#if you recognise this room - yes i posted something similar in spring but lost all progress and redid the kitchen

[moonwoodhollow]

favourite colours in fall - a mustard green kitchen

[perseusjackson-jasongrace]

Day 8: “Is this really the time for jokes?”

This may be the cutest thing I have ever written which is kind of rude to my jercy brain but whatever!

masterlist

I wrote a post for Percy's birthday that had a "headcanon" in it that inspired this fic

canon-compliant

Percy Jackson tucks a small box into his pants pockets, before adjusting the collar of his shirt and making sure the beaded necklace he never takes off still sits at the hollow of his throat, the trident directly in the middle. 

The unusually cool breeze that flutters through their villa brushes the back of his neck, instantly allowing him to breathe more easily. The bright blue ocean spreads out below them, calm and inviting. Like visiting his mother’s house. Or stepping into their apartment after a long day: his girlfriend curled up on the couch with her wire frame glasses propped on her nose, hunched over a book. It is comfort that he looks out on.

“Pers?” Annabeth calls from the bathroom.

“Yes Wisegirl?”

“Do you mind grabbing my heels by the bed, the blue ones.” Her voice bounces across the room.

He moves away from the mirror in the corner and gets onto his knees near the bed to find the shoes. Hidden between the side-table and the frame are baby-blue satin heels. Ribbons hang from the ankles and he knows they’ll look godly wrapped around her golden legs.

“Found them?”

He steps into the bathroom with a soft smile on his face, and hands them over. He takes her in and all the breath screams out of his lungs. His heart jumps in protest but he can’t bring himself to inhale. He’ll choke on her beauty.

She is wearing a soft, silk dress that hugs all the hard plains of her, and stops mid thigh. Her generally unruly curls are barely contained in a low bun, small strands already springing out and falling around her face. Her ears, usually decorated in her signature owl earrings, now adorn small jewels in her two lobe piercings. One he recognises as the earrings he got her for their fifth anniversary. Her helix piercing is still the same silver hoop they both bore after a drunken decision and a 24 hour tattoo shop. Percy’s mother was not impressed, but she wasn’t nearly as angry as the tattoo debacle.

“You ready?” His girlfriend squeezes his hand, looking at him with appreciation and love in her grey eyes.

“For anything.” He squeezes back. They had faced enough in their years that the words held more weight than most people could bear. But their shoulders had held the sky, and together they would hold the world.

“Where did you reserve a table?”

“At the restaurant we got to when we came here the first time. That one where you snorted your orange juice and we both laughed so hard the waiter thought we were dying.”

A giggle erupts from her and it lights up the room like neon sunshine. ‘I remember. Oh gods we were an absolute disaster.”

“I thought it was very cute of you to spurt orange juice through your nose and onto my white shirt.” He grins.

She shoves his shoulder and squeezes his waist. Her head brushes his cheeks, the heels giving her height on him she didn’t usually possess. He loves it. It makes it easy to kiss her. And he does. Long, and hard, and with enough affection to drown them both.

She pushes away eventually, “We’ll never get anywhere if we carry on like this. And i am not wasting another pretty dress.”

“Is it really a waste if i got to see you in it?” He pouts.

“Yes.” She raises a perfect eyebrow, giving him that look that says ‘i dare you to argue with me’, but there is so much light glittering in her eyes.

“Alright, alright. Let’s go Wisegirl.”

So they step out of their little slice of paradise for the week and onto the cobbled white streets of Athens. The night air is fresh, and full of ocean breezes, and pretty memories. He hopes to make a few more before they leave in two days.

The restaurant is not far from their hotel so the walk is short and filled with lingering touches and comfortable silences. Annabeth looks like a goddess as the moonlight strikes her dress at all angles and gives her an ethereal glow. The ribbons of her shoes wrap around her legs and make them look impossibly longer. He is sometimes struck so inexplicably by her beauty he feels like his ribs are splitting from his spine.

A waiter greets them and leads them to a table in the back where the lights are low and the candles are bright. The crimson tablecloths drape elegantly and Percy has to remind himself that he is not the undeserving little kid who wasn’t allowed to even look at things that cost more than fifty dollars. He is a grown adult, making his own money, deserving of all the things he has gotten and achieved in life.

As if sensing his hesitation, Annabeth gives his arm a gentle squeeze and then sits down at the chair he’s pulled out for her. One of the many lessons his mother insisted on drilling into him. Walk a partner to the door. Open the car door for them. Pull out their chair. He may be chaos in motion but he is respectful all the same. He is his mother’s child through and through.

“Can i get you something to drink?”

He looks at his girlfriend, smirking as they both recall the orange juice, and with one voice order the infamous drink. Along with lemon water and celebratory cocktails. Today they’ve been together seven years. Today he is twenty five years old. Today they are alive. Today they deserve to live.

He feels the little box in his pocket and he hides a grin. There are no nerves thrumming through his veins. He has never been more sure of anything in his life.

“I can’t wait to go to Onassis Stegi tomorrow,” Annabeth sighs, a faraway look in her eyes. “I hear they have the most beautiful exhibitions and their work is monumental.” He senses he’s lost her to architecture so he grabs her hand and gets lost with her.

“They’ve just completed a project to light up the Acropolis. Oh Pers it’s so beautiful we must make time to see it. I’ve been fascinated with it’s structural integrity ever since I was eight years old.”

He doesn’t hide his amazement at the fact that Annabeth was researching the structural integrity of anything at eight years old, but he doesn't interrupt her either. She has that look, cheeks flushed, grin wide, and hands animated that tells him she’s been dying to gush about this.

When he had first surprised her with the holiday she had burst into tears because there were so many things she hadn’t gotten to see the first time they had come to Athens. Whereas before they were tourists, with ancient roots in this beautiful city, now they are simply architect and boyfriend, social worker and girlfriend, Percy and Annabeth.

Their evening proceeds in a similar fashion: her gushing, him listening, trying to keep up; him joking, her laughing. When they drain the last of their cappuccinos and he feeds her the final bite of brownie, they are live wires dangling over cool water.

“Want to go for a walk along the beach?” He nods towards the walkway, where the ocean dances under the light of the moon.

She stares at the beach, a calculated look on her face. She glances at him and something crosses her face that he doesn’t have time to read. Even all these years later he is still figuring out the enigma that is Annabeth Chase.

“Lets.” She holds onto his shoulders, and unties the ribbons at her ankles.

Immediately she shrinks to her usual height at his shoulders , and he can’t help but place a kiss to the top of her golden head. She offers her shoes to him, before lopping her arm through his and tugging him along. They step onto the sand, which sinks underneath his feet and suddenly she is running towards the sea, curls flying, dress fluttering, and her hands rising to touch the sky.

“Come on Seaweed Brain!’ She yells. And he can see the happiness radiating of her.

Tugging off his own shoes, and socks, he races after his girlfriend, vaulting onto her back. With a grunt she wraps her arms around his legs and takes off at a sprint, feet splashing on the shore. He laughs into her hair and her reactionary smile lights his soul on fire. It is then that disaster strikes. 

Annabeth trips over a small rock, and they both go flying towards the sandy, shore. She lands on her stomach and he rolls right over her head and onto his back. They are a mess of limbs and wet sand and laughter like ringing bells.

“Guess you’re really falling for me,” He grins.

She wipes grains out of her eyes and pins her grey gaze on him. “Is this really the time for jokes, Seaweed Brain?”

“There’s always time for jokes Wisegirl.”

He hauls himself into a kneeling position, pretending to adjust his clothes, as she gets up and wipes off the fall from her now wet dress. The cream silk clings to her even more, and her hair is caked with ocean sand and tiny shells. She looks beautiful. 

He pulls the box out of his pocket and looks up at her. She is still distracted by her clothes and the water lapping at her bare feet.

“Wisegirl,” He says softly.

She looks to him, fire crackling in her eyes as if she’s preparing to frown at him for another joke. Her legs visibly shake at the sight before her.

“I have loved you since the day you stood over me and told me i drool in my sleep.” He smiles, and it echoes hers. “I will love you until we’re old and more grey-” Their eyes flick to the twin streaks in their hair. “And i get to tell you you drool in your sleep.” 

She rolls her eyes but there is mirth dancing on her chest.

“You are my best friend, the greatest warrior i have ever fought beside, and the only person that can choke on orange juice at the same restaurant three years apart.” Their laughter catches in their throat. “Would you do me the honour of becoming my wife?”

“Only if i get to say something first.” She smiles delicately. He nods. She continues, ‘I have heard sirens tell me my deepest desires, I have rebuilt Olympus, i have found the Athena Parthenos and held up the sky. We have even gone to Tartarus together. But my greatest adventure, and my most beloved pride, has been standing by your side.”

There are tears in both of their eyes; the drops land in the ocean and find their way home.

“Yes Perseus Jackson, I will marry you.” She leans down, cups his cheeks, and kisses him like time is merciless. “Over and over again. I will marry you and fight by you and love you, over again.”

“I love you Wisegirl.” He slips the sapphire ring onto her finger.

“I love you Seaweed Brain.” Annabeth Chase kisses him again. “Together?”

“Together.” Percy Jackson smiles. And their next adventure begins.

----------------------------------------------------------

Tags:

@nishlicious-01​

@leydiangelo​

@spoopylucy​

[seromreven]

title: i’ll take you there | prologue.

pairing: paul mccartney/female!reader/linda mccartney.

summary: the year is 1974. You’re the personal assistant of Paul and Linda McCartney. One spring day you meet the rather infamous John Lennon during the middle of his ‘Lost Weekend’ escapades. Spark fly and secrets unfold between the two of you.

warning: it gets explicit at the end. the third  — indicates when it starts if it’s something you’d rather not read.

also posted on ao3.

Your first meeting with the McCartney couple was in the summer of ‘71.

It had been a warm, sweltering, London summer, spent inside the offices of Abbey Road Studios. You were the intern of executive producer Robert Hardwell. A large sneering man, always ready to patronise you at every move.

The internship wasn’t more than being an assistant and secretary to his every demand. But you were good at what you did. And knew that even though his insults stung, you weren’t about to leave; it was Abbey Road.

It had been the dream of yours to work there ever since you were very little. And now you were there! In the flesh! You had worked your skin to the bones to get this far and you weren’t about to throw it away because of that man.

It was a Thursday at the end of July when you were called in the office of Mr Hardwell. The clothes you wore to work, neat and professional, felt restricting in the heat. The air conditioning in the lobby having been broken for days by now with no turn up from the called repairmen.

You quickly took a sip of water before getting up from your work desk and knocked before entering his chill office.

“Yes, sir?”

He barely glanced up from the paperwork on his desk.

“You need to run down to Studio Three and check something for me. They seem to be having technical issues and I need the details promptly.”

“Right,” you nodded and stepped back out of the office.

You quickly made your way down to the studio. It didn’t take long. While you had worked there for not even half a year yet; you had become familiar with the layout of the large building pretty quickly. You stopped in front of the door to the control room.

From the other side, you could hear loud chatter and the taint banging on drums. You tried to recall who was using the studio but ultimately failed in the endeavour; it was not part of your duties to know anyhow.

You readied yourself before knocking on the wooden door and headed inside.

“Hello?” You said as you carefully stepped inside.

In the control room, there was three men and a woman. The men had their backs to you but the woman looked at you as you entered the room.

You immediately recognised her. It was Linda McCartney! And so you assumed the dark haired man near her, who was leaned over a control table, must be Paul; as you recognised the other two men who were now also looking at you.

You recognised them from the cafeteria and felt a dread creep in at the sight at one of them. A malnourished looking man with greased hair; a man who had on several occasions thrown inappropriate comments at you. His coworker was nice but completely clueless.

Your heart raced. You were never any good with crowds. And this wasn’t just any crowd. It included an ex-Beatle and his wife! Now you weren’t completely awestruck, having been nothing more but a casual fan during the mania, but was still feeling stunned in their presence.

Someone coughed and brought you back to reality. “Hi… I’m [full name], Mr Hardwell’s assistant. He sent me here to get him the… specifics of your technical difficulties.”

“Right,” Linda nodded and looked to Paul, who you now realised had been looking at you before glancing to his wife. Inside the studio, the drumming had stopped and you glanced through the window. Two men stood there. One behind the drumset, and one with a guitar in hand. The guitarist looked familiar but you couldn’t quite figure out why. Maybe another band?

“We’re, uh, not quite sure actually,” Paul spoke and you quickly looked to him, the beating of your heart picking up the pace again. He scratched the side of his nose looking like he was deep in thought, “we were just recording in the vocal booth when the power went out. But only in that room.” Linda nodded along to what he said.

That sounded familiar you thought, “oh!” You suddenly erupted as the answer came to you. The greasy haired man blinked in surprise. “We’ve had that problem before,” you grinned, enlivened, and stepped to the control board.

“We had the same problem last year when Cliff Richards was here to record Tracks ‘n Grooves, y’know. The power just went off and people ran around frantically for hours almost before we figured out it was because someone had turned on this,” you pointed to a small button, “which interferes with this,” you pointed to another similar one.

“They’re not supposed to be on at the same time which some people,” you glanced at your coworkers, “should know.”

You pulled back from the desk feeling proud. At being able to help them but also, that you had remembered that. It was well over a year ago, and you had been out drinking with a friend afterwards which resulted in a pretty tough morning after.

Paul flicked the switch to off and immediately you all saw the lights return in the vocal booth. You nodded with your hands on your hips, “yeah, it’s a strange technical hitch. I don’t know why they haven’t managed to fix it yet but, it’s not my field of expertise anyhow.”

Paul hmm’d and looked to you. “I’ve recorded here before and haven’t experienced it before.”

You smiled politely, “then you had some good technicians on your team,” and did your best not to cast a pointing glance at the Greasy Haired Man, which you had decided to nickname him as you didn’t actually know his name.

“Well, I best be off,” you left before anything else could be said and your excitement could get to you. Besides you had work to do. Work that actually fell under your jurisdiction. Technical mishaps didn’t.

You quickly reported back to Hardwell and got back to your work, but never getting your brief encounter with the McCartney’s out of your mind.

—

The next day, you came into the office drenched. That morning it had promised nothing but clear skies and sunny smiles but it hadn’t been long after you had left your apartment when rain erupted from the heavens above, almost like it was punishing you for your hubris in not bringing an umbrella.

You shook as you ran inside the studio building, cursing under your breath. The rainwater was warm and the office was humid from the still continuing lack of air conditioning. All pointed to a rather bad day.

You quickly placed your bag at your desk before running to the nearest bathroom to try and dry off your hair and whatever the best you could with your clothes. Your coat had taken most of the water but it still hadn’t been enough.

You couldn’t afford to spend much time during that as time neared the start of your workday and you reconciled with the best you could do in that time frame must be enough and went back to your desk.

The day passed quickly by without anything else noteworthy happening except for the poor start of the day.

It wasn’t before when you were just about to leave when a letter courier entered the room that you took a paused from packing your bag. You stopped, hand still in the purse, and stared blankly at the man.

He saw you and came to stand in front of the desk, “You Ms [full name]?”

You carefully nodded a ‘yes’ and was handed an envelope. As he left, you carefully studied the text on it. Your name and office address were written in neat cursive. You turned it over and it had nothing but ‘The McCartney’s’ written on the back.

It took you back and you went completely still. Why would they send you a letter? Why would they even contact you? And if they did, why do it this way when you didn’t even work that far from the studio they currently used?

Your hand shook as you opened up the envelope and pulled out the letter. Its paper was crisp and a soft beige. The neat handwriting before was repeated in the content of the letter.

It didn’t say much. They invited you to come eat dinner with them the next day at a vegetarian restaurant you were unfamiliar with in Covent Garden. It stated time and exact location of the restaurant and that it would be paid for by them. It was written that it would not be taken in ill health if you were not to show up.

And, well, how could you refuse that? It was the McCartneys and, more importantly, free food. You had this weekend off so it aligned well enough. You rushed out the door, excited for the day to come.

—

The weather wasn’t much of an improvement from the day before. But this time you had at least been prepared in equipping yourself with an umbrella and a smart raincoat. You soon stopped outside of the restaurant and looked in, trying to see if you could spot them.

A silly attempt really, not much was to be seen other than plants and other visitors. Your nerves were high and were only to be mixed with excitement as you headed inside.

“Welcome! Table for one?” you were immediately greeted by the maître d’ and quickly shook your head.

“I’m meeting someone here. McCartney?”

“Oh! They told me to expect you. Come right this way,” she smiled and guided you through the fancy restaurant. It was warm. A comfortable warmth. And there was a lovely smell hanging in the air of something you couldn’t quite place.

The hostess stopped in front of a table and you stepped around the see the McCartney’s sitting side by side behind the table, Linda’s hand locked with Paul’s on the table. An empty chair stood on the other side of them; placed so you would be facing the middle of them.

You muttered your thanks to the hostess as you sat down and looked to the couple feeling anxious.

“H-Hi,” you managed to say and smiled, grimacing slightly at your own stutter. They glanced shortly at each other before looking at you, almost eerie in their synchronization.

They smiled kindly and it helped calm you down. The light behind the crowning their heads; making Linda’s look more golden and Paul’s a clearer brown.

“Hi,” Linda greeted and reached her free hand across the table. You shook hands, hers a wonderful warm against your cold one. Paul greeted you equally pleasantly, with a smile that made you feel shy.

Menus were handed out and you quickly ordered your choice of drink. You ordered a simple diet coke while they ordered some fancy wine you hadn’t heard of before.

“We…” Paul glanced to his wife, “just wanted to thank you for what you did yesterday. You ran out so quickly we didn’t manage to at the time.”

You laughed, “right, I did do that, didn’t I?”

They smiled and Linda leaned slightly forward, “and there’s something else.”

Paul continued, “we’ve been in need of… personal assistance lately and, well, we had a look at your resume and thought that you were pretty much perfect for the role.”

You blinked. They had looked at your resume? Had they really been impressed that much by the simple flick of a switch?

“I… am?” You stuttered. There was a pause before they answered as the drinks arrived. It was Linda who answered, “you are more than qualified. And the pay will be better, if that’s a cause for concern.”

It was time to order the food and while the couple was busy with that you wondered; was it something you were interested in? Working for the McCartney’s rather than Mr Hardwell in Abbey Road?

It wasn’t a terrible thought. While Abbey Road Studios were something you had always dreamed of being, it hadn’t turned out to be quite what you looking for. Working for the couple would also most likely open more doors than Hardwell ever could.

You nodded to yourself and ordered. It was a vegetarian chili con carne and frankly hadn’t sounded too bad.

“We understand if it’s something you need time to think about,” Linda continued from before.

You shook your head, “No need. I’ve already decided.”

They silently looked at each other, anticipating your answer. You grinned.

“I accept.”

—

It was a year, three months and nine days after you started working for the McCartney’s (you did the math) that something happened that would change your life and your relationship with the people in it forever.

It was a late Friday evening and the three of you had been drinking quite heavily. The kids had gone to their grandparents for the weekend, allowing the young couple to rest.

Through the year (and three months) you had become quite good friends and it almost felt like your working for them but rather helping out your friends.

You had been invited along for a fancy dinner and then drinks in their London apartment. After a short while you all had gotten drunk; enough for the next morning to be painful but not completely hellish. Enough to be aware of your actions and to remember them the next day too.

It was an hour into that that the conversation took a turn. Paul looked serious, the best one could look while drunk, and rested his hand on your knee while Linda lightly massaged his shoulders.

“We have…. something to ask of you,” he started and you glanced up from having looked at his hand on your knee, “it’s something we’ve thought… much about.”

You nodded, the force of moving it shook the rest of your body too and you tried not to spill your drink.

“We’ll really, really, enjoy it if you would, y’know, join us in… bed some time. Tonight?” He looked to Linda who lightly nodded and continued messaging his shoulders, though in slower motions than it had been before.

You gaped at them both, unsure of you had heard right.

Linda moved and placed her hand atop of her husbands, the one still rested on your knee. “You can say no and nothing will change from how we were at the start of the day,” she reassured.

“Oh… uh,” you looked back and forth between the hands on your knee and the bright eyes looking at you. Your heart beat harshly in your chest; feeling like it would break free of the confinements of your ribs at any moment.

You swallowed deeply, “I… don’t quite know what to say… I won’t lie and say that it’s nothing I haven’t thought about before.”

They were both gorgeous people and you were only human. A human spending every day of the week around them. Feelings were abounded to flutter about in your young hopeless mind.

Deeply you knew what to say, the answer was clear but in your wine riddled mind, it all just seemed… more than it was. That this was the end-all and be-all. Despite what Linda had said.

And perhaps more thought was needed on the subject before an answer is given but that passing thought was quickly ignored as you answered with a flustered nod and took a chance with, “I’d love to.”

You had never seen a bigger grin on Paul as you did now as he looked at you and then as his wife. She was more subdued in showing her elation but it was clear that it was there.

They both stood up. You remained seated, suddenly feeling heavy and locked in place. They seemed to understand. Linda took the wine glass out of your hand as Paul took the other hand into his own and gently helped you up.

Linda caressed your arm as you were guided to the bedroom. The ease they seemed to go about it helped to relax you as the three of you reached the room.

You reached the bed and Paul disappeared out of your peripheral view. You turned around to look for him but was suddenly pushed unto the bed by Linda. It was a light shove, ending with you giggling on your back on the bed.

The bed moved on both sides, indenting down as the couple sat on either side of you. They seemed less sure of themselves as they had otherwise been so far. Maybe they hadn’t planned this far? Maybe they hadn’t planned for you to share their affections?

You blinked in the brief pause there was as they stared at each other, silently communicating. It wasn’t long before Paul leaned over you with a dark look in his eyes. His breath tickled your skin and smelled of brandy.

And then he kissed you. You heart stilled for a beat before picking up its usual routine of trying to burst out of your chest.

The kiss started out soft but slowly turned more and more into something… hungry. One of his hands were rested beside your hip. The other caressing your cheek.

You had all but near forgotten about the third person in the room before you felt the buttons of your shirt getting undone.

You shivered and gasped into the kiss as a cold hand danced across your bare skin leading up to your bra. It tickled and you giggled slightly into the kiss.

Paul took it as an invite to lick your lips and let his tongue into the warmth of your mouth.

Linda caressed your sides as her husband busied you with his mouth upon yours. But it soon had to stop as the lack of air became evident.

Your face was warm and flushed as you breathed in the fresh air. It had been so long, too long, since you last had had such a good snog and your body was vibrating with excitement for more.

You started to lean up towards Paul but was quickly pushed back with a ‘tsk’ from the smirking man. You frowned and he said, “let’s get you undressed first, yeah?”

You slowly nodded and sat up, guided by Linda who still had her soft hands on your waist. You looked at her and she was completely naked, save from pants. You glanced at her breasts and felt yourself get warmer than you already were.

She smiled softly at you and unhooked your brassiere while her husband was fast at work on the buttons of your trousers.

Linda had begun to massage your breasts, causing you to moan at the soft touches, and the lower half of you were lightly picked up as Paul pulled down your trousers.

Soon after your underpants were discarded as well, leaving you completely naked as a shiver travelled through your body.

Linda stopped and you whined after the touch, causing the couple to smirk at each other.  

You straighten up and looked to Paul but was met with a hand on your cheek that turned your head to meet a pair of soft lips. They tasted like red wine and you knew it was Linda. You continued to kiss and started to caress each other, nothing was left untouched.

As you parted, salvia the only bridge between the two of you, you saw that Paul was now completely naked. The lowered lights and stray shadows in the bedroom making it a pretty picture.

Oh, how grateful you were at that moment. Two stunning people, naked and in your presence. You sneakily pinched your arm. Just to check it was, in fact, actually happening.

Your breath hitched as he back on the bed and made his way towards you. He paused as his shoulders met your knees and you silently watched as he looked to his wife who nodded.

When he looked back up at you; you finally understood what had caused the pause. You nodded silent consent and he smirked.

Soon you felt his breath on your pubic mound and felt the familiar wetness of his mouth as he made his way further down to your vagina.

An overwhelming sensation washed over you as he kissed and licked softly, the noises of it filling the room together with your strangled moans.

Minutes felt like seconds as you reached your peak and shivered as you orgasmed. Linda bent down from having watched silently the two of you and kissed your jaw as you moaned out.

It wasn’t over. Yes, the orgasm had felt powerful as it coursed through your body but with it came the feeling of fearlessness and you placed your hands on both sides of her face and guided her lips to yours.

You feel sideways on the bed but it went unnoticed as you continued with your starving kisses.

One of her legs had rested between yours and she started to grind down on your thigh to get any kind of friction she could get.

She moaned into the kiss and you groaned, at the sensation of her wetness on your thigh.

Paul was almost all but completely forgotten until when you heard him groan. In the small pause in your make out with Linda, you saw that he had started to stroke his erect cock at the sight of the two of you.

The sounds he made was beautiful, angelic even.

You hands crept down to Linda’s nether region as you had resumed kissing and you softly stroked; guiding her to a finish as Paul's moaning became louder along with hers.

She came and the pearls of soft moaning that escaped her mouth were enough for Paul to also cum and he sputtered upon his chest with his eyes shut.

You feel back into the bed, beyond exhausted, and fell asleep between the sweet embraces of the equally beat couple. Their sighing and the sound of their heartbeats lulling you to sleep.

[seromreven]

title: i’ll take you there | chapter one.

pairing: paul mccartney/female!reader/linda mccartney | john lennon/female!reader.

summary: the year is 1974. You’re the personal assistant of Paul and Linda McCartney. One spring day you meet the rather infamous John Lennon during the middle of his ‘Lost Weekend’ escapades. Spark fly and secrets unfold between the two of you.

also posted on ao3!

Nearly two years later, you were driving down Santa Monica Boulevard. It was early spring and fucking warm. A hellish warmth you had not yet grown accustomed to even as this was your umpteenth time to Los Angeles. And it was only March!

It was 1974. The air conditioning in your car was on full blast and you were surely at risk at getting a cold but you could care less at this point. The radio was on a random channel and played ‘Waterloo’ by ABBA. You remembered watching them win the Eurovision with the McCartney family at their farm in Scotland the previous month. Paul had otherwise been sure that Olivia Newton-John would’ve taken home the prize for the UK that year.

Speaking of; since that fateful night in 72’, you and the McCartney’s had grown closer. They had admitted that at first, they had only wanted a purely professional relationship but they soon came to have grown rather attached to you. That it wasn’t just sexually either. That they deeply cared for you.

Polyamory was a tricky subject, a taboo, and so it was a secret. Only known between the three of you. And Heather, who had once walked into her parents’ bedroom one morning in Kintyre and had seen you spooned between them. As she had previously understood it, you were the help and had your own room.

Her parents tried to explain it off, tried casting her thoughts astray, but she was eleven. And not stupid. Luckily, she had promised to keep it to herself and was awarded hot cocoa.

It was slightly complicated you realised. That if you had to theoretically explain it to someone. They had their separate relationship from you. As you had with each of them. Your time alone with, say, Linda was different from what you had alone with Paul. And different from when you all three were together.

You were still under the guise of a personal assistant and still served them in that aspect too. You had created clear boundaries and for when you worked and didn’t as to not abuse the clear power dynamic. Though, there had been times when it had been used for more… intimate situations.

But as for today; you were heading towards Burbank. Burbank Studios to be precise. You were to meet Paul and Linda there for some kind of… session? You were unsure. As Paul had told you; John Lennon was there, as well as other musicians. The day previously they had been recording and Paul thought it a good idea to drop in for a surprise visit.

Of that, you were unsure. You had read and heard things about John’s behaviour in the last few months. Of his drunken antics and him getting thrown out of a club together with fellow musician Harry Nilsson. And that was just last week!

And you didn’t even want to get started off how he had talked about Paul in the media, and through songs. Sure, Paul had done things of the same calibre but not at the same rate or degradation. You had cause for concern and wariness, you adamantly thought.

You reached the studio and turned into the large parking space. Signs pointed to where the various studios where. The hot gravel of some parking spaces was painted to indicate who the spot belonged to.

You drove nearly to end of the lot before you reached the spot where you were supposed to meet the McCartney’s.

You recognised their car and an open spot next to it were free, lucky you. You stopped out and covered your eyes from the sun as you looked around for the couple. You wore sunglasses but there was only so much it could do.

You spotted them sitting on a wooden bench under a large tree. Oak, it could look like but you really didn’t know. It was near the entrance of the studio where the double doors stood wide open, presumably to air out the lobby.

“Hot out today, huh?” You grinned at them as you neared them, hand still hovering above your eyes. They smiled and Linda back waved at you. They both looked great in the shade of the sun.

Linda wore a light blue sundress that fitted her wonderfully. Her shoulders were covered with a white knitted shawl.  You wore a matching blue tank top and white jean shorts.

Paul wore one of his many vests, it was dark red with an… interesting pattern. You couldn’t quite tell what it was supposed to be. It looked like just a bunch of white circles to you. Under neat, it was a black dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up. And he also wore a pair of white jean shorts, though longer than the ones you wore.

As you neared them, they stood up and dragged you into a hug. It was nice and short. It was cool under the shade of the giant tree, giving you a short release from the unbearable heat that you were sure of that you would never become accustomed to.

You had last seen them earlier that morning. You had left quickly, immediately after breakfast, to run errands that had kept you out and away from them until now. You had known them for almost three years by now, intimately for two, and yet it seemed all seemed like it was yesterday. You always missed them the moment you were parted and you were always excited to see them again. Like… a puppy, you realised. Huh.

“Ready for this?” You asked Paul as you separated from the hug. Both you and Linda were looking at her. She looked calmer than you felt. Which were, actually, pretty easy. You felt like a nervous wreck. You probably had over thought it. Oh, it was going to be fine.

He nodded and looked towards the entrance. He looked calm, but you knew his tells. He was fidgeting with an unlit cigarette. His other hand clung to Linda’s hand who was lightly caressing the back of his hand were her thumb.

And you had the thought that you were brought along more as emotional support rather than as a personal assistant.

Paul finally brought the cigarette to his lips and you helped light it as his other hand was still trapped in the soft confines of Linda’s. He softly nodded and turned with Linda and they made their way over the bright grass to the open doors. You quickly followed.

The inside was only a little chiller. A fan was rotating for all its might left to right in a corner near the receptionist desk. The receptionist didn’t even glance up as you all stepped inside.

“It’s down this way,” you murmured and pointed down a large hallway. You had studied the layout of the place almost immediately after you had been told you were going there the previous day. You were here early.

As you reached the end of the long hallway, a strumming of an acoustic guitar was heard from behind closed double doors. You paused and glanced at Paul. His nervousness hadn’t changed. He still fidgeted around and practically clung to Linda. But as you stood and listened to the music, you realised that it must be familiar to Paul. It had brought a positive change to him. His posture relaxed and he snuffed out his smoke before stepping inside.

The first thing you noticed as you stepped inside was the strong smell of pot. A smell that you had gotten very acquainted with ever since you started working for the McCartney’s. They smoked it in abundance while you rarely touched it. Frankly, it wasn’t to your taste.

The strumming stopped and immediately after you heard the scraping of a chair getting pushed back as if someone were standing up. You looked to the source and saw that it was one, John Lennon. He was putting down an acoustic guitar while looking towards your group.

“Paul!” He smiled and very quickly stood in front of the aforementioned man. They looked at each other in a soft way that you haven’t expected. You had expected animosity or bitterness. But as they stood in front of each other, it was as if they’ve never argued before.

They didn’t hug as you had almost expected, but they shook hands. John’s cradling Paul’s. A greeting of close and intimate friends. You glanced to Linda, and she didn’t seem puzzled by it at all. You felt like you were missing out on something big.

They parted. “How’ve you been?” Paul asked in a low voice that you almost didn’t hear. “Good, good” he nodded but his voice wavered. From the pot or something else, you didn’t know. “What’re you doing here?” He asked of Paul. “I was in the neighbourhood, y’know. Though I’d drop by,” he smiled. Charmingly, you would say.

John laughed and patted Paul on the shoulder.

Then, John turned to look at Linda and you. Paul stood still, still looking at John. Looking him up and down, softly, and as if he were studying him. You too silently looked the man over. He was wearing bell bottoms and a flimsy, almost see-through, bottom-up shirt. His hair stopped just passed his jaw and he wore  round glasses. Similar to ones you had seen him wear in multiple pictures of the last few years of The Beatles.

“Hi, John,” Linda greeted and he nodded back to her. It was then he looked at you, his eyes narrowing as someone would when crucially studying something new. You decided to interrupt that and introduce yourself; “I’m [full name]. The personal assistant of Mr and Mrs McCartney.” You sounded more… robotic than you had planned and inwardly winced, unsure of how that would come across to this familiar stranger.

Familiar stranger. Sure. You had met John Lennon before. Briefly. And not something he would remember. It was in passing back in your time at Abbey Road as the all but official secretary of Robert Hardwell. It was early into your time there in 1970. John and Yoko Ono had passed you by on their way into Hardwell’s office. John had glanced at you and it was all you thought of for the rest of the month.

Oh, how things had changed.

“Glad to meet ye,” his hand reached out to you and you shook it with a polite smile. His hand was warm and calloused, evidence of decades of guitar playing. It was a short shake and almost immediately after he let go; the double doors behind you opened up again.

You looked over your shoulder to see a young Asian woman standing in the entrance. Perhaps closer to your age than the other three. She appeared Chinese, with long dark hair nearing her waist. She wore a lovely lilac halter top matched with dark shorts that appeared to be velvet. Dark sunglasses rested on the top of her head and you noted that she was a very attractive woman.

John immediately went to her and gave her a hard kiss on the mouth. You awkwardly coughed and turned around to ‘study’ the room. Giving them some sense of privacy, though you had the feeling it wasn’t a concern of theirs. You had never been one for public displays of affection. Especially now when you had two loves you could do nothing with in public.

You didn’t wonder about the woman who John kissed. You had read somewhere about John and Yoko having separated or… something of the kind. You weren’t sure of the details and, frankly, it wasn’t any of your business anyway. Only if it in any way affected Paul and Linda.

The room wasn’t anything special for a studio. It was large and had a lot of various instruments and the appropriate electronics. You heard John speak. He was introducing the woman to Paul and Linda. May Pang, you heard him say. The name sounded familiar. Maybe you had read it somewhere in relation to John’s separation from Yoko.

Your back was still turned and you were walking further into the room. Chairs were scattered around the room from previous use and a large spot in the middle of the room was covered in light from a rooftop window. You stepped into it and closed your eyes, letting the warmth of the sun overwhelm you.

You heard the sound of footsteps and voices getting louder and you sighed as you stepped back out of the sunspot. You turned back to the group and saw that more people had entered the studio. Linda was looking at you and smiled as your eyes met. She motioned slightly for you to come to her side.

When you got there you noticed that one of the new additions to the room was Harry Nilsson. A musician you were familiar but more importantly, the other half to the duo of John Lennon and his newsworthy drunkenness. A cause for concern.

Two men stood on each of Harry’s side. One looked Native American and was holding a guitar case. The other; a white man with a saxophone hanging from his neck. Neither looked familiar to you but it was clear why they were here. It was a music session, after all, not just some meet and greet.

You were quickly introduced to them by Paul. Jesse Ed Davis, the guitars. And Bobby Keys, the saxophonist. You shook hands and introduced yourself to them and Harry Nilsson. Loud coughing was heard and you turned your head to see the source was none other than John who had turned on another joint and was sharing it with his… girlfriend? Mistress? She had been called many things in the various papers you had read concerning the topic.

“Oh, is that Ringo’s drums?” You head Paul exclaim and turned to watch him near a drumset. You didn’t know much about drums. Really, instruments in general other than the basics you had to know as a touring personal assistant.

John exhaled smoke out of his nose and laughed; “well, it’s his name on it, innit?”

Laughter was shared throughout the room and the joint was passed as the group gathered around in a small circle. You took a huff or two but no more as you wanted to be clear minded and focused for the rest of the session. You wouldn’t consider yourself overly protective but this day you felt uneasy in the vicinity of John and Paul. Linda had told you all about the depression and drunken states Paul had gone through after The Beatles had broken up. And you had seen first hand how the humiliating comments John had given to journalists had affected Paul.

A knock on the door and when it opened cheers erupted, taken you slightly by surprise as you were yet to have seen who had earned the commotion. You glanced over and saw; Stevie Wonder! You held back a gasp. Very rarely did you get starstruck but this was a man you couldn’t help but admire, even as you sat in a room with two ex-Beatles. Besides, he had just won a slew of Grammy’s just a few weeks earlier.

None of the other people could say the same. At least not for this year.

“Do I have the right room?” He laughed as he was greeted by John and Harry who had gotten up on their feet. You smiled and looked at the small woman beside him. Who she was, you couldn’t tell. Her ebony hair was styled in a beautifully rounded afro and a keychain around her neck, dangling down her orange shirt, especially drew your attention. It looked similar to the one you wore and had seen multiple PAs wear over the years. Was that what she was?

People spread throughout the room to each their own different instruments, except you and the woman who had come with Stevie Wonder. You took the chance and introduced yourself to her as you came up by her side.

“Hello, I’m [full name]. Personal assistant to the McCartney’s,” you smiled and reached out your hand for her to shake. She grabbed it firmly with a wide smile and shook. “Nice to meet you. I’m Michelle Jacobs. I work for Stevie, also as a PA.” Her smile was polite and kind, and you couldn’t help but feel comfortable in this strangers presence. You were unsure of why, maybe it was the shared work, but something about her was different from all the other new people you had met that day.

You stood near the entrance and watched over the crowd with Michelle at your side. Paul had seated himself behind Starr’s drums with Linda sitting nearby behind an organ, close by Stevie Wonder sat also behind something; this object being an electric piano. On the other side of Paul was John. He was leaned back against the wall with his guitar placed neatly in his lap, you stared at him as you watched him seem to study Paul who was fidgeting around with the various… mechanism of the drumset.

May Pang was on her feet near John with a tambourine in hand, and as she moved; slight pearls of melodic sounds would come from the tiny instrument. Harry Nilsson and the duo he had arrived with closed the little square grouping, each tending to their own instruments.

Various mismatches of sounds filled the room. Several strummed their guitars, either from being tuned or from someone warming up. Paul and John talked as May watched on and Linda was discussing something with Stevie. You were tempted to go join them but didn’t want to intrude so you stayed by the door with your new acquaintances Michelle.

“How long have you worked for the McCartney’s?” You were asked and turned to see Michelle’s dark eyes looking back out you. You smiled politely, “about three years now.”

“Wow,” she slightly gaped. Was three years a lot? You really had no idea. For you, it had gone by so fast and you could easily do it for three years more. “I’ve been with Stevie for… Hm, nearing a year this summer.” She nodded, more to herself than you.

Someone knocked and watched over your shoulder as an elderly bespectacled man entered the room. He appeared tall and his salt and pepper were complimented with a matching beard.

“Hello,” he nodded to you and Michelle and proceeded to enter the room. You glanced to the woman beside you with a raised brow in question and she leaned in to whisper, “that’s Ed Freeman. He’s a producer.”

You watched as he stopped to talk to Harry. And then John. Before then picking up a bass guitar and looking it over in concentration.

It took a while but people seemed to finally all be on the same track as to what to play. The room got came to a low volume of muttering and small laugher as microphones, headphones, and various objects got passed around. Along with them so was several joints, which you passed on again.

You stared as John seemed to be snorting something that, when you narrowed your eyes, was clearly cocaine. You sighed. Of course, cocaine was brought into the mix of music and weed. It was Los Angeles, wasn’t it? It was offered to Paul and Linda who, thankfully, refused.

And as the music started on a low hum, the sweet blend of the acoustic guitar with the electric and bass, you heard John again this time offering some to Stevie by asking, “You wanna snort, Steve? A toot? It's goin' round.” It was accepted and then asked to be passed around. It never made it to you and Michelle, and you wouldn’t have accepted it regardless.

Throughout the day, not much was done in the way of making music. Sure, they played and had a blast but a lot of it couldn’t be used for multiple reasons. Trouble with either mics or headphones kept popping up between the pauses that were taking as someone either smoked or snorted. At some point, you had moved to sit on the floor between Paul and Linda’s instruments. Quietly listening along to the music and getting the occasional careful huff of marijuana.

Maybe he thought he was being slick. But it didn’t work; as you clearly saw John stare at you whenever he thought you weren’t looking. What was it? You had to fight back the temptation of staring uncourtly back, as in some way of showing dominance, as you didn’t want to cause some sort of scene.

But it was distracting. His long hair and thick sideburns, aquiline nose staring you down.

You willed the thoughts away and focused rather on the playing of drums and piano on both sides of you. And of the singing that came from multiple people throughout the room; though John stayed the dominant voice in your mind.

At the end of the day; and all but few had left, you had gone out to stretch your legs and to leave the smoke-filled room. You had managed through it would out any big ordeal. Songs were sung, or yelled depending on your tastes.

You had said your goodbyes to Stevie and Michelle equally. Aside from the anxiety at the start of the day; you hah had a good time. And a nice talk with Michelle, including sharing work stories.

It was still bright out, the evening sun beginning to ever so slightly shine orange, and the parking lot was more filled with more cars than it was when you had arrived that morning.

Paul and Linda were sitting in a rented convertible. The roof was down, exposing them to the light summer breezes. They were talking and laughing loudly with John who wearing leaning into the car while smiling brightly and entirely focused Paul.

May was standing close by, her arms crossed as she held a small purse. Her sunglasses were down and so you couldn’t tell where she looked, that was until her head turned towards you and she waved you over with a smile.

Getting there you heard bits of the Lennon-McCartney conversation, mainly lead by an excited John.

“-we have loads of food! And drinks, it won’t be a concern.” John had a large grin on his face as he told Paul of his plans. He briefly glanced your way as the asphalt cracked under your feet, an indication of your arrival.

“Oh, sounds wonderful. Right, Linda.” Paul looked to his wife who silently nodded with a smile. “The kids should be asleep now anyway.”

He finally noticed your presence and gave a tiny wave. You came closer, placing yourself next to John.

“Are you fit to drive?” You asked, trying not to sound as nervous as you felt. He had smoked a lot more than you had, and even with that small amount, you were unsure about the thought of driving.

“Yeah,” he nodded while beating a melody unto the steering wheel.

John laughed, suddenly, and gave you a hard pat on the back. He stepped away from the car. “You can follow my car. It’s the white one over there,” he pointed to a rather small car. But not too dissimilar to the one Paul and Linda were going in.

Before you could say anything; May, who had otherwise been silent, stepped forward and looked to you. “We thought you could come along, if you wanted to.”

You glanced to Linda and Paul, silently wanting their approval. It was granted by Linda as she, with her hand on Paul’s bicep, nodded.

“Sure,” you answered looking back at May. She smiled softly and looked towards John with a nod. He was busying himself in the car, looking mildly bored waiting for May.

While you hadn’t been the biggest fan of certain antics that had happened during the day; you couldn’t quite say that going to John and May’s house was the last thing you would want to do. They had interested you in certain ways, and you were still determined in figuring out why John had stared at you like that earlier in the day.

And regardless of this being a thing you wanted or not; you had a feeling it could be worthwhile. Dining with your secret lovers and with an ex-Beatle and his mistress slash girlfriend? What could possibly go wrong?