The Milk Man
John Lennon x fem!Reader
content warning; none. literally just fluff and something i came up with like a fart in the wind.
a/n: sorry if it ain’t too good. i’m getting used to writing for this evil man.
“i don’t like this weird silent thing you’re doing, John.” You grumbled under your breath, tossing a stuffed animal at his back. he just huffed.
this mood was all because of one little remark that you made towards him in the supermarket after he kept charming the cashier woman.
“keep that up and you’ll see just how close i am with the milk man.”
obviously you’d meant it as a joke. but john didn’t take it that way. and yes, this is the john who uses his charisma to get discounts and finds himself accidentally (?) flirting with old men.
and since that fateful moment, he’s been shooting glares at you like you killed his grandma.
“Why don’t you just go make small talk with that milk man you’re so fond of.” he snipped, voice muffled by the pillow he had his face buried in.
somehow, despite his oh-so-obvious -anger he still couldn’t find the decency to express it by sleeping on the couch. so he was just curled up in the fetal position at the foot of your shared bed. sitting with you legs crossed, you lean into your hands as your bent elbows dig into a soft velvet pillow.
“maybe i will. i’m sure he’d make better company than a pouting little baby.” you sneered, opting to toss another pillow at his head instead of apologizing.
he only groaned.
you groaned back teasingly.
the silence grew, bouncing off of your walls with an eery and unwanted echo. you knew he was truly upset, and you know you shouldn’t have made that comment. but seriously, one joke should not have sent him off the edge like that when he’s always flirting with everyone!
“…john?” you whispered.
“mmghff?” he acknowledged.
“i’m sorry.”
“…”
the silence felt awkward. you picked nervously at your cuticles.
“and you know that i don’t really talk to the milk man.”
“oh?” he raised his head slowly. you were getting him back!
“yeah.” you soothed. “he’s much too old.”
John’s eyebrows furrowed together with scrutiny as he leaned forward accusingly.“so you’re saying you’d be into him if he was younger!?”
“oh my god, are you menstruating?”
You got hit with the pillow this time.
and when you tugged the darn thing off your face, john was standing at the window, peering out into the front yard. you didn’t understand until you distantly heard a familiar door slam shut. oh no. the milkman was here.
“i think ill go fancy myself a chat with that bloke.” he muttered, just loud enough so you could hear his threat.
“john.” you warned.
“(name).” he mocked.
“don’t.”
“best try to stop me then.”
he ran out of the room like a stray cat caught in a trash bin. you scrambled, nearly tripping over your own feet on the way out.
“John! JOHN QUIT!”
he was just about to open the front door when you said those fatal words.
“IF YOU OPEN THAT DAMN DOOR, YOU AREN’T BEING THE LITTLE SPOON FOR A WEEK!”
…
“yes maam.”
“and what else!?”
“my apologies maam.”
