Posted in Headcanon


John Constantine had seen many wonder in his arguably short live, witnessed various wonders, and – most importantly dated and slept with all manners of alluring creatures.

But not, until this very second, had he ever seen anything so beautiful.

For nothing could compare to the ferocious pulchritude of Elsa Bloodstone in the midst of battle, slaying each and every vile varmint in her presence with such exquisite bloodlust. She turned the act of killing into a form of graceful art, and through the excited glint behind those harsh fairness, cupid got him in a chokehold.

(It almost cost him his life, too, since he was too busy staring and probably drooling to realize that one of those brute had sneaked behind him until it got him in a physical chokehold. It was through his sheer fighting skills and certain amount of luck he managed to get out and got thrown into a nearby car.)

Then again, when life give him lemon, John is intent on making a lemonade stall and squeeze all the profit he can.


And that is the story of how, in the middle of a gory battleground, John Constantine confessed his love to Elsa Bloodstone by singing The Bee Gees’ To Love Somebody.

To her credit, Elsa only froze for a second before narrowing her eyes and then focusing back to shredding her enemies to pieces. Taking his cue, John follow suit.

Until they’re the only creature left standing with heartbeat and soul intact. Then he try his luck again.

“You don’t know what it’s like,” he crooned, stepping over carcasses without a care and ignoring the squelching sound he made or how he’s going to need a new pair of shoes. “Baby you don’t know what it’s like.”

“To love somebody,” he stops in front of her, reaching for her slender fingers. “To love somebody.”

Reverently, he rest his forehead against hers. “The way I love you.”


And bless Zeus, Elsa Bloodstone actually blushed.

A faint pink shades in those lovely cheekbones that she would later blame on post-battle-adrenaline, but a blush nonetheless.


And that is answer enough for him.




Two months later, stuck in a penitentiary of past mistakes he built for himself, there really is nothing he wouldn’t give to be able to make her blush one more time.






À la mort,

Prompt: The Script’s Never Seen Anything “Quite Like You”.
“I’m blessed as a man to have seen you in white. But I’ve never seen anything quite like you tonight.”



An emotionally invested enthusiast of pop culture. Apathetic by design. Aesthetically offensive and eloquently candid. A sentimental heathen.

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