All of me wants all of you
All of me wants all of you, E, 16K: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24996985
Saving some quotes from this dramatic qijiu fix-it, where the author first delivers one of the best 79 fics in history, and then the reader screams. And screams. And screams some more. Be warned, for the fic is decidedly NOT what it may seem to be at first.
Despite how perfectly awesome and in-character both qijiu are written, be warned. You may even try to stop your reading at about 99% completion of the story. The final blow is delivered in the very final lines indeed. Maybe your impression of the fic would end up less troubled without that one remaining percent of the text unread.
There're no spoilers in the quotes below.
***
‘Get away,’ his heart pleaded. No words were allowed to come out. The skin on his lips broke and then bloomed as he pressed them into a tight line. Light pierced through his skull like an arrow. The pungent smell of iron helped him settle a bit, like a trusted cane. When Xuan Su’s remains had been presented to him, gleaming scales torn from a formidable dragon, he had wanted to shallow them all. Let them pierce and let them fester.
Yue Qingyuan’s sword was now resting against a wall, cast aside in a careless manner.
Whether rebirth or delusion, this was nothing. It meant nothing.
Yet the possibility was a dirty street cat rubbing his body against Shen Qingqiu’s legs. A chance. A chance.
***
In the throes of deviation, it was always Yue Qingyuan who’d bring him back, who’d sit by his bedside just like now. At the moment Yue Qingyuan towered behind Mu Qingfang’s slender frame, looming like a hungry ghost. Every single thing had to become a study on duality when it came to Yue Qingyuan, right? Open fire between them while mutiny undermined their ranks behind the trenches. Once again, Shen Qingqiu’s eyes narrowed in ire and anguish he himself couldn’t process. All the staged care, the natural talent for decorum, the spitting image of Buddha; what a laugh. There were embers to be fanned.
Whenever Shen Qingqiu played his role just right, tightly repressed disappointment would leak out of the Sect Leader’s eyes. To him, Shen Qingqiu was like an ill-raised dog gone rabid; you could feed it but never quite touch it. Either you sacrifice it or keep it forever tied.
***
He wanted Yue Qingyuan to beg but Heavens above knew he would be incapable of bearing witness.
***
He cared, therefore he yearned. He burned. He wanted Yue Qingyuan to touch until the lines of him were blurry and his body became a well-traded path.
This wasn’t his usual tug of war with himself, the very simplistic, very predictable way in which he always sunk into guilt induced despair and nausea after the Sect Leader spared him some casual contact. That had always made him feel delirious first and then filthy. It used to bring some sort of religious fervor out of him, going straight to the sickest parts of his brain. It made him both want to take himself in hand and whip his own back raw in atonement.
This felt like free-falling.
Would the other follow, if he were to leave his door open?
Longing had its roots buried deep and it bloomed all year around.
Shen Qingqiu had moved on. Had fallen again. Would fall every chance.
It was possible that he was receiving whiplash from the superposition of narratives. That could easily leave anyone feeling off. At the same time, it could also be plain old him just offering resistance to the smallest glimpse of acceptance. Shifting the focus.
***
“Everyone knows how persistent Lord Yue can get when forced to right his wrongs.”
It always felt like gazing at a sinking ship from ashore: couldn’t stop it, couldn’t stop looking.
***
The bottomless pit of Yue Qingyuan’s eyes poured over him dark waters. They were close enough to touch. For a moment there, barely the time it took for his heart to beat, when Shen Qingqiu wanted to take a step back and away from Yue Qingyuan’s lightless inferno.
***
Up requires heaven’s blessing, down is fate inherited - will might keep a man right in between, standing bare feet on the blunt edge of a sword. Will is an anchor.
Will is a shackle.
***
“You’ll regret it,” Shen Qingqiu said. He dragged his nose against the line of Yue Qingyuan’s tense jaw, all the way to the shell of his ear.
“I’ll die if you stop,” Yue Qingyuan whispered back. Shen Qingqiu smiled, teeth teasing the sensitive skin of an earlobe.
“I didn’t know you could be so needy.”
***
And a bonus scene of great piscine epicness from New Game+ (M, 111K)
Shen Jiu stands alone with a pond full of aquatic voyeurs. His whole chest throbs and feels too small to contain the constant hammering of his heart. Even his bones and teeth are beginning to ache in the presence of Yue Qingyuan, as if the gravity surrounding the man has suddenly grown strong enough to finally pull him in.
Saving some quotes from this dramatic qijiu fix-it, where the author first delivers one of the best 79 fics in history, and then the reader screams. And screams. And screams some more. Be warned, for the fic is decidedly NOT what it may seem to be at first.
Despite how perfectly awesome and in-character both qijiu are written, be warned. You may even try to stop your reading at about 99% completion of the story. The final blow is delivered in the very final lines indeed. Maybe your impression of the fic would end up less troubled without that one remaining percent of the text unread.
There're no spoilers in the quotes below.
***
‘Get away,’ his heart pleaded. No words were allowed to come out. The skin on his lips broke and then bloomed as he pressed them into a tight line. Light pierced through his skull like an arrow. The pungent smell of iron helped him settle a bit, like a trusted cane. When Xuan Su’s remains had been presented to him, gleaming scales torn from a formidable dragon, he had wanted to shallow them all. Let them pierce and let them fester.
Yue Qingyuan’s sword was now resting against a wall, cast aside in a careless manner.
Whether rebirth or delusion, this was nothing. It meant nothing.
Yet the possibility was a dirty street cat rubbing his body against Shen Qingqiu’s legs. A chance. A chance.
***
In the throes of deviation, it was always Yue Qingyuan who’d bring him back, who’d sit by his bedside just like now. At the moment Yue Qingyuan towered behind Mu Qingfang’s slender frame, looming like a hungry ghost. Every single thing had to become a study on duality when it came to Yue Qingyuan, right? Open fire between them while mutiny undermined their ranks behind the trenches. Once again, Shen Qingqiu’s eyes narrowed in ire and anguish he himself couldn’t process. All the staged care, the natural talent for decorum, the spitting image of Buddha; what a laugh. There were embers to be fanned.
Whenever Shen Qingqiu played his role just right, tightly repressed disappointment would leak out of the Sect Leader’s eyes. To him, Shen Qingqiu was like an ill-raised dog gone rabid; you could feed it but never quite touch it. Either you sacrifice it or keep it forever tied.
***
He wanted Yue Qingyuan to beg but Heavens above knew he would be incapable of bearing witness.
***
He cared, therefore he yearned. He burned. He wanted Yue Qingyuan to touch until the lines of him were blurry and his body became a well-traded path.
This wasn’t his usual tug of war with himself, the very simplistic, very predictable way in which he always sunk into guilt induced despair and nausea after the Sect Leader spared him some casual contact. That had always made him feel delirious first and then filthy. It used to bring some sort of religious fervor out of him, going straight to the sickest parts of his brain. It made him both want to take himself in hand and whip his own back raw in atonement.
This felt like free-falling.
Would the other follow, if he were to leave his door open?
Longing had its roots buried deep and it bloomed all year around.
Shen Qingqiu had moved on. Had fallen again. Would fall every chance.
It was possible that he was receiving whiplash from the superposition of narratives. That could easily leave anyone feeling off. At the same time, it could also be plain old him just offering resistance to the smallest glimpse of acceptance. Shifting the focus.
***
“Everyone knows how persistent Lord Yue can get when forced to right his wrongs.”
It always felt like gazing at a sinking ship from ashore: couldn’t stop it, couldn’t stop looking.
***
The bottomless pit of Yue Qingyuan’s eyes poured over him dark waters. They were close enough to touch. For a moment there, barely the time it took for his heart to beat, when Shen Qingqiu wanted to take a step back and away from Yue Qingyuan’s lightless inferno.
***
Up requires heaven’s blessing, down is fate inherited - will might keep a man right in between, standing bare feet on the blunt edge of a sword. Will is an anchor.
Will is a shackle.
***
“You’ll regret it,” Shen Qingqiu said. He dragged his nose against the line of Yue Qingyuan’s tense jaw, all the way to the shell of his ear.
“I’ll die if you stop,” Yue Qingyuan whispered back. Shen Qingqiu smiled, teeth teasing the sensitive skin of an earlobe.
“I didn’t know you could be so needy.”
***
And a bonus scene of great piscine epicness from New Game+ (M, 111K)
Shen Jiu stands alone with a pond full of aquatic voyeurs. His whole chest throbs and feels too small to contain the constant hammering of his heart. Even his bones and teeth are beginning to ache in the presence of Yue Qingyuan, as if the gravity surrounding the man has suddenly grown strong enough to finally pull him in.