you're here!

When he eventually straight up asks her why, she takes him aside in the fanfiction corridor and asks him: “If you went over to someone’s house and they were beating their dog, but the dog kept wagging its tail because it doesn’t know what’s happening to it is wrong… you’d still have to save the dog, right? You can’t keep going over there and let it happen?”

“Is someone hurting our dog?” He asks, horrified.

“Do you think this is a good picture for my Tinder profile?”

Mel looks up from her phone in slight alarm as Frank holds up his own to her face. They’re sitting on her couch, his legs spread out beneath him while hers are curled up against her chest. They’ve been hanging out in silence until he decided to drop that bomb.

“You’re creating a Tinder profile?” she asks, feeling slightly embarrassed at the wariness in her tone, but he doesn’t seem to notice it, just shrugging in response.

“It’s been a while since the divorce, and I think I’m ready to move on,” he says, and there’s something unreadable in his expression as he stares at her. “I guess this is the first step, right?”

She feels slightly disappointed, maybe even a little heartbroken at the idea, but she covers it up with a smile as she grabs the phone from him.

Looking at the picture, she purses her lips and frowns, before shaking her head. “This is blurry and half of your face is cut off. Also, there’s a stain on your shirt.”

Frank groans playfully, before reaching behind her and tugging at her braid. “Way to rain on my parade, King.”

Swatting his hand away from her, she hands him back his phone. “Sorry, it’s the truth.”

Looking down at the photo again, Frank grimaces. “No, you’re right. It’s just difficult to find a picture without my children or which isn’t my PTMC headshot.”

“Wait, I might have one,” Mel says, quickly swiping through her own phone to find the picture. Her heart aches a little as she texts it to him, because it’s her contact photo for him, a photo she cherishes a lot. Part of her feels possessive of that picture and doesn’t want to share it with other women. But it is a good one.

He’s sitting on this very couch in it, his dog next to him, a hand behind his head and a bright smile on his face as he stares at someone behind the camera – at her. His shirt is riding up slightly, revealing his happy trail. He looks gorgeous.

She watches him carefully as he stares at the photo silently, thoughtfully, and fidgeting a little, she tells him, “Trust me on this one, the ladies will all swipe right.”

He looks up at her, indecipherable expression on his face again as he moves a little closer to her. His eyes flick to her lips as he asks, “Would you swipe right?”

Feeling her face heat up immediately, she lets out an awkward laugh. “I don’t have Tinder.”

Frank hums in response, and she notices there’s a dangerous glint in his eyes as he murmurs coarsely, “You should get it. I’d swipe right on you.”

Cheeks still flushed, she rolls her eyes playfully, before averting her gaze and turning back to her own phone.

@kingdonmicrofic - july 17 - wc: 225 - cw: mature

-

Frank's pinky is resting against Mel's thigh--Mel's exposed thigh--and she is not moving away.

She wears shorts to the PTMC's softball game, just like every other person around them, but this is Mel, who, until now, he's only seen in scrub pants. While his hand habitually presses into her back at work whenever he squeezes past her, a clothed barrier always prevented any heat from heading south. So this is the first actual touch of her skin that he feels he doesn't have a right to, and she's still letting him, trusting him, the thought of which only makes him harder, like he's some damn pervert, and--

"Langdon, you're up," Robby grunts.

Oh, he's up alright. How the hell is he supposed to stand right now? There's so many people waiting out in the bleachers, a majority of whom he needs to impress if he has any hopes of getting an attending position someday.

Mel suddenly shifts and points her knees towards him, which slides multiple of his fingers to an even higher spot on the back of her thigh, right at the edge of her shorts. He's--he's basically touching her ass--

"Batter up!" she pipes at him with a giggle.

fluffy fluffy fluffy chapter, you have been warned

last fall, in a group text, i started kingdon au of the day where i would share plot bunny ideas i didn't have the time/energy/desire to write, free for anyone to take and develop on their own. if you read a kingdon au of the day post and say, "oh! i want to write that!" feel free to take it! credit is not needed but always appreciated :)

The call came in from the league's front office. It apparently wasn't ideal for one of the core faces of the league—if State Farm commercials, Gatorade sponsorship deals, and a MVP finalist bid last season were anything to go by—to fail a randomized drug test after a post-failed playoff run and then immediately go off the grid and enter a messy divorce. “Image rehab,” they said. So the league called the Steelers general manager, who called the head coach and the community outreach team, who then called a contact at Middle Hill Creative Center for Adults.

They’ve been looking for a volunteer coach for their four-week flag football summer league. Would line up perfectly with the start of training camp. Get your face back out there. Show people you’re still a good guy.

Frank didn’t think that was him anymore, and yet…he says yes, and there’s a prickling feeling in the back of his neck that something’s about to change.

(or: NFL Pro Bowl quarterback Frank coaches Becca’s team at the center…meets Mel…falls in love…and she gets the family she’s always wanted in the form of fifty overzealous and energetic football WAGs.)

Screenshot of WAG MEL below the cut

“Woah, what happened to you?”

At Ellis’s outburst, Mel turns away from her locker and then quickly turns back to hide the laugh that threatens to bubble out of her at the sight of Langdon. She’s lucky she’s not on shift with him today, she thinks, because she doesn’t think she’d be able to concentrate at all.

Of course, he always makes it hard for her to concentrate with those eyes and those arms, but today’s distraction is very different in nature. Today, he’s distracting because it is impossible to take him seriously with his face, hair and hands all completely covered in glitter.

Behind her, Langdon groans in embarrassment. “I did some arts and crafts with Penny and we had a little accident.”

The last word is hissed and Mel hides her smile behind her hand as Ellis lets out an amused snort. “Yeah, I figured.”

“It doesn’t wash off at all either. I’ve showered three times and I still look like this, and since I’m trying to learn to embrace my imperfections, I’ve come to accept that this is my life now.”

From the corner of her eye, Mel can see Ellis look at Langdon warily for a second before crossing her arms over her chest. “Therapy’s done a real number on you, huh?”

Langdon hums in agreement, and Ellis laughs and shakes her head in response. “Well, at least it’ll be a fun shift.”

She laughs again at the middle finger Langdon sends her, before turning to Mel and nodding at her. “Have a good night, King!”

With that, she’s gone, leaving Mel and Langdon alone in the locker room. Mel still doesn’t face him, but she can hear him move until he’s leaning on the locker next to hers, letting out another groan.

“I feel so embarrassed,” he whines, and this time, Mel lets out the giggle she’s been holding in as she turns to him.

“Don’t be, it’s cute,” she blurts before she can think it over and she feels her cheeks heating up as he raises an eyebrow in response, a smirk forming on his lips and an amused twinkle appearing in his eyes.

“Cute?” he repeats, and averting her gaze again, Mel shrugs.

“Well, yeah, you look like this because you’re a good dad who loves his daughter and wanted to spend quality time with her. I think that’s sweet.”

When she looks back up at him again, his smirk has morphed into something more gentle, his face flushed slightly like hers. Running a glittery hand through his glittery hair, he chuckles. “I guess that’s true.”

“You do look a little ridiculous, though,” she teases him, and Langdon’s responding laughter sounds genuine, as if he’s only now truly accepting the hilarity of the situation.

“But cute?” he prods, earnestness in both his gaze and his voice, and combined with all the glitter, she can’t help but feel completely and utterly endeared by him.

Abby was reasonable. She noticed the effort her husband was making to fix things, and she was a good enough wife to be grateful for it. He was sober and he was present and when it was her birthday he’d sat the kids down at the kitchen table with glue and popsicle sticks and they’d all worked together to make her a picture frame. They’d used green glitter to decorate, and it had gotten everywhere, into Frank’s scalp, his collar, in the gap between his ring and his finger. A week later it was still around. He'd pick it out from under his fingernails or shake it out of his hair like a dog and say, I’m pretty sure this is a biohazard, and she'd laugh, and it felt good, like before. 

Sure, Frank didn’t quite look at her the way he used to, but that would probably come back with time. He was coming back to himself more and more every day.