#i was saying last night that i missed neuvillette and this man broke down my writer's block as if saying you cannot miss any other man

[hiimawarish]

worship this love

s. a lazy morning with jing yuan after phantylia's fight. cw. female/afab reader. fluff. slight angst. tons of comfort. . jing yuan is a dedicated husband. pet names. tw. not proofread. suggestive (but nothing explicit). mention of scars. wc. 0.7k a/n. i was complaining about my writer's block and then this happened. i'm so down bad for this man it's not even funny. anyways, enjoy. credits. dividers by @/cafekitsune.

“Darling mine.”

The sudden rumbling of his voice startles you, and then you feel the vibrations of his laughter, deep from within his chest. The moment you turn to look at him, you find the molten golden eyes you love so much staring back at you—half-lidded, still mostly asleep, yet focused only on you. The lazy smile dancing on his lips almost succeeds in turning you into putty, but you remain focused… or as focused as you can be, anyway. 

Your fingers trace again the soft, pink skin of the scar across his chest. It’s the new one, the one that had been hidden from your eyes for weeks under the bandages that Lady Bailu constantly checked. Bandages that he would not allow you to touch, no matter how many times you insisted. Eyebrows furrowed, you cannot help but think back to that moment… To Fu Xuan calling for you, telling you it was an emergency, the clear panic in her voice. Some of that fear has not vanished just yet, and maybe that is why you’re observing the offending wound on his chest with so much intensity.

“Darling mine,” Jing Yuan calls you again. This time he stretches his arms, his heavy hand falling on the small of your back, the callouses on his fingers tickling you softly. The warmth from his touch comforts you, and yet you do not look up again. You can’t. You know what he will say, and you are in no mood to listen. “Look at me?”

“No.”

You press your lips together into a thin line, your frown deeper, and your fingers finally stop stroking the scar. You know what he will say—he is alive, he is still here, he is still, always yours—, and though it may be true, some fears cannot be erased. The fight with Phantylia had been too risky, and you knew your husband; General Jing Yuan is nothing if not self-assured, especially when faced with danger. You’d wished he had been cautious, too. 

You’d wish he’d thought, for a second, about how losing him would wreck you.

“Come on, don’t make me beg,” Jing Yuan insists, his hand trailing from the small of your back to your shoulders. Your state of undress and the rays of sun filtering through the window make it easy for him to see the goosebumps rising along your skin. 

You huff. “I do not think there is anything that could make you beg, General. Least of all me.”

“Was last night not proof e-”

You smack him softly, making him cough, and then laugh. The burning heat on your cheeks tells him that this is, in fact, not the moment for him to be joking around. Not even if focusing on your face is the most difficult thing to do this morning, as his golden eyes keep glancing down at the swell of your breasts pressed against the tight skin of his stomach. Jing Yuan clears his throat, eyes once again locking onto yours, disheveled silver hair framing his face.

“You were reckless,” You say, finally. There is no anger in your face, just fear, and the General at last realizes what heavy burden he has made you carry. “You were reckless, and I know you’re alive, but…”

“Darling mine,” He sits up, just a little, enough to bring you up with him. His hands leave your body, instead cupping your cheeks. His touch is gentle and soft, and you lean against the warmth of his hands. “I apologize for worrying you. You are right. I was reckless. So much for scolding Yanqing for not knowing his limits, when I rushed straight into harm myself.”

You laugh, pressing a soft kiss to one of his palms. “He takes after you.”

“Ah, he does, doesn’t he?” Jing Yuan chuckles, one of his hands leaving your face to snake around your waist. “Perhaps I ought to apologize to him as well.”

“You should, he was quite- hey!”

Your husband merely laughs, open-mouthed this time, his chuckles bouncing off the walls of your room as he pulls you closer, his hand at your waist tracing taunting circles on the skin of your hip. His laughter seems to reverberate within you, too, as he leans in to press a lazy kiss on the pulse of your neck, making you squeak again. 

“First things first,” Jing Yuan says, voice slightly muffled against the skin of your neck. His silver hair tickles you as he speaks. “Let me make it up to my darling wife, hm?”

You sigh, face flushed. Who were you to deny him, anyway?

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©2023 hiimawarish do not translate, repost, copy, modify

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