#hockey!steve harrington

[ihatepeanutss]

could anyone think of steve being a hockey player dating an actress!reader who eventually becomes a singer? | modern au

eddie was the one who presented them, you had been an actress in one of her video clips and part of the cast of the photoshoot of her new album, you looked like a diva or that’s what her classmates had said when she mentioned that she knew Eddie.

“y/n? i’ve heard that she’s a diva,” Lucas replied before drinking from his cup of coffee, “but it’s just rumors”

steve met you at the release party of Eddie’s album, you remember perfectly how steve didn’t know how to get close but you did it by telling him that you had seen one of his games almost nothing.

the rest? a beautiful history, it began with an exchange of numbers, night outings between friends, night outings became reservations in restaurants and private hotels just for the two of you, private and subtle trips but not so subtle gifts.

steve’s language of love was to give gifts, there was no day where there was no small arrangement of flowers, did you have to go to another state to record a movie? it doesn’t matter, he would send his assistant to look for the flower shop closest to the recording plate to be able to send you one personally, when they were together it couldn’t be better, on his days off he would drive to you without caring if he only had to see you for two minutes.

when you finally decided to go to a hockey game on your own as a surprise I made steve, you took your big hockey shirt that had steve’s number, your hair in a tail with a bow, just as I liked steve. you had released a record have nothing, your second studio album and steve had been mostly

with your phone in hand, t-shirt with the last name “harrington” and the number 85, you were in the box that belonged exclusively to steve, one that I had bought in case someone close to him wants to go see him, you were next to Robin when they focused on you and Max was next to you wearing a cap with the steve team. the islanders of New York

“y/n! the number one fan of our star player harrington!” one of the commentators spoke through the microphone while the cameras showed you and you only showed your number and your boy’s last name with pride

steve smiled from his place and threw a disgusting and very romantic kiss while shouting “that’s my girl” making the whole damn stadium scream

when the game ended everything had your face screaming, insulting and recording every game of steve, believe me you had never felt as good as now. you quickly ended up having questions about steve in an interview

“i liked hockey, you know? just because my stepfather is from Canada and because mostly the players are... beautiful and watching them run for a disco is usually fun” you answered the interviewer with a laugh “but honestly i love watching steve play and I probably tried to stretch my schedules to see him”

The rest publicly was history, steve barely knew how to use social networks but you couldn’t help but upload a post with him, especially in your favorite way, soft launch. small details, his hand on your thigh, a subtle photo of him reading on the sofa and your reflection in the big mirror they had in their living room.

when you and steve decided to go through the most serious things in addition to daring to share wardrobe and dressing room with the most vain man you have ever met in your existence, to commit, to love each other until the end of his days and if you wanted to start a family.

steve declared himself on one knee at the sweetest, private and most special dinner of all, he had cooked himself after appearing in surprise with his suitcases and sticks telling you that they had canceled the game and you foolishly believed him. a delicate ring but important enough for you and steve, he had an oval blue sapphire and a beautiful oval diamond of 5-7 carats

#steve harrington #steve harrington x fem #steve harrington x shy!reader #steve harrington x reader fluff #steve harrington thoughts #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington imagines #steve harrington x f!reader #steve harrington x fem!reader #hockey!steve harrington #bambi’s thoughts 💭 #⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ bambi’s fics

[munsster]

do i EVEN DARE write for hockey eddie and steve 🤨

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

[starkidmunson]

glitter & crimson

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

“Marry.”

“What?”

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

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

“Oh. That’s…. Joe Jonas.”

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

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

~~~

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

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

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

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

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

“What?” Jeff asks for the group.

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

~~~

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

#Stitch

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re all so dramatic.”

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

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

~~~

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

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

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

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

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

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

__________

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~~~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[greatunironic]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“you’re alive,” she says.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“maybe not.”

“don’t lie.”

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

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

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

“speaking from experience?”

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

“oh. oh shit, sorry, i—“

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

“at the frozen four.”

“yeah, sure, that too.”

“what?”

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

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

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

eddie blinks, twice. “you—?”

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

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

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

“oh,” he says. swallows. “uh.”

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

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

“so,” says steve.

“coach, two minutes!” someone calls.

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

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

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

“coach! go time!”

“yeah?” he asks.

“yeah.”

“COACH!”

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

“pick me up in twenty?”

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

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

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

“damn,” he says quietly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[notacluedo]

final little guy

(these hockey ish aftg drawings are heavily inspired by mxgicdave’s hockey art on insta u should check him out)

#He’s got Steve Harrington hair don’t even look at me #I swear I tried to get a hockey helmet into this one but I flopped #Love drawing men bleed <3 #Aftg #all for the game #kevin day #my art #the foxhole court #aftg art #The trifecta is complete #Luring everyone in with aftg art before unleashing my Greek myth and oc art on them

[steddieas-shegoes]

Eddie had heard plenty of stories about Steve losing fights.

He had the concussions to prove it.

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

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

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

“Everyone loses fights.”

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

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

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

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

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

“No. But neither had I.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Steve looked down at the floor.

“They don’t need to.”

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

“What?”

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

“Oh.”

Oh? Did Steve genuinely not know that?

Jesus Christ.

“So?”

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

“Nah. That’s not it.”

Eddie could see Steve thinking.

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

“Try again, Stevie.”

Steve took in a shaky breath.

“I wasn’t good at fighting for me.”

Eddie nodded. “Why’s that?”

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

“Why?”

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

“Mm.”

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

Eddie couldn’t allow that to happen.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Just me.”

“I don’t think that’s true.”

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

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

Steve shook his head.

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

“Of course not.”

Steve’s voice was quiet.

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

“Hear you.”

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

Eddie wiped them away and gave him a small smile.

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

“Okay.”

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

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

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

[matchingbatbites]

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

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

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

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

[hexiewrites]

sticks, stones, and beavers

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

(find it on ao3)

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

(keep reading on ao3)

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

[smeddiemunson]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[theemporium]

now you’ve planted the idea and i beg of u to write about rival!reader wearing only hockey!steves jersey as a surprise for him on his birthday xoxo

thank you for requesting!🫶🏽

.

Steve had been baffled since he had received your message a few hours ago.

He knew you were coming down to Indiana for his birthday, you had said as much weeks ago as the two of you were discussing what he had planned for his birthday. He knew you had left this morning because you had sent him a picture of you stopping at a gas station, a bag of gummy worms and a diet coke in your hands for the road trip. He had even left a spare key under the mat of his apartment so you could get in whilst he was away at practice.

He knew you were coming and he knew you were going out for dinner tonight so he didn’t understand your message at all.

frosty: got a surprise for you, birthday boy ;)

frosty: get home soon xx

He knew everything—even what you got him for his birthday after Eddie accidentally let it slip a few days ago—so what could you possibly surprise him with?

He was on edge throughout practice, that much everybody could see, but Hopper had let him off just thinking it was the birthday buzz. On a rare act of mercy, he slapped the boy on the back and let him off early, reminding him not to get too smashed before tomorrow’s practice.

Steve just smiled and quickly scampered off, rushing to shower and change before jumping in his car to head back to his flat.

Other than your car parked outside the complex, there was nothing different when Steve arrived home. Not when he was coming up the stairs, not when he reached the door and not when he entered the flat.

“Hello?”

“In here, birthday boy.”

His brows furrowed in curiosity as he dumped his bag at the door, shrugging off his jacket and shoes before he walked deeper into the apartment. Nothing was different or sticking out as he made his way to the bedroom, his lips turning downwards when he noticed it was closed.

“Baby? What’s going on—” The words came to a halt the second he pushed the door open, taking in the sight in front of him. His lips parted in shock, his eyes widening slightly and there wasn’t a single coherent thought going through his head.

“Happy birthday, baby.”

You were sprawled across his bed, a sight he was more than familiar with. But it was different—so fucking different—because you were laying there, propped up on your elbows dressed only in a jersey.

His. Fucking. Jersey.

His name. His number. His fucking team jersey.

All on you.

“Am I dreaming?” He murmured as he slowly stepped into the room, his eyes glazed over as he took in the sight of your bare thighs with the hem of his jersey brushing against your skin. “I think I’m dreaming.”

Your lips twitched upwards. “You’re not dreaming,” you said as you sat up, crawling towards the end of the bed. You sat on your knees, looking up at him as he muttered out a small ‘fuck’ under his breath. “Whatever you want, it’s yours.”

He raised his brows. “Whatever I want?”

“Anything for the birthday boy,” you smirked. “Except photos. I’m not letting you take any proof that I’m wearing this other than your own memory.”

“Fine by me, baby,” he muttered as he leaned down, his hands cupping your cheeks as he smashed his lips against yours. “You’re not taking that jersey off until midnight, just so you know.”

You smiled. “Whatever you want.”

.

#hockey!steve #steve harrington #stranger things #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington fic #steve harrington one shot #stranger things x reader #stranger things x you #stranger things x y/n #stranger things fics #stranger things one shot

[starkidmunson]

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

[stevespookington]

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

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

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

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

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

AND three other truly epic fics!!

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

[steddilly]

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

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

[steddieas-shegoes]

lost an edge

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

⛸️⛸️⛸️⛸️⛸️⛸️⛸️⛸️⛸️⛸️⛸️

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Plus his skate still felt weird, almost unstable.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"On ice or off?" Steve asked.

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

"Now look who lost an edge."

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

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

[steddielicious]

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

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

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

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

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

That’s all. #gocanucksgo

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

[matchingbatbites]

break the ice (i can't take anymore)

Explicit | 2.2k | Read on Ao3

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So just a few people, then.”

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

“See you soon, baby.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah? That's all, honey?”

“Yeah, please Eddie.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Fuck, Eddie…”

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

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

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

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

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

“I know, baby, I’ve got you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ed, gonna come!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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