In My Jing Yuan Era - Tumblr Posts

Five Senses [Jing Yuan]

Summary: Five different senses, five different drabbles. Word Count: 1.5k Tags: Fluff, gn!Reader, established relationship, angst (not a lot), suggestive only if you squint a/n: testing this format out! lets see how this goes because gepard my baby if all goes well you're next keke

Sight

General Jing Yuan of the Luofu is a sight to behold.

Imposing, large, he carries himself with the air of a man that's seen countless battles. Imperial, yet humble. Kind, yet stern.

There's a force to him, the natural charisma of a leader.

A pillar, he is calm, pensive. Oftentimes more sleepy than not. But no matter how you place him, he's always in the process of doing something for the Luofu. Patrols guised as walks, sparring matches against his guards, mentoring Yanqing, finishing paperwork, planning, guiding...

The General is always busy, hardened with age despite his youthful appearance.

But his cheeky smiles make him seem younger than he is, more playful when he indulges you in silly banter. His golden eyes glow, sparkling with amusement. It's a side to him that no one but you and his aides see.

The rumours that shroud the handsome General do not faze him. His longstanding authority is not something so easily shaken by baseless rumours, and his character speaks for itself.

But ever so often he'll find himself looking over at you, sneaking little glances, hoping to get a glimpse of your reaction whenever there's new gossip about him going around. Especially when they concern the more... intimate parts of his life.

The people can think what they want. At the end of it all, he's curious to what goes on in your mind.

How do you see him?

Smell

A buzz of static in the air, a hint of petrichor; the commander of the Lightning Lord smells like an incoming storm when he's on the battlefield. A sign of his presence.

It's soothing to friends, terrifying for foes.

Sometimes the metallic sting of blood follows his footsteps in wake of his conquests, his wins. But it is accompanied by the smell of fresh dew, golden rays cracking through rainclouds. A light sheen of sweat coats his forehead, but the Xianzhou lives to see another peaceful era.

Back on the Luofu, Jing Yuan smells like home.

He smells warm. Inviting. He smells like freshly washed sheets, soaked in the warm love of the sun.

It's engulfing. A whiff makes you want to hunker down, curl up, and doze off in your shared space. The moniker of the dozing general was rightly named.

Notes of jasmine from his baths pepper his skin, and a shudder runs down his spine, from the back of his neck to the tips of his toes whenever your nose traces along the side of his neck just to get a deeper inhale.

"Has our lion's habits been rubbing off on you?" He laughs to hide the embarrassment he was sporting, a boyish sound that makes your heart skip.

"Just missed you," you mumble into his warm neck, pressing yourself closer against him until the scent of your shampoo starts to blend with his. Unsaid is the question: who knows when you'll have to leave again?

Even when he's away, the smell of him still lingers throughout the house, entangled with yours in a never-ending embrace.

It's a blessing and a curse.

Sound

"Tell me a story."

"Hm?"

Jing Yuan's voice is a deep baritone. Like a rumble from a chest, coated in honey. It's beautiful to listen to, calming and sweet.

Many things have changed with time, his speech and cadence especially. Sometimes you see another person in his place, a younger boy, one with an unkempt mane of long hair, one whose voice cracked. It's hard to But it's hard to forget his laugh.

His true laugh is hearty, loud. Though that's been long altered with time. But if you catch him in your private chambers, you'd find that he still retains that same, boyish laugh from years ago.

"Tell me a story," you repeat, more insistent. It's late, but the artificial moon of the Luofu glows brightly enough that you can see the outline of your lover's features.

His hands brush away stray strands of hair from your face. Shifting, you lean further into his embrace, both your legs tangling in silken sheets.

"You're not a child anymore," he muses, leaning down to nose at your cheek. There's a teasing lilt to his voice, one that follows him wherever you go. "Why do you need a story to fall asleep?"

"Stop being annoying and just," you yawn, "tell me a story. Wanna hear your voice."

"We could always just have a conversation instead," he hums, twirling the silky ribbon of your robes around his finger. Like a schoolgirl catching up with their best friend, he singsongs. "What did you have for lunch?"

"Jing Yuan."

"Fine," he laughs, and you find yourself wanting more. "I suppose I'll do all the work."

"I want an old myth." Even as a long-living species, some tales are lost to time. And some legends only live amongst those destined for something greater than themselves.

"Oh, we're making demands now?"

A half-hearted glare quickly makes him acquiesce.

"Okay, okay." You listen to him grunt, the heat of his body leaving your side as he adjusts into a more comfortable position in your bed. Jing Yuan's arms open, gesturing you in. "But I require compensation for all my hard work."

"Stay in tomorrow. I'll tell Qingzu that you've caught my bug."

Touch

Hands calloused with centuries of battle should scare you, but how could they, when they hold you so gently, so tenderly?

When you're in his arms, a habit of his is to run his hands down the expanse of your back, exploring it like it's his first time. Fingers run down your sides, trace the curve of your spine before returning to brush at the nape of your neck.

You're trying to map me, you used to say, and he'd respond with a chuckle and a peck at your temple. Nothing more, other than to squeeze you tighter.

It's infrequent, but on some days there is urgency to his motions, a slight tremble of his hands.

"I'm okay," you whisper, hearing his breath hitch a little when his fingers run across the bandages wrapped around your back. "It looks worse than it really is."

The Xianzhou has many enemies, the General even more so. When news of your injury, caused by some rebel group — a flesh wound, you argue. Nothing too serious! — gets to Jing Yuan in the form of a teary-eyed Yanqing, he immediately drops his things, and runs.

And now you were here, draped over Jing Yuan like a weighted blanket. You think he needs this more than you do. There's only so much that makes a hardened warrior crack.

"You're bleeding."

"I'll survive," you try and joke, but his hands still go over the silk bandages, golden eyes soaking in Bailu's handiwork, trying to find a mistake to nitpick over. Trying to find something to do, other than to sit and accept it.

So the next time you tell him that it's okay, you reach back for his hands, slip your fingers between his, and squeeze.

It takes a while, but you feel some of the tension leave his body.

He sighs.

"The next time you go out, you're bringing Mimi with you."

"Ah Yuan... She'll maul someone."

"That's the point."

Taste

Secretive glances are shared amongst peers, dusty pink blushes on the faces of the girls as they whisper, a question kept hushed, but you hear it anyway.

What do you think the General tastes like?

To overhear such a question being asked sends a minute jolt up your spine. You close your eyes, trying not to think about it, but the question bounces around in your head, haunts you like a ghost of your past.

What would he taste like? One of his favourite teas? The kind brewed just to his liking? Or would he taste like one of those osmanthus cookies he always carries around?

The latter doesn't sound half bad, you hear them say. You can't help but agree. After all, you baked them. The girls will learn of this in the future.

What do you think?

Embarrassment warms your skin when they turn to you expectantly, a comrade in arms.

You shrug in response, a tiny smile on your face as you avert your eyes back to where Jing Yuan was, giving out orders to his Cloud Knights. The girls roll their eyes at your answer, then go back to whispering amongst themselves, this time about more private matters.

You can't find it in yourself to be upset.

Because no one but you will ever know the answer.

Ginger.

The first time Jing Yuan captures your lips, you find that he tastes like mellow, syrupy ginger soup, the type you find with tang yuan. It's a matured taste, sweet that comes with a bit of bitterness, but never too much.

Jing Yuan tastes like ginger.

Within the depths of the sweetness is a twinge of spice, one that lingers on your lips even after he's pulled away.

It's intoxicating. Addictive.

You find yourself wanting more.

a/n: no one fucking look at me when i dust off my 18 + sideblog and post an n/sfw version of this okay i had to hold myself back the entire time i was writing this and ended up sprinkling in angst to cope???? this was never meant to be angsty at all anyway :333 lets ignore what i just said haha!!! what a beautiful day!!!!!!!! allow me to pitch: dating young jing yuan!!! bc i wholeheartedly believe the man wouldve been a menace. like. gojo level menacing. his cn lines had me SWOONING like sirrrrrr i know what type of person you are huehue

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