#Baker Steve Harrington

[hairmetal666]

Eddie's a mechanic, has a shop in Indy. It's only got two bays, but he owns it, he saved up the money, it's his. He runs it with Wayne, is building up a customer base. He loves it.

Within the year, a bakery opens up next door, separated from Eddie's shop by a narrow alley. He has a perfect view into the bakery's kitchen from the shop's office, and almost immediately catches a glimpse of the drop-dead gorgeous guy behind the mixing bowl. He's got sun-golden skin, swoopy brown hair, wide puppy dog eyes, the poutiest mouth, and a face dotted with freckles. Eddie gapes at him for a solid two-minutes, salivating over the bunch and pull of his muscles as he kneads a ball of dough. A wet dream come true.

Eddie's always sneaking glances at the shop next door, can't seem to keep his gaze off the most beautiful man he's ever seen. Over the next few months, he becomes familiar with this herd of kids that hang around the bakery at all hours. There's one, curly-haired and mouthy, who often makes the baker frown with his hands on his hips, but as soon as the boy walks away, the baker smiles all wide and fond.

It's a silly crush, no big deal. He has a weakness for brown-eyed pretty boys, so what? It's not like he's going to do anything crazy, like make a move.

It's past midnight, a few months after the bakery opens, and Eddie's in his little office, doing the monthly accounting. He's exhausted, tired of calculators and numbers, when a flash of light catches at the corner of his eye. He blinks a few times, sure it's the exhaustion setting in, but it doesn't go away.

Instead, there's a light on over at the bakery. It's a kitchen light, and the baker is standing at the stainless steel counter, looking unlike Eddie's ever seen. His hair is a soft wave, swooping onto his forehead. He wears grey sweatpants and a yellow sweatshirt. Tonight, his movements are less precise and practiced; he's slow and contemplative as he gathers ingredients and mixing bowls.

It's been long enough Eddie should look away, but he forgets that it isn't a dream, that he's actually watching the baker roll up his sleeves as he whisks. It's inevitable that, eventually, the baker catches Eddie staring. He just smiles, though, and waves. Eddie manages to return the greeting before awareness smacks him in the face, and he flees the office and the building in acute embarrassment.

They share waves after that. Smiles. Laughter once when Eddie's reading over an invoice and walking, smacks face-first into the doorframe. Eye rolls after the baker gets into an impassioned argument with the curly-haired boy, one that involves a copious amount of thrown flour.

They exchange waves and smiles and goofy expressions, and it shouldn't escalate further, but one day Eddie steps into the shop's waiting room to find the curly-haired boy sitting behind the reception desk, flipping through Eddie's new dnd guide.

"What." Eddie says.

"You," says the boy. He's pointing and glaring and Eddie is a little scared.

"Me?"

"You like dnd?"

He hopes his sigh of relief isn't audible. "Best DM this town has ever seen." He postures and smirks.

"Doubt it," the boy says.

Eddie lets out an offended squeak, dramatically smashes his hand over his heart. "Insulted! Maligned! In my own place of business! Oh!" He falls into a dramatic swoon.

The boy snickers. "I'm Dustin," he says.

"Eddie." They shake hands and Eddie does not laugh at how overly serious this is all is. "Sir Dustin, what brings you to my fine establishment?"

Dustin shrugs. "Steve."

"Steve?"

Dustin rolls his eyes. "The bakery."

"Oh," Eddie says. Steve. The baker is Steve.

He's having a little trouble breathing, sure he's done something wrong, a distinct feeling of doom settling on his shoulders. "Why?"

"He won't stop talking about the mechanic next door but refuses to introduce himself. Plus, I saw your D20 tattoo the other day."

Eddie's barely hearing him, reeling over the knowledge that Steve talks about him to his gaggle of children. He barely hears the rest of the conversation, but the next day Dustin shows up with the rest of the kids, Lucas, Mike, Max, El, Erica, Will.

They're loud, chaotic, wild, and somehow--before they leave--they've coerced him into running a one-shot for them. They come by in twos and threes for the rest of the week, eating all the snacks in the waiting room mini-fridge and talking at him and Wayne as they work.

It's Friday, it's sweltering, he's closing the shop for the night with the top of his coveralls hanging off hips, his sweat soaked undershirt tossed behind a tool chest. He steps into the waiting area and nearly jumps out of his skin to find a man there, holding a plastic container.

Steve.

"H--hi," he stutters. And fuck, he's shirtless. He's standing in front of Steve for the first time and his nipples are out. This is it, the moment he finally dies of embarrassment.

Steve's eyes are locked on Eddie's torso for a few seconds too long, cheeks flushing. He blinks, finally looking at Eddie's face. "I'm Steve. From the--the bakery next door?" He points. "I--uh--I wanted to stop by and apologize?"

"What?" Eddie asks. There's too much happening for him to keep up.

"Um, the kids?"

And Eddie can't fathom why he needs to apologize, can only stare at Steve in confused disbelief.

"It's just. They can be kind of a handful. I used to babysit Mike and the whole group of them started following me around, and--Anyway, I think Dustin took it upon himself to try to introduce us. I've been wondering where they keep disappearing off to, and Max told me today that they're here with you, and I thought I probably owed you an apology. You're trying to work and I know they can be a bunch of shitheads, and oh my god, I'm rambling, I really am turning into Robin, Jesus Christ."

Eddie is fucked. Oh he's so fucked. He's charmed, endeared, can't stop smiling at Steve who is somehow even more beautiful up close.

"I forgive you," Eddie says. "They're nice kids."

Steve lets out a hard breath. "They are, huh?" He smiles. "Don't let them hear you say that. You'll never get a moment's peace. And they shouldn't have been over here bothering you, anyway."

"It wasn't a bother. Though, they did eat all my snacks and swindle me into running a one-shot for them. Still not sure how that happened."

Steve laughs and his eyes crinkle at the corner. So fucked. So fucked. "I should've known that you play that game of theirs."

"Aw, not a dnd fan, Stevie?"

Steve blushes. "It's--there's a lot of math."

Eddie laughs, already knows he's never getting over this one. "You bake professionally."

"It's different?" Steve laughs. "Fine, fine! You got me, it's not my thing."

"Bet I could change your mind," Eddie says. He doesn't mean to be flirting, can't stop himself.

"I bet you could," Steve agrees. He moves his hand, like maybe he's going to run it through his swoop of hair, then seems to remember he's holding baked goods. "Oh, uh, please take these cupcakes as my apology for accidentally saddling you with my group of semi-feral children."

"You're already forgiven, but I'll never say no to a cupcake."

"You should stop by the shop tomorrow, then" Steve says. "On the house."

"You've already given me these." He wiggles the cupcakes in Steve's pretty face.

"I only save the free samples for the hottest customers." Steve does run a hand through his hair now, and it's dorky as fuck, but Eddie still feels like he's died and this is heaven. "See you tomorrow?"

Eddie can only nod as Steve backs out of the office with a cheeky little wave.

He goes to the bakery the next day, sure he just let his crush get away from him and imagined the entire interaction with Steve. Except, when he walks in, Steve smiles all big and pretty in his little blue apron, invites Eddie back to the kitchen.

And if they share their first kiss against the stainless steel countertops, it's between them, Wayne, and all the kids who spy on them from the shop's office window.

[stevieschrodinger]

Part One of Rock Star Eddie and Baker Steve wrong number AU

Link to Part Two

Eddie's got dubious history with picture messages. Only a very small group of people have his number, considering he's the front man of a multimillion best selling metal band, he doesn't ever want his number to be public knowledge.

So yeah, picture message from and unknown number? Dubious.

Eddie's had enough dick and...vag...pics in his time that he, honestly, doesn't really want another. But when the picture is followed by a message, "were you thinking something like this?"

Well, Eddie's a curious guy. So, committing himself to the idea that this might be new number time, again, he opens the message.

To be confronted with a cake. A really fucking cool cake actually, it's got a car dashing around a muddy track on top with a big '5' in the middle. All of it looks edible, made out of...cake stuff. Eddie has no idea what it is, but it looks delicious.

"One layer chocolate, one layer red velvet? I can do any combination of flavours you want."

Well. Eddie isn't anything but impulsive and he was trying to figure out what the fuck to do for the 'quiet' celebration they were planning for going platinum. Again.

"I think you have the wrong number'" Eddie types, "but I definitely want to order a cake from you."

"Oh my god I'm so sorry, unsolicited cake pics are the worst 😉"

And Eddie can't help it, he laughs, and types back, "if I told you I wanted three tiers of the darkest, spookiest, cherry chocolate what would you come up with?"

It takes a couple of minutes, but Eddie's phone pings twice in quick succession, the first picture is of a spooky orange cake clearly Halloween themed, covered in ghosts and skeletons and stuff. The second is jet black and has a coffin on top that looks like it's leaking green corrosive stuff and Eddie nearly throws his phone in excitement. "That! The second one!"

"🤣 that's an old pic, I was just starting out then, but everything is edible, the green slime is made out of jello"

"Where are you based and can you make it for the 15th? I'll get a courier to collect."

"Sure thing, how many portions? And I need a deposit up front. I'll do chocolate ganache and cherry filling."

"Errr...like, 150? Maybe?"

Eddie sits and watches as the dots appear and disappear, appear and disappear, and then there's a pic.

It's a selfie of the most beautiful man he's ever seen. And he's standing in a kitchen, holding a cake pan. Suddenly Eddie's phone is ringing in his hand and he is panicking because beautiful man is calling him. "Hello?"

"Hey, man, it's Steve, the cake guy?". Eddie assumes he makes an affirmative noise because Steve keeps talking, "anyway, that cake pan I'm holding is literally the largest one I own, even if I did three tiers, no way will it cater that many, I'm a small business, you know, it's just me. I can recommend you some companies I know would do a great job."

But then, Eddie will never get to talk to beautiful man ever again, "what if you made like, three cakes?". He asks desperately.

There's a long beat of silence on the phone, "I mean, in theory, I mean, it might cost you more than-"

"I'll pay it. I'll pay double, for, inconvenience, or whatever-"

And oh no, beautiful man has the most beautiful laugh too. Eddie's fucked. He's so fucked.

"I'll raise you, two cakes and fifty muffins?" Steve laughs again, and Eddie laughs right along with him.

Steve grabs his phone when it pings, hoping for Eddie. It is Eddie. It's a selfie from the neck down, like always, Steve still doesn't know what the guy looks like, but Eddie's wearing a deep red shirt that he's clearly just dumped a whole cup of coffee down, "hope your days going better than mine, sweetheart,"

Steve sends back a selfie with a lump of uncooperative modelling fondant in the background, "that depends, can you tell what this is supposed to be?"

Steve's pretty sure it's wierd to talk to a customer every day, but he's started to find he's looking forward to Eddie's messages. Even when they turn flirty. Especially when they turn flirty, maybe.

And maybe it's not exactly professional that Steve's found a lot of reasons to call Eddie. He just, needs to get this right, and if Eddie wants chocolate covered cherries on the cupcakes, well, Steve needs to call him and check, right? Right.

Steve heads out into the lounge with flour on his nose and a mixing bowl under his arm, Dustin, Lucas and Max are sprawled on the couch, El lying on the floor. He can hear Mike and Will fucking around outside. He spoons up some cherry mixture, "hey will you try-"

"Shhhhhhhh!"

Well. Rude. Steve looks to the interview they're watching on the TV. It's some metal band Steve vaguely recognises, and when the lead guy speaks...Steve has to sit down. Because that sounds a lot like-

"So, Eddie," the show host guy starts, and Steve's knees would go weak of he wasn't already sitting down. He's certain his stomach has left the building. "Seeing anyone?"

Eddie laughs, says no, but the band mate next to him makes a show of nudging Eddie and sharing a look.

The host picks up on it immediately, "so there is someone," Eddie's still shaking his head, but he's got a shy smile on his face that makes Steve feel like he's melting. "Come on Eddie, give us something."

"It's not a thing," Eddie flaps his hands, "don't make it a thing."

"Oh it's a thing alright," the audience laugh, "come on, give us something!"

Eddie looks uncomfortable for a second before shrugging, "they, uhm, they make the most amazing cakes you've ever seen."

[yearningagain]

it's enough (to make a girl blush)

HIIII EVERYONE so you know that fic i was asking for a beta reader for?? well i found one!! and i'd like to present the first chapter of it's enough (to make a girl blush), my first SERIOUS fic that i 100% intend on finishing!!

i'd like to thank the amazing @kayleeofcamelot for being my lovely beta reader <3

also on AO3!

wc: 1.1k | rating: e (18+) | pairing: steddie | cw: none | tags: a/b/o, alpha eddie munson, omega steve harrington, modern au, baker steve, famous eddie, getting together, gay eddie, bi steve, soulmates/true mates/scent mates, side buckingham

part two | part three

--------------

"God, fuck- alpha, please ..." Steve begs, sat upon a man's toned, yet lean thigh, grinding and rutting against it as he chased his high. The man chuckled darkly, his hands coming to grip Steve's hips, tight enough that Steve knows there will be bruises, guiding him along roughly.

With barely open eyes, he managed to peek at the hands that would surely leave marks come morning. Dark tendrils of tattoos that stretched from the man’s second knuckle and up his arms. Fingertips calloused and dexterous, nails bitten and paint chipped, and almost every finger has more than two silver rings adorning it, save for his right hands ring finger. No, that finger holds only one ring. An aged, loved, golden band with three small red crystals set in a line.

Small gasps left Steve's lips, every roll of the omega’s hips pressed his cocklette deliciously against the fabric of the omega's thin shorts. Both pants had surely been ruined by the amount of slick that poured out of him, but he couldn't make himself feel bad about it, even if he tried. Something inside him, his omega , told him that the alpha was having just as much fun as he was.

"Ah- ‘M close, alpha..." Steve pants, head feeling pleasantly fuzzy. He could smell how his own scent had changed, the spiced apple scent turning into something heady and thick. Suddenly, he got hit with the most divine scent in the world. Campfire smoke and pine, a hint of petrichor and old books. Home- a whispered thought. It almost sent him over the edge.

Almost.

Then, all of a sudden, everything felt wrong . It was as if he was floating away from his body, his mind a balloon escaping a child's loose clutch. He couldn't smell the alpha, just his own scent turning sour and rotten. The cool sensation of the man's rings where they pressed into bare skin suddenly spread all over, no longer comforting, but as if ice water had engulfed him. Something nagged at him, though, in the back of his mind. Something like a spark, settling into the omega and igniting coals to keep him warm and happy.

And Steve opened his eyes.

—

Steve glared at himself in the mirror, bare in preparation for a shower. There were no marks, no evidence of anything happening. One more glance over his entire body confirmed that there was nothing left of the alpha. It was a simple wet dream. The only thing that kept him from dismissing the dream entirely was his strong disappointment when he woke up alone, and the low thrum of energy he could feel stemming from his inner omega. (And the slick-soaked sheets he'd have to deal with later.) If he focused hard enough, he could almost hear the whispering rumble of "Mate. Alpha. Mate. Alpha."

He shook himself from his stupor and hopped in the shower. What did it mean, this newfound warmth over someone he'd apparently made up in his mind? Was he really that lonely? No, of course not. 

(Yes. He was.)

After turning over question after question in his mind only to come up blank, he sighed. He'd have to talk to Robin about this. 

Reluctantly set in his decision, he got out of the shower and patted himself dry, threw his hair up in a towel, and put on a fresh pair of sweats. Throwing a glance at his alarm clock, it read 9:57 AM . Robin should be awake by now, hunched over their dinky coffee machine with her eyes still closed and dried drool on her chin. 

It was Sunday, so Robin didn't have class and the bakery Steve worked at, Claudia's Cakes , was closed for the day. He figured he could take her out to lunch. Maybe the deli two doors down from the bakery? He had been having a craving for their Cubano recently. 

Stepping out of his room and shuffling to the kitchen, Steve found Robin exactly like he thought, arms braced on the counter to pillow her resting head. The coffee machine gurgled away, the strong scent mingling with Robin’s earthy strawberry aroma.

"Morning, Robs."

A small groan is all he got in response. He chuckled softly and fetched the sugar and creamer, setting it on the counter next to his best friend's birds nest of bed head. Taking his place at their table, he opened up his phone to check his messages (mostly from Dustin talking about some band he found online).  Soon, Robin slumped into the chair across from him, a mug of coffee placed in front of him as she sipped on her own. Now that she was actually awake, she looked at him with a curious expression.

"What? Do I have something on my face?" Steve asked her.

She hummed, taking a calculating look. "No, nothing on your face. You just... you smell different. Not bad different! Just different, like instead of cinnamon apple cake, you smell like roasted apples. And honey? What's up with that?" 

Steve is surprised she doesn't spill her coffee all over the place with how she flings her arms around, emphasizing her question with a pointed finger and finally slamming her mug down.

"I don't know, dude.” Another glare from her. "I really don't! Anyways, did you want to grab lunch at the deli today? My treat."

Sighing and giving him one last glare, she shrugged. "Yeah, sure. I’ve been meaning to stop by the record store, could we swing by on the way back?”

Steve threw a pointed glance to their overflowing record crate below their old record player, a housewarming gift from Robin’s mom. She huffed in response, crossing her arms and mumbled “I just want to look.”

Crimson painted her cheeks and she avoided his gaze, which was all Steve needed to know. He knew Robin had made a friend (or crush rather) in her music theory class at UIC, and she and Steve were basically some sort of cosmic twins, and he knew all of her tells. So when he asked if he’s finally going to meet her, she really shouldn’t be that surprised. She still looked up at him with wide eyes, dropping her arms to the table. Another pointed look from Steve and she relented, “She told me to stop in when I could because she wants to show me this really cool limited edition vinyl the store got in recently and she looked so pretty when she asked, Steve. She had these pigtails and she was wearing this eyeshadow that made her eyes pop and she was wearing the skirt I told you about, the one with the hearts? Yeah, that one! And her sweater was, like, four sizes too big and she looked tiny! Anyways, how could I possibly say no when she looks like that?! She batted her eyelashes at me, Steve. Don’t give me that look.”

The omega simply sighed, shook his head fondly, and stood up. 

“Be ready in an hour, Buckley.”

[formosusiniquis]

have your cake

So way back in August 2023 the steddiemicrofic challenge was Cake and 311 words, my head empty brain came up with one thought and it was Steve Munson having a bakery called Mun's Buns and so many months later I finally got around to finishing my vision

Ships: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson; Tommy Hagan/Carol Perkins; implied/past Tommy Hagan/Steve Harrington/Carol Perkins WC: 6408 | T | tags: Future Fic, the lightest of post homoerotic friendship breakup angst, fluff, Tommy POV AO3

The bakery has a stupid name, is the first thing Tommy thinks when Carol tells him where he's supposed to meet her on his lunch break. He’s still thinking that, when he sees the place for the first time through his rain speckled windshield. It's a modest storefront, small for what Carol says is a booming business, tucked in next to a used bookstore and a music shop. There's a baby yellow awning hanging from the front just underneath a sign lettered in soft blue that reads Mun's Buns.

He's late, is the second thing he thinks after pulling up. Caught up in some stupid bullshit for his dad he hadn't managed to slip away until 12:30. Even then it had only been because Tommy had told him he was going to be late for their cake tasting. He'd rolled his eyes when his father and Greg, a guy that Tommy only considers a co-worker in the sense that they are technically on the same payroll since Greg in every other aspect is incompetent and an idiot, had winced. Shooing him away like a kid who'd just admitted that he's already twenty minutes past curfew. But catching sight of the way Carol has her arms crossed, tapping her foot fast enough to kickstart a motor, while her hair hangs limp in a way that it hadn’t this morning a third thought crosses his mind: maybe he should have been a little more worried.

Waiting isn’t going to make things any better. So he steps out of the car, let’s the misty damp cling to him in a way that makes his dress pants and button down feel like a poorly tailored second skin, and takes his licks like a man. "Late, thirty minutes late. Christ, it's the only thing I've asked from you Tommy." Her right hook stings just as badly as it did sophomore year when she punched him for asking out Erin Murphy instead of her.

Shit like that is probably why no one expected them to make it this long or this far.

When they went away to college; different schools, hours apart. His parents had been gleeful as they'd warned him that high school relationships didn't always last. That he should keep his options open, he didn't want to miss out on the love of his life just because of comfort. He didn't get offered the family ring when he decided to propose right after graduation. Carol has always been particular. Wanted the house to come back to before the wedding could happen, wanted a long honeymoon. That meant saving, a lot of it. Tommy knew and Carol did too, they'd overheard his mother and aunt gossiping in too loud voices after too much wine that they hoped the long engagement meant they were both trying to figure out a good way to break it off with one another. 

Still, over the course of their now five year engagement no one's asked once if they wanted to trade for it.

Carol thought it was horrendous anyway. She���d had her ring picked out since ‘85, styled her class ring so it would look like the oval cut diamond she wanted. Had him slide it on her finger the second it came in.

Cause in the politest of terms, Carol could be a raging bitch. She was Tommy's favorite person in the entire world.

There’s going to be a bruise on his shoulder tomorrow, even if she’s guiltily smoothing a hand down his arm now. Thrust toward the door first in offering, Carol is sorry she hit him but she’s not apologetic. “I’m serious, Tom, if we lose this appointment and have to go with Sweet Treats for our cake I'll- I'll-"

Whatever threat she was preparing is drowned out and then cut off by the echoing TONG of the door chime. A light in the back shifts color for a second, out of place enough that he wonders if he even really saw it. Head tilting toward Carol, his question catches in his throat when he notices her pinched off appraising. Better not to add to the ammunition she might already be building.

And if Carol is looking he better do it too. She'll want to debrief when they're having dinner tonight, just like they did with the florist, the caterer, the three wedding planners they'd met with, and each of the venues that they'd visited. And it wasnt because she was demanding, fuck you Greg. It wasn't because she was being nitpick-y, alright it was a little bit because she was but he liked being particular with her. He liked being involved in his wedding.

So he looked around.

The way they utilized their space -- a building that big and there's barely enough room to stand, we want someone who knows how to work with limited space for the venues we're looking at -- was the reason their first wedding planner hadn't gotten hired. Small, but not cramped. There are a handful of tables scattered in the open space in front of the counter. It’s the kind of small town cozy that Hawkins had tried for and he doesn’t see very often anymore now that they’ve moved out to Indianapolis.

It’s lunchtime, still too early for people to be seeking out the rows of deserts in their neat glass counter and too late for the breakfast crowd. But one of the tables is occupied by a teenager with long, black braids scribbling in a notebook while a slice of ice cream cake melts on a plate by her elbow. 

Everything was neat, organized, and compliant with health code regulations -- they hadn’t even made it in the door of the first caterer’s when she noticed a trail of ants and roaches marching into the open kitchen door.

Carol had always been quick when she was making up her mind about something. Like those Sherlock Holmes stories they’d had to read in school, in a couple of seconds she could spot everything she needed to make a decision. After a decade Tommy still couldn’t keep up; but he was always best at following someone else’s lead.

The smile she’s got frosted across her face is as sugary and fake as the roses on the cupcakes he can see behind the low topped counters as she approaches the only visible staff member. A girl, young in the way that nebulous way anyone younger than him was now, with thick squared glasses that magnified two distressingly blue eyes. The counters looked like they were designed to sit low enough that she could easily see over the top while in her wheelchair.

“Welcome to,” her customer service tone borders on bored. Two words into a clear script and she sighs, as if saying the name physically pains her, “Mun’s Buns. We’ve got a special series of summer flavors: Strawberry Lemonade, Lavender Mint, Chocolate Fudgsicle, and,” she sighs again, “for the grownups a boozy Blue Moon with orange zest.”

“How about a wedding cake.” He’s impressed. Carol made it through the speech without interrupting.

“Do you have an appointment?” the girl raises her voice, enough to make them both flinch back. Customer service isn’t a requirement for this part of the job necessarily, but Carol had bailed on two venues because the staff hadn’t been polite enough.

Her smile doesn’t crack though, “Yes.”

Even though he’s pretty sure this girl has to be basically blind with the inch thick frames, she levels Carol with a lethal stare. “Not you.”

From the open entryway behind her Tommy had been able to make out what sounded like the highlights of yesterday’s game. He assumed that space had to be the kitchen where these rows of deserts were made. He’s still surprised when a guy’s voice is shouting back, “I don't know, Max, do I? Why don't you check?”

“How am I supposed to do that?” Max shouts back, glowering at then in stand in for her mystery boss.

“With your finger, asshole. It's in braille. When I gave you this job you said you were actually gonna work.”

“Douchebag." Her eyes never leave them, while her hands rummage around in a space beneath the counter where the cash register sits. Max offers no explanation or apology for her shouting or for her boss. A large red appointment book gets slammed down on the nearest counter, making Carol jump but the neat two by twos of chocolate frosted cupcakes don't budge. He watches, a little fascinated by the way her finger scans the page before slowing. "Did you write this or did Dustin?"

Carol has always valued gossip over professionalism, he thinks that’s why she’s done so well as a hairdresser even though she was always awful at chemistry. It’s also why he’s held off from pointing out that they could solve this a lot faster if this guy would come out from the back. "Why?" 

“Cause one of you can't spell and one of you is trying to invent braille shorthand. So I'm not really sure what to do with TomGan Wed.”

“It might be Thomas and Wedding.” Carol leans over the appointment book as she says it, using a tone of voice he has never once heard her use in the entire time he’s known her. He thinks it’s supposed to be helpful.

“Wedding sampler.” The girl calls toward the back, “It's getting late.”

“I’ve got it,” the voice from the back shouts back.There’s an effortless assurance Tommy can hear from where he’s standing. It hits him with a wave of nostalgia so strong he grabs Carol’s arm on instinct.

“Really,” she says, cutting her gaze over to him. He’s not sure what she sees. “If we could hurry this along, it's just we've only got an hour.”

“You're late.” The glare she gets shuts Carol down faster than he’s ever seen.

“Right.”

“Okay I've got it.” The voice from the back is now the voice in the doorway. Hidden for a second by a serving tray loaded with samples of rich looking cake, it’s the first time since arriving that Tommy has actually wanted to be here. Not just because he can make out strong shoulders and a body of a man that’s still very fit but clearly enjoys his work too; the hint of love handles above strong thighs. Only then that tray dips, and for the first time since 1985 Tommy finds himself looking at the shocked hazel eyes of Steve Harrington. “Oh.”

Carol reacts for him, taking in a breath sharp enough she might puncture a lung. They’ll both wind up suffocated on the floor of this stupid bakery with an awful name, because Tommy can’t manage to breathe at all looking at Steve. Still unfairly handsome, faintly pink at the shock of seeing them too he imagined.

His hair is long, is the first real thought his half fried brain manages to put together. Soft looking even where it’s damp at the temples where sweat has pooled. He has it pulled back with a couple of the same butterfly clips that Carol likes to use.

His second, somehow more hysterical thought: this wasn’t how Steve Harrington was supposed to be included in his wedding.

Tommy was six years old and knew he wanted to marry Steve. When he’d told his mom -- to ask for her ring, Steve thought it was romantic like princes and princesses that they had a special ring that they got married with -- she’d grabbed by his arm so hard it’d left finger shaped bruises. So he’d held that certainty quiet in his heart until he was ten, and suddenly it was okay to want to play with girls on the playground -- he thinks it’s because Steve got tired of there never being an even number when they tried to play kickball, he had a way of making everyone want to do the thing he was. Carol wasn’t afraid to tell Tommy C. that he was dumb or to tell Mark L. that he hadn’t actually made it to the base, Steve liked her fast. Too fast, and Tommy had to tell her that one day he was going to be able to keep Steve all to himself. But he knew that it wasn’t right to say that now, even if he wasn’t all the way sure why it wasn’t. He was ten, but he would be eleven soon, and he took this part of him that he’d kept secret for so long and he whispered it to Carol under the slide while Steve tried to convince Brad P. that he could too pick two people for his kickball team first.

He was ten and Carol said they could share. Boys can’t marry boys, but girls can. So they could both marry her and live together forever.

It became a joke when they finally shared it with Steve, thirteen and boys going out with girls wasn’t funny the way it used to be. Sarah Jane asked Carol if she had a chance at going steady with Steve. She told Tommy about it later and they both told Steve that he was too good to date any of the girls in their grade. “Well I’ve got you guys,” his voice cracked when he said it, throwing an arm around both of them. Carol didn’t care as much, but even she’d noticed the way Steve was changing from boyish to handsome.

They were sixteen and disaster was just around the corner, not that he knew that. Steve dated around but he always came back to them. The head, the heart, the body. They don’t feel complete without each other -- at least Tommy doesn’t. Mr. Kripke, who was hungover more often than he wasn't, passed out ten minutes into study hall. Carol didn’t even wait to see if he’d wake back up before she left her assigned table for theirs. She smoothed out a lined piece of notebook paper for them, and Tommy scoffed like he was supposed to. “Aren’t we a little old to be playing MASH?”

“It’s dirty MASH, and I thought you’d think it was funny.”

“I think it’s funny,” Steve had said, “that you’re getting eiffel towered on your wedding night. Who else is joining in, Carrie?”

“We couldn’t agree on who got you for their side of the aisle. So we’re taking you to bed instead.”

He was sixteen and the way that the two of them looked when they shared a joke was the hottest thing in the world. The way their smiles mirror when they turned to him, sharp and ready to flay open the softest parts of him.

Tommy’s two days older when Steve lets him kiss the taste of Carol out of his mouth.

It was three days after he turned seventeen and he had to pretend he didn't want to die when he saw how Steve looked at Nancy Wheeler. Like he didn’t want to rip his hair out because Steve was fucking infatuated with this mousy little teacher’s pet and wouldn’t even look at him anymore.

He still doesn’t like to think about the breakup. He pokes it like a fresh bruise. Less often now, but when he does he digs his fingers in. Baits Carol into fights he doesn’t mean just so he can pretend like he hasn’t lost something that hurts like a limb.

Steve Harrington turns twenty-eight next week, and he’s standing in front of them both holding pieces of what might turn into their wedding cake.

“Wow I can’t believe you’re in Indy!” False excitement grates, but at least Carol has gotten herself together enough to speak. He thought he’d have at least another few months to prepare for the thought of seeing Steve, by their ten year reunion he was going to be married and happy and over it.

“Yeah, this is- Married, wow! I kinda can’t believe you haven’t already.” He says it to Carol, his platitudes had always been for Carol, but his eyes find Tommy. 

While Carol chatters at them and for them both, nervous, he knows she’s nervous. The situation is sudden and strange and fraught. But Tommy just looks at Steve, who looks at him. He’s getting married in three months, one week, and two days from now and for the first time in eleven years Steve is looking at him.

"Takes a while to save up for when you want the best of everything. Dad's still the skinflint he always was, I think he'd pay me less than minimum wage if he could get away with it."

And those soft brown eyes look so sad, looking at him. Sometimes he thinks no one will ever understand him the way that Steve did.

"There's nothing wrong with wanting the best, or having a long engagement." Carol defends. It's the same line she's been giving everyone. Defensive of him and herself and the choices they've been making. He can't believe Steve is someone she thinks they have to defend against.

“I really hope you're happy, man," he says, and the sincerity is a balm on the sting of this conversation. He pushes his hair back from his face, the way he always has when he's uncomfortable and trying not to make it obvious. And there's a fresh new hurt when Tommy catches sight of a plain gold band on Steve's finger, shining bright between the golden highlights of his hair.

“I’m happy about this,” he can say honestly. Carol is one of the only things he’s ever been sure about. She held him steady as she could when his other sure thing left him with a cracked foundation in a convenience store parking lot. “What about you? How long after meeting the future Mrs. Harrington did you wait to put a ring on her finger?”

“Tommy,” Carol chides as the teen in the corner snorts. To anyone else it would sound like a reprimand for being nosy, he, and he suspects Steve, knows she’s telling him to stop worrying a scab that has no hope of healing right.

Married and they didn’t know. Wouldn’t have found out until the reunion. It’s not like he expected an invitation, maybe an engagement announcement sent to their parents’ houses. They’d sent one to Loch Nora when the real ring had finally made it to Carrie’s finger. It was equal parts olive branch and offering. They’d gotten it back return to sender with no forwarding address.

The bell above the door tongs again, loud enough to make Carol jump. The platter of cakes doesn't shift at all in Steve’s hand. His arm shows no sign of fatigue. It’s almost distracting enough that he misses the obvious. The bell signals someone is coming into the store.

“Sorry, Sweetheart. I know I said I wasn't gonna be late but Mike…” There just inside the door is the Freak. Undeniable even with his head down as he digs through his shoulder bag. From the riot of poorly maintained tangles that still hang around his shoulders to the expanded mess of tacky ink on his arms. The only thing that’s changed is the age in his face and the band on his shirt.

“Munson?” Carol has the reflexes and the personal grace to address him first. Shock more than the disgust it might have been when they were still kids.

Tommy feels like a kid still. Looks to Steve in an instinct he’d thought he’d stamped out years ago, only to be met with wide eyes and teeth grit tight enough to draw out the square line of his jaw.

“Christ, I still get nightmares that start like this.” Munson says, eye darting between the three of them. “Max, am I naked?”

“Don't know, don't wanna know.”

“I thought you'd be able to tell by the energy in the room.” He wiggles his fingers, still bedecked in silver, like they can divine the vibrations or some witchy shit.

That’s enough to make Steve break just a little. A soft, exhaling scoff before he finally starts to move out from the counter. Tommy catches, and he doubts Carol misses it either, how Steve passes the closer tables to set his tray down between them and Munson.

“I can tell I don't want to be here for this.” Their redheaded audience member says, “I'm taking my 15.”

“Don't go harass Mike, he's finally working,” Munson says.

“Will and El are on shift on the other side,” Steve calls out, not looking at any of them as he moves cakes from his tray to the table. A deliberate selection he seems to be making.

“Whatever, I’m gonna call Lucas and break up with him so he can play better or whatever.”

“Don’t be too harsh,” Munson calls out, “I’ve only got him on a five point spread.”

If Carol’s nails break from how hard they’re digging into his arm, somehow it’ll be Tommy’s fault. Not the fact that they’ve advanced the worst part of their ten year reunion by months, and also Munson is here and knows shit about basketball.

“Sorry, think my hearing’s going, sounded like you said you want him to lose and he’s getting kicked from the next one shot. I’ll let him know.”

“She gets that from you,” Steve and Munson say in sync. Glaring playfully at one another the way Steve used to with Carol.

“I’ll tell Robin you were-”

“Do not sick Buckley on me, Max made the deaf joke not me.”

“Weird, that’s not what I heard.” Steve has always claimed his hair as his best feature. It isn’t -- Carrie liked his eyes, Tommy his hands -- but it’s hard to deny that it doesn’t look good, flipping over his shoulder. His smile is private, just for Munson, soft the way he got whenever he picked up a new girl. Carrie taps the back of his hand, two sharp smacks, their signal for years that he needed to pay attention and notice something she had. Wide, nervous eyes dart to Steve -- like he hadn’t already been looking at Steve -- so he does his best to assess the way Carol would.

Jealous, viciously, Steve had been theirs in every way that mattered since they were ten years old and Carol had never liked sharing her toys with anyone but them. She watched his face for any sign of unhappiness anytime a new girlfriend came along, and when she found one she passed it along to him. So he could pick and joke until Steve was all theirs again.

So he checked the face. Tried to ignore the way Steve was lit up from the inside out with a joy he could barely remember, and then he saw the hearing aid.

He tapped back, three times. O.M.G.

“The 1985 Homecoming court here to reveal that this has all been a long con, Stevie?”

“Yeah I faked the name change paperwork and picked up a fake ID, sorry I took my business somewhere else.” Steve says it with the sincerity he’s always made those kind of jokes with, his strange sense of humor never coming across when he always sounded so serious. 

Munson gets it though, snorts loud and ugly, before a smile pulls wide across half his face the otherside taught with a gnarly scar. “Now I know why my fake ID business went belly up when we got to the city, not like I only sold three in high school.”  He gestures to the three of them in a wide arc.

Sophomores, they had decided it was time to throw their first real party now that Steve’s parents had moved out of Hawkins in all but name. Steve was a latchkey kid of new proportions and took to self sufficiency in a way that had seemed adult to him then; and in hindsight looked more like a child fighting for his life. Steve bragged how he’d been saving up the weekly checks they’d sent to ‘sustain him’ while they worked in the city during the week. His contribution to Tommy and Carol’s vague plan to throw a kegger by the pool. When they’d floundered, immediately, with the hows, Steve had been the one to suggest going to Munson.

“Love this preview of the reunion,” Carol cuts in, there’s no bite but Munson bristles anyway like she’s being rude for reminding them that there are customers present. “Steve?”

It’s funny, Tommy thinks, the way Steve still straightens his back at Carol’s tone. All this time and he can’t fight the old ingrained instincts either.

“Dustin made the appointment,” Steve apologizes, even as he’s posture perfect and preparing his pastries. The unsaid, ‘I definitely wouldn’t have’ doesn’t go unheard and it doesn’t sting any less even this far from their last interaction.

“Munson could join us,” Tommy offers, a new olive branch since their last one was never seen. Even if it does raise three sets of brows and makes Carrie’s nervous smile tighten even more in the corner of her mouth.

“Well at least one of us has to,” Munson, Eddie, says. Just says, tone like it was meant to be something said under his breath.

He's grown up a lot since high school, they both have. Still, he's only got twenty minutes left on his lunch break and it's been a long day. "God, is that why it's called that?" Growth, he doesn't say that Steve Munson sounds a lot dumber than Steve Harrington.

"It's charming," Carol and Steve both say. Though Carrie is definitely lying and Steve barely gets it out from between his gritted teeth, a sore spot. He's always been good at finding Steve's bruises.

"It's charming," Tommy agrees, like he always did when he was out voted.

Eddie has a smirk spread across his face and a ‘too proud of himself’ look in his eyes. Mouth open to make some quip that Tommy is going to pretend is funny, for Steve’s sake. Now that they’re here, he’s going to do something to show that they could talk to one another again. Steve clicks his tongue, taps his index and middle finger down to his thumb two quick times before he can.

He turns to the girl in the corner, "Erica, scram, go help Robin and the kids with the new donation that just came in."

The teen continues to scribble in the notebook in front of her, bulky headphones over her ears, she makes no sign that Tommy can see that she's heard Steve speak. "Erica, go, or I'll tell your mother you moved out of the dorms. You're 20, it's not child labor, and you've got a timecard."

She sighs and wordlessly packs up her things, she gives Steve a scathing look that takes Tommy back to high school. The withering eyebrow and rolled eyes would have been just at home on Steve’s own face in 1985, but she marches behind the counter, the sound of her dish rattling in the sink before she disappears out the same door that the redhead had gone out.

Now that the room has been cleared, an awkward silence has found the space to squeeze in. Munson, the original, still standing in the doorway and Steve standing between his unlawfully wedded husband and the two people who had lost their chance at him years ago.

The wedding and the reunion both on the horizon had dredged up a nostalgia that Tommy and Carol had been dealing with in their own ways. Dredging up old yearbooks, Carol had found a shoebox of old notes that she’d kept. Conversations written in three different inks by three different hands, nonsensical after all this time. Tommy woke up from dreams that he hadn’t had in years. Always of Steve and Carol, a study in opposites, but similar where it mattered.

“Well,” Steve says, taking charge of the situation like he always would when the other two faltered, “you’re here for a reason. We might as well get started on it.”

Steve’s fingerprints are still on them, just like he’d noticed theirs on him, molded as they were together. They’ve always bowed to his expectations, and his whims. When he ushers them to the table with a spread hand, Tommy and Carol go where they’re beckoned.

And so does Munson.

They keep an empty chair between them, an artificial divide for Tommy’s sanity, but with the sprawl of Munson’s legs their knees still occasionally brush together. Carol had taken the spot closest to Steve, who has stayed standing. He is their gracious host, marking the head of the round table.

“I pulled out the full sampler before I realized it was you,” Steve says. Even with as off balance as the interaction has felt, Tommy doesn’t feel his hackles raising. While it’s possible he’s gotten more subtle with his digs, Steve’s vicious tongue was usually unmistakable. “I can tell you about as many of them as you want though if you want to pretend like we don’t already know what I’ll be making you. I’m sure neither of you have eaten lunch yet.”

“You are going to take us on?” Carol asks. Shock always gives her tone an extra edge, defensive and catty, even if she’s really just waiting to see if another shoe will drop.

“Obviously,” Steve says, placing a faintly orange square of cake in front of her. He slaps Eddie’s hand away from another piece without looking away from either of them. “That’s as far as I’ll be going in participation though.”

He doesn’t miss the way Steve’s mouth twitches up with the joke, a filthy smirk that leaves Tommy flushing hot. Too warm to not be a bright and obvious red at the acknowledgment of that old private in-joke.

It doesn’t get better when Carol moans, “Oh my god, Steve!” Even if it is about the cake.

He laughs, and Tommy suspects the two are actually trying to kill him. He chances a glance over at Munson who looks like he doesn’t care at all that his husband has made Tommy’s fiance moan. He is watching Tommy though, an inquisitive look like the one Carol gets when she happens to catch a nature documentary.

“Yeah,” Steve agrees with Carol, “I’ll do something small with that citrus cake for you and Tom so you’ve got something you’ll actually eat on your wedding, maybe a pineapple buttercream on top like that nasty Juicy Fruit gum you like so much.”

“I mean it’s really crazy how you’re so good at this when you’ve never had any taste,” Carol compliments, she never did learn how to be nice.

He could probably count Steve’s teeth in the answering smile. Tommy can feel it like an ache in his chest how much he missed this. He snatches another cube of cake off the tray just so has something else to focus on.

“That’s the fancy one for the people who hate their guests,” Munson says as the cake has settled on the flat of Tommy’s tongue.

“It’s lavender,” Steve corrects, and the floral flavor is lodged in the back of his throat at least gives him a reason now to feel so choked up. “And it is for a particular sort of bride.”

“Are you saying I’m not fancy and particular, Munson?” Carol asks. 

She’s obviously talking to Eddie Munson, who lifts his hands up in answer. But it’s Steve who says, “If you tried to feed that to Gail she would leave the reception bitching the whole time.”

“Well go on,” Tommy finds himself goading now that he’s swallowed, “finish calling your shot, Stevie. You said you knew what we were walking out of here with.”

Carol reaches across the table, locking eyes with Eddie as she snags the piece closest to him. The one his fingers had been inching toward like he thought Steve wouldn’t notice him trying to take it.

“I’ll make a small citrus cake for you, Carrie, we’ll hide it in the back of the larger cake so you can get the pictures of you cutting it and smashing into each other's faces-”

“We will not be doing that,” she interrupts, the warning for him and also unnecessary. He already knows how she feels about being embarrassed in public.

“Then the big cake for your guests will be a chocolate cake, I can cover it in a buttercream or a fondant icing also chocolate, because it’s the only kind of cake the Hagan family will eat. Even though I’m sure John hasn’t given you a dime for the wedding, he’ll complain until Hannah gets married if he doesn’t like the cake.”

“Really,” Steve continues, “the only thing up in the air is how many people you were able to get away with not inviting, Care.”

The two of them start talking actual wedding logistics, and as Tommy grabs another bite of cake -- this one looks like it might be a normal flavor -- he figures the real show of good faith would be talking to the only other person at the table while he eats what Steve correctly dubbed his lunch.

“Y’know he never actually answered me,” he says in an undertone.

Munson seems surprised at being spoken to, only widens his eyes in response to Tommy’s unasked question.

“I asked Steve how soon after the first date he proposed, he never actually answered.”

Eddie softens at the edges before he can even say anything. Steve had a way of doing that, bringing out the romantic in a person. He loved with a passion that demanded it be matched. “Technically I proposed to him, but he says it doesn’t count because we weren’t together and I was high on morphine after a major surgery and thought he was Apollo, come to whisk me away.” The smile on Munson’s face looks dopey and drugged up now, like the very memory of whatever hospital stay is so ingrained in his mind he can feel the high now.

“But,” he goes on, “he told me we were getting married whether it was legal or not about three months after he got legally married to another woman.”

“Stop,” Steve has always been able to sense when he’s about to be the butt of the joke. He has a finger pointed at Eddie like a teacher delivering a lecture. “You can’t tell people that. It was for tax reasons, I’m not cheating on my wife.”

“You say tomato, I say whichever one of us is your least favorite has to be the extramarital affair.”

“I say, you’re the most obnoxious person I’ve ever met.” Tommy can hear the warm affection behind the insult, the way their picking is a safer way to express their passion for one another.

He thought he would be jealous of whoever finally managed to reel in Steve Harrington for good, and he is. The emotion is there, present in the snarling tangle of emotions that this encounter has left in him. One that he and Carol will have to slowly tease and pick out tonight when they’re home in bed. Trying to make sense of what each thread is and what it means for them. But the one bright pulsing thread he can make sense of is happiness. He’s happy for Steve, happy that he gets to see an old friend so at ease and obviously cared for.

And he’s sad that his time is up, his lunch hour so close to an end he’ll be late getting back to the office. Something he can already hear his Dad and fucking Greg giving him shit for. Which means they have to end their time here.

Steve walks them to the door, flips the sign to mark them closed for lunch.

“Congratulations again, you two,” he says, “I really am happy I can get to be a part of this with you all. Even if it’s a little different than we used to imagine.”

Carol reaches out for the both of them, puts her hand on his arm. Tommy finds that he’s the one who actually says, “We’re glad you found someone who makes you this happy, dude. You deserve it.”

“Yeah, he’s alright most of the time.” It's said with such fondness it becomes a declaration. It’s hard to imagine how they thought they could ever be the something that could make Steve this happy. But maybe in a different life, under different circumstances it could have been.

There’s a minute where they all stand in the doorway. He wonders if they’re all afraid that this might be the last time they see each other, speak to one another, until Steve is delivering the cake on the day of the wedding. Maybe it’s just him, he was the one who pushed back the hardest after things ended.

Someone finally gives in and pushes the door open. It’s TONG a death toll for their current conversation. But it also sends a jolt through Steve, he straightens to his full height like a shock has gone through him. “Here,” he says, “here, um.” He digs around in his apron until he finds a pen and a receipt pad. Jots down something before tearing it off and putting it in Tommy’s hands, “It's our home number, in case you have any cake emergencies or something.”

They really can’t stay any longer.

Carol takes the note, better at keeping track of these things than Tommy is. It’s hard to know if they’ll actually use it, maybe after they talk about it, but if they do she’ll be the one to do it. She’s always been braver than him.

There’s no way of guaranteeing anything but the fact that they’ll have a cake on the table on their wedding day. But he hopes that Steve might stay for the ceremony once he brings it, he can even bring Eddie if that’s what gets him there. 

Alone in his car, Tommy lets himself take a minute to think about Steve Harrington one last time. He isn’t going to get what he wanted as a kid. Doubts that he’ll ever be as close to Steve as he’d been in childhood, too much time has passed and too much has changed.

But there’s an opportunity to get to know Steve Munson, and he isn't going to pass it up. Even if he doesn’t know how to name a bakery.

[ent-is-indecisive]

id : a slighly sketchy coloured digital drawing of steve on a pink background. he is piping pink frosting on a cake, wearing a green polo, jeans, an apron, thin glasses and a zig zag headband./end id

whats one more bad choice for the day, worked on baker steve from this post instead of sleeping and it is now 3am goodnight.

[underthestarlight1]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Stranger Things (TV 2016) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson, Joyce Byers/Jim "Chief" Hopper, Claudia Henderson/Wayne Munson Characters: Steve Harrington, Eddie Munson, Robin Buckley, Dustin Henderson, The Party (Stranger Things), Wayne Munson, Claudia Henderson, Steve Harrington's Parents Additional Tags: Omega Steve Harrington, Alpha Eddie Munson, steddie, Bisexual Steve Harrington, Gay Eddie Munson, Baker Steve Harrington, Barrista Steve Harrington, Writer Eddie Munson, ScentMates, soul mates, Soul Bond, First Meetings, First Kiss, Steve Harrington Has Good Parents, Alternate Universe - No Upside Down (Stranger Things), Modern AU, Fluff, Happy Ending Summary:

Small town coffee shop/ bakery owner Omega Steve Harrington was living his life, running his shop with his business partner/ platonic soul mate fellow Omega Robin Buckley when his scentmate moved to town. Meeting his perfect match was something he never thought would happen to him.

***

Alpha Eddie Munson was ready to move out of hectic Chicago to a quieter town. What better place than Hawkins, Indiana where his beloved Uncle Wayne had settled down? He needed a distraction from writing as he had been going non stop, so why not open a book/ gaming store. And if he meets his scentmate, that's about the best thing that could happen to him.

[seidenbros]

Can we have a Steve falling head over heels for Robin's college roommate? I'm pretty sure Steve would love a super nerdy bookworm girl. Literature student, maybe? I picture her as a hopeless romantic who's super into the most tooth aching clichès and he definitely finds that cute. But she totally matches Robin's energy, so she is funny + adorable + cute.

He visits Robin on a regular basis and as she is super close with reader, they become friends too but then he realizes that she's everything he ever wanted 🥺

I'm totally vibing with that. Sorry 🤣

Hello love and thank you so much for this request. I decided to mix it with an idea that I couldn't get out of my head, so we have Baker!Steve in this one. I kinda wrote my heart out and just realised that I completely forgot to weave in the hopeless romantic/clichès thing and I'm sorry D: I hope you'll still enjoy it 💚 and if you were wondering what a puddin pretzel is, click here

prompt lists for inspiration | Stranger Things Masterlist Pairing: Baker!Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader Word Count: 6743 Warnings/Tags: mutual pining, use of petnames (doll), broken hearts in the past, fluff, domestic Steve, I mean he bakes come on!, making out, sexual tension Read on AO3

If someone had told Steve Harrington years ago that he would one day earn his money with baking, he would have probably called them crazy. But here he was, still learning this and that, but he was already doing a damn good job. It was work that fulfilled him, baking things that made other people smile, that helped them start their days off right, and he’d even made his first wedding cake. The old man that had taught him, was leaving him more and more in charge of everything, while his granddaughter worked behind the counter to sell everything.

It had started out as a hobby, as a way to experiment at home, since he’d pretty much always been alone. Steve had always had a sweet tooth, so it was just more fun to try this out himself instead of just buying everything. Sure, he had the money, and he often did buy stuff, but he wanted to mix things up. He dreamed about mixing maple syrup with bacon in the form of a cupcake. So he did just that.

While Robin went to college, Steve started working at a shop called Sweet Temptations. Honestly, he’d been drawn in by the name, and then the cupcakes, the cakes and whatnot had made him stay and ask about a job. While Nino, the owner, had told him to bring him something homemade, his granddaughter had immediately said that he could start, because he would definitely draw the younger women in. Sure, they could use the additional customers, but Steve wouldn’t get the job without proving that he indeed had a talent when it came to baking.

And Steve delivered. He did make the Maple-Bacon-cupcakes he’d perfected by now and had wowed Nino with that. So, the old man had told Steve everything he knew, and was still teaching him, even though he only spent one day a week at the bakery, trying to do his best to enjoy his retirement. The shop was still his baby, so he had to drop by and bake with Steve once a week, pass on his secrets, the ones he hadn’t already passed onto him. His granddaughter, Mira, had been right at least, because they had an increase in female customers who even stayed in the shop to enjoy a piece of cake and a coffee, lingering to get a good look at the young baker everyone was talking about.

Meanwhile, Steve’s mind and heart were occupied with someone else: You. God, he had fallen head over heels for you, and he hadn’t seen it coming.

Of course, he’d heard about you from Robin again and again. She loved living with you, because you were so much like her. Sure, you liked different things, and you were someone who did read a lot - maybe natural as a literature student - but you also liked to go out with Robin, enjoyed movie nights, and listened to her ramble on and on. You two just worked so well together, and Robin had quickly become your best friend. While Steve had heard everything about you, you had heard everything about him from Robin.

Still, it had taken a lot of time until the two of you had finally met. Robin had invited Steve over for movie night, and had forgotten to ask you first, so when you’d opened the door for him, you’d been taken aback. You’d seen pictures of him, but seeing him there right in front of you had definitely made your heart skip a beat - and it had been the same for Steve. Robin had apologised again and again, saying that she should have asked you first, but you’d been overjoyed to finally meet that famous Steve Harrington. That alone had made him blush a little. Robin should have seen it right then and there, because she wasn’t used to that kind of reaction from Steve, but she’d been a bit blind in that moment, because she’d still kept apologising to you.

Ever since then, you’d made it a regular thing to rent some movies and watch them together. But it wasn’t just those days that Steve showed up. Sometimes, he stopped by after work and brought a couple of baked goods with him. Sometimes, he came over for pizza in the evening. You liked him, and you liked spending time with him, but never made any advances towards him, because he was Robin’s other best friend. They’d been through a lot, that much she’d told you, but she’d never said what exactly had happened. But you knew that Steve was plagued by nightmares, and that there were certain days that he couldn’t stand bright lights, because they gave him a headache. He’d told you once that he’s had more than one concussion, so the headaches, the light sensibility, those were things that came from that. Not every day, he had good and bad days of course, but when he’d told you about that, you’d hugged him without thinking too much about it. Steve had gone rigid in your arms for a moment, before he’d melted into your touch, had hugged you back and just stayed like this for some time. When you’d separated, none of you had been able to say anything, because Robin had burst back into the room again.

One day, Robin had asked you whether it was really okay that Steve wass dropping by so often. She’d told you that it was okay, if she went over to Steve’s so that you had your peace and quiet to read or study, but you’d quickly told her that it was more than okay. Maybe even a bit too quickly, because she’d smiled at you, leaning in to ask you whether you liked him. The way you’d stumbled over your words had told her everything she’d needed to know.

“I don’t have time for a guy in my life,” you’d told her, but Robin had just rolled her eyes at you, knowing that it was just a way to guard your heart, to not give anyone the chance to break your heart again. If you were honest with yourself, Steve had already managed to slip past the cracks in the wall you’d put up. With his warm smile, his infectious laughter, his caring personality and the love he put out into the world. That was why you had to be careful, watch out that you didn’t fall even more for him. The best would probably be to not spend that much time with him, but you enjoyed it way too much, missed the movie nights when you had something else to go to.

Tonight, though, when Steve knocked on the door to the apartment you shared with Robin, you immediately smiled when you saw him. Steve did the same, before he lifted the tray he was carrying.

“Brought you something new. Just tried it out today!” Steve walked in, taking off his shoes and jacket, while you brought the tray to the kitchen.

“So we’re your test subjects, huh?”

“Oh, you know, I really value your opinion, so…” Steve shrugged his shoulders, before he drew his brows together. Robin was in the bathroom, singing at the top of her lungs, but Steve couldn’t really make out the song.

“I swear, if you keep bringing this stuff, I won’t fit through the door anymore at one point. I already gained weight because of these things.”

“So, do you want me to stop bringing you stuff?” Steve tried to  stop himself from smiling, while his eyes wandered over your body. To him you were perfect, with a couple kilos more or less, he didn’t care as long as you were happy.

“Don't you dare stop!” you said with a laugh as you opened the lid of the tray. The air was immediately filled with the smell of vanilla, making your mouth water. “What is that?”

Your eyes, big and round and filled with wonder, looked up at Steve, ready to take one of these things and take a bite to see if they tasted as good as they looked.

“It’s called a pudding pretzel. See, it looks like a pretzel, but it’s sweet.” He leaned over, his shoulder touching yours as he showed you what he meant. “And the holes are filled with pudding. You just have to try it.”

When he turned his head to face you, your noses nearly brushed. For a moment, you both stayed like this, nobody saying a word, but you quickly straightened, when you heard the bathroom door open.

“Steve?” Robin said, scowling at him as she fluffed up her hair, looking ready to go out. Then, realisation hit her. “Shit, I completely forgot about movie night!”

“Got a hot date or something?” Steve’s eyes locked on her, scanning her outfit, before he started grinning from ear to ear. “Oh you do! And you haven’t said a word!”

“Well…” Now, it was Robin’s turn to blush, but she quickly brushed past the two of you to get to her shoes. “I didn’t wanna jinx it by telling you, and you probably would have talked me out of it.”

That made your ears perk up, and you followed her, because you had an idea who she might be going out with, and it was not a good idea. Still, if that was Robin’s choice, you would accept it and let her go. Once she got her mind set on something, nobody could really talk her out of it.

“I’m really sorry that I didn’t tell you two and postpone movie night. But you’re welcome to stay anyway, Steve. You can watch a movie without me, right?” Robin’s eyes settled on you when she straightened again, her shoes now on her feet. Oh that little minx! Right now, that almost felt like some kind of scheme from her to get you and Steve to spend some time alone.

“It’s alright, I can leave if you want to use the night to read the book you talked about!”

“Already finished that,” you quickly said, surprised that he’d remembered that.

“Should have expected that.” Steve let out a laugh that made your lips curl up into a smile. A laugh that was so genuine that it touched your heart and made the last bit of resolve vanish.

“You’re welcome to stay, Steve. Would love the company for a movie.”

The way you said his name, the way it rolled off your tongue, made Steve smile.

“Alright, then I’ll stay.”

“Good!” Robin clapped her hands, giving you a mischievous grin, before she reached for her bag. “Have fun you two. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” And with that, she was out the door.

“She’s really something, isn’t she?” Steve shook his head, slowly looking your way.

“Tell me about it!” You rolled your eyes with a laugh. “How about I get the movie started and you get these delicious things on a plate?”

Steve agreed without hesitating, but he still watched you leave for the living room. The moment you were gone, he took a deep breath, trying to calm his beating heart. Suddenly being alone with you made him nervous. With Robin there, it hadn’t been awkward at all, but he was scared that he would make it awkward now. He really didn’t want to screw this up with you, but he also didn’t want to make a move because… well, you were Robin’s roommate and her other best friend. If you didn’t like him the way he liked you, it would make things incredibly uncomfortable for all of you.

So, he took a deep breath and put the pudding pretzels on plates, before he walked over to you. He took a seat on the opposite site of the sofa and handed you one of the plates. With Robin not there, there was a huge gap between you.

“Oh my God!” 

Your sudden outburst nearly made Steve jump, because his eyes had been glued to the TV. With big eyes, he looked at you, but seeing the smile on your face made him relax. You wiggled around in your spot, your mouth filled with another bite of the baked goods he’d brought.

“Steve, this tastes absolutely amazing! You gonna sell it at the shop?”

“If Nino agrees, then yes.”

“He’d be an idiot not to sell them. These are better than sex!”

Steve nearly choked on the piece of pudding pretzel he had in his mouth when you said that. He needed a moment, to calm down, before he levelled his eyes at you, trying to figure out whether he’d heard you correctly.

“What?”

“I mean it.” You looked at him for a moment, before you quickly turned to look back at the TV, because the intensity of his stare made you squirm in your seat. Shit, you’d really put your foot in your mouth and had said something that probably wasn’t appropriate to talk about with Steve, especially not because you liked him and had thought about doing certain things with him. “At least better than the sex I’ve had.”

Yeah, you really should have kept quiet, so before you said anything else, you stuffed your mouth with the rest that was still on your plate.

“God, I’m sorry, doll, but then you probably just had the wrong kind of guy by your side.” Steve shook his head, kinda shocked to hear that from you, to know that apparently nobody had made you really enjoy it when you thought that his pudding pretzels were better than sex. It also made him aware that he’d thought about this with you way more often than was appropriate. And he should really not be thinking about it right now, but you’d planted that thought in his head. “Cause it can and should be good.”

“Yeah I know…” You sounded kind of defeated, not wanting to think about how much time you’d wasted with your ex, who’d cheated on you multiple times, and who’d treated you like one of his belongings. But you also didn’t want to think about Steve on the other side of the sofa. Steve, who looked good enough to eat, and who smelled the part as well, because he’d come by right after work, so he smelled just as delicious as the baked goods he’d brought with him.

Steve shifted his sitting position, reached for a pillow to lay it in his lap and balance the plate on top of it, which was more of an alibi move, so that you wouldn’t grow suspicious of him putting the pillow in his lap.

There was about half an hour of silence between the two of you, each one aware of the tension in the room, but staying quiet about it. When you reached for the blanket, though, because you were getting cold, Steve shifted in his seat, looking over at you. Suddenly, he felt a bit bolder. Maybe that was because of your previous topic, maybe it was the overall situation, but in the end, it didn’t matter.

“Come here,” he said, opening his arms for you, a smile on his lips. “I promise I won’t bite, but honestly, I’m like a furnace, so I’ll keep you warm.”

“I-” you started, biting your lip, but if he was offering, it was alright to do it, wasn’t it? “Okay.” You scooted over to him and snuggled up to his side, your heart racing in your chest when his smell filled your nose again.

Steve’s arm wrapped around your shoulders and he pulled you even closer. Your hand found its place on his chest, feeling the rapid beating of his heart through the shirt he was wearing. Was he maybe as nervous as you were? Or was that just your imagination? When you lifted your head to look up at him, you found him staring back, and you could swear that his eyes landed on your lips. Before anything could happen, before any of you could say a thing, the door to your apartment flung open and Robin kicked it shut again behind her.

You scrambled to get up from the sofa, heart beating even faster than before, because you felt like you had nearly been caught doing something you shouldn’t be doing. Which was ridiculous, since Steve and you were both adults and nothing had happened. Still, you didn’t really want Robin to find you like this.

Steve just looked at you with big eyes for a moment, before you left him sitting there alone to get to Robin. He reached for the remote to turn everything off before he followed you.

“Oh lord, what happened?” he asked when he found you and Robin sitting at the kitchen table. She looked a bit out of it, when you held out a glass of water to her. She’d had a couple of drinks, Steve could tell that already.

“She stood me up.” Robin looked up at him for a moment, before she dropped her forehead to the table again, heaving a sigh. “Waited and waited and was so nervous… Maaaaay have had a couple drinks. Then I left.”

“I’m so sorry, Robin. Want me to trip her the next time I see her?” you offered, laying a gentle hand on her back, slowly rubbing up and down to show her that you were there.

“No… Just.. God, I just wanna go to bed.” You could tell that she was on the verge of tears, because of the alcohol. It always made her either more outgoing or emotional, and after an evening like this, it was clear that she wasn’t dancing on tables right now.

“Come on, I’ll take you to bed,” you said, standing up with her, wrapping your arm around her waist. You looked up, your eyes meeting Steve’s

“Go, I’ll clean up here,” he said with a smile. So, while you went to the bathroom with Robin to get her into something more comfortable and wash her face, Steve cleaned the kitchen and put everything away that you’d used. He brought a bottle of water into Robin’s room and put it next to the bed.

“Thank you,” Robin mumbled, as you entered her room and she saw Steve just put the bottle down, but she meant both of you. “I should have just stayed home with you two.” She flopped down on her bed, taking a deep breath. “Did you at least enjoy your evening?”

“Yeah,” Steve said immediately, smiling to himself as he risked a look at you.

“It was a good movie, so yeah!” To be honest, you had no idea what the movie had been about, too preoccupied with the person standing next to you right now.

“Mhm… Good,” Robin mumbled, snuggling into her pillow. “Was hoping for more, though.”

She didn’t offer an explanation or say anything else, mainly because she fell asleep, but she left you curious about what she meant. Well, you had an idea, but you couldn’t be sure about that. It didn’t matter in the end, did it?

As quietly as possible, you left the room with Steve, leaving the door ajar when you brought him to the front door.

“I’ll come by tomorrow morning and take care of breakfast, alright? See how she’s doing.” Steve put on his shoes before he reached for his jacket.

“Sounds good. And thank you, Steve… It was a fun evening.” Maybe, that was not exactly the right word, considering how nervous he’d made you, but the brief moment you’d spent in his arms had made you relax, and it had made you feel so safe.

“It really was, so thank you.” Steve leaned forward to place a kiss on your cheek. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Mhm… goodnight, Steve!” He turned around at the top of the stairs to give you a little wave, before he disappeared from view. The smile on your lips would probably have been able to light up the whole room when you closed the door behind you. The only question was, how you were supposed to find sleep after this.

As you’d expected, you hardly slept at all, tossing and turning, thinking about the previous evening, how close Steve and you had gotten. You hadn’t lied to Robin when you’d said that you didn’t have time for a man, though it was probably more a way to protect yourself than anything else. But Steve… Steve made you laugh, he filled you with happiness, and he always took care of Robin and you. That’s why he wanted to come by and make breakfast.

Shit. Yeah, you really weren’t ready to face him right now, not when you thought about him pretty much all night and were ready to jump his bones, to act on the tension that had been there between you hours later. 

You cast a quick glance into Robin’s room, but she was still asleep, so you left her alone again and put on your shoes. You needed to get out, go for a walk, clear your mind, whatever. But you were not ready to face Steve. But Steve it was, you collided with when you ripped the door open and stepped outside without looking around first.

“Woah, careful there, doll!” One of Steve’s hands wrapped around your upper arm, steadying you, while he was carrying a bag in the other hand. Your own hands landed in his chest, eyes closed for a moment, before you managed to pry them open and look at him.

“You running away from something?” he asked, smiling at you, before he carefully took his hand off your arm. 

God, he had no idea how correct he was. On the one hand, you were running from him, on the other from your own feelings, because you were already feeling your heart pick up its pace, and it wasn’t because of the surprise right now. It was because of Steve’s presence, because of the smell of him that filled your nose, because of the smile that made your knees weak.

“No!” Your answer came a bit too quickly for your own liking and you bit your bottom lip, taking a step back. “I’m just running late. Completely forgot I have a meeting. I’ll see you around!”

You gave him a curt smile and a wave before you were off and bounded down the stairs. Steve watched you leave, his heart sinking a little, because it felt like you were running away from him. Still, he was here to make breakfast, so he walked inside and headed to the kitchen to prepare some scrambled eggs and pancakes.

When Robin walked into the kitchen twenty minutes later, she was greeted with a set table and everything she could wish for. She only had a mild headache, but nothing a good breakfast couldn’t help with.

“Morning,” she mumbled, rubbing her eyes, before she smiled at Steve. “Is Y/N not awake yet?”

“She is… but she pretty much fled your apartment.”

“Huh?” Now, that made Robin’s eyes widen, curiosity shining in them when she took a seat. “What do you mean? What happened?”

Robin reached for the coffee first to take a sip and let the hot liquid wake her spirits.

“She said she has a meeting, but-” Steve heaved a sigh, reaching for his own coffee cup to wrap his hands around it. He looked down, as if he was looking for the right words in the hot beverage. “Kinda felt like she didn’t wanna see me, you know? Maybe, I fucked it up, don’t know.”

“Wait a second!” Robin pinched the bridge of her nose, trying her best to focus. “I feel like I’m missing a vital piece of information here.”

“Nothing happened!” Steve said immediately, looking up again to reassure Robin and make her realise that he was telling the truth. “At least not really. I mean, we were watching the movie and she said that my pudding pretzels were better than sex, so… that topic came up briefly and then we were both quiet… a bit awkward.”

Steve leaned forward, putting his elbows on the table, clasping his hands together. His tongue darted out to wet his lips, while Robin started eating the pancakes, listening intently to what he was saying. But she didn’t stop him, let him talk until she had all the information she needed.

“When she reached for the blanket, I offered her to come cuddle, ‘cause you know how much heat I radiate.”

“That’s a fact. You’re damn hot all the time.” Robin nodded her head, curious where this was going, as if she was reading a book, or rather having a book read to hear that was just about to get really interesting. “So what then?”

“She snuggled up to me.”

Oh, the smile that appeared on Steve’s lips made Robin really giddy. She’d seen that look before, but it had been a while since she’d last seen that. Sure, Steve had done a lot of dating, looking for the one person that he could call his partner, the one that would stay with him and really love him, but he hadn’t found that person. And now, you were the reason he had that dreamy smile on his lips.

“And then you got hom.”

“Ahh fuck,” Robin groaned, dropping her fork onto the table. “You were doing so well, and then I managed to fuck it up. So much for my plan.”

“Yeah…” Steve was still smiling, but then he realised what Robin had just said. “What do you mean your plan?”

“Forget it…” Robin quickly shook her head, but before she could say anything else, Steve insisted that she should tell him.

“Well… she likes you, Steve! I wasn’t sure how you were feeling, but seeing how much you smile, I don’t need you to spell it out. But Y/N is always like… she doesn’t have time for a boyfriend, she’s scared of getting her heart broken again…”

“Yeah, I know that feeling.” Steve rolled his eyes, tried his best not to get his hopes up at what Robin had just told him.

“Yeah, and that’s exactly why the two of you would never hurt each other like that. That’s why I didn’t tell you two about the date yesterday. So that you’d spend some time alone and maybe, finally take a step towards each other.” Robin leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms over her chest. “And apparently you did. But why do you think she’d be running from you now?”

“I don’t know! I mean, maybe I was too bold yesterday?”

“Steve, you cuddled on the sofa for maybe a few moments, right? And she could have easily said no, but she didn’t.”

“I kissed her cheek when I left and told her I’d come by for breakfast.”

“Oh boy… Nothing of that was too bold, but I guess, she’s too much in her head again, so that’s why she ran.”

“Maybe.” Steve lifted his coffee cup and emptied the last drops into his mouth, before he got up. “You’ll be alright? ‘Cause I think I just need to clear my head a bit.”

“Steve…” Robin really didn’t want to let him go, not when he looked so defeated.

Sure, Robin had told him that you apparently had feelings for him, but right now, he was sure that you’d run away from him, so that was wearing him down. For months now, he hadn’t had eyes for anyone else, only for you, because you were the one person that made him happy beyond words by just existing in his close proximity. Yesterday, getting to hold you and kiss your cheek had made him unbelievably happy, but for you? It sure looked like he’d taken it too far. So he needed some time to himself, and when he needed to clear his head, he started baking.

“Robin…” Steve looked at her, a weary smile on his lips when he stepped up to her. “Will you be alright?”

“Sure,” she said with a huff, not wanting to let him go, but knowing that she couldn’t keep him here. “What about you, though?”

“I’ll be fine. I always manage, you know that.”

Yeah, she did… and that was what kind of scared her, because she knew that Steve wouldn’t bounce back that easily this time, not when you were the perfect match for him and ran out of the apartment as soon as he arrived.

After a long, long walk and some more coffee from the coffee shop around the corner, you came back home, hoping that Steve would already be gone. When you didn’t see his shoes when you entered, you sighed in relief. At least, you were thinking that it was relief, but it was mixed with a weird kind of longing because he wasn’t there.

“Good, you’re home,” Robin said, leaning in the door to the living room. She’d showered and looked way better than the night before, but the serious look on her face made you a little worried.

“Yeah, sorry, I had a-”

“Meeting, so I’ve heard. Now, tell me, why haven’t you mentioned that all week?”

“Well,” you started, eyes wide, because you hadn’t expected that question from her. And that attitude she was giving you, really threw you off.

“Because you didn’t have a meeting and just ran away so you didn’t have to face Steve, right?”

Busted.

“Look…” You ran both hands over your face and through your hair. Steve was Robin’s best friend, and you really didn’t want to make it awkward at all, but right now, you got the feeling that it already was awkward as fuck. 

“Hey, listen,” Robin said, stepping up to you and taking your hands into hers, her voice and her whole demeanour a lot softer than before. “I understand that, ‘cause you’re scared of getting hurt again, but believe me… Steve would never hurt you. God, he’s so in love with you, it’s painful to watch.”

“He… what?”

“Are you really that oblivious? He’s not just being nice to you. He’s completely and utterly in love with you. And he’s scared of getting his heart broken again as well.” Robin shook her head before she smiled at you. “You two really belong together, you just have to open your heart and allow yourself that.”

Robin tapped two fingers against your chest, letting go of your hands to do so.

“I’m just…” You broke off, shaking your head as you were trying to process what Robin had just told you. You had kind of hoped that Steve would feel the same way, but a tiny voice had told you all this time that he had just been nice to you.

“Scared, I know. So is Steve.” Robin placed a hand on your cheek, making you look at her again. “And now he thinks he did something wrong.” “What? No, no, no, he didn’t, I was just… I don’t know.”

“Maybe you should go and tell him that then. Make him stop worrying, because I know he’ll be baking all afternoon to clear his head.”

“You think so?”

“I know it. Because he keeps overthinking every little thing. Something else you have in common.”

Mira walked to the back where Steve was working and put a new cup of coffee in front of him.

“Thank you.”

“No problem. Anything else you need?” She leaned in the doorframe, watching him work. He’d come in, looking distracted, and it had shown in the first batch of cupcakes he’d made, because they’d landed in the trash.

“No thanks.” Steve gave her a smile that looked more forced than anything and went back to work. He knew that he needed to concentrate a little more, because that would help him clear his head of you, but it didn’t work. You were there, in his head and in his heart, and by now it hurt to think about you. 

Steve turned the music up a little louder and started putting the ingredients he needed into the mixer. While the mixer was busy, he put some flour on the work surface and made a mould in the middle, because he wanted to make bread as well as some more cupcakes.

He stopped the mixer once all the ingredients were blended together, and tasted it. It was good, no question, but it was definitely missing some more vanilla. Once he had the perfect mixture, he poured it into the baking pans and sent the cupcakes to the oven.

Now for the bread… he mixed the yeast with warm water before he poured the mixture into the mould in the flour. That was the moment you walked into the room, but Steve didn’t realise that he wasn’t alone anymore. He was finally able to clear his head a little, hum along to the music and concentrate on what he was doing. With a spoon, he started mixing a bit of the water mixture and the flour together, before he was finally able to use his hands to make some proper dough. His hands and arms were full of flour, so when he raised his arm to brush the sweat on his forehead away with his forearm, some of the flour stuck to his face and even his hair.

The sight warmed your heart, because he looked completely at ease, so in his element, that you didn’t want to disturb him. At the same time, your heart nearly burst out of your chest, because it was filled with so much love for this man. Now that you were allowing yourself these feelings, they were even bigger than you could ever have expected.

Your eyes travelled up slowly up from his hands, over his forearms, the muscles flexing in them, the veins that stood out, up over his chest, his chin, his lips, and to his eyes that were now looking back at you. You hadn’t realised that he’d stopped kneading the dough and was suddenly aware that you were there.

“What are you doing here?” Steve’s words weren’t harsh, they were extremely soft, surprise shining in his eyes as he wiped his hands on his apron.

“I… I wanted to see you,” you managed to say. “Think I’ve got some explaining to do.”

“You don’t have to explain anything.” Steve shook his head, still trying to smile. “I took it a step too far.”

“Steve, you really didn’t.” You gathered your courage and walked around the work surface to stop right in front of him. “I was just…”

“Scared.” Steve finished the sentence for you, keeping his eyes on you while his heart threatened to beat right out of his chest. “Are you still scared?”

“Yeah.” You swallowed hard, taking the last step to close the gap between you two. “But…”

“But…?” Steve’s voice was low, quiet, but he was so all consuming that you couldn’t think clearly anymore. Your head was filled with him, your body humming because of the proximity of his body, of feeling the heat radiating off him and seeping into your skin. His right hand came up to cup your cheek, tilting your head so that you had to look up at him.

“But…” You tried again, your skin feeling like it was on fire from where he touched you, a hint of flour lingering where his thumb brushed over your cheek.

You ran your fingertips up his stomach, over his chest and to his shoulders, pulling yourself up just slightly so that you could kiss his lips. You had nothing to lose, right? And sometimes, you just had to take that jump that you were so afraid of.

Steve was taken by surprise that you’d taken the initiative, but that surprise was quickly pushed away, and he kissed you back. His hand moved from your cheek to the back of your neck, pulling you even closer, while his free hand found its place on your hip. Your body was flush against his, your hands moving up to tangle in his hair, your breasts pressed against his chest while his tongue delved into your mouth, making you moan slightly into the kiss.

You’d had your experience in kissing, but this… this kind of kiss was definitely something else. You felt it to the tips of your toes, it made your whole body tingle and ache for more. Close wasn’t close enough, and you could have kept going for some time, not wanting to let go of him, but the loud beeping of the oven made both of you pull back.

“Shit… sorry,” Steve mumbled, lips puffy from kissing, glistening slightly, while dark eyes looked back at you. You probably looked just like him, hair a bit dishevelled but you didn’t care.

“‘S alright,” you managed to mumble, smiling to yourself as you stepped back. Steve made quick work of the cupcakes and pulled them out of the oven.

You bit your bottom lip, looking down at yourself. The flour showed where Steve’s hands had been, and it made you grin like an idiot. Yeah, you could really get used to it.

“What are you making there anyway?” Curiosity got the better of you, so you had to ask about the dough that Steve had abandoned due to you kissing him.

“I wanted to make some bread.”

“Bread? And here I thought, you only made sweet stuff here.”

“Ah, see that’s where you’re wrong, doll. Sweet and savoury. Remember the Maple-Bacon-Cupcakes?” You nodded vigorously, because they were among your favourites. “And bread is just something that has to be mastered. Here, let me show you.”

Steve stepped up behind you and manoeuvred you so that you were standing in front of the dough. His arms wrapped around you, his chest against your back, and his hands on top of yours, moving them to the dough so he could show you how to knead it.

“It’s really soft, isn’t it?” Steve’s voice was right next to your ear, distracting you even more than being trapped in his embrace.

“Mhm…” you mumbled, trying to focus on what you were doing, but Steve made it really hard for you. You didn’t even hear most of what he was talking about, too distracted by the feeling of his strong hands on yours, guiding your hands.

“And then we form a loaf,” he nearly whispered into your ear, his lips almost touching it. Steve moved your hands with his, doing what he just told you, and when the loaf was done, he still kept you right in front of himself to walk over to the sink and wash your hands.

“Steve…” you managed to breathe out and turn in his embrace, when his lips immediately came down on yours. His hands were on your hops, lifting you into the surface, sending flour into the air, a fine dust settling on your skin and in your hair, but you didn’t care. All you cared about were Steve’s lips on yours, his hands moving up and down your thighs, while his tongue invaded your mouth, tasting you and making you crave even more. This was definitely not the right place to be doing this, but you didn’t care. Someone else did, though.

“Steve I just - OH SHIT! Sorry!” Mira quickly turned around again and walked out, still apologising.

Steve lifted his head, looking after her, before he burst out laughing. You chimed in, leaning your head against his chest, hiding your face. His fingers slowly carded through your hair, before he kissed the top of your head.

“Maybe, we should continue this somewhere else.”

“Mhm… Maybe you could finally show me how you live, after you’ve been in our apartment most of the time.” Slowly you raised your head to look at him, feet dangling left and right of his legs.

“What do I get if I show you?” Steve wiggled his eyebrows at you, making you chuckle.

“How about… as many kisses as you want?” Feeling a little bolder, you leaned forward to kiss  over his jaw to his ear, taking your time. “Sound good?”

“Perfect.” His hands squeezed your thighs, before he stepped back and held out his hand for you. You really were everything he wanted, and he couldn’t believe that you were finally holding his hand and smiling just for and because of him. What more could he want?

[steddilly]

Steddie AU where Eddie runs a tattoo parlour and Steve owns a bakery across the street. Half of Eddie’s clientele are tourists on vacation or people passing by, and they always ask the same question. “You’re Eddie Munson, right? What’s the deal with Munson’s Bakery over there?” To which Eddie has the immense pleasure of responding, “That’s my husband’s place. He’ll give you a discount if you show him your fresh ink.”

They live above the bakery with their two cats, Garfield and Farrah. They always have a spare room in case the party or one of their friends needs to crash with them. Their lives are never dull 🥰

[steddieunderdogfics]

recommending two of my fics:

“i’ll find my soul as i go home” (https://archiveofourown.org/works/51750190/chapters/130830559)

it’s an AU where they meet for the first time when eddie goes to stay with wayne while battling writer’s block — famous writer eddie and baker/single dad steve + lots of fluff

“j’adore” series (https://archiveofourown.org/series/3418588)

this is a modern day AU where famous actor steve meets rockstar eddie and they have a night of passion in a hotel room in Venice.

enjoy x

i'll find my soul as i go home by Author

@oakenorcrist

Rating: Teen and Up

31,868 words, 5/5 chapters

Archive Warning: No Warnings

Tags: Romance, Strangers to Lovers, Writer Eddie Munson, Baker Steve Harrington, POV Eddie Munson, Single Parent Steve Harrington, Chrissy Cunningham & Eddie Munson Friendship, Falling In Love, Alternate Universe - Small Town, 90s, Good Uncle Wayne Munson, Developing Relationship, Steddie Big Bang 2023 (Stranger Things), Twin Peaks References, implied robin/chrissy/barb at the very end be warned

Summary:

Eddie Munson has had a rough go of it -- broken-hearted and uninspired, he decides to leave everything behind in San Francisco and spend some time with his uncle in a small town in the mountains. Little does he know that there he will find not only the peace and rest he's so desperately needed but also everything he never knew was missing from his life up until this moment.

The j'adore series has been rec'd before, you can find it here

Thanks for the rec!

Know a fic that deserves extra love? Submit through our asks or the submission box!

[withacapitalp]

Tell Him (Nothing) Everything Pt 1

Happy Valentine's @excaliburstark !!!! I was your Valentine so I wrote you a super fun 5+1 fic!! I never expected to do Rockstar Eddie or Modern AU just bc they had never appealed to me before, but then once I started writing this I just couldn't stop! I hope you enjoy it

Read it on ao3

Wayne let Eddie waste away for a record four days, three hours, and fifty two minutes before he finally put his foot down. 

“You need to get outta here,” His uncle said, crossing his arms and standing in front of where Eddie was lying on their lumpy comfy couch. 

Eddie tried to look past him and continue to watch whatever daytime soap opera was on, but Wayne just stepped into his field of vision, continuing to give Eddie the no-nonsense look of total reproach. 

He hated that look. Wayne only ever used it when he was right about something. 

“Kicking me out already?” Eddie said, sitting up and stretching, “I’ve only been here a few days, but if I’m already being a bother, I guess I’ll go crawling back to LA,” 

“You bought the damn house, boy, I’m not kicking you nowhere,” Wayne sighed, completely dodging the silly argument Eddie had tried to tangle them in. 

He sat down next to his nephew and put a big warm hand between Eddie’s shoulder blades, forcing him to be grounded in the moment instead of floating off wherever his mind wanted to go. 

“You can’t sit here all day long. It ain’t healthy,” His uncle whispered, becoming disarmingly gentle in the way only Wayne seemed to be able to accomplish. Eddie felt the open wound in his chest start to bleed again, and he shook Wayne off of him with a harsh tug. 

“Yeah, because I’m so concerned about my health right now,” Eddie snarked, fully intending on disappearing up the stairs and going to lie in his bed instead of on the couch where Wayne could nag him. The exhaustion was pulling on him again, weighing him down like lead. 

Unfortunately for Eddie, Wayne was more agile than he looked, and he got to the stairs before his nephew did. 

“Eddie,” Wayne snapped, cutting himself off with a frustrated sigh, before he could say anything more. He took off his cap and rubbed the top of his head, looking for something to say. 

“At least go take a walk in town or somethin’. You need fresh air and sunlight,” 

It wasn’t what Wayne wanted to say. Eddie knew that they were both fully aware of what Wayne wanted to say, but they were also both aware Eddie wasn’t ready to listen yet. 

“There’s plenty of air in here,” Eddie muttered stubbornly, staring down at the ground between them. He felt like a petulant child and not a twenty seven almost twenty eight year old man, but he didn’t want to budge. The idea of being out in the world made him feel sick to his stomach. Eddie didn’t want to be recognized, didn’t want people to come up to him and ask for autographs, or photos, or-

or ask him to talk about her.  

“This is Hawkins, Indiana, Eds. The only people who would recognize you are currently in school. No one here over the age of eighteen would listen to anythin’ like your music,” Wayne said, somehow already guessing where Eddie’s mind had gone, “‘Sides wasn’t the whole point of you comin’ home to be in a place where you could walk around without bein’ afraid of people seein’ you? What’s the point of bein’ here if you do nothin’ but stay home and mope?”

It wasn’t moping. Moping was what happened when you got dumped, or a pet ran away. Eddie had moped when Corroded Coffin’s second album flopped, and after he got laryngitis and had to miss Gareth’s big 25th birthday blowout bash. 

This wasn’t moping. Eddie was…was…

“I’m just tired, Wayne, that’s all,” Eddie said softly, the lie barely audible, even to himself. 

“We both this ain’t tired, Eddie,” Wayne said, gently but firmly calling his nephew on his bullshit, “You don’t handle grief well. And you never have, but-”

No. No. 

“I’m not talking about this,” Eddie interrupted, looking up with slightly deranged eyes, desperation making his voice rough, “I’m not. You promised we wouldn’t have to talk about Chri-”

Eddie cut himself off with a strangled gasp, hating the way just the first syllable of her name made tears start to prick in his eyes. 

“About it,” Eddie amended, his voice completely flat, “You promised we wouldn’t have to talk.”

Wayne studied him without pity. Empathy, sure, there was floods of it, because Wayne had lost her too, but no pity.

That was the real reason Eddie had come back home, fleeing Los Angeles in the middle of the night with barely a half scribbled note of explanation to the rest of the band, and instructions not to follow him despite all of them knowing where Eddie was going. 

Wayne was the only person in his world who wouldn’t pity him right now. 

Eddie could barely stand pity on his best day. It had always gotten under his skin, but right now it was making him go feral. He could only stand so many of Jeff’s sad little glances, and Archie’s quiet attempts to get him to open up. Even Gareth was too much right now. All of them were suffocating him. It was already hard enough to breathe as it was. 

But at this moment, Wayne’s empathy wasn’t much better. It felt like the entire room was slowly being drained of air. 

“Well. Two options,” Wane finally said, putting his cap back on and fixing Eddie with a determined grimace, “You can go out for at least forty five minutes- get some air, take a drive, maybe even come home with some lunch. Or we can sit here and have a nice long talk about our emotions. Your choice.” 

That wasn’t a choice. There wasn’t any choice in that at all. Both Eddie and Wayne knew that, but they also both knew that Wayne would follow through on that threat. He had done it before, and he would do it again, if necessary. He would do just about anything if it meant helping Eddie, even when Eddie didn’t want help. 

“You’re the worst,” Eddie groaned, stomping over to the front door and grabbing his sneakers. Wayne watched with smug satisfaction as Eddie laced up his shoes and grabbed his phone, tucking it into his back pocket before coming over and wrapping his uncle in a fiercely tight hug. 

“I love you,” Eddie mumbled into Wayne’s shoulder. He couldn't leave without saying what Wayne meant to him. Not anymore. Not after what had happened. 

“I love you too, Eds,” Wayne replied, letting his nephew hang onto him for as long as he needed. 

“Forty five minutes at least,” Wayne reminded him as they parted, standing in the doorway and watching as Eddie began trekking down the sidewalk towards the middle of town. 

It barely took ten minutes to get to the town square, and soon enough Eddie was sloping down a fairly busy sidewalk, getting side eyes and judgemental looks from housewives who couldn’t help staring. 

Good to know that some things would always stay the same. 

Eddie had only lived in Hawkins for five years, from the ages of eight to thirteen, along with sporadic visits from time to time since then, but it felt like nothing had changed. 

And maybe it hadn’t, not really. Hawkins was a timestamp town, the kind of place that looked the same no matter what decade it was. One of the deep tracks on Corroded Coffin’s first album had been about Hawkins. 

Well, not exactly, seeing as his bandmates weren’t from Hawkins, but they all grew up in small towns, so they were all able to come up with a pretty banging condemnation track together. 

Crawling out of the place that tried to take my soul, my heart, my mind. 

Creating a cookie cutter version which took the deal the Devil signed. 

Eddie never gave Hawkins the satisfaction of making him one of their sons. When people asked, he said he was from Indianapolis, which was half true. That was a better backstory anyway- a hardscrabble kid from the bad side of the tracks that had collected a bunch of his friends, a couple of second hand instruments, and a dream to change the world. 

No, Eddie wasn’t a fan of Hawkins. 

But oh, Chrissy had loved it here. 

The only reason Eddie had ever come back had been her. If he had it his way, Wayne would just come visit him whenever he wanted. Eddie could afford the plane tickets. But Chrissy saw some magic in the cul-de-sacs, the long winding corn rows, the people who would clutch their pearls whenever they saw the two of them walking down the street. 

Eddie had never understood it. 

And now he never would.  

There it was. The feeling of a phantom limb. Was it possible to have that if you still had all four? It was a sensation he would never be able to explain, a physical sense of loss that ran through his veins like poison. Eddie’s hand was empty, when it should be clutched onto someone else’s. There should be a sweet little light by his side, skipping along the sidewalk and teasing Eddie for being way too scary looking to survive in Hawkins. 

Eddie’s other half was missing, and he didn’t know how to begin making the world make sense again. 

He was so focused on that feeling that he didn’t see the glass door in front of him until it was way too late. Eddie crashed right into it, face fully smashing against the glass, collapsing on the ground with a loud curse and a stinging pain in his wrist from landing on it wrong. 

See. This is what happened when Eddie tried to go outside. He should’ve just stayed home and put his fingers in his ears, singing nonsense until his uncle gave up on trying to make him acknowledge his emotions. 

Instead here he was lying on the ground in the middle of Hawkins fucking Indiana at what had to be ultimate rock bottom. 

“Oh my gosh!” A deep voice from above him said, a tanned hand invading his vision, “Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” Eddie sighed, taking the offered hand and letting himself get pulled up, “I’m o-”

Oh. My. God.  

Eddie lived in the pretty people capital of the country. Not only was he the lead singer of a world renowned band who was an out and proud bisexual, he was known to be somewhat of a slut. Suffice to say Eddie had both gorgeous women and gorgeous men throwing themselves at him almost constantly. 

There was no short supply of people who wanted a night with The Eddie Munson. 

But none of them held a candle to the man in front of him who was still holding onto his hand. 

“Oh, that looks like it hurts,” Small Town Adonis fretted, finally letting go only to lean in close and take Eddie’s chin in his hand. Eddie stiffened as his head was turned from side to side, giving the other man a better view of whatever bruise was starting to bloom on his jaw. It was a perfectly convenient excuse to oogle, so Eddie did. 

The stranger was a couple inches shorter than Eddie, but what he lacked in height, he made up for in muscle. He had broad shoulders and a strong square jaw that was probably deliciously sensitive. His hazel eyes were hidden behind thin wire frame glasses that only added to his charm, and his hair was to die for. Eddie usually prided himself on being the person with the best hair in the room, but this guy might have him beat. 

And, he was wearing a lemon sweater and a bright blue apron that had cat paws printed all over it. 

That shouldn’t have worked for Eddie. 

It was so working for him. 

“No worries,” Eddie said breathlessly, his heart still racing as he let the stranger move his face around as he pleased. All of his exhaustion had vanished at the speed of light, replaced by a warm feeling in his chest and a blush that was beginning to grow on his cheeks. 

“I don’t think anything is broken, thank god,” The man said, relieved. He stepped back and readjusted the sign that had been holding open the door to his shop, “Here, come inside and I’ll get you an ice pack. Maybe a lemon bar on the house? If you like lemons?” 

He seemed pretty nervous, and Eddie internally rolled his eyes, some of his attraction fading. Of course the guy was going over the top. He was probably worried that his little podunk shop was about to go under, all because a rockstar happened to crash into his open front door. 

“You don’t need to do all that. I’m not gonna like sue you or anything,” Eddie said, letting the tiny fluttering crush that had begun to bloom wilt once more. Once again he wasn’t real, just something to be gawked at. 

But the stranger wasn’t gawking. He was almost glaring. 

“Well, I would hope you weren’t thinking about suing me seeing as you walked into my door,” The man said, his voice dripping with derision. He even had his hands on his goddamn hips like some PTA mom. 

Wayne telling Eddie that no one in town would recognize him was one thing, but actually seeing that people wouldn’t know him simply by sight was another thing entirely. 

Since Corroded Coffin went viral in 2012, launching into stardom at the speed of light, Eddie had been forced to live with the fact that everyone knew he was. That was the tradeoff. You get everything you ever wanted, become a rockstar like every kid dreams of being, and the world gets to own you. At seventeen he had naively signed off on that, and now at twenty seven there was no way to go back and throttle that kid into actually thinking about the consequences. 

But the man in front of him had literally no clue who he was. 

It was strange. It was bizarre. It was like watching a dog walk on its hind legs.  

It was… enthralling.  

“You really don’t recognize me?” Eddie pressed, needing to be sure. It wouldn’t be the first time someone had pretended they didn’t know who he was. Lots of people wanted to get close to him for one reason or another. Eddie had to practice constant vigilance, or risk having everything he worked for blown apart. 

“Should I?” Apron Man asked, looking concerned. He raised a brow and looked around the fairly empty street, as if trying to parse out exactly why Eddie would be someone he should know. 

Wonderful. The beautiful man was in fact a rare angel that knew nothing about Eddie, and Eddie was now officially the weirdo who had not only smacked his face into the door, but also maybe threatened to sue and demanded that a total stranger recognize him. Just perfect.

“No um we’ve never- I’m-” Eddie cut off his fumbling with a groan, pulling his long curls in front of his face and wishing he could disappear off the face of the earth, “Sorry I must sound like a lunatic,”

“Or someone with a concussion. Trust me I’ve had plenty of them,” The man said with a kind smile. He put one foot in the doorway of his store and waved his hand behind him, “Come on in! I’ll check you out, and we can see about that lemon bar,” 

Eddie silently followed the man like a lost puppy, marveling at the inside of the store. It was a cafe, the walls painted a soft creamy yellow and decorated with hand drawn paintings of cats in various positions. There were tiny round tables with squashy arm chairs, and a high bar by the counter with comfy looking stools. 

The smell of cinnamon hung in the air, and Eddie’s entire body instantly relaxed. It was like sinking into a warm bath, everything in the room designed to put a person completely at ease. 

Eddie couldn’t remember the last time he felt like this. 

“Here. Welcome to Claudia’s,” The stranger said kindly, handing Eddie a blue freezer pack and gently pushing him towards one of the arm chairs. . 

“Thanks. I’m Eddie…” 

He trailed off, considering his next words. Eddie Munson. Even if the man didn’t know his face, he would probably know his name. Eddie Munson, lead singer of Corroded Coffin. Sex, Drugs, and Rock and Roll wrapped up into one real life person. He could be honest right now, tell this stranger the truth, and see how he changed once he knew. 

Or he could play a little game, get a little distance from the person he wasn’t sure he wanted to be anymore. 

“I’m Eddie.” He repeated, more firmly and more sure of his decision. 

“Well, Eddie, Eddie,” Apron Man teased, making Eddie’s cheeks heat up in a furious blush, “It’s nice to meet you. I’m Steve Harrington.” 

[desertpersephone]

He Peels An Orange And I Eat The Fruit On My Knees | 7.4k, explicit | modern au, fluff, miscommunication, childhood friends, fwb, coming in pants. written for @lorifragolina as part of the steddie valentines exchange.

Today, Eddie took a moment to just watch. He was always careful, never letting himself look at Steve when he wasn't allowed. He never looked in the sunlight, when the highlights in Steve's hair turned gilded like the manuscripts of the old masters and the silver hoops in his ear lobes winked, or when the sweetheart of his lips was candy pink, when the green of Steve's hazel eyes lit up like a forest pool and Eddie couldn't look away even if he wanted. No, Eddie was only allowed to look in the dim light of a bedroom, when Steve's eyes were chocolate brown like his own and his mouth was parted in not so quiet bliss. Only then could Eddie trace the constellations of Steve's moles, the waves of his hair, or bite at the soft flesh of his chest and stomach. But those eyes were suddenly fixed on Eddie, and the now common shock of school boy blush shot through him. It didn't matter that they had just spent the night wrapped around each other, inside each other. Steve's gaze could cut through him like he was cold butter and Steve was the hot knife. Always could, even when they had just been friends, just been two kids on the playground. "Morning," Steve said, the flop of his bangs secured with a baseball cap turned backward.

read on ao3

[copingmechanizm]

Oh, my car smells like chocolate

(modern au steddie)

*the title comes from "chocolate" by The 1975*

Eddie Munson is a man of many talents. He's pretty decent at singing, his guitar skills are at least star quality and he can fix any minor fault around the house. He even found out he's capable of organizing all kinds of events, which he chose to be his job after scraping through college. What he's not good at though is baking and keeping his mouth shut. So when Chrissy, who just begun to work with him few weeks ago, told him in distress that the bakery which was supposed to provide a cake for Saturday's event cancelled last minute, Eddie said that he'll do it then. He. Baking a fucking cake. Of course he wouldn't do it! The only thing he even attempted to bake was chocolate chip cookies and that was a disaster. His kitchen barely survived. So he's afraid to even think what would happen if he'd try to bake a full on cake.

Now then he has two options. Number one: he'll go to every bakery in town to try to get a two store customized cake for at least fifty people. He's ready to beg for it if needed. Number two: he'll admit his idiocy and tell Chrissy he won't bring any cake for Saturday. He's sure after shooting disappointed look his way she would figure something out. The choice was simple. Of course he chose option number one.

After spending yesterday's evening and half of today searching for a kind bakery, he's pretty close to admit his defeat. Everywhere he went he got the same answer: no one will take his order at such a short notice. So now he got less than 24 hours to bring the promised cake to the venue with no idea how to do that. He's slowly leaning into choosing option number two when his eyes catch on the sigh across the street saying "King Steve's Bakery". Well, worth a try even if the shop seems small and he doesn't have much hope left.

He enters and he's welcomed by cosy interior, all wood and stone, with many mismatched pieces of art stuffed around the walls. No one appears to be here at the moment. He gets closer to the counter, where there's all kinds of baked goods displayed. Eddie has to admit all here looks delicious. He can't get distracted though. He has another fight this day ahead of him. He rings the small bell, similar to the ones at the hotel receptions, and waits. Soon, though the doors leading to the back, comes the most beautiful man Eddie has ever saw. Sharp jaw, soft blue eyes, hair that looked like professionaly styled and a splatter of moles and freckles. Not to mention clearly athletic body with muscular arms accented by fitted polo shirt. The apron with a crown he has on weirdly gives him a sort of gentle aura. The name tag says Steve so that's probably the baker's name. He dust his hands from what looks like a flour and with a charming smile openes those perfectly shaped mouth.

"What can I do for you, beautiful?"

Is it just Eddie or it bacame suddenly hot in here?

"I...um... I- I mean, I want to buy a cake". Fucking hell he couldn't embarrass himself more, could he?

"Well, you're in right place then." The baker softly chuckled, looking right at Eddie. "So what you're exactly looking for? You want something ready or a custom made one?"

"Right, yes, I want a custom made, two store for fifty people. Best if it's floral related but honestly right now I'll take anything." The event is for some florist association and ideally it's supposed to picture some kind of flower that's on their logo but he thinks at this rate they're lucky if they get anything at all. He looks hopefully at his potential savior who returns the look with raised eyebrows.

"Two store you say? That's a helluva lot of work. When's the deadline?" And there, that's when Eddie's last chance will shatter to pieces.

"Tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow?! Dude that's a really short time you give me. This place is small but we do have other clients, you know?" Shit, fuck and other cursed words in this language. Not only he won't get the cake but also he somehow managed to piss off the perfect man.

"Yes! Yes I know, really. It's just- I'm like desperate. I'm ready to beg." Especially to you. "Tomorrow's this big event and the bakery cancelled last minute and I promised I'll do it but I couldn't bake to save my life and I probably visited every bakery in this shit town and you're my last chance." He finished lamely very much aware he started rumbling. Steve stared at him through his monologue looking more and more amused with every word. Finally, after what felt like eternity of silence filled with fast beating of Eddie's heart, he speaks out sealing his fate.

"Alright. I'll do it." What? Did he hear right? Does miracles truly exist? "But." Ah. There it is. " You'll have to help me."

"WHAT? Did you not hear when I said I can't bake???" He looked at confident face of the baker like he was crazy. He can't be serious, right? RIGHT??

"Yes I heard. I also heard that you promised that you'll be the one making it so it's a compromise. Don't worry, I'll do the most of work." That doesn't make Eddie worry any less. "So? Tonight at seven I'll meet you here? I'll close up and we'll be ready to bake." This bastard has the guts to grin at Eddie self-satisfied like he didn't just sentenced his bakery to die in flames. But alas, he doesn't have much of a choice. He won't find anything better and if all he has to do is sit and watch as Steve works his magic, maybe occasionally mix something? then deal.

"Deal. I'll meet you tonight. But don't blame me if by tomorrow you won't have a place to work at." Steve laughed, and oh he even has a perfect laught, making Eddie a blushing virgin again.

"Deal. Till tonight, beautiful boy."

"Fuck- I mean- my name's Eddie." This man will kill him someday if he won't die in the fire tonight.

"Alright, Eddie. See you." His name has never sounded so beautiful.

"Right, see you." He choked out and one last time looked into those eyes, now full of mirth and amusement. He quickly walked out so he wouldn't change his mind and went back to his place. He looked at the clock. A little past four. So he has three hours to get ready and mentally prepare himself for tonight's disaster. Heaven and hell help him.

[stevieschrodinger]

Part One

Baker Steve and Rock Star Eddie wrong number AU

Part two

"Steve! You have no idea!" Eddie's laughing, and that always makes Steve laugh, too. He's clearly a little tipsy. "Everyone went mad for the cake! It's was just, gone! Here, I'll send you some pictures!"

"I know what it looked like Eds," but Steve's grinning, knowing he's talking to empty air, can hear Eddie very vaguely mumbling to himself as he looks through his camera roll. Next to Steve' ear, his phone vibrates several times.

"Anyway, Stevie, I was thinking," Eddie's back now, still clearly tipsy but sounding uncharacteristically sheepish, "it's Christmas kind of soon right? Going to need a cake or two there. New year. Easter. Birthdays and bar mitzvahs and...and... independence day...so I was thinking I should get my orders in now, you know? Avoid disappointment."

"Eddie," Steve starts, finds himself turning shy himself, "you don't have to have a cake on order just to talk to me."

"I, ah, don't?"

"No, I mean, pretty sure we're friends, right?"

"Friends," Eddie starts slowly, "there's, like, lots of different kinds of friends."

"Sure, sure," Steve agrees easily, butterflies running rampant in his stomach, "there's even, kind of, more than friends, really."

"That sounds really really great-"

"Eddie!" There's a cacophony in the background, people shouting, "man, you're missing your own party-"

The line goes dead, and Steve's left standing in the dim light of the evening, just staring at tomorrow's cake order where it's cooling on the racks. A minute later, his phone buzzes in his hand, "so sorry baby, talk tomorrow."

Steve smiles at his phone. He had gone a little quiet after finding out who Eddie really is. It had kind of surprised him. But then Eddie had text him, "did I do something? 😞" and Steve realised Eddie's entitled to his privacy, the same as anyone.

"Hey Stevie, how's your day?"

Steve has Eddie on speaker phone as he mixes batter, "pretty good so far, you? You hungover?"

"No, no, didn't get that wasted, too old for that nonsense now, you know?"

Steve laughs, "aren't you like, 25?"

"I mean, maybe. Definitely old enough to, like, think about settling down, you know?"

Steve's breath catches in his throat, excitement and nerves after their interrupted conversation last night, "yeah, you, thinking about that? With, uhm, someone?"

"Yeah, I am, it's just..." Steve's heart sinks in his chest," my job, you know, I travel a lot, and that would be a sacrifice for anyone, and I couldn't ask someone to live with that, you know?"

"Well...what if it wasn't? What if they just...went with you?"

"What if...this person...had a job they loved? Their own business they worked hard for?"

"Yeah," Steve agrees slowly, "but what if...well, take me for example. I love to bake, but I don't love my business. That's just a means to an end, you know? I don't always love the orders, I'd choose to make something else if I was doing it for fun. So if it were me, i'd give it up in a heartbeat as long as I can keep baking."

"Yeah? You mean it?"

"Yeah. Yeah Eddie, I mean it."

"I, I mean, sure. Good. Thanks. I mean, not thanks, I mean, good, that's great."

Steve grins at Eddie's ramblings.

"I'll be away though, soon, for a couple of months, like four months, so, maybe, we could keep talking and when, I mean, if you want, what I get back..."

"I'd like that." Steve fist pumps, silently celebrating. "You never actually told me what you do for work?". Steve's teasing him, but Eddie doesn't know that Steve knows so, Steve grins to himself and keeps his voice even.

"I ah, music?"

"Yeah, you have mentioned that before, but what about it?" Steve knows he's being a dick, he just can't help it though.

"I ah, travel, with the band," Eddie starts slowly, and that is technically not a lie, Steve thinks, "and I kind of, look after some of the instruments and...have a lot to do with the sound checks? Like I'm definitely always there, for every sound check, like, I have to be."

All of that is probably true, Steve thinks, and god bless Eddie for not wanting to actually lie to Steve.

"Oh right, and what's the band called?"

"Oh, they're like, heavy metal, you've definitely never heard of them."

After they get off the call, Steve laughs all afternoon.

[yearningagain]

it's enough (to make a girl blush): chapter two

HELLO!!! welcome to chapter two! i'm amazed at the traction that this has gained with just the first chapter, and it's giving me so much motivation to continue this!

i've also decided to open up my ask box for suggestions for rambles and ficlets, so please shoot me a message if you feel so inclined!

and of course a huge thank you to @kayleeofcamelot for betaing and helping me so much!! without further ado!

also on ao3!

total wc: 2.6k | wc: 1.4k | rating: e (18+) | pairing: steddie | cw: none | tags: a/b/o, alpha eddie munson, omega steve harrington, modern au, baker steve, famous eddie, getting together, gay eddie, bi steve, soulmates/true mates/scent mates, side buckingham

part one | part three

--------------

Steve loved Robin more than he thought he could love anyone. She was the peanut butter to his jelly, the rock to his roll, the yin to his yang. He doesn't know how he managed as long as he did before meeting her, and he frankly doesn't know what he would do without her now. 

That being said, sometimes she does make Steve want to give himself another concussion. 

Lunch at the deli had been uneventful. They had eaten their sandwiches while nestled in the window booth in the back corner, turned to look out onto the streets of Chicago. Most of their conversation was driven by judgmental comments about passerby’s, ranging from jabs about interesting color choices on someone's tracksuit to monologues about wearing a faux fur coat with cheetah print leggings (“It’s the principle, Rob! You wouldn’t get it”).

After finishing their meals, the pair made their way across the street to the record store. Upon entry, Steve was surrounded by deep earthy scents, old vinyl and incense mingled with the fresh flowers growing in pots littered about. And that brought them to their current situation.

Robin was making a complete and utter fool out of herself. She was bright red in the face, and Steve couldn’t tell if it was from pure mortification or her complete lack of breathing for the past five minutes. As soon as a little blonde omega, introduced as Chrissy, emerged from the shelves to greet them and show them around, the alpha had not been able to stop her mouth from running and running. Now, normally in these situations, Steve would insert himself into Robin's one sided conversation and slow her down, purely to rescue the other person from being roped into a woven tale of at least six subjects at once. But after one look at Chrissy, and the adoration and attentiveness in her expression, he decided to leave it be. 

At the back corner of the shop was a small gathering of armchairs, a loveseat, and a small wooden coffee table. Plopping down into the comfiest looking chair, leaving the girls to their own devices, Steve pulled out his phone to start tackling the sea of messages he had received during the night. 

Dusty

12:58 AM: STEVE

STEVEN

12:59 AM: STEVEN HARRINGTON

STEVEN LOUISE HARRINGTON

1:01 AM: do you even love me anymore

1:08 AM: if i were dying i'd be dead by now

1:14 AM: ☠️☠️🩸🩸

1:27 AM: okay whatever goodnight steven text me when you’re  alive again ig 🙄

11:39 AM: Jesus Christ kid

That’s not even my name

11:40 AM: Did you die?

11:41 AM: no

11:41 AM: So what was so important?

11:43 AM: before i say anything i want to remind you that  i know all of your secrets and also you love me sooo much  and you’re the best babysitter ever and you owe me for  letting my mom hire you at the shop

11:44 AM: Dustin. What did you do.

11:44 AM: nothing!

i didn’t do anything i swear on my mother

11:45 AM: Okay…

So…?

11:46 AM: my favorite band is playing here next month but its an 18+ show

mom would never come with me, she’d have a heart attack i think

so i need you to take me

11:48 AM: i can pay for your ticket if you want!

11:50 AM: steve?

A loud crash echoed from within the shop, followed by an extremely disheveled Robin popping her head into the nook. "I need your help."

—

Leaving the girls was both the best and worst decision Steve could have made. 

In the ten minutes of inattentiveness, the alpha had managed to talk for seven of them consecutively. After realizing she had been talking herself in circles, she tried to reign it in, which ultimately ended in her accidental confession of attraction towards Chrissy. That then led to a kiss-turned-make-out, in which Robin had tried to push the shorter girl against a wall for more leverage. However, blinded by her circumstances, she pushed the omega into one of the shelves, effectively knocking it and its contents to the ground. They were old antique shelves that had been modified with basket-drawers to store records and other miscellaneous objects, they were heavy . 

Steve would be upset, but the dark blush and lovesick smile never quite left Robin's face. 

With that mess dealt with, he was finally able to respond to Dustin. He shot a quick 'Sure. Just LMK the deets ' text and slid his phone back into his pocket. Chrissy led them both back to the nook, bustling about and making sure they were comfortable.

"Steve, I am so incredibly sorry about that! Please sit here, let me go grab something and I'll be right back!" She dashed off down a small hallway towards the back of the building.

Steve shook his head at Robin, sighing loudly. "Couldn't keep it in your pants?"

The alpha huffed and looked away. She huffed again, this time more of a sniff. And then again. 

"Steve, are you fucking with me or something?"

Furrowing his eyebrows, he followed suit in her actions by taking his own sniff of the air. "What? What's going on?"

She continues sniffing, seemingly following the scent. Standing from her spot on the loveseat, laser focused on tracking, she walks right over to Steve.

"Your scent, it's changing. I knew it was different this morning! I know what you smell like, dingus. And you don't smell like you anymore. Well, okay, you still smell like you! But it's like you're roasting apples in the woods on a camping trip. And you've always smelled like apples, so I'm glad that's the same, but now it's different. Has anything weird happened lately? Have you felt different at all? Do you have a fever?" Her curiosity morphs into concern and she starts placing her hands over the omegas face, seeing if she can tell the temperature. "I've never been good at this. Should we go to the doctor? Do we need an ambulance? Shit, did you get poisoned?"

Steve grabbed her hands firmly, guiding them to his chest and taking a deep breath. "Breathe. I'm not dying, Robs. I think I'd know if I was." He takes a few more measured breaths, pulling her down into his lap for a hug. 

After he was sure she was calm, he relaxed his grip, but didn't let go. "I was actually meaning to ask you about something. Nothing bad, I promise! I just... I had this really weird dream last night and I woke up convinced it had actually happened. I was so convinced there would be physical proof, but there wasn't any. But I could smell the alpha in my dream. Have you ever had a dream where you could smell the other people?"

Robin looked at him calculatingly, a crease forming in her brow at the thought. "No, never. I didn't think it was a thing that happened."

"Exactly. I could smell him, birdie. I could feel him. It was real . Until it wasn't. I woke up heartbroken. For no real reason." He sighed once more, lowering his gaze to his fingers rested in his lap.

"Okay, I am so sorry once again, and I had no intention to eavesdrop whatsoever, but I want to help." Chrissy emerged from the hallway with a plate of mini cupcakes, a sheepish expression. 

Steve waved her off. "It's all good. If you don't think I'm crazy, I don't mind suggestions."

She set the plate of cupcakes onto the coffee table and sat down on the loveseat. Robin quickly scrambled off of Steve to sit next to the other omega, shooting him an apologetic glance. 

"So, basically, I read this book once, out of pure curiosity, that was about fate and the universe and all that. It had a whole section about how, years and years ago, alphas and omegas were randomly going through what seemed to be second presentations. It started with scent changes, and apparently a lot of people experienced some sort of initial mental connection. These changes were way less severe, and oftentimes not noticeable until a random heat or rut was triggered. When that would happen, it was always a pair at a time, one alpha and one omega. The moment they would smell the other for the first time is the moment their respective presentations would complete. They'd come out the other side bonded and, most often, pupped. Their bodies were preparing."

Steve stared at Chrissy, mouth agape. "Preparing for what, exactly?"

"Their soulmate!"

[bigfootsboytoy]

Steve's out of bread. Not a big deal, normally. Except today, he's really craving a sandwich. Any other day he'd just run to the store and grab more. Only he doesn't get paid for a couple more days, and the last of his cash just went to putting gas in the beamer. He could eat something else, sure, but he knows he's gonna be annoyed about not getting a sandwich all damn day. He's getting ready to accept defeat and make something else, to just deal with being unsatisfied, when he spots his moms single, dusty old cookbook on the shelf. He knows they have flour and a few packets of that instant yeast stuff...

Bread can't be that hard to make, right?

It turns out bread is actually very, very hard to make. Four failed loafs and a mess of flour later, and Steve STILL hasn't eaten, and he isn't even sure he wants the fucking sandwich anymore if it's going to be this much work. But now he's in too deep to back out. He's GOING to make a loaf of bread if it kills him. And he really hopes the fifth time is the charm because he's almost out of ingredients. He follows the instructions to the letter, making sure not to add too much water (like the first attempt) or too much yeast (the third) and when the time comes to knead the dough it actually looks decent this time. He's maybe being more aggressive than necessary kneading, cooking with hate rather than love, but by the time it's ready to go in the oven he's pretty sure he actually nailed it.

And he's right.

The final loaf comes out perfect, with a golden brown crust and a springy center. It's easily the best bread he's ever tasted, and he feels oddly proud of it. Even if he botched the first few attempts, he got there in the end. After all that work, he has his sandwich, and he has homemade bread.

He ends up buying more flour and yeast when he gets paid, instead of buying more bread. Now that he's gotten the hang of it? He ends up producing loaf after loaf of the stuff. He lets out all his frustration into the dough, and somehow it makes a great taste every time. Cooking with love apparently isn't his style, but cooking with irritation? That he's good at. He ends up going a little overboard, being forced to send bread home with everyone after Hellfire because he made way too much. It's almost embarrassing, until the next day when Mrs. Henderson calls begging him to make more for her. And then Eddie shows up with a few dollars and demands from his uncle to get more of that 'fancy' bread he brought home.

In a few weeks, he's making bread for everyone he knows.

He's perfected a routine and has started setting aside some of the money he gets from it to get an apartment. One with a decent kitchen. He doesn't actually charge anyone, but a lot of the time the kids force money into his hands anyway, and he knows better than to argue with them over something like that. So he ends up with a second job, one that he doesn't hate with a fiery passion, one he enjoys and is good at. Robin keeps encouraging him to get a job baking somewhere, but he pushes it to the side for now. Keeps it as a special idea he saves for rainy days, a daydream that keeps him going when the nightmares leave him exhausted.

Maybe someday, he isn't sure. For the time being he's content baking for his friends, and making sure he has plenty of bread whenever he's craving a sandwich.

[moonxnite]

I smile like an idiot when I see my man, who’s not my man, on my television screen.