#conman!steve

[powderblueblood]

I’m a slut for a good heist, what’ve you got cooked up so far? 💜

cee my love let us walk and talk

so the conman!steve au has been once again on my mind like a hat for many a hundred of year mostly because i want him to have his danny ocean moment!!!! and danny ocean isn't full smooth either, he's got a little goofy energy like steve has

this really came to light after i got this whopper prompt request from my love cherry @stveharringtn

and with this i formulated the plan.

steve is fresh out of the joint, and you're a former mark of his. you met him while working at a country club in order to put yourself through college. during this whirlwind little affair, he (stupidly?) had you stash a number of stolen pieces of jewelry on his behalf. he eventually went to jail for this and the running theory is you're the one who ratted him out-- the main runner of this theory is robin buckley, president of the don't shit where you eat club, and steve can see where she's coming from. but still. love prevails and makes you do dumb shit.

you, on the other hand? well, since steve's arrest, you changed your career path-- studied to become a gemologist so the next time some bastard in a linen suit asks you to hold a couple of sparklers, you'll at least know what they're worth. you're currently working as a fence in new york's diamond district.

and steve harrington is back on the streets. and old habits die hard.

supporting cast of characters include but are not limited to--

the aforementioned robin buckley as steve's partner in crime (our resident rusty ryan), dustin henderson as the bright-eyed young pickpocket-turned-professional conman under steve and robin's detailed tutelage, eddie munson as our beloved munitions expert, lucas sinclair and mike wheeler as the resident getaway drivers and will byers as the surveillance expert.

and on your end? you've got jane hopper and max mayfield working as your very own diamond scouts-- two former teenage cat burglars who you weren't about to leave starving in hell's kitchen.

the student becomes the master.

but then the master approaches you with a plan to lift millions of precious jewels from a prestigious new york exhibit (one that nancy wheeler happens to be managing (robin? your wife is calling)). he also plans on lifting YOUR HEART!!!!!!!!! FUCK!!!!!!

[riricitaa]

A Stucky au requested by anonymous

kinda related  X  |  X

[xoxoladyaz]

You're My Heaven, Angel (Paramedic Steve x Rockstar Eddie) - Part 2

Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3 (Coming Soon)

AN: I just wanted to say a quick THANK YOU to everyone who has been so kind and so supportive of Part 1! I hear you and I, too, want to create a whole series based around this idea. It's a lot of pressure following-up something that's so beloved, but I'm going to give it my best!

Robin must secretly hate Steve.

She must be the most incredible actress in the entire world. She must be the most prolific conman that’s in the business of conman-ing people or whatever. She must have made a blood oath with an elder god during a full moon that no matter how many days or weeks or months or years it took, she would one day make Steve Harrington’s life absolutely miserable. There’s no other reasonable explanation for why she insists on taking the scenic route to Eddie’s room - a scenic route which adds on two additional minutes of travel time instead of heading straight down the hallway (which maybe adds forty seconds tops). 

A route which means Steve has to bear two additional minutes of Eddie loudly introducing him to every single doctor, nurse, patient or family member that they come across on the way to his suite. Never mind that Steve’s worked with most of these doctors and nurses for years now, never mind that he actually goes to Sharla’s poker group when he has Thursdays off with the other fifty-something moms on staff (which Robin never ceases to find absolutely hilarious); no, Eddie is all smiles and arm flourishes, loudly – too loudly – proclaiming that they are now in the presence of his angel, his baby, his angel baby, the love of his life, the apple of his eye, his amor, his partner, his husband – 

“Congratulations, Steve! I didn’t know you got married!” Sue laughs as the entire production passes by. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Steve rolls his eyes. Eddie blows her a noisy kiss before clearing his throat. He takes a deep breath, and – 

“I’M GETTING MARRIED IN THE MORNING - ”

“Robin, he’s singing again!”

“I know, dingus, I can hear him.”

“DING DONG, THE BELLS ARE GONNA CHIIIIIMMMEEEEEEEE - ”

Steve turns back, risking a glare at Robin mid-step. “Remind me why we’re going the long way around?”

Robin snorts out a laugh, shit-eating grin firmly in place. “Come on, Stevie, we all need the exercise.”

“ – GET ME TO THE CHURCH ON TIMMMMMEEEE – Stevie? Stevie,” Eddie turns and sighs at Steve and okay, Steve can’t tell if Eddie’s eyes are super dilated because of the probable head trauma or if there’s a weird reflection from the fluorescents, but his eyes are, like, legit sparkling up at him. “Steeeeeevieeeee - ”

“Yep, I’m still here.” Eddie grins, flopping to the side so that their joined hands are resting up against his head. He sighs happily, his feet wiggling under the shock blanket, and it’s not cute Steve stop thinking it’s cute – 

“Steve!” He pulls his eyes away just as the gurney comes to a stop in front of Brenda, one of the intake nurses currently on shift. Brenda’s blonde and cute and ethically non-monogamous, but Steve is more of a one and done sort of guy. That doesn’t mean they don’t flirt like crazy anytime they bump into each other, though. (Hey, he’s gotta stay in shape somehow.)

“Looking good today. Is that a new shirt?” She asks with a smirk, her eyes running over his biceps. (It’s not a new shirt, Robin just ran it through the dryer, so it shrunk. Really, he should have gotten rid of it, but it makes his biceps look amazing.)

“Nah, it’s - ”

He has a line. He has a great line. But as soon as he opens his mouth to speak it, he’s cut off by a very loud hissing sound coming from his left and – 

Yep, it’s Eddie. Eddie, who’s glaring at Brenda like they’re mortal enemies. Seriously, it’s a good thing he doesn’t have laser eyes like that one superhero guy because if he did, Brenda would be at risk of getting too tan.

“MINE!” Eddie snaps at the end of his hiss and then, all while still maintaining eye contact with Brenda, he yanks Steve’s hand to his mouth and licks it. And not, like, a gentle lick that you’d get from a puppy. No, Eddie licks his hand like he’s trying to give Steve a tongue bath.

(His first instinct should be to pull away, but instead all Steve can think about it Eddie giving him an actual full body tongue bath - )

“Dude!” Steve exclaims when he does finally pull his hand away. (He hears Robin snort under her breath, clearly having caught onto the fact that his brain broke at the whole licking thing and shit, now he’s thinking about it again - )

“No, MINE!” Eddie growls, and Steve barely has a chance to wipe his hand on his pants before Eddie is grabbing it back, clutching it between both of his hands like it’s his special or something. (Special, was that the word that the guy used? The little creepy guy in that one movie? He needs to text Dustin and ask.)

“Aww, I’m glad to see you’ve finally met someone!” Brenda teases.

“Uh, yeah,” Steve replies distractedly, trying (and failing) to shake one of Eddie’s hands off of his hand because now that they’re actually at his suite, he’s going to need them. “Brenda, this is - ”

“The concussion patient from Lollapalooza, Sarah clued me in,” Brenda says, snapping her gum. “Eddie, right?”

Eddie pauses from wrestling with Steve to sniff at Brenda and honestly, as someone who spent way too much time at country clubs as a child because of his parents, Eddie has the whole I’m-better-than-you-you-poor-person-wearing-Adidas expression locked down. “That’s Mister Eddie to you, Briony.”

Briony? “Who’s Briony?”

Robin kicks the gurney forward with an eye roll and suddenly they’re moving into the suite. “Don’t worry your pretty little head about it, dingus.”

Eddie finally manages to tear his eyes away from Brenda. He perks his head up at Steve and once Steve’s face is in his line of sight his expression softens, the sparkles coming back in full force. “And it’s such a pretty head, baby.”

Such a pretty head SUCH A PRETTY HEAD – 

“I’ll show you – ow, Robin, seriously?” Steve yelps at Robin’s pinch.

“Stop being horny and help me get him on the bed.”

“I’m - ”

“Don’t listen to her baby, please, please stay horny, and lose the shirt while you’re at it!” Eddie sits up and starts frantically grasping at Steve’s sleeves. “Christ almighty, these arms, arms of heaven, arms of an angel - ” 

“Steve!” Robin barks and shit, he needs to focus. He takes advantage of the fact that Eddie let go of his hand to grab at his shirt and darts down to the other end of the gurney. They lift on a count of three, placing Eddie onto the bed and kicking the wheeled cart out of the way. (Eddie makes a loud WHEEEEEEEEE sound and then immediately goes back to demanding that Steve get naked.) Sarah, who’s followed the procession the entire time, grabs the empty cart and wheels it out of the room just as Brenda steps in.

“Well then, Eddie, let’s get started on intake,” Brenda nods, bringing out her iPad. “Are you ready to answer a few questions?”

“No.”

Robin groans and steps to the side, energetically fluffing and reorganizing Eddie’s pillows so he’s seated up. Somehow Eddie is able to lean around Robin’s wide-armed movements and fix Brenda with yet another piercing glare.

Brenda shoots Steve a look before nodding her head at Eddie.

Right.

“Hey, uh, Eddie, we really need to ask you a few questions - ”

“Hand!” Eddie snaps to look at Steve and sticks his hand towards him. He wiggles his fingers a few times before making a grabby motion. “Hand!”

It’s not cute. It’s totally not cute.

Steve sighs but walks back around from the foot of the bed and places his hand gently in Eddie’s. Eddie links their fingers and squeezes tightly. “Uh, how about now, is now okay to ask a few questions?”

Huffing, Eddie looks at their fingers for a few moments before looking upwards at Steve. Their eyes meet and he grins. “Hi angel,” he lets out a pleased sigh. “I missed you.”

Don’t say it don’t say it DON’T SAY IT - 

“I missed you too, Eds.” 

FUCK.

“Awwwww, my little schmoopers are being all schmoopy-moopy!” Robin sings in her best baby voice. (That’s it, he’s eating the rest of the Chunky Monkey.)

“I’m eating the rest of the Chunky Monkey.”

“Uh, like fuck you are.”

“I'd rather have you eat me,” he hears Eddie whisper and yeah, okay, that’s one he’s just going to choose to ignore for the sake of what little sanity he has left.

“Right, okay,” he hears Brenda try to get things back on track. “About those intake questions - ”

“Oh, don’t worry Nurse Brenda,” the lilting voice of Dr. Suzie Henderson floats into the room. “I can take it from here.”

Steve turns just in time to see Suzie strut into the emergency suite. She shoots Brenda a grateful nod and Brenda, with one last wink to Steve, hands her iPad off to Suzie and heads out of the room. 

“Bye Steve!”

“Bye Brenda.”

“Yeah, bye Brittany!”

Suzie has the best laugh in the world, and she lets it fly on her walk over. “Hey Steve,” Suzie grins at him as she makes her way towards the foot of Eddie’s bed. “How are things going today?”

“Oh, good,” Steve replies quickly before turning to look at Eddie. “Eddie, this is Doctor Suzie Henderson, she’s my sister-in-law.”

Eddie slowly scooches his butt backwards so he’s sitting up more. “No, she’s our sister-in-law,” he huffs before turning and smiling at Suzie. “Hey sis!” 

“And you must be Eddie! I heard you were thinking about marrying into the family.” She lets out a quick giggle at those words but then clears her throat and throws her shoulders back. “Well, if you are serious about joining our Steve in holy – or unholy – matrimony - ”

“Fuck yeah,” he hears Eddie whisper.

“ – then I’m going to need you to answer a few questions.”

“Proceed, milady.” Eddie starts gently caressing Steve’s hand with his fingers. Steve shoots a look at Robin, who makes exaggeratedly sappy faces while glancing between Steve and their intertwined fingers.

(Forget the Chunky Monkey, he’s eating all of the ice cream they have left tonight.)

“Full name?”

“Edward Anthony Munson.”

“Age?”

“Thirty-one.”

“Name of your emergency contact?”

“Oh, that would be Uncle Wayne and Chrissy! Baby, you’re going to love Wayne,” Eddie says, turning to gaze lovingly up at Steve. “And he’s going to love you! Not as much as I love you though, that’s impossible.”

(Steve’s pretty sure that Bambi eyes here is the impossible one.)

“Great, is Wayne and Chrissy’s contact information in your medical file?”

“Uh huh,” Eddie replies dreamily, still gazing at Steve. 

“Okay, speaking of your file,” Suzie taps at her iPad, “any major events in your medical history that we should know about?”

“Hmmm?” 

He can feel it on his face, he can feel his stupid grin on his stupid face, but he chooses to instead focus on helping Eddie pay attention. “She wants to know if there’s major health events in your past that we need to know about, Bambi.”

“Bambi?”

“BAMBI?!” Robin squeaks after Eddie.

Shit shit SHIT -

“I mean - ”

“Bambi,” Eddie hums, blinking rapidly as he slumps back against his pillows. Once he's settled, he tosses his free hand across his forehead and moans happily. “He loves me. He loves me, he loves me, HE LOVES MEEEEEE - ”

Don’t blush DO NOT BLUSH BODY STOP BLUSHING

“Oh my god that was amazing, I have literally never seen you this red, you look like an actual tomato. Oh my god, I have to tell Nance, like, now.”

“Right, yes, okay Bambi,” Suzie interrupts with a snicker, “like Steve said, is there anything we need to know?”

“Well, we’re in love,” Eddie sighs, pressing a quick kiss to the top of Stevie’s hand. “I think I’m still a little high but it’s only weed, I’ve definitely stopped doing cocaine since, like, five months ago. No need to worry about that, angel,” Eddie pats the top of Steve’s hand.

“Yeah, no, I definitely won’t worry about that.” (He’s definitely going to worry about that.)

“Well, thank you for your honesty, Eddie. I’m going to take a closer look at your files once we get them just to get a better picture of your overall health before we run our tests. Now, second set of questions,” Suzie loudly taps and drags a new window on her tablet open. “What is your annual income?”

(Huh. That’s weird. Steve’s doesn't think he's ever heard any of the nurses ask that question before.)

Eddie snorts out a laugh. “God, I make so much money. A fucking stupid amount of money.”

“You have something in way of a retirement plan then?”

“Doc, I could retire for, like, the next five hundred million years.”

Susie hums as she makes a note. “Do you have anything against sharing resources with your romantic partner?”

(Okay, Steve definitely hasn't heard anyone else ask these questions before.)

“Nah!” Eddie scoffs before gently tugging on Steve’s hand to get his attention. “You’ll be the hottest trophy wife, babe. Do you have an apron? I’m going to buy you an apron.”

“And what are your feelings on children?”

“Kids? I love kids. Is he good with kids? I bet he’s good with kids,” Eddie rushes out. “Fuck, you’re going to look so hot pregnant, baby.”

Robin makes a loud barfing noise which Suzie naturally ignores. “What exactly are you looking for in a relationship?”

“Suzie - ”

“Him! My angel,” Eddie slumps to the side so he’s leaning up against Steve’s hip. “I want to wrap him up in a warm towel and keep him forever and make sweet, sweet love to him under the - ”

“OKAY, next question please,” Robin loudly cuts him off.

“So what you’re saying is you’re looking for a committed relationship with Steve,” Suzie ignores Robin's dramatics. “Are you prepared for lifelong monogamy?”

“Absolutely.”

“Suz - ”

“And you’ll work every day to be deserving of Steve?”

“For the rest of my life,” Eddie proclaims and fuck, he actually sounds serious. He actually looks serious too.

Huh.

Suzie quietly observes him for a moment before her face relaxes into a warm smile. “I believe you. Now, dealbreakers. What are your opinions on outdoor weddings? Steve gets scared in churches.”

“What?!” Eddie gasps, snapping back to Steve.

“SUZ – what, no, I’m not afraid of churches - ”

“Uh yeah you are, you said that every time you visit one you get nightmares about being sacrificed on an altar,” Robin chimes in.

“Gee, thanks, Robin.”

“Baby, baby, don’t worry, I’d never let them sacrifice you,” Eddie tries to comfort Steve, but everything that’s happened in the last thirty seconds – hell, the last thirty minutes – is starting to finally sink in and yeah, okay, there’s an obscenely hot and rich and famous rockstar telling Steve that he loves him and sure, he’s partially concussed but the joke isn’t ending, he’s acting like he’s serious and they’ve only exchanged like maybe twenty words total but he’s acting like this is actually happening and what if it actually could – 

“Shoot, we’re going to have to wrap it up here, loverboy,” Robin waylays his runaway thoughts as her beeper goes off. “We’ve got a fainter with a broken nose."

“Okay, okay.” Steve shakes his head and tries to gently extract his hand from Eddie’s grasp but Eddie lurches at the feeling of Steve moving his hands and whines, digging his finger into Steve’s hand.

“Eddie, I’m sorry, but I’ve got to get back to work.”

“But – no, angel, please,” he blubbers before turning his eyes on Steve and –

Oh.

Oh no.

They’re even bigger and shinier when he’s crying.

“I’m sorry, Bambi,” he replies totally deliberately, “but I’ve got to go finish my shift. I’ll come back when I’m done, okay?”

Eddie sniffles, rubbing his eyes with his free hand. “Promise?”

“Promise.”

“Okay,” he whimpers sadly, and – look, this joke isn't really joking anymore so if Eddie's gonna go all the way, he might as well go all the way too.

He leans forward and presses a quick kiss to the top of Eddie’s head. “Be good for Suzie, okay?” As he draws back, he glances back down at Eddie. Eddie is blinking dazedly at Steve, all glassy-eyed and rosy.

“Wow,” Eddie whispers, and while the smile that appears on his face is small, it’s the warmest one Steve has seen yet. “Whatever you say, baby.”

“Right, right.” Steve nods and then pivots, making a hasty retreat out of the room.

“Later, Bambi,” Robin sings behind him, and then she’s quick on Steve’s heels. The hall’s crowded, though, so they aren’t fast enough to escape the start of Suzie and Eddie’s conversation. 

(“So, outdoor wedding? Maybe in spring?”

“Can it be in Hobbiton?”

“Uh, it better be in Hobbiton!”)

“I’m kinda surprised to see you staking your claim already, dingus,” Robin says, thrusting the portable gurney mat into Steve’s arms as they walk. “I was worried I’d have to make you.”

“I shouldn't have done that. I mean, he’s a patient, Robin!”

“Not anymore, he’s not!” Robin gently bumps his hip. “He's not your patient anymore so now we need to start planning your next move. I mean, he’s obviously going to say yes when you ask him out, but it still needs to be smooth.”

“What – I’m Steve Harrington, I’m always smooth.”

Robin is purposely silent.

“Okay, first of all, rude,” he says after giving her plenty of time to politely agree. “Second of all, even if I did decide to make a move, there actually isn’t a guarantee he’d say yes. Even if he wasn't just doing this because he's heavily concussed, I’ve hardly talked to the guy!”

“I know, he has no idea how much of a dork you are, it’s great.”

Steve offers Robin a hand as he climbs into the ambulance. (Not without shooting her a look once they're both seated, of course because again, rude.) 

Robin shrugs Steve's frown off. “Look, dingus, I know you think that you have all these great lines or whatever - ”

“Uh, I don’t think, I do have them - ”

“ – but they’re, like, obviously lines. Whatever you say to him has to be more real. He needs to know that if he says yes, he’s going to be going on a date with a guy that has the ooiest, gooiest, squishiest little itty bitty heart!” She squeezes her hands together like she’s holding Steve’s heart in her hands (which definitely isn’t concerning given the fact that she’s technically a medical professional who knows just how vulnerable that particular organ is.)

“Robs - ”

“ITTY BITTY!” She kisses the tips of her fingers. “And that’s why we gotta plan, doinkus. Edward Anthony Munson needs to be constantly conscious of the fact that he’s dating the best guy on the entire planet because you are, Steve, you are the best guy on Earth and you deserve a Prince Charming even though the Prince Charming archetype is totally outdated and part of a patriarchal initiative to establish systematic gender dynamics - ”

Well, shucks. Maybe Robin doesn’t hate him after all.

“ - doesn't exist, its still what you deserve. But more importantly than that, if Eddie does start dating you, then I have a better shot of getting him to introduce me to Chris Hemsworth.”

“Chris Hemsworth?"

“Uh, yeah.”

"Chris Hemsworth - Chris Hemsworth? Out of every famous person Eddie could hypothetically introduce you to, you'd want to meet Chris Hemsworth?"

"Well, yeah," Robin takes a brief sip of her water before shooting Steve a playful smirk. “I mean, as great as you are, I wouldn't be opposed to upgrading my emotional support himbo.”

Never mind, she’s evil incarnate.

(And she’s going to be out of Chunky Monkey in about five hours.)

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[imfinereallyy]

The Long Con

I saw this tik tok edit of Rachel McAdams in the movie Hot Chick where she gets a milkshake on house (and she's just totally playing the guy) and for some odd reason this spiraled me into thinking about Conman!Steve and Mob Boss!Eddie. So here is my brainrot I guess. Maybe I'll do more parts or make something longer on ao3 if people like it.

Steve wasn't one to not think things through. Yes, he was aware that it was a double negative. He played up the dumb part quite often, but Steve wasn't actually stupid. So it was all part of the game, really.

Steve loved the game. The rush, the push, and the pull of tricking someone, getting them for all their worth. Steve loved the game because it was fun. Steve loved the game because he got to use horrible people for his very lavish lifestyle. There was nothing like living rich by feeding off the rich. Well, he was trying to do that, at least. See, Steve, although good at what he did, he burned through money faster than you could say savings. It wasn't his fault, really. He used to be better at keeping track. Always made sure to have enough, just in case. Hadn't needed to worry about anyone but himself. Because the only thing Steve truly loved for a long time was the game itself.

But then he met people along the way, misfits and criminals like himself that he couldn't help spoiling. The only person who seemed to catch his problem was Robin, but even she couldn't resist a new hard drive for her computer. It's how she made her own money, after all.

Despite his problem with spoiling everyone, Steve always thought things through. He followed the rules of the game without rules and continued to fill his pockets, scamming the deserving and cruel. But sometimes, sometimes for Steve... his abilities and bad habits sometimes, well, overlapped. Sometimes, Steve could have been better at choosing the right people to care about. He was getting better at it, he swears. He let go of the wrong ones a long, long time ago.

But sometimes they came back begging.

Tommy had been someone from his life before. Before being on his own, back when purple and blue were his father's favorite colors to paint him with. It was a time before the game, a time that, although he tries to forget, had a grip on him.

So when Tommy called, seeking forgiveness, seeking help, Steve caved quickly. He would always be that same little boy, looking for love from a past that wasn't there. Tommy wasn't his parents, sure, but it was as close as he would get.

So, yes, steve normally thought things through, but there was the rare occasion, there was the exception to the rule, where Steve majorly fucked up.

He was in Boston when it happened. Even though years ago, Steve swears he would never be going back. He's in a small diner two blocks away from main street. And he had just finished getting Tommy's money back. Steve always celebrated with one of three things: drinks, sex, or milkshakes.

And Steve wanted out of Boston as fast as possible, so he went for his quickest and sometimes tastiest tradition.

"How much do I owe you?" Steve smiled innocently at the waiter, giving his best babygirl face.

The waiter bit his lips as he tried not to stare at Steve's mouth, "It's okay, it's on the house."

Steve licked part of his free milkshake off his finger, "Really?" Steve's voice was an octave higher just for the waiter. He could tell he was someone who had a preference for men, and most likely had a problem with letting go of his masculinity. So Steve knew the more feminine, the better. Steve couldn't help the sly grin that stretched across his face when the waiter got flustered. He was an attention whore; sue him.

His waiter—huh, Andy, according to his name tag—looked like he was about to say something when a throat cleared behind him.

"Andy, doll, you might be wanting to get back to the kitchen for a minute." A deep voice said behind Andy. It sent chills down Steve's spine. The Boston accent with a slight tilt of Irish was enough to captivate him. Andy moved faster than the speed of light at the command.

When Andy disappeared, with his tail between his legs no less, the most beautiful man Steve's ever seen revealed himself. A tall, pale, curly brunette stood before him in a suit with a ripped-up band tee underneath. It shouldn't look good, and it shouldn't look professional, but it did. Steve saw tattoos peeking out from exposed skin, piercings all over his ears, and enough jewelry to start a store. Steve was bewitched.

The mystery man smiled, hands in his pockets, and leaned down slightly into Steve's space. "Oh, sweetheart, I have been looking for you everywhere."

Steve stayed silent, drinking him in; he smelt of mint, smoke, and morning rain.

The man slid into the booth, put his arms on the table, and made a little beat with his knuckles on the plastic. Then, Steve noticed the words "Hell Fire" across his knuckles. Steve's heart sunk to his stomach. He had heard of those hands before. Those hands were famous.

The man leaned his face against his right fist. "Hell" pushed into his cheekbone. "The name is Eddie Munson, love." Eddie looked Steve up and down. "But I think you've already figured that out by now, haven't ya?"

Steve steeled himself. He should be okay. He hadn't wronged this man before, but something, something was telling Steve that he most definitely had. The look in his sweet abyss of eyes told him as much.

A smirk stretched across Eddie's face, and suddenly he kicked the leather bag next to Steve's feet under the table. Steve's cheek twitched slightly for a millisecond, but it was enough to give him away. "It seems here... like you and Hagan have stolen quite a bit of money from me." Eddie tsk-tsked while Steve's heart dropped from his stomach to his feet. Tommy screwed him.

"And that love, well, that just won't do."Steve had never seen such a sweet smile feel so deadly. "So, Sunshine, I am going to make you a deal, and you would be smart to take it."

Steve wasn't actually dumb, but yes, he most definitely did not think this through.

________

Sooo thoughts? I was going to write more but if this was a flop, I didn't want to put my heart in soul into it. But I did spiral a bit with it. Whoops!

edit: I made some grammatical changes but that's it. I realized I kept switching tense changes when I was writing in present, so I changed it to past. I'm much more comfortable with it. Let me know if there are any more errors.

part 2: here

[dwobbitfromtheshire]

From Hell to Home to Back Again

Summary: At the talent show, Chrissy Cunningham is so hungry that she nearly collapses. When she's found by Hopper, her parents ended up losing custody of her. She ends up being placed in the care of the Hendersons, and she finally finds the family she so desperately needed. She also ends up falling in love. What other changes are made in this alternate universe?

A/N: Some dialogue from FOI.

@emen-98 @1lostsoul0fishbowl @vulpixsworld

Prologue . . . Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chrissy didn't try to find Eddie the next day or the following Monday. She listened as Ronnie told her all about what happened in the recording studio Sunday, how it started off very rocky, but once they worked through their nerves, it turned out really awesome.

"Okay, enough about me," Ronnie said. "You were really distant on Friday. I was pretty much busy all weekend. Anyway, did anything happen? Did you finally get to talk to Eddie like you wanted to?"

"Uh, yeah," Chrissy said. "So, the demo is sent out, huh?"

"Don't change the subject, Henderson," Ronnie said.

"You're my friend, right?" Chrissy asked. "I mean, no matter what happens between me and Eddie?"

"Duh," Ronnie said.

"I think I'm done with Eddie," Chrissy frowned.

"Shit, what did the dumbass say?" She asked.

"He said the one thing that could drive me away," Chrissy said. "I was just trying to stop him from pushing me away, so I showed up at his house. I met his dad when he wasn't there yet, and God, he's definitely a conman. I think he's conning Eddie into something, and I think it might be something serious. I think that Wayne tried to talk Eddie out of whatever it is."

"What did he say?" Ronnie asked softly.

"He said I was crazy like my mom," Chrissy said.

"Shit, doesn't he know that your birth mom is in Pennhurst?" She asked.

"Yeah," Chrissy said.

"Fucking dick," Ronnie said. "I'm going ram my drumstick - "

"Ronnie! Look, he's clearly being self-destructive, and if he doesn't want me around to watch that, then so be it," Chrissy said. "I know he didn't mean for that to slip out."

"You're too forgiving, Chrissy Henderson. He doesn't deserve you," Ronnie said.

"This Eddie doesn't. I know the Eddie I fell for is still in there, hiding behind fear," Chrissy said, frowning. "But that doesn't mean that I'm not still pissed at him. And that doesn't mean that he's going to get off lightly if he does get his head out of his ass."

"Are you going to make him suffer?" Ronnie asked.

"I have ideas," Chrissy replied.

"Yes!"

Chrissy didn't look Eddie's way or bother to try to talk to him, and when he did try to approach her, it was her turn to scurry away. She didn't talk to him until Wednesday afternoon, when she turned the corner to discover him being pinned face first against the lockers by Tommy Hayes and Jason Carver. Connor was there, too.

"Hey! Let him go!" Chrissy yelled.

"What are you willing to do for me if we do let him go?" Jason asked.

"Well, I'll let you keep your equipment for one thing," Chrissy said, narrowing her eyes at him and Eddie snorted.

"Shut up, freak!" Tommy yelled at Eddie.

There were two Tommy Hs in this school. There was Tommy Hagan, who was an asshole but too much of a coward to actually do what this Tommy was doing. It was what had made it easy to hang out with him when Steve had been friends with Tommy Hagan. No, this Tommy H was far worse. Where Tommy Hagan was dark-haired with freckles littering his body, Tommy Hayes was blond haired with fair skin that was free of moles or freckles. Tommy Hagan always held a sliver of humanity beneath his bitchyness and snark. It always told Chrissy that this was something that he was eventually going to grow out of. Hayes held a darkness in his eyes, telling her that this was always going to be a part of him. Jason held an almost similar simmering darkness in his eyes, but it wavered slightly when Chrissy looked at him pleadingly.

"Don't do this, please," Chrissy said.

"He was breaking into a classroom," Jason said furiously.

"I was given permission! We were told we could use it for Hellfire!" Eddie exclaimed.

"I believe him, Jason. Let him go. It doesn't give you the right to do this," Chrissy said. "You don't have to be like this. You guys don't have to be enemies. His interest in the game isn't going to hurt you. It's just a fantasy game. You play your game, and he plays his. Leave him alone."

"Where's the fun in that, Cunningham?" Tommy H asked.

"Henderson," Chrissy, Eddie, and Jason corrected.

Jason stepped closer to her, and Eddie struggled against the others' grips.

"Leave her alone!" Eddie yelled.

"Serious answer here, Chrissy. What are you going to do for me if we let him go?" Jason asked.

"Are you seriously asking me that? Date you, and you leave Eddie alone?" Chrissy asked.

"Yes," Jason said hopefully.

"Don't!" Eddie cried out. "You don't have to do that, Chrissy. I'll be okay."

Chrissy stared at him as Tommy H pressed Eddie's face into the locker, their hands holding his arms so tightly that she knew they were leaving bruises. She looked into his wide brown eyes, so full of sorrow.

"Eddie," Chrissy whispered.

"I'm sorry, Chrissy, I'm sorry," Eddie wimpered.

"You really love this freak?" Jason said furiously, his jaw clenching.

Before Chrissy could answer, there came a scream, and Gareth was running toward them. Ronnie was running after him, trying to hold him back, but he was determined. He slammed his elbow into Tommy H's stomach, causing him to bend over. It allowed Eddie to push back against Connor and turn around. Tommy grabbed Gareth, holding him tightly.

"Get off of him," Eddie told him.

"Your freak king thinks I should do what he says," Tommy sneered, and Gareth spat in his eyes. "You little shit!"

He started dragging Gareth away. Chrissy went to chase after, but Jason grabbed her arm. She reacted quickly and slammed her knee into his groin before swinging her fist into his face as well. Jason cursed.

"Let me go," Gareth said.

"I'm going to kill you," Tommy spat at him.

Chrissy saw the look in Tommy's eyes at the same time that Eddie did. This wasn't just something that you say in the heat of the moment. He meant it. Tommy drove his knee into Gareth's chest, sending the boy to his knees. Chrissy rushed at him, but Jason, who was kneeling on the floor, grabbed Chrissy's ankle, causing her to fall hard against the tile and the other lockers. Her head hit the metal, and she gasped in pain, feeling the blood beginning to spill from her split eyebrow. Looks like she was going to have another scar. She shot her other foot out, slamming it into his face.

"Chrissy," Jason said, his nose bleeding and his eyes wide as he gazed at her.

"Chrissy!" Eddie yelled.

She stood up shakily, and they both watched as Tommy kicked Gareth forcibly in the head. Gareth flew back into the lockers with a loud crunch. He gasped and curled up on the ground, clutching his wrist. Chrissy was feeling a little woozy and tried to stop Tommy from picking up Gareth, but he pushed her down. Meanwhile, Eddie was trying to escape Connor, but it was no use. Tommy pulled Gareth up, the kid letting out a painful wimper. His arm went back as he tried to punch Gareth in the face. Ronnie, however, intervened by stepping in between them and taking the blow that was meant for Gareth.

"Are you done?" Ronnie demanded. "Or do you want to show off by beating up a freshman some more?"

"That's enough," Higgins voice spoke.

Higgins' eyes took in the scene. He moved to Jason and the others, finally landing on Eddie. He glared accusingly at him, like it was fault. No, why wouldn't it be the people who were actually responsible? Chrissy glared at Higgins. They were all brought to his office, except for Gareth. He was on his way to the hospital. Chrissy refused to go, instead fixed up her cut right there in the main office, glaring at Jason as she did so. Her eye was going to bruise. She just knew it. The other two were playing with their detention slips, but Jason was starting to look guilty, at least. Chrissy tossed her bloody tissue at him as she followed Eddie into Higgins' office.

"Miss Cunningham, I didn't ask you to come in here yet," Higgins said.

"I know, I came in here to make sure you listened to what actually happened and not just outright accuse Eddie," Chrissy said with a forced smile. "And for God's sake, it's Henderson."

"He knows what actually happened. Tommy Hayes made sure his parents bought him out," Eddie said. "How much is it going to cost them this time to bail him out? Three times the going rate? Maybe four? Maybe you get a new car this time. I've heard he's got a great stock of new Volvos."

"Are you finished? Wonderful," Higgins said. "Now. I’d like to run through the events of this afternoon with you because you seem to have an uncanny ability to ignore reality. Point one: After the final bell, you led your…club in breaking into a teacher’s classroom without that teacher’s knowledge or consent. Point two: when Mr. Hayes and his friends discovered your trespass. You goaded them into attacking —"

"That's bullshit!" Eddie and Chrissy exclaimed.

"Eddie works his ass off to clean classrooms to get permission to have a place for Hellfire," Chrissy scowled. "Those assholes were trying to hurt Eddie for his own amusement. He ran so they'd go after him instead of his friends."

"Miss Cunningham - "

"For the last goddamn time, IT'S HENDERSON!" Chrissy yelled.

"—which leads me to point three: in the ensuing altercation, four students were injured, one badly enough to send him to the hospital. Do I have that, right?" Higgins asked, ignoring Chrissy.

“No! We were minding our business, and those guys jumped us!"

Higgins shakes his head.

"A child is in the hospital, and you are sitting here whining and pointing fingers," he told Eddie.

Higgins sighed and pulled out a piece of paper. He slid it towards Eddie.

"What is this?" Eddie asked.

Chrissy peered over his shoulder to read it with him. Apparently, Stan's mom had taken him out of school when she found out he was in Hellfire and stuck him into a program to free him from his satantic influence. Chrissy cursed under her breath.

"I want to make this very clear, Munson," he continued. "What happened to Stanley is your fault. So is every bruise on every student sitting out in that office. So, is the child currently awaiting an orthopedic surgeon at Hawkins Memorial. ‘Oblique displaced fracture.’ That’s what the paramedics told me. ‘Lucky if he avoids nerve damage.’ I’m not sure what that means, exactly, but I do know it means it will be at least eight weeks until he can use that arm again."

"How about placing the actual blame on the kids who hurt him for no goddamn reason? Eddie was trying to protect his friends, and in turn, Gareth tried to do the same. Gareth wouldn't have gotten hurt if you hadn't set your little minions on trying to hurt Eddie," Chrissy glared at him. "You're supposed to be an educator, but instead, you're turning this place into a battlefield and turning these kids against each other."

"Miss Cunningham, get out of this office, I will deal with you later," Higgins sighed.

"Chrissy - " Eddie started to say.

"NO!" Chrissy yelled. "I won't let you do this to him."

Higgins ignored her, proceeding to tell Eddie how Hellfire was finished. How Higgins had persuaded the staff not to let Eddie use their classrooms for his club. He told Eddie that they needed a faculty sponsor, and Eddie jumped at the chance to tell him that he'll find a sponsor, that he'll register the club.

"I'm asking you not to," Higgins said, and Chrissy didn't like the tone of his voice. "Let's talk about Veronica Ecker."

"She doesn't have anything to do with this, " Eddie and Chrissy said.

"This afternoon, she was involved in a serious brawl on school property. This is the sort of act that universities find…shall we say, significant? Or maybe the better word would be consequential. Which is to say, there are often consequences." He shook his head. "We were all so proud of her for overcoming her beginnings. NYU! A marvelous school. A terrific opportunity for a bright young woman. And to pile on a full scholarship on top of that achievement?”

Chrissy felt like someone punched her in the stomach, and she could only watch as Higgins blackmailed Eddie into dropping out. She grabbed Eddie's shoulder, gripping it tightly.

"Why me?" Eddie asked. "You’re right. I’m number one on the shit list of everybody in this school. In this town. And I honestly don’t know how I got there. I was hoping you did since you’ve got such a clear picture of what I should be doing with my life."

"Because it's just who you are," Higgins said.

"Eddie, it's not who you are. We can figure this out. We can talk to Hop," Chrissy pleaded with him.

"Ronnie's your friend, too, Chrissy," Eddie whispered. "Could you live with it? If she lost everything because. . .because of me."

"Eddie," Chrissy said softly.

Looking at him, she knew there wasn't anything that she could do to change his mind. He already made it up.

"Then congratulations, Principal Higgins," Eddie said. "You're looking at Hawkins High's newest dropout."

He didn't bother waiting to hear what he had to say, Eddie stormed out of the office. Chrissy gave Higgins a withering glare before following Eddie. They both brushed past Ronnie, who looked confused.

"I need to talk to him first," Chrissy said quickly and ran out of the main office.

The hallway was empty as Eddie walked quickly away from her. She cursed her short legs as she hurried to catch up to him.

"Go away, Chrissy," Eddie said, his voice thick.

When she was close enough to him, she managed to grab his arm and pull him around to face her. Eddie was crying.

"You don't have to do this," Chrissy said softly.

"Except that I do. There's no other option for me," Eddie sniffled. "I can't stay here and watch people suffer because this whole fucking town is determined to hate me. I love this town, but their hatred is going to kill me. Chrissy, I can't stay, they won't let me."

"I'm sorry," she said softly, her heartbreaking for him.

"You would let me stay, though, wouldn't you?" He asked.

"In a heartbeat," she replied.

"I can't let them hurt you either," he said, shaking his head. "I know there isn't anything that I can do to make up for what I said. . ."

"You suffered enough, I think," Chrissy said.

She moved closer to Eddie and placed her hand on his chest. He placed his hand over hers and held it close to his heart.

"If I could, I would pick you up and put you in my pocket, take you with me," Eddie said. "Your place is still here, though."

"Yeah," she said, and the tears burst out of her. "This isn't fair!"

"I know, sweetheart," Eddie said and cupped her cheek with his free hand.

"Eddie, I lo - ," Chrissy started to say, but Eddie quickly put her hand over her mouth.

"If you say it, I'll stay," he whispered. "And I can't do that to Ronnie. I can't do that to you. If I stay, they'll keep hating me, and I'll just be this Eddie shaped ball of resentment knowing that they're going after the ones that I lo - ,"

Chrissy licked his hand, and he yelped, pulling his hand back.

"If you say it, I'll follow," she whispered, and he pulled her into a tight hug. "My freak."

"My witch," Eddie whispered.

"You know, we met once in middle school. We had this moment, so small, yet so significant. It should have just ended there, but who would have thought we would meet again years later," Chrissy said.

"Maybe we'll meet again," he said.

"I'll be in the front row of your very filled out concert, packed with fans. I'll be cheering for you," Chrissy said, more tears slipping out.

"I'll be singing for you," he whispered. "It's always for you."

Chrissy wrapped her arms tightly around his waist, burying her face into his chest. He held onto her, breathing in the scent of her shampoo. He pulled back, brushing her tears away with his thumb.

"I still owe you," Eddie said. "How about some ice cream?"

"Sounds perfect," Chrissy said.

They started walking out of the school, and Chrissy reached over to interlock their fingers together. It should feel like the end of something, but why does it feel like it was only the beginning?

Chapter Twelve

[kermit-the-hag]

[After Eddie meets Steve’s parents]

Steve: I'm sorry my family's so crazy.

Eddie: Crazy? Your family's not crazy. My family's crazy. My father was a criminal and conman. I've got an uncle whose God-given name is Shifty.

[rascheln]

“Here’s to fucking over that entire shitty family of yours,” Billy laughs and toasts Steve with his glass of cheap wine. His grin is sharp. His leg, pressed against Steve’s, is warm. For a moment, Steve wonders if there was ever a chance to not fall for him. It’s too late now, anyways.

modern!AU: Steve is down on his luck after getting pushed out of his father’s company. And with the help of professional conman Billy Hargrove, he returns to his family’s estate out for revenge and fortune. He doesn’t expect that playing the happy couple would make him fall in love.

[asirensrage]

WIP Tag Game!

I was tagged by @themaradwrites for this. Thanks! I'm a little afraid lol

RULES: post the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, and then post a little snippet or tell them something about it! and then tag as many people as you have WIPs

Tammy Thompson Takes on the Upside Down (Stranger Things. Steve Harrington x OC)

Erudite!Eric - a study in intimacy (Divergent. Eric x oc)

Matt and Billy and OC make 3 (MCU. Matt Murdock x Billy Russo x oc)

Tammy - Alternate POVs

there’s a heaven above you (oc x the lost boys)

Halloween Challenges/Prompts (various)

the weight of all my sins Naruto ideas (various including Kakashi x oc)

Something Missing (something strange) (Gaston x oc)

Divination as a Diversion (Hermione Granger x The Darkling)

Serendipity - Wick fic (John Wick x oc)

cassia and varro (Spartacus: Varro x OC)

Reality is Fictional (who even knows. Various)

Saudade - May you be cursed to never find peace (Tokyo Revengers, OC x various)

Dig My Grave (take my hand). It's just a quirk. (My Hero Academia. Dark fic. Dabi x OC)

An Offering and The Sacrifice (Demon Slayer. Rengoku x OC)

Tokyo Revengers Oneshots

KNY Oneshots

Alpha (original work)

The question is timing (Naruto/KNY crossover. Sakura centric)

JJK - Balance (Jujutsu Kaisen. Various)

plane ideas and sleep deprivation

poetry (original work)

The Good In You (MCU. Steve Rogers x OC)

Prompts (various)

Soulmates (various)

AU Oneshot Ideas (various)

Dark Drabbles

Joyce Summers. Assassin. Conman. Thief. Mother. (BtvS. undecided)

A Slayer in Hawkins (Stranger Things/BtvS crossover. undecided)

Quest for the Ages (Divergent: Eric x OC Quest)

dreaming of falling (Divergent: Eric x oc Quest)

well well look who's at it again (SoA. Jax Teller x oc)

season 2 (SPN. sequel to Crossfire Sam x OC)

season 3 (SPN. third in Crossfire series - Sam x oc)

Ice Ice Baby (Stranger Things. Eddie x oc Emma)

favours (leverage. undecided Eliot x oc or Quinn x oc)

For the Children (Leverage. Eliot x oc)

Between Discord and Rhyme (Teen Wolf. Derek Hale x oc)

Riptide (Spencer Reid x oc)

Skywalker rewrite (Star Wars. various)

Les Tres Geckos (From Dusk til Dawn. Richie x oc)

Coffee Shop AU (original)

Fae Mafia (original)

this isn't even all of them...

tagging: @arrthurpendragon @faithfire @rey-of-luke @mabonetsamhain @chickensarentcheap @residentdormouse @renhoeku @comatosebunny09 and anyone else who wants to join in/share

[savkirschtein]

SNK character college au fashion headcanons pt.2

AOT character modern style headcanons

Based solely off of my opinions of characterizations of each character

Characters mentioned: Eren Jaeger, Mikasa Ackerman, Armin Arlert, Jean Kirschstein, Connie Springer, Sasha Braus, Marco Bodt

Warnings: none

Eren Jaeger:

110% got to where he is now style wise because of Mikasa

Some gorpcore going on

Now a lot more comfortable trying different types of pieces and layering

Doesn’t do much with anything outside of dark neutrals

When all else fails he goes to his baggy leather jacket

When he feels a little spicy he will add a tie to his white button up and layer it with a leather jacket

Usually will go to a baggy pair of cargos and oversized tee for class

Mikasa Ackerman:

Mikasa definitely dapples into grunge fashion with a little touch of acubi

She is an entire thrift flip and sewing GOD, she knows how to tailor and make certain thrift finds to her taste. And even makes her own clothing

LOVES layering and always always knows how to make it look so cohesive

Looks like a fashion design student but isn't...if anything she makes the fashion design majors on campus QUAKE

Distressed tights and leather platform enthusiast

Armin Arlert:

Our soft boy always

won't catch him outside of anything that isn't knit or cotton

always will prioritize being comfortable and breathable for school

but never makes it look bummy

Loves a good loafer every now and then. Stays stacked with sweater vests, cardigans, and button ups

Definitely didn't take notes from other dudes he would see in cafes while he would study

Jean Kirschstein:

Sticks to basics, that aren't basic looking but more so timeless and effortless

Anything neutral he is all for

Loves a good button up tank combo

Can catch him with an army green shoulder bag at almost all times on campus, in his head it's a 2 in 1. Solid for carrying his sketchbook and supplies but also just a good add onto all his fits

Has a plethora of leather jackets

Connie Springer:

The Conman is the street style expert

Definitely has moved past his hype beast street style phase

Takes pride in knowing that he is, if not always one of the best dressed dudes in his classes

Inspirations from Tyler The Creator and Steve Lacy

Loves experimenting with layers and accessories, but has learned that less is more

confidently believes he singlehandedly brought back jorts on campus

wears a crossbody at all times

Sasha Braus:

Moved out of her grunge fairy core, mini shirt & baggy jean phase

Loves pulling inspo from 90s and 2000s downtown girl fashion

Layering and knit wear are her faves

You know she will always prioritize comfort but not at the expense of looking cute

Forces Connie to take daily fit pics of her in the library

Has a claw clip in at all times

Loves stripes and other cute patterns

Marco Bodt:

Clean boy aesthetic personified

Loves adding a good jacket over anything

Cute boy in the library core lmao

Cuffing his jeans is his trademark

sticks to classic vintage chuck 70s converse, reeboks, or old school vans

That cute boy who instead of wearing a backpack to class, wears a tote bag or shoulder bag instead

[bettyfrommars]

Heyy, I saw your little wip list and couldn’t help but get excited for Hustler Steve!!! Whats his story/lore? 🧡

wip game oh I was hoping someone would, I love you 🥹 started this brainrot with @allthingsjoeq and I think we talk about him pretty much every day now. He has wormed his way in. He makes me yearn. He was raised by a conman and had to fend for himself for a long while. He started out as a pickpocket, but then he realized he had a knack for numbers and patterns; he is also a master of disguises. He spots reader making a clumsy hustle, decides to give us a few tips, and a bond is formed. Eventually, you learn to pull cons together. I'm gonna throw a few fun bits out there that I love:

His hands will always be on you. In a crowd they’re on your lower back, waist, hips, anywhere easy he can guide and grab you to maneuver you around a room.

He has as a quarter or half dollar coin that he is always flipping and rolling between his fingers.  He does cheesy but charming magic tricks with it to distract you from the fact that he's stealing your heart and the keys to your porsche.

He steals sequin pants from a famous Vegas act and becomes attached to them like a moth to a flame.  "Could you take the glitter pants off for a day so I can have them drycleaned? You've had them on for a month."  "But they're my lucky pants, baby."

He watches you struggle with painting the fingernails on your left hand and without muttering a word he grabs your wrist and delivers a perfect manicure silently, huffing and puffing like it's the biggest inconvenience. But he’s so good at it?? 

Has a full skin care routine like Patrick Bateman in American Psycho.

I also recommend these Hustler Steve blurbs if you haven't had a taste of him yet: Hide & Seek and THIS ONE because that is exactly what he looks like in my head 😭

[powderblueblood]

STEVE HARRINGTON X MILLION DOLLAR MAN !!!!

( idk if that’s what you meant 😭 pls delete if it’s not <3 )

send me 🎵+ character name and i’ll write a lil blurb inspired by a song from their playlist (you can also request songs and i will do my level best. god is a dj and i'm god)

▶ MILLION DOLLAR MAN - LANA DEL REY

you've got the world, but baby at what price? or how falling in love with notorious conman steve harrington began your career as a fence of stolen jewelry.

an: @stveharringtn cherry how the fuck did you know that i've been sitting on a conman!steve au for what feels like a hundred thousand years. PERFECT SONG PERFECT CHOICE lets begin i hope you like it

warnings: my blatant obsession with the oceans eleven cinematic universe and pathological need to create a heist au out of EVERYTHING. and CUSSING IS IN THIS TOO.

word count: 2.5k

MIAMI BEACH, 1990

“Whatever happened to a good old-fashioned safe?”

“I don’t trust a safe. I don’t trust me, I don’t trust you, and I most definitely don’t trust a safe.”

Dustin Henderson dangerously toes the edge of squawking, but he doesn’t know any better. At this point in his career as a thief, he doesn’t understand that when Steve Harrington says he doesn’t trust anyone, it’s not dismissive. It’s simply a missive, a fact of life. Everyone’s got knives, everyone’s got backs. Stands to reason that someone’s going to thrust and someone is going to get stabbed. 

Steve likes to take all the necessary precautions. 

He doesn’t trust anyone. 

“But her you trust?” 

Robin Buckley’s tone is hard. Robin Buckley is the only person that Steve could imagine himself trusting, and even so, they keep each other at an imperceptible arm’s length. To the outside world, they’re bosom buddies, best friends eating dirt together. But they both understand the business that they’re in. 

They keep their knives sharp.

They take all the necessary precautions. 

So why the fuck is Steve bringing an outsider into the ring. 

“I never said that.” Steve grabs a coaster and pointedly puts it where Robin might next aim her beer bottle, dripping with incriminating condensation. All over his agarwood coffee table. 

“It was inferred.” Robin pointedly puts the bottle down– to the far left of the coaster. Fuck you.

“I don’t see how that’s my problem.” Fuck you right back. 

“I know why he’s not using a safe,” Eddie Munson crows from the near background, wiping ash from his face. Eddie Munson, munitions expert. Eddie Munson, expert in blowing up any conversation within a three mile radius. Detonation test, by the way, that’s why his face is covered in shit. 

Steve holds out a hand–stop right where you are–before he can reach the agarwood table. 

“Because he’s–” and proceeds to make that finger in hole gesture that doesn’t crack a single smile in the room. Not even Dustin Henderson’s, mostly due to the fact that it’s happening behind his head. “Because he’s fucking her.” 

“It’s not that,” Steve and Robin say in unison, with Steve’s eyes narrowed on Eddie and Robin’s eyes trained unmercifully on Steve. 

It’s not that. They’re right. It’s worse. 

-

There’s something psychosexual about the game of tennis. The grunting, the tiny little skirts, the whacking of balls. The amount of money rich people love to spend on it. There’s something evil here, and you’ve committed yourself to a summer of trying to figure it out. 

Well, half-committed. Your real commitment is making enough tips to make a dent in your looming student loans. Post-graduation, a friend had given you a hot tip about private tennis clubs in Miami. They use hundos like napkins there, girl. Go get your piece. 

Your nana lives in Miami. Lived. She’s dead now, three months. You’re living in her condo now– technically in a seniors complex, assisted living type of thing, but it’s okay. It’s quiet. The people chat and force you to play bocce ball sometimes, the only sport you understand. 

Tennis, you don’t understand, other than the fact that these people have more money than they know what to do with and they’re all too repressed to grunt in the privacy of their own homes. 

After a time or two taking drink orders and bringing their rackets for in-house repair, they all blend into the same amorphous blob– the white outfits-on-white people effect does not help. They tip you in enormous digits, confident that you’ll remember them and treat them right, but you don’t have that skill. Some of your co-workers do, but you don’t. 

So, you notice when someone stands out. 

You smell him before you see him, and you know how that sounds, but bare with– 

The thickening, insistent incense smell of patchouli. Rainwater. Dust. Lemon.

When you turn from your place behind the bar, fetching your eighth double vodka soda in what seems like as many minutes for another bleach-blond man in his mid-forties, he’s leaning with one elegant elbow propped on the marble top. Sunglasses push over a shock of brown hair, streaked with blonde from the Florida sunshine. 

“Macallan, buddy. Up.” But he’s not talking to you. He’s talking to the bartender, Trent, the picture of incompetence. Trent nods to him, smiling broadly, but that flattens into a hard line as he turns toward the bar. 

This guy politely turns his head, eyes glossing right over you. But you are just staring a bullet hole right though him, and you can’t help it. He’s magnetic. He’s dressed in a light blue linen suit, a far cry from the tennis uniforms or the hollering Versace shirts every other man in the place seems to be wearing. The slope of his shoulders suggest something… provincial. 

He’s not a city boy– man. This is a man. 

You hear a clatter to your immediate right and see Trent pouring a finger of Chivas into a tumbler. 

“Oh, Trent, that’s not–” 

He passes it off to the linen gentleman, this Miami cowboy, with a serene smile. Most people wouldn’t be able to tell the difference between a Chivas and a Macallan, but you would. 

And you bet he would too. 

He departs in a cloud of the same heavenly scent he’d arrived in, heading courtside to watch trust fund kids fumble over backhands. 

“Trent,” you say, reaching for the correct bottle and a fresh tumbler. “Meet Macallan. For next time, okay?” 

The blond kid just shrugs at you. “All that shit tastes the same to me.” 

To you. 

You linger near the arm of his chair before speaking, suddenly able to hear your pulse in your ears. Up close, you can see moles dotting the hand holding the errant glass of Chivas. A big hand too, it seems to dwarf the crystal. 

“Excuse me,” you say, as steady as you can manage. It’s not very steady. You wish you would’ve thought to check your makeup before you made a beeline out here, but time, you couldn’t help but feel, was of the essence. 

He looks up at you over his sunglasses and you think your knees might buckle. 

Eyes like a dark wood. Inviting you in. The kind of eyes that don’t look through you. 

Christ, people had been looking through you all summer, but it didn’t matter now. 

“Is that the Macallan?” he mumbles conspiratorially. 

You just– nod, uniform-required ponytail bouncing. 

“I’ll trade you,” he says, about to pass off the glass of Chivas, but then he pauses. Takes you in, surveying you in a way that makes you blush, “if you can finish this one with me.” 

“Um…”

“Is that allowed?” he asks, “I don’t want to get you in trouble.”

Trouble be damned. The hell with trouble. Not only is your reputation as a little worker bee here untarnished, you can’t not sit with him. 

“I’m due a break, actually.”

“So I’ll trade you. Sit down, get comfortable. Give me the scoop on these tennis brats.”

He leans in to take the glass of Macallan from you, to pass off the glass of Chivas, and he brushes your hand. You experience the full entirely of a cliche, feeling electricity thrum under your skin– but then he passes a fingertip over the ring finger of your right hand. 

“That’s a pretty piece,” he hums, “Princess, right?”

For a second, you falter. Princess? Me? But it’s the ring he’s referring to– the yellow diamond engagement ring that once belonged to your nana. 

“Close!” you say, twisting the band on your finger in an act of self-consciousness. “Carré cut. Less pricey than a princess.”

“But just as pretty.” 

“And more rare, actually.” 

“Huh,” he says, and you smooth your skirt out with one hand, taking the seat nearest him. Enveloping yourself in the cloud of him. “Rarer than a princess.” 

From the court, a headband-wearing pre-teen in dazzling whites hollers fuck you, Mommy! Fuck you and your fucking bullshit topspin! I fucking hate this place!

“I’ll drink to that.” 

-

NEW YORK CITY, 1995

The car door slams behind Dustin Henderson, raindrops rolling from the brim of his baseball cap. It’s late November and a freezing rain has descended upon the Diamond District. 

Steve had at least hoped he might see sunshine when he got out of the joint. 

From the wheel, he cranes his neck to the back seat where Dustin sits, wiping the dripping water from the hat’s beak. His Thinking Cap. He’s had that thing since he was a kid and has somehow managed to keep it in immaculate condition. Dustin loves details. Dustin also loves risk. Which is why he’s the only man for this recon job. 

“Tell me,” Steve says, tone as level as he can possibly keep it. 

“She is way hotter than I remember.”

“Dustin.”

“Miami always makes people less hot. I think it’s the heat,” the kid chuckles, an obvious attempt at lightening a tense mood. See, they weren’t supposed to be here. They weren’t supposed to be looking for you. Robin hadn’t said don’t go looking for her, but that more or less should have been in the terms of Steve’s release from Sing Sing. 

“Dustin.” 

“She’s in there, just like you said she’d be in there. It’s a white room and it’s got every kind of goddamn sparkler you could think of. Three layers of security. Three. What kind of jewelry store you ever been to that’s got three layers of security?” 

A detail like that would make a less accomplished thief sweat. But Dustin and Steve share a knowing smile. 

“A jewelry store selling stolen jewelry.” 

“Exactly,” Dustin nods. “I thought she’d be front-of-house, but she’s got her own office. Tucked away in the corner. Appointment only.” 

“Any availability?”

The younger man smirks. “For me or for you?” 

-

Buddy’s is the last place in midtown you can get a decent drink and not be surrounded by throngs of yuppies. 

You know this, because you tend to date the yuppies in the throng. 

This is the one place that seems to be universally avoided by the trader set– it’s too dark and wooden in here, no brutalist architecture to make them feel at home while they rail lines of coke off their girlfriend’s compact mirrors. 

At Buddy’s, there’s a pianist that’s been propping up the corner for the last half century, minimum. A carpet that’s never been shampooed spreads across the floor and the mahogany is dented in all the places the light doesn’t hit. You can smoke indoors. Everything Happens to Me by Chet Baker will play, and everything feels like it’s going to be alright. At least until happy hour ends. 

You have a regular seat by the bar, a vantage point for people-watching. A gin martini, hold the vermouth, sits waiting for you by the time you arrive. On an average Thursday, you spend a couple of hours drinking three of these in an act of decompression from the violent fluorescent lighting of your workplace. From peering through a looking glass, examining the way light refracts through gemstones. 

From moving cargo that isn’t yours to move. 

This Thursday has been no different. 

You drag a finger along the condensation of your martini glass, it’s perfect conical shape a welcome weight in your hand. 

Your hair is piled up on top of your head, and you wear your reading glasses, and though you are beautiful, no one bothers you. Nothing bothers you. 

Until you hear a sound you haven’t heard in years. 

Tapping, against the bartop. One, one. Two, two. Three, three. Nerves. It was the only time you could ever tell that he was nervous. 

“Macallan, buddy. Up.”

Fucker.

-

He knew you by every single detail about you, let’s get that straight. 

He is entirely sure that in a room of a thousand clones of you, he would be able to pick out the real one, just from your minute sigh. From the way your one shoulder always slopes. From curl at the base of your neck. 

From the way you play with your grandmother’s Carré cut diamond, still sitting pretty on your right hand. 

He positions himself a number of seats away from you, from the seat that he’s been watching you sit at for a couple of nights in a row now. He does not approach you directly. 

Partially to see if you’ll still remember him. 

Steve is still vain, in his ways. He wants a spotlight shone on him. 

He only ever remembers the warmth of yours. 

He orders the same drink he ordered that day you met at the tennis club, the same way. He even hopes the bartender will mistake the Chivas for the Macallan and you’ll have to climb over the bar and charmingly correct him. But Antoine, as he’s heard you call him, has been behind this bar longer than Saint Peter at the pearly gates, so there’s no fear of that. 

You don’t react right away, and he doesn’t expect you to. He savors it, in fact, the opportunity to slyly watch you. Even if you’re seething. Even if you’re seething, you’re seething like a goddess might seethe. Horrifying and beautiful, all at once. The definite end of him. 

Then, the lack of attention you’re showing him stretches on a beat too long. 

“Excuse me,” he says from his spots a couple of seats down, “Can you do me a favor?”

You don’t respond. This doesn’t stop him. Never has.

“You mind tasting this for me?” Steve pushes the glass toward you, sending it sliding down the bar. You catch it with your right hand, yellow diamond catching in the light. A cut like that has never sparkled until you’ve worn it. “You think that’s Macallan or Chivas? Be honest.”

Steve’s fingers flex unconsciously as you lift the glass. Tilt it toward your lips. Still making no eye contact. But you don’t sip. 

“I think you should be in prison,” you say into the crystal tumbler and place it back on the bar top. “Why the fuck are you not in prison.” 

Steve closes the space between you, taking in that powdery perfume you’re still wearing after all this time. Candied violets. He settles into the beside you and props his palm under his chin. 

“Why are you selling stolen jewelry.”

He sees you tense for a brief moment, then release. Like you knew he’d say that, like you should have seen that coming. Because you know him, and you always see him coming. Other than Robin, you’re the only one that ever has. 

“I asked you first.”

“I asked you second.”

“So that when some bastard in a bad linen suit asks me to hold on to some stolen jewelry, I’ll at least know how much it’s worth.”

A beat. You stare Steve down with such naked disdain that his heart twists in his chest. You hate him, and he sees that, and with all the evidence stacked up against you, he should hate you too. But that wasn’t what bit him.

“That suit wasn’t bad, Princess.”

[riricitaa]

A stucky AU where conman!Bucky was about to leave the country after finally getting all the money he could steal from billionaire!Steve, but he didn’t know Steve was already ten steps ahead.

[justinspoliticalcorner]

Walter Einenkel at Daily Kos:

Rep. Marjorie Taylor Greene spoke with alleged conman and former Donald Trump adviser Steve Bannon on his “War Room” show Monday. The interview was what anthropologists might call … bananas.  Greene, who is hopping mad about everything, always, is almost incoherently angry that over the weekend, Congress finally passed long-delayed foreign aid funding for our allies in Ukraine. Greene characterized sending aid to Ukraine as throwing good money after bad. “It doesn't guarantee a Ukrainian victory because everyone knows they're going to lose eventually. It just is a matter of when," she whined. Bannon and Greene then spent the rest of the interview accusing House Speaker Mike Johnson and his Republican supporters of not being MAGA enough. Greene seems to talk only with people who agree with her.

[I've not seen people this angry since November of 2020. I mean, they are off the charts, off the charts, angry ...They're angry on a whole 'nother level. And here's what really worries me. They're done with the Republican Party. They are absolutely done with Republican leadership. Like Mike Johnson, who totally sold us out to the Democrats, would join the “uniparty” faster than anyone we've ever seen in history, and literally made a night and day change in a matter of months, betrayed everyone, betrayed the entire Republican Party, betrayed Republican voters, betrayed the Republican conference. And voters are so angry this time that I'm really worried. I am really worried. They're so angry. They're not going to give us the majority back in 2025.]

Bannon says that there are no longer two major political parties, identifiable as Democrats and Republicans. Instead, it is a war between the “populist nationalists” and “globalist elite.” Greene fears Johnson’s leadership is going to lose the GOP control of Congress.

Far-right pro-Kremlin troll Marjorie Taylor Greene (R-GA) is leading the charge to oust House Speaker Mike Johnson (R-LA) from his job over securing funding for Ukraine.

See Also:

MMFA: Marjorie Taylor Greene is on a right-wing media tour promoting her efforts to oust House Speaker Mike Johnson

From the 04.22.2024 edition of Real America's Voice's War Room:

[thelastyetfabolousmidwestmadman]

Everything We Know About Deadwood's Fourth and Fifth Season

The first episode would be the original season 3 finale. Bullock would refuse to resign and lock himself in his office in defiance until Al would come up and make a speech about how George Washington when asked to become king by the continental congress "Sheathed his sword" in response saying that this new nation would become a government of laws instead of man and so that's what Bullock must do as well. Ultimately Bullock is convinced and respects the electoral process.

The Series would end with Bullock, Charlie, and Jane leaving Deadwood, with Bullock leaving to become a US Marshall.

Al Swearengin would slowly lose power and influence over the camp over the course of the season, growing sicker and weaker from alcoholism.

At some point mid season the entire camp would burst in flame due to some "Jackass with fireworks", finally following through with build up throughout the series.

A flood would happen at some point to further destroy the town.

Manning would slowly be corrupted by Hearst.

Doc Holliday would appear

Jack Langrishe would encourage Alma to become a novelist.

The Love triangle between Bullock, Alma, and Martha would end in "status quo ante bellum" and be depressing.

The Earp brothers would return.

William Levingston the father of Standard Oil founder John D. Rockefeller and notorious bigamist psychopath would be the main antagonist of season 4. He'd be a conman selling medicine with a "Indian" (Actually a black man named Johnson) which would actually be booze, resulting in a conflict with Doc Cochran. Eventually Yellow Journalists would swarm the camp due to bounties offered by newspapers for evidence of his fathers wereabouts.

Aunt Lou would be explored and would open a restaurant

The Chinatown would be important and the following seasons would examine the ugliness of race relations in America during this period

Jane and Joanie would enter in a relationship that ends bittersweet.

General Fields taking care of Steve the Drunk would be a plotline

The town would be booming and growing larger, with Bullock struggling being fire chief.

Doc Cochran would die of tuberculosis

Langrishe and Al would form a rivalry

Johnny would go against Al, forcing Silas and Dan to take sides

The Theater Group and Jack Langrishe in general would be seen as Hearst's foil as they are trying to bring civilization in a humane way. The girl Claudia is Langrishe's daughter.

Hearst would return at some point and a lot of what happened in the movie would take a entire season long. Hearst would also buy out Merrick's newspapers, break a strike, rig elections, and bribe judges in an attempt to get his way while the town fights back against him.

Cy would have a complete mental breakdown and redemption arc.

Al would become more unstable and back to his season 1 personality due to alcohol abuse.

Martha would open up a school and become a leading member of society

90% of what happened in real life during this period would be replicated in the show, the rest being creative liberties.

Charlie would ask Joanie to marry him.

Sol being a mayor would be a major season 4 plot point, he and Trixie would get married and have a child

Al would be broke due to the banning of prostitution

Wild Bill's murder would be reenacted at some point, this becoming a town tradition.

Keep in mind that according to Milch some of these ideas may be reworked or cut had the season been greenlit, and Deadwood was a collaborative set, so the actors would add their own ideas as well.

[denimbex1986]

'A new suspense-filled drama is on its way to Netflix soon, and it stars Andrew Scott as roguish protagonist Tom Ripley.

The story is an adaptation of Patricia Highsmith's 1955 novel, The Talented Mr Ripley, and focuses on a conman who scams his way into a life of wealth in Italy in the 1960s.

Written, directed, and executive produced by Academy Award winner Steve Zaillian (The Irishman, Moneyball, The Night Of) and filmed in all black-and-white, the series follows Tom Ripley, who is hired by a wealthy man to convince his wayward son to return home from Italy.

However, Tom's introduction to wealthy loafer Dickie Greenleaf and his leisurely life abroad sends him on a journey into a complex web of deceit and murder. You see, Tom likes Dickie's lifestyle so much that he wants to take over his identity and never return to New York.

Also starring in the eight-episode limited series is One Life’s Johnny Flynn as Dickie Greenleaf, and Once Upon a Time in Hollywood’s Dakota Fanning as Marge Sherwood, Dickie’s girlfriend, who suspects darker motives underlie Tom’s affability.

“He came to Italy, moved into Dickie’s house. He just wouldn’t go away,” Marge says in the trailer. “Tom is one of those people who takes advantage of people.”

She adds: “I don’t trust him. He’s a liar. It’s his profession.”...

Patricia Highsmith's novel has previously been adapted for screen, including 1960’s Purple Noon and, notably, The Talented Mr. Ripley, which starred Matt Damon, Gwyneth Paltrow, Jude Law, Cate Blanchett and Philip Seymour Hoffman.

Fleabag star Scott’s appearance in Ripley follows his acclaimed performance in All of Us Strangers, alongside Paul Mescal.

Ripley premieres on 4th April on Netflix.'

[dontcallmebree]

BRI! I hope you've had a lovely weekend. Your list of WIPs make me want to scream with excitement. The Clueless AU and Secret Shrunky have me 👀

But I really want to know about the Lighthouse/exhusbands by death wip because that is intriguing as hell!

Love you 🥰️

Hi tej! So nice to see you around!

I covered the basic premise here, but basically a lot of the friction driving the story will stem from the fact that Bucky's still kinda frozen in that time where they had been husbands practically and still thinks of Steve and (want to) treat him that way. Whereas Steve's lived decades where he's had to mourn Bucky and try to move on and live different lives.

There's also a whole thing about the lighthouse Steve's living in that's heavy handed but it's cozy so I'm not changing it.

A small snippet, but please bear in mind I've rewritten this draft like a dozen times so this might not even be part of the actual piece. Idk this thing is killing me.

Instead of giving him the third degree, however, Steve asks an incredulous, “You think I don’t believe you?” Bucky scoffs then, because he really doesn’t think it’s anywhere near the time for that patented Rogers mulishness. “Well, I don’t know, Stevie. Some story about your best guy supposedly getting whisked away by a bunch of Nazis and stored in a glorified fridge for half a century? You should be a little skeptical.” He doesn’t know what does it, the nonchalance or the Stevie or the reminder of what they used to be, but Steve seems to shake off the state of shock that had set in with an outburst of, “You look the same, Buck! I’d know you from—I’d know, okay?” “What if I’m a clone?” he can’t help but ask, earning a disbelieving—and not at all warranted—deadpan glare in return. “Or an evil twin? Or a conman posing as your long-dead husband come back from the dead?” Bucky doesn’t realize he’d been looking for exactly this, Steve’s indulgent smile and the affectionate twinkle in his eye, scraps of the man he’d known and loved all his life, until it comes. “I think I’ll take my chances,” Steve sighs, looking to all the world like he’s already fed up with Bucky’s presence after a mere handful of minutes.

I've been excited for this wip for a while now, so it's really nice that just the crappy doc title is somewhat interesting hahaha. Sending all the love right back <333

wip game & list