#george harrison x y/n

[iheartjohnlennon]

George Harrison overstimulation 🎀 I need that boy CRYING, WINING, GAGGED, TIED. Like, I need him on the brink of consciousness, barely able to form full groans anymore. Pretty pretty please.

'Behind that locked door'

Your home in London, '74-'75

Word count: 3K+

Tags: Vaginal Sex, Overstimulation, Light Dom/sub, Teasing

George was sat on the edge of your bed. He was fidgeting with his feet. Behind him, you lounged against the pillows, half-naked and smiling at him unnoticed. You had been relaxed like this for the past half an hour since you had both showered together.

He was slightly out of your foots reach. All you were staring at was his clothed back. You saw George was quite thin, but he still had tone where it counted. His soft, brown waves flowed down way past his ears. You liked the way he got his hair cut now - it made him look majestic, matured....and it was very, very nice to stroke. But it wasn't just his physical appearance that drew you in; it was his demeanour. There was a depth to him, a spirituality.

What a beauty he was, even when you couldn't see his face at all.

 

The silence between you was comfortable, it allowed you to appreciate him and what not, but eventually, the need for interaction; the need for him; the need for his cock, became too strong to simply ignore. So, you poked his back with your foot a few times.

"George..." You spoke.

Your voice had strained slightly, sounding needy for him.

His expression was calm when he turned to you, but it wasn't without his toothy grin. You could see his cute anticipation. He always sounded so excited on the phone when you invited him over.

"Y/N..." He mimicked back, his voice smooth. 

Taking a breath, you sat up fully and smiled at him. "Come here." 

Without any hesitation, George complied, crawling onto the bed fully, taking away all the space that was between you both before.

He laid on his back and looked to the ceiling. When he settled beside you, you stayed sitting up so you could look down him - lovingly, of course. The sight of him, relaxed and vulnerable beneath you, sent an erotic thrill coursing through you.

You reached out to lightly trace the exposed skin peeking through the undone buttons of his shirt. Your fingers traced there slowly, drawing lazy circles that made him feel nice. 

His head tiredly tilted to the side, trying to decipher what you wanted him to do tonight.

But any thoughts that lingered in his mind were quickly forgotten when he felt your hand grasping his chin.

He looked into your eyes; your usual loving gaze was now clouded with a blunt lust. 

George felt himself falling into relaxation with your touch, brows relaxing as his eyes fell to a half-lidded stare.

Your smile never left your face and George was sure you could tell him to bark and he’d ask, like which dog? 

"Is there anythin' I can do for you?" He asked teasingly, breaking the second silence. 

"Well, it depends." You answered vaguely, holding back a giggle. 

Taking your laughter as an invitation for foreplay, George's hand trailed up your thigh. Before he could even try undressing you, your hand sharply slapped his away. 

"Ow." He felt like a scolded child, he frowned at you. "What? 'm not allowed to touch you now or somethin'?"

You didn't answer him and bit your lip, feeling a bit bad for teasing him, but not bad enough to not proceed with your little plan. 

George was looking to you, waiting for you to either give him permission to feel you, or to tell him what game you were playing today. 

The hand that had slapped him away now drew him in closer by his jaw. You cooed to soothe his frustration - George always fell victim to your words.

"Since someone doesn't know how to keep their hands to themselves, I don't think they should be allowed to use them at all!"

Your voice dripped with sultriness, and your smile was still just as sweet as before - you hoped your dominance was working.

George stared at you, dumbfounded by this new attitude. He didn't dislike it though, and not one to question you, he simply nodded. 

"Yeah, 'course...'m sorry, I'll keep them to meself."

He assured you, wanting to play along with what he thought was just an insignificant role play. 

But then you shook your head, hair bouncing with every direction you turned. "No, no, that won't do. How can I perfectly make sure you won't touch me?"

"I..uh, I dunno, really." He replied.

George’s teeth bit at the inside of his cheek. Shit. You were being serious; you weren't just being silly. 

He tried to think of any reason he could. He wanted to blabber to you that he was a good boy, that he could behave and listen to you - but with the look you gave him, he knew it was better to just...obey?

Then your sharp nail landed under his chin, forcing him to look at you again. And he did, he looked at you from his lashes, strands of his hair covered his face.

He looked weak now, small even. Usually, it was the other way around. You delicately brushed his hair away from his face and gave his nose a small peck.

"I have a really good idea on how. Do you want to know my idea, George?"

George nodded, a bit too eagerly you noticed.

"Go on, use your words. Can't quite hear you if you’re nodding." You snapped. 

His mouth opened and closed thrice, he was desperate to blurt out a yes, but all the emotions he was feeling blocked it.

George blinked and helplessly stared at you, hoping that was enough of an answer. But he knew it wasn’t when you gave him a harsh glare.

"Yes, please. I do want to know, love." He replied eventually, sounding subtly nervous.

 

You veered off the bed and took a short walk to your dresser. George’s eyes followed your every movement lustfully. 

He heard a compartment opening suddenly, then the shifting through it started.

There was something you were looking for, something that George couldn’t figure out yet.

What could you be up to? You had both played with...props before, but your sly demeanour tonight added a weird feeling twist. 

 

When you came back, dangling upon your hand, in a mocking manner, were two ties George had left in your bedroom. Both different colours, different patterns. He watched the fabrics sway, they almost hypnotising him with their swinging. 

His cheeks started to grow red, embarrassment settled in the pit of his stomach.

It had finally registered in his mind what you were going to do to him.

You wanted to tie him up? Tie him up with his own ties? That was sexy, he thought. He could work with this, yeah, he could - and would. 

It’s not like he’d ever tell you no, even though he'd never been tied up before.

 

He adjusted himself, edging closer to where you were standing as he seemingly surrendered himself to you.

"Please, do whatever it is you want with me." His voice was low, a tantalising plea. 

You couldn't tell if he was being serious or not. Maybe he still felt you were just doing a silly roleplay. Either way it didn't matter, you were going to show him.

"I planned on this by the way, you didn’t have to agree, George."

And though these words sounded cruel, George knew you’d never hurt him. At least, not in a way he wouldn’t like, that is.

 

You slowly dropped the ties on the bed, inching closer to him before you completely mounted him in the perfect cowgirl position.

His body settled snug against the mattress, you adjusted the pillows for him so he could feel comfortable.

Your hands rested on his shoulders until you decided it would be best to unbutton his shirt now. 

George’s back arched ever so slightly to encourage you to further your exploration. You slipped his shirt off of him, now he was half naked. He groaned quietly, wanting you to move against him so bad.

You rested your hand on his thighs. He could feel your nails through the thin material of his trousers. His jaw clenched, trying to obey.

"Touch me." He groaned, feeling his cock warm against your thigh. 

Your head tilted, a look of mock sympathy filled his view. Did he say the wrong words again? Yeah, he probably did.

"I didn’t mean t' boss you around, 'm sorry, love."

Instead of a nasty glare, you gave him a smile and light pat against his thigh. "Good, boy."

Good boy, you had said.

Those two words quickly settled into George's mind. 

He was your good boy? 

With your pleased attitude, George smiled. He did something right and that did make him feel good, rewarded. 

You stopped sitting on him so you could fully undress him. You saw the imprint of his cock stiff against his trousers when you got off of him. 

You settled on your knees. Both of your hands found the waistband of his trousers and his boxers. He took a shallow breath in because your wrist stroked against it, it was growing against his own thigh, pulsing, eager to be left free. 

You tugged down at a pace that was killing him. It was barely going past his pubic hair. He groaned in frustration, luckily you didn't take it as that. But he was growing uncomfortable, moving his head as he let out low noises. He wouldn’t whine, that was his only rule to himself. 

"Tut tut, Someone's impatient." You chided, stopping the undressing altogether.

He was caught off guard by your sudden halt. 

"Sorry...please continue, love..." He urged earnestly, wanting nothing more than to please you. 

George wasn't even tied up yet but it bloody felt like he was - he was tied up by your words, your actions. 

You smiled at his submissiveness. "Thank you," you murmured, your voice soft and tender as you resumed your task, still slowly tugging his bottom half down. 

You resumed your task, your fingers pulling m down with just the right amount of resistance.

George's waistband finally slipped past his hips. His cock was fully erect and aching, it slapped against his stomach. You both let out a small sigh of relief, the moment of impatient finally gave way. 

He wanted you to do something about his erection, but he knew it wasn't going to come easy. 

You smell his fear, sense his impatience and feel his need for release. You take your time and relish in the power you hold over him. You put your hands on his thighs and leaned your mouth close to his cock. Your breath ghosted over the tip and your tongue almost licked it. George's heart raced. He wanted to hold the back of your head, like he normally did when you suck him off. But he knows that he has to wait for you to make a move.

George felt a surge of pleasure shoot through him as you leaned in closer, your tongue darted out to tease him with playful licks, only on his tip. Each flick of your tongue sent sparks of electricity coursing through his veins, his breath caught in his throat as he struggled to contain the overwhelming wave of desire that threatened to consume him. He felt himself leaking precum, you take him into your mouth, sucking gently on the tip.

As George felt the exquisite torture of your touch come to an abrupt halt, he found himself painfully hard, his desire reached a fever pitch as he longed to be inside of you. 

 

You moved to restrain him, surprising him with your swift and decisive action. You straddled his stomach, your eyes locked on his, he couldn't help but smile up at you, his excitement now palpable. 

 

With deft fingers, you bind his wrists to the bed frame, securing him in place. And as you looked down at him, a playful glint in your eye, he knew what he was in for.

"Are you ready?" you whispered. 

George nodded eagerly. 

 

As you moved down from straddling his stomach, George watched with bated breath, as you position yourself above his hard cock. 

And yet, despite the overwhelming intensity of the moment, you still wore your underwear, the fabric adding an extra layer of friction that pushed George to the edge of sanity. He felt his wrists straining against the confines of his ties. 

You unclasped your bra, revealing your bare chest to him. Finally, he thought, when he took in the sight before him. Though a pang of disappointment washed over him when he realised he couldn't squeeze them as he normally would. You could sense his frustration, and it made you laugh inside. 

 

You slipped your panties to the side, allowing him access. He watched you with hungry eyes when you did so, revealing the glistening warmth between your thighs.

Before you put him inside, you grabbed his stiffness, stroking him quickly and gripping him firmly. 

With one hand rested lightly on his chest to steady yourself, you reached down with the other, your fingers wrapped around his hardness as you guided him to your cunt. George's breath caught in his throat as his tip first felt the slick heat of you enveloping him. 

George felt just the tip of himself entering you, he was overcome with a rush of sensation unlike anything he's ever experienced before. It's a slow, torturous tease as you guide him inside, inch by agonising inch. 

With each slow descent, George could feel the exquisite tightness of you enveloping him, drawing him in deeper with each tantalising stroke. It's a sweet torture, the sensation of being half-buried inside you driving him to the brink of madness as he longed for more, for deeper penetration.

But you continue to move with a slowness, your pace unhurried as you take him in halfway, then back out again. George felt himself losing control, his breath came in short, ragged gasps as he strained against his restraints, desperate for release.

And yet, despite the frustration and longing that coursed through him, George knew that he wouldn't have it any other way.

 

As George laid there taking it, he could barely find the words to express what he needed. His breaths came in short, ragged gasps, his body trembled as he watched you move above him, your movements slow and deliberate, driving him to the brink of madness.

"Please," he managed to gasp out, his voice barely a whisper as he struggles to form the words.

He can feel the desperation clawing at him, the need for more, for deeper penetration, threatening to consume him whole.

But you continued your slow, teasing movements, your pace unhurried as you drew out the anticipation, revelling in the power you hele over him. With each downward stroke, you felt yourself growing wetter around him. 

 

"What do you want?" you said, holding back a moan. "Get it out, George."

"Deeper," he gasped, as he arched his hips, seeking more. 

"What do you say, George?" 

You wanted a please. You needed a please. 

"What?" He questioned, too consumed by near climax to understand what you wanted from him just then.

You tutted and shook your head subtly, still continuing your pace. "Say, please, George."

"Please, Y/N." George felt your wetness coating him, he revelled in the sensation of being used by you, unable to control anything without his hands.

 

You placed both of your hands on George's chest, to steady yourself riding. With your newfound control, you began to take him in deeper, your movements deliberate and precise as you took him in from his tip to his balls.

George's senses became overwhelmed by the feel of being fully engulfed by your hole, the tightness of your warmth surrounded him in a cocoon of pleasure. It's a heady rush- the feeling of completely filling you after being teased, paired with the fact that his hands are tied to the bed. 

 

You noticed a change in his usual reactions. Instead of the groans and moans you're accustomed to, he's whimpering, the sound so unlike him that it catches you off guard. It's a raw, primal sound, one that sends a shiver down your spine as you realise just how deeply he's being affected. 

Determined to push him even further, you started moving up and down rougher, more aggressive, your pace quickening as you take him in with force. The room filled with the sound of flesh meeting flesh, the rhythmic clapping noises echoed off the walls. 

With each rough movement, George's whimpering grew louder, his cries of pleasure mingled with your own. You both surrendered to the overwhelming tide of sensation. 

 

As you both approach your climaxes, George felt the tension building within him. He knew that his wrists would be marked red after, but in the heat of the moment, he wasn't bothered. All he could think about was cumming.

He found himself calling out your name, his voice a hoarse whisper as he lost himself in the pleasure of the moment. He was in a trance, barely able to keep his eyes open. 

 

"Are you close?" You breathed out.

George could only nod hastily, his breath came in short, as he felt himself teetering on the edge of release.

And before he knew it, he spilled himself inside of you, his body trembled with the force of his climax.

He felt you tightening around him, your own climax washed over you.

In that moment, as you both reached the peak of pleasure together, you're lost in a dizzying whirlwind. 

 

You slowed down and eventually stopped riding him. You collapsed beside him in a heap of spent pleasure.

George couldn't help but chuckle softly to himself. Normally, he would reach out to wrap his arms around you, to pull you close and revel in the afterglow of your sex. But with his hands tied, he was unable to do so, and the realisation brought a wry smile to his lips.

 

With a chuckle, George turned his head to look at you. "Are you going to untie me so we can hug?" he asked. 

You met his gaze with a smirk, shaking your head in mock seriousness. "No, you're stuck like this forever."

70's George is the best George.

[cherry-velvet-skies]

Marigolds In The Porch Lights (18+)

Gardener!George Harrison × GN!Reader

Genre: Smut (FINALLY), but also some Fluff and Angst

Warnings: A poor attempt at a shower sex scene, unprotected sex (ALWAYS USE PROTECTION, Y'ALL), and some kinda twisted feelings I guess idk these two are just constantly teasing each other

Words: 6.4k (I had so much fun with this y'all)

Summary: 1971 era; SEQUEL TO STRAWBERRY LEMONADE; George and Reader finally have their time together; also Geo is not famous in this so I guess it counts as AU lol

A/N: MUST READ STRAWBERRY LEMONADE FIRST FOR THIS TO MAKE SENSE! But honestly the amount of requests I got to make a sequel, anyone who's here has probably already read S.L. (also thank you for all the requests! <3)

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One week had gone by since the blossoming of your new relationship with George, and you could not stop thinking about him. Calling him during the week just for your own pleasures seemed rather selfish, so you forced yourself to wait the full week until his next Saturday gardening job. After all, that wouldn’t be fair to his personal schedule, now would it?

Now, here it was, the fateful Saturday afternoon, and the anticipation was swarming you. You knew that you were always his last appointment of the week, and you would have him all to yourself from now until the sunset. You contemplated walking outside naked to greet him, but quickly remembering that neighbors exist, the idea was obligated to fade away. You still wished you could, though.

You left the gate unlocked, allowing him to let himself in. He was so caring of your space, taking time to lock the gate behind him so as not to allow the opportunity of any unwanted guests. You waited by the patio for him, prepared with another plate of fresh strawberries and a cold glass of lemonade. You made enough for two this time, specifically if those two were going to be staying together for a while.

Upon George’s entry, he eyed the fruity treats reminiscent of his previous time here. Instead of helping himself to a snack, he approached you to place a patient kiss upon your lips, wrapping an arm tightly around your waist as he did so. His other hand held his gardening toolkit, keeping it at his side while you deepened the kiss. George was almost ready to drop the bag and take you in his arms, but felt he should at least accomplish what you’re paying him for first.

“How have you been?” You started, having a bit more courage to talk to him this time. He laid out his tools as he knelt in the grass.

“Doing what I normally do, I guess.” He replied absentmindedly, “Though I was excited to get back here and see how the strawberry seeds are doing.” He flashed you a cheeky grin, and your shoulders instantly floated down to a more relaxed stance. George wasn’t big on expressing his true feelings directly, but he had his own ways of getting his point across. You slowly drifted off, listening to his voice as he spoke, until he stopped, and you realized he was waiting for you to answer his question.

“Pardon?” You squeaked, causing George to tilt his head in confusion.

“You have been watering the strawberries, right?” He repeated, gesturing to the empty space beside him, “The soil looks moist, so I’d say they’re doing well.”

“Oh! Yes,” You giggled, “I purchased a book on how to care for them the morning after you planted it.” A wide smile spread on George’s face, giving you a short nod and happily moving on to the next patch of flowers. You wore a scarlet colored dress today, planning for him to give you a matching rose from your garden. You concluded that you were the one who could determine which type of flower you receive by the color you chose to wear that day. You weren’t sure if George was also aware of this arrangement, or he just enjoyed finding flowers for you too much to notice.

You had treated this time you spent with George almost like your first date. You wanted to know everything there is to know about him, no matter how minor. In the hours that he had been there, you learned that George also knew how to play guitar, and he enjoyed writing songs, but was never really interested in the life of fame and performing to the public, so he preferred not to pursue it. Being a gardener and getting as much time in nature as he could was more than enough to make him happy.

The time went faster than you both wanted it to, partly because this time felt like you had known each other for years. George had even taken the time to show you how to tend to certain flowers, as the rules differed based on the type of plant. He showed you all his tools, demonstrating how to use them and the best places to start to preserve the flowers, as well as any of his personal favorite natural additives to help the flowers grow. You now knew that adding common household items, such as white vinegar or banana peels can give your flowers a speed boost. George even explained how ground coffee could be beneficial to the soil if you decided to start growing vegetables. His wide range of knowledge was better than any purchasable book could provide.

Before you knew it, the sky was growing orange, and the sunset was upon you. More time to spend with George aside from his occupational responsibilities was not completely out of the question, so you hadn’t lost hope yet. That is, until you saw him reach for his bag to start packing up his tools.

“You’re leaving?” You blurted out, not wanting to sound desperate but your body not even giving you a chance to consider your words. “You just got here!”

George glanced down at his watch, eliciting a small chuckle. “I’ve been here for three hours, love.”

“Well it felt like three seconds to me.” You pouted, crossing your arms and slumping back against the tree you were sitting under. “And you said we would do more together next time! That’s what you said the last time you were here!”

“And we did, didn’t we?” George replied, not missing a beat. “Last time, there was much more uncomfortable silence. This time, we had a wonderful conversation.” He paused to remove his gloves and place them in the pocket on the side of his bag, slowly rising from where he was seated in the grass. “That’s a pretty big improvement, don’t you think? It’s something I can cherish, especially since we won’t be seeing each other next week.”

Your eyes widened. Initially, you weren’t sure if you had heard him correctly, but it was true. First you had missed out on quality time with George and now next week he wasn’t going to come by? You felt your heart sink, trying your hardest to keep the tears from escaping your eyes.

“Why not?” You whined, a little louder this time. You didn’t want to sound like you were throwing a tantrum, but it was difficult when that was exactly what you wanted to do.

“I’ll be out of town next weekend.” George replied matter-of-factly, “I’m going to visit my family as one of my relatives is getting married. The wedding is on Saturday, so I’ll be gone the whole weekend.”

You wanted to cry. You wanted to scream. You wanted to do anything that would make him stay. But why? He didn’t do anything wrong, but your impression of how the day would go when he got here was a lot different than how it actually went down. You felt like you were lied to, except that you weren’t. Last week, George said that you would ‘make more time for each other’ this time, and technically, you did. He never said what that time was going to be spent on. Perhaps you two had different ideas as to what his return would bring. But instead, you tightened your chest, putting away that tantrum for your alone time later.

“But I thought-” You stopped yourself, knowing that telling George what you really wanted could potentially lead to unwanted results, especially if he didn't feel the same way.

“Thought what?” George asked, staring at you as you mentally cursed yourself for popping a corner of the lid on Pandora's Box. “Did you have a plan for today?” He was too clever. There was no going back now.

“Well…” You started, feeling a blush creep up onto your cheeks, “Sort of…”

“Oh?” He teased, the sunset casting a brilliant sparkle on those dark brown eyes, “Well, come on then. Out with it.” You pursed your lips, shifting your gaze to the floor. George leaned in closer, the coarse hairs of his mustache brushing against the shell of your ear. “So long as we're pretending I don't already know.”

He knew what you wanted. He was going to make you say it.

You stood concerningly still, almost frozen. It was a battle of wits, but you weren't exactly sure if you wanted to win or lose. If you gave up now, and spilled your guts, would you get what you wanted? Or would George continue to string you along, making you wait anyway just to see you squirm?

George sighed, looking at his watch again. “Well,” he huffed, feigning annoyance, “if you have nothing else to say, I suppose I should be going now.” He kissed your cheek, wedging his hand into your own to leave his complementary petal before making his way to the gate. You couldn't even look at him as he left, feeling too embarrassed. Instead, you looked down at your hand. A rose petal, no surprise. You were about to head inside until you heard George call your name. You partially turned around, still feeling rather conflicted. He was standing on the other side of the gate, pointing towards the patio.

“I'd turn that light on if I were you. It gets rather dark out here.” He waited for you to respond. You slowly nodded, approaching the back stairs. And with that, he got in his car and drove off.

You flipped the switch, watching as the porch light came on. It was a glimmering golden yellow hue, expanding its beam about halfway through the garden. You weren't sure why George told you to put it on, but it did make the garden look brighter. Even when you were angry with him, you would still do whatever he wanted you to.

But why were you angry? George hadn't done anything wrong. You knew he was teasing you, but you didn't care. In fact, there was a part of you that liked it. You felt like he was playing with you without even touching you. Wrapped so tightly around his finger that you felt like it was your life force. It strangled you in the best way possible. Like an invisible leash secured around your neck, and he could pull you wherever he wanted. You were completely and truly captivated by him.

Slipping quietly into the house, you felt like you wanted to cry. The anger had subsided and was soon replaced by a persistent longing. Your disdain towards having to go two weeks without seeing George wasn’t even due to the fact that you were crazy about him. It had become a routine. At this point, you wished you hadn’t been so shy to start a conversation with him the first three times he showed up. That you hadn’t waited until just this previous week. Maybe things would be different now. Maybe you’d be closer.

You didn’t know where to go from there. Part of you accepted this as what it was, and you would see George eventually, while another part of you felt defeated that you wanted to do something about this when you knew you couldn’t.

When you woke up the next morning, your house felt quieter, despite you having always lived alone. Almost like George had been staying in the guest room this whole time unbeknownst to you. Perhaps he was a frequent visitor to the guest room in your brain.

You spent the rest of your weekend like any other weekend: it was another gorgeous spring day, and you loved to sit out on the patio and catch up on your reading while you enjoyed your lunch or an afternoon snack, hearing the faint melodies coming from your living room of whatever record you put on for the occasion. It was the only time you actually preferred being alone. Perhaps it was the only activity potent enough to fill the void of your longing for George.

When night came again, you headed inside, about to shut the patio door when you swore you heard a voice.

You froze, but briefly shrugged it off as being in your head. You looked outside, barely being able to see your garden, but knowing it was only your subconscious. You shut the door, turning to walk away until you heard it again.

I’d turn that light on if I were you.

It gets rather dark out here.

You sighed. Even when George wasn’t around, you felt like he was right beside you. You weren’t sure if you wanted to laugh or cry, so you released a noise that sounded like a mixture of both as you flicked the porch light on, not paying it another thought as you headed to the kitchen to prepare dinner.

Monday morning. You dreaded it more this week for some unknown yet obviously known reason. The past few weeks, you would just think about your weekend with George to get you through the boring parts of the day. But since this weekend did not pan out like you thought it would, there wasn’t much to occupy your mind. That was the hard part about all this. George didn’t have a typical nine-to-five. He would have gardening sessions scattered throughout his day. Sometimes he would be booked solid, and other days would be quick appointments for treatments, leaving more time for his personal schedule. Even if you wanted to meet up with him during the week, your strict schedule prevented you from having any time with him. Maybe something could’ve been worked out eventually, but the current state of your brain would not settle for that. You wanted him and you wanted him now.

When you got home that night, the feeling had not left. It was more manageable while you were away, but you felt like you were coming home to a house that was once full of life, only to no longer harbor that same feeling. You had never realized how much life George brought to your daily routine even when you didn’t live together. For a moment, you wondered why this was affecting you so much. Perhaps you were overreacting. You would see George again. It would just be longer than usual until you did. You released a heavy sigh, a sliver of hope that you could push this feeling out of your mind, for at least a little while, had begun to show itself.

Until night fell. You glanced at the back door.

The porch light.

That fucking porch light.

The entire time you lived here, you barely even acknowledged its existence. But ever since George made you aware of it, you think of it every night. Subconsciously, you thought maybe if you were consistent in putting it on every night, he would come back. He would find his way to you, sensing your desire to see him, and you would never be apart again. Never be alone again.

You turned it on again, simultaneously hopeful in your delusional scenario and growing impatient at how long your heart wanted to keep up the act.

The next morning, going by the door to shut the light felt like a walk of shame. What were you waiting for? George had his own schedule. His own life. He would see you when he could. You couldn’t help but start thinking if George was missing you as much as you were feeling every day was so bleak without him.

But yet, that night, you turned the porch light on again. Feeling an overwhelming, compelling urge to stay, you opened the back door, stepping out onto the patio. You stared up at the light, admiring the wonderful golden hue of the small bulb inside its painted glass shade. The shade was brushed in bright yellow, matching the bulb and some other accents of the house’s exterior decor. It seemed so much more prominent at night. It was the only thing visible from far away. A sign of life in the home. You smiled at the thought. You would’ve probably never got around to use it if it wasn’t for George. He truly did bring new life into your home.

Thanks to the light, you could see the first few rows of flowers in your garden surrounding the large tree in the center of the yard. This was your gradient row, as you loved to refer to it as. The row where George had taken many creative liberties, creating a smooth-flowing spectrum of colors around the tree like a color wheel. The warm tones faced the house, showing you your lovely spread of roses, tiger lilies, and marigolds.

The marigolds reminded you of the light. Bright, yellow, and outstanding. It was also one of the only few flowers in your garden that George had not given you petals from. You turned back to the light. You decided it could be your marigold petal. At least for now.

You didn’t stay long. You quickly returned inside, shuffling briskly back down the hall, trying to make it to the bathroom before the tears dripped off your face and down onto the floor.

The following morning, as your fingers brushed against the switch to turn off the light, you let out a loud sob. It had rained in the middle of the night, and the sight outside the back door, one of gray overcast and a messy, muddy garden, made it all feel much too real. You couldn’t hide it anymore. You missed George. Oh, how you missed him. One day a week wasn’t enough anymore. You needed more of him. So much more. More than your own mind, body, and soul would ever know.

You considered taking off work today, as your mangled emotions were surely draining your energy. But realizing that staying home would only twist the knife further, you conceded. It was almost as if any choice that life could make would've been wrong in your eyes. Whether you went to work or stayed home, you felt uncomfortable. If the work day went quickly, you were dreading coming home to face your feelings again. Yet, if the day dragged on, you groaned at the thought of having to endure more time until your fateful reunion with George. You were incessantly unsatisfied. Insatiable, even. The only correct answer was George. You needed him to give you what he had promised you, whether he was waiting for you to admit it or not. At this point, you wouldn't have even cared if you sounded desperate. You were desperate. You didn't care if you had to call him right now and divulge everything you felt. How badly you wanted and needed him. Your brain was chasing a fierce addiction, and George was your dealer.

That night had been the hardest so far. You couldn't even bring yourself to walk down that hall. The light wasn't going to be some magical beacon to signal George. You felt like you were holding onto nothing. You didn't care if the light wasn't on tonight. It made no difference anymore.

You went to sleep early that night. Your main thought process was to sleep as much as you could to make the days go by faster. You didn't even want to think about this Saturday. Your soul felt like it was grieving. But grieving what? George didn't break up with you. Technically, the two of you never even established any sort of declaration of a relationship anyway. But you felt like you belonged together. You were his and he was yours. As sweet as the thought was, you quickly shoved it away as you felt your eyes welling with tears.

You turned on your side to try and sleep when you heard a noise outside. It sounded like a low thud, but fairly close to your house. You shrugged it off at first, until you heard it again a few minutes later, sounding closer this time.

You sat up in bed, overtaken by fear. Living alone, you always worried about having to fight off intruders. Luckily, nothing had ever come of it. Until now.

Grabbing a broom from your hall closet to arm you, you headed into the living room. Your first instinct was to check out the front window, being too scared to open the door.

You peered through the curtains, seeing nothing to the left or right of the door, the street only illuminated by the porch lights of your surrounding neighbors. Of course the universe had to think of a way to remind you of what you were desperately trying to put out of your head.

You closed the curtains, ready to go back to bed when you heard what sounded like wet footsteps coming from your back door.

Oh fuck.

If this really was an intruder situation, you were anything but prepared. You glanced at the back door, hiding behind the hall corner. With your breath held and your muscles stiff as the wooden boards beneath your feet, you took slow steps down the hall. You lurched forward to quickly lock the door, which you normally did anyway but forgot that night as you never actually made it to the door without crying.

Knowing that the lock was safely in place brought you some time. Being closer to the door, you heard another sloshing sound, as well as some angry muttering. With your luck, the intruder slipped on the wet and muddy grass and was now disoriented, leaving you time to- well, do what, exactly?

You hadn't thought this far. Do you call the police? Make a loud noise in retaliation in hopes to scare them away? Armor yourself with throw pillows to burst through the door and use your broomstick to beat them senseless? Your mind was racing. The most reasonable thing to do in that moment, although it hurt quite a bit, would be the answer to whether this was really a life or death situation.

You turned on the porch light.

When the illuminating glow hit the grass below, you saw a person laying there, covered in mud, clearly not anticipating the new biome that had been created in your backyard. You screamed, causing the person to immediately look up at you. Upon making eye contact, you felt your heart spring up into your throat before free falling down to your stomach. You threw open the door, feeling like you were being fled with a million emotions at once, all conflicting each other. You stood there in shock, only being able to choke out one single word.

“...George?”

“I thought I told you to keep that bloody light on! I almost broke my neck out here!” George shouted, but couldn't keep a straight face long enough to be convincing, dissolving into a puddle of laughs back onto the ground. You felt your whole body fill with happiness. You dropped the broom, running out into the yard, slippers and all, squealing all the way before landing on top of him, trapping him in a tight hug.

You kissed him faster than your brain could process what you were doing. The familiar feeling of his soft skin, luscious hair and beard, and plush lips made your whole being swell with euphoria. Your golden yellow silk pajamas were now full of mud, but it didn't matter. George was back here with you. And you didn't need anything else.

“You’re getting all muddy, love.” George giggled, pushing damp strands of hair away from your face.

“I don't care!” You shouted while laughing, pressing loud, wet kisses across his face and neck. George wrapped his arms around you, resting his hands on your waist. You pulled away, staring into his eyes. It may have been late at night, but you felt wide awake as ever. Before you even opened your mouth to speak, you knew there were tears dripping down onto your cheeks. “I didn't think I'd see you again for a while.”

“I planned to stop by before I left, but I didn't have much time during the day.” George confessed. “I wanted to surprise you, but I'm realizing it might have been a better idea in my head.” He looked around the yard, then at his muddy clothes, eliciting a light chuckle. “Thinking about it now, I probably should've called first.”

“I'm just so happy to see you.” You replied, not even hearing half of what he said. You heard he planned to come back for you, and that was all you needed to know. “But I'm guessing your plan involved you being able to see once you got back here. Hence the, you know, porch light.” You averted your gaze, adding a nervous laugh.

“First I tried hopping over the fence, and tripped over that.” George explained, staring back at the gate. “Then I tried to walk quietly, and slipped in that big puddle over there. Not to mention I tripped over the center gradient, so I apologize for that. I'll be sure to fix it the next time I'm around.” He added with a swift cup of your chin and a kiss to your lips. You looked at the tree, seeing the warm toned flowers slightly uprooted, tiny specks of dirt adorning their golden petals. Honestly, that didn't even matter to you. The image of George trying to sneak into your backyard and failing miserably made you erupt into laughter again.

“I suggest you have to get cleaned up now, don't you?” You asked, running a finger through the thick layer of mud adorning his jeans.

“Well, yeah, but I refuse to get your floors all dirty.” George declared. You helped him up off the ground, trying your best to smudge the dirt out of his hair, as well as your own.

“You can leave the clothes in the laundry room. I'll deal with them tomorrow.” You replied. George shot you a look, helping you brush some of the grass off your pajamas.

“So it's already been decided that I'm spending the night, then?” You smirked, not saying anything back. George smiled, sneakily pinching the skin on your waist. You squealed, playfully batting his hand away. You turned to walk back to the patio when he spoke again.

“Even after we get out of these filthy clothes, we still have to get ourselves clean, you know.”

You froze, a chill running through your spine, excitement filling your body. You whipped your head around, grabbing George’s hand and leading him to the stairs. You were about to open the door when he put his arm out to stop you.

“I know you're excited, love, but I still don’t want to bring all this mud into your clean house.” He seemed genuinely concerned by this issue, but at this point, nothing was going to stop you.

“Okay, fine. Easy fix.” You stated, slipping the straps of your pajamas off your shoulders, followed by your underwear. George’s eyes widened as he watched the silken fabric pool around your ankles, leaving you completely nude standing on the patio. The cool air of this particular spring night began to wash over your body, and you shivered slightly. You weren't sure if it was from the sudden breeze, or the tantalizing feeling of this whole situation, but either way, your nipples were completely hard.

Seconds later, George followed suit, removing his muddy shoes, followed by his equally sodden shirt and pants. He stopped at his underwear, feeling a flash of uncertainty. He was no stranger to being nude, but being nude while standing on the back porch of his lover’s house in the middle of their classy suburban neighborhood? That was a new one.

He turned back to you, taking in the sight before him. Seeing your fully bare form, taking one slow drag of his eyes over your lower half, he quickly shuffled off the remaining piece of clothing and tossed it on the floor with the rest. You opened the door, scooping your clothes up in one swift motion, walking a mere few feet and tossing them in the laundry room to be dealt with eventually. You couldn’t be bothered right now. George did the same, keeping his clothes in a neat pile right beside yours, placing his boots by the door. He stood there for a few seconds, gauging your readiness to proceed. With a smirk on your face, you grabbed his hand, leading him into the bathroom.

You opened the shower curtain and turned the water on, feeling the warm steam slowly fill the room. You adjusted the water to a comfortably neutral temperature before climbing inside, leaving space for George to join you. You stayed under the stream of water, allowing it to take its time to rinse all the mud off your arms and legs, and most of it out of your hair, leaving you with a fresher start before moving on to shampoo and soap. You looked over your shoulder at George, who now seemed rather chilly, so you switched places, allowing him to rinse off as well. He had been wearing more covering clothes than you, so there wasn’t much dirt he needed to get off his body, but his hair was a different story. He spent extra time using his fingers to comb through his beard, which seemed to be a prime target for all that grass and soil.

Getting started on washing your body, you had briefly turned away from George to grab your soap. Before you could open the container, you heard a low shudder coming from behind you. You looked at George, who was now staring at you, while sporting quite the erection. You giggled, lightly poking his stomach. “Am I taking too long for you?”

“You know, for someone who wanted me so badly outside, and is now teasing me about having to wait, you’re quite mad, aren’t you?” He stated, glancing down at himself while continuing to rinse his hair. You laughed louder this time.

“I figured we would clean up first.” You said innocently. He chuckled.

“Why do that when we’re just gonna get dirty again, love?”

You bit your lip, holding back a whimper, but the way your legs involuntarily began to clench shut gave it away immediately.

You nodded. “I see. Well let’s get it on then.”

The second you finished your statement, George wasted no time grabbing your waist and pressing his lips against yours. It was a hungry kiss. Passionate. Longing. It had confirmed he missed you just as much as you missed him. You put your hands in his hair, which was now much softer under the water. You were the one to take that passion further, feeling his lips part and allowing your tongue to enter his mouth. He seemed to thoroughly enjoy this, moving his hands from your waist down to your ass, kneading it softly yet with an impatient edge to it. You were tempted to hook one leg over his waist, but the slippery floor beneath you made you fearful of losing your balance, so you refrained. But you wouldn't have even had time to take action, as George quickly pulled away, spinning you around and pushing you up against the shower wall. You put your hands out, both of them splayed out on either side of your head as your cheek made contact with the cold tile. George grabbed your waist again, slowly grinding against you, slightly pressing you between the wall and himself. The contrast in temperature between the cool, flat surface and the steamy air made your head spin before he even did anything else. He leaned in closer, pressing a kiss to your earlobe.

“I think you've waited long enough, my beautiful flower.” You moaned softly at his statement as you felt him enter you. Slowly, savoring it just as much as you. It was a bit of a stretch, but you never found it painful. The combination of the warm water and your mutual arousal provided a decent amount of lubrication.

George continued to leave kisses around the shell of your ear and down to your neck, resting his chin on your shoulder. Once he was all the way in, he steadied himself before going any further. “You doing okay, love?” He cooed, patiently waiting for your response.

You sighed blissfully, softly nodding your head and letting out a low “mhm” while taking in all the sensations around you. The mix of everything made you whine in pure ecstasy, feeling so full in the best way possible, not wanting to say or move much in fear of losing your grip on it. You felt like you were in a different world, where it was only you and George, and nothing else mattered. However, you were not in the mood to be kept waiting either, feeling like you were holding your breath a bit, waiting for his next move. You took another deep inhale and exhale, releasing another moan in the interim. “It's okay,” you mumbled, “you can keep going.”

George nodded, starting with a soft, slow pace. Even with shallow thrusts, you were already in heaven. You quickly got lost in the rhythm, hearing his occasional breathy sighs directly into your ear. Hearing him enjoy it just as much as you were only turned you on more. And the more George fell into a rhythm as well, the faster he went. His thrusts became quicker and harder, pushing you up against the wall with each motion. Your moans had just become one long groan of pleasure, the way your nipples dragged across the cold wall with each thrust stringing you along even further.

When you felt that pressure start to build, you couldn't even form a coherent sentence to signal anything, the only word falling from your lips a meek “George...” before a high-pitched whining overtook you again. George shushed you softly, rubbing his thumbs along your waist as he brought you closer to the edge.

“I know, flower. I know.”

What felt like seconds later, you felt your orgasm crash over you, a noise that sounded like a mix between a moan and a scream flying from your mouth, proclaiming your everlasting love and worship of the man behind you, feeling yourself begin to slump against the wall, trying to catch your breath. George finished shortly afterwards, his grip on your hips tightening as he came inside you. He tilted his head back, a low, steady groan signaling his release. He had no choice but to use the wall for support as well, nearly falling on top of you after he slowly slid out. It was times like these you considered turning off the shower head and just filling up the bath instead, as your legs felt like jelly by this point, leaving you with minimal energy to hold yourself up.

Before you could say anything else, you felt George’s hands on you again, running his fingers through your hair. You smelled the familiar scent of your shampoo, feeling it glide through your hair as you closed your eyes again. He held you tenderly, guiding your head to the water, gently tilting it back to rinse the suds from your hair.

Once finished, he started on your body, massaging the soap all over your back, making sure to be careful around any areas that were currently more sensitive than usual. You sighed happily, feeling pampered like royalty, so grateful to have him here with you.

After a few minutes, your legs didn't feel like that of a newborn giraffe anymore, so you turned around to face George, pressing a soft kiss to his lips before taking the bar of soap. “I got it from here.” You giggled, finishing yourself off before starting to help him out as he eyed your shampoo. It wasn't what he used, but it smelled nice, and there wasn’t much of a choice in this situation. He chuckled before squeezing a small amount onto his palm, looking down as you lathered up his chest and stomach.

Once you both had thoroughly cleaned up, you turned off the water and stepped out, fetching some large fluffy towels and equally soft robes to only increase your level of comfort. By now, both of you were free of mud, partially dry, and ever so tired. Wasting no time to climb into bed, you snuggled up against George, resting your head on his chest.

“I'm so happy you came back.” You whispered, placing a kiss right over where his heart is. George giggled, caressing your arm.

“I would've always come back, flower.” He paused with a pensive sigh. “I enjoy every second I spend with you. You give me new life. A new purpose to an already wonderful experience.” You stared up at him, eyes wide in awe. It was the first time he had openly expressed his feelings to you without hiding them behind his usual cheeky humor. It was the most beautiful thing you had ever heard.

“You have no idea how special you are to me.” You beamed, craning your neck up to kiss his jawline, surprised when he turned his face and you landed on his lips instead.

“And you to me.” He replied. You enjoyed the streak of added sappy statements from George, but you knew it was a big step for him, judging by the deep breath he took afterwards, followed by a swift “Let's get some sleep, love.”

“Okay,” you agreed, “but let me just make sure I locked the back door first.” George nodded, getting comfortable on his side of your bed as you hopped out from under the covers, shivering again as the cool night air came back with a vengeance on your naked body. You quickly put your robe on and shuffled down the hall. You clicked the lock shut and went to go back to your room when you noticed something out of the corner of your eye. Something yellow.

You looked around until you spotted it again, sticking out of the side of George’s boot. Bending down to get a closer look, you moved the muddy laces and pulled it out. A tear almost fell down your cheek and you held it between your fingers. A petal from one of your precious marigolds, presumably stuck there when George tripped over them on the way in. You smiled warmly, feeling your heart soar at the idea that George can give you a petal every visit, even if he didn't realize it. Without saying anything, you put the petal in the pocket of your robe and made your way down the hall, trying not to disturb George as you quietly slipped back into bed.

==============================

IT'S FINALLY HERE Y'ALL 😄 I'm so happy I can share it and it was definitely a fun plot to continue!

Taglist: @peaceloveandstarrs @queen-of-stars @nosegoes @cocteautwiny @thatgoesinthere-misshapes

(If you want to be added to my taglist, feel free to send an ask and let me know! 🥰)

[thebeatles-world]

Masterlist

Here is Masterlist's of imagines that I have written!

Paul:

Feelings Paul, Y/N and George Love Trangle: Part one

Feelings: Part Two

George:

Eternal Flame: Part One

Eternal Flame: Part Two

Feelings Part One

Feelings Part Two

Never Let Go Part One

I still want you

Free Bird

Free Bird Part 2

John:

Tough Love Part One

Tough Love Part Two

Girl

Ringo:

Help!

Caring Part One

Picture Perfect series:

Picture Perfect Part One

Picture Perfect Part Two

Picture Perfect Part Three

Picture Perfect Part Four

Picture Perfect Part Five

The Letters Part One

[julia-lestrade]

Drew the Beatles today !!!!

[bealtesharrisonmacca]

Possessive George

George Harrison x f.reader

Word count: 1,2k

Warnings: Smut! Teasing. P in V. Oral (m reciving). Alcohol and drug use. Degrading?

18+!!

Summary: Your at a party with George and the band. George get’s jealous very fast and has to show you what happens if you misbehave.

You and George are at a party with the rest of the band and some groupies. Everyone is either too drunk or too high to care about anyone else. You are sat between George and Paul on a small couch. George’s hand resting on your thigh.

You’re wearing a tight black dress, that’s unusually low cut, even for you. "Yer lookin very lovely tonight Y/N" Paul whispers just loud enough for George to also hear. You drunkenly slur a polite thank you as you feel George’s grip tighten on your thigh. Sending shivers down your legs.

You know he get’s jealous a lot, but sometimes you find it amusing to tease him a bit.

Paul is still looking at you, face so close you just know George is about to burst.

The alcohol and second hand smoke is really getting to your head. "Has anyone got a joint?" you manage to muster up.

Paul pulls out a little green bag and some rolling paper and starts to roll while still looking at you. You stare at the bag in amusement, feeling Georges eyes on your neck.

When Paul is done rolling it up he hands you the joint and lights it for you. You give Paul a small kiss on the cheek as to say thank you and you start taking hits. George put’s a protective arm around you as Paul seems to take your kiss as an invite to get closer.

You hand the joint to George and he takes only a few hits if the joint, as he has already had a joint earlier that night. He gives it back to Paul.

The high, now at it’s most powerful you feel yourself sinking deeper into the couch. Your head tilts towards Paul’s shoulder but before it even touches him George lifts you back up. "I see what yer doin, and you better behave from now on". George’s words sends a tingle to your heat. You’re rubbing for thighs together, hoping to get some friction without anyone noticing.

Ignoring George’s words you lean over to Paul and grab the joint from him, giving him yet another kiss but this time closer to the lips. Paul looks at you with interested eyes as he tries to mockingly take the joint back. You playfully push Paul backwards and being as high as you are you fall towards him. You’re practically on top of Paul now but before you can get up George grabs you and pulls you through the crowd. Leaving Paul with half a joint and not a clue what just happened.

George gets you to an empty bedroom and he angrily closes the door behind him. You know you messed up by being so flirty with Paul, but you only did it to drive George crazy. You weren’t really into Paul, you just wanted to make George jealous.

"I thought I told you to behave". George is clearly high as well, but manages to get his words out very clearly. You shiver. George steps so close to you, you can feel his breath hit your face. "I haven’t done anything George, Paul is your friend, not mine". You giggle a bit, attempting to seem nonchalant.

George pulls your body towards his. His boner is already piercing through his pants. "Get on yer knees".

You squirm as you try and fathom whats about to happen. "I’m sorry George, I was just acting up it won’t happen again"

"No it won’t, but you’ll still have to be punished haven’t you?"

You get down on your knees and begin to unbuckle his belt. George lets out an impatient sigh as you struggle to get his pants down.

When you finally get them down you can finally see the huge bulge through his boxers. Pulling his boxers off as fast you could and taking in the sight of his hard cock.

You look up at George while your fingers grace his tip ever so lightly. His hands are running through your hair before they tighten harshly making a ponytail. You let out a whine due to both the pain and pleasure of it. George urges you to take all of him immediately. His cock is so big you don’t see how you could fit all of that in your mouth. But without a warning George pushes you onto his member causing you to squeal loudly.

Afraid that someone might hear you, you try to keep it down but George’s moans grows deeper as you continue bobbing your head. One hand working his base, while the other rests on his leg trying to hold onto something.

"Yer so good at this love, you should misbehave more so that I can punish that dainty throat again"

The sight of your eyes on his while gently sucking his cock is almost bringing George to a finish already.

He pushes you off him and picks you up. He lays you down on the bed as he starts to remove your dress straps. "I’ve been waiting to fuck you all night love. This dress is absolutely miraculous".

George removes the dress leaving you in just your bra and panties. He pampers you with kisses as his hands roam to unhook your bra and remove your underwear.

One of your hands are in George’s hair while the other is reaching down to your aching clit. George grabs your hand before you can begin relieving yourself.

"You don’t get to do that after all you’ve done tonight love"

"Please Georgie, please! I need you". Before you can muster out anything else George slams into you. His hard cock stretching your tight pussy. You let out moan after moan as he picks up the pace. Barely letting you adjust.

One of his hands are firm on your hips while the other is circling your clit.

You arch your back in pleasure. If it wasn’t for the loud music in the other room, the whole party would probably be hearing you. But that’s fine because George wanted everyone, especially Paul, to know that you were his.

You feel yourself nearly reaching your climax as George fucks you senseless. Right before you can come, he pulls out of you. You let out a heavily disappointed moan. "This is still a punishment love, I don’t want you forgetting the lesson here".

George flips you over on your stomach, revealing your ass to him. Your hands grab the sheets looking for resistance as he slams into you again. You can tell by his moans that he is getting close to his climax.

And as suddenly as you were placed in this position, you find yourself cumming all over his cock. The orgasm making you hit a whole new level of high.

George thrusts into you a few more times before cumming with you. You both lay on the bed, breathing heavily as you come down from your orgasm high.

"Yer mine, and don’t you ever forget that"

Bonus:

You and George get clothed and go back to the party. Your cheeks still flushed and legs wobbling from the hard fucking you just got. George is supporting you with his arm as you make your way to a couch area.

Paul is drunkenly asleep on the couch as John and Ringo are busy drawing on his face. You and George laugh at how silly they all are. You look at each other and smile. Even though you like to tease George, he will always be your number one and you will always be his.

He kisses your forehead and you sit down on the couch and chat with the boys.

[makemeactup]

Ted!George Harrison x Reader - Cigarettes

Summary: George hasn't found the courage to approach you, up until a bully takes your cigarettes and he steps in to help.

A/N: My first time writing for George, please be nice!

---

George had spotted you almost immediately, the first day you arrived at his usual Ted hangout spot. He saw you chatting away with a guy in his class, your shoulders draped in leather and cigarette loose between your lips. He'd realised, then, that you were the first proper Judie he'd actually seen.

He didn't go up to you at first, opting to watch you from the crumbling wall he'd taken as his perch; your eyes would meet his some days between the small gathering of bodies. A nameless, faceless ocean when he would spot you. Your smile was bright and warm, and yet your words, or what he'd overheard, were brash and strong.

Over the weeks, George had tried to muster the courage to talk to you. Really, he did. But each time he'd be collared by his mate or you'd disappear. Or he'd see, and hear, your classmate Daniel pick on you and he'd grow cold feet. You seemed to be able to hold your own anyway, you didn't need him to save you.

Or, rather, that was his rationale for chickening out.

But one day, it was just the two of you at that spot. Everyone else was gone, something about a fight or a new hangout location to loiter about in. He didn't know, nor did he care. He'd taken to his usual spot at the wall, watching you as you checked your watch and glanced his way every so often.

He watched intently as you took your cigarette pack out of your jacket pocket, and before you could so much as pop the lid open, it was snatched by a quick hand. Stood in front of you was Daniel, and George couldn't help but stare with slanted brows and to eavesdrop.

"Give 'em back!" You ordered, but your voice held no power. You jumped for the cigarettes, damn near in a panic.

It was your last pack, and you couldn't afford a new one yet. Not for a little while. So you were saving them, smoking sparingly to string them along. And now Daniel, in his infinite wisdom and desire to crush the weird girl down, had taken them with the threat of tossing them into the river Mersey.

"Nah," Daniel replied, dangling them over your head. "I don't think I will."

"Daniel, I swear to God!" You were yelling now, frustration thick in your voice and red on your face.

It broke George's heart to hear you like that. But, more importantly, it made his brows furrow and lips even into a straight line.

"I'll-!" You tried again, cut off by Daniel's laughter.

"—you'll what?"

"Give her the fags back," George's voice abruptly spoke from directly behind you. In the commotion, you hadn't heard him approach.

For a moment, Daniel's façade faltered. He hadn't been quite as threatened by a Teddy Girl as he was with George. In his own right, that stern look on his face and collar popped, George did look like the exact dictionary article of a Ted.

You didn't know George personally, but you certainly had watched him enough to know that this wasn't him. It was an out of character moment that excited you to witness.

"What?" Was all Daniel offered, confused and caught off guard.

"Stop bein' a dick. Give her her fags back."

"Fuck off, lad."

"Fuck right off, lad!" George seemed surprised by his own outburst, the volume making you spin on your heels and Daniel to lean away. George leered, oozing a sort of vibe that someone like Daniel didn't want to mix with. "I'm not tellin' you twice."

After a long, tense set of eye contact and hesitation, Daniel shoved the pack of cigarettes into your chest. Clearly, the Teddy Boy reputation preceded George far more than his own personal one. And for that, he was very happy.

Watching Daniel walk away and throw one last glance over his shoulder, George released a breath he didn't know he was holding. His eyes cast down to yours, and suddenly the courage and brave face he'd had moments ago was gone.

"Thank you," You finally spoke after allowing yourself a chance to admire his features. When he seemed a tad dumbstruck, you continued with an urging smile: "You're George, aren't you?"

You knew his name?

His brows furrowed, but this time in confusion as opposed to anger. He looked at your hand as you offered it his way, as if he'd never seen the gesture before.

"Uh, yeah. That's me," He mentally facepalmed when the words left his mouth. His larger hand found your smaller onel, your firm grip prompting him to tighten around your palm.

"(Y/N)," You introduced, finding the way that his lips etched into a smile that crinkled the edges of his eyes endearing. "I was wondering when we'd meet."

"You were?" George's cheeks grew hot, but he acted as nonchalant as he could muster.

When you nodded, George swore his stomach flipped. Then he watched as you noticed that your hands were still clasped together; your cheeks flushed, eyes widened, and your lips parted as you both quickly drew your arms back to your sides.

A silence settled, one both uncomfortable and soothing all at the same time. Your gaze was dancing everywhere but at him, on occasion connecting with his own falsely occupied observations, until he cleared his throat and threw a thumb over his shoulder.

George dared a smile, genuine and more him than the earlier anger was. He was bright now, welcoming. "Do you want t' get a drink with me?"

[strawb3rri-le]

okay here it is:

- front row >:) (they were very cheap at the theater we went to!!)

- the elderly man sitting next to me and my best friend was the absolute sweetest thing ever; and he told us all about how his deceased wife had seen the beatles at shea stadium in ‘65. (he bought an extra ticket to have a seat open next to him for her. needless to say thalia and i were crying on the way home.)

- neil (paul) continued to make eye contact with me the entire show. (i was giggling way too much but that’s because we follow each other on instagram and he knew we were going to be there in advance. and yes he knows i’m going again in october which he will ALSO be there.)

- the amount of times robbie (george) winked or smiled at me and my friend had me going into cardiac arrest he was adorable.

- erik (ringo) is and will always be the PERFECT ringo impersonator. he’s absolutely spot on with how he plays the drums and that is VERY difficult to do.)

- they all looked their BEST in the sgt peppers outfits. (robbie and neil specifically oh my lord i was trying to hold it together)

- my best friend almost screamed when they began to play ‘something.’ and it made neil laugh

- right before ‘got to get you into my life’ the fab four always do a free T-Shirt contest and they give it to whoever screams the loudest. (my best friend won and neil tossed us the shirt hehehe but he could have been biased since he knew we were there-)

- after that the john lennon performer asked who got the T-Shirt (he isn’t present during that song in act 2 because he has to change in order to perform imagine.) and my best friend got to interact with him and it was hilarious. (she hates john lennon a LOT. he’s public enemy number one for her.) he told her that he better not see the shirt on ebay

- neil waved at me during revolution and mouthed out ‘thank you for coming’ and i immediately waved and said ‘of course!!’ back :)

- erik gave me one of his drumsticks at the very end of the show and i have it in my room now :)

TLDR; i lived the y/n experience and nothing will top that hehehe

what if i told yall ive seen the fab four three times this year and im seeing them a fourth time next month- and ive seen the same paul mccartney performer 3/4 times 🤭 im a regular at this point yall have to drag me out of there. (this pic is from july when i went and sat in the front row.) if yall want ill make a separate post talking about the experience hehe

[emlovslennon]

could u maybe write about george x reader where they are enemies/rivals to lovers. The reader is also an artist in Liverpool and the Beatles and her perform at the same gig.

YES this is such a cute idea!! I definitely need to make more George content and realized I’ve made 0 Paul oopsie daisy😭😭

-

Era:1961

-

You were 18 and an upcoming artist in your local Liverpool scene, you’ve wanted to perform ever since you were 5 years old, and you were doing quite well for yourself. Well, that was until a new a group came along, they called themselves “The Beatles” which you thought was a ridiculous name, I mean come on, a bug of all things? They were “stealing your shine” as you’d like to call it, when, in reality, you were just jealous. You did, however, have somewhat of a rivalry when it came to you and their guitarist, George Harrison. You were both the same age and extremely competitive. It didn’t help you and him were both performing at the same venue, “The Cavern Club” where you two both started out. You had to admit, it was your favorite place to perform, but you couldn’t but feel abnormally anxious. I mean, what if everyone is only there for them and not for you? You felt completely irrelevant. As you sat backstage, fidgeting with your fingers trying your hardest to not have a panic attack, 4 boys who you recognized immediately walked into your dressing room, including George.

“What the bloody hell are you guys doing in here? I could have been naked!?” You yelled angrily. The boys just seemed to laugh it off, bastards.

“Oh, calm your knickers, y/n. We just came in to tell you good luck, no need for such an attitude.” George said, he was cheeky, that’s for sure.

“Well, thanks. Now get out.” You replied, pointing at the door, the other boys snickered and giggled as they walked out, but for some odd reason, George stayed.

“I meant you too, Harrison. Get out.” You said, louder, George just chuckled.

“Alright, alright.” He laughed as he waltzed out of the room. As much as you couldn’t stand him, you slowly felt a blush cover your cheeks, you’re lucky he left before he was able to see it.

The show finally started, and there was about 170 people attendees, it wasn’t the biggest venue, but in your mind, that’s a hell of a lot of people. The boys were on first, so you had some time, you just decided to look from backstage, and you just sop happened to be on George’s side of the stage. Which no matter how much you hated to admit it, you weren’t complaining.

They were on a good hour, your eyes were glued to George the entire time, and, to your surprise, he even turned and winked at you a couple times, along with a smile or two. If your blush wasn’t visible then, it sure was now. I mean, it pretty much felt like he dedicated the song “that’ll be the day” which was a Buddy Holly cover, to you. That’s a lot. Unfortunately, they all went off the opposite side of the stage. You knew that meant one thing, you were next. Your heart was racing and you knew had to perform the best you could, you knew it wasn’t a competition, but it sure as hell felt like it.

“And now, ladies and gentlemen, give a warm welcome to the lovely y/n l/n!”

You walked on a stage with a smile on your face and waved, the crowd cheered and you could even hear some whistles, but you ignored it. You slowly grabbed the mic and got yourself ready to perform. Your biggest hit was a cover of Connie Francis’ “Stupid Cupid” it was a fantastic song and it fit your vocal range perfectly.

(It’s such a good song stream it LMAO)

You also went on for a good hour, your voice was starting to get strained and sore and you couldn’t possibly wait to get off the stage, you turned to your right and saw the boys watching you, Paul gave you a thumbs up while George blew a kiss. Your blush was visible now and you knew everyone was noticing. After you performed your final song, the crowd cheered for a good minute and the announcer gave you a quick hug and a “good job” before you went back stage, as soon as you were out of view from the crowd, George swooped you into a hug, you knew you should push him away, but you didn’t, you just couldn’t.

“Wow, y/n. I gotta say, you have the voice of an angel.” He praised, putting your hand into his, your breath hitched.

“Oh, t-thank you, George. You do too.” You said, completely flustered, you looked down out of shyness, not being able to look him in the eye. He slowly grabbed your chin with his fingers and made you look up at him, as he looked you deep in the eyes, asking for permission to kiss you. You leaned in slowly until your lips connected into a slow, passionate kiss. Well, that was until the boys gave out numerous “oooo’s” and “I knew it’s.”

“Hey, would you wanna go on tour with me and the boys? It’ll be worth it, I promise, I don’t wanna be without ya, y/n.” He said, squeezing your hand slightly. You nodded eagerly as the boys cheered.

Maybe The Beatles weren’t that bad.

-

I HOPED YOU LIKED IT THIS WAS SO FUN TO DO <333

[iheartjohnlennon]

The Beatles NSFW Alphabet - George   

@heiterhund >>> #1 co writer

Oopsies for any grammatical errors

A is for Aftercare (How he treats you after sex, what happens after sex, etc...) 

• George didn’t even know it had a name. He just thought it was common practice to be caring and giving after sex.

• He usually runs you both a shower, quick to support your body as he rinses and cleans you off. He’ll offer you a clean blanket after the act, just to be sure you feel comfortable and at ease. The bed will be all done up, fluffed pillows, enough space, all for you and him.

• Super, super sweet guy. If you wanted a drink he’d probably already have it ready at the bedside. 

     

B is for Body part (His favourite body part of yours) 

• George loves your eyes and mouth.

• He loves the way your eyes light up when you see something you like. The pretty gleam when you make eye contact with him has him weak in the knees. He feels like a lovesick dog.

• Your smile is so precious. He loves the way your teeth look, no matter how much you may dislike them. He thinks they’re perfect. 

• Your eyes and mouth are so beautiful to him...especially when you’re taking a mouthful of his cock with your eyes watering.

     

C is for Cum (Everything to do with cum!)

• George likes to cum in your mouth.

• He especially likes when you swallow his cum and don't spit it out. He likes the filthiness of that.

     

D is for Dirty secret (Something utterly filthy that he did and/or does/and or wants to do behind your back.)

• George wants to do anal but he thinks that you would think it's gross.

• He knows it'd feel way tighter than your cunt and he wants that feeling. With your consent and some lube, he'd be fucking you like a rabbit. George definitely teases the hole as well. It looks so cute, so tight, so warm - perfect for his cock. 

• George thinks doing anal things would make him feel more dominant. You'd be his bitch, taking it up the ass.

• He doesn’t know how to ask or tell you about it directly, so he usually gets off to the idea of it. He feels quite odd for liking it…maybe one day he’ll confide in you.

     

E is for Experience (How experienced is he?)

• Georgie has little experience, little knowledge, so he just finds his way. 

• He lost his virginity with his friends cheering him on in the next room, in a cold, dark room to a German prostitute, and he didn't last very long - I'm sure that says a lot!

• His thrusts are sloppy but he tends to hit your g-spot either way. But not due to expertise...it’s just because his cock is sizeable.

• But he’s a quick learner!! Tell him what feels good and he’ll do just that and improve.

     

F is for Favourite position (How he loves to fuck you)

• He's very much into doggy style. He likes having you face down, ass up on the edge of the bed as he pounds and ruts into you senselessly. It always makes him feel alive.

• It also gives him an excuse to dig his sharp teeth into your shoulder. He's so possessive like that. He also likes pulling your hair back as he fucks into you.

• It doesn't have to be all rough though, he can slow down and be all sensual.

• He has a big cock as well, that position is perfect for him and for you. 

     

G is for Goofy (How silly is he during sex?)

• He’s not really goofy or joking during sex. He thinks it’s too special to be joking.

• He thinks sex is a special bond between two people, and if he’s speaking or talking - it’s either him complimenting you, or saying pure filth.

     

G is also for Goal (What's his goal and/or dream in relation to sex.) 

• George just wants to make you cum.

• In fact George wouldn't care if he doesn't end up cumming, just as long you do - in the best, most drawn out, most satisfying, most toe clenching, most sheet drenching, most impregnating, most draining way possible.

     

H is for Hair (How well groomed he is, does the carpet match the drapes, etc..)

• George has a lot of pubic hair, especially around his balls. His hair peeks out below his navel, a cute little happy trail.

• It’s not bad, by any means, there’s just a lot of it.

     

I is for Intimacy (How romantic he is during sex, etc..)

• George is naturally very soft, very romantic and very kind.

• He doesn't always go all out with candles and rose petals and champagne but when he can he does.

• He always does a bit above the bare minimum though, there's no just going at it like bunnies - there'll always be a nice track on in the background, always foreplay.

     

J is for Jack off (Masturbation headcanon.) 

• If it’s his only means of getting off, he’ll do it. It ’s not his preferred choice, but if you’re not available, he has no other option.

• He has some photos of you that he uses. for his birthday, his gift to himself was booking you a photo shoot. The photographer was sworn to secrecy and told to destroy the film he had after it was processed.

• Those photos are kept in his billfold, always in his pocket and used during desperate times.

     

K is for Kink (One or more of their kinks in relation to you.) 

• George has a sub kink for sure, and though it's not often he lets you dominate him, he does love it when you're rough with him.

• He revels in you tugging at his hair, calling him names, riding him - sometimes that stuff just brings him a joy he can't put into words.

• So yeah, sometimes he just wants to be your bitch.

     

L is for Location (Favourite place to do the deed.)

• George definitely likes doing it in hotel rooms and all that jazz. He travels a lot, so of course hotel rooms are his natural favourite.

• He also has taken quite the liking to fucking you in the studio. Whenever anyone is out for lunch, he’s there dragging you to bend you over the amps and have his way with you.

     

M is for Motivation (What turns them on about you, gets him hard, makes him cum, etc..) 

• George is deeply turned on by your confidence and the way you carry yourself. Your self-assured attitude drives him wild.

• He loves it when you take the initiative, whether it's initiating a kiss, a touch, or suggesting new things to try in bed. Your boldness excites him.

• George is especially turned on when you affirm how good he makes you feel. Hearing you moan "it feels so good, Georgeeee" or praising his skills in bed just does it for him in so many ways.

     

N is for No (Turn offs, what pisses him off, etc..) 

• He dislikes very rough or overly aggressive behavior in bed. George prefers a more sensual and intimate approach to sex.

• George is also turned off by any kind of dishonesty or insincerity. He values genuine connections and can't stand it when things feel fake or forced.

     

O is for Oral sex (Does he prefer giving or receiving? How does he give, how does he receive?) 

• George will never admit this, but at his core he’s a slight bottom. He loves the attention he gets when you’re on your knees and gagging around his length.

• His hand usually cups your cheek, thumb brushing the soft skin there as you stare up at him through your lashes.

• He loves the feeling of your mouth around him, the warmth and the wetness driving him crazy. The sensation of your tongue swirling around his tip makes him groan in pleasure. There's no feeling like it.

     

P is for Pace (Fast or slow? Rough or sensual? Ect.)

• George's pace tends to be slow and sensual, reflecting his desire to make each moment last and savour the connection with you.

• He prefers to take his time, exploring your body with deliberate and tender movements. He believes that building up the anticipation makes the climax even more satisfying.

• He’s not opposed to picking up the pace if you ask for it, but his natural inclination is to be gentle and loving.

• During more passionate encounters, his pace can quicken, becoming more intense and urgent, especially if he's particularly aroused or if you've been teasing him all day.

     

Q is for Quickie (His opinion on quickies, how often they happen, etc..)

• Obviously he doesn't hate them but would much prefer you to have sex that's comfortably timed.

• When they do occur, it's in desperate times, like he hasn't seen you in weeks or he can't get rid of a boner.

• He can finish quickly and fuck you hard so you don't possibly get caught.

     

R is for Risk (What kind of risks will they take.)

• George is cautious by nature and generally avoids situations that might lead to getting caught, preferring to keep your intimate moments private and sacred.

• However, he does have a bit of a spontaneous side. He enjoys the thrill of doing something unexpected, like pulling you into a quiet room during a gathering or surprising you with a passionate kiss in an empty hallway.

• George’s idea of risk is more about breaking routine than being public. He loves to surprise you with spontaneous intimacy at unexpected times, like when you’re in the middle of a conversation or doing something mundane.

     

S is for Stamina (How many rounds he can last, how quickly can they cum, etc..)

• George has a steady stamina; he might not go for marathon sessions, but he’s certainly capable of giving you a few solid rounds.

• He typically lasts a good amount of time, enough to make sure you’re fully satisfied before he lets himself go.

• He’s more about quality than quantity, focusing on making each round deeply satisfying rather than trying to stretch it out unnecessarily.

     

T is for Toys (Does he own toys, use them, what kind of toys, etc?) 

• George isn’t someone who naturally gravitates toward sex toys, but he’s not opposed to them either if you personally want to use them. He just won't engage because he trusts himself to give you pleasure.

• He’s more into the connection between the two of you rather than relying on...accessories.

     

U is for Unfair (How much does he like to tease you, how does he tease you, etc..) 

• George has a teasing streak, but it’s always playful rather than mean. He loves to draw out your pleasure, taking his time to get you worked up before giving you what you want.

• He enjoys the build-up, like whispering sweet, naughty things in your ear, lightly brushing his fingers over sensitive areas, or pulling away just when you think he’s going to give you more.

     

V is for Volume (How loud is he, what noises does he make, what does he say, etc..)

• George is relatively quiet during sex, preferring to express himself through soft moans, deep breaths, and quiet gasps.

• He’s not one for loud, vocal expressions, but the intensity of his breathing and the occasional groan lets you know just how much he’s enjoying himself.

• He loves hearing you, though, and your moans often encourage him to be a little louder, especially when you’re both close to climax.

• In those moments when he’s overwhelmed by pleasure, you might hear a slightly louder moan or grunt, but it’s always controlled and subdued.

     

W is for Wildcard (Random sexual headcanon.)

• George has a surprising playful side that comes out in the bedroom. He loves experimenting with sensory play, like using feathers or ice cubes to tease and stimulate your body, enjoying the mix of sensations and how they heighten your pleasure.

 

You shiver slightly - George is trailing an ice cube along the curve of your neck, watching intently as goosebumps rise on your skin. He smiles, leaning in to kiss away the cold trail he’s left, the contrast of his warm lips against your chilled skin sending a thrill through your body.

     

X is for X-ray (His cock.) 

• 7 inches, slim but not skinny, aaaannd not circumcised. (I want him so bad.)

       

Y is for Yearning (His sex drive, how much do they want you?)

• George's sex drive is somewhat understated but powerful. He might not be as overtly aggressive, but when he wants you, it’s an intense and all-consuming desire.

• He often finds himself thinking about you at the most unexpected times - while strumming his guitar, during a quiet moment in the studio, or even while out in nature.

     

Z is for Zzz (Sleep afterwards?)

• You and George go to sleep at roughly the same time because you both talk until you fall asleep. 

• You talk about anything really. Your day, the weather, your jobs, how good his cock just was - everything! 

• And sex doesn't always come before sleep. Sometimes you'll both decide to watch a movie before you drift off, or maybe you'll have a really late dinner.

Ringo, last but not least...

Check out the masterlist!

[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.

==============================

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!

[thebeatles-world]

Free Bird: Part 2

Here's part one

''Wait, Geo please wait...'' You shouted as you ran. You saw George unlocking his car.

''I need to tell you something!!!'' You shouted at the top of your lungs. It drew George's attention to you.

"Listen, I'm not trying to cause trouble." My words ought to have remained silent.'' George begin before you interrupted him.

George, no. You've always been the one.. You have always been my first love and I have loved you unconditionally. I will always remember you. I adore you and you alone. I have always loved you and you alone, therefore I will quickly bring you back if need be."" You said, telling him how you really feel.

"Please don't say that, Y/N." George whispered, his eyes gullible.

"George, you understand that this is the reality… Just be honest, please.'' you pleaded.

"I swear, I didn't mean to ruin your marriage," George exclaimed.

I have never loved the person who proposed to me. Geo, I've always loved you. I have always," you replied.

You went on, "Can't you see that?" I have loved you and will always love you.''

George kissed you on the lips and remarked, "I always had feelings for you too, Y/N."

You returned the kiss. "George, I've always loved you."

''Get in my car, quick, before the fangirls arrive,'' George urged.

You nodded and climbed into George's vehicle. George sped off.

While George was driving, you remained silent. He appeared to be driving far away.

You were shocked to learn that you had canceled your wedding to be with George.

You felt no regret at all.

George drove for an extensive length of time before coming to a beautiful beach.

As you gazed at the shore, you said to George, "Oh, this is beautiful."

"Not as beautiful as you love." George told you.

You blushed.

You and George both exit out of the car.

You grabbed George's hand.

George grasped your hand back.

''You know what, it feels good to not have any fans." George said to you.

''Yeah, it does seem that way.'' You agreed.

George and you kept strolling hand in hand along the beach.

George and you both had similar experiences when you two dated different people. Since he and Pattie lost feelings for each other, they drifted apart. When George and Pattie broke up, you were there for him.

When you caught your partner cheating on you with a woman named Wanda, George was there for you. After finding out, you spend the night at George's place, while your fiancé thought you were spending the night at your best friend's house. When you cried to George about this, he comforted you and held you in his arms.

George was the sweetest guy you ever met plus dated in the past. The fact that you two remain friends despite the split was nice to know, even if it was on and off due to Pattie and your fiancé, who didn't seem to be comfortable with you two having remained friends.

You and George continued to walk along the beach listening to the seagulls and waves.

''Hey Y/N? Though I hadn't planned on this happening, I always imagine this moment sometimes…'' George suddenly said. You were given a kiss on the forehead as he stopped in his tracks.

''Yes, Geo?' You asked as you looked into his beautiful brown eyes with a smile on your face.

''This is something I have always wanted to do. When I first fell in love with you, I knew I was in love with you forever. You were the first girl I ever felt passionate about. Having you in my life made everything better. You inspire me to be a better person. The only thing I could think about when we broke up was that I would lose you forever and this time I'll make sure that I don't lose you forever. I'll make sure of it.'' George said as tears began to spring to his eyes.

''George, I'm still here silly. I won't go anywhere.'' You giggled a bit as you wipe his tears away.

''Like what I mean is, I'm still here in your life and I already know how you feel about me George. I feel the same way about you.'' You smiled softly at him.

Listen… darling… what I am trying to say is…'' George got down on one knee in front of you and pulled out the most beautiful diamond ring you had ever seen. "Y/N L/N Will you be my wife? Will you marry me?" George asked.

You looked around the beach in shock and then back at George. You nodded, tears of joy streaming down your face. George put the ring on your finger, and you two embraced in a passionate kiss.

''While I know it was a bad thing for me to propose to you after you left your wedding and ex-husband, I just couldn't wait any longer. My heart belonged to you. George mumbled through the kiss you shared. You and George were kissing nonstop.

''George, stop talking. I've always loved you. "You are my heart," you whispered as your lips brushed against his.

''I promise to never let you go my dear.'' George said as he picked you up and spun you around. "I am so glad I finally have you baby, and I cannot wait to become Mrs. Harrison.".

You and George could feel the joy and love in the air, and you two knew that this was meant to be. You and George were meant to be together. You both vowed to stay together through thick and thin, no matter what life threw your way.

As soon as you and George became husband and wife, you guys promised that the two of you would love each other and cherish every moment together.

[starcaravel]

(A/N: hey so this is my first time posting on tumblr and i’m kinda nervous SO warnings: 18+, smut, dom! m x sub f reader, swearing, fingering, pet names ect and usage of condoms (wrap before you tap pls💋) oh and btw yn is in a band ;))

riffs n rivals

"no i won't hear it! 'what's the story morning glory' beats any song off of 'leisure' and you know it." zoey exclaimed, who was the lead singer of your band. marlene, who was your bands drummer was ready to fight back but you shut them both up by playing your guitar, which they took as a note to stop arguing.

"girls if you keep fighting like this during our rehearsal time, our fans are gonna hate us from how shit we sound on stage" you stated to the pair and your bassist clare , smirked to herself, making you smirk too.

thankfully it was quiet for a while, until two boys barged in, one was tall with curly hair and eye makeup on, the other was a little shorter, with straight hair and a gibson SG in his hands. they caught all of your attention, it was still quiet so zoey broke the silence by questioning who they were.

"Hi i'm danny, and this is jake.. your manager told us to say that you're almost on so get ready for your set" danny spoke calmly and gave you a small smile, to which you returned. for some reason, you couldn't keep your eyes off of jake, he was very quiet and the glasses he had on, caught your attention fast.

the other girls ran off to prepare for the set but you stayed seated, as you knew all the material you were to perform, danny walked in and sat down on the chair next to you. he glared at jake and signalled for him to sit as well, to which he obliged and sat opposite the pair of you.

"so! what kinda music do you guys play?" danny pipped up, you smiled at his attempt to break the ice, "well we're a rock n roll band but with a modern twist i suppose, the others can't really decide what they want so i just sit and come up with riffs for them, let them do all the work, i'm just here to have fun i guess" you replied, looking at danny now.

"oh that's cool! we're rock n roll too! just got a twist of the blues instead of modern" he replied and you nodded in response but it went silent again so you tried to make it less awkward by playing 'voodoo child' by jimi hendrix, which got jake's attention.

"you like hendrix?" he asked "nah not really, who's that?" you replied sarcastically and danny chuckled, you earned a smirk from jake which sent butterflies through your stomach.

"all jokes aside, he's a legend so of course i'm gonna like his stuff, always been a fan, since i was a kid" you replied, trying to get a conversation with jake running and he had the same idea, "yeah! he's so cool, just like clapton man, they're all amazing" he replied.

"i mean, yeah clapton is good but harrison is way better, i mean have you heard 'while my guitar gently weeps?', george had the best solo career out of all the beatle boys" you stated and something changed in jake's mood, danny became alerted "oh no.. you insulted eric clapton in front of jake,that's not good.. errr?" danny started to say but paused to ask for a name.

"oh im y/n by the way!" you said, "pretty name! but yeah jake hates it when you shit talk clapton like that" danny finished what he was saying, you scoffed at the end of his statement but ignored it once you got called on stage, you said your goodbyes to the two boys and made your way back to the others.

during your set, you could feel a pair of eyes on you from the side of the stage, you quickly glanced to see jake looking right at you, with danny on his right and two other boys on his left, who you assumed to be his band mates.

for the whole time you were on stage, jake did not take his eyes off of you, once you were off and made it to your dressing room, you noticed he had quietly followed behind.

"what? here to talk technique with me?? i saw you staring during the whole set, you are aware we're a band of four not one-" you were saying without looking at jake but you got cut off when you were pushed against the wall, he was inches away from your face, he had his hands on the wall, between you so it would be impossible to move away.

"i think you're a very smart girl but that mouth doesn't make you seem so sometimes , huh darling?" he spoke, his voice was low and raspier than it was earlier, you looked down, unsure of what to say. noticing this, jake gently grabs your chin with his fingers and lifts your head to make eye contact.

"what's the matter now? cat got your tongue?" he remarked, even though it should've made you bite back, you felt heat rising in your core. "don't think i don't know how you looked at me earlier, when i walked through the door. poor daniel tried to cut the tension between us but failed" he continued.

"maybe if you took those damn glasses off, he wouldn't have needed to try" you mumbled but he heard every word, his hand left your chin and he took the glasses off, "there, is that better for you princess?" he smirked, you noticed that his face was closer, his lips almost grazed against yours which made your breath hitch.

both of you stayed like that, to what seemed like forever to you, until Jake closed the gap by smashing his lips into yours, you moaned into the kiss which made jake smirk with pride, god you hated how smug he was but your body reacted differently,

jake lowered a hand to your jeans and slipped it inside, grazing his finger tips along your heat, against your panties "mmm so wet for me already baby?" he mumbled into your ear, his hot breath against the shell of it as you groaned in response, no man has ever made you feel the way jake made you feel.

"aww don't go shy on me now sweet girl, use your words" he taunted as you rolled your hips forward into his hand, you huffed "jake.. please, i need you inside of me" you asked, looking up at him through your eyelashes.

"oh so she begs now?" he smirked which earned him an eye roll from you, jake left wet kisses down your neck slowly, "jake i swear to go-" you began to snap but gasped as he shoved two fingers into you, curling them up inside of your core, his pace was quick and rough.

you started to feel a burning sensation in the pit of your stomach as jake continued his assault on your neck, moving down to your collar bone and keeping his fingers at a steady pace, in seconds, with just a few more curls of the guitarist fingers, you came undone and released onto his two fingers,

he brought them up out of your jeans and into his mouth, savouring every last drop of you that he could taste, the sight made your knees weak and core ache for him even more, "on the couch, clothes off now" jake demanded and you followed suit.

he stripped his jeans off of him as you pulled your own pair off, you teasingly let your shirt fall over your head slowly, leaving your bra on for jake to notice. he stared at your breasts with his mouth agape, moving towards you, to take the bra off.

with a quick motion, he had it off in seconds, practice makes perfect you thought, jake removed his own shirt, pushed you down so you were on your back on the couch. he hovered over you, his necklaces dangling in your face.

he palmed himself through his boxers, the outline of his cock making it's self apparent to you, as you tried to reach for it, jake grabbed your wrists with one hand and brought them over your head "ah ah princess, who said you could touch? be a good girl and spread your legs for me baby" he rasped

you slowly opened your legs, your dripping core becoming visible to jake, his eyes darkened at the sight, a look filled with lust that only made you yearn for him more, he pulled down his boxers, freeing his member, pumping it a few times before pulling out a condom from his jean pocket and rolling it onto himself.

jake slowly slid himself into you, as you both groaned from the feeling "fuck you feel so good gorgeous" he moaned and let you adjust to his size before pushing all the way in, he stretched you out in a way you haven't been before, tears brimmed in your eyes from the way it burned but it was a good type of pain, jake stopped but you soon tapped his arm to let him know that you were ready for him to move.

jake pulled back almost all the way before slamming straight back into you, starting off at a steady pace, you wrapped your arms around his neck and brought him closer to your face, closing the gap between the two of you, both of you moaned into each others mouths from the feeling of jake inside, it felt as if you were made for each other.

jake rested one hand on your hip with the other on your opposite leg, bringing your thigh up to your chest so he could fuck you in a deeper angle, his thrusts quickened, the lewd sounds of skin slapping together and heavy breathing coming from the both of you, filled the room, your arms found their way down his back, leaving scratches all over it, jake gave his last sharp thrusts into you before they started to slow, you knew he was close and vice versa.

jake moved his head down to place kisses all over your chest, moving from one breast to the other, gently tugging on the skin with his teeth, smoothing it over with his tongue, you moaned loudly, unable to cover it up.

he kissed up your neck, leaving hickies all over for you to be embarrassed about tomorrow morning, as you climaxed, jake was close behind you and you could feel his warm load shooting inside you, into the condom, after riding out his orgasam, jake collapsed on top of you, the pair of you stayed like that for what felt like forever until jake leaned up on his forearms and pulled out of you, getting rid of the condom and laying down next to you.

with the both of you huffing and puffing, jake tried to make conversation "so.. you still prefer harrison over clapton?" he asked whilst looking you in the eyes, his brown ones softening, you brought a hand to the side of his face and smirked "oh definitely, a hundred percent" you replied smugly.

this time jake laughed himself, putting his hand over yours, "yeah.. but i'm not bad as you think i am, right?" he asked, his voice hoarse from the events that just took place, "yeah.. you're not bad cowboy, not bad" you remarked whilst playfully patting his chest which earned you a hearty laugh from jake.

you two got dressed quickly, jake leaving first and you a little bit behind him, danny and zoey were stood on the opposite wall, staring at the pair of you with smug looks on their faces. "so i take it you two made up then?" danny smirked as zoey snorted, "yeah dan, look at y/n' s hair, it's a fucking mess!" she shouted as your cheeks turned pink from embarrassment.

"oh jake you really can't keep a grudge can you?" danny taunted his friend, "fuck off dude" jake remarked but smiled to himself, you rolled your eyes as zoey ran off to tell the other girls, just then the two boys from before joined, "ah! y/n id like you to meet sammy and josh, sammy is jake's younger brother and josh is jake's older twin brother" danny exclaimed, introducing the two innocent boys, your eyes widened, oh shit-there's two of them?? ....

[julia-lestrade]

60s!Paul McCartney x reader

Tunes and Timeless Moments

Authors note : this is a SMUT FREE 60s high school au where the band will exist but it plays before " The Beatles " fanfic

Slow burn and fluff

Warnings : tooth rotting fluff , romance , teen romance , and some use of Y/N

——————————————————————

It was a nice summer day in Liverpool and your class and other people from your grade were getting settled in a school bus as you were about to go on a 4 week field trip , because of a shortage of teachers , so your school has to make time to find new ones . And even though it was a bit full when you and your friends were boarding the coach you still found three free rows and you got one to yourself right next to a window without any things to block it . Now you were chatting with your friend a row ahead when a boy from your class slid into the last empty seat next to you. He flashed a casual grin and said, “Seems like I’ve nabbed the final seat. Hope you don’t mind the company—uhm what is your name again ? “ you look at the boy a bit weirded out , because who Tf speaks to someone they don’t really know , right ? But to be polite you have him a light smile and stretched out your hand to and introduced yourself to him . " y/n – l/n y/n pleasure to meet you ! " the boy just smiles at you and shakes your hand and after a while you start to pull away and ask him for his name wich he finally shares with you … he was called Paul McCartney and then it clicked , he was the music obsessed boy you sat behind of in math class .

(Ugh you know what imma switch to first person perspective)

We both had made small talk from time to time in between school hours or had greeted each other in the school hallway but there was nothing more of any interaction than those . So as one figured after a bit of small talk, the conversation naturally fizzled out. You exchanged names and brief introductions, but now there was an awkward silence. You glanced out the window, watching the few teachers coming with you loading the bus with the bus driver , while he fiddled with his bags straps .

After some time the silence became insufferable and you had to start talking again .

“So, are you excited about the trip ? “ Paul looks up at you and replies with a relieved sigh

“Yeah, sounds interesting enough. I’m just hoping it’s not another one of those places where you’re not allowed to do anything but for things that have educational purposes .”

With slight intrigues I reply to him “Oh, I know what you mean. I find it super annoying . What’s the most trouble you’ve ever gotten into on a trip?”

Paul thinks for a Minute and then replies a few seconds later with a smile playing on his lips “Well, there was that time I tried to ‘borrow’ a statue’s hat at the last museum visit. Turns out, it wasn’t a prop. How about you?”

“I once got stuck in a gift shop because I was trying to sneak a peek at the secret stockroom. Got caught by the shopkeeper. Classic.”

“Sounds like we’re both experts in getting into mischief. Maybe we should stick together today. We could be a team of troublemakers.”

“Deal. Just promise you won’t get us thrown out.”

“No promises. But I’ll try my best. So, what’s your favorite part of these trips?”

“Probably the bus rides. It’s the only time we get to just talk and hang out without worrying about homework.”

“I’m with you there. The bus ride’s the best part. And who knows, maybe we’ll come up with a new adventure story by the end of the day.”

I nodded, trying to ignore the butterflies that were suddenly making themselves at home in my stomach. There was something about the way Paul spoke, so effortlessly casual yet with a glint of mischief behind every word. I hadn’t thought much about him before, but sitting next to him now, I couldn’t help but be intrigued.

“So, do you play any instruments?” I asked, half expecting a standard reply. It was a question that usually led to a predictable conversation, which, given the awkwardness earlier, felt like a safe bet.

He raised an eyebrow, a small smirk playing on his lips. “Funny you ask. I’ve been known to mess around with a bass now and then. You?”

“Mess around?” I echoed, laughing lightly. “That’s not very convincing. And no, I’m more of a listener, to be honest. Though I do own a dusty piano .”

“Ah, a listener. Even better. Musicians need an audience, after all,” he teased, tapping his fingers on the armrest as if playing an invisible rhythm.

I rolled my eyes playfully. “Are you trying to recruit me as your personal fan?”

“Well, it wouldn’t hurt to have someone in the crowd rooting for me,” he joked, but there was a flicker of something sincere in his eyes.

“Are you any good?” I asked, feeling the conversation loosening up as we both settled into the bus seats. The awkwardness from before had faded, replaced by a lightness that I hadn’t expected.

Paul shrugged modestly. “I suppose you’ll have to find out one day, won’t you?”

“Maybe I will,” I replied, half-smiling. There was a pause as I glanced out the window again. The teachers had finished loading the bags, and the bus was finally starting to pull away from the school. The familiar streets of Liverpool blurred past, but I could already feel the sense of freedom that came with leaving it all behind for a while.

Paul leaned back in his seat, stretching his legs out in front of him as much as the cramped bus would allow. “Four weeks, huh? Hard to believe we’re getting out of school for that long.”

“Yeah,” I agreed. “It’s weird, but kind of exciting. No classes, no homework... just us and a bunch of museums and... whatever else they’ve got planned.”

“Sounds like trouble waiting to happen,” he mused with a grin, then turned to me with a curious look. “So, what do you reckon we’ll do with all that free time?”

I shrugged, thinking it over. “Well, I guess we’ll just have to see where the trip takes us. Maybe we’ll be well-behaved and stick to the itinerary, or maybe we’ll end up sneaking off and finding our own adventures.”

“Now you’re talking,” he said, his grin widening. “I like the sound of that. Let’s make a pact, yeah? No matter what, we find a way to have some fun on this trip. Deal?”

I couldn’t help but smile. “Deal.”

We shook on it, and for the first time since he sat down next to me, the silence that followed felt comfortable. The kind of silence that didn’t need to be filled with words. I leaned back in my seat, feeling a little more at ease, and glanced over at him. He was staring out the window now, lost in thought, his fingers

The hours passed as the bus hummed along the winding roads out of Liverpool, and the initial excitement of the trip settled into a comfortable lull. Most of our classmates were either dozing off, flipping through magazines, or talking quietly among themselves. Paul had gone quiet beside me, staring out the window again with that distant look on his face. I wondered if he was thinking about his band or maybe even some new lyrics.

Eventually, he broke the silence. “You ever been away from home this long?”

I shook my head. “Not really. I mean, I’ve gone on a few trips with my family, but never for four weeks. Feels a bit strange, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah,” he agreed, stretching his legs out as far as they could go in the cramped space. “Not that I’m complaining, though. Gets me out of school for a bit. Gives me time to work on some songs without all the usual distractions.”

I turned toward him, curious. “What kind of songs are you working on?”

He smiled, but there was something almost shy about it this time. “Just, you know, stuff about life, love, that sort of thing. Trying to find a sound that feels right.”

“Sounds deep,” I teased lightly, though I was genuinely interested. “Think you’ll play any of them on this trip?”

Paul chuckled. “Not sure how well that’d go over with the teachers. But maybe if I can sneak my guitar along, we’ll see.”

“Hey, you’ve got four weeks to work your magic. You could start a bus sing-along or something,” I joked, imagining how chaotic that would get.

“Now that would be a sight,” he laughed. “Though I’m not sure everyone here’s ready for that. You might be the only one who appreciates my questionable taste in music.”

I smirked. “Questionable, huh? Now I’m curious what kind of tunes you’re into.”

He thought for a moment, tapping his fingers on the seat again, before grinning. “Tell you what, I’ll give you a taste later. But you’ve got to promise to be brutally honest—none of that polite nodding if you think it’s rubbish.”

“Deal,” I said, feeling a bit of excitement bubbling up. It wasn’t every day you got the chance to hear original music from a classmate who just might be the next big thing.

The bus hit another bump, jolting us both slightly, and Paul shifted in his seat, his expression turning a bit more mischievous . “You know, this trip could be a real chance to get away from all that usual school stuff—figure out what we’re actually good at, you know?”

I nodded, understanding what he meant. “Yeah, it’s nice to get a break from the usual routine. It feels like everything’s always about exams and homework, and you never really get time to think about what you actually want to do.”

He looked at me, his gaze steady. “Exactly. Feels like we’re just going through the motions most of the time. Maybe this trip’s the chance to shake things up a bit.”

We shared a moment of quiet understanding. It was strange to think that this boy I’d barely talked to before today was someone who seemed to get it—the feeling of wanting more than just the typical school routine, of wanting to do something that mattered.

After a moment, Paul’s easy grin returned, and he tilted his head toward the front of the bus. “Think we’ll make it through this trip without any major disasters?”

I laughed. “Not a chance. But hey, at least we’ll have some good stories to tell when we get back.”

He chuckled, leaning back in his seat again. “That’s the spirit. Let’s make sure they’re worth telling.”

With that, the conversation fell into a more comfortable silence. The miles stretched out ahead of us, and I found myself looking forward to whatever came next. Maybe this trip would be more than just a break from school. Maybe it would be the start of something… interesting.

As I glanced over at Paul, who was now lost in his thoughts again, I couldn’t help but feel that this was just the beginning of whatever adventure we were about to stumble into.

The bus continued to hum along the road, and after what felt like an eternity of winding through the countryside, I noticed Paul had gone quiet again. He was still beside me, lost in thought, staring out the window at the rolling hills. The earlier ease between us had settled into something quieter, something a little more comfortable but still new.

I shifted in my seat, feeling the stiffness in my legs from sitting for so long. Paul must have noticed because he turned to me with a small smile. “Long ride, huh?”

“Yeah,” I agreed. “My legs are starting to feel like they’re turning into jelly.”

He chuckled softly. “Maybe we should’ve brought a guitar or something. Could’ve passed the time with a sing-along.”

I smiled at that. “And what would you have played? Something we all know, or one of your originals?”

Paul shrugged, that same casual smirk playing on his lips. “Depends. I might’ve tested out a new tune if I felt like the crowd was up for it.”

I raised an eyebrow. “New tune? So, you’ve got some secret songs you’re hiding from us?”

“Not exactly,” he said, leaning back in his seat. “Just a few ideas, you know? Scribbles in a notebook, half-finished lyrics… nothing special.”

I laughed softly. “I doubt that. You seem like the kind of person who’s always working on something creative.”

Paul looked at me, a little surprised by the compliment. “Maybe. It’s just… you never know when something’s going to stick. Sometimes, you’re just playing around, and then all of a sudden, it turns into something real.”

I nodded, feeling a bit of admiration for him that I hadn’t expected. “I guess that’s the exciting part, right? Not knowing what’s going to come out of it?”

“Exactly,” he said, his eyes lighting up a bit. “That’s what keeps it interesting.”

We fell into another comfortable silence, and this time it didn’t feel awkward at all. Instead, it felt like we were both content to let the conversation come and go as it pleased. Maybe this trip wouldn’t be so bad after all.

I glanced over at Paul, feeling the conversation drifting into silence again, and decided to ask something that had been on my mind. “So… do you play in a band or anything? You mentioned the bass earlier.”

He looked a little surprised at the question, then smiled, a hint of something more serious in his expression. “Yeah, actually. A few of us have been messing around with the idea. It’s nothing big yet, just playing a few tunes in garages or wherever we can.”

I tilted my head, intrigued. “That sounds pretty cool. How’d you get into it?”

Paul shrugged, a bit more relaxed now. “I’ve always loved music, ever since I was a kid. My dad plays piano, and I just sort of… picked things up. Then, once I got my hands on a guitar, there was no going back.”

“That’s impressive,” I said, genuinely meaning it. “I always thought about learning an instrument, but I never really got past a few half-hearted piano lessons.”

He chuckled. “Piano’s not a bad place to start. But you know, it’s never too late to try something new. Could always join us for a jam session.”

“Me?” I laughed, shaking my head. “I wouldn’t even know where to begin.”

“Hey, everyone’s got to start somewhere,” Paul said with a grin. “Besides, it’s more about having fun than being perfect.”

I smiled at that, appreciating his easygoing attitude. “I’ll keep that in mind. Maybe I’ll surprise you one day and show up with a tambourine or something.”

He laughed, the sound light and easy. “Now that would be something. We could always use more percussion.”

Paul’s laughter lingered for a moment, and I couldn’t help but smile, feeling a bit more comfortable now. The awkwardness had melted away, replaced by a casual warmth between us.

“So,” I said, glancing out the window at the countryside rolling by, “what kind of music do you guys play? Is it, like, rock and roll?”

He nodded, his eyes lighting up with excitement. “Yeah, that’s the idea. Rock and roll, a bit of skiffle—stuff that makes you want to move, you know? We’re still figuring it out, but we’ve been covering a lot of Chuck Berry, Little Richard… those kinds of tunes.”

“Chuck Berry, huh?” I raised an eyebrow. “That’s some serious stuff. You must be pretty good.”

Paul shrugged modestly, though there was a hint of pride in his voice. “We’re getting there. It’s all about practice. But it’s not just about being good—it’s about having fun with it, and seeing where it takes us.”

I nodded, impressed. “That sounds amazing. I don’t know many people who actually follow through on something like that.”

“Well,” he said with a grin, “we’ll see if we can make something of it. For now, it’s just nice to have an excuse to hang out with the lads and make some noise.”

“Do you have a name for the band yet?” I asked, leaning into the conversation now, genuinely curious.

Paul laughed, shaking his head. “Not yet. We’ve been throwing around ideas, but nothing’s stuck so far. Naming a band’s harder than you’d think. It’s got to feel right, you know?”

I smiled at that. “Yeah, I can imagine. It’s like naming a baby or something—it’s got to fit.”

“Exactly!” He pointed at me, nodding. “We don’t want to pick something we’ll regret later on.”

“Well, if you need any suggestions, I’m here to help,” I said playfully.

Paul chuckled. “I might just take you up on that.”

We fell into a more comfortable silence after that, but this time it didn’t feel awkward. Instead, it felt like the start of something new, like this conversation was the first step toward an unexpected friendship. The bus continued to rumble along the road, and I leaned back in my seat, feeling lighter than I had at the beginning of the trip.

As the scenery blurred by outside, Paul tapped his fingers on his knee, lost in thought. “You know,” he said after a moment, “I think this trip could be a good time to work on some new songs. Get some fresh ideas.”

“Yeah?” I asked, intrigued. “What inspires you when you write?”

He tilted his head, considering. “Anything, really. A bit of life, love, people I meet… sometimes it’s just a feeling that comes out of nowhere. You never know when inspiration will hit, so you’ve got to be ready.”

“That’s pretty deep,” I said, half-teasing but also impressed. “I guess I never really thought about songwriting like that.”

Paul smiled at me, his eyes softening. “It’s not as complicated as it sounds. You just… write what you feel, you know? Maybe one day you’ll give it a try.”

“Maybe,” I said, though I wasn’t sure if I had that kind of talent. Still, the idea of trying something new, of exploring creativity, sounded appealing.

The bus hit a small bump, jostling us both in our seats, and we shared a brief laugh at the unexpected jolt. The conversation started to drift again, but this time, it felt natural. We didn’t need to fill the silence with forced words. The bus continued on, carrying us toward whatever adventures lay ahead.

I couldn’t help but wonder what the next few weeks would bring, and whether this unexpected connection with Paul would turn into something more than just a fleeting conversation on a school bus.

After we all gathered our bags, the teachers started dividing us into our assigned rooms. The sun was nearly set by now, casting a soft orange glow through the windows of the old estate. The long day of travel had caught up with everyone, and the buzz of excitement had faded into tired chatter.

"Y/N, Room 12," one of the teachers called, ticking off names on a clipboard. I nodded, tightening my grip on my bag and heading inside the building. Paul was still beside me, waiting to hear his own room assignment.

"McCartney, Room 9," another teacher announced, and Paul raised his hand with a small grin.

“Looks like we’re not too far from each other,” he said, adjusting his bag over his shoulder. “Not bad.”

I smiled back. “Yeah, close enough to find each other if we need to plot any late-night escapes.”

Paul laughed lightly. “You never know. But for tonight, I think I’m just going to crash. Too knackered for any adventures.”

"Same here," I agreed, stifling a yawn. The thought of a bed sounded incredibly appealing after a long day cooped up on the bus.

We both followed the hallway until it split off into different sections. My room was down one corridor, and his was down another. Paul turned to face me as we reached the split, flashing a tired but sincere smile.

“Well, goodnight then,” he said softly. “See you tomorrow?”

“Definitely,” I replied. “Goodnight, Paul. Sleep well.”

“You too,” he said with a small wave before turning and walking off toward his room.

I headed to my own room, pushing open the door to find it was already half-occupied by another girl from my grade. She looked just as exhausted as I felt, already halfway through unpacking her things onto her bed. We exchanged tired smiles and quick introductions before both agreeing to call it a night and save any further conversation for tomorrow.

After a quick change into my pajamas, I climbed into bed, the weight of the day finally settling over me. I could hear faint murmurs of conversation through the thin walls, including what might have been Paul's voice from down the hall. But soon, even that faded as the building grew quiet, and sleep started to pull me under. The last thought I had before drifting off was that this trip was just beginning, and I had a feeling there was much more to come—especially when it came to Paul.

-Paul’s POV -

Paul flopped onto his bed with a contented sigh, letting his tired limbs sink into the surprisingly soft mattress. The room was modest but comfortable, with a pair of neatly made beds, a small dresser, and a window that let in a sliver of the moonlight.

George, who was sprawled on his own bed across the room, looked up from fiddling with his guitar case. “So, how’s your day been, mate?” he asked, his voice carrying a mix of curiosity and exhaustion.

Paul grinned, propping himself up on one elbow. “Not too bad. Got to know someone from our class a bit better. You know, Y/N? They ended up sitting next to me on the bus.”

George raised an eyebrow, his interest piqued. “Oh, really? And how’d that go?”

“Pretty well, actually,” Paul said, shrugging. “We talked about the trip, a bit about music. Seems like a decent sort. We’re both in for some fun, I reckon.”

George smirked. “And here I thought you’d be too busy plotting your next great escape to talk to anyone.”

Paul chuckled. “Hey, a little adventure is always better with company, right? Besides, I didn’t exactly get any time to plot today. The bus ride was more about trying not to fall asleep and making sure I didn’t annoy everyone around me.”

George laughed, the sound echoing slightly in the small room. “Fair enough. And what did you think of the place so far? Not too shabby, huh?”

“Yeah, it’s got its charm,” Paul said, glancing around the room. “Bit different from the usual. Feels like we’re really on a proper adventure now. I mean, four weeks in this old place? It’s bound to be interesting.”

George nodded, strumming a few chords on his guitar absentmindedly. “Sounds like it’ll be a good time. And you know what they say—new experiences are always worth a shot.”

“Exactly,” Paul agreed, sitting up and stretching. “It’ll be nice to get away from the usual grind. Plus, we’ll have plenty of time to mess about, come up with new tunes, and maybe even make some new friends.”

George glanced over, his expression thoughtful. “You’ve got that right. And with this lot, who knows what kind of trouble we’ll get up to.”

Paul grinned, feeling a surge of excitement. “Trouble, new friends, and maybe even some inspiration for new songs. Sounds like a good plan to me.”

As the conversation continued, the two friends talked about their plans for the upcoming weeks, sharing their hopes and expectations. The room was filled with a relaxed, easy camaraderie that only grew stronger with the passing minutes. It was a quiet, comfortable end to a long day, and as Paul finally settled into his bed, he couldn’t shake the feeling that this trip might just be the beginning of something extraordinary.

“Well, time for some shut-eye,” Paul said, stifling a yawn. “Big day ahead tomorrow.”

George nodded in agreement, his guitar case now closed and resting by his bed. “Goodnight, Paul. See you in the morning.”

“Goodnight, George,” Paul replied, turning off the bedside lamp and letting the darkness envelop the room. As he drifted off to sleep, his thoughts wandered back to Y/N and the promise of the adventures that lay ahead.

As George’s breathing settled into a rhythmic, steady pattern, Paul lay awake in the darkness, staring up at the ceiling. His mind was a whirl of thoughts and images from the day.

He couldn’t help but replay the moments he’d shared with Y/N. Her easy smile and quick wit had made a strong impression on him. He found himself wondering what it would be like to spend more time with her, to see where their conversations could lead. There was something undeniably engaging about her—a spark of curiosity and a willingness to engage in lighthearted banter that had struck a chord with him.

Paul thought about the little details of their interaction: how she had seemed genuinely interested when he mentioned his band and how she had laughed at his jokes. The thought of her intrigued him more than he expected. He recalled the way she looked when she mentioned her dusty piano, her eyes lighting up just a bit. He wondered if she might be someone who could appreciate the kind of music he was passionate about, someone who might even share some of his own interests.

He shifted slightly in his bed, trying to get comfortable as he continued to muse over the potential for new friendships and adventures. The trip was supposed to be a break from the usual grind, but Paul was beginning to see it as a chance to explore not just new places, but new relationships and possibilities.

As the minutes ticked by, Paul’s thoughts wandered to what the next few weeks might hold. Would he and Y/N find themselves paired up for group activities, or would they stumble upon shared interests that brought them closer? He imagined showing her his guitar, maybe even playing a few of his songs, and wondered if she would be interested in hearing them.

There was a small thrill in the uncertainty of it all—the sense of adventure that came with not knowing exactly what was around the corner. Paul felt a mix of excitement and nervous anticipation. The future was full of potential, and he was eager to see where it would lead.

-Time skip to the next morning -

(Still Paul’s pov)

Eventually, the gentle hum of the night and the comfortable rhythm of his own thoughts began to lull him into sleep. Paul’s mind settled on the possibilities that lay ahead, the idea of new friendships, and the hope that this trip would bring some unexpected but welcome surprises.

Paul settled at the breakfast table with his friends and bandmates, John, George, and Ringo. The morning sun filtered through the dining room windows, casting a warm glow on the old wooden tables. The room buzzed with the chatter of students excitedly discussing the day’s activities. Paul, however, found himself somewhat distracted.

As his friends debated over the itinerary for the day, Paul’s gaze kept drifting toward Y/N’s table. She was laughing at something her friends had said, her laughter a pleasant melody that seemed to stand out against the background noise. Paul tried to focus on the conversation at his table, but he couldn’t help but glance over every so often.

John, ever perceptive, noticed Paul’s wandering attention. With a smirk playing on his lips, he leaned closer to Paul and nudged him with an elbow. “Oi, Paul, what’s caught your eye?”

Paul snapped out of his daydream, his face warming as he realized he had been caught. He looked at John with a sheepish grin. “Oh, nothing much. Just... taking in the morning.”

John raised an eyebrow, clearly not convinced. “Right. It seems like you’ve got a special interest in Y/N this morning. Didn’t know you were so keen on the company.”

Paul tried to brush it off, though he could feel himself blushing. “I was just thinking about how the trip might turn out. It’s nice to have some company, that’s all.”

John’s grin widened, clearly enjoying the teasing. “Well, if you’re thinking of making a move, you might want to be subtle about it. Can’t have you making a fool of yourself right out of the gate.”

Ringo, who had been listening with amusement, chimed in. “Looks like Paul’s got himself a bit of a crush. We’ll have to keep an eye on him.”

Paul chuckled nervously, trying to regain his composure. “It’s not like that. Just trying to figure out how we might end up interacting more. Could be interesting, you know?”

George, sensing Paul’s discomfort, gave him a supportive nudge. “Don’t worry about it too much. We’re all here to have a good time. If you end up talking to Y/N more, that’s just part of the adventure.”

As breakfast wound down, the group’s attention shifted to the plans for the day. Paul couldn’t shake the feeling of excitement mingled with nerves. He stole one last glance at Y/N, who was now chatting animatedly with her friends. Despite the teasing from his bandmates, Paul felt a genuine eagerness to get to know her better.

The transition from breakfast to the first activity of the day was quick. The group gathered their things and made their way to the bus, ready for the day’s adventures. Paul joined his friends, the teasing continuing in good spirits, but his mind kept drifting back to the promise of new experiences and the possibility of spending more time with Y/N.

As the bus pulled away from the accommodation, the landscape of the small town began to unfold before them. The anticipation of the day ahead mingled with Paul’s curiosity about Y/N, making the journey feel both exciting and full of potential.

The bus pulled up to the Natural History Museum, and the students began to disembark with excited chatter. The grand facade of the museum loomed ahead, its imposing columns and intricate stonework hinting at the treasures inside. As the group gathered in front of the entrance, the teachers began organizing everyone into pairs for the day’s exploration.

Paul and Y/N had been mingling with their friends, chatting about the exhibits they hoped to see, when one of the teachers called out. “Alright, everyone, we’re going to pair up for the museum tour. Make sure you’re with someone you can work well with!”

Paul glanced over at Y/N, who was also scanning the crowd, likely looking for a familiar face. Just as he was about to suggest they stick together, the teacher’s voice rang out again. “Paul McCartney and Y/N L/N, you’re a pair for the day. Find a partner and get started on the tour!”

Paul’s heart skipped a beat as he turned to Y/N, who looked pleasantly surprised. “Looks like we’re teamed up,” he said with a grin.

Y/N returned the smile. “Guess we’re spending the day together. Ready for some museum exploration?”

Paul nodded enthusiastically. “Definitely. Let’s make the most of it.”

As they entered the museum, the grandeur of the exhibits immediately captured their attention. Fossils, minerals, and ancient artifacts filled the expansive halls, each display more intriguing than the last. The museum guide provided a brief overview of the day’s activities and handed out maps, urging everyone to start exploring.

Paul and Y/N made their way through the exhibits, their conversation flowing easily as they navigated the museum’s vast interior. The initial awkwardness from the bus seemed to have dissipated, replaced by a shared curiosity and enthusiasm for the exhibits. They wandered through the dinosaur gallery, marveled at the minerals on display, and even took turns trying to identify the various fossils.

At one point, they found themselves in front of a particularly impressive diorama featuring prehistoric mammals. Paul leaned closer, examining the display. “These creatures are incredible. Imagine what it must have been like when they roamed the Earth.”

Y/N nodded, her eyes wide with fascination. “It’s amazing to think about how different the world was back then. I’ve always found stuff like this so fascinating.”

Paul glanced at her, noting the genuine excitement in her expression. “You know, I’ve got a bit of a fascination with history myself. Not just the music stuff. There’s something about learning how the world used to be that’s really intriguing.”

Y/N smiled, clearly enjoying the conversation. “I can relate. It’s like stepping back in time and seeing things from a different perspective. Makes you appreciate how much things have changed.”

As they continued their tour, Paul found himself more and more comfortable around Y/N. Their conversation flowed effortlessly, punctuated by shared discoveries and laughter. It was clear that their time together was turning into something enjoyable and meaningful.

With each exhibit they explored, the day seemed to get better. The initial excitement of the field trip had settled into a genuine connection between the two of them. By the time they took a break in the museum’s café, Paul and Y/N were laughing and chatting like old friends.

“So,” Paul said, taking a sip of his drink, “how are you finding the museum so far?”

“It’s been fantastic,” Y/N replied, her eyes sparkling. “I didn’t expect to enjoy it this much, but having a good tour guide and a great partner definitely makes a difference.”

Paul grinned. “I’d say we make a pretty good team. Here’s to more adventures.”

Y/N raised her cup in a mock toast. “Cheers to that.”

As they finished their break and headed back to explore the remaining exhibits, Paul couldn’t help but feel that the day was turning out better than he’d imagined. Spending time with Y/N had been unexpectedly enjoyable, and he was looking forward to what the rest of the field trip would bring.

-Y/Ns POV -

As Paul and I finished our break in the café, we headed toward the museum’s next big attraction: the Butterfly House. The sun streamed through the glass ceiling, creating a warm, almost magical atmosphere. The Butterfly House was a lush, green paradise filled with colorful flowers and fluttering butterflies of every shade imaginable.

“Wow, this place is incredible,” I said, looking around at the vibrant display of nature.

Paul grinned, clearly just as taken with the exhibit. “It’s like stepping into a different world, isn’t it? All these butterflies—such a riot of colors.”

We walked along the winding path through the Butterfly House, surrounded by the gentle hum of butterflies flitting about. The air was filled with the sweet scent of blooming flowers, and the soft rustle of the leaves added to the serene ambiance.

I watched as a particularly large butterfly landed on a nearby flower. “Look at that one—it’s huge! I’ve never seen one like it before.”

Paul leaned closer, squinting at the butterfly. “That’s a Swallowtail, I think. They’re pretty common, but they’re always impressive to see up close.”

We continued down the path, pausing occasionally to admire the butterflies landing on the flowers and even a few that landed on our shoulders or arms. It felt like a gentle, almost playful interaction with nature.

“So,” Paul said, breaking the pleasant silence, “what do you think of all this? It’s pretty amazing, right?”

“I love it,” I replied, smiling at the sight of a butterfly landing gently on my hand. “It’s so peaceful and beautiful. I never expected to enjoy it this much.”

Paul chuckled, clearly enjoying the moment. “I’m glad we’re having a good time. It’s nice to just take a break from the usual routine and soak in something like this.”

We continued walking, enjoying the beauty around us. Paul’s easy demeanor and the relaxed environment made for a perfect combination, and I found myself feeling more at ease with each passing moment.

After spending some time in the Butterfly House, we decided to explore the museum’s main exhibition hall. The hall was grand and filled with a diverse range of exhibits, from ancient artifacts to natural history displays.

As we moved through the various exhibits, Paul pointed out interesting facts and shared his own observations, making the experience more engaging. We found ourselves getting lost in conversations about everything from historical events to the mysteries of the natural world.

“This place is a treasure trove of information,” I said, looking around at the impressive displays. “There’s so much to take in.”

Paul nodded, his enthusiasm evident. “It really is. I could spend all day here just exploring and learning new things.”

We spent hours wandering through the exhibits, and as the day went on, I felt a growing sense of camaraderie with Paul. Our shared curiosity and enthusiasm made for great company, and I was genuinely enjoying our time together.

As we made our way back to the entrance, Paul looked over at me with a smile. “So, how do you feel about the day so far?”

“It’s been fantastic,” I said, returning his smile. “I didn’t expect to have such a great time. Thanks for making it so enjoyable.”

Paul’s eyes sparkled with a mix of gratitude and amusement. “Glad to hear that. It’s been a pleasure exploring with you.”

We walked out of the museum together, the sun beginning to set and casting a warm glow over the city. The day had been filled with discovery and laughter, and I found myself looking forward to more moments like this as the field trip continued.

As Paul and I made our way back to the bus after a full day at the museum, we decided to take one last stroll around the museum grounds. We came across a small garden area that had been carefully maintained and was home to a variety of plants and, of course, more butterflies.

I stopped to admire a particularly vibrant flower bed, and Paul followed my gaze. “Look at that—more butterflies. They really seem to love this place.”

I chuckled and pointed to a patch of bugs crawling on the leaves. “You know, seeing all these bugs makes me think of something ridiculous.”

Paul raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Oh? What’s that?”

“Well,” I began with a grin, “I couldn’t help but notice that some of these little guys look like they’re having a bit of a band meeting. If I had to name a band after these bugs, I’d call them ‘The Beetles.’”

Paul blinked, then burst into laughter. “The Beetles? That’s brilliant! They’d definitely have a unique sound—imagine their hit single, ‘I Want to Hold Your Beetle.’”

I laughed along with him, enjoying the playful banter. “Exactly! And their debut album could be ‘With a Little Help from My Bugs.’”

Paul wiped a tear from his eye, still chuckling. “You’ve got a real knack for coming up with names. I’m impressed.”

“Well,” I said, “if you ever need a band name or a joke for your future concerts, you know where to find me.”

We continued our walk, still laughing about the joke. The sun was setting, casting a warm golden hue over the museum grounds. As we approached the bus, Paul looked at me with a thoughtful expression.

“You know,” he said, “that’s actually not a bad idea. I think ‘The Beetles’ could work—if only there were enough bugs to fill out the band.”

“Hey, you never know,” I said with a wink. “Maybe we’ll discover a whole new world of insect rock stars.”

We boarded the bus, the laughter from our earlier joke still lingering in the air. As we found our seats, Paul and I exchanged smiles, feeling a new level of camaraderie. It had been a day full of discoveries and laughter, and I couldn’t wait to see what other adventures awaited us on this field trip.

As we settled back into our seats on the bus, the remnants of our laughter still lingering, I couldn’t help but continue with the playful theme. “You know,” I said with a mischievous grin, “if you’re serious about naming a band after these bugs, maybe you should tweak the name a bit.”

Paul raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. “Oh? What do you have in mind?”

“Well,” I began, “instead of ‘The Beetles,’ why not change it to ‘The Beatles’? It sounds a bit more... musical, don’t you think?”

Paul’s eyes widened in surprise as he processed the suggestion. “The Beatles? That’s actually quite clever. It’s got a nice ring to it, doesn’t it?”

“Exactly,” I said, pleased with his reaction. “And it’s got that whole play on words thing going on—‘beat’ as in rhythm and ‘beatle’ as in the bug. It’s perfect for a band.”

Paul chuckled, shaking his head in amazement. “You know, you might be onto something there. If I ever start a band, I might just have to use that name.”

I laughed. “Well, if that ever happens, I expect a backstage pass.”

Paul grinned. “Deal. And I’ll make sure to credit you for the name idea.”

As the bus began to pull away, taking us to our accommodations for the night, Paul and I continued chatting about music and our favorite bands. The playful banter had turned into a more engaging conversation, and I was enjoying every moment of it.

The name ‘The Beatles’ had become an inside joke between us, a reminder of a day filled with unexpected fun and connection. As we arrived at our lodgings and prepared for the evening, I couldn’t help but feel that this field trip was turning out to be far more interesting than I’d originally anticipated.

As the days rolled by on our field trip, what started as a casual acquaintance had evolved into something much more meaningful. By the time the final week arrived, Paul and I had settled into a comfortable rhythm, our conversations flowing effortlessly and our shared laughter becoming a staple of our daily interactions.

Our time exploring museums, historical sites, and even the occasional impromptu adventure had drawn us closer. We had spent countless hours together, whether it was discussing our favorite bands, trying to solve random trivia questions, or simply enjoying the quiet moments on the bus rides between destinations.

The final week of the trip arrived with a sense of bittersweet anticipation. On one hand, we were looking forward to returning home and sharing our experiences with friends and family. On the other, it was hard to imagine not seeing Paul every day, not sharing those spontaneous jokes or planning our next playful escapade.

One evening, as we sat on a bench overlooking a scenic park near our lodgings, I turned to Paul, who was idly strumming on his guitar. The soft strains of his music blended with the tranquil surroundings, creating a serene atmosphere that seemed to echo the sentiment of our time together.

“Can you believe it’s almost over?” I asked, watching as the last rays of sunlight painted the sky in hues of orange and pink.

Paul glanced up, his expression thoughtful. “It’s gone by so quickly. Feels like just yesterday we were trying to come up with band names for a bunch of bugs.”

I laughed softly, the memory bringing a warm feeling. “Yeah, and who would have thought that joke would turn into one of our favorite inside jokes?”

Paul smiled, setting his guitar aside and turning to face me. “It’s been an amazing trip. I didn’t expect to make such a good friend, let alone someone I’d look forward to seeing every day.”

I met his gaze, feeling a flutter of emotion. “I know what you mean. This trip has been a lot more memorable because of you.”

We shared a comfortable silence, the evening air cool against our skin. The park was quiet except for the distant sounds of other tourists and the occasional rustle of leaves. It was a peaceful moment, one that seemed to encapsulate everything we had experienced together over the past few weeks.

As the sun set and the stars began to twinkle in the sky, I felt a sense of gratitude for the connection we had built. The upcoming departure felt like a poignant end to a chapter that had brought unexpected joy and companionship.

Paul’s voice broke the silence gently. “You know, even when this trip ends, I hope we stay in touch. It’s been really great getting to know you.”

I nodded, smiling warmly. “I’d like that too. It’s been an incredible journey, and I’m glad we’ve shared it.”

As we sat there, watching the stars emerge and the city lights begin to twinkle in the distance, I couldn’t help but feel that this final week had been the culmination of something truly special. It was the end of an adventure, but also the beginning of a new connection that I hoped would last long after the field trip was over.

The final days of our field trip flew by in a whirlwind of excitement and nostalgia. Before we knew it, the bus was pulling back into our school parking lot, and the familiar sights of our hometown began to come into view. As we disembarked and said our goodbyes to the teachers and other students, there was a palpable sense of both relief and sadness.

Paul and I lingered near the bus, our luggage in hand, as the excitement of returning home mingled with the wistfulness of leaving behind the memorable experiences we had shared. We chatted about our favorite moments and laughed over inside jokes from the trip, trying to hold onto the easy camaraderie we had built.

As the crowd began to thin and students reunited with their families, Paul glanced at me with a thoughtful expression. “Hey,” he began, scratching the back of his neck nervously, “there’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you.”

I looked at him, curiosity piqued. “Yeah? What’s up?”

Paul hesitated for a moment before taking a deep breath. “Well, we’ve spent a lot of time together over the past few weeks, and I’ve really enjoyed it. I was wondering if you’d like to go out with me sometime. Maybe catch a movie or just hang out, you know?”

I felt a surge of warmth at his words, a mixture of surprise and happiness. “Are you asking me out on a date?” I asked, trying to keep my tone light but unable to hide the excitement in my voice.

Paul’s cheeks flushed slightly, and he nodded, a hopeful smile on his lips. “Yeah, I guess I am. I’d really like to get to know you even better.”

I smiled back, feeling a flutter of excitement. “I’d like that too. It sounds like a lot of fun.”

Paul’s grin widened, and he let out a relieved laugh. “Great! I’ll figure out a time and place, and we can make plans. I promise not to drag you into any more bug-related band name discussions.”

I laughed, shaking my head. “I’ll hold you to that. But seriously, I’m looking forward to it.”

As we gathered our belongings and headed toward the school entrance, I couldn’t help but feel a sense of anticipation for what was to come. The field trip had been an unforgettable experience, and now, with this new chapter beginning, I was eager to see where it would lead. The prospect of spending more time with Paul, exploring our growing connection, and creating new memories made the end of the trip feel like a new beginning.

Authors note: I initially intended on making this a series but I wasn’t sure if anybody would read it so please tell me if you are interested!!!

[okwritingandpain]

Ob-La-Di, Ob-La-Da: The Beatles x Reader

Chapter 2

What happened? Everything felt hazy and fractured. She was laying on something soft, a bed perhaps. Sitting up, she looked around. Everything looked odd. It reminded her of what her grandparents had described their houses looked like. Colorful wallpaper, strange furniture, and odd clothing that was hanging in the open closet. She got up to look through the selection. Dresses of all different colors plagued the interior room. Red with white polka-dots, the palest pink, and a housewife's aprons littered the closet. It made her heart skip a beat. Where was she? Where was Paul? She remembered him saying that she could save the Beatles, but what did he mean? Looking down she noticed her outfit had changed to a light blue dress. How did that happen? Suddenly a knock came from downstairs. She rushed downstairs to answer it. Opening the door revealed a skinny, handsome man. His eyes were brown and he had a very particular angular face. His dark brown hair glistened in the light. She suddenly realized she was in an apartment of some sort.

"Hiya there I'm George!" He smiled, handing her a flyer. "My band and I are playing this weekend and we're trying to build some awareness." It was strange seeing George so young and alive. He had passed before she was even born.

"You're George Harrison, right?" She asked, reading the flyer. He nodded.

"In the flesh!" He remarked, in a jittery way. "You remembered my name from the last few gigs?" He looked at the ground shyly.

"Of course! You're the lead guitarist! You know, in the Beatles--" wait what year was it? Were they still the Quarrymen? Honestly, she didn't know a lot about the Beatles. Obviously, this was during a time when they weren't crazy famous.

"You seem like a true fan!" He laughed with a slight blush. "What's your name?"

"I'm Y/N." She twisted her hair shyly.

"That's a beautiful name." He remarked with a slight smile. Looking into his eyes, her heart fluttered.

"Will I see you later?" She asked, smiling at him.

"I have a feeling we will. I hope maybe the boys will like you..." He said, turning to leave.

"The boys?" She muttered, closing the door. Was she going to meet the Beatles? Is this what Paul wanted? He barely knew her and now she was back in the 1960s! Deciding to go to their show, she checked the time. The band started at 7 pm and it was currently 4 pm. She had some time and quickly got to work on her appearance. Anything she could find she applied. Makeup, hair products, and so on. She checked the time again. 6 pm time to go. Scavenging for a key, she locked her apartment door. Heading out, she checked the flyer for directions. She had no idea where anything was, so she asked around the best she could. Finally, she arrived at the restaurant they would be playing in. George was standing with three other men looking around. He quickly noticed her. He waved childishly. The others got on and waved at her.

"Hiya, Y/N!" George yelled over the crowd. Smiling, she walked over.

"Hey, George." She softly said. The other boys were staring at her wide-eyed.

"Did you score a girlfriend, George?" The round-faced one laughed. He had dark eyes and hair. His eyes were the shape of almonds.

"Shut up, John!" George crossed his arms blushing. The others snickered. John smiled at Y/N as he looked her up and down.

"Haven't seen you around before," John smirked. She rolled her eyes.

"Guess I only caught your eye now." She joked, with a small laugh. John's face became stern before he burst out laughing.

"You got a good one, George!" He bellowed. George blushed harder.

"She's not my bird!" He chirped. The others laughed harder. Taking a glance at the other two boys, she saw a familiar face. A young Paul McCartney was smiling and laughing along with who she assumed was Ringo Starr. Ringo had the bluest eyes and rings on his fingers. Paul was bright and cheery with a certain glow to him.

"You must be John Lennon, Paul McCartney, and Ringo Starr." She smirked, looking at the other three. Their faces had a look of shock.

"She's a true fan!" Ringo cried. He jumped up with glee. Of course, she was a true fan...at least for knowing their names. Paul looked at Y/N suspiciously, though he hid it through a warm smile.

"We got to start soon." He said, turning to leave. The others nodded.

"See you after the show?" George asked, with a cute smile.

"Of course!" She said, going over to an open table. Paul waited for George to catch up to them. He glanced at her with curiosity. Did he somehow recognize her? Were the rules of time travel, young Paul and old Paul shared memories? It was confusing. Putting it off her mind, she waited for the band to begin playing. Girls lined up around the stage excitedly. A young woman around Y/N's age sat at her table.

"You a fan?" She asked, taking a sip of her drink. Y/N shrugged wondering what to say.

"I would like to believe so." She responded as the girls began to scream. Oh, no here they come. Ringo twirled his drumsticks in his hand, Paul warmed up his left-handed bass, John adjusted the microphone, and George played a quick rift on the guitar. John announced the song before he started singing.

"Oh darling, please believe me I'll never do you no harm Believe me when I tell you I'll never do you no harm..."

The girls kept screaming.

"Which one do you like the best?" The woman asked, placing her head in her hand. Thinking for a moment, Y/N realized she couldn't make a good judgment yet.

"I'm not sure..." She trailed off. The woman laughed.

"Oh, come on! Which one is your favorite?" The woman pestered her. Pressing her lips together, she said the first name that came to mind.

"Paul." She said, plainly. The woman smiled.

"He is cute." The woman looked at Paul with dreamy eyes. Y/N looked at the band. Paul got her eye. He looked at her, still suspicious. Seeing the other girls screaming at him, he laughed a little to himself. He looked back at her and winked. The girls immediately turned to look at her. They all screamed with jealousy making Y/N jump back.

"He winked at you!" One of them screamed.

"How could he wink at her!? I'm far prettier!" Another said.

"Ladies please, I just wanted to wink at my lovely gal." He sneered. What was his deal? The girls stormed around her. They were yelling questions and the woman next to her stared shocked at her. George noticed the commotion and after their song, he got down to pull the ladies away from her. John and Ringo helped as well. George glared at Paul.

"What were you thinking!?" George spat at Paul. Flicking the saliva off his face, Paul crossed his arms in defense.

"You're broad was distracting me," Paul said his face tightening. John's fist clenched.

"You could have asked her to leave after we finished the song, or ignored her! If you want to be in this business you can't just make a fuss because one girl is distracting you!" John snapped at Paul. Ringo rolled his eyes, trying his best to stay out of it. The other three continued to yell at each other. Y/n stood there, waiting for a chance to speak.

"Alright," Ringo finally said. The others kept yelling. "I said, 'Alright!'" He pushed the group apart. They stopped to look at him. "We're not breaking up the band over one small fluke!"

"S-sorry." George hunched below the others.

"Sorry, Ringo," John said, looking toward his friend.

"Don't apologize to me," Ringo said, looking at Y/N.

"Yeah, sorry..." Paul muttered. They turned towards Y/N.

"We're kind of crazy, aren't we?" John laughed looking at his friends. George giggled his heart out while Ringo slapped him on the back. Paul stood distant from the group.

"I guess you are." Y/N laughed. The girls were still around them, staring.

"That's it for tonight everyone!" John yelled for all to hear. People started shuffling out of the room. The guys went to put their instruments away, except for Paul.

"I'm sorry if I distracted you," Y/N said, walking up to him. He glared but cooled down after a moment.

"It's not your fault, Luv. I just needed to blow off some steam I guess." He mumbled. She looked at him worried. Was she causing the Beatles to break up even sooner?

"Do you want to talk about it over dinner or something?" She asked. Oh, no why did she ask that? It sounded like a-

"Are you asking me on a date?" Paul asked, with a slight smile. They both blushed as red as roses.

"If that's what you want it to be." She smirked, winking at him. He paused with a smile.

"See you on Saturday at 1?" He asked, heading towards the band.

"It's a date." She laughed.

"A date." He smiled.

[johnlennonswifey]

80s!George Harrison x Reader (Part 3)

a/n: woah two posts in one day!?!?

Word Count; 1.3k

Warnings: None (I think)

The next morning you woke fairly early. George had left a note on your door explaining how he would be out for most of the day and that all you needed to do was light dusting. He also mentioned to feel free to help yourself to the kitchen, and if he isn’t back by 5, to please prepare a dinner.

You smiled warmly thinking of him, and set the note down on your bedside table. Before going to dust the house, you decide to finally fully unpack and put your clothes in the small dresser. Once that’s done, you leave your room, digging through your memory to remember where the supply closet is. You grab a duster and begin your journey around the house, dusting under objects on shelves, and up into high crevices. You’re working quickly but stop when you come across a closed door. George’s office.

You stare at the door for a while, weighing your options. It wouldn’t hurt to snoop, would it? you think. You glance at the clock. Besides, George shouldn’t be home for a bit… your hand slowly moves forward and you gently grip the handle, turning it and opening the room's door. You flick on the lights of the room and glance around. It’s fairly clean, with a desk in the corner, a few pictures hung on the wall and papers strayed about.

You take a few steps into the room, breathing in the faint scent of George. You make your way over to the desk, glancing at the papers. Song lyrics.. They’re practically unreadable, so you assumed he wrote them in a hurry. Just a quick thought he needed to jot down before he left. You continued your investigation snooping, now heading towards the pictures on the wall with the door. Their pictures from when George was in the Beatles. One of him smiling up on stage, another of him singing next to Paul. You continue to peacefully make your way around the room before something breaks the silence.

George.

You whip around, and fear and shock spread on your face. Shit. George is leaning against the wall, looking at you with a raised eyebrow.

“I- I didn’t know you’d be home this early. I didn’t mean to snoop- I suppose curiosity got the best of me.” George pushes off the wall and chuckles. “It’s alright. I see you were looking at the pictures.” A wave of relief washes over as he smiles, approaching you.

“Yeah. I guess it’s still amazing to me that I’m working for a former Beatle.” You pause, smiling at the man before turning back to the photo you were previously looking at. “I’ve been a fan since I was little…”

George smiles, placing a rough hand on your shoulder. You shudder at the contact as you feel the heat in your face rise. The room is quiet before you finally decide to speak. “I did finish dusting before I came in here,” you said, turning towards George and holding up the duster.

The man’s hand fell from your shoulder as he gave you another heart-melting smile. “I noticed. You’re doing a great job so far, Y/N.” You turned away bashfully and George walked to the office door.

“Have you eaten yet?” He questioned. You shook your head. “I’ll gladly make you something if you’d like, I could show you round’ the kitchen.” You smiled. “That would be helpful.” George returned your smile and you followed him out of the room, shutting the door behind you.

As soon as you both arrived at the kitchen, George went straight to the fridge, briefly going over what foods go in which compartment, before grabbing ingredients for a salad. You follow him over to the counter, and he shows you what is kept in each drawer. You nod along as he explains, and you two finally begin making your food.

“Sorry if I startled you earlier,” George said, slowly beginning to mix his salad. “Meeting ended early, didn’t take as long as I expected.” You smiled at him gently. “It’s alright, I should’ve asked before going in there.” George chuckled. “It’s quite alright really,” he said. You followed him over to the table, this time sitting next to him.

“I noticed some of the song lyrics.” You said quietly. George paused. “Oh. Yeah, I still y’know, try to write when I can.” He chuckled. You smiled. “If you finish the song I’d be glad to listen to it, I couldn’t read what you wrote anyways.” George seemed to be relieved by this, sitting back more comfortably in his seat.

“Of course.” He said, his voice slightly deeper. The silence returned for a moment, but this time it was George who broke it. “It’s nice having someone around,” he said, making eye contact with you again. You smiled. “It gets quite lonely, in my old age,” he said sarcastically. You chuckled. “You’re not that old, George.” You joked. “Really? You don’t think I’ve got a few grey hairs?” He said, returning your lighthearted tone. This caused you to laugh. Playing along, you squinted your eyes and looked at his hair. “Of course not, only maybe, oh I don’t know, half grey?” George smiled and for the third time that day, your heart melted. You had only known him for a short while, but there was something about his demeanor and the way he talked that made you at ease.

As you both finished your salads, George offered you tea, which you gladly accepted. You both sat in the house’s living area, enjoying each other's company and using the time to get even more aquatinted.

“What’s your favorite song?” George asked suddenly. You thought for a moment. “Well, funnily enough,” you started, making eye contact with him. “I’d probably have to say ‘While My Guitar Gently Weeps’.” George smiled, and you could’ve sworn you saw a blush creep across his face. “I’m glad you like my writing,” George said. It was your turn to blush as you began to fidget with the hem of your dress. “It’s always been one of my favorites. Honestly, I love all your work.”

Looking back at George you’re positive of the blush that came across his face. It was his turn to look away as he laughed shyly.

George opens his mouth to speak before he’s quickly interrupted by the kitchen phone. George sighs. “Excuse me.” He says softly as he gets up and leaves for the kitchen. You’re left alone in your thoughts and your mind begins to wander. You begin to trail on the idea of how you feel towards George. After all, you always thought he was attractive. Something that you would never admit to him is the posters you had as a teen of him. Your face heats up more as your mind continues to wander. Does he see me in that way? You suddenly think. You begin to ponder on this before George comes back, snapping you out of your thoughts.

“Sorry about that.” He says, sitting back down. “My manager.” He explains. You nod in understanding before he continues. “I’ve been invited to a dinner.” This draws your attention. George is already looking at you, hope in his eyes.

“Would you like to accompany me?” He asks.

The question rings in your mind for a moment, thinking back to what you were just pondering. “I’d love to.” You say, smiling. Relief seems to wash over George as he stands again. “We’ll be leaving at four.. I’ll leave you be to get ready until then.” You smile at him as he walks away, and you stand not much later, traversing back to your room. I’ve just been invited to a dinner date by George Harrison. your heart flutters at this thought. You smile to yourself before looking at the dresser. What’s the best dress I have?

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