troubles always gonna find you baby, but so will i
probably one of my favorite pieces i’ve ever made, all the little doodle details around them are symbols for their ndes they’ve had where they’ve save each other in some way or another (except for eddies well collapse but buck tried to dig into the ground with his bare hands so i count it shhh)
Mature | Buddie | 1.5k | tags: accidental kissing, feelings realisation, love confessions, getting together, jerking off in the shower
Buck is leaning against the sink looking out into the garden. He’s in his pajamas, less of a head start on getting ready than Eddie had assumed, his hair fluffy, curling up on one side and flattened to his head on the other, gingery stubble glinting on his cheeks. He’s prepped lunch, something for Chris to eat when he wakes up most likely, and he turns when he hears Eddie come into the room.
‘I made coffee,’ he says, jerking his elbow in the direction of the Hildy but Eddie just steps closer, into Buck’s space and the sleepy, familiar warmth of him.
'Thank god for you,’ he says, his voice coming out rough, scratchy with disuse, as he snags Buck’s mug, his free hand landing on Buck’s jaw, leaning in without further thought.
pouty frowny sleepy eddie diaz walking into his kitchen and then immediately just licking into his buck’s mouth as he steals that beautiful hot steamy cup of Their Shared Coffee from his best friend’s hand. best friend’s. that’s his best friend. and eddie just kissed him. it only takes him fifteen minutes to remember they’re not together and they’ve never kissed before. but now eddie’s in the shower and he’s just a man, so he might as well jerk off before he does anything about it
It's early, the sun barely tinging the sky pink when Eddie stumbles out of bed, shoving his feet into his slides, rubbing the grit from his eyes, the sound of his alarm still ringing in his ears. He is not a morning person, he has never been a morning person, vision dimmed and like his head is full of cotton wool for way longer than most people. Shift work and a kid has helped some but mostly he's forcing himself through his morning routine on autopilot, not fully awake until he's dressed, got through breakfast, in his truck and on his way.
He shuffles his way down the hall, walks softly past Chris's door; he doesn't have to be up for hours, no school today, Saturday, and no plans until the afternoon. The living room is tidy, Eddie notices that, Buck's blankets neatly folded at the end of the couch as usual, as he heads towards the kitchen, still barely cognizant of his own existence let alone anything around him.
Buck is leaning against the sink looking out into the garden. He's in his pajamas, less of a head start on getting ready than Eddie had assumed, his hair fluffy, curling up on one side and flattened to his head on the other, gingery stubble glinting on his cheeks. He's prepped lunch, something for Chris to eat when he wakes up most likely, and he turns when he hears Eddie come into the room.
'I made coffee,' he says, jerking his elbow in the direction of the Hildy but Eddie just steps closer, into Buck's space and the sleepy, familiar warmth of him.
'Thank god for you,' he says, his voice coming out rough, scratchy with disuse, as he snags Buck's mug, his free hand landing on Buck’s jaw, leaning in without further thought.
Buck's mouth is hot from the coffee, Eddie can taste it, dark and bitter the way Buck likes it, and he laps it up, stepping closer, tightening his grip. Buck makes a sound, caught in the back of his throat and his mouth opens wider on a gasp, letting Eddie in, the soft press of his tongue against Buck's teeth, sweeter and harder all at once.
One of Buck's hands jerks upwards, catching against Eddie's ribcage as if he isn't sure whether to pull him in or push him away. Eddie’s eyes flutter open, the sunlight painting their edges golden. He tilts his head, catching Buck's bottom lip between his teeth, soothing the sting with his tongue, rolling forward again as they find their rhythm, slower, shallower pecks into deeper, tonguing kisses. It's good and it's easy and Eddie loses time, loses breath, still half asleep and the taste of coffee entirely gone from Buck's mouth.
Almost as quick as it started, it stops. Eddie steps back, he's still holding Buck's coffee, hasn't even taken a sip. He prefers creamer and three sugars anyway and he needs to shower, setting the mug on the countertop and turning to head towards the bathroom. They can't be late for work.
Eddie turns on the shower and strips out of his clothes, stepping under the spray of the water, noting mildly that's he's half hard. He would be, Buck does that to him, pink and freshly kissed in their kitchen, pouted mouth bruised and slick with Eddie’s spit. Eddie touches his fingertips to his own bottom lip, the feeling of Buck's against him still beating there. The scrape of his stubble. Buck's lips on his. From when they were kissing, just now in the kitchen. His best friend Buck.
They don't do that. They've never done that. Except, it felt so right in the soft, early morning hush to step up to Buck and capture his mouth like that, to kiss him over a shared cup off coffee before he's even got his head on right.
Eddie looks down, fully hard now, and takes hold of his cock, insistent need blooming under his skin. He wants to do more than kissing with Buck, that's clear to him now. He wants to take him to bed and listen to every sound he can draw out of him, how sweetly yielding he knows Buck will be, how good he'd feel under Eddie, taking him. Eddie strokes himself faster and imagines fucking Buck hard, slow, quick, soft. His tongue feels too big for his mouth, his desire too big for his body with how much he wants it; more awake than he's ever been with this new knowledge.
They've been living in a strange sort of limbo ever since Eddie and Chris came back from El Paso, the raw edge of everything they've lived through enough to occasionally catch, sharper some days than others, but mostly it's been good. Mostly it's been as easy as kissing Buck in the kitchen just now.
Buck has been making noise about finding his own place because he can't keep sleeping on the sofa forever. Eddie doesn't want him to leave and yet he's still not found it in himself to ask him to stay. If he stayed he could share the bed with Eddie, share the couch when they watch TV with Chris, share the kitchen, share a whole life. That's what he wants. Buck by his side like always.
He squeezes his cock, close now, pumping his hand over his length, twisting his wrist and a thumb to the head. Buck kissed him back and if Buck did that he might want all those other things with Eddie too. He might get on his knees for Eddie, his back, he might let Eddie touch him all the ways he wants. He might let Eddie love him.
It rises quickly, then, pulsing hot, and he comes, stripping his cock hard and fast to the memory of Buck against him and the possibility of everything waiting for him just one room away. If Buck is still there, if he hasn't run out of the house in a panic as he's liable to do if Eddie doesn't keep a tight hold on him, grounded and secure.
Eddie gets out of the shower, no more than rinsed clean, and dries off quickly, shoving himself mostly damp back into his shorts and tank, hurrying back through the house, less than fifteen minutes after he left the kitchen. It's brighter now, the sun fully breaking over the line of houses past his back yard, and Buck is still standing where Eddie left him.
'You kissed me,' he says, dazed.
'I did,' Eddie nods.
'Why?'
Eddie shrugs, comes closer, 'seemed like the right thing to do. You want me to do it again?'
His heart is in his throat, he couldn't bear Buck turning him down, but he has to know if they can have this, now he's learned to want it.
'Yeah, Eddie,' says Buck, his eyes shining, bright and wet, 'I want you to kiss me all the time.'
Eddie crosses the room in two strides, catching hold of Buck with two hands, bringing them together again, as if they never stopped, and Buck melts into him, his hands on Eddie's waist. His touch isn’t tentative anymore, fisting in the fabric of Eddie’s top to pull him closer, lips parting on sigh, as Eddie licks into his mouth, desperate for another taste.
It's not mindless this time, both of them equally committed, and Eddie sweeps his thumb over Buck's jaw, to his chin, a hand to the frantic beating of his pulse. It makes Buck moan, everything spit and heat, reeling into each other. Eddie just came but he can feel it rising again, his arousal a dizzying, grasping thing and Buck is hard too, rocking against him, easy friction against Eddie's thigh on the brink of escalation.
They break apart at last, forehead to forehead, breathing hard. Eddie's hand is still clasped around Buck's throat, notched against his jaw, holding him steady as Buck sways into him. He drops his arm, palm to Buck's chest and the racing thrum of his heartbeat. Eddie just went through several epiphanies in the shower and he needs to be sure Buck is on the same page.
'This isn't just sex,' he says, meeting Buck's eyes, 'I don't just want that from you. I want it all, Buck. I love you.'
Buck smiles, beams, beautiful and freshly kissed and Eddie can't wait to do it again, do it a hundred times, do it until they've lost count.
'I—me too,' says Buck, breathless, 'I love you, too.'
Eddie leans in, kiss number three, and Buck meets him in the middle.
Another (exhausting hot) month, but we keep surviving. May your power grids be holding out better under this heat than mine.
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so many creative choices in tvl make sense when you realize the goal of this season wasn't telling lestat's story or adapting tvl the book but using the premise of "adapting tvl" as the justification for a whitecentric rebrand and lowkey reboot of the whole show, as part of amc and rolin's effort to distance themselves from the "black queer show" image and black viewership of s1-s2 in order to pursue the "mainstream" (whiter, straighter) audience they always wanted. this is why most of the major arcs, especially the material given to jacob, delainey and assad, feel like retreads of the arcs they already had in s2, meant to cover plot beats from s1-s2 and overwrite how they were initially depicted in a way that's both more palatable for white viewers. in many ways tvl feels like 7 episodes of a "previously on..." sequence that flits through brief flashbacks and tells, not shows the audience essential information to get them caught up before the real story begins, and that's intentional- tvl isn't meant to be a story that stands on its own as much as a staging point to establish the new trajectory of the show, the new tone and narrative priorities, and invite the audience amc wants onboard and jettison the melanated s1-s2 audience amc thinks it no longer needs before the real story rolin wants to tell begins in s4.
the narrative seems not only spiteful and uncompassionate to its own established characters and audience but almost apologetic for having demanded that viewers hold empathy for black leads during s1-s2, for asking them to center black characters as protagonists and care about their interiority- the brutalization and humiliation of jacob and delainey's characters isn't just the nonblack writers engaging in a gratuitous fantasy of torturing black bodies and "humbling" black characters who've reached too far above their station, but also a way to restore the status quo that asserts the "proper" role of blackness is to be a site of inherent pain and mortification. racist viewers who rejected the show when jacob was cast in 2021 or at any point during s1-s2 bc the idea of getting invested in messy black leads put them off can now comfortably tune back in, assured that the show will never ask them to care about a black person more than a white person or think a black person's material suffering could matter more than a nonblack person's feelings and reputation ever again. the cruelty is the point, in many ways.
it's valid to criticize tvl for claiming to be an adaptation of the tvl book and failing at that on every level, from tone to sincerity to the fact that like. 80% of the book just wasn't adapted, but once you see through the marketing claims and realize the real purpose of this season was just amc's effort to do a soft reboot and relaunch their vampire show as a cynical whitecentric dramedy without drawing the ire of straight-up canceling iwtv, you realize so many of their choices aren't just writerly incompetence but a deliberate creative and network whitelash on multiple levels of production.
(tags via @leblogestunmonstre) right like when you look at the roles jacob, delainey and assad are playing, they aren't continuations of where their arcs left off at the end of s2 as much as the show trying to redo the same character beats in s2 in a way that asks less empathy for black characters from the audience and is a lot blunter and more flanderized.
s2- louis is consumed by grief for claudia while being gaslit by armand in the present day, as armand destabilizes louis' perception of reality and what happened in paris to conceal his true involvement in the trial. claudia enters armand's employ as an actress while unaware of the true danger of the paris coven and armand's own capacity for antiblack violence. near the end of the season, louis and claudia are lynched in a humiliating public spectacle that it's later revealed armand directed.
s3- louis is consumed by grief for claudia while being gaslit by armand in the present day- except this time armand just gloats about how much he was gaslighting louis. regina enters armand's employ offscreen as part of armand's elaborate scheme to fuck with louis' head while unaware of armand's capacity for antiblack violence. near the end of the season, louis and regina are lynched in a humiliating public spectacle where armand just straight-up personally tortures them this time.
and even the main "original" plot of the season, present-day gabistat, is just a structural copy of the same way they added loumand to the present day in s1-s2-
in the book, the main narrator (louis in iwtv, lestat in tvl) talks about his story alone, after he's already parted ways with a past companion who only shows up in flashbacks (armand in iwtv, gabrielle in tvl). in the show, this companion is an active part of the present-day story, has the 2nd most screentime of the season and is portrayed as more of a sinister antagonist who has the material power in their relationship with the main narrator and manipulates him and his effort to tell his story (louis' interview, lestat's tour) for their own ends. in the final episode of the season, the main narrator realizes their companion is evil(tm) and rejects them.
rolin's been talking about iwtv s1-s2 with total contempt but he's literally just redoing inferior versions of s2 plots for most of the cast, and most of the material that's truly unique to the season (the live concerts, the songs, the band and tour concept) have gone over with a resounding "it's ok i guess" to "eh it's mid" with most of the general audience. anything actually of substance is a photocopy of what they already did in s2, bc rolin has no new ideas of substance and always wanted to prioritize shallow spectacle and shock value over like. character development and emotional sincerity
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