1960– john is twenty, you are (choose age), your baby is (choose age)

john’s life wasn’t perfect— nowhere near. john himself wasn’t perfect— nowhere near. he had no money, he got angry, he had trauma, he got into trouble, he had a kid at too early an age, and so much more. but you and baby julian meant the world to him, and he’d do anything for the two of you; his beautiful little family.

the sun shone through the window, glowing on the three of your faces as the first moments of the day began. animals awakening, early-birds rising, and john beginning to stir in his sleep. he was shirtless, the only thing he was wearing being his boxers, and he had his arms wrapped around you, his head on your bare stomach. he was a huge softie in private, you see. nothing like how he acted to the public. meanwhile, baby julian was curled up to your other side, laying on your sprawled out arm with his little nappy on and chubby hands holding onto your hair. and you were in the middle of it all, on the small, messy bed, in the small, messy room, in the small, messy flat.

john grunted a little, moving his legs a little and finally opening his eyes, the first thing he saw being your soft, tan skin he was laying on. he made a few more grumpy, sleepy noises, rubbing his eyes as he tried to wake up properly, though he didn’t move from your body.

and once he awoke properly, he looked up at you for a moment, seeing your tired yet beautiful face asleep, with your long lashes covering your closed eyes and your messy hair across the pillow, with each of your arms around each of the boys and your bare breasts. then he looked back down at your stomach and kissed it gently, one of his hands caressing it. he wasn’t looking at you with lust. it was pure love— love for his perfect girlfriend. okay, and maybe a little bit of lust.