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error: 0v3rr1d3 | yandere!qimir x cyborg!reader

✧content: 18+ mdni, f!reader, smut, angst, death, blood, character death, flashbacks, flashfowards, existentialism?, unreliable narrators and crazy epiphenies, drowning, osha going through the ringer, p in v, cockwarmth, blowing, creme pie, worshipping qimir, second fiddle feelings

✧word count: 6.2K

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[aniqua]

error: 0v3rr1d3 | yandere!qimir x cyborg!reader

✧content: 18+ mdni, f!reader, smut, angst, p in v, [redacted] qimir, death, blood, character death, flashbacks, flashfowards, existentialism?, unreliable narrators and crazy epiphenies, drowning, osha going through the ringer, p in v, cockwarmth, blowing, creme pie, worshipping qimir, second fiddle feelings

✧note: it's been real fun to make qimir a loser, robot fucker.

✧word count: 6.2K

✧series masterlist

“You promised that we would go.” You’d spent the last thirty minutes pressing Qimir to explain the change in plan.

“That was before yesterday's incident,” Qimir sighed as he arranged boxes. The day prior to this exchange, Qimir spent his time in a sticky sweat as he ran through the city for some outside help. With you resting on his back, you were relegated to hearing his terrified breaths that were a result of your condition. It had chosen to be at its worst that day and although you spent the end of the day in a better condition, you didn't miss the way Qimir looked as you clugged onto his arm as he walked you home with a fixed hold on your hand that didn't even budge when you slept with him that night. 

“I'm better now,” you told him. "That was the first time that ever happened anyway," you defended with crossed arms.

“You hoping to go for a second time?” he asked sarcastically.

He was closing up the shop earlier than most days for the festivities that were to be indulged in that night. You looked on without your usual offer to help--not like he'd accept. The entire week ranged from uneventful to horrendous at its worst but the highlight of it for you was supposed to be to celebrate the planet’s two moons aligning like the planet did every year. Despite this, Qimir was giving you a last-minute rejection that you were refusing to stomach this time around.

“I’ll be fine,” you tried appealing to his unquenchable desire to nurture. “And if not, you'll take care of me like you always do. Hm?”

Qimir fought hard to ignore that he loved the way you spoke. It pleaded to the nights he spent thinking of every way he could make you better. He was fighting to keep you a permanent painting in his home and refused to lose to simple battles like hereditary curses.

However, for all the pride he felt in his chest, Qimir set a box down and walked toward you. His hazy eyes gave you a once-over just as he took your tender face in his hands. He said, “I'm not taking that risk.”

Your frown deepened as you pulled your face out of his hands for the comfort of the cold air, “Why don’t you let me do anything?” He could see the way your brows upturned in vulnerability with your wet eyes to match as your pupils went wider. If he could, he would have taken you right then and there for how malleable you looked.

“I don't do it out of enjoyment. But I'll put your health first every time. Even above what I want," he was pretending to play the good guy like he wasn't a shut-in who would have stayed home during the festivities actually long before your time.

“And above me?” you challenged. 

“[Name],” he sighed.

“You’re cursing me to live like this,” you pressed him at his weak spot.

“Cursed?” he laughed bitterly to himself. He brought his hands to his hip as he gave you a stare that reminded you of the initiating stance of a predator. “I’ve done everything to make sure you even live past the next moon alignment--”

“And if I have to live like this then I'd rather be dead,” you spoke with unwavering declaration. Months of quietly obliging with the occasional treat to keep you at bay only made your desertification more apparent to you.

"Careful," he murmured with a still face that was so unreadable. He backed you into the counter just to further cage you with both of his arms on both sides. You looked up at him as you pressed further into the counter to avoid meeting his chest. The edge of the counter he held onto bent at his grip as you spent most of your time grasping at fleeting courage.

“It's not like you get a say in that either," he told you. If you were so struck by the painful beauty of his face at such an odd time, you would have let out a meager cry in surrender.

After getting his fill, Qimir stepped back from you to retreat upstairs. It was expected that you’d spend the rest of your time downstairs to blow off steam before returning to the living room begrudgingly for dinner. Qimir hadn’t exactly made it to the front door of your home before he remembered that he needed to lower the shutters over the shop for this special weekend in case some got too excited. It was when he returned to the ground floor that he no longer saw you there. You disappeared as if he never met you, to begin with.

He called your name and watched his voice echo in real-time. That's when he knew he was alone. Once his call bounced back he nearly lept over the counter and went sprinting out the door.

By the time he'd burst through the doors and the shop's bell jingled, you already had a head start to the streets as you tried making it to the fairie. Two tickets weighed your bag down as you cut through the roads with as much force as you could among those who were already starting festivities. The way the shops were decorated with ribbons and flags would have been beautiful if you couldn’t hear the growing distant call of your name in the distance.

As you carried on fighting you picked up your pace hoping that a miracle would come through before Qimir would catch up to you but your prayer wasn’t even sent before you felt your strength waning until the wind blew out your candle and had the ground swallow you. You should have known better than to exert so much after being given only a day of recovery but you assumed that your passion would make up for your health. Unfortunately, it wasn’t enough because you went collapsing like the first drop of truth in the middle of the street. You could hear Qimir calling your name and the low hum of the crowd in surprise.

A week passed where you didn't speak to Qimir and you thought it would help in the tension brewing but the distance felt treacherous. Every day that passed leading up to the seventh day would be you waking up on the outskirts of the planet in a cabin that once belonged to him but was passed down to his acolyte. The last thing he said to you as he passed you over to Osha before his journey to find a better solution for your illness was he thought it would suit you better to behave. Instead of a private farewell that should have been exchanged kisses, the journey to the cabin was silent. 

Far from it was Osha to question her master but it didn’t help how little in detail she was given before he appeared on her doorstep asking her to watch over you. She was given half of the truth while you were given the whole lie that Osha would sooner drag you back to the cabin before you'd make it past a few trees. 

Before your arrival, she chose to spend her time training until their next operation but instead of a new Jedi to target, Osha was assigned to babysitter while being left entirely in the dark. Still, she trusted Qimir when he said to guard you with her life as he went off.

From your perspective, the specifities of what Osha was told were unclear but you weren’t willing to try to pry when your last act of disobedience landed you concession from meeting the ground and unwanted attention that could have ended with the wrong people asking the right questions. So, in your time of vacationing–you told yourself this to lighten the mood–you didn’t even ask about Qimir until a few days after a week had come and he still hadn’t returned for you. This concerned you so you went running your mouth to Osha since it was all you could do to keep yourself calm and not fear that he had finally abandoned you for an easier problem to fix.

“Have you heard from him?” you asked.

She shook your head. “I can still feel him," she admitted as she ate.

You didn't know each other well but you wanted to press further even if it meant her frustration. “Anything else?” you said. 

“Look, you’ve been asking me the same question for three days. He’ll be fine," she put her spoon down and looked up at you. "You’ve seen how he disappears for weeks just pop back up. It’s no different now."

You fiddled with your thumbs as you said. “So this is normal?” You didn't have the slightest clue as to what she meant.

“What," she laughed in disbelief "Qimir hasn’t fucked off for weeks to you?"

If you had any type of distance from him, you would have laughed with her but you hadn’t so you said the truth.

“No,” you confessed. “He’s never gone more than an afternoon away,” you said. “Which is why I’m so nervous because that last time he came back he didn't look good.”

That admission had Osha questioning how well you truly knew him.

“What took you so long?” Osha asked Qimir as he held onto his bag.

“I’m back now,” was all he was going to say but the look Osha gave him made him feel stupid. “Came across some trouble on the way back so I had to stall. I’d hate for anyone to be following me to lead them to here.”

“So you stole that," she stated the obvious while nodding toward his bag that looked packed with some things that were none of her business. 

"It doesn't matter--"

Osha wasn't in the mood to banter as they stood a few paces from the cabin in the dead of night. "You let three weeks go by for her. It felt like she was gonna start chewing glass if you didn't show up tonight,” she said,

“Nothing, she’s not used to,” he said as he rifled through his bag to straighten a few things out. Maybe that's why he didn't realize that he and Osha were talking about two different things.

“So she’s home a lot huh,” she met him where he was in the conversation. “Doesn’t that bother you?”

“It keeps her safe.”

“From you?”

Qimir swallowed.

“Whatever happened to no romance to keep this exact thing from happening,” she threw the rule back in her master's face while gesturing at his lover fast asleep in the cabin. “You bring danger to your doorstep every time you come back home so there's no point in keeping her there?” If only she knew the other half of the problem to chastise him for that as well.

Osha watched him with judgemental eyes with the complete silence in between them. Leave it to her to be the one to hold a mirror up to Qimir as he would conceive of a flawed plan. She was ready to ask him if it was worth it. Interrogate him about having you put your life in a strange form of witness protection all in the name of a lonely man who couldn't just let a bird go. That was until some was rustling nearby. The kind of twig snap that didn’t come from a small animal but a clumsy vulture. Osha and Qimir both turned their heads to the sound as they already had a grasp on their lightsabers. They waited with held breaths in the quiet night.

Even though both moons illuminated the forest, something felt off with the way the area had gone motionless. Qimir would have left the idea alone if you weren’t inside. 

The hum of a lightsaber that wasn't theirs was the warning shot that set everything into motion. They almost didn't see it coming but were even more surprised to find seven Jedi that had been tailing him since they got the first tip-off of his movement when he'd jumped from another planet with a fortune's worth of medicines and no clear explanation.

When you woke up, at the sound of a cry, you couldn’t chalk up the thud coming from the outside to the result of an interesting passerby.

So you stirred out of your comfort zone and started for the exit of the cabin when you said Osha's name and she didn't respond. She was a late sleeper. 

As you came out of your sleep your fresh ears were finally registering the growing sound of a fight. Your hands carefully pushed the doors of the cabin that led you to a cold night. Although the stars and moon were the only things that were keeping the beyond from looking pitch black, it was still a horrifying sight to look into the abyss and see two red lightsabers spinning in self-defense.

When your eyes landed on Qimir for the first item in three weeks, your thoughts were interrupted as you got tunnel vision. He was fighting for his life in a dance between him and Osha against the Jedi. Yet all you could see was him as you burst through the cabin doors and went running after the only certainty you had even when this was the first time you’d ever seen him use the force.

“Qimir!” You cried. You threw all the arguments that you had with him aside and went racing with nothing but your heart in your hands.

Qimir looked up first as he saw you coming down from the hill. “Go!” he said.

It was rare to see him look so scared and even rarer to be the result of anyone but you so you stuttered in your tracks. Your hesitance was caught who was determined to make sure no one could testify to them breaking their mantra of never attacking first. As he immediately locked eyes with you, you started for the other way hoping to at least lighten the load of attacks on Osha and Qimir even if it was by one person.

You didn’t look back once as you went cutting into the woods like a shot call. Your feeble state lets an onslaught of rushing adrenaline fuel your heart enough for it to pump your system faster. The forest stood by and watched as you kept looking back in fear until you dove behind a fallen tree to catch your breath and adjust from the dizziness in your head. You knew you couldn’t run for long even high off of your need to fight.

It was hard to miss the sound of footsteps as they steadily grew until they felt close enough to be your own shadow. So you fisted a large rock in your hand enough to bleed and threw it as hard as you could in another direction. Just as the beast went chasing after his own tail you began blasting off in the other direction until you broke through a clearing that was the edge of the cliff.

It’s not something your mind registered in the darkness until you heard the sound of unrelenting water. You made the effort to stop but you were seconds too late as the dirt slid just enough to lose your footing and go diving through the air. Crashing into the rushing water felt nothing like liquid and more like solid ice. 

Your land was only cushioned by the rapid water that would have been your savior if it didn’t send you along with the river to hit every rock and broken log on your way downstream. It was siphoning off your adrenaline to leave you to fend for yourself. 

Your hands kept closing and opening as you tried to reach for something to stop the tornado. The tiring fight to find someway to steady yourself ended up with you carrying a belly full of water in a blind panic each time the water hit your face. This repeated as you were repeatedly baptized by waves until the water in your belly was enough to have you sinking to the bottom of the river.

When Qimir washed up on the shore onto the shore, he was choking on everything but the items at the bottom of the river and the dirt embedded into the water. You were right beside him as he shivered from the wind that made the water unbearably cold. However, you didn’t need to shiver to maintain your body heat since there were goosebumps rising from your skin as you layed motionless beside him. It wasn’t like you couldn’t feel the biting chill of that night. It was just that you didn’t have any strength left to go running after heat. 

At least that’s what you thought of it as, until you weren’t looking up at the night sky of the night but rather at the pitch back of your eyelids that were too heavy to open even as you fought for days to try. You existed in a state of in-between where your body was still but your mind was still active at times as it came and went like running water.

So you meandered in this state of being as the world moved on. 

Throughout the swift passage of time you stayed frozen as you could only listen to the voices of anger, guilt, and resentment give you a description of events through a tinted gaze that explained the past and present.

You were there against the shore of the rushing river and heard every cry of anguish as Qimir cut through bones and blood in the heat of his anger. The red screams of the attackers splattered against the bark, foliage, and rocks of their surroundings until all that was left were parts scattered across the woods like chicken feed. Osha looked on entirely stunned as she tried to resuscitate you. She saw in real time how her master had burned every lesson in dignified death he taught her in exchange for a punishment that was tenfold the crime.

For you, when the feeling of the ground was replaced by the cold surface of a healer's bed, you still refused to wake up. You heard the promises and threats he made as he went to every length he could to pull you back to the world of the living until you sank back under and remerged to him bringing you back home place to figure out what deal he had to make to bring you back to life. 

“I’ll be back in a couple of hours,” his voice was barely louder than the machine that kept track of the rhythm of your pulse. “Osha’s here.” You wanted to tell him to come back and stay with you since you liked the way he fixed your hair and played with your hands when he thought no one was there.

It was hard to tell the exact amount of days that passed without the rare clue you got from the conversations you overheard. You remained in the dark for most things but didn’t miss the inevitable march toward unshakable madness that Qimir experienced in your presumed absence.

You heard the apologies he gave you with promises to fix you until you memorized each promise like a blessed hymn. He found a permanent place in your room to reside until you would come to expect the sound of him rising and finally sleeping.

“Qimir,” Osha’s voice had come through from the upstage. “I think it’s time,” she said. If he said something, you didn’t hear it. “You’ve done your best during all these months but it’s time to consider the best option,” Osha told him.

“The best option is to bring her back,” he was unwavering in the way he spoke even if he sounded weak.

“How?” The silence that followed was loud enough to make it clear that he didn’t have the answer. “We must know when to move forward. Just like you taught me,” she said.

“Then move on.” He was stern. “Don’t let my dedication burden you,” he hissed. “You no longer need to be my acolyte.”

“Your dedication is making you driving you insane,” she punctuated each word as she tried to hide the crack of her voice. “She is practically dead but you’re throwing me aside–”

“Until her heart stops beating she is my responsibility!” It was no mistake how different things felt in your absence but it surprised you how clear he had made his decision. “I suggest you find yourself a new master.”

That’s how you replayed it all in your head. Years after your baptism and months after your crucifixion Qimir had finally married his two ideas into a solution that he was hoping to work. A wise man would never ask him how he did it since it wasn’t through his own hands but after mounting a few bodies and twisting a few arms, every failed part of you was replaced by pieces from the android parts he had collected. A task that blurred all ethics that only Qimir was willing to cross. All he waited for was the day you’d wake up. He let weeks pass by hoping that he’d find you sprung forth and lively. 

You were still partially droid which he didn’t understand so through the period of holding his breath and getting lost in the bottom of his bottle, you were coming through every single memory you had, especially of him, and processing them for analysis in the part of your brain that was connected to your past processor. You returned to every instance as human and every close encounter as android.

You had been given time to reflect on the incoming memories as they passed through you. And when you had come to believe was how ungrateful you were. To not see the unwavering love of Qimir even after he had been abandoned to build your future from scraps until you were nearly resurrected. It all would have gone well if you had not gone running to see what you had forgotten. Now that you had seen it, it was entirely understandable Qimir's aversion to it. You had crossed the river and drowned over and over again as your memories played on a loop like a punishment from purgatory. It wasn’t under your control as your system tried to learn and relearn how to escape death until it came to the conclusion that the best possible outcome would be to not only accept the love you were given but to understand it and reciprocate it in its totality.

“Osha! Osha!” Qimir called from her as he was being held back by the Jedi that were swarming his hideout in Kashyyyk.

His mistake was reaching out to Osha after so much time of silence thinking she’d help him get to the bottom of what was wrong with you this time. Desperate people find faith in the strangest places and he was no exception as he thought she, even with hesitance, would help him find out why he’d done everything right but you refused to power on like all those other times. 

Osha ignored his shouts as she looked up at you erected perfectly still enough to build a coffin around you. It felt wrong at first to appeal to the Jedi to apprehend and make an example of her old master but as months went on and she slowly ventured back to the light, a sickness wouldn’t leave as she felt that Qimir was likely still home jumping from healer to architect as he tried to bring you back like a lunatic. 

She hadn’t seen him in a year but it felt more like a decade as she saw how long his hair had gotten when he was seized. The smile he gave her when he thought they were all alone wasn’t devoid of years of stress but it had a slight familiarity to it that almost made her go back on the plan. If Qimir wasn’t so busy with everything that had to do with you, he probably would have picked up on the presence of others closing in on him from the shadows of the trees.

The once enthusiastic acolyte wasn’t there to see the multiple iterations of you as an android so she would never be a true believer in the miracle. Conceivably, she wouldn’t have led the Jedi to Qimir’s home if she knew. Yet, she didn’t and she likely never would. All Qimir had given her to work with when she returned was scattered and disassembled android parts with you decorated in new parts that only had their backstories told by roomers. To her, this was inhumane.

“How could you?” she turned and said to him as he violently thrashed against the restraints the Jedi gave him.

“Osha, don’t!” he could already see that she was preparing to reach for the panel that controlled your station to shut it off. There was some apparent hesitancy as his hands danced around the button that would lead to the computer to begin to power off and terminate all systems including itself.

“No! N-no! STOP!”

The cries of your lover were tormenting to even the creator of the anguish. The pain in his voice was so concentrated that it could not be ignored by any of those who were there to witness it. It was exactly the call to heaven that woke you up out of your processing and had you open your eyes for the first time since you had glitched so poorly that he took your battery away. In wide-eyed disbelief, Osha froze as she saw your eyes start to open and take in your surroundings. 

To you, she didn’t look much older but instead younger from her naivete of what she had brought herself into. You saw him make an effort to step back. From across the room, the two Jedi who held onto Qimir and the three who guarded the two were just as confused as to what they were witnessing. It wasn’t like machines hadn’t been brought together with flesh before but to see someone rise from what appeared to be death would give pause to anyone. Qimr above everyone else looked like he was staring into the many eyes of an angel for the first time in his life.

The atmosphere in the cave went motionless as you took your first step down from your chamber as a cyborg for the first time. By then, you had already come to a conclusion. With the wisdom of your humanity and the calculation of your machinery, you had decided everyone was a threat to your new goal. Your feet took another step forward to Osha so she said your name in disbelief. 

Before she had pushed out the last part to it, you took her blaster and put a hole through the heads of two Jedi without much effort from your self-defense protocol.

Your attacks sent everyone scrambling as you were already holding Osha at gunpoint by the time they realized that you were just as much of a threat as they thought Qimir was.

“Please,” you spoke only to Osha “tell them to leave and I will spare their lives and yours.” The cold, metal barrel made a circle indicating the target that was her temple. You didn’t have the heart to kill her but you wanted her to believe that you would. 

As much as Osha was already regretting not just returning to the shadows and never agreeing to work for the Jedi, this case was out of her hands the moment she went running to authority to get some sort of retribution on your behalf.

It didn’t matter though because the unexpected face-off between the remaining Jedi and a hostage gave Qimir the perfect window to steal a lightsaber and begin fighting against three opponents like he once taught Osha to do.

He twisted and landed a kick that slammed into a tree. While that one recovered, he held his own against two lightsabers. All the while, Osha was forced to watch the series of events that would lead her to run back into exile.

It was uncomfortably quick work he made out of the fight. With ease, he reminded his former acolyte about what she missed so much about being under his guidance. When the last body dropped you finally let go of Osha. 

“Osha,” Your still expression even raised suspicion in Qimir because of how ambiguous it was as you looked at her. “You are a dear friend.” You stepped forward. “But we should never cross paths again in your lifetime,” you said as you carefully placed her blaster in her shake hands. 

That’s when you turned Qimir. His pupils were blown as he watched you come closer until you took his hand. He was certain that he was dead until you brought his hand to your face and closed your eyes to feel him. 

The image before Osha was an unfair reward for her unwavering dedication up until that point. She’d put everything into venturing to the dark side and was betrayed by a heart that had found someone to beat for. She would have never guessed that her master was heaven-struck all those years ago but there was nothing she could have done about it even if she was given a vehicle to travel through time. Sure she had a new master but the realization that things were different still hurt the same.

The apologetic look that Qimir and you gave just as you reunited diluted her blood as she had to sit in the choice she made. There was nothing more or less to say as you left her surrounded by dead Jedi as the both of you disappeared like the origins of a folktale. 

She let out a scream at some point.

You looked out at the windows of the ship that Qimir managed to secure in the aftermath of your flying your planet. The wealthy smuggler who owed him a favor was the type to live on the ship she gifted. It was your new home now as you searched for another part of the galaxy to hide in until you were ready.

You walked into the control room with the tips of your hair wet from the humidity of the shower. The pitter-patter of your footsteps approached the ship pilot into the control area. He felt your hands slowly slide from his back to his shoulders. You wrapped your arms around his neck until you were resting on his neck while looking out at pools of stars and asteroids. This is how it was in a soothing simplicity.

When he turned around and placed you onto his lap, your upgrades readjusted when your heart picked up. You looked at him with the same wildness that was directly reflected the kind in his.

“Qimir,” you said as you played with his hair.

“Hm?” he was tolling picking between looking at your lashes curtaining your eyes or watching your lips say his name.

“I want,” you paused to get a good look at the face you missed seeing for too long.

He leaned forward in raw anticipation. It caused you to shift as you stayed in place on his lap. You don’t think he noticed how ardent his focus was. “What,” he swallowed. “What do you want?”

As you thought of how you should word your request, his patience dissipated as he chose to kiss feverishly you and pull you closer by your waist. His soft lips were in stark contrast to how roughly he took your lips.

“Let me,” you tried to speak between the moments he would catch his breath to kiss you further. “Be,” you said into his lips, “your acolyte.” 

He stopped to watch on in surprise as you played with the hem of his shirt like you hadn’t thrown him across the universe and back. As you were taking off his shirt he was still dazzled by your request.

Like an admirer of a painting, you placed your cold hands on his hot chest to commit the feeling of his skin to memory. Qimir heard his heart pop in his ears. Your hand continued to travel until you were able to find yourself in his pants “Please,” you implored as your hand pulled out his cock and your lips pouted in a plea.

It was unmistakable to you that he was heavens away from where you were as you spoke to him but you still continued to slip out of his lap to sit in between his legs as he remained seated. The way you looked up at him as you took your time to stroke his member made him moan not only for desire but from the sheer ecstasy of your presence. You opened your mouth and found a place at the tip of his cock. 

Your head gingerly traveled further down as you felt every vein until as much of him was in you. Qimir felt you suck as you pulled back and it was divine torture. With each bob of your head, you fondled his balls in one hand and stroked the rest of his member that you couldn’t take.

He threw his hand back as his hands seized the armrest of the seat. Each time your tongue circles the slit of his tip, a groan slipped out. His precome was dripping as he gradually got hard enough for it to feel painful. The noises you made as you blew him filled the control room all the while the leather of the armrest tore the cushion contents spilled out. You pulled back for a moment a brought a trail of saliva from his blooming tip to your pink tongue. Nevertheless, he thirstily eagerly guided your return to the back of your head to pick up speed from where you left off. 

His words were incoherent as you saw his legs shaking. It was evident that he was reaching his end when his locked eyes burst open as he was begging for air. He let out a heavy load into your mouth as you gaggled.

Ever the impatient man, Qimir was already bending you over in front of the window just as you were catching your breath. The robe you had secured around yourself after a shower already dropped to the floor as he lined himself up to your pussy and pushed himself into you with such consecrated desperation.

He crashed onto your back as he wrapped his arm around your waist to prove you weren't nothing but an apparition. For each time he pulled out and pushed back in, he stayed spilling sweet words into your hair. He was trying to take his time to savor the way your walls held onto him so tightly but it was nearly unthinkable by the seventh kiss. 

You felt him slapping in and out of you as your pitiful babbling could on grew in volume. Your processor was working to keep your pulse viable. The sounds of your ass beating against his wet balls were disorienting as you secured your hands onto his hold around your core for support.

“Teach--" You couldn't focus as your breasts bounced along with the rhythm. “Teach me.” Qimir could hear the hunger in your voice. You started pushing back harder so the tip of his member could faithfully bruise your cervix. 

Qimir lifted one of your legs and held it in place on the panel to angle himself better. The sound of you continuously saying “please” for so many reasons pushed him to drill you stronger as come trickled down your legs before he had even climaxed for the second time.

“Why?” he asked as he held your face up by holding onto your throat. It wasn’t a challenge but rather a question as to why you wished to go running into this one risk.

You couldn’t answer him as your knees were becoming wobbly from the stimulation until he had to hold you up himself to keep you satisfied.

“Come on,” he encouraged. “Stay with me a little longer.” He said as he kept pounding into you. You could feel the warmth running from your hot head journey down your body and striking every foreign part of you with lightning. You poured over him as you mewled. Your ending came like a waterfall as your juices further lubricated his thrusts to keep him chasing euphoria. By then you were completely spent, calibrating, and just holding onto him to relish the sounds of his gasps.

Once he came inside of you and let his sticky shot leak out through the in-between of the skin of his cock and your folds, you turned around to see him. In the fervor of the aftermath, you pulled into him, with your bare breasts against his chest.

“Give me a chance,” was all you told him with your head against his chest. You wanted to collapse no matter how well-adjusted you were as he kept cockwarming but he held onto you and wiped your sweaty face.

“You don’t need that.” Qimir had a slight blush on his face as he was catching his breath along with you. He intertwined your hand with his and was spiraling up to the cosmos. “I’ve already given it to you. Let me show you the power of two destined souls,” he said.

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[aniquasmasterlists]

error: b3n3v013nt | yandere!qimir x droid!reader

✧content: 18+ mdni, f!reader, smut, angst, overstim, p in v, mean qimir, dacryphilia, pathetic dom qimir, mentions of character death, edging, punishment, condescension, toxic relationship, reader and the waterworks

✧word count: 4.8K

[read more]

[aniqua]

ERROR: 0V3R1D3 (THE MONSTER'S DOCTOR) | yandere!qimir x [redacted]!reader

✧content: 18+ mdni, f!reader, smut, angst, p in v, [redacted] qimir, death, blood, [redacted], [redacted] character death, flashbacks, reader's [redacted] [redacted] [redacted], let's make it worse, [redacted] break, [click for more]

FINAL CHAPTER: do you wish to proceed? [ no | yes ]

2024/07/24

16:00 PST

19:00 PST

23:00 GMT

[aniquasmasterlists]

ERROR: [YANDERE!QIMIR X DROID!READER]

18+ mdni, yandere, smut, angst, blood, torture, violence, character death, toxic relationships, themes of grief

V1R2OUS: [ NO | YES ]

F13ND: [ NO | YES ]

B3N3VO13NT: [ NO | YES ]

0V3R1D3: [ CANCEL | PROCEED ]

“I was benevolent and good; misery made me a fiend. Make me happy, and I shall again be virtuous.”

[aniquasmasterlists]

error: v1r2ous | yandere!qimir x reader

✧content: 18+ mdni, y/n not used, everything that comes with yandere tendencies, a prequel to [f13nd] that can stand on its own

✧note: this originally was a couple of bullet points until it wasn't. I even foreshadowed it when I said, "I can pretty much be convinced of a lot of things if it's in the form feedback."

✧word count: 1.4K

[read more]

[aniquasmasterlists]

error: f13nd | yandere!qimir x droid!reader

✧content: 18+ mdni, f!reader, smut, angst, blood, torture, violence, alcoholic qimir, p in v, handjob, creampie, dacryphilia, pathetic dom qimir, overstim, everything that comes with yandere tendencies

✧note: please give feedback because the lengths I went through to post this. also, let me know what you think about the concept

✧word count: 5.5K

[read more]

[aniquasmasterlists]

saudade | qimir x reader

✧ excerpt: you enjoyed the intimacy up until it stopped and you harshly grabbed the wrist of the same hand that once planted a spark on your mouth. You could only feel the tip of a cold blade when you swallowed.

✧ content warning: 18+ mdni, f!reader, sith behavior, nonsexual nudity, violence, mentions of blood, traitors

✧ word count: 5.4K

[read more]

[aniquasmasterlists]

Hey! The URLS for any of the fics aren't working. And I wanted to ask you, how are you now?

Sorry for being two months late. I’m sure you figured out by now why they’re not work. Um, best way I can describe where I’m at in life generally… I’d say “loopy”. Good word to use. Hope you’re doing well and enjoy your summer.☀️

[aniqua]

girl, i can't find any your fanfics :(

I barely receive comments anymore but it took less than an hour of my fics being gone for me to have a bunch of asks and dms of readers panicking. And they haven't stopped. So I’m making this so I won't have to repeat myself.

I’ve been writing on Tumblr for 8 years and the shit I’ve taken is enough to last me a lifetime. The cruelty during the pandemic may have caused me to leave if I didn’t love seeing reactions to my fics. 

But years later, that love is nearly dead now, but the carelessness, maliciousness, plagiarism, and underhandedness never let up. I could have dealt with it if when I posted a fic and people would just say thank you. Yet, only literally 9% of you ever did (thank you to those you did).

Instead, I got enough “when’s the update?” “tag me” “part 2?” “where did u go?” “why did u block me?” “you’re being selfish” "let me know when you're gonna start writing" "I don't really like this chapter" to fill up my inbox. 

I've posted so many times to be patient with me since I'm going through a lot, but I always came back to the same demanding messages for years because if I didn’t post a new fic then why else would you read what I have to say? 

Most of you would deliberately ignore the “please leave feedback” on the more than 50+ posts that you read. Yet I’m selfish for wanting an acknowledgment? So I’m done. It isn’t worth it. And it never was. 

So I'm taking anon advice and "writing for myself". I’ve taken my fics off for only me and a few people to enjoy. Don't ask me if I'll ever post fics again because idk. Please feel free to find another fic writer who is willing to lose sleep over blogs in a growing taglist who never even bothered to say thanks or hello.

Writing for this long taught me that the internet is a purchased empty fairground where some people in the crowd are expected to provide free entertainment to the audience and yet the audience still complains about clapping being the hardest thing in the world.

tl;dr if reading that was too long for you, then I don't know how you made it through my fics.

The long part: This part is honestly just to get some things off my chest. It’s not even worth reading but if you don't want to.

I knew large doses of the internet were never meant for me, but I still participated like a fool. I spent way too much time crying in my room and to my friends about my experience on here. Dealing with plagiarism, having stolen graphics, angry commenters, experiencing disingenuous people, and seeing people I respect get bullied, seeing most of the moots I use to know leave, chips away at you eventually.

I thought that if I just wrote and logged off, I would be fine, but that didn’t work out. The likes and hits never stopped coming, but the reblogs and comments eventually did.

I think what made me realize that I needed to get off with my sanity still in tack was to see how much I resented Golden Cages. I don’t even like rereading anymore. A fic longer than the first Twilight book and I just wrote it on my free time because I use to love it that much. Now, I hated even looking at the masterlist.

It became popular on AO3 and Tumblr without my expectation and as the years went by I realized for the total of 20K+ hits I got on it. I only got around 300 comments. Sound like a decent amount until you realize it’s about 0.015%. Point zero one five percent of reads would come with a comment over the span of three years.

The number of reads wouldn’t stop going up but the comments never changed. I spent my entire 2020 writing something that people would read by the thousands while still ignoring all of my author's notes (or calling me entitled).

When I would block spam likers, I would receive messages of people professing their love and obsession over it, and it felt cruel. At the times I withheld chapters, blocked accounts, and considered deleting it, that’s when I would get floods of people begging me not to. Telling me how long they’ve been reading it. Explaining how they were there for every update. Confessing how they’d lost sleep over the story.

This happened to a lot of my other work. I don’t want to wrinkle people out like a towel until I get this type of feedback. But I don’t want people who only see me as a means to end without any acknowledgment until the circus elephant stops performing. From writers and readers alike.

I swallowed it and kept my patience, but these last few years were unforgiving. I dealt with dishonest people to straight thieves and I just kept on giving people the benefit of the doubt.

The number of times I would talk about the multiple jobs that I had, or the fact that I am a busy pre-med student or the issue with my health. Most of you didn't care and were just telling me to please shut up and just write.

The straw that broke the camel's back was someone telling me they loved a recent story of mine but never reblogged let alone liked it! All the while when I calmly explained my frustration, I received a message from someone else screenshotting my grievances and asking what font size I used. You guys can't even pretend to care for 5 minutes.

I’ve learned to never say never so maybe in the distant future I'll post again. I don’t want to give up on writing but fanfiction writers are treated like vending machines and I don’t want that for myself. So consider this a boy band hiatus if it helps you sleep at night.

I’m sure every writer can relate when I say that I thought I could heal myself and fix my issues if I just wrote more and poured more into my work. But a creator who suffers for their work is a fool. No amount of metaphors get rid of that depression, and no new series will make the sleep deprivation go away. 

To come back to the hate and the lack of appreciation while still bending myself backward is like constantly opening up a wound. It can’t heal if I keep picking at it and thinking it won't hurt less. Revisiting what keeps slowly chipping at me is a form of self-harm and it’s time I call the issue for what it is.

I want to stop dreading opening up my docs, obsessively checking my notifications, and blocking more than 600 people in less than 6 months.

[aniqua]

𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐈 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐓𝐎 𝐀 𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑'𝐒 𝐃𝐀𝐘

??? (𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫) 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐝: 𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐟 𝐨𝐟 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟐

"shall I compare you to a winter's day, then?" he asks with a chilling stare that clung to your hair like thick water. it was firm but warmer than your flesh.

"not until morning." you pretended to find more interest in how his brows moved than how his lips begged.

"what's so special about the morning?"

"i don't get to see you then," you said. you could outrun his love with each individual step that bled gold and left footprints across the palace.

"i still see you." it was his turn to smile.

"all of me?"

"all of you. you're practically bleeding daylight."

"that's because you haven't seen how well I bite my tongue. i hate it."

"then don't. bite mine instead," he whispered into your mouth.

[aniqua]

𝐛𝐮𝐲 𝐦𝐞 𝐚 𝐤𝐨-𝐟𝐢

Buy aniqua a Coffee. ko-fi.com/aniqua

if you would like to support me with any amount, please click this link

𝐝𝐫𝐨𝐩 𝐚 𝐝𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐢𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐩𝐚𝐛𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐭𝐨!

[aniqua]

(click on the photo to increase its quality)

The fact that I'm doing this again before the year is ending is no doubt surprising to me. I gained so many new people following this year and that’s truly bonkers. This is such a wonderful way to start ending the year.

Thanks to my inability to resist the urge to write like crazy during the rare breaks that I’m given, December was a great month of new content and–even better–new readers. “Hello!” to everyone who is new here, and thanks for stopping by and following.

And to the new mutuals I made since the last celebration I had, I’m so happy to be friends with you. To the mutuals that I am a little closer to, I literally love you all and your kindness, personality, and wonderful writing. You are legitimately, without a drop of hyperbole, why I keep writing.

I wanted to have a bit of light-hearted fun for this event and some games and such. I got the inspiration to do a menu theme from @/leviathans-watching ’s event so I made this. Please feel free to participate. I love interacting with people!

tagging some moots :D (hi!):

@devildisguiseasangel @muhollands @luxurybeskar @arachine @hollandsmushroom @rosyamour @messrsmoonee @cellophaine @aleksanderwh0r3 @marvelswhore69 @subspider @cocoamoonmalfoy @silkscream @atlas-of-a-human-soul @specialk-18 @zim-zam-goddamn @cindymooons @peterr-parkourr @inknopewetrust @selfcarecap @allegras-sunflower @croren @henqtic @chatnain @greenorangevioletgrass @boxofbonesfic

December 23rd 2021 11:40 PM GMT to December 30th 2021 11:40 PM GMT

[aniquasmasterlists]

These are a collection of questions that I've received enough to answer in one post. If you believe that a question is missing from the list, you can let me know. This list will be updated as often as necessary.

I can't access your writing. What happened?

That's likely because you were unfortunately blocked for spamming liking. Keep reading below for how you can get back in.

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Why do you prioritize comments?

I think the best way I can describe it is this:

Imagine going to an auditorium filled with more than a hundred people to tell them a story you made. Once you’re done telling them the story, they all leave without a word, and some just give a thumbs up. You would likely feel happy that they gave you a thumbs up but would have liked to hear them say out loud they liked it. You would hope that at least one of them would say “thank you” or “that was a really nice story”. Now imagine if I asked you to do this at least once or twice a month. You would likely eventually grow tired of getting a silent thumbs up and get burned out or feel like you’re not appreciated. That’s what commenting is for. Writers want to know they are appreciated or at least someone is actively listening.

Here are some posts better explaining why fanfiction writers are asking for feedback.

Likes Aren't Feeback

The Tumblr Community Writing Is Dying

Comment on Old Fics

The Popularity of Smut

Engaging with Old Fics (this is about AO3 but can apply to tumble as well)

What is serial-liking?

Serial liking is just going through someone's masterlist and reading everything and liking but not commenting or reblogging once. I feel a tad bit uncomfortable about this sometimes so I might block someone who does this, but don't worry. I understand that some people get caught up in the stories so if you find yourself blocked, which does not happen often, then just message me on my second account and try to give feedback (reblog if you're shy) to at least one of the many stories you read.

Don’t you write for yourself?

This question may be well-intentioned, but it is dismissive. Writers do write for themselves, but they actively choose to share and a thank you would be appreciated.

Personally, I frequently, at least twice a week, share my headcanons, short stories, or brief characters conversations with writers I am mutuals with. I have no plan on posting this myriad of unreleased content anytime soon because I do write for myself. Furthermore, I sometimes find more satisfaction and sharing these ideas with fellow writers or mutuals because I know I will get feedback from them and a chance to squeal with someone about it. It’s not worth posting. All writers want is to hear comments and feedback about their work more than anything in the world.

I also have story ideas that I keep to myself that bring me a lot of joy thinking about. I write for myself, but I do not mind sharing.

What if I’m too shy to comment/What if I don’t know what to comment?

If you don’t know what to comment on, here are some suggestions. (Notice how they’re not long at all)

What just happened?!

Oh my god

Love this :)

😱😰

*gasp*

This was nice

🤩

AFJKHAEUWOFH?!?!?!?

:O

XD

🥰💖💖

[Or you can even just use a singular gif]

If you’re too shy

I promise I'm not scary nor am I picky

You can always silently reblog

I have had a lot of shy people direct message me their thoughts on my work after they give it a reblog

Some of my shy readers have used emojis like those above to convey how they feel

What not to comment. These can feel a bit demanding a sort of rude. Unless I'm close with a reader, I feel uncomfortable with this. If you would not speak to someone in real life like this, then it's probably not good to speak like this to a fanfic writer.

More!

Please, more.

Give us part 2!

tag?

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When do you take requests?

I take requests for every additional 1K follower milestone. I do this because requests require a lot of attention from me and I do not want to always have time, but I do want to open it sometimes. You will know when requests are open when I make a post announcing when the window is open and when it will be closed again. I never state a warning for when that post will be dropped. It’s on a “first come first serve” basis.

When will my request be complete?

Honestly, I stopped trying to force content out of myself. If you sent a request, trust that I have received it and I plan on working on it. If I do not plan on working on your request, I will not wordlessly delete it. I’ll answer it stating I’m not comfortable with it. You can go in my #anon tag if you asked anonymously to see if I answered.

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If I’m nonblack, can I read and reblog your work?

Oh my goodness, of course, you can! You should always be open to reading readers that are coded as minorities because those writers are sometimes ignored. Read, reblog, and comment away, friend!

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What characters do you write for?

As of December 16th, 2021,

Shadow and Bone

Aleksander Morozova

Kaz Brekker

Malyen Oretsev

Marvel (Cinematic and TV Show)

Billy Russo

Peter Parker

Druig

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How do you pronounce your name?

Aniqua → uh - knee - kuh

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Do I have to ask you a question in your inbox?

Of course not, honey! You can literally just stop by to say hi, mention something interesting that happened to you that day. or tell me about a headcanon that you have been dying to mention.

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[aniquasmasterlists]

Peter Parker x Reader

word count: 1.7K

genres: University!AU, fluff

summary: In an attempt to preoccupy Peter as he rambles about his day, he and you enjoy the sweet sides of one another.

“Do you want some bonus points?” you asked him.

You lowered yourself to hover your lips over his and as you almost floated above him, Peter’s hands fisted the sheets in acute and almost wild anticipation as you brought one of your hands from his side to gently stroke his collar, then his neck, and up to the sharpness of his jaw. He could have cried by how sensitive he was to your touch, and it would have made a river on the path where your hands last were.

Peter was much too impatient for anything after he felt how your soft fingers had a mind of their own as they grazed over the flesh of his lower lips. It made small sparks of electricity that would have created lightning if you were not careful. He gasped just as you intertwined your other hand with one of his that was holding on to the sheet for dear life. With his mouth agape for a few seconds to catch his breath, the butterfly in his stomach left his lips, and he kissed you to catch it just before it could enter your mouth to make a mess of your emotions.

READ MORE

[aniqua]

NOVEMBER FANFICTION RECOMMENDATIONS & COMMENTS: MARVEL

Author's Note: These are the works that I have read roughly recently that I wanted to comment on more extensively when I got the chance. This is in alphabetical order. I wrote my thoughts on each of them and my favorite quote. If you read any of these, please consider leaving a comment since that is truly what motivates creatives to keep making content.

I plan to do this on a monthly basis (or when I remember) in the future because it's truly upsetting me that consumers of fanfiction will hear writers beg for comments and choose to ignore them until they are burned out or delete their account.

I am a bit busy with finals, so I did not do the amount I wanted, so I expect myself to do another one in December with the ones I did not have the chance to find again and some new gems.

PETER PARKER X READER

a billet-doux from the lighthouse by @subspider

review:

I don’t even need to return to this oneshot to even write about it because my goodness do I nearly have it all memorized. This is about fourteen thousand words and every one of those words serves a purpose. I truly enjoyed the writing style of this work. It was humorous at times but also had the ability to be both angsty, for lack of a better word, and a bit horrific. It is long but its length is able to capture a multitude of emotions. I feel like that’s truly wonderful because it demonstrates the range of emotions that exist in a budding relationship that is resolute of the human spirit. The character motivations are laid out well by the exquisite vocabulary that is always keeping its reader engaged by capturing an unforgettable image of the atmosphere, tone, or setting. Frankly, the idea of spider peter is something that I love, so I’ll admit I’m a bit biased, but I will not allow myself to be bullied for my questionable obsessions. Furthermore, this is one of the few oneshot that has caused me to cry and not because it was sad but rather a vulnerable situation that was outlined between the reader and peter was constructed and executed so well that it was gut-wrenching (is this an appropriate time to admit that I am sensitive?) Ultimately, if you want a spider man oneshot that is worth its salt, may I recommend this oneshot and the entire account.

favorite quote:

“Peter?” You prompt again, voice as fragile as gossamer, tucking back a few of his locks back that had escaped due to his exertion. “What do you need?”

~

meet your match by @449

review:

This is one of the shorter works in my recommendation, but it’s like a nice bite-sized piece of fluff. For those who enjoy a nice, short and sweet fluff, I’m sure this is exactly the kind of work for you. The scenario is mundane enough to give the characters an opportunity for their dynamic to speak for itself. Their back and forth seem more fun than anything and I found myself completing the oneshot feeling like I was given a few seconds to peer into the life of a couple whose biggest worry at the moment was student loans and furniture manuals. Also, the way Peter speaks in this is so genuine by way of his pop culture references seeming natural and the nerdy jokes being more endearing than misplaced. If you look a calm, everyday type of story that is easy to swallow, give this a shot.

favorite quote:

"’what, you mean jar jar? he was easy,’ he shrugs,”

~

my, my spider-man semester 1 by @specialk-18

review:

For such a skilled writer, I don’t understand why this work does not have more attention. I would just like to state that although this is a review, Ned saying that there is “evil afoot” was much funnier to me than it needed to be. If anyone is looking for a blossoming series, this is the fic to read. I must admit that the scenes where Peter is dealing with “Spider-man” business is one of the strong suits of this story because I don’t often see his hero work in the reader inserts I consume about him (it is usually the aftermath). So, that was something that differentiated this story from the rest. Furthermore, the story was written in a sarcastic sort of way as if Peter was the narrator—although it is written in second person. It has its own voice that I find similar to the Spider-man films. In reference to the romance, it was so properly executed, and I think that’s what made it much more engaging for me. You can describe the reader with many metaphors, but to just be referred to as “the pretty girl in organic chemistry class” is so sweet. The scenes between Peter and the reader felt very reminiscent of the Sam Raimi movies in how they brought the characters together with how Peter would save his love interest. Ultimately, I cannot wait to give this oneshot a longer commentary.

favorite quote:

“Way to go, Peter. I think she likes you.”

~

one last time by @cherienymphe

review:

Truthfully, this series is not for the faint of heart nor is it easy to stomach at its worse moments, yet as someone who experiences bad nonromantic relationships, the topic of abuse was portrayed in a way that was very cathartic. In an effort to be vague, I find that this is one of the most accurate and simultaneously sympathetic portrayal of the reader as a victim. It allows for those that may be inexperienced with this subject to understand the mindset of an inherently predatory situation. The highs of the story are mountainous, while the lows feel like you have entered a cave. Frankly, I would not recommend this story if you are not in the right headspace because the skill of the writer and the way they are able to craft Peter as a complex but abusive character can be appropriately jarring at times. And simultaneously, her characterization of him can only be described in the grey, not in morality, but in the downward progression of behavior. He does not suddenly change but morphs in a way that is believable. In addition, the side characters, the Avengers, do not feel one-dimensional because their response can be both critiqued and/or understood based on who is reading the story. From my review, it is not an entirely depressing story because you can get a good portion of humor from this. I am patiently anticipating the coming parts.

favorite quote:

“A sob caught in your throat, and the plastic crinkled as you held the bouquet to your chest, sliding to the floor as it finally escaped in a low wail.”

~

sweetest kill | part one: delirium by @silkscream

review:

This is another first of a series that I got to read and once again I ask why not many people are engaging with it. It has this sort of tone that is like if Stranger Things and Into the Spiderverse had their atmospheres brought together. When one reads the scenes that have to do with the mundane aspects of high school and mental illnesses, you sort of get a humorous but melancholy feeling that comes with Stranger Things. The fanfiction I usually read avoid readers that are laced with a lot of deeply realistic matters but the way the reader’s anxiety disorder was written did not ruin the inherent escapist quality of the work but rather strengthened it because you get to peer into the reader’s response to their mental illness and how its frame. That internal struggle is what separates this work from the expected. It helps it stand on its own well. Additionally, the scene where Silk/reader encounter Peter at night has a romantic night atmosphere that reminds me of the color palette of Into the Spiderverse when Miles is taking a leap of faith. The dialogue was also constructed well and paired with the description; it made the tension between the reader and Peter all-encompassing and frustrating in all the best ways. I cannot wait to continue to read the following parts.

favorite quote:

You imagine his touch like ink spilling into a glass of water, spinning and curdling into itself until the color pervades the entirety of it.

~

sub! peter + slapping by @arachine

review:

I am not quite sure how this account manages to accomplish this, but their dialogue for explicit scenes is the greatest selling points of the fictional works they create. Personally, I can find it a bit distracting, forced, or unnecessary when I read certain dialogue for sexually charged scenes. Yet when it comes to this drabble, I feel like the words that Peter is made to say is something that cannot be taught but just understood when writing. Additionally, I liked the choice of having it be italicized because it gives this echo-like atmosphere (I hope this makes sense). Of course, the excellent dialogue is not occupied by weak prose. It is indeed brought forth with lovely word choice and vivid imagery that renders you flush.

favorite quote:

“‘i-i don’t—i’m not, i don’t know where that came from, okay?!’ there’s embarrassment laced in his voice. you find it cute.”

~

tessellate by @cocoamoonmalfoy

review:

The concept of this work lends itself to a form of creativity that I believe is hard to hold on to at times. The execution of a supernatural-like concept is done in a way that keeps the story grounded. The progression of the fic could honestly be dark, but I find it amazing how it is morphed into this coming-of-age-like adventure that has its main purpose rooted in teaching Peter, Gwen, and the reader what comes with learning how to move on. I found myself liking the charismatic depiction of Gwen’s character much more than I expected and moreover, I think the friendship between the reader and Gwen gives a good thing for readers to focus on when Peter Parker is not in the picture. When the wall-crawler is in the story, the interactions are that of a sweet Netflix rom-com.

favorite quote:

"We could actually just text? If you want to? Instead of emailing like it’s the 90s?"

~

wildest dream by @venomsilk

review:

I would say that the writing style of this fanfiction is slightly different from what I’m used to, and I deeply enjoyed it. It’s almost as if it is told in first person by the reader themselves even though it is formatted in second person. As a result, you’re certainly given the benefit of a self-insert story while simultaneously comprehending the reader’s motivations for opening such a private artifact. I found one of the greatest strengths of this oneshot was how the scene was set. Setting a scene in writing is like giving a film proper lighting, and this short story accomplishes the atmosphere well. From the description of the lights of passing cars to the explanation of the reader coping through academics, you are able to empathize and better feel the emotional buildup to when they finally read the letters. Then, in the end, when Peter—the center of this oneshot—appears, it gives immense satisfaction. Their reunion is relieving to read.

favorite quote:

“You’re sleeping now, and you still look so beautiful”

DRUIG X READER

i love you so by @ughavengers

review:

This is undoubtedly a phenomenally written piece of art that I was so fortunate to have stumbled upon. I have read this many times. The author does nearly an otherworldly job of details and descriptions that makes their prose almost like songwriting. You can tell the flow of the story is done very intentionally. I truly enjoyed the beauty of the first paragraph and how it made romance with the character seem like paradise just to be halted by the first word of the second paragraph “yet.” Then the reader is thrown into the problem and the root of this oneshot. The conflict between Druig and the reader is masterfully fleshed out by his inner turmoil. I nearly felt myself holding my breath the moment Druig took their arm. Finally, the most agonizing revelation was to see the emerging tears before she is brought to ignorance. I would consider this short story a gem with many facets to why it stands firmly in its strengths.

favorite quote:

“His hand trembled ever so slightly as it rose, sullen eyes flashing lightbulb white and before her own shifted to match, he caught the shallows of emerging tears on her eyes.”

STEVE ROGERS X READER

judge & jury by @boxofbonesfic

review:

I’ll admit that I have been a bit lacking in the Steve Rogers fanfiction department and this is surely a nice welcome back. The back story of the reader and Steve makes the predator and prey relationship to be much more satisfying when he doesn’t get his way in the end. The story did not let itself be entirely supported by the stalker and childhood friends' tropes but rather it uses them as an anchor to tell a well-crafted story while also giving some subtle messages about masculinity and what happens when emotions fester. I enjoyed it very much. Also, Steve did not feel like an unrecognizable character. Sometimes when characters are made darker, it can sometimes feel like an original character with that character's name. Yet this writer did so well that the foundations of the character were still there. They were just fractured or exercised in a different way.

favorite quote:

"Steve remembers you climbing up his fire escape, still shaking, the burn mark fresh on your flesh."

[aniqua]

MIDAS

Dark!Druig x Reader

word count: 2.2K

genre: angst

warnings: abusive relationship, mind-controlling, manipulation, self-inflicted injury, blood and wounds, crying, suggestive themes

summary: For a moment, you escape the mental trap that you let Druig put you in.

author’s note: My goodness is my love for this character sudden. It's caused me to write something that I would consider dark for me.

Your warm hands forcibly pulled at the vegetable that you were determined to uproot, despite its stubbornness to be put into the woven basket along with the rest. Its intricate roots remained, grasping the rich soil as it begged to stay in the home that it had grown in.

From across the field, Druig preserved an uninteresting yet necessary conversation with a member of the commune about the state of the plants. He provided his nods and input while he stole a few glances from a distance as you carried about the task that you were asked to perform that morning.

Your immeasurable beauty was enticing when especially you were caught in work. It resulted in you letting the sweat on your forehead slide down your delicate, well-crafted visage and pass your smooth neck while the wind danced with the disobedient strands of your hair. All of this was in the presence of the morning sun, who was much too timid to stop sheepishly peeking from behind the clouds as—much like Druig—it got hypnotized by the beauty you easily emitted.

The final few pieces of root remained rebelling as you tugged harder until you grabbed the garden knife you were given and slashed at the plant with no mercy and complete frustration. You had gone from peacefully pulling carrots to the creases in your forehead growing more apparent at the plant that you would have known was not ready to be harvested if you had not gotten so caught up in your mind.

Your hand moved the knife back and forth in a deadly, harsh rhythm as the vegetable slowly gave in as its parts were being hacked. Your growing and unusual passion stemmed from something unknown that rendered you careless. This gave the opportunity for the garden knife to cut a small part of the skin of your thumb, causing raging red blood to stain the pale orange carrot with splotches of heated scarlet.

You hissed at the burning sensation and threw the carrot roughly into the basket along with the rest of the lonely vegetables. It was unclear why you were suddenly so upset, but your vibrating hands took the basket to retreat inside for a break. You then reach for the knife to return it back to its rightful spot. A combination of carelessness and a festering sense of anxiety pouring over led to you unintentionally gripping the tool by the blade instead of the handle.

The tool’s blade pushed past your skin and bit at the nerves that made you feel every inch of it. Yet, instead of instinctively retracting your hold and examining the damage, you froze.

You stopped with an empty disposition, then slowly brought the knife from the ground to your lap while still holding onto it where the metal had been expertly sharpened.

Your palm slowly opened, and you studied the blood seeping out. The cut was not as deep as you anticipated, so why did that disappoint you?

The wind slip past your still figure as it sat on the ground for only a few seconds until your body began shaking. Like the first signs of an earthquake, it began with a weaker foreshock, and then the foundation within your cold body began rocking.

The blade was squeezed, but this time with intentional, shaking hands that gripped it tight. You closed your fist around it recklessly to witness how far you could push yourself in the company of your forgotten free will.

Acidic tears that placed needles in your sclera tiptoed out of your eyes like the blood framing your wound. They came carefully, shyly, slowly. All the while, you made no effort to stop fisting the weapon. You pressed harder as you closed your hand further as the sound of the skin, giving in and breaking was all you heard. A sigh ran past your lips as you experienced the euphoria that came with control.

“Y/N!”

At the call of your name, you understood who the frantic voice belonged to. Without a second thought, you closed your eyes at the knowledge of the sound harboring in Druig.

He had made it to you faster than you could release another exhale and almost collided with you in bare trepidation.

You were sobbing by the time he had gotten to you.

“What the fuck are you doing!” His voice may have shaken the trunks of the nearby trees.

You were nearly drowning in your tears as you kept your eye closed and felt his hands on your shoulders from where you sat in the dirt. The eternal grabbed the knife and threw the weapon decorated in thick vermillion to side.

“Look at me,” he commanded firmly and much more quietly as he pressed into your hand to stop the bleeding. He was attempting to maintain his calm.

Your denial came in a fearful whine with a shaking head.

“Look at me!” You felt him shake you as you heard his short breaths. He was never the kind to be so short-fused, but you made him that way. The enigma of your being was your fault. He was unable to control you if he could not look into your eyes. Unlike the others he ordered, you were much more complicated. He had learned with time that if he wanted it his way, he was going to have to meet your gaze.

“No! No—” Your fervent wailing was causing some of those in the distance to grow curious before their eyes glowed as they went back to their tasks. They were already in the process of forgetting about the incident again.

Druig let out an exasperated sigh and took you by your arm like a worn toy and nearly dragged you out of the field and back inside to the room you shared at a speed that made you wonder when his hands had made it around your neck. His soft fingers made a cage for your windpipe that was only tightening its bars with time.

He had placed you on the bed so your back sunk into the material as he pushed you down from where he grabbed you. He released a short, unamused laugh to himself as his secure hold on your injured hand never wavered. The bleeding was already slowing to a stop.

“Please.” Your cries were shackled by coughs as you struggled to breathe. “I wanna—I wanna go home.” He let go of your wounded hand.

His muscles tightened while his lean body lingered over you as he brushed down the rebellious strands of hair with his hand. It left a few drops of blood to rest in your locks like the first few drops of sun showers.

You still did not wish to see him, but once you felt the heat of his body radiating onto one of your ears, you knew he was dangerously closer.

“Why don’t you open your eyes for me?” He smoothly asked much too kindly into your ears as he slowly grazed his lips along the skin. His mouth traveled from your ears across your cheek to your lips excruciatingly leisurely, as if he was making up for the lost time.

You clawed at his hands as he kissed you with enough force to bring the blood cells rushing to the tissue on your lips as they begged to be let out. He did not make an effort to stop, even as your nails dug into his hand for a chance to catch your breath until he was finally satiated.

A few traces of red stained his hand around your neck, so he let go of your throat to reach for something in the dresser near the bed. The feeling of fabric wrapping around your left hand was sudden and not at all comforting.

He wiped the blood out of your hair and off his hands. He blatantly looked over your face as he did this. His lashes moved as he studied to memorize the pores that decorated your fragile yet pretty flesh.

You felt it grow bitterly cold when he came off of you. He stood at the end of the bed as he slightly tilted his head in curiosity to see if you were going to go blind much longer than you did last time. He was willing to wait. Maybe find something to do amidst what he could only describe as a tantrum.

“I’m sure I can find someone to go into town for more antiseptic,” he announced as he threw the remaining bandages on the dresser and left you in the room.

You rested on your side with your head buried under your arms as you listened to the world pass you by. Your legs were tucked into yourself as you lay wrapped in anxiety as you wondered if he would come back.

Enough time passed for your breakdown to settle among the dust and you to finally consider leaving on your own. You observed the still state of the room while you cautiously walked to the door that could have been your path to freedom. You pressed your ear against the old wood, closing your eyes again in security, in hopes that you could make out if no one was on the other side.

The outside sounded tranquil, with the only evidence of sound being the trees. Yet, the door swung open, and you would have met the ground if Druig did not catch you. The way he tossed you about until your back was to his chest and his hand was secure around your dress’s waist made you swallow your lungs as your heart rapped against your ribs.

“Where do you think you going?” He teasingly placed his head on your shoulder. He was confident in the idea that you would not make it a step past the trees before he would be carrying you back home.

You remained silent as you fearfully held your tongue and covered your eyes with your hands in concentrated panic.

“Are you going to let me fix the problem now?” he asked into the nape of your neck

“I don’t want to go back in,” you fearfully admitted.

His hand traveled up the cotton fabric of your skirt as they made a nest in your supple thigh. “If you look at me, you won’t have to feel like this?”

“I—”

He was not giving you any time to think. “You were doing so well,” he reprimanded in a soft disapproved tone.

“Really?” you ask as you had so easily taken the bate.

You had fortuitously brought yourself out of the trance you were put in, but not everything was clear. Your reasons for leaving had dissolved into the soil as they got scrambled along with some memories. It was apparent you wanted to leave, but the reasons you wanted to give him were not even evident to you. It all came down to an unnerving feeling. A feeling that asked you to return home before you could even think why.

“Open your eyes and look at me.”

You felt his other hand move under your dress to wrap his arms around your bare waist as he made circles on your thigh with his other hand. You could feel your mind helplessly stirring as you made so much effort to ensure that the feeling of his hands would not distract you and render you entirely to water in his care.

You fought to keep your focus, but when he planted kisses along in rows like seeds along your shoulder, you felt an apple in your throat. His change in behavior was manipulative, yet comforting. You regrettably yielded.

Druig watched you slowly move your palms from your eyes as he took his hands out from under your dress and had you face him. Your lids parted slowly as the light came creeping into your vision. You finally saw the man that you feared and loved. He was there smiling and just as you had thought that maybe you could convince him that you no longer desired him in your head to be happy, his eyes went golden.

“Druig—” was all you could spit out as you tried to fight his Midas touch.

He looked over at your innocent face as your jaw tightened. The wrinkles between your eyebrows deepened and from where he stood, it almost looked like you were silently drowning. Your neck visibly tensed as you kept on fighting him until a smile slowly spread across your face as gold leaked into the whites of your eyes until they were entirely coated.

“Druig,” you said to him lovingly.

“My beautiful, beautiful love.” He echoed your smile as he took your hand to place a short kiss on it. You caught the bandage that you did not recall receiving, but it did not alarm your senses.

“What happened?” you asked calmly.

“Nothing,” he dismissed as he moved your head by your jaw to kiss your collar and leave berry-colored marks all over. He worked along the flesh as he brought you back to the bed that you once wanted to flee from.

Leading you back to the same position that you were in hours ago. This time, when he placed himself over you, you gazed at him dotingly. The ease with which you expressed your happiness made his chest ache with a feeling he had grown addicted to. He unbuttoned your dress carefully and watched a single reflective tear escape your eyes. His eyes went gold one last time before you could ask yourself why you were crying.

Reblogging with comments on your thoughts of this oneshot is the most helpful thing you can do :). It motivates me to write more.

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