#jingtsu

She scoffed but turned back to look at the stuffed animals—a light-blue rabbit, a white lion, and a pastel-pink tuskpir. She observed them with such seriousness that the General couldn’t help but approach them as well, curious as to why his wife seemed so interested in them. Natsu barely looked up at him as he approached, not even reacting as he wrapped his arms around her waist to press her into his chest, resting his chin on her shoulder. 

“Are those Yanqing’s?” He finally asked.

Natsu hesitated. “Not yet.”

He frowned. “Not yet?”

Natsu shook her head softly, one of her hands idly reaching to graze the rabbit’s ears. “Yanqing’s been having nightmares for a while now, we both know that. He wakes up in the middle of the night crying, and he calls for me in that terrified voice of his. If the nightmare is particularly scary, then he comes into our room and asks to stay with us. I was thinking that, maybe, if he had a companion…”

Jing Yuan smiled. “He wouldn’t be so scared?”

Natsu shrugged. “Maybe he’d feel a little braver. We don’t know what happened to him before you found him, and we also don’t know what he’s seeing in these nightmares…”

The General observed her for a few more moments in silence, noting the way her gaze softened as she looked at the stuffed animals she had chosen. They were proof of her unwavering love for their son—her desperate need to make him feel safer where her love couldn’t reach him, where her love couldn’t protect him. With a sigh, he pressed a kiss to her temple, both to comfort her and to dote on her. He then unwrapped himself from her to step closer to the bed, to the plushies.

“I am surprised that you did not choose the tuskpir right away,” He hummed, no teasing in his voice this time. “Don’t they help with anxiety?”

Natsu nodded. “Yes, a real one would. I doubt a toy would be so effective, and though I could have asked in the Alchemy Commission, I don’t want to give anyone the means to harm Yanqing. He’s still a baby.”

“He’s four.” Jing Yuan added, amused.

His wife elbowed him, scoffing. “He’s still a baby. Even if he carries around that sword and if he follows you into the Seat of Divine Foresight every day, he’s my baby.”

This time, the General erupted in good-humored chuckles, wrapping his arms around her again and cradling her against his chest. This was less for him and more for her—Natsu’s distress was evident the more she spoke. His big hand rubbed soothing circles on her back, while he pressed a kiss to her hair.

“You’re a good mom,” He uttered, once he felt that she had relaxed slightly in his arms.

“My child is having nightmares,” She shook her head. Ah, there it was—she blamed herself for this. “And all I can do is watch him cry every night.”

“And what does he do when he has a nightmare, hm?” He asked, voice soothing, hands rubbing her sides this time.

His wife hummed something unintelligible as she pressed her head against his chest. 

“Natsu,” He called.

She looked up, vulnerability and guilt etched into every feature of her face. He barely ever called her name—he was more given to pet names, even when they were still young and had yet to endure the tragedies this life had thrown at them. He only ever used it in very specific situations, serious situations… like this one.

“He calls for his mom,” Jing Yuan continued, pressing a kiss to her forehead this time. “He calls for you. You are his safe haven, my love. Indeed, we do not know what his situation was before I brought him to you, and we may not know what his nightmares are… But despite all of that, he calls for his mom whenever he’s scared. You’re a good mom.”

She looked at him for a few seconds, allowing herself to fall to his pull—to focus on his sun-like eyes and forget a little of the worry that she carried. She hated this as much as she loved it; how easy he could pull her back together even when she felt herself ripping at the seams. His sweet smile slowly turned into a teasing grin under her gaze; she felt him nuzzle at her temple, as if to hide his expression, but they had been together for too many centuries for her not to notice her husband’s subtle changes.

Natsu sniffled, flush spreading through her cheeks as she looked away from his golden gaze. “Just pick one.”

Jing Yuan observed the toys again. “Do we have to?”

The reaction was immediate. His wife pulled away, a gasp on her lips, and words ready to fight. He took hold of her wrists, amusement etched into his smile, as he pulled her closer once more. 

“You really can’t even choose a toy for your son?” She huffed, evidently offended.

“I didn’t mean it that way,” He chuckled. Natsu always thought of herself in lesser ways than anyone else, and right now, he wondered if she realized she was acting like a lioness protecting her cub—even from her own husband. “I am saying that we can ask him to choose, or we could give him all three.”

Natsu’s eyes widened. She hadn’t thought about that. She had been so focused on finding a solution…

“Three companions are better than just one,” She uttered, looking back at the toys. “They’ll keep him company.”

He hummed, wrapping his arms around her once again. He loved this—her, and her game of push and pull. The constant chase. Even now, after centuries of sharing their lives, devoting their lives to each other… She was still every piece of the girl he fell in love with when he was just a boy.

“Yeah, I like that,” She hummed back, burying her face into the expanse of his chest—always looking for a hiding place.

They stayed there for a few more seconds, merely enjoying each other’s warmth. Jing Yuan had never voiced it, but he found it almost funny how she fit within his arms—like a puzzle piece, made just for him. He had the strong urge to squeeze her, make her squeak like one of those noisy toys Yanqing kept, but he refrained. His love may be overwhelming most of the time, but right now she needed his comfort, not his teasing.

The soft sound of footsteps brought them back. Natsu pulled away slightly when she heard him, as if needing to double-check that it was her son—as if she didn’t already know. 

“Mommy?” They heard.

“Welcome home, baby,” Natsu pulled away to receive him.

Jing Yuan watched her walk to the door of their room; he heard Yanqing’s excited laughter as Natsu finally held him. Despite his young age, the boy babbled about his day following the Cloud Knights, and the swords he saw, and how he couldn’t wait to start training. There was no trace of last night’s tears as Natsu brought him into the room to see his new friends.

Yes, she was still the same girl he fell in love with a lifetime ago… even if she had become the mother of a toddler that kept them on their toes.

And he would not change a thing.

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“Don’t you think you’ve given enough attention to that child?” Jing Yuan’s voice reverberated behind her—every bit as commanding as ever, but being his wife for so long, Natsu could feel the unspoken complaint behind his every word. She rolled her eyes, still refusing to turn around and meet his eyes. “He’s going to become one of those pampered children that can’t take no for an answer.”

Natsu almost wanted to laugh; someone was being spoiled, all right, but it was not the exhausted baby in her arms.

“You’ve brought me this child,” Natsu stopped her humming, motioning towards the small baby fighting against sleep in her arms. His little head full of blonde hair was already messy from his fussing, but at least he had calmed down—even at this age, he was already stubborn, refusing to go to sleep despite the tiredness in his honeyed eyes. “With no warning, may I add, and now you’re complaining that I give him too much attention? Pick your battles wisely, General.”

She heard him laugh behind her, that deep laughter from within his ribcage, the one she had felt vibrating against herself far too many times not to recognize it. He was laughing at her.

“You’re a cruel woman.”

She felt his arms wrapping around her frame, pressing her against the expanse of his chest. The plates of his armor felt cold and rough against her back, only the soft fabric of her robe separating them—Jing Yuan had the habit of nuzzling into her as if he were a tiny cat and not a lion of a man. His silver hair tickled her as he pressed his face into the nape of her neck; Natsu laughed as quietly as she could—hoping Yanqing would not fuss—, then turned around to face him. It was hard to believe that she could be here, laughing with him and enjoying his warmth, when a month ago she was ready to pack her things.

Then, again, she wouldn’t have been able to turn away from a baby. From her baby. 

As if he were reading her thoughts, a smirk bloomed on the General’s lips. His golden eyes seemed to gleam with mischief; it could only mean that he was up to no good, as he so often was whenever she was involved. Natsu looked at him with a raised eyebrow—a silent challenge, one that he met with a hearty chuckle. 

With one arm, she held the baby against her chest; with the other, she proceeded to hit his chest.

“General,” She warned him.

He merely grinned, fighting to hold back the laughter bubbling within his chest at the very ineffectual hit of her fist. “Yes, darling?”

“I’m trying to put our son to sleep.”

“And I’m trying to get some affection from my wife.”

Natsu rolled her eyes, slightly amused. “Are you jealous of your son?”

Jing Yuan scoffed as if he had just heard the most ridiculous statement ever. “Of course not. He’s an infant. But when was the last time you looked at me with the same adoration, hm?”

He saw the exact moment his wife’s face fell from curious to disappointed, and he almost wanted to tease her. Almost. He didn’t, though. He knew, after all these years, how to handle Natsu’s temper—he was not about to lose this battle just yet. 

“You said it yourself. He’s a baby,” Natsu repeated as if the child was him and not the one in her arms. 

“You wound me,” He said, pitifully, burying his face into the crook of her neck this time. 

Almost immediately, Yanqing whined loudly, his tiny hands grabbing handfuls of Natsu’s sleeping robe—a clear complaint about the lack of space now that the General was pressing into him as well. Natsu pulled away, then. The reaction was half instinct half exhaustion from his antics. It made him smile; for all her reluctance to care for the child at the beginning, she had grown into quite the caring mother quickly enough. Perhaps far too quickly, Jing Yuan mused. The moment Yanqing made a sound, Natsu was already over him. She was the one who understood him the most, and though most nights it made him feel all warm inside… Tonight he was a little bitter. 

Just a little.

“You’re going to make him cry.” She warned him.

“I am the one who is going to cry, my love.” Jing Yuan said, dramatically, letting his arms fall at the absence of his wife in them. Natsu did not seem amused at his performance.

Maybe it was her protective instincts kicking in. Perhaps he had already pushed her buttons too far. Whatever it was, Jing Yuan knew that this could not end well—for him, at least. It was clear that Yanqing had won this round; Natsu was already pulling him closer, cradling him against her chest as if she knew the beating of her heart would soothe him. 

He felt oddly glad about his win, though, considering how their life together had begun. 

The beginning of this journey had been far too stormy for his liking. His lack of eloquence had almost cost him his marriage—could have even cost Yanqing the mother he now loved so much. It was funny to think about that now, but at the moment he had felt a dread that not even his hardest battle had caused. The way Natsu’s face had fallen the moment he had arrived from that battle and her eyes saw the baby in his arms. He had seen the panic in her eyes, the questions, the uncertainty, and he had been enough of a fool to think that a joke might ease the tension. A joke that, at the end of the day, had hurt his wife and made her almost leave their home.

He sighed at the memory—he had been lucky enough that Natsu had listened to him, that her soft heart had not resisted the moment Yanqing had reached for her, that all her anger had melted the moment she held him against her chest. It had taken her seconds to hold that baby and find herself a mother. It would have taken him a lifetime to feel ready for such a challenge had she not been by his side.

“What do you think, baby?” Natsu cooed at Yanqing, pressing a soft kiss to his little forehead. Jing Yuan felt his lips curving into a smile as the baby giggled—his mood improved so easily whenever she held him it was almost magic. “I think your dad is a little starved of attention, don’t you think? What should we do? Should we give him a few kisses?”

Before he could give her one of his witty retorts—those that either left her flustered or unamused—, Natsu had already placed Yanqing in his arms. She made him back away until his legs collided with the bed, forcing him to take a seat. Now she was towering over him—even though that might be too generous of a description since his wife was especially short (perhaps that’s why she got along so well with the Master Diviner. Not that he would voice that thought out loud, lest both of them would direct their anger at him). 

Natsu then placed her hands on his shoulders. 

He merely looked at her, an amused smile dancing on his lips.

Maybe he had pushed her just far enough.

“How about this?” She smiled, cupping his face in her hands before pressing a soft kiss on his right cheek. “Or this?” One on his left. “Maybe this?” Then the tip of his nose.

Jing Yuan lost count of the relentless assault the moment the kisses amounted to 10—all he knew was that his wife had taken it upon herself to cover him in kisses the same way he had seen her do with their son before. The actions had been so unexpected that even he, General Jing Yuan—the longest-standing Arbiter General—had just become a flustered mess. Cursed by his hubris-filled words, Jing Yuan had been left defenseless against her merciless affection. 

Even his son, at such a young age, seemed to laugh at him. 

After a few seconds, he reached to stop her. He grabbed her hand and squeezed. “Darling mine, I think that’s quite enough.”

“Oh?” She pulled away slightly, looking down at him with a spark of mischief in her eyes. Not very often had he observed such gleam in her eyes in all the years they had spent together—his wife usually kept to herself and her work at the Divination Commission. It was always him the one pushing her buttons and making her break that calm facade she kept most of the time. He had seen her laughing and flustered, doting and worried… But mischievous like this? No, barely ever.

She was a far greater foe than he had anticipated, it seemed. 

Natsu leaned in for one last kiss. It was different from the others—deeper, lasting, and definitely longing. Damned be all the aeons, it was almost teasing; he wondered, for a second, if this was what she felt when he pushed her too far. If she, too, felt this exposed when he was teasing her—when he was pulling reactions out of her for fun.

For all he enjoyed her reactions, he realized that being on the receiving end was oddly… humbling. 

“Was that good enough for you, General?” She asked, still mere inches away from his lips.

He swallowed, hard, the flush on his cheeks intensifying. Jing Yuan was used to slaying enemies on the battlefield, leading his men to victory time and time again, always being five steps ahead of every enemy’s traps. 

But his wife, it seemed, remained the one opponent he could not defeat—she still was his one and only weakness, and he would not have it any other way.

“That was foul play, my lady.”

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