#exposing the men in the tags for ur amusement

[willgraham-manwhore]

[istheresomebodywhocanimagine]

Well... All Right

@strawberryfields-forever said: Hello my love, I saw the Beatles post, and I was wondering if I could request a John Lennon imagine? Maybe where the reader and him are out on their first date of sorts and she surprises him with how wild and rebellious she is, cause she doesn’t seem like that normally. Or just something cute and fluffy! Ilyxxxx

(a/n: i didn’t know how many people like queen AND the beatles so if ur on my reg taglist and see this, let me know if you’d like to be tagged in beatles imagines!! i don’t want to clog ur mentions with things u dont want hehe. speaking of clogs i hope brian may has a good night anyways here u go!!! fluffy misbehaving john lennon for ur viewing pleasure)

You hadn’t struck John as the type to say yes to dates with men you hardly knew, especially with such an unruly character like himself. So when he was fooling around in your painting class and started flirting harmlessly with you, he expected nothing out of it. You were usually quiet, kept to yourself, turned in your work on time, and asked no questions. Not exactly the kind of girl that would be climbing out of Liverpool’s waterfront, drenched and tipsy and laughing deliriously as she clutched onto John’s hat, which was also beyond soaked, while a cop yelled at you from afar

But here you were, drenched, tipsy, and clutching onto his hat. And he’d never questioned his personal judgement so much, a queer, amused smile coming to his face as he held out a hand to help you up the ladder.

It had started out innocently enough. The professor had brought in another nude model for you all to paint over the course of the afternoon, and you couldn’t help but smile a bit at the way John groaned loud enough for the class to hear. After the hell he’d raised with the female model last month when he managed to show up for one class, you couldn’t imagine what he had in mind for the male model that now stood before you.

“This is the last time I actually show up for class, I swear,” he mumbled, digging through his bag to pull out his paints as you feigned apathy, already mixing your skin tone for the man that laid on the table in the center of the room. But John had said that many times before – he’d always show up, take the seat nearest you, find out what was happening for the day, and swear that he’d never show face again. And then you’d see him eventually, maybe within days, maybe within weeks.

You tried to focus on the man before you, staring intently at the skin on his cheeks and noting that there was some discoloration, possibly rosacea, so you scraped some of your skin tone off to the side and added just a tick of red, mixing it in. John was watching you out of the corner of his eye, clearly not interested in all at painting what he was supposed to paint as his eyes wandered, the professor getting more irritated by the minute as his canvas remained blank.

“Mr. Lennon, you seem to be coming along well,” the professor remarked on his next round, tapping a bony finger to the empty canvas and sending him a sarcastic smile. John scoffed, looking over in your direction and rolling his eyes as if to say ‘This guy.’ Then, his ever-expressive face was blessed by a wide smile, and he gave the professor a thumbs up paired with a goofy, sweet grin, making you suppress a laugh as you tried to focus on the natural curve of the man’s thighs. The professor eyed you for a moment, then narrowed his eyes as he looked back to John – and with that, he was gone, off to his next victim.

“Geez, wonder if he’s ever heard of breath mints,” John mumbled, and that got a snicker out of you before you quickly pressed the back of your hand to your mouth, barely holding back a grin. Now he was actually looking at you, an ever-present mischievous grin on his face making a blush spread across yours as you sat your paintbrush down in your cup of water. “That was a cute little laugh. Do it again.”

“John,” you admonished softly, nodding towards the male model and stifling another laugh as you bit your lower lip. He only shrugged, appearing indifferent towards the subject at hand when he had you right there to bother. “We’re both going to get poor marks if you start bugging me.”

“You say bugging, I say making conversation. Who will ever win?” he countered, and he noticed that the professor had started to lecture, but didn’t really care much as he continued. “I never caught your name, what is it?”

Looking between him and the professor a bit nervously, you returned your eyes to your painting as you held back a grin, still chewing on your lower lip. “Y/N.”

“Y/N. Pretty name for a pretty girl,” he remarked, flashing you a dazzling smile.

He was a bit of a charming fellow in terms of looks, if not a bit odd for the school scene. He always came in with the most unruly, fluffy hair, shorter on the sides than it was on top, and he wore outfits that stood out among the rest of your peers. While they opted for loose sweaters and blocky trousers that hid any sort of curve whatsoever, John dressed in longer blazers, tight jeans, form-fitting trousers, and the likes, sticking out like a sore thumb. And he was attractive, you had to admit. He was young, just freshly 18, and had the teddy boy look down to an art – the swagger, the hair, the confident smile, the glint in his eyes that was so rebellious, and yet not threatening to you at all. His charming, boyish looks and mussy golden-brown hair were enough to send anyone with eyes crazy, especially in such a strict institute.

“Thank you,” you murmured in response, smiling a bit as you picked up your paintbrush, then dipped it in the paint and ran it along the curve of the painted man’s side. The paint thinly spread out and  started breaking up when the product ran out near the end of your swipe. “You always hit on your classmates like this?”

“Nah, just the really cute ones.”

“Mr. Lennon! Something important you’re discussing with Miss Y/N, I presume?” Your professor’s mention of your name set all of your nerve endings on fire and you clammed up, staring straight at your painting and wishing that you could melt into a puddle of nothingness at this exact moment.

But John was unashamed and unafraid, resting his hands on his knees as he sat up on his stool a bit, peeking around the canvas at where the professor was across the room. “Just making conversation, sir. Hard to flirt with all this noise in the background.” He really did not give a shit about this class, did he? You pressed your lips into a thin line as you tried not to blush even more at the fact that John was flirting with you and now the entire class was aware.

The professor looked very much annoyed, but just stared for a moment before continuing his tangent about getting the shading correct, and John gave you a devilish smile when you glanced over at him to shoot daggers at him. “You’re going to get us suspended, you cheeky bastard.”

“Oh, you’re so tame. I like that,” he laughed, starting to dump out some paint that didn’t even closely resemble any of the skin tones on the man before you. He stood, brushing his tight drainpipe trousers off and stretching his legs out so the trousers fell back over the white socks that peeked out of his suede creepers. And then he walked up to the model, crouching down directly in front of his face as you watched, entranced by this enigmatic, lively character that seemed to be studying the model’s … face?

When he came back, you raised an eyebrow in question, resituating yourself on your stool a bit so you could cross your legs. “What was that all about?”

“Give me a date with you and I’ll tell you.” The look in his eyes was challenging, daring you to say yes, although a part of him knew it would probably never happen. You were a straight-A student, and going out with the black-sheep of this college would definitely screw that image right up. So when you responded, a genuine look of shock overtook his features.

“Alright. When and where?”

So you’d decided to meet John the next night outside of a little restaurant in the bohemian district, grab a bite to eat before going out for a few drinks, then ‘see where the night took you,’ according to him. He showed up dressed in his usual tight black trousers, brown suede creepers, and a black shirt layered with a forest green jacket. It was particularly windy, so he’d opted to bring a hat, but it was twirling around on his finger when you saw him, an absentminded time-passer that slowed to a stop when he finally spotted you.

You weren’t in your usual blocky sweater and longer skirt. Now, a short-sleeve sweater of white accentuated all your curves right down to your waist, where the sweater met a relatively formfitting black pencil skirt that didn’t even dare to pass your knees, exposing black tights that slimmed your legs even more. The small tears in the tights led right down to the red heels you’d chosen for yourself, drawing so much attention from older generations as you passed on the sidewalk that you thought they’d drop dead from shock right there. This was rebellion in 1950’s Liverpool. Showcasing your body, accentuating your legs? Scandalous.

Scandalous, and yet you knew John loved it as an appreciative, yet puzzled smile crept onto his face. His jaw was still slightly slack, shocked from the contrast, but he reached out and gave you a polite kiss on the cheek when you finally made it to him, which you reciprocated. And then he offered his arm, walking into the restaurant with you side-by-side.

Conversation remained light during the meal, John footing the bill when it was time to pay and helping you out of your seat when it was time to go to the pub. When you both had a few drinks in you, that’s when things really began to start flowing.

“So what happened to the whole studious library girl look you have going on every day?” he asked, hand firmly wrapped around the mug of beer in front of him on the bar. You grinned fully, not hiding the smile you usually tried to repress in class, and John quirked an eyebrow slightly, noting how astonishingly mischievous the look in your eyes was.

“Every day? I haven’t seen you show up to class consecutively since the beginning of this semester. And here you talk as if you know what I look like every day,” you teased, tracing your finger around the rim of your own beer, John laughing and raising his hands in surrender.

“Okay, you got me. I may or may not skip class a bit. I’m the antichrist, I know. But you didn’t answer my question?” he prodded, leaning forward and resting his elbow on the bar, propping up his head.

“It’s a nice college, John. I’d like to get my degree eventually, but can you imagine what the professors would say if I showed up in what I usually wear?”

“Is this what you usually wear?” he questioned, no hint of malice or teasing in his voice. He was just genuinely curious, leaning forward and hanging on to your every word. He’d never seen someone flip a switch like this, and the ease with which you did it was astounding. It was like he was meeting you all over again, and it fascinated him.

“Yes,” you giggled, taking another drink of your beer before sitting it down and hopping off the stool, holding out a hand. “Any song requests? I’m headed over to the jukebox, the songs are awful right now.

He had to admit, the songs were not the greatest, so he dropped some money into your hand and told you to play whatever you liked before watching you easily slip through the crowd, taking a moment to pick a few songs before returning. And then the sound of Buddy Holly started softly playing as you climbed back onto your stool, crossing a leg and taking another drink of your beer.

John raised an eyebrow, again surprised that you listened to Buddy Holly. Buddy had passed away earlier this year, and you saw quite a few faces sober up, but it was such a good song that people were soon singing along to it. Others, not so much. The rock and roll trend still wasn’t quite a phenomena, and the genre was clearly divisive, but you very much enjoyed the rock and roll sound of Holly, tapping your fingers on the table to the beat and smiling at certain parts of the song.

“You like this kind of music?” John questioned, and you nodded, propping your head up on your hand as your elbow rested on the bar.

“’f course. Shame about what happened to him, really thought he was the best of the best.” John leaned back a bit, nodding slowly and grinning as he listened to you continue on about your preference for rock and roll. A girl talking so openly about such a damning subject was attractive to him, and he found his pulse speeding up when you’d finished talking, asking him what kind of music he liked.

“Same music, really. I actually play in a band, if you’re interested. Well, sort of,” he retracted, pulling a goofy face before pursing his lips and continuing. “We’re just three guys with too many guitars and not enough drums.”

“Sounds like you’re in quite a dilemma,” you observed, finishing off your beer at the same time that he finished off his. The bartender refilled them when he passed by a moment later, John paying and smiling politely at the bartender before they were off again. His focus returned to you, and he took a moment to remember where you were in the conversation as you sipped some of the foam off the top of your lager. When you took quite a big drink of the beer to chase that sip, John raised an eyebrow curiously.

“We are in quite a dilemma. But it looks like you’re going to be in quite a dilemma soon if you keep out-drinking me.” Giggling, you shook your head and took another drink, then propped your head up on your hand and gave him a challenging look.

“If you really want to see me outdrink you, you’d do shots with me.”

“Shots?” he laughed incredulously, his hand still wrapped around the handle of the beer mug. “I take back calling you tame yesterday. Don’t we technically have class tomorrow?”

“At noon, plenty of time to recover. And since when have you ever cared about class? Half of the school has wagers on when you’re going to be expelled, Lennon,” you retorted, raising an eyebrow and giving him a devilishly sweet smile, one that let on to the idea that maybe you were far more feisty than even he knew. “Three shots. That’s all.” Your hand shot out, daring him to take it and accept.

“Three shots?” he considered, mulling over it for a second before he sighed overdramatically and took your hand, shaking it. “You’re a funny girl. A surprise up your sleeve at every turn.”

“Is that such a bad thing?” you asked, flagging down the bartender as you kept your gaze on John expectantly, biting your lower lip to hold back a big grin.

A small smirk toyed at John’s lips as he scanned your face for a second, then shrugged. “We’ll see.”

It was most definitely not a bad thing. You both took the shots, no chaser for you and John looking at you in a disgusted sort of impressed that made you laugh. And when you’d begun to get flushed and overheated from all the alcohol in your system, you leaned on John and requested a walk by the waterfront.

Now here you were, holding on to John’s shoulder as you laughed at another corny joke he’d told in his slurred speech, being just as tipsy as you. His arm was wrapped around your waist, the both of you supporting each other terrible as you teetered and tottered down the sidewalk next to the water, gusts of wind blowing in and stinging your cheeks a deeper red than they already were from a combo of the alcohol and John’s flirting. The sun was getting low, shrouding you both in a semi-darkness that seemed to bring an exclusivity to the pair of you as you strolled down the waterfront.

“This wind is going t’be the death of my hair, I swear,” you complained, trying to push it out of your face to no avail and laughing at yourself when you failed miserably. “I give up. I’m just goin’ to look like a wooly mammoth forever.”

“Aw, I think it’s kind of cute,” he teased gently, squeezing your side, and then he reached up to move his cap from his head to yours, pulling it down over your eyes a bit. “There, is that better?”

“John, I can’t see!” you squealed, John laughing and pulling the cap down over your eyes more as you tried in vain to fight his efforts. “You’re such an arse! Can’t believe I agreed to come on a date with you, you little bastard!”

“Oh, you’re just spouting nonsense now!” he chuckled, letting go of the brim anyways and giving you a mischievous grin when you finally managed to pull the cap up from your eyes. Trying to resituate your hair, you shot him a playfully nasty look before stopping where you were, John’s arm slipping off of your waist for a moment as he slid his hands into his pockets. You used the rail behind you for support, your vision a bit hazy as you pulled your hair up into a ponytail with the hair tie that had been in your pocket, John smiling at the new look and making you blush a bit more. “Are my eyes deceiving me or did you just blush?”

“Definitely your eyes,” you countered, although there wasn’t even a trace of truth in your voice as you blushed even more, John taking the opportunity to lean his side against the rail next to you, taking one hand out of his pocket to lift up a strand of hair you’d forgotten and tuck it into the cap.

It was probably the alcohol, but as you looked up into John’s warm brown eyes, you’d never wanted to kiss someone so bad in your life. His fluffy hair was flying wildly in the wind, making him look even more tousled and adorable than he usually did anyways, and his lips were slightly chapped, but the pout of his lower lip made you graze your teeth over your own, contemplating for a moment. And he was doing the same, suddenly quiet as a mouse as his eyes ran over your own plump, tempting lips before looking back up to meet your slightly glazed eyes.

A mutual exchange must have taken place, but you couldn’t have registered it even if you tried, because the next moment, John was leaning down to kiss you, taking your face in one hand and smiling against your lips when you reciprocated, making a slightly surprised noise. The two of you moved your lips in sync for a minute or two, conveniently forgetting the hat on your head until John went to tilt his head the other way and managed to knock it right into the water.

“Oh, shit,” he muttered as he broke away from the kiss, both of you peering over the railing at the hat that was just lapping up against the concrete barrier below. Laughing a bit, you glanced at John, who had a mournful look on his face. “My favorite hat, too.”

“I’ve got it,” you shrugged, using the railing to lean on shakily as you began to yank off your heels, John looking at you like you were mad. “What? You said it’s your favorite, I don’t personally want to be the reason that John Lennon is without his favorite hat. I’d imagine you’d paint a memorial photo of it in class just to spite me. It’s not like you ever paint the actual subject anyways.”

“Have you gone mental?” he laughed, taking your heels from you and following as you started over to the ladder nearby, nothing but an open padlock to stop you from opening the gate. “It’s probably bloody cold in that water. You’ll freeze.”

“Oh, don’t be so dramatic,” you teased, giving him a gentle nudge before you swung open the gate, starting to climb down to his amazement. The hat wasn’t far from the ladder, but just far enough that you had to get in. When you did get into the water, you cursed lightly at how cold it was despite the fact that you were drunk, John laughing at your language as you swam over to the hat, snatching it up and holding it up in victory.

“You’re crazy!” he called out over the whistling of the wind, making you smile widely as you started to swim back over to the ladder. Grabbing onto the bottom rung, you were starting to pull yourself up when you heard someone down the waterfront start shouting. Both of you looked in the same direction, spotting a cop that was shaking a fist at you and screaming. You couldn’t make out what he was saying, but you assumed it wasn’t nice, and John burst out laughing at the same time as you, holding out a hand and urging you to hurry. “You’re going to get us both arrested!” he yelled, grinning as you laughed deliriously at the angry old cop who was cursing you out.

Scrambling up the ladder while you cackled, John hoisted you to your feet and didn’t waste a moment in taking off running with you, your hands clasped together tightly as you giggled breathlessly and made an escape down the backstreets towards your dorms. You were freezing by the time you’d managed to make it to your dorm, which was empty when you entered, gasping for air in between hysterical laughing bouts. John slumped back against your door and held his hand to his chest while you grabbed a towel, trying to dry yourself the rest of the way off and catch your breath.

“Here you are,” you giggled breathlessly, tossing him his cap and making him go into another round of laughter as it hit his chest, falling to the floor. “Don’t say I never did anything for you!”

“My god, Y/N, you’re mad,” he gasped, his smile ear to ear as he laughed at the state of you, soaked to the bone and shivering as you searched for dry clothes. When you found them, he covered his eyes graciously and just chuckled, finally catching his breath while he waited patiently for you to change. “I thought we were goners, for sure.”

“You have little faith,” you teased, changing into some pajama pants and a loose shirt before pulling your hair out of the ponytail. “You can open your eyes now, Lennon.”

“I don’t know if I like you calling me Lennon,” he remarked, uncovering his eyes and crawling to his feet after sitting your heels and the hat on the floor. “Reminds me so much of the professor in painting.”

“Would you prefer Johnny Boy?” you asked playfully, helping him out of his jacket and laying it over your arm as he turned to face you, pursing his lips.

“Not exactly.” But he let the subject drop as he tucked some of your still-damp hair behind your ear, grinning softly. “I quite liked it in the soggy ponytail, wild girl.”

“Wild girl?” you asked, briefly interrupted when he leaned in for a quick kiss. You kissed back, pouting a bit when he pulled away so soon, but continued your observation anyways. “I can’t tell if that’s an insult or a compliment.”

He grinned even wider, keeping his hand resting on the nape of your neck while taking his jacket from your arm and dropping it to the floor near his hat. “Definitely a compliment.”

let me know if you’d like to be on the taglist for my beatles imagines in the future! REQUESTS CLOSED!