#john constantine x reader

Or: The one where they misunderstand what the positive test is for.

Includes: Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Wally West, Bruce Wayne, Clark Kent and John Constantine

Warnings: Reader is implied to be able to get pregnant, however I'm all for them being dumb enough to think they've managed even if it's not possible so you decide lol <3 Beside that, no real warnings, mostly fluffy and humorous.

Morph's thoughts: Hii everyone, this is my first dc comics fic AND first text!au fic ever :) I'm still trying to find everyone's "texting voices" and doing a bit of a trial and error with the formating of the screen shots, so if you have any feedback it's more than welcome!!

Includes: Wally West, Dick Grayson, Hal Jordan, Barry Allen, Roy Harper, Kyle Rayner, John Constantine & Guy Gardner

Summary: their reaction to you wearing their boxers

Content/CW -> gn! reader + afab! reader (Roy's part), slightly suggestive, mentions of blood (Roy + Guy's part)

— requested by anon <3

froggi yaps -> trying to give our underappreciated men a little more love so here is some guy and johnstantine <3 i know this one is a little silly but i hope you guys still enjoy :p

You grab/smack their ass ( bruce wayne, dick grayson, tim drake, jason todd, roy harper and john constantine)

eh

basically black cat x golden retriever but the golden retriever switches up based on the guy I guess? moments where they crack the surface of their gf

please don't forget my man constantinople🙏🏻🙏🏻

can you tell I fucking suck at writing requests

Black Cat x Golden Retriever

featuring: Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Bruce Wayne, Wally West, Clark Kent, John Constantine, Zatanna Zatara

warning: fluff

A/N: ABSOLUTELY LOVE THE IDEA TWIN, THANK YOU!! Being surrounded by British people paid off cuz I did pick up some sayings, and used them for John’s part LMAOOO. Anyway, I hope you enjoy reading this <33

✧˖° 𝐷𝑖𝑐𝑘 𝐺𝑟𝑎𝑦𝑠𝑜𝑛

✧˖° 𝐽𝑎𝑠𝑜𝑛 𝑇𝑜𝑑𝑑

✧˖° 𝐵𝑟𝑢𝑐𝑒 𝑊𝑎𝑦𝑛𝑒

✧˖° 𝑊𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑦 𝑊𝑒𝑠𝑡

✧˖° 𝐶𝑙𝑎𝑟𝑘 𝐾𝑒𝑛𝑡

✧˖° 𝐽𝑜ℎ𝑛 𝐶𝑜𝑛𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑒

✧˖° 𝑍𝑎𝑡𝑎𝑛𝑛𝑎 𝑍𝑎𝑡𝑎𝑟𝑎

𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐮𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐡 𝐨𝐧 𝐦𝐞𝐝𝐬

pairings: platonic!batfam x medium!gn!reader (+platonic!john constantine) summary: they wrote you off as sick, not right in the head. Whispered how your mind shows you things that don't exist. Instead of listening to you when you told them about the ghosts you saw, they upped the dose of your medications. But the ghosts were never fully felt; instead of seeing them clearly, you only saw their shadows, so you learned to keep quiet, worried that the higher dose might end up killing you. tags: mentions of medication and being high, the family thinks reader is crazy, they're wrong tho, death mentioned? reader is called peculiar in a derogatory way a/n: added John to make it a tiny bit funnier, hope you like it :3 might make a part two

part two

Bruce knew there was something wrong with you from your first steps in the manor. At first he thought the soulless look in your eyes and staring off into the distance was due to you witnessing your mother's death. Maybe you witnessed something you were not supposed to.

Then Jason mentioned that he heard you talk to yourself, talking about how you mumbled 'be quiet' when he entered the room even though nobody was there. Dick told him a similar thing a few times as well, even though he hadn't been visiting the manor as often since Jason's arrival, let alone (name)'s. Bruce brushed off the boys at first, explaining to them how you're young and were probably playing with an imaginary friend of yours.

It took Alfred expressing worry over your behaviour for Bruce to decide to investigate it himself.

At first he didn't notice anything out of the ordinary, for him at least. While, yes, you were a little… peculiar with the way you played with the toys he bought you or the way you would wander the manor at night as if you were looking for something. He just thought you had never got to play with the toys before, and that's why you didn't know how to play, and the wandering he brushed off as you being kept awake by nightmares.

It was only when he caught you in a study after a long patrol. He saw that the lights were on and thought that Alfred forgot to turn them off when he was inside. You sat at one of the chairs, staring at the sofa. You nodded along as if someone was telling you a story, then told that person that you don't know how to help them. Except there was no one in the room other than you and now Bruce.

"(Name)? "Who are you talking to?" He asked, fully stepping inside.

"Oh! I'm just talking to Ms Sherry." You lighten up when you realise Bruce had returned. She could actually use your help—"

"(Name), sweetheart, there's no one on this couch." He walked up to you, crouching down in front of the chair you were sitting on. "It's just us two here, nobody else."

"But Ms Sherry is right there! She's staring at you, don't you see?" you pointed, pouting. "Ms Sherry, say something."

"Enough of that, (name); let's get you to bed." Bruce picked you up, making sure your arms were around his neck before he started to walk.

"But she was there! I see her all the time," you sniffled, looking behind Bruce at Ms Sherry. "Other people too, there are so many of them, more than in my mummy's house!"

"We'll… talk about it in the morning, sweetheart," he promised you.

You two did talk the next day, just not the way you thought you would. Bruce took you somewhere first thing in the morning, to the building with white walls, tiled floors and small windows. He asked you to repeat what you told him the previous night to a woman in white clothes and a kind smile. You knew that Bruce wouldn't bring you to someone that would be mean to you, so you obediently told the woman about Ms Sherry and other people you saw.

By the end of your story, she asked to speak to Bruce outside and told you to wait in the room.

After returning, Bruce told you that you will stay with the doctor for a bit and that she will help you.

When you grew up, you learned that the doctor you stayed with was a psychiatrist and the building you stayed in was a hospital.

And that they didn't really help you. Even if everyone around you thought they did. They gave you pills, but those people you only saw were still there, just a little more blurred. You attended sessions, and after each one the people became more and more blurred. The woman kept it up until you realised that you will only be allowed to come back to Bruce and Alfred if you stop talking about the people, or shadows, since that's what they were reduced to.

The years went by and your family grew, yet you didn't get close to them after Dick and Jason. The badge of being mentally unwell stuck to you over the years, and most of Bruce's kids learnt to keep their distance. Most of them weren't outright mean to you, but you knew that there was a part of you that made them uncomfortable.

You researched more about the shadows that you saw when you thought nobody was looking, finding out they're most likely ghosts and that you're not sick, just a medium. You wondered if your mother was a medium as well or if you got it from other parts of your family. But that knowledge didn't stop you from taking your pills each morning and ignoring the whispers of the shadows around you.

You were going about your day as usual when John Constantine came by the Batcave to help Batman with something. He was going over the evidence they gathered when he froze, sensing another strong presence inside the manor.

"Huh, that's weird," he mumbled, furrowing his brows.

"What?" Bruce asked, thinking it was something about the case.

"I'm sensing something," John explains, leaving the papers on the table.

He talked out of the cave and into the manor, with Bruce and his kids following closely behind.

You were in the back patio, reading a book on your lap when a blonde man barged in.

"Hello there." He greeted you with a grin. He squinted his eyes as he stared at you. "You're peculiar, aren't you?"

"I'm sorry?" You asked, the book falling from your lap. The last time you heard someone referring to you as such was when Bruce was introducing you to Tim.

"No, that's a good thing!" the man cackled, walking up to you. "You can see dead people, right?"

"What? No…" You look away, your body feeling hot in embarrassment.

"They can't see dead people," Bruce explained from behind the man.

"Well, not now! Take 'em off drugs," the man scoffed, crouching down in front of your chair. "I'm telling you the power they have seeps through even when you have them high, so just imagine what they can do when you take them off."

"John, we can't," Bruce tried to argue.

"They're sick—" Damian scoffed, ready to say more, but the blonde man stopped him.

"Yeah, sick of your bullshit," John spat, looking back at your family. "You're destroying their liver or something just because you couldn't be bothered to think they might not be lying about seeing dead!"

You watched him take out a small paper out of his pocket, handing it to you. You took it, reading the words on it and realising it had his full name and a phone number on it.

"Seriously, kid, stop taking those meds; you don't need them," he suggested, standing up. "A week off should be enough, and after that call me, I'll help you."

John went back inside the manor after that, leaving you to stare down at the paper and your family to stare at you. It was then that the realisation hit Bruce.

Maybe instead of taking you to a mental facility like the internet suggested when you told him about the people you saw, he should've looked deeper into it and got you actual help.

For now, he will just have to hope you'll forgive him.

dc taglist: @maaaahhhiii @kiiyoooo @darkmoka @iglb12 @cruzerforce4256 @wisefuncherryblossom @dannyisdying @a31f @xsoupnoop @analuixxy @ael-ly @seahzae @cssammyyarts @val-ley @tainted-artist4161 @ksmy3 @vampire-oc-lover @chanelx00 @luv-luv-lover @numbu5 @wrenbirde @th0rn118 @geastherat @miuangel @gaychaosgremlin @sentinl @its-awleys-me @anqlicyx @malewifefckr @diamondnightsky23

Neglected Reader x John Constantine

Solitude can be a sickness, loss damnation, and faith salvation.

Trigger warning: sacrifice, murder, possession, and unwanted touch. Loosely based on Nosferatu (2024)

She was not a wanted child; she knew that much at eight years old. Her father wasn’t mean, but he wasn’t warm either. Her whole life had been the mansion, Alfred, and Father. At first, she didn’t understand the absence of love he gave her. 

That changed when twelve-year-old Richard Grayson came into their lives. It didn’t matter how angry Richard got; Father was there for him. And so, her chest ached at the sight, her heart beating fast and painfully against her ribcage. 

She didn’t know how to ask to be seen, and she was afraid Father would never learn how to look at her. 

She couldn’t count how many times she had sat alone in the little chapel behind the mansion, praying, finding comfort in the chirping birds and the breeze blowing through the leaves. 

Since childhood, she had prayed for the city, never feeling close enough to Alfred or Father to pray for them. But solitude was devouring her, and it had never felt as big as it did in the twilight when a heavy storm hit while she was in the chapel. There was no light, so night fell while she surrounded herself with dozens of candles. It was a horrible night: the stained glass trembled under the heavy wind, and the thunder was so powerful that she was afraid one of the big trees outside the chapel could crush the structure. 

No one came for her, not Alfred, not Father. She had begged someone, anyone, to love her. She cried, she pleaded, while the storm drowned her voice. 

She walked alone the next morning to the mansion.  

"It’s quite early to go pray, don’t you think?" 

While Richard’s words were not unkind, it still made her feel ashamed, to be so unimportant that no one noticed her missing all night.  

She was fourteen when Father and Richard fought, and Jason came into their lives. Richard had never been her brother. But Jason? Jason was. He was her little brother, the one who would seek her out, who whispered in a small voice that he loved her. 

Jason was her whole heart, her true first family. His night activity sometimes made it impossible to keep in touch daily, but they put letters in each other’s rooms; reminders of how much the other meant, wishes of good luck, or even simple good mornings or good nights. 

About a month before her eighteenth birthday, Jason died while she was away visiting colleges. Bruce said he was in the wrong place at the wrong time; still, she knew it was his fault.  

"He chose this," it was barely a whisper from Bruce, but she heard it. "He didn’t hear me." 

Rage filled her mind. 

"He was a kid," maybe it was the venomous voice that surprised him; maybe it was that she didn’t keep her usual silence. "He wanted to make you proud, and you pushed him over and over to be better, to do better." Bruce looked at her like he was seeing her for the first time. "He wanted your love, and all you gave him was your disappointment." 

That was the last time they saw each other for a long time. She walked away the next morning and never looked back.  

Jason was gone, her family was gone. And once again, she was all by herself.  

The grief was so overwhelming that she couldn’t even bear to be in the States, where the Justice League were news at least once a day, where Bruce Wayne or Batman was mentioned without fail. She moved to England, started college in English literature, and used her free time to help in a nearby church.  

She graduated with few friends by her side, so the loneliness that had feasted on her since youth came back with full revenge; deeper than before, scratching over the scar Jason’s absence left in her heart. 

It was only while she kneeled before God that she felt she could breathe. She asked the reverend mother to join, to let her pledge her life to God. 

She didn’t say yes, but she let her stay and help the other novices. 

At first, John Constantine was just another congregant, who didn’t stay for long but kept coming back for holy water. One unlucky day, he came just when she was cleaning the stoup. He looked aggravated at her sight and demanded she make him more holy water.  

"Just pray!" He demanded, putting a bottle of water in her hands. "Come on, sister. I don’t have all day." 

She wanted to say she wasn’t a sister but decided it couldn’t hurt to bear with him just this time. She made a quick prayer, enough to see the man mutter a short thanks and run out.  

"You are not a sister," he said a week later.  

"Never said I was," she replied.  

"I could have died." 

His statement confused her. 

"Because I gave you back the water you told me to pray at?" 

"No, because I need real holy water to do my job," he said. "And somehow your fake water was better than my usual holy water." 

She looked bewildered at him. He didn’t wait for her reply before putting his palm over her forehead. 

"A priestess," he confirmed in seconds. "Who do you pray to?" 

"What?" This man had only confused her with each interaction. 

"You must be a favorite if they marked you without your knowledge." 

"Sir, if you are drunk, we have coffee next to the confessional." 

He laughed at her words. 

"I’m tipsy, love. Not drunk." The deep smell of cheap perfume and whiskey hit her nose. "You’re American; it’s more common to find priestesses in Asia," he replied like that meant something to her. "Don’t go around praying for anyone. You’re lucky I’m not that greedy." He warned her before he left. 

She hoped not to see him again. 

And that hope held true for a while, until a chilly evening in November a somber group came upon the church. There was something wrong in the way they walked or spoke, but the reverend mother received them anyway. Just like her, the other sisters felt nervous around the group, but they followed orders and started to serve bowls of soup. 

The food fell to the floor before anyone could taste it; in a moment, sweet Bethany laid on the floor in a pool of blood. Before the blink of an eye, three other sisters fell, and for a moment she comforted herself thinking of Jason. 

She had never searched for death, but she was not afraid of it. There was little she held dear in this world, so she thought of how she could hold her little brother again if she held on through a glimpse of pain.  

The pain came, but it was not her end.  

"Tie her up in the middle," a familiar voice said. "I have kept the little lamb pure; this works better when they are free of vows." 

Her vision was blurry. They laid her on the cold floor, and with the tips of her fingers she touched the sticky, clotted blood under her. Her voice was barely a whisper, begging them to stop; they ignored her in favor of drawing some runes on her head and arms. 

A cacophony of voices started to rise. The words were confusing, like a bastard version of Latin, full of wrongness, and before she could start to decipher them, an overwhelming heat started to burn her. She could barely hear her own scream over the pain that clouded her mind. It didn’t stop; this pain was not over. It lasted so long she believed herself in hell. 

She wanted it to stop. 

She had been good. 

She had been good all her life. 

Was that not enough? 

But she was not strong as Bruce. 

Or smart enough to follow her instinct. 

She trusted these people needed help. 

She was a fool. 

But she wasn’t bad. 

She wasn’t deserving of this pain. 

The fire was festering inside her, like a sickness, almost near her heart... a whisper was all she heard, and all she needed. 

"Pray," it said. 

Her scream ceased, and with a hoarse voice she started to pray; not like she had learned in that place, but how she used to pray in the small chapel behind Wayne Manor. The fire inside her persisted, but it was tolerable; it faded with each word out of her mouth.  

"She is blessed," a voice rose in panic. "Fuck! Fuck!" 

"So that means she has even greater power! Keep the ritual! 

"And risk being cursed myself? You know what happens when someone kills a favored priestess?" A bitter laugh left one of the men’s lips. "I’m out." 

"Come back coward!" 

It must have been desperation; they hit her with something heavy on the head. She lost consciousness, and while her mind was far away in darkness, near the veil of death, an entity that had been lurking around her since childhood entered her body. 

Her eyes opened; there was no sclera, only deep blackness. Her face was full of joy, and a wide smile bloomed from her lips as her face turned to her captors. 

"Oh, reverend mother, I must thank you for opening the path to my beloved." The voice that sprouted from her mouth was masculine, with a roughness like he had been screaming for a long time; it sounded decayed. "Let me pay you," the voice hissed with a delighted laugh. 

The shock of this presence was forgotten when the body of the woman they had tried to sacrifice lifted into the air... the possessed body rose first with her chest, like a broken doll lifted by a hand; the smile never left the creature’s face. They screamed, because the entity that had opened its way to her was rotten, and smiling so sweetly that not even fear was enough to describe their horror. 

Those who tried to run were the first to break, their ribs opening like a flower and piercing through flesh in a grotesque painting. 

"Ah, I fear I’m quite a jealous creature," it laughed. "This little lamb is mine, mother." Her hands traveled from her ribcage to her breast. "And you dared to touch it, but I thank you for bringing her closer to me," it said, while her hands kept traveling to her neck. "So, I will be merciful." 

The smile grew so impossibly big that the skin looked about to rip open. Black fire surrounded the reverend mother, turning her to ash in a few seconds. The rest of the attendants looked in fear; the last thing they saw was the creature’s smile while it kept touching its host body.  

"Alright, mate, it’s time to go." 

The creature turned to see a blond man in a trench coat, his hand glowing with golden energy before he summoned a ball that impacted its beloved’s chest. It burned their connection; he let out a raw scream before cutting himself out of her body. It didn’t matter; he had marked her. All he had to do was wait, and so he would, patiently. 

. . . 

Her first instinct was to bolt out and scream for help. 

"Shhhh, it’s alright, love. You got yourself in quite a mess." 

She recognized him as the man who had called her a priestess, and before that night she had called him a crazy drunk. 

"A voice," she barely whispered. "A voice told me to pray." 

The man studied her in silence. 

"Did they hit you when you were praying?" He asked before drinking from the flask hidden in his pocket. 

"I think so." 

"Then you left a door open to intruders. Untrained priestesses are prone to possession, and one quite powerful like you are even worse. The more power you have, the bigger the risk." 

"You didn’t tell me that last time." 

"You didn’t believe it, and it’s not my problem." 

"No, is not" 

Her reply surprised him; more people would have used the opportunity to blame him.  

"I could teach you how to close the door, with a lock and everything, but you would have to make lots of holy water, now that my favorite church is a crime scene." 

"No money?" 

"Got any?" 

Maybe it was the skeptical tone, but it made her laugh. She wasn’t in the public scene like the rest of the Waynes, but she had a big trust fund. 

She found out his name was John Constantine. He was quite rude, a heavy smoker, and kind of a functional drunk, but weeks later she found herself enjoying his snarky remarks, his bratty attitude over “demon assholes” who didn’t know how to stay in hell, and his rogue, handsome face that looked one blink away from sleeping in the streets. 

"Well, I would say your soul is heavily guarded," John said. "Congratulations, love." 

He expected her to say goodbye; he had never been very good at keeping friends. 

"I would like to stay," she replied. "I want to use this power to help, but more than anything, I wish to stay with you, John." 

John knew that if she stayed, he would not be capable of letting her go ever again. He had given her a way out, and he was not a saint, just a functional drunk magician who was way too selfish... so he kissed her, tame at first, but when she replied, he let his arms hold all of her while he deepened the kiss. 

He had never liked to do good girls; he had been happier with messy relationships, doomed to fail —quick affairs from job to job— and he couldn’t even remember the last lover who had been human.  

But it had been such a long time since he’d had a partner; not just a lover, but someone steady with whom he could be vulnerable. Because she had his back, just like he had hers. Maybe this was his sweet tooth, making its way into his taste in partners. 

Who would have thought about it? The Hellblazer suddenly was a force of two people. His love not only had a knack for praying and making holy water, she was quite good at sealing and tying... God, she really was quite good at tying, and he got jealous of the few demons who had gotten the pleasure of feeling her binding them. 

And his good girl got quite cheeky over time. At her core she was goodness incarnated, but she and he had lots of fun traveling from city to city before returning to their home in the House of Mystery. The house made sure to show who was its favorite, and it was not John, but he could not blame the sentient property. His sweet love was his favorite too.  

So, when he told her that Batman had contacted him, the silence that followed made him worried. 

"Are you okay, love?" 

"Are you going to accept?" 

"It sounds like a drag," he confessed.  

"You could do good work." 

"Not we?" He asked, confused.  

"I have not seen my father in a long time, and I don’t wish to change that." He gasped at her words. 

"B-Batman?" He stuttered. 

He heard her sigh. 

"Yes, but I know him better as Bruce Wayne." 

He laughs at that. 

"The dumbest millionaire is a facade? Damn, he is good." He halted for a moment. "Love, are you rich?" 

"No, I should have some sort of relation with my father for that," she told him. "I have a trust fund, wealthy enough, but not rich." 

"Wealthy is fine for me." He lit a cigarette between his lips. "Then we hate the Waynes? And fuck Batman and his justice dummies?" 

She laughed at his way to comfort her. John was loyal, at his core he was a good man, but he was egoistic enough to choose her over duty.  

"It’s not that deep. I was not a wanted child," she confessed. "I could have lived with his apathy, but I resented him when my younger brother died. Jason was everything." Her voice was barely a whisper, but the deep emotion in her eyes showed her sadness. "He was a bright boy, my only brother, with a love for books and a need for Father’s approval." She had not talked about Jason since leaving Gotham. "I was searching for colleges in New York, far away from Gotham but near enough to visit him. I planned a whole life where my brother would even stay the weekend with me. I was going to rent an apartment with two bedrooms. We would have hit all the big bookstores so he could choose all the books he wanted, have fun without the pressure of being in Gotham... so for a moment he could be a kid and not Robin." 

John studied her for a moment. 

"Maybe all that life died with him, but not his older sister," he said. "And I’ve got the feeling you lived like a ghost for a long time. You will always love your brother, sweetheart, but it doesn’t make you a bad person choosing happiness." 

"I know." Her eyes were red with unfailing tears. "But I couldn’t accept living while my brother was gone." A whimper broke out of her mouth. "But since I started to help you, I have been thinking how terribly happy he would have been to see all the magic, my power as a priestess." 

“A fan of magic, uh?” He blows a smoke cloud “My love, you're a priestess, even if death his soul would cherish your blessing” 

That got her attention. 

“It would reach him?”  

“Sure, people underestimated a blessing, but It soak you in good luck. If he was alive, it could help him miss a stray bullet. While it would not avoid death, it can improve the chance to get out from a bad situation” he explains “I imagine your brother must be in heaven, so it would help him feel you near, even get some nice candy”  

A shrine got a permanent spot on their home. One day Constantine found himself talking to Jason’s photo. 

“I love your sister, so while I can’t ask you, I think the less I can do is informing you that...” He opened the box in his hand “I’m about to commit myself to her, for ever and ever and all that chit chat” he hides the box once again “Wish me luck, Kid” 

She says yes, they have a long night of love making, and John starts his own ritual of asking Jason for “luck” on his way to a job.  

The years are good for them; danger comes and goes, but they overcome it together.  

Sometimes John lends a hand to Justice Dark, Batman grunts his disapproval every time he rejects to form part of it; and while he can be a prick, he is a loyal husband. 

No life is perfect, but together the days feel quite unforgettable. 

Then, little towns around New Jersey started to get sick, and all clues pointed to Gotham, the city his wife avoided for the longest time becomes hell in a matter of a few days.  

Sickness spreads, fog torrent by the streets, and at night electricity wither leaving people turning their desperation to candles. 

They have been there for two days when his wife notices her power is getting weak. All these years they have never searched for the source of them but is not hard to figure out they are tied to Gotham.  They go to the first place she has ever prayed, to the mansion that never felt like home. 

Bruce Wayne’s affairs are very public; they know of his flock of children but when they arrive is made very clear they ignore he had an older daughter.  

The reunion is awkward.  

Alfred has to take the kids away.  

“Constantine, what are you doing here with my daughter?” 

“Not surprised to know I know you are Batman?” 

“I noticed the second you came here” his sight turned to his daughter “this a dangerous breach of information, I hope you don’t have a tendency of trust everyone you know” 

She sent him a dirty look. 

“Relax, mate” Constantine pulls himself in front of his women "or would you like if I called father-in-law? She didn’t tell me right away you were Batman, but when you invite me to your super prudes club she had to told me, I’m not down to do business without my wife” 

For the first time in his life, he sees Batman gape 

“What?” 

 “Don’t concern yourself with our presence, we are here for a job, not some unwanted family reunion” she told him trying to hide her rage.  

His wife's word appears to do the trick; Wayne looks gutted and guilty. Constantine knows he was never the best father to his wife, but to never told any of his other kids she existed? And let's not forget the little entitled Robin believing himself as the only blood kid and trying to stab his wife while calling her a liar.  

Yeah, family reunion sucks.  

So, they make themself scarce and go straight to the chapel behind the manor.  

They step in an every candle light up in seconds. 

In the middle a dark form rise, veil hiding her factions. 

“I’m Gotham” she tells them “an entity formed by the hopes and fears of the citizens, while my streets are dangerous there is a pride for those than survive the hardness on it, I held dear my people, even those than hurt others, is my nature to love all of you” she confess “Of course I have those that I like more; like my knights, but is you whose I love the most” she smile serene “you were young, but I heard your prayers for the city, I think you believed you prayed for the people on it, but in a way I’m the people of Gotham” 

“So, you made her a priestess” spoke Constantine “untrained, by the way” 

“It was my mistake; I have never got one before” she walks to them “in my need to soak you in my love, I fear you gained unwanted attention" 

“Whose?” she asks 

“Unintentionally or not, the city lies on top of an old curse. A being than have been prisoned for centuries; I don’t know if it was insane before or ages of solitude has made them fall in madness, but when you prayed to me, the creature heard you” her voice lower an octave “He couldn’t reach you while you were under my protection, but that night when you were possessed a fracture was created, so tiny that I didn’t feel it waiting there” 

“And now he acts” Johns hear his wife speaking “but he spread sickness through towns, why not through me?” 

“He fancies himself in love with you” Gotham reveals. 

“Oh, fuck no!” curses John “I already put a ring on it, she is taken! Very taken!” 

“Please tell me he didn’t fall in love with me when I was a kid, oh my god” his wife made a sound of disgust “It was bad enough I got one possession, but this is way creepier” 

“We must act with haste before he regains his full power” Gotham told them “I tried to hold him, but he has acquired help, and something rotten is poisoning me. You must have feel it already, my priestess, our power is fading” she warns “I can’t keep this form for long, call for me if you are in need” 

The candles blow out with Gotham leave.  

John pulls his wife to him and hugs her desperately. 

“We can quit this job” he told her “That horrible family reunion must have been our final warning that this was a bad idea” 

“If he breaks free, he will follow me”  

He hates that she is right but can’t stop feeling they are at the edge of the cliff.  

She takes his face between her hands; they kiss briefly.  

“You and me, all that matters” 

“You and me” repeat John in a whisper. 

All goes to hell in few days.  

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I have plans for a second part, but I’m a little stuck with my ideas, so any suggestion is welcome. I’m thinking of doing a POV from Jason, but it’s possible this might end like Nosferatu—yeah, not a happy ending. This is the calm before the storm.

And I’m thinking of using Barbatos instead of Nosferatu, or just leaving the monster nameless

( comic masterlist / main masterlist / taglist )

⋆ starring: dick, jason, wally, roy, hal, constantine ⋆ cw: NSFW 18+, MDNI, f!reader, established relationships (except in constantine's), suggestive texts, pranks, jealousy, fluff, swearing ⋆ a/n: constantine's is soooo cheesy oh my god BEWAREEE i cringe more and more everytime i re-read the texts but whateeverrrrr

Dick Grayson:

Jason Todd:

Wally West:

Roy Harper:

Hal Jordan:

John Constantine:

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