#chinaxreader

Please and thank, the way to my heart! I’ll have to do Japan’s and Russia's as a separate post as I enjoyed writing China’s so much it got mega long.

1p!China: Yao Yang

“Silver, maybe?” You quirk a brow, already reaching for the gel pen.

“Aiya, that would look terrible.” Yao sighs, shaking his head. “No, gold would look so much better.” You huff at that before reaching over the table and grabbing the silver anyway. 

“You’ve used so much gold already. Let’s mix it up a bit.” You click the lid onto the end of the pen and start filling in the white patches. 

“What was the point in asking if you were going to do it anyway?” Yao tuts at you but does nothing to stop you. His cousins had gifted him a stress relieving colouring book. They said something about needing to unwind or removing the stick up his rear end. So, you had popped over on your day off to spend the day sitting at his coffee table, many colouring pens, crayons, markers and gel pens strewn across the table. He didn’t mind doing this. Not with you here. He got stroppy when his younger relatives kept telling him that he was always so tense, but that didn't feel like the case with you around. You flick out your wrists, stretching them out. You'd been hunched over the table for an hour now, the stress hitting your body. Yao continues to watch you. It feels peaceful with a steady breeze drifting through his house; all windows open and the back doors wide open, giving him a view of his preened garden. He goes back to watching you colour in. The picture is almost done. He grabs the black thin felt pen and starts adding smaller details. The fill in the blank drawing was quite detailed, but Yao could add more. He hears you give a satisfying hum at your work before capping the pen and turning to him. 

“Wanna do another one?”

“I’d rather be drinking tea.”

“What kind?” You get up, stretching out your hands above your head, your top lifting to show your waist as you arch backwards, closing your eyes. Yao indulges. He feels so sly, like a fox. You had gotten so comfortable with him that you exposed yourself ever so often and he never made a comment. If he did, you might stop. Maybe you were hinting at something, he’d always muse at the idea. But nothing ever happened. But it doesn’t stop him from watching you, imagining more. You rest your body with a breathy moan and Yao can feel himself twitch. Were you even aware what you did to him? “I’m feeling raspberry tea.” You hum pleasantly at the idea before heading to the open kitchen. He can see you from the coffee table as you flick the kettle on.

“I'll have the same.” 

“Oh, can I use the teapot then?” You look hope. Yao smiles softly at your excitement.

“Yes.” That one word made you bounce on the balls of your feet before ransacking his cupboard. He would never understand your amazement at his tea collection and utilities. Then again, the Western culture had taken over most the globe and the art of tea-making seemed so traditional and mediocre compared to coffee making. He watches as you place down the teapot and put some dried tea leaves and raspberries into the French press. Maybe you were so amazed by the teapot due to it being see-through with a French press in the middle? He could hear you counting out loud.

“Two for me, two for Yao, one for the pot.” You bob your head up and down to the tune in your head, moving around his kitchen so effortlessly that it looked like dancing. You add some sugar before grabbing the kettle and filling the teapot, for some reason crouching slightly. Your eyes widen as you watch the liquid stain a subtle pink. Yao moves the pens around on the table, getting up to grab a matt for you to put this on. as he stands, he feels his back crack and he winces, before looking over to you to see if you noticed. You don’t, and he exhales a breath he didn't realise he was holding. He picks up a red straw matt and lays it on the coffee table before he settles back down, slower this time. You come rushing over soon after, gently placing it down on the table before rushing back for the cups. You giggle as you approach Yao again, plopping down. But you fall quicker than anticipated and bump into him, shoulder hitting his elbow. He rolls his eyes, amused at your vigour as you pop back straight again and grin sheepishly at him, putting down the cups. “Do you want a cup now?”

“Yes, please.” He nods. You set his cup before him and grab the teapot, gently pushing down the French press lid and watch as a deeper pink settle throughout the pot. You watch with wide eyes before picking it up, pouring a cup. You smile proudly, nodding in appreciation of the cup before Yao. He picks it up, takes a sip before smiling contently. He looks at you over the top of his cup, you going to the pens and lining them all up neatly.