Can I request 2. taking a young child trick or treating please?
okay. so. technically there is trick-or-treating, i promise! there's just also mostly all kinds of feelings.
buck pulls up to christopher's school the friday before halloween and immediately spots the kid across the yard, deep in conversation with one of his friends. even from this distance, buck recognises the way christopher gets when he's telling a story—the intense concentration on his face, the way he gestures to emphasise his point, sometimes waving a crutch around if just a hand isn't enough to drive it home.
buck doesn't want to interrupt him, because the story being told in the shade of the jungle gym is clearly a great epic to rival shakespeare or homer. the kid christopher is talking to looks fascinated, completely engrossed, and two or three other kids are drifting closer like they just can't resist hearing the rest of the story.
memories of school pick-ups and football games and study sessions bubble up, of conversations cut off with no consideration by the wills and whims of his mother or father, whichever got stuck driving him around on a given day. buck remembers the way it made him feel like he wasn't even a person, like the thoughts in his head were less important than his mother's salon appointment. the way it made him stop sharing those thoughts, eventually, because it wasn't like anyone cared.
so, yeah, he doesn't want to interrupt christopher.
he gets out of the jeep carefully, trying not to draw attention to himself, and wanders over to the teacher in charge of pick-up.
"hi there," she says, squinting at buck like she's trying to place him. "who are—oh, wait, picking up christopher diaz, right?"
"that's right," buck says. the teacher is vaguely familiar, like he's probably seen her before, but he can't place which of christopher's teachers she is. "i'm buck—uh, evan buckley? i should be on the pick-up list."
"of course, yes, that's all fine," she says, not even looking at the clipboard in her hand. "christopher is just over there, down by the jungle gym."
"yeah, i see him," buck says, shading his eyes with his hand to check on christopher. he's still talking, and his audience has expanded to four kids now. "but we're not in any rush, and it looks like he's got quite the story going. i can wait."
"of course," she says. "sorry it took me a second, it's just been a while since we've seen you."
"yeah, uh, we've had good shift schedules lately," buck says. "so eddie's been able to get to pick-up most days. but he's covering an extra shift today, so you get me instead."
"well, it's nice to see you too," the teacher says. "we always try to encourage both parents to be involved with school things, wherever possible."
"oh," buck says, blinking. "oh, no, i'm—i'm not his parent."
not really. no matter how much it feels like it sometimes, no matter that he loves christopher like he's his own flesh and blood—more than he loves most of his actual flesh-and-blood relatives, maddie excepted.
no matter that he loves eddie, too, more than enough to make them a family. it's not a unilateral decision; no amount of wishing on his part can make it true, not if eddie doesn't want it, too.
there are moments, sometimes, when he thinks maybe—when it seems like there's a possibility that eddie wants the same thing he does. but the moments keep evaporating into the wind and leaving no concrete trace behind, and buck keeps being too chickenshit to do anything about them, because no decision he's ever made has had this much riding on it.
"oh!" the teacher says, surprise and embarrassment warring for real estate on her face. "i'm so sorry, i shouldn't have—i just thought—you're on the pick-up list, you're his second emergency contact, and the way christopher talks about you... he said you're all going trick-or-treating on sunday?"
"we are, yeah," buck says. "it's not—i mean, i'm definitely a big part of his life, just. not a parent, just a friend."
the distinction feels artificial sometimes, because—what even is a parent? he's definitely more of a parent to christopher than either of his parents ever were to him. so maybe he's not with eddie, doesn't live in the same house or sleep in the bed—the world is full of divorced parents who don't do either. and that's not to even mention the fact that they do sleep in the same bed, sometimes, when they're crashing after a long shift and the only thing either of them cares about is the proximity of the nearest possible horizontal surface.
it's a line in the sand, the distinction between parent and something else, but it's one he needs to draw to remind himself of where things stand.
the teacher looks like she might be about to say something, but it's cut off by a loud, joyful yell of "buck!" echoing across the schoolyard. buck looks up to see christopher heading over to them with the world's biggest grin on his face, and takes off to meet him halfway.
"hey, buddy," he says, gathering christopher into a hug and spinning him around a couple of times. "did you miss me?"
"i just saw you yesterday," christopher says between giggles.
"so?" buck asks, setting him down and checking he's still got a grip on both his crutches. "i missed you since yesterday."
"maybe a little bit," christopher agrees, his tone magnanimous like he's granting buck a boon.
"i'll take that," buck laughs and ruffles his hair. "do you have all your stuff?"
christopher nods, and they start heading towards buck's jeep. they pass the teacher buck had been talking to, and he nudges christopher. "hey, say goodbye to—" he still doesn't know her name.
"bye, miss stevens!" christopher says, waving a crutch. "happy halloween!"
"happy halloween," she says, and buck doesn't know how to interpret her expression as she looks between him and christopher.
they're in the car and driving to the diaz house when christopher speaks up again. "dad missed you since yesterday."
buck grips the steering wheel and wonders what exactly christopher knows. "what makes you think that?"
"this morning he talked about you like five times," christopher says, clearly unimpressed. "he always talks about you when you're not there. like when we drove to school a song was on the radio, and he said hey, you know who likes this song? buck." he puts on an exaggerated, mocking tone of voice for that, and if buck didn't know better he'd think it sounds like the voice kids use to mock crushes in the schoolyard. "i think that means he missed you."
"huh," buck says, turning the comment over in his mind. and over and over, the whole drive home and the rest of the evening, through the rainstorm that picks up around dinnertime, all the way until eddie finally walks through the door sometime around midnight. he's clearly exhausted, dead on his feet and dripping even though the walk from his truck to the front door can't have been longer than fifteen seconds.
"bad shift?" buck asks, taking eddie's duffel bag so he can unlace his boots.
"just a long one," eddie says through a yawn. "busy. once it started raining..."
"yeah," buck says. los angeles is, famously, a terrible place to drive, and it's even worse in the rain. he knows what rainy shifts are like, especially once the sun goes down.
eddie frowns. "it's still pretty bad out there," he says. "you should probably just stay here." but there's something in his expression, a flick of his eyes and a twitch of his jaw—the ones that usually signal nerves, uncertainty—that makes buck think maybe the weather isn't the only reason eddie is asking him to stay.
dad missed you since yesterday, he thinks.
"yeah," he says. "okay."
--
buck spends all of saturday with eddie and christopher, and only goes home for the night because he needs a change of clothes. he's back bright and early sunday morning, ready to spend the day counting down the hours to when they can finally set off trick-or-treating. christopher has been impatient for weeks now, and buck doesn't imagine this final stretch is going to be any easier.
and it isn't, but the march of time is inevitable even when it is slow and so the hour finally arrives.
christopher has kept his costume a secret, claiming he wants it to be a surprise for buck. eddie has been obligingly tight-lipped about it no matter how much buck has tried to wheedle the truth from him, so buck has no idea what to expect once christopher asks him and eddie to assemble in the living room for the grand reveal.
never mind that eddie just helped him put the costume on and therefore definitely knows exactly what it is. christopher is not about to let them do this in half measures.
"i didn't raise him to be this dramatic, you know," eddie mutters as they listen to christopher making his way down the hallway to make his entrance. "he gets this from you."
buck turns to face him, quick and jerky like he's a marionette and eddie's holding the strings. which is... not untrue, on some level.
eddie doesn't seem to think there's anything unusual about what he's just said, but something warm blooms in buck's chest. he gets this from you. his artificial, arbitrary line in the sand between parent and not is blurring once again.
and it's being blurred by eddie, of all people. buck has heard the story of what happened in the suit store, knows all about eddie's reaction to someone flinging ana across that line. but there's no hint of panic in eddie's features now, just the same steady fondness he gets when he looks at christopher.
it's a lot to digest, and from the way eddie's starting to look concerned, buck thinks maybe he's been digesting it for a little too long. "i'm only nurturing his natural talent," he says, pulling out a grin, and eddie scoffs.
there's a sound from the living room door, and they turn to see christopher standing in the middle of the doorway and frowning at them.
"you were supposed to be watching me, not each other," he grumbles, and buck thinks he does a very good job of not choking on his own saliva.
"i'm sorry, buddy," eddie says. "do you want to do it again?"
"now you've both already seen it," christopher says. "it wouldn't be the same."
"if it helps, i really love your costume," buck says. christopher brightens immediately, looking down at himself like he's making sure the costume is still there.
"i wanted to be like you and dad," he says. he's dressed as a firefighter, and as far as buck can tell it's just a smaller version of a regulation lafd firefighter uniform, not one of those cheap poly-blend costumes sold in halloween stores that start coming apart as soon as you take them out of the plastic packaging. there's even a helmet, labelled 118 just like the ones he and eddie wear on duty.
"you are," he tells christopher. "just like us." then he ducks down to press a kiss to the top of christopher's helmet, which makes him laugh just like he'd known it would.
"so, we ready to go?" eddie asks, and christopher scrambles to start putting on his shoes.
"impressive costume," buck says. "how'd you pull it together?"
"carla, abuela, tía pepa..." eddie says, listing them off on his fingers. "a lot of help, is what i'm saying."
"i see how it is," buck says, putting on his best fake-offended voice. "everyone knew about it except me."
maybe christopher does get some of the dramatics from him.
eddie just laughs. "see if i ever put together a surprise for you again," he says, then nudges buck in the direction of the door. "now get a move on before the kid gets it in his head he doesn't need us."
eddie turns out to be something of a prophet. at the first house they reach, christopher turns and fixes buck and eddie both with a very serious look even as the brim of his slightly-too-large helmet slips lower and lower.
"you can wait here," he tells them at the foot of the driveway. "i'm nine now. i can go to the door by myself."
eddie looks over at buck, quirking his eyebrows like what do you think? buck looks up and down the driveway, and none of it looks particularly threatening. just a normal suburban driveway, almost identical to eddie's own.
he inclines his head at eddie. i don't see why not.
eddie nods, and the line in the sand of buck's mind grows fainter still.
"okay, christopher, here's the deal," eddie says. "you can go up to the door by yourself on two conditions. you go straight to the door and come straight back, and you always stay where we can see you. okay?"
"okay," christopher says, already turning to head towards the house.
he hasn't gotten more than five feet away when someone clears their throat. "that's such a great costume," a woman says somewhere to buck's left. "you guys have a really cute kid."
"oh, i'm—" buck starts, but he's cut off by eddie's warm and sincere thank you.
the woman smiles and moves on, and eddie shoots buck a curious look. "what were you about to say just now?"
the weight of eddie's gaze feels heavier than the situation merits, and buck frowns. "just that i'm not actually his dad," he says quickly. "i know you don't like it when people assume."
now it's eddie who's frowning. "what do you mean?"
"with ana—"
eddie waves a dismissive hand. "that was ana. this is different. it's—it's different when it's you."
buck moves closer, just barely a half-step. "why is it different?"
"you basically are his parent," eddie says easily, like he doesn't know how much this question keeps buck up at night sometimes. and how could he? "ana never was."
and it still kind of makes his head spin, but buck can accept this part. it makes sense to him. but—"what about the other part?" he asks.
"what other part?"
"it doesn't bother you that people assume we're married? one of christopher's teachers did when i picked him up on friday, you know."
it's starting to get dark, but in the glow of the various festive lights surrounding them, buck swears he sees a blush spreading across eddie's face.
"oh," eddie says. "uh." later, buck won't be able to determine what it was exactly, but something—some sixth sense or whisper of the universe—nudges him to take another step closer, until he's right up in eddie's personal space.
"eddie?"
eddie's eyes roam over buck's face, and whatever he's looking for, he must find it, because he takes a deep breath. "i kind of like it, actually."
buck isn't entirely sure who kisses who first, but that question ceased to have any priority the moment eddie's lips touched his. all that matters are eddie's hands finding his waist and eddie's mouth on his, eddie's jaw under his palm and the softness of eddie's hair at his fingertips.
"besides," eddie murmurs when they break apart. "i know a way we can fix the false assumption."
"what's that?"
"you could marry me for real."
buck surges against eddie again, and it's only the second time they've kissed but it feels like coming home.
"is that a yes?" eddie asks, and buck laughs as he nods, because in what universe is there even a question?
"that's a stop being so gross," christopher says next to them, but when they turn to face him they find him grinning, wide and joyous.
"how am i supposed to stay where you can see me if you keep looking at each other?" he asks, and eddie laughs.
"that's a very good point," he says. "we'll do better at the next house, okay?"
"you'd better," christopher says, trying to be serious, but all three of them are laughing when they turn to head to the next house, eddie's hand tucked firmly into buck's.
time is a construct so if you still want halloween prompt fills after halloween feel free to send me prompts
OKAY: Jaskier buying gifts for Geralt (I'm sensing this could go either way too..)
ACTUALLY, it's my personal headcanon that Jaskier is really, really good at gift-giving. He just. Fucking rocks at it. Because he's naturally so attentive and intuitive, finding the perfect gifts for people comes easily to him.
And then Geralt came along. GERALT, at least at first, is a conundrum to Jaskier because before they met, Geralt had never RECEIVED a real gift before. Gift-giving was a foreign concept to him. He also doesn't know when his birthday is, and didn't celebrate Christmas/Sovan/Midwinter like most people do. Anything he needed he just purchased for himself, and he didn't seem to WANT much of anything. All of this left Jaskier kind of floundering because HE IS A GIFT-GIVER. HE LOVES GIVING GIFTS. HE LOVES SHOWING HIS AFFECTION THIS WAY, but Geralt was making it exceedingly difficult.
Gradually, over time, Jaskier learned to dole out his love in smaller packages, paying attention to when Geralt was running low on supplies for his potions (for example), or noting when Roach's currycomb was looking a little worn, and just picking up little things for Geralt as gifts here-and-there throughout the year and their travels together-- though he does make a point of getting Geralt SOMETHING for Christmas/Sovan/Midwinter, even if it's just one of his favorite pastries.
On a side note, the only person Jaskier is shit at buying gifts for is Yennefer, and it's not his fault at all. It's because no matter how good the gift, no matter how perfect and spot-on it is, she always says she hates it. Flatly. To his face. (Then she keeps it and loves the ever-loving shit out of it secretly while Jaskier practically foams at the mouth out of frustration.)
I just wanted to say that I love that you ran the acesterek week! I think there are just so many challenges going on right now that it's a bit oversaturated perhaps? Plus there are just fewer ace folk around comparatively, but I'm glad I got to participate! I saw you like buddie and Sterek, so I'd love a ficlet based on 'Drinking Song for the Socially Anxious' by The Amazing Devil for either of them? Ace content for bonus points? Thank you again! :) Have a great day!
This is not proofread or beta-d or anything bc I was too nervous to ask anyone rip
And I was in such a groove, writing the scenario the song had me imagine that I didn't focus on including ace talk but you know I headcanon both on as ace!!
Hope you like it 💖
"You’re lying on some coats," comes the spectacular conclusion after the door opens.
The foreign bedroom is dark, illuminated only by the light spilling in from the hallway and what little comfort he'd had from the street light visible through the window. Stiles had hoped he would go unnoticed in the mess of clothes but of course his hopes had immediately been shattered. It was par of the course. He was hiding in the coat room on a stranger's bed, after all. Not the desirable teenage life everyone dreamed of.
"Yep," he replies, making sure to add the twisting trill of sarcasm to his tone because, "I know."
The dark shadow doesn't move further into the room, nor think about closing the door to protect them from the thumping clamor of the party downstairs. Exactly what he'd been trying to escape, so Stiles groans and waves a hand.
"You're letting the party in."
A moment later, the door falls shut and Stiles sighs in relief, succumbing to his recovery in the dark. He just needs to summon enough energy to be able to make it back through the house and get home without crashing straight into a stop sign. Conveniently that also gave him enough time to sober up. Although he played with risks and sped straight past rules, he would never do anything stupid with alcohol. Not after all he'd seen it could do through his dad... Professionally, as well as personally.
A shadow falls over him and dread bolts through him like lightning. He gasps, jumping up and--
"AAAAAahh oh my fucking God, Derek! You can't just-" let's himself fall back down, nearly brining himself on the headboard. "Warn a guy, Jesus christ. You can't just sneak up on people like that."
He's still trying to catch his breath from the shock while Derek has the audacity to just stand there silently like he's actually some kind of axe murderer in the dark. His aesthetic would fit that career path well enough.
Stiles groans, pressing his palms against his eyes, trying to bury, bury, calm, save his energy. This was the last thing he needed. And from the really attractive Derek Hale, at that. Mysterious, quiet, superstar golden boy who showed up to ace everything he set his hands on at school and then disappearing. He only really hung out with Erica and Boyd, who are also aloof and distanced and just as hot and untouchable.
Derek finally speaks, only to parrot his entrance phrase. "You're lying on the coats."
"My life just flashed before my eyes, you ass. God."
Another short silence.
"How did you know it was me?" Derek sounds a lot smaller than his presence in the school halls.
Stiles stops short.
"I- uh, I'm very observant if you didn't know. A+ observer over here, even without the gift of much vision right now. There's your voice and the tall, the-the hair up, leather jacket or whatever and i- I mean I'm quick, you know? I know everyone. I could- i could recognize both Lydia and Jackson by scent alone. It's not just you, I mean-who doesn't know you. Jackson wishes he were you." Stiles laughs nervously." I swear I'm not weird, okay? I'm not a creeper like Matt, trust me... Fuck, how can you trust me when you don't even know who I am? I... "
Stiles trails off. Derek doesn't know who he is. He could make his escape before this situation got even more awkward and branded him as a social outcast forever. Sitting up quickly, he gages his escape route. He could totally make it, there was only a slight fog left in his head.
"Actually, I'm just-" He gestures past Derek.
"Stiles."
"What?"
"You're Stiles," Derek repeats, lightly like he hasn't just butchered Stiles whole future social life in Beacon Hills. He'll have to leave the state. Maybe go straight to England. Or better yet, Australia, where he could get devoured by an alligator ten times his size.
And Derek is just amused.
"Okay. Fine, whatever, it's me. You win. What are you even doing here? Party's downstairs." Stiles is trying to sound irritated, he really is but all he can really think of is that /Derek knows he is/. Derek can recognize him in the dark. Derek hasn't laughed at and left him to sulk alone in the coat room. Derek is...
... sitting down next to him?
Stiles blinks.
"Well, I was going to grab Erica and Boyd's jacket so we could get out of here," Derek starts slowly, voice as soft and careful as his movement onto the bed. Is this what Derek is like when he's not running across the court, basketball secure and flink, steel in his hand, voice booming through the gym?
As fast as his heart is racing and cheeks burning from the butterflies that decided to ambush him, he's feeling a lot more comfortable and settled now than he did 5 minutes ago. The commotion downstairs and outside has blurred into background noise, he streetlight not breaking hard against the dark of the night but painting the world in a soft gray... Stiles suddenly felt ready to take on the world.
Snorting, he turns to meet Derek's eyes, a calm blend of dark ash. "But now you've decided to humor the nerd hiding in the coat pile out of pity?"
It's a defense mechanism, putting the worst life could do out there into words so it couldn't take him by surprise. Stiles was desperately hoping he would be proven wrong.
"But you seem to be enjoying this party just as much as I am."
Stiles averts his gaze for a moment, sticking his hands under his thighs so they would stop moving. He couldn't scare Derek off now.
"Oh, you don't enjoy watching everyone you sit in class with strip and grind on each other?" Stiles asks and brusts out laughing at Derek's grimace.
"Well, feel free to join me here in this super cool, improvised Batcave. I mean, misery loves company, right?"
"Something like that." There's that amused one again, and as Stiles looks over again, this time it's Derek who ducks his head bashfully, giving Stiles the last bit of courage to embrace this wholeheartedly. He pulls his phone up from his side, and untangles one of the earbuds for Derek.
"I was watching cat videos before you so rudely interrupted but I could be pursuaded to consider other options if you have any interesting suggestions," he explains as he pops in the other earbud and settled into a comfortable position next to Derek, careful not to get too close. He knows he can be a little too touchy feely for some people and Derek seems like a no touchy kind of guy.
But the teen surprises him when he leans in enough to brush Stiles' shoulder as he imparts his attention to the cracked phone screen.
"I dressed my cat as Batman for Halloween, once," Derek so casually informs him and Stiles nearly chokes.
"You did not!"
Derek nods with a grin. "He wouldn't let me come near him for a week after that."
"I need to see those photos before we proceed to do anything else. It is a prerequisite. I don't make the rules but that is a thing I cannot live without seeing." Maybe Stiles should really dial it down a bit but any coherent thoughts flew straight out the window as he watched Derek immediately pull up his photo gallery and thumb to a cat picture folder titled 'Salem' to show him the whole photo shoot, because that's when he knew he was already in head over heels.
“Christopher?” Buck opens his eyes and Christopher is smiling at him, sitting on his cot, right at his side, his glasses back on his dirty face where they belong. “Is that- are you really here?” Buck looks up to Eddie, standing at the edge of his cot, looking worried. “I mean, are you okay?”
so, this is one i've put off writing for ages but am suddenly very keen to finally sink my teeth into
anyway, basic premise: buck and eddie are married, and doctor copeland makes an observation during one of her sessions with buck that makes her think he might have undiagnosed adhd. she suggests that buck gets tested, and buck sort of spirals, because as much as adhd makes sense, the idea of having a label for himself is quite intimidating.
eddie, as always, is supportive either way - but he tries to encourage buck to want to do this, because eddie thinks it'd be a good thing for buck. and buck sort of ends up on this journey where he goes through the process of getting tested and finding better ways to manage his adhd.
i don't have much of it written yet, unfortunately!
Sorry if you've talked about this before, but do you think the gang would learn sign language for Ciri so they can still have full conversations? 💗💗💗
No sorries, I literally do not want to stop talking about this verse, I’m already annoying my friends on discord with it, and your asks make me very happy so!!! No sorries 😌💕
And now to the topic!! You know, I’ve thought about this - can’t remember if out loud or on here, so I’m just gonna ramble a bit and y’all have to deal with it hehehe
So, everyone’s adopted by Vesemir, right? And I haven’t yet decided how old Ciri is, but maybe like around 5? Just a smol bean. But she has not been with Vesemir that long, maybe for a year or so? And she doesn’t talk — she can hear them though and understand them quite well.
So she has her own version of sign language that the boys of course learn because it is very intuitive and she is patient and they learn new words/signs together. Maybe as the time goes by, they will learn proper sign language and “shape” her signs in a way??? I don’t know. She sometimes also shapes words with her mouth like hearing impaired/HOH people do, so the boys and Vesemir have learned to understand her over the year.
But I think maybe Geralt, when he hits nonverbal episodes, might actually converse with her mostly over sign language, whereas Lambert just talks to her and used the signs as support (that’s usually how it’s in German sign language which is the one I know a little of), and it’s also the most intuitive variant so as not to leave others out of the conversation too.
So yeah, I think that’ll be the best way to converse with Ciri: talking and sign language simultaneously and then Ciri signs back (this is also how to teach Ciri signs properly, wow, my rambles have brought me full circle look at this!)
TL;DR: The gang will totally learn sign language for and with Ciri — though I don’t know how big of a plot point this is gonna be because I’m already flying by the seat of my pants here 😂 ((it’s also gonna be pretty casual, just another thing in the Rivia household everyone learns to lovingly deal with))
