#i gues ?

[samzier]

dawg not this guy

[archie-sunshine]

Sacred Artifact

[dthmet]

He goes meow and then tears you apart with his own hands

[pastadoughie]

blep?

[vrailaru]

in exchange

[ivystoryweaver]

Would you mind writing a Miguel x f!reader fic where they are in a relationship and the reader is captured by a villain who's goal is to torture and ultimately kill her to gain information on the spider society? While the reader is missing and enduring the torture, she finds out from the villain that she's pregnant. Angst, hurt/comfort

I'm sorry this took so long, this idea is so freaking rad, i needed some time. I gave it a try!

Content: Hurt/comfort etc. See the ask above. Cursing, torture, injury, blood, pregnancy, violence

Word count: 2k

My Masterlist

Drip. Drip. Drip.

Your eyes slowly blinked open, heavy with exhaustion and burning as if you'd slept in contact lenses for a week.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

Your body ached. You felt cold. And wet? Why did you feel clammy in your own bed?

Drip. Drip...

Shifting uncomfortably, you found that your arms wouldn't move. Why couldn't you move your arms? A small whimper escaped your throat as your reality became plain to you.

This was not your bed. It was dark. Damp. And your arms and legs were bound. You were tied to a hard, metal chair. Panic spiked through your chest as you struggled against your restraints.

Squinting, you attempted to make out any details about your surroundings, but it was too dark.

"H-hello?" You rasped, finding your voice. You coughed, your voice hoarse from lack of use and from a terrible thirst. "Hello?" You tried again, pulling forcefully on your restraints.

As your breathing grew more shallow, you realized you were most certainly in trouble.

But why?

"I see you're awake."

You let out a small yelp when a sinister voice made itself known as someone emerged from the deep, shadowed corner.

"W-who are you?" You cried, squirming in futility. "Where am I?"

"Patience," the voice chided.

Your eyes strained but you still couldn't see.

"I have a few questions for you." The voice was male. Deep. That's all you could tell in the darkness.

"What?" You coughed out, desperate for water. "What do you want with me?"

No matter how you struggled, blinking, staring - your eyes would not adjust to the darkness.

You smelled his foul breath before you felt it brush your ear from behind you, caging you in with sickening possessiveness. "Tell me about the Spider Society."

Whimpering, you tried to shake him off you. "I don't know what you're talking about. Let me go."

You definitely knew what he was talking about. Your husband was the damn leader of it all.

He moved in closer, the stench of him making your skin crawl and your stomach churn. "We both know that's not true...Mrs. O'Hara."

Okay, that was more privileged information. Miguel at least attempted to keep his real name a secret.

You chomped down on your lip to keep from giving anything away but the bile in your stomach was not cooperating. You weren't sure what could possibly be worse than losing your stomach contents while bound, in some unknown, pitch black location.

"Not feeling so well, are we?" The voice taunted, after you wretched pitifully. "Maybe you have the flu?"

"Leave me alone," you spat, wiping your mouth the best you could manage with your shoulder.

After a long pause, the mysterious man granted your wish.

You were left in darkness - hungry, thirsty, cold and bound.

The biggest question besides where were you, and who had taken you was - how would you get out of here? Would Miguel be able to find you? You would die before endangering him or any of his friends or co-workers.

The man who had taken you must have realized this about you, and began to test your resolve.

You lost track of time. In the darkness, it could have been days that passed, or mere hours. It took some time for you to realize that you were being tortured - just not in the traditional slice-and-dice or head-dunked-in-water type of way.

They left you alone. Dark. Isolated. Then, without warning, some sort of bright light would shine on you - the brightest you'd ever seen. It burned red-orange right through your eyelids no matter how tightly you squeezed your eyes shut.

Your skin prickled with heat and you started to sweat. Just as you felt you would burn alive, the light would shut off. You cried out, blinded as colorful spots swirled before your eyes, making your stomach roil.

The darkness would consume you until you were freezing again. Then it would start over. Blinging light, blinding darkness. Over and over. Questions about your husband. And the other Spiders. It felt like a month had passed, it was so never-ending.

They tried to feed you but you couldn't keep anything down. You felt constantly sick. Someone even cleaned you up several times, since you weren't allowed the use of a restroom.

Finally, a needle was jabbed roughly into your arm, making you whimper in protest. Maybe it was poison. Probably for the best.

"Fluids," the voice informed. "Can't have Mrs. O'Hara dehydrated, can we?"

"Go to hell!" You weakly shouted. "I have nothing to tell you."

"You're lying," the man sneered, sickening you by brushing your matted hair away from your face with calloused fingertips. "You're going to tell me about your husband, I promise you."

You spat in his face, though your dehydration didn't afford you very much spit to begin with.

"I know you think you're strong," he taunted, pushing his disgusting hand over your abdomen, making your skin crawl. It was humiliating enough that people were cleaning up your messes, and now he wanted to touch you?

Miguel would rip him apart.

"I wasn't sure at first, why you can't keep any food down," he went on, rubbing your stomach possessively. "You're not sick - we tested for that."

"You...what?" You groaned, completely revolted at the feel of this man's hand, and the thought of him running some sort of tests on you.

His foul breath tickled your ear as he pushed two fingers hard into your abdomen. "You don't seem to respond well to our...techniques." He menacingly breathed. "But maybe you'll change your mind to protect your child."

Shuddering, your body went limp as tears stung your eyes. "I have no children. If you know who I am, then you know that."

Pressing your abdomen forcefully, he made you gasp in pain. "You do now." Then he nuzzled your ear. "That's why I'm giving you fluids. Can't let anything happen to your unborn child. Especially one that's half-spider."

"No!" You wailed, jerking against his hold on you. "No, I'm not! I'm not..." Tears spilled down your cheeks as you realized the truth. The nausea, the fatigue - your period was late. "No..." you whimpered.

"You know I'm right," the voice taunted. "And now that you know, I'm sure you'll be much more cooperative."

After that encounter, you were released from your bonds, given the chance to shower and change clothes. You actually attempted to choke down a meal as well.

Then it got worse. True, there was no more light/dark torture. And you weren't left in the freezing cold, but now the questions were asked with a knife to your abdomen. This was after you were shown proof of your pregnancy. A rapid heartbeat. A positive blood and urine test.

Miguel wanted to be a father so badly and you had tried for almost three years. Hell, his very favorite activity was trying to get you pregnant. He kept better track of your cycle than you did, and trying, if nothing else, had been a delicious endeavor.

So, if anything happened to this baby - if you let anything happen, Miguel would be devastated. But you couldn't endanger his life, nor anyone in the Spider Society. Despair filled your heart and mind as a choice placed itself before you.

Days upon days must have passed. You managed to not answer any important questions, but you paid like hell for it. Tiny cuts littered your body. The mysterious man used the knife, but thankfully, not anywhere near your abdomen.

Until one day, he did.

You cried and you begged, but because you wouldn't answer him, he did the unthinkable.

That was the worst mistake he ever made.

Now that you knew he was willing to hurt your unborn child and likely had already done so, there was no way you would ever talk.

"My husband will rip your fucking throat out," you croaked as warm blood pooled in the waistband of your pants, dripping down your legs.

"Like the vampire he is," the man sneered. "I know what he is. A monster."

"You're damn straight," you panted, feeling weak from blood loss. "He's going to use his talons to do everything you've done to me, cut for cut. You'll wish you were dead, I promise you."

"At least I'll die knowing I took his child from him," he darkly laughed. "If he ever finds you - which will never happen."

"Don't be so sure, pinche pendejo," the voice of your husband pierced the darkness.

Your entire body gave out, not only from exhaustion and blood loss but from overwhelming relief. A door was flung open and light was able to spill into the room.

"H-how did you..." the mysterious man croaked, calling out for his comrades.

Gripping him by the throat, Miguel lifted him several inches off the floor. "Spiders love the dark." Raising his free arm - talons fully extended, Miguel tore into the man's flesh, rapidly slicing him to ribbons, before doing just what you predicted. Baring his fangs, Miguel sank his teeth into the man's throat and ripped out his jugular.

The man's limp body dropped to the floor, making you whimper in relief...and honestly, a little bit of horror.

Whirling around, Miguel used the sleeve of his spider suit to wipe the blood from his chin before dropping to his knees.

Crimson eyes scanning you frantically, he didn't know where to touch you first.

"Baby? Baby are you hurt?" His hands flew all over you, stopping when his fingers grazed your abdomen.

"Miguel," you whimpered, hands pressing as hard as you could manage into your knife wound. Blood seeped through your fingers, warm and sticky.

"I've got you, honey, hold on," he soothed, easily lifting your much smaller frame into his arms.

"More of them," you murmured, collapsing against his chest, the solid warmth of him the first relief you'd felt in days. "There are more..."

"They're dead," he answered you, pressing a quick kiss to your hairline. "You're safe, mi vida."

"My stomach," you slurred, feeling consciousness slip away from you. "M-my baby..."

"Hold on, baby, hold on," Miguel whispered, gripping you tightly.

"Miguel...I'm sorry."

That was the last thing you remembered.

The next time you awakened, you didn't know where you were. Panic snaked its way around your heart until your eyes landed on the sleeping form of your husband, adorably cramped in a chair beside your bed.

Stupidly attempting to sit up, you winced, feeling the sting in your abdomen. Then you remembered - you had been stabbed. Multiple times - but those were shallow, feeble attempts to get you to talk. But then he tried to kill you. And your baby.

Fear gripped your heart, squeezing the breath out of you as you yanked your blankets away, pulling up the soft gown you wore to try and see...

"Hey, hey, it's okay."

Miguel was suddenly awake and at your side, gently grasping your arms to stop your flailing. "You'll rip your stitches."

"My baby," you gasped, your chest heaving with shallow breaths as you fruitlessly fought the massive strength of your husband's grip.

"Calm down, honey, please." Forcing your arms still, he eased onto the edge of the bed, holding you still. Dropping his forehead to yours, his heart shattered at the sight of your tears.

"I'm so sorry," you whimpered, even as he shushed you soothingly. "My baby - "

"Is fine," Miguel swore, reaching up to tenderly caress your cheek. Easing back, his scarlet gaze locked onto yours and he nodded reassuringly - the faintest smile brightening his eyes. "Our baby is okay. Strong heartbeat. You're eleven weeks along."

Shaking your head in disbelief, your lip trembled. "But - but he stabbed me. He tried to kill my baby..."

"I know, sweetheart," Miguel soothed, gingerly pulling you into his arms. "I know he hurt you. I'm sorry. So sorry." Rocking you slowly in his protective embrace, he pressed a fierce kiss to your temple. "You're safe now. You and our baby. I promise you."

✧ ˚ · .✧ ˚ · .✧ ˚ · .✧ ˚ · .✧

Miguel O'Hara Masterlist

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[fiberc]

warmups n doodles between comms

[mothscotch]

haaaiiiii :333 i amm redoing batter hell cos my art style change dso heres some parts off the old one

not tagging cos i. forgot whos oc is whos again ahhh whoops also its all going to be changed

(might post a bit elss rn im busy stuff (*^-^*) also its an unreasonabley hot summer and my tablet is overheating so i cant draw</3. soz for any spelling mistakes i am too tired to correct them

[snekatieii]

extremely powerful image

[darthpastry]

The name's Afton.

*whips off bear mask accidentally taking several chunks of his face off with it*

ow ow ow ow ow ow ow ow ow ow ow ow shit.

*puts his jaw back and clears his throat*

Michael Afton.

[so-bitya]

something about these two makes me nuts. how she's always thinking about him, always finding reminders to hold on to. the way that lizzy is still mulling over the ring and how she wanted to give him a replacement to make up for her blunder, only to fail. she'll never get an opportunity again. yet that ring was a curse. and the flowers woven into a ring, flew off the second she reached out to them.

and in the last moments of ciel's life, as he's watching the feelings people had for him manifested in lights, the flower ring floats to him. how the original ring only reminded ciel of his burdens, his nightmares. and this flower ring, temporal and frail, is placed on his finger, made out of pure fondness. her wish was granted after all. how there's always a connection between these two, that can traverse life and death, a single thread of true affection and neither of them knows it.

how flowers look like forget me nots

For the Victorians, Forget Me Nots were a symbol of remembrance for those who have passed away but more commonly as a symbol of true love and devotion.

[samzier]

some more sl designs?????????

[gothwizardmagic]

[cabinofimagines]

Near Death Experience

I changed the text a bit from the request, but this is what worked for me! Pairing: Poly!Fierrochase x gn!reader, Alex Fierro x reader x Magnus Chase Request: Uh, hi. This is my first request so i don't know how to start, but can you make a poly!Fierrochase one? Maybe add a little bit of angst where the reader nearly dies in the mortal realm but suddenly Sam takes the reader to Valhalla (Sorry i suck at spelling cuz English id my second language) but Alex and Magnus doesn't know that and sobs themselves to sleep and becomes a lil' depressed until they see the reader at breakfast the next morning? If you can ily and thank you! If you can't it's fine and thank you and ily regardless :) Word count: 1.1k Warnings: mentions of death etc. -Asnyox

The day had started just fine, you were hanging with your lovers for most of it, going on a date. It wasn’t much of a date, as you three mostly decided to walk around Boston for the day. Away from Hotel Vahalla, away from other friends or duties at the Chase place. However neither of your lovers had expected to find you, passed out, after saying goodbye. 

Sam had been the way to inform them. Apparently you were caught off guard when you were making your way back to the Chase place, and you had been lucky enough to have stumbled upon Sam afterwards. Magnus couldn’t move fast enough to your location, and somehow he had felt like he had been too late, even if you were still alive, but unconscious. 

“Look, if I had been around-” Magnus started but Alex gripped his shoulder. 

“You weren’t,” Alex glared at Magnus, “You couldn’t have been! So don’t fucking blame yourself when you better worry about (Y/n).” Alex took a shuddering breath, “I will not grief- let you grief when they’re not yet dead.” She had been holding on, keeping up her appearance thus far, but it was crumbling. Alex sighed, holding back the tears she could feel behind her eyes, “Just focus on regaining energy, maybe they need more healing.” 

Magnus wasn’t a stranger to losing a loved one, but it had become rarer. He knew now that he could heal people, and that’s all you needed to get round, right? When he was around pain wouldn’t last long- yet somehow he hadn’t been enough to heal you. There weren’t any physical wounds, but why hadn’t you woken yet? Magnus wasn’t entirely stunned- he had noticed that when he tried to heal you, he hadn’t caught any glimpses of your memories and consciousness. Magnus normally didn’t have control over it happening, but when bringing one back from the brink of death if had always happened, and yet, with you, it hadn’t. Were you too far gone? Or did Magnus know you too well to need to catch your memories?

Alex didn’t want to face the reality- the fact that even in this world of gods, you might die. Alex had seen the impossible happen again and again, yet right now the possibility of losing you seemed so real. And she didn’t face any of this- not yet, not when you were still breathing. She wouldn’t mourn, cry, panic until you were truly six feet under. She had to be strong, she’s always had to be strong. 

It took you three days to wake up. Throughout these days you were never alone, Magnus and Alex took shifts, barely able to put up with the other while you were struggling. It wasn’t t that they blamed each other- it was their own inabilities to face their feelings and be vulnerable while you weren’t yet gone. You wouldn’t be gone is what they both wanted to believe, but crying over your unconscious form together was too close to admitting the dire situation. There was strength in denial. 

And then your eyes shifted, your mouth felt dry but your body didn’t hurt. You were uncomfortable- that was sure, but as you tried to move your arm to rub your eyes you were met with resistance. As you stretched your hand you notice another hand holding it tightly. Softly, you heard Magnus’s voice whisper your name, and you wanted to respond but it came out as a groan. The warmth- oh, the hand holding yours had been sweaty- left your hand, and you moved your fingers, bringing your arm to your face and finally rubbing your eyes, ridding it of some grub that had seemed to keep them closed. 

As you opened your eyes the room seemed too bright, and for a second you considered you had, somehow, arrived in Heaven. But, luckily, Magnus’s face disproved that theory. 

He helped you up, and at the same time Alex made his way into the room, carrying a tray. As his eyes looked at you, he moved quickly, putting down the tray next to your bed and helping Magnus to sit you up. 

As you drank your water, Alex realized he had been crying. He no longer needed to be strong, because you were back and breathing. There were still things to worry about but your imminent death had passed- and that allowed him the breather he needed to feel the emotions he had been denying himself for the past few days. 

Your glass was discarded- whether by your own hands or by Alex grabbing it as you finished neither of you know, but you are quickly engulfed in a hug. 

“Never do this again.” Alex demanded but you knew you couldn’t promise it, so you simply hummed in response. Magnus hesitantly joined the hug, not wanting to overwhelm you as you had just recovered, but he didn’t want to stay back either. After a moment you broke apart, although neither of your lovers let go of you entirely. Alex had unexpectedly kept his hand on yours, while Magnus had moved to sit next to you on the bed, entangling his arm with yours. 

“Sam said she didn’t know what got you,” Magnus said, staring at you unwaveringly, “but for some reason my healing didn’t work afterwards. Do you remember?” Your brain was still lacking any comprehensive thought, so you simply shook your head. You genuinely didn’t remember what happened, but it might come back to you. Magnus sighed, but did not press. He had hoped that maybe there was a reason, a simple ‘Oh this Norse creature cancels out healing magic’ but there wasn’t one. Yet, somehow he didn’t find himself caring too much, as he could feel your breath next to him.   It had been a bad time for your lovers, but they would get over it sooner rather than later. You hoped this would be the last time such a thing would happen, but you could never know, and in Valhalla your lovers were face to face with death every day, and eventually you would learn to just be grateful for the days that pass without injury. You only live once, after all. 

[partypoison0102]

[salad-storm]

Shut the fuck UP about shou. WHERE is tome ????????