#anyways! i hope you'll like this! and i hope you'll have a lovely day or night ahead! <3< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[mrsclrakey]

Hiiiii! Thank you, just saw you answered my request for the nickname sotory. It was lovely, short and sweet!

I'm looking forward to all the others you'll write!

If you need any more ideas, you could do one about the moment G has that click that his partner should move in, how they're already so domesticated and used to each other that they might as well.

Or another one when G is playing some sort of videogame with his partner, and she wins, and he's actually shocked, and his ego was bruised (all jokes) because she wasn't even being competitive or a mean winner. But he's happy because she still surprises him.

TYSM for the request I really loved writing this one, I hope one day in the future I get to move in with my partner

STORY NAME-💞You might as well stay💞

The smell of coffee drifts through the air, mixing with the soft hum of the kettle. George leans against the kitchen counter, watching you from the doorway. You’re standing there in his hoodie—again—barefoot, humming softly as you pour cereal into a bowl like you’ve done it a hundred times.

Because you have.

“Oi, that’s my hoodie,” George teases, a lazy grin tugging at his lips.

You glance over your shoulder, smirking. “And? It’s basically mine at this point.”

He chuckles, pushing off the counter to join you. “Fair. Looks better on you anyway.”

It’s so casual. So normal. You’re brushing against him as you reach for a spoon, hair still messy from sleep, and George realizes he doesn’t remember the last time his mornings didn’t look like this. Your toothbrush is by his sink. Your favorite mug is on his shelf. Your playlists are saved on his speakers.

You belong here.

And he’s been treating it like you don’t.

“Hey.” His voice softens.

You glance up, cereal in hand. “What?”

George hesitates. How does he even say it? Move in with me sounds big, formal—like something that should come with flowers or a grand speech. But this isn’t grand. It’s easy. Natural.

“You know you’re basically living here already, right?” he says, scratching the back of his neck. “I mean, half your stuff’s here. You’ve claimed my hoodies. My bed doesn’t feel right without you hogging the duvet.”

You blink, a spoonful of cereal halfway to your mouth. “Are you saying I’m annoying?”

George laughs, shaking his head. “No. I’m saying… you might as well stay. Properly.”

The spoon clinks back into the bowl. “Stay?”

“Yeah.” He steps closer, gaze softening. “Move in. Let’s stop pretending you don’t live here already.”

Your eyes search his face, looking for the joke—but it’s not there. It’s just George, with that boyish smile and messy hair, offering you something that already feels like yours.

“Are you sure?” you ask, voice small.

George cups your face, thumb brushing your cheek. “I’ve never been more sure. You and me, yeah? Feels right.”

A smile spreads across your face, slow and warm. “Guess I’ll keep the hoodie, then.”

He grins, leaning in until your foreheads touch. “Guess you will.”

[leviackermanstoes]

Hii! How are you? I hope you’re doing great how about a cure little scenario of alucard x female reader where alucard is developing feelings for readers but him being a dhampir is making him have doubts about her returning his feelings since she’s a vampire hunter (they get along with a eachother tho since they fight the same enemies) just a cute little hurt comfort one shot if you don’t mind my request also don’t forget to take care of yourself! Have a great day🤍

OOOOOOH I LOVE THIS IDEA!! Our boy just needs a break for real😭

Uhh, tw for slight darker themes? Im not sure. Mostly just hurt and angsty, though! We love pining and desperate alucard <3

--- this is sorta crap---

Alucard stood against the railing of his castle, waiting for you to return. He knows you're probably out there fighting some creature with trevor and sypha and he's not quite sure why he didn't go with you.

The moon is very much high and sparkling when you return, smelling of metal and blood. All you see when you come into Alucard's room is him on his balcony, and you know he's deep in thought by the way his fingers fiddle at his sides.

"Adriān?" You say softly.

You don't seem to break him out of his trance, but he's noticed you enough to turn his head a little to the side as he waits for you to come up beside him.

Alucard doesn't say anything, but his eyes tell you everything you need to know. He's been here waiting for you to come back.

"How long have you been up here?"

Alucard sighs. "Long enough, I smelt the blood on you before you even left to come back here"

"Adriān, we've talked about this, you don't have to wait up for me, you know that"

But he wants to. More than anything in this world that bothers alucard, the thing that bothers him the most is not knowing whether you'll live or die. Alucard fears his own mind before anything else, letting the worst thoughts get into his head and only seeing you would bring them away. And he hates it. He feels as though if you knew that he almost suffocates without you here, you would think he was pathetic and cowardly.

"It's not like i sleep anyways," he chuckled.

"Fine you win this time"

The questions lingers around on your tongue as it pops into your head. You don't want to ask it but seeing Alucard's bright and pearly face smiling down at the moon lit forest, somehow you feel this is the right time to ask him.

"Did you do this with other people you cared about too?"

Alucard's eyes flicker with something immeasurably unsure. He doesn't know what to say to that. Obviously, he has cared about people before, and he's always worrying about trevor and sypha and what their doing. But he can't say he's stood up like this for any past lovers and he isn't going to say that because he knows your not a lover.

Friend, co hunter, everything but a lover.

"Yes, I have. I suppose nothing to this extent as quite, but i have had people to worry about" alucards voice is tense but soft in the way he says it.

"And what about your past lovers?" You asked him.

"My past lovers...well... most of them were just regular people. And I did love them, though too long, and most of them died before I had a chance to marry them"

You regret asking him. You can see how much your question has affected him by how tense his voice is and the tightness in his muscles. How his voice doesn't sound like a whisper anymore but more of a poet reading to his own piece of paper.

"Im sorry, alucard, i didn't mean to -"

"Stop" he holds up a sharp nail. "It's alright. No apology needed darling",

"Could you ever fall in love with me the way you did with them?"

You don't know what came over you to ask him that, maybe it was the nonsense spilling into your brain about 'ask him now before it's too late' maybe you just were too impatient to wait and see if the man you'd had fallen for over a decade has gained any sense of love for you.

"Of course. Gods above i-"

Alucard stopped himself. Like he had been forcibly silenced by an unknown force. Or maybe the thought of what happened to his mother could happen to her too. And alucard would end up just like his father, but instead of burning the village, he would burn the world.

"Adriān please just tell me" you spoke softly as you put your hand on his cheek.

Cold to the touch but barely tinged pink. Alucard's cool golden eyes met yours as he shifted his position so he was standing infront of you.

"Yes, yes of course I could love you...i-...I do. I do love you. Like nothing else has ever loved before, I am utterly and completely fallen for you"

Alucard dropped to his knees before you. You were shook at what you were seeing. Before you could do anything else, the sound of his cries softly tuned out the gentle rain coming down. You knelt before him.

"Adriān...why do you cry?"

"I am a monster, and I have fallen for you" he says through shaking breaths.

"You are not a monster, Adriān tepes" you tell him. "You are capable of love just as I am"

Alucard looks at you through long eyelashes and glossy gold eyes. It's almost like he's begging for you to say it. Just once. If only for a minute. He would slice his own throat out if that's what it took to hear you say it.

That you love him too.

"You know i love you too, right? More than anything on this earth" you smiled at him.

"Why?" Is all he can say.

"Because your you...you are my adriān. My alucard. You have faught gracefully and powerfully beside me no matter what the cost, I would be stupid to not love you"

Alucard didn't know what to do, as you helped him up and wiped his tears away there was only one thing he felt like saying.

"Please...don't call me alucard again. Adriān sounds better from you"

It made you chuckle that even in the emotional and heartfelt moment you two were having, he still managed to find the humor in it somewhere. And that's what you loved about him.

"Promise I'll never do it again" you laughed. "Oh adriān tepes you fool"

[randomfoggytiger]

Hello, I’m new to the fandom (yes, there’s still people coming into the fandom in 2024/2025). Started watching back in September and just finished last month. I’m not sure if you do fic recs but I’m giving it a shot anyway: Do you know of any fics that deal with Scully grieving Mulder’s supposed death in This is Not Happening or anytime in the three months that follow until DeadAlive? Or any AU fics where he stays dead after This is Not Happening and Scully has to raise William by herself while grieving?

Collector's Edition: Season 8, Mourning the Lost (Part 1/3)

Decided to sneak in an AU to begin the list-- because I like it-- but kept the rest strictly focused on the prompt at hand.

Loose chronological order below~

@cauldronoflove/thegoodthebadandthenerdy's Gravity, Oh Gravity

"scully-"

the raw edges of her fingers wipe furiously at her eyes, trying and failing to keep her secret. telling it to him like a game of telephone. he can't make it out but he understands all the same, that this isn't hers anymore, this is

Theirs.

"scully," he tries again, but there isn't anything he can say that puts a name to the tear in his chest that's weeping longing and love like a willow tree. not a single way to form consonants and vowels and sometimes ys into anything that can mean anything that can tell her that he wants. that he Wants, and always has.

AU-- TINH Mulder is returned, alive (with bittersweet angst and relief, of course.)

Humphreywrites/Sophie Writes's Sundries in the X-Files Universe - Chapter 19

Everything was still such a mess. He was still missing. She was still reeling, and her life felt remarkably different.

Post Without - TINH Scully deals with her panic attacks, loneliness, and baby's development.

Innisfree's Sacred Time

Time pulls farther out and stretches this moment as long as it can. Time can be a harsh companion, but it has a weakness for lovers. In this moment, she thinks that she would give all the time she has left if she could only touch him one more time. But Time won't be party to this kind of bargain. You cannot give away what was never yours.

TINH Scully's POV when she sees Mulder's spectral form.

@scully-loves-ruthie's

Fictober Day 7 Prompt

She knew, just knew, he’d be in that field. 

TINH Scully is used to slim hope winning out; and prays it will again.

Unnamed

Blue. The bruises on his body. Blue. His veins still and stark against his greying skin. Blue. Her eyes as they stare and stare and stare.

Post TINH Scully observes Mulder's poor, dead body.

Unnamed

She ran the fabric through her fingers conjuring images of the last time she took the tie off him.

Post TINH Scully ruminates on her and Mulder's last interaction.

David Hearne's So You'll Aim Towards the Sky

I've been here before -- at the end of hope and beyond prayer. I've had other failures. You can't succeed everytime. That truth has to be accepted. If you spend too much time thinking about what has been wasted, then you might as well turn in your badge.

Post TINH Scully sits hopelessly on her knees.

Lauren Belmont's As I Lay Dying

<He saw his sister in starlight and knew she was dead and now I've seen him this can't be what it seems it can't, it CAN'T. >

Hallucinations.

Exhaustion.

Stress.

Shock.

Any on these can explain what she saw. None of them can begin to describe the depth that she saw in his eyes. For these next few minutes, it's just her in this motel room with this chair, the window, and a growing lump in her throat.

But she is a scientist, after all.

Post TINH Doggett, Skinner, Reyes, and Maggie do their best to support Scully.

Meredith's Something Less

The last memory Scully will have is of her partner's tortured body. That will be the image to haunt her dreams. Pictures and memories of him smiling, looking perfect -- those will fade until only the horrific images remained. Doggett knew, because that's all he saw of his son.

Everyone post TINH decides against an autopsy.

zulu's Untitled

She sank down on the bed, feeling her pulse throbbing in her wrists. She brought her cheek to his, drawn closer by that nameless thought that surged within her, more powerful than the tides. He must live. He must.

AU-- TINH Mulder is returned alive... but not well, either.

XSketch's (mulderscreek) Passing On The Ritual Torch

His final gift.

You'd think me crazy if I told you how something that leaves me in so many tears can be considered a 'gift' - I know Skinner does, Doggett has that pitying look on his face whenever I'm nearby that gives the impression he's fairly certain I'm not far from insane, and my mother--...My mother doesn't know or understand even half of what she believes she does, so when she insists on reminding me that it's been four years since...since we found him in those woods, and that he only ever wanted me to be happy, it's no wonder I become so hysterical with denial. The fact is, though, that no matter how miserable it may leave me, the ritual gives me the same tiniest thread of hope that one day I'll awake to discover this torturous pain that killed a majority of my soul one-thousand-five-hundred-and- ninety-three days ago has been nothing more than a nightmare, and if there's one thing he ever did always give me, it was Hope.

AU-- Post TINH Scully tries to use Mulder's denial.

gianta's Because of you

I want them to remember him as a man who never gave up, no matter the unsolvable obstacles on the road and the power of the enemies he confronted.

If anybody will remember him at all.

Peace.

Peace is what I always see on the faces of dead people. No matter the terrible circumstances in which they died – and in my line of work they tend to consist of indescribable horrors – after death comes peace. Quietness. The absence of time.

There’s none of that on his face. Or I don’t allow myself to see it.

Post TINH Scully can't find peace in the morgue.

@swinging-stars-from-satellites/bravest_person_in_Wonderland's Whumpay Day 22/you're going to die in your best friend's arms: Lu's Whumpay 2022 - Chapter 22

John shrugs, running a hand down his face. They've been standing in the hall for an hour, mostly silent, trying not to listen to Scully's sobs through the door. Monica thinks neither of them wants to leave her like this. "Doubt she'd let you," he sighs. "She doesn't like being taken care of very much."

Post TINH Scully won't leave the morgue.

@o6666666's (Ao3)

16 if you’re still doing...

“I love you. I love you. I’m so sorry.”

He finds her in the morgue, clinging to Mulder’s biceps, face to his mottled, bare chest. Hunched over the slab they’ve layed him on.

Post TINH Skinner has to drag Scully out of the morgue.

Slow Returns

Later, when the medicine wears off, when her nervous system is no longer depressed, when her mother drives her home, she will cling to Maggie’s shoulders on her sofa. “I can’t do this, Mom,” she will weep, hyperventilating. “I can’t, I can’t, I can’t…” 

AU-- Post TINH Scully is not okay after Mulder's death.

Red's

Coming Alive (Ao3)

When they put him into a body bag and dragged me back to the rational world, Doggett holding me still, Skinner trying to talk me into submission, I gave up fighting. Instead I went numb. Everything around me became short, sharp and stunted, yet somehow lacking clarity. I was aware of everyone around me apart from myself.

They took him away.

Forever.

Post TINH Skinner has to pull Scully back from a meltdown.

Facing You

"Dana, honey, have you been there all night?"

I clear my dry throat a few times before I'm able to speak. "Uh, yeah, I think so, mom. You're early." My voice sounds thick and wavers, betraying me. My mother bustles over to the couch and plops down next to me, putting her arm around my shoulders. I just sit there and don't move: she studies my face and I know she can see I'm pretending that everything is okay. She lowers her voice.

Post TINH Maggie supports Scully during Mulder's funeral arrangements.

@allyinthekeyofx/AllyinthekeyofX's Buttons 1/1

Her Mother has a button box. A small rectangular pine container with tiny brass hinges and a pattern of leaves etched into the surface of the lid. The pattern is worn smooth where years of handling, of opening and closing the box have rendered the grain muted, fuzzy and indistinct, a darker patina evident against the faded yellow of the cheap wood that has stood the test of time as buttons were added and stories were told.

Each button held within

Post TINH Scully is trying to hold off mourning until after the funeral.

misslucyjane/Jenna Tooms's (mulderscreek) The Stars Are Not Wanted Now

It occurs to her that grief is making her selfish.

Post TINH Scully can't see hope past Mulder's funeral.

@agent-troi/AgentTroi's Baby Blue

But every day, she kept coming by to feed his fish, to fight back against the encroaching layers of dust that threatened to cover all that was left of her partner.

Maybe it was overkill. She'd kept the shirt she found on his bed shortly after his abduction, and had taken to sleeping in it most nights. It still fit her even now, more than five months along. Even with his shirt for company, she found she still couldn't let him go.

Post TINH Scully remembers her and Mulder's IVF excitement.

DSc1110's Before Their Eyes

He'd watched Mulder slowly die every time she'd been on the edge of death. Scully hid it well, but he knew every time something happened to Mulder the same thing happened to her. He'd never before seen a connection as intense as the one Mulder and Scully had to each other. Now for Mulder to actually be dead.

Post TINH TLG find out about Scully's pregnancy.

Agent L's (mulderscreek) Frohike's Lament

Of course, we all took the news lightly at first. I know that sounds cold, but Fox Mulder has come back from the dead more often than Elvis. So we were more excited than grief-stricken to hear he'd been found, after weeks of virtually no news -- and the fact that he was dead was just one of those little glitches that would have to be worked out, like going through customs. No one really expected to be picking out a casket or flowers or going through his suits to find the one he should be buried in.

But then Scully came to see us.

AU-- Post TINH Frohike mourns that Mulder won't know the truth.

@dashakay'Dasha K.'s (Ao3) Artifact 

After a few weeks, she could no longer feel Mulder there. All she could smell in the apartment was the dust and the books. She'd lie adrift in his big bed, pathetic in her continued vigil.

Post TINH Skinner gives Scully her partner's badge.

Keleka's You Are Not Alone

I've heard this stupid song a million times. Who hasn't? Every radio station in America played it at least thirty times a day a few years ago. But now it has meaning to me and the flood gates are open.

Post TINH Skinner and Frohike keep a vigil on post-funeral Scully.

The_Young_Wolf's

Adrift

She has avoided church as of late, yet here she kneels, staring up at Christ like a fearful child.

Post TINH Scully imagine Mulder nailed to the Christian cross, in judgment.

Touch

“Scully, please, you have to let go.”

Post TINH Scully clings to her dreams.

Michelle Kiefer's One Star Belongs To You

I knew my father was dead even before my mother spoke the words to tell me. I knew Melissa was gone before the surgeon came out of the operating room to break the news. I felt their deaths deep inside me, like a candle snuffed out. Why don't I feel that for you?

Post TINH Scully pays for another 6 months on Mulder's rent.

@bohoartist/Bohoartist's Sentence prompt #33

“But, Mulder, as hard as I’ve been trying I just can’t be you. And I feel like I’m doing such a disservice to you and your work when all I really want is for you— is for you to be proud of me...."

Post TINH Scully is both frustrated and angry with Mulder.

Ambress's He Moved Through the Fair

She went back down to her office, her spine straight as a post, and after making sure Doggett was gone to lunch, sat down at her desk, staring at the blotter until it melted before her eyes, and she drowned.

Post TINH Scully thinks she sees Mulder everywhere.

Marguerite's (Ao3) How Glory Goes

I step in. "Agent Scully, we know how the others were treated. How Gary died. We've learned all we possibly could. Let him rest now. Let him rest."

Her spine goes rigid and her mouth hardens into a thin line. I can imagine her taking a scalpel to Mulder's violated body, cataloguing his injuries with the same professionally-coated agony that she showed when she did the autopsy on Gary. I can also imagine her going home afterwards and eating her gun.

Post TINH Scully, Skinner, and Doggett all draw closer.

@starbuck09256/Starbuck09256's The Sound of Silence (Ao3)

Talk about Mulder? How do you talk about someone whose presence was so integral to yours that it’s hard to breathe in the air when you know he can’t? How every single thing you see or do reminds you of a moment you spent together? How the flutter in your stomach taunts you with the knowledge that even though you still have a small piece of him it will pale in comparison to the real thing? She swallows hard against the rising taste of her tears.

“It’s just, the car is too quiet. Mulder was always talking or eating sunflower seeds.”

Post TINH Doggett and Scully connect over their losses.

Avalon's Celebration

Scully's eyebrows are knitted together, her forehead creased significantly beneath the red sheen of her hair. "Doggett," she says, her voice sounding strained, "did you put this here?"

Post TINH Scully and Doggett have a brief tiff over a cupcake.

Lapsed_Scholar's That Day Is Done 

He is, by far, not in the worst shape she’s seen, but seeing him like this is the worst thing she’s ever seen by far. She smooths his hair, strokes his face. She rests her head on his cold chest and cries and cries. She wonders if tears count as any sort of purification.

The casket lid is closed, but it’s a lined casket. He’s buried in a suit by the same Protestant minister, and she doesn't tear her clothes.

Post TINH Skinner becomes Scully's rock solid MVP, even after Mulder's return.

@lotsoforangesoutside/@lotzzoforangezoutside's Becoming Fox Mulder (Ao3)

Her apartment has been waiting for a very long time, maybe even longer than she has, for someone to love, protect, and shield.

She must have told Mulder about it. She tells Mulder everything, and sometimes everything is not enough.

Pre-TINH Scully thinks her apartment can "talk."

@all-these-ghosts/all_these_ghosts's Pray the Light

She calls in sick the day after the funeral. She does not apply for bereavement leave; she cannot bear the thought of filling out the form. She’s filled it out before, for her father, for Missy; there is a blank space that says relationship to deceased and there is nothing, nothing she could write in that space.

So she calls in sick and she drives to his apartment to feed the fish, and then she takes off her shoes and curls herself into a ball on his couch. After some indeterminate amount of time - ten minutes, half a day - she gets up and goes home. And the next day, and the next.

Post TINH Scully and Skinner are coping silently.

@scullyphile's (Ao3) missed calls

The worst time of day was between one and four a.m., when she lay awake missing him....

Post TINH Scully hopes Mulder will call.

@badforthefish/Scarlet's Doctor, Copper, Sailor, Corpse

Just another day at the office. Except that today, I can't hide it any more. And I did try, believe me.

Post TINH Scully's pregnancy is now showing.

@atths--twice/ATTHS_TWICE/ATTHS's

Heartache and Loss 

She walked into the kitchen and looked around, thinking of the times she had stood in there with Mulder as he made something to eat while they discussed a case. Of grabbing a cup of coffee or a glass of water, amused by the small collection he kept, none of it matching.

Post TINH Scully buries Mulder's fish.

Three Months

“I’m so sorry, Dana. For losing him that first day…. for being too late to save him. I…” He shook his head again as tears filled her eyes. 

“It’s not your fault,” she said through her tears and he scoffed, looking up at her in disgust. 

Post TINH Scully's family and friends support her (and the baby) in the three months after Mulder's burial.

@kyouryokusenshi/Kyouryokusenshi/Kyouryoku Senshi's (site, annex-files) Maybe There's Hope

"Your health comes first, Agent Scully," he would assert, his stern expression belying the genuine care in his voice.

Normally, she would have fought back, insisting that her pregnancy was a condition, not a disability, but she knew he was right. After they found Mulder, there was no reason to continue taking unnecessary risks with her and the baby’s health.

Post TINH Skinner, Reyes, and Doggett support Scully during her pregnancy.

@agirlcallednarelle/TabithaJean's Fictober day 22/The Mystery of George Harrison

Scully can no longer see the desk clearly when My Sweet Lord plays. It happens this way: she might be at the store or driving home, and in a blink her vision has blurred with the onset of sudden tears as she remembers the finality of the situation. Mulder has died. The couch dips as Skinner sits beside her.

Post TINH Scully copes with Skinner's help (and milkshakes.)

Sabine/Sab/iamsab's If I Die in a Combat Zone 

It's always the same. It starts the same with the voices that all sound like kids, shouting kids, her kids, braver than she'll ever be. 

Post TINH Scully has visceral war dreams every night.

Macspooky's Sharing the Burden, A Mother's Touch

She rocked her daughter a little until Dana pulled herself together. Dana seldom cried as a rule, but Maggie remembered what pregnancy hormones could do to you. The whole time she had been carrying Charlie she had wept at the drop of a hat over nothing and yet by that time she had been a pregnancy veteran. She supposed the tears had something to do with Dana's longing for Fox's presence too. She knew that sometimes Dana came here and just stayed.

Post TINH Scully is unable to renew Mulder's apartment lease.

Thanks for reading~

Enjoy!

[mienar]

small town buzz

instagram | shop | commission info

[spookythesillyfella]

eepy ...

[egginfroggin]

Sketches of the Pine Nut

Baby............. ;-;

Transcription/notes: Pg. 1

wanted to test out a fit idea; also gave him goggles. Don't. don't ask how those'll work with his glasses. maybe they're really big or something

awkward teenage smile (it gives Mabel life)

he SPOOKED oh NO

Pg. 2

gave him a gun to reload (what me avoiding complex items like crossbows? never) - shoulder holster under coat - bag strapped to thigh/hip (arrow) "gathered sleeves" (arrow) "fingerless gloves" give this boy explosives

(arrow) "Oh noes help him he too smol/tired to pull heself up "also gravity's prolly weird here"

[a-gay-bloodmage]

Day 14: You Know a Good Deal About Girls, Right?

(Josephine Montilyet x Semiha Silva-Adaar, Thom Rainier & Semiha Silva-Adaar)

It seems that Semiha Silva-Adaar has never been good with girls. As a Qunari raised amongst humans, she never got the chance to learn. When she comes to Blackwall for advice, he does his best to build her courage. There’s only one monster in that barn, and it’s not her.

Written for the @loveofdragonage event!

Read on Archive of Our Own Here!

[truethes]

finished amphore.us today and tbh all i can say is. i love all the chrys.os heirs???

[mortifying-macaroni]

So I saw that other anonymous post saying that your Fanfic was really good. And I decided to take a bit of time to open it up in a new tab and have a look at it. I gotta say that I'm really liking it so far. I've actually kept reading through into the 3rd chapter, which for me and just how exhausting I find reading to be is a seriously big compliment. Especially with the added fact that I've never actually played through the mod this story is based upon. So the fact your story can keep me engaged despite those two factors is a seriously big acclaim And man. I can sympathise with Gretchen. That feeling of alienation from humanity, feeling held back by your past and even being disgusted by those ties to your past? Feeling like pretending to be something she's not is holding her back? I can sympathise with all those feelings. So I'm going to enjoy reading the rest of this! This is fantastic!

ANON!!! The way you brightened my morning is so unreal! I stg you've just amped my energy by infinity!!!! I know it sounds hyperbolic, but I'm not exaggerating 😭🖤 I want to thank you just as much as the previous anon for giving this fanfic a chance. Ngl I might have squealed a bit like an idiot when you mentioned how you kept going despite those two factors. Tbh, while writing, I had the impression that the style and structure might be too exhausting for some people, but I let it be since I'm 9 chaps deep anyways, so I'm beyond glad that my writing kept you engaged thus far!

As for CQM itself, I absolutely recommend giving the Sabbat route a spin and it offers replayability to those who want to come back after finishing their first run. The mod does an astounding job at portraying the Sabbat as more of an organization rather than a mere rodeo of shovelheads (the mod uses an older version of the Unofficial Patch, so if you're going to switch from the 'up to date' vanilla game to cqm, you will notice some differences, but nothing to be alarmed by).

Aw, I'm sorry you get the feeling of alienation and trust me when I say that you're not alone. No matter how often we think it's impossible, there's always someone out there who shares the exact same sentiment of what you're going through. You're never truly alone in this. And Gretchen, although self isolated, still has a few memories tied to her past that keep crawling back, however they're not too common, but they still linger since there's no way to just wipe them out like it's nothing. Her humanity's descent is going to be a little intense, but it'll, at least, help her find comfort in discovering a sense of belonging somewhere, even if the bunch she's hanging with isn't exactly the morally healthiest.

I want to thank you again and again for taking the time to read my brainrot baby! Hope it'll continue to be an engaging ride for you 🖤 and if not, that's completely fine, love. I'm still immensely glad you picked it up regardless! You're truly a dear and I appreciate you and your kind words so much!!!

[violetsareblue-selfships]

good morning!! <3

[bumpscosity]

too scared to go off anon but we are mutuals and i love seeing your posts about the disney rides and such. its like peeking in a window to something i know nothing about but enjoy seeing on my dash regardless

HAI MYSTERY MUTUAL!! glad ya like it! disney parks are a hyperfixation so it's always fun to post about for me :)

[lale-txt]

❥ 𝐓𝐎𝐎 𝐇𝐎𝐓 𝐓𝐎 𝐂𝐔𝐃𝐃𝐋𝐄 ↳ 𝐰/ 𝐀𝐭𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐮, 𝐎𝐬𝐚𝐦𝐮, 𝐊𝐮𝐫𝐨𝐨, 𝐊𝐞𝐧𝐦𝐚, 𝐎𝐢𝐤𝐚𝐰𝐚, 𝐈𝐰𝐚𝐢𝐳𝐮𝐦𝐢 & 𝐒𝐚𝐤𝐮𝐬𝐚

a/n: reader is gn! i started drafting those during one of the first sticky hot summer nights of the year, then forgot about it until this came over me once again like a fever, and now here we are. i love writing drabbles because they force you to really think about the chars, how you perceive them and how to nail their unique personalities in 200 words or less. anyway, this is my first time writing for HQ after the brainworms got me down bad and i had lots of fun! hope you'll enjoy them too ♡

word count: 1.3k

𝐀𝐓𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐔 whines when you have the audacity to kick him back towards his end of the couch, catching your ankle and pulling you towards him in return, stubbornly ignoring your protests. Too hot to cuddle, my ass, he pouts, genuinely offended that you’d even consider that; when the only time Atsumu ever feels a sense of calm is when part of you touches him. Your hand playing with the shaved hair in the back of his neck, your leg hooked over his hipbone as you sprawl out in bed together, hell, even your icy cold feet shoved underneath his butt during winter. Something was missing when he couldn’t have your proximity. Yer so needy, Tsumu. So what if he was? He pulls you into his lap, face nuzzled into the crook of your neck, hands tightening around your waist. His breath fanning over your skin, hot and cool against it. Atsumu takes, he demands, but with you he is pleading, silent for once. Just a little longer–dreaming, breathing you in, kissing till he feels you smiling against his lips.

𝐎𝐒𝐀𝐌𝐔 wears his hair shorter now, back at its natural dark color, too. You helped him buzz it off during one of those sticky summer nights. Both of you in nothing but your underwear, Osamu sitting on the edge of the bathtub in your cramped bathroom. One hand of yours holding a razor and the other clamped over your mouth because you horribly messed up a setting and now he had a funny little edge in his hair, throwing you both in a laughing fit. It was your first summer together and Osamu couldn’t help but hope that there would be many more like this to come, with your bodies orbiting each other, unable to keep your hands off despite the heat and the sweat, the air heavy and electric and yet so light whenever he hears you laugh. Nothing beats the feeling of lifting you up on the kitchen counter and your eyes lingering on his hands, shaping a midnight snack for the both of you, getting drunk on stolen glances and kisses. There’s many metaphors for food and love and right now, Osamu can taste them all on the tip of your tongue.

𝐊𝐔𝐑𝐎𝐎 hasn’t even kicked his shoes off at the entrance yet and is already loosening his tie, before slender fingers work down button for button on his shirt. He hears you laugh about his demeanor from the other end of the hallway. How lucky, he thinks to himself. To have someone waiting for him at home, making even long work days during the most miserable summer heat bearable. His shirt has barely hit the floor and he’s already on you, caging you in with his arms and covering every inch of your skin he can reach in kisses, despite your giggling and feigned huffing over how sticky he is, sending him to shower first (as if you wouldn’t come right after him). Kuroo purrs when your hands tangle in his hair. In the end you always pull him back towards your lips again, swallowing every little quip and taunt like candy, sweet and syrupy in your mouth. It reminds him how he fell in love with you many summers ago, his heart ablaze ever since.

𝐊𝐄𝐍𝐌𝐀 is glued to the fan at this point. He even switched gaming from his desktop set-up to a handheld console, reluctantly admitting that his old house would heat up even more with his computer running at full blast. His expression really says it all when you approach him, silently pleading for cuddles. Kenma just can’t understand how anyone would seek someone else’s body heat when the sun outside was already doing a pretty good job in trying to end him. Still, he isn’t immune to your charms, never was (one time he mumbled something about your stats being way too high and how everything changed once he received a love buff of yours). When you hold out a popsicle as a means of bribery and blink at him with those damn soft eyes of yours, Kenma pauses his game and holds out his arms. He hums into the kiss you give him before sitting down in his lap, your lips tasting like ice cream and summer love. He rests his chin on your shoulder, face nuzzled against your neck, before he continues his game, letting you feed him the sweet cold treat. Summer might have become a little more bearable with you in his life–though he was already looking forward to many winters under the kotatsu with you. 

𝐎𝐈𝐊𝐀𝐖𝐀 is squishing your cheeks together, his thumb brushing over the corner of your mouth. Collecting evidence, but also wanting to feel your tongue poke out slightly against it, cheeky as ever. Just how could you eat the last ice cream in the freezer without him? He lets out an exaggerated huff, feigned indignation, both of you knowing he can never keep this up for too long–not when it comes to you. Oikawa leans down to kiss you, your face still in a tight grip, tasting the remains of the ice cream on your lips, as if you weren’t sweet enough already. Maybe he can be bribed for another kiss when you offer a midnight walk to the 7/11 down the street, promising to pay for a cool sweet treat to make it up to him. He had already forgotten what he was mad about the moment you leaned into the kiss, but he’ll never say no to a chance to hold your hand, even if it’s sticky with leftover ice cream and the summer heat. To Oikawa, love is stored in the mundane things, even if his love for you is anything but that.

𝐈𝐖𝐀𝐈𝐙𝐔𝐌𝐈 is standing in the kitchen past midnight, wearing nothing but a pair of boxers while he roams the freezer for anything to help him cool down; even a pack of frozen peas would do. He feels a pang of guilt for having peeled away from you, your form pressed so tightly against him in his sleep, it almost gave him a heat stroke–for more reason than one. Everything is sticky and airless and Iwaizumi is sure that if he would have glanced at you even a minute longer, his heart might have just given out on him. All this love he holds for you, burning him up from the inside, like a fever. He lets out a long exhale when he presses an ice bag against the back of his neck, but it’s not that what causes a shiver down his spine; it’s two arms sneaking around his waist from behind, your sleepy voice mumbling out his name, your body melting into his again. The first kiss pressed on the side of your neck is an apology, the second one a promise. The third–to devour you.

𝐒𝐀𝐊𝐔𝐒𝐀 grumbles something about you being too sticky and sweaty, making a weak attempt to shove you back to your side of the bed, only to pull you back by your hips when you actually do leave some room between you. He can’t help it, you fit so perfectly in the curve of his body, your back pressed against his chest, one of his knees nudged between your legs, all tangled up. It’s the perfect position to plant kisses on the back of your neck, too. Kiyoomi loathes those hot summer nights in the concrete city. He’d rather be somewhere else with you, somewhere to breathe more easily through this heat. Maybe you should move to the countryside, yes. A small house with lots of green surrounding it. Less people and noise, just you and him. Yeah, he would like that. He kisses the back of your neck once more and takes a slow, deep inhale of your sweet scent, before sleep finally crawls upon him again. For now he’ll endure this heat, anything, as long as he can hold you in his arms like this–and have a cold shower with you in the morning, maybe.

[heyimkana]

I am so ready to read from this blog because you're amazing eeeeeee ❤❤

awwwww honey, thank you so much 🥺🥺🥺 I haven't written character x reader fics in a whileeee my writing skill (if there was any lol) is so rusty so I'm just gonna write something light for now hehe

[luvyeni]

⠀ ( drabble ) baby fever ̨ ! ୨୧ 一 마크이 ՞

⸃ ⸰ ⌁ finally confronting mark about his baby fever  ヾ

boyfriend!mark・ reader ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ g ・ smut ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ cw ・ ‎ ‎ unprotected sex , ‎breeding kink , dirty talk ‎ ‎ ‎ wc ・ ‎0.5k ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎| ‎ ‎click to library

request. hi you have the vision baby, mark has baby fever fic please, pretty please 🥺🥺 & since you're taking requests, maybe something with nct dream? or even just mark, my ult bias original husband loml..........

「 ୨୧ authors note 」 i hope you don't mind i combined them , also happy birthday or belated birthday cause you didn't specify which day it was 🫶🏽.

you seen the signs; the lingering looks at baby clothes in stores; the smiling lovingly at the kids you'd pass playing on the playground, liking the celebrity children photos when he truly never cared before — but that wasn't it , he began to rub your stomach, whether he noticed or not you didn't know , but you did know one thing and you really didn't need a confirmation , but you wanted one anyway.

“you wanna have baby?” the boy was stunned. “h-huh?” you smiled , climbing into his lap on the couch. “what are you talking about?” he asked , coughing nervously. “i've watched you for the past few weeks, and unless your brother is having a baby, i think you want a baby.”

“i-im sorry if that makes you uncomfortable.” he stuttered. “you could've told me though.” you said, kissing his neck. “it is me you want to have a baby with right?” he nodded. “of course baby, who else would i want to have a baby with?” he took control, flipping you over so you were on your back. “mark.”

“i want nothing more than to fuck you until you're pregnant with my baby.” his lips were on yours, you moaned out his name. “m-mark i'm still on birth control.” you laughed, tugging at his hair , he looked at you with want in his eyes. “doesn't mean we can't practice right?” he said, pulling down your pants. “i can still fuck you raw right now.’

he wasted no time pushing his hard cock into your waiting hole; you giving him the go to fuck you raw made him hard. “fuck you're so tight baby.” he began to thrust into you. “so fucking warm.” he moaned , holding your hand above your head. “ma-mark please.” you whined. “de-deeper please.” panting above you , his cock stretching you out deliciously. “you like my cock baby?” he cursed. “gonna let me fuck a baby inside you?” you nodded. “pl-please.”

“fu-fuck you'll look so cute with my baby.” he began to pound into you faster. “all pregnant and swollen because of me.” he released your hands , allowing you to run your hands up his shirt , scratching his back. “sh-shit baby.” he hissed. “gonna fill you up real good.” he whispered into your ear. “gonna flood your pussy with my cum.”

your legs were wrapped around his waist , he kept pounding into you. “ma-mark im gonna cum.” you moaned. “yeah?” he grunted. “cum for me baby, cum all over my dick.” he moaned as you tightened around him , mouth dropping over as you came , he cursed. “sh-shit im gonna cum.” he moaned , his thrust faltering before you could feel his warm sticky cum shooting deeply into your womb. “fu-fuck baby that's it , take my cum.”

he slowly stops his thrust; keeping you plugged with his cum. “fuck i love you so much.” he kissed your lips. “so so much baby.” he pulled out of you , him cum leaking from your hole. “sh-shit i wish you weren't on your birth control.” you laughed. “you really want a baby that bad?” he nodded. “so fucking bad.” he groaned.

“gonna keep fucking you until you're for sure pregnant with my baby.”

©LUVYENI

[mienar]

from us it begins

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[solelifauna]

So this NOT to imply the writing is bad

But so far the Batfam fic as me genuinely shaking in anger , the fact that dick is convinced that y/n as to prove herself to be "worthy" genuinely got to me to the point I need a pallete cleanser

Could we please get a small drabble of reader growing close with one of the "outside" batfam members?

Like maybe Kate(batwoman) and Luke (batwing) because they are under used

Or hell, maybe to really grind the family gears, reader gets close to azrael

(you know Bruce would've able to do shit if reader got close with Kate, she would fucking eat him alive)

Hey, You're all good bro! I also just want to put out that my fic is based on an au! The portrayals of any characters in my fic are based off of their canon and fanon counterparts, just with my own twist. Since this is a darker universe/au, the Bats along with other heroes are going to be a lot more brutal and jaded.

Also love your idea bro. But, I'll do you one better. Constantine. Bruce absolutely can't stand him and the reader being friends with/getting along with him? Oh, that's bound to grind Bruce's gears. It would also be easier to meet Constantine too.

Let's just say one day the reader gets caught up in some Justice League Dark stuff that Constantine is trying to solve. She gets kidnapped by a cult that wants to use her as a sacrifice. I mean, she is a pretty huge target, being the daughter of a Billionaire after all. Anyways, shes kidnapped, nobody is coming to get her, not from her family at least. Long story short, Constantine arrives too late to stop the ritual, but things don't go according to plan for the cultists anyway. Turns out that the person sacrificed wouldn't be killed, but would instead become a vessel.

Great, now you have some old, eldrich being living rent-free in your mind. The being is old, donning the title "Keeper of Hell", but you'll just call it (they? him? her?), Adam. Yeah, Adam wasn't too happy with the name. When Constantine arrives, however, hes pleasantly surprised to find you alive. When he realizes that you, a 15-year-old, now carry the presence and power of an eldritch being older than Gotham itself, he groans while lighting up a cigarette. Looks like he'd have to deal with you now.

He checks over you making sure you have no internal and external injuries before explaining your situation. He feels a little sorry for you, but he is in no condition to train you. He asks around to other JL dark members, hoping to see if anyone is willing to help you control your new powers. He sighs again when nobody steps up to the plate, too busy with their own sidekicks and quests.

Reluctantly, he tells you he'd help you figure stuff out. And there begins the blossoming of the amazing "Grumpy old man and kid they didn't ask for" troupe. When you tell Constantine your name, he blanks, because of course he gets stuck with one of the bat's kids. However, based on your tone of voice when discussing your family (and the way you begged him not to let Bruce/Batman know of your predicament), he's guessing things aren't all too great between you all. Well, thats not his problem, his only job was to train you and make sure you don't end up accidentally killing someone.

Yeah...like that thought process is going to last. Training sessions start out bleak and professional, he's only doing a job. Then as time continues, he finds himself enjoying your company, your enthusiasm to learn and your rambunctious/sarcastic comebacks always have him fighting off a smile. It's been a while since he's had company like this. Soon, you're both going out on missions, and then ice cream breaks afterward. He lets you fall asleep on his shoulder, drooling all over his trench coat after particularly difficult missions and he can't bring himself to mind.

He's fond of you, although he never admits it out loud. It's okay though, because even though he's never said it out loud, his actions speak louder than words. You could feel his love and pride for you. Although he wasn't exactly your dad per se, he was still something to you, maybe the wine uncle? You don't know, and you don't particularly care to put a label on what Constantine was to you, you're just glad that he's there.

Shit hits the fan, however, when one day you decide to go on a solo mission. It's nothing crazy, just getting rid of some poltergeists and low-level demons and shades. Now, were you given permission to go on this mission alone? No, but in a normal teenage manner, you decide to go anyway. Everything was fine, you got rid of all the poltergeists in the area and even some of the shades too! It's all going well until you realize that the demon mentioned before was not as weak as you were told. You gulped when its blood red eyes turned to you.

"Well shit." Constantine was going to kill you.

It immediately lunges at you, you barely rolling out of its sharp claws. You hit it with a couple of spells, causing the demon to roar out in pain, burn marks now littering its side. Its tail whips at you, colliding with your stomach as you fly into a wall with a loud thud. You groan as you pick yourself up, clutching your ribs, each breath a jagged pain that ripples through your chest. Your arm is slick with blood, the gashes from the demon's claws burning as if its very essence were trying to sear your flesh. You grit your teeth and weave another spell, calling on Adam’s power to knock the demon back. This time, a burst of raw energy slams into it, shattering its leg with a sickening crack.

For a brief moment, you think it's over, ready to strike the final blow. But the demon’s leg snaps back into place, bone and flesh knitting together as if the injury had never happened.

“Of course,” you mutter under your breath. “Why would this be easy?”

The demon lunges again, and you’re just a split second too slow. Burning pain flares through your right arm as its claws tear into you, ripping through your flesh like paper. You scream, the sound involuntary, but you push through the pain, refusing to go down without a fight.

Drawing back, you unleash another spell, a sharp projectile of energy aimed at its neck. The demon flinches, letting out a low growl. That reaction—panic—gives you the first glimmer of hope. Its neck. That's its weak spot.

With renewed determination, you gather every ounce of strength you have left. The cuts across your body throb, and your arm feels like it’s on fire, but you push it all aside. You can do this. You have to do this.

You unleash a volley of cutting spells, each one aimed at the demon’s throat. It fights back viciously, throwing you around the room with a strength that makes your vision blur. Every hit you take feels like your bones are splintering, but you keep going. You keep attacking.

Finally, one of your spells strikes true.

The demon lets out a gurgling screech as your spell cuts deep into its neck. Blood—thick and dark—pours from the wound, and it claws at its own throat, choking. Its body spasms violently, and then, as if collapsing in on itself, it begins to disintegrate. In a few seconds, all that’s left is dust.

You stand there, panting, barely able to process the fact that you did it. You won. A grin spreads across your face, and despite the pain radiating from every part of your body, you let out a weak cheer.

But the celebration is short-lived.

Pain cuts through you like a knife, sharp and sudden, reminding you of just how battered you are. Blood is still oozing from the various gashes across your body, and your arm feels like it’s hanging by a thread. You stumble, nearly falling, but catch yourself at the last second.

“Crap… I’m bleeding out,” you mumble, wincing. “Whoops.”

With what little energy you have left, you remember the spell Constantine taught you, the one that would tether you to him no matter where you were. He warned you not to use it unless it was an emergency—and bleeding out from demon-inflicted wounds definitely qualifies.

You lift your shaking hand and cast the spell, a sluggish flick of your wrist sending out a ripple of energy. A portal forms, shimmering and unstable, but functional enough. Without much grace, you stumble through it, disappearing from the demon’s lair.

What you didn’t know, however, was that Constantine was currently in a Justice League meeting.

The first thing you feel is a sudden drop, like the ground beneath you has vanished. You barely register the sensation of falling before you crash, hard, onto something solid. Groaning, you blink through the haze of pain and find yourself sprawled across a massive table.

You can hear voices—muffled, alarmed—but the world is spinning too much for you to focus. All you know is that you're lying on something cold and hard, and you’re absolutely drenched in blood.

Forcing your eyes open, you see several figures standing around you, staring in shock. Your vision is blurry, but you can make out Superman’s cape and Wonder Woman’s armor. You try to process what's happening, but the pain in your arm and ribs keeps pulling you under.

"Ow, ow, ow, ow. Fuckkkk." You cry out.

Suddenly, the scent of smoke fills the air. You don't even have to look to know who it is. Constantine’s familiar trench coat brushes against your arm as he crouches beside you, cigarette dangling loosely from his lips. His eyes flicker with a dangerous mix of exasperation and barely concealed anger.

“What in the bloody fuck, kid?” he snaps, his tone harsher than usual, but the concern underlies his words.

You wince, the situation hitting you all at once. Crap. Now I've got to deal with this.

You muster a weak, sheepish grin, wincing as you turn your head to face him. “Heyyy Constantine, how are ya?”

His brow furrows deeper, and he’s clearly not amused. “What did you do?”

You swallow hard, trying to think of how to explain yourself without getting ripped to shreds—verbally or otherwise. “I—well, promise you won’t get mad?”

“Too late for that, kid. I’m already halfway there,” he growls, his eyes narrowing as he looks over your wounds. “Now get to it.”

You bite your lip, trying to find the least disastrous way to explain. “So… I sorta… mighta… gone on a solo demon-hunting mission,” you blurt out quickly, hoping he’d just move past it.

The way Constantine’s eyes widen, and the immediate twitch in his jaw tell you that he’s definitely not going to move past it.

“You did what?!” His voice rises as he stands up, rubbing a hand over his face. “Oh bloody— I thought I specifically told you not to go by yourself! And this is what happens!”

“Hey, well, I’m alive, aren’t I?” you say, grinning nervously, trying to play it off.

“That’s besides the point!” He throws his arms up, pacing as he takes a long drag from his cigarette. “Bloody hell, I should’ve known better with you kids. I swear, this is why I never—”

Just then, a dark, grim voice cuts through the chaos, and your heart nearly stops.

“Constantine,” Batman’s tone is low, authoritative. “Why is my daughter bleeding on our table?”

Oh no. No, no, no. Not now.

You freeze, your mind going blank as you feel the weight of Batman’s presence at the end of the table. You slowly, painfully turn your head to see him standing there, cape draped over his shoulders, his gaze icy and locked onto you. His usual stoic expression somehow looks even more intense.

“Ah… shit,” you mutter under your breath, groaning inwardly as you realize you’ve just landed yourself in the absolute worst situation imaginable. “I completely forgot he was still here.” Wait, did you say that out loud?

Constantine gives you a sidelong glance, raising an eyebrow. “Yes, kid, you did. And now we’ve got more than just your wounds to worry about, don’t we?” He sighs deeply, rubbing his temples, already anticipating the fallout.

Batman’s eyes narrow, arms crossed as he takes a step closer to you, his voice low and dangerous. “Care to explain yourself?”

You’re still bleeding, your head is pounding, and you’re pretty sure at least a few bones are broken, but none of that compares to the fear creeping up your spine as you look up at your father. Your mind races for an answer, but every excuse you can think of feels flimsy at best.

Constantine clears his throat, sensing the rising tension in the room. “Right. Let’s get her fixed up before this turns into an interrogation, yeah? Kid’s bleeding all over the place, and she’s already taken a beating. We’ll save the lecture for later.” He waves his hand, muttering something under his breath as he kneels beside you again.

The tension between Constantine and Batman lingers in the air, thick and heavy, but Batman finally relents. His eyes soften—slightly—as he watches Constantine work to stabilize your injuries with magic.

You can feel yourself growing weaker, the adrenaline finally wearing off as the pain becomes unbearable. Constantine mutters a healing spell, one that slows the bleeding and knits some of the less serious cuts together. It's not perfect, but it’s enough for now.

“I think it’s time to get you all fixed up, huh?” Constantine says softly, his earlier anger tempered by concern as he helps you sit up, his hand firm on your back to support you.

You nod weakly, not daring to meet Batman’s eyes again. You’re in deep trouble, but for now, at least, you’re still breathing. As Constantine gets ready to teleport you to a safer place to heal, you hear Batman’s voice, calm but steely.

“We’re not done here.”

And with that ominous promise hanging in the air, Constantine picks you up, and the world around you shifts once again.

Constantine gently carries you through the halls toward the Justice League’s med bay, muttering curses under his breath with every step. You could feel his frustration radiating off him, and now, in the quiet aftermath of the fight, guilt begins to settle in your chest. The adrenaline from the battle has worn off, and now you're left with the consequences of your reckless actions.

“Hey, Constantine… I—I’m sorry for not listening to you. I really am,” you say, your voice soft and heavy with regret.

He sighs, not looking at you, but his tone is stern. “I’m not going to lie and say I’m not mad at you, kid. You didn’t just ignore my warnings—you put yourself in danger. There are rules for a reason. What if you got seriously hurt and couldn’t cast a spell back to me? Even worse, what if you died or got possessed?”

His words hit you hard, and you wither under the weight of them. You know he’s right. All those rules and restrictions aren’t just him being overprotective or controlling, they’re because he cares. He’s seen the kind of darkness that can swallow people whole, and the thought of that happening to you terrifies him, even if he’ll never say it out loud.

By the time you reach the med bay, the guilt feels like it’s pressing down on you as much as the pain in your ribs. Constantine lowers you onto a cot, tucking you in with a gruff gentleness that only he could pull off. He sits down on the side of the bed, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it with a quick flick of his fingers, his eyes never leaving yours.

“What I’m trying to say, kid,” he starts, exhaling a cloud of smoke, “is that I care. I care about you, I care about what happens to you. I don’t want—” He pauses, his voice softening. “I don’t want to ever have to find your body one day. So please, from now on, let me know before you do something stupid like this.”

His words hang in the air, raw and unfiltered. You nod, trying to process it all, and then something clicks in your mind. Wait… did he just say let him know?

“Let you know? Does this mean—” Your eyes widen as realization hits you. “Does this mean I can go on solo missions?”

Constantine lets out a resigned sigh. “Yes, yes, you can start going on solo missions—”

“Hell yeah!” you exclaim, sitting up a little too quickly. Pain shoots through your ribs, but you can’t help the excitement bubbling inside you.

“—but, only the ones I sanction and authorize,” Constantine finishes, cutting through your excitement with a stern look. You deflate a little at his words, but it’s still a victory in your book.

Without thinking, you throw your arms around him, ignoring the sharp pain it causes in your ribs. “Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you! I promise I won’t let you down!”

He chuckles, patting your back awkwardly before pulling away. “Yeah, yeah, I know you won’t. Now, lay back down and get some rest. You still have dark and brooding to deal with.” He gestures toward the direction of the meeting room, clearly dreading the inevitable confrontation with Batman. “And by extension, I do too,” he adds with a heavy sigh.

You groan, sinking back into the cot, the exhaustion finally catching up with you. “I don’t know why he even cares. If he did, he would’ve figured this out ages ago.”

Constantine glances at you, his expression softening for a moment. He takes a long drag of his cigarette before speaking. “He cares, kid. He just… doesn’t always show it the way you want him to. Doesn’t mean he doesn’t feel it.”

You scoff, though part of you knows he’s right. “Yeah, well, doesn’t feel like it.”

Constantine stands, taking one last drag of his cigarette before flicking it into a nearby ashtray. “Doesn’t matter how it feels right now. The Bat’s going to want answers, and if I know him, he’s going to want to have a very long talk with you. You’re not out of the woods yet.”

You wince at the thought of the upcoming conversation, knowing that Batman’s interrogation will be thorough and far less forgiving than Constantine’s.

“Great,” you mutter, closing your eyes and sinking deeper into the cot. “Just what I need.”

Constantine gives you a small, almost affectionate smile before turning to leave. “Get some rest, kid. You’ve earned it. I’ll deal with the big bad Bat for now.”

And with that, he walks out, leaving you alone in the med bay. As much as you’re dreading what’s to come, you can’t help but feel a sense of relief. Despite the pain and the mistakes you made, you know that Constantine’s got your back. And, maybe, just maybe, Batman does too, even if it’s buried under a mountain of brooding and silence.

For now, though, you let the exhaustion pull you under, trusting that everything else can wait until tomorrow.

-

As you rest, your body finally succumbing to the exhaustion, your breathing evens out and your mind drifts into sleep. The med bay is quiet, sterile, but the tension in the air lingers, waiting for the inevitable. Eventually, a dark, caped figure glides into the room silently, his form casting long shadows across the walls.

Batman—no, Bruce—stands over you, his sharp eyes tracing every bruise, every cut that mars your face. His jaw clenches as a million thoughts swirl in his head, none of them offering any comfort.

What the hell happened to you? Why are you and Constantine so close? How did you even know Constantine? How much had he missed—how little attention had he been paying—to not notice any of this?

Bruce sighs, a deep and frustrated sound. He removes his cowl, setting it on the side table with a weary hand. Without it, he seems less intimidating, less imposing. He stares down at you, seeing the cuts and bruises marking your skin, but what hits him harder is the way your face, in sleep, is still so achingly young. You're his daughter, and yet it feels like you're a stranger to him now.

How did you get so far away?

He knows the answer. The fault lies with him, with the choices he made, the excuses he repeated to himself—telling himself he was too busy, telling himself he would check in later. Later never came, though, and the space between you widened, until it wasn't just him you were drifting away from, but your brothers too.

Bruce noticed the way your brothers treated you, the harsh words, the cold shoulders. He saw the distance, but he justified it, telling himself it was sibling rivalry or something that would pass. He didn't step in. And now, as he looks at you lying there, bruised and battered from a fight he wasn’t even aware of, the reality sinks in: he has no excuse.

With a heavy sigh, Bruce reaches out, his rough but careful hand carding gently through your hair. The gesture is tender, hesitant, as if he's not sure whether he has the right to touch you like this anymore. But as his fingers comb through your hair, you stir in your sleep, a quiet murmur escaping your lips as you unconsciously lean into his touch. It's such a sweet, innocent moment, and for a brief second, Bruce allows himself to feel the warmth of it.

But the moment is fleeting.

He feels the presence before he sees it, the unmistakable smell of cigarette smoke filling the room. His jaw tightens as his hand stills. He doesn’t turn right away, but his voice cuts through the silence.

“Constantine,” Bruce says, his tone gruff even without the cowl to disguise it.

Constantine steps into the room more fully, leaning against the wall, a half-smoked cigarette between his lips. He regards Bruce with that same nonchalance he carries everywhere, though there's a flicker of something else in his eyes—something more cautious.

"Thought you’d still be brooding over in the corner," Constantine says, taking a drag of his cigarette. His eyes drift to you, lying peacefully on the cot. “Didn’t expect to see this version of you.”

Bruce doesn’t respond right away. He pulls his hand back from your hair, his gaze hardening. "What happened?" The question is direct, but underneath it, Constantine can hear the concern, the frustration Bruce doesn't voice aloud.

"She went off on her own," Constantine mutters, taking another drag before blowing out a cloud of smoke. "Went after a demon. Got roughed up pretty bad, but she handled it in the end. Strong kid. Stubborn too. Wonder where she gets that from, eh?"

Bruce's eyes narrow. "And you let her?"

"Let her?" Constantine laughs, a short, sharp sound. "Mate, I didn’t let her. She went behind my back, just like she’s gone behind yours for who knows how long. Difference is, I’m the one she actually came back to.”

That lands like a punch to Bruce's gut. He doesn’t react visibly, but Constantine can see the tension in his posture.

"I didn't know she was…" Bruce starts, then stops, shaking his head. The words feel inadequate. "I didn't know she was involved with this stuff, i didn't even know she was a meta. Or that she knew you."

"Yeah, well, she found her way to me," Constantine says with a shrug, stubbing out his cigarette on the wall. “And she's not a meta by the way, she's a vessel for some eldritch being"

A vague expression of surprise appears on Bruce's face.

"I don't blame you, mate. I was surprised to find her alive afterwards. Not just anyone survives that kind of transformation, she's strong.”

Bruce crosses his arms, his gaze flickering between you and Constantine. “I know she’s strong.”

“Do you?” Constantine raises an eyebrow, the challenge clear in his tone. “Because she’s been running herself ragged trying to prove it. To you. To herself. And, hell, maybe to me too, but at least I see it.”

There’s silence for a moment. Bruce clenches his jaw, turning to look at you again, sleeping soundly despite the tension in the room. He knew Constantine was right. You'd been pushing yourself, fighting to show that you didn’t need them—that you were strong enough on your own. And he had let you. He'd let you because he didn't even care to notice.

Constantine sighs, sensing the weight of the silence. “Look, I didn’t come here to throw stones. But you’ve got to get your shit together with her. She’s tough, but she’s still a kid, and she’s your kid. She needs you.”

Bruce doesn’t answer, but his silence speaks volumes. He watches you, the soft rise and fall of your chest, and feels the regret gnawing at him.

“I’ll handle it,” Bruce finally says, though the words feel hollow.

Constantine gives him a long look, then nods. “You better. Because if you don’t, she’ll be right back with me..”

With that, Constantine pushes off the wall, flicking away the last of his cigarette. “I’ll check in on her later. Try not to fuck this up, mate.” And with one last glance at you, Constantine leaves, the tension in the room ebbing with him.

Bruce remains, standing over you, his mind a whirlwind of regret, guilt, and the desire to fix what’s been broken for far too long. He leans down, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead—something he hasn’t done in what feels like years—before stepping back, pulling the chair beside your bed to sit vigil over you.

He’s still not sure how to bridge the gap, but for now, he stays. It’s a start.

Well, thats all folks! I really enjoyed writing this au, so thanks for the idea! Maybe ill even make a pt. 2 to this? Who knows? Anyways, I hope you enjoyed it.