#hockey!eddie munson

[oneforthemunny]

home is wherever i'm with you |hockey player!eddie munson x reader|

prompt: life on the road during hockey season is far less glamorous than you thought it would be. homesick and lonely, eddie tries to get you feeling better.

also special thank you to @angietherose for the name of the au hockey team :) eddie is officially on the indy reapers! thank you to all who voted as well!

contains: fluff, but there is slight angst at the beginning. mentions of loneliness, a little depression. slight-ish tension or strain on the relationship, but you know i make it happy at the end lol. language.

Pasadena, California - 1993 

Day seventeen on your six week excursion with Eddie. Well, excursion was a generous thing to call what this was. You were feeling more like a groupie for the Indianapolis Reapers, a puck bunny as Eddie’s teammates snickered, brows raised in suggest when they’d pass jersey clad girls lingering around their buses. Stop after stop- press, practice, training, games, all over the nation. 

A suitcase full of clothes you’d grown sick of already, longing to go home and trade them for something different, washing them in the sharp, sterile detergent of the hotels. You longed for your own sheets, perfumed with your own detergent. 

Eddie was gone for most of the day. You tried to sightsee on your own, explore the cities but it was lonely, lacking someone to giggle with over lattes, to hold your hand in the street, just to talk to. The other WAGS that came along, stuck out the long haul across the states, clung to each other, comfortable in their own little clique. You were too new, an outsider to their group. 

“Hey, babe,” Eddie pressed the key into the lock, twisting the heavy latch open. “Babe, do you have that stuff? Did you bring it?” He hummed, dropping his bag at the door, kicking off his sneakers. 

His nose curled at the pungent smell, ripe from the warming weather of California. “Jesus Christ, I gotta wash this stuff. I’m sorry, I’ll put it in the laundry thing.” Eddie hummed, sliding the slotted closet door open. “Can’t believe how warm it is here already. Feels so nice outside. You’ve been outside today, sweetheart?” He rambled, sweetly, tossing the powdered detergent into the washer, shoving the workout clothes from his bag into the tiny machine. 

The steady hum of the air conditioner filled the room, his only response. Eddie’s brows lifted, jamming the button of the washer, sliding the door back into place. He didn’t remember hearing you say you were leaving today, but he had taken a pretty hard hit to the glass during practice, ears still ringing dully. 

“Baby?” Eddie called, opening the bathroom door, empty of you other than the scattered products on the vanity. Heavy steps on the patterned carpet, Eddie walked into the bedroom suite, halting at the edge of the crumpled sheets. 

You laid on your side, still in what he’d left you in that morning, eyes puffy and red rimmed looking motionlessly out the window. “Hey, I thought you- I was, uh, I was just talking but-” Eddie’s heart beat in his throat, uneasy at the sight of you, crumpled in the sheets. “Are you ok?” 

You turned, cheek still pressed to your arms under the pillow, just enough to see him- all wild curls, matted and frizzy with helmet hair. “Yeah,” You croaked, throat scratchy and sore with sobs that had stilled hours ago, still you were plagued with the aftershocks of weeks of suppressed emotion. 

“I- I’m not trying to sound like a dick or anything here, but you’re clearly not.” Eddie said softly, slowly approaching the bed. The bed dipped under his weight, a warm hand rubbing over your ankle under the cool sheets. 

“Baby,” Your face crumpled at the coo, so sweet, gentle, it made your nose burn. “What’s goin’ on?” Eddie muttered, thumb circling your ankle bone gently. 

Your nose burned with a slow, shaky exhale that he felt, rattled all the way down your body under his touch. Eddie’s heart dropped. “Hey, look at me.” Eddie’s voice was softened but sharp, teetering on frantic. You turned, looking at his wide eyes, running over your frame in worry. “What’s goin’ on? What’s the matter?” 

Your lip wobbled, head screaming words you couldn’t bring yourself to say- you didn’t know how to say. “I just-” You took a breath, chest stuttering. “I don’t… feel good.” 

Eddie’s brows creased, crawling up the bed beside you. “Don’t feel good, like, sick?” He muttered, the back of his hand pressing to your palm. “You don’t feel hot t’me. What hurts? Is it your head still? I told you, baby, that hippie dippie shit only works so much. You have to take medicine-” 

“-No,” You shook your head, eyes squeezing tightly to keep your tears at bay. “It’s-it’s not that.” 

Eddie blinked carefully. “What? Is it, like, the time of the month? D’ya need me to go get some stuff for you? You know I don’t mind to. Not a problem for me, baby, just tell me what you need.” Eddie’s head tilted to the side, so sweet and doting, it made your chest heat with swarming guilt and adoration. 

“I’m not on my period. It’s nothing, Ed.” You shook your head, curling back into your pillow. 

Eddie stilled above you. “Are- Are you pregnant?” He whispered. 

“No.” You groaned quickly, head shaking into the warmth of the pillows. 

Eddie sighed lightly, a huff of relief that fell short, when your body turned from him, back towards the window with a long inhale. “Hey, can you- can you look at me? Please? Look at me, baby.” Eddie’s pitch raised, teetering towards scared, his hand on your shoulder, pushing you gently so you rolled on your back. 

He hovered over you, curls falling down nearly brushing your cheeks. “Tell me what’s going on. Please? Tell me what’s wrong.” Eddie whispered, nearly a beg. “You don’t feel good? You don’t feel good here?” His throat swelled, tight with fear. “With me?” 

Your silence had Eddie’s stomach twisting, dropping with fear, bile rising in the back of his throat- he was going to be sick, he was sure he would be. 

“No,” You muttered, head shaking lightly under the pillow. “Not with you, just,” You reached up, nervously twirling his curl around your finger. “Just with this.” 

Eddie swallowed, willing himself still, calm, though his heart felt like it might give out. “This? Wh-What do you mean this?” Eddie’s voice shook. 

You blinked up at him, eyes rounding in a sad softness he hadn’t seen before. “I just… I miss being home.” You whispered, eyes glossing with a fresh wave of tears that pricked your waterline. “I miss seeing my friends, and being in my own bed, a-and even work. I just,” Your breath hitched, lip trembling. “I’m just really lonely.” 

Eddie was sure his heart did give out, break right in his chest, sunk right to the pit of his stomach. “Do you- You wanna go home?” Eddie’s hand ran down your cheek gently. “That’s what you want? That would make you feel better?” 

Your face crumbled, caved into itself at his tone. “I-I don’t know.” You admitted, eyes squeezed shut to keep the tears in. “I don’t want to leave you, b-but I don’t-” You pressed your palms to your eyes, taking a slow inhale through your nose. “I just don’t want to be alone so much. A-And I know that’s not your fault. I know you’re working.” 

When your eyes did meet his, Eddie wished they’d stayed closed, heartbreakingly sad, vacant of that light that usually shone through, brightening anything cast in your gaze. “I just… I’m feeling homesick, ‘m sorry.” You muttered. “I just really miss home, and I’m having a bad day.” 

“You don’t- Don’t apologize.” Eddie shook his head. “I-I’m sorry. I didn’t know you were feelin’ like this.” Eddie swallowed, pulling you up gently. Your body was slack, limp with unmotivated movement, but still, you settled into his arms. The tension in your body melted, nose buried in the material of his shirt, lathered in cologne and the hot California air. 

“I have a half day tomorrow.” Eddie muttered, his heart beating fast, you could hear it, feel it. His hand smoothed up your back. “We’ll do something. Go exploring and stuff. Do some fun stuff.” 

“You’re ‘sposed to rest.” You muttered, cheek squished to his chest. “It’s before your game, you’re supposed to be resting.” 

“Yeah, but that is resting.” Eddie shook his head gently. “I’ll be alright. Promise. Played after way worse. Me and Josh used to come in hungover, vomited on the ice one time.” Eddie’s chest rumbled with soft laughter. “Pretty sure we’re the reason that rule’s in place now.” 

Your lips curled, even through your sullen, dazed mood, you couldn’t help it. Clinging to him tighter, you moved into his touch. “Coach just means take it easy like, don’t go get fucked up and actually sleep the night before.” Eddie muttered, chin tucking down onto your head. “C’mon, lemme take you out tomorrow. Me and you. Go anywhere you want.” 

You didn’t reply. Instead, sighed gently, settling into his hold. 

Eddie was restless through all of morning practice, hands buzzing, ready to run to the rental car at the first dismissal. Shower be damned, he’d take a quick one at the hotel, he couldn’t be held up any longer. 

“What’s goin’ on with you, Munson?” Elijah muttered, next to Eddie in the huddle on the ice, the coach’s droning about protocol for the game. 

“Nothin’.” Eddie whispered back, twisting his stick in his hands. “Just wish he’d fuckin’ hurry up.” 

Elijah’s eyes cut to Eddie, snorting lightly. “You got somewhere to be?” 

“Yeah, I do actually.” Eddie sighed out. “Gotta get back. Promised my girl I’d take her out.” 

Elijah’s brows raised. “Shit, you brought her with you?” 

Eddie’s shoulders tensed. “She wanted to come.” He muttered defensively. “I mean, she wanted to. Now it’s kinda fucked, she’s-” Eddie’s eyes cut around him. “She’s kinda homesick.” 

Elijah nodded slowly. “Yeah, that happens.” He fought back a smile. “When’s the last time you took her out?” 

Eddie’s eyes cut to him, defensive with accusation. “It’s not like that. I take her out.” 

“Yeah? On the off day? After we’ve traveled all day?” Elijah snorted, shaking his head. “C’mon, Munson. Believe me, that doesn’t count.” 

Eddie ignored him, gripping his stick with furious annoyance. The fuck did he know? He didn’t know anything. 

“Look, I’m not tryna piss you off. I did it, too. Just- believe me, alright? That one day shit doesn’t work.” Elijah pressed gently. 

“Hey, I got it, alright? I’m good.” Eddie growled. 

Elijah held his hands up in defense. “Alright, I’m just saying, when it was me,” He started. “I wasn’t meaning to. I just wasn't used to it. Had my own road routine and tried to fit her around it instead of into it. Thought it was going good until it wasn’t.” 

Eddie stilled, silent but shoulders slumping lightly. “You gotta change your routine, find a way to fit her into it. She’s on the road too, not just you.” Elijah continued. 

The coach whistled, waving them in dismissal. Eddie blinked, pulled out of his daze, lifting his helmet and stick with him. Elijah nodded at him. “Have fun tonight, Munson.” He smiled softly. “Make sure you take her somewhere nice.” 

Elijah’s words rang in Eddie’s head all the way back to the hotel, only a short drive from the arena. Eddie nearly threw his keys at the valet, sliding into the elevator shamelessly, bouncing on the balls of his toes until he reached your floor. 

You startled when he came in, sitting at the vanity, doing your makeup. “You’re done already?” 

“Yeah,” Eddie muttered, ducking down for a kiss. “Just gotta shower real quick, but are you hungry?” He shimmied his workout sweats onto the floor, kicking his socks off with them. 

Your eyes lingered over his bare lower half for a second, turning back to paint your mascara on. “I’m not starving.” You mumbled. 

“Alright, good, I was gonna see if we could go to this place. I think you’ll like it.” Eddie grinned over his shoulder at you, the hiss of the shower coming to life. “Some guys told me if you’re in Pasadena you gotta go here.” His smile so wide, eyes sparkling in the dim yellowed light of the hotel bathroom, it made your tummy tingle with warm excitement. 

“Promise you’re not looking?” Eddie mumbled, hands over your eyes, waddle-walking awkwardly behind you, pressed close to your back. 

“Swear I’m not.” You grinned. Eddie was right, it was beautiful outside. Warm and bright, light illuminating his hands that covered your eyes with a reddish glow. 

“I can feel you trying to. Your lashes are tickling me.” Eddie muttered, leaving you giggling. “Ok, just- you know what, this is good enough. I’m scared you’re gonna trip.” Eddie said, lips curling at your soft laugh. 

“Are you ready for your surprise?” You could hear Eddie’s grin in his voice, a breeze floating between the two of you. 

“Yes.” You giggled, Eddie’s chest swelling at the sound. “Just show me. Your hands are clammy. They’re gonna smear my mascara.” 

“Shit, sorry.” Eddie muttered sheepishly, a blush spilling on his cheeks, pulling his hands away so they were still in front of you. “Ok, ready?” 

“Eddie-” 

“-Sorry, Alright, one, two,” Eddie moved his hands, smiling proudly in front of you, a pinkish looking building behind you. “Here it is! Surprise!”

You blinked. “Oh.” You quipped softly. 

Eddie blinked, smile falling. “What? I thought you’d- You don’t like it?” 

“No,” You shook your head. “I mean, no, that’s- Where are we?” 

“Oh,” Eddie shook his head lightly. “Shit, I thought you’d know. Uh, apparently this place is supposed to be like the place for flowers, y’know? Pasadena has that flower festival thing, but it’s not until later and I know you like to go to the cool places, and-” Eddie motioned to the store behind him. 

You took in the building, spilling over with plants you could see from the inside. “I, uh, I know you miss home.” Eddie said softly. “And I was just thinking, y’know, we can’t get houseplants like at home, but maybe some bouquets? Some flowers for the hotel room.” 

Eddie waited a beat, desperately trying to read your face, eyes wandering over the building and the signs. “I thought maybe you’d pick out some flowers and-and it would make it feel like home.” Eddie’s hands slid down his jeans, hot from the sun beaming on them. “Plus, you wanted to see some around here, a-and y’know… one bird, two stones.” Eddie rambled, shrugging sheepishly. 

You felt the familiarity of a cry bubbling back in your chest, swelling and suffocation, only this time the aching of sadness was gone. In its place, a bubbling, burning feeling of adoration was left, consuming you from the inside out with every nervous glance Eddie gave you. He’d listened, really fucking listened. He always did, but this time it was different. Relief, comfort washing over you for the first time in days. 

It felt like home. 

Like the two of you were back in Hawkins, or Indianapolis even, perusing the usual spots, happy and content to be together in a familiar place. 

Eddie wasn’t expecting you to grab him, pull him into you with a fierce, sloppy kiss. Right there on the sidewalk, under the California sunshine. Lips melting into his, clawing and grabbing at his shirt, the back of his neck. Eddie’s cheeks burned bright when you pulled apart, a smile so wide and goofy it made you giggle. 

He let you grab his hand, lead him around the flower shop like a lost puppy, picking out anything and everything that made you smile. A bright bouquet spilling out beautifully in the green vase, made just for you. 

You sat it right on the small bedside table, beaming at how it livened up the room. Eddie wasn’t sure if it was the flowers or you. Either way, it revived you, made you happier and giddier. Made the sheets of the hotel less cold when you slipped beneath them, legs tangled in his, pinning him under you onto the stiff mattress. It made the room brighter, spilling with a new fragrance that felt familiar. 

It was small, a miniscule way that meant the world to you; made you feel at home. Eddie knew it, planning how he’d do it with every next city, until you finally got back home.

#oneforthemunny #munnytalks #eddie munson au #eddie munson au #hockey player!eddie munson #hockey!eddie munson x reader #hockey!eddie munson #hockey!eddie #hockey!eddie munson x fem!reader #hockey!eddie x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader fluff #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie x fem!reader #eddie munson x fem!reader angst #eddie munson x reader angst #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fluff #eddie x reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie stranger things #eddie my love <3 #eddie munson #eddie munson fic #oneforthemunny blurbs #eddie munson blurb

[munsster]

do i EVEN DARE write for hockey eddie and steve 🤨

#i will be falling down the rabbit hole shortly #it will become everyones problem #hockey!au #its like a little treat 😵‍💫 #hockey!steve harrington #hockey!eddie munson #stranger things

[starkidmunson]

glitter & crimson

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7

“Marry.”

“What?”

“Marry. He’s hot, I’m not gonna kill him.”

“Eddie, we’re not playing FMK; you’re supposed to be telling me his name.”

“Oh. That’s…. Joe Jonas.”

“…he’s literally from Hawkins. And he’s holding a hockey stick.”

“Nobody from Hawkins is that hot, man, no way.”

~~~

Gareth posts the clip to his personal TikTok. Before he can get around to reposting it on Corroded Coffin’s band account, it has more than 100k views. Things only spiral from there, because once the band shares it, the video goes more viral and ends up on the screens of the right people.

chiblkhwks: harrington94 is social media challenged, but we’re going to make sure he sees this. Will keep you posted.

The comment is immediately overshadowed by a busy day of PR. A photoshoot to an interview to a radio show to the green room at the Fillmore in Boston, before an intimate pre-album release show for members of their fan club. Eddie has completely forgotten about the video entirely, but Gareth’s phone pings with a text notification.

“A response has been issued!” He declares to the room, still grinning down at the screen of his phone.

The rest of the band shares a collectively confused look, all seeming pleased to find they’re not alone in whatever they’ve missed.

“What?” Jeff asks for the group.

In lieu of an explanation, Gareth just flips the phone in his hand around to show a TikTok, stitched with the clip they’d made earlier that morning.

~~~

“Marry. He’s hot, I’m not gonna kill him.”

#Stitch

“Is… is that supposed to be a compliment?” Steve asks, making a pinched face as he laces up his skates.

“You watched the whole video. He compared you to Joe Jonas.” The girl behind the camera responds, but he levels her with an unimpressed look. She doesn’t respond, and after a beat, he sighs.

“Yeah, alright, I guess Joe Jonas is hot. I’ll take the compliment.” He huffs, standing to his feet and moving from the bench he’d been suiting up on toward the ice. The girl follows him, gliding toward the net once they're in the rink, never falling out of pace with him.

“Do you know who it is talking in the video?” She presses, and Steve looks unimpressed again.

“You mean the other hot guy?” He asks with a grin, then nods. “That was Eddie. I’m surprised you don’t know him, the Party listens to Corroded Coffin all the time.”

The video loops back to the stitched clip from Gareth’s initial TikTok then. Everyone in the room processes what just unfolded.

“The Party? Did… did Steve Harrington just make a reference to DnD? Or is that some sports thing I dont understand?” Jeff asks.

Freak raises his hand, indicating he’s next to speak. “Not only that, but his nerdy DnD friends listen to us all the time?”

“Did King Steve call Joe Jonas hot?” Eddie asks, visibly still trying to connect the wires in his brain that fried at Steve’s agreement. “Did he call me hot?”

All three turn toward Eddie, whose face is still reflecting the long form math equation his brain is trying to work out, and Jeff sighs.

“Well, boys. I think we’ve officially lost him.” He says, bowing his head. Freak and Gareth join him solemnly, making Eddie huff and cross his arms over his chest.

“You’re all so dramatic.”

“Gee, I wonder who encouraged us to be this way,” Freak exaggerates through a grin, before shoving a guitar into Eddie’s chest, just in time for Paige to open the door and summon them.

“We can have a meltdown over Harrington after the gig,” Gareth promises with a pat to Eddie’s back as everyone moves around him, exiting the green room and heading for the stage.

~~~

Riding his post-show high, Eddie makes a bold move in the CC band TikTok, commenting under the video Steve had stitched.

corrodedcoff!n: we’ll be in chicago 1/26 if harrington94 and ‘the party’ are free 🎫

He only gets about 20 minutes of peace before Gareth is jumping around, proclaiming himself the greatest wingman in history.

“It’s an offer for free concert tickets made over social media, and he hasn’t even answered, Gare Bear.” Eddie tries to get him to relax, but he, too, is eager to see how the other reacts to the offer.

He wakes up the next morning to the answer he’d been waiting on, and his stomach flips as he reads it over.

harrington94: only if you guys come to the home game 1/27 🏒

__________

Steve doesn’t even bat an eye when Max shoves her way into the locker room, b-lining straight for him.

“Can I help you?” He asks without looking up, unhooking the padding from his calf and letting it drop to the ground in front of his locker.

“Are you using TikTok to publicly flirt with Eddie Munson?” She asks, voice quieter than he’d typically expect from her, but he just scoffs.

“I’m just being friendly! You’re the one who started this in the first place! What, you didn’t expect me to log on and check if they’d responded?” He asks in response, freeing his foot from the skate, before placing a cover over the blade and letting the boot drop into the lower shelf beside his locker.

“I’m just confused because you’ve been super weird about coming out, and now you’re out here hitting on a rockstar all over social media, that’s all.” Max says, and Steve freezes for a moment.

“Do you…” he trails off, before closing his eyes and rubbing a thumb into his temple. “You really think I just accidentally came out?”

“You called Joe Jonas and Eddie Munson hot, encouraged this rockstar to come to your game when he’s in town and also accepted tickets to see him perform, Steve.” Max was monotone, and held her hands up defensively when he groaned. “I’m not starting anything, I’m just saying that this could get blown out of proportion now.”

They discuss a little further, deciding neither of them will publicly acknowledge anything that’s been posted to the account for now, until they actually come up with a plan.

Once he’s in his car heading home, Steve calls Robin.

“Dingus,” she greets, as always, and he lets out a grumble. “Uh oh. What happened?”

“I think I accidentally came out on the internet, and it’s Eddie Munson’s fault.” He’s met with several seconds of silence as he starts his car on the path to him and Robin’s shared apartment.

“Eddie, the drug dealer from high school?” Robin eventually asks, confused, and Steve groans again.

“Yeah. He uh, also is in a band?” He supplies, and Robin’s quiet for a moment as she processes. Then, he hears the tapping of a keyboard. “What are you doing?”

“Looking Eddie up, obviously.” Steve can practically see her eye roll, even though they’re not FaceTiming. “You’re nothing if not consistent, I guess. Doe-eyed curly brunet.”

Steve scoffs. “You say as though you’re not the one currently waking up beside Nance every morning.”

He’s met again by a short silence, before Robin lets out a little puff of air, in a small laugh. “Thank you again for being so cool about that, by the way.” She says, before he hears clicking on her end. “Apparently, Eddie is out as bi. Corroded Coffin does a charity show for the Trevor Project every year, and he’s been to a lot of Pride events.”

Steve’s stomach twists with each new bit of information she provides, because a part of him wants to be that out, wants to be like Robin or apparently Eddie, freely sharing that part of themselves with the world and having no one give a shit. But that’s not how it works on so many levels for Steve. Beside the shit he’d have to deal with on the ice from certain other players, he had no idea how it would impact the team overall. There’s no way to gauge how fans would react, when there’s never been an openly gay player in the NHL. And that didn't even begin to touch on how his parents would react.

“Hey,” Robin breaks him out of his spiral and he realizes he’s been chewing a hole into his cheek. “I can hear how loud you’re thinking right now. Do you need me to come home?” She asks, gently, and he sighs.

“Please.” He mumbles after a long pause, and is grateful when he hears the jingle of car keys from the other end of the phone.

~~~

Robin scrolls through article after article once she gets to their place, pulling Steve onto the sofa with her and laying his head in her lap. Her fingers twist through his hair, doing her best to keep him calm as she reads up on the situation playing out to try and help gauge how big of a hole he’s dug himself this time.

“I don’t think there’s really anyone who thinks you were flirting with him. Not seriously, at least.” She tries to assure him, but he’d already seen the twitter posts to contradict that before she came over. He sighs and rolls onto his back, so he’s looking up at her, and shrugs.

“I kind of don’t think there’s any avoiding it, at this point.” He mumbles. “I’m not… I’m not ready to come out, not like this. Not on this scale. I think the only thing I can do is carry on and hope it doesn’t get turned into any bigger of a deal.”

Robin hums down at him, and continues to brush his hair back out of his eyes. “Okay. So you don’t come out yet. But don’t overcompensate for it, okay?” He scrunches his face up at her, and she types something into her phone before turning it back into his face. He immediately pales, met with a photo of him out with Heidi last year. With a black eye on full display, he looks miserable behind a fake smile.

“Low blow,” he grumbles, pushing himself away from Robin to sit up beside her, and she raises her eyebrow at him, still holding the photo pointed in his direction.

“‘Maybe they won’t notice or ask why my literal teammate punched me in the face at practice if I take a fucking supermodel out to dinner.’” Robin’s imitation is a little too good, a sure sign of too much time spent together.

“Hey, it worked, didn’t it!” He asks, taking the phone off of her and closing out of the image before locking it. He drops it back into her lap with a sigh. “I just don’t know how many times I can keep getting away with hiding it.”

“Well, it helps that Billy got traded out to LA. He would be insufferable about this, and would absolutely make everything 10 times worse.” Robin muses.

Steve sighs and hesitates for a moment before dropping his head back into her lap, curling into her. “I just want it to be on my terms, when I’m ready.”

“We’ll figure it out, and it’ll all be okay, no matter what. Okay?” She assures quietly, leaning down to press a kiss to his cheek.

His phone dings with a new notification; Max texted him a screenshot from TikTok.

corrodedcoff!n: you’ve got yourself a deal 🤝🏻

#hockey player!steve #rockstar!eddie #Eddie Munson #Steve Harrington #Steddie #should I keep going? #lmk if anyone is interested in part 2 #anti billy hargrove #hockey au #Steddie hockey au #Steddie rockstar au #starkidmunson writes #glitter & crimson

[greatunironic]

eddie wakes up in a strange room. this was not particularly unusual for him, historically: he’d spent most of his twenties waking up in new and interesting places (including a handful of jail cells). but after eddie, the label, and the los angeles superior court system decided it would be best if he stopped drinking and doing blow, it stopped being such a regular occurrence.

so it’s almost alarming to him, now, to be blinking up at an unfamiliar cement ceiling with the raging bitch of all headaches and generally feeling like he got hit by a truck, got whiplash in a crash with the way his neck aches. he’d think he was hungover like all those times before except for how sharp the pain is, bright.

he worries, briefly, he’s relapsed, or someone’s slipped him something. but he remembers what him and the boys had been up to, before this, and he thinks it’d’ve been a strange night indeed if someone roofied a c-list (b-list if he’s feeling charitable) musician at a fucking frozen four game.

because yeah, eddie remembers: they’d been third row, watching the wisconsin ladies clean up and cheering for jeff’s kid sister like she was about to get olympic gold. (she probably would, someday. her and that mayfield girl who played defense were looking down the barrel at a 2026 run apparently.

eddie’s been to a handful of games over the years, when touring and recording allows them to go. he’s resolutely never been a sports guy but he’ll admit, when pressed, that live hockey is pretty dope. to say nothing, of course, of how jeff would probably murder them all in their sleep if they didn’t rep the red and white for lottie.

(and also — and this is between eddie and his god alright — but lottie’s coach? standing back there in his suit, hair styled and dialed, snapping his gum, yelling at the refs? kind of doing it for him, okay. worth the price of admission, even if the tickets weren’t free.)

when he thinks harder — which hurts too — the last thing he clearly remembers was someone from the beavers scoring, bringing their lead to 5-1, and a slapshot from the other team getting out over the boards and nearly taking out some lady’s popcorn. someone behind them in the seats said, “jesus they’re getting desperate, eh?”

then shit goes dark on him, not even a fade to black, but a full on smash cut, roll credits black, and the post-credits scene is where ever the fuck eddie is at the moment. it smells like human and cold and icy hot, so obviously, he thinks, he died and went to hell like all the church ladies said he would back in hawkins, or probably just a locker room. what the fuck?

he blinks at the ceiling, at an interesting water stain on the cement texturing. he’s in the middle of wondering where the rest of his band has gone if he’s here alone, fucking abandoners, when a sweaty redhead with the bitchiest expression he’s maybe ever seen enters his field of vision.

“you’re alive,” she says.

eddie blinks again. “why do you sound so disappointed?”

“yo coach!” she shouts, already on the move away from him. “he’s alive!”

he tries to sit up, but that makes the pain in his head worse, and also draws attention to the fact that his back also hurts. he squeezes his eyes shut and makes a truly embarrassing noise of pain — if pressed, he’d call it a whimper — and a pair of big hands land on his shoulders.

“out, out ladies i got this! hey!, hey, man, don’t move just yet,” says big hands.

“yeah, no problem, i don’t want to anymore,” eddie says. he stirs up the will to open his eyes again and very nearly slams them back shut. because of course the person staring down at him is fucking coach hottie snackycakes himself. he’s even better looking in person, too, big droopy eyes, lips as pink as his bubblegum, and shiny, jesus christ. he’s still got eddie by the shoulders, hands warm through the thin cotton of his flannel and tee — because eddie’s always been more fashion than sense, wayne always said, and it’s even worse now that the paps are on him—

“oh, fuck this is gonna be all over tiktok later, isn’t it?” he moans.

“maybe not.”

“don’t lie.”

“listen, eddie — it is eddie, right?” asks coach hottie. “i’m steve. coach harrington. faughnsie — lottie, i mean — she said you’re eddie. her brother’s guitarist? what do you remember?”

“more like he’s my singer,” he says, “but sure. and not much.”

“well, you’re gonna be okay,” says coach hottie — steve. “it really wasn’t that bad, and it was probably too fast for anyone to get it, unless they already had a camera on you. you took a puck to the head when one popped up. i’d apologize but it wasn’t one of my girls who did it, so. anyway — you weren’t out for long, which robbie says is good — she’ll get a look at you in a second — but you got your bell rung pretty good. and you’re gonna have quite the shiner, trust me.”

“speaking from experience?”

“oh, yeah. closer and faster too.” he gently raps his head with his knuckles. “too many concussions too early ended my nhl days, in fact.”

“oh. oh shit, sorry, i—“

“don’t worry about it, man, it happens,” he says. “and if it hadn’t, i wouldn’t be here.”

“at the frozen four.”

“yeah, sure, that too.”

“what?”

“what?” steve waves him off. “anyway, i’m just glad to see you up, ish, and talking. looked pretty scary, from the bench.”

“i really don’t remember,” says eddie. “but i’m sure i’ll see it on tiktok later, like i said — at least, my unconscious, bleeding form.”

“i got up there pretty fast, so i doubt it,” says steve.

eddie blinks, twice. “you—?”

“you were behind my bench, and you. well,” he says with a shrug, but he’s clearly a little embarrassed, finally putting those hands away — weapons of eddie destruction, he thinks — and shoving them into his pockets of his tight slacks. “i should be getting back out there.”

“do you? you’re murdering them pretty good, unless i black out and missed them getting four more goals,” eddie says.

the corners of steve’s eyes crinkle when he smiles. eddie thinks he might just pass out again. “no, we’re still gonna cinch it, i think. looks bad, though — first time coach missing the final period so’s he can hit on the cute musician who got his clock cleaned by the biscuit.”

“oh,” he says. swallows. “uh.”

steve’s crinkly, smiley eyes go wide. “unless—“

“no less!” eddie shouts and then immediately winces. at a better, less damaging to his more than slightly concussed noggin, volume, he says, “more, actually. because pretty sure i shouldn’t be left unsupervised, and i’ve clearly been abandoned by the band, so—“

“so,” says steve.

“coach, two minutes!” someone calls.

“so, i was hoping maybe i could keep hitting on the hot hockey coach back at his?”

“i’m at the ramada inn,” he says, “and i got tape to watch for the finals.”

“i live for room service,” eddie tells him seriously. “and i’m suddenly very into wisconsin sports teams.”

“coach! go time!”

“yeah?” he asks.

“yeah.”

“COACH!”

he jerks a thumb over his shoulder. “i gotta — but, uh, later?”

“pick me up in twenty?”

“probably more like half an hour, with stoppage,” he says.

someone bangs on the door. “COACH!! let’s boogie!!”

with one last look, wide eyed and smiling, steve leaves. eddie watches him go. he’d heard hockey players were caked up but lord — eddie is about to convert to a new religion, or maybe found one, over the stretch of those slacks.

“damn,” he says quietly.

“gross,” a woman says. eddie startles and looks to the side, where a lanky brunette with a bob and an undercut is staring at him, unimpressed. she’s in some get up that screams athletic trainer, and there’s a white board in her hand.

“how long have you been there?” he asks.

she raises an eyebrow. “long enough, and honestly, i don’t know if that counts as a you rule for him, or a you suck for you,” she says and does not elaborate when he asks. “also don’t look at him like that. it’s steve. he’s basically my sister.”

“yeah? any tips then?” asks eddie. “i promise i’ll only use them for good. well. mostly.”

“god,” she says with an expansive eye roll. “you’re gonna be a nightmare, aren’t you?”

a cheer goes up outside the room as the teams, presumably, take the ice again. eddie, head throbbing, concussed, embarrassed, grins. “sure hope so,” he says.

#stranger things #eddie munson #steve harrington #steddie #rockstar au #hockey au #two great tastes that taste great together tbh #cross posted on twitter #might clean this up later + pop it on ao3

[steddieas-shegoes]

Eddie had heard plenty of stories about Steve losing fights.

He had the concussions to prove it.

But what Eddie saw with his own two eyes was far more impressive than whatever version of Steve had let Jonathan Byers and Billy Hargrove win.

He’d seen how quick he was to defend the kids, defend Nancy and Robin, even defend Eddie when he barely knew him. He’d thrown himself head first into the mix, nail bat in hand or not.

So when Eddie asked about it, Steve shrugged it off.

“Everyone loses fights.”

Sure, everyone does. But he’s seen Steve win against literal alternate dimension monsters.

No way a human teenage boy or two could be harder to beat.

But he let it go. If Steve insisted on it being a couple of genuine losses, so be it.

But Eddie doesn’t let things go. Especially not when it comes to Steve.

“I guess I just don’t understand how you lost to Jonathan. I mean had he ever even been in a fight before?”

“No. But neither had I.”

“But you should’ve won that fight with no effort. No offense to Jonathan, but he’s scrawny and doesn’t even punch right.”

“I don’t know. Why are you so hung up on this?”

Well, because this wasn’t simple. Eddie could tell Steve was hiding something, he just didn’t know what.

“I guess because no one else ever asked you.”

Steve stared at him, probably trying to figure out how to avoid answering.

“No one seems to ever ask you about you.”

Steve looked down at the floor.

“They don’t need to.”

“You deserve to have people care. So I’m gonna care for now and then I’m gonna have a chat with your idiot kids about relational reciprocity.”

“What?”

“They have to show they care about you as much as you care about them. That’s kind of the deal with friendship.”

“Oh.”

Oh? Did Steve genuinely not know that?

Jesus Christ.

“So?”

“I think I just wasn’t good at fighting.”

“Nah. That’s not it.”

Eddie could see Steve thinking.

When he finally spoke, he wasn’t making eye contact. Eddie reached his hand out towards his face, cupping his chin and lifting his face so he had to look at him.

“Try again, Stevie.”

Steve took in a shaky breath.

“I wasn’t good at fighting for me.”

Eddie nodded. “Why’s that?”

“Just didn’t seem like I deserved to win. I deserved the hits I got.”

“Why?”

“Because I was awful. I said shitty things or did shitty things. Or with Billy, I knew I had to let him take it out on me and I guess I thought I deserved it. I dunno.”

“Mm.”

He released Steve’s chin, watching as his head dropped back down and he seemed to curl in on himself.

Eddie couldn’t allow that to happen.

So he pulled Steve into his lap, smirking to himself just a little when he let out a yelp of surprise at the manhandling.

“So all this time, you’ve put your body and mind and future on the line for everyone else without a second thought, but when you had to protect yourself and only yourself, it’s not worth the effort? Am I understanding correctly?”

Steve didn’t respond, but then again, Eddie hadn’t really expected him to. He was too busy hiding his face in Eddie’s chest.

“That’s what I thought. So who taught you that you’re not worth fighting for? Who told you that anything you’ve done wrong should be considered a debt owed to whoever wanted to raise their fists? Who made you believe that your mistakes could only be absolved if you let them get punched out of you?”

Steve was crying; He could feel the cold wetness seeping through his shirt.

“You tell me who it was and I’ll make sure they know how it feels to lose a fight.”

“Just me.”

“I don’t think that’s true.”

He let Steve sit with the words for a few minutes before speaking again.

“You did some not great things as a teenager, as many teenagers tend to do. Have you seen the way Mike talks to people? He’s a shithead. But do you think he deserves to get concussed from a punch to the temple?”

Steve shook his head.

“Dustin gets an attitude anytime we don’t immediately bend to his will and calls us names all the time. Do you think he deserves to get a plate smashed over his head?”

“Of course not.”

Steve’s voice was quiet.

“You have more than made up for any mistakes you may have made in the past, even without the punches being thrown at you. If I have to tell you that you deserve to be treated with kindness and respect every day, then I fucking will. Hear me?”

“Hear you.”

Steve was staring at Eddie, tears still silently and rapidly falling down his cheeks.

Eddie wiped them away and gave him a small smile.

“You have no idea how special you are. But that’s gonna change.”

“Okay.”

Eddie placed a kiss on his forehead before he wrangled him against his chest again, moving his legs so he could relax completely.

“Just relax, okay? I got you. You’re worth protecting.” Eddie sighed softly. “You’re worth everything.”

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #this was literally typed on my phone in the 15 minutes it took Liam to change out of his hockey gear #so it’s not substantial and may have mistakes #just thought a little brain worm needed an escape #headcanon #stranger things

[matchingbatbites]

Has anyone done a Hockey AU where Steve and Eddie are on rival teams and rag on each other constantly but they always pair up as brawl buddies?

Like whenever a fight breaks out they ignore everyone else and immediately go to find the other and spend however long just holding each other and chatting while the fighters cool off.

People use that as 'proof' that they're secretly friends, that the rivalry is faked for publicity, and they're half right. The only thing wrong is that they're not secretly friends, they're actually married.

#if theres something similar to this out there please tell me so i can read it #steddie #steddie au #eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things #joey writes #hockey au #hc

[hexiewrites]

sticks, stones, and beavers

happy birthday @thefreakandthehair! this one is for you and our shared highly inadvisable crush on captain ratman himself.

(find it on ao3)

Eddie’s first problem is that he’s at a gay sports bar. It’s not the gay part that’s the problem, though god knows he never wants to drink in a room full of straight people again. It’s not even the sports that’s necessarily an issue, though usually they come for women’s night, and he fucking loves to see the place absolutely packed with ladies who’re so goddamn hype about professional women’s sports. No, it’s not the gay bar and it’s not the sports bar that are the actual issues. (Though, he does want a word with whoever decided to call the place Sticks, Stones, and Beavers because, fucking yikes.) The actual issue is that Chrissy hadn’t realized it was hockey night. And maybe that might have been okay too, except she’d immediately spotted a tall woman with a short cropped brunette bob and went “oh my god, she could snap me in half any day,” glanced back to Eddie to say, “her friend looks fucking hot too, you should get in on that,” and then she’d promptly followed the brunette into the bathroom.  So the problem is that Eddie is in a gay sports bar on fucking hockey night and he’s alone. And even then, that might have been fine. Maybe. It at least wouldn’t have been the first time it had happened. So, he probably would have been alright. If it hadn’t been for the gorgeous man with the perfect hair.

(keep reading on ao3)

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #hockey fan steve harrington #reluctant hockey fan eddie munson #pick up lines #flirting #sports bar pick ups #rated t #my stuff #hex is writing

[rosewaterandivy]

hit the lot and skate

summary: so, noted. eddie and first impressions do not mix.

a/n: for your consideration, enforcer and all around brawler, eddie “the reaper” munson. he’s my disgusting lil meow meow and i love him! big up to @jo-harrington for entertaining this headcanon and letting me spiral. 🥹

Eddie is late, again, like always, and shuffled unceremoniously to the press room by Hop, the team manager. He’s got one hand splayed against Eddie’s back, all but frog marching him through the double doors, grumbling all the while.

“You’ll be late to your own damn funeral, kid.” He mutters, shoving Eddie toward the single chair at the table. “Just, play nice, okay? It’s pre-season and I’d rather not have to pay a fine. Think you can swing that?”

“Aye, aye, Chief,” Eddie says with a wink and sarcastic two finger salute.

He leans back in the chair, idly sipping from his gatorade bottle every so often while barely answering the reporters questions. It’s mostly just shrugs and raised eyebrows from The Reaper, as they’ve come to expect.

“Munson, why are you here if you’re not gonna answer any of our questions?”

“Wow, wonderful delivery as always, Ace!” He cracks his knuckles and rests his elbows against he table, leaning forward toward the assembled mics, “And it’s simple, really. I’m just here so I don’t get fined again.”

The gathered press sigh and throw up their hands in dismay— couldn’t even get him to bite by mentioning Carver and the brawl last season. What was the fucking use?

Eddie, pleased with himself, sits back in the chair and takes a long pull from the bottle. Most people just assume it’s water or Gatorade. Maybe, on occasion, a nip of whiskey.

But the reality is so much worse than that.

The press begin to pack up, and Hop feels a migraine coming on already. He’s pinching between his brows and completely misses someone approaching Eddie.

The Reaper watches in interest. A mystery woman with a murder-strut beelining right for him. Probably one of the newer reporters in the rotation. Thinking she can corner him and get a quote— amateur.

But instead, she ignores him completely and grabs his bottle and squirts a stream of liquid into her mouth. Eddie’s eyes nearly fall out of his skull. Hop, looking up, is too late to warn her of the mistake she’s just unknowingly made.

His water bottle concoction is an open secret among the team— a lotta Mountain Dew cut with a bit of milk. Mountain Dilk, if you will.

The press, now wise to the situation, has already pulled out their phones to record the interaction. Voices murmuring under their breath, not loud enough for Eddie to make out what’s being said.

People seem to recognize her, whoever she is.

And the woman in question, simply sets the bottle back on the table and pauses to gargle that shit before spitting it right back into Eddie’s face.

“That is fucking vile.”

All he can do is cock his head and blink, milky green droplets clumping on his eye lashes.

“Not a swallower, huh?” He asks, wiping his upper lip. “Gotta say, not a good look for a WAG, sweetheart.”

A slow smile creeps across her face. She huffs a soft laugh, and then: “Y’know Munson, sense has chased you your entire life, but you’re faster.”

She crosses her arms casually beneath her breasts, inadvertently pushing them up and sending Eddie’s blood due south. Her mouth twists as she eyes him up and down, assessing.

“Uh, thanks?”

A scoff and roll of her eyes, “Coach.”

“What?”

She steps toward him, slow and steady. Her head grazing just beneath his chin, Eddie has to glance down to maintain eye contact.

“That’s Coach to you, Munson.” She pokes him in the chest, a filed nail directly to his sternum, nods to Hop and turns to leave. “On the rink in five,” She tosses over her shoulder, “Lace your skates and grab a bucket.”

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfic #hockey!eddie #fic: sots #Spotify

[smeddiemunson]

no but i’m so pro jock!steve. this boy is arranging his schedule around the tv showings.

“hey Steve can we get a ride to the arcade?” “no can do, kiddo. Celtics are at Knicks tonight.” “we live in Indiana.” “So?”

he needs everything explaining to him in sports terms. will use sports terminology in his day to day.

if it’s a modern au, he has an in depth plan to draft his fantasy football team. he learns how to use excel so he can run very basic formulas to calculate the risers and fallers to pick up on waivers or drop.

eddie will only watch hockey. it’s not steve’s favourite but he’ll get into it just so he can answer eddie’s questions.

edit to add: because @steddie-as-he-goes made an excellent point. he is both a jock and my a babygirl. he contains multitudes!!!

#steve harrington #steddie #eddie munson hockey lover is very personal to me #jock steve is so personal to me #I fucking love sports and it makes me SO ANGRY when people do the whole ‘well his parents expected it of him so he doesn’t do it any more’ #no shut up

[oneforthemunny]

break the ice |hockey!eddie munson x reader|

prompt: a scheduling mishap leads you and eddie to meet. or how you and hockey!eddie's story begins lol.

contains: eddie au. fluff. that's it. happy one year!

The hiss of the puck gliding over the ice, skittering into the goal, skates whizzing to a stop. It was comforting to Eddie. He’d never really known what people meant when they’d say “get in the zone” growing up, until he started playing again, playing for real this time. It was easy to focus on the sounds, silence your brain by tricking it to listen to the claps of the stick on the ice, the pop of the puck soaring, the- 

“Skidamarink a dink, a dink. Skidamarink a doo.” 

A clean miss, startled by the sudden blaring of music from behind him. Skates wobbling, knees locking into place. Eddie turned, squinting towards the other end of the rink. 

“Hey, hey!” Eddie skated, shouting over the music- horrendous at that, what was this song? 

“Excuse me,” You looked up, adjusting the volume on your boom box. “Hey, uh, sorry this is a closed practice.” Eddie skated to you, hockey stick waving exaggeratedly behind him. 

“Yeah it is.” You nodded, head tilting to the side slightly. “Are you… here to drop off?” 

“What? No, no, I-” Eddie paused, brows furrowed at you lightly. “I- this is my practice.” 

“Your practice?” You repeated, pointing at the ice below you. 

“Yeah.” 

“You’re here for the Snowflakes?” 

“No, I play for-” Eddie shakes his head, hand running over his face. “Snowflakes? What-” 

“-The three to four year old class?” You press, brow raised, face contorted in what Eddie could only assume was your best judgment masking, though by the scrunch in your nose, it wasn’t working very well. “For ice skating lessons?” 

“Lessons? Sweetheart, c’mon, does it look like I need lessons?” Eddie grins, smug and sweet. His heart skips when you bite back a smile, lips twitching. “I’m- I rent out the time to practice.” 

“Oh,” You frown slightly. “I, uh, I did too.” 

“You know what, let me- let me just go ask Max.” Eddie flashes you a dazzling smile. “I’ll get it sorted out.” 

“You’re both right.” Max droned behind the desk, flipping through a magazine lazily. “Both of you have the slot for today.”

“What? Why-Why would Bobby book up both spots?” Eddie frowned. “That makes no fuckin’ sense. I’m here every Thursday-” 

Max huffed, snatching the scheduling paper off the back wall, slapping it on the desk. “Eddie Munson. Five to six-thirty. Left.” Her blue eyes raised in boredom. “That means, you’re on the left side.” 

“Left? This is- That’s fuckin’ ridiculous, Max, c’mon-” 

“-It’s Bobby.” Max rolled her eyes. “He’s trying to double book, make more money during the dead season. I don’t know what to tell you.” 

“So I have to practice with a bunch of fuckin’ kids running around?” Eddie huffs. “How the hell am I gonna do that? Huh? Do you hear the shit they’re playing in there?” Eddie throws a hand out towards the rink. “I’m already about to lose my mind.” 

“So get some ear plugs, Eddie, I don’t know.” Max huffed, throwing her hands up. “You know I can’t refund you, so either leave, or suck it up. I honestly don’t care, Munson, up to you.” 

Eddie’s tongue poked the inside of his cheek, rolling furiously. Bunch of kids skating all around him, screaming and shit, he’d never get anything done. 

Still, Eddie’s eyes wandered back to you. In your matching tracksuit, a powdery blue that seemed to shine even under the fluorescents of the rink. He supposed there could be worse people to share the ice with. He faced Tommy Raider again next season, and he’d rather be with a bunch of screaming toddlers anyday over him anyday. 

Besides, the kids weren’t so bad. The occasional screech or laughter when you’d have them do something silly. It was cute, honestly, Eddie decided, seeing these little kids wobble around on skates while you cooed enthusiastically at them. 

“Ok, my little flurries,” You grinned, cheeks aching from the amount of feigned enthusiasm you had to muster. “Next week we’re going to really work on our glide.” You pushed off dramatically, soaring a few spaces then stopping. 

It was so exaggerated, over the top and made the kids giggle; Eddie was sure he was in love. 

“So be sure to be practicing holding your arms way, way out!” You extended your arms, beaming at the few who mimicked you. “And I’ll see you all next week!” 

Eddie had spent the majority of the time practicing what he’d say to you, how he’d ask you out. A classic chat up line always worked at the bar, always helped him score. Still, his knees wobbled, tight and a little unsure as he skated over to you. 

You were waving goodbye to a student, stepping off to the bleachers to undo your own skates. “Hey,” Eddie’s voice cracked, wobbly and unsure in his throat, teeth clenching in a grimace.

You looked up, a tiny half smile in greeting. “Hi. Hope we didn’t bother you too much.” 

“What? No. No, no, no. No, you didn’t-” Eddie took a breath, heart hammering in his chest, ringing in his ears. “It was… Yeah, that was really fun to watch actually. The, uh, seeing the kids in their skates and shit. You’re-You’re really good with them, and, uh…” The fuck is that Munson? The fuck are you doing? Eddie’s mind raced, furiously. 

“Thanks.” You grinned, a wicked little smile that had Eddie’s cheeks flushing. He hadn’t felt like this in years. Felt like he was back in middle school, swooning any time Connie Donohue would swish her hair over her shoulder, letting it land on his desk and brush his hand. 

“They’re a fun age. Super sweet. Not like the asshole eight year olds.” Your finger curled under the untied laces, shimmying them loose. 

“Oh? Eight year olds, they're the asshole group?” Eddie grinned, leaning against the rink’s surface. He hoped you couldn’t tell how he was flexing, muscles protruding under the tight, black material of his shirt. 

“Total assholes. I had them last year, and that’s why I switched-” 

“-Excuse me?” A tiny squeak of a voice came from behind you. You turned, expecting one of your kids who had forgotten a mitten or jacket. 

“Are-Are you Eddie Munson?” The small boy with wide eyes gaped at Eddie. 

Eddie flushed, swallowing, eyes flickering to you. Your brows creasing, looking at the tiny boy then back at Eddie. “Yeah, yeah that’s me.” Eddie forced a smile, gripping the rink as he stepped onto the bleachers, settling on the ones across from you. 

“What’s your name, little man?” Eddie grinned. 

“Samuel.” The boy grinned, a little shyly. 

“Samuel, that’s a cool name. How old are you?” 

“Eight.” The boy beamed. 

Eddie’s eyes cut over to yours, lips twisting, fighting back a grin. You blushed, turning away from his glances, cheeks burning with heat you hoped he didn’t see. “Eight? That’s a… that’s a cool age, right?” 

“Right.” Samuel nodded. “I-I watch you all the time with my dad and my mom.” Samuel babbled in true kid fashion. “You’re my favorite hockey player.” 

“Me? No way, c’mon.” Eddie shook his head playfully. 

“Yeah, ‘cause you’re from Hawkins too.” Samuel nodded, matter of factly. “They said that on-on the TV one time when I was watching.” 

“Yeah, that’s right.” Eddie nodded. “Used to practice here when I was your age.” He nodded over towards the rink behind him. 

“We went one time to a game, and… and you lost a tooth!” Samuel giggled in true, eight year old asshole form. “The other guy knocked it out when-when you were fighting!” 

Eddie laughed, a howling of a cackle that bounced off the walls of the rink, over the hum of the electricity and heat in the stands.

You watched carefully, interest piqued. You knew he was good, you’d watched him practice, it was obvious he had skill. And the name did sound familiar, plastered across headlines and the local news, one of Hawkins’ very own made it big. 

Eddie signed Samuel’s jersey, left him scampering back to his awaiting parents with a triumphant grin. “What are the odds of that?” Eddie beamed, grinning ear to ear when he looked over at you. 

You laughed, knotting your own skates together, reaching for your snow boots. “I, uh, I didn’t realize you-you played for the… Played hockey.” 

“Yeah,” Eddie shrugged, inked hand running down his arm. You tried not to stare. “It’s alright, really. Not bad benefits, but work hours are a little crazy.” 

“Yeah?” You laughed lightly. “I would say so. Pretty demanding.” 

“Oh yeah. And you lose a tooth or two sometimes.” Eddie’s eyes cut to yours playfully, a dimpled grin that had your heart shooting with heat. 

“Yikes.” You sucked in a breath dramatically. “That seems brutal.” 

“You ever been?” Eddie asked, untying his own skates, letting the blade rest on the cement barrier in front of him. 

“To… what? A game?” 

“Yeah.” 

“No.” You shook your head. “Not, like, a real hockey game. Not… Not one of yours.” Your knee bounced nervously, a little unsure even in your own answer. 

“You should come.” Eddie shrugged cooly, hoping you couldn’t see the way his hands shook with adrenaline. “Come to the opener in a few weeks. I’ll get you tickets.” 

“What?” You laughed lightly. “You- No, you don’t even know my name, and you’re gonna get me tickets? Yeah, right.” You rolled your eyes at him. 

“Well, I was hoping I could get your name, maybe your number too.” Eddie’s lips pursed lightly. “Get to know you before the game. Can give you those tickets next time I see you. What do you think? You free Friday night? Saturday?” 

You blushed, looking down at your boots, fiddling with the laces to avoid his gaze. “Saturday. I don’t have to work.” You looked back at him. 

“Saturday it is.” Eddie beamed. 

You scrawled your name and number on the torn corner piece of the schedule. Eddie had snatched it and a pen from behind the desk, ignoring Max’s huffs of annoyance. He’d clutched it the whole way home, paper a little soft from the dampness of his sweaty hands. The tiny slip of paper was taped to his landline, staying there long after Eddie had memorized the number. In your pretty, loopy handwriting for Eddie to see each time he called you. 

#oneforthemunny #munnytalks #munnysonederful #hockey!eddie munson #eddie munson au #eddie munson au #hockey!eddie #hockey!eddie munson x reader #hockey player!eddie munson #eddie munson x fem!reader fluff #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x fem!reader smut #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie x fem!reader #eddie munson x you #eddie x reader #eddie stranger things #eddie my love <3 #eddie munson #max mayfield #eddie munson fic #oneforthemunny blurbs #eddie munson blurb

[stevespookington]

have YOU read carve your name into my chest by @hexiewrites and LOVED the hockey steddie experience??

have YOU wondered what fake hockey rpf IN that universe would look like??? what ARE those fans writing while watching steve and eddie play out their rivalry in that epic fic? 🤔 (or hockey memes in the case of the art above hehe)

well LOOK NO FURTHER because my wonderful friend @maxineholtzmann has a SMORGASBORD of wonderful smutty fics written as tie-ins for the carve hockey universe!!

steve/eddie/tommy? try some part of me came alive!

steve/eddie/chrissy? try but i can see that all along, love, it was you all the way down

AND three other truly epic fics!!

#stranger things #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #tommy hagan #chrissy cunningham #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fic #strangers things fic rec #steddie fic #steddie fic rec #carve your name into my chest #steddie hockey au #friend fic #steve harrington/eddie munson/tommy hagan #steve harrington/eddie munson/chrissy cunningham #stommie #christeddie #steddissy

[starkidmunson]

glitter & crimson (it has a title y'all!)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7

Nervous excitement has Steve out of his bed 25 minutes before his alarm goes off to wake him. It’s not unusual on game days. He gathers ingredients in the kitchen until he hears Robin’s alarm, and then he starts making both their breakfast smoothies.

She fumbles down the hallway a few moments later with her eyes still closed, takes the cup from him, and sits in the middle of their living room floor.

“Pilates today? Or did you get a workout in at the show last night?” She asks after a few sips, and Steve joins her near their mats.

“It’s a tradition, can’t go changing shit now.” He teases, laughing as she throws her head back with a tired groan. Then she’s hauling herself to her bedroom to grab a hoodie.

They exercise on the balcony, like always, but keep it light. Steve tries to get plenty of stretching in on game days, making sure he’s loose and limber before he hits the ice. After about 30 minutes, Robin’s teeth are chattering in the cool morning air, so he calls it, and they head back inside. He gathers his gear while Robin showers, and then they make their way to United.

Steve heads to the locker room to gear up, manages to finish a whole bottle of water before he hits the rink. He takes a few slow laps around the rink as the rest of the team starts to roll in, runs through a few drills on his own before team practice starts.

They keep things minimal on game days; sprints and passes, shots on goal. Steve does a final lap backwards around the rink, before clearing off to the locker room to finish putting on his uniform while the other team takes the ice for their own practice. 

As he refills his water bottle, he gets whacked in the shin with the body of a hockey stick. He watches it happen, feels an echo of the impact on his shin guard, before turning to raise an eyebrow at Max.

“Hello to you, too.” He says through a little smile. She rolls her eyes, but smiles back at him.

“They’re here.” She says, in an ominous tone, despite her smile. “You guys seemed to hit it off last night, I’m glad you didn’t scare him away with your weirdness.” 

“I’m not weird, you guys are weird.” He mumbles back, kicking the stick from her hand but catching it before it hits the ground. “Last night was fun. I just hope he doesn’t hate the game as much as I think he’s going to.”

“Awfully concerned about him having a good time.” She leans in closer to him to tease, and while he feels his ears get hot, he shoves the hockey stick back into her arms and walks back toward his locker. “Dustin is working in the AV booth tonight, so be prepared for a lot of Eddie on the big screen.”

“You overestimate how much attention I pay to the overhead.” He replies, rolling his eyes and taking a big gulp of water. 

He hadn’t exactly considered the consequences of Eddie actually coming to the game. He was bound to draw a lot of attention, but what would that turn into? Steve had, smartly, elected to stay off the internet after he’d gotten home last night, and he hadn’t bothered to check social media before coming in. He was sure there were pictures and videos of him at the show floating around, insinuating things beyond what they actually meant. He was just as sure that there was at least one person who had taken to their feeds to report that Eddie and Steve had hung out after the show; never mind the fact that everyone else was there. Never mind the fact that they weren’t alone. 

Except they had spent most of the night alone. Other than a few interruptions, their time at Fatpour had mostly consisted of Eddie and Steve sitting at a high-top table close to the bar, munching on snacks and talking about everything and nothing and whatever crossed their minds. Eddie insisted he was going to make a playlist for Steve, and Steve offered to teach Eddie how to ice skate. And it felt… nice. It had been a while since Steve had that with anyone.

Max just moves on, reminding Steve of which stretches he needs to do now that he’s in his gear, and the coach and captain both give speeches in the locker room, before everyone moves out to the rink. They take the ice as the announcer reads off their name, and Steve taps his stick with the right wing who stakes up next to him.

He glances around, chewing on his mouth guard absently. A part of him knows that Robin and Eddie and whoever else from CC made the trip to the game are in one of the boxes around the upper level of the area, but he hadn’t asked which one when he had briefly texted with Eddie this morning, and now it was too late. But, he figures it’s probably for the best. Not knowing where to look keeps him from running the risk of sparking more speculation about nothing.

______

Even having heeded Steve’s warning to wear layers to the game, Eddie is freezing. He’s wearing a long-sleeved t-shirt under a hoodie under a leather jacket, but he’s still cold. And Robin is bouncing around the box suite in a t-shirt and ripped jeans, looking perfectly comfortable and Eddie doesn’t get it. He zips his leather jacket all the way up and sinks into his seat, bobbing his head along to the music echoing through the arena.

“You’re going to be cold when we’re leaving if you don’t take something off.” Robin chastises, and Eddie just rolls his eyes. Jeff, Freak and Lucas are chatting, sitting in the seats just outside of the box. Inside the box, Gareth looks just as cold as Eddie, chatting with Nancy and Will on a sofa.

Paige returns a few minutes later with a bag of merchandise, courtesy of a voucher from the team, and drops it on Gareth’s lap. “Hoodie for you,” She declares, pulling out a black hoodie with the Blackhawks logo and throwing it into Gareth’s face. “Hoodie for you,” She adds, tossing a red one in Eddie’s direction. She pulls two more thinner zip ups out of the bag and drops them on Jeff and Freak’s heads. When she comes back in, she locks eyes with Eddie, who pauses as he unzips his leather jacket.

“What?” He asks, cautiously, and she grins.

“Got something else for you,” She says, and he’s instantly concerned.

“You’re freaking me out.” Eddie points out as he slips the hoodie he’d worn over his head and replaces it with the fleece-lined red hoodie with “Blackhawks” written across the back shoulders. Robin claps and jumps up and down beside him, concerning him further.

“They put one aside!?” She asks, and Paige nods, before tossing the rest of the bag to Eddie.

When he pulls out the contents, he can’t help but let out a little laugh. “You guys asked them to give me a Harrington jersey?” He raises an eyebrow at Robin, before pulling it over his head. It fits a little loose over the hoodie, but looks similar to how he’d seen other people wear theirs.

“Steve doesn’t know, but I asked. Figured you might like it.” She says, grinning as he turns a light shade of pink he fully intends to blame on the cold.

When the team introductions start, Robin drags Eddie out into the seats just outside the box, so they have a better view. While it’s colder out there, Eddie’s warmer in the new tops, and finds he doesn’t mind it as much. 

Robin and the members of the Party in the box break into cheers when Steve skates out onto the ice, and Eddie can’t help the little smile that crosses his face as he watches Steve interact with his team.

The puck drops and Steve manages to slip it away from the Kraken’s center, gliding down the ice effortlessly before passing it off. It’s a tiny thing, trying to pay attention to the puck, so Eddie finds himself just tracking Steve as he zips and twists around. After a few minutes, Steve skates back to the Blackhawks box and jumps in as another player hits the ice.

“What happened? Is he hurt?” Eddie’s confused as he looks at Robin, who gives him a soft smile.

“He’s fine. They only play for so long, before they switch out to keep them from getting tired.”

He tries to pay attention to what’s happening then, with Steve off the ice, but finds himself watching the other sit along the bench. He bangs his stick against the wall a few times, shouting things Eddie can’t hear. When he gets up to go back into the game, he pats the player he’s replacing on the back before hitting the ice. 

The next chance he gets the puck, he takes a shot toward the goalie, who stops the puck between his legs. Steve keeps skating, zipping around and getting back into the action. He gets the puck back, but is quickly checked by two Krakens who send him into the boards hard. Eddie grimaces, and a penalty is called on both Krakens for charging.

Steve scores a goal in the second period, and Eddie joins the Party in cheering along. He spots himself on the big screen and grabs Robin, pulling her into frame as she jumps up and down. 

The celebrations die down a little, and Robin scooches closer to him. “I can have them knock it off, if you don’t want to be up there. Dustin’s in the booth right now.” She offers, and he shrugs.

“I don’t mind. I kind of expected it, after the TikTok blew up.” He shrugs, tracking Steve back around the ice.

Blackhawks end up winning the game, 5-2, and while Steve doesn’t score again, he assists in each of the following goals. Each time, he has a different celebration with whoever he set up for the goal, and it’s sweet to watch Steve goof off, to hear his friends' excitement as he succeeds.  Walking back out of the booth, Eddie feels like his voice is more raw from screaming at the hockey game than it was from last night’s concert. 

_____________

“You shouldn’t skip the ice bath, Steve, you took a hard hit into that wall.” Max is lecturing as they move through the arena to where she says everyone is waiting. 

“I’m fine, I’ve taken worse hits and I stretched plenty. My shoulder just dug into the pad wrong. I’ll have a bruise, but it’s fine.” He insists, holding the door open for her then following her into the box where chaos immediately erupts.

Mike and Lucas are bouncing around, gushing about how great he played. Steve laughs, squeezing Lucas’ shoulder and ruffling Mike’s hair, before his eyes land on the band. They’re all wearing fresh Blackhawks gear, and Steve can’t help but grin.

“Oh man, I’m so glad you guys were able to come! Did you have a good time?” He asks, moving closer to them.

“Dude, I fucking love hockey. I haven’t been to a game in forever, this was sick. And you were killing it out there. I think I like hockey even more knowing someone who is playing.” Freak says, and Gareth nods along.

“Hockey is the only sport I’d ever really been interested in, so this was fun! Great game.”

“I have never had an interest in hockey before, but it was still cool to learn about.” Jeff admits, and then Steve turns to Eddie. His hands are tucked up inside the sleeves of the jersey, nestled in the front pocket of the hoodie beneath, but he grins.

“I concede, it was a lot more fun than I anticipated. I think it helps that you were awesome out there.”

Steve turns a soft shade of pink, shaking his head before nodding back toward the door out of the box. “Want to grab dinner with us? I’m starving.”

______________

They’re in some bar Steve texted the directions to but Eddie can’t remember the name, when he catches Steve staring at him from his spot between Dustin and Lucas. Eddie raises an eyebrow and waves a little, which seems to snap Steve out of it. He blushes and waves back, before covering his face with his hands. Eddie snorts, before getting up and moving so he’s sitting across from Steve.

“You weren’t mad that I put you up on the big screen, right? I think the team actually put it up on socials at some point, so I hope you didn’t mind.” Dustin rambles at Eddie as soon as he sits, but he’s quick to ease the kid’s concerns.

“It was fun. Don’t worry about it, kid. Really.” He says, watches Dustin visibly relax, but then Robin carts him and Lucas away, giving Steve and Eddie space and tossing a wink in Eddie’s direction. Eddie finds himself growing to appreciate her more and more. “I really did have a good time tonight. Cross my heart.” Eddie says, before drawing an “x” over his heart with his fingers.

Steve laughs, and opens his mouth to say something before he seems to reconsider. He thinks for a moment, before leaning over the table. “Are you wearing my jersey?”

Eddie pauses for a moment, looks down and laughs. He’d forgotten he hadn’t taken it off, and Robin had said that Steve didn’t know about it. “I mean, it’s technically not yours. Just has your name and number on it.”

Steve squints his eyes before he leans back and takes a sip of his beer. Eddie seizes the opportunity to be chaotic, then, decides to take the leap. “I mean, I totally could be wearing your jersey, if you wanted me to. But you’re going to have to take me out of this one first.” 

It’s worth it, if for no other reason than Steve starts choking on his drink, coughing loudly and drawing everyone’s attention. He composes himself quickly, but his face is still bright red, and Eddie grins.

“You’re a menace.” Steve accuses, voice hoarse and thick, and Eddie shrugs.

“What are you going to do about it?” He challenges.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

I'm going to try reblogging with a tag list this week because it's LONG and I have no idea how else to try to make it work without hitting a character limit. Thank you to everyone who is still reading! I've got so many ideas for this bouncing around in my head, I can't wait to flesh them out and I hope you continue to enjoy!

#steddie #fanfic #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie au #steddie fic #steddie hockey au #hockey player!steve harrington #rockstar!eddie munson #rockstar!eddie #hockey player!steve #starkidmunson writes #glitter & crimson #stranger things fanfiction

[steddilly]

My sister somehow persuaded me to go out drinking with her and I’m crawling into bed now, so this is the only thing I can muster up for wip Wednesday. Rockstar Eddie takes Wayne out to see his favourite ECHL team play live, and his uncle is suspiciously close to team’s goalie

#steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #wayne munson #rockstar eddie munson #hockey player steve harrington #meet cute #I love this little au #I really really want to finish it #wip writing #wip wednesday #fanfic #fanfic writer #fanfic wip #hard of hearing steve harrington #my favourite au #hoh steve harrington #Wayne and Steve friendship

[steddieas-shegoes]

lost an edge

rated t | 509 words for @steddiemicrofic prompt 'edge' cw: implied sexual content, mildly suggestive language | tags: hockey au, defenseman steve harrington, goalie eddie munson, enemies to lovers (mostly just implied babes this is only 509 words), chirps

⛸️⛸️⛸️⛸️⛸️⛸️⛸️⛸️⛸️⛸️⛸️

Steve's left skate had felt wrong all night. It wasn't the ice, he'd already asked everyone else if they felt like it was rough and they said no. The equipment manager checked the blade and it was sharp, not loose at all.

Whatever was causing it was a mystery and he'd just have to adapt.

But it was quite possibly the worst night to have to adapt.

The Bruins were facing their toughest competition this season: the Florida Panthers.

It was stupid; They weren't even that good! They just found a way to always get in their heads and-

"Harrington, wake the hell up!" Hagan, his D partner, yelled right before the whistle blew.

The game started rough for all of them. They just got back from a ten day road trip, four wins but two in overtime, and they were all still struggling with jet lag. They just had to get through this game and they'd have four days off, but-

The horn blared and Steve let his head fall where he sat on the bench.

A goal in the first two minutes of the game was embarrassing, especially at home. He was still catching his breath from his shift when his coach tapped him to go back out.

He'd do it because that's what first liners did sometimes, but he wasn't thrilled.

He managed to keep the puck out of their zone for most of the shift, but he was giving 120%. He couldn't do that the entire game.

Plus his skate still felt weird, almost unstable.

Florida scored again right before the end of the first period and Steve tried not to feel defeated this early.

He took his last shift of the period, hopping over the wall to rush towards the blue line.

He felt his ankle shake, then twist, and he was down, sliding across the ice on his knees like a damn amateur. He looked down and saw everything was normal.

"Looks like you lost an edge, sweetheart," the Panthers goalie, Eddie Munson, said right behind him. "Might need to head to the local learn to skate before you play next game."

"Is that where you were earlier?" Steve barked back as he got up and skated back towards the play.

The second period went about the same, and every time he managed to get close to Munson, they chirped each other.

It happened every time they played, chirping turned to banter turned to outright flirting on the ice.

It was worse today because Steve always managed to lose an edge right near Eddie's crease. He caught himself most of the time, but Eddie always noticed.

"You want a private lesson after the game? Might be able to show you a few ways to stay on your feet?" Eddie said after a whistle for a trip.

"On ice or off?" Steve asked.

Eddie stared back at him, mouth open in shock at his comeback.

"Now look who lost an edge."

The Bruins didn't pull off the win that night, but Steve sure did.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #steddiemicrofic #steddiemicroficfebruary #hockey au #defenseman steve harrington #goalie eddie munson

[steddielicious]

Okay, so I tried RPF back in ‘06 and just thought it was too weird. That hasn’t changed in eighteen years, but I’m not here to yuck anyone’s yum. It’s just not for me.

And I’m very aware that the hockey RPF fandom is…robust. As a casual hockey fan (like I go to 3-4 games a year), ngl I find it hilarious.

I also do love me some NHL/Olympics hockey AUs though.

And so I’ve seen a bunch of Steddie headcanons come across my dash where people make Eddie a licker like Marchand. Which I especially hate because Eddie’s not a fucking rat piece of shit.

But like, I went to a Bruins game today, and whenever Marchand was on the ice, I kept thinking back to Eddie, and let me tell you, I did not like him being associated with Enemy #1.

That’s all. #gocanucksgo

#stranger things #personal #eddie munson #steve harrington #steddie #nhl hockey #nhl players #nhl rpf #brad marchand

[matchingbatbites]

break the ice (i can't take anymore)

Explicit | 2.2k | Read on Ao3

This is a gift for darling Emily @judasofsuburbia as part of the STuad server gift exchange! Emily, I hope you like this, because I know nothing about hockey. <3

Prompts included are A Really Good Kiss, Hockey, and The Pet Name "Princess". CW includes semi-public sex, D/s undertones. Full tag list over on Ao3

This isn’t the first time they’ve been pitted against each other, not by a long shot. 

It’s something that comes with the territory of being athletes, especially when you’re as good at the game as Steve and Eddie are. They haven’t been on the same teams in years, and it’s something they’ve learned to navigate - balancing their professional careers and their personal life.

This is their first time facing each other down during the fucking Stanley Cup, though. 

It’s been a surreal experience. They’ve spent the entire game having so much fun with each other, just taunting and teasing back and forth whenever they have the chance, playing up the rivalry their fans love to see. Skating circles around each other while trying to keep their heads in the game, both wanting to win but needing to have fun with it, for their own sanity - and for the sake of their relationship.

They use the fights that break out to their advantage, flying into each other’s arms and holding on tight, whispering while they wait for whatever brawl to finish. Eddie proves that he isn’t afraid to play dirty, that he’s willing to get under Steve’s skin to try to throw him off his game.

Steve had to recover quickly from Eddie’s muttered “Can’t wait to jack you off when I get my shiny new Stanley ring, princess,” just the thought of getting cum all over a twenty thousand dollar piece of jewelry making Steve reel. 

The last few minutes of the game are tense. Eddie and another player get sent to the penalty box, and Steve barely has the chance to mourn the loss of his boyfriend’s presence because there’s two fucking minutes left to bring the score out of a tie. And somehow, some fucking way, Steve’s team does it. 

He doesn’t even realize they’ve won until the buzzer sounds and his teammates are swarming the ice, helmets and padding and sticks flying everywhere as they converge into a mass of euphoria.

The arena is filled with the sounds of cheering and yelling, cries of joy and outrage, all of it so loud that Steve barely hears his own name being called through it all. He turns just before Eddie slams into him, sending them both gliding a few feet across the ice and into a fit of laughter. 

“You did it! You fucking won, baby!” he yells, and Steve feels so fucking giddy because they did. 

Steve doesn’t get a chance to respond before Eddie is hauling him into a kiss, something electric and ravenous thanks to the adrenaline pumping through their systems. Steve responds so easily, ever eager to let Eddie take and take whatever he wants, to let the man devour him in any way he seems fit.

One of Eddie’s hands settles on the back of his neck, pulling him ever closer, and it’s all Steve can do to clutch at his boyfriend’s jersey, just hanging on and hoping that his knees don’t give out. The cheers around them get even louder, and that’s what makes Eddie pull away, a beaming smile on his face. “Guess the secret’s out, sweetheart.”

Steve just laughs. “It’s only eighteen-thousand people plus the other thousands of fans watching the broadcast.”

“So just a few people, then.”

That sends them into a fit of giggles until one of Steve’s alternate captains grabs him, pulling him back to reality and his duties. “Time to face the media. See you after?” he asks, and Eddie nods, pulls him into one more brief kiss.

“See you soon, baby.”

As captain of the team, Steve spends the next God knows how long dealing with the media. Most of the reporters do a good job with sticking strictly to the game, to the win his team managed to eke out, but that doesn’t stop a few of them from trying to drag his and Eddie’s kiss into the story.

He shuts them down immediately, not wanting to say anything until he and Eddie actually have a chance to talk about it, and eventually he’s able to leave.

The locker room is basically empty when he gets there except for a few stragglers still packing up the rest of their stuff. Steve feels exhausted as he makes his way through the room, he accepts the congratulations from the few people still there and gives his own in return, but otherwise keeps to himself.

He doesn’t expect to see Eddie sitting on the bench in front of Steve’s stuff, still in uniform and his own duffel at his feet. 

“There’s my winner,” he says, grinning at Steve’s approach. “How was the circus?”

Steve hums and moves to stand between Eddie’s legs. Hands settle on his waist, resting just under the hem of his jersey, and Steve’s own hands find a home on Eddie’s shoulders, just in the crook of his neck. “Could have been worse. I managed to keep the us stuff at bay until we can talk about it.” 

“God, you’re so good at that Captain shit, baby. I love watching you command a room of reporters.” Eddie’s hands slip higher, moving under the edge of Steve’s undershirt until he can feel skin, and the younger shivers. The locker door slams shut nearby and the room goes silent, a sign that it’s finally just the two of them alone.

“I’m surprised you’re still here,” Steve says as he leans into Eddie’s creeping touch, the little bit of contact more of a tease than anything. “Thought you’d be back at the hotel by now.”

Eddie grins up at Steve and tugs him closer. “And miss the chance to congratulate you properly? To show you how proud I am of you?”

Steve full on shudders at that, his mouth drops in a soft gasp and his hands push up into Eddie’s hair. “Eddie…”

“I am, Stevie. So proud of you, my baby.” He leans in and presses a kiss to Steve’s jersey-covered sternum. “Tell me what you want, princess. Anything, and it’s yours.”

When Eddie says anything, he means it. The possibilities are endless and Steve knows that, is almost overwhelmed by the sudden thoughts that flash through his head. In this moment though, as exhausted and worn out as he is, there’s really only one thing he wants.

“I want a shower, and I want you to fuck me.”

“Yeah? That's all, honey?”

“Yeah, please Eddie.”

Eddie nods and says “Of course. Let’s get out of these clothes, then.”

They work together to strip down, pulling and tugging at each other’s clothes, but not with any rush, any urgency. They simply move in tandem as two people familiar with this specific dance, until they’re both bare and heading to the showers. Steve has the brief thought that he’s glad they’re separate from the rest of the locker room, that Eddie will be able to give him what he wants without anyone surprising them. 

The water is blissfully hot. Steve basks in it as Eddie’s hands work magic in his hair, as he scrubs Steve’s skin clean, every touch tender and adoring. Steve would start drifting, if they were doing this at home, or even in a hotel. As it is, he just leans into the touch, silently showing Eddie just how much he enjoys it.

At some point, Eddie tugs Steve back into his chest and slides soapy hands down his torso, and Steve can feel the shift in the air as he goes from cleaning to touching.

It’s nice, the way Eddie’s hands feel as they make their way down, slipping lower and lower until they find their prize. Steve is already half-hard when Eddie takes him in his slick grip, and he moans as his hips buck into the touch.

“Fuck, Eddie…”

It’s slow, almost torturous, the way Eddie strokes him. Steve honestly enjoys it; he loves when Eddie takes his time, when he makes Steve savor every touch, like they have all the time in the world. Right now, they’re technically on a time crunch, and Eddie’s hand leaves him far sooner than Steve would like. 

“Hands on the wall, princess. Gotta get you open for me.”

Steve just nods and steps out of the water, sets his hands on the white tile while Eddie rummages around in his shower bag. They started carrying lube for moments just like this, these little slices of time that they can spend together during the regular hockey season. Steve is incredibly grateful for it now as Eddie rubs a slick finger over his hole before pushing in. 

It’s euphoric. They haven’t had the chance to do this recently, and Steve’s own fingers pale in comparison to the way Eddie stretches him open, careful but eager. He swiftly goes from one to two, to three, until he’s fucking Steve with four fingers and the younger is shaking with desire.

“Eddie, please, I’m ready. Need you to fuck me.”

“I know, baby, I’ve got you.”

The fingers vanish and Eddie crowds up behind Steve until they’re pressed front-to-back. One hand grabs hold of Steve’s hip, holding him steady as Eddie lines up and finally pushes in. 

If Eddie’s fingers were euphoria, then his cock is fucking heaven. The stretch of it sends tingles up and down Steve’s spine, and he can’t help but push back onto it, needing more faster.

Eddie must be as needy as Steve is at this moment because he doesn’t comment on it, doesn’t slow him down. He just wraps his arms around Steve’s waist and tugs, burying the rest of his cock in one swift motion.

Steve keens at the sudden fullness, and he barely gets a chance to adjust before Eddie is fucking him properly, hips snapping at a steady but eager pace. It’s such a contrast from how Eddie has been touching him, that gentle touch all but gone, like he isn’t able to hold back any more.

It’s so fucking perfect, and Steve’s cheek presses into the tile wall as Eddie just uses him.

“Fuck, Eddie. Missed this,” he says, and Eddie groans.

“I’ve missed this too, baby. Missed touching you and fucking you, just like this. Wish I had time to spread you out and take you apart, treat you like the princess you are.”

A high whine escapes Steve as he nods. It’s been so long since they’ve had more than a few hours together and he misses it, he needs some down time with his boyfriend.

He tries to remind himself that the end of today’s game marks the end of the season, and they should actually have some time together if all of the post-season shit wraps up like it’s supposed to.

Steve is ripped from his thoughts by Eddie’s cock nailing his prostate dead on, and the man hums at Steve’s surprised moan.

“Stay with me, Stevie. Want you to feel everything I do to you, yeah?”

All Steve can do is nod and sink further against the wall, basically along for the ride as Eddie fucks him so so good. His orgasm creeps up on him; he can feel it building with every thrust, every smack of Eddie’s hips against his ass, until he’s right there, close enough to taste it.

“Ed, gonna come!”

It only encourages Eddie, who groans and slides a hand down to wrap around Steve’s dick. “Come on, then. Wanna see you come on my cock, baby, wanna feel you. Let me have it, Stevie.”

Steve gasps; the hand on his dick is almost too much but he bucks into it nonetheless, and that’s all he needs. He knows he’s being loud; his moans echo off the tiles as he spills over Eddie’s hand, but neither of them care too much right now. Eddie just fucks him through it, then chases his own orgasm once Steve is sated and sagging against the shower wall.

It doesn’t take long. Eddie’s teeth sink into his shoulder as he comes, marking Steve both inside and out as he rides out his high. It takes them both a moment to catch their breath, and even then Steve doesn’t dare to move, worried his legs might give out if he tries.

Lips brush over the bite on his shoulder - a quiet apology - before traveling upwards, dotting kisses along the column of his neck and ending just below his ear.

“We need to get out of here before you pass out on me, okay sweetheart?”

Steve hums in response, still hesitant to move from his spot, but does after another moment. They rinse off again and Eddie helps him clean the cum out of his ass before they finally turn off the water and dry off. He watches Eddie get dressed, watches as his athletic body is covered by comfy sweatpants and a shirt that absolutely used to belong to steve.

The thought of not sharing a bed with Eddie, of not being able to just hold him and feel him for a while, is almost nauseating. He needs to be close to his boyfriend tonight, and he can’t help his soft “Will you stay with me tonight? Wanna sleep next to you.”

Eddie’s form sags in relief, like he was waiting for the question. “I was hoping you’d ask. I’ve been dying to cuddle you for weeks.”

That makes Steve chuckle, and he reaches out to grab Eddie’s shirt and tug him closer. “I call little spoon,” he says, and Eddie just beams and leans in for a quick kiss.

“Deal! Let’s get out of here, little spoon.”

#i did do a bunch of research and learned a lot about hockey #my knowledge is still minimal tho #steddie fic #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve x eddie #joey writes