* REBEL / WARRIOR .

It happens all too fast  /  very sensation that erupts all too familiar for his liking; the way shoulders hunch, the way unsteady hands instinctively apply pressure against sudden stain of red, the way pain radiates like a never ending burn. Coulson’s felt this before  /  death had knocked on the agent’s door only years prior, and he knows all too well what’s about to ensure. First  /  the struggled breaths; the lack of oxygen streaming through lung tissue, the tightening of his chest with each words of last falling. Second  /  the quiet plea; the unspoken implore to a higher power, the internal begging for another chance. Finally  /  the lurking claim on Coulson’s life that’s eagerly ready to strike; such claim accompanied by ear-piercing silence that engulfs even the loudest of sounds, and the deluge of black that turns even the brightest of colors into a darkness that surrounds. And it’s that of the very familiarity, the knowing of what’s to come that strikes fear into the very heart that had already once before stopped beating. And yet, as fear of death begins to unfold through veins? Nothing but worry for his partner‘s safety only prevails. “Get outta here Melinda, before           ” Solitary breath hitches, the rushing pain breaching very will to show zero weakness. “           he shoots you too.”

Pain surrounds, the weakened pleas for Melinda’s own safety hanging within stagnant atmosphere. “Go, May!” Wrath of sheer desperation builds  /  softened whimpers departing though cracked lips, vocals seeping in string of demanding request. “Please.” Single syllable streams thick in shaken breath, the once fearless agent quickly altering into puddle of vulnerability. Fear of death? Dare he flaunt that around the one person he’s supposed to stay STRONG for? Fear of regret? That he’ll allow to shine through. “Hey           ” Corners of lips unexpectedly curl into smallest of smiles, hand tinged brightest of reds resting atop her own. “           promise me something? That… when you get back to base… you’ll finally crack that damn bottle.”          //     @notjustthepilot​

What was supposed to be an easy undercover Intel op was quickly becoming one of May’s worst nightmares. She had barely slipped out of the awful high heels she was forced to wear when the unmistakable sound of a gun shot echoed through the room. Every second after was a blur of movements until she was hovering over her partner applying pressure to his gun shot wound. With tears falling upon rose tinted cheeks  / free hand searching for anything that could help slow the bleeding / and a familiar sense of fear fighting to take over her body she bit back a sob. “NO” swiftly she replaced her hands above the shirt held against his wound with his and wiped away her tears before she began dragging him into the bathroom. Knowing they did not have much time before the second wave of the attack hit she grabbed her handgun and cell as she dragged his body across the room. Once in the bathroom she pulled Phil into the walk in shower hoping it would provide some cover in the case of an explosion or stray bullet. It took her less than 30 seconds to order an emergency extraction and grab extra towels before she was hovering over his body once again.

CURRENTLY WRITING :

  ➥   Melinda May ( est . 2017 )   /  notjustthepilot

HAVE WRITTEN IN THE PAST :

  ➥   Vivian Labonair   /   ofsacrifiices   ➥   Cristina Yang   /   grey’s anatomy   ➥   River Song   /   doctor who   ➥   Abby Griffin  /   the 100  ➥   Esme Cullen  /   the twilight saga  

WANT TO WRITE   /  MAY WRITE   /  MAY BRING BACK :

  ➥   Pandora   /   the vampire chronicles