You’re Losing Me Part 14

─ you’re the sunflower ੈ✩‧₊˚

✶ pairing: miguel o'hara x fem!reader

✶ synopsis: everyone on the team loves you, expect miguel who seems to hate you more than anyone.

✶ warnings: angst!! major angst. sunshine!reader x grumpy!miguel. reader is nicknamed sunflower, mentions of death.

✶ notes: there’s one spanish sentence in this, I’m not good with spanish so if I’ve made a mistake please tell me so i can fix it! I might make a part 2 if this fic does well.

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Flirting with Disaster pt. 2

Paring: TASM!Peter Parker x Fem!Reader

Summary: You make your way over to Peter's apartment and an onslaught of memories hits you again. What starts as playful banter turns into a charged moment; it leaves you questioning if the chemistry between you two was always one-sided or if you were delusional and seeing things that couldn't be possible.

Word Count: Roughly 2.4k 

Warnings: Fluff, teasing, light sexual tension, playful banter, suggestive and mild language, power dynamics, mentions of past embarrassing childhood memories

Author's Note: There's like one (or maybe more) grammar error that I can't seem to find ://

And I'm sorry for the delay on this one <3

Part 1

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Divider by @strangergraphics

Thirty minutes later, you stood in front of Peter’s apartment door. 

You purposely tried to make yourself late. You walked instead of driving, stopped at the deli to get juice, and helped an elderly lady cross the street. 

You did every single thing fucking imaginable.

You hesitated, fist hovering just inches from the door. You contemplated running back home or throwing yourself down some stairs so you had a legitimate excuse for missing your date and not having to see Peter. 

But before you could talk yourself out of it, the door swung open with a creak, and there he was.

Peter Parker.

He was leaning casually against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest, wearing a smirk that could only mean one thing: he was about to have way too much fun with you. He was looking at you like he’d just caught his favorite target.

Well, he had.

And he had been doing that since you were kids, so what was one more round? But you'd prefer several rounds.

You glanced up at him before looking away.

Peter had changed. 

He was still Peter, but the years had definitely worked in his favor. His shoulders were broader, his jawline sharper, and those reading glasses, those glasses, gave him this nerdy charm that reminded you of when he was younger. But that somehow made you want to both roll your eyes and blush at the same time. And don’t even get started on the muscles. His biceps were practically screaming to be noticed under his T-shirt.

You had to resist the urge to salivate. 

It took you a second to pull your thoughts together. 

You hadn’t seen him since high school graduation, five years ago, but who was counting? You were.

“Well, well, well,” Peter drawled, his voice smooth as honey and laced with that signature mischievous tone. “Look who finally decided to show up.” He gave you a once-over, eyes lingering just long enough to remind you why you used to dread him. “I was starting to think you were too chicken to face the music, peach.”

Peach. Of course, he had to use that. 

Your face instantly flared with heat, and the flood of mortifying memories hit you like a tidal wave. The peach nickname came from that god-awful summer barbecue when you bit into a juicy peach, only to choke on it and turn into a red-faced mess in front of everyone, including Peter.

You could almost hear his smug chuckle from all the way back then.

You forced yourself to stand tall. 

“I didn’t exactly have much of a choice,” you shot back, but even to your ears, your voice cracked a little. Damn it. “Not like I could’ve canceled now.”

Peter’s grin deepened, almost impossibly wide. “Yeah, you’re pretty much stuck with me.” He took a slow step forward, eyes glinting with something far too playful. “Like that time you tried to impress me by climbing that tree. You remember? Arms scratched up, hair all over the place, and then that pout you had when you couldn’t get down? Classic move.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “Are you seriously bringing that up again?”

Peter shrugged, unrepentant. “What can I say? It’s a core memory from your childhood.” Peter leaned closer. “Your mom sent me a picture, you know. Framed it. Right next to my bed.”

You blinked rapidly as your face turned completely red. “You’re an ass,” you muttered.

“You love it.” His smirk never faded.

Your retort caught in your throat when his hand curled around yours. “Come on,” he said, his tone softer now, almost coaxing. “This is supposed to be fun.”

Before you could protest, not that you wanted to, he'd tugged you into his apartment, closing the door behind you with a soft woosh and a click of the lock.

You took a quick glimpse around his apartment. It was cozy and very much Peter, an organized chaos in the way only he could pull off. Books, tools, gadgets, and half-finished projects are across the floor like a mad scientist’s lair. And then there was the smell: it was him. A blend of cologne, something faintly smoky and sweet, and something warm and earthy that made your pulse skip a little. It was almost unfair how well it suited him.

When he turned to face you, he hadn't let go of your hand. His thumb rubbed slow circles on the back of your hand, his touch warm and inviting.

“Hello, peaches,” he murmured, his voice a teasing caress.

“Hi, Peter,” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper as you avoided his gaze.

He chuckled, the sound wrapping around you like a warm hug, as he lifted your hand and pressed a slow kiss to your knuckles. The rasp of his stubble against your skin sent a shiver down your spine. “Don’t be shy. It’s just us.”

Your cheeks flushed as you huffed and pulled your hand back, ignoring the way his lips curved into another smirk. “This is torture,” you grumbled.

“Sweetest kind,” he shot back, leaning against the counter like he had all the time in the world. “So, who’s the guy? The one you’re trying to impress?”

You fidgeted under his gaze. “Just…someone I met through friends.”

“Ah, the mysterious friend’s friend,” he mused, his tone laced with amusement. “All right, let’s start with the basics. Confidence. You need to feel comfortable in your own skin.” He tilted his head, eyes gleaming. “But you’re still shy, aren’t you? Just like when we first met.”

You groaned. “Don’t start.”

“Oh, I’m starting,” Peter said, clearly enjoying himself. “You know, I still remember the first time we met,” Peter added playfully. “You were so shy and quiet, hiding behind your brother's leg. And I was your brother's best friend, who decided to befriend the sweet little girl too.”

“No, asshole. You roll your eyes. “You decided that you would make fun of me from that day forward.”

Peter shrugged, his grin unrepentant. “I was just poking fun. You always blushed so easily. But I never did it in a mean way. Well, not too mean,” he amended with a chuckle.

“We teased each other, remember? That was our thing,” he said, tapping the tip of your nose with his finger.

“No, it wasn't.” You grumble.

“Was too,” he teased, eyes sparkling with amusement. “You'd challenge me to a video game, get all pouty when you lost, and I'd tease you for it.”

He paused, watching you closely. “Come on, peach. You loved it as much as I did. All our inside jokes, the nicknames, the way we teased each other…”

His voice dropped. "And now, he said, his gaze dropping to your lips, making the heat in your cheeks flare, “I get to teach you how to flirt.”

You roll your eyes.

Peter was way too close, so close you could feel the heat radiating off him. You quickly took a step back, but it didn’t help much. Peter smirked, eyes narrowing just enough to let you know that he could read you like an open book.

The sincerity in his tone made your breath hitch, but before you could respond, his teasing grin returned. “Now,” he said, straightening up, “let’s see if I can teach you how to stop blushing every time I say your name. What do you think, baby?”

Your stomach flipped at the nickname, but you rolled your eyes, refusing to let him win this round. “You’re insufferable.”

“And you’re adorable,” he shot back, grinning as you sputtered.

“Fuck you,” you muttered. 

“Still got that attitude, huh?” he teased, his voice a little quieter now, almost like a challenge. “Hard to believe you’ve grown up. Wasn’t it just six years ago when you told me to ‘fall in a ditch and die’?”

You blinked, the blush creeping up your neck again. “Shut up, Parker,” you muttered, your arms instinctively crossing over your chest. “You and my brother basically stalked me on my first date. I was a disaster. You guys made me cry.”

Peter chuckled that deep, rumbling sound that made your insides do something weird. “Oh, come on. It was hilarious! You were so flustered, like a deer in headlights. You couldn’t even speak! And then your face-” He paused, dramatically pouting. “I mean, seriously. Who else trips and falls into a pile of mud on their first date?”

You wished for the ground to swallow you whole. “You guys were awful.”

"Awful?" Peter echoed. "I wouldn't have had to do that if you hadn't snuck out without telling anyone."

Peter shrugged, but there was that familiar gleam in his eyes. “But, I did pay for your dry cleaning and bought you ice cream, so I don't have remorse.”

He leaned a little closer, almost like he was enjoying this more than he should be.

“I was just looking out for you, baby. You know that.”

Baby. That damn nickname. You tried to stay mad at him, but he knew exactly how to melt that armor. 

You buried your face in your hands. “I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.” Peter’s voice softened, and when you peeked through your fingers, he was closer, his expression more serious now. “I was just looking out for you. Always have.”

Peter’s smirk deepened as he leaned against the wall, arms crossed, his entire presence screaming arrogance and charm. 

"Yeah, well, you didn’t exactly make me feel protected when you were laughing at me," you shot back, trying to regain some ground. Your voice wavered, though, betraying your confidence.

His cocky demeanor softened slightly, just enough to throw you off. “That guy you were with? He was a total creep. And you? You’re too sweet to be rude. But me?” He pushed off the wall, stepping closer, his voice dropping low enough to send a shiver down your spine. “I’m going to beat someone’s ass if they deserve it.”

You froze as his eyes locked onto yours, the intensity of his gaze almost too much. Then, his smirk returned, softer now, but no less disarming. “And you…” His voice was practically a murmur now. “You’re my favorite little peach, and peaches? They need protection, don’t they?”

Your cheeks burned. You crossed your arms, a weak attempt at a barrier between you and the way he made your pulse race. “Yeah, well, I’m grown now. A big girl. I can take care of myself,” you retorted quickly, too quickly.

Peter’s eyebrow arched, his expression smug as if daring you to believe your own words. “Oh, is that right?” He tilted his head, eyes sweeping over you, lingering just enough to make you squirm. “Then why are your arms crossed like you’re holding yourself together?”

Peter raised an eyebrow in a silent challenge. You could feel his eyes on you, the way they looked at you like you were something worth being seen. 

It was intoxicating. It was terrifying. 

Your breath hitched. He was too observant, too good at peeling back your defenses with a single question. “I’m fine,” you insisted, but your voice lacked conviction.

Peter took a slow step forward, closing the distance between you. His scent hit you first: spicy, earthy, and undeniably him. It was a heady mix, and you found yourself shifting closer to him.

 “Tell you what,” he said, his voice smooth and warm, dripping with challenge. “Why don’t you show me how a big girl flirts? Think of it as a trial run before your date.”

“I-I…” You faltered, your mind scrambling for words as he moved closer, the heat of his body radiating against yours.

“What’s the matter?” he teased, his lips twitching into a smirk that made your knees weak. “I thought you were a big girl now.”

You swallowed hard, the heat in your stomach pooling as his words wrapped around you like a velvet rope. He was too close, close enough for you to feel the warmth of his breath near your ear.

“C'mon,” he coaxed, his voice a whisper near your ear, and you shivered despite yourself. “A big girl knows how to flirt.”

You could feel his breath tickle your neck, his hand resting on your waist like he always did when he was teasing you. And for a brief moment, you were that awkward teenager again, and he was the older boy next door with all the arrogance and charm.

“It's just you and me here, peach.” His voice was low, his thumb drawing idle circles on your hip, making it damn near impossible to think straight. “Show me what you've got.”

“Fine,” you said, trying to maintain some semblance of cool, giving him what he wanted to hear. “I can't flirt to save my life. Show me how to.”

Peter’s smirk widened, his eyes lighting up like he’d just won a game you didn’t realize you were playing. “That much I already knew,” he murmured, his hand moving to your waist with an ease that made your pulse stutter. He pulled you closer, your bodies mere inches apart.

His thumb began trailing under your shirt, tracing lazy circles on your hip, and your breath caught. The deliberate touch sent a delicious thrill through you, making it impossible to focus. You tilted your face up to meet his gaze, catching the flicker of victory in his eyes. He knew what he was doing to you. He knew, and he was reveling in it.

“What’s wrong, peach?” he said, his voice low and teasing. “Cat got your tongue?”

“You’re insufferable,” you muttered, but even you could hear the waver in your tone.

“And yet,” Peter replied, his smirk softening into something more dangerous. “You’re still here. Inches away from me. Looking at me like you’re waiting for something.”

Your heart hammered in your chest. He wasn’t wrong, but you weren’t about to give him the satisfaction. You straightened your shoulders, trying to regain control. “I didn’t come here for your games, Peter,” you said, though your voice trembled slightly. “I came here because you owe me for all the humiliations you’ve put me through over the years.”

Peter chuckled, the sound low and rich, sending another shiver through you. “You’re right,” he said, stepping even closer until there was barely any space left between you. “I do owe you.”

His eyes dipped to your lips, and your breath hitched. “And don’t worry,” he murmured, his tone full of promise. “I’ve got plenty of ways to make it up to you.”

Your heart stuttered as the air between you grew thick, heavy with tension and something you weren’t sure you were ready for. You tried to speak, to push back, but the words caught in your throat.

What the hell had you gotten yourself into?

Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed!

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Much love x

- Maeve

𝑫𝒚𝒏𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒚: 𝑭𝒊𝒏𝒂𝒍 𝑪𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓

♡︎ 𝑷𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈: 𝒀𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓𝒆!𝑪𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒓!𝑴𝒊𝒈𝒖𝒆𝒍 𝑶'𝑯𝒂𝒓𝒂 𝒙 𝑭𝒆𝒎!𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓

♡︎ 𝑪𝑾: 𝑷𝒓𝒆𝒈𝒏𝒂𝒏𝒄𝒚, 𝒂 𝒔𝒐𝒓𝒕 𝒐𝒇 𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒎 𝒐𝒇 𝒈𝒂𝒔𝒍𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈/𝒎𝒂𝒏𝒊𝒑𝒖𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏

♡︎ "__" 𝒓𝒆𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒔 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒏𝒂𝒎𝒆

♡︎ 𝑨/𝑵: 𝑯𝒆𝒚 𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒚'𝒂𝒍𝒍! 𝑨𝑨𝑨𝑨𝑨𝑨𝑯𝑯𝑯𝑯, 𝑾𝑬'𝑽𝑬 𝑹𝑬𝑨𝑪𝑯𝑬𝑫 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑬𝑵𝑫 𝑶𝑭 𝑻𝑯𝑰𝑺 𝑺𝑻𝑶𝑹𝒀! 𝑻𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒌 𝒚'𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒃𝒆𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒐𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒓𝒊𝒅𝒆 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒎𝒆, 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒌 𝒚'𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒔𝒐 𝒎𝒖𝒄𝒉 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒔𝒖𝒑𝒑𝒐𝒓𝒕 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒆𝒏𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒓𝒂𝒈𝒆𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕! 𝑭𝒂𝒊𝒓 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈, 𝑰 𝒕𝒐𝒐𝒌 𝒂 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒑𝒍𝒆 𝒄𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒗𝒆 𝒍𝒊𝒃𝒆𝒓𝒕𝒊𝒆𝒔 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓, 𝒏𝒂𝒎𝒆𝒍𝒚 𝒂𝒔 𝒊𝒕 𝒓𝒆𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒔 𝒕𝒐 𝒂 𝒄𝒆𝒓𝒕𝒂𝒊𝒎 𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒓𝒂𝒄𝒕𝒆𝒓'𝒔 𝒂𝒑𝒑𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒄𝒆. 𝑶𝒏𝒄𝒆 𝑰 𝒘𝒂𝒕𝒄𝒉 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒎𝒐𝒗𝒊𝒆, 𝑰'𝒍𝒍 𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒆 𝒃𝒂𝒄𝒌 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒂𝒅𝒋𝒖𝒔𝒕/𝒖𝒑𝒅𝒂𝒕𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒊𝒇 𝒏𝒆𝒆𝒅 𝒃𝒆. 𝑨𝒍𝒔𝒐 𝒇𝒂𝒊𝒓 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈, 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓'𝒔 𝒂 𝒃𝒊𝒕 𝒐𝒇 𝒂 𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒅 𝒔𝒄𝒓𝒆𝒘.🙃 𝑨𝑳𝑺𝑶 𝒂𝒍𝒔𝒐, 𝒂 𝒑𝒐𝒔𝒕 𝒘𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒃𝒆 𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒂𝒇𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒈𝒐𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒐 𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒆 𝒅𝒆𝒕𝒂𝒊𝒍 𝒂𝒃𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒕𝒐𝒓𝒚. 𝑨𝒏𝒚𝒘𝒂𝒚, 𝑰 𝒕𝒓𝒖𝒍𝒚 𝒉𝒐𝒑𝒆 𝒚'𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒆𝒏𝒋𝒐𝒚! 👋🏾

♡︎ 𝑪𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓 1 𝑯𝒆𝒓𝒆    𝑪𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓 2 𝑯𝒆𝒓𝒆    𝑪𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓 3 𝑯𝒆𝒓𝒆    𝑪𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓 4 𝑯𝒆𝒓𝒆

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Idle hands are the Devil’s playground. 

In this case, it’s more like an idle mind. 

The first week or so of the month passed by smoothly for __. She was given plenty of entertainment by Miguel, even access to the internet, though it was closely monitored. 

She hadn’t expected him to agree to leaving her search history and website access unobserved, so she’d decided against mentioning it in her stipulations. 

__ was allowed to watch all her favorite films and television shows, and there were plenty of books and puzzles . 

Simple pleasures, but ones __ had quickly learned not to take for granted. 

__’s room was very comfortable, and stayed at a pleasant temperature all the time. Since she was (presumably) underground, there were no cold air drafts to worry about, and the heat could be controlled at all times.

The bathroom adjacent to the bedroom was fully stocked with all the essentials and plenty of additional luxuries that __ needed to always feel refreshed and pampered.

Her meals, which were personally delivered and presumably also made by Miguel, were always delicious, and he seemed to have remembered all her favorite dishes. 

All in all, it really wasn’t so bad being…

Wait……what?

__ sat upright in bed, eyes wide and breathing heavily. 

‘Where did those thoughts come from,’ she wondered silently, bottom lip clutched between her teeth. 

Ok, to be completely fair and honest, __’s situation could have been much, much worse. And for what it was, Miguel did treat her well. 

‘Almost better than he did while we were married.’ The thought leaves a sour taste in the back of __’s throat, causing her mouth to curl up unpleasantly. 

But, it’s thoughts like that that ultimately keep her focused. No matter how good the treatment, __ had to remember that she was still being held against her will, by her cheating, lying, murderer of a husband.

Taking several deep, steady breaths, __ slowly lays back down, eyes fixed on the ceiling and eventually drifting over to the intercom. 

Despite having tried to harden her resolve, __’s mind couldn’t help but wonder. 

For all the provisions she had in her prison, she was lacking something major. 

Human. Interaction. 

Quality human interaction. 

Talking to Miguel the predetermined three times a day when she ate and sporadically through the intercom when/if she needed something was not sufficient. Besides, if __ had a choice in the matter, she wouldn’t talk to him at all.

Yes, he was very last on her list of people she wanted to interact with. 

But…seeing as she didn’t have a choice, the prospect of forgiving him and ending this isolation was a tempting one. 

“Ugh, what am I doing?”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧

The middle of the second week arrived swiftly, and __ was beginning to feel slightly antsy. 

Miguel, to her surprise, hadn’t done anything major yet, and had instead been asking for simple things, like sharing drinks (non-alcoholic of course) and holding in-person conversation. 

You had to admit, the time you’d spent with him had been pleasant, and you hadn’t detected anything subliminal or suggestive in anything he said or did.

It was all very suspicious. 

__ wanted to think that he was being genuine, but something in her gut just wouldn’t let her. Call it a woman’s intuition, or her own unique sort of spidey-sense. 

Now she sat, quietly sipping a cup of tea, brewed to seeming perfection. __ wasn’t an idiot, and she definitely took into account that Miguel could possibly be poisoning (tainting?) her through her food and drinks, and he swore he wasn’t when she grilled him about the possibility, but she ultimately figured that it couldn’t be helped either way, seeing as she needed to eat. 

Miguel sat nearby, his nose buried in a tablet. He appeared to be focusing intently on something, and although __ was slightly curious as to what it was, she decided against bothering him. 

That didn’t stop her from studying Miguel’s face though. 

He’d looked much healthier as of late, and he was still as handsome as ever. It pained __ to say, but had the circumstances been different, she might have contemplated giving him another chance. 

Which, she realized, sounded very shallow given that she’d only just been talking about his looks. 

The thought exasperated __, who sighed, sitting her teacup down on the side table next to her. 

“Something the matter?” Miguel speaks, his eyes still surveying the smaller screen before him. 

“It’s…nothing.” __ sighs again, reclining further in her seat and closing her eyes. 

“You know, if something’s bothering you, or you’re displeased with something, you can tell me. I’m all ears.”

“Aside from the obvious, you mean?” __ can’t help the snarky reply. Miguel seems unbothered, so focused he is on whatever he’s looking at. 

“Yes, aside from the obvious.”

It’s quiet between the two of you for some minutes after that, until eventually you reopen your eyes, staring at the ceiling as you speak. 

“You know Miguel, I’ve been thinking…”

At this, he quickly turns his attention away from his tablet, looking at you expectantly. 

“This past couple of weeks have been very pleasant. I could say almost suspiciously so, but…,” you shrug, eyes surveying the space around you. “You could have done all this before kidnapping me, and perhaps even killing Layla could have been avoided had you just…taken things more into consideration.”

You finally meet his eyes. “So, why didn’t you?”

The silence returns, this time loaded, the air thick with tension. You and Miguel hold eye contact for its duration, until finally he sighs, setting down his tablet and folding his arms. 

“I…I’m not sure. I suppose I was, I was…”

“You were afraid. That would also explain why you had my room set up even before I found out that you’d cheated. You were afraid I’d eventually discover your unfaithfulness, and you took measures to ensure you wouldn’t lose me if and when I did.”

Miguel doesn’t respond for a few moments, before eventually nodding. 

“Tell me Miguel, had I not found out, would you ever have been honest about your affair?”

He stills, sighing dejectedly before uttering a quiet “no.”

You nod, having expected that answer. 

“And if I’d never found out…would you ever have stopped seeing Layla?”

…

“It was never my intention to hurt you, __.”

“That doesn’t answer my question, Miguel.”

The man winces at your tone, harsh and scornful. 

“...I don’t know.”

With that, you stand, turning away from him and towards the door. 

“I’m ready to go back.”

Without another word, Miguel stands, escorting you back to your room. 

In that moment, it feels more like a prison than it ever has. 

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧

You don’t talk to Miguel again until nearly a week has passed. 

He still delivers your meals and fulfills your requests when you have them, but you don’t hold real conversation again for a long while after. 

As much as you’d thought you were completely over Miguel, and had made peace with the situation for yourself, you couldn’t lie that hearing him answer your questions the week before hadn't stung. 

Bad.

Miraculously, you hadn’t cried, but you had definitely felt your chest burn and ache for some time after. 

Initially, you’d been sincere in agreeing to give Miguel a month to try and win you over, even though you both knew that truly healing and reparation would take much, much longer. But now, armed with this new information and doubting that Miguel would uphold his end of the bargain, you knew you’d need to formulate a plan if you wanted to make it out of this thing. 

You immediately figured that you may have to play the long game, but a win is a win, no matter how long the match. 

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧

Miguel was beyond agitated. He hasn’t been sleeping, and being away from you for so long has driven him nearly insane. 

He completely understood why you would be upset at him for what he’d said, but you’d said you wanted the truth. 

“We were making such good progress,” he growls, having ceased pacing momentarily. He sits at his desk, hands folded under his chin as he thinks. 

“Fuck!” He screams, fists denting the metal beneath him. 

Now standing, he takes several deep breaths, trying to rein in his temper. 

“No, I can’t lose focus now. All is not lost.”

The thought helps calm him further, and he makes his way over to the bench across the room. 

On the bench lies a single vial, one which Miguel lifts, studying its contents in the dim light of the lab. 

“It’ll be alright, __. I didn’t want it to come to this, but it seems I’ve no choice.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧

You’re expecting Miguel when he knocks on your door, having just exited the shower. You’re still wrapped in your Egyptian cotton towel, body still damp with water. 

“Come in.”

He enters, eyes downcast before he lifts them, nearly dropping the tray he holds as his eyes land on you. 

Miguel can immediately feel his pants begin to tighten, and he struggles between feeling ashamed and casting that same shame into a deep dark well. 

Little does he know, that’s the effect you intended to have. 

“__! I uh, I brought you y-your…”

“Thank you, Gigi.” You smile at him, and to his lust and desperation addled mind, it looks genuine. 

“You can sit it on the dresser.” 

Swallowing,  Miguel nods, doing as you instruct. 

“Here, sit with me.” You gesture to the bed, taking a seat on it yourself. Miguel follows suit, looking very conflicted. 

You grin internally, knowing that so far, everything is going just as you intended. 

“Oh Gigi, I’ve been so tired recently.” You stretch exaggeratedly, more of your skin being exposed as your towel slips slightly. 

“Mm, how have you been? We haven’t…talked in a while. Not after…,” you trail off, “you know.”

Miguel’s mouth is slightly agape as he watches you pout, and his fangs itch at his gums. 

“I know. I’m sorry __, truly I am. I meant it when I said it was never my intention to hurt you. I just…you said you wanted me to be honest, and I didn’t want to lie to you anymore and-”

“Hey, hey! Sssshhh, it’s ok Gigi, I understand.” You lift a hand to caress his cheek, satisfied with the way he leans heavily into the touch, eyes slipping closed. 

Studying his face, you notice that he’s got noticeable dark circles, and the lines of his face are more defined, both signs that he hasn’t been getting enough sleep. 

‘Good,’ you think. ‘This should work out smoother than I originally thought.’

You stroke his cheek with your thumb, and watch as Miguel lifts his own hand, wrapping it around yours and moaning lowly. 

“__,” he breathes, eyes opening just in time to watch as you surge forward, placing a tentative kiss on his lips. 

Miguel immediately leans in, trying desperately to deepen the kiss. Both hands come up to cup your cheeks, his tongue fighting for entrance into your mouth. 

Before things can get too heated, you pull back, Miguel following you with his lips. 

“G-Gigi! Slow down baby.” You swear you hear him whimper at the nickname. “Let’s slow down a little, yeah?”

Miguel somewhat dazedly nods, beginning to ramble quietly. 

“Té amó mucho, mí amor, mí vída. I’m so, so sorry, I love you. I love you. I’ll make it right, té prométo. Please just let me touch you. I missed you. I need you. Té deseó." 

Miguel’s speaking so quickly you can only make out bits of what he’s saying, but you get the gist. He’s speaking right against your lips, and you can feel yourself becoming aroused despite the circumstance. 

“I-I missed you too Gigi. I missed you so much. But I was so hurt. You hurt me Gigi. I love you and you hurt me.” Here you turn on the waterworks, beginning to break down into genuine tears. 

Miguel is instantly beside himself with panic, shushing you and cradling you into his chest. 

“Ssshh, sssshhh, mi amor. It’s ok. I know, I know I hurt you. And I will spend the rest of my days atoning for my sins. You don’t ever have to worry,” he pulls you back, making eye contact with you. His irises have turned a smoldering scarlet, a clear indicator of his arousal. 

“I’ll always be here for you from now on.” 

With that, you both surge forward, lips clashing intensely. 

Tainted tea left forgotten on the dresser, and food having long since gone cold, Miguel spends the rest of the evening well into the night showing you just how sorry he truly is. 

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧

In the weeks that follow you and Miguel’s carnal connection, you find that so far, everything has been going according to plan. 

Miguel has granted you more freedom to roam about without supervision, and now you’re even able to surf the web without being so closely monitored. 

You realize that in order for things to go off without a hitch, you must pace yourself, and not try to rush into things too fast. 

Although, given Miguel’s enthusiasm, you may not need to worry about that after all. 

You take the test right after you miss your period. 

When you mention that you’ve missed your period to Miguel, he’s ecstatic, already talking about how excited he is that you’re pregnant. 

“Well, we don’t know that for sure,” you laugh lightly, secretly hoping your first try needed to be your only try. 

“Oh no, I’m sure of it. You’re definitely pregnant with my baby.”

And lo and behold, he’s right. Both tests you take come back positive, and it’s amusing to see Miguel nearly jump with joy. 

You’re admittedly very excited as well, but you try not to get too caught up, knowing you have to stay focused. 

“I’m so happy,” he says, thumbs rubbing circles into your waist. He’s beaming widely, and an old, mostly dead part of you stirs at the sight. Now, you just plaster on a smile of your own, trying not to let your distaste be known. 

“As am I. Oh! I can’t wait to begin shopping for the baby. And setting up his room. I know it’s still so early, but I’m just so excited.” You lay the enthusiasm on thick, even though you are genuinely elated. 

Miguel shakes his head, still smiling, though not as widely. 

“Nonsense, you’re right. It doesn’t matter how far along you are, we should begin making all the necessary preparations. There’s doctor’s visits and vitamins, and we’ll have to start watching your diet…” Miguel trails off, turning away from you as he begins pacing. 

You watch momentarily, before a thought strikes you. You can’t gauge whether or not it’s too early to attempt this, but you figure it couldn’t hurt to try. 

“Gigi love?”

The man immediately pauses, walking towards you with outstretched hands. His glow is visible from hearing you address him in such a way. 

“Yes my love? What is it?”

‘Alright, here goes.’ You pout, looking down and to the side, appearing shy. 

“I was thinking. With me being pregnant and all the work that needs to be done, and for as lovely as my room is, don’t you think I’ll need a little more space? I don’t mean to sound demanding, I just worry that being cooped up won’t be good for me and our baby.” You place your hand on your tummy, grinning to yourself as Miguel’s eyes closely watch the movement. 

“And I,” you begin, intending to hammer the final nail into the coffin. “I want to be with you. It’s so lonely in my room without you, and the baby needs his daddy.” You give him a bashful smile, and you can almost physically see when Miguel’s already fragile resolve shatters. 

“Of course, absolutely. Anything you need, anything you want. Daddy will take care of it for you.” You accept his kiss and casually return it, one thought sounding in your head. 

‘Checkmate.’

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧

Miguel can’t believe things worked out better than he ever could have imagined. 

Layla is gone and the society still doesn’t know she even existed, you have seemingly forgiven him and now you’re even pregnant with his baby. 

He knows he made a huge mistake in his affair with the Spiderwoman, and he truly, truly wants to earn the right to call himself your husband again. He now fully intends to be the best husband and father in a way he wasn’t before. 

He’s so caught up in his newly acquired perfect, happy ending, that he doesn’t notice himself becoming much more lenient with you. He figures that you’re trustworthy enough, and that you can’t possibly want to leave him now- you’re pregnant with his son after all! 

He’s especially willing now to give you anything you want, and he easily bends to your will- so long as you’re pleased, he is as well. 

Everything is perfect. 

And that’s exactly what you would have him believe.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧

It’s been a few months now, and you’ve finally begun to show. 

Miguel waits on you hand and foot now, answering to your every beck and call. 

Having to grin and bear it hasn’t been quite as terrible as you thought, and Miguel’s made it surprisingly easy to get what you want. 

You feel a little bad about essentially abusing his already fragile psyche for your benefit, and you definitely never wanted to have to use your beloved baby boy as a manipulation tool, but you figured that once you were finally free of Miguel and he was, hopefully, locked away getting the help he clearly needed, it would all be worth it. 

Now it’s the evening time, and you sit in your familiar swinging chair, on a perch overlooking the city, hands cradling your swollen tummy. You sent Miguel to fetch you something to drink, all while you contemplate your next move. 

You figure it’s been long enough, and now you can enact the final stages of your plan.

“Don’t worry my love,” you speak to your belly, “mommy’s gonna keep you safe. She promises.”

You hear Miguel return just as you finish speaking, in his hands yet another tray. You must admit, you’ve become quite fond of his tea; you’re not sure how he makes it, but it’s always delicious. 

“Thank you, my love,” you smile at Miguel as he hands you your drink, watching as his eyes soften even further. 

“Fue mi placer,” he speaks in a low tone, kneeling down to place kisses across the taut skin of your stomach.

“Hello, my son. I hope you’ve been treating mommy nicely. Don’t kick too hard now.” You both chuckle at that. 

“How are you feeling, mi vida?” Miguel takes a seat next to you, scooting closer and resting a hand on your tummy. 

“I’m fine,” you breathe out through a sigh, casually resting your hand over Miguel’s. You swear you can hear the man purr at the action. 

“Our little one has been behaving well. He’s only kicked once or twice in the last few hours and not too hard, so it’s been manageable. I’ve been feeling a little tired though.” You yawn this time, and Miguel stands. 

“Then let me carry you to bed. You should be getting plenty of rest.” He offers you his hand, which you take and carefully stand. 

“Before my midday nap though, I’ve been wondering,” you tilt your head, laughing internally as Miguel subconsciously follows the motion. “You’ve never really shown me around the complex, not the upper portion anyway. Baby and I are curious as to what you spend all your time doing around here.”

At your words, Miguel looks hesitant, and you worry you may have pushed too far, before he perks back up, and you relax. 

“Well, why don’t I show you? Come with me.” 

He leads you to his lab, showing you all the different projects and experiments he’s currently working on. He also shows you his surveillance station, and you’re amazed by all the different things you see on the numerous screens. 

“Are..are these different universes?” 

Miguel nods, expression hardening as he watches events play out on a few of the screens. 

“Yes. I mostly spend my time here monitoring these different timelines, making sure there are no anomalies or abnormal happenings. If and when there are, I and the other members of the Spider Society rectify the issue swiftly and cautiously.” 

You continue studying the screens as he speaks, watching in amazement as people move and go about their lives. 

“Wow,” you whisper, turning to Miguel. Walking up to him, you place a hand on his cheek, smiling as he leans into the touch. 

“I understand now. You truly are a hero. I just know our baby boy already finds you so amazing.” You lean up and forward, placing a sweet kiss on Miguel’s lips which he, of course, readily returns. “Just like I do.” 

Miguel’s eyes shoot scarlet, and you chuckle. 

“Not so fast papi, mama is still tired. Which, speaking of,” you turn, taking a seat on the chair nearest the surveillance station. 

“Would you be a dear and run me a bath please love? I think I’m about ready to call it a day.”

Miguel nods, beginning to turn before addressing you. “You coming?”

You shake your head, eyes fixated on the screens. “Come for me when you’re done, yeah? This is so fascinating,” you gesture to the screens, “I kind of want to stay here and continue observing.” You pause, giving him a shy look. “If…that’s alright with you?”

Miguel pauses for only a moment, before nodding.

“Ningún problema, mi amor. I’ll fetch you once the water’s done.” 

“Thank you, love. You’ll join me as well, right?” You bat your eyelashes at him, and you can see his irises tinge scarlet before he nods and hurries off. 

You wait until you can no longer hear his footsteps, before quickly and quietly standing and making your way over to the surveillance station. You search around the different buttons and knobs on the panel before you find a row of buttons, each having a different name printed above it. 

They appear to be the names of different members of the Spider Society, and seeing as there’s only a few, you figure that these must be some of the most important characters. 

You check the door again just to be sure, before pressing the button for Peter B. You hope his morality will override his allegiance to Miguel and that ultimately, he can help you. 

The button blinks red rhythmically, and initially you’re afraid he won’t answer, until you hear what sounds like ruffling, and then a man’s voice say, “Hello?”

You’re a little taken aback, and unable to speak for a few seconds before he repeats himself. 

“Uh, h-hello?” 

There’s silence, before Peter speaks again. 

“Oh my God, __? Is that you?”

You breathe a sigh of relief, hand subconsciously coming up to rub your belly. 

“Yes Peter, it’s me.”

“Long time no speak, __. I’ve wondered where you’ve been. And not just me, but the others as well. Miguel told us you had gone to visit family but-...”

You hate to cut him off, but you know your time is limited. 

“Sorry Peter, but Miguel was lying. Look, I don’t have time to explain the full story but I need your help.”

There’s a pause, and you pray he can hear the sincerity and desperation in your voice. 

Apparently he can, because he sounds much more stern when he speaks next. 

“Let me know what I need to do.” 

You smile widely, on the verge of tears. 

‘Finally!’ You think. ‘We’re almost safe, baby boy.’

You regale Peter with a very condensed version of your tale, thankful that he listens quietly the entire time. You also give him a brief rundown of your plan, hoping that he can fulfill his part.

“I sent him to run a bath for me but he’ll be back any second. Do you think you can do it?”

“Of course. Just hang tight __, we’re gonna get you out of there.” 

Tears freely fall now, and you thank him before the call ends. 

And just in time too, as not a minute later Miguel rounds the corner, looking none the wiser. 

You’ve just made it back to your seat in time, and wiped away any remaining tears. 

“Mi amor, the bath is ready. I’ve even got a little surprise for you waiting.” 

You smile, standing when Miguel reaches for your hand. 

“Sounds lovely. Lead the way?” 

Miguel grins, taking your hand and pulling you along behind him. 

‘I’m counting on you Peter,’ you think as you are led away from the lab. 

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧

Buy Me a Kofi?

sirius black being the cockiest mf ever trying to impress his crush and she is not impressed in the slightest to the point he starts getting really shy around her because he no longer knows how to act if his usual bravado doesn't work

but turns out just being his dorky, vulnerable, and still (softer) flirty self works like a charm!!

Sirius would totally the most cocky and immature tactics to get you to go out with him. it would be romantic for sure. im picturing the dance number that heath ledger sings in “10 things i hate about you.”

I hope you enjoy!

𝐂𝐚𝐧’𝐭 𝐓𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐌𝐲 𝐄𝐲𝐞𝐬 𝐎𝐟𝐟 𝐘𝐨𝐮 | 𝐒.𝐁

summery: after Sirius gives up on his boastful ways of flirting, you turn the other cheek and notice the popular marauder is sweet and dorky on the inside.

warnings: not proof read. one inappropriate joke, but that’s all 🫶🏻

pairing: sirius black x reader

Sirius Black was a charmer. That was for certain. Rumors spread like the plague of his roughish ways. You were not a fan of him, which was unfortunate for you because he was a fan of you. Constantly. Every chance he would get, he would flirt you up in the hallway.

“Hey y/n, what are you doing later?” He would ask you. You replied with, “McGonagall’s transfiguration essay.”

Sirius just smirked and returned with his cocky banter, “That’s a shame, I wish you’d do me instead.” He grinned, James and Peter behind him laughing.

It wasn’t genuine, or at least that’s how you felt. You rolled your eyes and replied with, “You wish, Black. In your dreams.”

You walked away with out seeing or hearing Sirius’ response. It frustrated you to no end that he would joke that way. You wanted to save him the trouble. He was obnoxious and too cocky for your own liking.

You missed when he was sweet and genuine. Not the popular boy that has become a staple at Hogwarts.

Sirius on the other hand, genuinely did want you. But no other tactic had gotten him a date. The rumors were misconstrued and he put on a cocky front. But in reality he was just as shy and dorky as he used to be.

One night after a hogsmeade trip, you were reading in the Gryffindor common room. It was a nice quiet night by the fire place. But all of a sudden, Sirius showed up, sat in an arm chair near you and started playing with wizarding cards.

“Could you keep that down?” You asked him, looking up from your book.

You expected a witty and cocky calculated response, but instead Sirius looked flushed. He ran a hand through this shiny hair and nodded, a little shy.

He gave up on impressing you and being so boastful. What did he have to lose? “Yeah sure, sorry.” He replied.

Sirius’ response continued to surprise you. Where were his annoyingly witty comments and jokes? Why wasn’t he flirting?

“Are you okay?” You asked, now a little confused.

“Yeah I’m fine,” he replied, lookin over at you. In his mind you looked so beautiful sitting by the fire. “Urm—actually I wanted to apologize. For making you so upset. I just think you’re really pretty an all. But I’m taking the hint and I’ll stop.”

He sounded so sweet about it and vulnerable. This was the Sirius you liked. The genuine one.

You smiled softly, “Thank you for the apology Sirius. I appreciate it. But you really think I’m pretty?” You asked.

He nodded, continuing to be sincere in his response. “Yeah, could never take my eyes off you love?” He said. It was straightforward and flirty but absolutely adorable and dorky.

You blushed. Why couldn’t be t he like this all the time?

“I like you like this.” You said, with a small smile. Sirius flushed.

“Y-you-u do?” He asked, a little surprised. This was the first time you’d shown him affection.

“Yeah. I mean when you aren’t being so boastful and cocky around me. I like the genuine you, Sirius.” You said.

With that, he sat up and walked over to the couch. He sat next you and both were facing each other.

“Sooo, I guess what you’re saying is???” He teased. You lightly pushed him and laughed.

“I’m saying if you tried to ask me out in a less boastful way. I would say yes.” You explained, blushing.

Sirius felt like he’d won the jackpot. “Really?! Uh I mean oh that’s cool.” He said, earning another giggle out of you.

“Y/n, will you go out with me?” He asked, sincerely.

You nodded, “Yes Sirius, I will.”

💌 = fluff I 📭 = angst I 📬 = hurt/comfort I 📜 = smut I 🪧 = humour

𖤐 marauders

includes: james, sirius, remus

james fleamont potter

(3.7k) The Boy with the Glasses is Blind (💌📬: pining, james mistakenly thinks you're in love with your best friend barty)

remus john lupin

(14.4k) It's Nice To Have A Friend (💌📬: childhood best friends to lovers, you are the only person remus is comfortable being physically affectionate with publically)

(581) morning touches (💌: drabble of waking up with bf!remus)

(4.8k) A Little Push (📬💌: sirius finally tells you about your best friend remus' feelings for you after you almost kiss him at a party)

features in:

poly!moonwater ─ (1.9k) What Now? (💌: your concerned boyfriends find you feeling poorly in the infirmary and dote on you)

poly!marauders

(3.5k) What You Became (💌🪧: poly!marauders react when their clumsy girlfriend becomes a swan animagus)

platonic!bestfriend!marauders are heavily featured in animagus!reader x regulus black:

Feline Touches & Sweet Like Honey; Karma is a Cat & Padfoot vs. Whiskers & Where Padfoot Lays His Head & the furred shoulder & not sneeze proof

dearest gentle readers | introduction

pairing(s): marauders (undetermined) x reader

warning(s): eventually 18+, bridgerton au, mentions of marriage, slight cursing?, i’m not british so just pretend i know what i’m talking about, mentions of scandal and incest, not proofread/edited so forgive me

word count: 818

masterlist

Sponsored by Lady Minerva McGonagall and desperate to find a match before you’re truly considered a spinster, you find yourself caught up in the whirlwind that is The Season. Will you be able to find a husband by August? Or is fortune just as fickle as the ton?

Swathes of fabric lined with lace, ruffles, and beads filled the great expanse of the room.

Yellows as pale as cream and blues as deep as midnight thrown over chase and chair. London’s dreary gloom seemed brighter the longer such a vibrant array of colors decorated the space. Lady Minerva McGonagall wasted no expense on the three debutantes she’d chosen to sponsor again this season.

Beside you, Mary eyed the fabrics with rapt attention.

You fingered the expensive satin silk of the dress nearest to you. Simple in silk, but a striking royal purple, it truly was a marvel of craftsmanship.

“I can’t believe how many dresses there are.” Mary’s Scottish accent appeared to be far less pronounced than what you might’ve imagined, but you three were sure to be an odd bunch. Lady McGonagall had sponsored you lot for two years already. A favor welcomed by your not-so-noble families. Or rather, your not-so-wealthy families.

“I’ve decided on new wardrobes for you this season. You will be married by the end of it, if I have any say. Mary’s are by the window and Lily’s are by the bed.”

Minerva’s sharp gaze turned to you. You’d had either the luck or misfortune (which one it was, you weren’t quite sure) to additionally spend the last few years as Minerva’s ward. Her rough edges were thorns you’d grown accustomed to, especially in her times attempting to make you a reputable lady.

“Your’s are by the chest of drawers.”

She’d certainly paid attention to detail. Mary’s dresses consisted almost entirely of her favorites: warm pinks and oranges. Brilliantly cut to showcase her clavicle, each dress appeared as if it would cover her breasts modestly but still draw attention to her long, slender neck. The simplicity of their silhouettes showcased the utterly perfect embroidery that decorated each bodice and skirt.

Lily’s were a myriad of greens, sprinkled with the occasional peach or yellow. Her soft, drapey dresses contrasted beautifully with the sleek lines of Mary’s attire.

Your own clothes appeared to be a quite suitable mixture of the two.

In moody shades of blue and violet, with the odd periwinkle and silver, you were honestly looking forward to donning the impressive garments. Any jewelry you wore would be borrowed from Lady McGonagall’s extensive collection. A collection, you were afraid to say, you’d miss dearly once you wed.

It was Lily that surged forward to examine her pieces, a chorus of thank yous from each of your lips as you did the same. Minerva smiled knowingly. Your dresses last year and the year before were beautiful, yes, but these actually suited you in a way those hadn’t. Three years of sponsoring the same girls had gone from a favour to fondness. She leaned onto her cane as her gaze flicked between you all. Still, she would be lying if she said she wasn’t eager to find you husbands.

“This is beautiful,” Lily breathed. In her hands, an elegant ensemble of a cream colored fabric hung. You grinned. If this was any indication of how this year’s season would go, you were more than ready. Jill, Minerva’s favorite maid, entered the room holding four sheets of familiar pale paper. Your eyes narrowed in delight. Lady Whistledown’s Society Papers were a joy every season. Mary reached for the pamphlet first. She knew better than anyone how gossip could be wielded as a weapon, and her eagerness to uncover the secrets of this year’s marriage mart was palpable. You felt the same.

Dearest Gentle Readers,

How lovely it is to greet you again. Our time away from Society has proven wonderfully refreshing indeed, though I would be quite the liar if I claimed to not miss you. Our extraordinary ton has now returned from our glorious reprieve, and it seems there are a many anxious mamas hoping to prey on the unsuspecting wiles of this Season’s eligible bachelors.

Last year, scandal swept through the ton when none other than Miss Narcissa Black married Duke Lucius Malfoy in secret after a supposedly whirlwind love affair. Hopefully, Mr. Sirius Black is as unbothered as he appears.

Regardless of the nearly disastrous ending to last year’s entertaining exploits, the new batch of debutantes seem sparkling indeed.

There is fierce Lady Charity Burbage, who proves to be a bold wonder amongst a meek crowd. Or perhaps one might find interest in Lady Aurora Sinistra, who I dare say is more brilliant and sharp than ever. Even Lady Pandora Rosier seems dreamier of late.

There is one thing for certain, reader: this season will be one to remember.

Keep your wits about you. Scandal lurks in every corner, as tricky as a hungry fox and more than ready to sink its claws into an unknowing victim. Guard your hearts, gentle ton, for I fear what I will write this season will be quite damning indeed.

Yours Truly,

Lady Whistledown