philindasource

[philindasource]

Phil: *Pointing at the cookies on the top shelf* Mel can you pass those cookies to me?

Melinda: *Stares*

Phil: Oh right you can’t, you're–

Melinda: Finish that sentence and you will know what it’s like to be 7 inches tall

Phil: *Gulps but also 🙈🔥👀🔥👀🔥🙈* Ok

Inspired by this post and @cassandracainns <3333

[philindasource]

*Academy times philinda*

Melinda: *Preparing to make noodles for the two of them* How do you like your noodles?

Phil: *Remembers the last time Melinda was in the kitchen* Edible

[philindasource]

dancing with your ghost

Melinda stands in the open doorway, a duffle bag slung over her shoulder with nothing in it but a collection of Polaroids, a ring, and his shirt.

Artificial light filters into the room from the hallway, bathing what is in the doorway’s path with a dim yellow light. The unmade bed is illuminated, untouched since she left a week ago.

It has been two seconds and also three months since she’s been gone, yet she knows she’s aged a hundred years.

Melinda’s exhausted, but she can’t curl up into the sheets, achingly alone, laying in cold sheets without the sound of his weak breathing in and out next to her. Not without his hand gently held in hers, fingers twitching occasionally.

She hasn’t slept in weeks. She spent every second listening to his heart beat and falter and beat and falter and beat, until it didn’t do anything at all.

The idea of laying in bed with no soft, strenuous beating under her hand- it feels more vast and empty than even the nights she spent in the tiny apartment after Bahrain; ghosts and guilt and hate replacing the spot where Andrew used to lie next to her.

Melinda closes the door behind her, the door that separates her and her ghosts from everyone else.

She has thousands of ghosts haunting her, but none of them are Phil.

The room is pitch black, but she doesn’t turn on the light. She lets it sit, the inky darkness swirling around and seeping into her body as she closes her eyes and breathes in deep, faltering slightly when the memory of his bloodshot eyes and rapid loss of speech float through her mind.

She uses vague muscle memory to light the same, unscented candle that has been sitting on her small desk since early in their time in the Lighthouse. Daisy found a short break day to deliver them each a small gift soon after they returned from the future.

Daisy’s gift for Coulson was a boy hula dancer, to match the other one sitting in a storage building with Lola. Daisy joked about finally being allowed to drive the precious car, and Coulson just shrugged with a small smile and an odd look on his face.

Now Melinda knows what the look meant. He already knew, even then.

She drops the bag on the cement floor and it lands with a hollow thunk. She pops open the bottle of beer that was pressed gently into her hands when she stood in the center of the common room on shaky legs barely holding her up as Daisy clutched her. She didn’t cry, just held on tight like Melinda would blow away.

Maybe she will.

Her stomach is full of rocks and she sits down on the chair next to her desk, gripping the back of the chair with her free hand, looking down at the ground because she can’t see her room without being hit with a memory of him.

Everything has Phil in it.

He is in Daisy’s earnest face. He is in the maroon couch where he explained to the team that he was leaving for good. He is in the small collection of cooking utensils hung on the wall in the cafeteria area from when he insisted to cook them a meal at least once every couple of days for morale, even when the world was falling apart around them.

Now she knows, can see what he was doing. He was trying to hold onto something he loved to do because he knew he was running out of time. He knew, so he tried to spend that time with them while he could.

Once, Daisy and Jemma joined him. The three tried making lasagna but it was mainly Phil cooking while Daisy and Jemma ate the ingredients and messed with him. They were going through their own personal hells, yet they were smiling and giggling, the unfamiliar sound of joy ringing through the lighthouse and lifting the mood of the entire base.

It was one of the only times she saw him smile recently, before Tahiti.

He smiled a lot in Tahiti, at least when he was awake.

Melinda still marveled. He smiled until the end. He smiled when she talked, when she laughed, when she brushed soft kisses to his lips as she cradled his head when he couldn’t stand anymore.

She asked how he could smile when he about to see nothing ever again. Be nothing.

“I won’t be nothing, Lin,” he replied. “I’ll be your memories of me. And I smile because I see your love, for me and for Daisy and for the team, and I know that you will live. And that’s all that matters.”

He said it so simply, so matter of factly.

Melinda wonders if he’d be smiling if he would know she can’t live without him. Won’t.

She’s nothing without him, nothing without her better half holding her away from the edge of the pit of mania and darkness and sickness, the kind that creeps over your mind so quickly that you don’t notice it until you’re gone.

Without him, she is silently drowning, thousands of hands grabbing at her skin and ears and eyes, rough, unlike his careful caresses.

Without him, she is dying.

Melinda takes another sip of the beer and rests her forehead on her desk, for the first time noticing the sheen of sweat that is sticking some of her hair to her face.

There aren’t five stages of grief. Whoever came up with that was wrong.

Everyone experiences loss differently, but the one thing that stays the same for every person is that the loss never leaves. It stays heavy inside a person, creating a chasm of emptiness. Every new loss adds to it, making it deeper and wider until there is more emptiness than there is human.

Melinda is nothing but empty.

They danced together, before he was barely able to tell her he loved her.

The radio was playing faint tunes as he sat at the dining table, reading a book. (Not Ulysses. They didn’t have enough time to get it for him.) He had a cannula running up around his ears and tucked inside his nose, trying to feed to him the oxygen he fought every day for.

A song came on that Melinda recognized. It had played at her 19th birthday, her first one celebrated at the academy. Phil had dragged her out to a club near the base, and slow songs had played over the speakers as he got her a sundae and offered to pay but she refused to let him.

The lyrics played, but she didn’t pay attention to what they said, not back then.

Oceans apart day after day

And I slowly go insane

Phil, with his endless energy, had bounded up and held out his hand. “Dance with me, Cadet May?” he had asked in a teasing tone.

She’d grinned. “Sure, Cadet Coulson. Show me your moves.”

If I see you next to never

How can we say forever

In Tahiti he’d gotten up, less energy than even a few weeks before, and held out his hand to her, his giddy smile exactly the same as thirty years ago in that club, somehow untouched by time. “Cadet May?” he prompted.

She suppressed a grin. (She wishes she hadn’t. She wishes she let herself be free with him, be happy without any boundaries, but she still wouldn’t, couldn’t.) She took his outstretched hand and got up.

Wherever you go

Whatever you do

I will be right here waiting for you

They stood together, her mostly supporting him, and they were barely moving, simply swaying, but Melinda was looking in his bright blue eyes that were getting hazier by the hour and felt like she was back in their undercover missions, getting spun around and twirled so quickly she was lighter than air.

Whatever it takes

Or how my heart breaks

I will be right here waiting for you

The song ended, and Melinda was brought back to the present, where the sun was setting and Phil was sagging in her arms. She murmured that he needed to sleep, and helped him into their bed.

He didn’t get up again.

Waiting for you

The whole time they were in the magical place, he promised her that the pain was bearable, but when her back was turned he’d grimace and make fists so tight his knuckles would turn white.

He’d never been good at hiding things from her.

He hid the scar tearing through his soul, though, for months. Maybe she couldn’t read him as well as she always thought she could.

The middle of their first night he woke up still half asleep, crying that he didn’t want to die. The opposite of seven years ago, when he’d pleaded with Fury to let him.

She held him, softly kissing him on the head as she soothed him back to sleep, his head on her thigh as she sat against the backboard of the bed.

“I don’t want to die either,” she whispered in the dead of night, after he’d fallen asleep and couldn’t hear her anymore. After nobody could hear her anymore.

waiting

“I will love you for the rest of time,” he always said. “You won’t hear it, you won’t see it, but you will feel it, and you will know.”

She remembers his words, but she’s sitting alone in a tiny room lit by a scented candle and the alcohol in her throat doesn’t burn enough to abate the emptiness.

She isn’t angry anymore. Or sad, or upset, or even scared.

She isn’t anything at all.

“You will feel my love, even when I’m gone,” he said.

Melinda sits and she drinks until the bottle is empty and the wick of the candle burns down into the molten wax and extinguishes the flame, leaving her in the dark black well of grief.

“You will feel my love,” he said.

And she doesn’t say out loud what she knows deep down.

Because the darkness already knows too; knows because of the glistening tracks on her cheeks and the empty bottle clutched tightly in her hand, soon to be replaced by another.

She doesn’t feel it.

And she’s not waiting anymore.

[philindasource]

MARVELSAOS 6TH ANNIVERSARY CELEBRATION! 🎉

Philinda X Folklore Seven

Sweet tea in the summer Cross my heart, won’t tell no other And though I can’t recall your face I still got love for you

[philindasource]

Cappuccino in the Clouds Chapter 7

Coffee AU + Young Philinda + Christmas Hallmark movie + Meeting the Parents + Romance + Tender moments

Get caught up: Chapter 1 I Chapter 2 I Chapter 3 I Chapter 4 I Chapter 5 I Chapter 6

Rated: Teen

Chapter 7: Meeting the Parents

A few days later, Phil and Melinda were on their way to the airport, to visit her parents. Phil’s nervousness showed, his eyes darting all over the place.

“Phil, chill. It’s okay. My parents are cool.” Melinda replied, putting her hand on Phil’s.

“Yeah, and then I find out your mom is a SHIELD agent and that Nick is the Director of SHIELD? So now I’m gonna be interrogated!” Phil was being slightly melodramatic as they neared the airport in their Uber.

“Retired SHIELD agent. She’s just a professor at the Academy now.” Melinda answered, getting ready to grab her stuff.

“Alright, alright. Whew. I’ll be fine. Everything is fine.” Phil tipped the Uber driver and then got out of the car with Mel.

Melinda smiled, looking at him. She had gotten him more Christmas gifts. While she did like Phil’s style, his hipster barista outfits did need a little updating. So, she had gotten him a mid V-neck and a bomber jacket, which he wore to the airport. She thought he looked quite handsome. Phil was unsure about the V-neck, but seeing how it made Melinda happy, he didn’t mind.

“You look good, Phil. Here, one more gift. You’ll need these in Arizona.” She handed him a brand new pair of aviator sunglasses.

The two lovers took a selfie before they went into the airport. Melinda had worn her leather jacket, a v-neck shirt as well, and aviator glasses.

“Now you do look like an agent of some sort in that outfit, Melinda.” Phil had told her when she had shown up at his place earlier that day.

“What can I say? I look good in leather.”

“Yeah you do,” Phil gave her a deep kiss.

“Alright Phil, we gotta head to the airport, don’t have time for another.” Melinda had laughed, tearing herself away from his touch.

“Fine.” Phil pouted, only half joking.

Mel and Phil got on the plane, and once they got settled, held hands. “I can’t believe your parents got us first class. I’ve never flown first class.”

Mel’s laughed, “Yeah, my mom has a ton of points from traveling so much in her SHIELD days. She uses them now to fly me home.”

The flight attendant brought champagne by. Phil grinned, “Wow! Free alcohol too.”

The flight went well, with Mel and Phil watching a movie on the plane. Mel had snuggled into Phil’s arms, and the two had drank probably too much champagne. But Mel’s parents were picking them up, so no worries on drinking and driving.

As they landed and went out to get picked up, Phil put on his new sunglasses in the bright Arizona sun.

“Not gonna lie, Phil, you look hot in that outfit. Like you are in your 30s now.” Melinda swooned.

“Oh...so mid 30s is what you look for then?” Phil teased.

“No, just you look more refined”

“Well I don’t think you can age, Mel. I’ve seen your high school photos you showed me.” He wrapped his arm over her waist.

“Good genes account for that one.”

Phil moved his hand along her hip. “Yeah, good jeans.”

Melinda rolled her eyes and blushed. “You are so dorky.”

Before the two could share a kiss, Melinda’s parents pulled up. Phil immediately stood straight, looking like a cadet who forgot to salute his superior officer.

“Good afternoon, Mr. and Mrs. May.” Phil said, helping Mel get the luggage into the trunk.

“Nice to meet you, Phil. Mrs. May stuck her hand out to shake it.

Mr. May gave Phil a stern glance, “Hi Phil.”

The four adults rode mostly in silence on the way to the May residence, but Melinda was able to keep some conversation going between her parents and Phil.

Mrs. May seemed quite interested in hearing all about “Uncle” Nick, and Mr. May wanted to know all about Phil’s coffee shop.

They all made it to their house and got settled in. Mrs. May showed Phil his room while Mr. May and Melinda prepped snacks.

“Here’s our guest room, Phillip. Don’t feel like you have to sleep in there though,” She gave him a wink, and Phil blushed dark red.

Melinda popped in her head, “Oh mom, what did you say to Phil?”

Melinda’s mom laughed, “Oh, nothing.”

Melinda took Phil by the hand. Let me show you my room. Melinda’s room was just as it was like when she moved out at 18. It was simple, like her apartment, but there was a spot with all her medals and awards from school and sports.

“Yeah, we can sleep in here or in the guest room, whichever you want. I think my parents put you in the guest room just to not presume anything.” Melinda felt slightly embarrassed about the whole thing.

“No, no it’s totally cool. Besides...your mom knows what’s up.” Phil blushed again.

“Of course she does, Phil. She was a SHIELD agent. And my dad is just...old fashioned. But his wife isn’t. So it all works out.” Melinda led Phil back out to the living room, where the parents were sitting.

The day went by fairly smoothly, with Phil only being grilled a bit by Mrs. May, and only a few embarrassing comments by Mr. May.

Melinda and Phil were walking through the neighborhood as the sun began to set. “Your parents are awesome, Mel.”

Melinda chuckled, “Really? They grilled you and embarrassed you in the same conversation.”

Phil squeezed her hand, “No, it’s okay. It’s just, nice to be around older adults again. They care for you, greatly. I’m willing to suffer some scrutiny and embarrassment to have your hand.”

The sun began to set over the hills, and Melinda leaned into Phil, just like they had on their first date night.

“I feel like we’ve been dating forever.” Phil replied, feeling so comfortable with Melinda pressed against him.

“It some ways, it doesn’t feel real. But I think it’s because we were friends before we started dating.” Melinda answered, coming to that conclusion the other day.

“Yeah, that’s true. You did come into the shop nearly every day for 7 months.” Phil laughed, realizing now how much Mel had been crushing on him all this time.

“And it still took you that long to ask me out!” Mel punched him slightly in the arm.

“True, but this did turn out well. I mean...Christmas day was the best day of my life.” Phil kissed her gently on the neck.

“Mmm, you’re right. Alright, Phil, let’s get back to the house. Thankfully...my parents go to bed early.” Melinda touched his lips with her finger.

“Oh good.” The two came back to the house, with Mr. and Mrs. May already putting the final touches on dinner. They all ate together, and Phil smiled.

“Thank you for having me over. This is the first family dinner I’ve had in a long while. I...I’ve missed it.” Phil was trying so hard not to cry. It had been nearly lost in his memory the last time he had dinner with two parents.

Melinda began tearing up, as well as Mr. May. Melinda’s mom smiled gently.

“Sorry for getting emotional.” Phil felt embarrassed, but Melinda put her hand on his back.

“No, son. Don’t be. I lost my parents when I was young too. This is why it was so hard for Mellie’s mom and I. I would be so afraid she’d lose her mom young, like I did. But she made it. So every day, we appreciate what we have.” Mr. May said seriously. Phil had touched a soft spot on Mr. May.

The rest of the meal was spent quiet, everyone contemplative. Melinda and Phil picked up all the dishes and said they would clean up.

“Doing okay, Phil?” Mel said as she set her hand on his lower back.

“Yeah, doing fine now. Just happy and somber at the same time. If that makes sense.” Phil shrugged as he began to wash the plates.

“You know, never feel embarrassed about talking about your feelings. That’s one thing I learned from my dad. My mom had to shut off herself a lot when I was growing up, because of the things she saw as an agent. But my dad was able to pull her back out of the wreckage every time.” Melinda answered, remembering when her mom couldn’t even hug her. There had been a mission in Bahrain. Something happened there. Mel’s mom never shared about it. Mrs. May shortly retired after that, and became a professor.

“Thanks, Mel. It’s great to see your parents. I’m really glad I decided to come.” Phil and Mel finished cleaning in relative, with Phil humming a song and Melinda loading up the dishwasher.

Late evening fell, and Mr. and Mrs. May went to bed promptly at 9 pm. The parents had left some drinks and desserts out for Phil and Mel.

“Looks like we are alone at last, Phil,” Melinda had wrapped her arms around Phil.

“Mmmhmm. Been a long day. But a good day. And an even better night.” Phil said, before he pulled Mel in for a long kiss.

[philindasource]

Philinda Appreciation Week (AU)

“Okay, look, I’m just a reporter, I have no idea why you kidnapped me.” Phil stared at the guy in the mask. “Also, quick tip, you are too short to pull that cape off.” A generic henchman hit him. “Ow. That warranted a gut punch, not a face one. You guys are really new to the game.”

“Everyone know that you are a superhero magnet.” The villain yelled. “Where you go, The Icer Duo, The Hacker, and Red Wing will follow.”

“Actually it is more that I follow them. Reporter, chasing down people and leads is kind of the job.” Phil explained. “And trust me, I wasn’t exactly looking to get on the superhero beat. I liked covering local politics. Those counsel meetings are a great place to get a nap.” This time a back handed slap. “Hey my story about corruption in the little league system was impressive. And then one time you get stuck in the middle of a superhero battle and call it in and your recording of the situation goes viral and boom - superhero beat.”

“They care about you.”

“No they don’t.” Phil snorted. “They call me a fusspot, a nosy bastard, trouble magnet, which thanks by the way, this will make that one stick. But they don’t care beyond standard levels.”

“Not what I heard.” Henchmen number 2 muttered.

Phil turned to him, “Wait, what did you hear?”

“Heard Red Wing is soft on you.” Phil perked up a little. “That they have a keep Coulson safe policy on her orders.”

“She is a good woman, a great hero.” Phil answered, but his ears went pink. “Any other rumours?” he tried for casual.

“This is not a gossip circle.” The villain roared. “This is supposed to be the systematic torture of you Coulson until you give up everything you know about the team!”

“Oh right, sorry. Hold on, let me slip back into my role of terrified damsel in distress.” Phil paused and ducked his head and when he looked back up his eyes were swimming with tears. “No please, I don’t know anything, please don’t hurt me.”

“Bit impressive boss.” the first henchman offered. 

The villain roared and a shock of electricity ran across the ground and jolted Phil who swore viciously at the pain. “Fuck you,” he managed to say when he got his breath back.

All of a sudden all the lights went out in the building and there was the sound of a window breaking. When they came back on, the Icer Duo had frozen the two henchmen and the Hacker was untying him. Phil watched as Red Wing beat the shit out of the villain, flying easily away from his electric bolts.

“Hey, Phil, what were you doing getting captured by these amateurs?” Hacker asked, freeing him. Phil rubbed his wrists.

“Well, sorry was a bit distracted, busy following the trail of some missing nuclear waste, figured someone was planning to monster up. They got the jump on me down at the docks.”

“Red Wing is pissed you know.”

Phil watched her knock the guy out. “Yeah, looks it.”

Red Wing stalked over and the Hacker faded away. “You’re hurt.” She raised a gloved hand to his cheek.

“I’ll be okay, some bruises, one jolt.” He shrugged, they seriously had been amateurs. “But perhaps I could get a statement from you?”

“Here’s a statement. Middle aged reports who have taken precisely 2 self defense classes need to stop getting in the middle of dangerous situations. Can’t always rescue you Coulson.”

Phil just smiled. “Love you too Red Wing.”

She rolled her eyes and in a blink had flown away. Phil got himself back to the office and filed a story and realized he was going to be late for his dinner date. This was going to be his fifth date with the woman and he didn’t want to miss it. He was pretty sure he was falling in love.

Phil ran to the restaurant and there she was, sipping a glass of wine and scanning her phone. Phil sat down. “Sorry I’m late Melinda, had a hell of a day.”

“Tell me about it over appetizers.” Melinda said with a forgiving smile.

“I got kidnapped by these horrible henchmen…” Phil began.

[philindasource]

philinda appreciation week: day six (philinda alternate universe: doctors au)

Dr. Phil Coulson, Chief of Surgery, and Dr. Melinda May, Dean of Medicine, have always have always had opposing views. Their disputes and disagreements were the talk of the hospital, although everyone knew better than to intervene between them. But when a tragic accident puts Melinda on Phil’s operating table, he must do everything in his power to save her life. When he realizes that Melinda leads a solitary life and doesn’t have anyone to care for her, he takes it upon himself to sit by her side and make sure she wakes up. Her recovery is a long and painful process but the silver lining is that amidst all the pain, they find more than just common ground with each other: they fall in love.

[philindasource]

five line fic prompts <3

thank you so much to everyone who sent me a prompt in! there's a few i didn't get around to, but most were filled. i had so much fun, and will definitely do this again!

here's a masterlist of all the 1+5 fics:

board games + sickness

interrupting tai-chi

undercover kissing

death threats

drunken challenges

puppy dog eyes

trust

completely soaked

brainwashing

neckties

so complicated

cluedo

[philindasource]

anon prompted: "May," he cried, shock etching across his face as he found her, hooked up to the machine Whitehall had been using to brainwash agents; Phil ran over to her, brushing her face with his hand, and noted how pale she was, completely drained of energy. 

"Oh god Melinda," Phil muttered, desperately looking around for a switch or something to turn the machine off and free her, avoiding watching the swirling vortex of patterns on the screen opposite.

When she'd disappeared three days previously, he'd just known... a gut instinct told him that they had her, and he'd been proven right.

"I'm going to get you out" he promised, losing patience and ripping the wires from the machine, catching her as she immediately slumped forwards, her entire body exhausted, each muscle screaming.

She was strong, both physically and mentally, more so than any agent Phil knew, but as she closed her eyes and collapsed into his arms, he was reminded just how fragile she really was. 

He would kill Whitehall for this; nobody touched his Melinda and got away with it.

Send me the first line of a fic, and I’ll write the next five! [x]

[philindasource]

anonymous prompted:

Philinda argument (virtual cookies for ya if there’s a JealousMay!) that leads to confession that leads to smut bwahaha. One more thing, can it be set in your Guardians!Verse? :-) Thank you *squeals*

My darling anon, you sent this to suallenparker so I hope you find it and enjoy it :D 

“So that’s it. You’re leaving?" 

Phil nodded, his body resting against Melinda’s kitchen counter. He was dressed warmly for the cold weather outside, she in nothing more than an old t-shirt and shorts. She’d been asleep when he’d knocked on her front door. A part of her was still hoping that this was a dream. 

"I have to, I can’t let her go into the foster system.” Phil bowed his head, staring at her thin carpet. “I need to protect her, Melinda." 

Read More

[philindasource]

Finally

Coulson makes it back to base without incident, and May’s waiting for him when he arrives. (or the 5x21 post-kiss Philinda reunion that we were deprived of)

(also on Ao3)

Melinda, Jemma, and Deke met Daisy and Phil in the hanger as they disembarked with Agent Davis. 

Jemma immediately started explaining to the new arrivals what had happened with Talbot and his family and what she and Fitz were working on, but Melinda wasn’t really paying attention. She’d already heard an abbreviated version before Phil had returned, and now that he was back… it was harder to concentrate. 

Keep reading

[philindasource]

5x10 post ep that has not been edited but look I’m doing my best fam.

“Melinda, I’m trying to tell you-”

“No. I know you think-” but she couldn’t bring herself to say the words- “this is not where you end. This is not where we end. This team? We need you, Phil,” pausing, Melinda took a breath to pull herself together, “I need you.”

It was all Phil could do to not burst into tears, he was taking so much away from her and every time he looked at her, all he could see was his own guilt.

He was taking her best friend away. He was taking her life partner away. He was taking the possibility of something more away. And it was his fault.

Phil was quiet, just looking at her with desperate sorrow in his eyes, unable to help her.

Her words were biting because he wanted nothing more than to help her, to save himself so she’d never have to feel pain again.

He tried not to think of what it would feel like if she’d done this to him, it was enough to look at her broken face as she searched his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he supplied unhelpfully, his voice cracking slightly. He wanted to say more, how he was sorry for ruining their chance, how he was sorry for staining their story with a mark that could never be erased.

“I can’t do it again. I can’t bury you again.”

Tears started falling from her eyes, and he wanted to kiss them away from her cheeks, but they’d never crossed that line. They never would cross that line.

It felt redundant to apologize again, but he did anyway.

“It’s not like last time Phil. You’re not coming back from this one.” Her eyes shone with barely suppressed anger, “I can’t lose you, not when we’re-”

“I have no other option,” he finally retaliated. “I cannot live with myself if everything goes wrong and I’m to blame. I can’t live with myself if everyone dies and I could have prevented it.”

Every word was punctuated with fire, his eyes pleading with her to understand.

“Phil I know it’s selfish but I can’t- I can’t let you go without trying to stop you. You’re my-”

She milled through the possible things she could call him. Her partner. Her best friend. Her everything.

But she didn’t finish her sentence, instead she took the step forward that they’d always skirted around.

She pressed her lips against his, her hand on the nape of his neck. He was tense, and she could feel the tears on his cheeks as she kissed him.

“Melinda,” his voice was thick with emotion, “it hurts too much.”

She’d never seen him cry this much, and she simply whispered her plea against his lips, “Please. You’re everything.”

She wiped his tears away with her thumbs, cupping his face and resisting the temptation to kiss him again.

“God, I really wish we’d had this conversation sooner,” Phil tried to lessen the tension, but she was so close, and he could feel her breath on his lips, he could feel hot tears on his face.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he whispered, unconsciously moving closer to her.

“Too late,” she said quietly, wishing she could just enjoy the closeness that they were finally sharing. But there was too much happening around them, too many moving parts that they couldn’t control.

Maybe he was right, maybe it was their destiny to be seperated.

“Tell me how to solve this,” she begged, pulling his head down so their foreheads rested together.

“I can’t live the rest of my life without you, and I couldn’t live with myself if I never told you what you meant to me,” she stumbled over her words, wanting to find the right ones. But it was a hopeless case, no words would perfectly encompass everything she needed to say.

“We could have had so much,” she said instead.

And he kissed her; an apology, a farewell, an opportunity.

He kissed her to apologize for all the times he hadn’t, for all the chances they’d missed. He kissed her because he’d always loved her, and because he always would.

But that happiness wouldn’t last.

[philindasource]

A little something post-5.21, Phil/May, with some protective Daisy.

After the meeting, May doesn’t leave his side the rest of the night.

Simmons doesn’t say a word as she sits on the edge of his bed; she simply finishes her checks before heading towards the door, a comforting touch to May’s shoulder as she moves past.

When it’s just the two of them, she takes his hand in hers, pushing his sleeve up and tracing the black veins down his arm. It’s spread to his palm, stretching towards his fingers, the very end of him. He doesn’t respond to her touch. She covers his heart with her hand, feeling him breathe.

The Lighthouse is quiet, all the world’s looming threats a distant worry as he lies here in front of her, so still.

She leans down and kisses his forehead, finger tracing the edge of the oxygen mask pressed tight against his cheek. Come back to me, she thinks. To us.

Daisy walks in a few minutes later, still dressed from the op. She walks to the other side of the bed, glancing at his vitals dancing across the display. They don’t need to say anything; they never have.

She watches Daisy walk towards the chair situated against the far wall, lined up with the doorway. She sits, easing her arms out of her gauntlets and dropping them to the floor beside her, close by and ready. She crosses her arms, letting out a long sigh as her head tilts back to rest against the wall. Her eyes stay locked on Coulson the whole time.

She knows that Daisy intends to act as their guard, but after thirty minutes she’s asleep in her chair. May stands and takes off her jacket, laying it over Daisy. She doesn’t stir.

May walks back to his side, grabbing the folded blanket off the table and wrapping it around her shoulders. She drags another chair over, sitting as close to the bed as possible. She tosses one end of the blanket over him, tucking it under his shoulder, before laying her head down on his chest. She tucks her arm up against his side, wrapping her fingers around his bicep, comforted by their shared warmth and the feel of his pulse.

He’s fighting, she can feel it. She holds him closer and lets herself smile, remembering their kiss, before she too falls asleep.

Together, they sleep. Tomorrow, they fight.

[philindasource]

Phil doesn’t wait for Melinda’s footsteps to stop echoing in the hall before he turns on his heel and follows after her. His heart, dying and decaying, suddenly pounding with inexplicable life and thumping in time with her words: I love you. I love you. I love you.

He rounds the corner and finds her, sitting on the floor and hidden away in the shadows, her knees pulled into her chest and her eyes closed, chest rising and falling slowly as she takes deep, shuddering breaths. 

Without a word, he sits beside her and matches his breathing to hers. They sit there in the silence, quietly breathing. 

“We’re good at this,” he says, rocking slightly and nudging her shoulder. “Silence, I mean.”

She looks at him, eyes dark and defiant, chin tilted up and daring him to continue. He knows he’s on thin ice; remembers the rage in her voice, the way it shook and the way her confession seemed to be ripped from her, somewhere deep and rich and secret. 

He licks his lips, choosing his words carefully. “It was easier if I didn’t tell you; if I didn’t–didn’t say the words and make it real. It felt like we missed our chance so many times and then I was terrified that if I told you when we did have a chance and then lost you…”

Phil squeezes his eyes tight and trails off, sighing and rubbing a hand over his face and back over his neck, huffing in frustration. “Why is it so hard to tell you? You know. I just–”

Melinda reaches over and silently takes his hand, threads their fingers and presses their palms together. Phil shudders and his robotic hand flares with light at Melinda’s touch. He blushes when she raises an eyebrow. 

“Melinda.” 

She squeezes his hand at the sound of her first name, so infrequently used since their Academy days. He smiles softly at her and thinks about everything that Melinda May means to him: standing by his side, unfailingly; protecting him and ensuring his safety; ever-watchful eyes looking over his shoulder and back; the smile she reserves just for him and her exasperated eye rolls; her sharp wit and sense of humor. 

I love you. Who I waste my time on is my decision. I love you. You mean a lot to me. I love you. I’m here for Coulson. I saw you. I love you. I’ll take care of you. I love you.

She’s been saying the words without saying them for so, so long and suddenly it doesn’t seem so hard to say the words any longer. The words unstick from his throat, the emotion building and building and she must see it in his eyes because her eyes are bright and he grins at her. 

“I lov–”

“Phil, I know.”

She closes the gap between them, covering his lips with her own and swallowing his confession. The kiss is gentle and chaste, just the barest flick of May’s tongue against his bottom lip before she pulls away, their eyes flickering open. 

He stares at her open-mouthed, his world once again turned upside down. “I can’t believe you just Han Solo’d me.”

She cups his face with her free hand, her thumb swiping over his bottom lip. He nips at the pad of her thumb and is thoroughly embarrassed as their shadowed hallway becomes suddenly alight with a bright glow. 

They both look down at their joined hands where Phil’s robotic hand is bright and shining with a strong light. He blushes again and fiddles with a few buttons before the light finally dims. “I gotta get that fixed,” he murmurs. 

“Don’t,” she says. He looks up at her, momentarily distracted by the sheen of her lips. “It’s cute,” she adds.

They stay in that shadowed corner for a few moments, breathing quietly, hands entwined, occasionally leaning over and peppering kisses along cheeks and jawlines, lips grazing teasingly–almost shyly–over the other’s mouth, exploring new territory. 

For now, this–the pair of them in this hallway, together and in love–is the only world that matters.

[philindasource]

deep inside i know that you’re my destiny (Agents of SHIELD, philinda)

Listen. I know this has been a fic dump from me lately. My muse has been going about 130 miles an hour and I just need to strike while this iron is hot. I might be done now. I don’t know. 

Fix-it fic. Scenes from Tahiti. 

They may have determined that time isn’t fixed- but that didn’t mean it stopped moving forward. Even in paradise.

two days

Basic needs are oft forgotten when saving the world, so their first full day is spent mostly sleeping.

The bed is large and inviting, the windows are open to catch the open breeze, and dress shirts and leather have been replaced with shorts and linen.  

They stretch out next to each other, feet tangling and hands idly roaming.

She hesitates before pillowing her head on his chest. She wants nothing more than to feel his heartbeat against her cheek- but doesn’t want to bring him any more pain.

His sleepy eyes focus and become serious. “I’ll let you know if it hurts,” he says.

(It never does.)

Keep reading

[philindasource]

“Take off your shirt.” He said with a smirk echoing her demand from years ago.

She shook her head and grinned but then she started to unbutton it, his eyes never leaving her own. While Phil kept perfectly still she stepped between his legs and took his hands to place them on her exposed skin. She sighed by the contact of his palm warm against her flat belly.

“Are you in pain?”

“You feel good.”

“Are you in pain?” She insisted.

He moved his hands under the lose shirt to her back and with one motion undid her bra: “No. I want you.”

[philindasource]

#4 for philinda, please?

4. We slept in the same bed for space reasons but now we’re just waking up and there’s something about your bleary eyes and mussed hair

Phil woke first, the feeling of artificial gravity and the weight of Melinda May in his arms stirring him. Life aboard the Lighthouse was tight, bunks doubled up when possible; no private quarters for citizens, nevermind a group of strange fugitives.

Labor in the scrap workshop tired him out and he barely had time to chew the dental tablets provided before collapsing in bed. There was a brief moment in which his eyes had opened, May slipping in the bed beside him, her hip nudging his as she slid beneath the covers. He’d grunted and thrown an arm around her middle, pulled her closer and buried his nose into her hair. 

The scent of her–clean and sharp and Melinda–reminded him of home and comfort and too many nights spent bunked together in dingy hotels, crappy vans, and Academy twin beds just trying to get a few hours of shuteye. He always slept better, easier, when she was near. 

He’d forgotten what is was like to wake up to her like this. So often she’d wake before him, slipping out of bed just as easily as she’d slipped into it–disappearing before he could press her into the mattress and ask for answers, ask why she’d chosen his bed for the night. 

But here, hovering above the Earth’s atmosphere and artificial light slowly lighting the bunkroom, he takes a moment to admire the beauty of her. 

Long, dark hair splayed out behind her, covering their shared pillows; a steady rise and fall of her chest, indication of deep sleep (something he knew she needed desperately). He traced a finger down the curve of her hip, over her thigh, and traced the outline of the wound on her leg. He frowned at the heat of it, concerned at the possibility of infection. 

Her breathing hitched and he knew she was awake. He paused his movements and rumbled quietly, “Morning.” 

She shifted in his arms, half-turning so she could look at him behind her. She reached down and covered his hand on her thigh with her own. “Leave it,” she said, sharply. 

He frowned, brushing the hair from her forehead. “I don’t think we survived what we survived on Earth to lose you to a metal pipe, Mel.” He squeezed her hand. “You’ll tell me if it gets worse, right?”

He saw the wheels turning, saw her calculating her careful response, before she nodded. “I’ll tell you if I can’t manage it.”

It wasn’t quite the same, but he would take it. As long as she came to him, he’d take it. Silence fell over them, the rumble and hiss of steam in the pipes in the walls filled the room, the hustle and bustle of the market and citizens coming to life outside in the hall filtering in. 

He takes a chance, slips his hand up over her hip and settles it between her breasts, his forearm anchoring her body to his. The gentle swell of her breast brushes against his arm, but it’s not sexual–it’s intimate and grounding and a slice of real, solid connection among the free-floating Lighthouse. 

“Five more minutes.”

It surprises him that she asks for the extra time and not him, but he hides his grin in her hair and presses his hips forward, pulls her in tighter. There is no room for anything between their bodies–not space, not the emotional hangover of the Framework, no phantom LMD kisses; nothing. It is only them–body to body, heartbeat to heartbeat. 

He lets his lips graze her cheek as he settles his head next to hers on the shared pillow. 

“Five more minutes,” he agrees.