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phoneybeatlemania-bit-the-dust · 3 years ago

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do you have any theories about the india trip ?? personally, im not sure what to think about it, but i’d love to hear your thoughts !!

(Sorry its taken me so long to answer this - it just got lost in my drafts cause im an idiot lmao 🤦‍♀️)

Im not entirely certain on what I believe happened in India, if in fact anything did happen at all - but more on that later! I guess though that these are the main theories (though if you have any differing opinions/theories, feel free to discuss them!):

1. Paul rejected John’s advancements

2. John wanted to further their relationship, and Paul wanted to maintain the ‘friends with benefits’ situation they already had

3. Nothing significant happened between the two (yet something still changed in John)

I’ll try to discuss which theories I find the most convincing, compelling and substantiated - as well as offering my own opinions and hypothesis’s ^^ (discussion bellow the cut)

1. Paul rejected John’s advancements

The theory I would say im most drawn to - not the theory that im necessarily most convinced by though - is that John made a move on Paul, after a few years of pining for him, and was subsequently rejected. Its a theory that I tend to be compelled by, but I have to admit that its one I struggle to justify entirely. The problem with this theory, for me, is that this is a conclusion ive drawn based mostly off of what their relationship appeared to look like after India. It seems as though something must have happened between them to have ruptured their relationship as profoundly as it did - and because they were on relatively good terms before India*, combined with certain inferences we could draw from comments John made regarding his feelings towards Paul and their relationship, it feels as though it’s possible that he made an advance on Paul, which was rejected and thus caused the ultimate disintegration of the Lennon/McCartney relationship.

(*I mean, their relationship was always complicated and difficult - but it seems that it was okay-ish prior to India, and then just inexplicably plummeted after the trip)

But nobody (as far as im aware) has confirmed, or even really alluded to, this advancement or rejection ever having happened. And the lack of evidence substantiating the claim is a major draw back for me!

However, I do also feel as though nobody’s really come out about anything that happened in India - all ive heard is that they meditated, wrote songs, John and Cyn fought, and Ringo ate baked beans. But like, more must have happened on the trip, surely? Im not saying the absence of information regarding the trip is proof that there was a big “lovers quarrel” between John and Paul, and that everyone involved in that trip is now just sworn to secrecy or something - but like, id just like to see a biographer really investigate the holiday, and try to conclude what events might have occurred during the trip, because as of right now, with the information we have, it seems to have been, bizarrely, both a lacklustre and uneventful, yet still hugely impactful event. If the narrative of the “India trip” were to be shifted in the future in light of new information, the same way the narrative of “Let It Be/Get Back” is being changed, I wouldn’t be surprised!

2. John wanted more, but Paul didn’t

Another popular theory is that John and Paul were engaged in something of a physical affair, but in India John proposed (or perhaps demanded even) that they take their relationship further, and Paul just wasn’t compelled to do so.

Beliefs vary regarding this, based on how far you personally think their relationship went: some might say they only ever did a little drunken experimenting with one another, and that it was just a fun fling until John suggested they take it further. Others might argue that they were in fact in a committed relationship, and John wanted to go public with it - or at the very least, demanded exclusivity between him and Paul.

In entertaining this theory, im most compelled to believe that John and Paul were engaged in occasional “flings”, and perhaps by ‘68 were even acknowledging that there was some deeper and more sincere between them - but ultimately, I don’t think Paul would have ever been inclined to fully commit to John, because I think he always wanted children and a family. In addition to this, though its clear John and Paul were passionate about one another, it isn’t clear how compatible they were in the long term - and with Paul being the more grounded of the too, I suspect he would have recognised this incompatibility, which John (the idealist) might not have.

Though I admit that John could certainly be unrealistic and irrational, im not convinced that he suggested to Paul they go public with their relationship, because I think John still had a fairly strong sense of his place in popular culture, and would have still been able to recognise that if they were to “come out”, it would probably deeply and irreparably damage both their careers - as well as George and Ringo’s too - at least amongst the general public. They’d still have some ardent fans, but their following overall would have become far more niche, and the “beatlemania” would’ve worn off swiftly. Im not sure if either of them would’ve been willing to take that heat in ‘68, especially not Paul, who as I mentioned earlier, I think might have recognised the futility and incompatibility inherent in their relationship.

Then again though, John was always a little “cocky”* when it came to his sexuality - I think if an interviewer were to genuinely have enquired into his sexuality, straight up asking him “Are you bi? Gay?” I get the sense that he would have told us! Sure he’d probably have dressed the response up with a dozen quick quips and jokes, but ultimately, I think he would have given a sincere response. And so, perhaps he did feel he had the confidence, at least in India, to actually “come out”, but if Paul wasn’t willing to make this official with him, perhaps this confidence dissipated.

(*No pun intended you pervs🤦‍♂️)

Another thing to note about India is that they’d have been relatively secluded, as well as off the drugs/drinks for the most part - and this would have forced them to really reflect upon their relationship. Perhaps John saw that he wasn’t contented with Cynthia, and recognised his desire for more from Paul - and so in such a raw state of mind, I can see how he’d become so shattered if Paul were to have rejected him (that statement could relate both to the first and second theory, I feel). Perhaps John made an advance upon Paul whilst they were both sober for the first time, and that changed their relationship somehow? Just thinking out loud here!

But again, this theory overall has the same problem as the first in that, though it appears to make sense, it still lacks proof; it ultimately isn’t a substantiated claim.

3. Nothing happened between J&P, but something changed

This is probably the theory that everybody is least interested in hearing, but I still think its a pretty valid one, albeit the least dramatic (In my opinion though its still a really interesting perspective to explore though!).

Its possible that nothing of particular significance happened in India, but something still shifted in John, causing him to vilify and reject Paul. The issue with this though, is that it begs the question: why did John undergo such a significant change in India then?

Id argue that perhaps John was making very subtle and slight moves towards Paul, that Paul either ignored or didn't pick up on. Id assume that perhaps John had been hinting at this desire for awhile now, and maybe he got it into his head that in India, where him and Paul would have a lot of time to be alone and intimate, his feelings would finally be reciprocated. But then, Paul never picked up on these hints, and never made any advancements - and this broke something within John. It would fit neatly within the Yoko narrative, because it offers reasoning to the abrupt but intense attachment John formed towards her almost immediately after India - as well as explaining the sudden vilification of Paul. But I suppose that the first two theories also fit pretty neatly within the Yoko narrative, because they all relate to the same basic concept that John wanted more from Paul, and Paul didn’t - and so he tried to replace him with Yoko.

I suppose though, that the this theory overall could also be countered by making the argument that Paul also began to spiral after India, and so some occurrence presumably must have happened to Paul too. I wonder though if its possible that maybe Pauls spiralling was kind of a result of Johns? I get the sense though that Paul would need a change in his life to cause his mental health to seriously deteriorate, but I don’t feel like the same is necessarily true for John - I think John is sort of the type to spiral, irregardless of whether his life undergoes a significant change or not, because I think John was the force driving a lot of the drama and troubles throughout his lifetime. So if Johns mental well-being started seriously deteriorating, I can see this being a cause of panic and anxiety for Paul.

But something that further inclines me to believe that an actual event occurred between John and Paul is this extract from Geoff Emmericks memoir (x)(id recommend reading the entire extract, its interesting!):

‘I glanced in Paul’s direction. He was staring straight ahead, expressionless and weary. He didn’t have much to say about India that day, or any other. I sensed at that moment that something fundamental in them had changed.”’

It just really feels as though there was some confrontation between John and Paul that had to have happened to perpetuate the miscommunication later seen between them. Like if there hadn’t been some kind of confrontation, then I can’t really understand why Paul would be reluctant to speak about India, or harbour any regrets or dismay regarding the journey. Perhaps you could drill it down to the betrayal they appeared to have felt by Maharishi allegedly hitting on girls - but I feel like this was a “betrayal” mostly felt by John, I never really got the sense that Paul was deeply effected by it.

But yeah - those are the main theories I think.

Overall, I think that the third theory is probably the most substantiated claim, but I think it leaves a lot to desired. It just doesn’t feel like it totally fits together, as though theres more to the story - but I guess relationships and peoples psyches aren’t puzzles, and so not everything is always going to piece together perfectly; but I dunno.

Like I said though, the theory im most compelled by is the first. I acknowledge that it lacks evidence, but it just seems to make a lot of sense to me! But really, who knows what the hell happened in India?

If anyone else has an opinion on all this, or wants to expand upon or even suggest a new theory, feel free to! I always like hearing from you guys!

#mclennon #asks #@cinnamontoastandtears #thanks for the ask!#india #what the fuck happened in india #maharishi #pauls sexuality #discussion

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mithranqueersmusings · 4 years ago

Text

The Night Before XIII

Chapter: 13/15

Rating: T

Summary: Ringo hangs around after the club closes and meets a stranger.

Tags: Smut, Slow Burn

Pairing: George Harrison/Ringo Starr (Background McLennon)

AO3 link here / Fic masterlist here

"So... Do I want to know how you got into my building today?" Ringo asked, almost finished with his appetizer.

George chuckled, waiting to finish his mouthful before speaking "Would it be creepy if I said I sat waiting in my car until I saw someone going inside?"

"A little creepy, yeah." Ringo smiled.

"Well that's not what happened then." George took a sip of his second cocktail of the night "I'm glad you liked the flowers, though."

"I did." Ringo confirmed "You're the first person to ever get me any."

George craned his neck forward, his brows raising in surprise "Tell me you're joking."

Ringo couldn't stop the laugh escaping "I'm not. Is that so surprising?"

"Uh, yes!" George exclaimed "What kind of twats have you been dating?"

"Good question." Ringo scoffed "Never really been with a romantic type."

"Well that's too bad." George continued eating "I'll just have to make up for lost time then."

This was only one of many similar comments that George had made, Ringo couldn't deny that it made him feel extremely comforted at the thought of their potential future together. Not that he was being too optimistic of course, that would just be dangerous. But where was the harm in a little bit of hope?

"I forgot to tell you how good you look." Ringo spoke without thinking, the alcohol loosening his tongue.

"Oh yeah?" George narrowed his eyes a little "I pulled out all the stops tonight, suit and everything."

"I noticed." Ringo felt his face flushing "Every time I see you, you're always dressed so..."

"Gay?" George asked suddenly, making Ringo splutter.

"Not the word I was looking for, but sure." Ringo covered his mouth as he laughed.

"I'll be honest, one of the reasons I came up to you on that night was because you were dressed well." George finished the last bite then lay his cutlery down.

"Really? I thought I looked a right mess." Ringo chuckled "If we're being honest here, I couldn't even tell what you looked like."

"Weren't disappointed were you?" George asked, a sultry lilt rising in his words as he brushed his leg against Ringo's under the table.

"Course not." Ringo welcomed the contact, moving his own leg in response "Couldn't believe my luck."

George's face softened, it was an expression Ringo had never seen before, almost childlike.

Before the tension could grow any further, the waiter had returned to collect their plates and offer yet another round of drinks which George gladly ordered. Perhaps Ringo's goal of staying sober tonight was going to fail after all. It didn't take too long for the main course to arrive, Ringo was pleasantly surprised with the quality of the food.

"You know what I hate?" George asked, evidently enjoying his meal.

"What?" Ringo responded, he always seemed to be caught with his mouth full.

"Small talk." George answered "Isn't it just the worst? 'So what do you do for a living?' 'Do you have any siblings?' I really can't stand it."

"I couldn't agree more." Ringo paused for a moment "So what do you do for a living?"

George kicked him lightly under the table with a warm laugh. It was strange, every other date Ringo had been on he'd fooled himself in believing that he genuinely cared about the answers to those questions. But now, with George, none of those trivial things seemed to matter.

"Is there anything you do wanna know?" Ringo didn't want to drop the topic completely.

George pondered for few seconds then met Ringo's gaze determinedly "How badly do you wanna skip dessert and head back to mine so we can fuck?"

Ringo's eyes grew exponentially, looking around at the tables around them in fear that anyone heard. The display made George laugh, it seemed to be the end of his teasing until Ringo felt his foot slowly gliding up his thigh.

"Are you trying to kill me?" Ringo asked, desperately sipping his drink.

"Just you wait." George grinned, his tongue circling the sharp canine tooth.

"At this rate I'm not even going to make it to dessert." Ringo felt his breath deepening as George worked his foot up higher.

"You want me to stop?" George lowered his voice, he started running his finger around the rim of his glass.

Ringo felt entirely overwhelmed, clutching his cutlery so tightly as though it would expel some of the tension. He felt like everyone was watching them, there was no way it wasn't obvious what was going on between them, yet a quick glance around the room proved him wrong. Engaging in something sexual so publicly had never been one of Ringo's goals in life, but the way his skin felt like it was on fire suggested that maybe it should've been.

"I didn't say that, did I?" Ringo tried to calm himself, to lean in to the pleasurable feeling "I'm wondering how you got your shoe off without me noticing, though."

George tried to stop himself from laughing but failed, turning his face away and hunching his shoulders a little. Ringo felt only slightly disappointed when he felt George's foot moving away, though he knew they had the whole night ahead of them to fulfil those fantasies.

"Getting it off is the easy part." George shifted in his seat a little "Now I've gotta get it back on without anyone noticing."

"I don't wanna detract from the heat of the moment but were you serious about skipping dessert? Cause that might be a deal-breaker for me." Ringo finished off his cocktail, swearing to himself that he'd only have one more.

"Food over sex? What an interesting choice." George cocked an eyebrow "I can't deny that the desserts here are great, though. How about we share one or is that too sappy?"

"Sounds good to me, I don't think I've got enough room to have one to myself." Ringo let out a huff of air to demonstrate his fullness.

Soon enough their plates were being cleared away once more, only to be replaced with a warm brownie with a scoop of ice cream. Both George and Ringo had to hunch over slightly in order to reach the food at all, but the discomfort was worth it to share such an innocent moment together.

"You weren't lying, this is good." Ringo spoke with his mouth full, no longer caring for manners.

"Better than sex, though? Come on, you're crazy." George scoffed.

"I knew you weren't gonna drop that." Ringo chuckled "Sex is great and all but food is on another level. You can eat food whenever you want, sex has so much faff that goes along with it."

"That's part of the beauty of it." George gestured with his spoon as though it would make his point more convincing "You've probably had more shitty food in your life than you've had shitty sex."

"But I've also probably had more great food than great sex." Ringo retorted "Like this." He demonstrated his point by filling his mouth with the quickly disappearing dessert.

"You're insane." George laughed, sitting back in his seat to allow Ringo to finish off the remnants.

"Why do I even have to pick one?" Ringo asked as though it were a deep and meaningful discussion "Why can't I have both?"

"That could be arranged. I'm pretty sure I have some whipped cream in my fridge." George wiggled his eyebrows playfully.

Ringo chuckled "Jesus, you're really sex-obsessed, aren't you? And I thought John was bad."

"Only when I'm around you." George smirked "On that note, I think it's about time I got the bill."

It was impossible for Ringo to deny that he was itching to get some privacy, not that their marginally more innocent time together hadn't been immensely enjoyable. He found himself honing in on the minutest of details while watching George: the way the muscles of his hands flexed, how his voice would make the most mundane words sound appealing, even the way his eyelashes were grouped together in places, all of which excited Ringo in a way that felt new.

"You really don't have to pay." Ringo tried to insist as George pulled out his wallet.

"I know I don't." George smiled, leaving the notes on the table and standing up to leave.

Ringo walked out first, being seated closer to the door. Feeling George's presence close behind him was already spurring something inside him, he'd never been aroused by something so non-sexual before. The silence as they sat in the car was entirely different this time, far heavier and more imposing, Ringo felt like even breathing too loud would disrupt it. Ringo couldn't keep his eyes off the way George's hands gripped the steering wheel, his mind imagining an endless amount of ways he could preoccupy those fingers.

On a less erotic note, Ringo was intrigued to finally see what George's place looked like. Unsurprisingly he also lived in a block of flats, but the building was far more impressive than Ringo's own. George led the way to his front door rather hastily, evidently eager to get inside, dragging Ringo by the wrist somewhat forcefully. Ringo didn't fight against it for a moment, barely even registering his new surroundings when they stepped inside the flat. George wasted no time, pushing Ringo hard against the door and attacking his neck with tender kisses.

Moans were already pouring from Ringo's mouth, only deepening further when he felt George bite down onto the sensitive skin. The feeling was one thing, but the knowledge that he'd be left with marks was far more arousing. Ringo ran his hand down George's back, gripping into the flesh of his arse. His moans were soon silenced when their lips finally met, it was sloppy and desperate but Ringo didn't care. Their tongues met and Ringo could hardly keep his eyes open. George only upped the intensity further, pressing his leg into Ringo's groin to allow him to gain some friction; Ringo accepted it shamelessly, grinding down onto George's thigh as they continued the heated kiss.

Ringo felt like he had to do something or he was going to drown in this ever-growing bliss, so he slid his other hand to the top of George's thigh and lifted him up. George moaned desperately, leading Ringo to make a mental note that being manhandled seemed to turn him on. It was hard to figure out exactly where he was going, he didn't know the layout of the flat in the slightest and his vision was considerably impaired, but somehow they made their way over to the sofa in one piece. Purposefully Ringo threw George down onto the surface far rougher than necessary, evidently it had been the right thing to do because George had begun to whine.

Soon they were kissing again, items of clothing were haphazardly stripped off and tossed carelessly away. Ringo buried his hand into George's soft hair, pulling at it experimentally to expose George's neck which he quickly took ownership of, he wasn't about to be the only one left with markings. George had managed to get his trousers off, he was rock hard as he thrust upwards towards Ringo, desperate for any friction he could find.

"You really want it, don't you?" Ringo whispered in his ear, his tongue teasing the lobe.

"Yes, yes." George groaned "Been waiting all day for this."

Ringo palmed George through his boxers slowly, warranting a high-pitched moan. It was difficult to decide whether to draw it out or not, the image of George desperate and pleading was certainly an enticing one but Ringo was practically aching already. As Ringo dipped his fingers beneath the fabric of George's boxers, he called out.

"Wait, wait!" George's volume stopped Ringo in his tracks.

"What's wrong?" Ringo asked, the suggestive tone of his voice suddenly gone.

"Nothing's wrong, I just-" George was struggling to get his words out, his face was flushed with pleasure "I have another present for you."

"Oh... What is it?" Ringo felt relieved but he couldn't relax fully until he knew what this surprise entailed.

George shifted up the sofa, standing up with his erection looking ready to burst through the flimsy material "Wait here for five minutes, then come into my bedroom. Okay?"

Ringo paused, still in the same position "Five minutes?"

"At least." George stated somewhat firmly "It'll all make sense, trust me."

Ringo couldn't help feeling a little misled, he'd been geared up only to be told to stop entirely. He expected that whatever George had in store would be worth it, but this was about to be the longest five minutes of his life. To pass the time he looked around the room, admiring the vast amount of house plants that George had littered around, as well as the Monty Python film posters hung up around the television. Part of him wanted to burst into the room already, but he had to fight that desperate voice.

Watching the time pass on his phone was painful, minutes only seemed to last so long when he needed them pass quickly. As soon as seven minutes had passed, Ringo was hurrying over to the door. He'd already thrown off his shirt and trousers, feeling a little cold in his near-nakedness, but he figured it would save time.

"Can I come in?" Ringo asked before entering, but received no response.

He waited a few more moments, then decided to walk in all the same. It became clear immediately why George hadn't been able to respond, Ringo nearly fainted at the sight.

"Oh."

#the beatles #Beatles #beatles fanfiction #beatles fanfic #George Harrison/Ringo Starr #george harrisonxringo starr #george harrisonxreader #ringo starr/george harrison #starrison

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mcrvellouslystcrk · 5 years ago

Text

Recognition

Pairing: Paul McCartney x Reader

Words: 1732

Warning: Just some swear words

Author’s Note: This was supposed to be pure fluffy fluff but it turned out somehow different. It’s still pretty fluffy oh well. Enjoy while I work on request!

It was very early in the morning and the sun was not quite up yet, but you were feeling great. Being the only girl in a guy music group could be tricky, especially considering the conservative aspect of the mid 60s society, but you managed to pull it off like the boss you were. About a week ago, the band had been invited to a television set to promote your new album, and you totally showed off your guitar skills in a delicate solo. Everyone seemed to be in awe, and the interviewer, as well as the rest of the sceptics, stopped wondering what you were doing in the Beatles.

Anyway, you were feeling much less tense than the other days when you began driving to the studio that morning, Paul by your side. You were living close to his Cavendish Avenue house in St John’s Wood, and you were going to the studio together most of the times. You put your feet up next to the wheel and leaned on the passenger seat, observing the quiet neighbourhood slowly waking up.

Paul sneaked a glance at you and caught your dreamy smile against the half opened window. It immediately soothed him, and he felt quite amazed at how much he could be affected by you. He never attempted a move, though, sensing you certainly just saw him as a very good friend, even some kind of brother, and nothing more. It hurt him, but it was way easier to control his feelings as you were not seeing anybody and generally did not talk about possible love interests.

You turned to face him, eyes still sort of sleepy, and stretched a hand to shuffle his soft hair. He sent you an amused look and tried to tidy it up again, eyes on the road. That is what you loved the most about Paul; he accepted your little outburst of affection and other quirks without feeling the need to say something. You both could spend hours not talking, just enjoying each other’s company while strumming some tunes on your instruments or sipping tea in front of the television.

You mirrored his expression and took a box of homemade cookies out of your tote bag. He tried to take one but you gently slapped his hand away.

“They’re for George!”

His pouty lips formed an offended ‘o’.

“Firstly, that’s unfair, and second, why are you eating them?”

“Because I made them! I’m entitled to. And I’m sorta hungry.”

Paul sent you a pleading look, making you chuckle. Sighing, you put a cookie in his hand as you were arriving to the studio. You could not resist that boy anything.

“Thanks, love.”

Your heart fluttered at the nickname.

“Yeah, whatever.”

Getting out of the car, you pulled your guitar out of the backseat and moved towards the entrance of the studio before getting stopped by a young man in his twenties, closely followed by a pair of giggling teenage girls.

“Hello,” he started with a hesitant smile.

You upped an eyebrow. He was different from the other fans you had to face; he seemed ready to back off if he saw you were not in the mood. And he was also quite pretty for a man. A bit like Paul…man, I do have a type.

“Hi. Can I do something for you?”

“Yes, I’m awfully sorry for the inconvenience, but my sisters over there are too shy to ask for an autograph so here I am…”

“Oh, sure, sure.”

Placing the guitar case down for a moment, you took the pen he was handing you and signed the album covers next to your face. Paul had been following the exchange from behind the car, and decided to move around it to join you after seeing the smile you gave the man. The two girls murmured something in their brother’s ear, and he turned to Paul.

“Excuse me, could you also sign?” he wondered with a smile.

Paul took the albums coldly and started signing mechanically as the girls were watching him in awe. He sent them a wink but stayed focused on the small talk you were having with the guy.

“So I caught you on that show the other day… You were exceptional.”

“Really, you thought so?” you asked, picking up the guitar again, smiling consistently.

“Yes! It was amazing.”

“Yeah, well, she is, but now we’ve got to go, we have a lot of work today,” Paul intervened, catching your elbow.

He nodded at the man and his sisters, starting pulling you away. You frowned but smiled at them once more and shook the man’s hand before entering the building.

“Paul! What the hell?”

He shrugged, eyes in front of him as you both made your way to the recording room.

“He was flirting with you, and I’m pretty sure he couldn’t care less about your talent. He kept ogling your dress! Which is way too short for a work day, by the way!”

You scoffed, rather hurt.

“You didn’t seem to mind it during the drive,” you exclaimed, pissed off. “I saw you checking out my legs!”

“Well, I’m just a friend, right? So it doesn’t matter. And I’m not trying to use you for sex or to get famous or anything, because I already am!”

He stopped right before opening the door and you collided. Turning him around, you pointed an accusing finger at him as the other three appeared, drawn to the scene because of the all the screaming. Yes, there were mostly cosy silences or lively conversations between you and Paul, but there sometimes were screaming and disagreements as well.

“Oi, what’s going on with you lovebirds?” John exclaimed.

He had started calling you that after he had found you two passed out on one of the studio’s couches after a long, tiring day, your head on his shoulder and his arms around your waist. You both had woken up like a blushing mess and denied any feelings involved, but it didn’t fool John and the nickname stuck.

“Shut up, Lennon. What did you just say?” You asked menacingly to Paul, eyes narrowed.

He crossed his arms, rolling his eyes.

“I’m just saying you should be careful, Y/N. People are not always kind for no reason.”

“So, you believe people only see me as a piece of meat? I don’t think so, McCartney, because I am talented, very talented, and people are aware of it. And if they also like what they see on top of what they hear, then I don’t see how it is your business!”

“Y/N, you’ve got to accept the possibility that they just want to use you!”

You blinked several times.

“Well, I can return the suggestion to you, considering all the brainless things that jump you wherever we go!”

You pushed him out of your way and stepped in the recording you. Giving a small nod to Brian, George Martin and the technicians (who had probably heard everything), you sat on your chair and started tuning your guitar. A pair of feet appeared in front of you and you were about to tell them to fuck off when you realized it was George. Trying to calm yourself, you smiled at him. It wasn’t his fault your morning had turned out to be bad after all.

“Geo, I made you those cookies you like, you know, with the dark chocolate bits. They’re in my bag.”

His toothy grin made his cheekbones look sharper as he took a seat next to you.

“Thanks, Y/N. I’ll get you those scones more often then.”

“That’s my boy! You know I live for these kinds of exchanges.”

“Naturally. So… What happened?”

“Nothing, he was just being an arse. I don’t wanna talk about it.”

“Y/N, Paul may be one of the persons who admire you the most. I know that because he always asks and listens to your advice on a song. He has learnt a lot from you just as you have from him, and he cherishes the fact that you are part of the band. I’m pretty sure he considers you as some kind of gem – which you are, to be honest – that could realise she’s far too better for us and leave.”

“But it’s not some random fan who’s going to take me away, like…”

“Yeah, well, that’s because he doesn’t only love you, like we all do. He’s in love with you.”

“What?”

John, Ringo and Paul turned their heads to you, hearing your shocked tone. You locked eyes with the latter. He still looked annoyed with you but there was something else there. Something more intense.

“I’m only telling you because I know you’re in love with him too.”

For once, you did not even bother to deny it; it was high time to act on your feelings. Tapping George’s shoulder as a thank you, you got up and practically ran to Paul.

“What the fuck, McCartney!”

He got up as well, confused and frustrated.

“What? What do you want now?”

“Why didn’t tell me it was just a jealousy crisis and attacked my music skills instead?”

“Who said I was jealous? And why would I be? I – George, you’re going to pay for this – don’t-”

You waved his babbles away and pulled him from his collar, your lips crashing against his. He stopped trying to justify himself and pulled you closer, his hands on the sides of your face. You heard John whistle in the background but you could not find the energy to flip him off with what Paul was doing to you. You also heard a snapshot, probably Ringo’s camera, but you did not mind.

The kiss lasted until you both were out of breath. Breaking it off, you panted slightly, palms resting against his chest. The air between you was electrifying, and you looked up to plunge in his hazel doe eyes. He let his hands slide to your waist and held you in a soft but firm embrace. Nobody around you seemed to want to break the silence that had settled.

You felt a gentle smile coming to your lips once again and he mirrored it. You both let go of each other at the same time, sharing a knowingly loving look before getting your instruments. The ambient sounds resumed as suddenly as they had stopped and you grabbed your guitar pick.

“Well, shall we start?”

#paul mccartney #paul mccharmly #paul mccartney imagine #paul mccartney x reader #the beatles #the beatles x reader #the beatles imagine #beatles imagine #beatles #beatles x reader

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fiesta-freddie · 5 years ago

Text

Love in Disguise - Part 4

Here’s part four! I’m happy with how this part turned out! Let me know if you’d like to be added to either taglist

Words: 2.3K

Summary: The day you’ve been preparing for has finally come, and with a sudden burst of confidence you feel ready. But are you prepared enough for the unexpected? You worry that the job might be given to someone else with more experience, but you soon realize you shouldn’t let your worries get to you.

---------

The day of the interview had finally come and you awoke with a newfound confidence. You weren't worried about anything, really. You felt that spending the day with Archie along with him giving you tips and tricks made you feel different about the whole situation. So what if you were a cross-dresser with a fake identity? At least you had a slight shot at getting a better paying job. It didn't matter if you landed that job or got arrested, because either way you wouldn't have to worry about bills for at least the next five years.

When you had awoke, Archie was already gone, but he had left you a note, with a piece of advice that you had greatly taken into consideration. “Y/N, one more piece of advice. Don’t wear a suit and tie to that interview, everyone else will probably do the same thing. It's expected. But if you dress a little more casual then there's a possibility that Mr. Epstein would feel more comfortable around you. It just shows ‘em that you're serious, but not snotty.”

You began to get yourself ready, choosing to follow Archies advice and wear one of the colored turtlenecks you had purchased yesterday.

After you dressed yourself and brushed out your new mop top hairstyle, you did a once over of yourself in the mirror. Despite the fact that the chest bind you were wearing was exceedingly uncomfortable, you had to admit you looked like a pretty convincing man. Archie was right, it's a look you could pull off well.

*****

Although you may not have been nervous earlier, the second you stepped into the building, your hands got clammy and your heart pounded so loud that you were sure it echoed throughout the building. Deep breaths Y/N, you can do this.

“Excuse me ma’am,” you said, trying your best to talk in the voice that Archie had taught you “I have an appointment at eleven-thirty with Mr. Epstein.” The receptionist gave you an annoyed look while taking a drag from her cigarette. “Can I have a last name for that?” she asked in a monotonous way.

“Oh yes, of course. Erm, Santiago...is the last name.” You watched her as she flicked ashes onto the paper full of names.

“Yeah, okay I see ya name. Take a seat over there and Mr. Epstein’ll be with ya’ shortly.”

You walked over to the row of chairs the gaunt receptionist had pointed to and took a seat. You fiddled with your fingers while you waited. It was a nervous habit you were unable to get rid of since you were a kid. “Alright Y/N, you've managed to make it this far, that's good. Mr. Epstein should be nice, right? Hopefully he won't ask pressing questions..or see right through me.”

Your thoughts were cut short as you had eyed a tall figure in the near distance. By his appearance you had assumed it was Epstein himself, so you stood to greet him. “Good morning, sir” you said.

“Good morning to you sir,” he said, firmly shaking your hand. “I’m Brian Epstein, The Beatles manager. You must be Ezra Santiago. My, I must say, what a lovely name, too.”

He wasn't at all what you had expected. His charming and light personality had somehow managed to make you feel more relaxed and less nervous. You had forgotten why you were so anxious at all in the first place.

“I must say, I do appreciate your sense of fashion. Every other person I’ve seen this morning has worn a suit, which is fine, but it's nice to see someone who isn't afraid to change things up a little,” he said gesturing to your outfit, “I suppose it's probably because you happen to be much younger than all the others too.”

“I- well, thank you very much sir.” You were unsure of what else to say, his compliments had caught you off guard.

“Right then, shall we get on with this interview? I know the boys are anxious to see who I bring in next.” Brian said, beginning to walk towards the office where the interviews were being held.

“The boys?” you questioned. You weren't exactly sure what he meant by that, but you had a pretty good idea.

“Sure. Since whoever I hire as an assistant will be spending a lot of time with the boys, I decided that I should bring them in and see who they warm up to the best. Be warned though, Lennon is a bit of a trouble maker.”

You hadn't expected The Beatles themselves to be at the interview, but there was no turning back now.

You followed Brian into a bland, cream colored room, which happened to be quite big. It was set up just like any other office, with the exception that there were four of the most famous men alive sitting in it. You sat yourself in the chair, as Brian made his way around the desk.

“Oi Eppy, who's the bloke you've brought in now? Another old wanker? Or another phony?” one of the boys said. You assumed it was John based on his wit and what Brian had told you. Brain said nothing and gave him a cold stare.

“Mr. Ezra Santiago, these are the boys,” he gestured over to them. You could now understand why all the teenage girls gushed over them, you had to admit they were a bit more attractive in person, but certainly not your type. “John, Paul, George and Ringo.” Thanks to Archie, it was easier to put names and faces together, now that you were able to tell each of them apart.

They sat by Brian with unamused looks on their faces, like four little boys who were bored out of their minds and wanted nothing more than to go home. You watched as the fiddled with their clothes and shoelaces

“Ezra, you said?” questioned John. He seemed like the only one who was willing to talk. “Don’t think I’ve ever heard that name ‘fore. Sure it isn’t a made up one?” He teased.

“That'll be enough Lennon.”

“You’re a swine.” He retorted

“Lennon, I mean it.” Brian said in a stern tone. That seemed to shut John down quickly. The other three boys giggled at John's scolding.

“I apologize for John's behavior, but I suppose he does have a bit of a point. You wouldn’t believe how many people we’ve seen today who were posing as males! Crazy teenage girls, I tell ya’.”

“Well I mean look at us Eppy,” Paul chimed in. Archie said he was the one girls liked the most, “Who wouldn't want us.” He said sarcastically.

“Oh get over yourself, Paul.” John said with a grin.

Brian rolled his eyes and turned his attention back to you “So Ezra,” Brian began, sifting through a pile of papers, “tell me a little about yourself. Where are you from, exactly?”

“Well actually, I moved here from America about six months ago. I’m an art major and as of now I work at a coffee shop not too far from here.”

“Ah, well I suppose that would explain why there's no accent.” Brian said jokingly. You only chuckled in response. “Well I’ll tell you what Ezra, I really do like the fact that you happen to be younger. Every other person I’ve seen this morning has been quite a bit older. I suppose that means they might be more responsible, but I certainly don't see why a person of your age wouldn't be able to do the same.”

“Yeah, every person. ‘Cept maybe for John.” Paul joked. Once again, George and Ringo laughed at Paul's joke.

“Aye, I can be responsible,” John said defensively “I just don’t like sharin’ my wisdom with you three.”

“Boys, that’ll be enough.” You could tell Brian way annoyed with them. No wonder why they needed an assistant “Well, Ezra tell me why you think you’d be good for this job. Anything that you think sets you apart from others?”

Oh well if I can pull off looking like a man, then I think that I more than qualified for this job you thought to yourself. “Well, before I moved for college, I was top of my class. I’m also quite responsible, the assistant manager at my current job.”

“Very good, very good.” Brian said, scribbling down words. You watched his hand move hastily across a piece of paper

“I’m not exactly sure if it counts as a qualification, but I think that being from America has its advantages, as far as any touring goes.”

“You certainly have a point, there.”

There was a moment of silence as Brian wrote down a few more notes. You glanced over at the four boys, but quickly averted your attention when George looked you straight in the eyes. He seemed to be the most intimidating out of all four of them. The complete opposite of Ringo.

“Well Mr. Ezra, I like you a lot, but unfortunately I have others to interview as well. If you get the job, however, I’ll give you a bell within the next few days,” Brian said, rising from his seat behind the desk. He walked over to the door and opened it. You took the hint and rose from your seat, walking over to the door.

“It was wonderful to meet you, sir. You certainly have a charming personality.” You said to him.

“Ah, well the same to you!”

You walked out the door and gave Brian a short wave. He smiled at you before shutting the door. Just like that the moment you had been the most worried about was over. You just stood there for a moment, unsure of what to do.

In your mind, you thought the interview had gone fairly well, but you weren't too sure of what Brian had thought. He seemed to like you, but maybe he was just putting on a front in order to seem approachable.

It was just a matter of time now before you got the answer that could change your future.

****

A few days passed, and with every day that went by you awaited a call.

“I dunno Arch, maybe I just wasn’t the right fit for it. Mr. Epstein did say that there were others who were a lot older than me and responsible too.” You said while slowly stirring the spoon in your tea. You were bummed out because it had been more than two days and at this point you were sure that Brian had already called someone and given them the job instead.

“Yes, but you also told me that Epstein said you were just as responsible. He probably had a lot of people to interview, and with an assistant's position like this he probably wants to make sure he's got the best person.” You stopped stirring for a moment and gave him a grave look. “And that person is obviously you.” Archie said, trying to save himself after he realized what he said. “Don’t worry about it Y/N, just give it some time and I'm sure things will work out in your favor.”

“I hope so. I mean I put so much effort into changing my appearance, I’d hate for it all to just be wasted, y’know?”

Archie was silent and had nothing else to say, and neither did you. Silence filled your living room, with the exception of an old clock that was ticking. You were starting to rethink everything. Was this even worth it? Probably not. You had all these clothes and things that were now useless to you.

“Well on the bright side at least we-” Archie began, but he was cut off by the ringing of your phone.

“Just a sec, let me get that.” You said setting down your cup and walking over to the phone that was mounted on the wall.

“Hello?” You answered, “This is Y/N speaking.”

“Y/N?” the man on the other line questioned. His voice sounded awfully familiar but you couldn’t quite remember where you had heard it before. “Oh, I’m sorry ma’am I must’ve dialed the wrong number, I was looking for an Ezra Santiago.”

Your eyes quickly widened at the name and you suddenly realized that the voice belonged to Brian Epstein. “Er uhm, just a moment s-sir, I’ll get him for you.” You said, trying to sound calm. You put your hand over the receiver and turned to Archie. He gave you a questioning look at first but once you mouthed the words 'It's Brian Epstein’ to him, suddenly his eyes widened too. He motioned to the phone, signaling for you to get back on the line with him.

“H-hello?” You said again, this time in your alter ego voice “Mr. Epstein?”

“Yes! Hello Ezra, how are you?”

“I’m doing quite well sir, how about yourself?”

“Very well thank you.”

“Well, uhm what can I do for you sir?” You said, turning to Archie and shrugging your shoulders. Your heart was racing and you were unsure of what to say. You were nervously twirling the phone line around your finger.

“Well first question, are you currently busy?”

“No, no not at all.”

“Great. You remember where the interviews were held the other day, right? I’d like you to meet me there in a half hour, I’ve got a few things I’d like to discuss with you.”

“That's wonderful, sir. I’ll be there!” you said excitedly, before hanging up the phone. You turned back to Archie.

“Well, what’d the old man have to say?” he asked you

“I have to meet him downtown in a half hour!” you screeched, jumping up and down like a little girl.

“I told you, he’d give you a ring Y/N! This is great!” Archie said, engulfing you in one of his infamous bone crushing hugs. You hugged him back, just as tightly with a smile on your face “This is it, Y/N! This is the part where your life changes forever!”

-----

Beatles Taglist: @beatlevmania @givemequeen @my-dumbshit @john-lemonade @ineedyoubygeorgeharrison @princesof-theuniverse @geostarr @katiekitty261 @killerqueenisthebest @yeehaw-city @asphalt-cocktail @chloe-on-cloud9

Love in Disguise Taglist: @motley-queen @littledarlingwellaway @thetimelordmeeps @killerqueenisthebest @lizvxx @edsloveshisrichie @beatlesdotcom @thiccjelly17 @viralwolf02 @givemequeen @bowiescocaine @julessworldd @sapphic-cupid @thegreat-annamaria @yeehaw-city @asphalt-cocktail @myukulelegentlyweeps @jimmypagesandbrianmayshair @doctorwhatwhenandwhere

#the beatles #John Lennon #george harrison #paul mccartney #ringo starr #the beatles x reader #the beatles imagine #john lennon x reader #john lennon imagine #george harrison x reader #george harrison imagine #george harrison fluff #paul mccartney imagine #paul mccartney x reader #paul mccartney fluff #ringo starr x reader #ringo starr imagine

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mirkwoodshewolf · 5 years ago

Text

Two bassists in rhythmic love; John Deacon x reader

*Author’s note*

Okay so this was a part of @sohoneyspreadyourwings‘s Secret Santa giveaway. And SURPRISE @thosequeenboys I AM YOUR SECRET SANTA!!!!! It was so nice getting your approval on some aspects of that I added into this. So this fic is a crossover b/t BoRhap and Rocketman since you reader are the bass player to Elton John.

So pairing wise you’ve got John Deacon x reader for romantic

And platonic Elton and Bernie.

I hope you enjoy this you lovely darling and it was great to be your Secret Santa :)

Taglist:

@psychosupernatural

@plethora-of-things

@ixchel-9275

@waddles03

@platawnic

@geek-and-proud

@queendeakyy

@simonedk

@kairosfreddie

@mexifangorl

____________________________________________________________

“Deacy no!” I shrieked.

“Deacy yes.” He mocked.

“Hehehe Nohohoho……stop!” I tried to get away but there was just no stopping this endless torture.

“You know what’ll make me stop love.” He taunted.

“I can’t…..plehehehase. I love you.”

“Aww and I love you too. But it still won’t get you out from saying what I want you to say.” I shrieked and cried out once more as he moved from tickling my sides to my ribs.

“Okay! OKAY! I GIVE I GIHIHIHIVE!! I’LL SAY IT I’LL SAY IT!” he ceased his tickle torture and I finally confessed what he had wanted me to say before this tickle torture started up. “John Deacon is the handsomest, most talented and funkiest bass player out there. And he’s also a jerk.” I added which made him squeeze my hips but I squealed and pleaded, “Okay, okay! Okay I was joking! I didn’t mean it!”

“That’s what I thought.” He said as his hands left my hips but then came up and cupped my face. His thumbs gently stroked my cheekbones and he whispered. “How did I ever get so lucky to find someone like you?”

“Believe me, I ask myself that everyday about you Deacy. Guess it was just—fate.”

“I’ll take that.” He said as he leaned down and lovingly and gently captured my lips with his. I lifted my hands up and stroked through his newly cut short brown hair. I felt his thumbs gently stroke both sides of my cheeks as our kiss continued until the need for air became dire. “You sure you like the new hair?”

“Yes John. I mean as much as I’ll miss braiding your long, flowing locks, this short hairstyle suits you. But I swear to you, if you ever give yourself a mushroom I will use it as a pillow.” He softly laughed and smiled the adorable million dollar smile that made his eyes cringle at the corners.

“I’ll keep that in mind.” He lay down beside me and I placed my hand over his chest and listened to his heartbeat while I felt his arms wrap around me.

Now I know what you all maybe thinking, how in the world did I ever get someone like John Deacon of Queen to be the love of my life? Well that all started a couple years ago at a disco club.

*Valentine’s day, 1974*

It was another day, another day of hell. I mean why must they make a holiday for couples? Just to make those who are single feel bad? I had just gotten done performing alongside a very good friend of mine, I think you all may know him.

“Oi (y/n)! We’re heading down to Ringo’s pub, why don’t you come with us.” The familiar Middlesex accent proclaimed. I cringed and said.

“Sorry Elton, I’m not feeling it tonight.”

“And just why is that?” the Lincolnshire voice of my other pal Bernie Taupin spoke up as he came around the corner.

“I just—I see no point in going out.”

“Oh c’mon (y/n). I need my bassist with me. Your my wing woman.” Elton said as he wrapped an arm around my shoulders.

“You and Bernie will do fine without me. Now go on have fun, don’t let me be your Debbie downer.” I said as I grabbed a bottle of wine from the catering bar.

“No way (y/n). Now look I know how you’ve felt about this holiday but who knows. Maybe you’ll find someone tonight.” Bernie said as he came up and gently ruffled through my hair.

“I doubt it.” I said depressingly.

“Oh c’mon darling you have to come. You’re coming.” Next thing I knew, both boys had me by my arms and they dragged me out of the stadium and out into the world.

Then like any other scenario, even though the boys stayed with me for like the first half hour, I ended up alone at the bar when our manager John Reid came by and Elton went with him. Bernie then came across a beautiful girl and he went to spend time with her.

I sighed heavily as I fingered my beer glass and decided to just take my leave since the boys were clearly enjoying themselves, plus I was sick of looking at all the couple dance and make out with each other. As I stood up and turned around, I bumped into someone spilling their drink onto their shirt.

“Shit! I’m so sorry I-I wasn’t paying attention I should’ve looked to see if anyone was coming up from behind me.”

“It’s alright love, really. No harm done.” I looked up and the first thing that caught my eye was this man’s sharp features. His nose to a point but it just suited him, as well as his unique hazel/grey like eyes. He had long, dark brown hair that came down past his shoulders.

“Are—are you sure? I could get you another drink. Or help you wash off your shirt.”

“It’s fine love, really. I was meaning to throw this old thing out anyways. Really there’s no harm done.”

“Okay well, at least let me buy you a new drink. Please I insist.” I urged my last statement as he went to argue. He softly smiled and accepted my offer. “What did you have?”

“Just a pint of beer.” I nodded and asked the bartender to get me a pint of beer for the guy and she nodded.

“John Deacon.” He said. I turned and looked at him questioningly. “My name, I figured you’d like a name of the man you’re paying back with a refill of his own drink.” I awed in understandment and said as I held my hand out.

“(Y/n). Your ‘assailant’ of sorts.” We shook hands with each other and the second our hands touched, I felt this spark. I know it sounds cliché but it’s true. As his pint came back, he asked me.

“So what brings you out here tonight?”

“Well—two of my friends thought I could use a night out. Better than spending Valentine’s day alone with a self-pity party for being single.”

“If—you don’t mind me saying I find that hard to believe.”

“What exactly?”

“That a—beautiful woman like yourself could possibly have no Valentine to call her own.” I snickered and said.

“Well believe it pal. And what about you? Won’t your date feel offended with you talking to me?”

“Actually believe it or not, I’m in the same boat as you.” I looked at him like he was crazy.

“Seriously John?”

“Yes. I—don’t have a girlfriend. Just—hadn’t had found the right one yet. Plus with my touring schedule it’s hard to settle down to find one.”

“Touring? Are you in a band?” I asked.

“Yes, I’m the bassist for a group called Queen.”

Oh my god! How could I not recognize him before?! Queen was the second band that Reid was managing. I had both of their records at home and I listen to them almost religiously.

“Wow, Queen ehh? You guys are—phenomenal.”

“You think so?”

“Yeah. I mean I don’t mean to sound like a crazed fangirl but it’s just what you four do I’ve—I’ve never heard any other band do such a thing. And I must say your bass playing is probably the best I’ve ever heard. Not even I’ve been able to so such a thing.”

“You play bass?” he asked me.

“Yeah.”

“Do you perform for a band as well?” at that question I knew I was hesitant to answer. In my past relationships I did mention to my former ex-boyfriends that I was Elton’s bass player and it always ended with two stories.

They were using me to get to Elton, or they just wanted to brag to their friends or former girlfriends that I was a bass player to a famed rockstar. Treating me like more like a trophy than a human being.

“No, no not really cut out for a band. But I do play bass. Have been since I was 12-13 years old.” Now part of it was true except for the band part.

“Same for me.”

“Really?”

“Really.” We both laughed and just began conversing about our favorite types of music and other things in general like where we grew up, what we studied in University, that type of stuff.

It wasn’t until Elton’s song “Tiny Dancer” came on the speakers and that moment I started feeling a little queasy mixed with heartbreak because I saw as every couple begin to stand up and I saw that it was practically the whole club.

Not a single person was left standing as they started gathering around the dance floor. I sighed solemnly but that’s when John surprised me by saying.

“I—don’t mean to sound to sudden but uhh…..would you….I mean that is if you’d like. Would you—like to dance? With me?” I looked at him surprised. John Deacon of Queen was asking me to dance? Pinch me I must be dreaming.

“Sure.” We set out drinks down and he held out his hand for mine. I took his hand and he soon led me to the dance floor.

We stared face to face with each other and our hands stayed entwined with each other’s. He looked at me asking permission if he could place his arm around my waist. I nodded and as I felt his hand stroke across my side, shivers ran up my spine and (while I tried to be discreet about it) I felt my breath hitch.

We then began swaying from side to side as the club lights shined a beautiful pink, purple and blue (like how it would be at your senior prom or Valentine’s day dance).

As John and I swayed to the melody of Elton’s piano playing and hearing his enchanting voice go through the speakers, I couldn’t find myself looking away from John’s eyes. I felt my face burn red, god my—my heart felt like it was going to burst out of my chest at this rate.

Was—was this what it felt like to fall in love? Like truly in love?

For the rest of the night Deacy and I were quite the dancing pair. And it turns out he’s got some funky moves in him. And of course I don’t like to brag but I have been told by some friends of mine that when it comes to dancing, I’ve got a good step or too, I guess that’s why I chose to play the bass, more time for dancing if your focused on the harmony and not melody.

I was currently laughing at some funny story that he had just shared about one of his bandmates. I don’t really remember what it was cause at this point I was going a bit tipsy from the drinking we had done together.

“God I—I didn’t think I was gonna have a good time tonight but now—since you came John, I—thanks you.”

“I think you mean thank you.” I giggled drunkly and that’s when I heard Bernie’s voice whistle out.

“Oi (n/n)!” Ahh shit. No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no Bernie don’t you dare come in now! Or at least let it be just you. “Ahh there you are. We lost you for the night and we—ohhhh I see what this is.” He teased as he spotted John.

God Bernie was such a tease when he was drunk.

“Uhh (y/n) do you know this guy?” asked John.

“Know me? Please she and El—”

“Elena! His girlfriend Elena and I go way back. Yeah this guy is mutual friend of mine. But it seems he’s gone off the deep end so I guess it’s time to take you home lad.”

“But aren’t you gonna introduce me to your…..”

“No its best we get you into bed. Wouldn’t want Elena to skin my head now would we? I’m so sorry John but I think it’s time I head home. I’m glad to have met you.”

“Likewise. I’ll call you next time I’m free.” I smiled and bid him one last goodbye before dragging Bernie away.

“What was all that shit about? I don’t know any Elena’s.”

“I know Bernie Jesus just keep walking. Is Elton still here?”

“No he and Reid slipped out about 2 hours ago.” That’s great. “Now call me crazy, but was that you and John Deacon of Queen there?” he asked as he finally reached outside. I stopped him and kept him steady.

“Yes. Yes it was him.”

“Oh hohohoho. Bassist on bassist ehh?”

“Shhh! Would you shut up Bernie!” I hissed.

“So—did you tell him we’re technically partners cause of Reid managing both them and you and Elton?” I felt my stomach drop and my mind went fuzzy but I refused to answer him as I went up to the curb to wave us a cabbie. “(Y/n)?”

“Hmm what?”

“You—didn’t tell him did you?” he asked me.

“Yeah no I heard you the first time Bernie.”

“You didn’t. God (n/n) why?” he dragged out the why.

“Because Bernie I……I don’t wanna talk about it okay!” finally a cabbie came and I helped him inside and as I told him the address to our hotel and he took off driving.

When we arrived at our room, since Bernie was too drunk to go to his room, I allowed him to stay in mine since for whatever reason I was given a two bed room when I had asked for just one.

I dropped him on the spare bed and he groaned out.

“Thanks for smothering me. Planning on ridding of me?”

“Please, if I wanted to be rid of yah I could think of worser ways to do it. Now go to sleep yah wally.”

“Not until I know—just why you didn’t tell Deacon the truth of who you really are?” he said as he sat himself up and began fumbling about as he took his shoes off.

“I already told you Bernie I don’t wanna talk about it.”

“No, no, no, c’mon.” he sat up and flopped right beside me, sitting rather close to me and he wrapped an arm around my shoulders. “Spill your guts lil’ sis.” The corner of my mouth crooked upwards in a slight smile as he called me that.

“I think you know Bernie, please don’t make me say it.” He then ahhed in understandment.

“Afraid he might turn out like those other bastards?”

“I mean he’s a famous bass player of a growing band yes but—even then what if he……” I trailed off.

“Hey now.” He hugged me close to him and rubbed my back. “I’m sure he won’t be. But if you don’t tell him the truth now, he’ll find out somewhere else, and he’ll feel like he had been used.”

“I know. And I don’t wanna do that to him cause…..I think I—love him.” He mocked a dramatic gasp as he covered his mouth. I shoved him which made him snicker.

“And I’m happy for you love. Truly I am. So please—consider telling him.”

“I will. Thank you Bernie.”

“You’re my sister (y/n). Always will be.” And with that he passed out on my bed.

I sighed and rolled my eyes. Why couldn’t he have had enough strength to get back to his bed? But in the end I tucked him into my bed and decided to sleep in the spare bed. I switched out the light and soon I passed out.

Months after meeting John Deacon, it was just nonstop touring. Not only with us but Queen was doing their first ever American tour for the first time. But I took Bernie’s advice and the next time John and I talked with each other, I told him what I really did for a living.

Surprisingly he accepted it like it was a normal thing and said that it was cool to know another bassist in the lime life of the Rock ’n Roll. We kept in contact whenever we could, writing letters to each other to the occasional phone call or two.

I was practicing some bass riffs while occasionally looking through a Rolling stones magazine reading rubbish reviews of Queen’s music.

“I see that my little bass player is doing her literary stalking of the man of her dreams.” I groaned and said.

“I swear Elton you say that term one more time, I’m gonna pop you off with my bass.” He just grinned that shit-eating grin of his at me before coming up and ruffling my hair while poking my cheek.

“Oh come off it you know you love me too much to do that.”

“Oh bugger off yah rotter!” I snapped.

“Alright Reg stop teasing her.” Bernie said as he came up onto the stage and sat down beside me. “Besides, it’s not her fault that she’s practically head over heels for John Deacon. ‘Oh Deacy I miss you soooooo much. It’s been so long since we’ve seen each other. Why can’t we be together again?’” he mocked me by speaking in a high pitched voice.

“You both are going to hell.” I laughed sarcastically. They just ended up laughing and that’s when Elton said.

“Well hope you’re ready to give Queen a good show tonight.”

“Wait what you mean?” I asked.

“Oh did I forget to tell you? I’ve invited the lads to the show.”

“You did what?!” I shrieked standing up.

“Oh whoopies.” And with that he walked away. I felt myself tensing up and that’s when Bernie asked me.

“Hey, you okay?”

“That fucking wanker!” I snapped as I raced out and locked myself in my dressing room. I felt my chest constrict as I felt like I was having a freakin panic attack. I felt myself hyperventilating and tears were forming at the corner of my eyes.

“(Y/n)?” I heard after a knock at my door. “(Y/n) c’mon love. I think you’re overreacting.”

“No! Bernie. You are underreacting. It’s one thing that you both tease me relentlessly about my little crush on Deacy. But now I find out that I’m going to have to perform in front of him. I can’t go out there!”

“Okay, okay. Look I’m sorry we’ve been making fun of you. But you are a kickass bass player that I know John will love to see up there.”

“But what if I mess up on one of the songs? How close are the seats? What if he’s up front? God my wardrobe could be see through with those lights. I’ll freakin flash him if I go out there!”

“You wore that ensemble Elton’s first night at the Troubadour and it was not see through.”

“What is going on here?” Oh shit here we go.

“Mr. Reid I—” I then heard the banging on my door grow louder as Reid’s harsh Scottish tone snarl out.

“Less you want to be replaced because believe me there’s plenty out there, I suggest you put your big girl pants on and stop acting like a little bitch!” Oh hell no he didn’t. I opened my door and the first thing I did was sucker punch him.

“Never. Ever. Call me a bitch.” I glared at him and picked up my bass once more and walked out of there with the tension in the room still so thick you could cut it with a knife.

As it got closer to concert time, I took a few deep breaths and began jostling around shaking my nerves out.

“Did you serious sucker punch our manager?” asked Elton.

“He called me a bitch.”

“Okay that I can understand. But you better be careful, you know Reid can easily fire you for that.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah I know cause bassists are easily replaceable. Now can we please just do the show so that way I can humiliate myself in front of Deacy and the rest of Queen already?” I drummed against the neck of my bass before going on stage to join the guitarist Rickey and the drummer Stevie.

Surprisingly the concert had gone very well and by the end of it all, we were all backstage and Bernie hugged me.

“See, didn’t I tell you? You were brilliant out there!”

“Thanks Bernie.”

“So this is the famed bassist that Elton was telling me about.” I turned and low and behold there stood the famed frontman Freddie Mercury, along with Deacy and Roger Taylor, the drummer of Queen.

“Not to mention the bassist that our own bass player won’t stop going on about. I swear he must’ve caught flies throughout the entire show, couldn’t keep his mouth shut at all.” Teased Roger which earned him a harsh nudge in the ribs from Deacy. He came up to me and he said.

“You were phenomenal up there.”

“You really think so?”

“Absolutely. I—I can’t believe I never asked to see you play before.” I lightly blushed at his comment then to try and change the topic before he could even notice, I asked him.

“Where’s Brian? I thought he’d want to see this.”

“He would but—he’s currently at the hospital.”

“What? Why? Is he okay?”

“Well…..while we were touring in America, Brian came down with a bad case of hepatitis.” I gasped.

“Oh my god. Is he gonna—”

“Last we heard they managed to stabilize him. But they’re debating about whether or not they’ll amputate his arm.” I was horrified. Oh my god Brian I—I can’t believe it. No one deserves something like that.

“Do they know what caused it?”

“The bloody doctor in Australia didn’t know the difference between a clean and dirty needle. We’re trying to file a lawsuit against him.”

“And damn right he better fess up. But wait what about the rest of your American tour?”

“It’s cancelled. Mott the Hoople agreed that Brian needed to go home and recover. Elton got us these tickets because he thought it would be a good distraction for us for a bit. We hadn’t stopped worrying about him.”

“I’ll bet. I mean if it were Bernie or Elton in Brian’s shoes I’d be throwing a panicky fit.” I placed a comforting hand on Deacy’s shoulder. “I’ll be keeping him in my thoughts. But I believe he’ll be back on his feet soon.”

“Thanks (y/n). It really means a lot. I—I can’t lose anyone else in my life.” There was this intense look of sadness in his eyes. One part of me felt like asking him what he meant by that exactly but I knew it wasn’t my business, he’ll tell me when he wants to tell me.

“I’m always here for you. Anytime you wanna talk, you know my number. And we share a manager so hopefully Reid’s not too much of an arse about it.” He chuckled, forming that adorable eye crinkle smile of his.

“Here’s hoping. Hey do you—wanna go out for a drink? My treat.”

“No, no, no it’s my treat tonight.”

“But you just got done doing a full 2hr concert, the least I could do is pay for your drinks.”

“Yeah but you paid for my drinks back when we first met. Now it’s my turn.” I stated as I began to walk away with Deacy walking beside me.

It wasn’t until another several months, in fact around Christmas time that I finally got to see Deacy again. Elton was hosting a Christmas party and he invited the boys of Queen to come. Of course the only requirement that my dear friend required of all his guests to wear is your most ugliest sweater imaginable.

So I came in with a sweater my nana made for me a couple Christmas’ ago just before I started University. It was green with a single red stitching pattern along the collar, and sleeves. At the center was a mama goose wearing a Santa hat and a red ribbon around her neck.

I was currently helping with the catering as I brought I my mum’s special recipe for Christmas pudding. I had just given a lovely couple some punch (which I’m sure Elton might’ve spiked it with rum or vodka).

“Never did I expect you to be the catering lady.” I looked up and there stood John wearing probably the ugliest sweater I’ve seen all night.

“Oh god!” I tried to hold back a laugh.

“Yeah, yeah go ahead laugh, Roger and Brian had a field day with it.” It was a white wool sweater with Santa in his sleigh with his reindeer at the head. But what got the real kick was that Rudolph’s nose actually blinked and lite up.

“No, no it’s—it’s actually cute.”

“No come on give me your best insult.”

“Deacy I swear. And it’s creative. How did you get the nose to light up?”

“Well it was hard don’t get me wrong but all it took was some small LED lighting, a couple of wires and a long lasting battery. I doubt it’ll catch on though. I seem to be the only one with a light up sweater.”

“I don’t know. Maybe you might start a trend one day.”

“And how about you? Where did you find yours?”

“Oh this old thing’s literally been buried in my closet for years. It was a present from my nan at the start of University. I only wore it when she was around and them immediately took it off.”

“Well—I think it’s cute too.”

“You think?”

“Yeah. I love the concept. The Christmas Goose.” We both laughed and I asked him.

“So what can I get you? Fudge? Fruitcake, although I don’t know why someone brought that. No one’s even touched it.”

“Probably for the gag.”

“Possibly.”

“I think I’ll try the pudding.”

“Well you’re in luck cause I made that. My mum’s secret recipe.” I told him as I readied it for him and handed him his plate. He took a spoon and took a taste of the pudding. I then saw him close his eyes and moan n bliss.

“Oh my god.”

“You like it?”

“Oh it’s heaven. You made this?”

“Yeah. But like I said it’s my mum’s secret recipe.”

“You mind sharing it with me?”

“Absolutely not, then it wouldn’t be a secret recipe anymore.” I sassed.

“Oh come on, I’ve shared with you plenty of secrets. Music wise or personal. The least you can do is share this delicious recipe.” I grinned and that’s when Bernie came in and said.

“Might as well forget it. Elton and I have tried for years to get her to tell us what her mum does in that pudding. Elton claims there’s crack to make it addicting.”

“Which of course there isn’t.” I piped in.

“Well then I’m going to need seconds that’s for sure.” As he took another scoop of pudding.

“Thankfully I made plenty for this party. Every year it seems to be popular.”

“Well I may be your frequent requestor for this pudding.” John said as he began to place other assortments onto his plate. As I gave him some punch I warned him.

“Might wanna be careful with the punch. Pretty sure Elton gave it a kick with something. Just an hour ago I saw a woman literally pass out after having over 7 cups.”

“Well thanks for the warning.” He said as he took a small sip. Almost immediately scrunching his face. “Oh yeah, I can taste the vodka.”

“At first I thought it was rum. But then again he must’ve put the rum in the eggnog.”

“Maybe. Well I’ll be back soon.”

“Can’t wait.” I said with a shy smile. As Deacy walked away I heard two loving sighs.

“I swear Melina, no matter how many times I see them talk to each other, it gets cuter every time.” Fawned Elton.

“I can’t agree with you more Sharon.” Fawned Freddie. I glared at them and flipped the two singers and pianists off but all that did was make them laugh.

Once the party got into full swing with people at different parts of the house playing various games such as “Toss-A-Cross”, “Rock ‘em, Sock ‘em Robots”, “Mouse trap”, and other various board games while Christmas music kept playing in one room.

While in the other room several of us were gathered for a Christmas style game of Musical chairs. The song choice was Chuck Berry’s “Run Rudolph Run” which was the perfect song choice. I kept my eyes on everyone and each chair. Sometimes even stopping before quickly racing forward and finally claim the closest chair I could just as the music stopped.

So far people were dropping like flies until it came down to a few other guests, me, Deacy and Freddie. Elton was in charge of the vinyl and I swear he was being a little shit right now. At the point he was only letting the track run for like 3 seconds before lifting the needle off the track.

As each guest lost and another chair was taken away, it all came down to me, Freddie and Deacy. I eyed the boys competitively and as the music resumed we began walking around the two chairs. And cheeky Deacy he began to use my own move against me as I would bump into him.

“Move it Deacon!”

“In your dreams (l/n).” He would stay still for another second before moving again. Suddenly the music stopped and both Deacy and I sat down, the two of us grinning up at Freddie who surprisingly didn’t get offended.

“Alright love birds, the time has come.” Freddie said as he came to collect my chair.

“We aren’t lovebirds!” both Deacy and I snapped in unison. We looked at each other as the crowd all ooed at us. Deacy and I turned away blushing and stood face to face of each other over the last remaining chair.

“You’re going down Deacy.” I taunted.

“Please (n/n). I’ve never lost a game of musical chairs. And I don’t plan on starting now.”

“Well I’ve been playing this game when you were still a toddler. I always win at this game.”

“Alright you lovebirds if you wanna make out go outside and do it.” Exclaimed Elton. “Otherwise get ready.” The song started over and Deacy and I stared at each other eye to eye as we both circled around the chair. The two of us using my method of stopping just to delay the walking before quickly racing behind the other person.

Elton then lifted the needle off the track and all was silent. We both somehow ended in the chair, but of course we were nudging the other person till I managed to boot him out for two seconds.

“No fair she booted me off. Clearly I sat down first.”

“Oh just take it like a man John Deacon. I beat you fair and square.”

“No because you cheated!”

“You can’t prove it.”

“Yeah? But I can make you confess it.”

“And just how do you intend on—GAHH no! Don’t you dare GAAAHHH!!” I squealed as I felt his fingers beginning to tickle my sides. Then I don’t know how but he somehow switched us so that he was now sitting in the chair and I was on his lap.

“Well it’s clear now. Deacy wins!” Freddie claimed.

“What!? Oh fuck you lot!” I proclaimed.

After all that excitement, I decided to walk out onto Elton’s balcony to get some fresh air from the hot house.

“You’ll catch your death of cold if you stay out here.” I grinned and said.

“Well one can only take so many bodies in one room before it gets too hot for you. Even with this sweater on.” Deacy soon came up and stood beside me. The two of us stood there close together in silence for a while and he said.

“So you ready to accept that I won?”

“Yes. You John Richard Deacon are the all-time winner of Musical chairs and will always be the reigning champion.” I stated in a sarcastic tone. He raised his brow at me before looking at me with one of those famed funny looks which made me giggle.

“Now there’s no need to be a sore loser about it.” I stuck my tongue at him before he bopped my nose. I twitched my nose before turning back towards the city lights.

The silence rang between us once more before we both turned towards each other, our mouths opened like we were both going to say something. I then laughed awkwardly and he said.

“Were—you going to say something? Please you first.”

“Oh it’s nothing important I just…..it’s crazy to think that it’s been ten months since we’ve met each other.”

“Really? Has it been that short?”

“Yeah. Feels like we’ve known each other for years.”

“Yeah it—it does.” I saw him fiddle with his fingers and then he said. “(Y/n)?”

“Yeah?” I then noticed that his cheeks started to look rosy, and it wasn’t due to the cold.

“Do you—I mean I was thinking uhh, uhh…..” he trailed off before sighing deeply. “You wanna head inside?” Oh. That’s all he wanted to ask me. He looked like he wanted to say something else.

“Yeah. Sure.” I said solemnly. We both walked back inside and as I closed the door, I noticed something hanging from the door that I know I didn’t see when I got in here. “Uhh Deacy?” he looked at me and I gestured with my head for him to look up. His eyes followed my direction and there we saw it.

Hanging over the door was a small mistletoe.

“How did that get there?” he asked.

“I think I might know.” I looked over to the door and I saw two heads both black haired and auburn quickly hide back behind the door. I looked back towards Deacy and I said. “We don’t have to do it you know.”

“Honestly I…..” he began before trailing off shyly again. His eyes lowered down almost in shame like he wanted to tell me something but he was afraid to say it.

“Deacy?” I softly urged him.

“Would it…..be so bad if I did? I mean cause I’ve always…it’s just that I—” he stammered out before sighing again. That’s when he suddenly leaned in and gently placed his lips over mine.

I felt his chapped lips gently caress mine as he softly kissed me. But then a split second later, he groaned and pressed the bottom of his palms to his forehead in regret.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry I shouldn’t have done that. It must be the spiked punch. I’m so sorry (y/n)……” but before he could say anything else, I kissed him back. I cupped his face in my hands as our lips collided in a more passionate dance.

Oh god why hadn’t I done this earlier? Ever since Valentine’s day I’ve been wanting to kiss this boy and now finally on Christmas Eve I get that chance. Even though his lips were chapped, they still felt like heaven against mine.

And when I felt his arms wrap around my waist pulling me closer, I knew I had him.

“FUCKING FINALLY! The ship has sailed!” Elton proclaimed so loudly I’m sure people could probably hear from downstairs.

“Oh Sharon it’s beautiful! They’ve finally did it! I knew they would didn’t I tell you!” wept Freddie.

“FYI (n/n) your bedroom is ready for you in case you want to….”

“Oh fuck off you two perverts! Now get out and leave us be!” I proclaimed as I pushed them a few feet from the door before slamming it on them. “God those two are the worst I tell yah.”

“Couldn’t agree more. Leave those two to their own devices and England would fall.”

“More like the entire world would fall.”

“But they are right about one thing.” I felt his arms wrap around from behind me and felt him nuzzle into my neck. “They did manage to bring us together.”

“Yeah you’re right.” He kissed my temple down to my cheek and then he asked me.

“Now did I hear Elton right about him saying you had a bedroom here?”

“Yeah. Whenever Elton and I would do late night rehearsals or I got a little too drunker than him, which is a miracle might I add, he had one of the thousands of spare bedrooms made up for me so I’ve taken claim of it ever since.”

“And just where might the bedroom be?” he asked as his voice got a bit deeper, huskier and I felt him gently nip at my earlobe. I shivered and I said.

“So we’re really gonna—”

“Only if you want to love. I don’t want to seem like I’m pushing you.” I turned to face him and I said.

“Deacy, to be honest I’ve wanted you since the day we met.” He grinned and pecked my lips once more, this time with a bit more confidence than his last peck.

“Great minds think alike then.” I grinned and took his hand and we raced off towards my bedroom.

The entire night we made love underneath the Christmas moon, memorized each other’s sweet spots and exchanged kisses with each other.

Honestly, that will forever be the greatest Christmas I ever will know.

*Present day*

“I’m so glad we met at that club.” He said as he stroked down my hair.

“Me too. Guess I need to thank Elton and Bernie in our wedding speech for dragging me there.”

“And I’ll need to mention Freddie in mine for that same reason.” He took my left hand which held the diamond engagement ring he had given me earlier this morning.

“I love you my handsome Queen bass player.”

“I love you more, Elton’s first female bassist.” We pecked each other’s lips and continued our cuddle session with my head resting over his heart, my fingers gently tracing patterns over his collarbone and chest while his were stroking through my hair and I felt his other hand rub and stroke down my spine.

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likesomekindofcheese · 5 years ago

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Hiya! Hate to bother again, i was wondering if it’d be cool if i requested a lil story of some sort (in whatever form) of cancer sign reader x ringo again where they’re married and extremely in love and happy and as two cancers are nurturing and breeding types, it’d be cute if reader was preggo and ringo being extremely happy and excited for the baby to come along and him talking to her belly and saying sweet things making her cry lol

You are not a bother at all! I loved writing the Cancer! fem! Reader and Ringo headcanon, so it will be my pleasure to expand on it! If you don’t mind, I’ll just start with the wedding (bc I am WEAK for wedding hcs) and then go down there. Let me just say I am a Capricorn but I have a mighty need for this

- He proposed using two stuffed animals that were together with a bow and a stuffed heart and the box with the ring was behind the heart with you both being Cancers it was two crabs

- So you both agreed on a lovely, small wedding. The ceremony would be private but the media could take pictures during the reception.

- It was in an old school cathedral and it was decked with blue flowers.

- While you were in your bride's room, getting into your gown and finishing your hair and make-up touches, you heard the four outside.

- “I just want to see ‘er! I just want to see me girl!” until you hear a shuffling of feet and Paul swearing “It’s bloody bad luck!” “I just want to be sure she’s alright!” “You’ll have a ‘ole ‘oneymoon and lifetime to look at her and make sure she’s alright, now don’t open the door!” you hear George say.

- Unbeknowest to you, the other three pick him up and carry him away from your door before the ceremony.

- You have your beautiful ballgown like dress and a long veil covering your face, it looks something like this:

- And when you are at the aisle and Ringo lifts up your veil to see your face, he smiles so wide and actually cries a bit.

- He is bubbling and you can tell he is holding himself back from bouncing with happiness

- In fact at the very end of the ceremony, before the minister can say the last line, Ringo jumps the gun and looks at the minister with his big puppy eyes and asks “can I kiss ‘er!?”

- You just grin and the minister gives a slight shrug and raises of his eyebrows and says “Sure!” And you both kiss, much to everyone’s applause. It’s a very happy day for everyone, most of all you two.

- So cut to about a year into the marriage. Once you wake up, you feel a little sick.

- So Ringo panics a little, because he almost died as a child and is nervous about illness, and runs to get tea or blankets and tell you to rest.

- But when you start getting nauseous, something strikes you and you count on your fingers how long it has been since one very sexy night together while traveling.

- And it struck you that you can’t remember when you last had your period.

- Then you look at Ringo and tell him “uhm...it’s been about forty days since that night in Vienna.”

- You both are quiet for a minute. His eyes are wide. Then he says “I’ll get a test” and almost trips on the floor from running so fast.

- Once you are looking at the test together, waiting, your hands are shaking as you hold it. It said it would only take a few minutes, but every second feels like a decade. Richard squeezes your shoulder and nuzzles a little into the crook of your neck, swallowing nervously.

- Lo and behold, it’s positive.

- You let out a little scream and Ringo’s jaw drops and goes into a smile.

- “Me? A dad?? I’m gonna be a dad?” and you are sobbing, but happy and go “yes, you’re going to be” and kiss his cheek.

- He looks up at you back “and you’re going to the best mum” he genuinely praises.

- He is so happy he picks you up and spins you around, only to put you down and worry if it hurt you and you assure him “no! I’m fine!”

- You both are on cloud nine, calling and writing letters to every person you both know.

- After a while, the night falls and you both are lying in bed, relaxing in your pajamas. Ringo goes to your stomach, kneeling down and gently places his large fingers on it.

- “’ello there, little luv. It’s me...I’m, I’m Richard, I’m gonna be your father.”

- You gently play with his brown hair as he talks.

- “First of all, your mum and I learned we’re gonna have you soon, and though it will be a little while to wait, we’re so excited. Be nice to your mum, for me, you’re in the safest place in the world with ‘er. So please don’t make ‘er too sick or anything.”

- You kiss his head lightly as he continues.

- “Jus’ know that your mum and me love you so much already, We can’t wait to meet you.”

- You start crying again. It’s so simple, but it means so much and you are emotional already.

- You both look at each other once he shifts himself up to see your face.

- “It feels like forever to wait” he says.

- “We’ll see the baby soon enough, darling” you reply, kissing his cheek.

- You both fall asleep talking about baby names and he falls asleep hand still on your stomach.

#classic rock headcanon #beatles headcanon #beatles headcanons #ringo starr #ringo starr imagine #carriewrites #ringo starr x reader #ringo starr x you #ringo starr x fem!reader #ringo starr x fem!y/z #ringo starr x fem! y/n #beatles zodiac series

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emotionally-imbruised · 5 years ago

Text

2 | To See Is To Deceive

Word Count: 7.2k

A cool breeze wisps Veronica’s hair around as she stands silently staring at the large tombstone that has her family’s last name elegantly carved at the top of it. She shivers slightly while moving to adjust her long black sheer cardigan to cover more of her upper body; the simple black tank top, ripped skinny jeans and white vans she’s wearing not being enough to keep her warm during this oddly cold morning in Calvary Cemetery. Her brothers are with her, standing quietly on either side of her looking forward as well — shifting awkwardly from one foot to the other as both of them know this really isn’t a time to say anything at all.

It’s eerily quiet though, and Ronnie has yet to decide if it’s a peaceful type of silence, or discomforting. The only noises that can be heard are those of the birds out for an early morning snack, a lawnmower cutting grass in the distance and the sound of car doors closing from different parts of the cemetery; letting them know that they are not the only ones here to mourn loved ones today.

It’s then she decides that it is more discomforting, and she hates it. Ronnie has spent the time since the tragic event of her parent’s death thinking about it and suffering from the constant thoughts and memories of what happened that night. Haunted by reminders of how although she was present during it all, she was completely helpless; and is now convinced that she will forever feel that way. All of this silence is not helping her in thinking any other way when it comes to that matter either.

“It’s really been six years, huh?” Logan’s voice sounds from her left however, she doesn’t process what he’s saying as she continues staring blankly ahead; tears pooling in her eyes as she reflects, but thankful he was able to pick up on her stiffness at their current situation. “That long. Where the hell has the time gone?”

“Logan, shut up.” Spencer hisses from her right, causing her to roll her eyes in annoyance before taking a step closer to the grave. Her brothers watch but don’t say a word as she quietly approaches the stone that has been designated as her parents’ final resting place for the past six years and places a single white rose on top of it.

Although the date of June 13th, 2013 is blatantly engraved onto the gravestone, the thought of it really being that long since her parents were so brutally taken from her and her family is something Veronica refuses to think about. It’s a subject that hasn’t gotten easier to address with time and seemingly becomes harder with each passing year. It’s also something the Benson siblings have a silent oath of keeping on the down-low seeing as this unfortunate event happens to make them seem vulnerable with everything else that is going, when in fact, they are nothing of the sort.

Spencer and Logan remain silent as they watch their sister take a shaky breath and let out a sob. Veronica makes no effort to hide the tears that are steadily streaming down her face at this point, but as quick as the moment of her finally letting her guard down a little bit came — it’s soon gone as she takes a few steps back to be in line with her brothers again; silently glancing at them from side to side. “So, what now?”

“What do you mean, what now?” Logan asks and sends her an odd look.

“Well seeing as you two geniuses always seem to know what’s going on, I thought I wouldn’t be the only one to notice that black-tinted SUV watching us from a few rows over.” Without any hesitation, Spencer and Logan both whip around in a not so subtle manner to observe said vehicle and unsurprisingly to Veronica; tire screeches are heard soon after as the car speeds away. “Good going.”

“We need to get this all figured out, it’s getting out of hand,” Spencer states firmly while moving his gaze forward again. “It’s one thing to go after the gang, but our family? Now that means war. Last night could have been a lot worse than it was.”

“You’re telling me,” V responds as the three of them send one last glance to their parents’ grave, before turning around and heading back to their cars.

“I still want to know who this guy was that helped you and Alison,” Logan pipes in while Spence nods in agreement.

“So do I, but I can’t remember anything about him other than what he looked like. I think his name was Henry or something? I don’t know, that sounds wrong.”

“Well, what did he look like?” Logan questions.

“Had you seen him before?” Spencer adds as they reach the pavement and the two boys start walking their sister to her car. “You’re pretty familiar with other gangs in the city, there’s no way this guy wasn’t part of one.”

“I have no doubt that he was, but I’ve never seen him before,” she explains. “He had fairly long curly hair, green eyes… was rather handsome and charming if I’m being honest.”

They’re almost at the car when Logan comes to an abrupt stop and looks at Spencer curiously. “You don’t think it could be Styles, do you?”

“For his sake, I sure the fuck hope not.” The oldest Benson replies firmly before looking to his sister.

“Who?”

“The leader of the main Brooklyn gang.” Spencer elaborates. “He’s fairly new to the scene, but he’s ruthless and dangerous. He and Logan have gone at it a few times now.”

Ronnie moves her gaze to Logan and rolls her eyes as he continues to stare at the ground with a tight jaw. “Fucking hate that guy, thinks he’s better than everyone else.”

“Oh, and you two don’t?” She’s quick in ending her brothers’ rant — not because she doesn’t care to hear it, but because the three of them have other important things to be doing rather than going off about petty drama with another gang leader. “Unless this Styles guy was the one who attacked us last night, he’s not important right now. What’s important is this damn benefit happening tomorrow night because I don’t know about you guys, but the entire thing screams target to me. Something is going to happen.”

“I have no doubt about that,” Logan agrees as they all stop in front of Ronnie’s car, pausing as he leans up against it. “We’ll be prepared.”

“You sure about that?”

“Geez Ron, have a little faith,” Spencer says while looking at her with a little smirk. “We know what we’re doing. Where are you off to now? I’m assuming you aren’t going into the office wearing that outfit... Logan and I haven’t been there since we’ve gotten back.”

“Hell no, I took today and tomorrow off. I’m not going back until Monday,” she explains. “Alison has everything under control. Also, I can show up to the office wearing whatever I want, thank you very much. But for now, I think I’m just going to go home and lay low… Maybe get some coffee and take Ringo for a walk. What about you two?”

“We’re going to try to get things organized for tomorrow night,” Logan tells her as he straightens his posture and moves to open the car door so that V can climb inside. “We’ll need all the manpower we can get for if something does happen.”

“Yes, but you need to be subtle about it.” There’s a seriousness tone to her voice that has her brothers sending each other knowing glances before she continues. “If something does happen, we need to get out of there as soon as we can. And I know the two of you will want to fight back, but you can’t. Not at the benefit. There will be way too many attendees there and if we’re seen getting involved, people will ask questions. I’ve already upped security, it’s going to be insanely difficult for someone to get in without an invitation unless it’s someone working from the inside out. And please, whatever you do, only retaliate as a last resort. These people are innocent, and no one is to be hurt because of one of our guys, ok?”

“Ok.” They reply in unison, as Ronnie slowly moves her gaze to her oldest brother.

“Spence, I need you to promise me no one will get hurt because of us.”

“I promise.”

She then moves to look at Logan, who is staring back at her with a raised eyebrow. “And I need you to not blow things out of proportion.”

“And what do you mean by that exactly?” He challenges.

“You know exactly what I mean.”

“She’s asking you to think before you act for once in your life, Lo,” Spencer mumbles as Logan scoffs in defense. “Don’t be impulsive.”

“Me? Never.” The middle Benson sibling scoffs, earning himself an eye roll from his brother and sister.

“Whatever you say,” Ronnie says while placing her keys into the ignition and starting the vehicle. “If I don’t see you two again today, I’ll see you tomorrow night for this thing.”

She leans over to roll down the window before sitting back as Logan pushes the door shut and nods at her. “Sure will, sis.”

“Be careful, Ronnie,” Spencer tells her seriously, pushing a hand through his hair as he looks down at her. “Things are tense right now and if something happens to you-.”

“I’ll be fine Spencer,” she cuts him off and sends him a small smirk. “You know full well that I am completely capable of taking care of myself. We’ve been over this.”

“Yeah, god help any person who decides to fuck with you,” Logan states, causing the three of them to nod in agreement. “I guess that guy you kicked in the balls last night had to learn that the hard way.”

The three of them laugh in unison as Spencer shakes his head and looks between his brother and sister, his lips stretched into a large grin as he does so. “I honestly don’t know why anyone would willingly test your patience, Ron.”

“Oh, don’t act like the two of you don’t test it on the daily.” She fires right back, earning a guffaw from Logan.

“The feelings mutual,” he says between chuckles, while Veronica just rolls her eyes in response.

“Whatever.” She murmurs and moves to buckle her seatbelt. “Anyways, I’m actually going to go now and mentally prepare myself for the shitshow I already know tomorrow will be. Love you guys, don’t do anything stupid and I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“See ya, Ronnie.”

Spencer nods and steps away from the car to allow her to depart, however, Logan lingers a little bit longer and doesn’t move from where he’s standing; as if thinking about something that he’s not sure he should share or not. Veronica observes him as he does this, considering whether to say something about his sudden silence and quickly deciding that maybe she should. “Lo? Everything alright?”

“Yeah,” he answers and shakes his head to snap himself out of the little trance he’d fallen into. “It’s just uhm, I wanted to make sure you were ok. I know today isn’t easy for you, it’s not easy for any of us; I know you don’t like to talk about what happened six years ago but… I worry about you, Ron.”

As much as she hates it admit it, her brother's words strike something within her, and she can feel her body being taken over with emotions again. The all too familiar invisible weight that resides on her chest whenever she allows her mind to think about the night her parents died makes itself known; causing her to instantly feel her breathing become more staggered and uneven as she sits there in silence. Her brothers sense this, and Spencer wastes no time in being right at her side again.

“Logan you drive her car back, I’ll take her with me-.”

“No,” Ronnie states firmly, taking a deep breath as she feels the panic attack that was forming slowly begins to fade away as she forces herself to think about something else. “I’m fine.”

Both Spencer and Logan watch her like hawks as she moves her hands from the steering wheel, wriggling her fingers in a sad attempt to get rid of the whiteness that formed on her knuckles from gripping the wheel too hard. Her words do nothing to convince her brothers into thinking that she’s actually fine, but they also both know that there’s no point in pushing her to think otherwise or do what they think may be best. The two of them watch helplessly as their sister takes a few more breaths to calm herself down, eventually moving her gaze to them when she feels ok enough to do so.

“I just want to go home.”

“We can take you there,” Spencer pleads with her, but before she has the chance to oppose the idea; Logan speaks up again.

“No Spence, if she needs to be alone… let her.” He then looks at her dead in the eye, so she knows how serious he is before saying his next sentence. “But you’re wrong if you think I’m going to let you go if you’re this upset Ronnie.”

“I’m ok, I promise.” She admits, genuinely feeling that her panicked state has passed. “Only if you’re sure.”

“I am,” she nods and sends them a small smile. “I’ll call you two tonight if that’s alright?”

“Of course, it is,” Spencer tells her. “Even before then, call us if you need anything… please.”

“I will, thank you.”

With one last glance between the three of them, Spencer and Logan reluctantly step away again as she shifts the car into drive and watch her drive away.

Once she gets back to her Upper East Side apartment in one piece, Ronnie has the full intention of just isolating herself in her room for the remainder of the day however, she decides against it once she walks through the front door and is greeted by her favourite being on the planet; her large black and white Great Dane, Ringo. There’s no way she could not want to spend time with him even after this already seemingly long morning with the way his ears perk up at her presence, or how his tail immediately starts wagging as he stands up from his spot in the hallway to excitedly go greet her. His droopy expression and typical routine of licking her hand as soon as he reaches her is enough to lighten anyone’s mood, but for her; it means the world.

Veronica is Ringo’s person, and he is the greatest companion she could ever ask for. He’s been with her for almost four years now, even though it really doesn’t seem like it’s been that long. He was a twenty-first birthday gift from Spencer and Logan, and in the time since then has become a serious light in her life when times get dark — something she has definitely needed over the last six years.

As soon as Ronnie’s done petting him, along with quickly shuffling down the hallway and into the kitchen to fill up his food and water bowls; she realizes that it’s just the two of them there, noticing that her roommate and best friend Alexis isn’t anywhere else in the apartment because she knows she would’ve heard her by now.

“Guess it’s just us then, huh pal?” She talks to the dog as if he will respond, watching the way he tilts his head to the side at her and letting out a laugh at herself as she shrugs off her cardigan and moves back down the hall to grab one of Alexis’ baggy Columbia University sweaters from the hall closet; smoothly pulling it over her tank top before tossing her hair up into a messy bun with one of the elastics that spent the morning residing on her wrist. Once she’s situated, she grabs Ringo’s black bedazzled collar and leash from a nearby hook and gets him ready as well, rolling her eyes at how she has to bribe him with a treat so that he’ll sit still; before finally exiting the apartment and heading to the elevator so they can embark on their little journey together.

The sun shines brightly from the sky above and causes a low groan to leave Veronica’s mouth almost as soon as she and Ringo exit the apartment’s lobby. In the short time she was in her building, the temperature outside has gone up; which instantly makes her regret putting on the sweater at all because now she’s too warm, however, it’s still too chilly to be in just a tank top and that makes her even more grumpy. So, with a dramatic huff, she rolls up the sleeves of the dark grey piece of clothing and puts in her earphones — not really having a choice than to just deal with her current predicament because she really doesn’t want to go all the way back up to her apartment just to change.

Ringo instinctively begins guiding them on their usual route. One that takes them across the street to walk alongside Central Park on 5th Avenue towards Midtown, before taking a left a couple of blocks down and making way towards East River Esplanade Dog Park; but on this particular day, however, Ronnie thinks it’ll be best to make a pit stop for the coffee she’s been craving since her alarm went off this morning before making the venture over to East River.

They walk down to 58th and make way to a.café so she can grab a quick coffee, stopping out front of the shop so Ringo can be carefully tied to a nearby post before she runs inside to get her order. Once she’s done tying a secure knot with the leash, she pauses John Mayer’s live cover of Free Fallin’ and turns around; almost colliding right into someone as she does so.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” she mumbles a quick apology to the person, but slows down once she sees who it is, she almost knocked over. “Oh, hey Leah.”

“Hey yourself,” the older blonde smiles at Ronnie warmly and glances around her shoulder at the Great Dane sitting patiently next to the post. “Hey, Ringo.”

A small chuckle leaves Ronnie’s mouth as she turns away from Spencer’s long-time girlfriend to send a smile to her awaiting companion, slowly turning back to face the woman who has simply become the sister she never had and allowing her grin to widen. “What are you doing in this part of town?”

“Work things, you know how it is.”

Leah is a private investigator for the NYPD. She is one of the smartest and cunning people Veronica has ever met and is someone she deeply admires. Even though she has a bit of a tough exterior, Leah has one of the warmest hearts. She and Spencer met the same year the Benson siblings lost their parents, began dating about a year or so later and have been going strong since. She has full knowledge of the Benson family’s businesses — the one the public sees and the one they don’t; having been a key component on numerous occasions in keeping her family out of speculation from the law when it came to gang-related events and occurrences. Leah is a miracle worker, she’s a genuine, loving person and is someone Veronica is glad to consider family. She is also someone the youngest Benson believes is good enough to be with her eldest brother. Leah keeps Spencer in line, and Ronnie loves her for it.

“Fair enough,” she states. “Are you on your way to the hotel?”

“Yeah, Spencer was telling me that you, him and Logan were at the cemetery this morning. I figured he’d want some company today with that, as well as with what happened last night. How are you doing though, kid? I know this day is pretty rough on the three of you.”

“Uhm, I’ve been better if I’m being completely honest.” There’s no need for Veronica to expand on her statement because Leah already knows. So, as Ronnie’s gaze falls to the ground and she suddenly finds her now scuffed up Vans much more interesting than making eye contact with the person standing in front of her — Leah knows to give her a moment to let her collect her thoughts. “It never really does get easier, does it?”

Leah observes her for a moment, considering her words before she actually decides to say them. “See, the thing, Ron, is that I could give you the whole rundown of what you already know when it comes to what happened, but we both know there’s really no point in that. What you’re feeling isn’t permanent, which you’re aware of, and although these feelings will come back from time to time; it’s up to you to decide how they affect you. Your parents will always be with you in one way or another and in the times it doesn’t seem that way, you will always have someone in your family… especially your brothers. Hell, even I’ll be there. We’re all rooting for you, hun.”

“I know,” Veronica breathes out a chuckle. “I really do. It’s just some days I feel so… helpless. And I absolutely hate it. I hate people thinking I’m this fragile piece of glass because of what happened when I try so hard to hide the part of me that’s affected by that from everyone.”

“Then don’t hide it,” Leah states. “You have no need too. Your past is what makes you human, Ronnie. Embrace it. Fuck, I know I would not want to be the person who assumes you to be weak or fragile because of your parent’s death when in reality, you are nothing of the sort. You are one boss ass babe, everyone knows it; including yourself. No one is going to think otherwise if you don’t let them.”

As much as she would like to wallow in self-pity, Veronica knows that really isn’t an option and that Leah is completely right. In order for herself to feel better, she needs to allow herself to do so, and that’s what she plans to do. “You’re right, thanks, Leah. I just, I hate letting myself fall back into that negative mindset.”

“It’s going to happen from time to time, and I know that sucks, but I also know you’ll be out of this little funk and back to sassing the fuck out of everyone in no time.”

Ronnie snorts a laugh, Leah soon joining in with her. “Yeah, poor Spencer and Logan will have to deal with the brunt of that.”

“I’m sure they’re used to it by now,” she winks. “What are you up to for the rest of the day? You coming to the hotel too?”

“I might come by at some point tonight. I can pretty well guarantee that my brothers won’t check in to see how preparations for the benefit tomorrow are going so I’ll probably have to do that. I also want to make sure they actually have a plan for if something does happen. They say they do and that nothing will go down, but I don’t know… I just have this feeling.”

“So does Spencer,” Leah tells her while pursing her lips and lowering her voice before continuing. “Last night had to have been planned, very carefully. Whoever is leading that other gang knew where you were, knew that you were alone and away from your brothers. I know they haven’t really touched on it, but that fact alone has both of your brothers and everyone else on edge.”

“What, why?”

She exhales a breath, unsure of whether or not she should tell Ronnie what she knows or keep it to herself; eventually deciding on the first option as she glances around to make sure no one is listening in on their conversation. “Everyone who is anyone when it comes to organized crime in this city knows about you, Ronnie. You’re extremely significant. Those who are targeting your brothers know that a way to get to them is through you, but the thing is… You are hidden in plain sight. Not only do the gangs know who you are, the entirety of New York City does too. If something happens to you or your brothers, everyone is going to know. Which is why I think this other gang from last night might be a larger threat than we think. They’re like ghosts. There have been no files on them come through the NYPD — everything they did in London prior to this was so calculated, which is why it was such an issue for Spencer and Logan while they were there and now it’s they’re doing it here. Those guys knew where you were last night, that you were alone… They knew who Alison was and the only reason you didn’t get killed last night was because in one way or another, you’re a key component in their plan. Whatever that plan is.”

“And because of that guy,” Veronica murmurs to herself; earning a curious look from Leah.

“Who?”

“There was this guy last night that was in the bar at The Sterling,” she elaborates. “He warned me about my drink being spiked and is the reason Alison and I were able to getaway. I can’t remember his name, but he just knew what to do.”

“Did he know who you were?” Leah presses.

“I don’t think so, no.” Veronica shrugs. “I never told him my name, but I know last night could have ended a lot worse if it weren’t for him.”

Leah ponders what she’s just been told for a moment, shaking her head to free herself from the many thoughts that flood into her mind. “That is… very interesting.”

“You’re telling me,” Ronnie groans while dragging her hand her face in annoyance. Behind her, a small whine leaves Ringo, immediately bringing her attention back to him and how she’s taken too long talking with Leah rather than continuing on their walk. “Well then, I guess that’s my cue to hurry up now, isn’t it?”

“I’d say so,” Leah chuckles as Veronica turns back around to face her. “We can talk about all of this later, I won’t keep you any longer. Would you like me to wait with Ringo while you run inside for your coffee?”

“Could you?” She asks pleadingly, preferring to leave her dog with a trusted friend rather than tied up all alone in the streets.

“Of course, go get your coffee.”

With a nod and a quick thank you, Veronica brushes past her brother’s girlfriend and enters the shop. It isn’t too crowded, which she loves because it reduces the chances of someone recognizing her and can’t help the small smile on her face as she walks right up to the barista and places her order. Once she’s done, she steps away from the cash register to wait for her iced latte and croissant — crossing her arms and tapping her fingers to the Khalid song that softly plays from the stereo in peace, until a certain voice sounds from behind her and causes her movements to freeze.

There’s no way, she thinks to herself as a somewhat familiar deep British accent seems to be much clearer than any other noise that fills the cafe. She subtly glances over her shoulder at the source, and sure enough, the curly-haired man that helped her escape last night is standing up from one of the tables with another man.

It’s hard for Ronnie to not gawk at his effortless beauty. The first thing that captures her attention is the blue button-up shirt he wears, one that’s covered in prints of palm trees and waves with the top few buttons undone to showcase the inked sparrows on his chest she first noticed last night. She lets her gaze fall down to his tight black jeans and brown suede boots, before moving it back up to take in the aviator sunglasses that are pushing his long locks back and away from his face. He looks like a model of some sorts and she finds herself becoming entranced simply by looking at him, that is until she glances back to his face only to find him staring right back at her.

She’s not sure if it’s the sudden eye contact they share, or if it’s how the barista calls her order at the exact same moment that causes her to gasp; but nonetheless, the entire exchange causes a bit of a blush to burn its way into her cheeks as she turns around to grab her iced latte and croissant from the counter. After a moment of ignoring the current situation at hand, she turns back around to see the man looking at her with an amused grin and can’t help but internally groan. He recognizes her and she now needs to confront him about it.

With a deep breath, Veronica puts on a cool front so that she can strut over to the man with the confidence she’s trying so hard to insinuate; but it proves to be rather difficult when his grin just widens as she approaches. “Hello.”

“Morning,” the man’s friend greets first; looking at her unsurely before giving her a slight once over. Ronnie notes that he too has a British accent, it’s very warm and welcoming — but she doesn’t let it phase her as she takes in his much shorter, but still shaggy dirty blonde hair and dark brown eyes. “Can we help you?”

“Don’t bug her, she’s with me Ethan,” the long-haired boy speaks up for the first time, snapping Veronica’s gaze back to his instantly. “This is the girl from last night.”

“This is her?” Ethan asks incredulously, as if not actually believing whatever knowledge he had about the events of last night. “The one who kicked the guy in the nuts as he threatened to shoot her?”

Their voices are louder than Ronnie is comfortable with, finding herself looking around to make sure they haven’t gained any unwanted attention, before locking eye contact with the green-eyed man again and continuing. “Yes, about that. Can we talk?”

“M’all ears, love,” he responds arrogantly, her gaze narrowing at him as he does so.

“In private.”

“Oooh she is a firecracker, I like this one already,” Ethan says before earning himself a smack on the arm from his friend. “Oi! What was that for?”

The man doesn’t respond, but rather just looks back to Veronica and nods. “Ok, but not here.”

She returns the nod, before turning around and leading the three of them out of the shop and back outside. They approach Leah, who glances between them unsurely, but also as if she’s shocked almost; staying silent as they walk up to her. “Hey Leah, uhm this is… uh?”

“Harry,” the man tells the private investigator and extends a hand towards her to shake, an arrogant smile on his face as he does so. “It’s so lovely to meet you.”

“Harry,” Veronica mindlessly repeats his name to herself so that she’ll remember it this time, as she observes the very odd interaction between him in Leah. It’s as if they know each other in some way, but it’s very clear that Leah is very thrown off by his presence and Ronnie takes that as her cue to relieve a bit of the tension she’s feeling. “He uh, he’s the one who helped me last night.”

“No way,” Leah whispers, mainly to herself, but Ronnie picks up on it.

“Do you two know each other?”

She watches as Leah’s eyes widen at the question, before glancing over at Harry who looks at her brother's girlfriend with a puzzled expression; not noticing the way Leah shakes her head to silently plead with Harry about not saying anything as soon as Ronnie isn’t looking at her.

“We’ve met once or twice,” Harry answers, licking his lips before moving his gaze back to Veronica and deciding to change the subject. “Now, shall we start this talk you wanted to have, or will others be joining us?”

“Oh, uhm yes,” Ronnie stammers at his bluntness. “I mean no, it’ll just be us.”

With another curt nod, he watches as she mumbles a quick goodbye to Leah and moves to untie the large Great Dane that’s sitting on the ground beside her. He raises his eyebrows skeptically at Leah, but she remains silent before he looks back at Ethan and tells him that they’ll touch base later.

No more words are exchanged between the group as Harry, Veronica and Ringo start walking away from the other two, feeling their burning gaze on them until finally disappearing around a corner and out of sight. The silence that resides between them is not comfortable and is making Ronnie itch to get the answers she’s been craving since the moment he approached her in the bar last night. “So, who are you?”

“Straight to the point, huh?” He laughs and shakes his head, showing off the dimples that carve into his cheeks whenever he does so, Veronica noticed. “M’Harry.”

“I gathered that.”

“Well, I properly introduced myself last night, but I’m assuming that wasn’t a detail you paid much attention to.” He challenges, sending her a wink before continuing. “Still don’t know your name.”

“It’s Veronica,” she tells him flatly.

“Hmm, Veronica,” he repeats. “Last name?”

“I’ll tell you mine when you tell me yours… Again.”

Another laugh leaves his mouth, but he doesn’t tell her; rather just sends her a sideways glance as they wait to cross the road together. “Touché.”

“I’ll take that as a no, you aren’t going to tell me.” She responds and glances up at him as the signal indicating they can now cross the street starts flashing. “Shame.”

“Why does it matter?” He asks her curiously, slowing down his pace so that they fall back in step together and continue back up 5th Avenue again; towards Central Park.

She takes a sip of her latte and thinks about the proper way to answer his question. It’s not like she can just blurt out something along the lines of ‘oh, well you see, my brothers and I are very much part of the organized crime scene here in New York and the way you just knew what to do during a gang attack last night makes me wonder if you are as well’; that could just end very badly. But she wants to know who this guy is so bad, and maybe if she digs enough; she can at least get his full name to see if Spencer or Logan knows anything about him — but for now, she decides to just play it safe. “It doesn’t, I guess. I just kind of want to know more about the man who decided to help out a stranger he met sitting in a bar after she almost got drugged before being full-on attacked.”

“And I guess I kind of want to know about the woman I felt so inclined to help in a situation like that,” he responds smoothly. “What is it you would like to know?”

“A lot actually,” she answers fast and earns another laugh from him. “Oh, I know! Why don’t we play 20 Questions or something?”

“20 Questions?”

“Yes!” She finds herself to be way more excited than she intends to be but quickly brushes it off. “You know, the game where we take turns asking each other questions we want to know the answer to, but we can each only ask a maximum of, well, 20 questions.”

“What? Are we in grade school or summat?” He watches as she shrugs at his question and can’t help but think that maybe this will be a good way to learn about the girl who’s been the centre of his thoughts since late last night. “Ok, but, m’asking the first question.”

“Go for it.”

“Alright. How long have you lived in New York for?”

“My entire life,” she answers seamlessly. “I was born here... What about you?”

“Five years.”

“Is there any particular reason you moved here?”

He glances down at her with a smile, raising an eyebrow. “S’my turn to ask another question again, innit?”

“Shit, true. Ok, go on.”

The two of them spend the next hour or so going back and forth with questions as they carelessly wander around Central Park together. The questions range from deep personal ones to ones that simply reveal a small quirk about the other; mainly because about halfway through the game, Veronica started running out of things she could ask — but nonetheless, they earn quite a bit of knowledge on one another.

Their entire conversation is fun and harmless, being quite a refreshing change for each of them. This is something completely new and much to both of their surprises, the two of them are comfortable in sharing these things with someone who technically was a complete stranger less than 24 hours ago.

They find it very easy to talk to one another. Although they both are rather closed off and uninformative when it comes to certain questions, they are open about sharing the basics; like how they’re the same age; well, how they will be when Veronica’s birthday happens in December. Or how despite Harry not owning a pet, he loves both cats and dogs and appreciates the fact that Ringo was named after The Beatles drummer.

Even not so significant things are revealed, but are treated like the most important things; such as in the way Harry learns how when Veronica was seven — she slipped while skating at the Rockefeller Center and sliced her right hand open when her oldest brother tried to help her back up, but accidentally stepping on it and resulted in the scar that still resides between thumb and pointer finger to this day.

“Being right-handed and all, I couldn’t write for a week after that. My teachers were not too impressed.”

Neither of them is sure of how the conversation turned this way, but it’s become rather enjoyable.

To Ronnie, what started out as an opportunity to grill questions in regards of a gang attack last night, turned into a genuine conversation between two barely acquainted people genuinely getting to know one another; which is really what throws her off. Veronica doesn’t just let people in, ever. But with Harry, she surprisingly feels at ease enough to do so. Maybe it’s the way he hangs onto every word she says and pays attention to the details, something not many people in her life tend to do — or maybe it’s even the way Ringo warms right up to the curly-haired boy; licking his hand from time to time so that his attention is on him as the three of them make way through the semi-crowded park.

“Did you attend Columbia?” Harry asks as they walk under the bridge near Balto Statue, not noticing how Veronica mutes her phone of the incoming call from Spencer.

“Uh no, I didn’t.” She responds and looks down at her sweater. “This is my roommate’s. She graduated from there two years ago.”

“Fair enough,” he chuckles as Ronnie’s phone starts ringing with another incoming call. “Think you should answer that?”

“Eventually yes, my brothers are just really impatient.” She explains. “I should probably be going soon though, I have plans with them this evening. But we still have two more questions each to ask.”

“Right, yes. I’ll make this short and sweet then.” They continue walking as he searches his mind for things he could possibly ask her. There’s so much more he’d like to know. Veronica has done nothing less than intrigue him even more, but he feels his window of spending more time with her slipping away; that is until he comes up with an idea. “How do you feel about, say, karaoke… or maybe, I don’t know, bowling?”

At first, she doesn’t pick up on where he’s going with the question and he can’t help but chuckle to himself as he waits for her answer. “I guess I don’t mind it. Why? Wait! Shit, I didn’t mean to use that as one of my questions.”

“Too bad,” he says between more laughter. “Alright, so last question then. Say I was to invite you on a night out that consisted of spending time with well, just me on Saturday evening… would you be opposed?”

“I-,” Veronica stammers in shock at his last question but can feel herself blushing at it. “Really?”

“I would count that as your last question, but I’ll let it slide because you haven’t answered mine yet.”

“Oh, come on,” she groans dramatically, causing him to snicker even more. They come to a stop in front of a park bench and as silence falls between them for the first time since their conversation started, Ronnie can see the slight nervousness and vulnerability that flashes through his eyes for asking her such a thing. “No, I wouldn’t be opposed.”

His eyes light up at this, a large grin stretching out the edges of his mouth. “You’re sure?”

“Would’ve said otherwise if I wasn’t,” she tells him, and he nods in understanding. “And so, for my last question then, I guess I’ll ask… what’s your number? If that’s ok with you. You don’t have to give it to me, I just thought it’d be easier to plan something out for Saturday and-.”

Harry watches her with the goofiest grin, finding it rather endearing how this woman he’s witnessed be insanely brave and demanding, get all flustered at the thought of going on a date with someone — except this date wouldn’t be with just anyone, it’d be with him… And he really likes the thought of that.

“Course I can, love.”

Without any more words, Harry fishes his cell phone from his back pocket and unlocks it before passing it over to Veronica so that she can enter in her number and send a message so that she’ll have his. “Perfect.”

Their gazes meet each other one more time before Ronnie’s phone starts ringing yet again, and she lets out an exasperated sigh.

“Guess you should take that now, yeah?”

“Probably, before they send the rest of my family on a hunt for my whereabouts.” She replies calmly, but on the inside, she’s already nervous that he’s going to change his mind about asking her out. “Uhm thanks for chatting with me today, Harry.”

“The pleasure was all mine Veronica,” he answers smoothly while sending her a wink. “I look forward to seeing you again on Saturday night… you too Ringo.”

A chuckle leaves Ronnie’s mouth as she glances down at the Great Dane, who is looking rather tired from this unintentionally long excursion. “I’m sure he can’t wait either.”

With another laugh, before finally bidding each other farewell; Veronica makes it no more than ten feet away from Harry before her phone is chiming with a new notification from the number she has yet to enter in as a contact just yet, causing her to shake her head as she knows this is the beginning of a certain longhaired, green-eyed boy being the centre of most of her thoughts for the next 48 hours… Great.

#harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles #harry styles fanfic #harry styles writing #harry styles au #harry styles smut #harry styles angst #harry styles fluff #1dff #in the still of the night #gang!au

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amoralto · 6 years ago

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MOJO: Paul McCartney – the MOJO interview. (May, 2003)

(Note: Finally, finally finished typing this up after @sweating-cobwebs requested the full interview what seems like ages ago. Quotes from this and the Yoko interview from the same issue - which I’ll probably type up in full later as well - can be found under the #2003 tag.)

In troubled times, Paul McCartney and Yoko Ono remained undaunted and have found peace – with themselves and each other. Johnny Black met Macca in London.

by Johnny Black

When Sir Paul McCartney’s dark blue Mercedes drives into Docklands Arena and pulls up at the side of the stage, the 60-year-old man who climbs out looks sprightly, even jaunty. He throws his elegant grey jacket over one shoulder, as he proffers a broad smile to everyone he greets. There’s a ripple effect as he moves away from the vehicle, a small knot of his employees drifting along with him. Press officer, catering manager, sound man, security personnel… and they each have a little something they need him to do if and when he has a moment.

He appears to be taking it all on board, seems to placate them all, and by the time he pauses about 30 feet in front of the stage, the knot has dissolved and they’re all heading back to their appointed posts.

The figure briefly watches his mainly American band as they jam cheerfully around the distinctive chord progression of Walk Don’t Run by The Ventures, then joins them on the stage, immediately changing the mood as he leads them into Shakin’ All Over, the first truly great pre-Beatles British rock track. Given how much we seem to love speculating about McCartney’s motives, it would be easy to interpret this as a statement of intent – the British boss asserting his personality over his yankee staff – but it’s also undeniably a great track to warm-up on, and he seems to relish playing it. Up there on that stage, bashing away in front of an audience of less than 20 onlookers, he seems just as happy as he would be if he were basking in the approval of 20,000.

It’s March 14, 2003, and for the next few days the 12,000-capacity Arena – a far cry from the Liverpudlian sitting rooms where The Beatles first knocked their live sets together – is serving as McCartney’s rehearsal hall in the run up to a major European tour.

McCartney’s personal fortune was recently estimated at £620 million by People magazine. In the last year alone, he raked in £120m, of which £65m came from US tour receipts and album sales. But money, as he once famously pointed out, can’t buy love. And love, in the words of another Beatles’ classic, is all you need. In the enduringly poignant country music standard A Satisfied Mind, written in 1955 by Red Hayes and Jack Rhodes, such sentiments are explored more fully in the lines, “Money can’t buy back your youth when you’re old, or a friend when you’re lonely, or a heart that’s grown cold.”

Looked at in that light, just how wealthy is Paul McCartney? Here’s a man, adored by millions, disliked by millions, whose young life was shattered on October 31, 1956 when his mother, Mary, died of cancer in the Northern Hospital, Liverpool. The following year, he befriended John Lennon, only to re-live his own grief over again when Lennon’s mother, Julia, died in 1958.

With George Harrison and Ringo Starr, he and Lennon formed the most successful band the world has ever seen, then watched helplessly as it was destroyed by drugs and greed, turning their friendship to dust along the way. After years of acrimony, he and Lennon had just begun healing their wounds and rebuilding their friendship when Lennon was stolen away from him again by the bullets from Mark Chapman’s gun.

The other major relationship that had brought stability into McCartney’s life was his lasting marriage to Linda Eastman, but that was also taken from him too soon when she died from cancer in April 1998, aged just 56. And it was cancer again that claimed the life of George Harrison on November 29, 2001.

To what extent can £620m heal the scars left by those assaults on McCartney’s famously cheery – and oft derided – bonhomie? The answer, as any fule kno, is that it can’t. So what is it that keeps those legendary thumbs aloft? It has to be more than just the buzz of playing Shakin’ All Over with a band half your age.

When, after an hour and a half, the first rehearsal is over, MOJO is pulled into Macca’s wake by press officer Geoff Baker. At the end of a walk through bare and stark backstage corridors, we arrive at the inner sanctum, a dressing room converted into something not unlike a Persian boudoir, complete with velvet cushions, exotic drapes, dishes groaning with fresh fruit and the smell of incense perfuming the air.

Sitting opposite him across a low table, there’s very little feeling of being in the presence of greatness. He wears his celebrity comfortably – like a favourite old shirt. He is perfectly polite, knows how to put a stranger at ease with an amusing aside but, above all, the passage of the years has made him even more gentlemanly. In the flesh, his boyish demeanour compensates for the lines and wrinkles that have come with age. Look into his face at close quarters and what you see are his eyes, still twinkling. Somewhere behind that twinkle, however, there’s a mind like a steel trap. You don’t get to where McCartney has got without one.

What would be a typical day in your life, like when you’re not working?

I tend to be the one who gets up to make breakfast. You’d die for my breakfast. It’s my Zen thing. I cut up all these lovely exotic things, normally in this order: I cut up a melon, a papaya, some kiwis, bananas, peach, and I make a fruit plate and it looks a bit like a mandala when I’ve done it – there’s all sorts of reasons why but it just have developed into this. We’ll also have tea, bagels, humous – quite a big, fancy breakfast. Then it’s a walk in the park with the dog, or if I’m in the country it might be a horse ride.

Later in the day, I like going to the pictures. We’ve got a great local cinema… Normally I’ll go with Heather, but I went to see Lord Of The Rings on my own. Loved it, whacking great film.

You can go to the cinema without being hassled?

Yeah. I do everything without being hassled. It’s actually been one of my pleasures. I actually like getting on the Tube, getting on the bus. I’ll do it if I’m walking and I see a bus going my way, I’ll just jump on. I did it in the 60s. George’s dad was a bus driver and he could never believe I’d do that. People can’t believe it. I had a guy in the street the other day, he was really worried that I was out on my own with no security. I said, “Gerraway.” I’ve always done that. I used to sometimes walk to Beatles concerts, and you’d get a screaming mass of girls and I’d say, “Come on, girls, calm down.” I’d do the big brother thing. I’m very comfortable with that. If not a movie, we’ll watch TV or a DVD in the evening – I usually try to see Who Wants To Be A Millionaire and Blind Date.

Most of us watch Millionaire because we’d like to be one, but that can’t be the appeal for you…

I want them to be millionaires. Actually Heather wants us to go on as a couple. It was funny because we met Chris Tarrant (the show’s presenter) the other night and Heather, in her keenness, said, “We should come on the Celebrity Millionaire show,” … which is for charity, so it’s a good thing… she said, “I know all the answers Paul doesn’t know and he knows all the ones I don’t know.” Chris said, “No, you shouldn’t come on. You’d be terrible.” He just completely took the piss, which was hilarious, because you’d expect him to be really keen.

Somewhere in the evening I’ll have a drink, and get to bed maybe about 11. Is that early? And then I’ll go to sleep and snore. Apparently I snore, but not a lot.

A brace of young women arrive bearing a tray laden with Paul’s lunch – chunky raisin scones, toast and a major pot of tea. Immediately he’s on his feet, exchanging pecks on the cheek, addressing them both by name, inquiring after their well-being. He points at the various delights on the tray to indicate that MOJO is welcome to partake.

Your band on this tour is noticeably young and energetic. How did you find them?

My keyboard player Wix has been with me for years, but I was going to make a record (Driving Rain) in America with David Kahne. He rang me about 10 days before the first session and said, “Do you think you might want to play live in the studio?” So I said, “Yeah, maybe.” So he said, “Should I get a couple of musicians in case you do?” I said, “OK, if you like.” I just left it very sort of casual.

So he thought about some people he admired. He’d never worked with Abe (Laboriel Jr, drummer) but he admired his work. He’d worked with Rusty (Anderson, guitarist). So he told me he’d got these people with great attitudes and who were great players and who could sing.

So I came in on the Monday morning, met the guys, and immediately started making the album, basically live. And that was it. Then, when we did the Superbowl, we needed one more guitarist for that so I asked David, “Do you know anybody?” And he said, “Yeah, this guy Brian Ray.” And he seemed to fit in great.

What do you think people expect from you when they come to a show?

I’m trying to keep a balance, proportionate, between Beatles stuff, Wings stuff and solo stuff. I don’t want it to just be a Beatles show, but I don’t mind giving an audience my most popular stuff. If I go to see David Gray, I’d like to hear him do Babylon because I like that song. And I’d be pretty disappointed if Coldplay didn’t do Yellow, you know?

We still have to rehearse to stay fresh, we’re making some changes to the screens and the lights (at these rehearsals), and I am adding a couple of songs to the set, so it’ll be a slightly longer show.

You were always the one in The Beatles who would turn up at a pub and sing songs. You did it during Magical Mystery Tour and you did it in 1968 on the way back from recording Thingumybob with the Black Dyke Mills Band.

I’d been up in Bradford with (Apple press officer) Derek Taylor, and we were just driving back to London, and we all got bored, someone wanted a pee, so we stopped in a little town called Harrold. And I think when we got to the pub it was shut but we got it to open up and we had a drink and there was a piano there so I sat down and played Let It Be.

Is that as much fun for you as playing in Earl’s Court or wherever?

Yeah. It is. It’s just a different kind of fun. I really do like it. If there’s a piano around it would be very difficult for me to just sit and watch it. It seems to me, in my naivety, that it’s something you approach and tinkle, to see if it’s in tune. It’s not a great desire to perform, I don’t think. I think it’s more that I like music, I like piano… but guitar is best.

Your first instrument was a trumpet. Was that something you wanted, or was it foisted on you by a well-meaning parent?

At the time, I think I must have sort of coveted a trumpet. My dad was a trumpet player and I did like it but when I realised I couldn’t sing and play the trumpet at the same time, I asked him and he said he didn’t mind me trading it in for a guitar. I thought he might be a bit insulted, but he didn’t mind.

The head of another aide pops round the door. It seems the BBC has arrived to show Paul a DVD of a commercial he’s done for the Corporation. Then there’s more rehearsal to be done but maybe we can reconvene later. Not for the first time, McCartney is ushered politely out of reach.

Docklands Arena, soon to be ripped down and replaced with more commercially viable properties, is virtually devoid of character. Fortunately, the stage show devised for this tour offers no end of distraction for the senses. As well as serried ranks of lights of very sort known to man, and some ear-splitting pyrotechnics in Live And Let Die, there are over 30 giant video screens forming a semi-circle around one humongous mother-screen which can be raised up and down as required on worryingly noisy pulleys.

“All our fuckin’ technology and it sounds like a building site,” wails the sound man. He’s consoled by a crew member who’s seen it all before – Gerry Stickells, the legendary Hendrix roadie tempted out of retirement for this tour at McCartney’s personal request.

When he returns to the Arena floor after watching the BBC DVD, he notices that the text on the mother-screen – via which audience members can text each other from their mobiles – is smaller than it used to be. He calls over the lighting director and suggest that “maybe… it might be better if… don’t you think?” Moments later, with the text size already increased, Macca is onstage running the band through the entire show – not that they seem to need it. The set runs almost faultlessly, synchronised with the lights and screens to such an extent that even the ‘Na Na Na’ audience participation section of Hey Jude is rehearsed in real time, with Paul exhorting the imaginary throng – “OK, just the ladies now… fantastic… now just the guys…”

He’s on-stage, performing with more energy than at any time since the heyday of The Beatles, for almost three hours in all, but he comes off at the end barely out breath, and we repair once more to the inner sanctum.

It’s interesting that you use the on-stage screens during Lady Madonna as a gallery of feminist icons…

They actually had Madonna among the visuals, but I thought that was too obvious. So they asked what I’d like to replace Madonna with and I said, “The Queen Mother.” This was two weeks before she died, so when we started touring ti looked like we’d put her in as a tribute.

I didn’t notice Yoko Ono either. Are you two still feuding?

I know that’s the public perception of it, but I do not have a bad relationship with her. We’re not enemies, me and Yoko. We send each other Christmas cards and everything. She’s more like a distant relative.

But you are tussling over the credits to the Lennon-McCartney songs…

There’s no tussle at all, but if, on my songs, like Hey Jude or Yesterday, which John openly acknowledged, particularly in the Playboy interview, that he had nothing whatsoever to do with… John actually made a list for the Playboy thing showing which songs were his and which were mine. I would be quite happy if, on one of the songs, it would be allowed, for my name to just come first. But I’m really not fussed. It’s not anywhere near as big an issue as it looks. It gets played up in the press. It’s a hot little story. And it makes me look stupid. “Why the fuck does he want that?” It’s actually just a very little request.

More importantly for me, it’s Trades Descriptions. It’s so complex and I hate to go on about it but, for example, I was reading a book, an anthology of poetry, and one of the poems in it was Blackbird, which is my lyric. And it said by John Lennon and Paul McCartney. Now John had nothing to do with those words, especially once they’ve been extracted from the music and put into a poetry book. I think it’s fair enough to put Blackbird in a poetry book by Paul McCartney. Give Peace A Chance… take my name off it. It was a great, great anthem of John’s.

It’s sort of a mild request I made to Yoko and it’s sort of been turned down. If she’d have said yeah, the publishing company could probably have sorted it out.

Do you think it matters more to other people than it does to you?

I don’t think anyone gives a shit.

But Alistair Taylor, who worked for you at NEMS and Apple for many years, told me he was very upset that you would want to change the credits. He says it was agreed at an early meeting that it should be Lennon-McCartney, and you agreed to that…

Well, number one, Alistair was not in the meeting where I agreed it. It’s all very nice these guys having these opinions, but here’s what I say and this is the truth. There was a meeting with me, John and Brian, in Hilly House, above a carpet shop in Albemarle Street. We went in and they said, “We’re going to call it Lennon-McCartney.” I said, “Well, OK, fair enough, but it would be good to have it occasionally McCartney-Lennon, wouldn’t it, just for fairness for me?”

And they said, swear to God, hand on heart, but there was nobody else in the room and they’re both dead, so there’s no way of me proving this, except I believe it, I was there, and nobody else who talks about it was there, and they said, “We can change it as we go along. And we can change it any time we want out of fairness.”

This was why, many years later, when the Anthology came about, I and Linda, who had just been diagnosed with cancer, rang Yoko, and said, “Could we just, on Yesterday, could we just switch that one track?” That was the original request. It was just for that one song. And Linda, God bless her, spent quite a bit of time ringing Yoko and that was the start of it all.

And now, I must just be resigned, because it doesn’t really matter, except from the point of view of this Blackbird credit. There is an unfairness there, I think. But it’s an unfairness I’m willing to live with. I don’t mind, and I do think it has rebounded on me a bit because people want to know, “What the fuck does he think he’s doing?” I’ve had letters from people saying, “Paul, you’re doing yourself no favours. I was a big fan of yours but this terrible thing of trying to ruin John’s reputation…” I’m not trying to ruin John’s reputation.

When Yoko was interviewed by MOJO, she said it wasn’t all black during the making of the White Album. There was some lighter moments. Is that how you recall it?

That’s absolutely true, yeah. We’d never have got an album made if it was as black as it was painted. It’s a good album. I remember we presented John and Yoko with an inscribed teapot, and that was a fun time. Unfortunately, because The Beatles were splitting up, the only thing anybody wanted to know about was the split.

It wasn’t all black, even then. We were all pretty friendly, and the times when we weren’t friendly was quite a small proportion of the overall thing. Unfortunately, that’s what gets remembered because it was the most significant proportion because it ended up in a divorce, as it were. In a divorce court, you don’t say, “Oh, she was really great. She’s actually fabulous, and I’m sorry we’re getting a divorce.” That’s what happened to us. Because of the circumstances we had to talk about all the shit.

I think because the Beatles had been by and large a happy, successful thing… four lads getting out of Liverpool, getting out of the working class money trap and doing well… that had all been an up vibe and then with drugs and stuff towards the end of the ’60s it was all taking a bit of a dip. The drugs weren’t working, nobody was giggling anyore, and the word ‘heavy’ came into the vocabulary.

Because all of that was going on it did get nasty. The thing with me having to sue the other guys. I wanted to sue Allen Klein but I couldn’t, so the only way to get out of everything for me and them was for me to sue them, and that was unconscionable, that was something I would never have thought of doing.

It was unfortunate because, in suing the other guys, not only did I get their backs up for a number of years, but the public perception was of me being the guy who sued The Beatles. I held off doing it for months, but it was pointed out to me that the only other option was to go with Klein. So I did it but, luckily, all things must pass, and it did pass. In the end, the others were glad I’d done it. There wouldn’t be Apple now. But it was a very ugly period, and ugly things I had to do to make it work.

You still seem very interested in politics, supporting the campaign to get ride of landmines. But the Wings single, Give Ireland Back To The Irish, was a very direct political statement.

See, I thought we were Irish. So it was a home problem for me… McCartney… Liverpool being the capital of Ireland… it was like a very personal take on it. What if there were Irish soldiers on the streets of Hendon or Speke? Would you like it? That was my take on it.

As evening falls over Docklands, McCartney is whisked off home to dinner with Heather, leaving a promise that if MOJO returns on Monday, a little more interview time will somehow be squeezed into a hectic day. Over the intervening weekend, his Radio 2 commercial, a radically reworked version of Band On The Run, begins airing, along with a short TV film about its making.

When we reconvene at the Arena on Monday morning, the ambience has changed. A troupe of dancers – including a young woman bent on squeezing herself into a tiny Perspex box – is rehearsing backstage; two insurance brokers have arrived to check out the pyrotechnics; the MOJO photography crew, rpomised first access to Macca, is anxious; and there’s an entirely new set to be rehearsed.

As before, Macca opts to take to the stage first. A guitar tech hands him a jumbo acoustic and they lanunch into For No One, followed by Things We Said Today, C-Moon, Honey Don’t… this is the Coliseum set. The band is still unfamiliar with several of the tracks so Macca strums through I’ve Just Seen A Face yelling out the chords as he proceeds. As Geoff Baker strolls past, MOJO inquires whether McCartney will perform Mull of Kintyre when the tour hits Glasgow. “Absoutely not,” says Baker. “We’re frantically seaching for a pipe band at this very moment for an entirely different reason.”

Up on the stage, McCartney says, “OK lads, let’s try Cor Blimey Luv!” and they thunder into Can’t Buy Me Love. Come lunchtime, he is unexpectedly taken off for a meeting in central London, but promises MOJO a swift return.

Two hours later, precisely as predicted, McCartney reappears.

A couple of the post-Beatles songs like Coming Up and Let Me Roll It seems to me to be much more powerful than the originals. Is this how you really intended them to be in the first place?

No. It’s an evolution caused by playing with this band. The parts are already there. What I like about this band is that I don’t really have to tell them. What I’ve done on this whole tour, this band, this new thing, is I’ve let everyone be, let them do their thing, and then if I don’t like it, I’ve reined it in a bit.

Rather than me dictating how to play it, I figure my dictatorial moments have happened – I wrote those songs and I did the original records, so now I don’t feel the band has to stick note-for-note to the original arrangements. It’s also a bit of a louder band than I’ve had before, a bigger sound, so that adds to it.

I know that Rusty is working on his own CD at the moment, but there’s presumably no chance in this band of the other members being allowed to contribute their own songs on the set?

I’ve had to take on the role of boss ever since Wings. It wasn’t like The Beatles any more. Denny Laine, for example, had the reputation of having done Go Now, so you might want to do that, but really the promoters and the audience tended to want to hear my stuff.

At your level of success, you’re effectively the head of a small company. How do you know whether the people are saying that what you do is great because it is great, or just because you’re the boss?

It’s almost impossible, but I think I’ve been at it long enough now to suss… I actually see people telling me, “That’s a great idea!” but I prefer people to speak their minds. So in this kind of team, they’re not just sycophants. They’re more likely to be people who’ll say, “Yeah, that’s a good idea but what if we did this?” And I’ll go, “Wow! Shit! That’s a great idea.”

Do you take to the role of boss easily?

I used to be frightened of it when I was younger because I thought, “We all hate bosses, don’t we?” But I had to get over it because with Apple, we suddenly had this company losing a lot of money we’d earned so I then had to actually tell people what to do – I’m talking about secretaries and staff, The Beatles was still a democratic thing, but we all became bosses then.

That was a strange moment for you, when you had to take over the business side as well as the creative…

We all had to do it, and that had all its famous problems associated with it. After that I had to decide how I would do it in my solo career, which is when I put MPL together. Very small beginnings, one little room in some film production offices, and at that point I really did become the boss. I had a secretary and everything, and then that thing grew, so yeah, I’ve got more and more comfortable with it. I don’t think I’m a very hard boss, but I kick ass when things go wrong.

Do you think your continued success over 40 years – which seems to include a fair number of younger fans – is a bit odd? It’s as if, in the ’60s, Al Jolson or Rudy Vallée had still been pulling in huge crowds.

I think our thing was stuff that goes for all generations. I’m singing things now that I wrote years ago and thinking, “Shit, that’s still appropriate.” Doing Calico Skies, for example, talking about “crazy soldiers, weapons of war”… and look at what’s going on around us right now.

I certainly don’t think it’s any reflection of the state of contemporary music. I think music right now is really great. I’m not an expert, because I’m not a kid buying it, but I always check out people who are said to be good. I’ll see somebody getting a Grammy and I don’t know them, so I’ll check that out.

For instance, I’d heard Eminem on the radio and I thought, “Clever. Good lyrics, good ideas.” So I just went to see 8 Mile and it’s a great little rock ’n’ roll film, like an Elvis film. I enjoyed it and I came out like when I was a kid, that feelgood thing coming out of a movie like you’re walking a bit taller.

What are the eternal verities of a great song?

It’s an indefinable magic chemistry which can come many, many ways. Starting at the top… it’s often a great title. It’s often great words, or great melodies, or great chords or a great sound… but the best ones have got them all.

And there’s always a magic moment. Send In The Clowns, for example, has that line about, “Isn’t it queer… oh, they’re here.” Or in The Drugs Don’t Work. I remember hearing that record, the acoustic coming on, but when he hits that line, it’s like, “Fucking hell, that has to be said.” It hadn’t been said before.

If I had to plump for one single element, it would be melody, because not all songs have got words. I can be moved by a great melody on its own.

Many artists adopt personas. Is that what happened with The Beatles?

We didn’t think that was what we were about. We felt more like a little group of students. It was more an art thing we thought we were doing. We were just (adopts exaggerated Liverpool accent) John, Paul, George and Ringo, you know? I think one of the great things about The Beatles, apart from the fact that we were damn good, was that we were very honest – that could be one of the things that has lasted. Also, we were artists. Our artistic development found a home in people’s hearts and they were able to follow it. Yellow Submarine is a kid’s thing; A Day In The Life is more grown up, so it was an interesting body of work.

It’s also a body of work that has haunted him ever since. Despite multi-platinum hits and a wealth of superlative tracks in his post-Beatles output, Lennon-McCartney remains the standard by which all contemporary songwriters, including him, are judged. John’s untimely death put him on a pedestal, moving him effectively beyond criticism, while McCartney got on with the job of living in the shadow of their unwieldy legacy. It must have been galling, for example, to release his acclaimed solo album Flaming Pie in 1997, while knowing full well that it would never match the sales of, or reap the critical plaudits heaped on The Beatles’ Anthology, a compilation of outtakes, backing tracks and rarities, which had been released two years earlier.

Nor did his renaissance man dabblings in classical composition, poetry and painting do much to revive public interest. But then, on June 11, 2002, Sir Paul McCartney married his ex-model girlfriend Heather Mills, in St Salvator’s Church, Castle Leslie, Glaslough, Ireland. Since then, although things haven’t gone exactly smoothly, it seems as if his life is more firmly back on track.

This is a man who obviously likes to be married, enjoys stability and finds pleasure in domesticity’s little routines, presumably to balance the whirlwind of activity that follows every move he makes outside of his front door. Watching him deliever the line, “Oh that magic feeling, nowhere to go” on the stage at Docklands, it suddenly seemed to rank among his most heartfelt.

Following the muted response from critics and public alike to his Driving Rain album of 2001, he makes no attempt to hide the fact that he’s revelling in the acclaim for and success of this tour in America, which has outstripped all expectations. For this 60-year-old knight of the realm to be the biggest-grossing US live act of 2002 – seeing off not just arch-rivals The Rolling Stones but also the young bucks – is clearly a source of immense personal satisfaction.

But who is he really? Bastion of the establishment? Rock idol? Contented hubby? Multi-talented renaissance man? Avant-garde pop genius? All of the aforementioned and more? Or just an old dopehead with a good head for a nice tune?

Over the years, you’ve been busted for marijuana in Scotland, England, Barbados, Japan, Scandinavia… you could probably get in the Guinness Book Of Records for being busted in most countries. Did anybody mention this in the process of making you a Sir?

No, nobody comes and says anything like that. You can be a terrible person and still be a Sir. It must be that way, because they gave it to me. The worst thing about being busted is that you go on computer records. So every time I go to America, they see my name on the database and they know I’ve been busted a lot, but I think they’ve sort of forgiven me. It’s like, “That was his wild youth but he’s all right now.” So they always let me through, but the drug busts, I have had to go and sit with the aliens in Customs, once or twice. It’s a bit embarrasing. That stuff never comes off your records.

What’s the most useful thing about being a Sir?

I can’t think of many useful things about it. George Martin says it gets you a good table in a restaurant, but I get a good table anyway. I ring up and ask for a table for 8.30 and if they say, “Sorry, there’s no tables left,” I will say, “This is Paul McCartney here.” Then you hear a bit of scuffling and suddenly a table becomes free. I don’t actually like doing that, but I will if I’m desperate. But I never say, “This is Sir Paul McCartney.” I never call myself that. I see it as being like a school prize. You don’t really go for it, but get it because of what you are. Like the art prize or the maths prize. It’s nice to get it because it’s an honour, a recognition of what you’ve done, but it doesn’t do you much good. For me, the best thing about getting it was that it was popular. A lot of people said, “Oh yes, he deserved that.” That was important to me.

How about Sir Mick Jagger?

Who cares? I think it’s cool. I don’t think it makes you anything. I think you are ‘it’ already and it’s a prize for being that thing. And Mick is Mick so that’s fine. I can think of people who should get them… like Eric Clapton. He’s a prime candidate. Sir Eric Clapton has a ring to it.

At your level of success, you’re effectively a company. How many people do you employ all told?

Normally, we carry about 140. When you’re in school or college, you’re a scruffy little bastard writing essays all the time, hoping one day that you’ll be a lawyer, a judge, a journalist, rocker, head of a company, your dreams are all there and I’ve actually got my visualisation. I feel very lucjy. I’m really aware that it’s not just me… I’ve had a phenomenal amount of luck.

Heather said, a few months back, that marrying you had brought her a lot of unhappiness. How do you, as a couple, cope with that?

I’d like to help her with it, and I hate to say this, but it’s more how does she deal with it, you know? I think the shock for Heather was that she’d been “Great model who overcomes accident and now she does a lot of work for charity and disabled people.” The minute she married me, it was, “Who does she think she is?” It’s really quite unfair, but she’s a sitting target. I think it did give her a lot of grief. The most grief, the worst thing about it, was that it actually affected the charities she was working for. People actually stopped donating because of what they read in the newspapers, which was largely untrue. They did a lot of silly things. There was a photo of Heather and I at Stella’s fashion show, and it looked like Heather was doing two peace signs with her fingers and some journalist said, “Oh, she’s copying Linda.” And actually, on closer inspection, it was my hands. But who cares? They’re just having a go. I mean, who gives a shit who gives a V sign?

They also claimed she was doing a cookbook when she wasn’t. We get asked to give a recipe to an Amnesty cookbook or a vegetarian society cookbook, so you do that and it comes out as she’s doing a cookbook. It’s changed a bit since the Parky show. A lot of people like that show, and she changed a lot of people’s minds. In fact, we were walking the dog in Regent’s Park this morning and somebody came up and said, “That was really good on the Parky show!” The main point she made that people appreciated was that with this sort of arbitrary press sniping, it doesn’t affect her so much as it affects the charity, and the disabled people who might have got a leg if there’d been the money raised.

Somebody in one of the papers even said she was under investigation for her charity work, and that completely undermines what she’s trying to achieve. It turned out not to be true but, as you know, the apology appears on page 10 where no one sees it three weeks after all the damage has been done. The same thing happened in the early days with Linda but, as Parky said on the show, it comes with the territory – marrying this guy. It’s not so much me, though, it’s just fame. The same thing happens if you marry Tom Cruise, or Michael Douglas. You get a load of shit. You may have married him because you love him, but now you’re a sitting target.

I noticed that George’s death elicited a very different reaction among my friends than John’s did. John’s was horrible because it was sudden and unexpected and he was young. But I think George’s death reminded my entire generation of our own mortality. It’s as if we measure our own lives alongside the lives of artists we loved. Did you get any sense of that?

To me, of course, it was more of a personal thing. Privately, I felt the same way about both of them. I had lost a dear friend who I would never see again. But when John died, because of the shock, during that day I was asked what I felt about John’s death and all I could stumble across was, “It’s a drag.” I couldn’t gather my thoughts. We were just in shock. I was just shouting stuff about the guy who’d shot John.

I was very lucky that my relationship with John had been healed. It had been vicious, but were phoning each other, talking about kids, baking bread, cats, being a husband – all the simple shit that really means a lot to me. That was the consolation before the terrible shock.

With George’s death, because we knew it was happening, I was able to be more considered in my reaction. I was able to go and hold his hand… but the bottom line is that I will see that man no more, and that’s a little bit horrific for me. When you lose someone dear you just wish someone could magic it all back again. And maybe there is some way, who knows, in the great beyond.

After all he’s been through, McCartney seems more at peace with himself than at any time since John’s death. He is keenly aware that, in the public perception, such actions as seeking to change the credits on Lennon-McCartney songs have tarnished his image, but he also knows that one of the greatest tricks of surviving immense fame is learning to recognise that you have an image, realising that your image isn’t you, and stepping away from it in order to get on with real life.

The punchline of that old song, A Satisfied Mind, is that, “It’s so hard to find one rich man in 10 with a satisfied mind.” There’s no telling how long it might last but it would seem that, for the moment, Paul McCartney is that one rich man.

Coming Up

While suffering a near-nervous breakdown during the Fabs’ prolonged disintegration, McCartney quietly worked on an ill-fated side-project that many now agree ranks among his best solo work. Chris Ingham basks in the understated glory of 1970’s McCartney.

Autumn of 1969, Paul McCartney was in a strange place. Feeling redundant following John Lennon’s announcement in an August meeting at Apple that he was leaving The Beatles, McCartney retreated to his farm in Scotland to drink, stay up, lie in and suffer what he would call “almost a nervous breakdown”.

At the same time, in the company of Linda, his bride of six months, step-daughter Heather and brand new baby daughter Mary, he also began to enjoy the ‘glow’ of being in a new family. By the time they returned to his St John’s Wood house for the winter, McCartney was sufficiently energised to do a little work from home. Plugging one microphone directly into a Studer multitrack with no VU monitoring or mixing desk, he overdubbed himself on drums, guitar, bass and keyboards, polishing his DIY recordings at Abbey Road (where he booked in as Billy Martin) and Morgan Studios, Willesden.

The resulting album McCartney – released in April 1970 simultaneously as The Beatles’ split became public knowledge – was almost universally received as a bit of a non-event. Modest, rough-hewn, semi-improvised, it was the unshaven opposite of The Beatles’ pristine work on Abbey Road which had appeared only eight months before.

Yet, over 30 years on, it holds up as a funky home-brew of a record, groovily lo-fi in a way that wouldn’t be fashionable for a couple of decades. The primitive experimentalism and bluesy jams that were for years dismissed as semi-distracted indulgence now sound, well, rather cool. The drumming is rudimentary but deep, the guitar playing bluesy and distinctive (and much admired by Paul Weller for one), the sound is warm and present, “very analogue” as McCartney recognises now.

And as an expression of where he was at – ‘home, family, love’ – it is as vivid as anything he ever did. The informal paeans to his new wife – The Lovely Linda, Oo You – are respectively radiant with natural affection and earthy passion while the majestic Maybe I’m Amazed confirmed that, when he felt like it, his ability to shape inspiration with unmatched pop craft was secure.

Elsewhere, if lovers of McCartney’s straightforward pop are short-changed – the delightful Every Night and Junk notwithstanding – it’s because he just felt like recording other things; the ethereal sound made by wine glasses (Glasses), a dusted-off Silver Beatles instrumental (Hot As Sun), or a rather compelling chant-and-percussion sound painting of an African tribe (Kreen-Akrore). It’s the very wilfulness of McCartney – the organic sound of an artist learning how to express himself in whatever way he pleases – that gives the album a “realness” that somehow appeals more with the passage of time.

As Paul wrote in 1970 to journalist Penny Valentine, who had spoken for many by expressing her disappointment with the record, “even at this moment it is growing on you.” It still is.

Timeless melody

A purveyor of silly songs? No, a compositional genius…

Peter Buck, R.E.M.: Ram is an amazing record. Ram On? That’s like something off Pet Sounds. The Back Seat Of My Car is amazing. Wings’ Wild Life is really cool. It just sounds like he was in the biggest band of all time, he goes, “Hey we just got a drummer, let’s make a record this week, without any songs!” Dear Friend is one of my favourite songs he ever wrote, which is probably about John. I love that song. I actually recorded it with the Minus 5. Needless to say, the stuff he did with The Beatles was pretty decent too. The thing that boggles my mind is that when they broke up, nobody was 30, and George was 26. He was 26?! Jeez.

Brendan Benson: It’s his genuine fascination for music and music theory, him as a composer, explorer and experimenter, especially his post-Beatles work. He’s a great arranger, the way he puts his songs together. Band On The Run is his masterpiece. It works on so many different level: it’s a simple pop record, yet the way he ties in the melodies throughout makes it something more. It’s a work of genius, so huge and epic yet never outstaying its welcome. He tears at the heartstrings with his mix of mellow, dark and pleasing sounds. There’s never anything harsh or abrasive, just super moody songs, full of melancholic nostalgia.

Andy Partridge, XTC: He’s so fab because he’s so ludicrously melodic and he’s not afraid to be soppy. It takes a lot of guts to do that. My favourite song? It’s Getting Better is so fantastically optimistic, with this great convoluted construction, twisting around. And that bass playing –it’s actually just like his singing, piping and flute-like. And Hello/Goodbye, those opening chords reach in like a ray of sunshine. Again, it’s ferociously optimistic. You know you’re going to have a good experience. It’s not this fake seriousness you get now. He’s never had a problem restricting himself to one thing – he can rock out, be avant-garde, do children’s music, pop for the teens… it’s preposterous that he’s seen as the second-best Beatle – I think the whole thing was an equally jewelled tug of love between them. Although I do wonder why you never see McCartney and Angela Lansbury in the same room.

Gladys Knight: For me it was when Paul took control of the group that The Beatles were at their best. He’s so gifted at writing words and I always choose songs for their lyrical content. I must have worn the grooves off Let It Be. I’d get up in the morning playing it, go to bed playing it, cook to it, clean up to it. The title track was just a song that touched my spirit and that’s why I decided to cover it, because it touched my soul.

Tom McRae: The man is a genius for melody. The second side of Abbey Road – particularly Golden Slumbers/Carry That Weight is one of the greatest Beatles’ moments and Paul’s shining moment. It goes from this brilliant beautiful ballad, his voice so lush and romantic, to turning, in a split second, into a raucous rock number; the best of both sides of his art all in the space of one song. It’s so emotive and there’s a challenging simplicity in his melody and lyrics.

Ben Kweller: The first album I ever fell in love with was Let It Be. I was eight and listened to it non-stop. Paul’s lyrics are so focused on the subject matter and the emotion he brings to the songs is so sincere and honest. Those massive piano ballads like The Long And Winding Road just make me swell up inside. His voice is so pure and beautiful and his musicianship is often overlooked. He reinvented bass playing and excelled at the guitar, piano and drums.

#2003 #interviewed: paul #interviewer: johnny black #paul mccartney #full article placeholder tag

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blackberry-gingham · 4 years ago

Note

This is a bit personal but how about beatle x reader headcannons/imagines of how the boys would react to their reader feeling self conscious about their body

No problem at all! So, I've seen this trope done quite a bit on other headcannon type pages for other fandoms, and since body insecurity is something very serious to me that I myself use to (and still do) deal with, I wanted to try and take this a little deeper then "you're sad, they tell you you're beautiful, the end", so I'm sorry if these get a touch angsty, but I promise everything works out ❤️

Also, I'm so sorry this took so long dear! These are somewhere between headcannons and my usual imagines, so I hope they're alright enough to make up for the wait! And remember, you're amazing and wonderful, just the way you are ❤️❤️❤️

George

Personally, I feel like George is sort of ?? forgotten ??? Of all the boys

By that I mean, like even non Beatle fans know Paul and John, and they might know Ringo just bc that name stands out, but George???

I mean, ik back before I was a fan I could never remember who "the fourth one" was

So anyway, even tho he's kind of in the background compared to the other three, that doesn't mean he's not sensitive to how the others are treated/feeling

At the end of the day I think he'd be his usual self and a good, sympathetic ear to insecurity issues

When he finds out, it's kind of an overtime process

He's use to bringing you snacks and take a little break like that with you, especially after a long day of recording or practice

But lately, you've been... Strange about it

Either straight up turning him down, or picking at the food and not really touching anything

He asks what's wrong, as gently as he can, seeing as he honestly already suspects the answer

You and George have been together for a while now, and he's always been easy to talk to, and understanding if you don't feel like sharing, so you feel that you can be honest

"I'm just... Trying to watch my figure, you know?"

He just kind of looks at you, confused at first

"Why?"

His face is hard to read, and yet still manages to turn to a completely different, very serious, emotion

"Has someone said something to you?"

You now have his full attention as he puts aside his guitar

You assure him that no, it's just a personal thing

"Oh", he nods

"Yeah", you nod

You're not sure how this makes you feel. Perhaps you're glad it's over, but you can't help but feel... Shunned?

But before you can ruminate too much, George brushes off his lap as though he's about to stand

Instead he sits back and looks at you

"Come here"

His voice is serious, but not quite stern

Invitingly, he becons you over and nods towards his lap

You look from his face to his long, thin legs

At first you decline, brushing it off almost as a joke

You look to your own legs

He can't be serious?

He asks you again, "Come on, I want to show you something"

At this point your curiosity is peaked

You get up and approach cautiously, as though he might run away

When the moment of truth arrives, you slowly, s l o w l y, begin to sit

Tired of waiting, George hooks his hands under your knees and pulls you forward

You fall onto his lap with a little thud and you figure this is it, expecting him to shove you off

Instead, when nothing happens, you dare to peak your scrunched up eyes open and see his smile waiting for you

He leans in for a gentle kiss, all the while his hands are resting on your thighs

His legs are like iron, not uncomfortable to sit on, quite the opposite actually, but strong in a way you hadn't expected

When the kiss is broken, he slides his palms up and out until they're resting on your hips

His callused fingers tickle a little, even through the fabric of your clothes

"So um, what were you going t-?"

He shushes and you, and picks up your hand in his

George brings the heel of your palm a mere inch away from his lips

He pauses just for a moment, making direct eye contact with you, before turning back to his work

He presses a trail of kisses along the inside of your arm, to the crook of your elbow, and up your bicep

You shiver, tensing as he goes up

But he doesn't recoil, or hesitate, or do anything of the sort

He gives equal love and attention to every inch of your flesh as he goes, only stopping at your shoulder to make sure you're still alright

As though giving permission, you bite your lip and give a subtle nod, curious to see what happens next

George releases your arm, now dedicating both hands to massaging your hips with all the thumb dexterity of a skilled guitarist

Next he moves along your shoulders, dropping down just a moment to give some attention to the bump of your collar bone

When he's done there, he lingers on your neck, gently kissing and sucking up and down before settling in one spot

After a moment, he starts humming a familiar tune against your skin

"Do you this song?", His voice is just a whisper

"Hm?"

"It's one of the first songs we wrote together"

George pulls back again to look at your face...

"As much as I love you for what's out here"

...Then presses one more kiss to your lips

"I love you even more for what's in here"

He kisses your forehead

Finally he pulls back one more time, and the way he looks at you is as though all the love in the world is inside those eyes

"Never forget that. Promise me"

You seal your promise with a kiss

John

Ok so I think we all know John struggled with an eating disorder(s)

So he knows the whole nine yards of what it's like being "overweight", "underweight", somewhere in between, and still never being good enough for everyone else

I mean John is basically infamous for having been body shamed and criticized out of all the boys, particularly in the early years

So all this to say, he knows how awful it feels

To wake up in the morning, try to get dressed, and take forever to choose an outfit because you hate how everything looks on you

To look in the mirror and be unable to stand your own reflection

To think once, twice, and yes, even thrice before enjoying your favorite little snack, or even just a regular meal

He wouldn't wish it on his worst enemy

And when he finds out that you, the most lovely person in the world, feel that way...

Oh, his heart breaks

All the boys would take this quite seriously of course, but John simply has a certain... understanding that the others don't

He finds out one night on a dinner date with you

You've picked at everything all night, hardly a bite

This is starting to form a pattern, and rest assured, he has been noticing

At the end of the meal, he asks if everything was alright in a way that references much more then the food

"Oh yes, fine", you force that same smile you always give when he asks that question

He waits until you're both in the comfort of your flat to breach the topic

You see, John is a man of many faces

The first layer is prickly and aggressive, the second is a mischievous joker, the third a sweet, but anxious individual

And under all those masks, the real John, is the most compassionate and loving man you've ever met

So when he does ask you what's really going on, he's very serious and very gentle

He wants you to know that you're safe to tell him anything and that he wants to help with whatever is so very clearly bothering you

It's tough to get it out, but John is patient and encouraging all the while and you manage it

You're surprised to hear that he suspected as much

John tries to go a little deeper, asking of there's anything particular that makes you feel this way or if it's just a constant thing

Regardless of your answer, he offers you what advice he can, from both personal experience and what he learned from his therapy sessions

John's not too great at comforting speeches, but he'll be damned if he doesn't do everything he can to make sure you know just how much he loves you

He loves you for your heart, and how patient and kind you are with not just him, but everyone

He loves you for your mind, and how you too can have deep conversations about topics that are important to you both

And perhaps most of all, he loves you for your personality and how you can poke a bit of fun, just like he does, and you aren't afraid to put him in his place when he's being an arse

"Is there anything I can do for you love?"

You smile, feeling just a bit better after his speech

"How's about a cuddle?"

John grins cheekily, "Now you're talking!"

He half tackles you from his seat beside you, turning your seated position into a reclining one

You can't help but laugh playfully as he easily picks you up in a bear hug and slips under you so you can rest on top of him

He presses a kiss to your cheek

"How's that?"

You smirk back

"It's a start"

John gasps in mock disbelief at your remark

You just wrap your arms around his shoulders, snuggling against him

"Well then, I guess I'll just have to keep it up"

At that, he nuzzles the side of your face, glad to see you finally feeling relaxed

John give you one more squeeze in his strong arms, holding you close

You two spend the rest of the evening cuddled up and cozy until you fall asleep in each other's arms

Paul

Now it's no secret Paul has always been the "pretty one" of the Beatles

I mean heck, even in the freaking cartoon he has the least goofy and caricature esque face of all the boys

But personally I would imagine that he's felt a certain pressure from time to time to keep up his looks!

It would be quite draining for everyone to have this flawless image of you and then expect you to live up to it 24/7, so in that regard he understands struggling with feeling less then perfect

And certainly with feeling subpar when others just expect far too much!

The night it comes out, the two of you have plans to attend a soiree of sorts

Music, lights, dancing, champaign, the hosts are pulling all the stops and it'll be absolutely a black tie affair

You've got a very fancy dress for the occasion that you got as a gift from Paul some time ago, it's all sparkly, exquisite, and your favorite color to boot

And it... "fits"

As in, you can zip it up and move and breathe comfortably in it, but it just....

Paul finds you standing in front of the full length mirror, mascara beginning to run quietly down your face as you tug and smooth and pull the dress in varying places

He's honestly a bit panicked and confused at first. After all, he does hate to see you upset, let alone cry

"is something wrong love? Do you not like that one? There's plenty of time to change!"

"it's nothing! Just an eyelash"

You try to laugh it off and hope that he'll just leave you alone

You see, Paul has been talking about this shindig for weeks in advance

It's hosted by a good friend, many more of which will be in attendance tonight

Not to mention he hardly ever gets to do something nice away from the press, so you're trying very hard not to ruin things for him

Paul walks over to you, concern written all over his face

"No really, what's wrong?"

You try to wave him off, but he takes you gently by the shoulders and looks you square in the eye

He looks around your beautiful eyes, searching, and it almost feels as though he can read your mind

At last he says "You don't want to go?"

With that, you just can't manage to hold a brave face any longer and the tears come rolling down

Without another word, Paul guides you to a seat on the bed and returns swiftly with some tissues

He dries your eyes as best he can and thumbs a soothing circle on your hand, giving you space to tell him what's on your mind

When you've had the chance to situate yourself, you tell him that you don't mind the party it's just that the way you feel in that dress, in fact, in all your dresses is just...

Paul nods understandingly as you trail off, and the two of you sit in silence for a moment

You're concerned you've upset him and ask as much

"What? No, of course not love!"

"But I know how much you want to g-"

Paul shushes you and brings a hand up to stroke your cheek

"I don't care about some stupid party, nothing matters more to me then you. I mean that"

He tilts his head and smiles at you

"Tell you what? We'll just skip it and have some fun right here!"

For a moment you're afraid he's doesn't mean it, but there's a childlike gleam in his eyes and grin on his face that tells you he not only means it, but is excited at the prospect

You're still a little doubtful that you haven't made him upset, but Paul reassures you until you're able to take him at his word

Absolutely relieved, you agree and wipe away your last few tears

"Good. Now let's get this off you, eh?"

Paul helps you take out your jewelry as well as undoing the far too complicated latches, ribbon, and zipper on the back of the dress

His delicate fingers slide up and down the length of your neck and back reverently as he works, planting gentle kisses to the nape of your neck every so often

With the hardest part over, and ever the gentleman, he gives you space to slip it off and put on something more comfortable

When next you see him, he's putting on a sweet and slow record, something like what you would've probably heard tonight

He's removed his suit jacket, tie, and shoes and when he turns to see you in your adorable PJs he smiles at you like you're the belle of the ball

"Ahem, may I have this dance?"

He bows low and offers you his hand, peaking up at you for just a moment to shoot you a playful grin

You laugh at his silly antics and give in happily to the charade

Paul leads you in a steady waltz around and around the room, the two of you stealing kisses and suppressing laughter all the while

When the record comes to an end, you both collapse on the couch and catch your breath

By now, you're fully confident you've had more fun just now then you would've all night had you gone

After a minutes rest, Paul hops up from his seat

"Just a minute, I forgot something... Wait right here!"

He darts off around the bend and when next you see him, he's carrying two flutes of champagne

Paul takes a seat beside you again and hands you yours

"I was saving this for when we got back, thought we could leave early and enjoy the rest of the evening alone"

You smile, touched by the thoughtfulness and still riding the high of the previous activities

Finally, you propose a toast

"To my amazing, lovely boyfriend"

Paul smiles at you with adoration. You mean so much more to him then a mere toast could describe

"To my love, the most gorgeous dance partner in the world"

Ringo

Idk if this is/was a thing, or if it's just something I've noticed, but Ringo seems to be the butt of the joke, particularly in regards to his appearance, a lot

Like he's the "short" one and he's got that nose

I only ever see him take it like a champ and all in good fun, and laid back as he is, it doesn't seem to hold him back but I'm sure he'd understand feeling insecure about ones body/looks

But for you to be insecure???

He just??????

When Ringo finds out, he's honestly the most bewildered of all

He finds you sat against the wall, hunched up and crying, half clothed, and a mess of clothing strewn around you

Usually whenever something's bothering you, you know you can bring it to him.

He's always there for you, after all

So to see you like this, he's absolutely terrified that something truly awful has happened

In that moment, thanks to his roaring adrenaline, he goes from rock star to olympic sprinter and dashes to your side so quickly it's as though he teleported

"What's wrong love, what's wrong?"

He holds your face up to look at him and quickly checks over you to make sure you're not injured or sick in some way

When he sees the pain in your eyes, he's nearly crying too

He wants so desperately to help you, and take all your troubles and worries away this very moment.

Even if it meant he had to shoulder the suffering for you, he'd do it in a heartbeat, no doubt

You feel rather embarrassed to be caught like this, and even worse still to see your boyfriend so upset on your behalf

This takes you back to square one, crying and nonverbal for a bit longer

Luckily, Ringo catches on that him getting upset is only going to make you more upset, so he settles himself and holds you until you're ready

When you are ready, you manage to choke out your insecurity, trusting him as you always do

And when he hears you're insecure about your body, or even your looks in general, he is just....

Ringo.exe has stopped working

Mind, it not that he doesn't understand your feelings!!

It's just that you are so completely and absolutely beautiful and kind and so much more to him, that he simply cannot fathom the idea of holding the opinion of you as any less

"is it the clothes? Because forget the damn clothes" He takes a handful and throws them up and away, like confetti

"I'll buy you a whole new closet if you like! W-would you like that?"

He smiles hopefully at you, as though you truly would like that, and it'll solve all your problems

You simply shake your head

And, after moment, Ringo starts to understand

He sits with you silently for a moment, the gravity of your feelings is so important to him that he's not sure plain old him has something good enough to say

But he knows he wants to say something

So, he meditates on it for a moment, and decides he can only tell you the truth

"Well... you know that I love you, yeah? Sometimes I wonder how a guy like me got so lucky to be with a right angel like you.... And so do the lads"

He laughs that deep, silly laugh you love so much

"Why, I think you're the loveliest girl in all of England er uh, no, all the world!"

That earns a little smile from you

You're about to respond when you catch a shiver

You're only down to your undergarments after all, and it's a bit drafty

Ringo notices and before any mention can be made, he sets to work at removing his sweater, eager to make sure you're cared for

It seems to be putting up a bit of a fight, but he manages to come out on top

"Er uh, will this be ok? I know you're fed up with clothes right now, but I don't want you to freeze neither"

He's genuinely concerned about your feelings in the subject, even as he holds the garment out to you

Buuuut... It's cozy and oversized on you, plus it smells comfortingly of him, so you take it

"Hey, that looks better on you then it does me!"

He laughs again, the state of him made a bit more comical by his now frizzed up mop top

You point the issue out to him, grinning yourself, and he shakes it out like a dog

Which, of course, only makes it ten times worse

For the first time that day, you laugh, and it's the most beautiful sound Ringo's ever heard

Feeling a bit better now, Ringo helps you stand and offers you some tea downstairs

You take a few steps, and then stop feeling the draft give rise to some goose bumps all up your legs

"Maybe I should get some pants..."

At the mere suggestion, Ringo looks at you like he has a bright idea and immediately goes to undo his belt

You burst out laughing, and stop him

He's confused at first, but when he realizes his own absurdity in his effort to be helpful, he can't help but laugh a little too

In the end, you come to the conclusion that a blanket and a cuddle on the couch will do nicely instead... Which is exactly what you do

Ringo spends the rest of the day keeping you entertained, warm, and covered in kisses

#the beatles #beatles x reader #john lennon x reader #paul mccartney x reader #ringo starr x reader #george harrison x reader #tw eating disorder mention #comfort #angst

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drink-n-watch · 6 years ago

Text

I’ve been promising this post for a while now. I did a voice actor version some time ago and it was one of my favourite lists to put together. I think you guys enjoyed it too.

As we all know, an actor’s performance can really drag down an anime. There’s something heartbreaking about a painfully wooden performance in the middle of a wonderful story that rips you right out of the fantasy. On the bright side, I’ve seen more than a few characters go from boring to endearing on the strength of an actor’s charisma. Voice actors don’t have as much to work with as conventional actors. They can’t rely on body movements or smouldering looks to get their message across. So it’s doubly impressive when they manage to convey subtle emotion and complex feelings though inflection and tone alone.

And for me, these ladies do just that.

Today let us celebrate the artistry that goes into bringing some of our favourite characters to life. In no real order we have!

5. Aoi Yuuki

I don’t care how petty it sounds, I’m just going to put this right here. This young woman is shorter than me!!! A musician and traditional actress, Aoi unique voice has made her quite successful in the field. Here are a few selected roles out of the tons she has had:

Hana – Ben-To

Tsuyu – My Hero Academia

Mina – Vampire Bund

The Energetic Ringo – Daily Lives of HighSchool Boys

Sosuke – Free!! (surprised? – I was)

Victorique – Gosick

Mihoshi – Gundam

Russia – Hetalia

Kino – Kino’s journey

Futaba – Persona 5

Iris – Pokemon

Mélie – Radiant

Shinra – Durarara!!

Sunako – Shiki

Borr – SSSS.Gridman

Tanya – Saga of Tanya the Evil

Oh yeah – she’s also Madoka in some magical girl show…

She’s set to play Touka and Boogiepop in the upcoming remake and I am psyched for this!

Not to mention roles in March Comes In Like a Lion, ACCA 13, Asobi Asobase, Welcome to the Ballroom, Gangsta, Gintama, Goblin Slayer, Hakata Tonkotsu Ramens, Hyakka, Hyouka, Your Name, last exile, One Punch Man, Seraph of the End, Sword Art Online II, Tanaka-kun, Tokyo Ghoul, Snafu, Yuru Yuri, and I seriously skipped over most of them. This lady works!

The surprisingly raspy quality of her vocals, and the counterintuitive depth of her tone makes her suitable for a wide range of diverse characters. A small actress with a big voice! Irresistible.

4. Chiwa Saito

Miss Saito has been acting for some time which means she’s had the chance to amass a pretty impressive portfolio. One of my favourite random facts out there, is that she is part of a voice acting groups called “MORE PEACH SUMMER SNOW”. That’s the best name ever. I’m going to rname Buddy that. (His actional name if Sir Buddy Livingston Master Chief Brown). Sadly, she is taller than me.

Yona – Yona of the Dawn

Aika – Aria

Hitagi – Monogatari series

Sigyn – Break Blade

Yuki – Vampire Bund

Chloe – Fate/Kaelid series

Natsumi – Keroro

the fantastic Riko – Kuroko’s Basketball

Louise- Gudam 00

Anita – R.O.D. TV

Kotori – rewrite

Meru – Zetsoubu Sensei

Nadeshiko – Yuru Yuri

She’s also Homura in some magical girl show…I swear I didn’t know this before researching for this post. I never realized how much I liked the Madoka casting before!

Of course there’s like a billion more titles but I’m going to name these ones because, reasons: Amanchu, Arakawa Under the Bridge, Boccano, Berserk, Dog & Scissors, D-Frag, Daily Lives of HighSchool Boys, Gintama, Girls Bravo, Kino’s journey, Last Exile, Log Horizon, Lyrica Nanoha, Murder Princess (I just like this title) One Piece, Sward Art Online, I’m just going to stop now.

You can actually hear her sing in some roles and she truly has a beautiful singing voice. It has a rich timber and she obviously has a great ear for melody. If ever she chose to switch career paths to the musical instead, I’m sure she’d have a great future. We would miss her as an actress though so let’s not encourage that!

3. Megumi Hayashibara

A more classical voice actress and one of the best known in Japan, Megumi almost became a nurse instead. There’s a certain personality that goes along with choosing a career in nursing. Caring but also resilient. You can see that peek through a bit in Megumi’s character and acting choice. Then again, there are so many to pick from I could probably make an argument for any character type.

Pai and IV – 3×3 eyes

Ai – Detective Conan

Haruko – FLCL Progressive

Haruka – Love Hina

Todomatsu – Osomatsu-kun

Paprika and Chiba – Paprika

Musashi – Pokemon

Ranma – Ranma 1/2

Lime – Saber Marionette J

Anna – Shaman King

Lina – Slayers

Ai – Video Girl Ai

Genkai – Yuu Yuu Hakusho

Hello Kitty…this woman is Hello Kitty

The incomparable Faye Valentine – Cowboy Bebop

Probably best known as Rei Ayanami – Evangelion

She can also be heard in Blue Exorcist, Bakuretsu Hunters, Sailor Moon, Blue Seed, Chihayafuru 2, Ghost in the Shell, Patlabor, Macross Plus, Lupin III, Maison Ikkoku, One Piece, Project A-ko, Shadow Skill, the Doreamons, Tenchi Muyou, and obviously a million more shows.

This lady’s body of work speaks for itself. I have to say I was already pretty amazed that spunky, opinionated Faye, with her womanly register and quiet monotone Rei were played by the same person, add in Hell Kitty to the mix and my mind is a little broken…and then you have comedy queen Ranma. This is the type of career you look up to!

2. Romi Park

Did you know that Romi studied Korean in university. I just find that intriguing, obviously she’s always liked languages. Ok I’m beating about the bush so let me just say it, miss Park’s performance was one of the best parts of FMA: Brotherhood for me. I literally caught myself in the middle of scenes just going, OMG the acting is phenomenal. I’ve heard great things about the English language cast but you really are missing ouy if you didn’t catch this performance.

Tōshirō Hitsugaya – Bleach

Teresa – Claymore

Akane – Danganronpa

Tanaka – Daily Lives of High School Boys

Igarashi – Deadman Wonderland

Kenichi – Cyber Coil

Ken – Digimon

Sena – Eyeshield 21

Natsume – Gakuen Alice

Walter – Hellsing Ultimate

Switzerland – Hetalia

Angelina – Black Butler

Taiga – Major

Falis – Murder Princess (love this title)

Temari – Naruto

My precious, precious Naoto – Persona 4

Jiro – Pokemon

Syrup – Precure

Alma – Radiant

Zoe Hange – Attack on Titan

Everyone’s favourite rocker Nana Osaki – Nana

And of course Edward Elric – Fullmetal Alchemist

And if that wasn’t enough, you can hear her in Air Master, Beelzebub, Blue Dragon , Clannad After story, Detective Conan, Devil May Cry, Garo, Granblue Fantasy, Hunter x Hunter, Kill la Kill, Lupin III, Gundam 00, One Piece (everyone is in this), RahXephon, Sengoku Basara, RDG, Samurai 7, Terra Formars (cause it’s terrible), Aquarion, White Album

Romi Parks has the most devastatingly emotional voice I know. She often plays calm, cool and collected genius type characters (a lot of boys as you can see) but when an emotional contrast is needed, she really knows how to deliver, making her characters feel so real and raw. One of the greatest performers in my opinion, she tends to make me want to see a show just to hear what she can do with the character.

Honorable Mentions

Ami Koshimizu

C,mon, she Ryuko from Kill la Kill. Always loved that sexy alto voice! Apparently she was also both Hiro and Naomi in the recent Darling and the Franxx. I loved her as Ibuki in Danganronpa. She was Kallen in Code Geass, Holo in Spice and Wolf and Yuiko in Persona. Obviously I’m skipping over st of her work including some very big roles. I suggest you look her up! The only reason she isn’t on the list proper is that I simply haven’t seen that many of her shows even though a lot are very popular.

1. Megumi Ogata

OK fine so this is a subjective choice. Well they all are really, it’s my top 5 list. Fact is, I’ve been a fan of Megumi Ogata for a long long time and I’m just always going to be. She’s the first voice talent I ever learned about and I absolutely love her work. Sure, she might have voiced a few of my anime crushes but surely that did not influence my choice in any way…. She’s much taller than me.

Ayato – Angel Beats

Haruka (Sailor Uranus) – Sailor Moon*

Jun – Captain Tsubasa

Yukito and Yue – Cardcaptor Sakura*

Makoto – Danganronpa

Nagito – Danganronpa***

Shinji – Evangelion*

Izumi Rio – Searching for the Full Moon*

the terrifying Fairies – Humanity has Declined

Cranberry – Raising Project*

Ichigou Fujimoto – Magical girl Ore

Ken – Persona 3

Yukimura – Samurai Deeper Kyo*

Akagi – Slam Dunk

Valkyrie – UFO Princess Valkyrie

Yuugi – Yu Gi Oh!*

Karuma – Yuu Yuu Hakusho*

And just o drive the point home, here are a few more at random. If you want to full list, you’ll have to look it up. I just can’t type that much! Bleach, Detective Conan, et Backers, Great Teacher Onizuka, Kino’s Journey, Magic Knight Rayearth, Tamayura, Tokyo Mew Mew,

Megumi Ogata is a revered veteran in the field. Comparing Nagito to Makoto (purposefully similar characters with a lot of very similar lines) will reveal her mastery on inflection and subtle vocalisation to embody a character way beyond their dialogue. Anyone still under the illusion that voice acting is simply reading your lines, please see master Ogata’s work!

Good list isn’t it!?! I discover new voice talent all the time mind you. I’ll be watching a show and suddenly realize that the actor is doing fantastic work. And I’m always so happy when I discover a new favourite. So please, share yours with me!

that was a lot of pics to find….

Top Five Voice Actresses in My Harem I've been promising this post for a while now. I did a voice actor version some time ago…

#anime #Lists #Voice Actors #yummy

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mithranqueersmusings · 4 years ago

Text

Before This Dance Is Through XVI

Chapter: 16/16

Rating: U

Summary: Ringo's being going through a dry spell for the last year or so and when he regretfully tells his best friend John, he insists on taking them to an all-male strip club for some "fun". Ringo isn't sure whether it's the alcohol, his desperation or a mixture of the two but he thinks he might be falling in love with a stripper.

Tags: AU - Strippers, Modern Setting, Smut, Slow Burn

Pairings: George Harrison/Ringo Starr, John Lennon/Paul McCartney

AO3 link here / Fic masterlist here

George appeared to have sobered up considerably since Ringo had first seen him tonight, seeing the damage of his face and realising Ringo had come to his rescue seemed to play a large part in that. Despite this, he still linked his arm in Ringo's as they walked over to the car, occasionally resting his head on Ringo's shoulder. They didn't talk as they headed out of the club, Ringo's mind was flooded with thoughts and he was certain George's was almost numb with intoxication. He was trying not to read too much into things, as usual, to focus on just getting George home safe because it was the right thing to do, it didn't have to mean anything.

Ringo started up the car then looked over at George, who was staring straight ahead. It took a while for him to realise Ringo was even looking at him, but eventually he did.

"What?" George asked a little accusingly.

"I don't know where you live." Ringo explained, his hands gripping the wheel.

"Oh..." George pondered for a moment "Can we not just go to yours?"

Ringo raised an eyebrow at him "You really don't want me knowing where you live, do you?"

"Not yet." George responded simply, it was a good enough answer for Ringo.

"Alright then." Ringo began driving the car back in the direction of his flat "You can sleep in my bed, I'll take the sofa."

George scoffed "Seriously? You literally came in my arse this morning, but you can't share a bed with me?"

Ringo felt his face heating up "No, it's not that. I-I just didn't want to give you the wrong idea, like I was gonna take advantage of you or something."

"I wish you would." George chuckled "Always the gentleman, aren't you?"

Just exactly how not wanting to take advantage of a drunk person made him a gentleman, Ringo wasn't quite sure, but it was just another piece of the puzzle of the complexity of George's mind.

"Looks like Paul and John were getting on tonight." George continued "What's the deal with that?"

"Haven't the faintest." Ringo smiled "John's liked him for a while, I think."

"No shit." George laughed "You know he never gets a dance from anyone else? If Paul isn't working on the night he just orders some drinks then goes home."

Ringo's smile widened, he wasn't entirely conscious of it "Well I've never gotten a dance from anyone but you."

George was silent for a few seconds "Really?"

Ringo nodded "Did you not know that?"

More silence.

"I guess I hadn't really considered it." George mumbled.

Neither of them spoke as they drove down the lamp-lit streets, they were mostly empty spare a few drunken individuals staggering home. George stared out of the window by his side the entire time, Ringo tried not to think much of it. When Ringo eventually parked the car, George shuddered a little and Ringo supposed he must've fallen asleep. He looked around outside the window slightly alarmed, as though he'd forgotten where they were going.

"You okay?" Ringo asked as he undid his seat belt "If you don't wanna come in, I can just order you an Uber."

George looked over at him with a smile, the plaster on his nose made him look slightly childish "Don't be ridiculous. I'm not gonna miss an opportunity to drink more of your tea, am I?"

Ringo chuckled quietly, then slid out of the car back into the cold air; he hurried over to the opposite side to open the door for George, worried he might still be in great pain. George looked at him confused when Ringo opened his door, the expression intensified when Ringo offered his arm out for George to hold. Was he ever going to get used to Ringo being nice to him? It made Ringo seriously question the type of guys George had previously dated, he could only assume they weren't the most considerate people. Ringo guided George up to his flat, linking arms with him all the way until they got to his sofa, which George lazily flopped down onto.

"You want a drink?" Ringo asked as he headed to the kitchen "I think I've got some leftovers if you're hungry."

"I'd love a drink, but something tells me you're not offering any alcohol." George called after him, there was no door separating the living room from the kitchen so they could still see one another.

Ringo came back into the room with two glasses of ice water "Even if I didn't already think you've had enough, I don't keep alcohol in my house anyway."

George accepted the glass happily, although it was clear he was hoping for something far stronger "Why not?"

Ringo sat down beside him on the sofa, not on the opposite end because he didn't want to seem rude - and he very much wanted to sit next to George - but not overly close either.

"Let's just say I don't have the best relationship with alcohol." Ringo took a sip of water after his words "No alcohol in the house means less drinking in the house."

"What about going out and drinking? You seem to do that a lot." George made himself comfortable, kicking off his shoes and curling up on the sofa.

"Let's just say I'm still working on it." Ringo copied his actions "But I'm not about to take criticism from someone who just fell arse over tit because they drank too much."

"Watching my arse were you?" George flashed his signature grin.

"No, funnily enough I was watching the blood pouring out of your face." Ringo responded with a smile of his own.

George paused for a moment, the smile vanishing from his face "Was it bad? Like were there a lot of people watching?"

Ringo put down his glass on the coffee table in front of him "Well it wasn't good. But I think everyone was too pissed to really notice, I was surprised nobody tried to help you."

"Nobody but you." George amended, he shifted on the sofa and turned so he was fully facing Ringo, then slid his legs over Ringo's lap.

Ringo lifted his arms slightly so that George's legs could spread across him. He knew George wouldn't have been acting so comfortable if he wasn't so drunk, but he enjoyed the gesture anyway. Ringo could see the sleepiness on his face, the way his arms were curled up across his chest and his lids fluttered heavily. Ringo wasn't quite sure what to do with his hands, he rested one on George's bony knee and the other higher up on his thigh.

"You look ready to pass out." Ringo began to whisper.

"Mmm." Was all George said in response.

"Let's get you into a bed then, can't have you sleeping on the sofa." Ringo announced, tapping his hands on George's legs gently.

George had scrunched his eyes closed "Don't wanna move. Carry me." He whined, lifting up his arms to further his demand.

Ringo let out a huff of air, he'd dealt with a similar situation a plethora of times when John would get too drunk then collapse onto his sofa; sometimes Ringo would just leave him there, not without getting a glass of water and moving the bin closer of course. He gently peeled George's legs off of his lap then shifted off the sofa, lifting him was considerably easy and he couldn't help worrying about why he was so underweight. George fell into Ringo comfortably, resting his head on his shoulder as they passed into the bedroom; with his eyes shut and a small smile on his face, Ringo struggled to remember why he'd ever found him intimidating. Ringo lowered him onto the bed gently, lifting the sheets up so that he could slip underneath comfortably.

"I've got some pyjamas if you want them." Ringo spoke softly now.

George rolled over with a low groan "I don't need them. I sleep naked."

"Oh." Ringo paused for a few moments, staring over at George who had his back turned "I best leave you to sleep then."

George groaned again, turning onto his back "Just get in the bed, Ringo. Don't be daft."

Ringo took a couple steps closer "I really don't mind sleeping on the sofa."

"Well I do mind." George opened his eyes wide "What are you waiting for?"

Ringo paused for a moment "I sleep naked too."

George let out a loud cackle at this but said nothing else, he just sat up and began stripping off his clothes; Ringo half expected him to put on a mini-show, he had never seen George take off his clothes so normally. As soon as George was fully naked, he pulled the bed sheets off of himself to make room for Ringo who was still looking at him lost.

"Well?" George asked with a raised eyebrow, and Ringo was moving immediately.

Ringo practically jumped out of his clothes and into the bed, he only stilled when he felt George's hand caressing his face.

"I'm not gonna sleep with you." Ringo said plainly.

George pulled his hand back slightly "Why not? You sick of me already?"

Ringo chuckled "Of course not. But you're far too drunk, and injured." He shifted in the bed to get comfortable, pulling the duvet over his bare chest.

"You're unreal." George murmured, his eyes glancing away.

"In a good way or a bad way?" Ringo asked, he placed his own hand over George's.

"Ask me again in the morning." George punctuated his sentence with a quick peck on the lips, then he turned his back to Ringo and settled into the bed.

A small smile grew on Ringo's face as he watched George adjusting, yet another surprising end to a night that Ringo never could have predicted; the only thing predictable about George seemed to be his unpredictability. Ringo watched him for a while, as he descended into sleep, his breath slowing gradually; it was the most intimate moment they'd shared so far, and he was determined to savour it because he had an awful feeling that in the morning things would change for the worse. He tried to quell the negative thoughts by curling up to George, he didn't cuddle him as tightly as he certainly wanted to, rather he threw a loose arm around him and curled his legs up slightly.

Ringo didn't take too long to fall asleep, but considerably longer than George who essentially passed out as soon as his head hit the pillow. The morning seemed to come instantly, rays of sunlight peeping through the thin curtains. He awoke slowly but gently, the noise of the street below his window was unappealing to some but Ringo preferred waking up the noise of bustling life. Before he opened his eyes, he rolled over to stretch his legs somewhat but was unnerved by the expanse of space beside him. Where was George? His eyes shot open, revealing the emptiness awaiting him. Did he really just get up and leave? Ringo stretched out on the double mattress, letting out a heavy huff. It wasn't too surprising, Ringo supposed, George must have been pretty embarrassed about last night so fled as soon as he could.

The most enticing choice was to stay in bed for the rest of the morning, but that would only make the whole situation feel a lot worse. He let out a groan as he turned himself out of bed, stretching his arms behind him. Waking up alone was beyond normal for Ringo by this point, but this instance felt like the very first time and it hurt. Ringo managed to drag himself out of bed, he lazily threw on a dressing gown and slumped over to the kitchen. His eyes were still droopy as he felt the cold tiles beneath his feet, he rubbed them both vigorously and let out a stifled yawn.

"Good morning." A voice spoke out gently, making Ringo jump backwards slightly "What's so surprising? Did you forget I was here?"

Ringo smiled anxiously "I thought you'd gone."

George was stood in just his boxers with two mugs in his hands, a confused expression on his face. The plaster was still across the bridge of his nose, bloody and slightly curling at the edges, his face was still pretty bruised but he looked considerably better.

"Of course not." George smiled sweetly then held one of the mugs out to Ringo "I had to return the favour."

Ringo accepted it thankfully, sliding into the same chair he'd sat in a little less than a day ago. George sat opposite him once more, he hissed a little at the coldness of the chair across his skin.

"What a difference a day makes." Ringo sang lazily, making George snicker.

"I'm away from you for a whole day and I have a near-death experience." George was still smiling.

"I don't think it was quite that bad." Ringo said after taking a sip of his tea "But if it makes me look more heroic then yes, near-death sounds right."

"That's twice you've saved me now." George sipped his drink too "You'll have to think of some way I can repay you."

George slid his foot across to Ringo's under the table, brushing against his bare ankle. Ringo almost dropped his mug at the sudden contact, George's skin was frightfully cold. When he looked up at George, his eyes were dark and slightly squinted with his lips curled upwards. Ringo gulped hard, his mouth suddenly dry despite the drink in front of him.

"How about you let me take you out?" Ringo asked, practically squeaked.

George paused, his foot stilling in place "Really?"

"Yeah..." Ringo smiled widely "If you don't want to-"

"That's fine." George completed "I'm gonna have to start counting the amount of times you say that." He pulled his foot back but was smiling "Tonight might be a good place to start."

Ringo felt himself relax immediately, he hadn't even realised he'd been tense "Great." Was all he could manage to say.

"I'll have to head home to shower and things." George drank his tea almost desperately, emptying the mug.

"Oh, you can shower here-" Ringo began.

"If you like." George interrupted "Honestly your politeness is like a catchphrase."

Ringo chuckled "Sorry... I do mean it though."

"No, no, if we're gonna go for a proper date we're gonna do it properly." George stood up slowly from the table, discarding his almost empty mug "So you'll have to pick me up and everything."

Ringo blinked at him dumbfounded "Pick you up? Like from your house?"

George laughed, his voice was a little husky from only having just woken up "Funnily enough I don't live in the strip club."

Ringo laughed too, a little nervously "I know. I just thought you had a thing about-"

"Never mind all that." George said abruptly "Pick me up at 7, alright?" He looked at Ringo with wide eyes, awaiting confirmation.

"Alright." Ringo spoke finally, a small smile on his face.

George mirrored his smile "Alright. Well I'm gonna head back to mine and get dressed, I'll text you my address."

"I don't have your number." Ringo stood up.

"Oh... I'll write it down for you." George began walking out of the kitchen backwards, keeping eye contact with Ringo "Let me just get some clothes on." He retreated back into Ringo's bedroom with a wink, shutting the door behind him.

As soon as Ringo was alone, he felt the stupidest grin growing on his face. George was going out with him; properly this time, no strange circumstances surrounding them or unspoken tension. Just like two ordinary people. Maybe ordinary wasn't the right word, considering how they met and even what led to this date being set up in the first place, but it was the closest thing to normality Ringo expected they'd be able to achieve.

George didn't take too long getting dressed, Ringo suspected he was just as skilled putting his clothes on as he was taking them off. Even with his battered face and ruffled bedhead, Ringo still thought he looked breathtaking. George approached Ringo rather sultry, his hips swaying and a sly grin on his lips.

"Here you go." George passed on a piece of paper over to Ringo, who accepted it hastily and shoved it into the pocket of his dressing gown "Now I best be off, before you get sick of seeing me."

"I wouldn't count on that happening any time soon." Ringo smiled and placed his hand on George's face, he half expected him to flinch away but he didn't.

"Suppose I can give you a preview of tonight." George moved in closer, sliding his hands over Ringo's hips and pressing their lips together.

Ringo hummed happily against the contact, moving his other hand to the back of George's neck. It wasn't the most pleasant kiss, neither of them had brushed their teeth and the taste of the tea was only making it worse. But Ringo didn't care, kissing George was always a joy to him. Before it got too heated, George pulled away and immediately pressed a finger to his lips - Ringo hadn't considered how much it must still be hurting.

"Seven o'clock." George said with a grin, pulling away further.

"Seven o'clock." Ringo repeated with a smile, following George over to the door.

They didn't say anything else, Ringo just unlocked the door and George departed with a wave. Ringo watched as he walked away, and even though George didn't look back Ringo knew he knew that he was looking. Then Ringo reluctantly closed the door, letting out another heavy breath but for the exact opposite reason that he had done when he'd first awoken.

Ringo's first instinct, as it often was when anything major happened in his life, was to grab his phone and text John an update. It took a while to find his phone, he couldn't quite remember when or where he discarded it.

you up yet?

does it count as being up if I havent slept??

guess I dont have to ask you how your night went

no you dont but ask anyway

howd your night go?

fucking fantastic with emphasis on the fucking

very romantic

oh it was believe me

Paul liked the poem then?

very much so he made sure to tell me and show me repeatedly

im very happy for you

why thank you howd your night go???

nothing too exciting the morning was better me and George are going on a date tonight

tonight??? thats amazing look at us

i know isnt it mad

gives me a brilliant idea for my next book

oh yeah?

ill call it Me, My Best Friend and Our Stripper Boyfriends

very family friendly

my speciality

id get back to the drawing board with that one

what do you mean

who in their right mind would want to read a book about that

youd be surprised

#the beatles #beatles #beatles fanfic #the beatles fanfic #beatles fanfiction #george harrison/ringo starr #ringo starr/george harrison #ringo starrxgeorge harrison #george harrisonxringo starr #starrison

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softlofty · 7 years ago

Note

Hi (: I’m absolutely in love with your Ringsy stories and I was wondering if you could do prompt no. 28 (I thought we were family) because I’d really like to read something with Tobias realizing that his constant mistrust towards Ringo and him constantly ruining nice moments between him and Easy is getting to his little brother more than he wants to admit (-;

Hi! Thank you very much, and I hope you like what I wrote!

28. “I thought we were family.”

Ringo tries to avoid Tobias as much as he can nowadays. Any interaction they have always seems to lead to conflict, and it’s not that Ringo doesn’t think Tobias should be spared the snarky comments because he completely deserves it, but because Ringo can see that Easy hates it.The moments alone, Easy resting comfortably in Ringo’s arms, the both of them tucked up in bed, Ringo can feel Easy thinking and when he asks he gets a “nothing”, but Ringo knows Easy is worried.Tobias gets under his skin like no other, and Ringo has legitimate problems with the way he’s acting right now, but he does see the way it breaks Easy, standing in between his best friend and his boyfriend.So, Ringo has decided to be the bigger person. He can feel it tugging at him, the fear that one day Easy is going to open his ears and actually hear what Tobias is saying, and he’ll believe it.He’ll drop Ringo like he’s completely convinced it’s for the best, and Ringo will be left alone and hurt.

But Tobias doesn’t leave it. He, too, sees how uncomfortable it makes Easy to be stuck in between them, but Tobias keeps provoking Ringo every chance he gets.Like right now. Ringo is sitting at the table in Easy’s apartment, typing away on his laptop, when Tobias opens the door and immediately pulls a face upon seeing Ringo.“What are you doing here? Easy isn’t here.”Ringo refrains from rolling his eyes and keeps his focus on the screen.“I know, Easy said I could hang out here whilst he’s out.”, Ringo looks to the side for a moment, “you were also supposed to be out.”Tobias shrugs off his coat and puts his bag on one of the chairs.“There’s no reason for you to be here.” Tobias pulls the fridge door open, “and pretty soon there won’t be a reason for you to be in Easy’s life either.”

Ringo’s jaw hardens, and he pushes his laptop closed. He wasn’t going to do this. But Tobias just can’t let it go.“Is that a threat?”Tobias pulls the cap off of a bottle of beer and does that annoying smug half-grin that he has when he thinks he has everything figured out.“No. I just have faith in my best friend that he’ll see sense soon.”

Ringo huffs a humourless laugh, shaking his head in disbelief.Tobias gulps a sip. “You may not believe me but you’ll see.”Ringo pushes his lips together, determined to stay silent. He keeps thinking of Easy, thinks about how all they both want is for this to stop. The constant nagging, the comments. They get enough of that from less than gay-friendly people on the street, and Ringo is tired of the mudslinging in the comfort of his own home.“Oh what, no comeback?” Tobias taunts.Ringo’s eyes flick up to him, and for a moment he feels a bit sad. He sees the flashes of a guy he used to refer to as his half-brother without getting a bitter taste in his mouth, the guy who became a better person because of Easy and who had his heart broken by a girl he put everything on the line for.

But there’s this daring look on Tobias’ face, and everything in Ringo wants to flip the table.“You are so fucking childish.” Ringo says, voice calm and steady.Tobias snorts.“You really are.” Ringo licks his lips. “It’s weird I, I think I did have some sympathy for you at some point. What you went through with KayC was hard.”Ringo allows himself to soften a little. “It probably still is.” He can see Tobias’ eyes hardening.“But you’re just bitter now. And petty.” Ringo spits, “and you keep controlling Easy under the pretense of wanting him to be happy, but when he tells you that I make him happy, all of sudden Easy is blind and doesn’t know what he wants.”Ringo sinks his teeth into the inside of his lip until it hurts.

“Aren’t you tired yet? Because I am.” Ringo is exhausted with everything, he can feel it seeping into every conversation he has with Easy, feeling like he can’t give back as much as he used to, getting insecure about what he has to offer the longer it goes on.Ringo looks down at his hands on the table. “I thought we were family.”“Oh, so now you want to be family?” Tobias says, raising his voice.“We may not have always gotten along, but you were always a brother.” Ringo says, a light dizzying feeling spreading in his head. Him and Tobias never really talk about the past, and it’s clearly for a reason because Ringo feels like someone is cutting the wires that made everything flow smoothly.Ringo can feel himself welling up.“I came to you when I’d slept with a guy for the first time, crying and completely convinced that I was doomed.”, Ringo pauses, “we got through that.”

When Ringo looks at Tobias, the sharpness and defensiveness is gone for a moment.“We’ve been through enough I think. I hate this,” Ringo gestures between Tobias and himself, “you don’t have to love me, but the least you could do is respect Easy’s boundaries. And maybe also mine.”Tobias rolls his eyes and the irritation flares up inside of Ringo.He stands up, putting his laptop in its sleeve.“Also, you’re a grown fucking man.” He pulls the zipper.“I would’ve thought you would know by now that you can’t throw a tantrum everytime things don’t go the way you want them to.”Ringo tucks the laptop in the crook of his arm.“When you’re ready to stop this feud, you let me know. But I’m done trying.”With that, he leaves and heads for his own bedroom.

send me a line and i’ll write something ringsy related

#ringsy #ringo x easy #ringo beckmann #easy winter #unter uns #tobias lassner #lisa writes fic

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musicrunsthroughmysoul · 6 years ago

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It’s time to grow up, and it’s been time for an embarrassingly long time. Very long and probably offensive post below - do NOT say I didn’t warn you.

I just had an impulsive thought, but I’m gonna back it up with good evidence, so don’t judge me or try to stop me just yet.

I can’t be in the Beatles fandom anymore.

I know that doesn’t sound that significant, but, um...well, I write for the fandom, for a particular, very small, pretty unpopular part of the fandom, but I do, nonetheless. And maybe it’s because that part of the fandom is the only thing I’ve been interested in for an enduring three years or so and so I notice and analyze a lot about it. Well, I think my reason for leaving wouldn’t just be related to that part of the fandom, though.

Maybe the analysis started when I finally found I was able to properly critique George Harrison, the man I, and seemingly along with most of this god-forsaken site, considered a saint. Well, on that subject, let’s just say that even SAINTS (the ideal ones, mind you) know how to respect women, complete with not treating them like commodities he could toss aside when he was done with them. Yes, maybe that’s harsh, but I don’t trust men who don’t respect women because I really haven’t been taught to trust men otherwise. So there’s that.

But then the other part, again/still has to do with George, but it also extends to the other Beatles, too, and that is...infantilization. I feel like the only way people realistically justify their love for the Beatles is through their ability to infantilize them because, let’s face it, all of them at some point or another were pieces of shit. John beat his wives, Paul slept with ten billion women as did George (THAT’S AN OVERSTATEMENT FOR ANYONE POLICING THIS POST, GOODBYE), and Ringo beat his wife(/wives), too. None of them were statuesque human beings (and yet, here we are, all over the fucking world...), and yet people still heroize them like they were flawless.

In some people’s defense, I will say that those more interested in the Beatles’ MUSIC than the musicians as people are probably on the right track and doin’ well; there’s nothing wrong with admiring someone’s talent and being inspired by it. But I feel like this needs to be straightened out: the Beatles as people really are hardly people to look up to and base your values around. Maybe, arguably, NO ONE ought to be used as a singular example to base one’s values around - I think a lot of good people have acknowledged their humanity and their unwillingness to be represented as role models, and I think they’ve really got the right idea. In other words, it’s good to “take notes,” so to speak, but USE YOUR DAMN JUDGMENT, FOR CHRIST’S SAKE.

Now, to get back to the thought I didn’t quite finish about the Beatles being infantilized - seriously. If someone does discover the ability to critique them, they can’t seem to do so without further stating, “...but I love them, anyway.” If you can’t justify your love or admiration for them as otherwise pure, then you’ve got no justification to begin with. (And by pure, I don’t mean “non-sexual” or “pure of heart” type of thing - speaking on the Beatles, a pure love would be love that only considers the music and not the people who make it. Shocking concept, I know!) But I’d argue that the type of justification for loving/admiring the Beatles that ends in “...but I love them, anyway” inherently infantilizes them because it’s still being used as a way to justify and excuse their bad behavior. If you do not know these people personally, you are not obligated to love them unconditionally, which is what is being attempted (even while still attempting to critique them harshly, sometimes). Another point is, by justifying your love for them, you’re not only excusing their poor behavior, but also, in fact, PROMOTING it. Like I said, if you don’t know these people personally, then you’re not obligated to love them unconditionally, and thus, if they fuck up, THEY PROBABLY DON’T DESERVE YOUR ABIDING LOVE AND ADMIRATION UNLESS YOU ADMIRE AND THUS CONDONE THE SHITTY THINGS THEY’VE DONE.

But now, in less general examples, I’m gonna lay on some more shit about George that I’ve noticed in the fandom, in any part of the fandom, mind you. This is also the main reason I’ve finally come to the realization that I can’t associate myself with this fandom anymore (look, I’m not saying I’m perfect and that I realized this shit way before like I should have, because I didn’t, evidently why I’m writing about it now as am I finally realizing it - so basically, I’m not trying to fault anyone who hasn’t come to the realization themselves, yet, just that they SHOULD if they haven’t and SOON): I’ve noticed people infantilizing THE ABSOLUTE HELL out of George Harrison, and I suppose for the longest time I ignored it (because I thought it was gross and I do try to ignore things I think are gross), but now I’m not ignoring it any longer. People talking about the way he lost his virginity, about the way Paul always treated him (referred to him as his little brother), about the way JOHN always treated him, and thus people have seemed to learn that it is okay and that it’s always okay to treat George like A KID. Well, see, that’s how he’s gotten away with all of the bullshit that he has - because everyone’s infantilized him and thus excused his shitty behavior. BUT that’s not all...I’m also GROSSLY UNCOMFORTABLE and ALWAYS HAVE BEEN with the way people have portrayed and perpetuated George’s relationship with Paul, focusing on the way Paul has always treated George like his superior and older brother even though, as George has stated countless times, he’s “only 9 months older than him” (that seriously is not a big difference...that’s literally like two babies, one right after the other, in age/time difference. One LITERALLY RIGHT after the other. Hello, do we all know how long pregnancy generally lasts? Sorry to be gross, but I’m JUST SAYING). Of course, considering I was a fan of George for the longest time, I also was always uncomfortable with the way John and George’s relationship has been portrayed - that John, so much older than George, couldn’t be bothered by the inferior pest. So it obviously started with the Beatles, themselves, infantilizing George, and of course everyone else has perpetuated it...however, the means in which I’ve seen fans do so are often highly inappropriate and make me UNCOMFORTABLE AS FUCK via the pedo/incestuous vibes. Yep. Not joking here. I don’t joke about that shit.

Of course you could argue, “But it’s just fanfiction/fanart, it’s not real!!!!!1!!” And trust me, my dudes, no one knows that argument better than me. But it’s still the MESSAGE that is put across, the morals that are being valued and promoted here. THAT is what I can’t accept any longer. I can deal with the fact that it’s fictitious and someone’s art and therefore it should have some semblance of respect, but when it crosses moral boundaries, that’s when I have to say, “HIT THE ROAD, JACK; GOODBYE, JACK.”

So basically what I’m saying is: straight and oversexed Beatles, gay Beatles, friend-Beatles, idealized and perfect Beatles, however-the-fuck-they-exist-in-your-head-or-writing-or-art I don’t care for anymore. I want no part of the people who were the Beatles, and if I continue to appreciate anything related to the Beatles anymore, it will strictly be under the subject of their music and nothing else.

So yeah, what I’m also saying is, if anyone who follows me and read all the way down to here and knows of the fanfiction I write, well, my good reader dude who I appreciate otherwise, I’m sorry, but I won’t be continuing any more. But thanks for reading my writing even though it’s highly inappropriate and I don’t condone any of it anymore. Sorry, again. Maybe eventually I’ll write something I’m proud of, but that shit was not it.

Thanks for not enjoying not killing me not getting into any arguments with me surrounding this shit because I truthfully cannot be fucking bothered at this time reading.

#I would appreciate it if you wouldn't reblog this thank you very much

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looselucy · 7 years ago

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December

I sat with my mouth slightly dropped. Maybe I licked my lips once or twice, I don’t know, but it’s very likely. Harry and Zayn were both stood topless in the kitchen. I mean, I didn’t mean to ogle, but it was bloody hard not to. Even Ringo had made a surprise appearance, and she was exactly the same. Zayn was a little weedy, but I could see from the look in Ringo’s eyes that was exactly her type. Me personally, it was Harry who had my attention.

I still hated him. It was the 19th of December, which meant he had moved into our flat just over a month ago, and we still weren’t on good terms. I was thankful that neither of us had ever mentioned the night where I found my head on his shoulder, his cheek against mine, our breathing in sync as he helped me throw up. It had been a strange moment that we shared, and one I was glad we didn’t really acknowledge. There had been a few more nights out, a few more arguments, and our situation hadn’t improved. However, ignoring all of that, his body was absolutely lovely. I would never understand that tattoo, that bloody moth or whatever it was. I tried to blank it out and stare at the pure bliss of his abs. They were something else. I knew Harry went running a lot, he would get up early in the morning and run around campus, but I couldn’t explain or even begin to comprehend how he kept that figure up. Especially with the lifestyle we were all leading. I had been too fascinated trying to find out if I had just spotted a third nipple to notice that he had seen my staring. Which obviously, he loved. “You enjoying yourself, Pip-Squeak?” “Hm?” I mumbled, darting my eyes up to his. “You just… taking it all in, yeah?” He smirked. “Your tattoo is the weirdest thing I’ve ever seen.” I tried to cover my tracks. “Is it a moth?” “It’s a butterfly.” “Does it have sentimental meaning or do you just like giant, horrible tattoos?” I shrugged. “I like anything that makes a girl stare at my body like that.” He raised his brows playfully. I scoffed, returning my gaze to the TV on the wall. I was so looking forward to the upcoming two weeks I’d be spending at home. With Christmas only a few days away, I had begun missing my family more than you can imagine. I hadn’t gone home once, which I wasn’t expecting, being such a home orientated person. But I guess with it being that way, I just got more excited that I would eventually be home with them. Of course I was sad Liam wouldn’t be there with us, but we had promised to skype him throughout the Christmas meal, and that was better than nothing. I was even excited about the train journey to get home. I needed it all. The thought of two blissful weeks without Harry Styles made me want to cry with happiness. My phone pinged and as did my stomach, knowing it would be Louis. Louis: I might be slightly gutted I won’t get to kiss you on NYE. Many kisses had been exchanged between myself and Louis, but still, nothing more than that. I always asked, I always hinted. I was getting desperate for a shag, but he was so hesitant. I wondered if he looked at it how I should be doing. Thinking of taking it slowly and maybe we could get somewhere, rather than rushing it. I tried not to be completely paranoid about the whole thing, but I was not doing a good job. Me: I might feel a similar way. Louis: I’ll kiss you when we’re back. All over. Me: All over? Louis: All over. I felt my stomach churning, and it really felt like my day. He was finally kind of, secretly saying, it’s going to happen. In the new year, it’s going to happen. Finally, I would be able to feel his lips somewhere other than my lips, and neck, and ears, and every other place he had let those dainty things wander to. I sunk further into the chair, no idea what to reply to him, my stomach in absolute tatters. Ringo scurried back into her room, making sure to get one more eyeful of Zayn before she rushed off. I was still relatively breathless when Zayn came and sat next to me. “Louis?” “Yeah.” I sighed. “You shagged him yet?” “No.” “You dying?” “Yeah.” “Thought so.” He nodded. I was going to miss Zayn over the break. Two weeks isn’t really a long time, but when you live with someone it definitely feels like it. Zayn had been just across the hall from me for three months now. The thought of not having that did make me feel slightly uncomfortable. “Next year.” I told him. “It’s on.” “Yeah?” He chuckled. I tried to ignore Harry as he scooted and slumped down on the sofa next to me, some kind of pasta dish in a giant bowl, which he quickly started munching into, eyes on the tele, no interest in myself and Louis. “Definitely. In January I’m getting some.” “I’m trying to eat here.” Harry groaned beside me. “Yeah well on more than one occasion, I’ve been trying to sleep when you’ve had a girl in your room, so I’m sure you can deal with this dinner conversation.” He couldn’t argue with that. There had been Tally within his first week and two others since. Maybe that was the same girl but there had been two other occasions. I couldn’t help but think about how awful Tally felt on the other side of him. She must have been able to hear those noises as clearly as I could. Poor girl. The microwave pinged eventually and I dashed over to get my meal, excited that this was the last microwaveable meal I would be having for the next fortnight. Being home and eating properly was going to be a beautiful thing. I noticed Harry shuffle even further into the corner of the sofa as I went and reclaimed my spot in the middle, trying not to spill any gravy from my bangers and mash dish. “I’m gunna miss this.” Zayn sighed. “Living like a slob?” Harry asked. “Yeah, pretty much.” “Same.” Harry agreed. “Gunna miss me, Styles?” I asked with a grin. “More than I can explain, Pip-Squeak. My heart aches at the thought that you won’t be around pissing me off.” “I figured that would be the case.” “Do you two ever shut up?” Zayn groaned. We did try to keep it as low-key as possible when Zayn was around. Neither of us necessarily enjoyed putting him in the middle, because one of the only similarities we shared was our mutual love for Mr Malik. Mike exited his room with a massive rucksack on, cheering merrily to himself, making Harry and Zayn laugh, whereas I turned up the volume on the TV. “Guess who’s going home for Christmas?” He bellowed, and then pointed to himself. “This guy! This twat right here.” I had to let out a little chuckle at that, seeing Mike do a little dance round the kitchen. The thing on his back suggested he was going camping for a week, the dance he was doing definitely suggested he was going to a festival. All in all, he looked brilliant, possibly even taller than I had previously thought. “Don’t you have a lecture tomorrow?” I asked him, aware of his schedule by that stage. “Yeah, but they called it off, so this twat, is going home a day early.” “Why do you keep calling yourself this twat?” “Because this twat, is in the best mood ever.” He told me. He did a couple more spins in the middle of the kitchen floor, pointing and cha-ing whenever it felt good to him, and we all watched with little smiles on our faces, tucking into our meals. Everyone was feeling pretty similar, to be honest. The only one of us who had gone home during the three months had been Tally. It was proof we liked it at uni, a lot, but it didn’t mean we all weren’t ready for some time at home. “Y’know what, Mike?” I said, shovelling some food into my mouth and smiling up to him. “I’m actually going to miss you.” “I… I mean, of course you are. Why-why do you sound so surprised by this?” He asked, offended. Harry let out a little sniffle beside me, laughing and shaking his head. Mike could be the most annoying person in the flat, which was saying something, but I would miss him even more thanks to that. He was too lovable. He shuffled off into the hall and started banging furiously on Tally’s door. “C’MON, TALLY-WHACKER, TIME TO GO!” Harry spat out some of his pasta, his laughter coming from his mouth and nose and even his fucking ears and literally any single way it could get out of his body, it did. I turned with an alarmed look on my face to see him, in absolute pieces. “Tally-Whacker.” He shook eventually. “That’s fucking genius. Why didn’t I think of that?” “You save your shitty nicknames for me.” I scoffed. “You know Tally-Whacker is worse than Pip-Squeak.” He turned to me. “You probably like it so much just because Tally has seen your Tally-Whacker.” “When was the last time you saw a Tally-Whacker, Pip-Squeak?” He bit back. “WILL YOU TWO JUST SHUT THE FUCK UP?” Mike yelled from the hall. “TALLY, COME ON! MY MUMS GUNNA BE OUTSIDE IN TWO MINUTES!” ”OKAY OKAY, I’M COMING.” We heard her mumble from her room. Harry threw down his empty bowl and crossed his arms, huffing loudly, nudging me with his shoulder as he did. I was glad Mike had interrupted when he did, because I could not think of a good come-back to what he had just thrown in my face. It had been a long time. A few minutes later, Tally came out of her room, dragging a giant pink suitcase behind herself and then locking her door, double and triple checking to make sure it was definitely locked, knowing me, Zayn and Harry were here for one more night. Who knew about Ringo. But if she left it open, we were bound to do something ridiculous for her to return home to in January. “You getting a lift?” Zayn asked her, forcing her to come into the kitchen and speak with us, even though she avoided Harry ten times more than I ever had. “Yeah. Mike’s mum was nice enough to say she would drop me off on the way.” If I remembered correctly, Mike was another half an hour’s journey or so in the car past the town where Tally’s family were. Then, in that exact moment, I had a sinking feeling; like a really sinking feeling, thinking about locations, adding things up in my head. And I swear, Harry had the same thing. He dramatically turned his head my way and I did the same to him, our eyes wide and our fears quickly being realised. “What train are you booked on tomorrow?” He asked breathlessly. “Seven to Manchester Piccadilly.” I answered. “Shit.” He cursed. + + + I swear I could feel Harry’s eyes on my face from across the table on the train, but then the second I looked up, his nose was back down in his book. So that’s where I returned mine, realising I must have read the same page at least three times, but it still hadn’t really been processed. Myself and Harry had had another run in in the communal showers the night before, and just discussed that we would sit away from each other on the train. Easy. But he had been running late, unlike myself, I had arrived in plenty of time. So when I saw Harry dash into our carriage, my stomach sunk, knowing that the seat directly across from me was the only one still free. I scowled at him with beady eyes, then once again, went back to my book, my eyes flickering between the words and him, seeing him hesitantly lift his head to look at me. That time, I had him. I bolted my head up so quickly he knew I had seen him drop his back down. He crinkled his nose, pretending to read as I stared him out, wondering if he would ever lift his head and tell me what the fuck he was staring at. I kicked him under the table. “Oww!” He cried, facing forward. “What?” I shuddered. “What?” He asked back. “Stop staring at me!” “I’m not fucking staring at you! Get over yourself.” I could see the lady next to Harry glancing between us, confused by the foundations of our relationship or if we were just two strangers on the train. Either way, the whole thing was stupid. We fell back into silence, the train bulking underneath us every other second, and I couldn’t help myself. I placed the book down, rubbing over my face with the back of my hand in case there was something on my skin, if that was why he had been staring at me. He chuckled under his breath. “What?” I shot again, through gritted teeth. “Nothing.” He shrugged. “Would you just give it up, Harry? I’m bored of it now, aren’t you?” “Honestly, Pip-Squeak, most of the time I get it, but I have no idea why you’re kicking off this time.” “You were staring!” I was almost squealing by this stage. “Why the hell would I be staring at you?” “I don’t know, you should probably have the answer to that since you were the one staring!” He pretended to strangle me from the other side of the table, shaking his floppy hair and returning to his book. I looked out of the window, wishing I had the window seat, since the guy next to me had fallen asleep and was not making the most of his seat at all. He looked like a student too, it seemed those three months had completely worn him out. I noticed scratches on his arms, worried his glasses were about to fall of the end of his nose and crack on the table or the floor, debating whether I should just push them back up a little, just to be safe. My fingers played with air thanks to the temptation, before I picked my book back up and ignored the urge. I don’t think Harry looked up to me again. If he had, I didn’t see, but I had finally been able to read my book, after many failed attempts. My heart fluttered with appreciation as I noticed we were pulling into the station, grateful to be so close to home, grateful to finally be escaping Harry. It also made me laugh that I knew he was another train journey away from his destination, whether it was a short one or not. It definitely made me feel a little better. Harry moved and put his book into the bag he had brought with him, which I figured looked relatively small for two weeks, but he did really only ever wear the same pair of jeans and a select few t-shirts. He looked across to me, seeing I was looking at him already. “Who’s staring now?” He smirked. “Piss off.” Once we had come to a complete standstill, the carriage unloaded itself. My suitcase mimicked the sound of the train as we walked side by side through the station. We trailed to the end of the line, and for some reason I stopped by Harry’s side as he looked up to the boards, and we both notices pretty quickly that his train was delayed. “Fuck.” He muttered under his heavy breath. It was busy in the station, people coming in from all over the country, others moving out, places to go, people and family to see. It was almost impossible to feel the way Harry did about families during such a season. I wondered where his head was on the matter at that point. I wondered what he was going home to, if he wanted to go home at all. He hunched his bag further on his shoulder, and even though we were practically indoors, the cold air reaching from the far end of the station made his breath appear in a thick cloud. “Gutted.” I mumbled up to the board. “Hope you’re not stuck here for hours. And hours. And more hours.” He looked down to me with one of his least amused faces yet as I tried to hold back my smile, my nose twitching as I attempted not to laugh at my own genius sarcasm. “Don’t you have somewhere to be?” He groaned. “Yes, actually. I’ll be spending Christmas with my beautiful family. Should be home in... tops half an hour.” I grinned. “Then fuck off and go.” He sighed. The way he was reacting to my jokes, it didn’t seem like Harry would be going home to a mess of a family. He so wanted to get back. I knew having a train delayed going anywhere was frustrating, but nothing seemed to suggest he would be going back to hell. I grabbed hold of the handle to my case again, smiling smugly to myself. “Will do.” “Try to enjoy it without your brother.” I wanted to slap him for that comment, but in all honesty, I probably deserved it; I hadn’t been laying off him at all. But I still scowled and gave him the middle finger before I began storming off again, just about to make way through the glass doors when he called for me. “Pip-Squeak?” He yelled, necessarily loud. I turned around, waiting for him to say something. He awkwardly tucked his hands into the pocket of his giant coat, looking around himself as though asking why the hell he had just called my name, why the hell he had asked for my attention. Time dragged on, and I was mere seconds away from turning back around and clambering into the first taxi I saw outside, ready to get away from him. “Merry Christmas.” He simply said. I squinted my vision, staring blankly to him. He looked down to the floor as soon as he had said it, clearing his throat. It was so out of his nature, even just to say that, I could see his whole body rejecting the well wishes. It was totally surreal. “Merry Christmas.” I said back. Then I quickly turned around and dragged my case behind me, a weird lump in my throat, like I was going to cry. I held it back. + + + My mother screamed so loud when she flung the door open and saw my face, honestly, I almost fell backwards. My suitcase was left abandoned outside as she pulled me into her, still screaming, my face in her plump breasts, barely able to bloody breathe. I put my arms back around her for the first time in over three months, happy to be home. I lifted my head from its titty prison and glanced over her shoulder, seeing how inviting and warm my family home looked. It was an old building but had been made to look pretty modern on the inside, old wooden pillars leading to the ceiling that had been painted white, the hall long and thin with the stairs on the right-hand side. Thanks to the fact it was Christmas my mother had decided to just make the whole building a fire hazard by littering fairy-lights absolutely everywhere. But at least it looked nice. I had to drag myself away from her after the hug had gone on for far too long. “Oh god.” She grabbed at my cheeks. “Look at you, look how you’ve grown.” “I look exactly the same.” “No, no. You look like a woman. It’s like you getting your first period all over again.” ”Jesus Christ, mum!” “Come on now, Pippa, it’s Christmas. No blasphemy now.” “Yeah because we’re really religious.” She ushered me in and shut the door behind us, the cold air only lingering for a moment or two before an unfamiliar warmth wrapped around me. We always put the heating on at uni since our bills were covered in the price we paid to live there, but it never got that warm, it never felt that homely and comfortable. “PHILLIP!” My mum shrieked up the stairs, making me cringe. “PHILLIP YOUR DAUGHTER IS HOME, COME AND SAY HELLO.” “I’M JUST SENDING OUR DAVID ONE OF THESE EMAILS!” We heard him yell back down. “YOU HAVEN’T SEEN YOUR DAUGHTER FOR THREE MONTHS, PHILLIP! GET YOUR ARSE DOWNSTAIRS!” “I’M JUST TRYING TO FIGURE IT OUT, LOVE. GIVE US A MINUTE.” My dad was as behind on the technology front as my grandparents were. Probably even further, actually. He owned a company that fixed cars in the centre of town, a pretty small business but it had helped my mum and dad live a very comfortable life, alongside my mum being a dentist. They had more than a comfortable living, to be honest. But thanks to my dad’s every-man job, he had never needed to learn what he was doing online, and he was trying his best to catch up with the rest of the world. But it seemed even sending an email was a task. I wandered blissfully into the living room on the left side of the hall as my mum bobbed off to the end into the kitchen, flicking the kettle on and then joining me. We flopped onto the sofa together. “So how’s it been?” She asked excitedly. “Yeah it’s alright. The lifestyle is great. The lessons are alright.” “Urgh. You sound just like your brother.” “I’m happy with that.” I giggled, flicking through channels. “I thought you might be.” She grabbed the remote from me, sticking with one channel. “Have you spoke to him?” “Briefly. A few texts. He rang me last month too, that was nice.” I could see her welling up, just talking about him. He’d been gone a long time; I hadn’t seen him since I was 13 years old. I knew my mum and dad had gone to see him at uni a few times, but I never did. Even so, we managed all those Christmas’ without him, we did birthdays without him, that was just how things were. Of course, he was easier to talk to and be in touch with before he went traveling, but it wasn’t a complete shock to the system. But my mum still got emotional about it, she still held in tears every single time he was brought up. Maybe it was getting even worse for her. I missed Liam, but I guess I was used to it. I think it was getting harder for her, rather than becoming accustom to it, she started thinking about how long it genuinely had been since he left. She probably wondered why he never came back. I felt for her, I really did. I let my fingers slot between hers, giving her a little smile as she pulled herself together, and my dad walked into the living room. “Kettles boiled.” He told her, opening his arms for me as I leapt to my feet and embraced him. “Oh, my love, how’ve you been?” “Really good, yeah.” I pulled away. “And you?” “Aye not too bad. Hows uni?” “Yeah it’s good. It’s fun.” “The living situation?” He asked. “Mixed emotions.” I huffed, flopping back down as he moved into the armchair, and my mum went to make the tea. “Grace moved out, as you know, which was awful. But they’ve replaced her with this guy... and we really don’t get on.” “Why not?” He asked. “We just... wind each other up. We’re just not alike. Always at each other’s throats. Sometimes we let it be kind of playful just so we can get our frustration out, but then other times we’re literally so fucking angry with each other. He’s awful dad. He randomly punched some guy on a night out and I think he’d fuck anything with legs. Just not my kind of person. But all my mates get on with him, and obviously I live with him, so I have to deal with it. All the time.” “He sounds like a pillock.” My dad nodded. “You’re not bloody wrong, Phil.” My mum came back with our teas a few moments later and we all settled into a quiet evening in front of the TV. It felt like such a relief, being able to openly talk about how much Harry annoyed me with someone who didn’t like him or live with him or anything. It was a nice feeling, no matter how brief. So I told myself that would be it. I wouldn’t have to even think about Harry until next year. Now that, was a beautiful feeling. + + + I watched my grandad with a chuckle threatening to escape me, as his head kept going, his eyes closing themselves. He had farted himself awake about a minute earlier, so I was still kind of laughing about that, but watching his sleepy little head keep going like a baby or a puppy was just as amusing. Suddenly he went, chin down on his chest and snoring straight away, to which my grandma cringed and tutted and scowled in his direction, always like she was angry at him. Years and years of marriage had done that to them, but they still loved each other really. “What film are they showing this year?” The frail lady asked as she rose to her feet, collecting all our plates. I was still looking at my grandad and trying to contain myself. This had happened for the last few years. He had reached the age where as soon as a meal was done, so was he. It was his bedtime. I found it hard to recall years where my grandad hadn’t fallen asleep at the dinner table on Christmas Day. “E.T. I think.” My mum stood to help her. “It’s always bloody E.T.” My grandma scowled. I figured she was quite an angry lady, but that was her charm. She was still drinking vodka, like she did most nights, I had never once seen her nail-varnish chipped, her short hair was always in perfect ringlets down to her shoulders, her figure even better than mine. She was a pretty mesmerizing woman. Perfectly on cue with our conversation, which made me feel like it was fate, Louis text me. Louis: E.T. is on bbc in half an hour. I’m going to be crying like a baby. I liked that he remembered our first interaction, when he admitted to always crying at that film. I would be lying if I said I wasn’t feeling something stronger than bog-standard attraction at that point. Me: The Secret Garden was on earlier. I’ve already done my crying for the day. Louis: I avoided that one like the bloody plague, I can only hack crying once a day otherwise I worry my masculinity will leave and never come back. “Pippa, who’re you texting?” My mum asked nosily. “No one.” “Is it a boy?” She asked, to which I rolled my eyes. “They’ll stay in the back of your head if you keep doing that, Pippa. I’ve always warned you.” “Yeah, but now I’m not ten years old I don’t believe you. Unlike the time you made me cry because I was so convinced.” “But then you didn’t roll your eyes until you turned into a grotty little teenager. I had three years of absolute bliss where you didn’t roll your eyes once.” She smiled, beginning to clear the table. My grandad mumbled some non-coherent bullshit as he came back to life for a split second, probably speaking a section of his dream before he was straight back down, snoring again. I could virtually see my grandma strangling him in her head. “So who is he?” My mum asked after a few minutes of silence. “Are we really doing this?” I groaned. “Yes.” My mother and grandmother chimed in time. “Fine. He’s called Louis.” “From university?” “Yup.” “What’s he studying?” My grandma asked. “Art.” They both made disapproving noises as they collected plates and took them over to the sink, which just made me sigh and roll my eyes yet again, glad my mum wasn’t looking to catch me the second time. I expected nothing less from a family who had made sure I went to university to study English rather than Photography, a family who had been disapproving enough when I studied Photography at college. They’d rather I was meeting a boy who studied something apparently ‘sensible’ like Maths or Science or anything like that. “Everyone in my flat does subjects to do with the arts.” I shrugged. “You’re joking?” She seemed appalled. “What do they do?” “Zayn does Art. Mike and Tally do Drama. Ringo does Music and Harry does Photography.” “I just can’t believe those are actually subjects you can study at university.” My grandma shook her head in disbelief. I understood it a little more from her. She was old… Old as fuck. Her generation were beyond the point of catching up. It’s only really people my grandmas age who could get away with being completely narrow-minded. You’d just kind of have to shrug it off, say ‘oh you’ and forget whatever bullshit just slipped from an elderly persons mouth. But my mum being so baffled by those subjects was weird for me. When she had bought me my first camera, I thought it might have been her aim for me to develop a passion rather than take pictures of mindless bullshit and me and my mates on a night out. It turned out she would rather see pictures of me in a drunken state than seeing anything I had put a little effort into. Thanks to that, it was a rare occasion I would pick up a camera other than my phone. It felt too disheartening. I kept my head down and locked my phone, feeling discouraged. Christmas Day was actually always pretty boring, I wished I still had my brother around to make me laugh. My dad strolled into the kitchen and grabbed my mum by her waist, making her squeal and giggle as he turned her around and held her back to his front, kissing her cheek as my grandma left the room tutting at them and their public display of affection. Usually I would be the same, but due to recent conversations about family, it was kind of nice seeing them being that way with one another. They gave me hope. I stood up and began collecting glasses, putting them into the sink, ready to sit down to watch E.T. and probably text and think about Louis throughout. + + + The Christmas season had taken its toll on me. I don’t even remember being sober for any part of it, to be honest, and New Year’s Eve was bound to be no different. We were round at Sophia’s, because her house was huge and her parents were a little surreal, they had no qualms in her having as many people round at their family home as she wanted. So due to the surreal amount of friends Sophia had, the place was jammed. The 24 hour clock on the wall said it was 23:23 which meant we were very close to entering the next year, which basically terrified me because of the thought of going into the second year of uni, getting older, another year on the list without my brother. It honestly terrified me. On the 1st, I would be fine, wouldn’t even think about it, but the lead up to the actual event was a completely different story. Like an impending doom kind of feeling. “You kissing anyone?” Katie asked me. “Am I fuck.” I huffed. I think the main thing was I didn’t even want to kiss anyone if it wasn’t going to be Louis. Not that there would be anything wrong with it, there was definitely nothing official between me and him, but I didn’t like the thought of kissing anyone else. I liked kissing him. Katie was fine for the whole kissing moment, since she had been going out with Gregg since the first year of college. The worst part of it all was I kind of hated that I didn’t have anyone to kiss. I should have never felt that way, but I definitely did. “There are so many guys here though.” She cried to me. “Yeah well, you’ve not seen Louis.” I sighed wistfully. “Okay, well show me.” I got my phone out of my pocket and scrolled through my camera album in the hope I had a picture of his beautiful face somewhere, since the lad refused to get a Facebook like a normal person. Luckily, I stumbled across one, and even more luckily, he looked as good in the picture as he did in real life. My face went painfully smug as I held my phone in front of her eyes and let her look at him. “Yes.” She nodded. “Yes. He will do nicely.” “I know.” “Shag him. Shag his brains out.” “I plan to.” En route to dragging my phone back into my pocket it started buzzing in my hand, knowing it would be Zayn since he promised to ring, but still pretty excited to see his name and a little picture of us in Thimble to accompany it. I began pushing through the crowd in the hope I would make it outside quickly to answer the call, but the amount of people in there made me realise pretty quickly that if I left it that long I would miss the call completely. I swiped my thumb across the screen and yelled. “GIVE ME A MINUTE!” “Jesus, Pippa, where the hell are you?” I heard him giggle. “GIVE ME ONE MINUTE.” I held my phone up in the air as I pushed and shoved until I was out in the cold. It wasn’t really quiet, you could still hear the music blaring from inside and all the smokers had congregated there for the evening, but it was loads better. Even so, I pushed my finger into my spare ear and held my phone up against the other. “Okay, I’m here.” I smiled. “Good. Finally. You alright? Sound sober.” He grimaced. “As a judge.” “Why?” “I tend to hit my peak in the beginning shreds of January rather than the last of December. Happens every year. Literally, I’ll be fine and then at about one-minute past twelve, I’ll be on the floor. It’s a beautiful thing. Can’t explain it.” I already missed him, so even his voice was a kind sound to my ears. I guess over that Christmas break we both realised how close we had gotten in our time together. Yeah, it was nice being at home with the people I had been to college with, my best friends from home, but none of them were like Zayn. “I’m sober as all hell too.” He replied. “How come?” I pressed my back against the bare brick. “Me and Harry have agreed to drop something as soon as it hits midnight, though by the looks of things he’s found some lass to kiss.” “Wait, you’re with Harry?” I swear my stomach dropped. I hated myself for it straight away, how pathetic it was to get jealous of a friendship. But I hated Harry and I loved Zayn and the thought that they were now pally enough to spend their New Years together didn’t sit well with me. “Yeah. We were talking and he said he didn’t have any plans so I invited him to spend it with me.” “Oh. Cool.” “You’re the worst liar of all time, Pip.” “When did I lie?” I huffed. “Well maybe it wasn’t quite a lie but you definitely don’t think it’s cool that Harry’s here.” He laughed. My eyes were right in the back of my head but I couldn’t help but laugh a little, not too surprised he had figured me out so easily. “You having a good time though?” I choked. “Yeah, he’s a laugh.” “Then that’s good. It shouldn’t bother me.” “Honestly, Pip, I’m gunna speak to him too, but when we get back next year I think you should both just try that little bit harder-” “I’ve tried, Zayn!” I butt in rudely. “I know you have, Pip, but you could both try a little harder. He’s a good lad, we all know you’re the greatest woman of all time-” “Agreed.” “- so if you could just do that, for me, that would be the best thing ever. And you’ll feel ten times better for it. So?” “So what?” “Will you try?” He begged. He sounded so adorable. If he had been with me I probably would have punched his arm and yelled a little more, but it was hard to be mad when all I could hear was his silly little voice. “You have to speak to him too.” I sighed. “If he agrees to it, so will I.” “You promise?” I could hear him smile. “Only if-” I tried. “PROMISE, PIPPA?” “OKAY I PROMISE!” I heard him celebrate to himself on the other line, hearing the background noise to the party he was at as much as he could probably hear the background noise at mine. “You’re the best, Pippa.” He said eventually. “If it doesn’t work out this time than that’s okay, I’ll let you off. Just one more go and if you still hate each other, I’ll abandon him forever.” “I knew you’d pick me over him.” I smirked. Even though I knew he was joking, that wasn’t the case at all, I was happy because he knew that saying that would comfort me, thanks to how protective I was of our friendship. It was enough. “Obviously. Anyway, I’m gunna go. See if we’re doing this MD together or if Harry is going to be fucking this girl instead.” “Tell her he has an STI, that ought to put her off.” I grinned. “What did I tell you about making an effort?” He told me off like a naughty toddler. “You’re right. Go have fun. See you in a few days alright? Be safe tonight.” “Will be. Happy New Year’s, Pippa.” “You too, Zayn, bye. Bye. Bye.” I often found it hard to hang up the phone without saying bye at least two times. This was something I seemed to inherit from my mother. I strolled back inside with a lazy smile on my face, kind of hoping that the month of January would be the month that mine and Harry’s friendship flourished. But that was just for Zayn, no other reason.

#READ ANON READ #LETS GOOOO #BB7 #1dff #Harry Styles

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