#constantine reader

[thewitchblue]

You muttered to yourself while bundling your coat further around your freezing body. Winter in the UK was as grey and miserable as every year while you trudged through the streets, but tonight was a rare night that you could take time off, so you were grateful.

There was no magical nonsense to interrupt you tonight. John said he'd handle whatever pops up tonight, so you could relax in your flat with the bottle of whiskey John gifted you. You removed your gloves and coat after entering your home and sat heavily on a chair in your living room.

You had thought John was exaggerating when he said he was busy until you became his official sidekick. You showed up when he couldn't and that had you travelling the world so often that you forgot where your actual home even was in the first place. His training was instilled in you and you've even surpassed him in several areas.

You would have smiled at the peace, if Batman didn't call you the second you sat down. You groaned as the familiar ringtone cuts through the peaceful atmosphere of your home. You had thought you silenced the bloody thing.

"What do you want?"

You said gruffly through the phone when you accepted the call. The last time Bruce called was the apocalypse that you helped save all of them from. You're the one they call when the world is doomed.

"The Justice League is compromised. We are calling to ask for aid."

You gave Batman a bitter smile through the phone. He clearly didn't want your help, but he needed it. Batman never wants your help, often calling you a Constantine mini-me and that you're a grenade waiting to explode. You, personally, didn't think you were as trigger happy as Batman seemed to think. You asked after a long pause of silence,

"Is Nightwing there?"

Dick Grayson was your situationship and everybody knew about it. Neither of you could quite pin down whether you were dating each other or just fooling around until someone better comes along, so it lingered in the air unaddressed. Despite both of you coming to a silent understanding that you are exclusive, it still felt like a step neither of you wanted to commit to.

"Yes, he's here."

Bruce confirmed in a voice that made it clear there would be no "funny business" between you both on his watch. That was all that needed to be said before you teleported to the edge of the battlefield. Your eyes turned towards the threat before narrowing in thought.

"Can't have one night without this bullshit."

You grumbled as you looked at the army that was overwhelming the heroes. What a wonderful way to spend your time. Your eyes scanned the battlefield before landing on the source of their problem: a projector that was forming illusionary threats. Threats that looked so real that they were even physical manifestations. Your eyes looked for the real operator as you used a spell to crush the projector.

The threats all evaporated, leaving only one guy left. You sighed. Everybody had been too tied up in fighting that even the people who realised what was happening couldn't leave their comrades to fend for themselves to investigate.

You murmured a quick spell that immediately tied up the new villain in unbreakable magical rope before he could cause any more illusions. How uneventful.

Dick's head snapped up to scan the area once he saw the ropes appear. He'd recognise your magic anywhere. You were somewhere and he needed to find you. What if you were injured?

His eyes found you almost immediately and he rushed to your side as best he could with a sprained ankle and dislocated knee. Your eyes looked him over for any other major injuries that you'll heal, and his eyes did the same to you.

He gave you a relieved smile but immediately hissed in pain when you popped his knee back into place. You were, obviously, uninjured and extremely annoyed about being called in as re-enforcement for quite literally no reason. Couldn't they have called Zantana? Why did they call you?

You had been far enough away from the battle to do something about it, just like Batman expected from you. Dick looked at you with concern nonetheless. You were always cranky when you get called in to clean up the mess that the League causes, so he didn't flinch under your angry gaze.

"I never should have given you my number, you wanker."

You said immediately. Dick laughed until your magic snapped his broken ribs back into place. He hissed in pain and grabbed the area like that would help. He knew that's how your magic worked and you weren't going to numb his entire body because he's being "a little baby bitch" as you lovingly call him whenever he flinches in pain. You spend too much time with John Constantine.

"A little warning next time!"

He managed to say before his ankle healed and he was immediately in pain again. You were doing this on purpose now. You were royally pissed that he gave out your number to the League. He understood. He did kind of doxx you.

Your eyes illuminated slightly as they x-ray scanned him and the frown he recieved in response wasn't a good one. He wisely chose to sit down while you healed him. He definitely tore a muscle or five.

"I'm sorry, okay? Have mercy, hon— OW!"

You did decide to have mercy: by healing all his injuries at the same time. There were too many and you didn't have the time to torture him nor the patience. You squatted down to be on his level again. You said,

"I should have left you to deal with the injuries the normal way. You're welcome, by the way."

Right. Of course. Whenever you guys find the time, your personality bites him like a dog. You really are a mini-Constantine when you are inconvenienced, and he really should have expected this outcome. You rolled your eyes and rather aggressively dragged him into a kiss when it became clear he wanted a kiss but was in too much pain to do so.

Your kisses were never nice either. They were aggressive, brutal, and addictive. The type of kiss that unravels and demolishes. They were all-consuming and commanded his complete and total attention.

You pulled away first. He tried to chase your lips, but you placed a hand firmly on his chest to hold him in place. You sat in front of him and grumbled,

"You better not start a war the second I leave because I'm not coming back."

You used a firm tone but your eyes held humour. You both knew you would come back if he was in any real danger; it merely fit your demeanour to say you wouldn't. Dick nodded like he believed you, but you both also knew he'd be calling you later and he likely knew that you placed protective spells over him. You care in your own way.

Whatever he was about to say was cut off by Batman appearing beside him like the phantom he is often rumoured to be. You let go of his son with an eye roll. Right. "No funny business" or whatever.

"Never call me on my night off again or I'll castrate you myself."

You told Batman. Batman gave you an exhausted dad expression. He thought you were a ticking timebomb like your mentor. It was a gamble every time he calls you whether or not you'd bother to show up for them and he has to weaponise Dick far too often for his liking. Dick was like catnip to you.

You stood up again and helped Dick up as well. Dick decided he didn't care that his dad was right there and dragged you back into a kiss. He was equally addicted to you and absolutely would come to your aid if you ever felt the need to call him. John is always your backup when the world is on the brink of extinction instead of the Titans, but he wouldn't even hesitate for a second if you called.

"See you later then?"

Dick asked. He wanted to take that step with you after tonight's chaos and planned a whole speech for whenever he can get you alone again. He could have died quite easily and so could have you. He looked so hopeful that you had a hard time saying no. That didn't mean you had to say yes nicely, though. You said with a shrug,

"Fuck it. I'm borrowing your son, Bats."

Dick didn't even have time to say goodbye as you already dragged him through a portal to your flat. Way to put him on the spot.

[pointbreakvhs]

RUSTY CAGE

Pairing : John Constantine x female reader Summary : John Constantine carries the weight of lives lost and battles fought. When you appear, uninvited, his carefully built walls tremble against a pull he can’t name. Warnings : angst, no beta divider made by @saradika-graphics

For the @keanumovieclubofficial birthday bash fanwork exchange✨

A gift I made for @atomic-groupie ! I hope you love it 💕

“I don’t need another ghost following me around.”

That’s what John Constantine reluctantly admitted in his studio when Angela Dodson insisted he help her with her sister’s death. He had pushed her away from the start, to give her a reason not to have anything with him. Yet his plans changed when he had to save her from a demon. He should have pushed her away afterwards, but he didn’t want to let an innocent soul become a catalyst in a plan hatched by divine forces.

And he was dragged into all of this.

In the end, it had all turned out well—for Angela.

His friends Beeman and Hennessy had lost their lives. And so had his apprentice, Chaz. He had unintentionally dragged them into that mess. It all started with an exorcism that had felt wrong.

After it, everything spiraled.

Constantine took a drag on his cigarette, the setting sun illuminating his pale face with a golden hue as he sat on his bed. His expression was closed off. His hazel eyes were devoid of emotion, even though his mind was drowning in a torrent of guilt he struggled to ignore and push away.

He remembered Beeman’s last words to him through the phone:

“I know you’ve never had much faith, you’ve never had much reason to… But that doesn’t mean we don’t have faith… in you.”

All of that left another scar on him. A heavy burden he carried, marked by the sacrifice of those innocent souls. Alone. Once again. By his own actions. Nicotine and alcohol were his only refuge in that crushing loneliness. He eventually got back to smoking, though he had tried to stop. He needed it, to survive.

It was how he coped.

He had defied Hell, rejected Lucifer himself. Yet his ticket to heaven remained unattainable. Each victory, a step closer to his own damnation.

This victory was particularly bittersweet.

You saved Angela, John. What next? You’re still someone’s pawn in this war between heaven and hell.

The smoke from his cigarette rose in spirals, like the souls he hadn’t been able to save.

Now, he had to push Angela away so she wouldn’t become another victim because of him. If she ever came back to him, he would. For good. Or she would end up dying because of him.

Constantine had loved her. Like a man would fall for a woman. Her vulnerability had touched him and sent him back to his younger self. He had been her anchor in her sister’s death. But he couldn’t allow himself to accept any kind of long-term relationship nor any kind of friendship into his life. Despite the loneliness gnawing at him, he kept his walls high.

They kept his emotions in check and helped him stay detached from things. It had been how he always managed. But those walls had started to crumble with the deaths of his friends, giving way to anger. An anger so dark that it even surprised him. He couldn’t push it away, and it was consuming him entirely.

He bore a cross he could never escape, no matter how much he wished otherwise.

Constantine took another drag on his cigarette. He knew he didn’t deserve redemption. Yet there was someone who crossed his mind from time to time, a glimmer of hope in his bleak existence.

You.

You had to show up, didn’t you?

He hadn’t meant for you to see it. A nameless street, a broken neon cross buzzing in the dark, and him wrestling a figure that wasn’t supposed to exist in this world. You froze, breath caught, too human for the things clawing their way out of the shadows.

Wrong place. Wrong time

He should’ve sent you running.

Instead, you saw him.

He told himself he didn’t care. Told himself he’d already forgotten your face. But in the silence between drags from his cigarette, you were there watching him fight something that should never exist. A reminder he couldn’t shake.

A reminder he didn’t want to.

He couldn’t stop thinking about you, even though he knew it was a bad idea.He’d barely known you, but already you lingered in his head like smoke, refusing to clear.

He couldn’t allow himself to involve you in his cursed life. Not after what had happened to Angela, Beeman, Hennessy, Chaz.

He stubbed out his cigarette, the smoke rising like a ghost of what could have been. He had to push you away, just like he had to push Angela away.

Because if you ever got too close, you’d be in danger.

And he couldn’t bear the thought of losing someone else.

The sound of jazz echoed through the vast room of his studio. He heard the distant crash of pins from the bowling alley below. He buried himself in relic-hunting, trying to forget what had happened with Angela.

Constantine had seen death in the face again, and yet Satan still wanted to collect his soul, even after giving him a second chance at life.

He wanted to keep seeing you—alive—but wouldn’t even admit it to himself. He was a torrent of contradictions, and he knew it.

Then a knock came on his door.

The knock was persistent. Three sharp, then silence, then three more. Constantine didn’t move from where he sat on the edge of his bed, cigarette dangling from his lips.

“Go away,” he called out, not bothering to raise his voice much above the jazz record spinning in the corner.

The knocking came again. More insistent this time.

Constantine sighed, stubbed out his cigarette, and walked to the door. He opened it—and there you were. You stood in the dim hallway, your eyes wide, carrying a weight he recognized too well. Someone who’d seen something they couldn’t unsee. Your breath hitched as you met his gaze.

“I’ve been looking for you,” you said. “The priests gave me your address.”

He leaned against the doorframe, his expression unreadable.

“Nice. Now you can stop looking.” He started to close the door.

Your hand shot out, pressing against it. “Wait. I need to know what I saw that night.”

“No, you don’t.” His voice was flat, final. “Trust me.”

“The thing you were fighting… it wasn’t human.”

His jaw tightened and he scoffed. “You’re imagining things. Too much TV. Real life’s worse."

“I know what I saw.” Your voice was steady, but he could hear the tremor underneath. “And I know you saw me watching.”

“You shouldn’t be here,” he said, but the words lacked the bite he intended. He wanted to slam the door, to send you running before you became another name on his list of regrets. Just like Angela.

“You saw it too, didn’t you?” you pressed, stepping closer, close enough for him to catch the faint scent of rain on your skin.

“That thing in the alley. It wasn’t… normal. And now I keep seeing it. In my dreams. On the street. Everywhere.”

Your voice cracked, but you held his gaze despite the fear.

Constantine wanted to tell you to forget it, to go back to your life and pretend the world wasn’t rotting at the edges. But he knew better. Once you’d seen the truth, there was no going back.

“You’re in over your head,” he said dismissively, forcing distance between you. “Go home. Don’t come looking for me again.”

But you didn’t move.

“I just need to know I’m not crazy.” Your words hit him like a punch, echoing the vulnerability he’d seen in Angela, the same vulnerability that had cracked his walls before. He hated it. Hated you for standing there, for making him feel something when he’d sworn he wouldn’t again.

He stepped back, letting the door swing wider—not an invitation but a concession. “One conversation,” he said, voice flat. “Then you’re gone. For good.”

You nodded, stepping inside, your presence igniting the studio like a spark. He didn’t offer you a seat, didn’t offer you a drink. Instead, he leaned against the wall, arms crossed, watching you as you took in the cluttered space: books on demonology, half-burned candles, a bottle of whiskey on the table.

The jazz record hit a high note, sharp.

You spoke first, recounting the alley, the figure that wasn’t human, the way it looked at you like it knew you. He listened, jaw tight, recognizing the signs of a mark; a subtle one, not like Angela’s, but enough to draw attention from things that slithered in the dark. He didn’t tell you that. Didn’t tell you that your showing up here, now, was proof the war between heaven and hell had already noticed you.

“You need to stay away from me,” he suddenly said when you finished, his voice low, final. “People who get close to me don’t last long.” He thought of Beeman’s last words, of Chaz’s broken body, of Hennessy’s lifeless eyes. He wouldn’t add you to that list.

You stepped closer, confused, your eyes searching his. “But I’m not afraid of you. I’m afraid of what’s out there.”

Your words cut deeper than he expected, stirring something he’d buried under nicotine and guilt. For a moment, he saw you not as a liability, but as a mirror—someone else caught in the crossfire, just like him.

It was too soon to care, too stupid to get attached—but Constantine never got to choose the people who haunted him.

He turned away, lighting another cigarette to keep his hands busy. “You’re wrong about me,” he said, exhaling smoke. “I’m not your hero. I’m the guy who gets people killed.” He faced you again, his hazel eyes hard, but there was a flicker in them.

“Get out,” he said, pointing to the door. “Don’t come back.” His voice was cold, but his hand trembled slightly as he pointed, betraying the lie he told himself—that he could let you go without a second thought.

You lingered, your gaze holding his for a moment longer than it should have. “I’ll go,” you said softly.

You turned, stepping into the hallway, the sound of your footsteps fading into the distant clatter of bowling pins.

He slammed the door shut, harder than he meant to, the jazz record skipping as if in protest. He stubbed out his cigarette, the smoke rising like a ghost of what could have been.

The sound of jazz echoed again through the vast room of his studio, mingling with the echo of pins crashing below. He buried himself in relic-hunting, trying to drown the memory of Angela, of you, of everything.

He had seen death in the face again, and yet Satan still wanted to collect his soul, even after granting him a second chance at life.

And deep down, he knew you would be back.

The same pattern.

All over again.

In the smoke and shadows of his studio, danger and longing mixed, and he didn’t know which was stronger.

[starkenobi]

Demonic Domination | chapter one: lo hecho está hecho.

masterlist — demonic domination masterlist — prologue

Pairings: Natasha Romanoff x Reder; Bucky Barnes x Reader; Matt Murdock x Reader.

Summary: Y/N doesn’t classify herself as a vigilante or, as people on the internet say, an antihero. No, she’s just an occult detective with a fucking amnesia trying to create a new life beyond her secret mutant status. At first, she really tried to keep a normal civilian life, but it’s difficult when you’re rescued from a dark place by a man dressed as a mummy ninja calling himself Moon Knight. So, anyway, working as an occult detective makes her travel around the world, and it’s cool because it gives her a lot of stories… Until her feet touch New York grounds. It’s all downhill from there.

chapter warnings: none.

When Konshu announced that there was an important mission, Jake thought it would be another gang or a terrorist group, perhaps a theft of objects that humans shouldn't be playing with or even trafficking and clandestine sale of some artefact.

He expected everything except to find a house full of scientific paraphernalia and a girl locked in a dark room. A weapon in the wrong hands, Konshu said harshly, but Jake only saw a girl who had her life stolen and tortured.

A victim.

"Hey, I'm Moon Knight, I'll get you out of here, okay? Kid, can you hear me? Dammit, Steve, I can see she's unresponsive."

The young woman was covered in blood from head to toe, dried blood with clear signs of torture. It didn't take long to remove the iron chains that held her to the ceiling, but it took some work to get her out of the anklets, the shine and quality of the material indicating a high technology.

But nothing could be that simple with his missions. So, Jake felt several punctures in his abdomen and arms as soon as she was freed from the restraints. Red blades hit him with precision. Luckily, he was wearing the suit.

"Shit. She has powers. Couldn't you have warned us, Konshu?"

With no answers from the Egyptian god, with Steve talking too much in their headspace and Marc starting to get worried, Jake needed to act quickly before the situation really got out of control.

He tried to talk to the young woman once more, maybe calm her down with words before taking drastic measures. Maybe Steve could be right once again.

"We're here to help. You're safe now."

But when another red blade came out of the young woman and tried to hit him in the head, Jake knew there was no other option.

He muttered a somber "I'm sorry, kid." before knocking the young woman out in the head.

Sighing heavily, Jake picked her up and left that bizarre place. The night that had once been lit by the moon was now raining heavily, a clear sign of a sudden storm. Jake tried to ignore the strange feeling in his chest, but the news had confirmed that there’d be a week off of dry spell.

“What are we going to do now?” Steve asked in their headspace.

“I’ll put her in the taxi and take her home.” Jake declared.

“Home?” Marc repeated incredulously. “She needs a hospital and the police. We did our part.”

“Lo hecho está hecho.” Jake replied, putting an end to the discussion before it began. “We’re going to adopt the stray ​​while we don’t have answers, pendejo.”

—

Nothing like one day after another. A routine. No big news, the big gossip revolving around who ate whose sandwich that was in the office fridge or that the dog peed on someone’s shoe again.

From Monday to Friday there was no possibility of anything unexpected happening. Everything was safe. Full of rules. Monotonous to the extreme. A 9am to 4pm job, with about an hour for lunch, and the possibility of several trips to get a coffee.

Without the risk of dealing with angry customers since that was the most isolated part of the department. The actual activity was spent the whole day holed up in an office making calls, writing and reviewing paperwork before the deadline. While it’s good that the amount of paper's decreasing, thanks to technology, spending hours on a computer tired her eyes.

Anyway, was it possible to die from being exhausted from the same old thing? Sure, tired from so much work and the same old thing.

She was tempted to shout 'fire' and risk the work safety rules just to get some reaction on that fateful friday. It was at times like that that she, unfortunately, had to agree with Marc. Taking that job was a terrible idea.

Okay, she was making money fast, but at what cost?

However, she couldn't take other people's opinions into consideration, since Marc didn't know anything about the adult life of a mere mortal. Steven, fine, worked at the museum. Jake, maybe, he played cab driver sometimes. But Marc? Good heavens, Marc lived in a reality where his so-called weekly job was to be the fist of a naked bird!

“Necromancer, you can't keep avoiding your destiny.”

“Shit.” Y/N hissed under her breath as she spilled some of her coffee on the office desk, luckily not getting any paper dirty. “I'm bored, but it's not that deep.”

Frowning, she controlled herself from turning in the direction of the voice. It's best to pretend she didn't know it was there so it would go away quickly.

She then glanced discreetly at the computer screen, finding a slightly disfigured lady standing right behind her chair, hovering a few inches off the floor.

Sighing heavily, Y/N finished cleaning up the spilled coffee before drinking the liquid from the mug again. The visits were becoming more frequent, perhaps it was time to change jobs once again.

“Necromancer.”

“Fuck.” Y/N cursed impatiently.

Ignoring the looks from her coworkers, she got up in a hurry, walking to the kitchen in long strides. Pouring the rest of the coffee into the sink, she washed the mug giving up on caffeine.

Knowing that there would be no point in staying there working overtime, she went back to her desk to turn off her computer and grab her bag. She said goodbye to the group still in the office, quickly heading towards the emergency staircase. Going down the five flights of stairs with ease, it didn't take long to reach the small lobby.

She kept her pace fast until she passed through the door, stopping only after she reached the corner of the street to debate if it was better to go home walking or running.

“Necromancer, there’s no point in avoiding your fate.”

“Stop trying to collect a debt that doesn’t belong to me!” Y/N hissed, finally facing the spirit that was still following her.

“Do you really not remember, necromancer?”

She frowned, finding the question confusing. The spirits' behavior was becoming increasingly odd, and she wasn't sure how to feel about it. Before she could retort, the spirit disappeared in a blur at the same time she heard footsteps behind her.

“What are you doing standing here alone, bug?”

Turning around, she came face to face with Steven. “Huh, was trying to remember if I left the charger at the office before I went home for good.”

“If you say so,” Steven arched a brow, offering to hold her bag.

“What are you doing here, by the way?” Y/N asked, holding one of his arms before starting to walk again. “Came to make sure that I’m crossing the street safely?”

“Why do you make me feel like a senior father?” Steven lamented, allowing to be pulled by her in the direction of their apartment.

“Cause you guys decided to bring the ‘three men and a baby’ with a twist to real life?” She fired back, a smug smile on her face.

Steven flashed her a huge smile back. “Marc's saying that Jake's a terrible influence on you.”

“He's just saying that because I called him daddy in front of Layla.”

“What?”

“Oh, you didn't know?” Y/N smirked, knowing full well that Marc was still embarrassed. “Saw him trying to dismiss a woman at the door, so I called him daddy to make her uncomfortable and leave. But lo and behold, it was actually Layla.”

“Oh, that's hilarious.” Steven wheezed from how hard he's laughing.

“C'mon, less laughing and more walking.” She sassed him. “Wanna finish our Star Wars marathon this weekend.”

—

Do you really not remember?

Do you remember?

Open your eyes.

Remember.

Remem-

Y/N woke up with a start.

Trying to catch her breath, she noticed the sun had disappeared and the moon shone brightly in the sky. Shit. She fell asleep without planning to.

“My love.”

Y/N’s mind stuttered to a halt, before launching into motion as she quickly turned towards the female’s voice. “Fuck!”

“Eloquent as always, I see,” the woman said.

“Who the fuck are you?” Y/N hissed, grabbing the first thing within reach – her umbrella.

The woman raised her hands, a melancholic smile on her slips. “I was hoping my messengers were wrong, but it really seems you've forgotten.”

“I won't ask you again,” she growled.

“I have many names, some call me Rio.” the woman answered, her voice sweet as honey. “But you, my love, you know me as Death.”

“What?”

“I'm sorry, my love, I know now that you don't have your memories,” the woman, Death, smiled sweetly as she stepped closer. “But we have things to discuss now that you're free.”

Stood frozen, Y/N utterly stunned. “What?”

Death chuckled, snapping her fingers to make the umbrella disappear so she could hold Y/N's hands. “You've made an oath, my love, a long time ago.”

And I came to collect it.

Demonic Domination officially started! You'll notice some references from the mcu and the comics, I'm cooking something here and I really hope you guys like it! The first chapter is the last bit of introduction. So buckle up! From now on, we're going to start the real deal: following around the occultist detective and her harem Y/N Constantine and the gang.

comments, reblogs and likes are welcomed and appreciated! thank you for reading and supporting my writing 💜

follow the tag #demonicdomination to keep up with all updates and posts!

[iliumheightnights]

Constantine watching his son also flirt with Dick Grayson (YJ)

“That’s my boy!”

Zatanna: "That...shouldn't you say something?"

Constantine: "What? Why?"

Zatanna: "Cause you know....Batman and Nightwing..."

Constantine: "Zatanna. He's my son. He flirts with everyone. He'll be flirting it up with Superman and Flash next."

~Five seconds later~

M/n: "So Superman, ever take off the suit?"

[httpsobi]

Hey can u do a young justice team x John Constantine’s apprentice fem readers? Tysm 💗💗

TEAM, MEET... CONSTANTINE NUMBER 2?

WARNINGS/TAGS + sfw, gender neutral o/c or reader insert, vague descriptions of violence, blood and injuries from fights.

A/N + note that this constantine is based mainly on dc animated movie (a little bit of fanon mayhaps) 'cause i have yet to read any comics for him yet, but i hope you enjoy anyway:)!

★ gets thrown into the team on a whim decision by constantine ♥︎ he says it's for experience, she/he/they know that probably means he’s going on some reckless streak and needs to make sure there’s someone to babysit her/him/them

★ always back and forth between team and missions with constantine ♥︎ always comes back with the wildest fucking stories ♥︎ “yeah so that’s how i almost got trampled to death by a hoard of demon elephants” “BRO?”

★ batshit crazy ♥︎ has seen too much crazy shit that almost everything is normal for her/him/them now

★ always taking one for the team ♥︎ whether that’s stupid decisions or dangerous stunts, she/he/they do it and do it flawlessly ♥︎ mainly does so she/he/they can take the blame and get scolded because she/he/they genuinely couldn’t careless ♥︎ always bites back during after mission critiques with batman ♥︎ “oh? you thought that was a bad decision? what about that one time you attacked felix faust’s base when it turns out rich’s dumbass had actually taken over the house of mystery? yeah, yeah, how about we start with that? or would you like to discuss the time that you-” ♥︎ constantine gets a lot of shit from the league about her/his/their attitude but he’s too amused to address it

★ is not beyond starting a petty fight. or two ♥︎ absolutely fantastic for creating chaos as a cover

★ absolute best buddies with zatanna and artemis ♥︎ i know zatanna’s a bit weird fitting in to timelines, but i’m assuming constantine would be older in the yj universe ♥︎ her/his/their reckless and just chaotic energy works so well

★ rocks the same get-up as constantine ♥︎ beige trench, messy button-up and loose tie but with more flair ♥︎ messy mullet with streaks, makeup and many piercings ♥︎ is it practical? no. but does she/he/they look fantastic? hell yeah

★ has a miniature spellbook attached to a chain on their pant’s waist ♥︎ they occasionally enlarge it during battles to search for overly complicated spells

★ as the team gets older, she/he/they definitely drift away from both the team and the league ♥︎ but is still around a fair bit ♥︎ around enough to join on missions here and there and train every once in a while

★ still as problematic as she/he/they were back as a teenager ♥︎ definitely the one adult on the team who lets the younger members get away with hella stuff

★ still getting into fights during recons ♥︎ but now it's evolved from street brawls to bar fights ♥︎ she/he/they’ve matured y’knows ♥︎ you know the quote "evil never sleeps"? meet her/his/their new "the petty don't resty" ♥︎ finds that quote awfully amusing

all work n' writing is work of @httpsobi. i ask you please do not copy, rewrite, translate or post on other platforms without my consent.

[everlastingdreams]

The next chapter of the Constantine fic will be over 4000 words at least I think so. It’s getting scary, folks. 

[starkenobi]

Demonic Domination | PROLOGUE

starkenobi masterlist — demonic domination masterlist

Sumary: Y/N doesn't classify herself as a vigilante or, as people on the internet say, an antihero. No, she's just an occult detective with a fucking amnesia trying to create a new life beyond her secret mutant status. At first, she really tried to keep a normal civilian life, but it's difficult when you're rescued from a dark place by a man dressed as a mummy ninja calling himself Moon Knight. So, anyway, working as an occult detective makes her travel around the world, and it's cool because it gives her a lot of stories... Until her feet touch New York's ground. It's all downhill from there.

Pairings: Natasha Romanoff x Reder; Bucky Barnes x Reader; Matt Murdock x Reader. platonic!moon knight x reader.

General warnings: +18 romance; angst; fluff; smut; violence; torture; gore; explicit sexual content; not following 100% mcu events; bisexuality; pseudo harem; feelings.

chapter warnings: description of heavy negative feelings.

Hopeless.

She didn't feel anything but hopeless. Yet, she knew how to hide deep inside her. No one around her knew. She walked with a smile on her face, a happy voice, and warm hugs full of support. She couldn't show weakness. No one ever understood her. No one was capable of seeing beyond the act.

The house wasn't really a home. If she didn't abide by their orders, she got a lashing out. Yelling, threats, humiliations, beatings, basic necessities ignored, no money, no kindness. If she behaved like they wanted, she could have a little bit of what the others her age had. For a while, sometimes, she felt lovable.

But everything has a price. Nothing good is really for free. If it isn't money, it's your soul.

She tried leaving that place four times. The first they found the money she was saving and took it. The others were circumstances in life that they took advantage of to bring her down. They kept breaking her emotionally, physically, and mentally. Trying to tame her spirit. She couldn't really die, she tried. Nothing worked it. So she survived and kept fighting a silent battle every day. Pretending everything was fine because no one believed her pleas of help. She worked hard, studying harder. Nothing seemed to flourish. She thought it was a curse.

She was cursed.

And then when she thought she finally would escape that hell hole, she fell sick. They took her to the hospital. Pills that weren't what they said they were. Wires connecting her to machines. And drugs in her veins that left red trails. She wanted to die. She prayed and cried. And she pleaded and begged. But she couldn't die. And something wasn't right.

Everything burned. Everything hurt. Pain so much pain. She never felt that kind of pain, and she was used to different types and levels of pain. She couldn't breathe. Suffocating on despair. It wouldn't stop burning inside out.

Then everything became darkness. She couldn't see anything. Or hear. It was like she was trapped inside a black hole. She lost track of who she was. She forgot their faces, their voices. She forgot the house. She forgot the people who showed temporary veiled sympathy. She forgot the details. She couldn't feel her body. Or think straight. She lost the little things that she tried to call hers. She had nothing to grasp. Nothing but darkness and emptiness.

She became darkness and emptiness.

Then, she was only emptiness trapped in darkness.

For hours. Days. Weeks. Months. Years.

She wasn't herself.

She wasn't her.

She was nothing.

There was nothing.

The darkness became nothing too.

Nothing.

And then a sound.

And an explosion of light.

"Shh, I've got you. You're safe now."

Light. There is so much light.

Burning. Is that what's called light?

Couldn't see. Light burns.

"Hey, I'm Moon Knight, I'll get you out of here, ok? Kid, can you hear me? Dammit, Steve, I can see she's unresponsive."

It hurts. Everything hurts. And burns. Need darkness. It burns. Outside of nothing hurts.

"Shit. She has powers. Couldn't you have warned us, Konshu?"

No. No. Hurts. Burns. Back. Darkness. Where?

"We're here to help. You're safe now."

Help? What's help? Safe? Light hurts. Need... Something? Darkness. It's too much. Hurts. No. No. Not again.

"I'm sorry, kid."

Back to darkness.

She sighed in relief.

comments, likes and reblogs are welcome and appreciated! thank you for reading and supporting my writing 💜

note: hello! the first piece of the puzzle is here! it's not really a glimpse of what's coming in the first chapter, just a little something to start the party. chapter one is coming next month! ☺️✨️

follow the tag #demonicdomination to keep up with all updates and posts!

[iliumheightnights]

What do you think would happen to YJ Nightwing if he were sent to remnant along with constantine’s son? Do you thinking they’d be faunus?

Oh Nightwing would be a Faunus for sure. Just like Bruce. However instead of getting bat wings, Dick would gain puppy dog ears and a tail. As for his semblance, he'd either get better detective skills or perhaps better flexibility for his acrobatics.

Now as for Constantine's son. M/n would NOT be a faunus. He'd be a human. However, he wouldn't have a semblance, he'd actually keep his magic. Which is rare for anyone on Remnant.

Either way, Nightwing and M/n would be invaluable players in trying to get back to their world.