#and if Melinda was happy with drew then fine

[tinytinybumblebee]

yay ok sorry if this is long!!

• i think he is the stimmiest ever! partially because he can’t verbalize any of his feelings and partially because it’s just his personality, but he has all kind of physical stims. before he left the briar, he did a lot of happy clapping but that activates his magic—when he was all alone this was fine, the more friends the better right? but now that he’s out in the wider world he’s trying his best to redirect himself to a different stim, he likes hand flapping the best right now :)

• that’s a double edged sword though because he can’t vocalize good emotions, but he also can’t vocalize bad ones. and the nomad tries so hard to be so sunshiney and friendly to the world and it seems like most of the time all he gets is hostility in response, so as positive as he tries to stay, eventually things just boil over and it’s so hard to be the happy guy he wants to be, so when he’s in a bad mood well, that fuse is very long but when it burns to its end the result is EXPLOSIVE. he can have some of the world’s worst tantrums and they’re usually completely silent. he tends to stay self contained and doesn’t destroy anything or hit people, he just flails and kicks and swings around wildly having a very typical temper tantrum you’d see from a little one in a store or something and usually if he’s been pushed to that point there’s no getting him out of it and he usually just has to tire himself out. then he’ll be weepy and clingy for the rest of the day :(

• padded regressor ofc. yknow what all those layers are for in his outfit? hiding his dips so he can still try and do big boy things when he needs to!

• I think he’s a one and done person with a cg. As in he has one very special person and that’s it. I think he didn’t start really regressing often until post melinda (the loneliness really took its toll on him) so he really doesn’t have anyone as of now but one day he’ll find his special person and that will be his main cg… he’s ok with babysitting but he wants that one person there to be his anchor and rock, someone safe he can see as mommy/daddy/bubba he can run back to whenever he needs them. I realistically don’t think it would be skout tho… she reminds him too much of melinda and it was his job to protect and look after her, so having skout as his permanent caregiver feels wrong somehow even if she doesn’t mind helping

• he’s really good at standing his ground against bounty hunters but i think he starts to involuntarily regress when he feels truly backed into a corner or when he sees one of his little object friends get hurt

• blankie!! he has a blankie!! it’s actually not a blankie at all but the scrap remains of a poncho from one of melinda’s disguises (which drew him to it even if he didn’t remember why) but whatever it’s blankie now and he’s very insecure about it in the way that it’s always in his hand (his biggest tell for being tiny) and people can look but don’t touch. no matter how much he trusts someone he gets paranoid they’re gonna take it away from him

• hat is always on, scarf is on frequently no matter what he’s wearing. if he’s wearing baby clothes he’ll still have those on because they feel like part of who he is and they make him feel safe :) also like his dips the scarf hides his paci if he ever needs to be a big boy when he isn’t in that space mentally, and the best part of being mute is that he can have his paci through all his travels because he doesn’t talk so no one will notice it impeding his speech or anything >:) hehe baby time all the time

• his favorite activities include tummy time and back time (with those baby toys, idk the name for them but they’re like an arch/bar over a soft cushion with dangling toys to bat at while baby lies on their back), building with blocks, being read aloud to (he loves hearing his cg’s voice after so many years of no one to speak to him), coloring and finger painting, naptime (but he likes to pretend to pout and sulk when he’s told it’s naptime because lots of real babies fuss over naps, but he cracks immediately when you call him out), playing with noisemaker toys like rattles and when he regresses to closer to a toddler age he likes playing dress-up and having tea parties!

• soooo many stuffies and just a little clap brings them right to life! he’ll collect a dozen stuffies and then he’ll collect a dozen more

• usually very sweet and well behaved unless he’s having one of his rare really bad days, because again I think he’s either an extremely sweet good baby or a fussy upset nightmare and there is no in between aside from when he gets weepy sometimes

• if he does get in trouble he’s not good with punishments, usually he needs to be held and gently explained to why what he did wasn’t good, because I completely agree that he always wants his carer in his line of sight and so being put in time out and not allowed to go to them or be snuggled gets him stressed and he immediately starts thinking they hate him and won’t come back for him (he’s been in time out for one minute)

• loves being helped with little things especially getting dressed. all his nomad gear is so hard to put on when you’re such a tiny guy :(

• he regresses between ages 0-3 I think and he much more commonly lands on the very young end of his spectrum

that’s all i have right now i’m sorry this is so long!! he has one of my favorite character design tropes with the hidden face and bright eyes and one of my favorite tropes in personality of the infamous one who actually is as sweet as pie so to me he is peak baby material in every way

WAAAAAAAAAAAAA oh my goodness you have blessed me with your OUTSTANDING IDEAS OA A A A A A A A I've been reading these over and over since I saw it last night AAAAAAAAAAA🥺🥺💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕

Crying over Nomad just seeing too much of Melinda in Skout to really see Skout as anything past a playmate/buddy ;o; They probs tried once but Nomad just got too emotional when he saw Skout wiggling her finger at one of the rock friends (it reminded him of Melinda's magic and he instantly tried to protect Skout in case "anyone saw her do magic" ) maybe when they reach the Iron Border Nomad (and Skout!) meet someone more in a position to be a carer hehe

and waaaaaa at him just being such a tiiiiny guy! He tries to best to put on his clothes but buttons are soooo confusing and buckles are just too hard for such a little scarecrow! He was alone for quite a few years so he was a bit shy at first when asking for help but, he's gotten really good at the "I'm just going to look at my unbuckled boots until someone catches on and helps me" xD

Waaaaaa jsut YES to all of these oh my goodness- and I hear you on his design! It is peak baby (the moment I see a masked or hidden face my monkey brain is like "Oooh just a little baby right there") Tank you so so much for sharing these wonderful ideas!!!!!!!!!!!

#agere #age regression #sfw #fandom agere #mailbox #nomad of nowhere #i hope you dont mind but i might draw a few of these aaa

[americasass81]

Make Her Mine - Chapter Two

Tony Stark x Reader Warnings: Dark!Tony, mostly just mild swearing and stalker behavior here.

A/N:- Also re-editing this chapter from original female character to reader. 

Word count: 2000 approx.

Letting yourself into your room, you locked the door behind you before heading towards the bedroom.  Sitting on the bed, your accountant's brain began to work through your survival plan for the next seven days.  You knew a week wasn't a long time, but since credit cards could be tracked, you knew that cash was the only safe way to stay under the radar and you were now woefully low on that.  You also figured your sister might be the first port of call for tracking you down, so that left your best friend.

Calling Sabrina, you gave her a very brief account of your predicament and that if she was willing to help, she really only had until about four o'clock to get what was needed from your apartment.  Being better to you than your own sister, you told her where to find your getaway bag and also asked for some basic workout gear, figuring you didn't need anything fancy to outrun an Avenger.  Then you told her where to find you and the name you were using before hanging up to wait for her arrival.

One hour later, a text message told you she was outside your room, and upon opening the door you checked to make sure no one else was there before you pulled her inside and locked the door again.

Dropping your bags, she pulled you in for a warm hug before stepping back to give you the once over.  "Angel, what exactly is going on and why do you look like crap?" she asked, taking your hand and leading you to the nearest couch.

Sighing heavily as you sat down, you stared at your hands before speaking.  "Do you remember the reservation I had Monday night for La Scala?"

"Is that the Italian place you've been going on about for the last three months?"

"Yes.  Well it turns out that when they were switching over reservation books, they lost my booking and the best they could offer me was a seat at the bar until a table became available.  Obviously I was fine with that, until I drew the attention of Tony Stark and had to turn down his offer to join him."

"Wait, are you telling me you said no to THE Tony Stark?  The same Tony Stark who probably doesn't even know the meaning of that word."

"Exactly, and whether or not he knows the meaning of it, he definitely doesn't like hearing it.  Apparently he's had Happy Hogan trying to find me since then, which was made kinda redundant when my boss sent me to deliver reports to one of his meetings this morning."

"Well damn, Y/F/N, that must have been some shock.  What happened, if you don't mind me asking?"

"No, it's fine.  I mean you have a right to know, since I may or may not have put you in harm's way."

"You what now?"

"Look, I think it's safe to say that Tony Stark is not the hero he appears to be and I think I may have pissed him off a lot more than I should have."

"Y/F/N, what did you do?"

"I barely gave him any information when he questioned me before the meeting, and when he had me threatened and brought to his office afterwards, I said I'd report him to Human Resources."

"Wow, you never do things by half, do you?  But that doesn't explain why you're hiding out here or why you think I might be in danger?"

Refusing to look at your best friend, you took some deep breaths before continuing.  "Well because when a meeting with Steve Rogers interrupted us, he told me to go back to work and then wait for Happy to drive me to his place afterwards.  Obviously I didn't do that and I don't know if he's willing to let this go.  If not, I don't know who he's willing to hurt to get to me."

"Fuck Y/F/N, all this because his ego couldn't handle the word no."

"I know right.  I'm so sorry for putting you in the middle of all this, but I didn't know who else to trust.  I love my sister, but you and I both know she'd sell me out in a heartbeat."

Wrapping her arms around you once more, Sabrina held you tight as she thought through the situation.  "You know Y/F/N, this situation might not be as dire as you think.  Considering who my husband is, do we really believe that Tony Stark is willing to go up against New York's mob boss just to get to you?"

"I don't know, Sab, and that's the worst part.  I don't know what he's capable of.  I mean Happy threatened to have me arrested for stealing money from the company if I didn't go to his office.  You really think Sebastian can protect you?"

"Oh Angel, I know beyond a shadow of a doubt Seb won't let anything bad happen to me.  But what about you?  Should we see what he can do for you?"

"No Sabrina, you've done more than enough.  Hopefully I'm just overreacting and this will all blow over.  If not, then I have my getaway bag and more than enough cash to start over.  Your husband would be proud of me." you finish with a chuckle, hoping to ease the tension lines you could see appearing on her forehead.

The next hour was spent with a bottle of wine and some girly chit-chat until Sebastian texted Sabrina to let her know he was in the lobby.  Giving your best friend a smile and a hug, you said goodbye and decided to head for a relaxing bath, not knowing the shitstorm that was about to kick off at Stark Industries.

*************

No pun intended, but upon arriving at your desk ten minutes before clocking off time, Happy was not a happy camper.  After finding your desk empty, he made enquiries from Melinda who informed him that you weren't feeling well and had gone home early.  Deciding that it was best not to upset Tony unless absolutely necessary, he brought up your employee file and got a hold of your address.  Getting in the car and driving to your place, he was pissed to discover that it was locked tight and no one had seen you all day.  Swallowing his anger, he headed off to Tony's to relay this development and see if he really was serious about pursuing you.

Upon walking in, Tony told him to take you to the living room and he'd be right out.  However, on entering said room and seeing only Happy, Tony was full of questions.  "Happy, would you care to tell me what is wrong with this picture?"

"I know Tony, I can't explain it.  From what I've been told, shortly after you sent her back to work, she complained about not feeling well and no one has seen her since."

"No one?  Are you fucking kidding me?  Nobody just disappears without a trace.  F.R.I.D.A.Y. I want a trace put on all credit cards in the name of Stark Industries employee 2474789, back timed to two months ago.  I want to know where she's been and where she might go."

"Tony, don't you think all this might be a bit excessive over someone who clearly wants nothing to do with you?"

"You know I was kinda resigned to not knowing who she was, but my god, when she walked into that meeting room and I discovered that I've technically been supporting her for three years.  I can't explain it, Happy but she's awoken something in me.  F.R.I.D.A.Y. what's the status of recent activity?"

"Nothing Boss.  The last credit card purchase was Tuesday at the cafe in the lobby of Stark Industries.  Mint flavored hot chocolate with whipped cream, around lunch time."

"Damn, how does one disappear and go over twenty-four hours without financial support?"

"Um Tony, I don't want to state the obvious, but do you think she might be using cash?"

"Cash?  Seriously Happy, people still do that?"

"It would explain how she's getting by, while staying off F.R.I.D.A.Y.'s radar."

"Ingenious.  My little girl's a clever one, it seems.  Thanks Happy, but I think I can handle her from here.  You can show yourself out?  F.R.I.D.A.Y. pull up any footage you can for Y/F/N's apartment for the last forty-eight hours." Tony ordered, as he headed towards his lab.

Sitting at his workstation, Tony combed through all available footage from your apartment, starting from half an hour before he knew you left work.  Noticing nothing out of the ordinary, he was prepared to try some other approach when he saw a young woman exit your building carrying what appeared to be two black duffel bags.  Watching her deposit them into a black SUV, he waited to see if her face became visible.

"BINGO!  F.R.I.D.A.Y. freeze frame 17a and run facial recognition on that individual."

"Facial recognition scan identifies the young lady as Sabrina Stan.  Wife of Sebastian Stan.  Current head of the New York mob."

"New York mob connections, huh?  Well that could explain her ability to fly under the radar.  Still, let's try this without starting a war.  F.R.I.D.A.Y. I think it's time I stopped fooling around, run Miss Y/L/N through facial recognition and let me know the second you find her."

"Will do boss."  Fifteen minutes later, he heard a beep and looked up from his desk to see footage of you walking through the lobby of the famous Waldorf Astoria towards the elevators.

"Well I'll be damned, either my girl has expensive taste or her mob connections go deeper than a passing acquaintance.  F.R.I.D.A.Y. do a complete, deep data scan.  Cross reference everything to do with Y/F/N Y/L/N, the Waldorf Astoria and the New York Mob.  I need to know if I have to mobilize the Avengers."

Two hours later, having torn himself away from his pet project to play Iron-Man, Tony barely gave himself enough time to rehouse his nanoparticles armor before harassing his A.I.  “F.R.I.D.A.Y. do you have the results of that search?"

"Indeed Boss.  It appears the connection is nothing more than an acquaintance.  Mrs. Stan and Miss Y/L/N were both part of the same book club and writing group a year and a half ago.  It seems a friendship developed out of it."

Though it bugged him, all the bother you were putting him to, this new information coupled with you appearing to be somewhat of an introvert, gave him renewed confidence in his plan.  Having so far found you utterly fascinating, he knew that once he had you, he would make sure you never said no to him again.

[ussjellyfish]

fic: work-life balance pt 4 | AoS| Philinda | mature (wheee!)

Note: Thank you so much for your support, likes, comments, kudos, I’m having a fantastic time writing this and it means so much to me that people enjoy it.

Summary: They've been friends for years but only got to be a couple for weeks before he died last time. How do they move forward as partners?

read on Ao3

Interdisciplinary Seminar 209 - Working in Partnerships

Her apartment smells like waffles when she wakes up. Phil's gone to the kitchen to cook, and the other side of the bed is cool. She leaves the bed naked, grabbing her robe from the closet. Phil's standing over a waffle iron that was not in her apartment yesterday, coffee in hand. He smiles at her in his pajamas, hair ruffled, wearing his glasses.   

"Morning."

"You weren't kidding about waffles."

"They're fun."

"They smell good." 

He circles the island, touching her shoulder. "Sleep okay?"

"It's nice, having you here."

"Because I'm warm?"

"And you cook." She turns into his arms, wrapping her hands around his neck. "I'm used to you already."

"I'm not going anywhere."

She kisses him, because then she doesn't have to talk. He always leaves. He doesn't want to, but he dies on her. Now he's back and they're really not in dangerous places but- does he want to stay? Can they really do this? They're good at being friends, partners, but they only ever got to be together for a few weeks in Tahiti. That was without jobs, without family, without anything to worry about except each other. Of course that worked. She couldn't mess it up. 

Phil strokes her cheek. "Hey, so, which of us is anxious?"

"What?"

"There's a knot in my stomach like a ice ball."

"Must be the coffee." 

He holds her hands, walks her to the table. "Sit, have some tea. What is it?"

"This is great."

"It is." Phil takes a moment, staying into her eyes. "And that bothers you."

Melinda wraps her hands around her tea, staring at the empty plates he's already set. "We don't get great."

"We do, we did, Tahiti--"

"Was wonderful until you died."

"I'm not dying now." 

He's not. He's healthy, whole. There's color in his face and he carried her up from the garage. He could barely stand at the end. He's fine. He could stay. They could really be together, get married, go to the movies and grovery shop and spend decades together. 

They could, but they're still them. They're not really good at domestic, staying in one place or relationships. Between them they have more than a handful of failed loves, almost including each other. 

She shouldn't say it, but she does. "But you died. I watched."

He winces, reaching across the table to touch her hand. "I'm sorry."

She shakes her head, starting to take a sip of her tea, then stopping. It's not fair to blame him, but he is him. He made the same choices. "It's not even the dying, I got through that. It's that you chose."

Phil pulls his hand back and that hurt. She can feel the little cracks, like ice.  "I had to."

She should be better than this, but he's wrong. "You didn't."

"Wait a sec." He heads to the kitchen and returns, dropping a hot waffle onto her plate. Phil pushes the butter and syrup towards her, and points at the berries. "Eat while you yell at me."

"I'm not yelling."

"Maybe you should, might feel better." He takes a bite of his own and smiles, all gentle, apologetic. She can feel his remorse well up inside of him, and the affection beneath it. He loves her, and it's bright, almost too much so, like the sun over the clouds and she can't protect herself. 

"You chose to die."

"Daisy needed to save the world."

She stares at her fork, then her hands, and looks up. "I don't care." 

He nearly drops his own fork, eyes widening. "Oh?"

"I would have let the world crumble to save you."

Phil takes a breath, and her frozen knot of anxiety melts with his, twisting her stomach. "I know."

"Do you? Do you really know? I would give up everything for you." She would have let the planet crumple like wet paper if she got to keep him with her. That's terrifying. She's trained her life to save people. To serve, to give of herself until there's nothing left, but some part of her drew the line at him. She can make peace with Katya's death in Bahrain. She can grieve for Andrew and move on, but she can't face a universe without Phil Coulson. 

He toys with his napkin, twisting it in his hands. "You're too good for me."

"No."

"You are."

"Phil--"

He leaves his chair, circles the table and leans on it, right beside her. "You chose me, you always chose me. I don't."

"You don't have to, you shouldn't." She doesn't deserve that. Happiness is too fleeting for her, always has been. These beautiful days are going to leave, he's going to leave. She only has herself and people she looks after. That's all she's allowed. 

"Hey. If we're going to do this, us, I want to do it right. You and me, not for weeks, but for years, decades, I want to see your hair go grey, finally, at ninety." 

He's still too nerdy for her, except it's perfect, because if he was serious, she wouldn't be able to smile now. 

He doesn't know what he's asking. She can't look at him, because her eyes will give everything away. If she hasn't already radiated her worries through him. "It might not be that simple."

Slipping down, he kneels in front of her, hands on her lap. "Let's try it. You and me, for as long as we have."

"This feels like a proposal."

"Maybe. A little." He blushes a little so it wasn't what he meant but there's hope in his chest. That sings out through her so loudly that he might as well say it. 

"Do you want to?"

He kisses her hand and stands up, kissing her forehead as well before returning to his chair. "Kind of. Should do it better."

"Give me a few days?"

"That's not no."

He would always get a yes, and she smiles, weary and hopeful, almost dizzy with love. "It's not no."

"Okay then." Phil centers himself, and something in him finds a home. His resolve soothes her. There's a confidence- no- a choice. This time, now, when they don't have to save the world, now he can choose them. Her. "Should we talk about something else?"

She points with her fork at her plate, taking another bite. Talking around the waffle in her mouth, she smiles. "These are good."

"Better than take out?"

"I've never tried the Academy's waffles."

"Sneak some home and we'll compare."

"The company's better here."

"Good." He gets up again and returns with another waffle, setting it on a plate between them. 

"How many people are you cooking for?"

"They freeze."

Melinda nods. "You're staying long enough to start filling my freezer?"

"Frozen pizza and ice cubes isn't really enough."

"I think I have some pork buns."

He tears the waffle in half and adds half to her plate. "Eat."

"Phil, they really are good."

"Took me forever to get the recipe right."

"Oh?"

"It's all about egg whites, finding the right balance, but the first few times you try it just says 'fold them in' and that's not helpful."

"It doesn't sound helpful."

"You'd fold them like a shirt, wouldn't you?"

"Or a towel. My laundry skills are fine."

"Your laundry skills have never been in doubt."

"I'm glad you can give me credit somewhere."

"Your linen closet is impeccable."

"Thank you." 

He clears her plate, but lingers, touching her shoulder. She sighs, content, even in the pit of her stomach. He might have something more permanent than just allowing the Academy to think they're married in mind, but he'll wait. He's never quick with things, so a few days could easily be weeks. That's fine. This is all right. If they're going to choose each other, they should do it when most things have been said. 

Tugging him down by his pajama shirt, she kisses him, deep and slow. This they don't have to wait for. She has time this morning and for once she's not wishing desperately for a nap. Phil sets the plate down on the far side of the table, giving his full attention to what she's doing to his mouth. 

"Well, good morning," he teases, catching his breath. 

"It is." Melinda leaves her chair, opening her robe a little over her chest and pulling his hands to her hips. He strokes her skin through the thin fabric, running his hands up towards her waist while he looks at the table. The sensible thing to do is drag him back to the bedroom and tear off his pajamas, but it's a sturdy table. She takes a step back, pressing her thighs against the wood.

"Here?"

"You want to wait?"

He lifts her up, setting her on the table as he opens her robe as if unwrapping something precious. His rush of arousal brings color to his face and settles hot between her thighs. He wants, she needs, she demands, he offers: it all spins in her head. Colors and sensations, chaotic, desiring-- holding onto his shoulders helps keep her head from spinning and the sensation frustrates her. She's been lightheaded hundred of times, usually because she's bleeding, but this time she doesn't have that to blame.

"You okay?"

She hums in response, pulling him closer with her legs behind his back. 

His thumb brushes her cheek and he kisses her again, too gentle. "Suppose it's too easy to figure out what I'm thinking now." 

"I have a few ideas."

His thin pajamas leave very little to the imagination, and they're definitely sharing the same heat, even if her head's struggling to connect to the rest of her. 

"Should we?" he starts to ask, sliding his fingers up her bare thighs. 

"What?"

"Are you- birth control--"

She kisses his neck, making it impossible for him to finish a thought, let alone keep asking if they need to be careful. "You can't get me pregnant right now."

He rubs his thumb over her thigh, staring at little, pausing, and she sighs, tilting her hips closer to his hand. That distracts him. Phil toys with her a few moments longer, not touching but close, so close that the heat of his hand taunts her. He distracts her with kisses, with his tongue on her breasts, but she wants and he's ready and they touch, deepen, melt--

She grabs his back, digging her fingers into his muscles, tugging him close, rocking her hips against his. 

She moans, sighing into her skin.  "I missed--" 

He doesn't let her finish, and she loves that about him. He slips within, full, hot, familiar. Nodding, she arches her back towards him, head spinning with pleasure instead of the other thing. He guides her thighs closer to the edge of the table, parts her legs, shifts the angle and there- fuck-- his hand dances over her clit, teasing, promising and it's quick, but it's been forever and days and being in contact was so necessary that it ran over their skin like static. His rising orgasm heats her neck, pulsing through her while he thrusts. 

She gasps, panting, teetering on the brink of her control. It's too soon, but he's so close she can taste his release and they've been orbiting each other, growing closer like missiles. They needed this.

She crashes and he groans and she tightens, holding him until he thrusts again, the orgasms. Her teeth tingle as her blood rushes hot, filling all of her, even the foggy corners of her brain. He holds her close, letting her slump against him while she catches her breath.

"You're incredible."

Kissing his neck, then his shoulder, she creeps back to his mouth. "We can do better."

"Do we need more practice?"

"Just like cooking, I imagine."

"Imagine is right."

She glares, then drops her robe to the table and slips off, walking naked towards the bedroom. "I can let you imagine by yourself if you'd rather."

"Practical experience might be more fun."

"Then get your clothes off, Phil." 

He meets her in the doorway to her bedroom, catching her waist. He kisses her neck, then down her shoulders, moving her hair out of the way. "I remember wanting to do this in Tahiti."

"You did."

"It wasn't the same." He runs his hands over her hips, teasing. "I couldn't pick up you up and put you on the table."

"That was nice."

Phil kisses her, insistent, hungry, wanting, and she melts into him. He's half-hard again against her stomach, and he'll need time. Her head's a little foggy, but it's so much better than being exhausted that she can't explain. Maybe not up against the wall this time. 

She leads them towards the bed, letting his hands wander her skin while they kiss. He has so much more strength than Tahiti, and there's nothing to fear. No waiting darkness for them. They can take their time, enjoy it. There's no bitter. 

"I'm going to need a few minutes."

"I'm sure you can find some way to entertain yourself." She leads him to the bed, tugging him back. He starts to sit, but she shakes her head. "You can be on top."

Phil's eyes widen. "You're always--"

"You're special." 

"Oh I am?" He's teasing but her heart trembles. He's everything. She loves him, and being in love, letting go is so hard. She doesn't deserve it. She can't-- Believing is so hard for her and so easy for him. 

Phil's hand runs down her stomach, stroking lower, delicate and playful. "I can think of a good way to pass some time." 

"That's why you're special." 

He brushes her breast with his other hand, toying with her nipple. They're a little heavy, even sore. Does he feel that? Did she share it? He softens, turning his focus downward. He guides her onto the bed. "Sit." He parts her legs, kissing her inner thigh while she runs her hand through his hair. 

Phil glances up at her breasts, kissing her chest once before parting her thighs. Has he noticed they're different? He spent so much time with them... she can't worry about that. He's here and they shouldn't waste this time before she has to go to work. She puts the thought away, focusing on Phil and this moment. He adored making her orgasm in Tahiti, leaving her gasping while they waited for him to recover. It wasn't minutes there. He was tired. 

Now he's full of life. 

He kisses his way up, opening her up with his fingers before he finds her clit with his tongue. She moans, panting while he slips his fingers inside. He curls them up, in, sliding deep because she's so wet, wanting. 

"Phil--" She digs her hands into his hair, pulling him closer, trying to get him rougher, more pressure, but he's a tease. He softens his tongue and she could flip him away and finish it herself.

Or wait. Tremble. Beg. 

"Please." 

He sucks, brushing her clit against his chin, his lips and sparks rush behind her eyes. Pleasure builds, threatening, taunting- can she share it with him? Can she hold it back? Control slips from her, falling away and he knows, so he slows his hand, he licks instead of sucking and without the pressure it's like she's lost the air in the room.

"Dammit, Phil, please."

Harder, tighter, closer- he's such a tease. He loves that. He wants her to beg. She rocks closer and he pushes her back. One hand runs down her chest, squeezing her breasts, running his palm over her stomach. His hand inside curls a little deeper, rougher and her head spirals. He sucks again, hot and sweet and she twists her hands in the sheets, arching her back.

He pauses.

Of course.

"If you stop now I will kill you."

And she could, in several quick ways, slow ways, but he knows better. He likes the brink, the begging, the tension. This time, she can share it with him. Project her desire, desperation, longing, that maddening--

Orgasm hits hard, rushing up from her belly, blooming hot behind her eyes. Melinda might share that too, she's not sure how her abilities work with such things. His eyes are dark when she opens hers, and he strokes her cheek, kissing the sweat from her forehead. He pulls back but she tugs him in. He'll give her a minute, bring her water, hold her--

Or he could take her again, press her into the mattress, fill her. She opens her thighs, wraps her legs around his, pulls him over her. 

"Melinda--" 

"It's all right."

"I can feel you." He kisses her, resting on his elbows. "It's incredible."

"You were incredible."

"I was, wasn't I?" He smirks, lowering his hand to slip his cock inside of her. 

Her body's still trembling from the last, but she can control that, pull him in. Her teeth tingle and he's heavy over her, hot inside. He thrusts, brightening the stars behind her eyes. She arches into him, tilting her hips, letting him take her deep, He moans, panting in her neck. She digs her fingers into his back, holding him close, pulling him in, sharing that wanting- needing- completeness. 

Melinda focuses on her affection, her love, her desire, and lets him feel it. She drops her control and meets his eyes, pouring her soul into him, heart and body. For a second they breathe as one, overlapping before they crash. He orgasms, hot and deep, and she laughs, moaning and content

"That's a hell of a thing," he says, breathless in her arms. "That's what it feels like for you?"

"Just with you."

"Melinda-" 

"You're the only one who've I've been able to share that with." 

"It's intense."

"You okay?" 

He laughs, kissing her forehead. "You'll have to give me more than a minute."

Curling into him, she sighs, closing her eyes. "I have class in an hour, meetings after that."

Phil toys with her hair. "That's a lot."

"This is my slow day." She snuggles in, taking the time she has.

"It's a lot."

"Yes."

"Are you all right?" He asks so sweetly that her chest aches. 

"Tired."

"I've never seen you this tired, and I've seen you during three week deep over assignments where no one slept."

"We were younger." 

"We're not that old."

Phil chuckles. "Speak for yourself."

"Hey, I'm older than you now."

"What?"

"Think about it. You're from more than two years ago. I'm older, so I'm tired." 

He sits up, resting on his elbows. "That's all it is?"

"Mmm-hmm." She kisses his chest, eyes still closed. "I'm all right."

"Let me help."

"You are helping."

"This is all you need?"

She strokes his chest. "This is nice." 

He sighs, and she can picture his face without looking. That face means she needs to open her eyes. She lifts her head, meeting his gaze. 

"How can you help?"

"How many classes are you teaching?"

"Several."

"May--"

"It's fine."

"And meetings, you must have at least three a day." 

"Meetings aren't new, Phil."

"I know, I know." He lifts her face with his hand under her chin. "I'm good at meetings."

"You're not the director of the Academy."

"I could be her right hand."

She laughs, resting her hand on his chest. "Are you offering yourself a job?"

"You've been everything I needed, for years, decades. You were my council, my support. Let me support you."

She sits up, her hair falling heavy over her shoulders. "Phil--"

"You don't have to answer right away, just, think about it. You're carrying a lot. You're exhausted. I can help. I know SHIELD. I know you. I'd be good at it." 

Melinda kisses him, smiling as she shakes her head. "You'd be great at it." 

"Think about it in your meetings."

"When I think about you, I'll think about much more fun things than work." She kisses him one more time, then leaves the bed. 

"Well that's a great use of your meeting." 

She ducks into the bathroom, cleaning herself up. He'll probably distract her more if she takes more time to get ready. He's still in bed when she returns, smiling, flushed, very pleased with himself, as he should be. She starts getting dressed and he watches, patient, fascinated, and still very much enamored with her. That tingles on the back of her neck, warm and wonderful.

Buttoning her blouse, she returns to the bed to kiss him. "Offering to do my work with me is one of the sweetest things you've ever done."

"Thanks for not asking me to shoot you in the head."

She shuts her eyes, smiles, laughs in relief. "You couldn't handle that."

"Not at all." He stands up, chooses her earrings and hands them over. "These ones."

"Thanks." Melinda kisses him again, standing on her tiptoes and pulling him close. This should give him something to think about all day. "See you tonight."

#philinda #philinda fic #agents of shield #fic: work-life balance

[vintage-story-time]

Step-Father's Sins by Unknown

Chapter 9

Marlene hopped off the bed but quickly fell to the bedroom floor. Her feet were still numb from being bound and did not want to support the weight of her body.

She crawled on her hands and knees toward her sister but Bernard gave her a swift boot with his huge bare foot right in her welt-covered buttocks, that sent her sprawling on her belly, pressing her tiny tits against the floor, striking her chin sharply.

"Go over there by your mother," Bernard said.

Marlene managed to get up on her hands and knees and crawl to the doorway where she hugged her knees in the doorway.

As her afterglow faded she could feel the pain in her cunt and her buttocks from the wounds her evil step-father had given her with his abuse.

Bernard walked across the room taking large strides.

He grabbed Melinda by her long black hair in a tightly clenched paw.

Bernard looked down at his flaccid prick. He smiled when he saw the shiny crimson fluid that covered it.

He could see the blood from Marlene's cunt had gathered thickest at the base of his prick in a ring.

"Come here and lick my cock clean," he said to Melinda, and the little girl snapped to attention.

She appeared alert. Her fog had lifted. All it took was an order from the man who was obviously about to become her sex master.

Melinda had already been fucked in both the cant and the ass that night by a big cock so she did not fear her step-father's cock nearly as much as Marlene had — even though it was the biggest set of male genitalia that Melinda had ever seen.

He pulled her to a kneeling position and she found her face pressed against his cock and balls.

Melinda could tell that the blood from her sister's opened poontang was getting smeared all over her pretty face.

"LICK IT CLEAN!" Bernard screamed. Melinda could tell that this time the man meant pronto and she shot out with her eager tongue, lapping happily at his cock.

She did not mind the flavor. She knew that the best way to keep from getting hurt was to make the sadistic man happy as possible at all times.

She used her tongue expertly. Bernard could tell right away that he was being licked by an experienced tongue.

It was quite clear that the little black haired girl knew her way around a set of balls.

She lifted his testicles and got her tongue underneath, flicking lightly back and forth with the tip.

She used the flat part of her tongue to massage his testicles, which rested swollen at the base of the wrinkled scrotal sack.

They were the biggest balls she had ever seen. She loved the way they felt on her tongue as she licked lazily and sensuously.

She held his cock upward in her palm and then licked it until all of the blood and semen and cunt juice was gone.

She could feel his cock getting heavier in her hand, and she noticed that the head was starting to swell.

By this time the little girl's pussy was burning with desire, and she wanted to get fucked just the way Marlene had.

The man placed his huge palms on the sides of Melinda's head, and drew back with his hips a couple of inches.

"Suck it," he said. She could feel her throat tingling.

She wondered if the man had ever fucked a face like hers before. Melinda was smart enough to know that she gave throat better than most girls.

She dropped her jaw and clutched as much of his scrotal sack as she could fit in her right palm.

The cock was swelling very fast and she could tell that it would only be a few seconds before the pole reached full engorgement.

She parted her lips as far as she could get them. - She had never swallowed a sword this big before.

She knew that this was going to be a true test of her skills as an oral lover, and she was looking forward to the opportunity to show off for her new sex master.

She rammed forward with her head and moved her knees back on the floor.

She swallowed his ten inch rod hole, and soon was gripping at the base with her fleshy lips.

Even her experienced throat muscles were strained by the girth and length of his gigantic tool of manhood.

The little black haired girl began to gag immediately and her throat convulsions squeezed at his prick.

The man shivered as he felt his cock spring to attention while inside her mouth, stretching even further at her straining gullet. She squeezed his balls and moved her nose a little to one side as he began to fuck her pretty face.

She did not want her button nose smashed by his pubic bone.

She correctly assumed that his hips thrusts would become savage as he neared the spilling of his seed.

The little girl could feel her throat muscles relaxing, and she gained control of her ability to suck with them.

She was drawing at his rod with a steady vacuum, using both her mouth and her throat to create the suction.

Bernard realized right away that he had stumbled onto something special here.

He had never fucked a throat this talented before.

She felt like she had magic fingers deep inside her face that were there specifically to give his prick pleasure.

He could tell that he wouldn't have to fuck that mouth for long before he would be shooting his load down into her belly.

"Oh, baby, I am going to pump you fill of jizz!" the sadistic man said breathlessly with a hiss and a sneer.

He did not know how much Melinda loved drinking a man's come straight from the tap.

She was looking forward to his orgasm.

She could feel her taste buds tingling in anticipation of the flavor of his molten fuck cream!!!

She could feel his cock getting even longer and harder as he approached his orgasm. She squeezed more firmly at his nuts, being careful not to hurt him, but using the massage of his testicles to enhance the pleasure he was feeling in his humping ten inch dong.

Marlene sat next to her mother and found that she had a strange urge to caress the woman and comfort her.

Marlene was starting to behave normally - if that was the right word - but Michele was still deep in her trance.

"Mommy, are you okay?" the youngest girl whispered into her Mother's shell-like ear.

Marlene wrapped her arm tenderly around her mother's shoulders.

"I'm fine, dear. How are you?" Michele said. Her voice was dull and monotoned.

"Mommy, I think we had better get you to bed," Marlene said.

Marlene could see that Bernard was too busy pumping his awesome prick into Melinda's gaping mouth to give a shit about what she and her mother did.

Marlene helped Michele to her feet and guided the unsteady older woman down the hall to the bedroom.

Marlene thought for a moment about calling the police.

But she was starting to think that no one was going to be hurt seriously.

The flow of blood from her pussy had stopped long before, and she could tell that the man had not - caused any wounds that would not heal.

Marlene was too blown away with the events of the evening to consider the emotional trauma the sadistic man had just poured onto his entire family.

Michele went straight to bed and Marlene curled up next to her, snuggling against her as she had when she was a very little girl and frightened by a thunder and lightening storm. But in those days Mommy had comforted Marlene. In spite of their position it seemed more now like it was the other way around.

Marlene rubbed her face against her mother's huge breasts.

Not feeling naughty at all — just affectionate — Marlene stuck out her tongue and began to lick lightly at Michele's right nipple.

"Does that feel good, Mommy?" Marlene asked.

Naturally she used a low whisper when she spoke.

She did not want Bernard to notice they had left.

"It feels very nice, sweetheart," Michele replied.

She was staring at the ceiling. Her arms were at her sides.

She was limp, but occasionally jerked a little.

Back in the girls' room Bernard could feel a tickle at the base of his cock and he knew that he would only have to pump for a few more strokes.

He could feel his muscles tightening and his breaths had become rapid and short with his sadistic lust.

He pulled back at the last second so that the come would shoot onto her tongue, making it more nicely that she would gag on the semen.

Melinda was ready for his wad and T rapped her lips tightly around the base of his glans, drawing in her cheeks, positioning her tongue so that the seed would spurt directly onto it.

"SUCK ME DRY! SUCK ME DRY!"

Bernard called out as his hot lava — that molten fuck jelly - came shooting toward the tip of his cock.

Melinda's mouth was filled. She puffed her cheeks - out. She swallowed hard. She took all of the come, pumping at his spasming balls.

She kept sucking him until no more jam came out of his prick.

He relaxed and pulled his prick out of her mouth.

Bernard glanced back over his shoulder, expecting to see Michele and Marlene crouched in the doorway.

But they were not there. At that moment Marlene was parting her lips so she would take her mother's right nipple into her mouth.

She sucked it hard, and she could feel it getting stiffer and larger between her tingling lips.

She flicked the tip, of her tongue across the erection as she sucked, and Michele let out a soft sigh, which was the first vocal reaction she had given for Marlene's sweet oral caress.

Bernard came stomping down the hall and into his bedroom before Marlene had a chance to pull her mouth away from her mother's tit.

"I knew it! I knew it! The little cunt wants to get it on for the old lady now, right?" Bernard screamed.

Marlene could feel the blood draining from her face and she was sure that he was going to beat her again.

"You want to get it on with each other? That is fine with me," Bernard said.

He crossed his thick arms across his chest and cocked his hip to one side.

"I'm in the mood to watch," he said, and it didn't take Marlene long to figure out what he meant.

She was not a dumb girl. She had merely been naive. She knew what Bernard expected her and her mother to do.

Marlene placed her lips close to her mother's ear.

"Mommy, Bernard wants us to make love," she said.

"That sounds like fun, dear," Michele said blankly.

"Right," Marlene said. "You just relax and I am going to go down and kiss you between the legs, okay?"

"That is fine with me, sweetheart," Michele said.

"Eat your Mommy's pussy!!!" Bernard commanded firmly.

"Yes, sir," Marlene replied, bowing her head.

She found it difficult to look Into the man's eyes.

"And I mean right now!" the bear of a man bellowed.

Marlene quickly moved so that she was on her belly with her head between Michele's dark parted thighs.

Marlene had much lighter skin than Michele and Bernard liked the way the contrast looked as their flesh touched.

Marlene pulled the bathrobe - still around Michele's shoulders - as far open as she could get it.

She, pushed her mother's thighs a little further apart with firm fingertips and looked into that snatch.

The pussy was very pink, and smelled musky yet sweet.

Marlene could tell that it was going to be delicious.

This was the first pussy she would ever get to eat.

Bernard had interrupted before Marlene had a chance to eat out her older sister's wanton snatch ... Melinda was still in her room on her knees, thinking that Bernard would be back at any second.

It would take her awhile to realize that the action had moved to the other bedroom and she had been left behind.

Marlene got right down to business and placed the tip of her tongue on the base of her mother's cunt slit.

Marlene was not thinking normally, having been badly traumatized by the events of the savage evening.

She thought that it was appropriate that the very first cunt she ever munched on belonged to her mother.

After all, that was the very hole from which she was born.

The little girl was pleased to find that the flesh tasted delicious.

Michele closed her eyes for the first time in a long time and kept them closed as her mouth fell open.

The older black haired woman could feel her physical joy cutting through her fog, rippling slowly up and down her spine.

Everything seemed like it was moving in slow motion to Michele and she could feel the bed begin to spin.

Marlene moved her fingertips to the outer lips of the pussy and pulled the flesh apart a little bit.

She licked upward with her tongue so she could get the tip between the woman's curled back inner labia.

As she did that Michele could feel her natural lubrication begin to flow, and her cunt began to tingle.

It took only seconds for that tingle to become a full-fledged ache.

Her pussy quickly became soaking wet and slippery with her honey.

Marlene made her tongue stiff and pressed it into the hole.

Marlene could feel the tip of her straight nose touching her mother's love button, so she wiggled her nose from side to side a little bit to massage the center of Michele's womanly pleasure.

Marlene licked upward so she could get her tongue on the clit, which was starting to poke out from under its foreskin.

Marlene could tell that she would have to lick at the clit for a little while before her mother would come,

The older woman's sexual reactions were a little slower than usual — for obvious reasons even to Marlene.

She rolled the clit around in a little circle and then licked up and down on it, pushing it against the base of the pubic bone.

Michele's moans and groans became increasingly louder.

Marlene was very glad that her mother had woken up.

She wondered what would have happened if her mother had been too zonked to feel the cunt massage and had not reacted at all. That would not have been a very entertaining show at all and Bernard would have been frustrated.

As it was he was stroking his prick as he watched his wife lift her hips to grind her pussy against her daughter's face.

Michele came with a shudder and gushed juice onto Marlene's eating face!

#Step-Father's Sins by Unknown #Chapter 9

[goddessofgamma]

All These Years (Ao3 Link)

Summary: As Phil and May make their way away from Earth in a stolen shuttle, they appreciate the view and reflect on memories (some funny, some horrible). Phil POV for the future segments and May’s POV for flashbacks.

This was my first ever fic!!

Shining trails of stardust raced behind them as they drifted towards the Earth, the streams of light chasing after the asteroids from which they came.

Asteroids? Or comets? Phil wondered. Or are they meteors? He knew that if Fitz or Simmons were here, they’re would be able to tell him in a heartbeat. But they weren’t with them any more, it was just him and May, flying down in a shuttle to try and make it to Earth.

“It really is beautiful,” Phil breathed, tracing the trails with his eyes. Behind him, May raised an eyebrow as she piloted the craft. “I mean, beautiful for a post-apocalyptic future at least.”

May smiled to herself, finding it sweet that Phil would find something beautiful in all of this.

Many years ago...

Agents Coulson’s lips were softer than she thought they would be. Only a few days ago, May hadn’t really had much of an opinion of Coulson. She’d worked with quite a few new recruits, fresh out of the Communications Academy, self-assured men who were sure that they had what it took to become the next James Bond, but who crumbled under the first sign of stress in the field.

Coulson was different. He was kind of nerdy. He seemed in awe of the history of SHIELD. He was softer, kinder than she had imagined. I wish more spies realised that being a nice person isn’t a flaw, she thought to herself. It wasn’t a weakness for him, he used his sensitivity in his work, and showed his steel when it was needed.

And right now, he was certainly making use of his sensitivity. They were undercover as Mr and Mrs Dennis O’Shaughnessy, newlyweds who were very much in love, and used every possible opportunity to show it. Agents May and Coulson were making the most of two much-used laws of spying: (a) No-one will think that you’re a spy if you have a silly name and (b) if two people are being affectionate, people will be too embarrassed to look at you.

Coulson had gone along with the plan, had said that it was a good strategy, but every time May brushed her hand over his shoulder or wiped some desert from the side of his mouth, he blushed and looked painfully nervous. It’s like he’s worried I’ll turn at any moment and attack, May thought.

And now they were kissing. Rather enthusiastically, at least on May’s part. Coulson was doing his best to keep up. He was doing his best to be gentle, respectful, and as sweet as May thought that was, she knew that they needed to convince any camera’s watching they that they were, in fact, newlyweds.

His hand was lightly resting on her shoulder. All whilst kissing, she took his hand in hers and led it behind her back, hoping he’d get the message (undo my bra!) that she was trying to convey.

He seemed to have gotten the message. He was now fumbling with the clasp of her bra, but did not seem to be making any progress.

Minutes passed. At one point, May thought Coulson had almost got it, he managed to undo two of the three hooks on the clasp, but after a minute or so he somehow managed to hook them back in place.

It’s a good thing that he’s cute, thought May. Otherwise, she might have thought to write up in their report that he wasn’t fully committed to their mission.

He seemed to be enjoying kissing her. His lips tenderly moulded to hers. As she kissed him hard, tried to make it as fierce as possible, playing the role of an impassioned newlywed, he slowed them down, set the pace slower, less urgent.

May was sure she must be reading too much into the kiss. He was a nervous new agent from communications; he wasn’t used to her operations, be-prepared-to-go-all-the-way approach.

Click-WOOSH

Coulson had (finally) managed to successfully unhook her bra.

And now, predictably, he was too shy (or perhaps too courteous) to actually touch her now-freed breasts.

May tried to encourage him, tried to move his hands with hers but as she did, she brushed past his underarm, tickling him. He jumped back immediately, involuntarily giggling. May wanted to give him her best death-stare, give him a look that would force his head back in the game and onto the mission but in truth she found his laughter rather infectious. She gave him her best lovey-dovey smile and started to draw him back in for a kiss. Just as their lips were about to touch, her ear-wire crackled, airing their signal to move and surround their targets.

Only half an hour later, they had apprehended the illegal arms dealers. May piloted the craft back to base with a smile and the taste of Phil’s kisses still on her lips.

Back in the future...

May clicked the shuttle into autopilot. She left her seat, taking a step towards the window, towards Phil. He turned as he heard her steps.

“What are you doing?” Phil asked.

“The shuttle’s on autopilot. I thought I’d have at the ‘beautiful’ view,” “No, I meant what are doing standing up? Your leg’s still not healed, you need to get all the rest you can. Come here.” He walked to sit on at seat in the middle of the shuttle, and motioned her to do the same.

“I’m fine,” May insisted.

“You always say that, but I can see you’re holding your shoulders stiff. You look tense.” May gave him a pointed look.

“Don’t they say that I always look tense?” she replied.

“Scary, I think, is the word that most people would use.” She sat down. “But really, May, how is your leg?”

Phil hoped that she knew that she could be honest around him, that she would know she didn’t just have to grit her teeth and say “I’m fine”.

“I’m alright, it’s…” She gave him a serious look. “It will get better soon.”

“Okay, May, so long as you’re sure”

Many years ago...

After Bahrain, May found it too difficult to talk to Andrew. It didn’t feel like it would get any better it didn’t feel like she could make any progress. Every time she wanted to talk about what happened there, she remembered the little girl, Katya, and how in that moment her hopes of a future family were dashed. Every time she tried to talk about her feelings, she felt as though she was Andrew’s client rather than Andrew’s wife.

A month after her last field mission, Phil came to her little division of the office she worked in. He tried to talk to her, tell her that she should take whatever time she needed to heal, but that he hoped she wouldn’t be out of the field forever. Phil said how he hoped that she knew that she could talk to him, confide in him, if she ever felt that she needed it.

Much to her own surprise, May found that she could confide in him, could talk to Phil about how she felt. He had been there so she didn’t need to explain what happened. She could just talk to him about how she felt, what she’d lost, and know that he would at least partly understand.

“It wasn’t just that I couldn’t save her, Phil,” she said. “I killed her.”

When May cried, there weren’t any sobs, just silent tears sliding by her cheeks.

Back in the future...

He wide, arched window of the craft meant that the view of space engulfed them. The landscape, a vast darkness dappled with stars, was a terrifying as it was breath-taking.

“It is beautiful,” May quietly agreed. “I’m, well, I’m glad that there’s something in all of this,” – she gestured to the stars – “all of this sadness, something that makes you happy, makes it a little worthwhile.”

Phil turned to look at May.

“It’s not the view that makes it worth it. It’s you.” May smiled in response.

“I know, you’re always looking out for the team. I know how much you care about all of us. It’s -“

“No, May, I don’t mean the team. I mean, I do care about everyone, I do want Fitzsimmons to be happy, and for Mack and Elena to be free from this whole sci-fi horror movie scenario. And Daisy, I just think Daisy deserves a break from all of this, but that’s not what makes it worth it. It’s you, May.” He spoke with a level of emotion May wasn’t accustomed to, looking straight into her eyes.

“When I first got to know you, you were fierce and kind and didn’t take any crap from anyone, you never have. And I’ll be honest, after Bahrain, I was worried that I’d lost you, that I’d never have you by my side in the field again. Asking you to join us on the bus, that was the best decision I ever made.” He gently brushed her cheek with his real hand, and May was sure she’s never felt a sweeter touch. "All these years, all these memories, there was you. You pulled me through time."

It was May who lent forward, closing the gap between them and claiming his lips. Phil felt relief, relief that May finally, finally knew how he felt and that she felt the same for him. May’s kisses were soft and passionate, full of emotion that she had kept bottled-up and didn’t always know how to express.

Phil ran his fingers through her hair and deepened the kiss. At every point where their skin touched he felt excitement, more excitement than anyone had ever made him feel before. Why did we wait this long? Phil wondered. But as Melinda wrapped her arms around him and pulled them together, any coherent thoughts fled Phil’s brain. The feel of her body against his was a reassurance, an intense feeling that even if they were forced apart in the future, they were together now, and it felt more right than anything ever had in Phil’s life.

May’s hands drew up to his shoulders, her thumbs pulling on the collar of his jacket and she pulled back.

“Phil, I know I’m not…” her eyes darted down, “I’m not good with telling people how I feel but…” she finally met his eyes. “I love you, Phil, I have love you for –“ She tried to think of a unit of time, tried to pinpoint how long she’d loved Phil Coulson but her feelings had grown so slowly, so softly that she couldn’t remember when they started. May shook her head slightly, not knowing how to finish her sentence.

“I love you, Melinda, I don’t know how long but, at some point I realised that you are everything to me.”

It was Phil’s turn to start their kiss, pulling them together and letting himself get lost in her.

The wait was worth it, Phil thought. She is worth all of that time.

#my fic #philinda #phil coulson #melinda may #aos

[starlillie-blog]

12 days of jily xmas: day 6

Prompt: #12 secret santa Rating: G / canon Word Count: ~1k

Mary shook the pointed wizard’s hat in front of her.

“C’mon, Lily, it’s your turn.”

Lily closed her eyes and crammed her hand down to the very bottom of the hat, searching for just the right slip of parchment. It was Gryffindor Secret Santa and she wanted the lucky draw. Lucky, in this case, would be drawing her boyfriend’s name. She’d already gotten James his real Christmas gift. If she drew his name here, she could take the easy way out and just get him an accessory to go with his big gift which was a handsome new quaffle with his initials stitched into the leather. In the shop where she’d bought it, she also had her eye on a pair of quidditch gloves, but at the time, couldn’t justify spending the money to get both.

She drew her hand out of the hat and took a look.

Sirius Black.

Very close. But not quite what she was hoping for. Lily looked around at the other seventh years gathered around the common room. Mary finished her rounds with the hat and took the last name for herself. Peter was staring at his piece of parchment and biting his lip. Remus took a quick glance at his and then stuffed it into his pocket. Sirius was laughing. (He’d probably got James, the git. She’d have to suggest the gloves to him.) James was smiling at his. (Maybe he’d drawn her? Or maybe not.) Everyone else had started filtering out of the common room.

She had no idea what to get Sirius. She’d grown to love him dearly, but he was an intensely private person (so far as his feelings, what he was really thinking) and there was a great deal about him that she still didn’t know. Lily didn’t like to get throwaway gifts. She liked to get gifts that meant something. Or practical gifts that she knew the other person would like. Sirius would be a challenge, for certain.

Lily picked herself up from her spot on the floor and settled on the sofa beside James, a plan in mind. She angled herself towards him, trying to seem as nonchalant as possible.

“So…” She slid the parchment with Sirius’s name on it across the space between them. “Want to trade?”

It took a few seconds for James’s brain to catch up to her words.

“What?” he said, scandalized.

“I drew your best friend and I’ve no idea what to get him. Trade with me, please,” Lily begged. She threw in a pout and sad puppy eyes for good measure.

“No - Lily! That’s cheating!” He said the last part in a whisper.

Lily laughed. “I’ve seen you let Peter copy your homework plenty of times. And you’ve probably broken a thousand school rules over the last seven years.”

“I don’t cheat - not at games. And anyway, breaking rules is different than cheating and homework copying doesn’t really count. It’s just busy work, not an exam.”

“So secret santa is more important than homework?”

James nodded gravely.

“Fine,” Lily huffed dramatically. “Let me see who you got then.” She made to tug the hand holding his slip of parchment closer, but James yanked his arm away before she could see.

“No, you can’t,” he said, scrambling to the far end of the sofa.

“Did you get me then?”

“I can’t tell you. That’s cheating!”

“Well,” Lily said loudly, “if you had gotten me, I could really use a new school bag. And you know how much I love Ice Mice. And that new mystery novel from Melinda Muddleberry has just come out. Oh, and do you remember that shop we went to on our second date?”

She hoped the mention alone was enough of a hint for him. She noticed Remus still sitting in the corner across from them. He had a book in front of him, but it seemed like he was at least half listening to their conversation, if the smile straining to take over his face was any indication. Peter, on the other hand, was hunched over his work table, his hand flying across a sheet of parchment.

“Lily, I’m not going to tell you.

“Oh, you’re no fun.”

“I am fun,” James countered. “I’m fun exactly because I’m not cheating at this. The whole thing is a lot more fun when it’s all a surprise.”

Lily playfully rolled her eyes at that. James was cute, sometimes. “All right,” she said. She stretched across the sofa and put her head in his lap. “You’ve converted me. I’ll try this ‘surprise’ thing.”

James broke into a grin and carded his fingers through her hair.

***

Lily almost kept her promise to be surprised. She found out Sirius had, indeed, drawn James.

James’s joy upon opening the stitched leather quidditch gloves created a sense of satisfaction deep within her chest. Sirius looked over and winked at her as James tried his new gift on.

It turned out that James hadn’t gotten her name at all. He’d drawn Remus, who received the largest assortment of sweets she’d ever seen. Peter drew her name. He had actually been listening in on her conversation with James. After he set her gift down it front of her, she opened it to find a box of Ice Mice and the novel she’d mentioned.

Lily settled on a gift for Sirius after a lot of consideration. She collected photographs. From James, from Remus, from Peter, from their other classmates, and some of her own. She’d even owled James’s parents. And she bound them all in a book. She knew Sirius hadn’t had a happy home life. She didn’t know the particulars, but she knew that much. So, she pulled together as many good memories as she could, so they’d be right there when he needed them.

Sirius didn’t say much when he opened it, but he turned each page reverently.

“Aren’t you glad I wouldn’t let you trade?” James asked, coming up behind her and wrapping his arms around her waist.

She elbowed him gently in the gut. “Don’t rub it in. You’re ruining the moment.”

#12daysofjilychristmas #jily #lily evans #james potter #12daysofficmas #sirius black #my writing #drabble

[hawkland]

The Best Gift (Rollisi fic)

So, I actually wrote the following fic for the Rare Pair Exchange a few weeks ago. But author reveals just happened today, so I decided to share it here for Amanda Rollins week, in @svucharacterappreciation

It’s my first time writing Rollisi and I had a lot of fun doing so! (Maybe I’ll do it again?) G-rated, about 1700 words. Crossposted from my AO3 account (where you can find the rest of my SVU fic.)

“You don’t have to stay and help, Carisi.”

“It’s no problem,” Sonny assured Amanda, as he picked up another errant plastic cup and tossed it in the trash. “See, in my house, growing up? My mom always used to throw these huge birthday parties for us kids. Everyone in the family would be there, all the cousins and aunts and uncles. Seemed like half the kids on Staten Island, too. She’d be up all night before the party cooking and baking, and then she wouldn’t go to bed after the party until every room was pristine clean again. The rugs had to be vacuumed, the kitchen floor swept, every dish washed and hand-dried.” He paused, bending over to retrieve a streamer that had somehow gotten wrapped around the dining room table leg. “But she wouldn’t let anyone help her, either, because she had her way of doing things—the only right way. It was just how she was.”

Amanda snorted and kicked a chair back in place, her hands full of gift bags to be sorted through tomorrow. “Well, as you should be able to tell by now, I’m not nearly so fastidious.”

“No one was—short of my mother’s mother, my nonna Marie. But I always felt bad seeing my mom exhausted by all that work. So trust me, you don’t need to do everything here yourself.”

“You’re right about that. And I definitely won’t refuse help offered willingly,” Amanda said with a smile, one that Sonny beamed right back at her.

All the other guests who’d shown up for Jesse’s first birthday party had left some time ago. Fin had dragged Munch off the premises first, the two of them arguing about current political events—as usual. Olivia had said goodnight when Noah started getting cranky and restless, perhaps not pleased that he wasn’t the center of all the adults’ attention for once. Melinda and her husband had stayed a while longer, happy for the relaxing evening out with friends—and sharing stories of how nice it was once the kids had grown up enough to leave the house for college.

“It’ll be a lot of years until I know how that feels,” Amanda had said, “but I’m in no hurry to rush through these early years.”

“Don’t be,” Melinda had assured her. “You’ll be reminiscing about them from the day she starts talking back at you.”

Amanda had also invited a few other young moms from the prenatal yoga class she had attended before Jesse’s birth. They’d stayed in touch because it was nice to have other mothers—most of them single moms themselves—to talk to, vent at, and lean on as necessary. And Amanda had been happy to see how their little ones were growing so fast...much like Jesse herself.

Jesse, who surely had no idea why so many people had been in their home, making all this noise and fuss over her. She was now fast asleep in her crib, and Amanda was getting close to the point where she’d love to simply crawl into her own bed, too.

But she didn’t mind Sonny lingering behind. She wasn’t a neat freak, but it could be depressing to wake up the morning after a big party and have nothing but a huge mess to clean up.

Wake up by herself, to the quietude of an otherwise empty apartment, save her dog and the baby she hadn’t planned for, nor expected.

“I’ll take these out to the trash chute,” Sonny said, hefting three plastic bags up over his shoulder as if he were Santa Claus.

“Thanks,” she replied distractedly as he headed for the door, throwing the deadbolt so it wouldn’t lock behind him. Sonny knew where the trash room was; he’d come over to make and share dinner enough evenings. In fact it had almost started to become routine, once every few weeks when they had the time. Dinner, catching up on the latest reality shows piled up on her DVR, talk about their various ongoing family dramas...

Talk about anything other than work.

Or the possibilities that were right there in front of them both.

It was nice. Sonny was nice, she thought as she settled down on her sofa with a wistful, tired sigh. She’d been seriously skeptical about him at first, but he’d grown a lot since he’d first landed at Manhattan SVU. Or maybe...maybe with time she had become more able, and willing, to see who he had been from the start.

Because Sonny was always there for her, in ways that few other men ever had been. And that’s why she was determined not to do anything to fuck that up.

She’d made more than her share of mistakes with men in the past, including—on more than one occasion, she had to admit—men she had to work with. At least her “mistake” with Declan had ended up giving her Jesse, who was now the best part of her life...but.

Still.

Sonny.

Sonny was a man who would stick around, unlike Declan. She knew that. And Sonny wasn’t carrying tons of baggage with a separated wife and multiple kids, like Nick had been.

Damn it, Amanda. A good guy—maybe the right guy—finally comes along and now you’re gun-shy. Don’t want to be the girl who ends up sleeping with every available man at the office. And yet, with Sonny she had the feeling it would be about a lot more than just sex. They’d had all this time to get to know each other, to become friends first. That would make things different, and better, right?

“Amanda, did you hear me?”

“I’m sorry, what?” she said, jumping as he startled her out of those thoughts. Sonny had returned from trash duty and was now standing before her, looking concerned.

“I asked if you wanted to save what was left of the meatballs and sausage in the crockpot? I just need a container for it.”

“Uh, yeah, sure. There should be some clean tupperware in the cabinet above the sink.”

“OK, will do. There’s easily enough for two lunches yet in there.”

“You can take it home if you want.”

“I won’t say no to that.” He turned to head to the kitchen, but then paused to ask, “You okay?”

“Me? Of course! I mean...why?”

“You...you looked kind of sad when I came back in.”

She shook her head. “It’s nothing. Just the post-party blahs, I suppose.”

“Being ‘on’ and entertaining for hours. I get that. It can be pretty draining.” He sat down next to her. “You sure that’s it, though?”

She bit her lip. Did she really want to have this conversation?

Right now?

Ever?

Or was she being stubborn and unfair to both of them, to keep denying what was there between them? “Sonny, you ever think about...I mean if I am projecting and off-base here please tell me to shut up and that’s fine and forget I ever even asked, but...”

“About us?” he interrupted.

“Uh...yeah. I mean...we hang out after work, you’ve tried giving me cooking lessons, you like being here with Jesse...”

“And Frannie!” he put in with enthusiasm, causing Amanda to laugh. The poor pup had gone into hiding from all the noise and activity and was still sulking in her dog bed in the bedroom.

“Yeah, and of course Frannie, how could I forget my first baby-girl. I guess I can’t help but wonder, why you do all that instead of, I dunno...getting out there and trying to find someone to share time with who you don’t have to see every day at work already. Someone who isn’t all tangled up in this line of work and all the stress we have to deal with.”

“I could do that,” he agreed, nodding his head. “But...maybe I’m more interested in spending time with someone who knows what this job is all about, who can help me deal with it better myself. And because...well, I like you, Amanda. I like you a lot.”

“I like you too, Sonny,” she admitted, and it was true. Her attraction to him had been far from immediate. Yet as she’d come to appreciate his kindness and heart, she’d felt her own heart opening up to deeper feelings for him.

“But I know you’ve been through a lot and I didn’t want—I don’t want—to rush you into anything you aren’t sure about.”

“I appreciate that,” she said, allowing herself a small smile—one that grew as she saw Sonny flush a little and look away, endearing in his moment of shyness and vulnerability. And so when he looked back to meet her gaze, she took a chance on leaning in for a light kiss on his lips.

It was sweet, and tender...and cautious. Like Sonny. She pulled back and they sat quietly, awkwardly, for a few moments, sharing shy glances and a few nervous laughs. Then he looked to her with a serious expression, his eyes focused as one hand cupped her cheek, and drew her to him for a much more sensual kiss.

Oh, she could fall hard, and fast, if there were more kisses to be shared like this one. What other surprises might Sonny have for her, she wondered?

Before she could contemplate such things for very long he pulled away, giving her a dreamy if regret-tinged smile. “It’s getting on pretty late, I should head home.”

“You could...stay...if you want.”

“I could,” he agreed, reaching up to stroke her hair with a light touch. “But, I meant it about taking things slow. I don’t want to mess this up. You know?”

“Yeah, I do.”

He stood with a sigh, and so did Amanda, following him to the door. He lingered there for a moment, in the open doorway, and then suggested, “If nothin’ comes up this weekend, I can give you a call, we could do something together? I mean, something more than cooking dinner and watching Below Deck or Dancing with the Stars.”

“I’d like that. Good night, Sonny.”

“Good night, Amanda.” He seemed to be considering one last kiss, but then perhaps he knew if he went for it, he wouldn’t be going anywhere tonight. So instead he smiled and headed down the hall to the elevator, casting one last smile and wave in her direction as he did.

She returned both, then closed the door, locking it behind her. Still grinning, she looked at all those gifts for Jesse from her friends, and appreciated having them in her life.

But Sonny had given her the best gift of all tonight.

The gift of hope, and maybe one more chance at love.

#rollisi #svucharacterappreciation #amanda rollins #sonny carisi #my fic #svu fic

[bigyack-com]

In a Long History of Sexist Ads and Outrage, It’s the Apology That’s New

The commercial doesn’t have much to do with chicken.A young woman in a low-cut top purses her lips and pushes up her chest as she checks her reflection in a car window. The glass slowly rolls down, revealing two young boys who had been ogling her. In the driver’s seat, a disapproving mom glares.The young woman sheepishly grins, then asks: “Did someone say KFC?”Fifteen years ago, the ad might have been seen as just another crass marketing pitch leveraging sex to sell a product. But when the commercial recently appeared in Australia, the backlash on social media denouncing it as sexist was so vociferous, it prompted KFC to apologize.The quick retreat, just before advertising’s marquee moment — the Super Bowl — underscored how the boundaries of what’s considered acceptable are changing quickly in the #MeToo era. Advertisers who for decades relied on the objectification of women to sell products are increasingly wary of taking that approach, aware that many consumers will no longer tolerate abject sexism.“They would have never apologized 15 or 20 years ago,” said Abhik Roy, a former ad executive and professor of marketing at Quinnipiac University. “It’s more because of social media pressure.”While the #MeToo movement has used social media to push advertisers into withdrawing ads they deem offensive, they are building on the wave of earlier battles.

‘My wife, I think I’ll keep her.’

Before there was KFC and Peloton, the exercise company recently criticized for an ad, there was the vitamin company Geritol.A gauzy 1972 commercial for Geritol shows a handsome, middle-aged man looking into the camera as his wife, perfectly coifed and smiling, leans her head on his shoulder. She remains silent as he describes how, thanks to Geritol, she has the energy to take care of their baby all day, go to a school meeting and make a delicious dinner.“And look at her,” he drawls. “She looks better than any of her friends.”He then looks back at the camera and says, “My wife, I think I’ll keep her.”The ad infuriated leaders of the National Organization for Women, who called for commercials like it to be taken off the airwaves. The Committee for the Rejection of Obnoxious Commercials, which was founded by a Minneapolis ad executive in the early 1970s, ranked it one of that year’s worst.The ad carried such resonance that 20 years later, the country singer Mary Chapin Carpenter responded with the song “He Thinks He’ll Keep Her,” about a seemingly happy wife who decides to leave her husband.Geritol was eventually fined $812,000 by the Federal Trade Commission for flouting orders to stop running ads that promised boundless energy to anyone who took the supplement.In an editorial critical of the company, The Berkshire Eagle of Massachusetts said the wife in that ad “does everything but curl up at his feet and purr.”“Women’s Liberationists” were so enraged, the editorial said, “if they had their way, the fines would have been in the billions rather than the thousands.”

‘Choice feminism’

The decades that followed showed little progress in advertising tactics.Take a Fuddruckers ad from the early 1980s that is rife with double entendres. At first glance it seems to be a cheeky look at men and women both lusting after burgers.But it is the men who are allowed to ogle the “buns” and bite sinfully into the burger, while a woman who starts to marvel at the size of a beef patty is quickly shushed by her friends.The ad is emblematic of the Reagan era’s “revival of conservatism on the social, political and economic levels,” said Carly Drake, a marketing professor at North Central College in Illinois. “Sex is shameful or, more simply, private and not to be discussed,” she said.The decade would also start a trend of women “choosing” to be feminine, sexual and driven, but still not too threatening to men, Professor Drake said. She cited as an example an Enjoli perfume ad that portrayed a “24-hour woman.”“There was this idea of ‘We’ve made it as women, we can make it on our own,’” Professor Drake said. “We don’t need feminism. So we want to be with the boys.”That trend would continue well into the early 2000s, though some ads tried to deflect criticism. One 2003 Super Bowl commercial showed two women arguing over Miller Lite, then fighting, mud-wrestling and, finally, kissing.The ad was framed as a spoof of two men’s fantasy — with two women listening, silent and disgusted — but Miller Lite was nevertheless accused of trying to get away with sexism by turning it into a joke.At the same time, online retailers were creating a more competitive market, and advertisers started to sense a shift in how consumers saw commercials, said Paul Radich, a marketing professor at Catholic University who served on the ethics committee of the American Marketing Association from 2011 to 2014.Advertisers began asking, “Are we appealing to their instincts and desires in a temporary fashion, or are we trying to engage them in a narrative about their own life and how we as a company can fit into their own life?” he said.Many commercials moved toward absurdist humor — as with many of Geico’s ads — or appeals to family, like a 2016 ad for Honda in which a man gets home safely to his young wife and baby thanks to the reliable emergency brake system.That commercial was a far cry from “Man’s Last Stand,” a 2010 Dodge ad that showed beaten-down men defiantly telling the women in their lives that if they have to comply with chores and other demands, they will buy whatever car they want.

The social media era

Outcry over objectification may be swifter and louder, but men are still more represented in commercials than women, according to a 2019 analysis by the Geena Davis Institute on Gender in Media, a nonprofit started by the Oscar-winning actor.Researchers for the organization looked at 2.7 million YouTube videos uploaded by advertisers and found that while there was some improvement in gender representation over a five-year period, male characters were seen 56 percent of the time, while female characters were seen 44 percent of the time. Male characters were also heard one and a half times more than female characters.In Australia, the criticism against KFC itself drew abusive blowback, said Melinda Liszewski, a spokeswoman for Collective Shout, a grass-roots organization that campaigns against the objectification of women.“I was surprised that our commentary on the KFC ad would elicit such vile, sexually explicit and misogynistic abuse,” she said. “Myself and my colleagues spent a number of hours removing comments and men from our social media pages.”And there remains the question of how advertising will play out on social media platforms where users have more control and receive less scrutiny.Nancy Van Leuven, who teaches communications at Fresno State, pointed to TikTok, where some teenage girls, eager to find new followers (and advertisers), dress skimpily, don makeup and toss their hair for the camera as they teach dance steps.Their male counterparts on similar videos are often dressed in baggy clothes, their moves far less sexualized.“Is that an idea of user-generated media that is reinforcing stereotypes?” Professor Van Leuven said. “I think user-generated content is the newer, unknown territory of whether stereotypes are reinforced or disrupted.” Read the full article

#1augustnews #247news #5g570newspaper #660closings #702news #8paradesouth #911fox #abc90seconds #adamuzialkodaily #Ads #Apology #atoactivitystatement #atobenchmarks #atocodes #atocontact #atoportal #atoportaltaxreturn #attnews #bbnews #bbcnews #bbcpresenters #bigcrossword #bigmoney #bigwxiaomi #bloomberg8001zürich #bmbargainsnews #business #business0balancetransfer #business0062 #business0062conestoga

[an-affectionate-heart]

Phil and Melinda

*gasps* Look what it is! It’s another installment of my Philinda President/Secret Service AU! This has been a long time coming, but thanks to everyone’s continued support, I’ve finally gotten back to working on it. This is just the beginning of more stuff to come, so I hope you all like it!

Despite having been a member of the Secret Service for nearly a year now, Melinda had never been given the opportunity to travel outside of the country. President Coulson had spent the first couple months of his term working through some domestic issues before he ventured abroad, and when that time had come, Fury had opted to leave Melinda behind to watch over Skye. Back then, Melinda had bristled at staying in the country. She had been hired to protect the President, so why wasn’t she doing that?

Over time, she learned not to care so much about what her assignments were. Some days they would be vital, like being on the President’s detail as he made a speech regarding the terrorist attack that had occurred at his daughter’s birthday party. Other days, she would be tasked with checking on their comms system to ensure they were still working properly.

No agent was more important than another. Fury believed in that and was not shy in letting others know.

That was why Melinda was honored Fury had selected her to travel to England for President Coulson’s meeting with the Prime Minister. Despite all the awkwardness and tension she’d been feeling with her boss, she had proven her skills to him, and it had not gone unnoticed.

As she packed her things for the trip, she made a resolution: No talking (or anything else that could possibly get her in trouble) to the President. He couldn’t be Phil to her for the next few days; he was President Coulson.

She had no doubt the President would be unhappy with this, but Fury would be watching her like a hawk. Now wasn’t the time to slip up, no matter how much she enjoyed her burgeoning friendship with Ph-the President.

On the flight to England, it was easy to avoid the President. Air Force One was a large plane, large enough for Melinda to stay with Barton and Hill and not see anyone else. She knew the President would be in his office preparing for his meeting with the Prime Minister. As long as she stayed away from that area, she would be fine.

Once they touched the ground in England, however, it got a bit more difficult, mainly because Melinda’s job was to be at the President’s side at almost every waking minute. He did not try to speak to her whenever they were traveling with the other Secret Service members, but he did attempt to catch her eye more than once.

“Are you okay, May?” Barton asked her. They were on the way to 10 Downing Street, and Melinda had just ducked quickly into a car to avoid the President’s earnest gaze.

“Yes,” she replied in a clipped tone. Barton raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah, okay,” he said. “You sound totally okay.”

Melinda suppressed an eyeroll and didn’t respond. She could have sworn the President looked disappointed when she averted her eyes, and it made her stomach twinge uncomfortably.

This trip was already proving to be harder than she expected.

Barton fiddled with his earpiece, something he was always prone to do because of his hearing issues. “You know, if you weren’t okay…”

“Thanks for the concern,” Melinda cut in bluntly. “But I’m fine.”

Socializing with people had been her strong suit once, but certain experiences had changed her and made it difficult to open up. Skye – and by extension, her father – had been the first person in ages to break through her walls, something that Melinda suspected had been aided by her adorableness. Despite working in close quarters with the other agents for months, she hadn’t let herself get friendly with them. She’d learned her lesson a long time ago.

The rest of the car ride to the Prime Minister’s residence was silent, and for that, Melinda was grateful. She needed to focus, and to do that, her almost encounter with the President had to be locked down. It wouldn’t do her any good to get wistful about the look in his perfectly blue eyes.

The press was there to capture President Coulson’s arrival at Downing Street, and Melinda and the other agents were right by his side. The President didn’t attempt to get her attention again, and she couldn’t tell if she was relieved or disappointed.

Prime Minister Margaret Carter was charming and polite, and it appeared she and President Coulson got along quite well. It was foolish to believe all foreign leaders would become friends and work together peacefully, but it seemed the Prime Minister and the President had similar values that complimented each other well. It looked like relations between the US and the UK were going to be quite stable for the next few years, barring no huge incident.

The meeting between the two leaders stretched on for hours, leaving the Secret Service to stand outside the room and keep watch. What they were watching for exactly was unclear, but it was their duty, and they did it without complaint. Melinda was just grateful she wasn’t being subjected to Fury’s intense scrutiny. If her boss had noticed any tension between her and President Coulson, he hadn’t said anything.

So far, so good, she thought.

The first day of meetings drew to a close around six o’clock, and President Coulson was escorted back to The Dorchester, where he would be staying for the duration of the trip. Fittingly, he’d be staying in the Presidential Suite while his agents would be in the surrounding rooms. Melinda was rooming with Hill, something she was grateful for, because she knew the other woman wouldn’t try to talk to her too much.

Once ensuring President Coulson was safely in his room, Melinda went straight into hers with no intention of leaving it until the morning. She didn’t believe the President would do anything when they were so close to the other agents (he would never do such a thing), but it was better to just remove any possibility of it. She was dressed and ready for bed before Hill had even finished her shower.

She hadn’t anticipated just how much she would miss talking to Ph-the President. Their lunch “date” in the Oval Office the previous week had only cemented her desire to get to know him better, but in preparation for the trip to England, they hadn’t been able to speak since. And now with her self-imposed rule of avoiding any interaction with him in the coming days, it was unlikely she’d really get time with him until next week. It wasn’t a terribly long time, but it already felt like ages.

The knowledge that he was just across the hall with no distractions (unless he was Skyping Skye) was almost too much to bear. It would be so easy to slip across, to close the gap and see him…

But she couldn’t. If anyone saw them – if Fury saw them – the fallout would be disastrous. Staying put was her best option for numerous reasons, and Melinda ran them through her mind until she fell asleep.

The next morning, she woke up at five. In the bed beside hers, Hill slept soundly. The President didn’t need to be back at Downing Street until nine, so the agents weren’t required to be ready until he was. Melinda had always been an early riser; she preferred to start her day promptly and get more things accomplished.

What she could really use today was a good workout. There was little she could do in her room with Hill sleeping, and she couldn’t afford to go on a lengthy run in the city in case she was needed back at the hotel for the President. The gym was her best option. After changing into her workout clothes, she slipped from the room and went in search of the fitness center.

Running on the treadmill was a poor substitute for running outside, but she had to settle for it. The pounding of her feet on the track still loosened the knots in her shoulders and eased her stresses away. They would no doubt return by the time she made it back upstairs, but it was nice to be rid of them for a while.

There was a large flat screen TV mounted on the wall across from her displaying BBC News. The current story was about the country’s economy, and Melinda allowed herself to tune it out.

The next time she looked at the television, footage of President Coulson’s arrival in London was playing. Melinda was proud of the fact that her pace didn’t falter at all, even if her heart stuttered a little.

After some cooldown stretches, she headed back up to her room. She’d spent an hour in the fitness center, and she was uncertain if Hill would be awake by this time. She hoped Hill wouldn’t be, mainly because she wanted to keep the peace a bit longer.

She was just pulling out the key card for her room when she heard the door behind her open. Her hand stilled, the key card hovering above the slot. She knew exactly who would be standing behind her, and it made her spine tingle.

“Have a nice workout?” the President asked. Melinda took a deep breath and turned to face him. Her stomach gave a little jolt when she saw he was still in his pajamas, his hair still sleep-matted.

“Were you waiting for me?” she asked.

Phil – the President – leaned against the doorframe, his arms crossed. Melinda glanced up and down the hall. Imagine if Fury came out of his room at that exact moment…

“That would be really creepy, wouldn’t it? No, I just heard footsteps stop outside my door and got concerned.” He smiled then, and his eyes seemed to brighten with it. “I was happy to see it was you.”

Melinda clutched her key card so tightly the edges dug into her skin. This was exactly what she’d been trying to avoid. She needed to get out of it and fast.

“Mr. President –”

“Aha,” he said, some of the brightness leaving his eyes. “So we’re back to that. You know, this feels awfully repetitive.”

Melinda flicked her gaze to Fury’s door. “Phil,” she said quietly, privately enjoying being able to say it. “I’m just doing my job. Things need to stay professional.”

Phil raised an eyebrow, and she swore he almost looked amused. “Who said anything about not being professional?”

She shut her mouth, wondering for a brief moment if she’d misjudged everything. But she couldn’t have. He’d used the word date more than once. That wasn’t a word people used when they were keeping things platonic.

At least, she hoped it wasn’t.

“While we’re here,” she said, choosing to ignore that for the time being, “I need to be able to protect you. This,” she gestured between the two of them, “can’t exist.”

She wasn’t even sure what she meant by “this,” and based on the look on Phil’s face, he didn’t either. Her cheeks warmed.

“I understand,” he said. “Agent.”

That was more of a slap in the face than she thought it would be. Really, it shouldn’t be, because she had brought this on herself. But the warmth that she had seen in him had lessened considerably, and it hurt her.

In that moment, she made a decision.

“Phil,” she said before she could talk herself out of it. He hadn’t moved at all, just continued to stare at her. She clasped her hands behind her back and straightened. “This doesn’t mean I don’t want to…” she faltered. Be his friend? Reach the point where they could be something else? Did she even want something else? Was that even on the table? Her head spun with unanswered and, in some cases, unasked questions.  This was moving too fast for her to keep up.

“I know,” he said. The warring questions in her head fell silent, and she looked at him hopefully. He smiled. “You have a job to do. I get it. Considering how that job is to protect me, I should really be grateful you take it so seriously.”

Her lips curved into a little smile. “Once this trip is finished, we can be Phil and Melinda again.”

“And that’s what you want?” Whether he noticed it or not, he’d taken a tiny step forward. “I’m not forcing you or anything?”

She could hardly believe the words were coming from her mouth, but they fell from it easily. “It’s what I want. No presidential pressure.”

Phil’s smile widened, and Melinda was struck at how much younger he looked. It was impossible not to smile back.

“I’ve never wanted a diplomatic trip to end quicker,” he said. Melinda didn’t know how to respond to that, so she turned and ducked into her room.

If she was being honest, she felt the same way.

Despite the internal wishes of Melinda and Ph-the President, the visit seemed to drag on for an annoyingly long time. Melinda’s days were filled with working the protection detail, and his were spent locked up behind closed doors with Prime Minister Carter and her advisors. The topics of their meetings ranged from climate change to terrorism. There was an abundance of things to discuss, and Melinda was incredibly grateful she didn’t have to deal with it.

As excited as she had been to travel overseas with the President, she had to admit the whole thing was rather routine. The newness of being in a different country had worn off around the same time her jetlag did, and now it was just like being in the US. She longed to explore London, since she hadn’t been since she was a college student, but Fury wouldn’t let any of them go off on their own. The President’s needs surpassed their desires, as they should.

“I just want one picture with Big Ben,” Barton declared. It was their fourth day in London, and they were escorting the President through the hotel to his room. The Dorchester staff had been incredibly accommodating and ensured their whole floor would be empty except for them. It made their jobs easier and meant that as soon as they reached the floor, they could relax a little.

“You have some free time now,” the President said. “Go ahead and see the sights. You guys deserve it.”

Hill shook her head, letting her hair fall out of the tight bun she’d kept it in during the day. “Fury’s orders say we have to be near you at all times. Can’t be too safe.”

President Coulson snorted. “Fury can be overprotective.”

“With all due respect, sir,” Hill replied, her voice curt. “You’re the President. It’s best to be overprotective when it comes to you.”

Melinda admired Hill. She was a no-nonsense woman, and she did her job well. They were the only female Secret Service agents, so they shared a sort of unspoken camaraderie. Melinda was enjoying getting to know her better on the trip.

“Good point,” President Coulson said. “Still, I feel bad you can’t see the city.”

“Eh, it’s what we’re used to,” Barton said, coming to a stop beside the President’s door. He took his earpiece out and glared at it distastefully before sticking it in his pocket. “Besides, it wouldn’t be fair for us to sightsee when you can’t. Sir,” he added as an afterthought. Melinda had noticed Barton sometimes forgot how the chain of command worked.

President Coulson smiled and shrugged. “The life of a politician. I made my bed, I’ve got to lie in it.”

Barton and Hill both laughed, Barton out of delight, Hill out of politeness. Melinda merely cracked a smile, despite almost wanting to do more.

“Is this your first time in London, sir?” asked Hill. They were still all standing in the hallway, but surprisingly it didn’t feel awkward, even though they were the President of the United States and his subordinates. That was what Melinda found to be so extraordinary about President Coulson: his friendliness and ability to shed the role of politician so easily to just become a normal man. It was a side few Americans saw, but if given the chance, he would show everyone. She was certain of it.

“Actually, yes,” President Coulson answered. “I wanted to study here when I was in school, but I chose a program in DC instead. Thought it would make more sense with my career path.”

Barton nodded to the small American flag pinned to the President’s lapel, the one all politicians wore. “Yeah, I’d say you made a smart choice.”

“Thanks, Barton.” President Coulson chuckled. “London has always been on my list of places to see. I’ll just have to come back another time to really see it.” He paused, thoughtful. “Maybe when I’m out of the White House. I could bring Skye.” He automatically brightened at the thought of his Skye. It made Melinda’s insides warm.

“I’m sure your daughter would like that very much, sir,” said Hill.

“I don’t know if London is one of her dream spots.” He turned to Melinda then, who had been silently hiding behind Hill. Her stomach dropped when he looked at her, and she cursed herself for feeling like a teenager. “Agent May would probably know better than me. What do you think? Would Skye like it here?”

Suddenly they were all staring at her. She kept her face blank, though her thoughts were currently cursing out the President for the pleased gleam in his eyes.

“One of her best friends is Jemma Simmons,” Melinda replied. “The British ambassador’s daughter. I think she’s heard stories of this place from her and wants to see it all firsthand.”

President Coulson nodded, as though he approved of her answer. Melinda suspected (hoped, really) he liked that she knew his daughter so well.

“It’s settled then,” he said. “First vacation out of the White House, we’re coming here.”

President Coulson looked once more towards Melinda, and she swore his smile softened. Her lips curved into the smallest of grins. Then she forced herself to look away. He cleared his throat.

“Great work today, agents,” he said. “See you in the morning. I’ll see what I can do about getting you your Big Ben picture, Barton.”

Barton brightened. “Thank you, sir. Much appreciated.”

The President nodded to them all before entering his room. Barton shook his head as he walked to his own door.

“I swear, sometimes it’s hard to believe he’s a politician,” he said. Hill and Melinda exchanged an amused look.

“Got something against politicians?” Hill asked. Barton turned to look at them both.

“Doesn’t everyone?”

Hill snorted, and Melinda smirked. Barton winked at them before saying good night and disappearing into his room.

“He’s right though,” Hill said once she and Melinda had moved inside their room. “President Coulson is better than most. Possibly better than all.”

Melinda thought of the warmth in his eyes when he looked at her, of the way he playfully said her name and tried to be her friend. The little smile on her face grew.

“I think you might be right,” she said.

After several more days, President Coulson’s trip to England ended. There was a special dinner held in his honor on the last night, and both Prime Minister Carter and the Queen herself attended. Melinda was present, of course, along with the other agents. They watched from afar as the President interacted with England’s highest officials and bolstered their countries’ good relationship.

The next morning, Fury granted the agents two hours to go do as they wished. He stayed by the President’s side as they left, only looking mildly annoyed at Barton’s profuse gratitude. Hill had to drag Barton from the room in the end.

The other two agents invited Melinda to join them on their accelerated adventure, but she politely refused. As much as she wanted to see the sights, she had realized she would enjoy them far better with another pair. Another pair she had no claim to and no guarantee of spending time with. Still, she wanted it all the same.

Instead, she opted to wander Hyde Park. It was right across the street from The Dorchester. The sky was a bit overcast, but it was on the warmer side, and the park was filled with people walking along the paths. Melinda always enjoyed going for little walks. They cleared her head and got her moving, which was quite nice when she sometimes spent her days standing in once place for hours at a time.

Eventually she exited the park and walked across the street. She was now in a busier area, on a street lined with shops. Following the crowd, she slowed her pace to look at all the storefronts. She had no intention of buying anything, but then she spotted a store called Crest of London. It was a tourist shop by the looks of it, and Melinda found herself perusing the different items for sale.

Shelves lined with teddy bears caught her eye. Some of them were dressed like the guards that stood outside Buckingham Palace, complete with a fluffy black hat. She only had to look at them for a second before she picked one up and brought it to the back counter to pay for it.

Skye would love it.

A few hours later, after all the agents had returned to the hotel, the President and his entourage had left the hotel and driven to the airfield, where they boarded Air Force One for the flight home. As the plane took off, Melinda was regaled with stories about Barton and Hill’s quick jaunt around London. Really all she wanted to do was curl up somewhere and sleep, but she forced herself to be polite and listen.

“And Barton tried to get the guard to flinch,” Hill said, dropping into a chair in the Secret Service area. Melinda raised an eyebrow at Barton.

“I know, I know,” he said. “It was a pointless attempt, but I don’t think you’ve really lived until you’ve tried it.” He tossed Hill a water bottle, and she caught it with a thankful salute. He offered one to Melinda, but she shook her head.

“If anyone found out you were a Secret Service agent and you still did that,” Hill said, “there would be a scandal.”

“Oh, please.” Barton flopped down onto the chair behind Hill’s. “I could create a far worse scandal if I wanted to. That wasn’t bad.”

“No,” Melinda said. “I’m sure Fury would find it hilarious.”

The look of fear on Barton’s face was worth speaking up. Hill snorted and pulled a book out of her carryon. Barton sprawled across his seat and closed his eyes. The steady hum of the jet replaced the talking, and Melinda was relieved. She’d found she liked Barton and Hill’s company, but socializing was… draining to say the least. She enjoyed her solitude.

She had initially planned to just grab a seat and take a nap, but a cup of tea sounded rather good. Leaving the Secret Service area, she picked her way through the plane to the kitchen. It was near the front, close to the President’s suite and office. There were two chefs already hard at work with preparing dinner, but they left Melinda to her own devices as she boiled the hot water for her tea.

“Fancy seeing you here,” someone said behind her. Turning, Melinda saw President Coulson standing by the door, a pleased smile on his lips. His suit jacket was gone, and the sleeves of his button-up were rolled to his elbows. His tie was loosened too. She kept her face expressionless even as her heart leapt.

“It’s almost like I work for you,” she said. He laughed.

“Fair enough.” His eyes jumped to the chefs, who had murmured hellos when he came in but otherwise were ignoring them. He seemed to weigh his words before he spoke next. “So. The trip is over…”

Melinda looked away from him as the kettle started whistling. She poured the water into a mug and dunked her tea bag in. She could hear her heart pounding in her ears.

“So it is,” she said. She turned her head to the side ever so slightly and looked at him. “Phil.”

Something like relief washed over his face, and his smile widened. Melinda allowed herself a begrudging smile of her own. Phil stepped to the side and gestured to the space beside him.

“Come join me in my office?” he asked.

Considering how they were on Air Force One and Fury was lurking around somewhere, this was probably a terrible idea. And yet, after days of avoiding speaking to him, she found she didn’t care.

“I’ve never been in here before,” she said as they entered his office. She assumed he’d automatically sit behind the desk, but instead he took a seat in one of the chairs on the other side of it. She thought that was quite sweet of him.

“You’ve been on Air Force One before though, right?” he asked. Melinda sat in the chair next to him and took a small sip of her still scalding tea.

“Yes. For your trips to Boston and Seattle."

Phil looked surprised. “I don’t remember seeing you on those trips.”

“Because I do my job really well,” she replied. She took another sip of her tea and smirked. Phil chuckled.

“I supposed that’s a good thing.” He regarded her for a long moment, long enough that Melinda felt her cheeks warm. She hated that she could. “How’d you like this trip?”

She shrugged. “It was boring.” Phil laughed again, which surprised her. People never laughed at what she had to say. “Which is better than being exciting.”

“Is it?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. He put his elbow on the arm of his chair and leaned his head against his hand. “Some people would disagree with you. I’d probably be one of them.”

Melinda swirled her teabag around before plucking it from the mug and tossing it into the trashcan beside the desk. “If it’s exciting, that usually means something has gone wrong.”

“Ah,” Phil said. “Then I can see why you think that way.”

For whatever reason, that made her smile. She brought her mug up to her lips in an attempt to hide it, but based on the way his eyes lit up, she guessed she hadn’t been successful.

“How was the trip for you?” she asked. Phil shrugged the same way she had.

“Fine. A success, I suppose.”

“You seemed to get along well with the Prime Minister.”

“She’s a remarkable woman,” he replied. His hand drifted up to fidget with his tie. “I got lucky this time. Not all foreign leaders are like her. She said that between Secretary Rogers and I, America is in good hands.” His cheeks got red as he said it, and Melinda bit her lip, suppressing a grin. He was humble. It was cute.

“She’s right,” she said gently. Phil looked at her, almost in surprise. His expression became grateful.

“I’m just trying my best,” he said, his voice quieter than before. He suddenly looked more worn, like the weight of his job decided to settle more heavily on his shoulders. Melinda felt a pang of compassion.

“No president is going to be perfect,” she said. “But they can be good. And I’d say that’s the kind you are.”

Phil didn’t respond right away, instead choosing to stare at her. Melinda found it hard to breathe with him looking at her like that, yet she couldn’t look away. The office suddenly felt too cramped, the air too thick. The roar of the engines seemed to dim.

“You’re just saying that,” he said finally, breaking the spell. Melinda took a large sip of her rapidly cooling tea. “You can’t insult the President to his face.”

Melinda snorted. “You want to bet?” Phil grinned, his eyes sparkling. She softened. “And I don’t say thing I don’t mean. I don’t believe in it.”

Phil nodded, a smirk playing at his lips. “That’s good to know.” He tugged on his tie again before looking down at it distastefully. He reached up with his other hand to unknot it. The silken material slid from his neck easily, and he tossed it onto his desk. Melinda swallowed, fully aware she was staring. Phil raised an eyebrow. “Something wrong?”

This was such a terrible idea, and, really, she knew better. But the words came from her easily. “You look better without it.”

She might have imagined it, but she thought she saw his eyes darken. His smirk grew, and her stomach dropped ever so slightly.

“That’s also good to know,” he said, quieter this time, but not because of something heavy. She sipped her tea, meeting his gaze evenly. At this rate, she wouldn’t have any more tea to drink, and the little shield she had would disappear. Though, it hadn’t been much of a shield to begin with, considering what she’d just said. She didn’t regret it though.

“Melinda,” Phil said, seemingly relishing being able to say her name. “Tell me more about yourself.”

Melinda instinctively gripped her mug tighter. “What do you want to know?”

“Everything.”

A slight panic rose up in her with that simple word. So simple that it really shouldn’t hold as much power as it did. He was watching her, waiting.

“That doesn’t give me a place to start,” she said, trying to quell the fear in her. It wasn’t like he was looking to learn everything now. She didn’t need to reveal much. Most likely just the basics, which was confirmed when he said, “Where did you grow up?”

Melinda went to take another sip of tea before she realized she had finished it. Setting her empty mug on the desk, she forced herself to look him in the eye.

“If I tell you,” she said, “you have to answer the question too.”

Phil looked surprised, but pleased. “Most people already know the answer.”

“I want to hear it from you.” She knew the answer, of course, but she really did want to hear him say it. It felt more personal that way, more… intimate. The word caught her by surprise, but she realized it fit the situation terrifyingly well.

“Manitowoc, Wisconsin,” he said, his voice growing fond. “Your turn.”

“Pennsylvania,” she replied. “Though I sometimes ended up traveling to other places depending on where my mother was stationed.” Phil’s eyes lit up with interest, and she quickly asked another question to avoid it. “What was your family like?”

Judging by the look on Phil’s face, he knew exactly what she just did. But, to his credit, he didn’t push her. “Just my parents. They’ve both passed.”

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I had just my parents too. Though they’re still alive.”

“Did you ever want siblings?” Phil asked, getting more comfortable in his chair. There was a growing sense of familiarity between them, and she found she didn’t mind it. “I did. I wanted a younger brother or sister to boss around.”

She surprised herself by laughing. It was only a quick chuckle, but it was more than she usually allowed. “I doubt that.”

Phil raised an eyebrow, amused. “Oh? And why’s that?”

“Because,” she said, “you don’t seem the type to boss around someone smaller than you. Especially not someone who would look up to you like a sibling would.”

He softened at that. “But I’m the President. Isn’t that what I do?”

“You work with people,” she said evenly. “You give orders, but you’re fair about it. I wouldn’t say you ‘boss’ people around.”

“I wonder if the members of my cabinet would agree,” he said, his eyes crinkling at the corners. Melinda suppressed another laugh.

“I’ll ask Rogers next time I see him.”

Phil ran a hand over his hair, shaking his head in amusement. “You never answered my question.”

“No,” she said. “I never wanted siblings. I liked my privacy.”

“Somehow,” he said, “I guessed that.”

Something funny stirred in her stomach at his words. He was looking at her in the same way he had earlier, and she could feel the plane’s walls getting closer again. There was something growing between them, and she didn’t know what, but she almost wanted it to grow faster.

Then the door opened and everything fell apart.

“Mr. President,” Fury said, and stopped. His one good eye looked from Phil to Melinda. His face was blank, but Melinda could sense his displeasure. She gripped her armrest tightly, wishing she could be anywhere else.

“Yes?” prompted Phil, either not noticing the sudden tension or ignoring it. Fury took one last look at Melinda, no doubt intending it to say, ‘We’ll talk later,’ then put his focus on Phil. His next words shook Melinda to her core.

“We’ve just received word of another terrorist attack, sir.”

Phil closed his eyes. His fingers pinched the bridge of his nose. Melinda suddenly wished they weren’t on an airplane.

“Same people as last time?” asked Phil, putting his emotions aside for the time being. Melinda had already done the same, as she had trained herself to do.

“Unclear,” Fury reported. “But we’re guessing yes.”

“Where?” Phil asked. Melinda hoped it wasn’t a big city like New York or DC, but the likelihood of that was slim.

For the first time, there was a flicker of emotion on Fury’s face, like he was unwilling to answer. The nausea in Melinda’s stomach grew.

“Wisconsin,” Fury said. “Manitowoc.”

To be continued...

AO3 link

#philinda #agents of shield #melinda may #phil coulson #rules!verse #my writing #philindanetwork

[razzledazzlewaffle]

oooooh philinda + 66 and/or 80 thx babe

66. “How could I ever forget about you?”

80. “Does he know about the baby?”

(u ask, u get fam xx)

(also it’s a little au, hope that’s ok and that you enjoy anyway)

She woke up in a bed, tangled in white sheets, looking at the ceiling and searched for a difference within. She should feel different, after all. Waking up today should feel different than waking up yesterday had felt like.

She sat up and reached for the glass with water on the nightstand beside her. The water was cold and felt refreshing running down her throat. Once the glass was empty, she put it down again. She took off the blanket and moved her legs over the edge. The fuzzy mat felt nice under her feet. She smiled to herself. Andrew had come home with that mat a couple of weeks ago after she’d complained that the floor was so cold. She stood up, stretching her arms and thought about how much she missed him. Especially today.

There was a ring at the door.

She drew her eyebrows together in confusion and glanced at the clock above the bedroom door. Yup, only a little past eight. On a Sunday.

The doorbell kept ringing. Yeah, yeah, I’m coming, she thought and hurried through the corridor.

When she opened the door and saw who was behind it, she wasn’t surprised. She should’ve known.

She leaned against the door frame, arms crossed and a smirk on her face. “Well hello, Coulson.”

Phil was carrying a big, white box, a wrapped present and some flowers. He actively looked at only her face and seemed a little flushed. She wondered why, until she realized she was only wearing one of Andrew’s white shirts. She pulled it down a little, very nonchalantly, (she hoped) and tried not to focus on the fact that the only thing she was wearing underneath was a pair of black strings.

He reached out the flowers to her and he smiled, (one of those dorky Phil smiles) and her heart stung. She hadn’t even realized just how much she’d missed him until just now. Shit, shit, shit, she’d missed him so damn much.

She took the flowers. Yellow tulips. Like the one’s her mother used to have in her garden. It was so thoughtful, so sweet, she had trouble not throwing them on the pavement and rushing into his arms. Instead she smiled and smelled the flowers. “Thank you.”

He smiled back. “Happy birthday, Melinda.”

She’d missed him so, so much.

“You remembered. You never remember anything.” He really didn’t. She was practically his walking calendar.

He slightly tilted his head. “How could I ever forget your birthday?” All of a sudden, there was a serious gloss over his eyes and his voice lowered. “How could I ever forget you?”

Her heart clenched at that and she made some room in the doorway. “You coming in or what?”

He immediately walked up the stairs and joined her side. She sent a pointed glance at the big, white box. “That better be donuts. You owe me that after waking me up before 8am on a Sunday.” He smirked at her. “Yeah, it is. But don’t you try to guilt me. We both know you were up already.” She playfully hit his arm and rolled her eyes. “Just get in, will you.” He bowed. “Yes, Ma’am.” She turned her head and watched him take of his shoes and carefully placing them at the side, putting her present on the table under the mirror and making his way into the kitchen, unbuttoning and rolling up his sleeves. 

She’d missed him so, so, so much.

She went to the mirror and picked up the present. It was wrapped in red wrapping paper and had a little silver bow on it. It looked fine from the front, but the back was a mess of paper and tape. He’d wrapped it himself, apparently. Her body warmed at the thought of him sitting at his kitchen table, cursing over the tape getting stuck to his hands. Fuck, how much she lo-

She stopped herself. Don’t go there. You promised yourself you’d never go there again.

She began to tear up the paper. She knew he’d left it for her to open alone because she hated being the focus of attention in that way. He was so respectful and kind, it was sometimes annoying.

When she’d torn away all of the wrapping paper and opened the box it’d been hiding, she almost felt tears building up in the corner of her eyes. It was her grandma’s favorite tea, the kind that she’d drank every every time she’d visited China as a little girl, the kind that could only be bought locally. 

Fuck. He made it so damn difficult not to go there.

When she stepped into the kitchen, after changing into a pair of black jeans and a grey t-shirt, he’d already the table and the teapot was on the stove.

She stopped at the door and just looked at him. He was in the process of making pancakes and absentmindedly whistled ‘Dock of the Bay.’ She could so very easily get used to this. It was so terribly dangerous to have him here.

He looked up from the stove, and the smile he gave her as he spotted her there was terribly dangerous, too.

“You’re making pancakes.”

He shrugged. “Well, I had some making up to do, didn’t I?”

Her smile faded and she grew serious again. “The present.,,” She couldn’t look right at him and slightly avoided his eyes. “Thank you.”

He looked at her and blinked. You’re welcome.

He pulled out a chair. “So, you want pancakes or donuts first?

“Donuts” she answered, gratefully sitting down at the table.

They were in the middle of eating and talking about past missions, when he put down his fork. “So, how’s Andrew?”

She stilled in her movements, sitting up straighter. “He’s at a conference in Australia. He’s in his element. But…” She took a breath. “I miss him.”

Phil nodded. “Have you told him?” He shifted, suddenly a little uncomfortable in his chair. “I mean, does he know about the ba-”

She quickly shook her head. “I don’t want to tell him until he’s back.” She could’ve called him. But they’d lost their happiness before, and she’d just found out. Nothing was sure yet.

“You’re gonna be an amazing mom.”

He sounded and looked so sincere, like he didn’t doubt that for a second. He’d always believed in her. He’d always believed she had light and love inside her. 

She drew her hands together in her lap and stared into her plate. “I’m… I’m not so sure I’ll be able to…” She looked up at him, and she felt her eyes water. “I couldn’t save her, Phil, I couldn’t save the girl and I-”

He leaned over the table and put his hand on hers. “Listen to me. You’re gonna be the best mom there is. No one is gonna love as intensely or take better care of that kid than you.”

Her voice quivered and it felt like her whole body was shaking. “How do you know that? How can you be so sure after what I’ve-”

He was stroking her hand now. “Because I do. Because I know you.”

She cried into her pancakes. She looked at him again. “Phil, I’m just so scared, I’m so, so scared and I-” Her words drowned in her sobs.

She heard a chair move and suddenly he was beside her, squatting by her side, stroking her arm. “I know, I know. It’ll be ok, it’ll all be…” 

She melted down onto the floor and grabbed him, pulling him closer, leaning her head on his chest. He put his arms around her and placed a soft kiss in her hair. This was so terribly dangerous. But right now his heart was beating calmly and he smelled like he always did, and she just didn’t care.

#philinda #whoops this became much more heartbreaking than i intended it to #oh well #Anonymous #prompts

[suallenparker]

Philinda Fanfic: Behind the Scenes, Chapter 1

RATING: T

SPOILER: This is set in a Universe where Phil quit his Tony Stark babysitting duties after the first gig and returned to active field work. So, basically their backstories stay the same until after the first Iron Man Movie.

SUMMARY: After her former partner Phil Coulson almost got killed in action, the traumatized SHIELD agent Melinda May returns to duty. She and Phil  go undercover as contestants of the celebrated TV show “Forever Love” to catch a stalker and to trip a traitor.

NOTES: So to not disappoint your expectations later, take this as your warning: This is a love story. This is also a bit of a crime story. And a tiny bit of a spy story. But mostly this is a hopefully fun and entertaining love story. It’s my favorite kind of story to tell and I hope you’ll enjoy this one with me! THANK YOU TO @crazymaryt for talking me through my freak out earlier. I hope you enjoy this! Thank you as well to @sapphire2994 @sdkissel, @galaxyleggings and that sweet anon for cheering me on!

NEXT

o0o

Chapter 1: Five Limousines in which Phil greets a lot of beautiful women.

This was a rough assignment. Worst undercover mission yet. Usually he loved those but this one?

The whole environment was strange. Cameras everywhere. Not that that was the problem if he’d be allowed to act according to his training and avoid them, but nope. This time the point was to make him famous. Well, to make his undercover persona Eric famous.

At least his bedroom was camera free. And the bed was nice and big. Blue walls framed the room and two big windows gave him a view of the majestic garden of this mansion. The accessories of the room were a bit too modern for his preferences but everything looked very tasteful. There even were some fresh flowers and a fruit bowl! He had seen most of it before when he had watched tapes of the last season of “Forever Love”.

Damn, he couldn’t believe he would have to star in a show called “Forever Love”. He was a well trained SHIELD agent, for christ’s sake!

Phil pressed his lips together as he held the cell against his ear.

“This is so boring,” Garrett whined at the other end of the line.

Phil wanted to punch him and vomit at the same time.

But he hadn’t punched Garrett when he came to visit Phil in the hospital, and he wouldn’t blow his chance to nail Garrett and his whole racist organization for a selfish anger tantrum. Not when his plan was already set in motion.

So Phil just smiled. And kept face. “We could still switch,” he said.

“So I’d blow my cover forever?” Garrett snorted. “No way!”

“Then stop complaining!” Phil’s voice broke in the middle of that sentence. Damn it!

“You’re nervous!” Garrett said gleefully.

“Of course I’m nervous!” Phil swallowed. The urge to punch Garrett grew stronger, but he kept his voice light. “I’m about to meet twenty strangers and they all think I could be their future husband.”

“May doesn’t.”

No, of course not. He wished hearing that wouldn’t make his heart clench.

The door to his bedroom opened and a slender woman stepped in, hands on her hips, her brows pulled together. Maggie Hill. The family resemblance was obvious. Same nose, same colored eyes. But her hair was short and black and she was at least five inches taller than her older sister Maria.

She wore black jeans, black shirt and black sneakers and a head-set.

“We need you on set,” she growled and reached out her hand. “Give me your phone!”

Phil held up his hand. “I have to go,” Phil said into his cell.

“Is that Hill’s sister?” Garrett asked.

“Yes. Talk to you later.” He hang up.

Maggie glared at him. “I don’t allow our candidates to have cell phones.”

They had been over this! “I won’t tell the others.” Phil put the cell into the inside pocket of his black suit and gave it a pat. “It’ll be my secret phone.”

“Is that really necessary?” Maggie asked.

“To do my job and to keep us all save? Yes!”

“Fine.” She sighed and grabbed his arm to pull him out of his room. He followed her to the front yard of the mansion. People moved like a very strange and very busy ant colony. Some moved lamps and lit candles, others arranged flowers in big bowls. A big camera was set up on a train in front of the entry way of the front yard, while two strong looking guys each held up a camera on their shoulder.

Maggie dragged him to the middle of the rounded drive way and squinted at him. “You’re shiny,” she said. “Have you been to make up yet?” Not waiting for an answer, she let go of him and turned to her right, where a make up artist powdered the face of the ridiculously good looking moderator of the show, Peter.

“Tori!” Maggie called.

The woman turned around. And it was Victoria Hand, wearing jeans, sneakers. She had the purple streaks in her dark hair and wore a make up bag around her waist, which should look like a silly fanny bag, but instead Hand just looked overall cool. “Yes?” she asked.

Of course Phil had known that she would join the undercover mission but seeing Vitoria Hand wearing something different but a sleek black suit was strange.

Maggie nodded at Phil. “He’s shiny,” she said.

“Fixing it now,” Hand said and walked over.

Maggie turned to Phil and raised a brow. “First limo arrives in fifteen minutes and we still have to film your introduction with Peter, so no more distraction on my set!” She made room for Hand and walked over to the moderator. “Peter, are you ready for your first scene?”

Hand dunked a big, fluffy make up brush into a tin and within a second, the brush was on Phil’s forehead.

He blinked and Hand smirked. “Hold still!” She dunked the brush into the tin again and powdered his cheeks as well. “You’d look good with a little brow treatment,” she said.

He sighed. “You’re enjoying this too much.”

“Loving my job is not a crime.” She pulled out a brow pen and he pressed his lips together while she drew over his brows.

“Best I can do for you,” she said.

He glared at her.

But she kept grinning. “Stress gives you pimples, you know?”

Peter stepped into the middle of the drive way, just so that the mansion behind him and all the potted plants would frame him perfectly, and smiled into the camera. He looked like Steve Roger’s handsome brother, it was ridiculous! Blond hair, perfect teeth and baby blue eyes.

“Love is not for the faint of heart,” he said and tilted his head to catch the light with his cheekbones. “It takes courage to open yourself up to somebody, especially if you’ve been hurt before. It takes bravery to be vulnerable and honest.” His voice was velvety soft and relatable. “But that’s what it needs to find true love!” He opened his arms and raised his hands in a that’s just a fact kind of gesture. “Fortunately bravery and courage are things that our new bachelor has in abundance! He is a forty-five year old Navy SEAL and a true hero. He even took a bullet for our country!” He looked over to Phil and extended his arm.”

Phil’s stomach clenched.

Peter smiled broadly into the camera. “America, this is your new bachelor on his way to forever love, Erik!”

Hand gave him a little push and Phil planted his best fake smile on his face as he walked into the frame. He was Eric now. And Eric was ready for love!

“It’s so good to have you on the show.” Peter shook his hand.

His hand was dry and soft. Was everything about that guy perfect? Phil broadened his smile. “Hello Peter, I’m so happy to be here!”

“The women will arrive shortly and you’ll finally get to meet them!” Peter squinted and tilted his head like they were talking about a war mission. “Do you feel prepared for this new experience? Or are you nervous?”

“I’m just excited to meet all those wonderful women!” Straight out lie, of course. He dreaded having to lie to all those innocent people.

“Do you believe your true love could be in one of those limos?”

Melinda sat in one of them, so … Nope, not going down that line of thought. That line of thought only led to heartbreak. This was a job and just because Melinda had agreed to be his partner didn’t mean she wouldn’t leave again after this was over.

Phil sighed like a guy who had been heart broken before but who hadn’t given up on true love yet. “I hope so. I really hope so.” He pulled up his shoulders a little and smiled. “Maybe I’m a bit nervous.”

“You survived getting shot but this makes you nervous?”

“Well, risking to get shot is part of my job, but this is my life, you know? This could change everything.” He swallowed. “She could change everything.”

“So you’re ready for love?”

“I definitely, definitely am.”

“That’s fantastic!” Peter clapped his hands. “Because the first limo just arrived. Eric, here come your bachelorettes!”

Just that they didn’t.

They reshoot his entry twice, then they changed the camera set up and after Hand had powdered his whole face again, they finally set up to shoot the arrival of the first limousine.

His heart raced when the door to the back seat opened. A beautiful woman with long brown curls stepped out of the limousine. She wore a sparkly long bronze dress with a slit up her leg and strap-y heals.

She took a deep breath before she walked up to him. “Hi, I’m Audrey.”

Audrey Nathan, cellist. He had read her file. No priors. One speeding ticket in the last year. She left her job at the Portland Philharmonic to be on the show. No close family.

She gave him a quick hug and ran her hands over his arms. She smelled delicious!

“Hi Audrey. I’m Eric,” he said and smiled. She had beautiful brown eyes. “It’s so lovely to meet you,” he added and meant it. If he had to lie to all these women, the least thing he could do was to make them as comfortable as possible.

“I know.” She closed her eyes and pressed her lips together. “I mean, likewise. I’m a bit nervous, I’m sorry.”

She was adorable!

“That’s such a relief!” he said. “I’m nervous too. Well, I’m very excited to meet you. But also nervous. Nervous excited. I’m sorry. I ramble when I’m -”

“Nervous?” she asked, smiling again.

“Yes.”

She tilted her head and twisted one of her curls around a finger. “I usually get all tongue tied.”

“You’re doing brilliantly.”

“Likewise. It’s so nice to meet you!” She shook her head in disbelief. “I said that already, I’m so sorry. Wow, I wish I was tongue tied now!”

“Welcome to my world.”

“Is it too cheesy if I say it’s a pleasure?”

“Once you’ll get to know me you’ll notice there’s rarely anything too cheesy for my taste.”

“That’s a relief!”

“Talk to you later.”

“Can’t wait!” She ran her hand over his arm as she walked past him towards the mansion.

She was so lovely! And he hated this whole damn mission even more.  Of course he had known that he would’ve to deceive all those women. Of course he knew that it was all for the greater goods, to catch a stalker, to trip up Garrett and to save the world, as always.

At least with Melinda he knew where he stood, which was usually on the outside.

Boundaries and all that …

o0o

The limousine smelled like perfume and hairspray.

“Did Eric really get shot?” Katherine Paris asked.

That question made Melinda’s stomach clench in memory. Two nights in that damn hospital until the doctors could finally tell her that he would survive. God, she hated this.

Of course, like all the other women in the car, Katherine was stunningly beautiful. Brown, long hair, blue eyes and just a hint of freckles on her nose. The red long dress flattered her complexion. From her file Melinda knew that she was a dentist and very active on all kinds of social media, especially Pinterest and Instagram. Her favorite hobbies were bullet journaling and flossing. No priors.

Kathrine reached over Melinda to hold up her empty glass to their assistant producer, Javier.

He filled up her glass with fresh champagne. “He did get shot during a mission he had to do as a Navy SEAL,” he said and nodded solemnly. He was young, could hardly grow a beard even though the stubbles on his chin showed he really tried. He was latino, brown eyes, dark, thick brows and short dark hair.

“He’s so brave!” Grace Traeger said. A hairdresser from Utah. She was a sweetheart. Blonde, blue eyes, red lips, tight blue dress. She looked young, younger than thirty-five. And she had such an innocent joy about her. “And he’s so handsome too!”

Melinda and Lorelei nodded.

Lorelei Payne was a Physicist and worked at a faculty in New York. Short red hair, freckles all over and green eyes. The short grey dress she wore made her eyes look even greener. She loved dogs and volunteered in a shelter. Another perfect human being.

Melinda had no idea why all these women had signed up to be here.

Lorelei kept chewing on her lower lip. Her lipstick was already gone. She hadn’t said much yet, but neither had Melinda. Since she would have to be undercover for a while, Hill and she had decided to create her new persona as close to herself as possible.

Javier straightened up and tilted his head as he listened to his ear piece.

“We’re here, girls!” he said and smiled brightly. “Grace, you’re out first.”

“Feel this.” Grace leaned in and took Melinda’s hand to place the back of it over her chest. She pulled in a deep breath. “My heart is racing, I’m so nervous!”

“You seem so calm,” Lorelei said and looked at Melinda.

She squeezed Grace’s hand with an apologetic smile. “I’m freaking out on the inside.”

Lorelei sighed. “I wish I could keep my freak outs to my insides.”

Grace nodded.

“Not as fun as it sounds …” Melinda swallowed. She squeezed Grace’s hand again. “And you got this.”

“Yes, Grace,” Lorelei said. “You look amazing. You can do this!”

“Thanks, girls. See you outside!”

Javier opened the door for her. “Blow him away!”

One after one, Melinda watched the women leave the limousine.

“Diane, it’s finally your turn!” Javier said eventually.

Diane.

That was her now.

“You look great, ok?” He seemed charming, but there was something about him, that Melinda didn’t trust. His file didn’t say much about him other than that he was ambitious. How far was he willing to go for what he wanted? And was he willing to kill people if he felt wrong? “Don’t worry,” he added. You may be last but you sure aren’t least. Take a deep breath and then show him what you got! You have a lot in common, bond with him over that, ok?”

Melinda smiled at him. “Thank you.”

She focused on relaxing her body as she got out of the car. Diane needed to be soft and warm and lovable, so she couldn’t go into this in fighting mode.

Her heart skipped a beat when she saw him. Phil, standing in front of that fancy mansion, wearing a fancy suit and being definitely, definitely alive.

There was no reason to be nervous about this. Diane had a guarantee to win his love.

But her heart was racing as she walked towards him. Eric might be destined to fall in love with Diane. But Phil would stay out of reach.

God, she hated undercover missions!

o0o

MORE NOTES: OH MY, this story gave me so many freak outs! I re-plotted the story about three times before I got it into a shape that made sense and then this chapter … But it’s here. I did it. And that’s something! If you enjoyed it, please don’t forget to comment, like and reblog! It really helps me out. :D

NEXT

#philinda #philinda fanfiction #melinda may #phil coulson #agents of shield

[mastcomm]

In a Long History of Sexist Ads and Outrage, It’s the Apology That’s New

The commercial doesn’t have much to do with chicken.

A young woman in a low-cut top purses her lips and pushes up her chest as she checks her reflection in a car window. The glass slowly rolls down, revealing two young boys who had been ogling her. In the driver’s seat, a disapproving mom glares.

The young woman sheepishly grins, then asks: “Did someone say KFC?”

Fifteen years ago, the ad might have been seen as just another crass marketing pitch leveraging sex to sell a product. But when the commercial recently appeared in Australia, the backlash on social media denouncing it as sexist was so vociferous, it prompted KFC to apologize.

The quick retreat, just before advertising’s marquee moment — the Super Bowl — underscored how the boundaries of what’s considered acceptable are changing quickly in the #MeToo era. Advertisers who for decades relied on the objectification of women to sell products are increasingly wary of taking that approach, aware that many consumers will no longer tolerate abject sexism.

“They would have never apologized 15 or 20 years ago,” said Abhik Roy, a former ad executive and professor of marketing at Quinnipiac University. “It’s more because of social media pressure.”

While the #MeToo movement has used social media to push advertisers into withdrawing ads they deem offensive, they are building on the wave of earlier battles.

‘My wife, I think I’ll keep her.’

Before there was KFC and Peloton, the exercise company recently criticized for an ad, there was the vitamin company Geritol.

A gauzy 1972 commercial for Geritol shows a handsome, middle-aged man looking into the camera as his wife, perfectly coifed and smiling, leans her head on his shoulder. She remains silent as he describes how, thanks to Geritol, she has the energy to take care of their baby all day, go to a school meeting and make a delicious dinner.

“And look at her,” he drawls. “She looks better than any of her friends.”

He then looks back at the camera and says, “My wife, I think I’ll keep her.”

The ad infuriated leaders of the National Organization for Women, who called for commercials like it to be taken off the airwaves. The Committee for the Rejection of Obnoxious Commercials, which was founded by a Minneapolis ad executive in the early 1970s, ranked it one of that year’s worst.

The ad carried such resonance that 20 years later, the country singer Mary Chapin Carpenter responded with the song “He Thinks He’ll Keep Her,” about a seemingly happy wife who decides to leave her husband.

Geritol was eventually fined $812,000 by the Federal Trade Commission for flouting orders to stop running ads that promised boundless energy to anyone who took the supplement.

In an editorial critical of the company, The Berkshire Eagle of Massachusetts said the wife in that ad “does everything but curl up at his feet and purr.”

“Women’s Liberationists” were so enraged, the editorial said, “if they had their way, the fines would have been in the billions rather than the thousands.”

‘Choice feminism’

The decades that followed showed little progress in advertising tactics.

Take a Fuddruckers ad from the early 1980s that is rife with double entendres. At first glance it seems to be a cheeky look at men and women both lusting after burgers.

But it is the men who are allowed to ogle the “buns” and bite sinfully into the burger, while a woman who starts to marvel at the size of a beef patty is quickly shushed by her friends.

The ad is emblematic of the Reagan era’s “revival of conservatism on the social, political and economic levels,” said Carly Drake, a marketing professor at North Central College in Illinois. “Sex is shameful or, more simply, private and not to be discussed,” she said.

The decade would also start a trend of women “choosing” to be feminine, sexual and driven, but still not too threatening to men, Professor Drake said. She cited as an example an Enjoli perfume ad that portrayed a “24-hour woman.”

“There was this idea of ‘We’ve made it as women, we can make it on our own,’” Professor Drake said. “We don’t need feminism. So we want to be with the boys.”

That trend would continue well into the early 2000s, though some ads tried to deflect criticism. One 2003 Super Bowl commercial showed two women arguing over Miller Lite, then fighting, mud-wrestling and, finally, kissing.

The ad was framed as a spoof of two men’s fantasy — with two women listening, silent and disgusted — but Miller Lite was nevertheless accused of trying to get away with sexism by turning it into a joke.

At the same time, online retailers were creating a more competitive market, and advertisers started to sense a shift in how consumers saw commercials, said Paul Radich, a marketing professor at Catholic University who served on the ethics committee of the American Marketing Association from 2011 to 2014.

Advertisers began asking, “Are we appealing to their instincts and desires in a temporary fashion, or are we trying to engage them in a narrative about their own life and how we as a company can fit into their own life?” he said.

Many commercials moved toward absurdist humor — as with many of Geico’s ads — or appeals to family, like a 2016 ad for Honda in which a man gets home safely to his young wife and baby thanks to the reliable emergency brake system.

That commercial was a far cry from “Man’s Last Stand,” a 2010 Dodge ad that showed beaten-down men defiantly telling the women in their lives that if they have to comply with chores and other demands, they will buy whatever car they want.

The social media era

Outcry over objectification may be swifter and louder, but men are still more represented in commercials than women, according to a 2019 analysis by the Geena Davis Institute on Gender in Media, a nonprofit started by the Oscar-winning actor.

Researchers for the organization looked at 2.7 million YouTube videos uploaded by advertisers and found that while there was some improvement in gender representation over a five-year period, male characters were seen 56 percent of the time, while female characters were seen 44 percent of the time. Male characters were also heard one and a half times more than female characters.

In Australia, the criticism against KFC itself drew abusive blowback, said Melinda Liszewski, a spokeswoman for Collective Shout, a grass-roots organization that campaigns against the objectification of women.

“I was surprised that our commentary on the KFC ad would elicit such vile, sexually explicit and misogynistic abuse,” she said. “Myself and my colleagues spent a number of hours removing comments and men from our social media pages.”

And there remains the question of how advertising will play out on social media platforms where users have more control and receive less scrutiny.

Nancy Van Leuven, who teaches communications at Fresno State, pointed to TikTok, where some teenage girls, eager to find new followers (and advertisers), dress skimpily, don makeup and toss their hair for the camera as they teach dance steps.

Their male counterparts on similar videos are often dressed in baggy clothes, their moves far less sexualized.

“Is that an idea of user-generated media that is reinforcing stereotypes?” Professor Van Leuven said. “I think user-generated content is the newer, unknown territory of whether stereotypes are reinforced or disrupted.”

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[mastcomm]

In a Long History of Sexist Ads and Outrage, It’s the Apology That’s New

The commercial doesn’t have much to do with chicken.

A young woman in a low-cut top purses her lips and pushes up her chest as she checks her reflection in a car window. The glass slowly rolls down, revealing two young boys who had been ogling her. In the driver’s seat, a disapproving mom glares.

The young woman sheepishly grins, then asks: “Did someone say KFC?”

Fifteen years ago, the ad might have been seen as just another crass marketing pitch leveraging sex to sell a product. But when the commercial recently appeared in Australia, the backlash on social media denouncing it as sexist was so vociferous, it prompted KFC to apologize.

The quick retreat, just before advertising’s marquee moment — the Super Bowl — underscored how the boundaries of what’s considered acceptable are changing quickly in the #MeToo era. Advertisers who for decades relied on the objectification of women to sell products are increasingly wary of taking that approach, aware that many consumers will no longer tolerate abject sexism.

“They would have never apologized 15 or 20 years ago,” said Abhik Roy, a former ad executive and professor of marketing at Quinnipiac University. “It’s more because of social media pressure.”

While the #MeToo movement has used social media to push advertisers into withdrawing ads they deem offensive, they are building on the wave of earlier battles.

‘My wife, I think I’ll keep her.’

Before there was KFC and Peloton, the exercise company recently criticized for an ad, there was the vitamin company Geritol.

A gauzy 1972 commercial for Geritol shows a handsome, middle-aged man looking into the camera as his wife, perfectly coifed and smiling, leans her head on his shoulder. She remains silent as he describes how, thanks to Geritol, she has the energy to take care of their baby all day, go to a school meeting and make a delicious dinner.

“And look at her,” he drawls. “She looks better than any of her friends.”

He then looks back at the camera and says, “My wife, I think I’ll keep her.”

The ad infuriated leaders of the National Organization for Women, who called for commercials like it to be taken off the airwaves. The Committee for the Rejection of Obnoxious Commercials, which was founded by a Minneapolis ad executive in the early 1970s, ranked it one of that year’s worst.

The ad carried such resonance that 20 years later, the country singer Mary Chapin Carpenter responded with the song “He Thinks He’ll Keep Her,” about a seemingly happy wife who decides to leave her husband.

Geritol was eventually fined $812,000 by the Federal Trade Commission for flouting orders to stop running ads that promised boundless energy to anyone who took the supplement.

In an editorial critical of the company, The Berkshire Eagle of Massachusetts said the wife in that ad “does everything but curl up at his feet and purr.”

“Women’s Liberationists” were so enraged, the editorial said, “if they had their way, the fines would have been in the billions rather than the thousands.”

‘Choice feminism’

The decades that followed showed little progress in advertising tactics.

Take a Fuddruckers ad from the early 1980s that is rife with double entendres. At first glance it seems to be a cheeky look at men and women both lusting after burgers.

But it is the men who are allowed to ogle the “buns” and bite sinfully into the burger, while a woman who starts to marvel at the size of a beef patty is quickly shushed by her friends.

The ad is emblematic of the Reagan era’s “revival of conservatism on the social, political and economic levels,” said Carly Drake, a marketing professor at North Central College in Illinois. “Sex is shameful or, more simply, private and not to be discussed,” she said.

The decade would also start a trend of women “choosing” to be feminine, sexual and driven, but still not too threatening to men, Professor Drake said. She cited as an example an Enjoli perfume ad that portrayed a “24-hour woman.”

“There was this idea of ‘We’ve made it as women, we can make it on our own,’” Professor Drake said. “We don’t need feminism. So we want to be with the boys.”

That trend would continue well into the early 2000s, though some ads tried to deflect criticism. One 2003 Super Bowl commercial showed two women arguing over Miller Lite, then fighting, mud-wrestling and, finally, kissing.

The ad was framed as a spoof of two men’s fantasy — with two women listening, silent and disgusted — but Miller Lite was nevertheless accused of trying to get away with sexism by turning it into a joke.

At the same time, online retailers were creating a more competitive market, and advertisers started to sense a shift in how consumers saw commercials, said Paul Radich, a marketing professor at Catholic University who served on the ethics committee of the American Marketing Association from 2011 to 2014.

Advertisers began asking, “Are we appealing to their instincts and desires in a temporary fashion, or are we trying to engage them in a narrative about their own life and how we as a company can fit into their own life?” he said.

Many commercials moved toward absurdist humor — as with many of Geico’s ads — or appeals to family, like a 2016 ad for Honda in which a man gets home safely to his young wife and baby thanks to the reliable emergency brake system.

That commercial was a far cry from “Man’s Last Stand,” a 2010 Dodge ad that showed beaten-down men defiantly telling the women in their lives that if they have to comply with chores and other demands, they will buy whatever car they want.

The social media era

Outcry over objectification may be swifter and louder, but men are still more represented in commercials than women, according to a 2019 analysis by the Geena Davis Institute on Gender in Media, a nonprofit started by the Oscar-winning actor.

Researchers for the organization looked at 2.7 million YouTube videos uploaded by advertisers and found that while there was some improvement in gender representation over a five-year period, male characters were seen 56 percent of the time, while female characters were seen 44 percent of the time. Male characters were also heard one and a half times more than female characters.

In Australia, the criticism against KFC itself drew abusive blowback, said Melinda Liszewski, a spokeswoman for Collective Shout, a grass-roots organization that campaigns against the objectification of women.

“I was surprised that our commentary on the KFC ad would elicit such vile, sexually explicit and misogynistic abuse,” she said. “Myself and my colleagues spent a number of hours removing comments and men from our social media pages.”

And there remains the question of how advertising will play out on social media platforms where users have more control and receive less scrutiny.

Nancy Van Leuven, who teaches communications at Fresno State, pointed to TikTok, where some teenage girls, eager to find new followers (and advertisers), dress skimpily, don makeup and toss their hair for the camera as they teach dance steps.

Their male counterparts on similar videos are often dressed in baggy clothes, their moves far less sexualized.

“Is that an idea of user-generated media that is reinforcing stereotypes?” Professor Van Leuven said. “I think user-generated content is the newer, unknown territory of whether stereotypes are reinforced or disrupted.”

from WordPress https://mastcomm.com/in-a-long-history-of-sexist-ads-and-outrage-its-the-apology-thats-new-2/

#Business

[mastcomm]

In a Long History of Sexist Ads and Outrage, It’s the Apology That’s New

The commercial doesn’t have much to do with chicken.

A young woman in a low-cut top purses her lips and pushes up her chest as she checks her reflection in a car window. The glass slowly rolls down, revealing two young boys who had been ogling her. In the driver’s seat, a disapproving mom glares.

The young woman sheepishly grins, then asks: “Did someone say KFC?”

Fifteen years ago, the ad might have been seen as just another crass marketing pitch leveraging sex to sell a product. But when the commercial recently appeared in Australia, the backlash on social media denouncing it as sexist was so vociferous, it prompted KFC to apologize.

The quick retreat, just before advertising’s marquee moment — the Super Bowl — underscored how the boundaries of what’s considered acceptable are changing quickly in the #MeToo era. Advertisers who for decades relied on the objectification of women to sell products are increasingly wary of taking that approach, aware that many consumers will no longer tolerate abject sexism.

“They would have never apologized 15 or 20 years ago,” said Abhik Roy, a former ad executive and professor of marketing at Quinnipiac University. “It’s more because of social media pressure.”

While the #MeToo movement has used social media to push advertisers into withdrawing ads they deem offensive, they are building on the wave of earlier battles.

‘My wife, I think I’ll keep her.’

Before there was KFC and Peloton, the exercise company recently criticized for an ad, there was the vitamin company Geritol.

A gauzy 1972 commercial for Geritol shows a handsome, middle-aged man looking into the camera as his wife, perfectly coifed and smiling, leans her head on his shoulder. She remains silent as he describes how, thanks to Geritol, she has the energy to take care of their baby all day, go to a school meeting and make a delicious dinner.

“And look at her,” he drawls. “She looks better than any of her friends.”

He then looks back at the camera and says, “My wife, I think I’ll keep her.”

The ad infuriated leaders of the National Organization for Women, who called for commercials like it to be taken off the airwaves. The Committee for the Rejection of Obnoxious Commercials, which was founded by a Minneapolis ad executive in the early 1970s, ranked it one of that year’s worst.

The ad carried such resonance that 20 years later, the country singer Mary Chapin Carpenter responded with the song “He Thinks He’ll Keep Her,” about a seemingly happy wife who decides to leave her husband.

Geritol was eventually fined $812,000 by the Federal Trade Commission for flouting orders to stop running ads that promised boundless energy to anyone who took the supplement.

In an editorial critical of the company, The Berkshire Eagle of Massachusetts said the wife in that ad “does everything but curl up at his feet and purr.”

“Women’s Liberationists” were so enraged, the editorial said, “if they had their way, the fines would have been in the billions rather than the thousands.”

‘Choice feminism’

The decades that followed showed little progress in advertising tactics.

Take a Fuddruckers ad from the early 1980s that is rife with double entendres. At first glance it seems to be a cheeky look at men and women both lusting after burgers.

But it is the men who are allowed to ogle the “buns” and bite sinfully into the burger, while a woman who starts to marvel at the size of a beef patty is quickly shushed by her friends.

The ad is emblematic of the Reagan era’s “revival of conservatism on the social, political and economic levels,” said Carly Drake, a marketing professor at North Central College in Illinois. “Sex is shameful or, more simply, private and not to be discussed,” she said.

The decade would also start a trend of women “choosing” to be feminine, sexual and driven, but still not too threatening to men, Professor Drake said. She cited as an example an Enjoli perfume ad that portrayed a “24-hour woman.”

“There was this idea of ‘We’ve made it as women, we can make it on our own,’” Professor Drake said. “We don’t need feminism. So we want to be with the boys.”

That trend would continue well into the early 2000s, though some ads tried to deflect criticism. One 2003 Super Bowl commercial showed two women arguing over Miller Lite, then fighting, mud-wrestling and, finally, kissing.

The ad was framed as a spoof of two men’s fantasy — with two women listening, silent and disgusted — but Miller Lite was nevertheless accused of trying to get away with sexism by turning it into a joke.

At the same time, online retailers were creating a more competitive market, and advertisers started to sense a shift in how consumers saw commercials, said Paul Radich, a marketing professor at Catholic University who served on the ethics committee of the American Marketing Association from 2011 to 2014.

Advertisers began asking, “Are we appealing to their instincts and desires in a temporary fashion, or are we trying to engage them in a narrative about their own life and how we as a company can fit into their own life?” he said.

Many commercials moved toward absurdist humor — as with many of Geico’s ads — or appeals to family, like a 2016 ad for Honda in which a man gets home safely to his young wife and baby thanks to the reliable emergency brake system.

That commercial was a far cry from “Man’s Last Stand,” a 2010 Dodge ad that showed beaten-down men defiantly telling the women in their lives that if they have to comply with chores and other demands, they will buy whatever car they want.

The social media era

Outcry over objectification may be swifter and louder, but men are still more represented in commercials than women, according to a 2019 analysis by the Geena Davis Institute on Gender in Media, a nonprofit started by the Oscar-winning actor.

Researchers for the organization looked at 2.7 million YouTube videos uploaded by advertisers and found that while there was some improvement in gender representation over a five-year period, male characters were seen 56 percent of the time, while female characters were seen 44 percent of the time. Male characters were also heard one and a half times more than female characters.

In Australia, the criticism against KFC itself drew abusive blowback, said Melinda Liszewski, a spokeswoman for Collective Shout, a grass-roots organization that campaigns against the objectification of women.

“I was surprised that our commentary on the KFC ad would elicit such vile, sexually explicit and misogynistic abuse,” she said. “Myself and my colleagues spent a number of hours removing comments and men from our social media pages.”

And there remains the question of how advertising will play out on social media platforms where users have more control and receive less scrutiny.

Nancy Van Leuven, who teaches communications at Fresno State, pointed to TikTok, where some teenage girls, eager to find new followers (and advertisers), dress skimpily, don makeup and toss their hair for the camera as they teach dance steps.

Their male counterparts on similar videos are often dressed in baggy clothes, their moves far less sexualized.

“Is that an idea of user-generated media that is reinforcing stereotypes?” Professor Van Leuven said. “I think user-generated content is the newer, unknown territory of whether stereotypes are reinforced or disrupted.”

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[mastcomm]

In a Long History of Sexist Ads and Outrage, It’s the Apology That’s New

The commercial doesn’t have much to do with chicken.

A young woman in a low-cut top purses her lips and pushes up her chest as she checks her reflection in a car window. The glass slowly rolls down, revealing two young boys who had been ogling her. In the driver’s seat, a disapproving mom glares.

The young woman sheepishly grins, then asks: “Did someone say KFC?”

Fifteen years ago, the ad might have been seen as just another crass marketing pitch leveraging sex to sell a product. But when the commercial recently appeared in Australia, the backlash on social media denouncing it as sexist was so vociferous, it prompted KFC to apologize.

The quick retreat, just before advertising’s marquee moment — the Super Bowl — underscored how the boundaries of what’s considered acceptable are changing quickly in the #MeToo era. Advertisers who for decades relied on the objectification of women to sell products are increasingly wary of taking that approach, aware that many consumers will no longer tolerate abject sexism.

“They would have never apologized 15 or 20 years ago,” said Abhik Roy, a former ad executive and professor of marketing at Quinnipiac University. “It’s more because of social media pressure.”

While the #MeToo movement has used social media to push advertisers into withdrawing ads they deem offensive, they are building on the wave of earlier battles.

‘My wife, I think I’ll keep her.’

Before there was KFC and Peloton, the exercise company recently criticized for an ad, there was the vitamin company Geritol.

A gauzy 1972 commercial for Geritol shows a handsome, middle-aged man looking into the camera as his wife, perfectly coifed and smiling, leans her head on his shoulder. She remains silent as he describes how, thanks to Geritol, she has the energy to take care of their baby all day, go to a school meeting and make a delicious dinner.

“And look at her,” he drawls. “She looks better than any of her friends.”

He then looks back at the camera and says, “My wife, I think I’ll keep her.”

The ad infuriated leaders of the National Organization for Women, who called for commercials like it to be taken off the airwaves. The Committee for the Rejection of Obnoxious Commercials, which was founded by a Minneapolis ad executive in the early 1970s, ranked it one of that year’s worst.

The ad carried such resonance that 20 years later, the country singer Mary Chapin Carpenter responded with the song “He Thinks He’ll Keep Her,” about a seemingly happy wife who decides to leave her husband.

Geritol was eventually fined $812,000 by the Federal Trade Commission for flouting orders to stop running ads that promised boundless energy to anyone who took the supplement.

In an editorial critical of the company, The Berkshire Eagle of Massachusetts said the wife in that ad “does everything but curl up at his feet and purr.”

“Women’s Liberationists” were so enraged, the editorial said, “if they had their way, the fines would have been in the billions rather than the thousands.”

‘Choice feminism’

The decades that followed showed little progress in advertising tactics.

Take a Fuddruckers ad from the early 1980s that is rife with double entendres. At first glance it seems to be a cheeky look at men and women both lusting after burgers.

But it is the men who are allowed to ogle the “buns” and bite sinfully into the burger, while a woman who starts to marvel at the size of a beef patty is quickly shushed by her friends.

The ad is emblematic of the Reagan era’s “revival of conservatism on the social, political and economic levels,” said Carly Drake, a marketing professor at North Central College in Illinois. “Sex is shameful or, more simply, private and not to be discussed,” she said.

The decade would also start a trend of women “choosing” to be feminine, sexual and driven, but still not too threatening to men, Professor Drake said. She cited as an example an Enjoli perfume ad that portrayed a “24-hour woman.”

“There was this idea of ‘We’ve made it as women, we can make it on our own,’” Professor Drake said. “We don’t need feminism. So we want to be with the boys.”

That trend would continue well into the early 2000s, though some ads tried to deflect criticism. One 2003 Super Bowl commercial showed two women arguing over Miller Lite, then fighting, mud-wrestling and, finally, kissing.

The ad was framed as a spoof of two men’s fantasy — with two women listening, silent and disgusted — but Miller Lite was nevertheless accused of trying to get away with sexism by turning it into a joke.

At the same time, online retailers were creating a more competitive market, and advertisers started to sense a shift in how consumers saw commercials, said Paul Radich, a marketing professor at Catholic University who served on the ethics committee of the American Marketing Association from 2011 to 2014.

Advertisers began asking, “Are we appealing to their instincts and desires in a temporary fashion, or are we trying to engage them in a narrative about their own life and how we as a company can fit into their own life?” he said.

Many commercials moved toward absurdist humor — as with many of Geico’s ads — or appeals to family, like a 2016 ad for Honda in which a man gets home safely to his young wife and baby thanks to the reliable emergency brake system.

That commercial was a far cry from “Man’s Last Stand,” a 2010 Dodge ad that showed beaten-down men defiantly telling the women in their lives that if they have to comply with chores and other demands, they will buy whatever car they want.

The social media era

Outcry over objectification may be swifter and louder, but men are still more represented in commercials than women, according to a 2019 analysis by the Geena Davis Institute on Gender in Media, a nonprofit started by the Oscar-winning actor.

Researchers for the organization looked at 2.7 million YouTube videos uploaded by advertisers and found that while there was some improvement in gender representation over a five-year period, male characters were seen 56 percent of the time, while female characters were seen 44 percent of the time. Male characters were also heard one and a half times more than female characters.

In Australia, the criticism against KFC itself drew abusive blowback, said Melinda Liszewski, a spokeswoman for Collective Shout, a grass-roots organization that campaigns against the objectification of women.

“I was surprised that our commentary on the KFC ad would elicit such vile, sexually explicit and misogynistic abuse,” she said. “Myself and my colleagues spent a number of hours removing comments and men from our social media pages.”

And there remains the question of how advertising will play out on social media platforms where users have more control and receive less scrutiny.

Nancy Van Leuven, who teaches communications at Fresno State, pointed to TikTok, where some teenage girls, eager to find new followers (and advertisers), dress skimpily, don makeup and toss their hair for the camera as they teach dance steps.

Their male counterparts on similar videos are often dressed in baggy clothes, their moves far less sexualized.

“Is that an idea of user-generated media that is reinforcing stereotypes?” Professor Van Leuven said. “I think user-generated content is the newer, unknown territory of whether stereotypes are reinforced or disrupted.”

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