A little bit harder now
John Constantine x gn!Reader
summary: Arguing with John.
warning: mutual longing, obsession, emotional dependency (kinda), cigarettes, John trying to joke his way out but fails
A/N: yupyupyup I was listening to A little bit harder now by she wants revenge the whole time
John always acted as if he was the only person in the room capable of carrying regret and every bad decision had somehow become his burden alone to drag through the years and you might have let him continue believing that ridiculous little lie because arguing with John when he was in one of his moods was like trying to fistfight a bear, but tonight you were tired. Tired enough that your patience had finally worn down into something you could no longer ignore.
“You know what really pisses me off?” you asked, standing in the doorway of his apartment while rain fell outside and cigarette smoke curled through the dim light of the room.
“That’s a long list, I don’t even know where to start if I’m being honest.” John didn’t look up from where he sat.
“You always do that.”
“Do what?”
“That.” His eyes finally lifted and his attention was a physical thing when he actually gave it all to you, suddenly it felt like the entire room was shrinking until there was only him and the one specific calm expression he wore whenever he knew a conversation was about to become uncomfortable.
“You’re gonna have to be more specific, love.” You laughed at this statement because if you didn’t laugh you were certain you might scream and shake him aggressively by his shoulders.
“You always turn everything into a joke the second something becomes serious then you wonder why people get frustrated with you and then you act surprised when they’re angry and then somehow you make yourself the victim of the entire situation even when you’re the one who created it in the first place.”
For a moment he said nothing. The cigarette between his fingers burned slowly. Then he tilted his head a little in your direction.
“That what this is about?”
“No.” The lie came too quickly.
“No?” His eyes narrowed immediately.
“No.”
“Right.”
“It isn’t.”
“Course not, lovie.”
“Oh, shut up.” A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. The kind of smile that made you want to kiss him and choke him at the same time.
“You’re angry.”
“Very observant. I think even a five year old could tell I’m angry.”
“You missed me.” Your stomach dropped. The room suddenly felt too warm because he hadn’t said it teasingly.
John could flirt his way through nearly any situation, but right now there wasn’t a hint of amusement in his voice. You stared at him and he stared right back. Neither of you looked away.
“You disappeared for three weeks.”
“There it is, keep it comin’ lovie. Tell me everything.”
“You disappeared for three weeks,” you repeated taking another step into the room because standing still felt impossible, because every emotion you’d spent weeks trying to suppress was climbing back up your throat all at once and refusing to stay buried. “and I had absolutely no idea whether you were alive or dead or bleeding out in some alley somewhere or trapped in another fucking dimension or whatever ridiculous supernatural disaster shit you managed to throw yourself into this time. And then you just walk back in like nothing happened and expect me to act fucking normal.”
“I don’t expect that. Would be worried if you acted like this is all normal.”
“Really?”
“No.”
“But it feels like you do.” John looked away for a brief second which meant this issue mattered. Which meant you were getting somewhere with this conversation. And for some reason that realization hurt. Because underneath all the frustration and tension there was still the truth you’d spent months trying not to think about.
You cared. Far more than you should, more than John had any right to make you care. When he finally spoke again his voice was quieter.
“I thought about you every day.” The confession hit so hard it almost physically hurt.
“What?” He laughs our and it sounded like being caught admitting something he never intended to say out loud.
“I said I thought about you every day.” John wasn’t looking at you anymore. He was staring at the floor, at the cigarette he was smoking. Literally looking at anything except your face.
You knew this wasn’t easy for him too.
“You thought about me…” you repeated quietly.
“Yeah.”
“Then why didn’t you call?”
John closed his eyes just for a second. But it told you more than any answer could have. When he opened them again there was something exhausted in his expression.
“You really wanna know?”
“Yes.”
“You.”
“What?” Your heart stopped. Why are you the reason now?
“You are the reason.” The words came out rough with a little hint of anger linked. But it was more directed toward himself. He was angry with himself.
John stood up running a hand through his damp blond hair before turning away from you entirely as if the act of looking at you while saying these things had become unbearable.
“You wanna know why I didn’t call?” he asked, voice low and tense in a way you almost never heard from him. “because every bloody time I picked up the phone I started thinking about hearin’ your voice and every time I thought about hearin’ your voice I started thinking about comin’ home and every time I thought about comin’ home I started thinking about you and then suddenly I wasn’t focusing on the thing that was trying to kill me anymore.”
Your breath caught. John laughed bitterly still facing away, refusing to look at you.
“As it turns out, that’s a very very dangerous distraction.” The truth was sitting naked between you. Maybe that should have made things easier but instead it made them infinitely worse.
Because now you knew. Judging by the way John’s shoulders remained tense beneath his shirt, the way his hands clenched and unclenched at his sides as though he was physically restraining himself from doing something reckless, he knew it too.
Slowly, you crossed the room, walking towards him until there was barely any distance left between you.
John still didn’t turn around. He was not afraid of demons, ghosts, fuck, he wasn’t afraid of Hell.
But he was absolutely terrified of this: you and of whatever existed between the two of you.
“Look at me.” Your voice came out barely above a whisper.
“No.” His jaw tightened.
“John.”
“No.”
“Look. At. Me.” Finally he turned. The expression on his face nearly shattered you. There was no charm, confidence written over his face. No. It was full of want and desire. The same thing you had been carrying for months.
His eyes searched yours. They were so fucking tired of pretending.
“You have any idea what you do to me?” he asked quietly.
“No.” You feel your heart beat faster and faster in your chest.
“That’s a lie.” Maybe it was. Because judging by the way his gaze kept dropping to your mouth before snapping back to your eyes as if he was fighting a fight he was definitely losing. Perhaps the worst part was that he knew he had the exact same effect on you. He knew you felt the same things he felt. And that was rather comforting.
With a swift motion John locked his lips on yours, kissing you with so much need, love and desperation it almost feels unbearable.
The kiss wasn’t soft by any means. It was messy and desperate. Desperate to prove that whatever you have going on is real, more than real. John’s hands were on each side of your waist and he pulled you closer until you physically couldn’t be more close to him. Your arms were now wrapped around his shoulders, deepening the kiss.
And for a very long time, you just kissed. Because words couldn’t describe the tension between you two anymore. Only actions could show you now.
@advline ANOTHAAA JOHN POST😝
