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yuki-world · 5 months

Text

刃 | BLADE ; DRUNK

summary | you get drunk; words that shouldn't be said come spilling out. blade indulges, no matter how how annoying he finds youー or so he wants you to think.

tags | nsfw (smut), fem!reader, drinking/alcohol, fingering, clothed sex, vaginal penetration, creampie, 2.3k words

a/n : basically i have inappropriate things to say about blade

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"is it in your nature to be this annoying?"

"what? you're no fun," you pouted, retracting your hand holding the shot glass. "don't tell me... you can't handle hard liquor?"

blade grumbles, crossing his arms. "don't be ridiculous."

it was supposed to be a celebration for the end of you and blade's mission, but it seems like he wasn't too into these sort of things. you were quite the opposite of him. outgoing, extroverted. he's coldー exactly like ice. it's not the easiest trying to have a conversation with him, it's almost like he shuts you down in an instant with a one-liner every time you try. however, he has more or less opened up to you compared to the first time you joined the stellaron hunters.

blade finds it weird how he naturally gravitates towards you. everyone knows he likes to keep to himself, it's just how he is. but somehow, he was entertaining you and this silly celebration of yours which he has told you multiple times that it was unnecessary. you just make him feel so... welcomed, is the only way he could describe it. though you can be quite annoying at timesー or all the time, he doesn't find himself mad at you.

even now, when you're drunkenly babbling nonsense, he's still entertaining you. even you find it weird. that thought lasts no longer than a few seconds though, as you downed the shot that you had poured for blade prior.

you're handing him a shot glass again, and your face is so... red. you looked so vulnerable, a sight he's never seen before. were you drunk? it seemed so, with the way you were swaying, pushing that shot glass in his face. how annoying, he thinks. you couldn't even handle a few shots without being drunk? "just one? c'mon, blade."

fine, he will. only because he wants to drinkー not because he thinks you're too fucking cute with that pout on your face begging him to down one together with you. definitely not.

and so, he does. he takes the shot glass from your hand, and he feels the heat radiating off your skin; a pleasant kind of warmth. he downs it in one go, and your eyes light up immediately. "so you can take hard liquor," you chuckle, clapping your hands.

"i never said i couldn't," he sighs, setting the empty shot glass down.

you've been pouring him glass after glass, matching every shot he takes. at this point, you're already more or less at your limit from the way you're speaking with no filter. to be honest, he's not really interested in whatever stories you have to tell. he's more so worried from the way you're clumsily spilling the liquor everywhere.

"enough already. you're drunk," he says, but you don't think so, at least not yet. you can still think. "i'm not," you try, hands reaching towards the bottle yet again.

"don't bother trying to convince me," he says, taking the bottle away from you swiftly. "bladeー"

"don't 'blade' me," he stands up, glancing in your direction. "get up, we're going."

you shake your head. "please, just a little longer," you plead, pulling on his sleeve to prevent him from leaving. "i have something to tell you."

"save it for tomorrow. stand up," he says, unmoving. he sees you stumbling as you try to stabilize yourself, holding onto the table for support.

his attempt to support you proves futile, with you falling backwards onto the couch and dragging him down with you. he's on top of youー in such close proximity you feel his breath fan against your face. non-drunk you would've been blushing profusely and pushing him off, but partially-drunk you couldn't be bothered to be embarrassed about this position. before he has a chance to get off you, you blurt out the words, i want you.

"nonsense," is the first thing he tells you. noー you probably don't mean it. it's just you spilling out drunken nonsense again. what do you even mean by that anyway?

it's when you shake your head, repeating the same three words, even adding a 'really' before 'want', that for a split second, he thinks it might be genuine. it all happens too fast, he barely registers you grabbing onto his shirt, and before he can say anything, you're pulling him down for a kiss, slamming your lips onto his.

there’s no hesitation; he relaxes into the kiss immediately. you taste like pure alcohol from the drinking session just a while ago, but even so, there’s an underlying hint of sweetness on your lips. he finds it hard to pull away, you’re just so intoxicating. he wants more, more of youー more of everything from you. you can tell he does, just by the way he’s slipping his tongue into your mouth, deepening the kiss even further.

you feel so hot, so warm, almost as if someone turned off the air conditioner. you pop the first few buttons of your top open, revealing just a little bit more skin. subconsciously, your knee starts rubbing against his crotch, and he breaks away from the kiss immediately.

“and what do you think you’re doing?” he asks, making you freeze. “mm, nothing.”

“nothing?” he repeats, moving your knee away. “you’re drunk," he says for the umpteenth time tonight.

“then tell me to stop,” you boldly demand, moving your knee back to the same position, grinding against his crotch once more. you don’t miss the way he lets out a soft exhale, the bulge in his pants growing bigger each time you rub against it. “tell me you don’t want it.” your hands glide across his chest, finger hooking onto the neckline of his top. “tell me you don’t want to fuck meー tell me."

…he won’t. he won’t tell you to stop. to say he’s been waiting a long time for this was an understatement. he wants you, so, so bad. he’s not going to let an opportunity like this slip away, for it might not happen again. in fact, he might not even know if any of you would bring this up after; you might not remember. but for now, he’ll make this worth his timeー and especially worth yours.

large hands pry your knees apart, slotting himself in-between. “oh, i’ll fuck you alright,” he assures, pulling your shorts down, rubbing his thumb against your covered cunt. you’re absolutely soaked. he couldn’t wait to see your bare pussy in all its glory, and of course, his dick inside it. he grinds his clothed bulge against you, eliciting a gasp from you.

he doesn’t bother to take your panties off, it wasn’t necessary. after all, blade is an impatient man. he's not going to waste anymore time removing those pesky undergarmentsー he needs to feel you now.

he slides your panties to the side, slotting two fingers into your cunt. you take them so easily with how wet you are. it squelches embarrassingly each time he pumps his fingers in and out of you, but you're too focused on how his fingers are making you feel to be ashamed. "blade," you moan out, his fingers curling inside you.

too good. his fingers felt too good. his thumb rubs circles on your clit, your back arching into his touch. were you just super turned on, or was he just that skilled? not that it mattered, you felt like you were in heaven. you don't even want to imagine how skilled he would be with his cockー you're just drooling thinking about it.

"too loud," he complains, but he fucks a third finger into you anyway, as if you wouldn't moan louder. it's the middle of the night, door locked; no one's going to hear. he knows that very well, but he's not going to admit that he wants to hear more of your moansー it's more fun that way. your moans go straight to his cock, making it twitch and throb against his pants. he's so mean, you think. always says one thing but means the opposite.

his fingers pull out of your sopping wet cunt, translucent strings following as he pops his digits into his own mouth. he lets you watch him; his tongue slurping your juices off his fingers, making sure he gets to savor every taste of you. fuck, you taste so good, it has his head spinning. how? he could taste you for the rest of his life.

he would go straight for the source of your delicious taste, but he doesn't have the patience for that right nowー he's sure you feel the same. his fingers are eagerly undoing his pants, pulling them down slightly to pull his cock out.

"what? stop staring," he grumbles, but how could you not? the length and girth of his cock had your jaw dropping. it honestly intimidated you a bit; it'd be a challenge to fit it inside you. "i'm not staring! just..."

he spits in his hand, rubbing the liquid all over his cock. he catches the way your eyes flicker between his face and his cock in worry, and he can't help but give you some reassurance.

"i'll make it fit. you just lay here andー" he starts, rubbing his cockhead around your hole. he slowly pushes in, your hole opening up and swallowing him in immediately. "ーtake it. fuck."

"ahー blade, nnh," you whine in satisfaction as pushes more of himself inside you, your legs spreading open on its own to take more of him. he leans down, letting you wrap your arms around his neck. he pushes your legs further back, finally bottoming out inside you after what felt like ages. he lets you take a short breather, before he starts thrusting.

blade isn't the type to go slow and let you adjustー he fucks you as fast and hard as he can from the beginning. it's not like he doesn't have the stamina to back him up. he wants to hear you scream in pleasure, to fuck you dumb until you can't say anything but his name.

but he can't exactly do that when you're squeezing around his cock like that. it was clear from the start how tight of a fit it would be, but he didn't know it would feel this tight. he doesn't know if you're doing it intentionally, but you clamp around him every single time he thrusts, and it's driving him crazy.

"shitー stop clenching," blade says, licking a stripe up your neck. "or i'll really fuck you 'till you can't walk tomorrow."

"is that supposed to be a threat?" you chuckle, and he grunts. you wrap your legs around him, pushing him deeper into you. he shudders.

you make him so hard, he wants to blow his load in you, on you, everywhere. you're not hisー yetー but he wants everyone to know that you are. "annoying... even when i'm fucking you."

he pulls his cock out until only the tip is left, before slamming his entire length back into you. you cry his name out again and again, the room filled with nothing but moans and groans, skin-against-skin slapping. he's pounding the air straight out of your lungs, you find it hard to breathe. you find yourself kissing him again, this time, sloppily, as he continues thrusting into you.

blade flips you around so that you're on top of him. his fingers grip your waist tight, guiding you up and down his cock as you ride him. you grind against the base of his cock occasionally, letting his cock rub against your cervix. where did you learn this from? who taught you how to please a man this well? fuck, don't get jealous now.

"so close, blade, i can't," you're whining, hands on his chest for support. you're panting, and your legs feel like jelly every time you try to lift yourself up. you're so fucked out you can barely catch your breath, but you need to cum so bad. "i knowー shit, stop moving."

and you do. you sit prettily on his cock, letting him fuck his cock up into your sopping wet pussy. you take it, take it so well for him he can't help but pull you down into his arms. you're so good to him.

you're definitely drunkー drunk on his cock. you're drooling on his shirt from the way his arms are tight around you, his dick drilling deep into your insides. blade pants in your ear, one hand reaching down to slap your ass.

"make me cum, please, pleaseee," you whine into his chest, coming out muffled. but he hears you loud and clear, and he flips you around yet again. "yeah? you wanna cum?"

his fingers furiously rub against your clit, and you arch your back in response. maybe the alcohol in your system was intensifying every sensation, but for a moment all you see is a flash of white, and the knot near your stomach snaps. "blade!"

you cry out his name as you cum, your nails clawing into his biceps, body twisting around. your orgasm makes your pussy squeeze around his cock to the point that his cock starts pulsing inside you. he couldn't stop himself from cumming, you felt too good.

"oh fuck, cummingー" he's stuttering as he nestles his cock deep inside you, releasing his warm cum all inside you. you tighten around him again at the feeling, milking him for all that his worth. he pulls his spent cock out of your hole instantly, rubbing the dribbles of cum on his cockhead against your folds. you pout at the loss of his cock filling your insides. you're so tired, your eyes are closing.

it takes only a few seconds before thick white globs drip down your ass, ultimately staining the surface the both of you were on. "why did you pull out?" you asked lazily, relaxing your body.

"what, you're not satisfied?" he questions, playing with the mess at your entrance. "i'll stuff you full againー if that's what's you want."

...

"...y/n."

too bad you don't hear him; you're already fast asleep, tiredness overtaking your body. you looked somewhat peaceful.

"annoying," blade mumbles to himself.

but he thinks you’re cute.

ー @yuki-world

#雪| 刃 blade #blade x reader #blade x you #blade smut #hsr #honkai star rail #honkai star rail smut #honkai smut #honkai stair rail x reader #honkai x reader #blade x reader smut #hsr smut #hsr blade smut #honkai star rail blade smut

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dulcesiabits · 10 months

Text

a sparrow in the storm.

summary: though many plucky suitors have tried unsuccessfully to vie for your hand, Jing Yuan has to be the most persistent of them all.

notes: 6.7k words, fic, fluff, lovers to exes to lovers, author's notes

You’ve had many arrogant suitors over the years, but this newest one might be the most arrogant yet.

A row of sumptuous gifts line the entrance to your room, and when you properly step inside, you’re greeted by a spray of flowers: orchids, pink roses, and white lilies, the perfume of which makes you dizzy. You snort as you make your way to your desk, waving your hand to the various servants who are abuzz in your room.

“Get rid of all of them,” you instruct.

“All of them? Are you sure?” one of them questions.

“Yes. I don’t want to see a single petal left in here. Make sure you return all of the gifts, too,” you snap, and they all bow as they rush to carry out your orders.

You sit in your plush desk chair, and it’s only now that you see the red-ribboned, cream-colored letter sitting on your desk. You don’t open it before tossing it aside.

Many people have tried to win your hand over the years, as the sole heir to the alchemy commission. One of your mothers has a noble, storied family line, dating back to the very beginning of the country’s founding, and your other mom is praised as a genius in the alchemical field. It’s no wonder those who want a taste of wealth and power flock to you like flies. You’ve managed to successfully ward all of them off so far, either with flat rejections, threats, or, in the rare case, by matchmaking them with a different prospect.

But your newest suitor, a general? A newly minted nobleman, granted a title for his contribution and victories in the recent war? It’s only been a few days since he’s arrived back in the capital, but he’s been sending you an endless stream of presents since his first day in the city, no matter how many times you return them or burn them in the yard for his slack-jawed couriers to watch. It isn’t just physical presents, like rare silks and flowers, either. It’s reserving your favorite restaurants for you to dine in, all expenses paid, and hiring the most famous musicians to woo you with sweet love songs outside your window.

It’s disgusting, frankly, and every rejection just seems to spur him to try a different approach.

You're no stranger to dalliances, courting your fair share of lovers over the years, starting with a snowy-haired soldier you met in your youth to traveling musicians and merchants. But you were clear to all of them: this would be a passing fling and nothing more, for you had no desire to bind yourself to someone as of yet.

Marriage, after all, is a political game, and you would only enter it once you had a hand that would ensure your success. You would have to marry eventually, but you plan to do so only on your own terms. You want someone who can bring glory and wealth to your house, who wouldn’t try to usurp your position or play games over power, who would be a prudent match, and who’s intelligent enough to keep up with you. Love is not a necessity, but a potential bonus, as you do not often have the habit of mixing business and pleasure.

When you dine with your mothers in the evening, you tell them as such. They are long used to your schemes and strategies, and only smile at you over glasses of wine and plates of tenderly steamed white fish.

“This general courting you should meet your expectations then, no?” your mother poses. “He’s recently been awarded a noble title, and he was clever enough to claim victory against our enemies with minimal loss.”

“And–” Your mom winks at you, nudging your mother. “--He’s handsome. I hear all the eligible girls and boys send him proposals, but he turns them all down. It seems he’s set on someone. I wonder who?”

“Hah.” You spear a piece of marinated cucumber with your chopsticks. “Well, I’ve refused his advances, and I will continue to refuse them.”

“A pity!” your mom groans. “Just when it seems like someone meets your exacting standards. What is it about him, then, my dear child, that you dislike so?”

“I dislike his attitude,” you say bluntly. “And, more to the point, I detest being pressured like this. He doesn’t even have the sincerity to meet me in person, and gives me favors I never asked for. If he is hoping for a love match, then he shall be sorely disappointed.”

“How cold,” your mother says. “But I understand your reasoning. But would it not be prudent to give him a chance? We have never pressured you to get married, as you know, but…”

“But?” You arch an eyebrow.

“What your mother means to say,” your mom interjects, “Is that we want you to be happy! And this could be a good opportunity for you. Your pool of suitors is dwindling, and if you wait too long, you may not have a partner at all.”

“Which is to really say,” your mother says, putting her utensils across her clean bowl, “I will force your hand if you do not make a choice soon, or at least make an effort to. This general meets all of your standards, and an union would be beneficial to all of us. So try to hear him out… or I will make you.”

“Mother, what you’re giving me is the illusion of choice. Will you force me into a marriage against my will? What if I do something drastic? What if he is a foul villain, and you doom me to unhappiness, in your haste to settle a match?”

“Well, that would be most unfortunate for you. But I am your mother, and mothers are allowed to be unfair, no matter how old you are,” your mother says, and your mom tries to hide a laugh as she leans into your mother’s side.

“What’s the name of the general, again?” you say sourly.

“Jing Yuan,” your mother says. “Now, why don’t you try to meet his courier tomorrow? You could stand to learn a little more about him before you cast such hasty judgment.”

—

The next morning, you rose early, pacing around the gardens until the general’s daily present was delivered. If nothing else, he is punctual, sending presents around noon, in between the breakfast and lunch hours. But what would it take to get him off your back? Insult him at the next commission meeting? Hire someone to place a curse upon him and his household? Or march over to his residence and start a commotion, burning something down in the process?

But, no. Your mother has all but threatened you to play nice, and, as loath as you are to admit it, she does make a certain sense about gathering information on him. It is prudent to have knowledge of your enemy if you wish success in battle.

At noon, one of your servants comes to find you. To your surprise, a young boy trails after her, wide-eyed and open-mouthed as his head whips around, taking in the sights of your garden, fresh and fully bloomed at this time of year. There’s a sword strapped to his back, and when he sees you, he waves.

Is this part of the general’s plans? Does he really think a cute child would be enough to make you throw yourself at his feet?

Still, you guide the boy to one of the garden’s open-air pavilions, shaded by rose bushes and intricate wooden carvings, pillows cushioning the hardness of the benches. You wave for refreshments to be brought over, chrysanthemum tea and sugar cubes and egg tarts and red bean buns, certain to tempt the appetite of a child. And you are right, for the boy immediately picks up a bun, munching without a care in the world.

“So, what brings you to the chief of the alchemy commission’s residence?” you say mildly.

“I’m Yanqing, and I’m here on behalf of the general. He’s worried because it doesn’t look like you’re happy with any of your presents, and he wants to know why.”

“Ah, I see.” You smile at the boy, whose cheeks are stuffed with pastries. “It’s quite simple. I do not like them.”

“Then what do you like? … is what he said to ask if you said you didn’t like any of your gifts.”

“Anything that doesn’t come from him,” you say bluntly.

“Oh.” Yanqing tilts his head in confusion before his eyes light up, springing up in his seat as he leans forward. “Well, the general is pretty cool, you know! He’s the youngest person in years to be awarded a title! And he’s the reason we won all those battles in the war so quickly! His strategies are genius, and it’s like he knows what the enemy is thinking every time he makes a move… He even trained me! I’m the best with the sword, you know, but the general is stronger than me! So he’s pretty impressive!”

You want to smile at the way Yanqing presents the general, clearly expecting you to be impressed with the general’s credentials. “And what is your relationship with the general? Are you his child?”

“What? No, no, no! Our relationship isn’t like that. I’m just his disciple!” Yanqing flails, waving his hands wildly. “He wouldn’t let relationships distract him on the battlefield! He never even left his tent when the other soldiers went out to town!”

“So he wouldn’t love me if we were in a relationship together?” you ask dryly. “I would just be a distraction?”

“No! He would definitely treat you well! He treats everyone well! That’s why everyone loves him! All the soldiers, and townspeople, and everything!”

“Ah…” Yanqing perks up at your tone. “So he’s a philanderer.” The boy deflates.

“He wouldn’t! He wouldn’t do that! The general would be loyal to you!” Yanqing insists, slamming his fist down on the table for emphasis.

“He sounds like a scoundrel,” you note.

“I promise he’s not!”

“I don’t know, Yanqing. It sounds like he would leave me alone to fight in battles all day, all the while flirting with all his soldiers, and then come home once in a while to assuage his guilt.”

Have you teased the boy too much? He slumps morosely in his seat, poking idly at his egg tart.

“Why don’t you go home for today?” you say gently. You’ve had your fun, and it wouldn’t do to prod at the boy anymore.

“Before I do, is it okay if I give you one more present from the general?” he asks.

“Go ahead,” you say patiently, as Yanqing fumbles in his pocket and takes out a small wooden box. It’s unadorned, and you flip it open cautiously. Inside lies a single knotted tassel with small jade beads. The threads are in your favorite colors, instead of the traditional red.

“He made it himself,” Yanqing explains as you take the tassel in your hand.

The general is skilled, if nothing else. The knot looks like a small, symmetrical flower in your hand, and you finger the clear jade beads.

“I’ll accept it,” you say slowly.

“Really?” Yanqing perks up. “That’s great. He’ll be honored to hear that.”

“Does he have a matching one?” you inquire dryly.

“I think he said he was hoping you would make one for him one day.”

“He might as well wait forever.”

Yanqing pouts, but still remembers to thank you for the food and the courtesy of hosting him before he dashes off.

You end up placing the tassel in one of your desk drawers, hoping Jing Yuan doesn’t read your acceptance of his gift as some sort of positive sign. To you, it’s nothing more than an odd memento from a curious man, and there’s something amusing about the image of a bloodthirsty general painstakingly threading jade beads onto an elaborate tassel.

But your courtship is going to stop at this, if you had any say in the matter.

—

The best defense is a good offense, and the only way to win a battle is to gather knowledge on your enemy. With that reasoning, you send a letter to Yanqing (who doesn’t bother penning a reply before running to your house to inform you he’d be delighted to show you around) and prepare yourself to visit Jing Yuan’s residence.

You go by foot, keeping your clothing plain and simple to dissuade unwanted attention. His residence– gifted to him for his achievements in war– is situated in the northern part of the city, a quiet residential district, away from the hustle and bustle of the city center. You’re not sure what you expect when you arrive: something ostentatious, or enemy heads hung on his gate to ward off visitors, perhaps.

Instead, you’re greeted with a modest wooden building, surrounded by a stone gate, and Yanqing bouncing in front of the entrance.

“Welcome to General Jing Yuan’s home,” Yanqing says formally, though he’s rocking on his heels. “I’m glad you decided to come by today! Are you–”

“No, I’m not going to accept his proposal,” you interject.

“Oh. Well! I’m more than happy to show you around, still! The general was also really happy that you took an interest in him and your future– his home!”

“If an enemy took interest in him, would he also be happy?” you ask.

“Yes, because he’d undoubtedly draw the enemy’s attention on purpose as part of his plan,” Yanqing replies seriously.

“Lovely. What’s on the agenda, Yanqing?”

Yanqing leads you through the gates and into the courtyard, showing you the pond, rows of flowered bushes, the stone pathways, and then the open-air hallways which ring the courtyard. As Yanqing guides you through the building, you note that there are hardly any servants around. Each room is all polished wood and fresh sunlight, with minimum furnishings, save for a flower arrangement or a tasteful painting.

The last stop on the tour is a bright, airy room clearly intended for guests, with a steaming teapot already prepared on the table. Yanqing courteously pulls out a seat for you to sit in, pouring you a cup of tea without any further prompting.

“Let me give you some refreshments,” he says. “It’s not right to have a guest over without giving them something to eat.”

“No, you don’t need to bother. I–”

“Don’t even worry about it,” Yanqing says, and dashes out of the room before you can deter him further.

You sip your cup, a pleasant jasmine brew, leaning back as you contemplate the ink brush mountains scroll across from you. Did the general come home often? His home is far too neat and quiet to imply consistent use. You haven’t run into him, either, so it is possible Jing Yuan is out… though whether this is a blessing remains to be seen. Perhaps you could pry more information out of Yanqing in the meantime.

Footsteps spring down the hall, and without looking at the doorway, you remark, “You know, Yanqing, I’m starting to suspect this general of yours is scared to meet with me–”

“Am I? I didn’t realize.” You whip your head towards the sound of the deep voice. Where you expect Yanqing to stand is a man with snow-white hair and relaxed, golden eyes, an amused quirk to his mouth.

You exhale sharply, your thoughts, once so orderly, tangle together like a ball of yarn. It couldn’t be. Of course you’re expecting to run into the general at some point, have half-hoped for it, but what you haven’t expected is that the general is also your first lover, someone you’d courted many years ago in your youth.

“Jing?” you say, blood roaring in your head.

“Surprised?” he says, lounging in a chair. “I told you I’d be back, didn’t I?”

At that moment, Yanqing bursts into the room, a plate of snacks balanced in his arms. “I’m back!” Heis gaze darts around the room, from your tense expression to Jing Yuan’s casual smile. “General! When did you get here?”

“Just now. Actually, Yanqing,” Jing Yuan says, “Why don’t you go out into the courtyard and practice your form? My guest and I have much to discuss.”

“... Okay, general.” Yanqing places the tray on the table, and hesitates; his eyebrows furrow quizzically as he glances from you to the general, but he only bows before darting out of the room, despite his obvious curiosity.

“I’m sure there’s much you’re curious about,” Jing Yuan says pleasantly.

“I do. So perhaps you could humor me and explain what you’re trying to accomplish,” you say coolly.

You swear there’s a glint of amusement in his eyes even as he lowers his head deferentially. “As you wish, my liege.”

—

Your relationship with Jing Yuan started when you were young and, like all youth your age, felt the stirrings of rebellion– against who, or what, didn’t matter quite as much. Reckless, chafing against the loving restraints of your mothers, and eager to make something of yourself, you decided the best way to do so was to throw yourself into a relationship, hopefully one they didn’t approve of.

That’s when Jing Yuan caught your attention, though you only knew him as Jing back then. A soldier in training, with a shy smile and a quiet countenance, his hair short enough to stand in unruly, snowy tufts at the back of his head, you hadn’t thought much of him when he was first introduced to you. He was sent to guard your mom’s alchemical business, and would bow to you wordlessly whenever you visited.

You were more practiced in matters of business, alchemy and politics, but even with your limited knowledge you could tell he was talented with a sword. When a thief tore through your mom’s shop, hunting for rare herbs to sell on the black market, he had unsheathed his lance with lightning-quick precision, and in a few swift, well-aimed strikes, the thief was on his back, Jing’s lance poised at his throat.

You watched from the back of the shop, lurking around the storeroom, as Jing handed the herbs back to your mom, who thanked him profusely.

He noticed your gaze, and smiled at you. “Are you okay, my liege? You weren’t hurt, were you?”

You tossed your head. “I’m fine. You handled him before anything could happen.”

Still, your interest in him was piqued after that day. So on a restless, cloudy afternoon, with the smell of a storm sharp in the air, you sought him out at your mother’s store, as dutifully guarding the entrance as ever.

“Do you have time for lunch?” you asked him. “I would be honored if you could join me for a bite to eat.”

Like an inquisitive cat, Jing tilted his head. “It wouldn’t be right for me to abandon my post in the middle of my shift.”

“You’d hardly be a good guard if you keeled over from hunger,” you pointed out, “And you don’t have to go too far, besides. We can just stay right here.”

“I could hardly refuse a request from you, my liege,” Jing said.

With his permission secured, you brought out the meal you had packed back home. It was simple, nothing more than a few meat buns and some tea, and the two of you sat and ate on one of the stone benches outside of your mom’s workshop. If you were to court someone, you had to dine them first, didn’t you?

“Why did you become a soldier, Jing?”

“Because it was the only path open to me,” he said easily. “My skills wouldn’t find much purchase elsewhere.”

“And what sort of skills are those?”

“The art of combat. I also dabble in chess, occasionally, though I couldn’t have made a living off of it.”

“Chess? Why don’t you play me in a round sometime? I’d love to see your skill,” you said keenly.

“If you find my skills desirable, then I would be honored to,” Jing said.

“Speaking of desirable… is there anyone you’re interested in?” you posed, watching his reaction from the corner of your eye.

Jing chewed his bun instead of responding, though the tips of his ears reddened. “No… Not in particular.”

“There’s someone I’m interested in,” you continued, taking note of the way he inhaled so sharply he started coughing. “I’m hoping I can grow closer to him.”

“Ah– Is… is that so…?”

“Yes. I think I’d be able to do so with your help,” you said, emboldened by his reaction. You smiled prettily at him, in a way you’d learned to do to charm the nobles at any social gatherings you intended. “So… Do you think we could see each other again?”

Jing’s eyes darted away, and he seemed for all the world like a small sparrow, pecking at the crumbs of affection you offered. “If… If you would be pleased by my presence, I would… be flattered to see you again.”

Like your first encounter, your relationship with Jing proceeded in much the same way. You meticulously planned every outing, reserving restaurants and reading up on festivals in advance, eavesdropping on gossiping maids to learn of the most popular spots for couples in the city. Jing was content to go along at your pace, never brooking a word of complaint even as you, looking back, realized how any other person might have been annoyed at your single-mindedness and desire to always get your way.

He was agreeable, and unerringly polite, and clumsily sweet in all the right ways. He offered his arm for you to hold as you strolled about, and tolerated all your badgering for chess games, even when you grew so competitive you could play for hours without stopping. Sometimes he brought you flowers, single stems of white lilies or sprigs of plum blossoms you would set proudly on your desk until the perfume faded and the petals wilted.

You liked him. You liked him, because he was endearing, and went along with all your antics, even the ones that could have gotten him in trouble if the two of you had been caught. Once you had asked him to meet you in the middle of night, when the fireflies were thick in the air like stars on earth.

“My liege, are you sure about this?” he whispered as you waved to him from your window.

“Of course! Do not back out on me now, Jing!” With your hands for purchase, you set yourself on the window ledge, experimentally lowering one leg over the other side.

“Please, let me help you,” Jing said quietly, and offered you one of his hands. You took it, swaying unsteadily, and Jing quickly reached for your hip to help you balance. His hands, you remembered, were calloused, with clever, slender fingers, his touch like sunlight. He flushed at the contact, though didn’t let go of you before he could guide you over the window and set you onto the grass below. Until you reached a small hill a good dozen minutes away from your home, he shadowed your steps, always just a pace behind, and always on guard for threats you couldn’t make out in the dark. With his warm gaze which never drifted from you, and the sea of fireflies, you couldn’t help but feel like no threats could touch you.

“Let’s catch some fireflies,” you suggested, once the two of you reached your destination. “Don’t you think that’s a romantic activity?”

At your words, Jing swiftly cupped his hands around a soft glow, and you crept closer. He slowly unfurled his fingers to reveal his captive, a firefly that pulsed with light like a heartbeat. “Is this to your satisfaction?” he asked.

The firefly spread its wings and flew off his palm. The two of you watched its path, an afterglow of light trailing through the sky. “It’s beautiful.”

“It is,” Jing said, but he wasn’t looking at the firefly anymore.

You cleared your throat. “So, Jing. In such a romantic, late-night setting like this… when two young people meet in a clandestine manner… What do you suppose would happen?”

“Any manner of things, I suppose.”

“True, but there’s one in particular that’s on my mind.”

“My liege…?”

“Jing, I want to kiss you,” you said plainly. His face shone in the light.

“Y… You do?”

“I’ve been courting you for the past few weeks. Why wouldn’t I?” you said impatiently. “But before we go any further, I want you to understand that this is only for fun. Don’t worry; I don’t expect marriage talks to come out of this.”

“Marriage?” Jing repeated, tasting the word on his tongue.

“Yes, marriage. But we’re young. We’re allowed to have our fun, aren’t we? I have a business to inherit, and you have dreams of your own, surely. We need not get in each other’s way. But, for now…” You placed a hand flat against his chest. “Do you want to kiss me?”

Jing’s eyelashes fluttered as he looked down at your hand; slowly, he brought his own to press against yours, keeping your touch captive against his chest.

“Yes,” he said quietly.

And on a midsummer’s night, with only fireflies as your witnesses, you shared your first kiss with Jing. He tasted like sweat and mint, and his lips were chapped, but you wouldn’t have traded that moment for anything else.

For the rest of your courtship, the two of you would act like the lovers you saw wandering the streets of the city. You spent all of your freetime with Jing: bought skewers at a vendor so you could feed him by hand and watch his face redden, convinced him to take you on a boat ride and glide through the canals, feed the wild sparrows nesting in the eaves of your house.

It was only once your studies in business management and alchemical laws increased, and Jing had to be called away for longer and longer stretches of time to train, that you decided your relationship was too much of a strain on your schedule to continue. Better to end the relationship here, when the two of you were still on good terms, than to watch it shrivel beyond repair.

You explained as much to him on the day you broke up with him. “We said we would keep it casual, didn’t we? I don’t want it to become too much of a burden in our lives. Besides that, I do not plan to take any of my relationships seriously unless it’s with the expectation of marriage, and I don’t plan to do that unless my lover meets all of my expectations.”

“What are those expectations?” Jing asked.

You tap your chin thoughtfully. “Well… they must have a title if not a lineage, and have enough fortune to be a boon to my house. They must be intelligent, thoughtful, cunning and ambitious, but not to the point they attempt to limit me or usurp my position as heir to the alchemy commission. And they must be able to keep up with me and assist me in my goals for my future business.”

You thought Jing would make a joke about your lofty expectations, but he only said simply, “And you would marry someone who met all those?”

“Well, yes. Though my mothers keep telling me to lower my expectations.”

What is he thinking? For once, Jing’s eyes are hooded, the perpetual sleepiness replaced by something you can’t place a finger on; the closest word you have for it is hunger.

“Then, my liege…” Jing takes one of your hands, as reverentially as he would touch the emperor himself, and places a chaste kiss along your knuckles, his lips grazing against your fingers. “I’ll come back for you one day, but let us say goodbye for now.”

You didn’t think much of his words at the time; it was simply a parting from a soldier who had always done everything much too seriously. You did, however, entertain a brief fantasy that Jing would come back and elope with you, but that passed like the rain during the summer: sudden, intense, and gone more quickly than it arrived. You were busy, and though you flirted once or twice at social functions over the years, took on all manners of temporary lovers, your main focus was always on your duties towards your house.

You lost track of Jing over the years, and you chalked it up to a natural consequence of time and distance. Jing became a memory you could look back fondly on, a foolish first relationship that you chased after with a youthful arrogance… until he showed up in front of you again.

—

“You really had no idea that I was the one courting you?” Jing Yuan’s voice is amused, sleepy, but each word possesses a certain gravity. He’s a careful speaker, you think. Someone who weighs the measure of everything he says. He sits across from you at the table, fingers steepled as you talk.

“I didn’t read any of your letters,” you say coolly. “Nor was I expecting an old fling to start pursuing me again, when none have in the past. We ended on clear terms.”

“Does it change things, now that you know who I am?”

“Not at all. In fact, it’s even more disappointing to realize it’s you courting me. I would have thought burning your presents was answer enough to your proposal.”

“I simply thought you were dissatisfied with what I bought you,” he says easily. “Material objects are easily replaceable.”

“And did I not spurn your disciple as well?”

“Yanqing is a child, though he dislikes being called such. He’s talented with a sword, but his conversational skills are lacking.”

“And,” you say pointedly, “You are an annoying, insufferable man.”

“Ah,” Jing Yuan says. “Also easily remediable. Shall I prepare an entirely separate estate for you to live in, and stay silent forever after in your presence, so you need not fear seeing or hearing me?”

“Have you no sense?” you snap. “Do you really see nothing wrong with my behavior? Do you not understand what rejection is? Must I send a tutor to your household?”

“Ah, but that’s because you’re doing everything on purpose, not out of ignorance,” he says smoothly. “I know you well enough; you only have eyes for your dreams and goals, and little attention to spare to anyone else. So playing these little games with you… this is the only way you will turn your gaze to me, is it not? My dear liege–” Jing leans closer to you, and you wonder why you never realized the boy you thought was a little bird is actually a lion– “whether you accept my proposal or not, whether you find me a detestable nuisance or a respectable ally, I am satisfied as long as you think of me, with fondness or with loathing. As long as I occupy your mind as much as you occupy mine, then I will be happy.”

“You are an insidious man, and I shudder to think of the state of the city if someone like you somehow managed to crawl up the ranks,” you say flatly.

“Then shall I give up all my wealth and all my titles for you? You only need to say the word.”

“Are you mad?”

“Only if love is a form of madness, my liege.”

“I should never have gotten involved with you.”

“You cannot change the past,” Jing Yuan says, and you want to flick him in the forehead.

“Which is a shame.” You gulp down the rest of your cooled tea, slamming the cup on the table. “At the very least, stop sending me things I don’t want. No flowers, no presents, no love songs. It’s distracting.”

“Of course.”

“Then…”

“Will you stop by again some time?” he says pleasantly. “I’ll be sure to inform the guards to let you in if you ever stop by, no matter the time or circumstance.”

“Confident, are you?”

“Have you given me any reason not to be?”

“... Hah. Never mind. I need time away from you to clear my head.”

Jing Yuan simply lets you go with a smile, and as you step outside his estate, you had a feeling it would not be your last time visiting.

—

After your visit to Jing Yuan, true to his word, he does not send you any presents, nor couriers or musicians to pester you. You would be relieved with the sudden peace if you didn’t suspect he had something else planned. The next few days pass with little fanfare, until an afternoon in which your mom requires your assistance managing her inventory.

“My darling child, did you hear?” your mom says conspiratorially, lowering her face next to yours as the two of you sort through dried herbs.

“Hear what, mom?” you ask. Your mom loves to gossip and chatter, and hears news from all corners of the city thanks to the customers filing through her alchemy shop. Though it is usually your mother who indulges her, you don’t mind listening occasionally as well. It’s always prudent to know what is going inside of the city, after all.

“The general… the one who’s been courting you… has been seen with a few lovers!”

“And why is this my business?” you say, expertly bundling a few dried stalks together. “Should I congratulate him on fooling multiple people to find him a viable partner?”

“Why… they say there’s talk of him marrying one of them soon.”

You crush the herbs in your hand, dried green flakes escaping through your closed fingers. “Is that so?”

Your mom watches you in amusement. “I thought you didn’t care for him.”

“I do not. I find myself loathing him even more now, in fact, as he seems to be a man who can’t keep his word.”

For the rest of your time with your mom, you fume and plan ways to curse Jing Yuan as you stack containers of herbs in the cool, dark storeroom. Ah, you see how it is. For all of his grand declarations, as soon as he gets tired of you, he has no problem finding someone else, does he not? But– and a sudden jolt of embarrassment shoots down your spine– that is all idle gossip. It is the height of foolishness to believe something without verifying it for yourself. Perhaps that man has made you lose your mind through sheer annoyance; certainly, your intelligence seems to have lowered after prolonged contact with him.

You should be rejoicing. It shouldn’t bother you to hear that he might have found someone else. It shouldn’t, but…

You take a breath. No, if you let yourself go down this path, then you would fall into a spiral of doubt. Perhaps you should seek the source of your frustration to quell your nerves. But, before that, you would need to prepare a few things.

—

You march into Jing Yuan’s residence like a soldier heading to battle, heedless of anything around you. No servants stop you, wide-eyed as they are, and even the occasional guard only bows at your presence (Yanqing once told you that Jing Yuan had hired more people after you complained about the lack of personnel). You stalk through the house, searching for the general; he can’t hide behind a forest of varnished wood and lacquered bowls forever.

It’s in his office that you find him, relaxed and poised at his desk as he pours over some documents, head in his hand like he’s liable to fall asleep at any moment.

“General,” you say, all acidic politeness as you stride up to his desk, slamming your hands down so hard the corners of the page flutter.

“My liege. If I knew you were coming, I would have prepared some snacks,” he says mildly, but you don’t miss how all his boneless relaxation melts away, replaced by an alert interest, though he doesn’t move a single inch.

“Don’t bother.”

“Are you okay, my liege? Though your harsh words and fiery wit are normally music to my ears, it seems as if something is bothering you.” Jing Yuan eases forward in his chair, face right in front of yours so you can count all of his eyelashes.

“You…” You bite your lip. What were you doing? You aren’t even engaged to him. You have no right to be jealous of who he chooses to spend his time with; it is not uncommon for eligible bachelors to test the waters with multiple partners, as you know from firsthand experience. But you couldn’t back down now. “You… are you planning on finally settling down?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I just wanted to know if I could count on you being out of my sight forever if you’ve found someone else.”

Jing Yuan cocks his head. “Ah, I see. You’re worried I no longer care for you. I find your lack of forthrightness charming as well.”

“You’re not answering the question.”

“What would you do if I said I had?” he remarks.

“I’d send you a thousand presents as thanks in return for all the ones you flooded my room with,” you reply tartly.

“Well, I can’t have that, can I? Where would I put them all? To answer your question, my liege, you are the only one whom I will ever devote myself to. You are all I think about. All I do is for you. The idea someone could take your place would be as foolish as a candle becoming the sun,” he says simply.

You twist your hands. It is a grandiose declaration; from anyone else, you might have laughed. But Jing Yuan spoke each word with a measured sincerity. You think if you were to ask him to burn down the city and crown you as the ruler, he would do so with a smile.

“There are rumors around the city about you and your lovers,” you venture.

“There are rumors about you, too, speculating that you have a hidden lover you jealously hide from the public view. People love to talk; I could not walk around with even a friend without gossip sparking.”

You let loose a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. So it is nothing more than idle tongues wagging… and the gossipers of the city would rejoice at the news they could share after today.

Jing Yuan doesn’t seem all that surprised when you take a pouch out of your pocket and slide it across the desk. He unveils a tassel with intricate knots vaguely in the shape of a lion head, made with strands of soft yellow and white, interspersed with small amber beads. Jing Yuan says nothing as he examines it, holding it as if it were an offering to the gods.

“Yanqing said it, didn’t he? That you hoped I would make you a matching tassel?” you say. “You can take this as an answer to your proposal. This should quell any rumors of potential lovers for either of us.”

“My liege, I may just kiss you,” he murmurs.

“Then hurry up and do so.”

And Jing Yuan reaches for you across the desk, papers flying as you ungracefully prop yourself on top of all his important paperwork, ink smearing, pens clacking to the floor. His hands are on your face, cradling you like a promise, while he kisses you with an increasing hunger that leaves you breathless. You run your fingers through his hair, tugging the silky soft strands to pull him closer, and he surrenders to your touch.

This is a prudent match for your family, of course. Jing Yuan, as your mother once noted, has power. Money. Fame and glory. He is loyal. Devoted. He can keep up with you, does not quail under your words, and has no schemes of vying with you for power.

But more than that, more than his titles, you want him. You want the man in front of you and, this time, you would not let him go.

#liya writes #honkai star rail #jing yuan #hsr #honkai stair rail x reader #jing yuan honkai #jing yuan x reader #honkai star rail imagines

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