John Lennon's baby daddy

1964

honestly, when you first got into this, you weren’t expecting such a heavy workload. considering when you met john and paul, they were two young men from liverpool with a sort of lousy dream. you humored them, which ultimately charmed john, and he had offered you a spot as a second vocalist. background stuff… you know, under his vocals. he can’t have you steal all the spotlight! he knew having a female voice accompany his own, as well as paul’s, would make for a more distinguished sound. adding harmonies in higher ranges, pretty ooh’s behind guitar riffs.

and oh, you did sound so pretty.

you aren’t really sure how it happened, but somewhere in 1963, the two of you clicked. maybe it was the fact that both of you had been tipsy at a pub and ended up waking in john’s bed the morning after. even then, when you woke up to the feeling of his arms around your bare waist, you didn’t regret seeing him. okay, that most definitely was where it started. john had asked you out a few days after that. a few different times, actually. you kept either dodging it, or your schedules kept colliding and changing. besides, who needed a date anyway? you saw john every single day for hours on end. maybe it wasn’t exactly personal time, but sometimes paul and george and ringo left the two of you alone!

it wasn’t until the two of you just agreed to make it official that you started getting actual time with each other. but, for some reason, after you became tied down with john — the boys began treating you differently. they’d mock your talent, tell you that there was ‘no way a girl could outplay blokes like us’. that hurt you! of course it did! these boys were your friends, especially paul, you had known him for so long. and yet it seemed that he was the one tormenting you the most! he’d always correct your playing, make snide remarks at you and brush it off with a laugh. but… it wasn’t funny. it wasn’t funny at all. you loved john, yes, but that didn’t make your performance any worse!

you and the boys were filming some sort of film. honestly, the concept of it had flown over your head, it was the boys who had done all of the planning. once again, you seem to be left in the shadows about everything. but ofcourse, john was always there to make you feel better. he always gave you updates. whispered in your ear scene breakdowns, recited the little lines you had with you.

gosh, it was so boring, to be honest. the days were long and back to back. you hardly had any time to breathe let alone eat! it started feeling like john had gone back to your friend, rather than your lover.

when the two of you finally have just a few hours off, you immediately retreat to your hotel rooms. john is absolutely excited, he hasn’t gotten to pamper his beautiful girl in weeks. his mind was flooded with ideas. maybe he would run them a bath? have some icecream? watch a film? spend the day in bed (his favorite)? the possibilities were endless, but in all honesty, he was just excited to be able to hold you again.

“…and also, some magazine sent me a letter in the mail. they want to take pictures of me and have me on the cover! they said i’d have my own page and everything. ‘the ladybug’, ‘100 beauty secrets’, all of it, john!” the two of you are catching up, and john’s eyes never leave you as you speak. he smiles, his eyes soft and cheeks slightly flushed at the way you speak. wasn’t that stupid? that you could make him blush just from… talking to him?

“that’s lovely. just lovely. they don’t want me in ‘ere with ya? i could dress up all sexy-like and put on makeup.” he jokes, flaunting his hands outwards in a flamboyant gesture. his eyes close and his head tilts upwards like a model. you laugh, his favorite song, and move forward to kiss the underside of his jaw. at the feeling, his head tilts down and his hands find your waist, pulling you onto his lap and kissing your cheek repeatedly. “no! they don’t want to see that, john. nobody does…” you reply, muffled into his temple.

he gasps, giving you a playful swat on your rear as his nose pokes under your jaw, lips pressing to your neck in a playful manner — just because he knows it tickles you. “yes they do! that’s what the press wants, love.”

the knob on the door turns and the wood swings open harshly, hitting the wall of your hotel room as the sound of three other voices loudly erupt in your quietness. your head lifts from where it was against john’s mop of hair, his hand still suspiciously on your behind. richard, who was the first one to come in, widens his eyes and shrugs. “don’t know what it is the two of ya do when you’re alone, looks a little scary.” he jokes, referring to john’s firm grip on you. which, admittedly had grown increasingly more firm when they walked in. he huffed against your skin, which made you giggle, but john wasn’t laughing. nothing was funny.

“nobody wants to know, mate.” paul replies to ringo, walking just behind him as the both of them enter your hotel bathroom to comb at their messy hair together. ringo yells at paul, something about ‘stop brushing my hair like you’re me mother!’ paul only replies with a small ‘hold still’, and george jokes back at their earlier banter. “i might want to know.” he murmurs, earning a loud roar of laughter from the other boys. george leans against the bathroom door, he too had grabbed another comb and started brushing at richard’s head. their chatter is loud and unintelligible.

“johnny..?” you whimper in questioning against his hair, pulling back to look down at him where you sat so prettily perched on his lap. he grunts, hands finally leaving where they had rested on your rear and sliding up to the bottom of your waist.

“can’t they just leave us alone? i’m getting sick of them, i swear i’ll cancel the film.” he grumbled, his nose scrunching in anger. all you can do is frown at him, your hands gently resting on his chest. you sigh, head tilted towards him as you lean in to kiss him. “they just wanted to see you, i bet.”

john does not want to see them, that’s for sure. he nearly tosses you off of his lap and manages to plop you down on the cushion beside the one you both were sitting on earlier. you try and grab at him, but he’s gone in seconds, his hand slapping down against george’s back hard.

“come on, i want the lot of you out. now! i’m not jokin’.” he tugs george back by the fabric of his shirt and gives him a “reassuring” pat on the shoulder. he swats away the combs out of their hands, sending them clattering to the floor. all john needs to do is glare at paul. with them knowing each other for so long, paul has learned when john means business. richard, however, has the balls to continue and pry at the situation.

“come on, mate, just having a bit of fun.” he groans, rolling his eyes and looking up at john. “it’s not fun to me. get!”

at his yell, the three boys shuffle out of your hotel room, murmuring something about how you’ve got him under some sort of crazy spell. or how you must have him brainwashed. you can’t help but frown when you overhear it. when will they ever stop using you as a reason for their fights? this was between john and them, you had nothing to do with it. well, maybe you had a little to do with it.

“i’m terribly sorry, beautiful girl.” he says immediately when the others are gone, swinging the door shut with a harsh slam. he’s still seething of course, but he always makes sure to soften up for you.

“dont be sorry, johnny, i know you’re mad. here, come here..” you pat the space beside you so invitingly, he feels his stomach flip at the sight of it all. a small smile graces his lips and he sits beside you, lifting you back up into his lap. his hands sit innocently on your thighs, rubbing up at down as he looks up at you.

you can only smile, he’s so incredibly handsome like this. (when he’s mad). some part of you wonders if you should poke at him more to keep him going. the rational part knows john just misses you. he closes his eyes and sighs when your arms come around his shoulders. he almost sinks back into the couch completely, he wishes he could. he wishes he could sink into another universe with you. one where the both of you weren’t famous, weren’t demanded to be somewhere all the time. one where it was just the two of you. no friends, no directors, no managers. is the fame and glory worth trading alone time with the woman he wanted to marry?

“can i kiss you?” he asks, something he only does when he’s emotionally vulnerable. sometimes, when he’s been all riled up, he gets into this state of vulnerability where he asks you to do certain things for him, or if he can do stuff. like you’re some kind of mother to him, almost. or at least, a woman he views as motherly. and that wasn’t terrible, motherly was a term far beyond filial. you could be motherly to him and still be the woman he wants to marry. still be the woman he kisses at night and whispers to.

“of course you can kiss me, come.” you murmur halfway against his mouth as he slowly pulls you down, your lips meet slowly, and your hands come up to cradle his face. he sighs, gently melting down and falling on his back on the small couch just in front of your hotel bed. the one with the end table and rotary phone beside it. you laugh and let your hands splat beside either side of his hand to steady yourself. one thing john also disliked about his friends, is how their minds immediately went to something sexual when they saw you sitting on top of him, or on his lap. john didn’t think of it that way at all. well, he could, but he didn’t. in his mind, you looked like some kind of beautiful mountain or something. the eiffel. something pretty like that. and he was just the ground holding you steady. you were the main event.

“i love you, beautiful lady.” he chirped up at you, calmer now that his hands could roam up and down your pretty body. he wanted to marry you soon. even though you’ve been dating only a year, you’ve known each other so much longer. that was reasonable! he just… when things got quiet and the two of you just were staring back at each other, he always thought of marrying you. always. it was a thought that never left his mind.

“i love you too, john” you murmur back, leaning down to kiss him again. he laughs, and so do you as the two of you melt into an embrace on the couch.

಄.

੭.・・・・・ ੭.