#stranger things hockey au
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glitter & crimson
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7
Realistically, Steve knows the band won’t hang around Chicago forever. He knows they’re out promoting a new album; knows they’ll have to move on and that Eddie has to go with them. It doesn’t stop him from wanting Eddie to stay; to live in the quick familiarity he’s built within Steve’s little found family.
Eddie and Robin seem to have already created their own secret language, all gestures and movement and eye contact Steve picks up on but can’t quite read. He’s already picking on the Party like he’s known them their whole lives; ruffling Dustin’s hair, elbowing Mike, throwing his arm around Will’s shoulders, and giving Lucas little shoves.
It’s easy; so easy to get caught up in how charismatic Eddie is. Steve has a hard time keeping his eyes off him, and Eddie knows. He keeps making comments, throwing winks in Steve’s direction, seeing right through every wall he’s ever built around himself and Steve is caught between being obsessed with it and terrified.
He stops drinking after the one beer, worried he’ll make things weird if he gets anywhere near tipsy, opting to stay as far away from the possibility as he can. If anyone notices, they don’t comment.
Lucas is chatting animatedly with Jeff, Max sitting close by, twisting braids into El’s hair. Dustin, Mike and Will appear to be grilling Gareth and Freak about dungeon and dragon campaigns Eddie used to run. Nancy has her arm looped through Robin’s, but her attention is on the phone in her hands, as Eddie and Robin talk about what touring is like.
“Where else are you going on this tour?” She asks as Steve tunes back into the conversation.
“This isn’t really a tour, we just haven’t been on the road in a while and we just stopped the album, so we lined up a few shows to get our feet wet before we hit the road for real this summer. One more show out in LA on Tuesday, then we’re done until May, for now.” Eddie explains.
“We’re in LA on Thursday!” Robin exclaims, and Steve’s stomach drops because, yeah. LA on Thursday. He trains his eyes on the glass in front of him, not willing to actually look at anyone they’re around.
“We could totally meet up again if you guys are able to swing it?” Freak offers, and Steve forces a little smile onto his face and nods.
“We can figure it out later,” Eddie says after a few beats, and Steve is grateful for how the conversation rolls onto the next topic. When he finally looks back up, though, Eddie’s still looking his way. Steve hits him with what he hopes comes off as a reassuring smile, but it doesn’t seem to pay off the way he hopes.
Once the tab is closed and the staff is tipped well, Steve catches Eddie’s elbow on their way out the door. “I would like to meet up in LA, if you’re interested. I didn’t mean to get weird about it, it’s… I’ve been in my head a bit about that game since it was announced.”
“Oh, hey, no worries. We’re in LA the whole week, then we’re heading home. So no pressure, honest.” Eddie hooks his hand over Steve’s softly.
“Well, we should get in Wednesday, but we could totally do something after the game or even Friday?”
Eddie smiles and nods, patting over Steve’s hand. “Text me about it.”
“I can do that. How much longer are you guys in town for, anyway?” Steve asks.
“Ah, the dreaded question comes,” Eddie’s playful, and it makes Steve’s face heat up. “We’ve got just under another 24 hours in the Windy City before hitting the road again.”
“Oh,” It pulls his chest in a way he wasn’t expecting, in a way that shouldn’t be happening for a rockstar he was adjacently aware of in high school. “Are you busy tomorrow?”
“Harrington,” Eddie’s teasing again, and it does nothing to help the blush on Steve’s face. “You can’t possibly miss me this much when I haven’t even left yet.”
“Shut up,” Steve shoves him away then, crossing his arms over his chest with a pout, only for Eddie to pull him in with an arm around the shoulder.
“We can grab brunch or something? We leave around 8 to avoid rush hour, so I’ll have to be in the bus by 6, or I’d say dinner.”
“Brunch works for me.”
~~~~
The trip back to the hotel doesn’t go as Eddie expects; everyone is silently chatting amongst themselves, nodding and tapping along to the music and not causing a scene. He almost points it out, but elects not to bring unwarranted bullying upon himself instead. The guys had been giving him shit about Steve near constantly, so this was a nice change of pace after the last few days.
There was actually quiet as he made his way back to his room. A hot shower finally restored warmth to his bones the hockey arena had stolen, and he was drying his hair when he heard his phone vibrate with a text notification.
Steve: anything you're craving for brunch tomorrow so I can pick a place?
It’s practically too easy to flirt with Steve; he sets up lines without even seeming to realize. But Eddie still can’t get a real gauge on how Steve feels about the flirting, so he sidesteps the easy pass he could have made about Steve being enough of a meal, in favor of actually answering.
Eddie: French toast?
The next series of texts come before Eddie even moves his hands back to the towel over his hair.
Steve: sick, I’ll pick you up around 10:45
Steve: you mentioned going home, did you mean like, back to Hawkins?
Eddie twists his hair up in the towel, and lays down on the side of the bed he doesn’t sleep on before firing off an answer.
Eddie: nah, I’ve got a place in Nashville and no reason to go back to Hawkins anymore. My uncle moved to Indy, so that’s usually as close as I get.
Steve: any reason you moved to Nashville?
Eddie: are we playing 20 questions?
Steve: sorry.
Eddie bites his lip, and only hesitates for a moment before flipping over onto his belly and hitting the FaceTime button. Steve answers on the second ring, looking embarrassed, but Eddie doesn’t let him get a word in.
“My mom was born and raised in Memphis, but she always told me her favorite city was Nashville. I was there with her a few times when I was little and she’d just, like, light up. And music is so heavily engraved into every inch of the city, it’s hard to not find inspiration everywhere you turn. So. I bought a place in Nashville the minute I had enough saved up, and it’s kind of my home base now.” Eddie explains, watching as Steve’s face softens and he relaxes into his chair listening to Eddie’s answer. “Do I get to ask a question now?”
“I really wasn’t trying to be annoying, “ Steve looks ready to keep going with an apology, but Eddie cuts him off.
“Why do you play hockey?” It stops Steve dead in his tracks, and he genuinely looks confused for a moment. Eddie almost offers to drop the topic, but Steve fumbles his way into an answer.
“My, uh. My dad wanted me to play before I was even born. Because he played. Professionally for a few years when I was growing up, then he went on to coach.” Steve explains, and it sounds a little rehearsed. Eddie’s sure it’s something that comes up often if his father played and coached. “Gotta keep the Harrington legacy alive, I guess.”
There was a bite to Steve’s words that wasn’t lost on Eddie. “You don’t sound too thrilled about it.”
Eddie can see Steve working over how he wants to answer before he shrugs and sighs. “Because it’s all a show for him. The part we don’t talk about is how I got hurt and benched most of my senior season and he cut me off when I didn’t get full rides. Convinced me it was better to not go to college at all, despite the other scholarship offers, than to not get promised a spot on the ice. Convinced me to self-sabotage so I had to fight tooth and fucking nail to get into the league at all.” Steve pauses, then, and lets out a quiet laugh. “Sorry, that’s so unbelievably whiny of me. I love getting to play professionally, and I don’t take the opportunity for granted.”
“Not whiny. Dads can be the fucking worst.” Eddie offers, gently, and is grateful when Steve doesn't press on that particular bruise.
Instead, he takes his turn to ask a different question. “Why music?”
“This is lame, but the answer is once again my mom.” Eddie rolls his eyes at himself, but he smiles. “She was a musician. There were always instruments around and music was always playing and we traveled for her to perform. I knew my whole life I wanted to be a musician like her, but it wasn’t until after she died that I figured out that songwriting… telling stories and painting pictures with words and melodies and making people feel something…” Eddie trails off, lost in the thought.
“I’m sorry you lost her. It sounds like you enjoyed your childhood with her.” Steve offers, hopes it doesn’t sound like a forced nicety, but Eddie smiles and his nerves ease.
“She was a force to be reckoned with. Firing on all cylinders at once, chaos and home bundled into one.” Eddie’s soft a quiet for a moment, and Steve appreciates the silence by taking in how relaxed the other is to be talking about his feelings; it’s a refreshing break from many of his experiences with teammates or opponents who don’t know how to get emotional in a healthy way. Eventually, though, Eddie clears his throat. “Anyway. Back to 20 questions,”
“I wasn’t trying to start a game, really, I just… like talking to you,” Steve admits around a blush, tucking his chin into the collar of his shirt in an effort to hide the shade of his cheeks, but Eddie’s smile says his cover is blown.
“ANYWAY!” He announces louder, then taps at his chin. “Favorite and least favorite teams to play and why, go.”
“I’m not a dog.” Steve laughs but thinks about his answer anyway. “Favorite is probably the Flyers in Philly. Their fans are absolutely brutal, and their mascot is hilariously terrifying.”
“I have seen many a Gritty TikTok, so I completely understand,” Eddie gives him a few beats before he prompts. “Least favorite?”
“The Kings. LA. Billy Hargrove.”
“The…, what the fuck? How many guys from Hawkins are professional hockey players?” Eddie asks, because honestly, how had he not known there was more than Steve?
“He’s technically from LA, which is why he went back, thank God.” Steve mumbles, before dropping his head back against the wall behind him. “But, for whatever it’s worth, there’s me, Billy, and Tommy Hagan in the league.”
“Well isn’t that a fun bunch to surround yourself with,” Eddie muses out loud. Tommy and Billy were two of the biggest assholes Eddie had ever met, and it sounded like Steve wasn’t too fond of the other pair either.
“I actually…” Steve trails off, before trying again. “I was going to invite you guys to come to the LA game, but I’m really not sure it would be a good idea, so I’m… I’m actually going to ask you guys not to come, if that’s not too much of a dick move? I can get you tickets to literally any game you want for the rest of the season, just. I don’t think it’s worth it to get Billy started, and if he’s heard any of the press about us, I’m already going to hear it even if you’re not there.”
“Homophobe extraordinaire still, then?” Eddie guesses, and Steve chokes out a laugh, before covering his mouth and holding up a finger to ask for a moment to compose himself.
“He's… a lot of things.” Is the response Steve opts for, but Eddie can tell there’s more there. Whatever the two of them are doing, it doesn’t feel like Steve is ready to elaborate, so Eddie moves on.
“I think it’s your turn.”
~~~~
Nothing changes after Corroded Coffin leave Chicago, though. Not in the ways Eddie had expected, at least.
Steve still texts him throughout the day, answers his Facetimes whenever he’s available. Eddie makes him the playlist he promised, and Steve gives feedback on which songs he likes and which ones he really doesn’t, after Eddie promises to not take Steve’s opinions personally. Which, to be fair, he tries really hard not to.
The concert in LA comes and goes, and Steve seems to send him every TikTok he comes across from the show. It’s a refreshing break, as every few videos in Eddie’s feed are of him cheering for Steve at the game, or Steve watching from sidestage in Chicago.
A text from Robin eventually confirms their arrival in LA, and Steve and Eddie make plans to meet up after the game. Since Steve had expressed concern about Eddie going, he decides to just watch from the bar they agree to meet at. Televised games make it easier to track the puck, but Eddie decides he likes being there in person better.
Eddie’s sipping absently on his beer and in the time it takes him to look down at a text from Chrissy, several of the people around him react to something. Eddie looks around to make sure someone in the bar hadn’t passed out. When he looks back at the screen, absolute mayhem has broken out on the ice. The refs are trying to separate players from one another, and Eddie’s scanning through the numbers on each Blackhawks jerseys before he finally spots Steve, slightly off to the side from everyone else. The camera pans away from him, zeroing in on the fight, now between a Blackhawks defenseman and none other than Billy Hargrove.
Billy’s helmet and gloves are off, teeth shining with blood as he grins like a psycho and starts to skate in Steve’s direction. One of the refs pulls him back, though, escorting him into the penalty box while another Kings player gathers his helmet, stick and gloves and clears them to the bench.
The camera finally pans back to Steve, who is now sitting with his back against the boards. He’s got a gloved covering the lower half of his face, but his white jersey is covered in blood. A ref and the Blackhawks goalie are kneeling on either side of him as someone else speaks with him. The camera zooms in as the TV crews work to make out what is happening, just in time for Steve to lower his hand and shows off a gnarly gash along the side of his face. He leans forward a little and spits out blood onto the ice, and the TV jumps to the announcers in the booth.
The volume is off, but they show a slow-motion replay of the few moments Eddie’d missed; Steve passes the puck off to another player on his team, just before Billy slams into his side. The impact sends both of them into the boards and down onto the ice. Billy swings his stick around and cracks Steve in the face with the blade heel. Steve reacts, throwing his whole arm into Billy’s face, before a sea of white Blackhawks jerseys sweep in and suddenly Billy’s a few feet away, with players from both teams piled up.
Eddie’s hand hovers over his phone; has no idea what to do in this situation. Texting Steve is useless; it would likely be hours, if not days, before he even thinks about looking at his phone. He doesn’t want to bother anyone, but he’s… well, he’s stressed. Even if Steve isn’t interested in him the way Eddie’s interested in Steve, they’ve still built a weird little friendship and that was an awful lot of blood.
So, Eddie ends up firing off a text to Robin. It’s just a simple 'let me know if there’s anything I can do,' but his phone lights up with a call immediately.
“How bad is it?”
“I’m not back with him yet, but just… meet us at the hospital, if you can?” She asks. While her voice waivers a bit, she’s calmer than Eddie expected her to be.
“I’ll be right there.” He agrees, hangs up and exits the bar before the game even returns from commercial break.
#hockeyplayer!steve harrington#steddie#rockstar!eddie munson#stranger things hockey au#glitter & crimson#sorry this took like 2 weeks#we're going to try to keep the momentum going here#steve harrington#eddie munson#robin buckley#platonic stobin#corroded coffin#steddie fanfic#starkidmunson writes#oh i almost forgot#one of the most important tags for this one#anti billy hargrove
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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
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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
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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
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Steddie Bigbang: Go and take this the wrong way (only blue and black days)
I DID IT!!!
This is my third piece of art for the @steddiebang !!!
I had the chance to work with @abstractnaturaldisaster and @doomcheese in this great hockey-AU! (They are so talented!!!)
Beta: @badcaseofcasey
You can read it HERE
Summary:
Steve Harrington was a promising NHL prospect. These days he plays for the Red Wings AHL affiliate and spends his summers coaching youth hockey camps, including a tight-knit group of friends who call themselves the Party.
Eddie Munson likes hockey but it's really just his day job. He prefers spending his offseason with his bandmates and best friend/coworker at his record store, Chrissy.
Sparks fly on and off the ice when Eddie Munson decides to spend his summer coaching alongside Steve "The Hair" Harrington. Will they be able to get past their differences and find happiness? Will Steve learn that there is more to life than hockey? Will Eddie learn to take himself a little more seriously?
#steddiebang23#go and take this the wrong way (only blue and black days)#Steddie hockey au!#did i decided to draw all these characters on my own volition?#Yes I did#Let's just say some sleep was lost#(yes there's a pattern)#But I'm happy with this challenge! :)#steddie#stranger things#my art
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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
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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
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The Draft
Part of the ❤️🩹🏒🦇Steddie Hockey AU!🦇🏒❤️🩹
A series by Teddyeyeswinchester x @lfaewrites
2.2k of tooth rotting fluff and smut
(A/N: I have slaved over this for days and days trying to get it perfect! Thank you to my lovely best friend @lfaewrites for writing this series with me and encouraging me while I wrote this. Hope you all enjoy this glimpse into the life of Bijou and Eddie!)
CW: fluff, nicknames (bonehead, bijou, sweets), eddie's missing teeth, oral ( fem & male rec), p in v, breeding kink, daddy!kink vibes, minors dni
I'd be so good to Ya- By @lfaewrites
You’re with him when he gets the call, the call that changed his life and set him off into a whirlwind of ice and pucks.
It sets a fire in his veins, and everything he has worked for is placed in front of him. His hard work all paid off when he heard the first ring. He answers the unknown call on your home phone with trembling fingers, your heart stops when you hear his voice croak out a soft, scared “Hello”.
Your heart picks up speed, and beats out of your chest when you see his mouth turn up into a huge Cheshire grin, his missing teeth on full display as a passionate “YES!” echoes off the walls and rings in your ears.
Shortly after he sees his picture displayed on your TV screen, fake teeth in, a smile on full display.
“And the first draft pick for the Hawkins Tigers…#69 Eddie ”The Monster” Munson!”
Wayne cries when he sees his picture, his Hoosier senior hockey picture bright on the screen.
Eddie hangs up the phone in enough time to see himself on the screen in your small house, he runs to you and picks you up off your feet, swinging you around with his forehead pressed against yours.
He's still swinging you around when he hears, “And the first draft pick for the Chicago TImberwolves #17 Steve “Le Loup Bleu Du Québec” Harrington!”
The next thing he can hear is the blood rushing in his ears, the squealing and jumping you are doing left to the back burner as his gaze is caught by the TV screen, a boy with perfect hair and the pinkest lips. He snaps out of it as fast as he fed into it, a familiar feeling of guilt and shame settling low in his belly when he looks at you, smiling up at him and smiling at the screen.
“That’s my Stevie! We grew up together, oh I’m so proud of him Eds!” He quickly settles down on the couch, nursing a beer as you skip to the kitchen to grab more wine for yourself.
In between wine and beer and soft kisses, you manage to squeeze Eddie into an old Hawkins Tigers jersey he had laying in his closet, polaroid out to take pictures of the boy. His smile is so bright it makes your heart bloom. He was so into the moment, he didn’t even bother to put in his fake teeth.
The two of you continue to sip your drinks, knotted up together on the couch and stealing kisses as he watches the rest of the draft. Wayne heads out halfway through, bidding you both a small “Goodnight” and jetting home.
As the draft bleeds into reruns of wheel-of-fortune, Eddie is distracted enough that he doesn’t even notice you slipping off the couch and into your shared bedroom.
You clear your throat, arms crossed as you look down at Eddie, his head shoots up, a smile cracking at his face as he realizes what you have on.
He lets out a goofy giggle, standing to grab your hand and place a kiss to it.
“Got one of my old Hawkin’s Tigers jerseys? Don’t even gotta worry about that old thing anymore, s’ from my fan days. Daddy’s on the team now- gonna have you decked out in all kinds of stuff, sweets,”
You shake your head, gripping his hand as you do a little twirl so your back is facing Eddie.
Hopper, being like a second dad to you and coach for the Hawkin’s Tigers, gave you the inside scoop on just who he was aiming for in his first draft pick. You immediately take this information and march to Joyce’s office, begging her to order you a jersey for a “special occasion”.
MUNSON
69
“Oh we’re so gonna sixty-nine..” He wolf whistles and spins you around, the oversized jersey skimming against your bare legs.
“Got another little surprise for you, bonehead,” You grab the edge of the jersey, lifting it just enough, pretty white lace thinly covering your center making Eddie’s legs go weak.
“S’ for me Bijou?” He questions, skin burning bright red on his cheeks.
“S’ always for you, Eds, My mean ol’ hockey player,” he grins at your words, hands gently extending to rest against your hips.
He whimpers at your words, his teddy bear eyes begging you to show him something more.
“Cmon’ now big boy, don’t get all shy on me…” You grab his hand, pulling him behind you as you guide him into the bedroom. You lead him to the bed, forcing him to sit down before you slot yourself between his legs and play with the hem of his jersey.
“M’ so proud of you baby,”
You pull at his top, striping it from his body before you lean down to kiss his full lips. You push at his chest, Eddie dramatically falling back with a little “oof”. Your hands rake down his sides, drinking in the ripples in his muscles, fingers tracing at scars, lips pressing into them softly which only makes him writhe.
“Please Bijou, need you so bad,” he gasps from above you, hips bucking off the mattress to chase some sort of friction. Your hands dip into his sweatpants pulling out his cock. It’s always been one of your favorite parts of him. So soft, thick and long.
You place kisses down his shaft, moaning loudly at how perfect he feels in your hand. You slowly move your hand up and down, his precum doing an ample job at reducing the friction that comes from tugging on his cock.
You lean down a little, taking one of his balls into your mouth, chin tickling against his hole. A moment flashes behind his eyes of the pretty little thing on his TV screen, slotted between his legs with you. He shoos the thought away, feeling guilty at the idea that he’d want two people in the bedroom. You’ve always been enough, why is he thinking about someone else in the equation, especially a man.
After he wills away the thought, bucking his hips up, cock hitting the back of your throat causing you to gag. You pull away from him and he takes advantage of the little distance between the two of you, sitting up and grabbing you under your arms. He lifts you, with ease, and plants you back onto the bed where it's his turn to kneel between your legs.
He licks a fat stripe from your hole to your clit, cherry red lips suckling around the hardened nub. Your hands card through his hair, tugging softly at his curly locks to which he offers the neediest moan. Eddie, if one thing, is a whore for having his hair pulled. Once you tugged on the hair at the base of his neck when locked in a kiss and a new door slowly opened for the two of you to explore. It was after one of the most important college games of the year, you had a whole “celebration” planned for when you got home but Eddie couldn’t make it there. He took you in the back of his truck, you riding him as you tugged at the same hairs adorning the nape of his neck. He never came as hard as he did that night.
Eddie continues sucking on your clit, calloused hands teasing their way up to your hole, fingers swiping through your mess before pushing one finger in. His college championship ring cold against you as he slowly fucks the digit in and out. Upon realizing his ring is still on he takes it off, leaning up to take your ring finger in his hand before sliding the band onto your left hand.
“One day you’re gonna have a rock on that hand, sweets. Gonna buy you the biggest diamond, gonna be able to flash that thing at me while I’m on the ice, you’d like that huh? A little symbol showing everyone you’re mine?”
You nod dumbly, the tables turning as you let Eddie take the reigns in order to take care of you. He slots himself back between your thighs, pressing kisses from your knee back to your center. His fingers find their way back inside you, this time there are two petting at your velvety walls. He draws circles on your clit, fingers fucking into you at a consistent pace bringing you closer to the edge. You come with his name on your lips like a prayer, soft whimpers of “Daddy” coursing through the air and into Eddie’s mushy brain.
He pulls up once he's content with how much your thighs are shaking, little shocks running through them as you try to come down from your high. His hand raises to wipe at the bit of slick that had dripped down onto his chin, his stubble catching most of it and soaking the hair.
“Gonna fuck you now, flip you over and come all over this pretty little number you got on.”
You whimper at his words, flipping over willingly and pushing back against his groin.
“Or would you want me to come inside? Get you all round with my babies? Jus’ another way to let everyone know what's mine.”
He discards your underwear, the tip of his cock bumping against your hole, his large hand gripping the base and guiding it into you. He bottoms out, pistoning in slowly as to let you adjust to his size. No matter how may times Eddie fucked you, you always needed time to adjust to his size.
“You can move faster, bonehead,” you moan out, a little bite to your words causing Eddie to harshly snap his hips into you.
“Mm nope. Gonna take it slow tonight. Want you to feel how much I love you. Gonna take my time,” He picks up the pace just a tiny bit, the new speed still slow and sensual but doing the job.
You’re a blubbering mess by the time he has you on the edge, whimpers being muffled by the crumpled up bed spread. Sweat beads at the dip of your back, Eddie’s hand leaving your hip to wipe at his forehead. It’s been what feels like hours of Eddie pushing and pulling you toward and away from your orgasm.
“Think I’ve teased you enough, sweets? Gonna let you come now, come on baby come all over Daddy’s cock, you can do it Bijou,” His hips snap into yours at a much faster, relentless pace. It finally puts you over the edge, fire igniting and rushing through your belly as you clench around him. The pressure that's built up in Eddie’s admoned is about to snap. He pulls out briefly before little begs of “Inside, please Daddy inside,” come from your lips.
He places himself back inside you , hips moving at a consistent pace before he starts to stutter.
“Fuck Bijou, gonna come,” he keens before emptying himself inside you. He stills for a moment, his breath ragged as he tries to regain some composure and energy. Eddie finally pulls out a few moments later, his fingers coming to collect some of his cum and your release, pushing it back inside you.
He pulls his fingers out, flipping you back over and raising your leg to press a soft kiss to your ankle. He retreats to the bathroom , returning with a warm cloth. Slowly and gently, he wipes at your center, the warmth doing little to nothing to soothe the ache between your legs.
He’s quiet as he gathers clothes for the two of you. He offers you a pair of his boxers and an old Hoosier’s tee before climbing into bed beside you.
“How’d you know I was gonna get drafted by the Tigers?” He finally asks as he props himself up on his elbow and smiles down at you.
“A little birdie told me, duh Eds,” You quip back with a small giggle.
“A little birdie named Hopper?” he questions, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead before turning over and cutting off the lamp on his bedside table.
“Yes bonehead, a little birdie named Hopper,”
That night he dreams, dreams of ice and pucks. Dreams of you in white. Dreams of you and your kids happily playing in a big backyard. But, what throws him for a loop the next morning, is the pink lipped stranger that weaseled his way into every dream he had that night.
#the steddie hockey au 🦇🏒❤️🩹#steddie#steddie x reader#Eddie x reader#Eddie munson x reader#Eddie x you#Eddie munson x you#eddie x fem!reader#Eddie munson#Steve harrington#Steve x reader#Steve Harrington x reader#Steve x you#Steve Harrington x you#stranger things#st#Eddie smut#Eddie munson smut#Eddie fluff#Eddie munson fluff
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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
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Okay, but pro hockey player Steve having heart eyes for the rockstar singing the anthems before puck drop. He’s heard of Eddie Munson, of course. His goalie, Dustin, is a big Corroded Coffin fan and plays them when it’s his turn to pick the training music. But he’d never seen the man before. Eddie sings O Canada in French and Steve makes a vow to himself that he WILL get the guy’s number after the game. He’s a professional, so he shifts into game mode.
Meanwhile, Eddie only agreed to sing because it meant free tickets and Max wanted to see the Kings in person, which he’s sure has nothing to do with her favorite player, Sinclair. Eddie knows next to nothing about hockey. When it’s time for him to sing some of the players line up on the ice without their helmets. His eyes catch on a player with hair that Eddie isn’t sure is going to fit under his helmet. He’s got some scruff on his face, and he remembers Max saying something about Playoff Beards. He has to take a deep breath before he starts the first anthem. He’d arranged with Robin, the woman who booked him to sing, for a surprise meeting with Sinclair for Max. In the pause between anthems he decides to ask if he can meet Mr. Sexy Playoff Scruff as well.
#steveddie#hockey au#steve harrington#eddie munson#stranger things#steddie#hockey player Steve Harrington#rockstar eddie munson
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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
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linked below are all my social media au posts, listed alphabetically by person's name
Connor Bedard
crossing enemy lines [series masterlist]
Joe Keery
your hand fits in mine
Joseph Quinn
lasting love
Luke Hughes
the devils in the details [series masterlist]
Matt Sturniolo
there for you
Milo Manheim
start to finish
Nico Hischier {coming soon}
Quinn Hughes
not very fond
we got over it
this is forever
#fake social media#instagram au#hockey player social media#nhl#quinn hughes#stranger things#joseph quinn#joe keery#disney zombies#milo manheim#luke hughes#sturniolo triplets#matt sturniolo#connor bedard
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i have no motivation to post on here really, but heres my hockey au
close ups under cut
#stranger things#stonathan#steve harrington#jonathan byers#dustin henderson#stranger things fanart#steve harrington fanart#stonathan fanart#jonathan byers fanart#dustin henderson fanart#stranger things au#ice hockey au#my art#steve x jonathan#jonathan x steve#dustin is their son
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watch the five hole
for @steddiemicrofic prompt ‘hole’
rated t | 404 words
cw: language | tags: hockey au, goalie Eddie Munson, forward Steve Harrington, friends to enemies to lovers, ambiguous but pretty obvious ending
🥅🥅🥅🥅🥅🥅🥅🥅🥅🥅🥅🥅
A shootout is a blessing and a curse.
When your team can’t finish it in 60, or in overtime, it’s down to you. Well, you and someone else to score a goal.
Eddie thrived under this pressure, practically prayed for it to happen against certain teams. He wanted to prove himself as a rookie, and this was the best way to do it.
His record for the season was impressive so far, and he planned on keeping it that way.
But for some fucking reason, his first NHL shootout had to be against the Avalanche, the most impressive offensive team this season. Their players were good.
And Steve Harrington wanted nothing more than to be the one to score against him, he just knew it.
They’d played together in high school, somehow beat the odds to both be drafted first round. They always supported each other.
Until they didn’t.
Steve had made a snide comment about being excited to play for a team with a real goalie during his draft interviews, and Eddie didn’t really like his fucking tone.
As if he hadn’t saved their team over and over again when they forgot how to defend their own net. As if Eddie hadn’t spent four years of their lives basically worshiping the ground Steve walked on. As if-
He looked straight ahead as soon as Steve took the ice. Eddie saw the flash of the 86 on his sleeve, thought about his own 86 on the back of his sweater.
He thought about its relevance to them, but quickly pushed the thought away when the whistle blew and Steve started skating down the ice with the puck.
He knew Steve, knew his habits, knew he’d go blocker side, top shelf. That’s where 90% of his shots went tonight.
Steve shot.
The buzzer went off.
Eddie looked behind him and frowned at the puck in the back of the net.
Steve stopped in front of him.
“Gotta watch your five hole, Eds. You’re a pro now.”
Luckily, he saved the next attempt and his guys managed to win it.
When he left the rink, Steve was waiting for him, Bruins beanie on his head with a number 86 on it.
“Think I could buy the goalie a late dinner?”
“Why?” Eddie couldn’t fathom Steve wanting to actually take him out.
“Because I figured I could try to score twice tonight.”
Eddie nodded. “Get in, Harrington.”
#steddie#steve harrington#eddie munson#stranger things#steddiemicrofic#steddiemicroficjanuary#hockey au#goalie Eddie Munson#forward Steve Harrington#friends to enemies to lovers
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craving some validation today, so here, have a little preview of what I'm working on this week:
“Harrington, hey! Harrington, Mark Donahue from CBC Sports. Great to see you out here tonight, first game as a rookie, right?”
Steve grimaced a little and shifted his helmet to his other hand as the mic was shoved in his face. The team was stalled at the entrance to the rink, likely waiting as the Bruins were introduced and did their skate out. Still, he didn’t really need this right now.
“Hey, yeah man. Thanks, look, I’m just trying to-”
“We’ll be quick, Harrington, don’t worry about it. How are you feeling tonight? Your dad’s in the audience, eh? Is he excited to see his son play his first ever NHL game?”
Steve grimaced slightly at the thought but forced his face into something close to a smile. “Sure, yeah, yep. Really, uh. Really excited for us to win tonight.”
The interviewer–Donahue–laughed. It didn’t sound friendly. “Ah, got it! So you gotta get a win for the old man, eh? Of course. And, is there anyone on the Bruins tonight that has you worried? Maybe someone like Eddie Munson?”
Steve couldn’t stop the frown that tugged his eyebrows down. He’d sat through all the media training, yeah. Smile and nod, just here to support my team, the regular nonsense. But really? His first night on the big ice and they were asking him about Munson?
(while you wait you can always reread carve your name into my chest for your steddie hockey fill ;))
update: you can now read it here
#steddie hockey au#carve your name into my chest#hexiewrites#hex writes stuff#my stuff#a lil snippet for everyone!#im so excited about this fic you guys#like ive been having SO much fun with it#i have gotten uh very carried away#we're at 11k right now and i'm not done yet#shhh it's fine#steddie#steve harrington#eddie munson#stranger things
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so excited to be working with @danadaria and @doomcheese to add more steddie hockey aus to the world! we got our posting date so i am also adding a thanskgiving themed coda to match the holiday season! summary below the cut!
Steve Harrington was a promising rookie in 2016 when the Detroit Red Wings selected him as their third round pick. Steve’s hockey career had been on track to rival his dad’s back to back Stanley Cups with the Red Wings in the 90s, until Steve suffered a devastating hit that took him out for the rest of the season. Fast forward to 2023: Steve has been working to reclaim his former glory and still hasn’t moved out of his temporary Grand Rapids housing, too focused on earning a spot on the Red Wings. To keep himself busy and earn some extra cash over the summer Steve has been coaching the Griffin’s Summer Skills Camp for the past few years and has become pretty fond of a group of players who call themselves “The Party.”
Eddie Munson always saw hockey as a means to an end. It got him a college diploma and helped him make a downpayment on a house with a yard. He’s played on the Griffins since college and had spent most of that time moving between hating Steve Harrington to trying to ignore how his cute face and sharp tongue made his stomach flip. Eddie usually spent his summers working at the small record store he owned in town, playing with his band, and generally pretending sports didn’t exist. But Steve Harrington always had a way of making Eddie do things he never in a million years thought he would do, which is how he finds himself agreeing to co-coach the Griffin’s Summer Skills Camp.
As Eddie and Steve get closer, Eddie starts to see the softer side of Harrington Jr. and Steve might just find out that the AHL is where he was meant to be all along. Of course, the course of true love never runs smooth and our boys will have to deal with snarky pre-teens, meddling lesbians, and the sudden reappearance of Steve’s sort-of ex, Tommy Hagan.
#steddie#steddiebigbang#steddie big bang#fanfic#stranger things#steve harrington#eddie munson#my writing#steve x eddie#steddie fic#hockey au
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