#eddie ...

[eddiesblr]

[rainscenes]

eddie + forehead kisses

[buddie-daily]

[s4buck]

[marz-rm]

If Tim Minear won’t do it I will

This is actually a mini comic that started with the phone call scene, it has reached 7 pages over on Patreon if you want to check it out

[pankowcrumbs]

On and off again X Eddie Munson

MasterList

Stranger Things and Cast Masterlist

It’s a funny thing, the way some people orbit each other. Always crashing, always drifting, always finding some ridiculous way to gravitate back.

That’s us.

Me and Eddie Munson.

The first time we broke up, it was loud. We were eighteen, drunk on cherry vodka and fake adulthood. It was summer after graduation, the kind of humid Indiana night where everything feels stickier than it should. We were at Steve Harrington’s house, naturally everyone always ends up at Steve’s.

Eddie had been halfway through a passionate rant about “poser metalheads” when I’d dared to say, “Maybe not everything has to be a performance.”

He’d gone quiet. Dangerously quiet. Then, boom words exploded. I can’t remember all of them, just flashes: “You don’t get it.” “You think I’m fake?” “You always do this.” It ended with me throwing his Hellfire Club hoodie at him and storming out barefoot.

We didn’t speak for a month.

Until one night, I found him sitting on my porch with that stupid cassette player of his, holding up a mixed tape labelled: Songs That Remind Me You Exist (And I Hate It).

We laughed until we cried. I kissed him halfway through track three.

The second breakup was quiet.

It was winter. Snow fell in lazy flurries outside his trailer, and we lay tangled in his too-small bed under too many blankets. My fingers were in his hair. He looked up at me and whispered, “I think you’re going to leave me.”

I remember the way my heart ached. Not because he was wrong, but because he was right.

I didn’t say anything. Just pressed a kiss to his forehead and let the silence stretch.

The next day, I told him we should take space. He didn’t argue. Just nodded once, jaw clenched, and helped me zip my coat.

That one lasted two months.

Until I saw him at the petrol station, fumbling with a crumpled pack of smokes. Our eyes met, and something in his broke. “Don’t leave again,” he whispered.

I didn’t.

Robin was always the one stuck in the middle.

“I swear to god,” she’d muttered once, head tipped back on Nancy’s couch as I ranted about Eddie’s inability to show up on time. “You two have more seasons than Friends.”

She wasn’t wrong. It’d become a routine.

Flirt. Fall. Fight. Repeat.

We loved hard. That was the problem. Passion didn’t just live in the sweet nights or music-drenched car rides it lived in the arguments, too. Neither of us knew how to do anything halfway.

The third time was different. Personal.

He’d written a song. A raw, beautiful thing. I found it on a crumpled bit of paper in his jacket.

It was about me.

But not the version I recognised. In his song, I was cruel. Cold. The one who ran. The one who “made storms out of sunlight.”

I asked him about it.

He shrugged, couldn’t meet my eye. “It’s just lyrics.”

But I saw it everything he thought but never said. The way he saw me when we fought. A mirror I wasn’t ready to face.

I left without a word.

He didn’t follow that time.

I think we both needed the distance.

And then…

Then there was the night I came home to find a string of fairy lights taped to my front door, leading through the hall and into the living room, where he sat cross-legged on the floor beside a box of records and two cans of cherry coke.

“Thought you might wanna scream-sing Bowie with me,” he said, not even trying to hide the way his voice trembled.

We didn’t talk about the song. Or the silence. Or the bruises we left on each other’s hearts. We just sang. Loudly. Badly.

He kissed me after Heroes. I cried after Space Oddity.

We were us again.

Not everyone understood it.

Nancy did, oddly enough. “You and Eddie… it’s not conventional,” she’d said, sipping her wine with that careful grace of hers. “But it’s real. Messy doesn’t mean fake.”

Steve was a bit more vocal. “Just don’t hurt each other, alright? I can’t keep playing emotional referee.”

And Robin, bless her, always rolled her eyes but secretly rooted for us. I saw it in the way she grinned when she caught us holding hands under the table.

We had good moments.

Sundays at the flea market. Him tucking daisies behind my ear. His lips on my shoulder after nightmares. Me tracing the veins on his arms while he played riffs I didn’t know the names of.

And then we had the not-so-good ones.

Like the time I accused him of flirting with a girl at The Hideout. He hadn’t. But I was insecure and tired and said something that made his face fall.

He left that night without saying goodbye.

Showed up three days later with a note that read: Still not flirting. Still in love with you.

So yeah. We’re chaos. Tangled sheets and tangled hearts. People call us toxic, dramatic, unpredictable.

Maybe we are.

But even in the worst moments, I never doubted Eddie Munson is the only person who has ever made me feel seen. Fully. Flaws and all.

It was chaotic, passionate, all-consuming. But it was us.

Robin once said, "You two are like fireworks and bonfires. Dangerous, but kind of beautiful if you’re not standing too close."

Nancy just sighed. Steve usually looked stressed.

But they got it. Sort of. We were Y/N and Eddie. That was just the deal.

We’d been broken up for exactly six weeks and three days the night of Steve’s infamous end-of-summer party. The weather was still clinging to August heat, and someone had stolen a keg from the Hideout. Most of Hawkins was drunk by the time the sun had dipped below the trees.

I wasn’t drinking much, nursing a red cup of watered-down gin and soda while I leant against the edge of the Harringtons’ pool. Robin was sitting cross-legged beside me, talking animatedly about a book she’d just finished, and Nancy was on her other side, flicking her straw at Steve, who was trying to light a barbecue that clearly hadn’t worked for years.

Eddie was somewhere. I knew that much. I’d seen him earlier in the evening, his curls damp from swimming, a drink in one hand and his eyes doing that thing they always did when they found me in a crowd: soft, then quickly guarded.

We hadn’t spoken all night.

And I wasn’t going to chase him. Not this time.

That’s when someone new wandered over.

He was tall, broad-shouldered, definitely from the football team. Maybe a year or two older. He smiled at me like he knew I needed a distraction, and maybe I did. His name was Ryan or Bryan or something equally Chad-like, and he was surprisingly charming.

I laughed at something he said. Not because it was funny, necessarily, but because it felt good to laugh. To be wanted. Not to be a constant storm in someone’s life.

He stood a little closer.

And of course, right on cue, I felt it before I even saw him. That shift in the air. That storm cloud energy that only Eddie could bring.

“Didn’t realise we were recruiting for the varsity date auction tonight,” Eddie drawled, sauntering over, his tone sweet but lined with venom. “Real classy, Y/N.”

My smile dropped.

Ryan-or-Bryan blinked. "Uh, I'm gonna go find my friends."

“Yeah, run along,” Eddie added with a mock-salute.

I stood up, heart pounding. "What the hell is your problem?"

Eddie’s jaw clenched. “My problem is you throwing yourself at every jock with a pulse. You really that desperate for attention?”

That stung. Deeply.

Robin, Nancy, and Steve had all gone suddenly quiet, pretending very hard to be engaged in other conversations. But I was already moving, grabbing Eddie by the wrist and dragging him around the side of the house, away from the crowd.

“Say that again,” I snapped, letting go of him when we were out of sight.

He crossed his arms. “You heard me.”

“Yeah, I did. I just wanted to make sure you realised how much of an arse you sounded like.”

He scoffed, looking away. “You love the attention. You always have.”

“And you always love coming back to me,” I shot back. “So obviously I’m not the problem here.”

That stopped him. Just for a second. Enough for me to see the flicker of hurt behind his eyes.

I hated fighting with him. But I hated being treated like a game even more.

“You don’t get to act like you own me when you were the one who left,” I continued, quieter now. “You’ve got this pattern, Eddie. You pull me in, make me feel like I’m everything, and then the second it gets hard or messy or real, you run. And I’m the one left picking up the pieces.”

Eddie rubbed the back of his neck. “I know.”

“Do you?”

He stepped forward, eyes searching mine. “I never stop loving you. Not for a second. That’s the problem. It’s easier to blow it all up than to risk losing you properly.”

My chest ached.

“You don’t lose me by letting me in,” I whispered. “You lose me by treating me like I’m disposable.”

Silence settled between us, heavy and fragile.

Then, slowly, Eddie reached for my hand.

“I don’t want to do this anymore,” he said. “The back and forth. The push and pull. I want to try again. Really try. Not just when it’s easy.”

I looked at our hands, then back up at him.

“This is the last time, Munson. No more running.”

He nodded, a shaky smile tugging at his lips.

“No more running,” he promised.

And for the first time, I believed him.

We walked back into the party hand in hand. Robin gave us a knowing smile, Nancy elbowed Steve when he mouthed, "Again?" and everything felt just a little bit more right in the world.

Because that’s the thing about Eddie Munson and me:

We were always somewhere between in love and at war.

But love always won.

[buddiebeginz]

Searching for meaning But are we all lost stars Trying to light up the dark?

[riadoodles]

doodle inspired by these two pics side by side LOL

and they were (platonic) roommates

[118source]

Eddie Diaz in 6x13 - Mixed Feelings

[lihhelsing]

"Do you wanna go on a date?"

It's what Eddie asks Buck on a regular Wednesday morning.

Buck, for his part, takes it very well. He definitely does not spit his juice and almost chokes on his own saliva. Because that would be pathetic. 

Truth is, Buck has been waiting for Eddie to ask him out for a while now. Eddie told him that after his time in El Paso he had figured a few things about himself. 

One of them being that he would like to know what it feels like to kiss a guy. 

Which, yeah, it was no big deal for Buck. Except for the fact that when Eddie was in El Paso, Buck had also figured out a few things about himself, and one of them was that he would like to kiss his best friend. 

On the mouth. With tongue. 

So yeah, no big deal. 

"A date?" Buck says as if they both don't know he's stalling for time. "What exactly would that... date entail?" 

Eddie laughs so openly that it tugs at Buck's heartstrings. Something about his best friend accepting joy in his life or whatever. 

"Oh, you know. The usual? I'll pick you up. You'll dress nicely because you want to impress me. I'll take you to that restaurant you've been wanting to try? Maybe we'll drink a bottle of wine to make it less awkward." 

Buck smiles; he can feel himself yearning for that already. "Yeah? And then?"

Eddie frowns slightly, "Then I'll bother you with some small talk so I can practice. You know, for when I do go on a date with a guy." 

Oh. 

Oh, no.

"Uh," Buck says eloquently. 

"I know! I'm sorry! But you're my best friend, and I don't know how to do this and I thought practicing would be better than making a fool of myself. No one wants a 30-something who doesn't know what he's doing."

Buck doesn't point out that he once was a 30-something with no clue of what he was doing and how he had embarrassed himself in front of his ex more than once. 

"Eddie, it's fine, you know? We all gotta start somewhere." 

Eddie groans, and Buck pretends the sound doesn't rattle in his brain. 

"I know. But I just... please? I know I have to do this for myself, but I'm scared and you always make me less scared." 

Shit. Maddie is going to have a field day with this one. 

"Yeah, sure. I'll go on a, uh, date, with you. For research purposes." 

Eddie grins, "thank you! You're the best!" 

And he's glad Eddie thinks so, because he's about to be so miserable because of this 'date'.

[nyathgs]

❤️

[rainscenes]

the thing about eddie is that he has so much love to give and he always just. gives it. never hesitates to show the people he loves how much they're valued and appreciated whether that's by spelling it out with words that feel like a gut punch or gentle forehead kisses or a grounding shoulder grab. he might deny himself that comfort often but not the people around him that really matter

[buddie-daily]

[reidisdoodling]

returning from my art hiatus with buddie as woodybuzz ^_^

[caprisun-cos]

been doing a 9-1-1 rewatch, and i’m partway through season 3, and you’re gonna tell me to my face that buck didn’t realize he had feelings for eddie until season 8?

lies