#if you send me more prompts just be aware. i have several already. so it'll take awhile to get to yours

[kitchenscene]

For the prompts mellow + under the stars

canis major mellow + under the stars ___________________

Out in the backyard, the breeze blows through, but still, he’s warm with his back pressed to Buck’s chest, slotted between his legs, Buck propped up on one elbow, his other arm wrapping around Eddie’s waist. It’s a weight he could never tire of carrying. Chris has long since gone off to bed, the night sky easing in, replacing the golden sunset. The two of them alone, tangled together in the grass under the watchful eye of the night.

Together, that’s how it always is. Him and Buck, together. It took months for Eddie to truly believe he could have this, to believe he could be held, be loved in a way he’d never been before. Months of restraint, too scared to ask for what Buck would happily offer. Hesitant to initiate, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Tonight he believes. It’s easy, the way he reaches towards Buck, the way Buck always reaches back.

The back porch lights are all shut off, leaving them under a dark sky and a distant moon. It’s a warm summer, the dragonflies dance above. Two circle around each other, swooping higher and higher. They settle in a tree, branches swaying as they land. Beyond them lies the stars, muted by the city lights, but fighting past the darkness regardless. The brightest of them shine, urging the rest to follow suit.

read on ao3

“That one looks like a cow,” Buck squints and points towards the sky, lifting his hand from around Eddie’s waist. He tilts his head to follow his hand, leading towards the Big Dipper.

Eddie laughs. “It’s Ursa Major.”

“Not a cow?”

“Bear,” he confirms, “Not a cow.”

Quietly, he huffs, “Eh, close enough.” Eddie feels every word as he speaks, rattling through his chest, softly spoken observations resonating in his head. The hum is like a lullaby, tired eyes becoming heavy under the black sky. “That one looks like a dog,” Buck points again.

“This isn’t cloud gazing,” he laughs softly, “you can’t just make up shapes.”

He bends down to catch Eddie’s eye. Eddie tilts up in return. “The ancient Greeks are allowed to make up shapes, but I’m not?”

“Yes,” he laughs, smiling up to Buck. He reaches up to grab Buck’s hand, pulling it back down to his chest, resting over his heart. One beat, two beats, skip, skip, skip. He traces over his knuckles, his bones and veins, mapping every movement, every patch of skin, where scars smooth over into calluses and scratches fade with time.

“Well, is it a dog?” he grins expectantly.

He shakes his head. “It’s a lion. Leo.”

Buck glances back up and huffs. “There’s no way that’s a lion.”

Eddie laughs at his disbelief. “A dog is believable but a lion isn’t?”

“It’s not like the Greek philosophers were hanging out with lions,” he turns back down to look at Eddie, “how would they know?”

He looks up to the sky, watching the stars glimmer. The sky’s too dark to see all the stars, making the constellations emptier than they should be. Missing dots, connecting lines barely visible, it’s nearly impossible to make out the shapes. Still, it’s entertaining to watch him try.

“Would it make you feel better if I told you there is a dog constellation,” Eddie offers, “you just can’t see it right now?”

Buck raises a brow at him, nose wrinkling. “Since when do you know so much about the constellations?”

It’s a more complicated answer than it should be. Part of it is because of Chris and his fondness for space. Most of it is his own childhood interest, peeking out the windows on sleepless nights, memorizing whichever stars appeared on the horizon. Library books and planetariums showed him the brightest points of the sky, connecting the dots, forming patterns.

“Chris had a pretty big space phase right before we left Texas,” he says, half a truth. He forgot most of the constellations over the years, Chris brought the lost knowledge back to him. “I spent about a week reading nothing but space books.”

“Did you guys ever go stargazing?” he asks.

“Yeah,” Eddie says, soft, reminiscing, “The stars were a lot brighter there. Los Angeles is too bright to really stargaze.”

In El Paso, they had the stars, more often than not peering through. Even through the clouds, he could see the stars. Los Angeles brings empty skies. It’s an easy trade; he’d take a lifetime of empty skies if it meant he could watch them with Buck.

“We should take a weekend some time. Leave the city, go somewhere with less light pollution,” Buck suggests. “We could go camping. I think Chris would love it.”

One beat, two beats, his heart swells at the offer, the ease with which it was made. The three of them, a unit. A family vacation. Buck would surely hunt down the best campsite, something scenic. Full of wildlife and swaying trees, easy hikes and cozy campfires. Something tells him Buck lacks the patience to roast a marshmallow, letting them burn and peeling away the charred sugar, only to let it burn again.

“Yeah?” he asks, barely audible. He squeezes Buck’s hand tighter, “you promise?” laced between their fingers.

“Yeah,” he whispers a soft confirmation. “The two of you can tell me all about the stars.”

The stars twinkle in response, inviting them in. He would rename each and every star for Buck if he could, giving him his very own constellation. Gone goes Hercules and Orion, the brightest stars would be given to him, glowing even on the lightest nights.

In the dark, perhaps, on their camping trip, they may finally see Venus. Or Saturn and Mercury, forming a line across the horizon. The red glow of Mars may make an appearance, a single speck in the night, or maybe just the flashing lights of passing planes. Chris will argue with him when Eddie insists that it’s a UFO, Buck happily playing along with the charade. “It’s flying, and you don’t know what it is, therefore it’s a UFO.”

Satellites and shooting stars, space stations and constellations. They could see them all, together, counting the spaces in between, piecing together the sky like a puzzle, slotting into place.

He counts Buck’s breaths, the rise and fall of his chest against Eddie’s head. Right here in the backyard, he could sleep easy against him. His arm, still supporting both their weights, surely uncomfortable. Buck makes no effort to move him, content to let it go numb.

“That one looks kinda like a scorpion,” Buck points. He drags Eddie’s hand along so he can see where he’s pointing. “And that’s the tail, right there,” he traces the outline. Another breeze passes through, brushing against their hands.

“That’s Draco, I think. But down there,” Eddie drags their hands downward, tracing the horizon, “that’s a scorpion.”

“You have to be lying to me,” he laughs, dropping their hands back to Eddie’s chest, “what part of that is a scorpion?”

“Then what is it?” Eddie asks, twisting their fingers. Buck lifts his hand once again to point, giving a new name to every shape in the sky. He traces new outlines, “that’s a tree,” and, “that’s definitely a dragon, are you kidding me? There’s a Pegasus constellation, but not a dragon?” Eddie lets him draw out his own star map, picking and choosing his own North star, his guiding light. Dogs and dragons, forests of new identities.

Head against Buck’s chest, Eddie lets him rewrite the stars.

all word + place prompt fills can be found here

[flying-nightwing]

Guidelines

Last edit: March 20, 2023

I want to preface this by saying that while I do not make exclusively 18+ content, I am an adult who writes from an adult perspective and with an adult life experience. And well, this is DC, not Marvel, you know the gig. I also often slip violence and trauma as omnipresent themes and don’t always present them in a healthy, coping way. People under 18 really shouldn’t be here, it’s not a space for you. Thank you for respecting my boundaries.

About the MC/reader:

My default setting is female reader because that's what I'm most comfortable working with. However, I am definitely not closed to writing in male or non binary perspective, you just gotta ask :)

I usually never mention any specific body type, unless I'm writing vigilante!reader, in that case reader comes with a certain amount of muscles because you need those to be a vigilante. 

I try to be inclusive as well as much as possible by not mentioning skin color, hair type, eye and hair colors, avoiding the "red blushing cheeks" cliché, etc. However I am aware there are social and cultural cues I might subconsciously use that will not necessarily match yours, I'm trying to keep an eye on that as well. 

About the story:

Here are the characters I write for (subject to expansion):

Jason Todd

Dick Grayson

Tim Drake

Roy Harper

Bruce Wayne

Slade Wilson

Stephanie Brown

Harley QuinN

Talia al Ghul

John Constantine

Oliver Queen (mostly Arrowverse, but can do comics)

Sara Lance (Arrowverse)

Helena Bertinelli

Other considerations:

Most of what I write will contain mild to severe swearing (unless requested otherwise)

I'm comfortable with fights, gore, death, or any violence really, as you might have seen already so that's on the table

Though I'm terrible at smut please don't request it

I can work with a detailed prompt so if you want something specific hmu (it's even preferable in the case I get it in an inspiration low)

I can write reader in a romantic, platonic or family relationship. 

I LOVE CHEESY/OVERUSED TROPES. There is NEVER enough enemies to lovers/there was only one bed/mutual pinning/etc. stories EVER. 

(I know this happens way less in DC fandom than marvel or whatever but I strictly do not do RPF, no exception)

Other important stuff:

NO posting schedule. I have to write during a Creative Episode otherwise it'll suck. And I don't control the Creative Episodes, so it can go anywhere from a few hours to a few weeks. Sorry about that.

I don’t do tags because I couln’t keep track of them if my life depended on it, also half of the time the tags either don’t work or the blogs are on private mode. ONLY EXCEPTION is when a fic is requested off anon, then I tag the person who requested it 💕

I really hate that about myself but that's the way I am; I'm very validation driven so the more you interact the more I'll be motivated to put stuff out. I stopped writing for marvel altogether because I ended up with like 21 notes no reblog no comment, so that drove my motivation to the grave. This isn't a guilt trip I swear, but I really do appreciate a little "loved this!" in the comments or a personalized tag on a reblog. This is literally the recipe to get me to post more stuff more frequently, that simple. 

I am an adult, as stated previously. Unless it's for a platonic or family relationship, I am not comfortable writing about characters who are under 17-18 years old (outside of flashbacks).

English is not my first language. I might confuse or misuse words, or lose some stuff in translation. Also if my sentence structures seem weird sometimes, now you know why. Lmao sorry about that

Whether or not I take requests depends on my mood really, so send them away and either I’ll take them or save them for later. I’ll try to honor every single one I get but please be patient.

That’s it! Thank you for reading my stuff, I love you all xx