praise, body buzzing and shaking with stimulation. You reached down to cup his erection. Dennis tensed and hooked his fingers over your teeth, biting the inside of his cheek. “Jesus, baby.”

“You need it, too,” you pleaded, gently palming him, watching his cheeks burn and his lips part. 

“Fuck,” he moaned, and you tugged the string on the scrub bottoms free so he could shimmy them down. 

Dennis was not one to get greedy often, but it was so hard not to let the urge overcome him when you watched him with those bog doe eyes and begged to be fucked. Your legs wobbled like a calf as he dragged you to the edge of the counter and lined himself up, gliding the head of his cock through your folds to coat the pink, hungry skin in the residual slick. The two of you let out a freakish, synced sigh, and he pressed the tip in with impatience. He was met with no resistance– your cunt stretched dutifully for him, and soon enough he was grunting like an animal, pinning your hips to the counter and watching your breasts bounce from the force.

Your knees hitched around his hips as the deep, eager force of his length speared you, and you lolled your head back against the cabinets, clawing at the edge of the counter. “Dennie, baby, please, please…”

“You feel so good, baby,” he whined, thrusting harder, watching the creamy rings start to form around the base of his cock. “Fuck. Such a sweet girl, honeybee, such a good girl!”

“S-so… so…”

He chuckled weakly as you lost your train of thought. He thought you were pretty without fail, but there was something to you when he had you at the mercy of your own pleasure. You seemed to glow, skin shimmering with sweat, all your bountiful curves twisting and turning with marshmallow torque. He gasped hungrily as he dug his nails into the fat of your thighs and moaned, “So fucking beautiful… God, could just squeeze you ‘til you pop.”

The heat wrapping around your womb in vines was pernicious and unrelenting. You licked up a stray droplet of drool from his chin as he pounded into you, and you threaded your fingers into his hair, dragging him into a sloppy, wonderful kiss. Dennis’ lashes mingled with yours as you swirled your tongue past his lips, jolting with every thrust, milking him to his breaking point. The heat between your bodies was overwhelming, and it was so good, so deep–

“Hello? Guys, I’m home–”

The apartment door swung open, and Trinity was ambushed by the sight of Dennis fucking you like a jackrabbit on the kitchen counter, your scrubs pushed up over your tits and his pants at his ankles. The poor girl covered her eyes and swallowed a spontaneous upchuck reflex. “What the actual fuck?!”

Dennis didn’t stop, he only slowed. A mortified expression crossed his face as he begged, “Get out!”

“Yeah, no fucking shit!”

The door slammed, and Trinity could be heard barking and grumbling down the hall. Maybe Garcia had to cancel their plans tonight. Maybe God had planned to embarrass you. It didn’t matter now, though, because Dennis was spurred on by the intrusion, and he pumped into you hard enough to burst. The two of you fell into a messy fit of laughter and lost, climactic whimpers as his hips stuttered and warm, thick ropes clung to your insides. 

“Shit,” you wheezed, “She’s gonna kill us.”

“It’s our apartment, too,” he grinned, kissing your chin and resting his heavy forehead in the dip of your shoulder.

“Yeah,” you flushed. “Maybe you should go get her.”

Dennis lifted his head again and slipped two fingers into your mouth, shutting you up with drooping, sated eyes. “Just shut up and stop worrying about everything, honeybee… yeah?”

You could explode all over again. It was that stupid farmer’s voice. All the adrenaline and weight of the day dissipated again as you hummed around his fingers, a tiny “mhm.”

Dennis sighed happily and tugged you close again, feeling his cock jump inside your heat, and he kissed your cheek. “That’s my girl.” 

The blonde sighed deeply and slumped against the door, dropping her bag in the foyer. The clock over the doorway ticked past the midnight mark. You rose from the couch, adjusting your ridden-up sleep shorts, and stalked towards her quietly, plucking her glasses from the bridge of her nose. You smiled softly and rubbed her temples, humming a careful, “Hi, Melly.”

Mel’s crystalline eyes fluttered open and you watched the stress slowly deflate from her muscles, the girl’s gaze softening within seconds. She mustered up a little grin and leaned into your touch. “Hi.”

“Bad day?”

“Bad, long, tiring, stressful. Every negative word.”

You cooed softly and reached behind her to tug the tie from her braid, hoping that loosening the hair wouldn't tug so hard on her pretty brain. Mel stepped off the door and cupped your cheeks, pressing her lips to yours without warning. You flushed a bit, furrowing your brow in concentration, and you let her take the comfort. She kissed you– well, eagerly wouldn't be the right word to use– something more like determined. Determined to experience one good thing, one thing she had control over, one thing that didn’t ask too much of her. Her mouth still tasted like gum, and she still smelled like body wash, just with a little tinge of sweat. Still prim and proper. Still Mel. 

When she pulled away, she pressed her forehead against yours. “I really missed you today.”

You frowned, chest squeezing. “I missed you too, baby.”

“Sometimes I wish I could just keep you at work. So I could have you nearby.”

“Like a stress toy?” You giggled.

Mel smiled at you and squeezed your hips, kissing the corner of your mouth. “Yeah, like a stress toy. Makes sense. You bring my cortisol down.”

“Well, I’m happy to be so useful,” you murmured, leaving little pecks along her jaw. “I made you dinner. Are you hungry?”

“A little. Gotta shower first.”

“I can help,” you offered, and when she gave you a cheeky little look, you blushed and added, “I meant that in a serious way.”

“You want to help me shower? Like, wash my hair?”

You nodded softly, walking her away from the wall. You grinned as she stumbled on her feet, and you waddled backwards, never looking away. “Sure. I’m good at it. I’ll wash it, brush it, feed you dinner…”

“Why?” Mel asked as you wrenched the bathroom door open. 

You finally let go of your grip on her hands to turn the shower on, and you took one more look at her sleepy eyes and run-down frame. She looked so small sometimes, and it made part of you hate that hospital, that ridiculous emergency department that kept her too long and let her go without care. You knew she loved the job, and you knew the doctors meant well. It was just an impossible profession. You admired what she was willing to put herself through, even when you didn’t like it. 

“I just want to take care of you, that’s all.”

Mel leaned against the sink and drew you back in, looping her arms around your waist. She tucked her face into your neck, smelling the leftover notes of your lotion and breathing softly. “You’re really good at it.”

“I know,” you stamped a kiss on her temple. Then, you curled your fingers under the hem of her scrubs. “Can I?”

Mel nodded and raised her arms, and you pulled her scrub top and undershirt off with ease. You let her step out of her own pants while you stripped down, and by the time you were ready, the water was hot. The two of you climbed into the steaming shower and you watched Mel melt under the warmth of the spray. 

You took a few minutes to work the suds of the shampoo through Mel’s hair. She smiled a little when you scratched the nape of her neck with your nails, almost like she was a dog. She just stood there, silent and grateful, as you washed her golden locks and conditioned them, passed the soap over her milky skin, kissed a few freckles here and there. Mel lost track of time as your hands touched her with intention, making sure to press out the knots forming in her back and to get all the product from her hair. You hummed quietly to yourself, some song she didn’t recognize but loved anyway, and when you turned the water off, she frowned. 

“What?”

“Over already?” Mel pouted.

You laughed softly and tugged the curtain open, stepping out to grab her a towel. “What, did you think I’d get tempted and keep you in there?”

The doctor shrugged sheepishly, stealing a glimpse of your supple frame before you cruelly wrapped it up in a towel. 

You only rolled your eyes. “Later, if you’re not too tired. You need to eat first.”

Mel huffed in fake petulance and trotted behind as you walked down the hall to the bedroom. There were fresh pajamas on the bed– something you always did when Mel wasn’t home at the time she was supposed to be. Her heart thumped as she dressed in them, and she admired the way you brushed your hair from the corner of her eye. After a moment, she crawled onto the bed behind you. “Let me do that.”

You snatched the brush back with a grin. “Nope.”

“C’mon,”

“No. I’m done anyway. Turn around.”

Mel grumbled but did as she was told, sitting on the mattress with her back to you. She felt your fingers in her hair once again, gathering it in a thick rope and beginning to pass the brush through it. 

“Do you want to tell me about your day?” You inquired, studying the sheen of the darker pieces lacing her natural color.  

Mel yawned, a bit lulled by your monotonous strokes, and shrugged again. “We had nearly fifteen traumas. There was a pile up on the highway. Another few were freak injuries. And then the computers went down again because admin refuses to replace them, and so all the charting on our tablets wasn’t uploading, and it took us hours after our shift to collect the files from the cloud base and download them into the system… and I forgot my lunch this morning. The soda machine broke. My socks kept slipping down and now I have blisters on my ankles from my sneakers. Just stupid, inconvenient stuff, over and over again.”

You listened as she complained, heart tugging with sympathy. “Jeez… it really just piled on, huh? Did you ever eat?”

“No,” Mel shook her head, “I never got a second.”

You frowned and let her combed hair fall down her back, wrapping your arms around her shoulders. “I’m sorry you had such a rough day, Melly.”

“It’s okay. It wasn’t anything I couldn’t handle,” she promised. “You made dinner, you said?”

“Mhm. Ziti. I’ll warm it up.”

Mel peeked over her shoulder at you. “Thank you.”

“Mhm,” you purred, leaning in to kiss her once more before clambering off the bed and disappearing through the doorway. 

Mel sat for a moment in the quiet of the room, rubbing her eyes and gathering her hair into a wet braid. She could still smell your skin, and she heard your footsteps in the apartment like a comforting ghost. You were always home when she needed you. Always there to take the reins when she’d been holding them too long. Sometimes she would think back to when she still lived with Becca, before the care home and before Becca moved in with Adam, and how there was no passenger seat for her in life. All there seemed to be was coming home to be another caretaker. It wasn't that she didn't love it, but the undeniable toll of never getting a break had nearly destroyed her. It was only when she met you that she realized it was okay to let people in. That maybe they could help, and that passing on responsibility was not necessarily a burden. At least, you never made her think so. You just cooked and smiled and kissed her with all the love in your body. She was so grateful that she couldn’t find it in her to contain it the same way she could keep everything else under wraps. 

Mel’s body buzzed with relief and exhaustion, hunger and need, and so she rose and padded into the kitchen where you stood before the microwave with a spoon in your mouth. Ice cream for you while her dinner heated. Mel quietly spun you around and pulled the spoon from your mouth, and she watched your lips curl like it was a movie frame. 

“I love you,” she whispered. 

Your throat clenched, and you pressed her nose like a button. “I love you too.”

“A lot.”

“How much?” You cocked your head, seeing how her eyes gleamed. Every now and again, Mel got overwhelmingly affectionate, and you would press it out of her like a grape. You adored it. 

“So much,” she cooed, kissing your jaw, your neck, combing through your wet hair with her fingers.

Butterflies rushed you like a wave, making you turn rosy and lean into her nudges. “Use more words,” you joked, breathless and swooning. 

“Sometimes I feel like I could explode,” Mel mumbled. 

You laughed softly and jumped when the microwave rudely interrupted. Mel swatted at you when you attempted to turn and get her food. “You need to eat!”

“Kiss me again,” she whined. 

You chuckled with weak exasperation and grabbed her face, trapping her in a deep kiss, feeling her jaw mold instantly to take all you gave her. She tasted the hint of mint on your tongue from the ice cream, and it made her entirely starving, but not for the plate in the microwave. When you pulled away, she pawed at you. 

“I mean it, Mel, you have to eat,” you urged, wriggling free and grabbing her dinner. You led her over to the couch like she wore a leash, and she crawled up next to you, taking the food dutifully. 

You clung to the fork and she stared at you, hand open. “Gimme.”

“I was gonna do it,” you said. 

“Feed me? I thought you were kidding.”

“Just one bite.”

Mel glanced away, suddenly a bit shy from all the care, but she opened her mouth without another word. You speared some and held it up to her lips, depositing the cheesy bite, and she grunted in approval. She loved your cooking, and for the moment, she put aside her other itch to eat. 

You passed the fork over and watched her, twirling the end of her braid around your finger while flipping through television channels for something boring. You landed on the History Channel, which was running some documentary on medieval castles– you knew she would want to see that, the little dork, so you left it on. Mel gave in and polished off her dinner, and she leaned against you, finally full and satisfied. 

“You should get some rest,” you advised as you took her dish and slid it onto the coffee table. You’d clean it later. 

“I want to see you a little longer.”

“I’m right here.”

“I know,” she smiled, draping herself over you. 

Your stomach fluttered, and you collected her into your arms and laid a bit more comfortably on the couch. It would only be minutes before she passed out, you could tell; it was in her drooping eyes and deep breaths. So, you kissed her forehead and settled in, keeping the remote handy to change the channel when she drifted off. 

“I have to set an alarm,” Mel slurred. 

“I already did, baby,” you whispered, petting her head. “Just close your eyes. I’ll get us to bed in a bit.”

“You’re like an angel,” she teased, and you laughed. 

“I do what I can.”

“I love you,”

“You already said that.”

“I know.”

The two of you laid for a while, Mel slowly succumbing to the weight of sleep, and you watched her lashes wink shut. When she rested, all that distress melted away, and you could see the girl that loved you, and the girl who cared for her patients. Just a warm, knowing face. Beautiful and unafraid.