The way it starts with you, then he reaches forward the second time— and for a second you've caught up to him in this neverending race, both slowing down to a stop. You wonder why it took so long to realize how tired the both of you are. Muscles burning, blood rushing, throat parched and hearts aching.
Then its hands in each other's hair. Yearned, feverish, starved. Slowly, it mellows. Cradling his face, breathing in his scent, gentle imprints on the tongue.
Your childhood, rivals to whatever this was, it melts. You melt, and so does he. Under the moon once again.
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Dirty, impure, stained with the blood of crooks and criminals. His right ring finger is calloused from years of shooting, sometimes downright bruised after busier days. They were rough and steeled since he was 16— the by-product of being forced to pick for scraps, of fighting off men twice his size, of trying to survive.
His palms can be akin to sandpaper, skin rough from all the gritty field work. Not to mention his knuckles, burning an angry crimson as a new layer of scars appears almost every week from altercations he prefers not to discuss during the regular therapy sessions.
Chen Yu Zhi, on the other hand, finds them cold.
Sometimes they are cold in the way the blade of a knife feels against skin. Forcing one to hold their breath and thread carefully. These are the days where he feels them tremble from decades of anger festering underneath. A deep, seething fire that does not warm no matter how strongly it burns.
Othertimes they are chilled like water flowing from mountain springs. Gentle and fluid in their motions— especially when Yue Lou cradles his cat, scratching its chin and stroking the feline fondly. Though Xiao Bai isn't the only one to receive this attention.
More often than not, Yu Zhi tries not to think about the fingers mindlessly playing at the ends of his hair, scratching along the nape of his neck. A gesture that can say good job, I'm here, or I miss you.
Jiang Yue Lou looks down at his hands and thinks they are tainted, unworthy of holding another.
Chen Yu Zhi looks down and thinks they are so beautiful, and they fit perfectly in mine.
Watching a tale of a thousand stars has put me in a constant state of yearning for the tenderness of touches fueled by the purest kind of love— which is the one we know could fail and so we shy away from it, only to see it has been following is like a shadow, tugging at the hem to find its missing piece. Or as they say, the last star in the sky.
And when they are near you just can't help but try to reach out. To touch, to feel, to hold close. To keep by your side because the love they embody is everything, and that scares you. Getting tangled up is a risk of risking to lose them and you just can't take that.
So you push away. Breaking glass and shattering hearts in the process so the distance between would be sharp and painful.
This way they won't get hurt. Just you. Always you, alone.
But you're not the only stubborn one.
They come back, running and crashing head first into you. You reach out despite it all. You're both falling off the edge but the ground below is soft. They are laughing and so are you, tangled up together the way your fates have always been.
Hello! Can I ask for Yu and Junbai fanfictions (from killer and healer). Any theme is good but my favorites are fluff, angst and hurt/comfort. Thank you
Hi @mahan734 !! Sorry this took a while, I was debating on writing fluff or angst but the latter got to me ;’) This pair was literally made for angst and hurt/comfort so I hope you’ll like it!
Note: This fic is NOT SPOILER FREE and takes place before the whole mess unfolded <3
Edit: Available on AO3 too!
Canary
Yu Tang Chun has died once.
It happened years ago. No mourners and no funerals, only the memory of a young boy and his lineage obliterated in a single day. Back then, he hoped he too would drop dead like his mother. It would be a lie to say the thought was not tempting the first few years, but anger was a demanding force. He knew the only way to get back at the bastard with that cursed watch was to survive.
Like a phoenix, he was reborn– The red silks were his wings of fire, the stage his kingdom of gold, and his voice the second chance at a life.
After all that, he tells himself he isn’t scared of dying again. Yet as Tang Chun stands alone in the back garden of the Zhan estate, he shivers.
With autumn approaching, the winds carry a piercing cold with it. The singer ignores the way his breath fogs in the air, pulling his robe tighter around his shoulders. For now it’s him and the moon as his faithful audience.
For the last few weeks, Tang Chun has been sneaking out in the dark of night between security shifts. It isn’t difficult when the back garden is the least guarded area in the estate with its tall metal gates and sharp barbed wire.
On some nights, it’s difficult to distinguish if they were there to keep him safe or to keep him.
Zhan Jun Bai, a man who can have everything and everyone yet he still insisted on letting the singer stay longer in the Zhan mansion. Just what exactly is going through his head? Tang Chun wonders as he looks up at the heavens, singing Jun Bai’s favourite song.
Ever since the accident, his voice had deteriorated at an even faster rate. His late night practices have not been producing the promising results he was hoping for. Tonight is not any better– the singer can barely get through the first verse of a song without his throat itching.
With each shaky note, his fists tighten.
Zhan Jun Bai was generous enough to let him recover in his mansion despite getting nothing in return. Everyday, Tang Chun tries offering anything from handmade gifts to a premium seat at the opera, everything he could muster whilst knowing they are mere drops in Jun Bai’s sea of fortune. And everyday, the executive would smile and say, “Don’t worry about that.” as if it made his worries go away.
Jun Bai had only regarded him as someone worthy of being in his line of vision because of his voice, no? Yet now without it, why is he still treating Tang Chun with such hospitality?
It’s now that Yu Tang Chun painfully realizes that he isn’t the same phoenix who was reborn from the tragedy that befell his family. He’s a songbird who can’t even sing.
Perhaps there is satisfaction in keeping him here as everyday is a reminder that his fate lies in the executive’s hands.
His voice cracks at the second verse and Tang Chun winces. Amateur mistake, he should not have messed up. The singer tries again, ignoring the stinging pain now spreading to the center of his chest.
No, Zhan Jun Bai could have ignored his very presence if he was doing it to fuel a saviour complex. He wouldn’t have woken up early to eat breakfast together, or offer to teach the singer how to shoot a gun that he, too gifted.
A voice whispers that Jun Bai might have done it out of… affection. The notion is quickly pushed away. Because what else can Jun Bai love if it isn’t his voice?
He chokes on a note. A chilling void settles in his body as he realizes the grains of time are slipping out from his fingertips.
Many moons ago, the singer had told Chen Yu Zhi that he would rather die an early death if it meant getting to do what he loved most, to sing. He didn’t expect the doctor to understand. It’s something shared by all artists, that once they are unable to create, they are said to have died their first death. In his case, it will be his second. Yet now, with the looming possibility rolling in, all he wants is to crawl away from it.
Amidst the tears rolling down his face, Tang Chun ignores the figure approaching from the corner of his eye. He inhales frantically, forcing enough air into his lungs to continue.
“Master Yu?” a silhouette pauses at the entrance of the garden before walking briskly to join the lonesome singer.
Only after tasting metal did Tang Chun realize that the words on his tongue were actually blood. It doesn't faze him. He sings louder, both fists balled up so tightly that he can already see the crescent-shaped indents on his palms.
“Master Yu, what are you doing?”
The melody scrapes its way out like sandpaper and the pain is evident in each syllable. The grass behind him crunches underneath quick feet but that’s irrelevant. Get it right, come on, you cannot die like this.
The singer is one line away from finishing the verse when the blood clogs his airways and he hacks, spluttering out a dark crimson.
“Yu Tang Chun!” His knees give away. A jacket is wrapped around his frail body and with it, a warm body presses closer. Within the small distance, Tang Chun catches the tremble in his voice.
Mindlessly, he leans against the body, soaking in the warmth radiating from it. Above him, Zhan Jun Bai has an arm over his shoulders and yells for someone to get a doctor. Who could possibly be awake at this time? The singer wants to laugh, but instead he heaves over, covering his mouth and swallowing down a surge of blood.
“Executive Zhan, was I being too loud?” Another fit of coughs shake his whole body. A careful hand strokes up and down his back and Tang Chun tries his best smile, purposely looking down at the grass caught between his fingers.
Jun Bai places his hands under the singer’s chin and pulls his face up to get a better look. It’s the least Tang Chun wants at the moment. He looks unseemly, pale and sickly aside from the blood tinting his lips.
“What were you thinking? The doctor has warned you against straining yourself.”
A flare of anger sends his heart rate spiking and the pain pricks at his throat. He places both hands on Jun Bai’s chest and tries to push him away but the other man only pulls him closer, hand now holding him down by the neck. To this, Tang Chun grits out, “I know my limits.”
“Then why do you keep testing them?” Trapped in his arms, Tang Chun feels like a little bird with a broken wing, still fighting to fly while Jun Bai cradles him in pity.
Pity, it’s always pity.
“I can’t stay here.” The singer has had enough of that. He doesn’t want Jun Bai to see him like this. Weak, and broken and powerless. Just like he was as a boy. Tang Chun makes one last attempt to pull free and fails– If he can’t run, then he’ll hide.
Reluctantly, the singer buries his face against the other’s neck. Despite his continuous attempt to distance himself from the older man, a selfish voice deep down tells him he doesn’t want to be thrown out. That he wants to stay close to Jun Bai, to know that the other man needs him.
And as Jun Bai holds him tighter, he’s terrified at how close it feels to having that wish come true.
“Why can’t you stay here? Tell me, what do you need? I’ll get you anything you want.” The pair of arms around his waist tighten enough to pull a weak gasp out of the singer. Another surge of tears break through.
“It’s not about what you give me, it’s what I can’t give you.” whimpers the younger, looking up to meet Jun Bai’s eyes for the first time that night. To his surprise, they were glassy and especially beautiful underneath the moonlight, “You’ve done more than enough. Meanwhile I can’t even sing to you as I promised. I don’t deserve all the kindness you’ve shown me, Executive Zhan.”
Jun Bai looks lost for a moment. His face irons flat, almost cold, before it twists into a scowl.
“Who told you that? Give me their names.”
“No one!” Tang Chun grips onto Jun Bai’s arms before the man gets to stand up and roast every single one of his staff for a crime they did not commit. “The me who can no longer sing is the me who has lost everything. I won’t have anything left to give-”
“You don’t owe me anything.” hisses the executive, his grasp bruising the singer’s arms. Tang Chun is a deer in headlights. This new side of him was shocking and it scared him for a second. Such anger comes rare to a man like him, and the singer is beyond surprised to find himself as the match that sparked it all.
“I first invited you to stay here because I valued you as a priceless talent, a rare gem.” Upon feeling the younger freeze in his hold, Jun Bai’s expression thaws.
“After the incident, a part of me could not live knowing you had risked your life to save mine. I wanted to make it up to you.” His grip on the younger’s arms loosen, rubbing at them in apology before they slither down to take Tang Chun’s cold hands in his own. It’s hard to focus when Jun Bai’s thumbs keep stroking over his knuckles as he speaks.
The singer doesn’t notice the tears rolling down again until Jun Bai reaches up to swipe them away. The hand moves up to his face and freezes an inch away from the younger’s cheek, “The other part of me wants to keep you here because it’s no longer your voice I needed every night,”
Tang Chun exhales slowly and leans into Jun Bai’s touch.
“It’s your company.”
Behind them, the rustle of people approach, yet the executive does not pull away. If people see, then they see. No one would dare peep anyways.
“Stay with me?”
Tang Chun stares at him for a good moment. Soaking it in. Soaking the fact that Jun Bai wants him here. The mansion is just a house but Jun Bai is home. He feels his resolve weaken, and Tang Chun slinks down to lean against the other’s shoulder.
“Alright.” He whispers, warm breath fanning across the elder’s neck as the tension seeps from his bones. Jun Bai also releases a deep breath and catches the singer in a hug. Wrapping him tighter this time, as if Tang Chun would be blown away by the wind if he were to let go.
Above them, the moon retreats behind the clouds as the actor steps down from the stage, the canary returns to its cage and the show draws to an end.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapters: 4/4
Fandom: ATEEZ (Band)
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Choi San/Jung Wooyoung, Kim Hongjoong/Park Seonghwa, Choi Jongho/Kang Yeosang, Jeong Yunho/Song Mingi
Characters: Choi San, Jung Wooyoung, Kim Hongjoong, Park Seonghwa, Choi Jongho, Kang Yeosang, Jeong Yunho, Song Mingi, other minor OC side characters
Additional Tags: Fluff, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Nail Salon AU, San is just gay and confused, Wooyoung is still a cutie, dancer!san, Nail Tech!Wooyoung, Dancer!Yeosang, Producer!Hongjoong, Nail Tech!Seonghwa, Nail Tech!Yunho, Photographer!Mingi, Yes you read that right, the only thing Mingi doesn't break is his camera and yunho's heart, Hairdresser!Jongho, pretty San-centric, everyone is gay and whipped, this is such a self indulgent fic, this was supposed to be a oneshot, but i'm splitting them up whoo, no beta we die like men
Summary:
“Sangie told me this was your first time?” Wooyoung was rummaging in his basket of tools, flashing a practiced smile. “We’ll start with a manicure first. Your hands please?”
San’s mind tumbled around for a bit, wiping his hands against his pants before placing them before Wooyoung. Beads of sweat dampened his palm, making him worry which inevitably led to them sweating even more. Regardless, Wooyoung said nothing and ran a thumb over San's knuckles, humming to himself.
“Are you nervous? It’s fine, I don’t bite.”
or
A nail salon AU where San goes to get his nails done and ends up leaving with more than just a manicure.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
