#sceneblurb

send me a character and a prompt for a scene blurb ~ (2/10)

WEARY : for one muse to wake up after falling asleep on the other.

You hadn’t been rocked to sleep since you were a child; back when innocence was a given and your life didn’t revolve around righting the wrongs of others for the central intelligence agency. Exhaustion was securing around your body like a weighted blanket, and you were craving the comfortability of your single bedroom apartment. You didn’t want to think about travelling abroad for at least a month after your most recent mission, it’s tediousness still digging its claws in your emotional and physical wellbeing. It was oddly consoling, however, to find yourself in deep slumber on the company’s private jet as your cool down from Spain was lulling you to sleep.

You were so spent that you didn’t realise that you lent into the side of your partner, Mitch too tired himself to push you aside - not that he had the heart to do so, anyway, surprised at himself for allowing a soft spot for you to settle quite wholefully in his chest. From day one, the man was strongly opposed to having a field partner; he was convinced that they would get in his way and disagree on tactics and ideas. Mitch Rapp didn’t want to be responsible for anyone else, just to get in and get the job done. He was a closed off individual who only wanted to keep to himself - but it was all thrown into the wind when Irene Kennedy forced your hand into his, and declared you official consorts. 

Not that he minded too much now after having you get under his skin, worming your way into his life to the point where he just gave in and let you. Mitch would never admit it aloud, but he was glad that he had you by his side. That you were there for him. That he could be there for you, too.

Mitch was never able to sleep on airplanes, but it didn’t stop him from making sure that you did as he pulled your cardigan just that little bit tighter around your frame when the air-con kicked in, or how he would move his arm behind your body that you could be tucked in further to his side and nuzzle your weary head into the worn leather of his bomber jacket. It brought the man a sense of accomplishment when a delicate sigh left your parted lips, so he squeezed you, only slightly; not too much to make a difference in your sleepy status, but enough for you to release that gentle sigh once more.

“You’re digging y’self into a hole, Rapp.” A rough voice drifted his way, a magnetised force for his gaze as it landed on Stan Hurley across the aisle. Your handler was hardly looking back, his nose buried in some true crime novel about missing kids turned murderers - or whatever, you were always too turned off to allow him to get further into the details. 

“Dunno what you’re talking about.” Was all that Mitch could reply with, his hand absentmindedly ceasing its little dance between your waist and hip.

Stan chuckled, only loud enough to keep the conversation between himself and Mitch and he shook his greying head, “The more you care, the less control you have. It’ll eat at you. Make you scared. Make you weak.”

“You’re jumping to conclusions, sir.” Mitch tried to keep his voice levelled; he didn’t want his pitch to jump at any accusations, to give himself away. He did care, a hell of a lot, but he knew that he shouldn’t. And that’s what made it forbidden fruit - and boy, was Mitch tempted to try some.

Stan tutted, his tongue clicking against his teeth, lips rolling before they pursed outward. He wanted to reprimand Mitch for becoming involved, and surely if it were you in his place then Stran would be giving the same speech, but he knew the trials you’d both been through. He could see the connection, the natural pull between two lost souls becoming one. Maybe it was Stan Hurley who was the weak one in this scenario.

“You know as well as me what distactions do in the field. As soon as your pea brain wanders away from the target, then mistakes are made. People get hurt. The last thing you want is her getting hurt, ammiright?” Stan spoke almost sympathetically, and Mitch could see the sadness in the older man’s eyes.

Before he could reply, with something surely curt and sarcastic, the jet hit turbulence and the cabin shook. It prompted an overhead announcement about securing seatbelts as other agents and faculty held on out of impulse. It made you jolt awake, your body flying to an upright position, and before you could register where you were, Mitch was already securing your belt over your torso.

“How long was I out?” You asked him, knuckles rubbing at your eyes, and he found it strangely endearing to see you in such a state.

“Two, three hours. We’re still over the ocean.” Mitch gestured out the window that was shielded by a blind, one that he dragged down not too long after you dozed off. He watched as you peered out it, humming in acknowledgement before turning back to him with a lazy smile.

You peered to his jacket, a small dribble shining from the cabin’s lights catching your eye, “Shit, I slept with my mouth open.” You grumbled, pulling the sleeve of your shirt down as you dabbed at the material, before sighing in content when it was all fixed up. “I don’t usually drool in my sleep, sorry Mitch...”

He cleared his throat, his focus breaking from gazing over you with the type of heart eyes that he hadn’t experienced in five years. He shook his head, “Don’t worry ‘bout it.”

send me a character and a prompt for a scene blurb ~ (6/10)

ARRANGED : for both muses to date or marry out of convenience.

this isnt the best but take it please x

You revelled in the serenity of the Royal gardens; an abundance of botanical species of every possible shade was surrounding you with joy, the gentle springtime air making your skin settle with comfortable warmth. It was a welcomed change to feel such peace after times of uncertainty - a game of ambiguousness when it came to matters of the heart, and the ownership of one’s hand. To love but not have was the source of your endless nights of aching, alas it all changed when realisation struck, and you were finally betrothed to the boy that once promised to hold your heart forever. Harmonies of singing birds echoed through the grand space, and it was easy to become mesmerised by how entrancing their song played - so much that you nearly missed the quiet coo of your name and the additional body standing close behind your frame.

Tender yet calloused hands were careful as they grasped your biceps, fingers squeezing with such delicacy above your elbows as a chin perched upon your right shoulder. Your eyes remained forward to overlook the beauty in front of you, but a smile still curled at your lips when loving lips pressed just under your ear. You hoped your future would be like this - so gentle, so devoted, affectionate, constituted - and it would be, for as long as Thomas remained by your side.

“Your highness.” You managed to say, your voice wavering as his lips trailed down the shape of your jaw. He grinned against you as a smile stretched over your skin, and you couldn’t stop the breathless sigh of contentedness that escaped you.

Thomas chuckled lightly, “M’lady. I still find myself even now, puzzled, over the luck that’d come my way and how I can professedly call you mine from this day onward.” 

Thomas’ ardor covered your back, a feeling of homeliness overcoming you as you slowly sunk into his hold and savoured the sensation of his body sheltering your own. He made you calm and comfortable, finally complacent in a world where you once thought would never turn in your favour. But now you at long last have the boy that gave you butterflies since your eyes first met, the boy that kept your secrets safe and offered a shoulder to cry on. He always was yours, only now the blessing has officially been granted, and you don’t need to shy away anymore from wanting to hold him forever within your arms.

“We’ve yet to be wed, Tommy.” You replied to him, a hand reaching behind you to thread fingers through his brunette locks. 

A gentle giggle caught your attention, drawing your sight across the garden to your handmaiden as she stared at you both joy, knowing just how fulfilled this betrothal had left you feeling. Your cheeks became dusted with pinkness, sudden bashfulness before a playful glare was directed toward her and she turned around to reinforce your privacy.

Thomas hummed against your neck, uncaring of who could see before he carefully spun you until your chests were flushed and your beating hearts thumped in coordinated rhythms. Calloused fingers were delicate as they pushed stray hairs behind your ears, and you could’ve sworn that the light was hitting him just perfectly - an angelic glow creating a euphoric image before you - prompting your eyes to shape like hearts and shine with every ounce of love you could muster.

He chuckled, once more, “It is true, our espousal is still unaccustomed, but it only makes it easier when I know that the love I feel is already very much present. I will have no predicaments, no hesitations when it comes to being with you, my sweet. It’s all I have wanted for as long as time can count, and now it’s been granted...” His voice trailed, face etching with such blissful disbelief as his lips tugged even further upward until his smile was near as bright as his golden hues, “Only good can come from this. From you. And I know that this sovereign will flourish under the reign of myself as King if it meant that I had you as my Queen.” 

Your chest fluttered under his words, his promise to keep you with him. It seemed as good as a dream, too good to be of truth; but the way his fingertips left fiery trails over your skin, as well as chilled goosebumps in their wake, it couldn’t make you feel anymore alive if it tried. 

“I’m sure that my words are ones of nothing new to your ears, but I do care for you incredibly much, Thomas. I love you with all that my heart can give, and I forever will.” You slid your hand over his chest, allowing yourself to feel the oddly steady yet hard thumping song of his heart. He copied your movements before fingers enclosed between your own, the pressure provoking your hand to now pulse with how melodic and passionate he was truly feeling.

Thomas’ eyes managed a softened glaze, his happiness tenfold, “And I you, my love. Forever.” 

Your hand grasped the material of his shirt, fingers scrunching at the cotton as your weight shifted to the toes of your shoes. You stood taller, only slightly, but enough to bump the tip of your nose carefully against his and feel the slight warmth of his breath as he sighed in contentedness. Lashes tickled over your skin as they fluttered, slow to close as you wanted to savour the beauty that he wore so well. Not that you could ever forget.

Pillowed lips brushed; they grazed and they teased like footwork to a dance. They didn’t quite join but it was the chase that built the funny sensation in your stomach and you didn’t dare want it to end. It wasn’t until the boy took the step and pressed his lips to tenderly against yours that you felt your shoulders sink and knees grow weak. 

Thomas allowed his spare arm to circle behind your back and pull you against him, his kiss sliding between your own as he cherished such moments of solitude and serenity. It was desperate, holding so much awaited emotion that it needed to spill out before the future king simply exploded. It was deepened by the prodding of your tongue and the welcomed gasp that lit Thomas’ veins on fire. 

send me a character and a prompt for a scene blurb ~ (1/10)

SOOTHE : for one muse to calm the other during a panic attack.

He warned you that it could happen; the sudden jumps during the night, the strangled screams pulling from his throat, the sheen of sweat that drenched his skin. It’d been years since the nightmares refused to leave his darkened mind - grasping at any slither of sanity that he had left. The man would dream of softened sand and how it so quickly was stained red, ricochets of bullets and agonising screams creating notes of heart-wrenching symphonies. He witnessed a massacre and it was ruling his life - even after the miniscule trials of therapies and retribution gained from his CIA pursuits, he still couldn’t forget. Mitch Rapp would never forget. It didn’t make it easier on him when he started seeing your body laying lifeless in his arms and he couldn’t do anything to bring you back to him.

Your heart bounded in your chest as you were pulled sharply from your sleep, the man beside you shaking with ragged breaths. You’d never experienced Mitch when he was in this state but you could tell almost immediately that it wasn’t something that he was going to easily get past. As you turned to face him, his hand shot to his side to feel for you, warm clammy handprints encasing your wrist and he managed somewhat of a sigh when he realised you weren’t gone. It wasn’t enough, though, to settle his erratic heartbeat and panicked features.

“Mitch... Mitch, hey, look at me, Mitch... look at me...” You begged, still half asleep as you tried to maneuver yourself in front of the man. You kneed his legs apart through the sheets and settled between them, your hands cupping the scratchy stubble that covered his jaw. Thumbs ran shakily under his eyes, but it was their incapability to focus that nearly brought tears to your own. They were blown wide - the gentle caramel tone that often sparkled in the sunshine was nowhere to be found as black orbs drowned them out. They were wild and unkept and terrified. They were screaming out for help through silent pleas and you were starting to suddenly feel so small. 

Mitch tried to speak but could only voice fractured syllables, his gasps growing in pitch and urgency for air. It was hard for you not to freeze and stare on in shock, but you knew that he needed you. He needed love. Stability. He needed reassurance and promise. And you could give him that and more.

The hand wrapped around your wrist grew tighter and it broke you from your brief reverie, your free hand falling from his cheek and scavenging for his twitching fingers. You brought them to your chest and laid the palm flat over your sternum - breathing in, and out, slowly. You built a rhythm and forced yourself to keep that steady pace. Your eyes bored into his as you shushed the man with careful lullaby tones; humming soft songs under your breath, your body in control and calm.

“Breathe, Mitch. You’re safe. I’m safe.” You pushed, verbal reminders to settle his damaged soul. The gasps were slowing and you nearly screamed out in happiness when you watched his eyes finally focus on you, his pupils shrinking from their anxious size.

Mitch’s hands shook loose from yours and they were brought up to your own cheeks, his protective hold instantly cradling your face as he cooed at your expression, “Don’t cry, baby. Don’t cry for me.” He said quietly, hardly a whisper, but the proximity of his body to yours allowed you to hear it as clear as day. His thumbs managed to catch stray tears that you didn’t realise even left your eyes, and their silky paths were soon covered in tender pecks from Mitch’s dry lips. 

He settled his forehead against yours and your arms were hastily thrown behind his neck, pulling the man as close to you as humanly possible. It was sluggish, but his arms slipped behind your frame and squeezed you in a needy embrace, your chests flush against the other and your hips thrown against his own. He was crushing you, but you knew that he was reminding himself that this was real. You were real. 

Mitch took a deep breath, one that shook your frame as he exhaled, before his nose dragged over yours, “You saved me.”

“I-I just helped you breathe.” Your reply was quick, modest. You were glad that he couldn’t see your face because it was surely glowing with rosy blush. 

“Not just now, you saved me... from who I was. You brought love back to my life.” His voice was hoarse, and it prompted an absent-minded rub of your delicate fingers down his spine - of which made him melt instantly against you. “I have my demons but you make ‘em go away. You make me better.” 

Blups so Prince Thomas

WEARY

send me a character and a prompt for a scene blurb ~ (5/10)

WEARY : for one muse to wake up after falling asleep on the other.

It was serene; the gentle rays of sun encapsulating your comfortability, the delicate spring breeze dancing harmoniously across your cheeks, Thomas' arm tightening so lightmindedly around your waist as he drifted in and out of a mid-afternoon slumber. You had nodded off easily to the steady beating of his heart as it thumped under your palm, your bodies happening to curl together before his shoulder became occupied by the welcomed heaviness of your weary head. Two intertwined souls making the most of what little time they had, absorbing each and every grain of sand as it fell to the bottom of their hourglass - an impending end to years of countless escapades and emotion. Despite the troubling future, moments like this were incredibly simple, which is what made them your favourite of them all.

Thomas awoke first, his left arm reaching to the empty space beside him as he stretched his stiffened limb, small cracks hardly loud enough to be heard over the singing of native birds. He groaned in satisfaction before shuffling further back against the trunk of a large English Oak, careful to not move his body so quickly in case it jolted you in surprise. His eyes glowed with tender golden specks as his squinted view rose to the sky - the sun had moved significantly since he last remembered, and it told the young man that you both had spent a fair while wrapped up together in the sanctuary of each other. He wouldn’t have wanted it any other way.

You knew it was Thomas when you felt the dainty drag of his fingers through your hair; his gentleness known as a staple when it came to the cherished amity that had been mutually pledged since children. You smiled at the idyllic way to awake, a satisfied sigh pushing through your parted lips as your cheek dragged over his cotton shirt. Tentatively, you glanced up at the boy with lidded eyes, consciousness eventually trickling back in when you focused on the warmth of his gaze. You smiled again, this time wider with utter content - everything about him was perfect, and familiar, and heavenly. You didn’t want to leave him, instead silently pleading to remain in this very place for the rest of your days, with this wonderful boy and the love you so deeply carry for him. But, sometimes what you truly want is beyond far from your grasp, and no matter how hard you hold onto it, it’ll slip through your fingers inevitably. 

“You seem troubled.” Thomas said, his voice low and raspy from sleep, tone jumping from worry. He noticed the way your smile faded and dropped, and in spite of knowing exactly why, he chose to drive his thoughts away from forthcoming heartbreak. 

It hurt to think, but even more to say, as you drew a sharp breath and scrunched the material of his shirt within your fist. You could feel how his heartbeat picked up a little faster, and it made you sad, “This is the last time I will be in your arms.” 

“You will never truly leave me, my dear one.” He was quick to answer. Thomas wasn’t sure whether he was trying to convince you or himself, but he needed it to be true. No matter what the future brought, you had to be within arms reach, otherwise the boy would be driven mad.

You straightened until your eyes were level with his, shoulder dropping against the tree trunk in turn with Thomas rotating to face you completely. It was brief, but your teeth sunk to your bottom lip, a nervous tug prompting to flesh to swell slightly, “We both know that it cannot be that way...” Your voice trailed as you swallowed back a lump in your throat, desperate to maintain this moment as one of happiness and not despair. You tried to offer a curl of your lips, “...And one day you will be King, the ruler of our lands, the head of our monarchy. And I’ll be betrothed to another, and simply become their Queen.”

Thomas had never hated an idea more; losing you was the equivalent of losing a limb, losing an organ. You had been such an integrated part of his life for as long as he could remember, portraying a constant support and avenue to express his deepest thoughts and feelings. In the end, it was supposed to be you, he was always going to make it be you. In nearing desolation, he reached for your hands, thumbs dragging hastily over your skin as fingers squeezed your hold. His eyes had grown wide as the caramel tone grew more saturated with emotion, “ What If I choose selfishness? What if I don’t want your hand to be of another’s? “

You couldn’t help but coo. He was fused with sweetness and wonder, willing to drop everything he had just to remain with you. And even though it was incredibly enticing, you couldn’t prevent Thomas from becoming who he was destined to be - he had the makings of a great ruler, you saw it daily with the people of his Kingdom and those of Kingdoms surrounding. He would introduce further fairness and rejoice improvements that will better everyone as far as his sovereign could reach. Thomas will be the change, for the better, and you couldn’t live with yourself if you dragged him away from that potential.

“My sweet Prince... that isn’t a choice for us to make.” Your hand fell from between his before it reached up, your knuckles gentle as they dragged with such adoration across his cheek. Thomas lent into your touch with fluttering closed eyes before he slightly turned, his lips grazing over your skin as single kiss was placed.

He exhaled deeply, “I don’t want this marriage.” You had heard it near a million times before - and yet, this time sounded like the most defeated.

It was a shock when Thomas pulled you aside those many months ago; his fingers trembling when they clasped around your wrists as his eyes refused to look into your own. Nervousness was a mere understatement as it ripped at his heart and hopes for the future, even more so as he eventually watched your face drop in horror when he explained that he were to be wed to a Princess from a Kingdom far beyond your own. It was a pipe dream, but yourself and Thomas always yearned for the time where it would be the two of you that was consummated for unity between Kingdoms; however, it just so happened that the appeal for amalgamation was more vital elsewhere. A larger offer of allies and stronger promise of protection.

Your lips flattened into a thin line as you attempted to not show how upset you were, forcing encouragement that you really didn’t want to even consider, “Teresa will make a good wife -” 

“ - But she’s no you!” Thomas was exasperated as the veins in his neck bulged, the loud shriek of his voice cracking under the pressure of an unchosen future. He wanted to scream and cry and tear anybody apart if they even dared to get in between you both, alas, he hated that he knew how important this union was. It would save them all. and it was all sitting within his hands. If he wed, then it would mean more protection for your kingdom, for you. And Thomas would do anything to protect you.

“Thomas...” You spoke quietly, suddenly leaning forward for your foreheads to touch, noses to nudge. You breathed him in before swallowing down again, “I know that you’re hurting. I am hurting too, it aches in my chest and shakes my breath. The mere thought of being without you is deadly, but it’s a scar that we must wear. And I will be wearing mine with pride, because it will forever remind me of how much I love you.” 

He hated your words, he hated their meaning, but he mostly hated their reality. He hated that you were in the same pain as he, and that your heart will be branded with him permanently for as long as you live. He hated that after tomorrow, he would probably never see you again and that he could never feel the serenity of your hold or the taste your lips again. He hated that his future was forced because society was bent on tearing each other apart. But what he hated most, was that the love he had for you withstandanded all of the hate that he mustered. 

send me a character and a prompt for a scene blurb ~ (3/10)

SAFEGUARD : for one muse to save the other from being hit by a vehicle or from some other life-threatening event.

Warnings : blood, severe injury, character demise - not a happy ending (:

Hopelessness embraced you like a weighted blanket; ponderous despair that bolted you to the ground and ceased your movements. You could hardly tell how long you’ve been here, the room you're deteriorating within had remained the same shade of darkness, and the temperature only decreasing from the stale moisture that had also found it’s way into your lungs. Loneliness was easily accepted by now and you acceded it with open arms if it meant cutting yourself off from the pain you’ve been inflicted. You hurt, and you had hardly spoken to anyone - refusing to tell them just what makes your pack tick, what unites you all and congregates such power. 

Trapped. You were trapped. You were taken, and you were bound. You were held against your will and they tried to make you talk - they really did. But you never would. They realised that. And that’s what made you so damn expendable.

The deliria was a bittersweet welcome the moment it started to set in. You were unable to tell the difference between reality and whatever your mind was forcing you to see, and for the better, it was a good thing. Reality was much, much harsher than hearing the voices of your friends and picturing the smiles of your loved ones as they sat beside you and coaxed fake faith for rescue. You truly wanted to believe that everything would be okay - after all, you had imagined figures telling you that it would be, and you were desperate to cling to whatever optimism you could get your hands on.

You couldn’t help as your sappless head lulled against the cold brick wall when your capturs returned; the pain in your body settling in every muscle and bone as if they were now permanently scarred and the affliction was simply just a part of you. Although your mind was slipping, you could still determine that the unforgiving gazes over your deteriorating body belonged to those of supernatural identities. They weren’t just wolves, they were something else, and they were dangerous.

send me a character and a prompt for a scene blurb ~ (4/10)

CAUGHT : for one muse to walk in on the other singing / dancing.

Surreal was nothing but understated when it came to knowing that your apartment once again housed two instead of one. Since the moment Mitch Rapp walked through the front door, the ceiling lamps grew a little brighter, the air a little warmer, and your heart a little bigger. It was a story told too many times before - a man sent away to right the wrongs of others, leaving his sweetheart to await his return. Time moved slowly, a reminder that your time without the man you love was breaching indefinite. The phone calls became shorter and and you swore that it only prolonged your need for those overdue kisses and whispers of sweet nothings. Once the six week marker flashed midnight on your alarm clock, your heart wretched, and your tears returned. You just missed him.

But luck had a knack for worming it’s way into moments of utter hopelessness - and fortunately, it always ended the same way... with him returning home to your arms.

It didn’t feel real to see his built frame take up space in the kitchen, nor did it feel real to hear the clanging of dishes being washed in the sink that weren’t from your own two hands - the most mundane activity, drenched in complete domesticity, was enough to get your heart soaring. You quietly lent against the arched door frame, arms crossed lazily over your thumping chest as you watched Mitch with all the adoration you could muster. Eyes focused on the way his shirt sat too snug over his shoulders - knowing Mitch, he put it in the dryer with no sense of how to work one, or maybe his frame just grew that little more taut since he’d been gone. Regardless, you couldn’t tear your gaze away and you didn’t want to ever again if it meant that Mitch Rapp never left your side.

You travelled down the expanse of his back, eyeing the way his muscles moved with such fluidity beneath the black fabric, before your focus was caught rather quickly by the shake and gyrate of his hips. It made you giggle under your breath, not wanting to alert of your presence just yet as you admired the side of Mitch Rapp that hardly anybody got to see - one filled with carelessness, joy and rhythm. 

You could see how they moved faster with the growing hum of his voice, a tune licking at his tongue as it slowly began to echo throughout the space. It was a tune you knew well - Mitch always listened to it, sang it, even built the limited skill set when away from the field to learn the basic chords on the guitar. It was a song that made you smile, and made him revell in the memories of his mother. Her soothing tone would lull him to sleep as a child, and he inherited it so beautifully when the words were sung into your hair and his arms secured tightly around your body.

He had switched out his dish cloth for a towel as hands dried your dinner plates with gentle movements, his voice growing louder as melody drifted toward you, “You say it best...hmm hmm hmm... when you say nothin’ at all.” 

You were lost. Entranced. Every small detail about this man is what made you adore him more and more with each passing second you spent with him. But it also made you miss his presence near tenfold when he was gone. A bittersweet concoction when you find yourself utterly and completely in love with another person.

It wasn’t meant to be so startling as you quietly stepped forward and wrapped your arms around his waist, your cheek pressed firmly against his back. Mitch only tensed for a mere half second from the additional body heat you provided, but it dissipated quickly, one of his hands reaching down to rub tenderly at your enclasped pair over his lower stomach. Your nose nuzzled into him, a humm eliciting now from within your throat.

“You have a lovely voice when you sing.” You said, Mitch’s arms erupting in goosebumps due to the dancing of your warm breath through the cotton of his shirt.

He grinned, heat crawling up to his cheeks as the man quickly became chuffed. Mitch spoke with slight humour, “Yeah? What about when I don’t sing?”

“Still my favourite sound, ties first place with your morning voice. Super sexy.” 

He definitely was glowing now; his nose burning with the pinch of a warm blush, ears not too far behind. You built his confidence back up after it was burnt horrifically to the ground - you showed love, and care, praise, compliments. Mitch Rapp had never felt so goddamn loved in his life, and it took him a while to accept that he deserved it. But you made him see that he did.

Mitch chuckled, his tongue darting out to lap at the slight dryness of his lips, “You’re super sexy.”