Good Boy ⭐️

Why do i have this in my drafts??? Is this for a fanfic? A prompt?? Did i make a copy-paste or..? Just what is this???

I'm not even into writing about Nancy, don't get me wrong, i like Nancy, but my brain cannot work into something that isn't somehow related to Steve, the "Eddie Munson and Sandwiches" post that i made was a miracle. Honest.

So i know that it was something Steve-related but i don't remember how...

Anyways.

they traumatized a man with big brown doe eyes and a slutty waist and they want me to be normal about it ?

steve is pretty chill mostly, but when he does get jealous he gets JEALOUS!!! like, he's not making it eddie's problem, but he is staring down anyone being incredibly flirtatious with his guy. eddie, oblivious, is chatting away, and steve's just over his shoulder pantomiming violence. sometimes when steve is particularly sensitive, robin joins in pretending to bury a body.

also god forbid jonathan "steal yo girl" byers comes within 5 feet of eddie, steve's not even being subtle, he attached to eddie like he's welded himself there.

eddie, unaware of steve's death glare and jonathan's SMIRK, is just super pleased steve's being so clingy with him today.

Ophelia's Son: Addams Visiting

Author's note: I'm not going to let Cleopatra actually visit Hawkins. I'm pretty sure the Party would immediately kill her. Also I do have more ideas to play with in this world so I'm not saying it's over forever, just for now.

Summary: A storm is forecast for Hawkins so what better time for the Addams Family to come and visit

Continuing on from Ophelia's Son Smoking What Will Grow and Abigail

/\

There was a storm due. Steve had been debating since hearing about it whether he should invite everyone over for a sleepover or just prepare to drive through the storm fetching anyone who got upset. Robin and Eddie had already invited themselves over and had been laughing together about his worrying.

The knock at the door stopped the laughter and had them all glancing to the closet he’d stored the nail bat in. Steve chuckled at the realisation they’d all done it and went to answer the door without grabbing it.

“Hello, um, Aunt Morticia and everyone. Come in. I didn’t know you were visiting.” Steve blinked at the half dozen people stood on his doorstep, including the giant carrying all the suitcases.

“Good lad, Steve. We saw the weather forecast and simply had to come.” Gomez greeted, shaking his hand rapidly before he’d held it out. “Lurch will bring everything in but you’ve got some wonderfully ominous woods Wednesday was begging to explore on the drive through. Hope you don’t mind us arriving then going out for a walk immediately.”

“In a storm?” Eddie asked, sceptically.

Morticia beamed at him, “Of course. What better weather. And the moon is full too which is wonderful for the skin when it spears through.”

“We’ll prepare rooms for you all while you explore then.” Steve agreed easily, letting Lurch past.

He would definitely need more blankets if the party needed comfort through the storm now, but extra company wasn’t a bad thing at all.

/\

Morticia had been close to frowning as she took in the Harrington house, but forced a smile for Steve, saying, “Oh it’s got a Je ne sais quoi about it, charmingly but far too bland.”

“Tish! That’s French!” Gomez stumbled out of his chair ceasing her arm to start ravishing it.

After a moment of watching this Steve looked away a little awkwardly, “Um, I’ve set up spare rooms for you. Yours is top of the stairs, second to the right. If you want privacy or, you know.”

“Much obliged,” Gomez agreed, now carrying Morticia up the stairs, kissing the back of her neck when he could. “We’ll talk later.”

“Steve, remind me never to speak anything other than English around any and all Addams’s from now on.” Robin asked after they’d heard the door shut. Granmama’s insistence that they’re in love over some Russian made a lot more sense if that was Gomez’s reaction to French. She did not want to test if it applied to other people speaking foreign languages or not.

Steve glanced at her, smirking, “I might be suffocating you if you do. Just to avoid whatever love dust is.” He snickered to hear Eddie’s yelp as he’d been finishing off the rooms somehow.

“Glad we agree.” She nodded briskly, “Now how are we going to make the kids witness that so they’ll stop trying to set us up?”

“I’ve got some French cook books I think,” He said after a moment, deciding to ignore the possibility of it occurring that night or just because of the kids nosiness about his relatives now, "Could do a family dinner.”

“Perfect.”

In the reactions of his Aunt and Uncle Steve had momentarily forgotten that there were also two kids staying with him. Granted they’d both quickly gone to entertain themselves and each other but he was usually more alert over anyone younger given his kids likelihood to get into deadly situations.

He was reminded of them by Pugsley coming through frowning. “Cousin Steve, you don’t have any tunnels yet.”

“No Pugsley, I’ve not found any.” He answered mostly hoping he wasn’t about to be told about Upside Down tunnels again. Having it happen once with Dustin was beyond enough/

“We’ll start making them now.” Wednesday offered, climbing out of the closet, cuddling a headless doll and his nail-bat. “Any pipes to avoid?”

Steve reached to take the nail-bat back, sighing, “Try the office for house plans cause I don’t know.”

“Thank you.” Robin shared a glance at him as the kids ran off. Neither had to speak to know they were both wondering if kids really were just looking for ways to die all the time and how neither of them had done that.

/\

The storm passed without any of the Party asking for comfort beyond radio confirmation everyone was okay and Steve now wished it was still going.

Gomez had declared after breakfast that it was time he got Steve acquainted with Zen Yogi and flipped into a headstand.

“That will hurt my flowers. Are there any other poses?” Steve asked, hand going to his hair and the sunflowers that he’d kept growing through the few experiments they’d done since the first one.

“Well, yes, but this is the most important one to master.” Gomez genially explained, somewhere he’d gotten a newspaper to read and had pulled a cigar out of his pocket, already lit somehow. “At least try it once. It’s wonderful for inner strength building.”

Eddie laughed, “Steve does need to work on his core muscles.”

“Nope, no more jokes like that.” Steve knelt, eyes narrowed as he worried over the flowers he was increasingly fond of. “If it damages my flowers, I’m stopping.”

He had done a few headstands before but not often so took a moment to get stable, during which Morticia clapped her hands together with a joyful noise, “Wonderful and if I may say, I’m thrilled to see such variety of plants growing. Ophelia always stayed so limited with daisies when there are much more delightful plants.”

Her warm tone had something in Steve relaxing, a worry they’d dislike or judge him over the flowers dissolving. “It’s become an experiment for the kids, testing what will grow. I’m pretty sure Dustin has theories over what should grow well in brains as well as what soil type my head it.”

“Gardeners?” Morticia sounded pleasantly surprised about the experiments. “Oh I wish I’d known. I’d have brought Cleopatra with us. She is a dear vine.”

“Maybe if you visit again you could bring her.” Steve decided not to question a plant being spoken about like a person. After all some of the ones growing on his head definitely felt like that to him now.

He came out of the headstand when the conversation seemed to have ended, immediately checking the hallway mirror to see if the plants and flowers were okay. Seeing they were he relaxed and moved to curl up between Robin and Eddie for the rest of the afternoon.

Hero Steve

I saw in a tiktok with those tumblr post on them talking about world building, specifically, the lenguage; and it got me thinking about how in this isekai au the other world speaks a lot of other lenguages, and even if Steve has the cheat of an ability that makes him able to understand any idiom, well, i like to think he picks up some things.

Like the use of differents suffix (i don't know any other way to call them) when counting things, like, if they're people they use one, if they're an animals or a plants they use other and if they're objects there’s a thirth one.

I think it would be good for the cliché of going undercover to some shady market where there are slaves and the people in them use the suffix for objects. Steve would be livid.

Just a thought.

Do you have a masterlist for your batfam twitter au posts? I love reading them :3

I don't but I guess I can use this as one? I'm not making them consistently or anything, just when I wake up at 3am with a Vision

Batfam twitter masterpost

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

(Secret part 7.5 I put on a reblog)

Part 8

Part 9

Part 10 to come (possibly)

Request in replies if you want to be added to the taglist for any new Batfam twitter posts

I need to see some Stevie fanart 👀

Plus

You know who is who

It's so funny that Misa is famous. Imagine that you're a normal ass cop and you get put on a special task force to catch a mass murderer. And you meet with the expert detective in charge. And he tells you your top 2 suspects are a random teenager and like. Ariana grande

"But why is he here all the time," he whines to Robin. She doesn't like him much, but Scoops is empty, and what else is he supposed to do? Not speak to her at all?

"Why do you care what Eddie Munson is doing at the mall."

"I don't care." He scoffs, rolls his eyes. "He's just always here. Doesn't he have anything better to do?"

"Do you?"

"He doesn't work here."

"Haven't seen you doing a lot of work here, Steve."

"You spent forty minutes yesterday drawing on your sneakers."

She shakes her head, but doesn't say anything because he's right and she knows it.

He goes back to staring at Munson, sitting on the edge of the fountain. He's relaxed back, legs spread, looking like he owns the place. The way he's leaning, his t-shirt rides up, showing a tantalizing glimpse of pale skin and the lightest dusting of hair. He doesn't remember his mouth being so dry before.

"You're such an idiot." Robin smacks herself down beside him. "Eddie's a good guy. Is this just because he's the freak and you're King Steve?"

"No!" He says it too loud, a few people in the foodcourt turn to stare. "I'm not that guy anymore. That's all just--" he flaps his hand, can't find the words.

She makes a disbelieving noise, eyes narrow. "I'll never forgive you if you hurt him."

Robin stomps off to the backroom before he can stop her, tell her he doesn't want to hurt Munson.

One of Eddie's friends says something that has Eddie stretching back to hear, pulling his shirt higher, flashing the dark line of a tattoo, and that's too much, that has him slamming his eyes closed, rubbing at his brow but all he can think is--

cold cinder block at his back, hot mouths and fumbling hands and long, deft fingers; desperate, bitten off moans; hands fisted into long curls; the hot, bittersweet taste of him

It was only a handful of times, quick encounters in the locker room, once under the bleachers in the gym. And Steve, he'd never--it didn't mean anything, but it meant everything, and Eddie's been all he can think of for months.

A group of middle school girls comes in, then, and he forgets about Munson as he scoops ice cream and blends milkshakes. The next time he looks to the fountain, Eddie is gone

---

Steve cleans up the remnants of a dropped milkshake at the store entrance, and his shorts are a little too tight, okay, he can feel the way they pull around his hips when he bends too much, but he has to clean the tile before the rush starts and customers complain. There's one spot, though, it's already dried, has to really put his back into it.

The food court is crowded by the time he finishes, bustling with customers. He turns to grab the bucket, and stops dead in his tracks. Munson sits on one of the built-in planters directly behind him. He was staring at Steve's polyester clad ass, but now his eyes travel up Steve's body, getting darker with desire as they go.

He's trapped in place by the force of Eddie's gaze, by the want there. They stare at each other in silence, Steve's blood thumping a vigorous rhythm.

The moment breaks when Robin's voice, calling his name, catches his attention. He turns back to his work without a word, but inside he's reeling.

---

Steve's opening alone, comes out from the back, and there Eddie is, lounging on the fountain rim with a magazine in hand. It's been a couple of days since he's been around, not since the incident. He watches as Munson languidly flips through the pages, seeming not to have a care in the world, and he--

Well, he's never really had to wait around for something he wants.

He stalks over to the fountain, stops when the tips of his sneakers touch the toes of Eddie's boots. And, yeah, he's in his dorky sailor outfit, but Munson didn't seem to mind the other day. Steve thinks maybe he likes it.

"Munson," he says. His hands are on his hips.

Eddie looks up, slow, taking Steve in. He leans back further, crosses his legs at the ankle. "Harrington."

They stare at each other. Steve starts biting his lip. Not as a move--he's nervous, suddenly, that all of this is a waste and Eddie isn't interested--but Munson's gaze hooks on his mouth, lingers, like a warm caress.

Steve's never initiated things between them before, isn't sure if it's working. He takes the chance, though, starts walking away.

He crosses through the seating area, past the counter, into the back, doesn't know for sure if Eddie is following until the door doesn't close right away behind him.

There's a single beat of a second where they watch each other and neither moves, before Eddie is on him, grabbing his shoulders and pushing him into the wall.

"What the fuck is this, Harrington, huh?" They're close enough for their noses to touch. "You ignore me for months and now--"

"You're here all the fucking time," he snaps back. "Sitting in the same spot like you own the place."

"So, I'm not allowed to be at the mall now?" Eddie sneers. "God forbid I'm in sight of the king."

Steve tries to pull away. "That's not what this is, and you know it."

"Then what is it, Stevie? Spell it out for me real slow to make sure I understand." He leans in, a little, and Steve stops breathing.

Eddie's lips brush his, a gentle press that isn't quite a kiss, not yet. His knees go weak, the wall at his back the only thing holding him up, but the kiss doesn't deepen. Instead, Eddie steps back, laughs. "You think I'm this easy, sweetheart? That you can lure me with your little sailor costume and I'll come without a fight?"

"Am I wrong?"

Eddie scoffs, turns his head, and Steve thinks he overplayed it, that his misread everything.

"Fuck you, Harrington." Eddie grabs him, then, hands fisting into his sailor shirt. "Fuck you and this stupid, sexy outfit. Fuck you for knowing this would work on me."

His mouth presses against Steve's throat, and he moans, clinging to Eddie's jacket.

"Listen to you, sweetheart," Eddie murmurs. "Making all those desperate, pathetic sounds for me. Almost like you missed me or something."

"I did." He groans as Eddie's mouth moves along his jaw. "Missed you so much, haven't been able to stop thinking about you."

Eddie sinks his teeth into Steve's cheek, and he has to stifle his shout. He's harder than he can remember ever being before, thinks he could come just from the feel of Eddie's teeth in his skin.

"That's not what you told Billy," Eddie says. "When he almost caught us."

"I didn't want him to hurt you," he gasps. "I--I didn't want him to have a reason."

Eddie pulls away, Steve grasping after him. "I can handle Hargrove."

"He hit me in the head with a plate." Steve points to the small scar on his forehead. "That's how I got that concussion last year."

"Oh," Eddie blinks. He cards his fingers through Steve's hair, pulling it out of the way to see the scar better. "Sweetheart. I thought--" he swallows, throat working. "I--I keep coming here to see you. I wanted--"

His hand falls to Steve's neck, drawing him in. For a second, Steve thinks it's another tease, but Eddie does kiss him this time. It's deep, desperate, so thorough he thinks Eddie's memorizing the taste of him. He doesn't want it to ever stop, not for a second.

Outside, someone starts hammering on the counter bell, shouting for service.

They slip apart, Eddie still gently cradling the back of Steve's neck. "Come over tonight?" Eddie's eyes are so dark, wanting, he could drown in them.

"Yes." Because there is no other answer.

He lets Eddie out the back door just as Robin yells from the front, "Harrington! We have a customer! I haven't clocked in yet!"

"Be right there," he yells back, but not fast enough that she doesn't catch a glimpse of Eddie slipping out.

She whirls to him, brow in an angry furrow. "Steve! I told you not to hurt him!"

He can't stop his smile. "Buckley, I promise you, Munson can take care of himself."

Saw THIS post and I just thought, what about the other way around?

Steve having those stickers for The Party as a joke and like a reflex he does the same with Eddie, putting one of them in his forehead with a 'good boy' comment.

Eddie is completely flabbergasted and dumbfounded, left gaping like a fish and blushing because that was cute as hell, he got called a good boy and also, who doesn't like stickers?