CONSTANTINE'S BACK ON THE BEAT

𝐿𝑂𝑂𝐾 𝑂𝑈𝑇 𝐻𝐸𝐴𝑉𝐸𝑁, 𝐿𝑂𝑂𝐾 𝑂𝑈𝑇 𝐻𝐸𝐿𝐿

[he11blaze]

      JOHN CONSTANTINE 𑁋 COMICS && HEADCANON.       INDEPENDENT && SELECTIVE. 21+ ONLY.       ( WRITTEN BY ANDY / 27, HE/THEY, MST ) 𑁋 CARRD. PROMO. STARTER CALL. ASKBOX PROMPTS.

[hardtraveling]

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎RICH BOYS RARELY DID share well, but ollie had been playing at robin hood for long enough now to know the basics, at least. it was better than anyone he'd met that still kept a stick up there about nearly everything and anything they could.

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎he'd spent most of his years pining after his best friend while never getting to see him, or spending a whole roadtrip wondering if he should just kiss him already and get it over with. so yeah, he knew how to share. to an extent. “ he's definitely not mixing us up, either. trust me. ”

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎was it a bit of a possessive streak ? who's to say. “ y'know, i do have a question for you though. since we're talking about relationships, have you always known you were bi ? ” a smooth subject change.

[he11blaze]

 " dunno, i reckon maybe i could pull off a goatee, go work out a bit, give up smoking. d'you think he'd mix us up then? " followed, of course, by abrupt, uproarious laughter. " i'm only messing, tha's not gonna happen. it were never gonna work. "

teasing ollie was all well and good ( and a damn fun time, too ), but the sudden change in topic came with a change in john's attitude to match. all at once he soured, his expression stern and his hands tensing into fists at his sides. squaring up.

" always, yeah. or there abouts. " and sharply - " why? who's asking? i've already been called every name in the book -- an' some very creative footnotes, too. you're not gonna rattle me. "

[hardtraveling]

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎JOHN ALWAYS LOVED PLAYING coy, but it was easy to see through. the blond raised an eyebrow, unimpressed but not unamused. “ you ever heard of an open marriage ? he can sleep with you all he wants, and so can i. getting jealous would just be hypocritical. ”

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎not that he didn't still have some moments where jealousy struck in the weirdest ways. oliver wasn't perfect, far from it. “ what, is your next plan calling his name while we're having sex ? ”

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎‎ ‎ ‎CONT. // @he11blaze

[he11blaze]

 " i didn't expect that from you -- i thought rich boys didn't like sharing. very modern, though, i like it. very bohemian. " with all the barely-restrained laughter in john's mocking tone, it likely wasn't easy to gauge how genuine he was actually being. it was a bit of both, really. he approved and thought it hilarious in equal measure.

" oh, trust me, there's no mixing up you lot. you should be asking 'im that one. " and then, with an exaggerated american accent, " 'can you even tell your blonds apart, honey?' proper fuckin' funny shite, that. "

[proditeur]

exhaustion tugs at his ribcage — and it feels a little like being welcomed home. the aching comfort of losing oneself to the tomes, following trails of breadcrumbs to dead ends and fruitless theories. ink stains. torn-out pages. someone's trying to keep us from something. but despite their many disappointments, the sleepless weight in his shoulders, and the fact that the insides of his eyelids are scribed in latin text... he is thriving.

it is mentally invigorating. emotionally sobering. watching john perform in their shared efforts is in itself a fascination; regulus can set aside the omnipresent cloud of smoke and stinging scent of alcohol and see him instead for the expertise and the competence and the determination that rolls off of him in waves. hours of unavailing research and he has not relented. the man beneath the 'don't come closer, you'll hate what you find' shell.

he leaves for a lungful of fresh air and a clear head — and returns to find the wizard exactly where he left him; but perhaps having left at all was a mistake. perhaps the mental reset served only to make the scene more poignant: what he can see of john's eyes from this angle reflect the candlelight like the burning embers of hell. do they ever burn you, john? do you even feel their sting, anymore?

and he does not know what compels his hand to move.

it lifts like a marionette's coaxed by a string — but infinitely softer. tucks the back of a knuckle to john's temple and moves aside a stray hair that bothered no one at all. for a single haunting second he is both the spirit and the body possessed — awakened by john's startled expression and almost-recoil.

regulus, too, withdraws the hand as if he's been burned.

the shared silence is both a splash of ice water and the deafening heat of humiliation. what are those expressions? surprise and disgust blend to an indistinguishable gray; when has regulus ever known the difference between anger and love? but the tone ! it is the tone that ends him. 'something on my face?'

"no—" a bit of stupid. a bit of ugly. he doesn't know why he chokes on the words. and what may have been a smooth scoff followed by some sort of intelligent quip is instead a stammer — a half-laugh, eyes rolled back as if something fascinating dances on the ceiling above them. everything smart in him's been wasted on these books, and nothing remains to save him from this.

"not anymore. obviously." he is backing towards the doorway, and perhaps himself doesn't realize it. "i need my beauty rest. wake me if you find anything useful."

[he11blaze]

 reg leaving for fresh air means that he brings some of it back inside with him -- the cloying scent of john's silk cuts and hard liquor washed away by the clean, after-rain smell of ozone and damp earth. much like the way his thumb seems to wipe away whatever was on his face ( charcoal, if anything, although john suspects it was just an excuse ) or his mere presence seems to flush out some of john's exhaustion.

of course the face john makes causes reg to recoil ( and what a sorry bastard he is, hurting reg for nothing ), both of them reacting to a simple touch as though it were an electric shock. and maybe it was, after all -- a spark that neither of them could ignore, one with the potential to grow into a destructive blaze.

" got it for me, then? ta. " john barely has the time to thank him before reg is already shrinking away from him, getting closer and closer to the door with each passing millisecond. if he makes it to the hall before john can stop him, before he can say any of the hundreds of words he's fumbling through, he probably won't come back. not just tonight, with cool, damp air clinging to his skin like aftershave, but ever.

" reg- oi, 'ang about. " he starts, but it's not enough. john takes a step after him, then another, then his hand darts out to grab regulus by the wrist just before he slips out of arm's reach. he swears he can feel the man's pulse soaring under his skin, but then again, it's probably just his own. " i've found something. useful, i mean. "

in their research? no, not quite. the hesitation is just long enough for him to drag reg closer to him again, like he's about to point something out in the mess of scattered papers on the table, but he only uses the momentum to meet him halfway with a slow, soft ( almost timid, anticipating rejection ) kiss.

[he11blaze]

i was on the fence about setting up wire but actually i remembered i'm gonna be working like 10 days straight starting tomorrow so :/// keep me alive during my fail job at the cringe factory

[he11blaze]

you really want to make me jealous by bringing up hal, don't you?

 " oh, do i now? issat what i'm doing? " was that his only goal? no, of course not. but was it a lovely side goal that he was quite enjoying? absolutely.

" if i were, though, did it work? just out of curiosity. hypothetically. "

[hisdue]

❝ 𝖆𝖑𝖑 𝖘𝖙𝖔𝖗𝖎𝖊𝖘 𝖆𝖗𝖊 𝖑𝖎𝖊𝖘. 𝖇𝖚𝖙 𝖌𝖔𝖔𝖉 𝖘𝖙𝖔𝖗𝖎𝖊𝖘 𝖆𝖗𝖊 𝖑𝖎𝖊𝖘 𝖒𝖆𝖉𝖊 𝖋𝖗𝖔𝖒 𝖑𝖎𝖌𝖍𝖙 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖋𝖎𝖗𝖊. 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖞 𝖑𝖎𝖋𝖙 𝖔𝖚𝖗 𝖍𝖊𝖆𝖗𝖙𝖘 𝖔𝖚𝖙 𝖔𝖋 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖉𝖚𝖘𝖙, 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖔𝖚𝖙 𝖔𝖋 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖌𝖗𝖆𝖛𝖊. ❞

DC COMICS' 𝐋𝐔𝐂𝐈𝐅𝐄𝐑 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑 as schemed by dan.

[2814s]

@he11blaze sent : ❛ i don't think anybody 'knows' anybody. not really. ❜ / from here & accepting.

as hal sat beside john on the couch, he let out a soft chuckle. he was right, as much as people loved to think they knew their close friends and even lovers, they also always ended up blind-sided. he'd known that feeling a little too well. ❛ you know, even the two or three people in this world who know me best, don't know me as well as they think they do. ❜ of course, he loved his friends dearly, loved his family too. inherently, hal was a good person. he never meant any harm in his dark and troubled past [ ... ] but for anyone to put it past him, to hurt another for the sake of those who he loved, that was a mistake on their part.

with the strongest raw willpower in the galaxy, and ambition to match, came the painful reality that hal would do anything, regardless of what it took, to avenge things and make them right. he wasn't a religious man, he didn't have the moral code or fear of some god to tell him what was right and wrong. and while he wouldn't do it again out of choice, it didn't mean he wasn't ever capable of doing it ⸻ and that was where even those he cared about were wrong about him. ❛ can i tell you something, blondie? ❜ the nickname was affectionate coming from the brunet, though his tone was still serious. a way to lighten the load of what he was about to say.

❛ nobody may know anyone entirely, but i think you're a pretty damn close contender. it's one of the reasons this works. us, i mean. ❜ hal averted his gaze for a moment. ❛ i know you've done some shit, and i might even have you beat, just by sheer quantity alone. but [ ... ] you understand that i'm still trying to do the right thing. you don't see me as a monster for what i did, and that's kind of a first for me. ❜

[he11blaze]

 it was hard to get somebody; to really, truly understand them. not in the sense that it was difficult to get around to, of course, john could easily grasp that as a whole, people were selfish, lonely, miserable bastards -- but in the sense that it was hard on him. taxing; mind, body, and soul. in part because it usually meant they'd have the awful burden of knowing him all the same, a fate he wouldn't wish on his worst enemies, and the rest because that kind of closeness meant inevitably having to lose them. or worse, let them down.

hal's fuck-ups were pretty bad, and though they occasionally got into pissing matches about who was the worse person between them, for better or for worse, they were willful. that knowledge had to weigh heavy on his shoulders, maybe even more so than all of john's less than intentional harm ( which he understood well, of course, he'd screwed over a great many people on purpose too ).

" i've a feeling you'll tell me anyway. " john's tone was little more than a grumble, but still, he grinned even as he spoke around the mouth of his beer bottle. he had to grin, so hal didn't know how much his words hurt as each one of them lashed at john. hal was just so... good, in spite of everything he'd done in the past. a genuine case of someone with a good heart, a good soul, someone who fought hard to redeem himself.

" i know that, yeah. and i believe it, too -- i've seen monsters, you're not one of 'em. " in his own reflection, especially. john tried to do the right thing, most of the time, but there were plenty of times where he didn't. the arm that was slung over the back of hal's couch dropped to the brunet's shoulders in a sort of half-hug, the closest thing to comforting that john could manage. " i think you're a... a sound bloke, really. proper good. "

it was hard to get the right words out, especially with a smile on his face, all the while his stupid heart ached miserably with self-pity. reminded john beat after beat that he didn't deserve this, and that even if hal could defend himself just fine, he shouldn't have to suffer what would inevitably come his way because of john. still, he kept up that fond ( if perhaps a little queasy at the moment ) smile. " i, er... i, y'know, like being around you. "

[spellaholic]

❝ john, ❞ zatanna warns him as a greeting, but her tone isn't as remotely threatening as it probably should sound. even if it were, her leaning further into him would undo whatever severity the threat would have. he's here for her, of course, and she knew what she'd be getting if he came; she knows since she extended the invitation, after all. thing is, she never knows whether or not he'll actually take her up on the invite, so the thrill of feeling him take his place against her back on this particular night shreds up any semblance of self control she could try to claim she still has. he fits perfectly there, every inch of him molded to her, and she tries not to think about how giddy it makes her feel.

zatanna can feel her heart starting to pick up speed as it thumps away in her ribcage, the sound also beginning to hammer away against the shells of her ears. she glances at him through the mirror, traces the lines of his face from the edge of his smile to the top of his nose between his eyebrows. the violet of her gaze then moves to latch onto the stormy blues of his when her tongue darts out to swipe against her bottom lip.

she briefly wonders if he'll like the taste of her lipgloss.

turning her head slightly so her lips could come into contact with his cheek, she still manages to maintain the eye contact they hold through the glass. she lifts her hand that's closest to him to rest against the other side of his face, caressing it gently; she can feel the warmth of him through the fabric of her glove. ❝ naughty. all i invited you over here for was to see the show. did you even notice that cool new thing i tried with my hat ? ❞

[he11blaze]

 " 'course i noticed it, lovey. who d'you take me for? " the type of man to skip most of the show because he couldn't handle the heartache of watching her at her most brilliant, obviously -- which was the truth that he couldn't bring himself to say out loud but that they doubtlessly both knew.

john's eyes lock onto hers in their shared reflection ( as though entranced, and he might as well be ) right up until her hand reaches his cheek. they immediately slide closed, blissful, and his head tilts away from zatanna's shoulder just to chase that soft silk of her glove, starved for any touch she's willing to give him.

" missed you. " he murmurs, and there's no mistaking that claim for anything but brutally honest. it's one of the few things left on this earth that he wouldn't dare lie about. john cranes his neck, his eyes still closed, turning his head until he can press his lips to zee's palm in the form of vague, lazy kisses. " always do, though, don't i? "

and starved for touch he certainly is, as the hand at her zipper abandons its lofty ambitions of undressing her in favour of much simpler desires ( and so he can press himself fully against her back without an inch of breathing room between them ), and it settles instead against her hipbone. while the other drifts to caress her waist and stomach in slow, gentle circles, his lips venture down to the hem of her glove, to the pulse point on her wrist.

" can't ever get you off my mind. "

[red1es]

@he11blaze // from here

Elias doesn't always die in unique or brave ways. He doesn't always die with witnesses nearby either. It seems like rotten luck, with him looking both ways and using the crossing just to have some maniac end his life in a blur of spinning tires. He can still smell the burning rubber, it's a strong, almost acidic scent; especially when mixed with the iron scent of his own blood.

With a low, pained groan he pushes himself up into a sitting position. His skin is scarred with painfully fresh road burn, and his plastic bag is torn, chips and iced tea having rolled out of it and crushed by the reckless driver. Damn he died and wasted five bucks! Or was it eight bucks? He doesn't remember and inflation is a bitch, so... 

There's an unfamiliar voice at his side, accent notably British as a man he doesn't know (or doesn't remember) urges him to lay back down. "I don't know if lying in the road of all places is the best idea, considering what just happened but oh-kay." Elias relents, too tired and sore to put up much of fight. The stranger pushes gently, urging bone and sinew back into their proper spots. Then the stranger something with his hands, something small and unexpected that somehow makes everything hurt a little less. "Huh. Neat trick."

At the mention of stag diving and running into traffic, Elias emits a bitter laugh. "In my defense he sped around the corner. He wasn't there a second ago." One deep breath, two deep breaths. Elias waits a few beats longer before pushing himself back up into a sitting position. "I think I've had enough of roads and cars for a while. I'm getting up." Before John can protest he pushes himself onto his feet, although he's unsteady, taking a few wobbly steps toward the curb like a baby deer.

[he11blaze]

 john often found himself wishing he'd ever bothered to learn any sort of healing magic. it seemed like a close enough relative to necromancy that he could probably work it out, and it wasn't like he'd never get any use out of it -- but at least in this instance, he wouldn't have needed it, after all.

" yeah, again, your trick's a lot neater than mine, though. wouldn't mind being able to fix myself up like that. " it sure would have saved him months of waiting around in hospital after that car wreck of his own. the young man's body is so quick to weave its pieces back into place, in fact, that he's already pushing back against john's insistence that he stay lying down with enough force that john can't help but oblige him. " mate, i really think -- sod what i think, though, right? i'm not a doctor. "

regardless of all his complaints, john still loops an arm around the man's midsection to help support his weight as he hobbles towards the curb. " right, come 'ed- " he mutters, not letting go until they reached the sidewalk, and even then he still tries to ease the man into sitting down on the curb.

" at least sit 'ere for a minute while you sort yourself out. you can't go walking off like that, lad. you look like you're after getting out of the morgue. " he's just about covered in blood, he won't make it two blocks before someone runs off screaming to call the police, thinking he's a murderer. john shrugs off his jacket to drape it over the man's shoulders -- but not before fishing out his lighter and cigarettes. he plucks one out, balances it between his lips, and holds out the open pack in offering.

" is there someone you're meant to ring about that? y'know, 'hiya doc, yeah, got run over again, third time this bloody week' and the like? your mobile's probably smashed to bits, but i'll borrow you mine if you swear you won't nick it. "

[2814s]

in all honesty, the swivel chair probably wasn't the most comfortable, or sensible option. but hal was to blame for picking the venue, not the seating arrangement.

it was, however, entirely his plan to get the other man riled up and lure him into his lap for a good bit of grinding in the suit. being left in charge while the league was away wasn't exactly the smartest move ⸻ or at least not while he had john constantine's tongue down his throat, but he'd at least taken the necessary precautions of making sure that nobody was traumatized going back through the security footage later. he'd made some construct covers to temporarily block the video in the meeting hall, and that was about the extent of the effort he was willing to put in for the time being.

after feeling the way john's breath trailed hot against his neck, hal's gloved fingers dug into his hips, holding on for dear life as he rolled his hips upwards and continued to grind his strained cock against the other's. it was downright filthy, the way he'd become so desperate that he was chasing a release even with his clothes on. but he'd been staying here in the watchtower the last few nights, so it wasn't like he didn't have some spare boxers with him anyways. john wasn't as lucky, but he could return home to shower and change in a split second.

the way john's fingers carded into his hair, grabbing a fistful and yanking was enough to draw a low, needy grunt out of him, panting as he rutted against him harder. the concept of hal finishing was not a matter of if, but now a matter of when. the tapping out from the blond had initially made him pause [ ... ] but when he realized that it was merely just because john was close and didn't want to come in his pants, hal was almost spurred on more. feeling the wet spot in the front of his tight slacks only reassured him that this was the path he wanted to take.

he was going to make john come, and that was a guarantee. moving his hands from the other's hips to grab two handfuls of his ass, he shuddered as he pulled him down against his lap further, increasing the friction against his dick. ❛ c'mon, blondie [ ... ] this is payback for the nightclub. ❜ he breathed out hot against the other's ear, a familiar heat building within him as he felt his climax building. ❛ kinda pathetic how soaked you are, what's a bit more? ❜ he let out a breathy laugh, the creaking of the chair only adding to the buildup of his arousal. ❛ hah, fuck [ ... ] just like that ⸻ ❜ he let out a shaky whimper, swallowing thick as he threw his head back, body trembling as he rocked up into john once more and felt an intense wave of relief wash over him as he came hard.

[he11blaze]

 for a supposed hero, some kind of intergalactic space cop, a founding member of the justice league, hal jordan truly had the capacity for great evil. and john didn't mean anything in his past, of course, but the way he obviously noticed his pleading for mercy, paused, then made the conscious decision to ignore it. no, that was too lenient a phrase, actually -- he decided to actively make john suffer.

" oh, you are a right sick bastard- " he croaked as hal grabbed him by the ass to haul him in again, just when john thought he'd gotten a moment of reprieve to still his hips and catch his breath. the pleasure of the friction returning was a sudden jolt that coursed all the way from the base of his spine up to the back of his neck, a shudder that only ended as his head lolled with a quiet whine. " -you'll rot in 'ell, i swear t'you. "

each syllable out of his mouth was long, drawn-out, and lazy, even as the rocking of his hips resumed a frantic pace without waiting for hal's help in moving. if he wanted john to come, then damn it, he would -- he just didn't expect it to be so soon. john was, after all, still in the middle of chuckling at hal's assertion that this was revenge for the nightclub, still wading through the haze in his mind to string the right taunt together.

hal laughed, ' kinda pathetic ', and the words hit his ears like a gunshot. and it was with the exact same suddenness, the same violent force and total shock that john's orgasm careened into him. he barely even had the time to gasp for air before he groaned, " wait, shit, fuckohfuck-! " long and low, thighs shaking, his blunt nails digging harsh cresent moons into hal's shoulderblades as his hips buck forward shakily once, twice -- he comes so hard that even his hearing calls it quits.

john didn't hear anything else hal said, didn't even register any other movements he might've made, just clung closer and fought for air while his traitorous dick desperately twitched and throbbed as he spilled ( soaked, indeed -- and he savoured every goddamn second like it was his last time left on earth ). the first thing he noticed as his senses slowly returned was his own voice moaning like a whore on every heaving exhale he gave, so he immediately gulped and tried to speak ( as if any justification he could give would somehow exonerate him from shame ) while his own tongue fought back against the idea.

" did you... what'd you say, just then? didn't hear it, i were... ha, fuck, sodding hell, i were a bit busy, babe. "

[hardtraveling]

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎THE ARCHER ROLLED HIS own eyes, scrubbing at his face. the blanket was barely covering his lap as oliver sat up more. “ sulking ? you're the fucking king of sulking, that's rich. ”

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎he only hoped that jaw hurt enough to make him remember for a while. “ shame on me for not appreciating being objectified. especially right to my face. but i must've forgot, the whole world's supposed to revolve around you and that ego, right ? ”

[he11blaze]

 " objectified? christ, d'you even hear yourself? i were being nice. " not that john could wrap his head around why, exactly, that might hurt someone's feelings ( he quite enjoyed it, after all ), which was driven home by his eyes drifting down to ollie's exposed body even while they bickered.

" don't you get all bloody 'igh and mighty with me, you tosser. we both know you only ring me up to treat me like a charity case, like you're doing a stray dog some big favour. or worse, when you want a bloke you won't make gag on it. maybe just 'cuz hal won't answer your calls, issat it? "

[hardtraveling]

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎THAT WAS THE CONSTANTINE special, wasn't it. entirely what he'd been expecting the moment they wound up in ollie's bedroom. he didn't bother getting up at all, still fully naked from the night before. he'd worry about cleaning everything up after breakfast.

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎it's the ' weren't bad ' that got him. “ uh huh. classy as always, warlock. there's a great breakfast burrito truck down on 10th, grab something from there and then get outta my city. i'll see ya once the whole world decides to try to blow up again next. ”

[he11blaze]

 " oi, you're sulking now? really? " it wasn't the first time a partner gave him the cold shoulder, but he certainly wasn't expecting it from ollie, and especially not after he'd already been given the green light to leave early.

" what do you want me to say? that were the best shag i've ever had? " john lingered just feet from the door to carry on, but not without a scoff and a roll of his eyes. " even if it were, i'd still not tell you. i'll be walking funny for the next couple'a days an' i think you've dislocated my bloody jaw. there, that's the closest to a compliment as i get. happy now? "

[hardtraveling]

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎SLEEPING WITH JOHN WAS probably one of his lower low points, despite the fact that the warlock was stupidly hot. he was also an incredibly bad idea, always had been. but a really good fuck.

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎it was the deepest sleep he'd had in months, only interrupted by his alarm. oliver groaned, scrubbing at his face before cracking open an eye. to be expected, john was trying to sneak out. and falling over.

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎the archer snorted, sitting up and yawning. “ uh huh. cause you were definitely just sneaking out to get brekkie. what, can't be an adult and just say you wanted a quick fuck ? i'm a big boy, john. i'll live. ”

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎‎ ‎ ‎CONT. // @he11blaze

[he11blaze]

 " oh, we can be adults about it? good, right, tha's easy, then. " the quicker he resumed getting dressed ( definitely ollie's left sock, so he'd have to toss it aside -- and ollie's shirt, but it was too late to take it off again ), the less time he had to consider whether or not he only wanted a quick fuck.

" it weren't bad, y'know that? i'll give you a bell the next time i feel like shagging a blond again. " great, that was most of his clothes on, or at least enough to start inching towards ollie's bedroom door with a sheepish grin. " or, y'know, if i just feel like i could use some more shut-eye on those million-bloody-threadcount sheets. s'not personal though, love. i swerve everybody. "

[he11blaze]

[ MORNING AFTER ]: sender and receiver wake up together for the first time after a night of passion.

 john couldn't remember the last time he had bad luck. not like this, at least. he'd been so careful in disentangling himself from ollie and easing out of his bed. he'd been so quiet in picking up the scattered pieces of last night's clothes from ollie's bedroom floor that the archer didn't even stir at the jingle of his belt buckle fastening.

he was, after all, a professional. yes, in magic, but also in sneaking out after a one-night stand -- and john did, in fact, have every intention of making absolutely sure it was only one night.

never, in all of his decades of doing this, had he been interrupted on his way out by an iphone alarm ( who the hell still set morning alarms? ). in the middle of balancing precariously on one foot to pull his ( or maybe it was ollie's actually ) sock on the other, john shot upright with an undignified squawk of - " jesus, shitting hell! " - and, his already flimsy sense of balance now destroyed, toppled to the floor.

who was he kidding? he didn't have any dignity to begin with. he couldn't lose what he never had.

" you sure get up early, then. fancy a bit of brekkie? "

[he11blaze]

[ BRUSH ]: sender brushes a strand of hair out of receiver's face. is this allowed

 john doesn't see the hand moving towards him, hadn't even heard regulus re-enter the room -- hell, he didn't notice him leave in the first place until he's startled by the presence returning at his side. the only greeting he gets from john is a quiet noise of acknowledgement as he refuses to look away from the old books and scattered papers strewn across the table in front of him for even a single second.

it's not the presence that startles him, though. not exactly. it's the brush of reg's fingertips against his temple, as gentle as if he were grazing against a butterfly's wings, pushing a stray lock of blond hair out of john's face. still, john flinches.

( it wasn't even blocking his view -- far too short for that, even with john leaned forward, palms flat on the oak table with his shirt untucked and sleeves rolled up to his elbows, utterly exhausted from hours and hours and hours of research )

recoils, almost, in his abruptness to back away from the touch, reaching up for the spot on his face like he'd just been burned. at the very least, for reg's sake, his expression didn't resemble anything hurt, disgusted, or angry. but betrayed by the immediate red hot flush of embarrassment rising from his shirt collar to his cheeks and further still to the tips of his ears, john stares at him, stunned, for a solid few seconds.

" ...alright, reg? what's that for? " is all he can finally muster up when the surprise ( less at the touch, more at the aching longing that pangs deep in the core of his being ) wears off. his voice is fond and unmistakably so, if only because he'd never used such a tone with reg before. " something on my face? "

[kingsmemes]

「   RP MEME :   NONVERBAL PROMPTS.  mix of violent, caring, touching and non-touching prompts.  」     SEND PROMPT '+ REVERSE' for the inverse to happen. for example 'bandage + reverse' for the receiver to bandage wounds on the sender.

[ BANDAGE ] : sender bandages a wound on receiver.

[ GUIDE ] : sender puts a hand on he receiver's back to guide them somewhere.

[ WAVE ]: sender waves down receiver to get their attention.

[ SIGN ]: sender raises their hand to sign to receiver. what follows can be anything the sender desires.

[ LIFT ]: sender lifts receiver's chin to look at them.

[ LIGHT ]: sender lights receiver's cigarette/candle/etc.

[ FIND ] : sender finds receiver beaten and/or bloodied.

[ PIN ]: sender pins receiver against the wall during combat/sparring.

[ GET DOWN ]: sender tackles receiver out of the way of danger.

[ TAKE ]: sender takes a hit meant for receiver.

[ CAUGHT ]: sender finds receiver somewhere they aren't supposed to be.

[ TRAP ]: sender traps the receiver somewhere they don't want to be.

[ DARLING ]: sender touches receiver's cheek.

[ SNATCH ]: sender snatches receiver's wrist as they turn to go.

[ STAB ]: sender stabs receiver.

[ DRAG ]: sender drags receiver from point a to point b.

[ SIT ]: sender sits on receiver's lap.

[ EN GARDE ]: sender and receiver get into some kind of fight.

[ DRUNK ]: sender finds receiver drunk.

[ BLOOD ]: sender walks into receiver's room covered in blood.

[ FLOWER ]: sender offers a flower to receiver.

[ HOLD ]: sender reaches to hold receiver's hand.

[ BRUSH ]: sender brushes a strand of hair out of receiver's face.

[ NOTE: ] sender writes a note for receiver. the contents are whatever the sender decides.

[ EYES ]: sender notices receiver looking at them.

[ STOP ]: sender raises hand to signal the receiver to stop in place.

[ TAP ]: sender taps receiver on the shoulder to get their attention.

[ WAKE ]: sender gently wakes receiver from a nap or otherwise.

[ MORNING AFTER ]: sender and receiver wake up together for the first time after a night of passion.

[ BLANKET ]: sender drapes a blanket over receiver's shoulders.

[ HUDDLE ]: sender and receiver huddle together in an effort to stay warm.

[ TUG ]: sender pulls receiver away from them.

[ PUSH ]: sender pushes receiver away from them.

[ BULLET ]: sender shoots receiver in a non-lethal area.