#steve bakes

[nostxlgialeo]

i am TIRED of yall putting all this disrespect on my man steve harrington’s name! ENOUGH of writing cook steve! STEVE HARRINGTON CAN COOK! i will not even accept the “oh he cant cook but he can bake” INCORRECT you expired coupon sitting on a wobbly table lookin slut. steve has spent too much time alone that he didnt learn how to cook! he’s a JOCK, he needed to eat healthy so he could maintain his jocky aura! then when dustin came around and he started babysitting he learned to bake so the kids would have tasty treats to munch on!

[fandoms-in-law]

Stories Chapter 2

chapter 1

Chapter Summary: Robin and Steve get to Steve's house and after dancing around Steve's reaction to his notebooks being found get distracted by something bigger

Warnings: child abuse and neglect, suicidal indeation (all warnings are for things that happened in the past of the story, not the present)

/\/\

That evening came too soon for Steve, but he was at least able to focus on the fact he and Robin were closing meant all the kids should be in their homes before he got to his, so only Eddie and Robin would have any opportunity to ask any questions.

Eddie was waiting on the sofa when Robin and Steve got there, cuddling one of the notebooks Steve had definitely asked to be put in his room and ignored.

"It's the one Lucas borrowed to take notes in. Don't worry, after your call I moved him next to me so neither he nor any of the other brats could keep reading your writing. He stuck to just the pages at the back he was taking notes on before they decided to see what these are hidden for." Eddie explained before anything could be said. "I said it's your choice if the pages are torn out for him to add to his dnd notes or he needs to copy them from one of the others.”

Steve nodded after a moment, holding a hand out to get his notebook back before heading to the kitchen. "I need dinner and a drink if Robs is set on actually talking about this shit. But thanks for that. It's just private stuff though, stupid nonsense."

"Didn't seem stupid to me, but you're right. There's no pressure to talk about anything you don't want to." Eddie countered but got up to follow him through.

"There is. It's something I should work through and this one is set that we're going to help each other through the trauma we've faced whether that's Hawkins hell related or not apparently." Steve sighed, tuning out Robin's reply and the conversation that grew between her and Eddie as he focused on cooking a simple pasta.

"Dinner and are you planning to bring up the elephant in the room now, or after we've eaten?" Steve asked eventually, turning around with the plated food and going to the fridge to grab drinks out.

Eddie hummed, "You okay if we say now? I mean this seems to be making you more tense the longer it's delayed and they are just some stories."

"I'm fine and no. They're what was needed for King Steve to exist! These are pages telling me the monsters can be defeated, that we can be safe in a town sitting atop hell like Hawkins is." Steve shook his head, hand automatically going to his notebook to prevent anyone else taking it even though neither moved.

Robin shrugged after a moment. "Why did king Steve need to exist if you had to write stories to be him? Stories you can't stand us knowing about let alone sharing."

"Want me to list what a Harrington is for you? Cause you won't find stories, read or written or simply dreamt anywhere in there." He huffed, eating before he could say anything more and wondering if he could get out of answering too many questions by keeping his mouth full. It didn't seem likely; if he tried they'd just wait until he finished.

Eddie confused him however by looking around the room, wandering into the living room for a moment. "You know I've wondered before why there are no book here and assumed they're all just kept in cupboards or something. You're telling me that no, you're just not allowed them? Seriously? Fuck money if it means you can't have stories! That's fucked up Stevie!"

"It's what my life has been. Fit the expectations, never give away the times I struggle to reach them and keep our name important to the town." Steve stated.

There must have been something in his voice or expression because Robin shared a look with Eddie before asking, "What happens if you don't meet their expectations?"

"This, at first at least." He gestured broadly to the house around them, empty as always. "Then later things like the pool heating being turned off so I either couldn't practice or risked hypothermia each time, being kept from school trips, and you know money was cut off when I didn't get into college. That wasn't the first time though. They were never here way before then and the amount they left for me to survive on was based on how well I was meeting their expectations. The amount they sent for extended trips just the same."

Neither knew how to respond to it and after a few moments of seeing Robin and Eddie both try to think of what to say Steve continued, "Do you get it now? Everything has to be what they want or that could happen again. It can't - I can't - I've no fucking clue how to let it go because it's still hovering there. Doctor Owens said they'd do something after realising my parents weren't around to confirm the keep quiet payment, but that just got me paperwork."

Robin frowned at that, then clapped her hands. "Show us this paperwork then dingus. Maybe he did do something since we got full bank accounts to keep our mouths shut. Didn't you?"

"Third time, this time, yeah. I guess I did." Steve said after thinking for a moment.

"I'm calling Nancy. You two chat." Robin declared. "Don't give me that look. I'm just asking what she and Mike got for keeping shtum. They've been in this from the start so she'll know if getting paperwork is weird which I'm sure it is."

They watched her disappear into the living room before Steve jumped up to clear their plates away. "I could swear she's waiting as long as she can before asking to look in the notebook."

"Was Dnd what you meant when you said I do things daily you'd prefer to face Russians than do?" Eddie asked instead of responding.

"Just sharing stories." He shrugged. "I just want to feel safe enough for that."

"I hope I'm someone that can happen around, Stevie. The bit I read before realising you probably wouldn't want us reading that was really good. You've been telling yourself stories for a while, haven't you?" Eddie's voice was soft, gentle as he watched Steve decide to clean the dishes.

Steve paused in his movements before glancing back at him almost shyly. "I think you will be. I've thought about showing them to you before, but it's just-"

"Everything drilled into you mind by the genetic excrement you came from." He finished, making Steve laugh when he understood the insult to his parents.

"And Nancy agrees it's weird you got paperwork instead of a full bank account. Where's the paperwork you got?" Robin called, coming back through and looking over the table as if expecting it to be there now.

Both men rolled their eyes. "It's in my room. If you're really set on looking through it then let's go. It's not gonna change anything. My parents still rule the house."

"Legally that might not be so." Robin tutted. "Let's go."

"I'm leading the way and putting my notebooks away before doing anything to get this paperwork out." Steve insisted, catching her shoulder to pull her back when she tried to hurry up the stairs ahead of him.

All his notebooks were out, scattered over his bed, some left open even and Steve didn't give his friends a chance to follow him in, slamming the door behind him to make sure nothing more was read of them. He couldn't bring himself to rush putting them away though.

These books felt like his friends just as much as the pair outside his door and the kids who caused all this were. He wouldn't risk damaging them or the stories that had comforted through pressures and nightmares alike.

Only once the were safely back in his wardrobe did he open the door to Robin's knocking that had been constant from the moment he shut it.

"How long did Dustin take to bring a notebook down for Lucas to take notes in?" he asked to Eddie, already having realised that he'd have been called earlier than he was if all his notebooks had been seen by everyone.

Eddie thought for a moment before admitting, "Long enough that Mike was about to rip pages from his notebook for Lucas and in his words 'drag Dustin to the game by his ears'. Erica volunteered to do the same."

"Which one looked through the notebook that convinced you to call me?" Steve knew how shy he felt over the subject was clear in how quiet his voice had become.

"Dustin again. When I called for a break he told Lucas to look in the front and got all the shitheads involved except for Erica who said she'd murder them if they acted like that over her notes and bet you would too."

Steve snorted at that. "Which was when you called me to prevent any murders?"

"Which was when I confiscated the notebook to check if it was private. I think there was a suicidal character on the page they were looking at then. That's when I called you." Eddie was serious now, searching Steve's face for a reaction and clearly surprised when he relaxed a little more then.

Steve just waved a hand, standing to start finding the paperwork from Doctor Owens. "Best way to story myself calm; project then have characters argue with it."

He froze when arms wrapped tightly around him, first one pair then another, halting his actions.

"You ever feel like that again, call me, call Robin, just fucking promise you'll let us help rather than just storying yourself calm." Eddie's voice was choked, rough and it took a moment of repeating the last things they said in his head for Steve to understand why.

"It wasn't a big thing, just thoughts after a nightmare. You know, middle of the night thoughts that mean fuck all in daylight." he tried to reassure. "I'm not going anywhere back then or now."

"Promise us anyway. We want to be here for you like you're here for everyone else." Robin insisted now, her grip on him tightening.

Steve huffed a laugh, hoping hearing it would help them relax that he's there and happy with them. "Fine, I promise that if ever thoughts of being better off dead are in my head I will try to reach out. Not saying for certain though."

"I guess that's good enough." They both pulled away, still watching him with concern.

"Can we focus on these pages and pages of nonsense that are meant to get me to keep quiet about the first two encounters with the Upside-down?" Steve let go of his wish to comfort them, opting for distraction instead. He quietly thought that since it would still be helping him they'd feel better doing that than the other distractions he was more tempted to use for himself.

Thankfully the pair accepted it, taking the pages, though still shooting concerned glances at him every so often. “So I'll take whatever you got the second time this happened and Robin can look through the first time things?” Eddie suggested, already taking the first pile out of Steve's hands and he pulled it out from his bedside table cabinet.

“I think it's all mixed together...” Steve mused, looking at the rest of the folders he'd put it in as he tugged it out. “You don't want me to go through it with you?” He asked a moment later, realising Eddie hadn't mentioned him.

Eddie chuckled slightly. “Stevie, if you actually cared what all this is, you'd have looked through it or tried to understand it before now. Or asked what it all is whenever Doctor Owens gave it to you. We're not going to force you into trying to understand it when you don't like 'paperwork' and the many things that word could include.”

“You could bake us some cookies or something to snack on while reading.” Robin suggested, recognising the feeling useless pout as he let it form. “I know you've been complaining about never getting to bake anything more interesting than sugar cookies or chocolate chip ones because the kids always ask for them.”

Steve looked between them for a moment. “I'm baking bread, then a Swiss roll. We can have French toast in the morning.” He decided.

…

He was halfway through baking the Swiss roll, doing some of the washing up in the short time it needed when he heard Robin come downstairs to the living room. “Yeah, hey Hopper, need some how to advice, you got a minute?” She said a moment later, piquing his curiosity enough that Steve moved to hover in the doorway between the rooms.

“Yeah, I want to know how Steve can change his landline number and how difficult it is to change the locks on doors?” If he wasn't already curious just because she was calling Hopper, that sentence had him hanging on every word, wishing he could hear Hopper's replies.

“You'll show us how this weekend? Seriously? Perfect and the phone? It's a company or phone line provider thing? Thanks, I'll get on with convincing him it's necessary then.” Steve felt like his eyebrows were about to detach and start climbing his hair with how high they must have gotten in surprise over what seemed to be implied that he'd be doing now. It definitely startled Robin when she turned although that might just have been that she wasn't expecting him to be in the doorway.

For a moment she hovered, waiting for him to speak or trying to think of something to say, Steve wasn't sure, but he needed to make sure the Swiss roll came out at the right time. “If you're already making plans like that for me, you're probably ready to come down here and start explaining what all those pages were. I bet not looking at them would be another way I've failed to meet my parents expectations.”

“Pretty sure if they know what they are, there's no complaints from those assholes that you haven't looked at them.” Robin grinned when he glanced back, heading to the oven. “But sure, Eddie and I will bring the important ones down now. Quick question first, how do you feel about redecorating?”

Steve froze where he'd been opening the oven. “It's not allowed. Mother will throw a fit if I even suggest getting rid of the plaid in my room.”

“Good answer.” Robin agreed cryptically, as if he'd said let's get wallpaper tomorrow instead of refused. She disappeared upstairs before anything else could be said.

Refocusing to ensure the Swiss roll was actually rolled before the cake would crack instead of rolling, Steve absently wondered if that was the point. If he was changing the locks, changing the phone number, then his parents wouldn't be able to access him or the house without knocking so he would be able to change things.

Thankfully that was finished before Eddie appeared in the kitchen, spinning Steve around and into a seat with the loud declaration of “You have a choice of good news, great news, and fucking fantastic but never tell the kids news.”

"I'd say start with the best but dude, do what you want. It's not like third place in your list is a bad thing." He laughed, gesturing for Eddie to continue.

"Well then, third place for awesome things found in your reward paperwork, your dad is a moron who I bet didn't read the papers the government got him to sign. You could claim ownership of almost anything from him as reward for the shit you've gone through and he can't argue because of this little page!" Eddie brandished the piece of paper as if it was a shield. "He gives you shit for not reading documents just point out he probably didn't either."

Steve smirked, taking the page and pretending to read it now. "He'd just fall back on the 'I trust the government' line until realising I could actually do this. Only thing I'd want is like ownership of here and money for bills."

"Perfect time for me to bring up that you already have that then!" Eddie cheered, another document pulled from behind his back. "Deeds to the house, irretractable and permanent unless you decide to sell. If you want the pool heating back on that's your choice to make."

Steve's jaw drops and he sags backwards before startling forwards from not finding the back of the chair when he expected to. "This is mine? Fully mine, not just 'pay the bills yourself since you failed to get into college' mine?" He repeated, staring around the house as if unable to process the news.

"Yeeesssss." Robin drawled out. "Which leads to the best of it all, you can decorate it however you like and I'm already saying the kids are not being told and should be banished from your house until its done because you Know they'll try to take over and correct any choice you make to their tastes."

Steve blinked at he for a moment before nodding in slow motion, clearly still not processing what it meant. "I can have posters and photos up in my room?" He asked.

"Your room, down here, anywhere. Hell you could plaster the fridge with embarrassing photos or artwork by the kids if you wanted to." Eddie gestured widely around the room as he spoke as if just waving would produce the pictures.

Steve carried on his slow nodding. "Right. This is my house and I can make it a home if I want too. Does that mean you two could move in so it isn't completely empty always?" He looked vulnerable, curling into himself as he realised what he'd asked.

Both of them laughed slightly, "We'll have to see about that. Seems like a big adjustment for all of us when you need the support here." Robin tried to gently reject the offer.

Eddie thought for a moment, watching Steve's reaction and letting the reason why he was asking settle into his brain. "If you can convince Wayne he doesn't need to check I'm alive and not on the run again then maybe in a month or two. We can have plenty more sleepovers before then as we help you though." He offered instead.

"That sounds good. I'd - Can we have a sleep over tonight?" Steve requested, looking between them.

The agreement for that comes easily, all three of them moving back to the living room to put a film on and have some of the cake Steve made.

chapter 3

[sp0o0kylights]

Steve Harrington was wearing a Hellfire t-shirt.

It was far too tight on him, the name of the club stretched wide over his chest. The sleeves dug into his biceps, making them pop even more than they usually did, and that was before he crossed his arms. 

Worse?

It was short.

Which meant the damn shirt was constantly riding up to give everyone a nice show of the smattering of hair that trailed down past the band of Harrington's jeans. 

The same hair that Eddie was determinedly not looking at. 

“Henderson, a moment?” He crooked a finger, a smile on his face that was more feral than welcoming. 

Rather than cower or even acknowledge that Eddie was two seconds away from murder, Dustin just gave him a gummy grin, all too pleased with himself and his scheme. 

“Sure Eddie. Steve, don't just stand there, go help set the booth up!” Dustin gestured to Hellfire’s sad little table, crammed all the way in the back of the gym. 

Jeff and Gareth both reacted to the suggestion like a rabid squirrel had been set upon them, nervously inching towards the other side of the booth as Harrington sighed and--shockingly--did as he was told.

‘What,’ Eddie thought angrily, ‘in the everloving fuck.’

“Do you guys mind if I set this down on the table?” Eddie heard Harrington ask as he stormed away, Dustin on his heel. 

They wandered just around the corner, out of sight and hopefully, out of the fallen king’s hearing range.

Eddie wasn't sure if Harrington would try and white knight the very much deserved dressing down he was about to give. 

Didn’t want to chance it, considering the downright weird relationship he had with Hellfire's freshmen.

(While he’d heard many a tale at his table regarding King Steve since the newest recruits had joined Hellfire, most of them dissolved into arguments without ever really going anywhere.

 Best anyone could figure out was that Dustin and Lucas had a bad case of hero worship, while Mike owned a begrudging amount of respect that hailed from a series of misadventures. 

The very same misadventures that, despite all protests to the contrary, was clearly some sort of babysitting gig for Harrington.) 

Either way, plenty of the King’s court would have loved to take this opportunity to fuck with Hellfire.

Given that Henderson was absolutely too old to require a babysitter at fourteen, Eddie would bet his lunch money that was what Steve was here to do.

Something the club couldn’t afford since they were forever and always two seconds away from being stripped of club status and banned from school grounds. 

“I would love to know what went through that all A’s brain of yours when I said,” Eddie whirled on Dustin when they were firmly in the clear, voice low and furious.  “no Henderson, do not invite King Steve to help, he is an invading force and would ruin our peaceful kingdom!?”

He clasped his hands behind his back before leaning into Dustin’s face. “Because clearly whatever you heard wasn’t that.” 

To Eddie’s continued frustration and confusion, Dustin did not treat this like the threat it was. 

None of the freshmen had ever truly treated Eddie like a threat--had somehow skipped that part of the usual onboarding ritual entirely.

Eddie, town freak and drug dealer, who had cultivated his looks and craziness to such a degree that most everyone steered clear, wasn’t used to it. 

Everyone had been afraid of him at some point in this shitty school. Jeff, Gareth, hell even half the staff--and that the dorky trio of fourteen year old's clearly thought this all was play-acting made his eye twitch.

Even if it was--maybe, sometimes--welcome. 

“I know what you said, but I’m telling you I’m right.” Dustin argued immediately, and oh God, he was using that tone again. 

A hand went up into the space between them and Eddie groaned aloud, knowing what was coming.

“First,” Dustin ticked a finger up, “Hellfire really needs the money. Even thirty dollars would get us new figures, but more than that, if we don’t fundraise, we can’t go to Gen Con!” 

Dustin's eyes bored into Eddie’s, full of fire and conviction

“Yes,” Eddie said through gritted teeth, “but--”

“Second!” Dustin cut him off, and God the little shit even threw him a look while he did it, like Eddie was the one being ridiculous here!

“We had to fight just to get our table! Principal Higgins was in algebra today practically begging the mathletes to show up, but then tried to tell us we couldn't be here? That’s messed up!” 

As if denying them a spot to fundraise was the worst thing that asshole had ever done.

Eddie sighed, breath blasting out of his mouth like a dragon’s. 

“Because people think we’re freaks and satanists, Henderson. You don’t typically invite freaks and satanists to the school’s annual Holiday Bazaar. Especially not when all the local moms are paying to hawk their bullshit crafts and tupperware!” 

It was more than that of course. The Hawkins High Holiday Bazaar was a tradition spanning several years now. Starting in the gym and spilling clear into the parking lot, everyone from local artists to even some local shops came to host a small table for the day, thus growing the event from a small school fundraiser to a Hawkins' “must-do.” 

Half the fucking town was here to sell, and the other half was here to shop, which meant Principle Higgins had wanted Hellfire banned from the fucking premise. 

Eddie had been forced to pull out one of his trump cards he’d been saving--blackmail on Higgins that related to the man’s not--so--legal addiction to Percocet that he relied on Reefer Rick for. 

(And bless Rick, that hadn’t been the only tidbit he’d shared with Eddie about Higgins. That information, however, Eddie needed just so the asshat wouldn’t give him the boot from school entirely.) 

The only reason Eddie had pulled it out to secure their rightful spot, was because of Gen Con. 

It was Hellfire's White Whale, their grand adventure, and this was going to be his year to take his friends on one last epic quest to make memories of a lifetime surrounded by people who understood them.

Come hell or high water, Eddie was going to Gen Con--but being able to fundraise by selling wares and baked goods at the stupid Holiday Bazaar would go a long way to help.

Even if he had to listen to the band repeatedly play ear-bleeding renditions of Christmas songs.

“All the clubs get to have a table, and we’re a club!” Dustin continued, like it was that simple. “But you know, I get it. We look scary.” 

He gestured down to his own Hellfire shirt, before gesturing towards Eddie’s entire outfit.

Like Eddie didn't know what he looked like, let alone that he'd made this outfit specifically to scare people away from him.

(And maybe add some rockstar flair to this dinky little hick town.)

“You know who doesn’t look scary?”

Dustin held out his hands and swiveled his body like he was presenting a prize instead of gesturing in the vague direction of; 

“Steve!”

Eddie’s left eye twitched.

‘You can't kill him, you need his character for the campaign.’ He told himself firmly, even if he envisioned strangling Dustin like a chicken.

Cartoon squawking and all. 

“The King isn’t going to help us fundraise, Dustin.” Eddie said, in an effort to break down why Harrington couldn't be here. “He's just going to cause us problems that we can’t afford to have.” 

So many problems, half of which Eddie couldn't think of because if he did, he'd start spiraling.

“Really? Because as you keep saying, Steve used to be the King. People love him, Eddie! Mom’s love him.”

Eddie had pulled himself back up to his proper height a while ago, and now rocked back on his heels while he ran a hand down his face.

There was no getting through to Henderson when he was like this. 

Not unless Eddie really lost it, and it was practically club lore that he only lost it when someone missed an important game. 

One cannot keep a herd of sheep if their flock is terrified of them, after all. 

(“Perhaps you’re just a giant fucking softie.” Tiff, one of Hellfire’s graduating members, told him once. “Honestly dude, I bet you throw up stuffing.”

“Shut up Tiffany, your choker is on backwards again.” He'd spat back, completely offended and not at all trying to distract from how true that was.) 

“We can’t be satanic if Steve’s the one selling cookies!” Dustin finished doggedly. 

“We’re not even selling cookies--that’s not the point!”” Eddie shook his head, hair flying. He was not going to be sidetracked, he wasn’t!

 “Harrington is going to end up siding with all the moms about how we’re all wasting time with D&D, if he even spends the whole time at the table. Is that what you want?” 

He stuck out a ringed finger, poking at Dustin’s chest.

“Every single person who comes by our table has to be convinced D&D is a writing and math based game. Good for the mind and souls of growing, impressionable children. A game that got a bad rep because of  a few silly images.” 

A pitch he and Tiff had come up with during the third or fourth time they had to convince an adult that no, just because their shirts had a dragon on it, didn’t mean they were summoning demons in the drama room. 

“Harrington can’t do that because Harrington doesn’t even know how to play!” 

This Eddie punctuated by throwing his hands in the air. 

Given the startled look of the mother-daughter duo passing him by, clearly was louder than he’d intended--but screw it!

He was right!

Hellfire was in a precarious position to both fundraise and do a little damage control among the slightly smarter members of this shithole small town, and Harrington rolling his eyes and gossiping about how stupid it was would hinder that.

“Okay, first of all, Steve’s played D&D with me and he didn’t even kill his character.” Dustin said it like he was unveiling a smoking gun and not lying through his ass--which Eddie would absolutely be calling him on the second he was done talking. 

Because King Steve? Play D&D?

'Ha!'

“And he’s not gonna say shit because we--me, and Lucas and even Mike!--asked him to help, and he helps when its serious. I know you have some weird grudge with him, but I’m telling you Eddie he’s our golden ticket to Gen Con!” 

“You’re killing me. You are standing here, acting as a friend, when you are bringing a-- a dark force into the midst our of mission--” Eddie hissed, because he was losing the fucking fight and he knew it.

Dustin Henderson was not a man easily swayed. 

Had never been, even when the odds were stacked against him (and Grant and Gareth were howling in his ear.) 

The set of his shoulders and the glint of the little shithead’s eye meant Eddie wouldn’t be able to use him to oust Harrington--if he even could get him out without the dick causing a massive scene anyway. 

As always when outgunned, Eddie flipped to dramatics.

“Betrayed! By my own chosen heir no less!” He moaned, pressing the back of his hand over his eyes as Dustin scoffed.

"Don’t be so dramatic! Steve will help, I promise! Just don’t be a dick to him.” 

 Conversation apparently over, Dustin turned around to head back to the table

Snidely, he added over his shoulder: “Plus we’ve all caught on to the heir thing Eddie. You tell everyone that so they do what you want.” 

The dick.

“You’re too fucking smart for your own good. I’m gonna start feeding you paint chips to bring that IQ down.” Eddie muttered angrily as Dustin went back to their little table.

He gave himself a moment to get his shit together and stomp a foot like a child when Dustin was around the corner and thus couldn’t witness it, before following his wayward sheep back.

Could only pray to any deity listening that Henderson’s meddling didn’t blow up in Hellfire’s face.

[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."

[morganbritton132]

Steve is completely incapable of sharing anything about himself and Robin is about to turn this into a hostage situation when she finds out after the fourth time she makes him a batch of oatmeal raisin cookies that he doesn’t even like them.

“You - you ate them!” She stutters. “You ate all of them! At my family reunion, you ate a ton of them and told my aunt Julie that you loved them.”

“Yeah, well. I didn’t want to be rude.”

[slavicviking]

let me paint you a picture

Vecna is dead. The Upside Down is gone. A thing of the past, really. Except... it's not, of course it's not. Enough time goes by for things to start settling down. But. There's always a but.

Steve disappears and no one notices. But not because no one cared. It's not the case of Steve the Rich Jock. Of Steve the Friendless. Of Steve with Big House and No Parents.

No one notices because no one remembers him ever existing.

Robin feels like a part of her is missing, like there's an itch she can't quite scratch. Her shifts at the bookstore that she owns seem dull and her eyes keep sliding over to the doors like she's waiting for someone to enter. Her flat feels cold. There's an empty room across the hall.

There's a guy Eddie's kissing in the back alley and it makes him feel nothing at all. There's an S tattoed on his hip. He doesn't remember getting it. He must've been drunk. Or high. He keeps wondering why he stayed so close to Hawkins despite all the trouble it brought him. Must've been Wayne, even though his uncle has more than once declared himself ready to move on.

Dustin mourns an older brother he never had. He stylizes his hair but can't remember where he learnt it from when Suzie asks. The Scoops Troops has always been three people; him, and Erica, and Robin, but no, that doesn't sound right. How would they get past that one guard? And those demodogs in '84? Jonathan? Nancy? They were busy with Will, weren't they?

Nancy hates pools. She can't remember why. There was a party of some sort and Barb...Barb got sucked into the Hell that lives and breathes under Hawkins. But...why would they go to a party in the first place? It makes no sense.

And so on, and so on.

Until, one day, Eddie and Robin stumble upon an abondanoed car in the middle of a forgotten road by the forrest. Keys still inside. And a bat full of nails on the driver's seat.

[riality-check]

"Robin, you need to listen to this."

"Hello to you, too, dingus," Robin says, holding the receiver against her ear with her shoulder as she stirs the pasta she has on the stove.

"Seriously, Buckley, you're not gonna believe this."

"Hi to you, too, husband of dingus."

Through the phone, Eddie snorts, which makes Robin smile. Through the phone, Robin hears Steve mumble before he says, "Okay, Cora, what's Pa's name?"

A few seconds pass before Cora, wonderful little menace that she is, answers with all her bright, two-year old confidence, "Baby!"

Robin laughs so hard she drops her spoon. "Steve, you gotta be-"

"It gets better," Eddie says, and he's laughing, too. "Cora, what's Daddy's name?"

"Oh, don't tell me-"

"S'eehard!" Cora says, not quite getting all the sounds, but Robin gets the gist.

"You two are disgusting," she says fondly. "And she's totally doing this on purpose, isn't she?"

"Absolutely," Steve says.

"She's smiling so wide, it's making my face hurt," Eddie adds.

"Well, she gets it from you," Steve says. "Munson menaces beget Munson menaces."

"Okay, Steve Munson."

Robin laughs. "How about it's both of your faults?"

"Wobin!"

Silence settles, and Robin doesn't even try to suppress the wild grin that spreads across her face.

"You gotta be kidding me, little lady," Eddie says.

"She's smiling like a maniac," Steve says, awed.

"I think this just means I'm better than you," Robin says, shrugging and almost immediately dropping the phone.

"I mean, yeah-"

"Yeah, right, Buckley-"

And, for the bit and only for the bit, Robin hangs up, content to let those two idiots and their brilliant kid fight it out until they realize they're talking to dead air.

She has to finish her pasta up, anyway.

[hairmetal666]

Steve who goes on a Bake Off type show after Robin, Dustin, and Max set him up as a contestant. He doesn't want to, doesn't think baking or cooking should be stressful, but he's been wallowing since his knee surgery took him out of work and basketball, since his divorce.

His first day on set, he's totally gobsmacked by the sexy host with all the tattoos and long, curly hair. Just, cannot take his eyes off the guy, blushing and stammering whenever he comes around to do interviews, obviously can't stop starring.

After the first day, where he manages to stay comfortably in the middle of the pack, he calls Robin to complain about what a mess he becomes around this gorgeous dude.

Her response is to cackle and say, "Steve! How do you not know who Eddie Munson is? Oh my god, you're a disaster."

Turns out, Eddie Munson is the lead singer of Dustin's favorite band, Corroded Coffin, and also pretty well-known for his dnd YouTube channel. He's been a host on the show for years, only Steve doesn't really pay attention when the others watch it and didn't know.

Eddie, for his part, is losing his mind. He'd known about the beautiful contestant for this season, former college basketball superstar turned coach, having a hell of a shitty year after dislocating his kneecap in a charity game. Eddie--foolishly, it turns out--thought he wouldn't be as attractive in person. He also expected Steve to be terrible and egotistical, a jock through and through.

So, when Steve Harrington walks into the tent in a short-sleeved polo and obviously ironed jeans and is still drop-dead gorgeous, he's fucking flabbergasted. And then Steve has the audacity to be nice? Kind and thoughtful and running to help other bakers when he still has work to do himself? He also blushes so pretty, high across his nose and cheeks, and god does hewant to be the reason Steve blushes like that.

Eddie is beside himself.

Leading up to the second week, Steve schools himself into being calm around Eddie. He can't afford to lose his cool like that every time the host is around. Except, this week Eddie flirts with him shamelessly. Winks at him, leans into space, calls him "m'lord" with this deeply resonant voice that makes Steve want to drop to his knees. Steve doesn't mean to, not really, but he flirts right back, feeding Eddie tidbits of his bakes and looking for any excuse to touch him.

Steve does well for the first half of episodes. He never wins the technical or star baker, but he's regularly within the top contestants. On episode five, though, something is off. He's distracted, forgetful, doesn't leave enough time for his custard to set in the signature. Eddie asks if he's okay, but Steve shrugs and smiles, says "off my game today."

But then, in the technical, he curdles his buttercream more than once, and his genoise sponge burns. Eddie watches as Steve folds his arms above his head and disappears from view. He doesn't hesitate, he sprints from his interview, falling to his knees in front of the contestant.

"Stevie, sweetheart, what's going on?"

"I get migraines," Steve whispers. Trails of wet streak down his cheeks. "I've felt one coming all morning, been trying to stave it off but--"

"Okay, okay," Eddie shakes out his hands. "You can sit out this challenge, yeah? Or take this weekend off. It happens. You'll come back next week--"

"I don't want to stop." More tears fall from his eyes.

"What do you need?"

Steve shakes his head, wry little smile pulling at his lips. "Time to breathe."

Eddie glances up, eyes catching on the camera crew hovering in front of them. He throws both middle fingers up and says, in the most reasonable and even tone, "fuck!" Everyone in the tent looks at him, but he doesn't stop. "Shit!" "Bitch!" Motherfucker!" He goes on and on, saying the filthiest series of things he can think of. The camera crew steps away, another contestant brings Steve a glass of water, and Eddie sits with him.

The other host announces that there are thirty minutes remaining in the challenge.

"Well. That's that, then," Steve says. He stands, patting the naked skin of Eddie's knee where it shows through the rip in his jeans as he goes.

"Wait, what do you mean?"

"Out of time, no cake, no buttercream."

Eddie hops to his feet. "You're going to let that stop you?"

"Well." Steve laughs. "Can't serve this." He gestures to his discarded bowls of frosting, his burnt cake.

"You have time to make another buttercream."

Steve raises an eyebrow. "Sure, but not the cake."

"Cut the burnt off. Cover it in the buttercream. Easy peasy."

"Okay..." Steve stares at his station. "Okay, that could work. It won't be pretty, but--"

Eddie, knowing he's no longer needed, steps away, and Steve gets to work.

Steve tells Robin all about it and, as soon as he gets home from the taping and she's immediately like, "Eddie Munson, huh?"

He shoots her a look. "It's nothing."

"Yeah, him leaping over a table to check on you is surely nothing."

"Robin," he warns.

"What?"

"Eddie would never want a guy like me."

She laughs but quickly grows sober. "Steve. Of course he would. He likes you."

"It's nothing, really." He walks towards the kitchen. "What do you want for dinner?"

Eddie experiences the same harassment from his band members and their manager.

"You're gonna ask Harrington out, right?" Gareth asks.

"That would be a little bit of a professional conflict of interest," he deadpans. He doesn't look up from his guitar.

A puffed Cheeto smacks him square in the forehead. "Hey!" He shrieks.

"He means once the season is done, Edward," Chrissy says.

He wipes the cheese dust from his forehead. "Not a good enough reason to call me Edward. Anyway, I'm pretty sure he's straight."

Jeff guffaws. "C'mon, dude. No way. He's so into you he might as well have a neon sign."

"He divorced a woman."

"That doesn't mean anything, and you know it," Chrissy says.

Eddie rolls his eyes. "I may be considering asking him out. Maybe."

Everyone cheers. More Cheetos hit him in the face.

---

To Steve's great surprise, he makes it to the finals. Not just makes it, he gets a star baker, gets first in the semi-final technical. He's baking in the final and might have a fucking chance.

It's with great surprise, once it's all said and done, that he hears his name announced as the winner. He doesn't have much time to process it, because Eddie is striding towards him. He's not carrying the cake stand trophy or flowers, it's just Eddie.

Eddie who stops in front of him, eyes shining. Eddie who leans in and whispers, "I knew you could do it, baby, I'm so proud of you." Eddie who twines his fingers through Steve's hair, pulling him into a soft, sweet kiss.

The internet explodes as the season airs. Everyone is obsessed with Steve and Eddie. They have fics on ao3, a dedicated tumblr community, edits, playlists, gif sets, a ship name all dedicated to them. The fandom grows after episode 5 airs. Not all the footage makes it, thanks to Eddie, but they still witness him tenderly taking care of Steve and directing the cameras away. Fans start scouring their social medias, looking for any hint of their relationship status; even beg them in comments and DMs to reveal if it was just a showmance.

Eddie and Steve, however, are happy in the quiet little world the carved out for themselves after filming. They aren't ready to reveal anything, even hints, whether or not the show would let them.

Then, the final airs and the kiss is revealed to the world. The ending title cards show a picture of Steve with the rest of the season's bakers and the caption, "Steve threw a party for the other bakers..."

The picture then changes to one of he and Eddie, arms wrapped around each other. This caption says: "...at the home he shares with his boyfriend Eddie."

That night, in bed, Steve says, "I'm really glad Robin and the kids made me go on the show. But do you think it's bad that the thing I'm happiest about, way more than winning, is that I met you?"

Eddie places a slow circle of kisses in the dip of Steve's lower back. "Sweetheart, I'd be disappointed if you said anything else. Now, hush, I have a baking champion to congratulate."

[steveseddie]

sweet as pumpkin pie

steddie | rating: t | wc: 3,1 k | cw: none | tags: dustin & steve, dustin & eddie, eddie knows how to bake, steve has a crush, getting together, first kiss, steve pov

for @steddie-spooktober day twenty-four, prompt “pumpkin” 

read on ao3

Pounding at the door has Steve scrambling to his feet and hurtling towards the front door. He glances at Eddie on the couch and is relieved to find he’s still napping soundly, unbothered by the noise. 

Steve doesn’t want him to wake up, not when Eddie showed up an hour earlier looking exhausted after nightmares kept him up all night. The last thing Steve wants is for Eddie to lose any more sleep because whoever is at the door grows impatient and knocks harder. 

So he fumbles with the lock and swings the door open to reveal–

“Dustin?”  

“Steve, we have an emergency!” Henderson shrieks, his loud volume making Steve flinch.

His annoyance is immediately replaced by worry as the kid’s words register. His body tenses up, his fingers itch for his nail bat. “An Upside Down emergency?” 

“Worse!” Dustin says. Steve’s stomach churns and he feels sick. He tries to think what could be worse than an Upside Down emergency– “A baking emergency!” He finishes before Steve can spiral. 

He blinks at him. “A baking–” he starts in incredulity. “Henderson! Jesus fucking Christ, man.” He reaches over and flicks his stupid Thinking Cap. 

“What?” Dustin protests, swatting Steve’s hand away.

“That’s not worse than an Upside Down emergency! Nothing is worse than an Upside Down emergency!”

“Fine, but it’s up there,” Dustin argues stubbornly.

“Whatever,” Steve says, pinching the bridge of his nose. He wishes Eddie was awake so that they could share an exasperated look. “What’s the matter, shithead?”

“You know my mom isn’t home this week, right?”

“Yeah, she’s visiting family or something.” She told Steve as much when she called and asked him to keep an eye on her Dusty. 

“Right, well, the science club is in charge of the baking sale this week and she volunteered to bring something, but she forgot it was this week!” 

Steve blinks at him, failing to see what the problem is. “So? She left you money, right? Just buy some cupcakes at Melvald’s and bring those.”

Dustin gasps, affronted. “Steve, it’s a bake sale! Not a store-bought sale!”

“Things at stores were baked at some point too, butthead,” Steve argues, but Dustin keeps looking at him like he’s being stupid. “Geez, fine, what do you want me to do about it anyway?”

“I need you to bake me something, duh.”

Steve snorts. “Sure, yeah, I’d love to, except I don’t know how to bake.”

Dustin frowns. “Bullshit! You cook for us all the time!”

“Yeah, cook like actual food, not pies and shit,” he says, crossing his arms and leaning against the door.

“It’s the same thing!”

Steve thinks back on the time he tried to bake brownies for Nancy and how he almost burned his house down in the process. “It’s so not,” he says in a bitchy tone. 

Dustin groans, scrubbing his hands down his face. “But Steve, I need a pie!”

“Sorry, kid, you’re gonna have to ask someone else. Maybe Mrs. Wheeler or–”

“I can do it.”

Both of their heads snap towards the living room entrance where Eddie stands, rubbing his eyes sleepily. 

Christ, he’s cute, Steve thinks, and immediately feels his cheeks heat up. He hopes Eddie is still too groggy from sleep to notice. “Do what, Eds?” 

“Make Henderson a pie,” Eddie says, waving his hand at the kid. 

Dustin blinks at him with wide eyes. “You know how to bake a pie?” 

“Yup.”

Steve finds himself asking, “How?” 

Eddie snorts amusedly. “We have ovens in the trailer park too, rich boy,” he snarks but his words lack any heat. “Though I might have to borrow yours for this, ours hasn’t worked since the turkey incident of ‘84.”

Dustin and Steve exchange a look, equally shocked by what they’re hearing. 

“So,” Eddie goes on, clapping his hands together. “What kind of pie do you need, Henderson?” He asks as slides his Reeboks on, which he left by Steve’s door when he showed up. “Cherry, pumpkin, apple?”

“Uh, pumpkin?”

Eddie flashes him a dimpled grin. “My favorite,” he says, grabbing his car keys from the table at the entrance. “Let’s go then, shrimp.”

“I thought you were gonna make it here,” Steve says, confused by Eddie leaving.

“Gotta go shopping first, Stevie,” Eddie explains, van keys spinning around his finger. “And I gotta dust off the old recipe, it’s been a while since I used it.”

“Ugh, but I hate grocery shopping!” Dustin whines, earning a smack on the back of his head from Eddie.

“It’s your pie, Henderson. Suck it up.” 

Dustin scoffs, crossing his arms over his chest. 

Eddie turns to Steve, batting his long eyelashes at him. “You mind cleaning the oven for me in the meantime, sweetheart?”

Steve should protest that he didn’t agree to help, but with Eddie’s big doe eyes staring at him like that and him calling him sweetheart, all he can muster is a weak, “Yeah, okay.”

Eddie grins, throwing a wink over his shoulder as he grabs the back of Dustin’s neck and pushes him towards his van. “Be back in a few, honey!” He calls back to Steve. “And then we’re baking a pie!”

Steve watches them go and closes the door once the pair gets in the van. 

He’s in the kitchen, ready to clean his oven for Eddie when his words register in Steve’s brain.

“Wait– we?”

***

Eddie and Dustin come back an hour later, carrying everything they need. 

Dustin dumps his bags on the counter and immediately tries to retreat to the living room but Eddie moves faster. He grabs onto the handle of his backpack, pulling him to an abrupt stop, Dustin’s limbs flailing like a puppet on strings. 

“Where do you think you’re going?” He asks, tugging Henderson back into the kitchen. “I told you, it’s your pie so you’re helping.”

“But my mom never forces me to help!” He protests, trying to shrug off his backpack to escape. 

Eddie wraps an arm around his neck instead. 

“Yeah, well. Your mom is a saint, I’m not,” he says, letting him go once Dustin stops struggling and handing him a whisk and a list of ingredients for him to mix. 

Begrudgingly, Dustin accepts them and sets off to work on making the filling while Eddie and Steve work on the crust. 

Steve has to focus really hard on following Eddie’s instructions correctly. Not because the instructions are particularly complicated or anything, mostly it’s just ‘add this’ or ‘measure that’ or ‘hand me those’. It’s because Eddie is very distracting like this– with his hair tied in a messy bun, the sleeves of his flannel rolled over his forearms, flour smeared on his face.

And then there’s the familiarity with which he moves around Steve’s kitchen after spending so much time here, helping Steve cook or just keeping him company. And the confidence with which he measures, mixes, and adds ingredients, or tells Steve to do it. 

Steve always had a thing for competence. It’s why he was so attracted to Nancy, whether she was getting all of her chemistry flashcard questions right or shooting monsters in the face. It’s why he started crushing on Robin after she cracked that Russian code. Steve knows that if he had been there when Eddie played the most metal concert ever, and he had seen him shredding his guitar the way Dustin describes it, he would’ve been too busy drooling over him to fight Vecna. 

Eddie knowing how to make a pumpkin pie from scratch is no different– and if it weren’t for Dustin, Steve probably would’ve already pinned Eddie against the kitchen counter to sloppily make out with him. 

For now, Steve tries his best to pay attention to what Eddie asks him to do and not get distracted by thoughts of kissing him or dragging him upstairs or–

He realizes he fails when Eddie has to smear flour on his nose to get his attention. 

“Hey,” Steve protests weakly, going cross-eyed trying to stare at the white powder on his nose.

Eddie chuckles. “There you are, I’ve been talking to you for like, five minutes.” 

“Oh.” Steve must’ve gotten distracted staring at Eddie’s arms as he expertly kneaded the dough and rolled it into balls. He glances down at the counter and realizes he’s done already. Then he glances around the kitchen and notices it’s just the two of them. 

“Where’s Henderson?”

“Well, the filling is ready and we have to leave these babies in the fridge for two hours,” he says, holding up one of the dough balls. “So I sent him to pick a movie for us to watch in the meantime.”

“Oh, okay,” Steve says, wondering how he could’ve been so deep in thought that he missed all of that happening. He grabs one of the dough balls while Eddie grabs the other one, following him to the fridge. “Do we need this much pie crust?” He asks as Eddie opens the door. 

“I thought we could make two pies so I doubled the recipe. Henderson can take one and we can have the other,” Eddie says, sticking the dough in the fridge. “That way you can try it and I can take some back to Wayne. I don’t think we’ve had any homemade pumpkin pie since my mom died.”

Steve hums. “Is this her recipe?”

The smile Eddie gives Steve over his shoulder is a little sad. “Yeah, she taught me how to make it years ago.”

“I can’t wait to try it,” Steve says softly, knocking their shoulders together. 

Eddie spins on his heels, leaning back against the fridge. “I just hope I didn’t fuck it up, it’s been a while,” he chuckles, hanging a hand from his neck. 

Steve shrugs. “You can always blame me. Or Dustin.”

Eddie throws his head back, laughing. There’s a streak of flour on his neck and Steve has to fight the urge to clean it up with his tongue. “Nah, Stevie, you two are doing a great job,” Eddie says with a dimpled grin, “even the kid with his fucking attitude.”

Steve huffs, rolling his eyes. “Right? You’d think he’s doing us a favor.”

“Entitled little shit,” Eddie mutters, but the corners of his mouth tick up.

From the living room, Dustin yells at them, his voice dripping with annoyance. “You guys are gonna watch the movie or what?” 

Steve and Eddie share a look and start laughing. 

***

Two hours later the two of them are back in the kitchen, rolling out the pie crust. 

Or at least, Eddie is. Steve keeps messing it up. 

“Fuck,” he mutters as he screws it up again. “You know what? You do it.”

“Come on, Stevie, it’s not that hard,” Eddie says, knocking his bony hip against Steve’s. 

Whatever protest Steve is about to make dies in his throat when Eddie leaves his perfectly rolled-out pie crust and moves to stand behind him, pressing his body against Steve and Steve’s body against the counter, his arms wrapping around him so he can guide his hands on the rolling pin. 

“You gotta start at the center and work outwards,” Eddie says, speaking into Steve’s ear as he shows him how to do it. Steve can barely focus on anything that isn’t the entire length of Eddie’s body pressed against him. “Yeah, just like that.”

“Christ,” Steve mutters. Eddie’s words whispered lowly into his ear are making Steve’s head swim with all kinds of ideas. It’s a good thing that Eddie seems oblivious to it. 

“Now you do it,” Eddie says, letting go of Steve’s hands and holding Steve’s waist instead. 

Steve’s movements are a little jerky, but he manages to finish rolling out the pie crust successfully, even with Eddie standing behind him the entire time. 

“Great job, Stevie,” Eddie says, hooking his chin on Steve’s shoulder to look down at the counter. 

Steve makes the mistake of turning his head, leaving their faces only a few inches away from each other. Steve’s breath hitches and his heart starts jackhammering against his ribcage. It feels like it might explode out of his chest when he notices Eddie’s eyes unmistakably flicker down to his lips. 

And of course, that’s when Dustin comes barreling into the kitchen. 

“Are you guys done?” He asks, his arms crossed over his chest, his foot tapping on the floor impatiently. 

Steve drops the rolling pin and Eddie jumps back a few steps. Dustin’s eyes dart curiously between the two. 

Eddie clears his throat. “We’d be done sooner if you helped us,” he says, his voice coming out a little strangled. 

Dustin gives them an innocent look, eyes wide like he’s never done anything wrong in his life. “But you're doing such a great job, Eddie.” 

Eddie doesn’t fall for it. He snorts, throwing a kitchen cloth at his face. “Shoo, you gremlin!”

He doesn’t wait for Eddie to tell him twice, hurtling towards the living room. Steve watches in silence as Eddie carefully places the pie crust on the pan and pours the filling Dustin made.

“Now we wait?” Steve asks once both pies are inside the preheated oven. 

“Now we wait,” Eddie says, smiling at Steve. His eyes catch on something and then he reaches out to wipe flour from Steve’s cheek, his thumb lingering on his cheekbone for a second too long. 

His eyes flicker to Steve’s lips one last time before he goes to join Dustin in the living room. 

***

“I present to you," Eddie starts, spinning around on his heels, holding the pie in his hands, “your pumpkin pie, my good sir.”

Dustin grins, letting out something between a laugh and a snort. “Dude, it looks so good!”

“I told you I could bake,” Eddie says, grinning smugly. 

“Hey, we helped,” Steve says with a pout, crossing his arms over his chest. 

Eddie sets the pie down on the counter so he can crowd Steve against it. “Oh, I know, baby, I could never have done it without you.”

Heat builds up in Steve’s cheeks. It’s a good thing that Eddie gets distracted by Dustin rounding the counter and wrapping his arms around his middle in an unexpected hug. “Thank you, Eddie.”

Eddie ruffles Dustin’s curls. “You’re welcome, kid.”

Before Steve can protest once again that he helped, thank you very much, Dustin lets go of Eddie and hugs Steve too. “Thanks, Steve.”

“Of course, buddy.”

“I’ll tell Mom to have you both over for dinner when she comes back,” he says, adjusting his Thinking Cap. 

“Hell yeah,” Eddie says, licking his lips like he’s already tasting Mrs. Henderson’s cooking. “You just earned yourself a drive home, mister.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, no way I’m letting you ruin my–” Steve clears his throat, “ our pie by taking it home on your bike.” He grabs Dustin’s shoulders, and once the kid grabs the pie, he steers him in the direction of the front door. “I’ll come back to help you clean up,” he tells Steve over his shoulder. 

“You better.”

With a wink, they disappear through the kitchen archway, leaving Steve alone with his thoughts. 

And he can’t help but think about Eddie– his eyes on Steve’s lips, his thumb softly brushing over Steve’s cheekbone, his chest pressed against Steve’s back. 

He forces himself to start cleaning up, just so he can stay busy and not drive himself crazy thinking about what might happen when Eddie comes back, now that Dustin won’t be here. 

He’s elbow-deep in rinsing water when he hears the front door open, followed by Eddie’s whistling as he makes his way to the kitchen. 

“Stevie, Stevie, Stevie,” he says, waltzing in, “I told you I’d help!” 

Without turning around, Steve shrugs. “Grab a cloth, you can help me dry.”

He hears a cabinet open and close as Eddie presumably looks for a clean kitchen cloth but when he appears next to Steve, he’s got a plate with a slice of pumpkin pie on it. 

Steve purses his lips. “That’s not a kitchen towel,” he says matter-of-factly. 

“Nope, but I couldn’t wait to try it,” he says, leaning back on the counter, facing Steve. 

Steve gives the slice of pie a pointed look. “Well?”

Eddie grabs a forkful of pie and shoves it into his mouth while Steve stares expectantly at him, waiting for his reaction. It comes in the way of a sinful moan that makes Steve want to shove his head into the water to stop the heat from creeping up his cheeks. 

“I- uh,” he clears his throat, “I take it we didn’t fuck it up?”

Eddie licks his lips, and Steve’s hands tighten around the bowl he was rinsing. “Nop, it’s perfect. Just like my mama used to make it.”

Steve smiles at Eddie’s smug little tilt of his head as he shoves another forkful into his mouth. 

“Hey, I wanna try it too,” he says, nudging Eddie’s side with his elbow. 

He expects Eddie to feed him some pie since his hands are still under the rinsing water and it’s probably what Eddie intends to do, he scoops some pie up with his fork–

But then he hesitates.

His eyes dart over Stece’s face, searching for something. He either finds it or gives up, dropping the fork back onto the plate and placing it on the counter next to him. 

Steve cocks his head, puppy-like, but before he can get a word out, Eddie grabs his cheeks and kisses Steve square on the lips. 

He instinctively kisses back– or does his best to do so considering his hands are still in the water. He moves his lips against Eddie’s and when Eddie laps at his bottom lip, Steve opens his mouth, letting Eddie’s tongue slide inside. 

He tastes like pumpkin pie, is Steve’s first coherent thought, followed by– holy shit, I’m kissing Eddie.

It’s that realization that makes Steve retrieve his hands from the sink, dripping water all over the floor, to wrap his arms around Eddie’s shoulders. He kisses him more deeply, chasing after that taste of pumpkin pie, and smoke, and cinnamon, and Eddie. 

They pull back when they finally need to come up for air but stay wrapped up in each other. 

Steve’s eyes dip down to Eddie’s lips, red and slick with spit. He hears them moving but realizes he didn’t hear whatever Eddie said from the blood still rushing through his ears. 

“Sorry, what?” 

Eddie chuckles a little breathlessly. “I said, what did you think of the pie?” 

“Oh, um. Good, it’s–” Steve licks his lips. “It’s good.” 

Eddie’s mouth twitches with a hint of a smirk. “Yeah?” 

“Mhm but, uh, I think I need– I need to give it another try, you know?” Steve stammers out, watching as Eddie’s eyes go a little dark at that. He licks his lips and Steve does his best not to let out a whine. 

“Come here then, pumpkin,” Eddie says, pulling Steve forward, mashing their lips together. 

Neither of them points out it would be easier for Steve to grab a forkful of pie– they’re too busy chasing after the taste of it on each other’s mouths to even try. 

[becca-e-barnes]

I've been way too into hot wife stuff at the minute, I blame Serenity Cox and it got me thinking about being Steve's wife but he's really into watching you with Bucky.

Most of the appeal for Steve is that you and Bucky really degrade him. He gets to watch his little wife cum on his best friend's cock while you both taunt him and he never thought he'd be into it the way that he is.

"Your girl's so fuckin' tight, Steve." Bucky pants, slowing his thrusts into you because if he keeps up his current pace, he'll cum faster than he wants to. "Does Stevie fill you the way I do? Bet he can't. He's not as big as me."

You shake your head, staring right at Steve. "Not even close. You're pathetic, aren't you Stevie? You'd rather watch me get fucked by your best friend."

You know it's mean but Steve fucking loves it. He's cum four times already and he's still jerking himself off. It's like he just can't stop and it's so thrilling to see him enjoy this as much as he is.

"I'm gonna cum in your girl, Steve. Gonna make you watch me stuff her so full. Just imagine your pretty little wife with my cum dripping out of her greedy cunt. If you're lucky, she might let you fuck her after I'm finished." Bucky's not usually so vulgar but God, it works wonders for both you and Steve.

"I don't know. I'm not sure if I'll ever want to fuck Steve again." Hearing you say that sends Steve over the edge, spilling a fresh load all over himself while he groans pathetically and even then, he doesn't stop.

"I can't blame you. Now you know how it feels to be fucked right. Felt you cum on me more times than I can count." Bucky's not wrong but his excitement is building and you feel his pace start to falter.

"Fuck, oh fuck." You whimper, feeling the first few pulses of his cock and the unmistakable feeling of his load splashing into your eager body. You've needed this. You were desperate for it and after a second you realise neither of you needed it more than Steve did.

"Good girl, fuckin' take it. I can't stop." Bucky groans, pressed as deep inside you as he can get, pumping his cum right to your cervix. He cums for what feels like an eternity and it's pure bliss.

By the time he's finished, Steve is trembling with need once more.

"If you don't want your wife knocked up with your best friend's baby, I suggest you get to work." You tease, pressing Steve back on the bed and repositioning yourself so you're sitting on his face, letting his best friend's cum drip out of you and into his eager, waiting mouth.

[solarmorrigan]

Romance, Commitment, and Cake

For the @steddie-spooktober day 15 prompt: Baking Rated: T | Words: 733 | CW: None | Tags: established relationship, modern AU, Steve Harrington can cook, or bake at least, Eddie Munson loves Steve Harrington, Steve Harrington loves Eddie Munson, fluff Divider credit: @steddiecameraroll-graphics

Eddie has always loved fall. He loves the way the world turns colors as the leaves begin to change, he loves how it gets cooler and he can wear his layers of jackets without feeling like he wants to die, he loves all the poetic themes of death and change, he loves Halloween. In more recent years, however, he’s learned to love fall because that’s when Steve starts baking like a man possessed, and doesn’t stop until the new year.

He doesn’t bother holding in the moan that wants to work its way out at the first bite of the pumpkin cheesecake Steve has presented him with. It’s perfect; creamy and light, the sweet and the spice blending and melting on his tongue. Eddie thinks he might actually need a moment alone with the cheesecake.

“Good?” Steve asks with a knowing little grin as he washes bowls in the sink.

“Marry me,” Eddie groans the moment he’s swallowed his mouthful.

Steve snorts out a little laugh. “We’re already married,” he reminds Eddie, holding up his sudsy left hand to show off the gold wedding band glinting there.

“This time it would be different,” Eddie says, taking a moment to get in another bite of cheesecake. “Last time I married you because you’re sweet, and you’re sharp, and you’re funny, and you’re beautiful, and because I love you. This time I’d be marrying you for your baking.”

“Man, don’t be shy, tell it to me like it is,” Steve says drily, but there’s a pleased, pink flush high on his cheeks.

“Just being honest with you, baby,” Eddie says with a grin before tucking back into his slice of cake.

“You know,” Steve says slowly, eyes trained on the dishes in the sink, “our anniversary is coming up. Five years.”

“Mhm?” Eddie hums around another mouthful.

“We can’t get married again, but we could… renew our vows, maybe.” There’s such a studied nonchalance to the suggestion that Eddie wonders if Steve hadn’t already been thinking about it.

And it’s a little funny that the idea of holding another ceremony, of putting on a suit and standing up and pouring his heart out in front of a group of people, of spending the day trading pleasantries and pretending to be at least halfway civil only produces happy little butterflies instead of the disdain it once would have.

Eddie had never gone in for romantic conformity, never thought marriage as a social convention was worth shit. He’d scorned the idea of perfect little white weddings, of the elitism and the privilege and the inherent heteronormativity. Marriage was a trumped-up gimmick made to sell needlessly expensive things to gullible couples with more money than sense.

And then he’d met Steve.

Steve, who had rocked the foundation of Eddie’s way of looking at the world; Steve, who Eddie loves more than anything; Steve, who loves romance, even if he won’t say as much out loud; Steve, who Eddie had proposed to, because he’d wanted to claim him and show him off to the world in as many ways as possible, wanted everyone to know that no matter which way they look at it that Steve is with him.

“It doesn’t have to be a big thing,” Steve says when Eddie’s been quiet a moment too long. “We could just have a small party; family and friends.” He gives Eddie a sidelong glance. “I could make a cake.”

“A cake, huh?” Eddie asks, biting down on a sly smile as he puts his empty plate down on the counter and sidles up to Steve at the sink. “What kind of cake?”

“Any kind of cake you want,” Steve says, looking back up at Eddie with eyes dancing with amusement. “You’re marrying me for my baking, after all. Only seems right you should choose.”

Eddie hums, moving around behind Steve and wrapping his arms around his waist. “You’ve convinced me, sweetheart,” he says, pressing a kiss to the crook of Steve’s neck. “Let’s do it.”

“Yeah?” Steve cranes his head around to look at Eddie, showing off the luminous smile lighting his face.

“Yeah, baby,” Eddie says, leaning into Steve a little further. “Lemme tell everyone how much I love you all over again.”

The way Steve practically melts against Eddie is worth all the pomp and ceremony in the world, Eddie thinks.

(But the promise of cake doesn’t hurt.)

[elkleggs]

i love how you draw steve rogers with all my heart aahh thank you so much for sharing your beautiful art with us 🥰

Thanks so much for saying so! I love drawing Stoben Von Slutcakes sfm. Such a versatile beef bourguignon 🐣

[weird-an]

"Oh no!" Steve thinks when he opens the door to their apartment and smells the sweet scent of a cake baking in the oven.

There's already a tray of muffins cooling on the kitchen table.

A cake and muffins? Billy had a bad day, then.

Billy cracks an egg with his fist, so the bowl shakes. He's wearing a black apron, mullet up in a messy bun and a cigarette dangles from behind his ear.

He hasn't stopped baking. His day must have been shit. Secretly, Steve is happy, because baking is better than Billy getting drunk and in trouble and he has gotten so good at it.

Billy slices open a vanilla pod with a knife that's way too big for the little thing. (Billy's favourite knife. Whenever Steve mentions its size, he just licks his lips and tells him that he's great at handling big things, Steve of all people should know that.)

"Fucking asshole," Billy growls, punching the dough sitting on the counter with his fist and scooping the vanilla in a bowl full of cream.

"Hey Billy," Steve clears his throat.

Billy stares at him, nostrils flaring. Okay, it's not yet the talking stage, Steve figures.

"Lemon," Billy barks.

Steve puts his hands in his hips. The fruit bowl is right next to him.

"Thanks, Steve," he says loudly when he throws the lemon at his boyfriend.

Billy grunts, almost apologizing, catches the lemon and breaks it into halves. With his bare hands. Steve's jaw drops a little.

He watches Billy finish the frosting and occasionally punching the dough.

"Fucker," Billy spits. It goes on like this for a while.

Steve cracks open a cold one and occasionally throws the ingredients Billy asks for at him.

"Thanks," Billy suddenly says when Steve washes strawberries for him. His voice is rough, like he's had a good cry. Maybe he had.

"Shitty day?" Steve asks, giving him a peck on the cheek.

"They didn't give me the raise," Billy mumbles.

Steve's heart aches. Billy had been working so hard at the garage.

"I'm sorry," he says, squeezing Billy's hand.

Billy hums. "M sorry, too.“

He gestures awkwardly at the two cakes and dozens of muffins behind him, like he's seeing them for the first time.

"Don't be. I love your baking," Steve grabs a muffin and takes a bite. I love you, he thinks.

Frosting still on his lips, he gives Billy a kiss.

"So sweet," he laughs.

"Idiot," Billy says. I love you too, Steve hears.

[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.

[d8tl55c]

oh boy !! ! ! ! !!! ! thANK y0u all for the kind words on my last art posts. you all get it and i was/still am so happy about it

as promised, here's some close-ups of the comic for image quality's sake, and other screenshots i rescued from the community whiteboard (and something else)

first up another sketch of mystery gender-ambiguous being. (please send me more name ideas for them if you got one- i like to hear em! (reminder it's the side character that appeared for <10 seconds in AvM Ep. 30))

a few fav scenes

emotional support cwab

they weren't meant for this purpose exactly, but i do have countless "fluffy sticks" loose in my notes and homework sheets from the school years.

papery critter.

even when i wasn't confident in fur or feathers, they helped me practice posing and create some satisfying gradients/flowing poses. (im a sucker for good tail poses) (oh yay! i found a good pic...)

and finally, little sneak peak for you for reading so far ;3

i realized that whiteboardfox is pretty great for my working needs. simple and to the point and all. feels nice with the mouse and the tablet.

so i started hashing out a big project idea just to see if it holds up and

[

several hours later ...

]

oh

oh man

it's a little bigger than i expected

<next>

[livwritesstuff]

absolutely loving your dad!steddie universe! 🫶❤️

ahhh thank you <3 <3 <3

i shorted y'all a post last week because......life, so i'll use this as an opportunity to make amends

(This was inspired by that tiktok of the guy who didn’t buy an obvious item that his girlfriend left off the grocery list “to teach her a lesson”. it obviously became a trend for people to ask their partners what they’d do in the same situation to prove that she needed to dump his ass)

Hazel posts a tiktok that starts with her finding Steve in their living room.

Hazel: Pop – if you were going to the grocery store and Dad said he wanted to make chocolate chip cookies and then gave you a list that didn't have chocolate chips, what would you do?

Steve, drily: Check if he was running a fever or something. Since when does your dad make cookies?

Hazel, rolling her eyes behind the camera: C'mon, just answer the question.

Steve: No, I wouldn't buy chocolate chips. You wanna know why?

Hazel: Why?

*video cuts to Steve emerging from the pantry with what has to be 15 bags of chocolate chips in varying brands and flavors and dropping them unceremoniously on the kitchen counter*

Steve, holding up a finger: Wait.

*video cuts to Steve emerging from the pantry again, this time with 5-6 bars of baking chocolate*

Steve: I wouldn’t buy a damn thing on that list, and it wouldn’t even matter.

Steve: You freaks don’t bake. You just *want* to bake.

Steve: What is this trend anyways?