BREAKFAST IN BED | JOHN LENNON 🤍
Where John Lennon makes breakfast in bed for his newlywed wife OR where the reader didn’t know John could cook so well.
female!reader, fluff.
| mentions of cigarettes, suggestive language, teasing? mentions of sex (not explicit) |
english is not my first language and gifs are not mine.
(i miss johnny like crazy today and cried my eyes out for him. do i need help? 😭)
—
1965
Raindrops trickled down the bedroom window as John dragged himself out of bed for a refreshing shower. It was his first morning in the new home after saying “I do” before the judge. Of all the choices he could have made, getting married at the peak of his success had been one of them — no matter how crazy that might have seemed in the eyes of the public and his fellow musicians.
Everyone else wanted to go wild, revel in success, take drugs and lose themselves in London’s most exclusive clubs. And there was John: shirtless, smelling of aftershave and frying scrambled eggs for his beloved.
John was a late sleeper, but he had made an effort to get up before you, just to prepare you breakfast in bed. He sipped his tea, humming a tune he had been working on for the past few weeks, while the eggs cooked. He was in a good mood that cloudy morning, reminiscing about the last few days of your honeymoon trip.
Those had been glorious days of doing nothing but enjoying each other’s company under the Italian summer sun — fine dining, museums, games, afternoon tea, reading together, and, as night fell, candlelit dinners and evening strolls through the streets of Venice on the way back to the hotel. When it grew late, the two of you indulged in intimacy and passion under the moonlight that shone through the grand window of the luxurious hotel room John had reserved just for the two of you. When John held you in his arms, nothing else mattered but you. No tours, no hysterical screams, no interviews, no lonely hotel rooms after a show. No feeling trapped by fame. Just the two of you, together and breathless, yearning for more of each other.
He already missed the sun warming his skin, contrasting with the grey London sky upon your return. But the new house was everything… and knowing he would share it with you for the rest of his life was all he had ever dreamed of.
Ever the perfectionist, John arranged the tray with the utmost care. He stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray and climbed the stairs to the master bedroom. You were there: fast asleep, curled around his pillow, wearing one of his shirts. He paused for a moment and smiled, watching you breathe softly, your lips slightly parted. Placing the tray on the bedside table, he walked over and sat beside you, his hand gently brushing through your tousled hair against the pillowcase.
— Darling? — he called softly, leaning in to place a kiss on your forehead, hoping to wake you. — Wake up, sleepyhead.
— Hm? — you murmured, lazily opening your eyes.
— Good morning, love. — he whispered, still stroking your hair gently.
— Good morning, Johnny. — you smiled faintly, still forcing yourself to wake up. As you gazed at John, you let out an inevitable sigh at how intimately beautiful he looked that morning.
His messy auburn hair, flushed cheeks, and lips still slightly swollen from the events of the previous night. The scent of his aftershave filled your senses, and you suddenly felt shy upon realising he was shirtless. It was hard to believe you had married John Lennon and were now his wife. Mrs Lennon. Entirely his, just as he was entirely yours.
— I made breakfast. — the musician’s voice pulled you from your almost sinful reverie about him. — Eat before it gets cold.
You smiled at him and sat up in bed, pushing the covers aside and stretching.
— I must be the luckiest person in the world. — you said, pulling John in for a brief kiss on the lips. John let out a soft chuckle and returned the small kiss, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you straight into his lap. You didn’t protest.
— Actually, I’m the luckiest man in the world. — he said. — You look beautiful today.
— I just woke up. — you teased. — No one looks beautiful when they’ve just woken up.
John clicked his tongue against his teeth and tightened his hold on your waist.
— You are the most beautiful woman in any situation. Especially when you’re waking up. — he claimed, stealing another quick kiss from your lips. — And only my opinion matters.
You laughed and kissed him back. His body was warm and so comforting you could spend eternity wrapped in his embrace.
— Oh, Johnny, you’re so silly. — you murmured, stroking his face and looking into his eyes. You found it both amusing and endearing that his freckles were more prominent from all the sun he had caught in Italy. John hated being called a redhead and always denied it, but it was adorable to see so many countless freckles scattered across his face. It made you want to kiss each and every one of them whenever he grumbled about people reminding him of his auburn hair.
— And you should eat before it gets cold, missy. — he said in a playful, mock-reproachful tone.
- x -
You ate and chatted about your honeymoon trip, still in love with the whole experience and Italy. One thing you didn’t know until you got married to John it was the fact that John was a surprisingly good cook, far exceeding your expectations.
— I didn’t know you could cook this well. — you remarked, placing your half-finished glass of orange juice back on the tray.
— There’s a lot about me you don’t know yet, Mrs Lennon. — John teased, and you playfully tapped his shoulder making him laugh. One of the things he enjoy the most is teasing you by his silly double meaning comments.
— Oh, really? And what must I do to learn more about my husband and all the amazing things he can do? — you turn teasing the musician, watching him take the last sip of his juice before setting the glass down on the tray.
— I can show you everything I know how to do. — he said in a low voice, his accent thickening. A shiver ran down your spine as you noticed the slow cadence his voice had taken on. — I can teach you as well. — he arched an eyebrow, and you swallowed hard. John was a natural-born tease.
— Oh, is that so? Then what are you waiting for? I’m dying to find out. — you smiled, feigning innocence, though deep down, you wanted to sound just as shameless and provocative as you did now.
— I’ll show you everything, darling. With great pleasure. — he murmured, gathering you into his arms and positioning himself above you. John kissed your neck, and you laughed hopelessly in love and filled with sinful desires for him.
And that morning, you both knew there would be no rush to leave that room.