#hockey!eddie

[oneforthemunny]

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

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

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

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

Pasadena, California - 1993 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Eddie-” 

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

You blinked. “Oh.” You quipped softly. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

It felt like home. 

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

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

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

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

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

[rosewaterandivy]

hit the lot and skate

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But the reality is so much worse than that.

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

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

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

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

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

People seem to recognize her, whoever she is.

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

“That is fucking vile.”

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

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

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

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

“Uh, thanks?”

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

“What?”

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

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

[theemporium]

sorry but the fact that you said skater reader would be surprised to get that treatment by eddie and a few post before that eddie being the first to give her release is just,,, pls eddie knows how to treat a woman righttttt

Eddie is just THE boyfriend

Like just imagine you’ve been messing about for a while but then this man is taking you out on a date, being a total gentleman. He’s opening doors, he’s pulling out your chair, he’s complimenting you and making you feel like you’re the only girl in the world

And then he’s walking you to your door and kissing you goodnight and you’re kinda confused because he’s been in your flat before? Hell, he’s made you come on almost every surface

But he just has a cheesy grin on his face and is all like, “this was our first date, princess, it wouldn’t be gentlemanly of me to stay the night”

and you’re just baffled because you’ve never had a guy treat you like this and all past dates/boyfriends have always been so shitty or just not Eddie and it’s just refreshing to have someone like him🥲

[eddiesghxst]

listen i rewatched that old dcom “ice princess” and i can NOT stop thinking about an ice princess!reader/ice hockey!eddie au and you were the only one i thought would appreciate that

….who told you im in the middle of reading icebreaker?🤨

OKAY BUT YES

MY MIND IS SPINNING W IDEAS I HAVE TOO MUCH TO SAY SO I THINK I MIGHT JUST DO SOMETHING WITH THIS

ME AND STINK @mmunson86 HAVE BEEN TALKING ABT HOCKEY EDDIE X CHIROPRACTOR!READER FOR DAYS NOW SO YES. I HAVE ROOM FOR MORE AND IM DOING BOTH THANK U VERY MUCH

IM KEEPING MY MOUTH SHUT UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE

[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 🤝🏻

[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.

[hawkbutt]

Edmundo “Eddie” Diaz 🏒 Hockey AU 🏒

[oneforthemunny]

break the ice |hockey!eddie munson x reader|

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah.” 

“You’re here for the Snowflakes?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Eight.” The boy beamed. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“To… what? A game?” 

“Yeah.” 

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

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

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

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

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

“Saturday it is.” Eddie beamed. 

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

[rosewaterandivy]

Season of the Stick masterlist

Summary: eddie has a reputation and a temper. you have something to prove. and hop, well, he has better things to worry about, but he sure as shit isn't blind.

warnings: gross hockey boys, locker room pranks, fisticuffs (gloves off first, ask questions never), coach!reader, slow burn, pining eddie, eventual smut, angst, club hockey, blood, injury, long-suffering team manager!hop, captain!steve, trainer!robin

series

hit the lot and skate

goodies

playlist

inspo

[theemporium]

I absolutely love the idea of hockey!eddie with grumpy figure skater!reader, like the dynamic is so good! Imagine when they first meet his teammates are grumbling about the “Ice Princess” approaching and bracing themselves and he’s just all heart eyes when he sees who they’re talking about.

YES!!

Maybe this year your training schedule is more intense this year because you’re aiming for regionals or whatever, so you’re at the rink far more and start to bump into the hockey team more than you ever have in your previous three years at the university

Hence, the hockey team start calling you “ice princess” because you’re grumpy and mean and have an attitude, and the underclassmen in the team are definitely scared of you

But Eddie has all but one interaction with you and the boy is HEAD OVER HEELS and nobody in the team understands why. And yet, this boy is coming early to practice for the first time in his college career because he likes to watch you practice

And just IMAGINE him showing up with a bouquet of flowers after you won a competition and it kinda surprises you because you can’t quite wrap your head around the fact that he’s being so nice and the fact he had been keeping up with your competitions🥲

[flirtlustlove]

BLESS U CAROL!

[eddiesghxst]

STINK just let this song sink into your thoughts, imagine a montage of Eddie & Reader (YK who i am thinking of) playing in the back before he pops the question on live TV after the event, has her brought out to the center , & makes sure she doesn’t fall before he asks🥹🙈

OMG THIS DUMBASS APP FINALLY LET ME ANSWER U STINK, EVERYBODY CHEER

THIS IS THEMMMMMMM THIS IS THEM OMG

IM SPRINTING TO UR DMS RN🏃‍♀️💨

[steddieas-shegoes]

shower of snow

for @steddiemicrofic prompt ‘shower’

rated t | 399 words | cw: language | tags: Eddie Munson has a crush on Steve Harrington, implied sort of enemies to lovers situation, hockey au, modern au, pre-steddie

🏒⛸️🏒⛸️🏒⛸️🏒⛸️😏⛸️

Eddie watches from the bench, arms crossed, general look of disinterest on his face. He’s not gonna give Steve the satisfaction of being right that he is a better skater than most of the team.

Because he knows he is. He took figure skating lessons from age six to thirteen. He placed nationally multiple times. He may have stopped skating for medals, but he never stopped having talent.

And somehow Steve Harrington, captain of the Hawkins High Hockey Team, thought he could convince Eddie Munson, triple senior and local weed pusher, to join the team.

Not fucking likely.

Eddie watches as Steve ran drills with different lines, his frustration with the other seniors joking around instead of practicing apparent the longer practice went on. Eddie sees every flaw. He also sees how perfect Steve’s movement is.

He loses interest when Steve yells at them all to shut up for the tenth time and lets his eyes wander to the rafters. Four championship banners hang for this team: 1997, 1998, 1999, 2000. The four years that Steve’s dad, Richard, was the star center, expected to be drafted first round in the NHL.

Until he got a girl pregnant and no NHL team wanted the drama. He went to an Ivy League college, got his law degree, married the woman he didn’t love, and now here Steve was: trying to add just one banner from his tenure at Hawkins.

Eddie could see why that was a difficult task.

A shower of snow blasts his face, shocking him out of his thoughts.

“What the fuck?” He wipes his face and sees Steve standing on the ice in front of him, alone.

“Practice is over.” Steve didn’t apologize for soaking him with half-melted ice. “So, you in?”

“Am I in? On that?” Eddie snorted. “Hard pass, dude.”

“What? Why?”

“They can’t even do crossovers right. No wonder your defense is the worst in the state.”

Steve glares at him as Eddie stands to leave.

“So, what? It’s hopeless?” Steve yells as Eddie walks down the tunnel.

“Probably!” Eddie yells back.

“What if I help you graduate?”

Eddie pauses at the offer. His grades are decent this year, but he still struggles. Steve offering to help would at least give him more chances to ogle his ass in those tight jeans he wears.

Eddie turns to Steve, giving in.

“What time is practice tomorrow?”

[jocelynscrazyideas]

Missed | Ethan Edwards x Fem!reader

Warnings: language, smut? Breeding kinks (spitting, slapping, and pet names),

Summary: ethan takes you back home, and you guys celebrate the new coming summer season with eachother before you left for Utah.

💭: first time writing for ethan!!!

NOT PROOF READ

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Finals are starting, summers kicking in. Graduation is coming.

Spring time sucks. Rainfall everyday, hot humid nights, warm bodies laying next to another.

Warm air heating my neck as I sit in his bed.

Ethan’s massive legs take a hold over my hips. Lying over me, his whole body rests ontip of me. He seems completely relaxed and comfortable, I don’t move for his sake.

No blankets needed, fans on settting five, cold air blowing at me, windows are open, the dorm room provided by campus is so smalll, crammed, hot. Mark shares one with Ethan, and I of course as Ethan’s girlfriend have to hear both of them snore.

I reach my hand out to find the top of eddys headboard. I grab my AirPods and set them in my ear. I blast Ethan’s song he plays everytime we hangout.

I just told Ethan that I’ll be going to Utah for a week with my family, if he wanted, he is more than welcome to come. Of course, he said no.

After school ends fully, I won’t see him. I’m sure he’ll be out in Ohio with the rest of the umich team. Every morning when I sleepover in the boys room, Phil sends me a text asking if mark and Ethan are awake.

Everytime, it’s “no.”

Phil always works out with these two, they go to the yost training center, and I normally go out with Farah and Khi.

I move Ethan’s arm over my shoulder so I can breathe easier, he moves his head and grunts in pain.

“Ow. Fuck, y/n. My arm. My back. Shit- fuc- ow!” Ethan moans out. He rubs his eyes and kissed me on my cheek. The song replays and replays and replays.

“Is that Glory box? Give me a side.” Ethan takes an AirPod out of my ear, he stuffs it into his fitting ear and listens to our sex song.

He lays on his belly and I get up to straddle over him. On my knuckles I rub out his back. Apparently, I was poking his back all night with my knee. Wrong.

It’s 7:38, mark and Farah are still sleeping. Ethan rolls over and just stand up on his bed. Letting cool air take my body. Ethan grabs my hand, helping me down his bed. Swiftly, he stuff his head into a shirt.

I wear a black sports bra and pink shorts from lululemon. Matching Eddy. He wears this hot pick shirt, and black shorts. To cover his bad bed head he sets a hat over his head and he walks me to me car.

I have a house that I share with my friends, Hara, Piper and Elly. Ethan drives me in my car back to my house. We arrive, taking my hand Ethan walks me to my door. I unlock the front door with my keys and head inside. Ethan isn’t supposed to be around anymore, because he got into it with Pipers boyfriend- Ryan, he goes to MSU.

I sneak Ethan upstairs into my bathroom. He lays on my bed while I brush my teeth and he watches me, we talk while I get my hair ready for the day.

“Do you want to shower?” He asks me, he gets up, walking towards me. Pressing his shaft into my hips. Connections like a puzzle. I need him with me right here and right now.

Without hesitation he takes me and turns me around. He walks towards the shower and turns it to burning hot water.

“You know I prefer it cold when we fuck.” I whine. I kiss him with my fresh breath.

Letting the water heat up I tell him to brush his teeth, get his hair ready for me to massage in the shower after we have fun.

“Y/n! You home?” Hara yells for me as she walks into my room. She lends a knock into my door as she stands next to my closet door. Looking into the bathroom she said she saw my car outside and was wondering if I made it home.

“Oh, hey dev.” Hara nods over at Ethan.

“Looking good H. How’s Will doing?” Ethan making conversation as he looks at himself in the mirror. He fixes up his hair, brushing through it.

“You look yummy.” I say whispering into his ear. I stand on my tiptoes, letting me heart set into my stomach. “Hey Ra-ra, can you grab me a coffee and a sandwich from down the street? I’ll give you money.” I ask Hara.

I’m starving.

Starving for Ethan, and actual food.

The steam covers the mirror and hara leaves to grab my food. Ethan locks the door of my bedroom and my bathroom. He throws his clothes off. He slips his boxers off. I can see his hard cock. I’m not sure what had him turned on, but he’s getting me horny.

I’m his, he’s mine.

“Turn.” He instructed me. I turn around. “Arms.”

I lift my arms. Standing in T position, Ethan slides my bra off, the sports bra off, he slowly sets his hand into my shorts. Sliding them off, he seees I’ve gone commando. No thong, nothing under.

Bare skin, body to body.

His brown hair, Al over my shoulders. Ethan’s marks all over my shoulders.

Hickeys, screams, pleasure, and release.

He takes me into the shower. The hot water hits my hair, my body jolts up in energy. Ethan takes my hand and places it onto his lower abdomen. Just above his cock, that slapped against his torso, my hand slips down onto his balls as I lower myself into my knees.

Ethan leans back onto the shower walls, my head leans back, looking up, I get excited myself.

Ethan grips ibto my hair. My head feeling the pressure of his hold, I rest my hands onto his cock. I kick my lips to give myself to prepare.

I lick the tip of Ethan, and he hits his head against the wall, he lifts his hips towards my mouth. I shoved half of his dick into my mouth.

I suck, I lick, I jerk.

Taking my empty left hand and start massaging his balls, whispering his name. Ethan groans and smiles. Smirks. Laugh. My right hand holding into his other half of his cock. In a swift motion I jerk him off and lick the tip.

Letting him cum into my mouth I lift his cock up. After letting him release into me, I stand up, kissing him I use my tounge to distribute his cum back into his mouth.

His swallows his substance. Taking me, he grips into my hips, dipping me in the shower. He kisses me from my neck down to my knees. I feel his warm spit all over my body. The shower pricks at my feet. The water hits my ass, Ethan picks me up.

He holds me up and he pushes me against the wall. He sticks his hard cock inside of me. The water no longer hits me, but reaches his back. He groans in the disbelief. Still as ethan lifts me, he holds me up, giving me time to take him in.

“oh my gid. You feel so good.” He doesn’t stop his movement. He lowers me down to the ground. My toes touch the wet floor of the shower.

He grunts as he pulls out. I look down to the ground, he cummed a second time. I still need to be relaxed.

Ethan sits me down on the ledge of my shower that holds my shampoo and conditioner. I can feel the cold of the tile on my ass. Ethan spits out water from the shower head all over me. He sets me back. My legs over his shoulders. He sicks his penis inside of me.

“Too bi-“ I exasperated as I feel him inside of me. He thrusted one time and fitted everything inside. I look down to his chest, his abs contract every time he hits my bottom. He takes one of my breast and holds it in his hands while he takes his motions smoothly. Not stopping ethan lifts his head back.

“You’ve taken it before princess.” Ethan takes my nipple and twists it between his index finger and thumb. I feel my release coming.

“Baby. I’m coming.” I yell out. I’m sure our neighbors can hear us.

He bangs his hand above me on the wall. He thrusts faster, and harder.

“Keep it in.”

“You’re such a slut for me.”

“Whore”.

~

After our fun, I sit Ethan down on the ledge he fucjed me on. I washed his hair. And I finished cleaning myself up. Ethan runs out of the shower to grab us a towel. He comes back dry. I turn the knob off.

The water stops. “You’re gonna miss me when I leave!” I yell out as he opens the door to the shower.

He gives me the towel he used to dry off. He smiles as he walks me back to the bed. I wrapped my hair in the towel and I sit dry, in the bed. Waiting for ethan to join.

“I have to go.” He said.

Um, hell no.

“No, I’m leaving next week. You aren’t leaving to go play on your X box or whatever you have.” I fight with him.

“No I have to go because the snobs car is outside.” He said as he sliddd in his clothes.

The “snob” is that guy from MSU that Piper is dating.

“And no, I’m not going to miss you. After today it’ll feel like you’ll be with me all day everyday.” He walks out of my room.

Hara walks into my room with my coffee and sandwich. “Where is he going? I thigh you guys were having fun. I mean it sounded like it.” She mentioned.

Dman.

“No he had to leave. And yeah, we had fun.” I laughed.

~

I left for Utah. It’s been two days since I’ve arrived. Ethan’s sent me texts like all day.

“I miss you so much.”

“You should leave and come to me.”

“I should just suprise you one day.”

~

I walk out of my burning bedroom door.

Summer is finally here. My mom called me, telling me something special came for me. Weird.

I see my brown haired boy. I run into his arms.

“I’ve missed you.” He wishers into my ear. “Shower later?” He laughs as he takes me down from our hug.

he missed me.

[oneforthemunny]

THE LAST ONE

AHHH

AHHH

AHHHHHHH

HYSTERICAL RN

OMFG

i love this!!! the love of my life!!!!!

thank you tj my angel!!! <3333

Hockey!eddie, my one true love @oneforthemunny

[offsidenewsco]

"A long time ago, the NHL was created. This has made a lot of people very angry and is widely regarded as a bad move."

Read the first installment of @sergeifyodorov's history of the #NHL here.