#george harrison x reader fanfic

[givemequeen]

I want everyone to know that you’re mine: George Harrison x reader

request(s): - can you write a smut about George being like possessive and wanting the reader to be loud during sex bc “I want everyone to know that you’re mine” and if possible have it happen bc maybe the reader was getting hit on by the others and George wanted to reiterate who she was with? Thanks so much! - Can you write something smutty for George? - pls i need more george smut 🥺🥺🥺 im in love w him 🥺🥺🥺🥺 (aren’t well all) a/n: do any other authors get horny when writing smut or... pairing: George Harrison x reader summary: teasing George (just realised i put in the wrong summary! it is correct now tho, whoops!) warnings: sexy time! dirty sexy time! orgasm denial (female) oral (male receiving). unprotected sex (remember to wrap it before you tap it, lads). ass smacking. kinda harsh sex but not too harsh. jealous!george word count: 3651

George always got off the stage horny. He said it was a combination of a lot things but you knew the roar of the crowd and the fact you were there watching and waiting for him was what really got him going. He wanted you to see his success, just like you wanted to show how proud you were of him. He had, after all, worked so hard to get where he was. So, you never missed a show. 

Tonight was no different, George, despite being engrossed by his performance, couldn’t stop looking backstage to look at you. You had worn a short dress today and no underwear. You had whispered this delicate information to him just as he was getting on stage and when it was too late for him to do anything about it. But the look on his face was priceless, pure shock and desire. 

As soon as the last song was over, he bolted off stage, not even waiting for their final bow, and rushed towards you, nearly toppling you over. He picked you up, hands flying to your ass, and spun you around. 

“Fuck, I’m so hard, I’ve been waiting all night for this.” He growled in your ear, pushing his boner against you. “Let’s go baby, please.” You laughed and placed your hand on his chest, pushing him back. 

“We can’t leave, there’s the after party.” You winked before walking away to congratulate the other boys with a polite kiss on their cheeks. 

Once their instruments were safely set to the side the five of you headed outside to your cars. George followed close behind you, his hand low on the small of your back, finger feeling the fabric to remind himself you weren’t wearing any underwear. You got into two cars, You, George, and Paul on one and Ringo and John on the other. 

The cars sped away from the crowds of fans and headed to the hotel you were all staying at. The hotel had organised a party for the band in their presidential suite. It was going to be filled with roadies, journalists, music producers, and models, and you couldn’t wait to use this opportunity to tease George. 

You were sat between the two boys with one of your hands on George’s thigh, your slim fingers drawing circles in his inner thighs. 

“That’s driving me wild, I’m going to fuck you when we get to the room.” George muttered as he pressed his lips to your ear.

“So, did you like the show?” Paul asked, oblivious to what was going on. He had light a cigarette and was offering some to you and George. George accepted, placing it between his lips and lighting it. Something about him lighting a fag drove you wild and you couldn’t wait to fuck him once you go to the hotel but the game you were playing wasn’t going to end soon.

“Of course, you were amazing tonight.” you said, momentarily placing a hand on his knee and removing the one you had on George’s thigh.

George sat up and you smiled, knowing he had taken the bait. Paul smiled happily and thanked you.

“You look great tonight, love.” Paul smirked. “That dress... is it new?” You could hear George practically growl next to you.

“Yes!” 

“Looks stunning on you, love.” he met your eyes and smiled that charming smile of his. “You look stunning tonight.”

“Back off McCartney.” George said, placing a protective arm around you.

“C’mon Georgie, don’t be ridiculous.” you said, pushing off of him.

“Yeah, Georgie.” Paul teased as the car came to a stop, having finally reached the hotel.

George reached over to him but Paul jumped out of the car. Cameras immediately starting flashing, fans were yelling the boy’s names all around you. You kissed George’s cheek before getting out, pressing your ass into him as you moved over him. George grabbed your waist and pulled you to him, pressing his boner against you.

“Behave, I see what you are doing.” he said before letting you go.

“I have no idea what you are talking about.” you smiled, grabbing his hand and walking into the hotel through the screaming crowds. 

Once in the suite you headed off to find your group of friends. They were an assortment of journalists and roadies who followed the band around. Naturally, you spent a lot of time with them which caused a friendship to flourish. In this group of friends was a specific roadie who George hated as George claimed he had flirted with you. Your boyfriend wouldn’t listen to reason since you repeatedly told him he was gay and was more interested in him than in you.

“Thats just an excuse to touch your boobs.” George had said, pouting.

“No because he surprisingly does not touch my boobs.” you had rolled your eyes and left it at that. 

But you could now feel George’s eyes on you across the room as you sipped on a drink, lounging on one of the velvet sofas, and talked to said roadie. George had been starting at you the entire time you were there but he had been caught in a conversation with some music producer.

John came over to join you, sitting by your side and placing his arm on the sofa behind you. He started mumbling about the concert and the party but he was so drunk you couldn’t understand him so you simply patted his shoulder and nodded. You could feel George watching you and suddenly an idea came onto mind.

You stood up and sat back down across John’s lap. He smiled up at you and hugged you, clearly ready to sleep. You ran your fingers through his hair and glanced up at where George had last been but he was gone. You glanced around, suddenly worried that you couldn’t find him.

“Love.” George said from behind you. You jumped, startled by his sudden appearance. You looked back and smiled, George was upside down!

“Georgie, you’re upside down!” you laughed.

“Are you drunk?” he asked, cocking his head sideways. His face was tense, clearly unhappy at the situation but you couldn’t care less, he had to live a little. “Get off his lap.”

“No, I’m just happy.” you threw your arms around his hips, dragging him towards you, and ignoring his second question. “And you?”

“Lets get out of here.” he whispered, leaning over and starting to pull you away from John, who just flopped backwards and promptly fell asleep.

“What? No! The night is young.” you whined before standing up and dragging George over to the dance floor. 

Dozens of people had congregated in the centre of the room and were dancing widely. Arms were thrown up and hips were swung to the rhythm of the music. You pulled George to the centre and placed your arms on his shoulders. His hand went to your hips, pulling you close.

“You look gorgeous tonight.” George said, his lips chasing yours. “What were you doing on John?”

But you ignored him and allowed yourself to feel the music, the thumping of the bass resonated deep within you. You threw your head back and immediately George’s mouth went to your neck. He kissed and sucked on the skin there, surely leaving marks.

“Georgie, careful.” you frowned, chastising him.

“Lets go, my love, I want you.” he pressed himself against you. “I need you.”

“I can feel that.” you giggled.

“Do you want me to fuck you right here? Huh? In the middle of the room and let everyone see how well you take my cock?” his voice was low, its vibrations travelled all the way down between your legs.

“Fuck, Georgie.” you palmed him through the jeans, looking around to make sure no one could see but everyone was too high or drunk to notice.

“Lets go.” he wrapped his longer slender fingers around your wrist and pulled you towards the exit. A couple people tried to stop him to talk to him but he was a man on a mission and practically shoved them aside. Once outside the suite, George picked you up and pressed you against the wall.

He began kissing you like a starving man, hands slipping under your dress to grab your ass. You moaned as he pressed himself against you and you rocked your hips against him, desperate for some friction. George pressed himself further against you, preventing you from moving.

“No, you don’t get to do that after how you have behaved all night.” he sunk his teeth onto your flesh and you yelped, a mixture of pain and pleasure.

“I’ve been good, Geo, what do you mean?” you lied, kissing his face.

“You and I both know thats a lie.” he grabbed your jaw and forced you to look at him. “You’re gonna do as I say and if you’re good maybe I’ll cum in you.” George set you down and grabbed you, pulling you towards your room.

Once inside, he picked you back up and took you over to the bed, dropping you on it. You watched in anticipation as he slowly took his shirt off. You rubbed your thighs together, desperate for some friction.

“Stop that.” George snapped. “You don’t get to do that.” he shook his head and you.

Finally, his shirt came off. He threw it on the ground and unbuckled his belt. He dropped his trousers and took himself out of his pants. While staring right at you, George stroked himself. You bit your lower lip, eager to have him in you.

“Stand up.” he ordered, you did as he requested, your eyes sliding down to his erection. “Kneel.” you dropped to your knees and looked up at him.

“Now what?” you asked sweetly, trying your best not to look at it.

George stayed silent, he trailed his fingers through your hair and tugged it back so your mouth fell open. He grabbed himself and guided your mouth towards him. You stuck your tongue out, allowing his cock to rest on it, and closed your lips around him.

“Good girl.” he said, his other hand went to your chin, pushing it up so he could see better.

You closed your eyes and moved your head forward until his cock hit the back of your throat. You gagged slightly but remained there until tears formed in your eyes. You pulled back, gasped your air, and did it again. Slowly, you let your tongue explore him. It went over the ridges and veins of his cock, mapping out every inch of it.

One of your hands went to his hips for stability, the other going between your legs. You slipped two fingers inside of you and rocked your hips the same way you bobbed your head backwards and forwards. You moaned, the vibrations of your moan made him buck his hips forward.

He groaned and collected your hair into one hand. He pulled you back so only the tip of his cock was inside your mouth, and slowly pulled himself out. A single line of spit and pre-cum connected you and his dick. He grabbed his cock and placed it back into your mouth.

“Mouth open.” he slowly pushed his hips forward. You held your breath, fingers stopping inside of you, and felt your eyes roll to the back of your head as he made his way down your throat.

Then, at the same excruciatingly slow pace, slid himself back out. George did this a couple times before slamming into you with no warning. You choked on his cock but that didn’t stop him. He grabbed your jaw, hand so big his fingers nearly reaches your ears, and fucked your mouth. 

“Fuck...” he groaned. “This is what you get for being a slut.” his eyes were trained on yours. “Stop fucking touching yourself, you think I don’t notice?” reluctantly you removed your fingers from yourself. “Now take my cum.” he pushed his hips into your mouth one last time before finishing inside of you. As his cum shot out, he rolled his hips, and you licked his cock, making sure every last drop came out.

Then, he slid himself out. You stuck your tongue out and blinked up at him. “Good girl.” he slid his finger down your cheek and shoved them into your mouth, reaching the very back and making you gag. “Swallow.” you did as you were told. “Now get up.”

“Yes, daddy.” you stood up and George’s mouth was immediately on yours. He reached behind you and pulled down the zipper to your dress. The short sleeves of the dress fell from your shoulders. George pulled it over your head, leaving you completely bare. He pushed you onto the bed, grabbed your ankles, pushing your legs apart, and dragged you to him.

His fingers slid up your thighs at an excruciatingly slow pace, getting closer and closer to where you needed him the most. He looked up at you through his lashes, there was pure hunger in his eyes.

“Please Geo.” you whined.

“What do you want, my love?” he asked getting closer to you. You bit your lower lip and nodded. His fingers slid into you and you moaned. “Louder.” his fingers curled inside you and you moaned louder. He began working his magic inside of you, moving his fingers with such precision and rhythm that made you thank your lucky stars that he was a musician.

Your mouth hung open as you let moan after moan spill out of you. His thumb went to your clit, gently massaging it. Your thigh were threatening to close but George had placed his hands over them, pressing them down. You moaned his name and told him you were close.

“Good girl.” he said as he pulled his fingers away from you.

“What the fuck?” You groaned, dizzy from the pleasure and alcohol. You watched as he sat on the edge of the bed and patted his lap.

“Sit here.” You did as you were told and straddled his thigh.

“What now?” 

“Get yourself off.” he shrugged.

Heat rose up to your cheeks. Get yourself off? On his thigh? You swallowed and nodded. You rocked your hips, a small whine escaping your lips at the sensation. His thigh was hard, the muscle under rubbing against you in the best way possible.

“You don’t think I want to fuck you?” he growled, his hands went to your hips gripping you tightly and urging to move faster. “You don’t think I want to shove my cock in you and make you come?”

“I know you do.” you moaned. “Oh, George...”

“Then why do you behave so naughtily? Flirting with Paul and John right in front of me? It’s like you’re begging to be punished.” he tutted, shaking his head.

One hand went to your breast, squeezing it harshly. You moaned his name as he licked your nipple. You rocked your hips against him faster, determined to orgasm. 

“I wasn’t flirting.” you lied as you quickened your pace.

“Don’t fucking lie, slut.” George said grabbing your jaw. You looked at him and reached for his cock.

You jerked him off at the same pace you rocked against him. Each time you moaned his name his hips jerked. You moaned it louder and he kissed you, you moaned it even louder and he played with your breasts.

But George’s patience was wearing thin. He flipped you around, laying you on the bed and crawled over you. His mouth was on you, his kisses sloppy, and with no warning, he slammed into you. You gasped his name, unable to do much else, and squeezed your thighs around him and he relentlessly pounded into you.

“Louder, love. I want everyone to know that you’re mine. I want everyone to hear how well I fuck you.” he grabbed your hands and pinned them above you, exposing your neck.

His mouth attached itself to the soft skin there and began sucking. You went to complain but a sharp slam of his hips shut you up. Instead, you moaned and moaned. Each slam of his hips making you go louder. You yelled his name and his rhythm got sloppy.

George pulled out of you and turned you around with ease. He pulled your hips up, exposing your ass to him, and aligned himself, his dick pressed against you. He rubbed his tip against you slowly, almost as though taunting you. You pushed your hips back and he pulled away.

“Oh George, fuck me please, please.” you moaned. 

He smacked your ass and slowly slid in to you. He quickly returned to the ruthless pace he had set before. His hand slapping your ass as you gripped the sheets. His fingers went around your hips, meeting your clit, and began drawing circles. 

You were coming undone, the brutal slamming of his hips against yours filling the room with the sound of skin slapping against skin combined with the effortlessly skilled movement of his fingers against you was pleasantly overwhelming. He leaned over you, pressing his chest against your back and pulled your hair back. 

“Are you going to come?” he groaned. “Come for daddy, you’ve been good. I want to hear you.” 

You nodded and let yourself loose. The explosion of pleasure took over you, making your body go limp. George held you up as he continued fucking and fingering you. You unapologetically moaned his name over and over until your throat felt raw.

Just as you were coming down from your high George slammed his hips into you one last time and came inside you. His cum shooting into you felt delightfully familiar. You clenched around him and gripped the sheets so hard you wouldn’t be surprised if they ripped.

George collapsed on top of you, cock still inside you and weight crushing you. He gently kissed your shoulder, hand going around your body to squeeze your breast. His cock was still hard when he slipped it out. You rolled over and smiled at him but he was staring between your legs.

He licked his fingers and pushed his cum that had began leaking out of you and down your thighs back in. You winced at the wave of pleasure that crashed against you like aftershock. 

“This pussy is mine.” he said, reaching down to kiss it. 

Bonus:

George had returned from the bathroom and scooped your limp body in his arms. He had taken you into the bath and sat behind you, your back against his chest, wet bodies pressed together, as he gently cleaned you up. Then, he had tenderly dried you, taking extra care around your thighs, and taken you back into bed were you were now spooning.

“Was that good?” he whispered, wrapping his arms around your waist.

“Very.” you mumbled.

“It wasn’t... too much?” 

You turned your head to look at him and smiled, placing a hand over his cheek.

“I liked it. I love it when you’re possessive. It was very hot.” you gently kissed his cheek. “I love you.” you murmured and spun your whole body around to face his.

“I love you too.” he said, pressing his head into your hair.

You reached your hand down his pants and hesitated. George nodded and reached to pull your own underwear down. You wrapped your hands around him and felt as he got hard. 

George laid back, his hands on your hips guiding you over him. He comfortably slid into you, like a key into a lock, and you both happily sighed. You fell against him, bare chest against bare chest, and slowly rocked your hips. George wrapped his arms around you and met your movements half way.

“I’m sorry love, I can’t last any longer.” he groaned.

“Cum in me, Geo. Fill me up.” you whispered, your words driving him wild. 

It was the most comfortable filling, his hips crashing against yours - once, twice, three times - as he came undone. Then, you remained like that, his cock buried deep in you and his mouth kissing your skin, until he softened. You pulled yourself away from him and he tucked himself back in.

He pulled you against him, his whole body wrapping around yours, and fell into a deep slumber.

BONUS BONUS:

The next morning you stumbled over to the wardrobe, George watching your naked behind body from the bed, and pulled on plaid trousers and a pink cardigan to match. He helped you as you got ready, kissing your cheek and neck or wherever he could reach.

You walked hand in hand towards the elevator and made your way down to the private room the hotel had given the band for their meals. Inside was John, Ringo, and Paul, all sat around a round table filled with food.

They all looked up as you entered and started laughing. Unsure, you cocked your head to the side and asked them what was so funny.

“Did you have a good night?” John said, wiggling his eyebrows, between fits of laughter.

Realisation dawned on you, they probably heard everything. You shut your eyes in embarrassment but George was having none of it. He pulled you to his side, arm going around your shoulders and led you to the table where breakfast was set.

“Piss off, you lot are just jealous.” he said, rolling his eyes and ignoring their howls of laughter.

[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!

[iheartjohnlennon]

Omg, hi! I just wanted to drop in and say hey and that I love love love your writing so much! You are one of my favorite class rock writers in Tumblr ❤️ Please keep it up!

Also, I was wondering if you could maybe write something smutty with John on the set of A Hard Day's Night or something? You don't have to though! I just love your John writing so much, it's my favorite :)

'You know I feel alright'

London, '64

Word count: 1030

Tags: Jealousy, Semi-Public Sex, Fluff, Angst

The filming had ended.

Her role was small, of course it was. This didn't mean it wasn't exciting though - dancing in the background with the boys, it was good fun.

"Well, if it isn't our leading lady," Paul remarked, a smirk on his face.

John rolled his eyes at the comment, she couldn't tell if the action was sarcastic or not.

 

She looked away from Paul coyly, "Oh, Paul, not quite. I'm just in the background, you know."

"Background or wherever, you steal the scene."

Paul was a bit too sweet with her sometimes, though it was all in jest, she hoped.

John observed Paul's flirts from a distance, it made him feel awfully bitter.

"Spare her the theatrics, Macca." John murmured.

Paul was undeterred, he shot John a smirk before being whisked away by a random assistant.

She turned toward John. He stood there still, a clear annoyance etched on his face.

"Finally got rid of that distraction, didn't we?" John said. 

She sighed, recognising the tension.

"John, it's not like that. Paul's just having a bit of fun."

John crossed his arms, skepticism evident in his expression.

"Fun, eh? Fun? Fun flirting? With my girl?" 

She reassured him, "It's just banter, John. Nothing serious."

He scoffed, a cynical look in his eyes.

She decided to change track, as she didn't want him being mad at her.

"Did you watch me dancing, John?" She teased, hugging his waist, looking up at him.

"Yeah, you looked like a right whore." John muttered.

He hugged her back just as tightly. The proximity heightened, their closeness bordered on the edge of him almost kissing her.

John's eyes gleamed with a mischievous glint as he suggested, "How about we sneak off somewhere? Somewhere quiet, just you and me."

She quirked an eyebrow, pretending to act like she didn't get his innuendo.

"Where are you thinking?"

"A secret place, love."

Without further explanation, he yanked her hand and led her away, leaving behind the noise and commotion and Paul, heading towards a moment of privacy.

"A broom closet?" She exclaimed.

John shoved her into it, quickly switching on the dim light. He silenced any protest with a rough, wet kiss - he had no room for objections. John pinned her into a cluttered corner, his hands promptly moved up underneath her skirt, groping her bottom.

He groaned against her mouth, he knew he had her.

She pushed him back slightly, giving herself a chance to breathe after his sudden moves.

After a few breaths John pressed forward again, his hands fiddled with the zipper of her skirt. But then he gave up on the zipper and just decided he'd pull her tights down.

John tugged his belt off, he let his pants and his boxers fall down to his ankles. He rubbed himself off a bit.

There was nothing to lie her on, apart from the floor and John didn't fancy fucking her on the floor so he prompted her to jump, jump so he could fuck her standing up.

With a gasp, she leaped into his arms, wrapping her legs around his waist. With one hand on the small of her back and the other gripping her hip, he lifted her against the wall. His finger traced the lace edge of her panties before pulling it to the side, teasing her entrance with the tip of his hard cock.

She put her arms around his neck for stability, her fingers tangling in his hair. His lips moved against her neck, leaving a trail of warm, wet kisses that made her shiver with desire.

He gripped her hips and lifted her up and down, his thrusts started hitting just the right spot inside her. She arched her back in response, matching his movements with perfect timing. The light sound of skin hitting skin echoed through the room as he moved harder.

"Yes, yes, yes..." she gasped out between breaths.

As the waves of pleasure coursed through her body, her legs began to shake and her grip on him weakened. She could feel her climax building and subsiding in quick succession, just as he thrusted. Her fingers barely clung to him.

John moved his hands to grip her waist firmly, guiding her body back and forth in rhythm with him. The force of his movements was intense. His manhood pulsed inside of her, the throbbing sensation was going to finish him. He let out a groan as he lost himself in her, he could barely say her name.

John pressed her against the wall so she hugged her own body closer to his.

He whimpered and his breath quickened as they moved together, their bodies desperate to be intimately intertwined.

John's last few thrusts were fervent, each one driving them both to cumming. She shivered, her cunt clenched tightly around him as they reached their peak together.

John released himself inside of her.

She could feel his entire body tense before they became a tangled mess on the floor.

John seemed disillusioned. She was giggling at the thought of what they just did, it was purely filthy.

John reached down to his ankles and tugged up his pants, he struggled to get the belt buckled. She gracefully pulled on her tights and when she finally stood up, smoothed out her skirt.

They caught each other's eye and burst into laughter, their cheeks flushed and hair messy. They tried to regain composure, though they knew it had been lost the moment they stepped foot in the closet.

"Oh, Y/N, there's something different about you." John said.

"Oh." She replied, nervously.

"Is that a compliment, John?"

He smirked.

"Take it however you want, love. Just know that I want you all to myself."

He placed her head on his chest. She rested against him, a short pause settled in.

She felt a mix of emotions, though the dominant one was longing, it was sickly.

"I'm here, aren't I?"

He leaned in for a soft kiss and she accepted it.

"You are here," he mumbled against your lips, "and I wanna keep you close."

"How close?"

"As close as us shagging in a bloody broom closet."

[vivi-in-the-sky-with-diamonds]

My Heart Went Boom (or how The Beatles would react to an s/o who loves their heartbeat)

(Image source is I honestly don't know, I found it on Pinterest- if you know the source, lemme know and I'll add it c: )

This is my first attempt at writing something for all four Beatles (I usually just write Paul ;A;) so please bear with me (and let me know if I've messed up someone's personality) c: also this was written by me specifically for me so it's incredibly niche and I'm honestly only posting in case someone else wants it lol (I'm sorry if it's super weird)

John:

John is a little shit

Anyway

He knows about your habit but refuses to tell you he knows, instead opting to aggravate the shit out of you in the most loving way possible

Most days, he'd come home, out of breath from outrunning fans and reporters, but still with a cheeky smile about his face

"Oh, my little birdie, my heart is beating so fast! Come listen?~"

You'd turn bright red bc how the fuck does he know about that

The day would pass with no other mention of it until you're lying in bed together

"You know I love you, Y/N" he says it almost like an apology

"I know, Johnny"

Paul:

Paul noticed you had a habit of lying on top of him, particularly on days when you were sad

It wasn't until he realized you also tapped his arm in a particular rhythm that he realized exactly what you were doing

After that, he'd make a note to always ask if you were okay or needed anything and to take some deep breaths to slow down his heart rate

Sometimes, if he senses that you're upset but you're not lying on top of him, he'll say, "Come listen to my heart?" (You never felt the need to verbally confess to him, as you had an unspoken understanding)

One time, his mouth got ahead of his brain, and out came, "Come listen, my heart?"

And thus, a new nickname was born

At some point, "my heart" becomes "mon coeur"

Sometimes, he'll ask completely in French and it makes your own heart flutter

George:

With George, it began as morbid curiosity

After all, he's such a skinny thing, if you look closely enough at any of his pulse points, you can see the rhythm

At some point, it turned into a comfort thing, knowing his heart beats only for you, even if it does sound like a bird fluttering half the time

One day, you're lying on the couch, watching the telly, head on his chest

"Are ye listenin' to my heart, Y/N?"

You blush at first, caught completely off-guard, but manage to say, "Yes"

He asks why and you explain

He's silent at first, not knowing what to think, but then his mouth turns up in a smile and his chest puffs with pride

It makes him feel strong knowing you feel comfort in him

Ringo:

You'd had the habit of listening to Ringo for a while, even before you started dating

You'd relish in the moments where you'd simply have a "friend cuddle", as the two of you called them, as you'd press your ear gently above his heart, hoping he wouldn't notice the ever-so delicate touch on his chest

After he'd gotten tonsillitis, though, your habit increased

He was oblivious, thinking you just wanted to hug or cuddle, but for you, it was almost like you needed to hear him to make sure he was alive and well

Sometimes, you'd find yourself pressed against him in the middle of the night, the spaces between beats agonizingly slow (even if it was an average 75 bpm)

At some point, he finally catches on. "Y/N, you know I'm alright now, right?"

You sigh. "I know, Ritchie, it's just-"

He'd cut you off by holding you tight and whispering reassurances in your ear

[okwritingandpain]

Penny Lane's Getting Better (The Beatles x Reader)

Epilogue: The End

Date: 2/9/78

Dear John, 

I wish I could have told you how much I loved you. From the first moment our eyes met, to the last shaky breath. I don't know if you remember me anymore, it's been so long since you went off with Paul, George, and Ringo on your grand adventure. I hope everything is going well for you. 

It's been, what, 20 years? More than that at this point, I know...

I tried reaching out a few years ago, but I couldn't get ahold of you because you had stepped away from the public eye. I hope you're happy with your family, and that you release some new music soon. 

Imagine has to be one of my new favorites, keep working away! I miss you, I'll be sure to reach out again soon. 

Love, 

the girl you showed around Liverpool over 20 years ago

Date: 4/16/78

Dear my best friend, 

It's been awhile since our last talk. Nearly 7 years now...how's your family? I hope they're doing well...

John, I, don't know what to say, how we can come together again. I know we are split apart, really and even our music is starting to reflect that. 

But you'll always be my best friend, you'll always be the person who inspired me the most. I love you, John. 

Highest regards, 

the boy you found in Liverpool 

Date 6/26/78 

Dear friend, 

I find your boldness endearing. The words you speak to the world are strong and noble like those of my own. I sometimes wonder how things could have been different, if we hadn't disbanded, but even you know that I wanted out of there more than anyone...more than you. 

Things have been fine over here. I've been soul searching, figuring out myself...especially in these times. I hope you and your family are well. I wish my own was. 

Notify me when you drop that next album will you? I'd appreciate a chance to listen to something that reminds me of better times. 

Signed, 

who they considered quiet 

8/30/78

Dearest friend of friends, 

Recording with you has been the best thing I've done in awhile. The albums aren't doing very well right now. I'm just glad for your contributions. If you need anything, I'm always here so just send a word. 

I haven't seen either George or Paul for awhile, the pretty girl from Liverpool reached out to me and she said she sent you a message a few months back. 

We've been wondering about you John...

Peace and Love, 

Your Drummer

20 years earlier 

"We won't be gone too long," John says, adjusting his cap. You raise your eyebrow as you fluff up his hairs that sticks out. 

"I know, but when you make it big, don't feel compelled to come back too soon, alright?" You reply, stepping away from him.

The train was nearing the station, your heart swelled, seeing your beloved friends going off into the world.

"I'm going to miss you," John whispers to you. He kisses your hand with a slight smirk. You chuckle to yourself, this feeling that he's going to forge his own path...you know that he will have bigger things to think about than you.

At least that's what you thought...

10/9/80

Dear Y/N,

I know it's been a long time since I've written you. My life has changed in so many ways, I can't even explain it. I admit that I wanted to reach out in the past and didn't have the courage too. I really missed you, but I felt I left you behind...

I see that now that I should have just written you. 

I still love you, and always will...

I really do miss you, maybe we can meet up again sometime. It would be nice to meet up again after all these years. I heard you're getting a name for yourself in England. 

Thank you for the birthday card, by the way, you've sent me one every year. 

I hope to see another one next year, 

I love you, 

John Lennon

@sabrielka-133

[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

[ringstarrr]

Hi. If you don't mind, would you mind doing a song fic for Taylor Swift's coney island with either John or George? I just feel like it would work really well, especially these lines: "And do you miss the rogue who coaxed you into paradise and left you there? Will you forgive my soul when you're too wise to trust me and too old to care?"

I Want to Tell You

pairing: john lennon x gender neutral!reader

warnings: angst, depression, self image

author's note: first of all, sorry for going missing for a few months. kinda had a burnout with college and work, but things are getting better - i think, at least.

and i kind of changed this a little lol i know it's a sad song and i made it accordingly, but the end is sweet. i might not be a swiftie but i'm a softie

1966.

It was like living through hell. Why did he have to say that? you’d think every once in a while since the whole bigger than Jesus broke out. John has always been one to make interesting comments - not to say controversial. You knowing him since you met at art school, it didn’t faze you a bit, yet, it was a different thing in America.

“They’re so fucking upright. It’s so phony.” You sought John during one of the tours you went by his side, still his girlfriend, flesh and nail. Now, long married, it’s been a few good months since you last followed beside him. John was getting more distant everyday and you didn’t know what to do.

He emitted his loud and heartwarming laugh. “I know, right?” John escorted you close to his chest, his nose in your hair. “Americans act like we are a bunch of weirdos. We are… different,” John chuckled, free hand hovering his face. “They’re nice. I’m the freak.”

This happened only a year prior to this fiasco. On that occasion, you made it your job to assure John he was an important person to the band and no matter what happened, you’d still be by his side. So far, you had maintained your words and stuck with John - even though he wouldn’t even look at you.

It made you insecure and going back in your head, trying to piece together why he had become such a loner those last months. Without preparation, you began to revisit your time at college, when you two first started dating. You were younger by a few years, and John was living the high of his teddy boy lifestyle. 

He was a heartthrob. There was no other way to describe it.

Every single time you glanced in his direction, John’s eyes were already staring you down. Smiling smugly, he’d shake his head and wiggle his eyebrows. You were left blushing. It was heaven, knowing you caught the attention of someone like him. Your heart could melt just by the sight of him.

At the time, you weren’t looking for a relationship. But John had other plans. He flirted with you every chance he got, always putting some innuendo into everything. Even though you rolled your eyes every single time, you couldn’t deny to yourself how your hands would shake whenever John stormed in your direction. Neither could you say he didn’t make winter feel like a sunny afternoon in spring, considering the speeding beat of your heart and the way he caught your breath.

The memories left you wondering if you had closed your fists around something delicate for this to be happening. The silent tears fell down and you didn’t try to avoid the unstoppable. It was getting overbearing just to breath. When you first met, you thought that maybe 一 you were certain, to be completely honest 一 he’d be the death of you. At the time, the idea brought colour to your cheeks, thinking it’d be because of his antics and how flustered he made you feel. Now, you had the sour taste of knowing why.

Marrying one of the most desired man on the earth, show stopping sensation and global phenomenon was incredibly hard. And the business changed John’s usual upbeat and sarcastic nature. Theses things were still there but he wouldn’t show them as much. It turned him into a depressed and lonely wolf. John was starting to head straight to bed whenever he came home, telling you less and less about his life and what he was going through in his head. 

Yet, you had an idea of why that was.

The press were writing a bunch of articles about all the things he and the boys did and, unfortunately, that included his health. Suddenly every news reporter was a nutritionist and they decided John was getting fat, which was far from the truth. You noticed how John was starving himself for awhile because of it, his self image completely deteriorated and his depression coming to a new highlight low-end. But John wouldn't say a word. You’d ask him, almost plead for him to open up you, but John wouldn't say a word.

In front of the television, you watched him and the band make yet another appearance for an interview. It was difficult for you to admit, but most of the time you heard his voice these days was on the TV. John was pushing you away. After talking to George, Ringo and Paul about the situation, they assured you this wasn’t happening just to you. John was pushing everyone away, whether he knew it or not.

Seeing that happy grin in his face on the telly, a sight you missed dearly, was enough to make your walls crumble down. You sobbed violently, crying out loud. What happened to my baby? Where did my baby go? Your whole body shook and your voice got hoarse by the second. But the moment you heard a car pull into the driveway, you pushed it all back inside, cleaning the tears’ path and clearing your throat. Uptight and anxious, you waited. 

“You watching that crap?” was the first thing he said. John closed the front door, dropping his keys in the coffee table and sitting beside you on the couch. He slid his arm around you, turning you slightly to kiss you with care. After it ended, you two maintained faces close, noses brushing against one another, eyes closed. It was moments like this that made you feel everything was worth putting through. 

“Just watching this group fine young men. They dress pretty well, especially that one” you said, turning a little to the TV, just enough so he could see your index finger pointing in his direction on the screen. 

John snickered. “Nah, he looks like a twat.”

You snuggled your face against his neck, eyes closed. “And how was today, pretty boy?” as you whispered the question you immediately regretted it. John’s body grew rigid, moving away from you. I can’t do anything right.

“Ah,” he shrugged his shoulders, face showing how John cringed at the question. “It was… normal, I guess.” He bit down his lip, drawing in a deep breath. Silence emerged between youc and you wanted to scream. With a sigh, John got up. “Well, I’m taking a shower.” 

Before you could think the decision over once more, you were speaking already. “John, can I ask you a question?” He was midway walking to your shared bedroom, stopping in his tracks. John turned around, confused.

Eyebrows knitted and hands on his waist, he answered. “Yeah, sure you can.” 

“Did I shatter you?” your voice quivered, just a little above a purr. You felt tears threatening to form but you didn’t care. You needed to get it off of your chest, it was killing you. John was startled by the inquiry, eyes wide.

“What makes you think that, love?” He still was by the bedroom, slowly coming back to you.

“You never talk to me anymore, John.” A sorry laugh left your lips as you said it, feeling like a lunatic. “And you used to come to me anytime if you were struggling, to have a laugh... Now you can barely stand to be next to me.” Your eyes flickered to the roof, holding back the emotions in turmoil. “You never ask about me anymore. It’s like you couldn’t give less of a shit sometimes,” you turned your focus back to him and it crashed your feelings. He was crying with a straight face, biting the inside of his cheek. “If this is the long haul, how’d we get here so soon?” 

You managed to get a laugh from him, smiling a bit. After a few seconds, he spoke up. “Sorry for not making you my centerfold,” John pushed the tears away with the back of his hand. “I hate that we turned into this… all because of me,” now it was his turn to cackle like a mad man, hands in his hair.

“It’s okay, John.” You gave him a half-hearted smile.

“No! Of course it’s not, love.” He took a long breath and began tapping his foot against the floor. “You are my wife, for fuck’s sake. I love you and I pushed away? I’m a dick.” John was obviously mad at himself. “I didn’t think it would upset you this much, love. Fuck.”

“Baby…” you cooed, getting up from the couch. You tried to reach for his hands, but he shook them instead.

“Don’t ‘baby’ me. I don’t want your pity.”

“John,” you took hold of his hand, your hold strong and tight. “Shut up. You’ve been through a lot and it’s okay to react like this. But you should be more aware of the fact that there are people that care and worry about you.” You pushed his fringe to the side with your free hand, resting it against his wet cheek. John closed his eyes. “You are not a bad guy, John. Just fucking stupid sometimes,” both of you laughed. 

“What’s a lifetime of achievement if I pushed you to the edge but you were too polite to leave me?” You cringed at that, not agreeing with him.

“I would never leave you, sweetheart. I love you too much,” you said, laughing a little. “Just don’t push me away anymore. I’m always here for you.”

“Sorry for being fucking stupid.”

[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.

[modmoptop]

requests open!

looking for some john lennon fanfic ideas and i wanna hear from you. tell me all about the year, the vibe, and whatever your heart desires.

just a heads up, here’s what i won’t write:

• smut / sex scenes

• that's pretty much it !

so shoot your shot!

drop your requests. ✧˖°

⠀ :¨ ·.· ��:⠀

⠀ `· . ୨୧⠀ ” ⋆˙⟡♡⟡⋆˙ ⋆˚✿˖° ˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖

( i’m on ao3 @ouranhostclubstory if you’d like to check out some of my work!)

[dinkydonky]

please give me beatles x reader requests i'm so boredd lol

[sunflowersinthedirt]

AFTER SHOW | PAUL MCCARTNEY 🎸

Where Paul really wants you and can't stand hiding it anymore OR where you have low self-esteem and don't see yourself as feminine and beautiful enough to attract anyone's attention.

female!reader, fluff.

| mentions of alcohol and pot, mature language and reader not feeling feminine enough. Written in first person. |

english is not my first language and gifs are not mine.

—

1965.

Nothing could have prepared me to see Paul being interviewed after the tenth show of that tour in the hotel by this girl. Sure, it was a usual scene, but she… She was beautiful. Red-haired, medium height, and rosy-skinned. She looked like one of those porcelain dolls people order for decoration. Delicate, polite and apparently funny. The hazel eyes of the english singer were solely focused on her, his smile stretching from ear to ear.

It made me sad in a way. But my mind couldn't figure out if it was because Paul was close to such a beautiful woman with a courteous smile for so long without me seeing him next to a woman, or if it was because she was everything I was not: Too beautiful.

The truth is it was always like this. I always had to compare myself with every woman who got close to the boys. I had been working with the Beatles for almost four months and had yet to see any erratic behavior from them towards me or any woman - They´are flirty, but not disrespectfull. Far from me wanting all of them, but sometimes a doubt would light up inside me: Am I pretty enough for a Beatle to notice me? Of course, not just them, but any man.


I walked down the hotel hall to my room, not wanting to notice anyone's presence there and hoping they wouldn't see me either. I went up to the corridor of the rooms so quickly that not even a camera flash would catch me if someone photographed me there. I heard footsteps behind me and felt a tap on my arm.

— Where are you going in such a hurry, luv? — It was Paul. His warm touch sent an electric current and a shiver through my stomach. I felt my face heating up too, but it could have been the wine Brian offered me earlier at the after show. — To my room. — I replied, a bit intoxicated by his scent and how close he was to me. Either I was too tipsy for having had two glasses of weak Chilean wine with Brian Epstein, or Paul's eyes had a different sparkle that night.

— Can I be your company? — He asked boldly and irresistibly. — I want to get out of here too.

I nodded positively. Paul and I walked down the room corridor, and I felt drained by the energy of the place. Paul seemed tired and high... His eyes continued to disturb me. I couldn't judge him because I was this high too.

His eyes shone and disturbed me in an attractive way, of course. After seeing him with the red-haired girl, I started comparing myself to her automatically. I wasn't unkempt, but I didn't feel feminine enough either. It was always a battle to get ready and force myself to see myself as a feminine woman. And being in Paul's company that night had a strange atmosphere.

Why would he prefer to stay with someone like me, so clumsy? He was my best friend... But what could I offer him if we were seen together? In my mind, we simply didn't match. Paul and I were closer because we had similar tastes. I adored him, and he was totally my type. A Liverpool gentleman, contrary to the thoughts of people who had prejudice against Liverpudlians. He liked photographs, good music, and had accompanied me (when he had time) to cinemas and theaters.

When I entered that room, I had almost forgotten he was my company that night. A cold, electrifying air passed through me, and my body shivered. I felt small in the vastness of the night of the tenth show of that tour. I was too lucky and knew it, knew that girls my age would die and kill to be in my place and work with the Beatles.

— What's wrong with you? — He asked, breaking the silence. A tone of concern was perceived. — You seem too quiet today.

I threw myself onto the double bed in the room. It was soft, comfortable, and had pocket springs. I heard the springs' noise, and my body wobbled a bit with the impact of my lazy throw onto it. I wanted to stay in that position forever if possible.

— It's nothing. — I lied. I didn't want to worry Paul. He and the other guys had an incredible performance at the show today. Brian was proud and trusted me blindly to accompany them in all this madness. — Just tired, and I drank too.

Paul threw himself on the mattress next to me, very close to me. Now we both stared at the white ceiling of the hotel room.

— Darling, stop it. I know when something is wrong with you. I didn't even see you smile today. — Paul commented, now turning to me. He knew, he knew me well... And I kind of hated myself for making it too obvious. It took me a while to turn to him and take my eyes off that ceiling.

Not because the hotel room ceiling was more interesting than Paul but because I could commit a big madness being centimeters away from his face. I could blame the earlier glasses of Chilean wine or realize that I had been in love with Paul for a long time and stop hurting myself so much. I knew this would end our friendship in a bad way.

— I smiled when you guys were on stage. — I didn't look at him. I could feel Paul's gaze burning my cheeks.

— I didn't see... — He said, his voice huskier, whining. Almost a moan. — Look at me, love. Tell me what's going on, hm? — He pleaded. I felt butterflies in my stomach. The wine's effect seemed to be affecting me more than it should.

I started to wonder if there was something more in the wine or if I was drunk intoxicated by Paul.

— Paulie... — I whispered his name, finally looking at him. I wanted to laugh nervously, so I bit my lips. Paul looked at me with the most needy expression in the world at that moment. Either that or I was going completely crazy...

Shit. He's beautiful, and I really liked him.

— Hm? — He murmured softly in response to me calling him. His eyes were low and dark, a look I had never seen in all this time working with the Beatles. — If I ask you something, would you be upset with me? — He asked, his voice low and firm.

— You know that I can't be angry with you. Just.. go ahead...— I blinked quickly, trying not to appear intoxicated by him.

— Can I? — He sounded nervous. — I mean, can I kiss you, darling? — He asked me. His hazel eyes locked on mine.

I took a deep breath, trying to process what I had just heard. It wasn't possible, was it? He wanted to kiss me. He. Wanted. To. Kiss. Me.

— Paul, I-

— I'm sorry. — He interrupted me, and I felt like an idiot. His eyes darkened, and the boy's face now had a sad expression. He sat on the bed with his back to me.

— Paul, I...

— It's just that I'm feeling different. I don't want to mess up our friendship. — He interrupted me again, and honestly, I couldn't be mad at him for interrupting me. I sat on the bed. Paul looked at the lamp, his long and curved eyelashes making a perfect drawing on his eyelid. I confirmed that even his profile was beautiful. — I'm kind of tired of this. And you keep disturbing my thoughts, you know? I can't sleep without thinking about you. — He finally confessed, now looking back at me. His thick lips moist and shining with his saliva.

My heart felt like a philharmonic band. He was driving me crazy.

— Y/N, I don't want to lose your-

I interrupted him and did the craziest thing. I silenced him with my lips on his. Paul gently held my face, his thumbs relaxed on my right cheek. I wanted to go fast, thirsty for him, he wanted to go slow. He tamed me like no one else could that night, tilting his head to deepen the lazy kiss. I felt like I would melt there... His mouth was warm, moist, the taste of wine sweetening my mouth. It was intimate and moved me like no man had ever done. The need for air became apparent, and we pulled apart, Paul still daring to steal a peck. Our lips swollen and red.

Suddenly, I felt shy. I had indeed kissed him, caught him by surprise. He had too, he kissed me back... Unbelievable that he reciprocated me and my repressed feelings.

— Paul... — I whispered, intoxicated, feeling my lips moist with his saliva. Our faces were still close but not close enough to be strange.

— Shh... — He gave me a long peck. — I know. Me too, darling.

And then nothing else mattered in that room but him and me.


[vivi-in-the-sky-with-diamonds]

Say The Word (the Beatles say 'I love you' for the first time)

(Source)

Good afternoon to everyone except me, who cannot write to save my life. I came up with this idea randomly after laughing at a sign that said "puzzels", I will not elaborate. I am also listsning to "Girl" as I write this, so I am feeling ✨️something✨️ lol. Enjoy!

John

John Lennon, loud and boisterous as he may be, is very reserved about some things

The phrase "I love you" is one of them

You absolutely said it to him first

Every time you say it, he simply smiles and chuckles a bit

After a while, you stop saying it because you don't want to make him uncomfortable

That's when he realizes he loves you

He takes about a week and a half to work up the courage and wrestle with his thoughts before

"Birdie?" You hum a response. "I love you, birdie!"

You turn around and stare at him for a moment and he says it again

"I love you so much, birdie!"

Your mouth turns up into a big grin

"I love you too, Johnny"

Paul

Paul waits a bit to test the waters

You've probably gone on about three or four dates

He definitely says it first

You're on another date, at a carnival

He's watching you with stars in his eyes as you play a game

When you win, he shouts, "Oh, I love you!"

Both of you sort of freeze before he says, "I do. I love you, Y/N."

You smile at him and kiss him gently

"I love you more, Macca"

It then turns into a battle of who loves who more that ends in a long kiss, a messy bed, and a pillow fight

George

George says a lot of things as a joke

On about your third date, you had jokingly said, "You know you love me!"

"I love you" was one of them

Not really sure which of you says it first

To which he had let out a long hum before replying, "Yes, I do."

Neither of you thought much of it

A few months after, you're both cuddling on the couch, watching telly

George leans over and kisses the top of your head. "You know I mean it, right?"

You quirk an eyebrow and he continues, "You know I mean it when I say I love you"

You smile a little and kiss him "I love you too, Georgie"

Ringo

Ritchie, try as he might, falls head over heels very easily

You are no exception

Definitely says it first

After your first date, he walks you to your door

"I love you, Y/N!"

You sort of giggle, confused, and say, "Goodnight, Rich"

No matter if you say it back or not, he always makes sure you know

"I love you, honey!"

Eventually, you finally realize you return the feeling

The look on his face when you say it back is priceless

[okwritingandpain]

Ob-La-Di, Ob-La-Da: The Beatles X Reader Chapter Index

Summary: A young girl meets present-day Paul McCartney who sends her back in time to save the Beatles.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22: The Ringo Ending

Chapter 23: The George Ending

Chapter 24: The John Ending

Chapter 25: The Paul Ending

[toobz-drawz]

I'd love a George Harrison x fem!Reader one-shot where he plays her a song he's working on, but he isn't sure it's any good. She tells him to keep working on it because he's too talented to just give up, especially when she thinks it sounds great. The song turns out to be "My Sweet Lord." Thank you so much in advance!

My Kinda Lover

1970 George Harrison x Reader

•Warnings: Nothing really but fluff. •Summary: One early morning you’re let into your boyfriends studio to listen to a new song he’s been making and here’s what you have to say.. •Characters:4,601 •Additional Information: I’m sorry if this is not quite good, I made this at 11 pm and I’m very tired. Anyway, thanks for letting this be my first Beatles fanfic!

It was barely 7 am, you were in the kitchen making breakfast for the two of you, while george was in his makeshift studio working on a new album. 

You started getting the table ready, placing down a couple of fried eggs on George’s plate, a jug of freshly squeezed orange juice and coffee in the middle of the small table with glasses near it, and you yourself would be having a egg sandwich that morning. 

Once everything was ready you called for george to come down for breakfast. 

While you were just getting yourself comfortable in your seat, george walked into the dinning room. “Morning, darling.” He said with a smile on his face, as he walked over to you, leaning over and giving your cheek a small kiss. “Morning sweetheart, I made your favorite.” He sat down in his chair, grabbing the coffee press to pour himself a cup of coffee. “I see, thank you very much, but before I start eating can I ask you of something?” You grabbed your sandwich, about to bite into it before stopping yourself to answer, “Ask away, dear.” George looked up at you, “Could you stop by the studio when you’re done with breakfast? I have a song I’ve been working on and I think I need your opinion on it, I’m just not quite sure if should keep it or leave it.” You agreed that you would stop by and help, honestly you loved when he asked you to listen to his music because that gave you a chance to actually see and hear the magic happen in front of you. Plus you knew it made him happy knowing that you enjoyed his music, so it was basically a win win. 

After breakfast and cleaning up after you two, you headed to George’s studio in the house, you just couldn’t wait for him to blow your socks right off. 

You knocked on the door, giving it a couple of seconds before hearing George saying you could come in. You’d turn the door knob and push the door open, the first thing you saw was George sitting down in a chair with his guitar on his lap, and a music stand with a piece of paper clipped to it in front of him. “Make yourself comfortable, I promise this will be quick.” You walked in, and sat down beside him. “Play whenever you’re ready.” You gave him a small smile, watching him let out a small sigh, before beginning to play ‘My Sweet Lord’, looking down here and there but mostly keeping his gaze on the piece of paper in front of him, as he laid out the new song just for you to hear. 

The more he played, the more it felt as if the atmosphere in the room changed, in the background you’d hear the backing tracks of all sorts of other instruments that held up the main guitar chorus and pretty soon George’s voice. “My sweet lord..mm-my lord.” You sat there in awe, you couldn’t help but just pat your thigh and tap your feet on the ground, as you listened to the song. You say this a lot to him but his singing seriously was the most angelic thing you’ve ever heard compared to everyone else’s.

Not long the song was over, George looked over to you, seeing your eyes sparkle, and your face adorned with large smile. He just couldn’t help with laugh, “So..is there anything you wanna say about any part of the song that might’ve made you think there was something not quiet right with it or I should put a certain part in a new key?” You sat there for a moment, you thought it was good the way it was as of now, but knowing that George was a perfectionist and would never give up no matter what, even if it was the smallest thing in the world he’d still go over it twenty more times making sure it was just right before sending it off, you made sure to pick your words wisely. “I wish to say it’s good as it is as of now, but I know you well enough and I want you to keep working on it. I know along the way you’ll come up with a new little thing or two you’ll want to add to the song, so please just take your time until you think it’s good enough to be the final product. But for now that’s all I have to say really.” For the rest of the day George really stuck to that comment, thinking about you saying it over and over again. He sat in that studio looking over the lyrics, changing and re-adding things. Here and there he’d give himself a break, go outside give himself a moment to bask in everything before heading back inside with a head full of wonders and new creative ideas. 

After all the mixing, recording, playing, a week later he’d do the same thing, ask you to go to the studio to play you what he called the finish product with a name finally, which happened to be ‘My Sweet Lord’, but this time when you heard it you called it a master piece ready to be welcomed into the world with open arms. 

[underground-legionary]

About myself and this account

Dear visitor of this blog, welcome to my hearth.

Feel free to stretch your limbs and enjoy the ride.

This page has a plethora of purposes, but none of them too serious.

Firstly I have felt a sudden urge to write again, which hasn't happened in a while. In this way I would like to challenge myself creatively

Secondly I would like to find like-minded people and create a comfort space for myself (and maybe someone else) out here, on the internet, a little cranny to relax in - call it whatever you wish.

I am interested in the following fandoms, and am willing to demonstrate attempts at writing with various degrees of success write both fanfic and self-insert bits for:

The Beatles (McLennon, John Lennon x reader, Paul McCartney x reader, George Harrison x reader (sorry Ringo stans))

Bob Dylan (Bob Dylan x reader, Dylarrison)

Joan Baez (Joan Baez x reader)

Oasis (Liam Gallagher x reader, Noel Gallagher x reader)

Pathologic (Classic/2) (Burakhovsky, Burakh x reader, Dankovsky x reader)

Disco Elysium (most likely just shitposts)

The list is not exhaustive and will be updated as the page gets more posts. I will not be strictly curating the contents - that would be way too exhausting and defeats the purpose of having a little brain dump in a digital form. Here and there I might post pictures I like or random thoughts on various topics.

To bring a long story to a short conclusion Germans like to say "lange Rede kurzer Sinn". So, to summarize, I shall name this page bits of everything and let it be.

Now is the best time to escort myself out of here.

Yours,

underground legionary.

[ringstarrr]

Stepping outside, she is free

summary: your parents go to your shared apartment to meet ringo for the first time while he's filming the let it be documentary

paring: ringo starr x fem!reader

warnings: spoilers for the get back series, nosy parents, cursing

author's note: this is inspired on "she's leaving home". just wanted to write something for sweet boy ringo. i'm not doing well right now, so i'm focused on writing more frequently to get my mind off of things. send in requests, please!

1969.

You were feeling insecure. Your parents were coming over to dinner to meet Ringo, and you could already hear their judgemental and not-asked for perceptions of your life with your boyfriend. They were coming in the next few hours, but you swore you saw your mother rolling her eyes.

Attempting to avoid most of the bad things they probably would say, you were cleaning and getting everything in place since the early morning. You even woke up before Ringo had to leave for the studio, which he found odd. You were a deep sleeper and liked to sleep in whenever you could, so to see you get out of bed with the birds was a surprise.

"Who died?" He asked, dazed when he walked into the kitchen to you tidying the cabinets. Ringo was fixing his suit on his shoulders. The giggle contrasted the already tired look on your face.

"No one died, Richie." You stopped, putting down the products next to you on the counter you were sitting in, legs bouncing. "Just thought the place needed some cleaning."

"On a Friday morning? Seriously?" Voice filled with disbelief, Ringo didn't believe you for one minute. Crossing his arms as he made his way to you, he continued. "What has got into your head, love?" You giggled once more, relieved to see the little smile that appeared on his lips.

"You know, Rings," you answered with a sigh. Ringo knew how stressed you were about having your parents over even without you telling him about it.

He knew the stories from when you used to live with them. Though he didn't enjoy saying it, he thought your parents were awful and mistreated you, creating a bunch of traumas you carry to this day. And oh, how Ringo cursed the hell out of them for it. That was partially one of the reasons it took so long for him to meet them. He was aware they wouldn't like him or his lifestyle at all, and he didn't like the idea of meeting the people that put you through so much misery. You were okay with it as you also didn't exactly fancy the idea, always telling them Ringo had a busy schedule and couldn't make it - yet now he didn't, and thanks to the papers, they knew about it.

Throughout January, Ringo would be making a new record with The Beatles for their new documentary directed by Michael Lindsay-Hogg - and he would also start filming a new movie next month. You two believed it was the best idea to do it that Friday since the band was still in the first days of recording and didn't have much done yet. So you told your parents it was okay for them to visit on the 10th.

"C'mon, love. You know your parents aren't going to like any of this anyways," the boy moved his hands to hold yours. Ringo kissed your knuckles, staring at you longingly. "This week's been rough at Twickenham. Can't we postpone it?" He carried on with the pecks on your hands, moving up your arms.

"If we postpone it one more time, I think my mother will straight-up yell at me over the phone," you laughed nervously. You comprehended how tired Ritchie was - the whole relationship between the lads was crumbling right before their eyes. Ringo usually had the peacemaker role, trying to make it work even with the tension around them. But that was until the White Album's sessions a few months before. He felt so isolated and disconnected from the others so he left the group, coming back after a couple of days. Ringo was a chill and easy-going guy, and the mediator role was still his, yet things were different. It looked like he had to navigate Paul and John downplaying George's ideas and contributions. They were treating Ringo a little nicer since he walked out during the sessions of their previous record, yet, George's work was still neglected and put down. The man was treated like a younger brother with little to no knowledge - and that pissed Ringo off.

The blue-eyed man smiled lightly at you, his hands covered with expensive rings moving to caress your face. He was tired. The bags under his eyes made it way more evident. "Don't want that happening," Ringo erupted his soft giggle, you joining in. "Have a good day at work, darling," he said with a kiss on your forehead.

"You too, Ritchie," you whispered back as you stroked his hair, Ringo's eyes shut for a moment. "Blow their minds, love." That made him beam like a little kid, and you knew that smirk too well.

"I'm only planning on blowing you, pretty thing," he winked, and you laughed, a tint of pink in your cheeks. Ringo connected your lips, holding your face tightly as you two kissed for the first time that day. He enjoyed taking his time to kiss you properly and to make you feel all mushy inside. If there was one thing Ringo certainly wanted was for you to be happy - all the time, for clarification. Once he was standing by the door, keys in hand, the drummer smiled at you again. "See you later then, baby. Love you."

"Love you too," you blew him a kiss, and after capturing it in the air, Ringo left.

Before it was time for you to catch the bus for work, you had cleaned the kitchen and the living room. Even though it was unnecessary, it was good for your mind to be at ease during the day at the office. Your nerves were in control, thank God, but you had a feeling something was wrong. You couldn't point out what it was, but you felt it once you came back from your lunch break. Something was off, and it was frustrating.

Did something happen to your parents? To Ringo? Did someone actually die? Have you done something wrong? Was one of your friends in danger? Did you forget something? You thought it through a lot as you did your tasks for the day, and no answer came. Not a sign from God. No light at all.

Your guts were telling you a piece of information you couldn't understand, and that had your mind spiralling. Out of your intuition, you silently wished and prayed Ringo was okay. Your heart was tight in your chest as the time to leave the office reached. You tried to shake it off, thinking it was probably nothing.

Back to your shared apartment, you took a shower and began getting dressed up for the evening. A sweet baby-blue dress down to your calf paired with black heels and soft makeup. After putting on Ritchie's favourite perfume of yours, you moved to the kitchen. You started cooking the meal for the unfortunate event, pasta with pesto sauce.

The table was ready since the morning, as you did so to make things easier once you got home. You took that as an opportunity to put the crystals and glasses on the dining table, choosing a wine Ringo liked to accompany the evening. Your insecurities were high, and the unsettling feeling didn't wash off, but you were making a good impression that you had your shit together.

Yet, the glass of wine in your hand could argue otherwise. You were a bit tipsy when the doorbell rang. Putting everything on a minimum level on the stove, you breathed in and out before opening the door.

"Hi," was what managed to get out of your mouth, an embarrassed expression on your face.

"Is that all you have to say, (y/n)?" Your mother said with an arrogant tone, eyebrows up, pushing herself into the apartment, your father following suit. You closed the door, shutting your eyes for a few seconds to get you on your feet.

"What do you mean, mom?" You moved to put on a record to have a distraction, to avoid making it so weird and aggressive. After putting on Out Of Our Heads by The Rolling Stones, you noticed your mother's hands on her hips and already disapproving look as she stared at you. Your father was checking the portraits on the walls. "Do you want something to drink?" You walked back to the kitchen, hearing her high pitched heels following you.

"I'll want you that wine of yours, sweetheart," your father said mindlessly from the living room. Turning the stove off, you filled him a glass. He thanked you with a nod, not even looking at you.

You took a long sip of your drink, moving to put the meal on a casserole set at the centre of the table. Your mother still was following you, sitting in front of you at the table. "You ran away, (y/n). All for that-" she cut herself, thinking of what to say. "That drummer boy."

Chewing the insides of your cheeks, you responded. "No, mother. I left so I could live a life of my own. Ringo was out of the country at the time, but you don't remember that," and it was true. Ringo was in the USA for their American tour, and your mother knew it very well since she was the one that got the letters from the postman every time. Your voice showed how the subject wasn't your favourite.

"Don't act all smart, missy!" You had to control the urge to roll your eyes. "We did everything for you, you ungrateful brat! You-"

The front door cut off the discussion. Ringo was home, and by the strong smell of cigarettes and his pained expression, your instincts were right. Something had happened. You saw the old woman shrink at the smell from the corner of your eye. You gulped down harshly.

"Good evenin', folks," Ringo tried to speak with an excited voice, yet it sounded annoyed. He smiled tiredly at you, strolling to sit beside you. Interested now, your father came to sit next to your mother. "Hi, love," he muttered and pecked your lips.

"When did you meet my daughter, Mr Starkey?" Of course, your mother would treat him like this. Your hand went to hold his under the table.

"It was in 1964," Ringo squeezed your hand and began making himself a plate. "She looked out worldly, so I tried to start a conversation." He beamed fondly at you, your face reddening. "You have a lovely daughter, miss. But I think you already know that."

"She'd be a better one if she walked the line." She was stern, eating bitterly. You bit your lower lip nervously, thinking you taste blood.

"But can you blame her, though?" Ringo's eyebrows were upon his forehead, hand going back to hold yours.

"I'm sorry?"

"Everyone deserves to live their lives, be happy," you clutched his hand with everything in you. "Unfortunately for you, (y/n) needed to get out and live by herself." Ringo continued to eat like nothing was going on.

The woman was too stunned to speak, sharing looks with her husband, who just shrugged his shoulders in response. She cleared her throat before speaking again.

"Richard," you held in a chuckle. It amazed you how she couldn't even call him by his nickname. "Do you have any plans for when this Beatle thing ends?" That seemed to send him over the edge. Ringo emitted a nasty short laugh, his hold in your hand stronger. The man's face was twisting in anger.

"A few, yeah. We're getting married, for starters." Sensing your wide-eyed gaze, Ringo stroked your hand gently. He was asking you to marry him - more like telling you, frankly - in front of your parents? You were amazed.

"You were going to marry this man without me even meeting him?" Your mother was once again astonished, while your father just looked disgusted.

"Well, miss," he cackled dryly, "now you know me," Ringo said with a sly smile, sipping the wine. It was funny to see how your mother couldn't close her mouth, utterly shocked.

After that, the dinner went silently. The Rolling Stones' record had stopped long before your parents got up to leave, thanking you for the meal and for inviting them. Locking the door and slipping out of your heels, you turned to Ringo. He was looking through your vinyl collection, eventually holding a copy of The Supremes' Reflections.

"So we are getting married now?" You crossed your arms, shoes in hand. Ringo smirked, putting the album on the victrola. He gestured for you to cuddle him on the couch. You laid on top of him, face in his chest.

"I wanted to piss your ma' off," he laughed, holding you close and kissing your hair. "But honestly, I'd love to."

"Me too," you responded after a while, running your fingers over his arm. He held even tighter, making you giggle. "And what happened? You look exhausted, honey," concern was wall over your voice. Ringo went quiet, stroking your hair.

"George left the band," he told you eventually. You noticed the sorrow in him. Looking up, you caught him crying silently. "I wish John and Paul wouldn't be so over themselves, you know?" You nodded, though you didn't know how they acted in those circumstances, yet you didn't doubt Ringo. It wasn't the first time the Lennon/McCartney duo made your boy feel like this, and it's poor enough to acknowledge there had been worse situations. Ringo's self-esteem wasn't the best, and there were times the boys didn't do much to help him, if not at all.

Stroking his cheeks and whipping the tears away, you planted soft kisses in his hands, trying to calm him down. "And do you want to talk to George, sweetie?" Your fingers moved to caress his scalp, smiling when Ritchie began purring like a little kitten.

"Yeah, of course," he purred as his face was now in the crock of your neck. "But for now, I'm going to cuddle you," he giggled against your skin, causing a wave of tingles up your spin. "And what do you say we get married?"