"You've got me off track, got me thinking abstract/baby, look at what you've done, soon you've got me wantin' somebody or body contact/I love it, but I hate that." from Daphne Blue by TBC for ship of your choice
i literally wrote this back in 2020 for Fangfang/Lin Yiyang but it fits so here you go
-
“If you let me leave a mark,” Yi Yang says, thumb smoothing down the column of her neck where his kisses have painted the skin, “then people would know you’re mine.”
Fangfang wants to laugh at that. She doesn’t, because he might think she’s laughing at him, and he’s sensitive to things like that. But it’s just so ridiculous.
Because he’s already given her his jacket, when she ran from the dorm to make a test but forgot her raincoat and it was pouring by the end of the day. His coat’s warm and baggy and she likes to pull it over her shoulders like armor.
Because when they go to study together in the library, he makes sure that the seats by the windows are free because they’re her favorite. Sometimes he even already has all the necessary books and snacks piled in the middle of the table, as if by magic.
Because Dalei and Yebai poke their heads into her classroom during break and ask her how she’s doing or if she needs anything, and she knows it’s because he asked them to. They wink and smile at her and call her “Little Boss”, even though it makes her classmates talk.
A mark wouldn’t make any difference, she wants to say. Because how could they not already know?
“It’s different,” he mumbles, when she points out to him the many ways he’s already staked his claim. Her look demands he explain how, but Yi Yang never does. He distracts her instead, tapping the book in front of them or moving to kiss her mouth. When she feels the ghost of his teeth against her neck, it sends her into shivers.
He would never bite down without her saying so. But she won’t let him until she understands why he would want to.
Then she’s wearing the laces from his old training gloves looped around her wrist, only smiling a little bit when Qingqing notices and screeches loud enough to alert the entire classroom. Several of his jackets end up in her closet, making black and gray slashes through the sea of soft pinks and blues.
And yet his fingers always linger on the column of her throat, as he sighs.
“Then people would know you’re mine.”
He’s walking her to class the day that the thought hits her, sparking down her spine with an electric consternation. Fangfang stops short in the hall, and it’s only due to his quick pull at her wrist that she avoids causing a collision with her classmates.
“Be more careful,” he grunts, thumb stroking the joint of her wrist twice before letting go. But Fangfang’s not thinking of anything else in the world, least of all being careful; her eyes search across his face in wonder.
You’re all over me, she wants to say, but there’s nothing of me on you.
You want everyone to know I’m yours, because I’ve done nothing to say you’re mine.
“What the hell?” Situ Feng says bluntly, comic book falling from his hand. Beside him, Qingqing’s eyes bug out so far they might fall into the cup of yogurt she’s won from her boyfriend’s lunch after a truly vicious duel in the middle of the quad.
Yi Yang shrugs, sliding into the seat in front of the pair and crossing his arms over the back of the chair. Fangfang waves from the door where she’s helping the teacher repack a box of workbooks.
Qingqing reaches up to pat Feng’s cheek, eyes still affixed on Yi Yang. “Do you see this, Situ Feng?”
He shoves her hand away, muttering, “Duh, I’m not blind. Yi Yang, what are you doing?”
The other boy cocks an eyebrow, not moving. “I’m waiting for Fangfang.”
Qingqing and Situ Feng exchange looks of annoyance at his feigned innocence before leaning closer to his face. Slamming one hand on her desk to indicate she means business, Qingqing crows, “Yi Yang, you better explain! What are you trying to do to Fangfang?”
“Seriously,” Situ Feng says in a much quieter tone, pulling his girlfriend back by the hood of her sweatshirt. “She’s not like Qingqing, she’s a really sweet girl. You shouldn’t do anything to upset her.”
Yi Yang’s eyes narrow, wishing that his perceived aggression had the same effect on his friends as it appears to have on the rest of the student body. Even now, the student whose seat he has taken hovers a short distance away rather than asking him directly to get up. “Who’s upset? She hasn’t said anything.”
Qingqing throws herself forward to grab the collar of his shirt, jerking him to one side with surprising strength. “How can she not be upset? Just because Fangfang has too much of a kind heart to say anything about it, how dare you run around with another girl!” Her other hand slaps at Situ Feng’s face again. “The evidence is all over your body! You can see it, can’t you, Situ Feng?”
“I already told you I could, stupid, stop hitting me---”
“Walking around with love bites on your neck from a mistress, how could you be so shameless?!”
“Qingqing!” Fangfang hurries over, pulling her friend back into the chair with both hands in a much-practiced motion. “Leave him be, he’s innocent.”
Yi Yang readjusts the collar of his shirt, smiling towards Fangfang in a way that makes her blush. Qingqing snarls.
“You don’t have to defend him, Fangfang!” Would kicking him out the third floor window be too soft of a response to such a dramatic betrayal?
“How could he be innocent,” Situ Feng muses, shaking his head, “when his neck looks like that.”
Fangfang’s hands grip Qingqing’s shoulders tightly. “Because,” she says, her voice barely above a whisper, “I did it to him.”
“Eh?” Situ Feng and Qingqing’s heads snap back to stare at her, creating an audible crack in the room. Fangfang’s face is the color of strawberry cream, and she hurriedly drops her gaze to the floor. Yi Yang leans back in the chair with a purposeful nonchalance; Fangfang is sure he’s worn just a T shirt today for this reason, instead of the jacket that curves higher up on his collarbone.
Unless that is one of the jackets in her closet, and she just overestimates him.
Her eyes meet Yi Yang’s, relieved at the adoration she finds there. The reverence that he always seems to carry for her feels like slipping into a warm bath at the end of a long hard day; his smile is so soft, even with the purple bruises blossoming on the right side of his throat.
She’d discovered it was really more of the suction that created the mark, and not the violence of teeth meeting skin. Her first few tries had barely affected his visage. Yi Yang had chuckled upon noticing her disappointment and reminded her that she could practice all she wanted until she was pleased.
“Why--who--” Qingqing’s head whips back and forth dramatically between her best friend and her best friend’s boyfriend. “Fangfang!”
Situ Feng leans over and stage whispers. “You know what they say. Even a kitten becomes a tigress when provoked…”
“Who says that?! What provocation?!” Qingqing stands, almost knocking Situ Feng out of his chair. She grasps Fangfang’s hands tight and pulls them to her chest. “Fangfang, what could have made you so bold?”
Her smile is bright, boldened by the laces peeking out of her sleeve and the sight of her boyfriend’s thumb tracing the mark on his own skin.
“Because,” she says simply, “then people know he’s mine.”
