If Reg faked his death and took on a disguise after finding the locket, the first person to recognise him when he returns isn't going to be Barty or Evan
It isn't gonna be Sirius or James or Lily
It wouldn't even be Pandora or Narcissa
Nah
When all get sat down and told that someone is there to help them and Reg walks in, everyone has to take a good minute to figure out who tf it is except Dorcas
Because he can change his entire appearance and she'll still recognise him in an instant
They're all like 'wait who is this...?' While my girl is straight up TACKLING him onto the floor in a hug and yelling at him for pretending to die
Billy's first detention he has gotten in Hawkins and, of course, he sits next to Steve fucking Harrington. Who is the reason Billy is on the edge every day, because he's just too pretty and Billy can't stay away.
He already feels worn thin, but it's even worse. Because the guy behind him is testing his patience every second. Eddie Munson tugs at his hair. Again.
"Wow, is this a perm?"
This guy has a fucking death wish. Billy turns around. Mr. Wilson fucked off ages ago to probably drink a bottle of whiskey and forget about his miserable life, so who's there to stop him?
"Are you fucking serious, freak?" Billy slaps his hands on the table.
Eddie doesn't move. Just grins at him, unfazed, mischief blinking in his eyes.
"It just looks so pretty. Too pretty to be real." He raises his hand, grabbing one of Billy's curls.
"Shut up." Billy blinks. His throat turns dry. Who does Munson think he is?
"Munson is right, you know."
Billy glares at Harrington. He pops a bubblegum, bright pink and oddly enough matching his polo. "Just sayin'."
"Finally we agree on something, Steve," Eddie snickers.
Billy didn't even know these guys were talking. Kings and freaks don't usually cross paths.
Eddie yanks his hair. Hard. It sends a spark down Billy's chest, lighting a little fire in his stomach. He can't move, stands there, sinking into cloud of cotton candy, colored just like Harrington's shirt.
"Not so threatening now anymore, are you?" Eddie asks, a low laugh accompanying his words.
There's another hand stroking his hair, Steve's aftershave tickling his nose.
"Too pretty to be real," Harrington repeats Eddie's words. Billy isn't sure he's even talking to him. He grows warmer.
"You wanna be good for once?" Eddie's voice is soft, a sharp contrast to his fingernails grazing along Billy's scalp.
Billy can't think. Maybe he doesn't have to, for once.
In my opinion, the lestappen hug isn't the thing that changed lives. It was Max waddling away only to stand just a little bit further back and sort of wait for Charles afterwards. It was the smile on Charles face afterwards, like he knew Max was there (because Max is a loser and even Charles has caught on by now). It was the way Charles' smile went from closed mouthed to full white teeth and dimples on display when he realised Max was there (I don't know about you, but I only smile like that when I'm around someone I'm really close to, maybe there's some deep-rooted psychology behind that). It was the way everything about it felt so normal. It was the way-
I want a fic where Regulus, Evan, and Pandora were originally going to Beauxbatons, or whatever fancy rich French private school and recently transferred to Hogwarts or whatever and it's just a fic telling of their shenanigans of being the hot rich new french kids, eventually with Barty and Dorcas when they get integrated into the gang.
Pandora mostly switching in and out of English and French on her own whims despite whoever she's talking to bc she's a little manic pixie dream girl (/pos) and ends up comforting Dorcas late one night with her chatter because Dorcas finds it hard to sleep (which she eventually ends up bonding with Regulus over) and Pandora trying her best to not blow anything up in potions/chem class after the first time because she "just wanted to know what would happen" and ends up getting partnered with Lily
Evan needing tutoring because he can't focus in class because it's not *interesting* and the teachers use words he doesn't fully understand half the time and so he has to get help from the smartest motherfucker in town, Barty Crouch Jr because Reg will make fun of him if Evan asks him. and Barty, despite Evan thinking that he's probably actually insane half the time, isn't all that bad.
Regulus being a little shit who terrorizes his brother in literally all the ways he possibly could, speaking to Sirius in only french because he knows he hates that, flirting with his brother's friends, getting on the football/ quidditch team, ANYTHING. Even if his flirting turns into something a little more real.
idk, I just think it would be a fun fic idea. Rosier Twins and Regulus dramatically walking through the halls and talking shit in French like the bad bitches they are
@hadesxcunt asked for more headcanons so here’s pt 2 of wilmon headcanons ft. the boys being casually protective and besotted with each other <3
simon has a wide variety of pet names for wille and really just uses whichever he’s feeling in the moment, though he’s partial to “babe” and “mi cielo”
wille exclusively uses “sweetheart” or “sunflower” because he a) secretly loves flowers and b) loves watching simon blush when he uses it
simon encourages wille to talk to erik. he goes with wille to erik’s grave or sits with him while wille talks to the picture of erik in his room, and without fail, simon holds him when wille starts crying
they have like,, the most dramatic goodbyes when they have to be apart more than 24 hours. like you’d think one of them was dying with the way they refuse to let go of each other and act like there’s a perpetual rain cloud over their heads
they’re not that much better during regular goodbyes, though that’s less clingy and more sickeningly sweet. simon loves blowing a kiss to wille (who catches it and puts it in his pocket every time without fail) and wille will do the dramatic “stand there and watch him go until he’s out of sight”
all of their friends thought they were adorable at first but now that they realize it’s not just a honeymoon period, they tease them relentlessly and fake gag and roll their eyes
both of them have private social media accounts (wille also has a public one because he has to but the private one is just for friends/people he trusts) and they’re featured on each other’s stuff all. the. time.
simon and wille are each other’s lockscreens. wille has a photo of just simon, sitting at a piano with his head thrown back laughing while sunlight shines through his curls and makes his skin look like it’s glowing. simon has a picture Felice took of the two of them standing together, creating a heart between them with their hands
wille and simon always sit next to each other in class, and even their teachers’ watchful eyes aren’t enough to get them to stop touching each other. usually it’s something subtle, like their pinkies linked below the table or wille pressing their knees together or simon running a hand over wille’s shoulders when he stands up to go get something
Eddie: this is my boyfriend, Steve, and this is Steve’s boyfriend, Billy. (#OT3)
Eddie and Billy picking on Steve for being a drama queen and just being the chaotic duo
Eddie getting Billy unwillingly into D&D and crushing every campaign
Billy being soft for Steve—but especially soft for Eddie
Billy being a chaotic gay disaster
Steve being annoyed with his two idiot™️ boyfriends
Group cuddles in at Joyce’s house
Steve really wants to pull on Billy’s hair but is scared he’ll get screamed at—Billy allows it one night, grabbing Steve’s hand and putting against his scalp because he secretly loves people playing with his hair
Eddie and Billy like to braid each other’s hair
Billy is really insecure but finds comfort in talking to Will, and talks to him about Will’s emotions towards Mike—Billy becomes Will’s second big brother
Eddie and Billy bonding over their love for heavy metal and rock music—going to concerts together and dragging Steve along with them
Billy being overprotective of Steddie and the kids, especially Will
Eddie being able to calm Billy down with just a small touch
Steve being the mother hen as always, Billy being the fun but stern dad, Eddie being the fun uncle in the gang
Billy and Steve beating the shit outta the Jock Squad for trying to harm Hawkins Gang while Eddie eats popcorn in the background
| harringroveson / harringrove + eddie | n s f w | tw: drug use | part 1/? |
(ok this-- was eventually bound to happen bc threesomes are the single thing i just can't resist. thanks, @c0bblenygma for the ship name!)
~ ~ ~
The thing is, Eddie’s been selling Marijuana for years but he’s never, ever, shotgun it with anyone.
The other thing is that, two joints and a half after Billy Hargrove as always, banged his fucking door and, as always he and Steve Harrington invited themselves to his home and as al-ways took reign of his “Dirtier than a fucking rat’s, Edward. For dear fucking Jesus, you should call plague control”―bed, in Hargrove's words, Eddie―well. Eddie slips.
‘Fuck. I’ve never done that’
He slips. Can’t help it. Just fucks up. Firs rule of survival: never, never slip about anything. There are stories. Legends. About Eddie Munson that keeps on slyly changing hands same as Eddie passes the good stuff. They’ve granted him, over the years, enough respect to make him almost untouchable. Respect. Envy. Fear. And the first rule is always this: never, ever let anything slip out.
There’s the juicy rumor that once Eddie did it with Tina and Julia Rusell like two Halloweens ago. The shotgunning. All Eddie remembers is having blown the smoke of his cig in Tina’s face. That’s how you become King of the unpopular: rumors and never. Letting. Anything. Slip. Out. But―
They’re laying down, the three of them, transversely on the old mattress Eddie's got on the floor, feet stretched out and sharing the third joint and―
Hargrove and―
Harrington.
Eddie’s got them one on either side, sweating in the toxic August heat, tears of laughter drying in their eyes, relaxed, thoroughly stoned. The two Kings of Hawkins spending their weekends in Eddie the freak Munson's trailer. One of the few rumors that are actually real. One that of course Eddie won’t go on denying.
Billy Hargrove. Steve Harrington. Their temples glistering with sweat and their shirts lost somewhere between the first and the second. Steve's chest covered in thick dark fuzz only half visible in between the denim of Eddie's vest because at some undetermined point Hargrove got one of those fits of malice that take over him sometimes and said "I bet even not even you can pull that off, Stevie" and Harrington got infected by it like he always does and slide vest over his bare skin because "The hell I can't."
Harrington and Hargrove.
This is how it happens:
Hargrove asks him “Want a hit?” and Harrington’s like “Sure” and they half rise up on their elbows. Hargrove sucks on the joint in a long long long inhale, the kind that fills your whole chest. Lips red, eyes glazed. He turns the joint over in his hand, offers the butt to Harrington and there, right there, that's where reality breaks through the invisible veil of magic because Harrington leans over to suck it from his hand, his bare belly pressing against Eddie's side and his eyes almost closed but then Hargrove pulls his hand away, staring at him with those melting-blue eyes of his and a tight-lipped smile, cocks an eyebrow and Eddie knows then, that he was just baiting him, because Harrington chuckles, licks his lips, looks up at him from in between those long lashes and―
Nods. Skims closer, closer. Parts his lips.
And fuck if that ain't magic. Because then Hargrove gets closer too, his fingers finding grip on Eddie's bony hip and his nails digging in and his lips parting for Steve Harrington and then smoke’s escaping though those red lips and they’re almost pressed against Harrington's and the tips of their tongues are almost touching and Billy's nails are digging so deep it hurts and― that magic’s running liquid and hot down the curve of Eddie’s spine, curling between his legs when Harrington inhales, and their mouths brush, and Billy Hargrove, Billy Hargrove moans, a low, lewd thing, and― Eddie. Eddie knows this kind of magic. Eddie’s used to feel it in his fingertips and for it to make his heart beat rabid, like it's just been electrified back to life. This magic is Heavy Metal and madness and Billy Hargrove and Steve Harrington are conjuring it with their mouths, with the hungry shimmer of their tongues and the way they’re breathing smoke into each other like all they want is to drown and. And―
“Fuck, I―” and what wants to come out of Eddie’s throat is a moan but he somehow manages to tone it down into a sigh. He feels like his skin is burning, right beside where Hargrove’s nails are buried “I’ve. Never done that. With anyone”
And never means but I want to and anyone means with you. I wanna do it with you two and―
By the time Eddie realizes what he’s just said, it’s late already. That’s the first of his mistakes and Hargrove throws him head first into the second with a broken laugh and bare white canines and Harrington with a sweet smile that slides down softly on the impossible curve of those pretty plush lips he’s got.
“C’mon now, Edward. Really? Never ever?” Hargrove teases and, immediately―
“Wanna try?” Harrington reads his mind, whispers, “With us?”
And they break apart just enough to look down at him, the two Kings of Hawkins, half-naked and sweaty and stoned. They almost wring a second confession out of him. That something he’s never told anyone. That something that’s always harder to hide from when weed turns reality into mist and makes the things that matter too much seem like they don't matter at all.
What they do wring out of him is―
“I wanna try” a second mistake: “With you”
I wanna know how it feels like, to do what you just did.
Harrington’s smile melts, sugar and smoke and malice. And Eddie feels breathless when he suddenly remembers who’s actually the worse of them two, when he steals from Hargrove the joint he’s just slipped back to his mouth and takes a long drag and laughs.
And the next thing that happens is the animal riff of Stranglehold. Is November Rain when Slash makes it rip through your ribcage, exposing the bone. It’s the high of Thunderstruck and the fucking, fucking insanity of Bohemian Rapsody.
“’Course you do” And his voice, his voice’s Kashmir, when the Leds get the fuck out of their minds.
Secret double life au, pre Bucky joing the team Winterspider hc
This is set after Civil War, and Bucky decided that hiding in plain site was his best bet so got himself a small flat in Queens and told everyone his name was James Rodgers
So the avengers except Tony and Nat dont know that Spiderman is Peter, and in his spare time, Peter works as a barista
He works in a small coffee shop in downtown Queens to help out May.
'James' is a frequent customer and Peter devolps a crush on him after seeing him only a couple of times
He knows that Bucky feels the same, and his suspicions are confirmed when Bucky approaches him one day asking if he can pick him up after his shift
Thats the start of their blooming romance, and its the happiest hes ever been
After about 9 month of dating, Peter gets called out on a mission. He makes an excuse to 'James' about May being sick, and jets off to Italy with Natasha, Bruce and Yelena
Long story short, Peter is on the mission swinging about and gets shot at. His suit tears and he has a broken leg.
Peter knows that his identity is about to be revealed way sooner than he would have liked. But he trusts the team, they're like his second family
Back on the quinjet, Bruce patches him up as much as he can while Yelena excitedly asks him a thousand questions a minute about his actual self
Peter knows hes found a new best friend
The trip back to the compound is quick enough, and before Peter knew it, he was hobbling through the compound in hopes to get to his room and go to sleep as soon as possible
He didn't bother trying to salvage what was left of his mask to cover his face
Hobbling towards his room, Peter starts to daydream about James lying in his bed at home, probably with his dog, Stanley
Peters gets caught up in his daydream, and gets pulled out when he hears the shocked gasp of Clint coming from the living room that hed somehow gotten to.
Without even looking at them, Peter says "Hey guys, Im Spiderman or Peter Parker. Can we save introductions for tommorow, I really want to go to sleep?"
He goes to keep walking, but stops in his place when he hears a soft "Pete?" coming from behind him
Peters eyes instantly go wide and he turns at the sound of his boyfriends voice
Standing there in the middle of the living room is his boyfriend, with the rest of the team frantically looking between them
"Baby..." is all Peter can say before Bucky walks upto him in four strides and embraces him
They stand there holding eachother for what feels like ages, Peter relaxing into his boyfriend
"What the fuck..." Clint breathes making everyone chuckle
Explanation can wait until later, for now Peter is happy and content hugging his boyfriend in a room full of his second family.
“Peter, would you put that goddamn phone away?” Bucky grumbled between shallow breaths. He sounded less than impressed with his boyfriend’s antics.
Peter knew Bucky got weird before a photoshoot but this felt a lot different. Though Bucky had been a pro soccer player (and a celebrity) for a long time, he had never been on the cover of a magazine.
Peter didn’t know why it made such a difference. He had done Gucci ad campaigns, interviews with Good Morning America and he’d even gone to the Met Gala last year. Why was the cover of Men’s Health so different? Why was it making him so nervous?
And Peter could tell he was nervous, even though Bucky was trying his hardest to hide it from the younger man. The two-a-days at the gym and new interest in Korean skincare gave that away. And the fact that he was way more exasperated and annoyed than normal.
“Bucky, come on!” Peter whined. “You know no one’s going to see it. It’s just for me.”
When they first started dating, Peter and Bucky decided that all of Peter’s socials would be put on private. He also had to change his handle. Now his Instagram handle is darthpeter67.
“Delete the damn photo,” Bucky said again, this time through gritted teeth. Peter didn’t think he should be doing the arm workout anymore but his trainer didn’t seem to think much of it.
Peter sighed before turning to Bucky’s trainer. “Dan, do you mind if I talk to Bucky alone?”
Dan looked between the two men, meeting Bucky’s intensity and Peter’s pleading eyes, and just gave a knowing nod. “Yeah, yeah. Be back in five,” he said, nearly out the door already.
Bucky placed down the workout band, refastened the towel around his waist, and crossed his arms. Peter wished he was allowed to take another photo right now because to him, this alone was deemed worth for the cover of Men’s Health.
“What?” Bucky asked, still giving an attitude to try and hide his nervousness.
“You know how you asked I always had to be honest with you?” Peter asked. The day that Bucky asked about the honesty thing it was in the context of whether Bucky’s celebrity life was becoming too much for Peter. It tended to be intense for civilians. Peter liked to think that he rose above the ‘civilian’ moniker but who is he kidding? He works at the DMV.
“Sure. I remember,” Bucky answered curtly. Peter wanted to slap him across the face right now with the look he was giving but he knew that wasn’t the proper tactic with his boyfriend.
“You need to chill the crap out,” Peter said clearly, concisely, and directly into Bucky’s eyes.
Bucky’s face folded into something between confusion and further annoyance. “Excuse me?” he scoffed.
“Whatever picture of you they put on the cover of Men’s Health is going to be amazing. And hot. And handsome. And sexy. And–”
“Okay, Pete, I get the idea,” Bucky said, a slight warmth starting to show through his words and demeanor.
“Then would you quit freaking out?” Peter exclaimed, with a smile so his boyfriend knew not to take it too seriously.
“I’m no–”
“You are, Bucky,” Peter said, bulging his eyes and nodding for some kind of emphasis. “Just chill. You know the pictures will be better if you do.”
Bucky sighed and tightened the towel around his waist again. “Fine. I’ll stop freaking out,” he said. “I’ll chill.”
“Promise?” Peter stepped closer to the older man, now deeming it safe to do so. He gets his face closer to his boyfriend’s. He could smell all the hairspray they put on his two inches of hair and the oil on his muscles.
Bucky looked as if he was going to roll his eyes but he seemed to resist the temptation.
“I promise,” he answered earnestly before giving his boyfriend an good, honest kiss.
more winterspider content on my ao3 ;)
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