#— jing yuan

[mrpenguinpants]

ooooh I love how you write jing yuan!!

can I request hcs (or a fic if you prefer) on what a domestic life w/ him would be like? like what happens after work or on weekends? :)

Down time

— Jing Yuan

Credits to the Animated Short: "Taking It Easy" for the beginning. [Masterlist]

Thank you anon, I'm glad you like him cause I enjoy writing him;; I am boycrazy about Jing Yuan.

Mornings are a struggle. Sharing a bed means sharing Jing Yuan’s early alarm and his terrible habit of refusing to get up until the very last possible second. You’re fairly certain he wakes up before the alarm even rings, yet he insists on playing dead for the entire half-hour it takes to coax his heavy body off you and out of bed. It always starts the same way. First, he rolls over just enough to silence the alarm while your mind is still struggling to register what lights even are. Then, without fail, he shifts again—this time right on top of you—burying you under his full weight as if he’s decided you make a perfectly comfortable mattress. It really brings into perspective how much time flies and how much people can change. You remember the tentative, tip-toe phase of your relationship—when you and Jing Yuan had just started dating, and the man could barely keep it together if you so much as leaned against his side. And now? Now, he had the audacity to bury his face against your chest, arms wrapped around you like a vice, and drift back to sleep without a second thought.

You can tolerate a “five more minutes” rule, so you don’t say anything at first, simply going limp beneath him, pressing your cheek against the fluffy mess of his hair, and waiting for him to move on his own. But then five minutes turn into ten, then twenty, and there’s still no sign of life. That’s when more drastic measures become necessary. At first, you try tugging on the tips of his hair—not hard enough to hurt, just enough to be annoying. No reaction. So you escalate, attempting to slip your arms around his neck in a makeshift chokehold, hoping the mild inconvenience will get him to budge. It never works. What does work is wiggling just enough to throw him off balance, sending you both tumbling in opposite directions. The morning ritual always ends the same way: you, sprawled on the floor, dry-heaving and disheveled, hair a complete mess; and Jing Yuan, sitting pretty on the bed, completely unbothered, watching you with lazy amusement—just like your fat white cat perched on a windowsill, basking in the morning sun.

While Fu Xuan, Qingzu, and even Yanqing sometimes—muttering under his breath—like to compare Jing Yuan to a lazy cat, you think a sticky leech is a far more accurate description. You physically cannot go anywhere without him clinging to you in some way. The simple act of walking to the bathroom in the morning turns into an awkward, shuffling waddle as Jing Yuan drapes himself over you from behind, his weight making every step as difficult as possible. He buries his face in your hair, inhaling deeply, as if the very air he breathes needs to be laced with tea tree oil or he might just wither away. Even brushing your teeth is a shared experience. One of his arms snakes around your waist, securing you firmly in place—not just to keep you within reach, but to conveniently bend you forward at the perfect angle so he can spit into the sink without getting anything in your hair. Because, of course, heaven forbid the mighty Arbiter-General suffer even a single second where you aren’t attached at the hip when he actually has the time to do so.

Mornings are quiet for the most part, steeped in a comfortable drowsiness that neither of you are in any hurry to shake off. The world outside is beginning to stir, but in here, time moves slower, stretching lazily between shared warmth and half-hearted movements. Words feel unnecessary, replaced by soft hums and the occasional shift of weight as you both move through the familiar motions of your routines. A nudge against his side earns you a low sigh, but Jing Yuan relents, lifting his arms just enough to let you slip from beneath them to grab your uniform. Fabric rustles as you begin changing, the cool air meeting bare skin in sharp contrast to the heat left behind by tangled sheets. There’s a weight to his gaze, one you don’t need to see to feel. Leaning against the doorway, arms crossed, still half-lost to sleep, he watches with an easy sort of attention, the kind that isn’t searching for anything new but appreciating what’s already familiar. A slow exhale, a quiet hum—subtle, yet unmistakably fond. You don’t bother turning around, but the warmth that presses against your shoulder a moment later makes you still. Lips graze skin, unhurried, reverent in their own way. The gesture lingers just long enough to make the space between waking and dreaming blur again, as if he isn’t quite ready to let go of the quiet moments where the world only belongs to the two of you.

The garden outside is vast, sprawling with carefully tended greenery, yet Jing Yuan’s personal collection remains modest—just three potted plants resting on the lip of the fountain. Vibrant petals bloom alongside the deep green of their leaves, and he tends to them lazily, one hand tilting a watering can while the other rubs the sleep from his eyes. The drowsiness clings to him still, evident in the slow blinks and half-hidden yawns between each absentminded motion. This is when the roles reverse, and you find yourself slipping your arms around his waist, your steps slowing as you lean your head against his back. Jing Yuan moves with ease, but you can feel his steady warmth against you, his movements languid. He idly traces patterns over your hands, the rhythm soothing, a silent second conversation between the two of you.

By now you're both awake enough to start talking, light and casual. You talk about breakfast—what sounds good today, whether you should have something quick or if it's worth the time to cook a more elaborate meal. The mention of Yanqing’s morning habits leads to a soft laugh, wondering if he’s already up and running or if he’s still tucked away in his room, likely too absorbed in sharpening his swords to notice the passage of time. You both share a knowing look at the thought, the fondness clear in the quiet smile that lingers between you. Then the conversation shifts to the future, and you ask if next week might be a good time to visit your parents for lunch. It’s a simple question, but one that feels significant in its own way, a small slice of normalcy between the chaotic, ever-shifting world you both live in. Jing Yuan hums thoughtfully, considering the question for a moment before nodding, his hand giving yours a reassuring squeeze as he continues walking, guiding you through the calm of golden hour.

The small finches that have claimed him as their own flit through the air, landing with practiced ease along the curve of his shoulder. Some nestle comfortably in the folds of his robe, while others busy themselves tugging at strands of his hair, their tiny beaks working persistently through the thick waves. It would be endearing—if you hadn’t spent so much time brushing out every last tangle just minutes ago. No matter how soft his mane appears, it is deceptively stubborn, each lock demanding patience to work through with a fine-toothed comb. You can already imagine the knots forming anew, the battle you’ll have to wage against them later. He, of course, remains utterly unbothered, chuckling as the birds weave through his hair, letting them undo all your efforts without a single care. Your peaceful morning ends with you having a rather one-sided argument with a finch, jiānduī (sesame ball) that Jing Yuan so dearly calls, who chirps angrily back at you as you fight over your husband.

You had attempted in the past to dress Jing Yuan up. The idea mostly stemmed from movies and cartoons from Penacony, where older characters would neatly button up their kids' collars or loving wives would tighten their husbands' ties before sending them off for the day. It all looked so charming, so endearing—you wanted to try it for yourself. While Yanqing has hit that age where he admittedly refuses any help from his mother because he's "not a kid anymore", you can still get away with it with Jing Yuan. Eagerly, you padded into his closet one morning, determination burning in your eyes as you set out to recreate a heartwarming moment straight out of a children’s show. But what you found instead was an overzealous designer. His wardrobe wasn’t filled with simple shirts and pants—it was an intricate battlefield of layered fabrics, confusing belts, and unnecessarily elaborate clasps. Your enthusiasm wavered as you pulled out a piece of his uniform, holding it up like an ancient relic, brow furrowing at the sheer number of unnecessary straps and accessories. What were these thigh straps even for? Psychological warfare??

Food is an essential family bonding tradition on the Luofu, and the Jing family is no exception. No matter how chaotic life gets, there's an unspoken rule that meals must be shared—one way or another. If breakfast together is impossible, then lunch becomes the fallback. If lunch slips away, then dinner is non-negotiable. Should dinner plans crumble under duty’s weight, then a midnight snack will have to do. And if even the snacks are lost to time, then at the very least, a shared cup of water at three in the morning must suffice. But on the rare occasion that an entire day passes without even the briefest moment to eat together, there's a final clause: whoever canceled the most has to foot the bill for the next meal. And considering you married the most important man on the Luofu—the very Arbiter-General himself—you fully intend to take advantage of that rather impressive paycheck.

You’re both... passable when it comes to cooking. Given your busy lifestyles, neither of you ever had the luxury of refining your culinary skills beyond the bare minimum—if the food is edible and won’t send you to the infirmary, it counts as a success. As a result, most of your meals consist of dining out or bringing home leftovers to stretch into the next meal. It’s not the most ideal arrangement, but you both have other strengths, and at this point in your life, you’ve made peace with the fact that cooking simply isn’t one of them. Especially when it comes to meat. After the last food poisoning incident—a miserable, harrowing experience that neither of you ever speak of—you’ve sworn off handling it entirely. On the other hand, Jing Yuan is a bit more capable in the kitchen. He can throw anything into a clay pot, let it simmer for a while, and somehow, the end result is surprisingly decent. But the moment a recipe demands any real technique, precision, or effort beyond “let it stew,” you both might as well start drafting the funeral rites for whatever unfortunate pan is about to meet its untimely end. At this point, adding a new one to the bi-weekly shopping list has become routine.

Aside from the maintenance crew that tends to the expansive estate, your home life is kept strictly private—just you, Jing Yuan, and Yanqing. You’re not particularly comfortable with outsiders wandering through your space and handling personal belongings, and, frankly, considering how often you end up stumbling half-awake through the halls in the middle of the night, the risk of accidentally scaring someone or yourself half to death is far too high. Jing Yuan, ever the picture of warmth and diplomacy, is cordial with the staff. He offers easy smiles and polite conversation, always taking the time to thank them with small gifts and kind words, making them feel seen and appreciated. You, on the other hand, are fairly certain that the staff either believes you’re a complete recluse who has never once set foot beyond the estate walls or that you’re in the early stages of succumbing to Mara itself. It’s not that you dislike people—you just have an unfortunate tendency to freeze up when faced with new interactions. Any years of experience you have in holding a conversation seem to evaporate the moment you lock eyes with a stranger. Take, for instance, the time you encountered the gardener while stepping outside. Instead of greeting him like a normal person, you froze like a deer in the headlights, eyes wide and unblinking, before slowly backpedaling into the house while maintaining eye contact the entire time. Not your proudest moment. You’ve yet to summon the courage to properly reintroduce yourself and assure him that, no, you are not a shy ghost haunting the estate.

During working hours, your relationship remains strictly professional—at least, that’s how it’s supposed to be. Everyone knows you’re married; if the shared surname wasn’t enough, then the matching jade-and-gold dragon and phoenix hairpins certainly were. But despite this well-established fact, Jing Yuan has an unfortunate habit of letting little things slip when he really shouldn’t. Moments that are meant for serious discussions about military operations or Luofu affairs somehow derail when he offhandedly mentions that you forgot your scarf again, or that he liked the way you tied his hair this morning. But once the day’s duties come to an end, so does the facade. Postures slump, formalities fade, and if you both happen to finish at the same time, you forgo the Starskiff and walk home together instead. Beneath the golden hues of dusk, with the Luofu bathed in the warm glow of a setting sun, you can’t help but steal glances at your husband. It’s ridiculous, really—how even after all this time, after centuries of shared mornings, whispered conversations, and quiet nights, he still manages to leave you breathless. That even now, as the years stretch long and endless before you, you still have to take a moment to remind yourself that this is real. That against all odds, by some miracle of the Aeons above, you’ve somehow managed to marry the most beautiful man this side of the universe.

You both still take detours away from the crowded streets, slipping into quiet back alleys where the world narrows to just the two of you. It’s a habit born out of necessity—Jing Yuan’s presence draws attention no matter where he goes, and avoiding the inevitable gawking is simply easier this way. But there’s something nostalgic about it, too, something thrilling. It reminds you of when you were both still young, sneaking away from training and cram school, dodging the ever-watchful eyes of your mentors. Of course, those teachers are long gone now, their scolding voices nothing more than distant memories, but the habit remains. You tug Jing Yuan along by the hand, his red hair tie trailing in the wind as you weave through narrow paths lined with mossy walls and overgrown vines. The stone beneath your feet has witnessed years of hushed whispers and stolen kisses, of fleeting moments where duty was briefly forgotten in favor of something softer. It all started when he was still just a lieutenant, ducking away from Baiheng’s relentless attempts to braid his hair. You remember the exact moment—how he nearly crashed into you in his haste, only managing to sidestep you at the last second. He had turned to throw a quick apology over his shoulder, already scaling the wall with the ease of someone who had done this a hundred times before. Meanwhile, you were left fuming, barely managing to keep your grip on a heavy box of ink blocks, hurling curses at him as he disappeared over the edge. Some things change with time. Others, like the thrill of slipping away from responsibilities, remain the same.

Having said that, you’d still have to be the most self-sufficient, independent, borderline introvert if you want any hope of making your marriage with Jing Yuan work. As much as he dislikes it, his duties as General will always take priority over his role as a husband. Meetings run longer than expected, stacks of paperwork demand his signature, and sometimes, no matter how much he wishes otherwise, he must personally oversee an operation to ensure nothing goes awry. It’s an old reality, one he’s long since accepted—but not without its lingering weight. When he was younger, still just a lieutenant with ambitions far greater than his years, this very fear had shaped his resolve. Back then, he had chosen to lock away any thoughts of romance, dedicating himself entirely to his training. A relationship, he believed, would be unfair—to both his partner and himself. He couldn’t offer them the time and devotion they deserved, and he refused to bear the guilt of that neglect. An afternoon spent together could mean a tomorrow lost, and he was never one to gamble with what he wasn’t willing to lose. He’s always on the clock, even on his registered days off, because there truly is no rest for the Arbiter-General. His position does not allow for long, uninterrupted stretches of peace, and by now, you’ve learned to expect that quiet moments with him are fleeting at best, illusions at worst. Whether it’s in the middle of dinner—just as he’s mid-motion, placing food onto your plate—you’ll hear a knock at the door, a messenger waiting with an urgent report. And the next second? He’s gone, leaving behind the warmth of his presence, and you’re left eating alone, staring at dishes that have already begun to cool. Or perhaps you’re half a step into bed, finally ready to surrender the day’s burdens against his chest, when an alarm starts blaring through the halls, cutting through the serenity. You don’t even get a proper goodbye—just the feeling of his fingers brushing your wrist as he murmurs an apology, his side of the bed still warm but empty.

Chores are technically split between the two of you, following an unspoken law of common courtesy. Whoever cooks, the other does the dishes. Whoever washes the clothes, the other dries. Whoever sweeps, the other mops. It’s a simple system, fair in theory—until reality intervenes. Given Jing Yuan’s relentless schedule and the fact that he is, by all definitions, never truly "free," the balance of responsibility inevitably tips toward you. More often than not, he barely manages to grab a sponge before a knock at the door calls him away. Another urgent matter, another fleeting promise to do better next time. And every time he returns to find the house already spotless, guilt seeps into his chest. He knows you don’t mind, that you understand he isn’t shirking duties on purpose just to lounge around. But still, it must be frustrating, constantly picking up after someone who swears—each time, with complete sincerity—that next time will be different. At this point, you’ve stopped waiting up for him. It’s not that you don’t miss him—you do, terribly—but there’s only so many times you can fall asleep against the headboard, only to wake up alone, the sheets still untouched beside you. Instead, you’ve adapted. You’ve learned to see these moments not as disappointments, but as opportunities. Leftover meals mean less cooking time tomorrow. An empty bed means more space for you to stretch, curling up like a cat or sprawling in a glorious starfish position you wouldn’t otherwise have the room for. And when he does return—exhausted, apologetic, but always reaching for you first—it almost makes up for the nights spent alone.

In times of quiet, when the guilt sits heavy in his stomach, Jing Yuan turns to the simplest, most instinctive solution: coming to you. Communication, after all, is a surprisingly rare skill among his peers, and he knows too many people who lack both the time and the temperament for it. It’s usually when you’re both in bed, your back pressed against his chest, that he allows the restraint to slip. In the hush of the night, his voice is softer, the weight of unspoken thoughts finding form. Are you truly happy with him? Do you ever regret tying your life to his? Do you feel the same quiet thrill he does when someone calls out "Jing," and have it mean the both of you?

In these moments, you’re faced with a simple yet crucial decision: how exactly do you wish to kill your husband? Smothering or strangulation? Rolling over to face him in the inky black of night, your hands move on instinct, reaching out to pinch his cheeks together before capturing his lips in a kiss meant to steal every last breath from him. He barely gets a chance to react before your full weight presses down, ensuring he has nowhere to escape. His muffled protests—something about bruised lips, something about letting him breathe—are swiftly dismissed with a sharp slap to his shoulder. Because what the hell did he just say to you? Did he forget the centuries of pining, the countless nights you spent longing for a single glance from the elusive, white-haired Cloud Knight? Did he forget how you had sobbed—ugly, gasping cries—to the point where he had to hold you, rubbing circles into your back until you could form a single coherent word, all because he had proposed? And most importantly, had he somehow erased from his memory the image of you standing at the doorstep every night for over three hundred years, unwavering in your devotion, waiting with a white lion at your side—a companion who had slowly aged, growing frail with time, until the night came when you stood alone? If he was truly re-thinking everything, he'd better be ready to make up centuries of your life or you'll take it back in blood.

The days when the world finally seems to slow are the most treasured. When Jing Yuan can actually slouch, letting the weight of his title slip from his shoulders as he leans against you, his breaths deep and unguarded. Those days mean far more than the cold nights spent alone and the lukewarm meals left unfinished. Despite his deep-seated worries—that one day, you’ll realize you deserve a marriage far better than what he can offer—you think he’s got it entirely backward. He has no idea how lucky you feel, how absurd it still is that you not only caught his eye but somehow managed to keep him tethered to you. Jing Yuan, the revered Arbiter-General, the man who commands an entire army with effortless grace, yet chooses to rest his head against your shoulder, trusting you to hold him up when the weight of the world bears down on him. Honestly, even now, despite sharing the same family name, it’s a pretty fair assessment to say you still harbor the fattest crush on him. A hopeless, unwavering admiration that hasn’t dulled in the slightest—even when he’s snoring lightly against your collarbone, trapping your body beneath his heavy frame, utterly unbothered by the way you’re struggling to breathe.

[heliosunny]

hiiiiii,

can you do yandere!Student council representative!Jingyuan troublemaker!reader?

pealsepleasepleasepleaseeeeeee🥺

Yandere!Rep!Jing Yuan x Troublemaker!Reader

"Why is it that whenever trouble arises, it always seems to involve you?"

The sharp voice of the disciplinary officer echoed through the student council room. You stood in the center, arms crossed, your uniform slightly disheveled—evidence of whatever chaos you’d been caught up in this time. Behind you, two of your closest friends looked anywhere but at the fuming officer, their guilt written all over their faces.

And yet, despite the lecture, despite the serious nature of the situation, one person remained utterly unbothered.

Jing Yuan, the esteemed Student Council Representative, sat comfortably in his seat, chin resting on one hand, golden eyes half-lidded in amusement.

The officer continued their tirade, but you barely heard them anymore—not with the way Jing Yuan was watching you, like a lion indulging in the sight of its favorite prey.

Finally, unable to ignore him any longer, you turned your head slightly and met his gaze. That smile of his widened just a fraction.

Oh, he was enjoying this far too much.

The punishment was predictable. Community service under the watchful eye of none other than Jing Yuan himself.

You huffed, gripping the broom in your hands as you stood in the empty hallways of the academy. The afternoon sun cast long shadows across the polished floors, and the only sound was the distant chatter of students enjoying their freedom.

Jing Yuan watched you with the same infuriatingly amused expression he always wore. "You’re surprisingly obedient today," he mused, tilting his head. "I expected more complaining."

You shot him a glare, sweeping the broom across the floor with a little more force than necessary. "Oh, trust me, I have plenty to say. But since someone made sure I ended up with extra hours, I might as well get this over with."

Jing Yuan chuckled, the deep sound annoyingly pleasant. "Don’t be so upset. I even cleared my schedule to personally supervise you. That’s quite the honor, don’t you think?"

You scoffed, rolling your eyes. "Yeah, an honor. I should be grateful to have the mighty student council president breathing down my neck while I sweep floors."

"Oh, I wouldn’t call it breathing down your neck… not yet, at least."

You froze for half a second, grip tightening on the broom. Jing Yuan watched you struggle for a response, then leaned in ever so slightly, just enough to invade your space. "I wonder," he mused, "if you'd get in trouble again just to spend more time with me."

"Absolutely not."

-----

You knocked on the student council room’s door before pushing it open without waiting for a response. "I'm done" you announced, stepping inside. "The halls are spotless. You could eat off the floor if you wanted."

Jing Yuan didn't even glance up. He was seated at his desk, surrounded by stacks of paperwork, his usually lazy demeanor replaced with rare focus. His brows furrowed slightly as he scanned the documents.

You lingered by the door for a moment, then, against your better judgment, took a step closer. "What are you even working on?"

"Schedules, budgets, disciplinary reports," he murmured distractedly. "Ah, and proposals for upcoming events. The usual burden of student council leadership."

You peeked over his shoulder and caught sight of one particular form—something about club funding allocations. A mistake immediately jumped out at you. Without thinking, you leaned down, snatched a pen off his desk, and scribbled in the correction.

"Oh?"

You met his gaze and shrugged. "I simply cause problem, not stupid."

For a moment, he simply stared at you, then he smiled. "Indeed, you aren’t," he said, clearly pleased. He leaned back in his chair, watching you with renewed interest. "You know… you should consider putting that brain of yours to better use. If you get a high score—perhaps even top of the grade—I could pull some strings and get your punishment lessened. Maybe even have you join the student council."

You snorted, crossing your arms. "Hard pass."

Jing Yuan raised an eyebrow. "Oh? You didn’t even think about it."

"I don’t need to" you said flatly. "Sitting around, drowning in paperwork, dealing with annoying teachers? No thanks."

He chuckled, tapping his fingers against the desk. "Shame. You'd make an interesting addition to our ranks."

"Exactly. Interesting. Which means you'd have even more excuses to keep me under your watch, and I’m not about to hand you that kind of victory."

Jing Yuan laughed at that, "Fine, I won’t push—for now."

You rolled your eyes, already regretting helping him. "Yeah, yeah. See you later, Rep."

As you turned to leave, you could still feel his gaze lingering on you.

----

The keychain was small, soft, and well-worn—clearly something Jing Yuan had for a long time. It landed on the polished floor without a sound, barely noticeable, but you caught it out of the corner of your eye as you swept.

"Oi, Jing Yuan!" you called out, picking up the white lion keychain and waving it in the air. "You dropped this!"

But he kept walking, completely ignoring you, his usual lazy stride unbothered. You frowned, watching him disappear around the corner. "Seriously? Does he have selective hearing or something?"

With a sigh, you stuffed the keychain into your pocket. It wasn’t like he was hard to find—you'd just give it back when you saw him in the student council office later.

Except, when you went in the afternoon, he wasn’t there. His usual seat was empty, the paperwork on his desk untouched. The other council members barely seemed to notice his absence, too busy arguing over event planning.

"Weird" you muttered under your breath. Jing Yuan, as much as he loved slacking off, never actually skipped his duties completely.

You only found out why when you overheard two students whispering in the hall.

"Did you hear? Jing Yuan’s out sick."

"Yeah, I heard he collapsed at home yesterday. Probably from all that work he procrastinated on."

That was all you needed to hear.

The next thing you knew, you were at the nearest bakery, tapping your fingers against the counter as you waited for them to box up a small cake. It wasn’t anything fancy—just something light and not too sweet. You didn’t even know if he liked cake, but whatever. It was better than showing up empty-handed.

By the time you arrived at his house, the sky was beginning to darken, the evening air cool against your skin. You stood in front of the door, cake box in one hand, Jing Yuan’s keychain in the other.

With a sigh, you knocked. "He better appreciate this."

There was a long silence after you knocked, enough that you wondered if he was even awake. Maybe you should’ve come earlier. Maybe he was asleep, or worse—what if no one was home?

You were just about to turn around when the door creaked open.

Jing Yuan stood there, leaning against the doorframe, dressed in loose loungewear instead of his usual uniform. His hair was slightly messy, his golden eyes hazy with fatigue.

"Ah" he blinked at you, clearly surprised. "Troublemaker?"

You scowled, holding up the cake box. "I have a name, you know. And it's Y/N L/N"

He only chuckled, voice slightly hoarse. "I must be dreaming if you’re actually here visiting me instead of causing chaos."

You rolled your eyes and shoved the keychain into his hand. "You dropped this yesterday. I was gonna return it at school, but since you’re dying or whatever, I figured I’d drop it off."

Jing Yuan looked down at the keychain, his fingers brushing over the worn fabric. "So you noticed"

"Of course I did" you huffed. "You always act like you’re paying attention to everything, but you’re actually kind of careless."

Instead of being offended, he just smiled "And you always act like you don’t care, but here you are. With cake, no less."

Heat pricked at your ears, and you quickly thrust the cake box at him. "Take it before I change my mind."

"Well, since you went through all this trouble, why don’t you come in?"

You hesitated. You’d already done what you came for. But something about the way he was looking at you—calm, expectant, like he already knew you’d say yes—made you click your tongue in annoyance.

"Fine" you muttered, stepping inside. "Just for a bit."

"Of course."

Jing Yuan’s house was exactly what you expected—spacious, neat, and just a little too perfect, as if even in his personal space, he was still playing the role of the ever-composed student council representative.

The only thing out of place was the blanket draped over the couch and the scattered tea cups on the coffee table. A telltale sign he’d been holed up here all day.

"You can sit" he said, setting the cake box on the table and opening it. "Or are you worried that being in my house will ruin your reputation?"

You rolled your eyes but dropped onto the couch anyway, arms crossed. "I should be worried. Who knows what kind of weird rumors would start if someone found out I was here?"

Jing Yuan hummed thoughtfully, slicing into the cake "Hmm… perhaps I should start one myself. ‘The notorious troublemaker personally came to nurse the student council representative back to health.’ That has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?"

"Try it and see what happens."

He only chuckled, placing a slice of cake in front of you before picking up his own fork. "So? What made you come all this way? Guilt? Concern?"

"Annoyance" you muttered, stabbing your fork into the cake. "Someone always acts so smug and untouchable, but then the moment he gets sick, he just disappears? How irresponsible."

"So you were worried about me."

"Don’t read too much into it. I just didn’t want to deal with an overworked student council president collapsing in the middle of the hallway next week."

He laughed, "I see, I see. You’re really bad at hiding when you care about someone, you know?"

You nearly choked on your cake. "Excuse me? Care?"

"Mm. But that’s alright. I don’t mind being the only one who notices."

You shoved another bite of cake into your mouth, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a response.

Jing Yuan only smiled, content to watch you squirm.

The rumors spread faster than you expected.

By the time you arrived at school the next morning, hushed whispers followed you through the halls. Some students gave you knowing looks, others smirked, and a few girls in particular shot you daggers with their eyes.

"Did you hear? They went to his house yesterday." "Brought him cake, too." "So that’s why Jing Yuan doesn’t punish them properly, huh?"

You sighed, rubbing your temples. "Unbelievable."

Still, you ignored it and went about your day. It wasn’t like you cared what people thought. If they wanted to waste their time gossiping, that was their problem, not yours.

By the time you were cleaning the student council room’s windows—an extra task Jing Yuan oh-so-kindly assigned you—the whispers had faded into background noise. You barely noticed when the door opened and a girl walked in.

But you did notice when something cold splashed against your back, soaking through your uniform in an instant.

A sharp gasp left your lips as you flinched, the shock of icy water running down your spine making you shiver. You turned sharply, already scowling, only to find a girl—one of the ones who’d been glaring at you all morning—standing there with an empty bottle in her hand. Her expression was a mix of satisfaction and barely concealed jealousy.

"You think you’re special, don’t you?" she sneered. "Just because Jing Yuan lets you do whatever you want?"

You exhaled slowly, controlling your irritation. "Seriously?" You glanced down at your soaked uniform, then back at her. "Real mature."

She huffed, arms crossed, clearly expecting you to yell, fight back, or maybe even run out embarrassed.

But you weren’t that kind of person.

Instead, you turned to the table where Jing Yuan’s tea sat, still warm in its delicate cup. Without hesitation, you picked it up.

And in one swift motion, you poured it over her head.

The girl shrieked as the liquid soaked into her hair and dripped down her face. It wasn’t scalding hot, but it was warm enough to be uncomfortable, and the sheer audacity of your retaliation left the entire room in stunned silence.

"You—you freak!" she sputtered, eyes welling up with frustrated tears. "You’ll pay for this!"

With that, she spun on her heel and stormed out, still dripping tea.

You set the empty cup back on the table with a satisfied smirk. "Fair’s fair."

Before anyone could say anything, Jing Yuan—who had been watching the whole scene from his desk, absolutely delighted—cleared his throat. "Well, I suppose I should excuse you early. Wouldn’t want you catching a cold from your tragic accident."

You rolled your eyes but didn’t argue, already heading for the door.

The next morning, the girl arrived at school early, long before the hallways filled with students. She moved quietly, sneaking into the classroom where your belongings were kept. Her eyes landed on your locker, and a smirk curled on her lips.

"Let’s see how untouchable you really are."

She fiddled with the lock, slipping a thin piece of metal into the mechanism. It wasn’t perfect, but she had been planning this—maybe to hide your things, maybe to ruin them. Either way, she never got the chance.

"Now, what do we have here?"

The girl froze. A cold shiver ran down her spine as she slowly turned her head.

Jing Yuan stood by the doorway, looking completely at ease—like he hadn’t just caught her red-handed.

"I—I was just—"

"No need for excuses" he said smoothly, stepping forward. "I do appreciate the effort, though. It takes a certain level of confidence to openly mess with someone’s locker the day after getting publicly humiliated."

Her face burned with embarrassment. "I wasn’t—"

Jing Yuan sighed, tilting his head. "But, you know… revenge is such a fickle thing." His smile sharpened. "It never really goes the way you want it to."

Before she could react, he reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. He tapped the screen once, then turned it towards her.

A video played. A video of her trying to break into your locker.

"Oops" Jing Yuan drawled. "Seems like security cameras exist. Who would've thought?" He tucked his phone away, expression far too pleased for someone who just caught a crime in progress.

"Are you gonna report me?" she spat.

"Hmm," Jing Yuan hummed, as if considering it. "Tempting. But no, I have a better idea. I think you should apologize."

"What?"

"To Y/N. Properly" he said, "And maybe—just maybe—I won’t have to ‘accidentally’ send this video to the disciplinary committee."

Her face twisted in frustration, but she had no choice. With one last glare, she stormed past him, defeated.

Jing Yuan chuckled, watching her leave.

He glanced back at your locker, tapping his fingers thoughtfully against the cold metal. A little revenge on your terms, he mused.

He would have let you handle it yourself—he loved watching you fight your own battles. But every once in a while, he liked to remind people exactly who they were messing with.

----

You stood at Jing Yuan’s doorstep again, this time with a deep sigh and a stack of paperwork balanced in your arms.

"I can't believe I'm doing this."

The only reason you were even here was because he requested it—something about needing assistance since he was still "recovering." You wanted to refuse, really, but if there was a chance this would lift your punishment sooner, you'd deal with it.

With another sigh, you knocked on the door. It only took a moment before it swung open, revealing a woman with warm eyes and a gentle smile.

"Oh! You must be Y/N!" she beamed. "Jing Yuan told me you'd be coming by."

"Uh… yeah. I’m just here to drop off his paperwork."

"How responsible of you! Please, come in," she said, stepping aside. "You must be tired from carrying all that."

You hesitated but stepped inside. The warmth of the house was comforting, the scent of home-cooked food lingering in the air.

As you walked in, you noticed another presence—a man seated in the living room, flipping through a book. He barely spared you a glance.

You gave a polite nod. "Good evening, sir."

He acknowledged you with a slight tilt of his head but said nothing.

His mother, on the other hand, was the complete opposite.

"Ah, it’s so nice to finally meet you properly!" she said cheerfully as she led you towards the stairs. "Jing Yuan talks about you, you know."

That made you stop mid-step. "…He what?"

"Oh, just little things," she giggled. "It’s rare for him to show interest in someone outside of council work, so I was curious!"

You had no idea what to do with that information. Before you could respond, she gestured up the stairs.

"He’s in his room. Feel free to scold him for being lazy while you’re at it."

"Trust me, I was planning to."

With that, you climbed the stairs, still reeling from the conversation.

Jing Yuan, talking about you? What was that supposed to mean?

You took a steadying breath as you reached the top of the stairs. Doesn’t matter. Just drop off the paperwork, scold him for being lazy, and get out.

He was lounging on his bed, hair slightly tousled, dressed in a loose sweater and sweatpants.

"Ah, my favorite troublemaker has arrived" he drawled. "And here I thought I’d have to suffer in solitude."

You scowled, stepping in and dropping the heavy stack of paperwork onto his desk with a thud. "You wouldn’t be suffering if you actually did your work at school instead of dumping it on me."

He laughed, stretching his arms above his head like a lazy cat. "That’s what I have you for, isn’t it?"

"Excuse me?"

He sat up, leaning his chin on his palm, watching you with amusement. "I did say I’d help lessen your punishment. Consider this an opportunity to earn my favor."

"Unbelievable."

He gestured lazily toward the chair by his desk. "Sit. You might as well stay for a bit. My mother already adores you, and my father—well, he’s not the type to dislike anyone without reason."

"I don’t want to stay."

"But you haven’t left yet."

He wasn’t wrong. You could’ve dumped the papers and walked out, but you didn’t.

You clicked your tongue. "Fine." You plopped into the chair, arms still crossed.

As the minutes passed, you found yourself settling in despite yourself. His room was surprisingly cozy.

----

Again, whispers, accusations. The same kind of trouble you usually got into, but this time, it wasn’t you.

A mess of scattered files in the teacher’s lounge. Graffiti on the back wall of the school. The fire alarm going off twice in one day.

And somehow, every single time, your name was the first one on everyone’s lips.

"It has to be them, right? Who else causes this much chaos?" "Guess they finally snapped." "Jing Yuan’s been too soft on them. Maybe this time they’ll actually get expelled."

At first, you rolled your eyes at the rumors. It wasn’t the first time people assumed the worst of you, and it wouldn’t be the last.

But then the principal got involved.

And suddenly, you were standing outside the office, arms crossed as you stared down the teachers demanding an explanation.

"How many times do I have to say it?" you snapped. "It wasn’t me."

The principal sighed, rubbing his temples. "The evidence says otherwise. You have a history, Y/N. Even if you didn’t directly cause these incidents, you must have influenced someone who did."

Just as you opened your mouth to argue, a calm voice interrupted.

"I can vouch for them."

You turned your head.

Jing Yuan stood there, expression smooth and unreadable, golden eyes carrying that familiar laziness—except now, it felt deliberate.

"As student council president, I would’ve noticed if Y/N was behind these incidents" he continued, "I don’t believe they were involved."

The principal hesitated. "Jing Yuan—"

"If anything, I personally will take responsibility for watching over them" Jing Yuan added, smiling slightly. "To make sure this… pattern doesn’t continue."

The principal sighed. "Fine. But if anything else happens, I won’t be as lenient."

----

At first, it was just a feeling.

A gnawing doubt at the back of your mind when Jing Yuan vouched for you so easily, so perfectly. It should have been a relief, but instead, it unsettled you.

The timing. The rumors. The way everything fell apart just enough to put you in trouble—but not enough to actually ruin you.

You started watching more closely.

And slowly, the pieces came together.

A student mentioning they saw someone suspiciously near the fire alarm, but their memory was foggy. A janitor complaining about files being scattered but swearing the door was locked. A teacher muttering about how it was strange that the cameras near the graffiti just happened to malfunction.

And then there was Jing Yuan.

Always nearby.

The realization hit you like ice water down your spine.

He did this.

Not just for amusement. Not just because he could.

He did it to keep you by his side.

And that led to now—standing in an empty classroom, heart pounding as Jing Yuan leaned lazily against the teacher’s desk.

"You’ve been awfully busy lately" he mused, arms crossed. "Looking into things that don’t concern you."

"Don’t give me that. I know what you did."

"And what exactly do you think I did?"

"You set me up." The words felt heavy on your tongue. "The rumors, the ‘pranks,’ all of it. You wanted me to be isolated. You wanted—"

"You."

"I told you before, didn’t I?" He stood up, took small steps toward you "I noticed you. And I wasn’t going to let anyone else have the chance."

You took a step back. "This is insane."

"Is it? Or is it just the only way to make sure you stay where you belong?"

Your back hit the wall.

"You have two choices" he said. "Either you decide to stay with me—"willingly"—or…"

"I’ll have to dirty my hands."

"Not that it would matter" he continued, "No one would believe you anyway. Who would they trust—the troublemaker, or the beloved student council rep?"

You knew the answer.

"You’re in your rebellious stage" he mused, tilting his head like he was merely observing you, not actively cornering you. "That’s fine. I expected as much."

"Expected?"

Jing Yuan chuckled, stepping back slightly—just enough to give you space to breathe but not enough to release you from his grasp. "Of course. You’re stubborn, after all. You wouldn’t just listen to me so easily."

"And what? You think I’ll just give in?"

"No, not yet. But I will give you a choice."

"You have two options. Option one," he held up a single finger, "you get first place in the entire grade. Not just top ten. Not just top five. Number one." His lips curled slightly. "Prove yourself to be better than every single student in this school, and I’ll—hmm, let’s say—I’ll consider leaving you alone."

Your brows furrowed. "What kind of—"

"Or." He cut you off, raising a second finger. "You don’t. And I’ll make sure we’re stuck together forever."

"That’s not a choice."

Jing Yuan smiled, "Of course it is. You could try for number one. It’s difficult, but not impossible. You’re smart, after all. I know that better than anyone. Or, you could stay just as you are. My troublesome, reckless, irreplaceable Y/N."

He tilted his head. "Either way, I win."

He was serious. No, more than that—he was certain.

"You’re insane."

"I’ve been called worse. So? What will you do?"

The days blurred together into an exhausting cycle—punishment duty in the morning, classes in the afternoon, and late nights spent drowning in textbooks.

You never thought you’d willingly care about school rankings, but Jing Yuan left you no choice. If you wanted him out of your life, you had to claim the number one spot.

And that was easier said than done.

You weren’t stupid—far from it. But competing against students who had spent years aiming for the top was another level of difficulty. Some subjects weren’t a problem, but others…

You stared at your notes, rubbing your temples. Your punishment work had already drained most of your energy—cleaning, running errands for teachers, fixing up the mess he set you up for. And now you were stuck on a ridiculously complicated problem that refused to make sense.

Your pencil hovered over the page.

Then, against your better judgment, you pulled out your phone.

[You]: I need help with something.

It didn’t even take a minute before the response came.

[Jing Yuan]: Oh? Has my dear troublemaker finally come to their senses?

[You]: Shut up. Do you want to help or not?

[Jing Yuan]: Of course. Anything for you.

A few minutes later, you found yourself seated across from him in the library, your book spread open between you. Jing Yuan looked entirely too pleased with the situation.

"You know" he mused, "you could always just let me help you in other ways."

You shot him a glare. "No. I’m doing this myself."

He chuckled, twirling his pen between his fingers. "How stubborn." Then, with an easy smile, he reached over, tapping the textbook. "Alright, alright. Let’s start here."

Despite his infuriating personality, Jing Yuan was a good teacher. His explanations were smooth, his patience unwavering, and—most annoyingly—he somehow made things click faster than when you studied alone.

But you also knew he was using this as an opportunity to chip away at you.

"You know" he said at one point, watching you scribble down notes, "you’re pushing yourself too hard."

You didn’t look up. "I have to."

"Do you? If you’re struggling this much, wouldn’t it be easier to—"

"Not happening."

Jing Yuan sighed dramatically. "I’m only saying you don’t have to go through all this suffering alone. Wouldn’t it be nice to have someone who can take care of everything for you?"

You narrowed your eyes. "You taking care of things is the reason I’m in this mess."

He laughed. "Fair point."

But as the session went on, you felt yourself slipping—just slightly.

Because he made it so easy to rely on him.

And that was dangerous.

When the results were finally posted, you could hardly breathe.

You pushed through the murmuring crowd, scanning the rankings with a pounding heart.

"Second."

Your name sat mockingly in the number two spot.

You clenched your fists. You were so close. After all the sleepless nights, the studying, the exhaustion—

It wasn’t enough.

And you knew exactly what that meant.

A familiar voice hummed behind you.

"Oh dear," Jing Yuan said, peering over your shoulder. "So close."

You turned to glare at him. He was smiling—of course he was. That calm, patient smile that always meant he knew something you didn’t.

"You planned this" you accused.

Jing Yuan tilted his head, amused. "Now, now. I did encourage you to aim higher. It’s not my fault you fell just short of the mark."

Your nails dug into your palms. "You rigged this."

"Did I? Or did you simply underestimate the challenge?"

Your chest burned with frustration. But before you could retort, Jing Yuan leaned in slightly, voice dropping to a soft murmur.

"Regardless," he whispered, "a deal is a deal, isn’t it?"

Jing Yuan straightened, his expression entirely too pleased. "Looks like you’re stuck with me after all."

You had tried. Really tried.

And yet—he won.

Jing Yuan extended a hand, as if waiting for you to take it.

"So," he murmured, "what will you do now?"

If you were stuck with Jing Yuan, then fine.

But that didn’t mean you had to make it easy for him.

Your first act of revenge was harmless—switching the sugar in his tea with salt. You watched as he took a sip during lunch, his expression barely changing, except for the slightest quirk of his brow.

Then, he smiled.

"Salty, hm?" he mused, setting his cup down. "How bold of you."

You scowled. He barely reacted.

So you stepped it up.

Loosening the screws on his chair just enough that when he leaned back, it nearly collapsed under him. Nearly. Because, of course, he caught himself, laughing under his breath as he glanced at you.

"Trying to kill me already?" he teased. "How cruel."

You didn’t stop.

You left fake love letters in his locker. Spread a rumor that he had a secret admirer. Stole his favorite pen right before an important meeting.

And yet—no matter what you did, Jing Yuan took it all in stride, as if he expected it. As if he enjoyed it.

Your frustration peaked one afternoon when you "accidentally" swapped his neatly written notes with a stack of completely useless doodles.

He flicked through them with mild amusement, then looked up at you.

"Do you think this will make me let you go?"

"Because if anything, it just makes me want to keep you closer."

This wasn’t working. No matter what you did, he remained unshaken.

If anything—

He was enjoying it.

It was time to change tactics.

If pranks and small annoyances didn’t faze him, then maybe something else would. Something that would actually get under his skin.

So, when your friend—someone completely uninvolved in the chaos of your life—offered to hang out after school, you took it a step further.

"Let’s fake date."

Your friend blinked. "What?"

"Just in public," you said quickly. "Just enough to make someone mad."

They raised a brow. "Someone?"

You didn’t answer.

And that’s how you found yourself walking down the street, laughing a little too loudly, leaning in just enough to make it look intimate. Your friend played along, nudging your shoulder, whispering things that weren’t remotely romantic but would look like it from an outsider’s perspective.

And, of course—

Jing Yuan was watching.

You felt it before you even saw him. When you finally glanced over, he was there.

His golden eyes were locked onto you.

And in that moment, you realized—

You had seriously messed up.

Your friend was still talking, still playing along, but you couldn’t focus. Your pulse quickened as Jing Yuan started walking toward you.

Step by step.

He stopped just a few feet away, gaze flicking lazily between you and your so-called "date."

"I wasn’t aware you had such… interesting tastes, Y/N."

Your friend tensed beside you.

"We’re just—"

Jing Yuan raised a hand, stopping you.

"You’re testing me," he murmured, voice dropping just enough that only you could hear. "How cute."

Jing Yuan took another step forward, forcing you to tilt your head to keep eye contact.

"But tell me, Y/N…" His smile widened. "How far are you willing to go?"

You knew it was reckless. Dangerous, even. But if Jing Yuan wanted to play mind games, then fine—you’d play, too. So, without breaking eye contact, without hesitating for even a second—

You turned to your friend and pressed a kiss to their cheek.

It was brief, barely anything, but it was enough.

You felt your friend tense under your touch, caught between confusion and amusement, but you didn’t look at them. You didn’t need to.

Because all your focus was on him.

Jing Yuan’s smile didn’t waver, but something in his eyes shifted.

For the first time, you saw the cracks in his carefully controlled mask.

And that’s when you knew—

You had won this round.

Or so you thought.

Jing Yuan exhaled slowly, stepping even closer, until there was barely any space left between you. Your friend stiffened beside you, clearly sensing something off, but neither of you dared to move.

"You really shouldn’t have done that....But don’t worry… I’ll make sure you never feel the need to do it again."

And with that, he stepped back, flashing you one last unreadable smile before turning on his heel and walking away.

Leaving you standing there, pulse hammering, as you realized—

You may have just made things worse.

You stopped going to school.

At first, it wasn’t intentional. You had skipped one day to clear your head, to shake off the lingering weight of his presence.

But then one day turned into two. Then three. Then a full week.

And you realized—

You didn’t have to go back.

Expulsion? Detention? Consequences? You didn’t care anymore. If staying away meant being free from him, then so be it.

For the first time in what felt like forever, you could breathe.

Until the knocking on your front door shattered that illusion.

You knew who it was before you even opened it.

And yet, when you finally swung the door open, Jing Yuan was standing there.

"You’ve been absent, I was starting to think you were avoiding me."

"What do you want?"

Jing Yuan sighed, slipping his hands into his pockets. "I came to deliver a message."

"What message?"

"Your friend."

Your breath caught.

"They got into a little accident yesterday," he mused. "Nothing too serious, of course. Just a little… fall."

Your fingers clenched around the doorframe. "You’re lying."

"Am I?" His gaze was unwavering. "You would know if you had been there."

Jing Yuan leaned in further, "Do you really think disappearing will make me forget about you?"

"I don’t mind waiting" he murmured. "But if you keep running…"

"…I might have to start pulling more people into this."

"You wouldn’t—"

Jing Yuan chuckled, straightening up. "Wouldn’t I?"

"I’ll see you at school tomorrow."

Just as you were about to slam the door shut, a hand shot out, stopping it effortlessly.

Your breath hitched as Jing Yuan stepped forward, closing the distance in one smooth motion. Before you could react, before you could even breathe, he leaned in—

And pressed a kiss to your cheek.

When he pulled back, he was smiling.

"Consider that my payback"

"You—"

"No need to look so flustered. You started this, didn’t you? See you tomorrow... And don’t be late."

Then, without another word, he turned and walked away, leaving you standing there.

The next morning, you found yourself walking through the school gates because no matter how much you wanted to deny it, you knew. You had lost this game long ago. And when you reached the student council room, pushing the door open, Jing Yuan was already there, waiting—smiling like he knew you’d come. Like he had never once doubted it. As if every struggle, every rebellion, every desperate attempt to escape had only led you right back to him.

And the worst part?

You weren’t sure if you had walked in on your own—or if he had guided you here all along.

[n0tamused]

Omg congrats on 1500 followers!!!! Can I request a romantic Jing Yuan (if it's okay, it would be the one where he's a bit younger like he's still a lieutenant in that one wardance quest, but it depends on you! No pressure ^^) with action prompt 18 with the fluff 21

˖ ࣪⊹Jing Yuan x Reader

18.Walking barefoot on the dew covered grass, hand in hand, under the stars + 21."Can I kiss you?" "You have no idea how long I've waited to hear you ask that."

A/n: Thank you so much! And I really hope you enjoy this ! <3

Contents: Jing Yuan x GN!Reader, fluff, Lieutenant JY, Jing Yuan is the one asking the question, I've proofread through this but I still feel like there's something I missed </3 If I did, pretend it's not there pls, I'll check again tomorrow

Words: 1050

Ko-Fi |  1.5K followers event

The soft twinkling of stars lit up the blackened skies, little milk drops scattered across black tiles with a passing crescent moon hanging overhead in the western corner. There was another moon, barely noticeable just below that one, following along.  Jing Yuan had proposed mythical stories of the two moons, how those were giant carriages of the Lan’s assistants, chasing away the plagues that troubled the world and aiding the entire of Xianzhou. Both of you knew this was all a tale, Lan worked alone, but that lie didn’t make the sight any less beautiful, if anything it added onto the growing mystique of the universe around you. And now as night enveloped the Luofu in a quiet embrace, promising sweet dreams wafting in the air and lulling the world to sleep, the two of you walked hand in hand down the lush grass gardens, bare feet feeling the damp ground. Little droplets licked cold dots across your ankles, the heat of your skin melting through just as easy, but the feeling was bordering on being ticklish. 

You giggled as Jing Yuan pulled you along, his attire devoid of his armor, yet he still wore the pale blue uniform of a Lieutenant, the red sash hanging loose and trailing behind him in twin tails. 

“Jing Yuan, why in the world must we go so far out?” you whispered as if there was anyone else but you and the undergrowth and the trees. “We could’ve seen the stars from the grassy steps just fine” you added as you pushed forward to catch up to his side, poking him beneath the ribs at which he jumped back with a hearty chuckle. 

“Because there is a better spot, and there is something much more beautiful to be seen, that which I do not want you to miss! Come-” he gave you no pause as he continued on his march towards a hill that stood out in the garden, a sapling that had been planted there was now barely tall enough above your heads, slender and full of thin branches with tiny little white blooms. When you almost slipped back down the hill, Jing Yuan promptly dug his heels into the ground and pulled you closer to him, keeping you upright and smiling that smile of his that was half warm and tender and half teasing.

By the time you were in the spot Jing Yuan marked as the destination, the smaller moon seemingly caught up to the big one and there were faint traces of color across the skies. Jing Yuan let go of your hand to unroll a blanket, a thick thing that looked heavy and weighed even more than that. You were both slightly damp from the grass and the shrubs he dragged you through, swearing high and low how this was the best way, a short cut, he said.

You both huddled onto the blanket and for a long while there was nothing but the sky and the two of you. Silently watching the stars blink right back at you. At one point a thought crossed your mind, one you didn’t hesitate to blurt out. “Are we waiting for something?”

Jing Yuan hushed you instead, pointing up towards the sky, and you quickly went quiet once more, eyes glued upwards, while your hand unconsciously brushed against his, seeking out his touch, his warmth.

This time, it wasn’t long before the midnight blues exploded with swirls of colorful hues, purples and greens and pinks, dancing along like silk scarves, making the stars fade in and out of existence, playing hide and seek. Your mouth fell open in shock, a sound of pleasant surprise falling from your lips.

A joy like that of a child lit inside of you, wishing to make your chest expand and glow, it yearned to be shared. And without a second thought you lunged sideways to embrace the Lieutenant that brought you here, arms wrapping about his neck in a vice as laughter bubbled up your throat. His own laughter followed and after a few heartbeats you felt his arms around you. 

“This is beautiful! Jing Yuan, look!” You pointed upwards as a star dashed across, looking like an arrowpoint of Lan themselves with its colorful streaked tail. It left behind a burning sash across the heavens even after it flew by and goosebumps rose across your skin.

“I told you it would all be worth it, you should put a little more trust in me, y’know” you heard him tell you, strands of his abundant hair tickling at your cheek.

The sight could be no more beautiful than this, a wonder beheld by the heavens just for you. The world is asleep and cold, the only warmth being that of the two of you. But once you looked at Jing Yuan you came to realize he was paying no attention to the sky - but you.

His eyes held depth, reflecting the colors fading in the sky, showing an emotion the two of you have struggled and feared to name for too long. Your eyes, captivated by his own, found it hard to look away, your gaze softening in face of his gentle smile.

Jing Yuan was still holding you, and were it any lighter you would have been able to see his cheeks as they began to grow more red. 

“May..May I kiss you?” He whispered the words as if speaking them outloud would break apart this perfect moment, waking him up from this dream so fate could laugh in his face. Courage he plucked up earlier was surging through his ears like a torrent, drumming and beating loud and keeping him where he sat, unmoving, waiting for you to..

“..You have no idea how long I've waited to hear you ask that."

His brows sprang up in surprise, smile dropping into an ‘o’ shape before springing up into a smile, and without wasting another moment of precious time, he leaned forward and captured your lips in a tender kiss. 

His lips lingered, encouraged by your own arms holding him. He could swear he could hear your heart, but you could also hear his. 

The world was as perfect as it would ever get. The night belonged to the two of you, and no one else.

Ⓒ n0tamused/jarttavia_. Do not repost, translate, edit, and/or copy any of my works. Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated.

[usagiarchive]

dumb tactics — jing yuan x reader

sypnosis. [ 0.3k words. fluff. established relationship ] — a game, a whistle, a kiss.

usagi's note: i haven't written in a while bcs i was caught up in academics, but i swear ive been cooking, like i have a rlly good upcoming plot so im very excited!! see more of my rambles after the fic, enjoy!!

“Your turn, A-Yuan,” you say as you drop your piece on the board.

It had been another one of those restful afternoons where the two of you simply basked in each other's presence. Today included a game of starchess.

Your lover looked seconds away from falling asleep so you called his name once again.

“Mhm,” he simply hummed, yawned, then moved his piece, “My love, do you know how to whistle?”

You raise an eyebrow, “Whistle…?” you echoed as you moved another piece.

“Yes,” he moves and takes one of your pieces. “I heard from Qingzu that whistling makes birds feel safe enough to rest next to humans,” he says, then stops to listen to the flock of birds you keep in the garden.

“Well yes, I do know how to,” you say as you take a piece of his.

Jing Yuan turns to look at you expectantly, using his signature pleading look.

You roll your eyes as you breathe out a laugh, “Alright, fine,”

You whistle a tune you know and wait for the birds… but nothing… happened?

You turn to look up and find the little creatures, but they just stayed in the trees.

“Yuan, I don't think it's working, maybe I'm doing it wrong, hold on let me try again,” you say as you turn back to him and whistle a different tune when-

He kisses you.

A quick peck and he pulls back with a :3.

Wait-

“Was the whole thing a ruse so you could kiss me?” You ask while just staring at him.

“Forgive me, Lady Bailu had told me something of a similar story earlier this week, I just… simply wanted to try it out,” he says still smiling.

You sigh in exasperation at his antics.

“You do know if you wanted a kiss, you could've just asked me, right?”

“Mm, but where's the fun in that, dear?”

You smiled amusedly, “You should be glad I put up with you,” you tease, “But do spit out my chess pieces, A-Yuan, you're not getting off the hook this time,”

The General turns his face away with a sly look.

“Jing Yuan!”

usagi's note: SO ANYWAY. one of the reasons why ive been so happy this week is bcs i hit my first 200+ cdmg in genshin like im so proud (i have shit builds okay) but like the cr is 37 ish so i think i should get that up to probably 50 or 60%? but im worried the cdmg will drop to the 100s again.

another one is bcs i learned smth rlly cool during my science class, thats is soooo gonna be the theme of the next fic i write, oh and its gonna be w scara btw cuz he's the one i hit the 200+ cdmg with hehe. but im kinda worried i won't be able to finish the outline within this week bcs ive been made head of a few projects especially with our entrepreneurship class so idk we'll see... ANW I HOPE U ENJOYED PLS SEND ASKS ILY ALL BYE THX FOR 150 I CRIED (REAL) !!!

@usagiarchive 2025. do not repost, translate, or use for AI. reblogs, likes, and comments are very appreciated!!

[recaday]

You look sad, don't be worried. It's all okay, let us meet again, over and over.

[sunnbnn]

To befriend a STR user...

[rewuyuu]

[b1adie]

like dude what the hell is that.

[thelostpretzel]

[lyrieeeee]

I was c0mmissioned by the english voice actor of Jing Yuan, Alejandro Saab, for a Jing Yuan and Sunday print!! This was a super exciting piece to work on and I hope y'all like it!!

[velinxi]

HSR fan art

[soursoppi]

i got a job so i could gacha more for inspiration but then got so busy i couldn't even draw ha...ha...

[strawberri-draws]

Forgot to post this but father son actually

[hunterfromtheabyss]

HENGJING IN PENACONY???

[kammilu]

severe medical history of the patient from volume 128...

[mamoru214]

evolution

>> Idea credit <<