#George Harrison fluff

[cherry-velvet-skies]

Please Don't Be Long

George Harrison × GN!Reader

Genre: Fluffyyy hehe

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol

Words: 2.7k

Summary: 1968-69 era; The universe has a unique way of continuously bringing Geo and Reader together, and it’s time they finally accept the invitation (featuring a brief appearance by Ringo The Wingman lmao)

A/N: The idea for this fic was requested by the wonderful @leia-saveourskins (thank you so much for the request! 🥰)

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The moderately loud music flowing through the stereo speakers was all that could be heard in your ears as you made your way around the room, trying your best to mingle with the other guests. You enjoyed your fair share of house parties, as they were a great way to get to know new people, as well as reconnecting and maintaining previously established friendships.

You and George had met before. Granted, it was only briefly, but you remembered enough to recognize his face in the crowd on the other side of the room. George was the reserved type, preferring to stick around the people he knew best and enjoy the good music and tasty snacks. Parties weren't exactly his scene, but he knew how to make the best of them.

You attended this particular event with a few of your other friends, who, at this moment, were nowhere to be found. You shrugged your shoulders, assuming they would come find you when they wanted, or rather needed, to call it a night and head home, as you elected to be the designated driver for the evening.

Worming your way through the room of dancing people to where George was, you felt a smile growing on your face the closer you got to him. He had this wonderful energy that could be felt from a mile away, not to mention he was certainly quite handsome.

He was sitting on a sofa in the far corner of the room, holding a less than half-full glass of what appeared to be white wine. There were several other people sitting around him, one of which seemed to be telling a rather interesting story, with the other guests listening with rapt attention. You didn't recognize all of these people, only a few in passing, but one of which you knew quite well, immediately recognizing the array of dazzling rings scattered across his fingers.

Ringo had actually been the one to introduce you to George. You met him at a party similar to this one a few weeks prior, and after chatting for several minutes, he seemed to get the impression that you two would hit it off, promptly bringing you over to say hello. It was nice to see him again as well, seeing as the only people you knew here were off on their own adventures. You sighed in relief, your worry that you would be left awkwardly alone for the evening gradually fading away. 

The interesting campfire sofa story seemed to come to an end, and a gap opened up in the small crowd. You strode forward, seizing the opportunity, making your way to a cozy little spot next to him on the sofa. Before you could even sit down and reintroduce yourself, George looked up at you, smiling brightly, playfully pointing a finger in your direction.

“Ah, I remember you.” He said cheerily, and although he did not attempt to raise his voice to be heard over the music, somehow you could hear him just fine. “Always nice to see another familiar face.”

“Hi George.” You giggled, feeling your hands fidget slightly at your sides, but you tried your best to not let it show. Somewhere between your starting location and here, all the confidence of speaking to George had blown away, and all that was left was your increasingly shy tone and a small blush creeping up your cheeks.

Before continuing the conversation with you, George looked to the other side of him and tapped his friend on the shoulder. “What do you know, Rich? I guess you do have a gift. We meet again!” Ringo turned to face you, his bright blue eyes lighting up despite the slightly dim lighting in the room.

“And here you are!” He said happily, standing from the couch to pull you into a warm hug. A surprised laugh left your throat, but you hugged him back, feeling him pull away almost as quickly to let you sit down next to George. “I'll let you two lovebirds get to chatting.” He mused as he disappeared into the next room.

You returned your gaze to George and felt the blush on your face get stronger. He didn't seem to notice, or rather, he didn't point it out, instead twisting his torso to reach behind him for a bottle of wine. “Fancy a drink?” He asked, pausing to top off his own glass.

“I really shouldn't, but thank you anyway.” You replied politely. “I'd rather be more alert when I have to round up my friends and drive them home later tonight.” George nodded understandingly, a small chuckle leaving his lips. He cleared his throat before taking another sip.

“Responsibility is quite uncommon these days. Much like common sense.” He laughed at his own joke, and you laughed too, remembering that his sense of humor was something you immediately liked about him when you first met. He may have been on the quiet side, but he could crack a mean joke. Listen close, or you just might miss it.

George wasn't one for small talk. He found it boring and mundane, which you actually appreciated, as you found it awkward and uncomfortable. You loved that he dove right in when talking to people, asking the deeper, more interesting questions. Questions about life and the wonder of it all, and everything we could be learning about the world and ourselves if we just got out of our brains all the time and back into our bodies, feeling and seeing the world as it was meant to be experienced. You were absolutely enthralled, listening closely and chiming in where you could relate or feel your curiosity piqued. Just as you felt yourself wanting to rest your head on his shoulder, becoming captivated by a campfire sofa story of your own, you felt someone bump into the sofa cushion behind you, mumbling your name.

You turned around to see one of your friends, with the other two standing a bit further behind her. You could barely understand her slurry of unintelligible words, and judging by her smudged makeup, you weren't sure if she had been crying, or just plainly drunk and possibly high out of her mind. Either way, the three had clearly tracked you down because they wanted to go home.

You sighed, turning back to George, grimacing slightly, annoyed that you had to leave just when the conversation was starting to get good. George didn't seem bothered, still offering a warm smile. “They've come for their cab.” He said cheekily. “Go on ahead, I'll see ya ‘round.”

You couldn't help but laugh at his comment, an instant mood booster despite being upset at your untimely departure. Pausing to give George a modest peck on the cheek, you stood from your spot on the sofa, collected your now rather disoriented looking friends, and shuffled out the door.

About two weeks later, you received a phone call from Ringo, inviting you to another party, this time of his own creation. In any other case, you would have declined, not feeling very social as of late, but no sooner did you open your mouth to object, a thought entered your brain. If Ringo was hosting the party, there’s a pretty good chance George was going to be there as well. 

George.

Ever since your last encounter with him at the previous party, he had been a lingering thought in all areas of your mind. The first time you met him, there was no room to have a meaningful chat as the awkward silence had taken up most if not all of the conversation. And last time appeared to be promising until your evening was cut short by your petulant plus-ones. But this time, there would be no distractions, and you were gonna make sure of it. This was the third time the great universe had given you another shot at making a connection with George, and there was no way you were going to pass it up. This time, you would be going solo. Having mentally finalized your decision, you graciously accepted Ringo’s invitation, and hung up the phone.

By the time the party rolled around, you were practically buzzing with excitement. All previous antisocial feelings had gone out the window, since now, you knew there was going to be something at this party that could spark your interest. When you arrived at the party, via cab of course, as now there was no need to play designated driver, you were immediately greeted by Ringo, who promptly offered you a drink and gently encouraged you to go mingle. 

This party was quite different from the last one. It was by no means a fancy gathering, but it felt much more sophisticated. There were less people than last time, greatly lowering the level of potential chaos. Despite the decreased number of guests, it was the most reserved form of the word ‘wild’ and it was still clear that everyone was having a great time. There was a record playing gentle dance music from one of the rooms. You weren’t sure if it was instrumental or you just couldn’t make out the lyrics, but you enjoyed it either way. You searched for the source of the music to hopefully catch the title of the record when you bumped into someone on the way out, nearly spilling your drink on their shirt. 

“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry!” You shrieked, eyes still facing towards the floor in both confusion and embarrassment. You looked up to deliver another heartfelt apology and instead you froze, your eyes widening.

“Better watch where you’re headed, love.” George teased, punctuating his statement by brushing a stray strand of hair out of your face. You already felt yourself blushing, feeling the need to apologize even more fervently now that you knew your encounter had not been with a random stranger. 

“George!” You shrieked again, not sure why you said his name as you didn’t have anything to say after that, but followed it up with the best thing you could think of. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Following me, eh?” He mused, playfully poking you in the arm. You blushed harder, your free hand fidgeting with the bottom of your drink glass, the fingers on your other hand tapping the side awkwardly. 

“Perhaps it’s fate.” You blurted out, the thought sounding more confident in your head. But you felt yourself breathe a sigh of relief when George chuckled at your statement. 

“Divine timing.” he nodded knowingly.

“The universe wants us to keep meeting at these parties.” You giggled, trying to keep your composure while also ecstatic that George shared your theory. “It would be a shame to not accept the invitation. And besides, we never finished our conversation from last time.”

“I s’pose you make a point.” He grinned, flashing that ever-gorgeous fang-toothed smile. 

“So…shall we dance?” You offered, gesturing to the surrounding area between the two of you. George looked around, eyes following your hands at your silent gestures. 

“I don’t have the best moves, love, but I’ll try.” He laughed nervously. As if on cue, you heard the random instrumental record change, and a soft romantic melody began to play. You felt a large beaming smile spread across your face, silently thanking the universe yet again for its ‘divine timing’. “Ah,” George said softly, “now, slow dancing, I might be fair at.” He held his hand out for you to hold, which you happily accepted, assuming the slow dance positions.

George moved your hand that he was holding onto his shoulder, and you moved your other hand to his other shoulder. You felt like electricity was going to start buzzing out of you when George repositioned his hands to softly rest against your waist, but you tried your best to be calm. You let out an excited giggle that sounded more like a shriek, but George’s expression proved he found it rather endearing.

“Well…” he whispered, his voice vibrating as you rested your head on his chest, “you said you wanted to continue our other conversation?” You had gotten so comfortable with the current situation, your body filled with tranquility instead of nervousness, that you forgot you had even said that.

“Oh…” you trailed off, picking your head up from his chest to stare into his eyes, a warm deep brown you found yourself getting lost in, “right, I did say that. But for now I only have one question.” George continued to stare at you, gently nodding in wait for your question, the corners of his lips twitching upwards into a brief yet heartwarming grin. “Does divine timing work for romance as well?”

The second the sentence left your lips, the anxious part of you immediately wanted to take it back, but George didn’t mind. He smiled again, keeping his usual calm demeanor as he had done the whole time. “Well,” he began, same as how he usually started any of his philosophical observations, “if that is true, there would also have to be some sort of sign to confirm or deny it. Something to suggest if it is the right time, or something to interrupt it if the time isn’t right.” You listened intently, feeling yourself unconsciously smiling as he spoke, completely captivated by his perspective. You moved one of your hands higher on his shoulders to rest just above the collar of his shirt, brushing your fingers against the soft skin of his neck.

“Well how do we know if the time is right?” You asked, not even realizing you had already picked up his habit of putting that word at the beginning of sentences. But just as you posed the question, you felt time begin to slow down around you. Suddenly, all the other guests felt a million miles away, the music felt louder, and now, in that moment, it was just you and George, and nothing else mattered. It felt incredible, as your brain was able to block out all the other worldly noise, and just concentrate on the here and now, something you found yourself unable to do so effectively before.

George thought about it for a second, his tongue darting out to lick his lips, the edges of his mustache stretching out as a knowing smirk appeared on his face. “Well, let’s find out then, shall we?”

You thought he was going to do some sudden movement as if to attract the attention of the universe for any objections, or send a cheeky statement sailing out into the ether, but nothing could have prepared you for the moment he leaned forward to place a gentle kiss on your lips.

Your eyes widened in shock, feeling your fingers involuntarily grip at his shoulder, but that was soon replaced by an overwhelming joy spreading through your body. George placed his hand under your jaw, his fingers cupping your chin to deepen the kiss. You sighed happily, closing your eyes again and wrapping your arms around him, resting your wrists on the back of his neck. 

It was a purely heavenly sensation. You found yourself softly giggling against his lips, pulling away for a mere second to look in his eyes again. George smiled back at you, briefly looking around and boastfully shrugging his shoulders. “I guess the universe had no problem with that.” He quipped.

He opened his mouth to say something else but stopped, his eyes fixated on something in another room through one of the open doors as he let out an adorable little giggle. “In fact, I think we may have actually had a little help.” He turned back to you, pointing in the direction of whatever had caught his eye. You turned around to see Ringo standing over by the record player, proudly swirling his drink glass in one hand, his other hand holding the decorative album sleeve for the romantic record that was currently playing. He raised his glass to toast the happy couple from afar, sealing his stamp of accomplishment with a supportive, bright-blue-eyed wink. You and George laughed in stereo, your smile growing wider as you gave Ringo a grateful two thumbs up before turning back to George.

“I guess the universe did have a plan for us.” You joked, not sure if you felt yourself release a dreamy sigh or it was all in your mind. 

George nodded agreeingly, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear as he stared into your eyes. “I guess it did.” He laughed before pulling you closer for another loving kiss.

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AAAAA I'm so happy with how this one turned out! I did go a little rogue off the request by adding Ringo in the mix lol but I think it still works well and I hope y'all think so too 🥰 Taglist: @little-bit-of-mystery @nosegoes @cocteautwiny @queen-of-stars @thatgoesinthere-misshapes @harrisongslimited @hyasynth1

If you would like to be added to this list, comment on this post or send me an ask!

[ilovegeorgie]

you know i believe and how

george harrison x reader

genre: fluff

warnings: none ! just fluffy geo <3

summary: george confesses his love with a song abt you !!

a/n: ik this isn't how "something" was written, but i thought it would be a pretty cute way to imagine georgie :)

the living room was quiet while george sat on the floor obvliviously plucking at the strings. she sat opposite to him on the couch, her legs tucked under while sipping from a cup of tea. the glow coming from the fireplace lit her face, and george thought she’d never looked more pretty.

“you’re awfully quiet tonight, george” she said curious. “what’s going on that mind of yours?”

he glanced up at her, his pretty lips curving into a small smile.

“nothing much, really” he replied, though the truth lingered just behind his words.

she tilted her head, her eyes narrowing slightly in that way she always did when she didn’t quite believe him.

“oh come on, georgie” she teased gently. “i know theres something going on, so tell me what is it” she said while leaving the cup on the table.

he hesitated, his fingers brushing the strings of his guitar in a nervously.

“well, lately i’ve been working on something,” he said at last. “a song, you know..”

her expression softened at his words, and she leaned forward a little.

“did you already showed it to the band..?”

he shook his head, his gaze dropping to the guitar.

“uhm, not really, it's not for them.”

“not for them?” she repeated softly. “then who’s it for?”

he swallowed hard, lifting his gace to see the features that he dreamed of almost every night. the firelight reflected in her eyes, and for a moment, he forgot all the lyrics he’d written, all the melodies he’d ever rehearsed.

“for you,” he murmured, the words quiet but confident.

her breath got caught for just a second, her cheeks flushing faintly.

“for me?” she repeated.

he nodded, gripping the guitar a little tighter.

“i’ve been meaning to tell you something,” he said, his voice steadier now. “but i couldn't put it into words, so i.. well, i wrote a song about it.”

her smile softened, and she sank back into the couch, her eyes never leaving his.

“could you play it for me maybe?” she whispered.

george took a deep breath, adjusted his guitar, and let his fingers dance on the guitars frets. the melody was slow, almost hesitant at first, but as he played, the music seemed to wrap around the room.

something in the way she moves...

his voice was low, intimate, and as he sang, his gaze flickered up to meet hers.

attracts me like no other lover…

she never looked away from him, her eyes shining, her lips parted slightly as though she might speak but didn’t dare interrupt.

something in the way she woos me,

i don’t want to leave her now…

when the song ended, silence filled the room. george set the guitar aside, his fingers lingering on the strings for just a moment before he looked back at her.

“so?” he asked, his voice soft. “what do you think?.. do you like it?”

she leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees as her gaze locked with his.

“oh georgie,” she began, her voice barely above a whisper, “that was so beautiful.”

he smiled shyly, “you really mean that?”

“of course i do,” she said, moving from the couch to sit beside him on the floor. her hand reached out, hesitating for just a moment before resting on his. “you put your heart into that song, didn’t you?”

he nodded, his thumb brushing lightly against hers.

“i did,” he admitted, his voice quiet. “mainly because it’s about you. you’re… you’re something.. i’ve never felt this way before, and i don’t want to mess it up by saying the wrong thing, so I thought…”

her other hand came up to rest against his cheek, stopping him mid-sentence.

“you didn’t mess anything up,” she said gently. “you could never,”

his breath hitched as her thumb brushed his cheekbone, she leaned closer.

“and just for the record, i love you george, if it was not clear”

the words washed over him, filling every corner of his heart. without thinking, george tilted his head just slightly, closing the space between them until their lips met.

the kiss was slow, sweet, and full of everything they hadn’t yet said. when they pulled apart, she rested her forehead against his, her smile wide and radiant.

“i'm just curious," she said softly "do you like me?"

george chuckled softly, his breath still shaky from the kiss, pulling her closer, resting his forehead against hers, savoring the warmth of the moment.

“do I like you?” he repeated, his voice a little hoarse. “i think you know the answer to that.”

she laughed lightly, her fingers tracing his features.

“yeah, i guess i do,” she replied, “i just wanted to hear you say it.”

he smiled, his heart swelling in his chest. george looked into her eyes, the firelight flickering in her pupils, and everything else faded into the background.

“i like you more than i can put into words,” he said, his thumb brushing over her knuckles. “more than i ever expected to and more than i thought was possible.”

her eyes softened, and she leaned in, kissing him again, this time with a gentle pressure that made his heart race. when they pulled apart, she smiled, her cheeks flushed.

they sat there in the dim light, the warmth of the fire wrapping around them like a blanket. george didn’t need to say more; the music, the kiss, and the way they held eachother was all they needed.

"so.. do i get to hear that song again?”

george chuckled, picking up his guitar once more.

“as many times as you’d like,” he promised.

[sunflowersinthedirt]

GOLDEN SLUMBERS | PAUL MCCARTNEY 🎸

fluff and angst, very needy reader! mentions of weed, cigarettes and alcohol. also mentions of beatles get back/let it be period.

1969!paul mcbeardy.

again, sorry for any typos. english is not my first language and gifs are not mine.

- X -

I was freezing when I decided to go to bed. I drank wine, but not as much as when I'm in Paul's company. It's night, and even with alcohol, Martha, and a fireplace, nothing seemed to warm me up. Maybe I missed Paul.

It had been a couple of days since he slept with me. Get Back and Twickenham were taking up a lot of his time. He seemed grumpy when he got home, but always took some time to cuddle with me as if the external problems that working with his band for the past 18 months were causing. Martha had become my biggest companion in this house, following me wherever I went.

When I got into that bathtub, I didn't think I was that sleepy. I dozed off lightly, and when I felt the water getting cold, I decided to get up, dry off, and go to bed. Martha had been sleeping in her bed for ages. There were some beds scattered around the house for her to rest, as she was a very calm dog. I put on one of Paul's shirts to feel like he was there with me... I had no idea what time he'd be back and he hadn't confirmed anything with me. I inhaled his scent embedded there and turned to the empty side of the bed.

It didn't take long for me to fall asleep. I didn't know if it was the alcohol, the tiredness, the longing... I just know I fell asleep. But it wasn't light sleep, as I woke up every half hour to turn over. Until I felt a chaste kiss on my lips but no weight on the other side of the bed like I wanted. Paul had arrived but hadn't lain down. I could hear his footsteps on the stairs followed by the jingling of Martha's paws. I was alone in that room and it left me feeling colder and longing for their company.

Wrapped in a blanket, I went downstairs feeling small and fragile. I didn't care that the king-size blanket I was wrapped in was dragging on the cold floor.

I heard the sound of piano notes in the living room, something between C Major and a murmuring voice. Paul rarely came home from work and continued working. It wasn't difficult, but Paul didn't like to bring work home. I thought he might be stressed enough not to lie down or not be sleepy.

I approached the piano, saw his figure with downcast eyes, long lashes brushing his cheeks. Paul hummed quietly, noticed my presence, and stopped playing, focusing his attention on me.

"Did I wake you, love?" he asked in an affectionate tone. His tired eyes opened wider.

"No," I replied sleepily, coming closer to him.

"Sit here." He tapped his left leg and made room for me to sit on his lap.

I sat, wrapped in that blanket. Paul adjusted his arms to give him mobility to play the piano keys in front of him, and I hugged him around the waist, snuggling against his larger body.

"S' Much better this way..." he said, his accent strong and drawling, his voice low and husky. I could feel the vibration of his voice and hear his heartbeats. I rested my chin on his shoulder, and he stole a kiss from me. His now-full beard tickled my cupid's bow.

This was what was missing. I felt so relaxed in his company. Paul continued to play the piano.

"Couldn't sleep?" I asked, my eyes were almost closing again.

"No, love. I came home with a melody pounding in my head." He answered, still playing the piano. He smelled of tobacco and herbs. He had been smoking more than usual, and I knew he was stressed. "I'm sorry for bringing work home. I don't have the lyrics yet, but the melody got stuck in my head because I played it at Twickenham before coming here. I was the last to leave the studio today."

"I'd never be upset with you for that. Y’know." I rubbed my face against his beard. "Can you show me the melody?" I asked, sleepy. Martha was already snoring at our feet.

Paul kissed my forehead and continued playing the piano, murmuring some words. I struggled to keep my eyes open.

"Once there was a way..." he sang softly, playing the piano with his leg rocking me to sleep. He was making up these lyrics, or I didn't have such a sharp taste in lullabies like that. "To get back homeward." He repeated the sung sentence, my eyes closing slowly. I felt like a child again. Paul warming the chilly room, the blanket wrapping us like a cloak. "Sleep, pretty darling, do not cry... And I will sing a lullaby."

It didn't take long for me to fall asleep there in his lap, listening to him humming that song. I felt at home and knew I was home.

"Sleep well, princess," he whispered, and suddenly I couldn't hear the musical notes he had played earlier on that piano.

- X -

i’ll take requests soon!

[bealtesharrisonmacca]

Save a horse, ride a cowboy

[lick-me-lennon22]

Poly!Beatles X Heartbroken!Reader - With A Little Help From My Friends

(hello lovebugs! 🐞 please enjoy this request fill for anon, who asked for a poly!beatles fic where the boys comfort the reader who is still reeling from a recent breakup)

The air felt heavy as you sat on the worn-out couch, your fingers tracing absent-minded patterns on the surface of a book you hadn't bothered to open. The memories of your recent breakup lingered like a stubborn stain, refusing to fade with time. It had been weeks since then, yet the ache in your chest persisted, a constant reminder of what once was.

You heard the door creak open, and through the blur of your thoughts, you recognized the familiar voices of the Beatles. "Honey, we're home!" John called out in a singsong voice as he, Paul, George, and Ringo entered your flat, placing armfuls of groceries down on the countertop.

Noticing your lack of response, they exchanged worried glances, silently acknowledging the gravity of the situation.

"Hey, love," Paul greeted softly, his eyes filled with concern as he took in your distant expression.

"Everything alright?" George asked, his voice laced with genuine worry.

You forced a smile, nodding faintly. "Yeah, just... thinking."

John sat down beside you, his presence a comforting weight against your side. "Care to elaborate?"

You chuckled, shaking your head. "Not really."

John's expression softened and he sighed, deciding he would be the one to break the ice. "We can see that it's still hurting you, you know."

Ringo chimed in, his voice gentle. "We hate seeing you like this, love. It's not right."

You swallowed the lump in your throat, the warmth of their concern seeping through the cracks in your facade. "I... I'm trying to move on, but it's not easy."

Paul wrapped his arm around you in a gentle embrace, his touch grounding you. "You don't have to do it alone, you know. We're here for you, remember? Through thick and thin."

The other three lads quickly joined in the hug as their words washed over you like a tidal wave of peace, the soothing balm of their voices easing the ache in your heart just a fraction. For so long, you had shouldered your pain alone, convinced that no one could understand the depth of your despair. But in that moment, you realized you were not alone - that you never had been. Here they were, your knights in shining armor, surrounding you with the warm glow of their love. In their presence, you felt safe, cherished, and understood- feelings you had thought were lost forever in the wake of your breakup.

"Thanks, guys," you murmured, the weight of your burdens lifting with each passing moment. "I really appreciate it."

"Anytime, love," Paul reassured, stroking your hair affectionately. "We've got more than enough love to go around, you know."

Tears welled up in your eyes as you leaned into their embrace, allowing yourself to be enveloped by their love and warmth. In that moment, the weight of your past began to lift, replaced by the promise of a brighter future - one where you were surrounded by the unwavering support of the four men who had come to mean everything to you.

As the evening faded into night, you clung to them tightly, grateful for the four men who had become your rock, your refuge, and your home. No matter what the future held, you knew that you would always have them by your side, guiding you through the storm and into the light.

[warnersister]

Gonna give you a baby (smut)

The Beatles x Reader, Paul McCartney x Wife! Reader

Summary: you and Paul have fertility issues, the three men with a thing for you see this as a great opportunity to lend a helping hand. -> hate this one didn’t write it well🤧

Warnings: mentions of infertility, pregnancy, filthy smut, five-some, degrading (slut, whore, etc), hand-jobs, oral (f+m receiving), just a lot.

Requested by: @jill-smith-123

You and Paul had met in the early 50’s. Your family had moved in just down the street from him and the 10 year old McCartney was awestruck from the moment he laid eyes on you. The next day, he’d showed up at your house, to which your less-than-pleased father had answered the door, with a bow-tie and bouquets of flowers he’d taken from your mother’s new garden, to ask you to accompany him to the local youth centre for disco night.

He’d bought you a sherbet straw while he puffed on candy cigarettes before pecking your lips with tight-shut eyes mid way through you dining along to The Andrews Sisters’ song your mother had on vinyl.

When you were each a bit older, you’d accompanied Paul to the cavern club sitting in the front row as you’d hummed along with him, his eyes never drawing away from your own. Then he’d take you for dinner, a real fancy restaurant that his uncle owned, and he said that he’d pay - but it was always on the house.

Eventually, another three boys had somehow weaselled their way into your life and the product was an up and coming band: The Beatles. John Lennon, George Harrison, Pete- (scratch that) Richard Starkey and your boy Paul McCartney. And it was no secret that the three also had a thing for you - between the constant bickering and playful flirtations, Paul brushed it off because he always knew in the end that you were always his, and he was always yours.

Especially when he proposed on your twentieth birthday in 1962. Beatlemania crazed the nation and it wasn’t long before scandalous magazines began to accuse the boys of unruly acts and Paul was no different. And realistically, Paul saw the only way fit to prove his innocence to you was to ask for your hand in marriage. With your father’s approval of course… (?)

The fame never concerned you, nor did it necessarily appeal to you either - so you’d had a small ceremony in the local church, doors locked for a healthy gathering of your closest family and friends and an after party conjoined with a reception in the Cavern Club into the early hours of the morning.

“Y’know love, I never read a rule that said your first night had to be with your actual husband.” George had whispered into your ear, smirking at you after seeing the look on your face. “Not her first night.” Paul responded, hints of jealously in his tone as he threw you over his shoulder and off to his car.

That was also the night you’d discovered Paul’s intense breeding kink. His hips pushing into you at a bruising rate, lips failing him as he stuttered out his desire to see you full with his children.

But that was the problem.

“Am I the problem?” You’d asked Paul as you buried your face in his neck, crying after umpteen times, you still weren’t pregnant. “No, no, not at all dove.” He caressed your back gently. “We’re just going to have to be moved patient and keep trying. You’re perfect.” He said softy, cupping your puffy face between his hands, looking you over with a concerned gaze.

“Hey, woah woah woah what’s up lovey?” John asked as the other band members entered the room. They all ran to your side, helplessly watching the tears roll down your cheeks. “I can’t get pregnant.” You sniffed, hiccuping as the tears continued to flow. Ringo’s hands cupped yours as his sad eyes looked into yours. “Maybe there’s just not enough.” He said and your brows creased.

“Y’know our offer is always on the table.” George’s continued. “What offer?” You asked, confused. “Y’ mean you never told her, paulie boy?” John cocked his head. “No, cause I know what you lot are like.” “What y’ on about?” You ask again. “All of us.” George said. “Y’ mean-” “all of us at once.” John took your chin between his fingers and squatted down to where you were sat. “Wrecking y’ can handle us, dovey?” Shocked, you look from John to Paul who had a knowing smirk frowning on his lips. Without thinking, you nod at them. Suddenly, you were swept off of your feet and into the arms of John. “Let’s make you a baby.”

A king size bed was certainly not big enough to support the five of you, but in the boys’ desperation, you certainly managed. You were placed down gently on the bed, soft covers enveloping you as the four starved men looked down at you with lustful eyes. Your clothes were practically torn from your body, apparently them being to impatient to allow you to get undressed properly.

Paul caressed your hair gently before leaning into kiss you, as you begin to feel light kisses and licks on your breasts. You look down to see John staring back at you, a cheeky grin on his lips. He bit your nipple harshly and you hissed, screwing your eyes tight and throwing your head back. “Better get used to that if y’ want a baby.” George said, tracing his hand up and down the sensitive skin on your inner thigh.

Then all the delicious contact went again and you groaned, searching for the friction they were giving you. “Y’ want a baby? Y’ gonna have to let us get undressed first.” George chuckled. When they were undressed, John situated himself between your legs. “Oi, shift she’s my missus I’m having the first go.” Paul grumbled. “And the reason she can’t get pregnant.” John replied smugly, but was shoved out of the way by your husband. “Y’ gonna show em what a good slut y’ are for me, hmm?” He asked, fingers wandering down your thigh and towards your heat, beginning to pump them at an agonisingly slow pace.

George yanked your hair back and forced you to look at him, your mouth falling agape in the process. “Y’ gonna be good for us? Gonna give old Paulie a baby?” He taunted, rubbing himself a few times before forcing his length into your mouth. Gagging slightly, you tried your best to open your throat in the position you were in.

A heat built up inside of you, warmth rushing as you chased your high but it was soon stripped from you. Unable to complain, the disheartenment was soon replaced by something much larger - you and Paul groaned simultaneously, George doing the same as you sent vibrations flying through his cock.

After a while of Paul’s bruising pace, you rest his unwavering hips stutter as he released into you, you doing the same and realising all over him. George pulled out of your mouth and thrust himself into his hand a few times before also cumming. “Such a filthy whore.” Paul taunted, enamoured by the drool leaking from your lips.

“My turn now, birdie?” Ringo asked and you hummed, still dazed and coming off of your high. “He asked you a question. You being a disobedient slut for him?” John asked and you shook your head no. “Y-yes, your turn Richie.” You managed to stutter out.

His dick hardened at his routine nickname, needing no time to prepare you so without warning, sliding himself straight in. He let out a big breath of air at the feeling of your soft wall enveloping him. He began thrusting at an agonisingly slow pace, you in turn, crying out in desperation. “Patience now, doll.” Ringo told you. “Good things come to those who wait.” He took his time with you, not knowing when an opportunity like this one would come again.

Your head fell to the side and your eyes connected with John’s, who looked down at you with a small shit-eating grin. He leant down and licked your ear love, whispering gently “gonna give me a hand job while you let your husband’s friend take you?” You moaned at his question but nodded at him, raising your hand to rub up and down his hardening cock, swiping the tip a few times to use his pre-cum as some sort of lubricant. You pulled away and spat saliva into your palm, beginning to jerk him off at a faster rare. “Isn’t your first rodeo, is it dove?” John asked with a chuckle. “Got you well trained, haven’t I chick?” Paul said, leaning down to latch his lips onto yours.

Your high came excruciatingly slow, Richard building up the pace to the point he could no longer take it and took you animalistically, only stopping to release his seed deep into your womb and felt you cum over him. Waiting long enough for some of it to sink in, he slowly pulled out and kissed at the cold air attaching his sensitive member.

John released into your hand and felt his cock re-stiffen at the sight of you licking your hand clean. “Fuck. Me next.” He said, walking around the bed to your feet and positioning himself between your legs, feeling yourself being manoeuvred like some inhuman marionette. He moved you until your face was in the sheets and back arched for him, arse and sweet warmth on display for him. “Can’t let any of their cum get out, can we love?” He’d asked tauntingly, nails digging painfully rough into your hips.

He slipped in quickly, cock twitching at the sound you made, sensitive from the numerous rounds you had been put through. “Can’t believe Paul gets to keep you all to himself. A little slut all for him.” He said, staring to pepper kissed down your back while his hands found your breasts. Your arse was unquestionably bruised, as was your neck from the way Ringo and George were sucking at either side of it. John let out his load deep inside of you, full ovaries feeling themself being stuffed by the liquid trickling down into them.

George had waited so patiently for his turn, so patient with a so painful hard-on that he was going to make you regret giving him. Seeing himself torture you would be enough of a reason to make himself wait a few more moments. He spun you around and returned you into your back, kneeling down to kiss and worship the skin of your inner thighs, yet never close enough to provide the friction you so-desperately needed.

He kissed and sucked at your clit, thumb coming up to rub it as his tongue delved deep into your walls, making you cry out at the sight of their cum on his tongue. He thrust it into you a half a dozen more times before standing up and forcing his elongated cock into you. You hissed, pained by the repetitive beatings your intestines were receiving.

“Such a good little brat for us aren’t you?’ Paul asked, staring down at you as if a predator staring at its helpless pray. “Yes, ‘m good.” You repeated, doing as you were told as he tapped your chin to tell you to open it. You parted your lips and allowed your husband to force his dick into your already sore and throbbing throat.

George’s hips snapped at a consistent and quick pace, eyes not deferring from yours as he watched you take his bandmate’s cock so well. “Take him so well, don’t you dove?” He asked, praising you as you hummed and Macca moaned. George put his thumb onto your overstimulated clit and pressed down harshly. You cried out but tried your best to keep your throat open. “That’s if, keep it open.” Your husband taunted. And with a few more final thrusts, George cummed inside of you as you did the same, Paul releasing deep down your throat and you refrained from coughing - instead harshly swallowing and wiping the remaining resales from your mouth with your tongue and the back of your head.

“You were such a good girl.” John said, petting your hair gently and pecking your forehead. “Y’ alright, princess?” Ringo asked and you looked up at him and smiled with a nod. “Definitely gonna give Paulie boy a baby for being so good.” George added as he strolled your leg comfortingly. You enjoyed the praise you were receiving, letting the men manoeuvre you so you were in Paul’s lap. With your eyes shut, you felt yourself being lowered onto his cock and you hissed in both oversensitivity and surprise. You looked at your husband with tired eyes. “Don’t want any of it to go to waste.” He said with a wink and cheeky little smile. “Thank you.” You mumbled, drifting to sleep on his chest their quiet conversation turning into distant white noise.

A week or two later, your head was in the toilet bowl as Paul pulled your hair back into a make-shift pony tail and caressed your back at seven in the morning to let you be sick. “It’s alright love, think you’re coming down with something.” He said, pressing the back of his hand against your forehead to check for a fever. It was winter after all and your unreliable immune system was no match for England winters. “I’ll take you to the pharmacy, yeah?” And you’d nodded, wiping your mouth and letting him lead you out to the car.

You weren’t sick, unless your count baby fever. You were pregnant. Pregnant with a child. Pregnant with Paul’s(?) baby. The two of you were overjoyed and as were the rest of the boys when they found out, although offering if you wanted to have two in there just to ask, not minding the sight of you naked and belly swelling with a child.

And eight and a half months later, two weeks premature, your water broke at midnight. Paul sped to the hospital, mentally timing the distance between your contractions to tell the midwife when you got there. After a while of pushing, swearing, breaking Paul’s fingers, and him nearly dainton at the sight of the head coming out of such a small area, at seven minutes past 8, your son was born.

The boys all crowed around, in awe at the new baby in your arms. “He has his mother’s chin.” Paul notes, grinning from ear to ear. “And his fathers face.” The lads then piped up. “And Ringo’s droopy eyes-” George stated but was Vito off by the man himself “oi, oh yeah actually he does. And John’s nose.” John hummed. “And George’s eye colour and ears.” You all began laughing.

Whoever’s paternal child this may be, he was certainly a gift you yourself, your husband, and the three men who tagged along with you.

[beatlesficrecs]

Fic: oh darling, pardon me

by: inherownwrite

Link to fic: https://archiveofourown.org/works/36734302

Summary:

Mid-eighties. John and Paul are together. Paul is nervous about their new album coming out, and John soothes him using the tried and true method of combing his legs...

Why I like this fic:

this writer is so good at writing J/P middle-aged and old men love. This story is so warm and real and comforting---and the sensuality of the leg combing is to die for! John's POV. (And let's face it, we all want to see John alive and happy and dealing with his skittish man Paul like no one else can.)

Thank you @alameda444 for leading me back to this story! 🪮💕

Link to fic

[paulmcf4rtney]

teddy boy george x reader please!! fem reader, maybe paul or john’s sister? lots of fluffy cavern goodness would be much appreciated!! 💗

anon asked for Teddy boy!George x fem reader!!!! THANK U SM FOR THE RQ! <33

definitely gonna go with paul hehe

———

-You being the sister of the prettiest boy in school gave you lots of attention, girls asking you for favors, giving you notes to pass n share to your brother, the list goes on.

-Paul always flirted back with the women he talked to, but he had competition with George either way when it came to girls.

-You were so in love with him the more you noticed his presence, which of course made it worse, you couldn’t help it. His smile, his wink.. The way he talked to you like you were the only girl in the world.

-Paul found out about this and gave you a stern talking to, about not to “date boys” and especially NOT GEORGE. It was hypocritical, he could flirt but you couldn’t date a single boy?

-Did you care though? No, no you didn’t. You felt seen for once, and not like a shadow behind your brother. You knew it wasn’t his fault and he was only trying to protect you.

-Either way you were on George’s radar, you both started to get closer (emotionally and physically) to the point you were having dreams about him.

-You talked to him almost every day at this point, before, during and after school. Your brother caught on but you told him nothing would happen.

“Aye, you wanna come by my place? My parents aren’t gonna be home, we can watch a movie.” George whispered to you in class with that thick Liverpool accent that made your body melt.

You nodded, trying not to alert the teacher and get you or him in trouble.

And after-school outside like always you meet up with him, this time you told your brother you had somewhere to be and not to wait up for you, that had raised a little suspicion from Paul but he didn’t want to give you a hard time anymore than he already has.

You were nervous? Sort of? This was the first boy that paid this much attention to you in what felt like forever. You held George’s hand by instinct, you were gonna pull away out of embarrassment but he locked his fingers with yours.

If your face wasn’t red before it was definitely red now. George spoke up again, “My house ain’t too far but I still gotta drive..”

“You have a car???” Surprised, I mean, why wouldn’t you be surprised!? When he walked you out to his vehicle you realized partially why girls liked him so much.. A hot ride and a guitarist at the same time was all he needed to score.

“Yep, a real beauty ain’t she?”

You hummed in response

You got in as he did, strapping in. He started the engine and drove off. You didn’t dare to touch anything or even look at him, you were bad with eye contact when it came to your crushes. (Sucks that Paul decided to always scare them away) But you knew George was different.

He didn’t take shit from anyone, not even your brother. In fact i’m sure he likes the idea that he’s going against Paul. George didn’t say much the whole ride, he put on music though.

You didn’t mind how quiet it was, but you were too deep into your thoughts to realize he had parked the car already, snapping you out by the sound of his voice. “Cmon, i’ll show you inside n’ let you pick out the movie if ye want.” And there was that fucking smile again.

He let you step out of the car, holding your hand again. His hands were very soft just like his voice, he didn’t rush you or try to make a move.. It was nice.

You entered, and his house was actually really pleasing in decorum. His parents definitely raised him well, it showed.

There was blankets folded next to the couch in a basket, pillows perfectly placed on each side.

George kicked his shoes off, so you did the same, he was asking you what you wanted to watch since his parents owned a collection of tapes/movies you looked through them, picking one that happened to be horror.

You both were *almost* cuddled up on the couch under the blankets, until a scary scene came on you jumped and grabbed onto George’s shirt, hiding your face in his chest. You liked scary movies but the scenes still make you jump.

He held you tight and petted your hair, whispering to you that there was nothing to be scared about. “Ya don’t need to be so frightened i’m here, it’s okay.”

You sniffled at his response, opening ur eyes to look at him and that’s when he kisses you. Softly, yet holding back in case you weren’t ready.. But you were ready and knew it.

It felt like a thousand butterflies were in your stomach and chest by how close your faces were.

George didn’t let you go or stopped kissing your head until the movie was over, anytime the movie had a jumpscare he’d hold you tighter. You really have never experienced something like this, it was so comforting.

This was the first step to dating and having George as your own, all to yourself.

“I can drive you home, pretty girl.” He said with that gentle tone again, kissing your lips longer this time, a smirk plastered on his face.

“Oh shoot yeah, you definitely should.. So, does this mean we’re like.. Dating?” You sprouted the question to him, averting your eyes.

“Guess it does, why else would I be kissing ye?”

You knew you would have to explain to Paul and your parents why you were gone so long, but it would be worth it. So so worth it when you get home. <3

[fvckingwolfstar]

Lipstick, and How Normal Joan is All The Time

Pairing: fem!John Lennon x Fem! George Harrison

summary: George’s lipstick suits her really well. And Joan is so normal all the time

genre: fluff for once!

wc: 1,354

cw: nothing!

authors note: i was called to create lennison fluff, so here we are.

masterlist

It wasn’t a big deal to Joan, really. It was just a shade of lipstick. A deep, satin red, that suited George’s sharp face. Sometimes she would wear a clear lip gloss over it too, which was not a big deal. Occasionally, when her hair was a bit longer, she would style it in a way that so perfectly framed her face. It drew Joan’s eyes right to her dark lips. 

Often, she thought about kissing her, some of the color transferring from her lips to her own. George was wearing that color yesterday, actually. And Joan could not seem to focus on practice. 

“Joan, you missed the entrance,” Paul said, her lips pursed together. 

Joan shook her head, looking back at the guitar in her lap, “Sorry, I’m off it today.”

George was wearing the same lipstick again today, the gloss too. Joan, ever so smart, took off her glasses. During lunch, most of the color had smudged off, so Joan assumed it would be safe to put her glasses back on. As she did, she noticed George pulling a small folding mirror out of her purse. Fuck. She tried not to watch George apply the lipstick across her smooth mouth. And then she tried not to watch her put the pretty clear lip gloss on top of it. And, really she did try, to not watch her rub her lips together, and open them with a cute pop!

Joan blushed, looking down at her sandwich. She didn’t wear makeup when she didn’t have to, and when she did it was only for television. It’s a good day in hell when she wears it on stage. That’s because you don’t do it right. You never use enough powder. Paul would say, patting under her eyes with a puff. 

Joan wouldn’t mind if someone did it for her, to be honest. But it was too much of a hassle to do herself, especially when it never looked good. That night, the girls decided to stay at Paul’s place, due to an early morning. 

Paul’s alarm wakes everyone up with a start, and while Paul trudges to the kitchen to get everyone a cup of tea, Joan’s eyes drift to George on the floor next to her. She’s sat up, her hands slapping her face lightly to wake herself up. She didn’t take her makeup off before she fell asleep, so her lipstick was smudged across her cheek. Oh. Joan sat up beside her and poked her cheek.

George looked over groggily, “Mornin’,” she grumbled, standing up. She stumbled into the kitchen where Joan heard Paul laugh at the sight of her. 

“If you need a wipe, you know I have a thousand.”

“What’re you on about, Macca?”

“Look at your face.”

A second of silence before, “Fuck.”

George walked out of the kitchen with her cup and grabbed her makeup bag, “You weren’t gonna tell me?” She asks Joan and Ringo who still laid in her pile of blankets. 

Joan shrugged, and George rolled her eyes, turning for the bathroom. Joan could see the light emanating from the room, the door wasn’t closed. So she stood up, going to lean on the doorframe. George looked at her from the corner of her eyes as she wiped the color from her cheeks, “Yeah, Len?”

Joan froze, she hadn’t thought about what she would say, and her wit was not coming to her this early in the morning. She settled on, “I like your makeup.”

George furrowed her brows, “Okay.”

“Would you do mine today?” she asked, tugging at the bottom of her shirt, a bit of nerves making it hard to sound confident. 

Luckily, George didn’t seem to notice the nervousness, “Why don’t you ask Paul? She does it better than I do,” she hums, throwing the wipe away. 

Joan shrugged, “I like the way you do it better, Paul’s makes her look too girly.”

George nodded in understanding. “Mhm, I can do yours after mine,” she said, pulling her hair back. Joan nodded and stood there, observing as she put on her moisturizer, “I’ll be a minute,” George hummed, shooting another side-eye her way. Joan swallowed quickly and walked to the kitchen. 

In there, Ringo and Paul leaned against the counter, drinking from their cups lazily. She grabs the lone cup beside them and stands next to Paul. She turns to her, “Do you think I would look good in a lipstick like George’s?”

Paul tilts her head to the side, taking in Joan’s features. After a moment she hums, “No, you’d be better in a neutral color. Maybe a soft pink?” she said, contemplating, “Ooh, or peach.”

Ringo nodded, “Peach would be nice, I think I have some if you want to use it.”

Joan nodded, going back to her tea. George came out of the bathroom about twenty minutes later. She looked at Joan, “Ready now?” she asked. Joan bit back a smile as she followed George into the bathroom, her lipstick fresh on her mouth. No gloss today, which would help Joan keep her focus better. 

George instructed her to sit on the counter, which Joan obeyed, her legs kicking slightly as George rummaged through her makeup bag. “Do you want to learn how to do your own makeup, or do you just want me to do it?”

Joan smirked, “You know the answer to that.”

George nodded and went to stand in front of her, she took a generous amount of moisturizer on her fingers and dotted it across her forehead, cheeks, nose, and chin. When she started gently rubbing it in, Joan could feel her cheeks burn pink. This close, she didn’t need her glasses to see George clearly. She exaggerated her cupid’s bow with the beautiful color. And her full bottom lip seemed to be even poutier. She also noticed the soft shimmery purple eyeshadow and mascara. The purple made her brown eyes look larger, more like a doe. She hadn’t done her hair yet, but it was let out of the ponytail it was once in, and the soft waves of her bangs fell in her eyes. 

George had moved onto blush by now, dusting a sweet rose color across her cheeks. “I think you’d look good with an eyeliner,” George notes, absentmindedly. 

Joan blushed at the thought of George putting eyeliner on her, “Go for it, then.”

George grinned excitedly, her shoulders coming up quickly. She reached for her bag again and pulled out an eyeshadow palette, mascara, and the previously mentioned eyeliner. 

“Eyes closed,” she said. She dusted a light taupe on her outer crease. Then a darker brown in the deeper parts of her eyes. She used a flesh pink for her inner eyes. “Okay, hold still,” George cupped Joan’s face with her hand to steady her, and Joan could not breathe. She opened her eyes and George tsked, “Eyes closed.” 

Joan glanced at her lips again before doing as told. She leaned in close enough that Joan could feel her breath hit her face gently, the breaths coming out steadily as she focused on the task at hand. When George pulled away after several excruciating minutes, Joan opened her eyes again. 

“Look up,” she hums, and Joan obeys as told. George carefully puts mascara on her top and bottom lashes, “There, gorgeous,” She said proudly, putting the makeup back in her bag.

“Don’t I need lipstick?” Joan asked.

“‘M not sure if I have a color that fits you,” she said, rummaging through her bag again. When she looked back at Joan again, Joan leaned in and kissed her softly. George’s eyebrows raise in surprise, a blush creeping to her cheeks, “What was that for?” She asked once Joan pulled away. 

“Did I get any on me?” she asked, turning to the mirror, a little bit of her lipstick had transferred to her, a bit of the satin sheen shining on her lips. 

“You could use a bit more,” George said softly, a smile playing at her lips. 

Joan grinned and kissed her again, hopefully getting the pink color Paul talked about. 

[star-dust-stuf]

The Beatles period comfort hcs

warnings: mentions of blood, vomiting

a/n: again, me being a hopeless romantic may it spread through the scrolls of tumblr bcs why not?! Not my gifs, as always, enjoy loves!

Gogi

oh nawww!

it would break his heart to see you in such a situation

he never wants you to feel as though you can’t talk to him about it and never wants you to think any lower of yourself

he always brings you blankets and a heating pad

he’d help you in the bath, make the cramps go away

he understands the pain and knows it’s absolutely horrid

baby tries his best to fill you up, keep you hydrated

mood swings, he goes on with them never gets mad if you tend to start a fight or if you just need a good cry

dear lord this man is over the moon for you, rubbing your belly through your cramps

singing his song to you, soft voice and slow guitar “here comes the sun and I say, it’s alright”

he can’t help but be a bit snappy when you ask if you’re fat “babe, it’s okay to feel that way, you’re bloated!” or “eat whatever the hell you want!”

“here, squeeze my hand, love” he’s never been around real pain before, seeing you in it breaks his heart and he tries anything to help you relieve it

queue the clap for baby gogi because girls, admit it he is the painkiller

Ringooo

he’s so proud when you make it through each day

he’s never really seen anyone in any physical pain so if he’s a bit shaken up to see you crying in a ball, tell him it’s alright

little bean has it bad for you, so bad he wishes he could take all your pain and put it in a jar

he may not look it, but man’s would beat up anyone who’d make fun of you for your period or say that it can’t even hurt that bad

he hums to you through the nausea and if you do end up puking, god this man

he rubs your back, tummy, puts your hair up, *crying*

he makes you comfy, sings you tunes and hums louder through each aching cramp

“keep a hold of my hand and just breathe.” *screams*

he makes sure you’re hydrated and fed well. he understands if eating is the las thing you want but he got you chocolate ice cream… so

“I’d like to be- under the sea” he sings as he rocks you in his arms, your in his lap and just being there makes you feel ten times better

cramps are not fun and he knows, he knows because of that face you make

he laughs when you make jokes “do you need anything, love?” he’d ask “a gun” you’d reply

he lets you play with his fingers and his rings as his hand rests on your belly

high expectations and that’s ok, pain isn’t worth the shame keep on, keep on

Jon

he is your sunshine, your only sunshine

he knows it’s that time when you walk out of the bathroom with a giant ‘diaper’ on

“come here sunshine, get warm!” He snuggles you, makes you feel loved

this man- this man is the reason you don’t mind having a period anymore, he makes it less sucky

he makes you a warm bath to sooth your aching body, he sits outside the tub, hand in yours

hes the type of guy to put your pad in your underwear before you get out, few it’s just too much work!

If you are having bad pms let me tell you, he’s head over heels

pms, he knows it’s all mixed up inside and he comforts you even if it all comes out in clumps

he sings to you of course “i love you, yeah yeah yeah, I love you”

sleeping with pain sucks so he lends himself for your body pillow

throwing up is the fear, but he’s there, coaching your breathing, holding your hair back, putting a wet cloth on your neck

you play with his hair as he puts his head on your stomach hoping the pressure will help the cramps

top it with a cherry, kiss him

Paulie

bby is so good with that time of the month

he gets you anything, anything! pads, tampons, hot water bottle, blankets, snacks

he knows what you’re thinking, “am I fat?” he’d go absolutely crazy

“eat whatever, and how much you want!” he’d make sure you’re hydrated too

he also sings to you, of course, nice and soft, he knows you have a headache, “oh darling, please believe me- ill never do you no harm”

he makes you a warm shower, or bath if you prefer, he helps you in and out

he’s the kind of guy to light some candles, perhaps do some yoga if your feeling it teaches you some tricks to help the pain

he’s not squeamish, if he sees some blood where it shouldn’t be he won’t get mad at you “darling, it’s out of your control, don’t cry!”

in a snap of a finger he has you spilling your feelings, he doesn’t want you to bottle it up, it will only make your mood swings worse

feeling nauseous is the worse, he understands but he keeps you busy, focusing on something else, like playing with his hair

if out of the sudden you just grab his hand, leg, arm he lets you do whatever to cope

baby loves you and is always there

[guitars-and-kaleidoscope-eyes]

Anonymous request:

omg i loved your paul x reader fic! do you think you can do one with lee!reader and ler!george? thank you so much and have a great day <3

Lee: X Reader

Ler: George Harrison

Disclaimer:

So in real life, George bought Friar Park in 1970. (As for the garden, I'm not sure when he made that.) But for this story, I had to change the dates of a few events, sense I wanted it to take place in 1967.

George, My Love

1967

You had been dating your boyfriend, George, for about one and a half years now. Those eighteen months had been wonderful. He was the first steady boyfriend you ever had. He showered you with affection, cuddled you, played guitar for you...

You'd never met anyone like George.

It was a warm August evening. Just around 7:30. Not too hot, but not chilly. You laid on the sofa in the back room with the screen door open to the garden so a nice gentle breeze flowed through the room. You heard soft guitar music playing from the garden. You got off the sofa from where you were musing about George and stepped outside. Over by the river near the white lilies sat George playing guitar against the sunset. You sat down next to him.

"Well, isn't this a pleasant surprise!" George smiled next to you. He looked like a love sick teenager.

"Hello George." You grinned back. "What was that you were playing on guitar?"

"Oh, just a song I've been trying to compose." He said.

"Well it's very beautiful." You said, stroking your hand on his shoulder. He looked into your eyes and smiled.

He started fiddling with the guitar. You watched and smiled. To mess with him, you began plucking some of the strings.

"Stop it." He smiled. You continued.

"Hey, I said stop it!" He grinned and poked your stomach. You covered it up and giggled. His eyes looked at you mischievously. He put his guitar to the side and tackled you, tickling you. Lucky no one else was around to hear.

"Where's my little tummy hiding?" George teased, knowing your whole abdomen was incredibly ticklish. "Hmm? Where's my adorable little belly at?"

"Stohohop ihihihihit!" You laughed as he lifted up your shirt to better expose your sensitive abdomen.

"Aww! But you know how much I love your little tum tum!" He teased, making you blush. He loved to tease you with tickles and compliment you to make you blush.

"There we go." He said after he pulled your shirt up to expose your whole belly. You couldn't help but laugh. "That's much better."

"How about this little button?" He asked, swirling his finger around your bellybutton. "How about we test out this little button?"

He gave a quick poke to your navel, causing you to let out a little squeak. Your belly shook with laughed, causing his finger to tickle even more. He grabbed your hands over your head with his left hand.

"Ohh, is this a little tickle spot I just discovered? You never mentioned your bellybutton is ticklish!" He teased, poking it gently.

"I've never behehehen tickled thehehehere before!" You giggled between pokes.

"Well I think this little tummy button is in need of a bout to tickling!" George exclaimed before sticking his finger in to wiggle and tickle at the new found tickle spot.

"Gohahahahd George!" You laughed. "Ihihihihit fehehels weird! Stohohop!"

"Stop?" He asked, "But it's so cute and ticklish! It's like a little bullseye right on your tummy telling me where to tickle you! And you know how much I love to tickle this tummy of yours!"

"George! Plehehehease!" You screamed as he tickled your stomach. After a few moments he stopped.

"I hate it when you do that!" You laughed, even though you secretly loved it.

"I know love. You're just so cute!" He said, helping you sit back up.

"Didn't you say you were writing a song?" You asked once you had calmed down.

"Would you like to hear it?" He asked you.

"I'd love to." You smiled.

He picked up the guitar and picked out a few chords before he began to play and sing.

Something in the way she moves

Attracts me like no other lover

Something in the way she woos me

I don't want to leave her now

You know I believe and how

Somewhere in her smile she knows

That I don't need no other lover

Something in her style that shows me

I don't want to leave her now

You know I believe and how

You're asking me will my love grow

I don't know, I don't know

You stick around, now it may show

I don't know, I don't know

Something in the way she knows

And all I have to do is think of her

Something in the things she shows me

I don't want to leave her now

You know I believe and how

He ended the song and looked up at you for a response. To his surprise, there were tears in your eyes.

"(Y/n)?" He asked.

"That was beautiful." You whispered.

"It's for you." He said.

"Me?" You asked. He nodded.

"(Y/n), you are such an inspiration to me. I didn't know how else to put it to you, so I thought I'd write a song for you." He said. He took your hand into his.

"(Y/n), from the day I met you, there was something about you that I'd never seen in anyone else before. There was something different in you that wasn't in anyone else. You have such a thrive for life. I remember on our third date, when we went walking through the field at night. You looked up at the stars and said all you ever wanted to do was reach up and touch them with your fingers." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a box. He opened it and there was a light blue ring with a silver band. "Well, I've only got this one so far. But if you stay by my side, I promise I'll spend the rest of my life chasing down the rest with you. (Y/n), I love you. Will you be my wife?"

Tears began to fall down your face as you smiled at George, trying to find your words.

"Oh George! Of course I will!"

He hugged you and you hugged him back.

"Oh (Y/n), I love you so much!" George smiled, wiping the tears from my face. He took your delicate hand and slipped the ring on your finger.

"George, it's so beautiful." You smiled.

"You are so beautiful." He smiled, looking deep into your eyes, as if in your eyes, he'd found his paradise.

[harrisongslimited]

George Chapter of the Day

I Saw Her Standing There, Chapter 11

Trigger Warnings: adult situations, swearing, smoking, fluff, drinking, slow-burn romance, angst, confrontation, homosexuality, sexual tension.

**18+ only!!**

Chapter 11

Joie sat there a long time. She didn't know what to think. She didn't know what to feel. She was tired and ached all over. But he kissed her; the scent of his aftershave still lingering in her senses, the feeling of his lips still present on her skin. What was that for? Gratitude? Something more?

What did she think about her relationship with George? He was definitely the "quiet one" unless he had something to say, and he frequently had something to say. He did just protect her from Ringo's rant in his quiet, authoritative way. And come to think of it, what was that all about? Ritchey never seemed to her to have a confrontational bone in his body. After all, wasn't she hired to help them when they needed her? Well, fuck that...this was her last tour. If it would be a matter of going back home to the states or keeping this shit up, well, she'd pack her bags and gladly go home.

Of that, she was steadfast and certain.

She got up from the sofa and went to her bed. Closing her eyes, only one thing was on her mind. The kiss from George.

..........

After closing Joie's hotel room door, George leaned against the wall and shut his eyes.

"Fucking unbelievable," he shook his head. "A bloody kiss on the forehead...what the bloody hell... She's going to think of me as her brother, not the impression I was going for."

His chin fell to his chest as he shook his head again. Should he knock on her door again and kiss her until her toes curl? He knew what moves pleased a woman. There were plenty of teachers in Hamburg, happy to show an enthusiastic 17 year old what goes where, when and he was an avid learner. The groupies and other entertainers knew the score. Fast, easy, usually no strings.

He took a long, deep breath.

That wasn't his lovely Joie. It was getting to be the time he needed to lay his cards on the table and while he was usually a confident lover, he worried about how to approach Joie. He would prefer if she would take the reins and give him a bit more encouragement...generally not a problem with other ladies.

He was going to approach her when the time was right. No need to rush. By his estimate, Joie had 3 months left on her visa. Visions of her lovely body, still tanned a light bronze, freely given by her would be a dream come true. Her breasts crushed against his chest as they kissed deeply and passionately, invaded his thoughts more than he liked to admit. Removing her clothes and touching her all over kept him up at night.

It was time to tell her before he needed to jack off in the shower to ease the pressure. There were always the ever available girls who just wanted to shag, but he was beginning to find the anonymity bothered him. He really wanted to belong to someone, to be loved by that one special girl and he was sure he could make that a reality.

..........

Desperate times call for desperate measures and he was ready to lay it on the line...but not today, as he headed down the hall to the suite.

Joie awoke to the sounds of birds chirping outside her window. She jumped out of bed, feeling that she was late. She usually brought tea and toast into the boys, although Mal usually woke them up with a shake of their beds. Brian was known to call them, ringing the phone over and over until someone answered. She threw a skirt and top on, and flew out of her door. Down at the end of the hall was the suite where the boys were, Brian's room, and Mal's room in between.

Joie tentatively knocked at the door, not sure what she would be greeted with, but Paul answered the door and let her in.

"Mornin' love," he greeted, bright and chipper. He was dressed and presentable. They all were. John looked a little worse for wear but was still dressed and ready.

"Am I late?" she croaked out.

"We decided you needed a Beatle-break," George told her gently as he handed her a cup of coffee.

They all surprised her, John handing her a blueberry muffin and Ritchey pulling out her chair from the table.

"A Beatle-break, huh?" she smiled at them, settling down at the breakfast table.

"And I'm sorry for being rude to you last night," Ringo offered, giving her a warm squeeze of her shoulders. "I was way out of line."

She looked at him as she took a sip of her coffee. "I love all of you, you know."

"We know," Paul offered. "That's why we give you such a hard time all the time."

..........

She was glad when they finally landed at Heathrow in the middle of the night. It was necessary to do things out in the real world when most people were asleep in their beds. There was less chance of running into thousands of fans and being mauled to death. Joie slept on the plane most of the ride and couldn't wait to close her eyes in her own bed at Freda's. She felt like sleeping for a week and eating everything in the fridge.

As Joie took a taxi to Freda's, she contemplated two choices...either getting her own place and staying in England for 3 more months or going back home. She missed her family but had talked to her father about letting her sister Jordan come out for a visit. That would mean she would need her own place. She shouldn't continue to be in Freda's way, although Freda never said a word.

Joie insisted on paying her own way and chipped in for rent, groceries and utilities. But she longed to get her own place. She just didn't know where. She also thought about dating. It had been a long dry spell since Charlie.

..........

Brian was in a sour mood the next day as he walked into the office. Joie was already there, as bright as she could be, considering she'd probably managed only 8 hours of sleep over the last 10 days. But she also had gotten to see Paris and Munich and Dublin. At least a little of it.

By noon, Brian had left the office for a "meeting" and both Freda and Joie took a deep breath of relief.

"Tell me about the tour..." Freda asked, excitedly. "It sounded wild."

"It was. It was just cars and hotel rooms and more cars and receptions and all the while, the girls screamed," Joie answered, shaking her head. "It's unbelievable."

The phone rang, interrupting her, but Joie answered it. It was George.

"Hi, love. Are you ok? Did you manage to get some well deserved sleep?"

"I'm fine. How about you?"

"The usual. Hey, could you come out to the house tomorrow? That decorator is coming out and I need your help."

"Sure" Joie answered, her heart beating faster. "Should I just come out in the morning?"

"That would be great. Thanks," George told her. "I'll see you in a couple hours. We have a meeting with Brian."

"What time?" Joie asked. "He left about 15 minutes ago."

"Oh, that's ok," George answered. "We don't have to meet him for a couple of hours. I'm heading for the studio now and then we'll be there later."

"Ok," Joie said. She was looking forward to seeing George. The feelings surprised her. "See you later. And be careful driving in."

"I will, thanks," he said.

Joie turned to Freda with a happy smile on her face.

Joie told Freda she was going out to George's the next day.

"Has it been fun decorating his house?"

"Yes, but I didn't do it alone. Cyn really helped, so did Maureen. I think Cyn has some interior decorator in her!"

"Well, she was an art student in the old days," Freda offered. "Very artistic."

The phone rang again and Joie answered it again. It was Brian. His speech was slurred.

"Come and get me," he mumbled. "You have a car courtesy of the Beatles. Come 'n get me, Miss Armagh."

Joie strained to understand him. "Where are you?"

"And don't tell anyone. Anyone. Got it?"

"I got it. But where are you?"

Brian gave her an address, told her to figure it out and hung up. Joie turned to look at Freda. "It was Brian. He asked me to go and pick him up. Maybe his car broke down? He hung up too fast for me to ask."

"He wants you to come and get him?" Freda asked. "Where is he?"

"I have no idea. He gave me an address and told me to figure it out. And he told me not to tell anyone."

"Why so secretive?"

Joie shrugged. She grabbed her purse and left the office with a wave to Freda. "I'll be back. And then we are gonna talk about my finding my own place. I really need to give you and Will some privacy."

"I like having a roommate...." Freda told her sincerely.

"Maybe Will can be your roommate!"

Freda laughed. "My parents would never go for that!"

..........

Joie checked the map in the car and realized she was going into some shady neighborhood. She got there relatively quickly, thanks mainly to George, who showed her how to drive in London. She inched the car along, looking for the address. It was a bar.

Leaning against a phone booth was Brian Epstein, raincoat pulled up close to his face. He spotted her and jumped into the car. He smelled like alcohol and cigarette smoke, and his lip and nose were bleeding.

"Brian...." Joie began, concerned. "What happened? Should we call the police? You look like you are hurt. Do you need a doctor?"

"Drive," he barked "and hurry up about it."

His head bobbed up and down with every bump. He was very drunk. She thought she would take him to the office and try to call Mal or George or someone. Maybe George would be there and he could help her.

"You are so naïve," he blurted. "you don't understand anything."

"What is it you want me to understand?" Joie asked him, realizing it was probably fruitless to have any kind of discussion with a drunk person.

He was silent. "You really are imperspectively stupid."

Joie wanted to laugh. He sounded ridiculous. "Right," she answered.

He seemed to sober up slightly, at least enough to keep his head up. He wiped the blood off his lip and tried to appear a gentleman by running his hand over his raincoat and smoothing his hair down.

"I don't like you," he said suddenly.

"Well," Joie answered calmly, "I don't particularly like you either. But that really isn't necessary. We just work together. That's all."

He turned his face towards her. "No, missy, you work for me. We don't work together....you work for me."

"I work for the Beatles," Joie responded. She was driving faster to get somewhere so she could get away from him. The smell of the alcohol and the smoke was overpowering in the little car. And Joie had the window open.

"And they work for me...." He said flatly. "If I tell them to get rid of you, they will."

"I don't care," Joie responded as coolly as she could. But she was getting nervous. She didn't like being with him in the car.

"For fuck's sake, open your window," she exclaimed, more to herself than anything. She had seen enough drunk men to last her a lifetime.

He seemed to slip back into sleep, but woke up with Joie parked at the office. He got out and slammed the door shut.

Joie sat in the car and burst into tears. She cried so hard that she thought she'd break. Her heart was racing and the car smelled terrible and she wanted to go home. Although she loved England, she felt like she hated everyone who lived there...except Freda.

She was done. Joie Armagh was throwing in the towel. She was beaten by 4 Liverpool boys and their posh manager. She was going to march up into the NEMS office and quit. She would book the next plane out. Joie had met her match and she was quitting. That was it. California, here I come.

When Joie entered the office, the boys were all present and Brian had washed his face, brushed his teeth, combed his hair and was presentable. The boys were in the middle of questioning Brian as to where Joie was. She heard him say he "bloody well didn't care."

"Come on Eppy," John cajoled. "Where is she? You took her for a ride didn't you?"

"I want her gone," he burst out. "She's a bloody American and we can get a fine English gentleman to help you on the road if we need to. Or you can hire one of your friends. I don't care. I want her gone."

Joie stood there. Paul noticed her first, her face red and puffy from crying. But she was standing straight and spoke clearly. "Thank you all very much for the opportunity you gave me. But I'm leaving. If you need 2 weeks, I'll do that. But I'm turning in notice."

"Thank bloody hell..."Brian said.

No one said a word for a moment. Joie stood there vulnerable, trying to stand her ground. Trying to maintain some dignity.

Paul was silent. John was silent. Ringo was silent. Uncharacteristically, it was George who put an arm around her and led her out of the office.

"You need to stay for a meeting," Brian called after him.

"Sod off," George responded. "Go clean yourself up. And then we'll talk."

George put Joie, who had started sobbing again, into his car. She was blubbering about her car and Brian and the smell in the car and going back to the States. He calmly picked up the phone in his glove box and called Mal.

"Mal, I need some help. Joie's blue mini is at NEMS. We need someone to take it over to get cleaned out. Brian had too much to drink and the smoky/alcohol smell is all over her car," he said. "Whatever it costs to clean up, charge it to Brian."

"Where are you taking me?"

"Just relax now, Joie. We're going home."

"Freda's?"

"No" George said gently. "My home."

Joie didn't argue. She put her head back against the head rest and took a deep breath. It was warm and relaxing in the car and soon she was asleep. When she woke, they were in Esher, at George's house.

They walked into the house in silence. Joie noticed that George had added his own personality to the house. It was warm and open. Joie felt very comfortable.

"I imagine you want to get this day behind you," he said. "Just go into my room, grab a shirt, take a shower and lay down if you want. There's a robe in the closet too. I'll sleep in another room. Or maybe you are hungry? How about some tea and sandwiches?"

"That would be nice," Joie said, smiling happy to be free from the office. "I'll go clean up and be right out."

Joie went into George's master bedroom that she knew so well from arranging the furniture. It was exactly as she had arranged it, only with more of his personal belongings. She grabbed a t-shirt and the robe and took a shower. She stayed in the shower a long time, letting the water run over her.

Her plan was to head back to California. To Santa Monica Pier. To shopping. To seeing her family and friends. To the Pacific Ocean. To even worse traffic and the lovely San Bernardino Mountains. To peace and quiet.

Toweling off, she put the t shirt on and wrapped the robe around her. She felt human again. And when she went into the kitchen, George was sitting at the table waiting for her with a cup of tea and cheese and tomato sandwiches.

"Hi," she said simply.

He had changed into jeans and an open white shirt with the sleeves rolled up. He was barefoot and his hair was disheveled. Hot tea was steaming in front of his face. He looked wonderful. He smelled wonderful. Joie watched him and sat comfortably in his t-shirt and robe, her face scrubbed clean.

"Hi," he answered. "do you feel better?"

"Much," she told him. "Thank you for what you did."

He stood and passed the cup of tea to her. "You're welcome."

Joie sat at the table and cupped the tea in her hands, enjoying the warmth.

And the silence.

"What he did was wrong," George said barely over a whisper. "He never should have treated you that way or have done what he did."

"George, he never liked me so it really isn't all that surprising. He just never did. Not from day one," Joie told him. "I don't know what I did. We were just like oil and water."

"I wish you would've told me it was that bad. I would have done something...."

"Oh, there was nothing you could have done. It just needed to play itself out. It's ok. It just made me realize that I need to go back home."

George choked for a moment and seemed to be taken back. '"Don't give up on us so quick."

Joie's eyes opened wide. 'It's been 3 months, George..."

"Don't let what Brian did send you back home. Besides, I need your help with the house," he smiled. "Otherwise, my mother is going to handle it."

Joie smiled back and took a bite of her sandwich. "Would that be so bad?"

"You don't know my mother...." George responded lightly, sipping his tea. "besides, we'd all miss you."

Joie was silent for a moment. Truth be told, she'd miss them too.

"You know," he continued, "Brian is a mixed bag. He polished us up, got us noticed, but he's a troubled guy. He has......trouble with women. Especially strong women."

"His he married?" Joie asked.

George looked at her. "No," he answered. "Never will be either."

Joie turned her head slightly. "Why?"

"Joie...." George started. "Brian is....Brian...well, he's gay."

"Gay?" Joie asked and after a moment, the lightbulb went off in her head. "Oh."

"Yeah....'oh'," he answered. "He's very closeted about it, but he's a good guy. He's just...he's very protective of us."

"So I'm a threat?"

"In a way. He's very motherly...you know? And you've taken over that role in a way he never could."

Joie ran a hand through her hair. "So I should be more understanding?"

'I think you've been understanding enough when it comes to Brian. Especially after today."

"So what should I do?" Joie asked him.

"Let me handle that," George said to her. "Just let me handle it."

"George, you don't have to fight my battles," Joie told him, watching him carefully. She wanted him to kiss her...really kiss her madly. He was so adorable.

"I know that," he answered with a nod. "But just let me handle things for now. I promise you it will be ok. Just trust me."

Joie sipped her tea and looked into his deep brown eyes. "I trust you, George...."

George looked at her in silence for a long time, reaching across the table to take her hand gently in his. Joie blinked slowly and enjoyed the moment between them. It was the longest conversation she'd ever had with him.

"George..." Joie began. She wanted to ask him why he didn't run around with other women when they were out on tour, but stopped herself. Maybe he had and she just didn't know it. He seemed more private than the other 3, and Joie thought she would leave it alone and changed the subject. "I know we are supposed to go out on tour again in a couple days. What should I do? I don't want to go."

"We've got a couple of days," he answered. "Why don't you stay here and we'll figure it out."

Joie looked at him. "I can't stay here George. I couldn't impose on you like that."

"You can stay in the coach house. I'll be in the main house. Let's just do that for a couple of days..until I leave."

"It....I....are you sure?" Joie stammered a bit.

George brightened. "I'm sure Joie. And leave things to me...just for now. I don't want to run your life, but I want to take care of a couple of things. Don't want you buying your airplane ticket back to the states just yet."

[ilovegeorgie]

don’t bother me

george harrison x reader

genre: confort

warnings: none !

summary: a lazy day with george

a/n: i personally need more geo content

the sky seemed heavy while she stirred in bed, her limbs aching from exhaustion quite unexplainable. it wasn’t just the physical one, it was the kind of tired that consumed your soul, making even getting out of bed feel impossible.

george layed beside her, propped up on one elbow, his soft brown eyes watching her closely. he’d noticed the way her shoulders had drooped the night before, how her laughter didn’t come as easily, how quiet she had been.

“you all right, love?” he asked gently, his voice still thick with sleep.

she turned herself to face him, her lips curving into a faint smile.

“i’m just tired,” she murmured. “not even sure why, i just don’t feel like doing anything today.. or maybe ever.”

george reached out, brushing a strand of hair away from her face.

“then don’t,” he said simply, "just fot today" his hand lingering on her cheek, “we don’t have to go anywhere or do anything. we can just stay here.”

she sighed, a wave of relief washing over her at his words.

“you really mean it?” she asked. george’s lips twitched into a small smile, and he leaned down to press a kiss to her forehead.

“course i do. we’ll stay right here. just you and me.”

george brought tea and toast to bed, balancing the tray carefully. they both sat cross-legged on the bed, crumbs scattering across the blankets as they shared bites and talked about everything and nothing. she leaned back against the headboard and george nestled beside her, pulling the blanket up over both of them. she then rested her head on his shoulder, her eyes fluttering shut as his fingers traced lazy patterns on her arm.

“you know,” he said after a while, his voice soft, “you don’t always have to keep going and doing stuff all day, you know? it’s all right to take a day off, to stop and breathe.”

she tilted her head up to look at him, her eyes glassy with unshed tears.

“i know but i just… feel like i should be doing more, like maybe if i actually did something could take advantage of my life and do something with it,” she admitted. “like i’m wasting time if i stop.”

george frowned slightly, his fingers pausing their motion.

“darling,” he said softly, his voice steady and full of care. “you’re not wasting anything. everyone gets tired, and everyone needs a break sometimes. you’ve been doing so much lately. it’s all right to let yourself rest.”

she blinked up at him, her heart swelling at the sincerity in his gaze, a tear slipping down her cheek.

george caught it with his thumb, brushing it away gently before leaning in to press a kiss to the corner of her eye.

“i know you, and i know you need this. so, no more worrying about what you "should" be doing, yeah? today’s just about us.” he said with a small chuckle.

she nodded, her hand reaching up to rest over his.

“georgie, i don’t deserve you,” she said, her voice breaking slightly.

george shook his head, smiling softly.

“i’m the lucky one.”

as the day wore on, they stayed snuggled in the warmth of their bed while she rested her head on his chest.

“you feeling a bit better now, love?” he asked, his lips brushing against her hair.

she nodded, snuggling into him.

“much,” she said, her voice muffled against his chest. “i just needed you.”

george tightened his arms around her, resting his chin on the top of her head.

“well, lucky for you, i’m not planning on going anywhere,”

[bealtesharrisonmacca]

“Be quiet”

Paul McCartney x reader

Fem reader

Words: 2k

Warnings: smut!, not public but not exactly private sex…?

Summary: You and Paul have to share a bed and things get a little tight, the rest of the band is only two doors away.

The boys manager has asked you to make their next trip as cheap as possible. Even though they are plenty rich, none of them want to spend money on where they sleep, considering they will be preforming or doing press conferences most of the time.

You just booked a little secluded house for them and yourself for their next tour.

But upon arrival you all realize it would have been better to spring for something a little more expensive. The place was very cozy and all, but it only had 2 bedrooms.

The band members run into the house to call dibs on a bed. You follow soon after.

Unfortunately there is only one king sized bed in one room and a little bed in the other.

“Alright lads” Paul said while yawning. “You lot take the king size bed, me and

Y/N will take the other room.”

The others teasingly let out kissy noises and giggles.

“Shut it, I’ll be sleepin on the floor or something” Paul exclaimed firmly.

“Well why don’t you sleep on the floor in here then?” John taunted.

“I don’t wanna listen to yer bloody snoring all night” he answered to no one in particular as he led you out of the room.

The other bedroom was only two doors down from where the others were going to be sleeping. Only room separating l you was a tiny bathroom.

~

You began unpacking your things while Paul was laying a blanket down on the floor for him to sleep on.

You felt sorry for him, although it was a bit funny to imagine him sleeping all uncomfortably the whole night. Wiggling around and looking up at you in a comfy bed.

“Paulie, are you really sleeping on the floor?” You asked.

“Well, there’s only one bed love”

“It can probably fit us both, we’ll just have to squeeze a bit. I just don’t want you sleeping on the floor, you have a big day tomorrow.” You felt yourself blush as you knew you were proposing a bit of an unethical situation. But it could also just be seen as an innocent suggestion from a worried assistant.

Paul walked over to you. His fingers putting your hair behind your ear. Making you blush even more at the sudden forwardness.

“If yer alright with it, then yes, I would rather sleep in the bed” he paused. “With you..”

The words went right to your head but all you did was smile as you picked up the blanket he had laid on the floor and placed it on the bed.

~

You started looking for your pajamas only to remember that you hadn’t packed any.

“Fuck” you cursed to yourself.

“What’s wrong love?”

“Well, since I thought we would all be sleeping in separate bedrooms, I didn’t really pack any pajamas.” You said worriedly.

Paul smiled that smug smile he sometimes did.

“So you really didn’t know there was only two bedrooms when you booked this place?” he said as he approached you.

The butterflies in your stomach grew quickly as he came closer. So close you were almost touching.

“No of course not Paulie” you assured him, but it didn’t come out as confidently as you had hoped.

“Okey okey, whatever you say love”

He smirked and walked back to his open bag and he gave you one of his t-shirts.

“You can sleep in this if you want.“

You thanked him, still blushing. You pulled off the t-shirt you were currently wearing and threw on the one he gave you.

Paul watched closely the whole time. His eyes admiring your half clothed body.

You pulled your pants down revealing your legs completely. Thankfully, his T-shirt was big enough to cover your underwear, although you really wouldn’t be complaining if it didn’t.

You laughed silently at the situation. Here you were. About to share a bed with Paul fucking McCartney while almost naked.

“Hope you don’t mind, but I never really sleep with anything except my brief’s.” Paul said as he was getting into the bed.

“No not at all!” You said, maybe a bit too excited at the news.

Paul chuckled while still eyeing you up and down. He didn’t want to admit it, but the look of you wearing nothing but his t-shirt made him really horny. Of course you were still in your underwear, but he couldn’t see those anyways so he imagined they weren’t there.

You got into bed next to him. The bed was smaller than you thought. Immediately you felt your thighs brushing against his. Giving you goosebumps.

You lay with your back towards him while he was still on his back.

“Paulie, I think there would be more room if you were also on your side” you said attempting to seem nonchalant.

Paul did what you said and so now he was spooning you. Paul’s hand was slightly touching your waist. You could sense he didn’t want to cross any boundaries, but he wanted so badly just to touch you. You were laying pretty close and you could feel his growing boner touching your ass.

In the heat of the moment you decide to subtly yet in an obvious way push your lower body into his boner. Just then feeling how big he was.

Paul let out a pleased moan. He was now sure he wasn’t the only one longing for more. His hand tightened around your waist as he began slightly grinding against you.

His motions were pleasing, but it wasn’t enough for either one of you. You needed something more.

You could feel Paul lowering his hand, getting closer and closer to your heat. His fingers lightly brushing against the fabric of your underwear. Making you squeal.

He retracted his fingers, not sure what your reaction meant.

“No, Paul. Don’t stop, I want you Paul” you whispered.

You felt Paul smile behind your neck as he lowered his hand again. This time tracing his fingertips along the top of your underwear before slipping his hand into them.

You gasped as the simple pleasure of just his hand against your heat. He began slowly circling your clit. Making you moan and yearn for more.

“Yer so wet for me already love?” Paul whispered into your ear.

Before you could ask him he slipped two fingers into you. He pulsed his fingers in a slow pace, letting you relax, before going a bit faster.

By now his erection was poking hard into you.

“You sound so pretty, yer makin me really fucking hard y’know”

His voice was low but firm. Sending vibrations down your neck. You turn around to face him. Sadly making him remove his hand from your underwear. The look you give him making his boner grow more than he thought possible.

Your hand went to his crotch to feel his erection. Paul gasped at the slight touch. You could feel how much he wanted to be inside you. And you wanted it as much as him.

Paul climbed on top of you and began kissing you passionately. His lips touched yours in a way no one ever had. Letting out soft moans between each kiss.

His hands traveled from your hair to the bottom of your t-shirt, well, his t-shirt really. He looked at you to make sure you were ok with what he was doing. You nodded and he pulled the t-shirt over your head.

His lips went back to your mouth to kiss you again. His hands nearing your breasts.

Paul trailed kisses along your jawline, down your neck and just barely gracing against one of your breasts. You let out a delighted moan. Urging him to continue.

But he didn’t continue. You looked up at him curiously. He was sitting on his knees over you. Hands by your head.

You could see what he wanted. You had kept him waiting long enough. Looking down at his briefs as you started pulling them off. You tossed them to the side when they were off.

He was huge. Just the thought of him stretching you out caused you to moan.

Paul smirked as he started pulling your underwear off as well. He went to kiss you again but this time his hand was back on your clit. Your hips bucking at every slight touch. You needed him inside you.

Paul lined himself up, his tip barely brushing against you. You try moving down to get closer to his cock but he then pulled further away. Making you groan frustratedly.

“Don’t move” Paul demanded.

He grabs your hands and hold them above your head. Keeping you still. He used his other hand to open your legs wider for him. You gladly oblige.

“Good girl, now don’t move and don’t make a sound. The boys are asleep just down the hall”

You squirm at the thought of one of them walking in on you like this. But before you can continue your train of thought Paul thrusts into you. A loud moan escaping your throat.

One of Paul’s hand fly to your mouth to cover the sounds you’re making. You can’t help it. You want to scream his name for all the world to hear. He thrusts at a slow pace to keep the volume down, but mostly to tease you. You try moving your hips to get more of him in you but he grabs your hips tightly. Holding them in place and keeping you from moving.

“I said don’t move, you gotta take what I give ye or nothing”

You nod reluctantly. Knowing the only way to get what you want is to listen. And if you were being honest, following Paul’s orders really turned you on. After all you were his assistant so it’s only right he’s in charge of what happens.

His hand is still covering your mouth as he suddenly pushes his cock deep inside you. Muffled sounds escaping your mouth. You arch your back at the pleasure.

You feel your climax building up and your moans and shaking legs makes Paul realize that as well. Right before you hit your climax, Paul slows his pace and pulls out of you. An angry grunt escapes you. You look at him, still longing for a release.

Paul looks at you in a way that tells you he really enjoys keeping you on edge. He quickly flips you over on your front, displaying your ass to him. He gives a few kisses to your back as his hands wanders to your hips, holding you tightly before slamming into you again. You immediately scream out his name, but this time his hand isn’t covering your mouth.

Paul stills inside you at the that sound leaves you lips, almost refusing to move.

“Do you want to get caught? Are you such a slut you want someone to hear you?” Paul says rather loudly before harshly thrusting into you.

“Well then that’s what we’ll do, let everyone hear how good you take my cock”

You shiver at his words. You couldn’t hold yourself anymore. You scream his name through moans. Not bothered by the fact you have probably awoken the boys by now.

He picks up his pace, not letting go of your hips. With every thrust reaching a special spot inside you. The pressure of your climax is strikingly close. Pauls breath tells you he is also nearing his climax

With one last thrust you feel yourself unveiling. You and Paul come together in a blissful mix of breathy moans and sweaty body’s. You immediately feel all your stress fading with your orgasm.

Paul kisses your forehead and you go back to your spooning position. Still out of breath. You cuddle for a while before falling asleep

[beatlesficrecs]

Title: Sunshine

Author: @celeste-fitzgerald

Link:

Summary: "Richard never tries to sleep without the help of an ASMR video - and all his favorite videos are made by a young man named George who runs a channel called Sunshine ASMR. Richard has started developing feelings for the lovely ASMRtist, but he knows in his heart that it's just a silly celebrity crush. After all, how would a barista at a tiny coffee shop ever meet a YouTube superstar?"

Why I recommend this fic: it's so cute it will just make you smile so much when reading it :)