It truly does haha - I think I've written a scenario or two with this but honestly it's just so good
"And this room," Buck pushes the door open, revealing a second bedroom, "I thought...I thought could be for Chris."
Eddie's eyes snap away from the empty room and over to Buck's face. He looks nervous. "Chris?"
"O-or Jee. Or Robbie. When he's older. Any of the kids, r-really." Buck twists his hands together. "I know, this place isn't far from yours, but...but he's older, yeah? And sometimes you j-just want a different space. Not that you two n-need space. I know you're doing better since..." He waves a hand vaguely. Eddie knows it to mean since Texas. "But I...I just want him to know I'm here? And that...that he has a space in my life..."
"So you chose a place with a spare bedroom so he could stay over?" Eddie states. Questions. He doesn't really know. His mind is racing.
It's been racing since he came back to LA from Texas. It's been racing since he realized how nice it was to fall asleep and wake up knowing that Buck is there in the house. It's been racing since he and Buck had fallen into a comfortable routine of living together. It's been racing since Buck quietly told Eddie that he found some places to look at and would Eddie come with him? It's been racing since Eddie has forced himself to be supportive of Buck moving out. Into his own place. Where apparently he's preparing a spot for Chris?
Jesus. Why does it suddenly feel like they're going through the middle of a divorce?
They're just best friends!
It shouldn't feel like this.
Except, Eddie knows that's not true.
He realized, at some point between the various times his mind (and heart) has been racing, that Buck is more than just his best friend.
Sure, at the base of it, they are that. Eddie has never had a person like Buck before, someone who loves him so wholly and unconditionally. They are best friends through and through.
But there's also that underlying current of more.
Which is exactly why Eddie feels like Buck is splitting up with him and finding a place for himself where they can share custody of their kid.
"I hope that's okay." Buck continues, words rushing out of him. "I don't...I'm not trying to overstep. L-like I said, it can be used by Jee too. But if Chris...he could make it a little more h-his, you know? If he wants. And if y-you're okay with it. I don't...I don't want to c-come between you two. I never would. Obviously. I just. I don't wa--"
Eddie gets his hand behind Buck's head before it can collide with the wall, the rest of his body pressing Buck's against it, his mouth firm on Buck's.
Buck is frozen for maybe two heartbeats before he's kissing back, hands coming up to grip tightly to the front of Eddie's shirt.
Home. Eddie thinks as he and Buck kiss. Not the apartment they're standing in, but the sensation that spreads between them.
"No." Eddie says when he pulls away, only a breath separating their mouths. "No to all of it."
"H-huh?" Buck's blurry this close up, Eddie's eyes unable to focus, but he doesn't move away.
"You aren't moving out. You aren't finding a place where we can shuttle our kid back and forth like divorcees. You're going to call your stupid realtor up, fire them, and then we're going home." He nips at Buck's bottom lip. "Understand?"
"I...yes?"
"Good." Eddie hums, leaning in to kiss Buck once more.
He’s so used to walking into silence.
That kind of silence that swallows you whole — the hum of the fridge, the distant drip of a tap, his own boots dragging across the floor. So when he unlocks the door tonight, shoulders aching, ribs screaming, a smear of dried blood across his knuckles… he freezes.
The air smells like garlic and something warm, buttery. There’s a low crackle from the kitchen — the faint clink of a wooden spoon against a pot — and soft, golden light spills out into the hallway. Not the harsh overhead bulbs. Just the small lamps, the candlelight. Warm. Alive.
He blinks once, twice.
“…The hell?”
He follows the sound, slow, hesitant. The sight waiting for him feels like a hallucination. You’re barefoot, hair messy, stirring something on the stove. There’s a faint glow on your skin from the candlelight, a record spinning quietly somewhere in the background, and a half-set table with mismatched plates because you probably couldn’t find the matching ones.
For a second, Jason just stands there. Doesn’t move. Doesn’t breathe. His hand’s still gripping the strap of his duffle bag. You turn, mid-stir, and when you spot him, your face lights up like you’ve been waiting for this exact moment.
“Hey,” you say softly, voice thick with warmth. “You’re home.”
It’s such a small sentence, but it hits him harder than a bullet ever could.
He swallows, eyes flicking between you, the candlelight, the steam rising from the pots. “What’s all this?” he manages, voice rough, like he hasn’t spoken in hours.
You just shrug, smile crooked. “Dinner. Figured you’d be starving. And the lights were too bright, so… ambience.”
“Ambience,” he repeats, a little dazed.
You move closer, towel slung over your shoulder, and he can’t help but look at you like you’re something fragile and unreal. The heat from the stove, the low music, the faint smell of food — all of it wraps around him like a blanket he didn’t know he missed.
“Jason,” you murmur, catching the bruise on his jaw with your eyes. “You’re hurt.”
He snorts, tries to wave it off, but you’re already reaching for a damp cloth, gentle as you dab at his skin. He flinches, not from pain — from tenderness.
“You shouldn’t wait up for me,” he says quietly.
“I didn’t,” you tease, voice barely above a whisper. “I just… didn’t want you coming home to nothing.”
Jason’s jaw tightens. He drops the duffle to the floor, rubs the back of his neck, then exhales long and low, shoulders finally sagging. When you turn back to stir the sauce, he moves behind you, slipping an arm around your waist, forehead pressing to the back of your shoulder.
He smells the food, your shampoo, the wax of the candle. The world narrows to warmth and breath.
“You’re somethin’ else, you know that?” he mutters against your skin, the Jersey in his voice rough and honest.
You laugh softly, leaning into him. “Yeah, well. You bring the chaos, I bring the soup.”
Jason chuckles — really chuckles — and you feel the vibration of it against your back. For once, he doesn’t feel the need to say thank you. He just stays there, breathing you in, melting into the quiet.
The pots bubble, the candles flicker, and for the first time in too damn long, Jason Todd comes home — not just to an apartment, but to warmth. To you.
"I can't beleive you just said that," Stiles hissed, leaning into Derek's space while the alpha werewolf quirked one eyebrow at him, looking entirely too smug for Stiles's liking, his cheeks still on fire after having been caught by Derek watching a little... adults-only viewing material.
"Mmm. But I did. And the best part is," Derek leaned in until they were practically nose-to-nose and his overwhelmingly woodsy scent that Stiles wanted to drown in washed over him. "No one will ever beleive you."
Stiles made a sound like a dying moose, flailing his arms in protest when Derek winked and pulled back, pausing only to boop the tip of Stils's nose with one long finger before he turned and sauntered away, chuckling to himself.
"You... you..."
"Gotta go. I have a live stream later that I need to prepare for."
Derek didn't look back as he said it, leaving Stiles there completely flabbergasted.
"Derek Hale moonlights as an OnlyFans star" Stiles whispered to himself in the defeaning silence of Derek's departure, unsure if he was envious of his confidence, insanely jealous of every subscriber getting to see something Stiles hadn't, or just wildly aroused. "Oh my god, I need to find that account!"
GLIMPSES OF THE PAST: a headcanon / prompt collection
because sometimes it's not enough to write about your muse's past and how it affects them, you just gotta write a little scene. these prompts are designed to be a little writing prompt related to your character's past, essentially!
send FORGED for a scene from my muse's past that they think made them stronger in the long run
send REMINDED for a scene from my muse's past in which they encountered something that reminded them of a difficult experience / trauma
send CONFESSED for a scene from my muse's past in which they revealed a secret about themselves to someone
send TRICKED for a scene from my muse's past in which they misled, tricked, or lied to someone
send IMPRESSED for a scene from my muse's past in which they tried to impress someone, successfully or not
send ACHIEVED for a scene from my muse's past in which they completed / achieved something they were proud of
send CHANGED for a scene from my muse's past that represented a turning point in their life
send DIFFERENT for a scene from my muse's past that they feel changed their outlook / personality / etc, for the better or worse
send CRITICAL for a scene from my muse's past in which they thought about / were reminded of something they're insecure about
send SCOLDED for a scene from my muse's past in which someone told them off, justifiably or not
send STRAINED for a scene from my muse's past in which they interact with someone they have a difficult relationship with
send SOBBED for a scene from my muse's past in which they broke down in tears
send LOST for a scene from my muse's past in which they felt lost, literally or figuratively
send BLINDSIDED for a scene from my muse's past in which they were betrayed or shocked by what someone did
send INJURED for a scene from my muse's past in which they sustained a significant injury
send AFRAID for a scene from my muse's past in which they were scared / under threat
send HELPED for a scene from my muse's past in which someone helped / saved them
send CAUGHT for a scene from my muse's past in which they were caught doing something they shouldn't
send BLUSHED for a scene from my muse's past in which they received a compliment that really got to them
send VICIOUS for a scene from my muse's past in which someone said something cruel that really got to them
send SWOONED for a scene from my muse's past in which they were infatuated with someone
send PINNED for a scene from my muse's past in which they were stuck somewhere, literally or figuratively
send GRIEVED for a scene from my muse's past in which they had recently lost someone / something
send MORTAL for a scene from my muse's past in which they had a brush with death, either themselves or someone close to them
