the second pic is super old and inspired the first one...i still kinda like the second one more but i don't know how to draw like that anymore ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
Look me in the eye and try to tell me this: “Acting tough will not make it hurt any less, you know this, yes?” isn't utterly perfect for cowboy!Mitch 😍 Like whether it's him or reader who got hurt (and we both know they're equally foolhardy lmao)
send me a PROMPT for a 'new muse' blurb ~
Notes : it's TOO perfect for him! ugh cowboy mitch gets to meeee.
"ACTING TOUGH WILL NOT MAKE IT HURT ANY LESS, YOU KNOW THIS, YES?" | COWBOY!MITCH
Squinted amber hues were met with a quirked brow as you looked pointedly toward the man, your words provoking a loud scoff from the hoarseness that gathered in his throat. Mitch couldn't help but think utter ridiculousness of your sentiment - not that he didn't agree with its truthfulness, but rather so, he couldn't afford to fall short of his resilient and gritty character. Being the town's Deputy meant that Mitch needed to be strong, doughty, indestructible. He did have to act tough. His eyes slowly drifted down to your form as you pressed a damp cloth against his exposed side, sopping up remnants of blood that surrounded his freshly sliced wound. He winced, and you noticed.
"It's just a scratch." His voice was gravelly as he attempted to hide the pain that spiked his tone, choosing to immediately shut his mouth and grind his teeth as an alternative expression of pain. He shifted uncomfortably on the rickety barstool when you pressed further against the wound, the scraping of metal on metal echoing loudly amongst the dead atmosphere of the Saloon, only seen possible past closing time. He growled under his breath before hearing a quiet snicker, the curling lips of a smirk present between your cheeks only indicating that you did it on purpose.
"A scratch wouldn't have hurt that bad." You said, glancing up to the man when you felt his focus boring into you. Usually, he was the one possessing the over-protective trait; quick to swoop you out of harm's way and dictate the millions of consequences that would come from your rowdiness. Mitch was always there to catch you if you fell, and you even began to wonder whether he purposely followed you around just in case you found yourself in yet another troublesome situation. Regardless of his staunchness, it was incredibly endearing. "And I certainly don't think that a stab to the side counts nearly as close as a scratch, mind you. You're lucky you're alive, Deputy."
"Y/N, we've been over this-" He began, sucking in a sharp breath as you finished cleaning the open gash. He shook his head, breath releasing slowly as his voice dropped low, "You can call me Mitch."
You sounded a scoff, a resonant of puerility that was incredibly mocking "Oh, I'm well aware. But would calling you by your name get me the same reaction as it would calling you by your title? I think not." Legs pushed you upright as you gathered the red-stained rags, hands quick to ball them up as they were thrown haphazardly into an empty wooden barrel, and Mitch jested a groan at your sentiment whilst teeth sunk to his lip. Once again, you could sense the durability of his gaze meandering over your movements, watching as you continued to patch up the poor man after his unlucky confrontation with a common thief.
It was now easier to see the small smile that tugged between your cheeks as you spun on your heel toward him, a sewing needle and spool pin grasped lightly as you fiddled with them between hesitant fingers. You breathed out lightly before crouching back to Mitch's side, "What can I say, there's just something about gettin' under your skin there, that brings a little light to my days."
He was still toying at his lip; the need to release it quickly became apparent as it began to grow numb under its clamp, soon it would draw blood and he was sure you would reprimand him for yet another reddened wound. He exhaled heavily, an intent to steady his breathing as he awaited the next step of your aid and the inevitable misery to follow. It wasn't until he looked back down to your willingness to patch him up that Mitch started to settle into the stool, watching as you thread your needle, "You're a tease, darlin', ya know that? I'll have you saying my name one o' these days, maybe even screaming it if I'm lucky."
You didn't need to look at the man to know that his eye dropped into a low wink, the tone of his voice suggesting playfulness and rowdy jest. He liked to wind you up, that's why you wound him right the hell back. With a gentle head shake, you lifted your eyes until they met his caramel swirls that you've gotten to know so well, your needle now held high in the air with a threatening pose, "Keep talking sweet like that, and I'll be the one makin' you scream for all the wrong reasons, Cowboy."
It was hidden, only slightly by the angle he sat at whilst his elbow perched upon the bartop, when Mitch gulped down at the intimidation that you wore so damn well. He even thought that if he wasn't so alert in the moment, then a slight moan of appreciative attraction would've slipped so nonchalantly from him. He was quick to remain silent after that, but more so to retain concentration as he admired your quick handiwork.
"Okay-" You began, taking a deep breath to balance yourself. The skirt you wore was spread around your body as you kneeled on the ground, a near-perfect circle framing you as you mentally prepared yourself for the upcoming round of Mitch's pain. You held up a leather belt, folded over each other exactly four times before handing it to Mitch and pointing at your mouth. He immediately understood, teeth clamping around the material to prevent his future growls and screams from echoing through your night-filled sleepy town.
"Now, I'm no doctor, but I've seen this procedure more times than I could count on one hand. Do you trust me.. Mitch?"
Mitch nodded, instantly. Cheeks reddening at the use of his name, however, the leather prevented him from any further commentary. He saw your grin, and knew, just knew, that you calculated your words perfectly in time with his inability to talk.
Mitch was so incredibly taken by you.
One last draw of breath, and you smiled wider, "Let's finish patching you up."
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.”
Maybe Stan was right, he was caring for you. A little too much.
[ JACKET ] : receiver gives sender their jacket after seeing them shiver in the cold.
It had been five hours since the stakeout started; five hours of silence, five hours of tension, five hours of chilling winter temperatures. You tried to ignore the consistent rising goosebumps as they pricked at the exposed skin of your arms, alas, it only became more difficult when they were accompanied by the intensity of strong shivers running down your spine. Your fingers were frozen as they remained clasped around a pair of binoculars, the view through the lenses remaining unchanged from the moment you and your partner arrived earlier that evening.
The man in question was trying to pretend that you didn't exist, but you could still see how he would glance at you out the corner of his eye. Your alliance wasn't the easiest to get into, but you could blame that mostly on his unwillingness to answer any small talk that you throw his way. There were times where you thought you were starting to get through to Mitch - his lips quirking ever so slightly in the corners at a comment you made, or maybe he would silently offer you some of the water in his bottle when you looked a little too dehydrated - but any sort of progress immediately reverted.
You overheard Stan at one point mention Mitch's extensive emotional problems that went hand-in-hand with his inability to follow direction, or present any kind of humanity at all. At first, you thought it was just Stan expressing his hatred for the scruffy young assassin, but you would be lying if you didn't start to believe its validity. This is what led you to hold your bottom lip between your teeth, scanning the area outside of your hotel window, the chilly breeze of the night air filling the small room you were held within.
The silence was broken by the clinking of metal, causing Mitch to pull away from the sniper positioned over his shoulder and look at you head-on with a cocked eyebrow and curious eyes. He focused instantly on the way your hands shook, the binoculars evidently becoming the source of the strange noise he was hearing. That's when he began to further notice the blue tips of your fingers that complimented a pale shade on your lips. His eyes raked over your arms next and a tinge of guilt began to bubble in his stomach. You were freezing and it was his fault.
It was hard to forgive Mitch for throwing you both into the river earlier that day; granted, it was vital in order to hide from your targets, but it left you with a drenched jacket that still hasn't dried in this cooler temperature. Mitch didn't hold back though when he had the opportunity to tell you that this is why he packs extra clothing in his car and that you were stupid for not listening to him before you left for the mission - you managed to just grumble back at him, and that's the last time you spoke a word.
Emotion contorted his features, and for a moment he showed compassion by stepping away from the weapon and pulling your hands away from your face. He hissed as his hands encased around your cold pair, attempting to cause friction by rubbing them together. Mitch shook his head, "God, your hands are fucking frozen. Can you even feel them?" He asked, concern pulling at his eyebrows and riding the ends of his words. All that you did was shake your head, trying to form fists as a way to get your blood moving.
You looked at him as your lips parted, the loud chattering of teeth altering the man that you were worse off than he thought. He swore under his breath before jerking back, ripping his jacket from his arms, and wrapping the warm article of clothing over your shoulders. Large hands splayed over your arms before they began to rub harshly to heat you up. A small smile tugged at your lips in disbelief and gratitude, voice quiet and quivering, "T-thank you, you di-didn't hav-ve to."
An unfamiliar blush rose on his cheeks, throat clearing as he tugged the jacket further around your smaller frame. "Don't mention it. Ever," he grunted, avoiding your eye contact and staring excessively at the zipper of his parker. He could see the material of his jacket move as you continued to tremble, and it made Mitch roll his eyes and release a barely audible whine. A single second hardly passed before Mitch had encaged you within his arms, pulling you against the high body warmth he harnessed. Your forehead was pressed against his collarbone and your hands entangled in your lap. Mitch didn't move as his chin sat on the crown of your head.
It was odd timing but a chuckle pushed through your lips, hilarity in your positioning allowing a bit of light to enter the situation. "You do know th-that you're hugging me, r-right?"
Mitch tensed, however, still remained where he was. He grunted once more and you were beginning to think if that's the only noise of emotion that he was able to produce, "I said, don't fucking mention it."
send me a prompt for some oblivious love blurbs ✩
Notes: weirdly obsessed with his shoulders right now
MISCOMMUNICATION
Mitch Rapp was difficult to understand; signals were crossed and mixed to the point where a blur was left behind, emotions swinging left and right as they failed to settle, and looks that were longing one second before harnessing avoidance the next. You didn't know whether he was coming or going and it pulled so much harder at your heart than you ever anticipated it would.
You didn't think that falling for such a man would leave you awake at night, constant thoughts running through your mind about the things he said or did - trying to analyse their meanings, trying to find even a slither of hope that there was something worthwhile there. He made butterflies flutter, but he could also make them sink. Coldness stemming from his neutral gaze had the capacity to suddenly warm and light up the space you surrounded yourself in. He would soothe any stresses you had with his undivided attention, or leave you so utterly alone to lick at your wounds in silence.
Mitch Rapp was an enigma, which both hurt and healed you. And for some reason, you loved him for it. For all of it.
You were trained to be robotic; every move was calculated to an exact second, every thought confident and assured before being acted upon. Mistakes weren't just frowned upon, they were inexcusable, and a single minuscule hair out of place was enough to brand one as atrociously disreputable in the eyes of the Central Intelligence Agency. But it wasn't until you were behind closed doors and the thrill of your mission was over, that you managed to exhale out the craziness and finally be human again.
The past few days had been difficult - Portugal had worn you down, and the fresh scar draped from the edge of your ribs to the crease of your hip had only just started to heal. The skin was still raw as it sported a flushed shade of pink, but the suture that had taken years to properly perfect was holding together nicely. You had difficulty moving about, and usually, it wouldn't bother you as the mission was over, but right now you'd do anything in this moment to escape your hotel room.
With squinted eyes, you cringed from the raising pitch of your partner's voice - the tone booming as it chastised you. The 'blame-game' was one that you never won, and even though you tried, you couldn't even cheat your way into the winning circle. You were underneath a spotlight and you hated it, despite only the two of you occupying the temporary living space. Mitch had started, and he hadn't planned on stopping until his point got across.
"Are you out of your fucking mind!?" He yelled, the small space you sat within only amplifying the delivery even more.
This Mitch was the one that you often saw clouded by cold tones and closed-off personalities. It's the one that made you walk on eggshells and question everything you had said or done priorly that day. It's the one that told you what you should have done, and not praised what you had done right. This Mitch was the one that you had first met when he had been a recruit, and all of that trauma that led him to you was still buried so deep inside his tortured heart and mind. You could never tell if he was being protective of himself, or of you.
He is different to the Mitch that you saw a few days ago, however. This one was scared, frozen in place as he watched a knife aim for your stomach but instead drag down your side. His eyes had grown wide with worry as you collapsed in a small puddle of your blood, and his touch was delicate and gentle as it cupped at your cheeks and told you that everything will be okay. This Mitch scooped you into his arms and took you somewhere safe, with his own hands trembling in fear. He embodied warmth and care, and for a second you swore you saw his baby-brown eyes glaze with nervous tears.
You were hastily brought back to your hotel room as you heard Mitch groan loudly, his rant continuing as he overlooked how you momentarily spaced out. Your focus flicked up to him as his hands tugged roughly at his growing locks, brows furrowed and voice raspy from the exertion, "You need to be more careful! What the hell was going through your damn head!? Everything was going according to plan and you had to go rogue? Are you fucking serious?! You could've died! "
"Then why didn't you just leave me there if I'm such a damn liability then, Mitch?" You were tired. He had let you rest since the mission had been completed, successfully, but in true Mitch Rapp fashion, he still had to tell you what you had done wrong.
He grunted at your comment, nostrils flaring as he seemed to briefly consider whether to continue lashing out. You watched as his left hand balled into a fist, veins protruding up the back of his hand and over his wrist, as he channelled his emotions into the tension of his curled hand. The man eventually released the hold after his knuckles grew white, only to point a stern finger in your direction, "I never leave people behind. I especially would never leave you behind, don't you ever say that."
Your head shook as your tongue clicked, perplexed over his conflicting temperaments, "I don't understand what you want from me!" Your own voice rose, surprising Mitch as much as it did you as you both jumped ever so slightly. The room fell quiet for the first time since he barged through your door. The shrill of your voices had died and was instead replaced with heavy breaths and a staring contest between two sets of sad and confused eyes.
Mitch tilted his head in bewilderment, an ask for you to elaborate before you continued with an exasperated sigh, "It's always Good -Cop Bad-Cop with you. One minute, you can be the sweetest man I've ever met who would do anything to make me laugh, or smile. And then, other times y-you're just a whole different person, like all of your walls are suddenly back up and you have a fucking grudge against the world like a goddamn moody teenager!"
"What the hell are you talking about?" He was taken aback, voice leaving breathless as he took a tentative step closer to you. Not that he could pretend - Mitch knew that the hot-cold treatment was cruel, but he couldn't help it. Emotion to Mitch Rapp usually held a capacity for pure anger and revenge, but being with you allowed him to open up to many more possibilities. It terrified him, and he had been in such a slump for so long that he didn't know what to do. But he did need you, he needed his light.
"Just tell me what's going on, Mitch! Because it's so fucking hard to read you sometimes and it makes me want to tear my hair out and scream -"
"I LOVE YOU!" His voice echoed once more, the sentiment ringing through the enclosed space. Whisky-coloured hues glazed as his heart became exposed, laying out raw for you to see. Your expression harnessed shock and the lack of response made his laugh hollow and brittle. Mitch shook his head, focusing now on the scruffed toes of his shoes, "I'm in love with you. I thought you knew - "
"No, I didn't." You managed to say with whispered words, observing how the usually confident man in front of you now sank and closed in on himself. He was shutting down, drained from your fight and from the roller-coaster of the past few days. He already thought he was going to lose you when he felt the fresh warmth of your blood run through his fingers only a mere few days ago, but now, he might've just lost you as a staple in his life for good.
Silence had returned, yet it rang the loudest of anything else within that room that night. You had always expected that you'd fall for Mitch Rapp - how could you not? He had his moments of hilarity, amusing you when things got a bit dim or when mischievousness wove itself into his boredom. He held passion proudly like a medal when his interests were at play, showing just how he can truly immerse himself into hobbies or things that he liked. He was tough, both mentally and physically, and it was admirable to see how he would always stand up after being knocked down. He was also sweet when he wanted to be - even when he was raising his voice, purely exposing his protectiveness. Plus, he definitely wasn't bad to look at either.
What you didn't expect, however, was for him to have fallen for you, too.
"I hadn't even thought of loving anybody after Katrina died." His voice broke the barrier, eyes still peering down. Mitch drew a breath, his exhale shaky as he tried to gather himself, "I mean, I always seem to lose the people I love, and she was the last straw." The man cleared his throat as his hand ran back through his already teased hair, his stress evident, and he suddenly peered up at you, "Until a pain in my ass was elected my partner, and became so incredibly annoying that I began to find it endearing. Before I knew it, I was dreaming of life after all of this agent bullshit, married with kids, the whole white-picket-fence ordeal. And we were so damn happy."
A sweet smile shone his way through quivering lips and matching teary eyes. You held out your hand, desperate to have his hold ground you as Mitch's fingers slid between yours and he squeezed with complete adoration.
He licked his lips, "I'm sorry for yelling. I was just scared that I'd lose you, like I did the others. Because if anything happened to you, sweetheart, I swear - "
"You'd burn down the world?" You interjected a small chuckle from Mitch solidifying your correct choice of words.
"You have no idea just what I'd do for you." His other hand reached out to push back the small strands crowding your forehead, calloused fingertips never feeling so soft against your skin before. "I thought it'd be easier to shut you out, if I'm being honest... If I didn't love you, then it wouldn't hurt. But let's be fucking real, that's just impossible."
Pieces fell into place with perfect precision the moment your arms secured around his neck, your nose pushed into his shoulder, and his grip securing tightly around your waist. This moment was one filled with clarity and understanding, a mutual passion that cleared the air and prompted harmonising beats of hearts against two flushed chests.
"I bet it'd be even more impossible, since I love you, too." Your voice muffled against the worn cotton of his shirt, but Mitch heard you. His shoulders sunk in comfort, arms tightening even more, and the light of his life growing brighter with each and every passing second.
I hc that every time he transforms into wolfie (and back to a hylian) he feels the same pain he felt during that one cutscene in twilight princess when he first transforms, but he’s so used to it and also he’s built his pain tolerance a lot because of it, that he doesn’t mind it anymore
anyway, wolfie is banned
also I know four shrinks and splits in canon but like, he doesn’t look to be in pain during it… TIME THOUGH…TIME RELATES
He stared at her as if starving. Molten heat in the eyes and teeth biting down inside his cheek. "Make absolutely certain to come to me while resonated with my element. Geo suits you best, after all."
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AN: This has been sitting in my Google Docs for a while, so I figured I might as well post the first chapter to try to motivate myself to finish it. As always you can read this on Ao3
Rating: T for chapter one, chapter two will be rated higher
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Chapter One
"Thank you for agreeing to meet with me today."
Lumine looked up from her teacup, smiling pleasantly at her lunchtime companion for the day. "Oh, not at all. I'll always make time for you, Zhongli. You don't need to worry about that."
"You flatter me, but the feeling is of course mutual," the former Geo archon inclined his head. His eyes glittered with mirth, as if they were exchanging a secret only she was privy to. Their play at formalities was something they'd fallen into naturally, but instead of creating distance between them, Lumine only smiled wider.
She settled back into her seat, glancing at the interior of Heyu Tea House. She was mildly impressed he'd managed to book a table on such short notice. He'd been getting better at remembering to bring mora lately too. Zhongli seemed to have selected a more secluded and private area in comparison with the other tables. They sipped tea together behind a partition screen, nestled in a cosy corner.
"So, what stories should we exchange today? I have a few from Fontaine. Freed a couple of otters from traps- got sucked into a whirlpool- battled a giant crab- those kinds of things," she said flippantly, producing some bubbles from her Hydro resonance and popping them absentmindedly.
Zhongli's teacup paused halfway to his lips. She watched as he lowered it, a pensive look suddenly crossing his calm features.
"While those would be invigorating to hear, and I enjoy reminiscing with you, I fear that we should postpone such talk, lest I forget the true reason I invited you here. It is…of some importance. "
Strange, Zhongli was rarely so grave. He usually exuded an effortless calm, but something tightened his jaw today. Conflict flickered in his gaze. Lumine immediately sought to soothe it, reaching out and placing a palm over his on the table. She gave it a reassuring squeeze, brushing a digit against the ring on his thumb.
"That's alright. There's no problem we can't handle," she smiled. "What's the problem? Is it some godly remains infecting the land again?"
"No, it is nothing like that," his attention slid down to where her hand covered his. The weight of his gaze felt heavier than usual. "The issue is more personal in nature."
Now she grew very concerned. Zhongli had a personal problem? Was he sick?
She gave herself a mental slap. Of course he wasn't sick, he looked perfectly healthy to he-
Wait, was that sweat peppering his brow?
Zhongli's hand slid out from beneath hers. He gave a tight smile, wrapping long fingers around the rim of his cup instead. "Forgive me for my reluctance. It is not something easily discussed, and I will need some time to gather my thoughts."
She nodded, "I understand. Take all the time you need."
He gave a low, throaty chuckle that did curious things to her lower stomach. They settled into contemplative silence, Lumine continuing to sip her tea absentmindedly. They had a fantastic view of the harbour, so she busied herself with people watching.
Zhongli was completely still and fixated on his tea. He seemed deeply uncomfortable with the subject matter they were about to broach, and her mind admittedly went to all kinds of places.
Just what in the world could make Zhongli look like that? When one was as ancient and wise as he, surely they'd lose all sense of embarrassment. She was- oh how old was she again? She'd lost count, but either way, Lumine found very few things to be embarrassed by these days.
Since Paimon was busy stuffing her face at Wamin restaurant, Lumine was left to speculate on her own. If it wasn't embarrassment that made him hesitant to ask her then…
Was the task dangerous? More so than anything they’d faced before?
Lumine cleared her throat, catching his eye again. "Just so we're clear, Zhongli, I've taken on a lot of dangerous tasks. Whatever it is you'll need, I'll do I-"
"You have yet to hear what it is yet. Please do not offer your services without knowing, or I may bind you to a contact by accident," Zhongli smiled politely. He then gave a sigh, joining her in admiring the view beyond as a ship drew closer to the harbour he so adored. "I suppose there is no easy way to broach this subject so I will merely cut to the chase. However, I will stress that my hesitance comes from a desire to protect our friendship as it is. Your…continued presence in my life means much to me."
Lumine couldn't help but be touched. She gave an encouraging nod, watching as he took a short breath, turning to her.
"Every few hundred years or so, dragons experience a build-up of energy. Since they are so in tune with nature, this connection can have a knock on effect if the dragon does not sufficiently shed this energy."
"What kind of effects?"
"Seismic vibrations for Liyue that trigger devastating earthquakes. Volcanos, storms, vortexes and such for other nation's dragons," Zhongli hummed.
Disaster level consequences then. "I-I see…so just to clarify…the dragon needing to burn energy is-"
"Myself, yes," he said simply. "I'm no Sovereign, of course. In some circles, I'd be counted as a half mix of qilin and dragon, but regardless of scholarly debate, I am not exempt from this inconvenience. I require a bed mate for about two weeks to alleviate the build up of energy I have accumulated. Due to the sensitive nature of this request, I came to you."
Lumine felt her throat close up. "Bed…mate?" she stressed thinly. Two WEEKS?
"Indeed. Copulating is the only method that will work,” Zhongli said in a matter of fact tone. “I did not wish to be crass by asking you outright but there's no getting around it. This task is no easy one. It will be intensive. "
"Intensive?" she choked, mind racing to all the wrong places.
"Yes. Rigorous. Carnal. Mindless. Dragons do not mate half-heartedly I'm afraid."
Okay, so maybe her dirty mind had been right on the Mora. Lumine swallowed thickly. She studied the surface of her shallow teacup as if it were the most interesting sight in the whole world.
“Ah, see…now I have made things awkward,” Zhongli’s tone dipped, sounding chagrined. She quickly looked up- catching the concern. The regret.
“No- no,” waving her hands, Lumine bit her lip, wondering how to best answer. Tricky. Very tricky.
How exactly was one supposed to answer something like this without revealing their own eagerness? Giving a prim smile, Lumine hid her shaking hands beneath the table. Easy now. No sudden movements. She didn’t want to scare this opportunity away.
“From what you’ve described, it sounds like a serious matter.”
“Quite serious, yes.”
“Disaster could strike Liyue.”
“Indeed.”
“So, really- it would be selfish of me to refuse.”
Zhongli looked up at her sharply. “I would rather you did not feel cornered into this, if it can be helped. Feel free to ask as many questions as needed before you decide.”
She hummed. “Admittedly, I am curious about something; why me? Surely there are plenty of Gods or Adepti willing to uh…assist?”
“Such relationships are best maintained when kept in stasis- unchanging. There is also the matter of my seniority and influence over the Adepti. I would never impose myself onto them, and I know they’d feel compelled to oblige my needs out of misguided loyalty in this regard.”
Severe golden eyes refocused on her, shining with radiance as always, but something else lurked in them now. A shift. Torchlight flaring too bright in the shadows. “You, however- are different. You are, as ever, an observer. A neutral party and drifting ship in the night. A beloved entity to me and Liyue, to be sure, but I have faith our relationship could be maintained after the mating due to your nature.”
My nature…
Now she understood. He’d chosen her because she was a traveller. A wandering friend whom he wouldn’t have to worry about seeing all too often. It stung, and she should perhaps feel a little insulted, but at the same time his reasoning was sound. That and…Lumine wasn’t about to let a few pesky blows to her ego get in the way of this chance.
“What did you do in the past when this uh- need arose?”
“I had more companions back then,” Zhongli gave a wan smile. “Friends. Equals. No longer of this world.”
Lumine winced, muttering a soft apology for bringing up sad memories. His hand slid back across the table and covered hers in response.
“You are free to reject my offer, Lumine,” he uttered, and she could tell he meant it with the upmost sincerity. His usually controlled, polite aura cracked a little, giving way to something earnest and affectionate. “I would never resent you for it. We can go on as we always have. There are ways around such problems, you needn’t worry for Liyue. There are acquaintances in distant lands I have yet to call on. You were just…my first choice, due to the conclusion that we could likely enjoy ourselves better than any alternatives. Mutual affection often makes such experiences more enjoyable," he shifted in his seat and smiled. "Shall we talk about something else? I have plenty more stories to entertain you with. Why, once- did you know that Azhdaha got himself stuck in one of Madame Ping’s Serenitea pots? It was quite amusing. His tail poked out of the spout.”
She smiled and gave a little giggle, turning their hands over so that she clasped his in return. She could feel the heat of him through the coarse material of his gloves. “I didn’t know that, and you’ll have to tell me later. Maybe after you’ve shown me that intensive technique you have?”
Golden eyes cracked wide. “You mean to say you…”
“I accept," she said, shaking his hand once and sealing the contract, willingly, enthusiastically. "I’ll help, for two weeks if need be.”
Zhongli's grip unexpectedly tightened. Lumine stiffened, watching as gold blazed across his hand, lighting up the material of his clothes from beneath like a warm glow. It travelled all the way up his arm, until his eyes drifted open- when had they shut?- to gaze at her intently. Her breath caught.
He'd never looked at her like that before. In fact, no man had. Oh she'd dabbled in bed mates sure, but they'd never gazed with such…such…
Naked lust. Longing? Inhuman heat.
It wasn't something she knew how to comprehend- an emotion known only to Illuminated Beasts.
Zhongli broke contact, withdrawing his touch again. He cleared his throat, flexing his fingers and adjusting his tie. He soon shifted in his seat to drop his leg from where it had been crossed, pretending to watch the scenery. Lumine gave a covert glance at the table, wishing she could see beneath.
"Good," he uttered in a thick, low voice. "Very good. I will give you the location of my domain soon, and summon you in due course."
"Oh…you can't give the location right now?"
"I have several old haunts," Zhongli smiled coolly. He was calm once more, lacing his fingers on the table and looking as immovable as stone. Lumine felt a spark of warning thrum down her spine. This was not the same Zhongli sitting before her- the smiling, gossiping, calm friend. He'd returned to something of old. His bearing and manner was sharp and direct. "Instincts decide these things, not logic. You'll come to understand my meaning."
Lumine gave a perplexed nod, and when the conversation lapsed, she sensed his energy coil tightly in the air. He probably needed to be alone to decide what preparations needed to be made.
Standing, she offered a reassuring smile. "Well, I hope my answer reassured you some. Just…let me know, I suppose?"
Why was this suddenly so awkward? Darn him. Her legs wobbled like jelly. She could distinctly feel the slick that had gathered between her thighs.
He didn't need to worry about preparing her, in all honesty.
Zhongli's soft, rumbling timber stopped her just as she'd turned to leave.
"Oh and one thing, Lumine."
"Yes?"
He stared at her as if starving. Molten heat in the eyes and teeth biting down inside his cheek. "Make absolutely certain to come to me while resonated with my element. Geo suits you best, after all."
Heat enflamed her cheeks. Lumine mumbled a pathetically small agreement, stomach flip flopping. She strode out of the restaurant as quickly as possible without running, only to dive behind a wall to crash against because holy shit. Holy shit.
She was just…propositioned by Zhongli. Her cheeks couldn’t stop blushing. Her thighs twitched and pressed together while her heart thundered embarrassingly loud.
Through it all, his final words made quick, giddy circuits around her head.
ellievsbear
romaincrisis
baratheonpilled
prguitarman
snowghoul
tangentwithtanner
janainaart
areudirty
dededos
