#the way john tries to see if paul heard his joke

[javelinbk]

Ken Dodd explains why Paul McCartney would make a good King's jester. The Beatles' appearance with Gay Byrne and Ken Dodd, Granada Television Studios, 25th November 1963 - part 1 (part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6)

[tillthereweretangents]

Paul and Icke (part 6 of N)

In 1966 the Beatles returned to Hamburg, this time as international mega-stars. Icke and several of their other Hamburg friends greeted them at the train station, and were later invited in to meet them backstage.

Paul spotted Icke at the train station and called out to him before the band were rushed through. Later, at the venue, Paul made sure that Icke was invited back to spend time with the band.

George brought up Till There Was You at this meeting, and Icke explained that there had been some confusion, but we don't know if Paul ever found out. (more info at the end of the translation)

Thanks as always to the wonderful @didwemeetsomewherebefore and her mum for the translation of Icke's autobiography (original German is at the end).

The tour was booked from the 24th - 26th June; three days in three cities. Through the press photographer, Peter Bruchmann, I found out the Beatles would be arriving at 5 30 am on a special train at the Ahrensburg station, so I got up at 4 in the morning not to miss this moment. As the train approached, I stood very close to the edge of the platform. A mass of journalists, fans and other commuters also stood on the platform. It was terribly noisy and nobody could understand a word anyone was saying. Luckily, I found a favourable place on the platform - facing the wagon in which the Beatles were basically stood right outside my nose. I saw the guys standing at the window and Paul saw me too. He moved his lips as though he wanted to say something to me, and pointed to the front where they were going to disembark. Unfortunately this was about 10 meters deep with people who were all trying to see the band. I tried with all my might to push through but I was still stuck in the middle. It was just impossible to get through. The Beatles had already disembarked. They were corralled straight away by the bodyguards who had freed a walkway through the crowd. However, Paul managed to turn around, he called to me, ‘We’ll see you later!’, and then they ran at speed through the walkway, out to where the cars were standing, surrounded by journalists and fans who were waiting for them. They were taken with a police escort to the Castle Tremsbuttel, where they were staying the night.

The fact that Paul could even see him even with so many people is remarkable, and even though they hadn't seen each other in 3 years, and had no idea he would even be there, is a testament to how much Icke meant to Paul. Spoilers for the next part, but he never did forget Icke.

There is also footage of the train station arrival here, and interviews from earlier in the week with Icke, Bettina, and others in Hamburg here. A lot of stories we've already shared in this series are included, and some that we haven't as well.

The whole thing happened so quickly that on the way home, I thought it had been a dream. On the way back in the car, I asked myself, what did Paul mean when he called out to me? How should I approach him, how was it going to work that we would see each other when the instructions had been so vague. The two concerts were scheduled for 3pm - 4.45pm and then 7pm - 8 45 pm. In between both concerts there were press conferences being held, to which unfortunately I wasn’t invited. I managed to get a ticket for the second concert, but I still hung around for three hours with the other fans in the hall. Suddenly on the loudspeaker I heard my name. ‘Icke Braun is asked to come to the desk’. I thought to myself, what do I need to come to the desk for? but I went anyway. A man was standing there who I had met before - he was from the newspaper, Der Bild. He told me that Paul McCartney wanted to speak to me, then turned around and went into the conference room and I followed him. Already outside I could hear John Lennon’s voice and as the door opened, I saw him joking with the journalists. As everyone was only speaking English, I didn’t understand much of it. The Beatles were sitting on a podium together with a man I didn’t know. Later I discovered that that was Neil Aspinall who was the personal assistant to the Beatles.

George saw me and waved me to his side. I went a bit nearer to the stage but kept my distance. Why should I stand around on the stage looking stupid when I had nothing to say? So I stayed where I was and waited until the end of the conference until I said hello to the guys. A few journalists then left the room but most stayed. When the Beatles came down from the stage, George asked me ‘how are you and what are you doing with yourself’? I said, ‘yes I’m good, I’m now married!’, John heard that and called, “Where’s your wife, let’s see your wife!” and Neil said to me; the Beatles wishes must be obeyed! So I called Evelyn and told her the Beatles wanted to meet her. She was able to come straight away because we had talked about something like this happening.

We wonder if John wanted to see her to see how much she looked like Paul, which, if you look at the picture above, there is a bit of a resemblance (she's between Icke and Ringo, the woman on the other side of Paul is Kathia Berger).

We withdrew into a little room, and suddenly I saw that there was Kathia and Bettina from the the Star Club. I must have overlooked them amongst all the chaos. When Evelyn appeared, she was the first to be introduced to the Beatles. Everything revolved around her and as they were all speaking in English, I stood by looking stupid, and I also took the chance to go to the toilet. in order to do that, I had to go through the hustle of journalists who were waiting to grab one of the Beatles. When I came back from the toilet, they were begging me to take them back into the conference room. One said, if you take me with you, I will give you 1000 Marks.    When I got back to the Beatles, I asked if I could bring a few people in to meet them, but John and the others were emphatic; no way, we want this to be just us. Bettina took a few photos out of her bag, which showed the Beatles in the Top Ten and the Star Club. The boys were delighted and told her that they would like to have the photos. I told them that the photographer who took them was standing outside the door. ‘Fetch him in, fetch him!’ said John excitedly. The photographer was called Peter Bruchmann, and was absolutely delighted to be the only journalist to be allowed into the conference room. It was he who had given me the tip that the band would be alighting off the train at Ahrensburg . I knew him from the time when the Beatles played at the Top Ten. At that point he hadn’t heard anything about them, and I had to persuade him to come and see them and take a few photos. These became the most famous photos he had ever taken.

Even three years later, we see how important Hamburg was to them.

And here are some photos from that day! You've probably seen some of them, but now you know who everyone is!

Paul told me before the band went onstage that we would see him afterwards, however they disappeared from the stage straight away; while the public was still clapping and calling for more, they were already in their cars. That was the only way to take them from their fans in safety. This was the only contact that my wife Evelyn had with the Beatles.

There are stories that Paul and John wandered around St Pauli after the show. Based on this we wonder if they realized they hadn't given Icke any actual information and were hoping that maybe somehow he'd be nostalgic too and they'd run into him.

This paragraph is from the introductory part of Icke's chapter about the Beatles, which is why it's more retrospective:

Years later, when the boys were already famous, and I was allowed backstage, we were sitting in the Ernst Merck hall and George Harrison mentioned ‘Till There Was You. I told him that it was actually Kathia’s music taste and not mine. So he understood, but there is still footage from The Star Club where one can hear ‘And now we will play ‘till there was you’ for Icke’

It sounds like George always assumed Icke had a crush on Paul or was gay or that they were together or something based on thinking "Till There Was You" was Icke's favorite song. Icke sounds quick to correct him, and quick to mention it in the book, as this is near the beginning of the Beatles chapter. As you've seen throughout these parts, Icke does a lot of questioning his sexuality and trying to make it clear something doesn't mean what it sounds like. This book is only from 2018. It's very sad to us that he's still doing that even now in his 80s.

Let us know what your thoughts are!

Icke and Paul saw each other one more time (as far as we know, though Icke is still alive so that could potentially change) but we have one more part before we get there, so stay tuned!

Original German of the translation is below!

Original German

Vom 24. bis zum 26. Juni, also an drei Tagen, waren für die Tournee in drei Städten jeweils zwei Konzerte vorgesehen. Hamburg war nach München und Essen die dritte Station. Von dem Pressefotografen Peter Brüch-mann wusste ich, dass die Beatles morgens um 5:30 Uhr mit einem Sonderzug am Bahnhof Ahrensburg ankommen sollten. Also war ich schon vor 4 Uhr aufge-standen, um diesen Moment nicht zu verpassen. Als der Zug einrollte, stand ich ziemlich nah an der Bahnsteigkante. Jede Menge Journalisten, Fans und zufällige Fahrgäste standen auf dem Bahnsteig. Es herrschte ein fürchterliches Gedränge und ein Lärm, bei dem man sein eigenes Wort nicht verstand. Zum Glück hatte ich einen günstigen Platz erwischt. Der Waggon, in dem die Beatles waren, hielt praktisch genau vor meiner Nase. Ich sah die Jungs am Fenster stehen, und Paul sah mich auch. Er bewegte seine Lippen, als ob er mir etwas sagen wollte und zeigte nach vorne, wo sie aussteigen würden. Bis dahin waren es ungefähr noch zehn Meter voller Menschen, die alle zu den Beatles drängten. Ich versuchte mit aller Kraft, mich zu ihnen durchzukämpfen, legte mich mit den Leuten an, die ich dabei anrempelte, und blieb trotzdem in der Menge stecken. Es war einfach kein Durchkommen. Die Beatles waren schon ausgestiegen. Sie wurden sofort in die Gasse geschoben, die die Bodygards für sie freigemacht hatten. Trotzdem schaffte Paul es noch, sich umzudrehen. Er rief mir zu, wir sehen uns nachher, dann liefen sie im Eiltempo weiter durch die Bahnhofshalle nach draußen, wo ihre Autos in einer riesigen Ansammlung von Journalisten und Zuschauern auf sie warteten. Unter Polizeischutz wurden sie zum Schloss Tremsbüttel gefahren, in dem sie übernachteten.

Das Ganze war so blitzschnell gegangen, dass es mir auf dem Weg nach Hause wie ein Traum vorkam. Auf der Heimfahrt im Auto fragte ich mich, wie Paul das meinte, was er mir zuletzt zugerufen hatte. Wie wollte er es denn anstel-len, dass wir uns nachher noch sahen? Die beiden Konzerte waren von 15:00 bis16:45 Uhr und von 19:00 bis 20:45 Uhr angesetzt. Zwischen den beiden Konzerten gab es die erwähnte Pressekonferenz, zu der ich leider keinen Zutritt hatte. Ich hatte für 20 Mark eine Karte für das zweite Konzert ergattert, trieb mich aber schon drei Stunden vorher mit vielen anderen Fans vor der Ernst-Merck-Halle rum. Da hörte ich plötzlich über Lautsprecher meinen Namen: Icke Braun wird gebeten, zur Kasse zu kommen. Ich dachte, nanu, was soll ich denn an der Kasse, ging aber hin. Da stand ein Mann, den ich von der Begegnung an meiner Wohnungstür kannte, also der Mann von der Bild-Zeitung. Er sagte, Paul McCartney will Sie sprechen, drehte sich um und ging zum Konfe-renzraum. Ich hinterher. Schon von draußen hörte ich John Lennons Stimme, und als die Tür aufging, sah ich, wie er sich heftig mit einem Journalisten zoffte. Da alle nur Englisch sprachen, verstand ich natürlich nicht viel davon. Die Beatles saßen auf einem Podium zusammen mit einem Mann, den ich nicht kannte. Später erfuhr ich, dass er Neil Aspinall hieß und der persönliche Assistent der Beatles war. George sah mich und winkte mich zu sich ran. Ich ging ein bisschen näher zum Podium und blieb in einiger Entfernung stehen. Warum sollte ich auf der Bühne blöd rumstehen, wenn ich gar nichts zu sagen hatte. Also blieb ich, wo ich war, und wartete das Ende der Konferenz ab, bevor ich die Jungs begrüßte. Einige Journalisten verließen den Raum, aber die meisten blieben da. Als die Beatles von der Bühne runterkamen, fragte George: „Wie geht es dir, was machst du so? Ich sagte, ja gut, ich bin ja jetzt verheiratet." John hatte das mitgehört und rief „Und wo ist deine Frau? Zeig sie uns mal." Aspinall sagte zu mir: „Der Wunsch der Beatles muss dir Befehl sein." Also rief ich Evelyn an und sagte ihr, die Beatles wollten sie kennenlernen. Sie konnte sich sofort auf den Weg machen, weil wir vorher schon darüber gesprochen hatten, dass sowas passieren könnte. Wir zogen uns in ein kleineres Zimmer zu-rück, das hinter dem Konferenzraum lag, und plötzlich waren auch Kathia und Bet-tina, die Barfrau aus dem Star-Club dabei. Die beiden musste ich bei dem ganzen Trubel übersehen haben. Als Evelyn eintraf, war ich erstmal bei den Beatles abge-meldet. Alles drehte sich um sie, und da sie sich, na klar, auf Englisch unterhielten, stand ich nur blöd daneben und nutzte die Gelegenheit, um auf die Toilette zu gehen. Dazu musste ich mich durch die Journalisten drängeln, die darauf lauerten, einen der Beatles zu erwischen. Als ich von der Toilette zurückkam, bettelten sie, ich sollte sie mit reinnehmen. Einer sagte, wenn du mich mitnimmst, kriegst du 1000 Mark von mir. Zurück bei den Beatles, fragte ich, ob wir nicht ein paar Leute ruhig reinnehmen sollten, aber John und die anderen meinten sofort, auf keinen Fall, wir wollen unter uns bleiben.

The Beatles mit uns im Backstage der Ernst-Merck-Halle. Zwischen George und Paul steht Kathia, zwischen Paul und Ringo sind Evelyn und ich, und neben John sitzt Betty, die damalige Barfrau des Star Clubs. Bettina holte aus ihrer Tasche ein paar Fotos, die die Beatles im Top Ten und im Star Club zeigten. Sie waren begeistert und sagten, die hätten sie auch gerne. O.k., sagte ich, der Fotograf, der die aufgenommen hat, steht vor der Tür. - Hol ihn rein, hol ihn rein, sagte John. Der Fotograf hieß Peter Brüchmann und freute sich wie ein Schneekönig, dass er als einziger Journalist ins Hinterzimmer durfte. Er war es übrigens gewesen, der mir den Tip gegeben hatte, dass die Band am Bahnhof Ahrensburg aussteigen würde. Ich kannte ihn noch aus der Zeit, als die Beatles im Top Ten spielten. Von denen hatte er damals noch nie gehört, und ich hatte ihn mit Mühe überredet, sie sich mal anzusehen und ein paar Fotos zu ma-chen. Es wurden die berühmtesten Fotos, die er jemals gemacht hat.

Vor der Vorstellung hatte Paul noch zu uns gesagt, wir sehen uns hinterher. Aber als sie von der Bühne verschwunden waren und das Publikum noch klatschte, saßen sie schon wieder in ihren Autos. Das war ja auch die einzige Möglichkeit, wie sie sich vor den Fans in Sicherheit bringen konnte. Für Evelyn war dies der einzige Kontakt zu den Beatles geblieben.

Viel später, als die Jungs schon berühmt waren und ich mal in den Backstage durfte, wir saßen da in der Ernst-Merck-Halle, hat mich George Harrison auf Till there was you angesprochen. Da habe ich ihm das dann erzählt, dass der Musikwunsch eigentlich auf Katja zurückging. Das hat er auch verstanden. Aber es gibt Auf-nahmen, die irgendwann im Starclub mitgeschnitten wurden, auf denen man hören kann: „Und nun spielen wir für Icke Till there was you."

[the-firebird69]

Tobacco is a hearty plant and during the snow storm loudermilk noted that poor Indians were still going to work to harvest the tobacco in the snow and our son worked in the snow too and you people are merciless idiots and we're being restless and you don't care about that either you get your heads ripped off and send more idiots to die not even investigated because you hate so much now I can't stand you. It is about poverty and poverty is important for us to remember and examine and try and help and her son is in poverty in the middle of you massively wealthy people and you should be embarrassed and afraid that you're too stupid to me lots of you going to die shortly because of it and tons of your dying already and you don't see the car is so good I don't care so that's good and we're going to take care of you but the whole point is that he's sitting there on this road and he sees it and he says this is so sad I'm going to write a song he actually felt bad for them he said that some people do this their whole lives toil and don't get anywhere. This is some of them are his people laughs is probably most. But he remembers what I said and for a long time he said but where are you getting you going around taking each other stuff to each other and you don't get anywhere and he noted it too you tried all sorts of crazy things and he did actually die forever trying to get massive computers from the clans he said we know the story you're a loudermilk and they said that he said that he was shooting his mouth off he said he motivated me and said it's incredible that it took him to do that they got an argument and finally the guy says we don't have what it takes do we he said no and he does he keep pushing to do more it's amazing I'm surprised he's not like the hulk. And we heard the name in the mental hospital and we found his people and we start slaughtering them for what they're saying this afternoon pushing him because he was pushed and he tried to be someone and they were grudging it and tell you what we went after them pretty hard and just use it as an excuse. And they all died at that it's claim is gone. It's not from what he saw or what was happening it's from how he was abusing our son and he did recognize their lives for a kind of sad when our son knows that they have family and friends and minority warlock to too and these were like used to have lives and really it made things worth it we'll go to work and they talk and they make jokes and be real cold and then warming huts and they have lunch there and they talk about things and exchange things and meet up later and then make some money and they'd have like games and some scams and that's what it looks like for our son even though these people were wealthy and really they're stupid and they're losing everything and don't get it it's very very frustrating they're so stupid you're going to see it too.

It's a very sad song but it doesn't sound like it and it's about all tobacco roads and our son and daughter have ideas and this is one of the best ones and it did work that way and Mac is importing them for that job and he is growing the tobacco already and it will survive the freeze out all the way up to Southern Virginia maybe more this does come back it's almost impossible to get rid of it grows real fast he has about five Fields with it and it's a huge crop already and it's enough for 10 million cigars that's a lot and that really big fields it's probably 20 acres but he is in the testing phase and some crop is ready to harvest pretty much he's going to and he's going to test it out and test the chemically and then he's going to go nuts pulling the muk out. It's a huge business and he's going to create tobacco roads all over the world to get his money back and his tons and tons of this month it's probably the best product for it and people need this stuff and he knows it and to fight Tommy f and he's going to be called the hero and he really is for doing it you got the idea for my son yeah and the sun says great I'm back on tobacco road Mac laughs says yeah. So I'm pulling for a sudden and it's going to be soon that he gets some help and that these more luck will be out and mostly Tommy f is a problem and it's going to be over soon for lots of them and tobacco is one reason light the field on fire and it's coming up soon we believe it's tomorrow night no they did it last night and it failed and the car burned for a while they put it out the fireman and it's starting in the upstate New York today Frank and robot or robot and Frank and it's going to be huge cuz the clones are going to lose until under operation up North and then matrix up north is there after until on bja and others

Thor Freya

It's pretty good it helps us and this place is going to be a mess this is a nightmare and we're not looking forward to tobacco road because many more minority warlock will be there but globally but still is stupid

Bja he says it'll make much money it's kind of true so I should come down and I will and I'm saying it to myself

It has to be a big plantation order and have tons of tobacco I have some land that I'm going to develop it and use it and make tobacco and the land is already rich and fertile and he says if I mix a ton of it in I can sell a very high quality cigars since I don't have much land and so I think I might do that is the name for them up there they're not really high quality but they had one version that was so I have to do that

Trump

It's kind of the way it is and it's cheap but if he mixes a lot in he thinks buns might grow usually bugs don't want tobacco is in and you should see why the chemicals from the plant go into the ground and the bugs die but he's going to probably do it anyways and it makes it nice cigar.

Mac

[toovirgins]

I stumbled across this comment on YouTube earlier—and at first I was like haha nice but then I actually thought about it and I think there’s a really interesting opportunity for mclennon conspiracy discourse here. (yay!)

Under a cut because it’s a bit lengthy.

Nowhere Boy (2009) with Aaron Taylor Johnson and Thomas Brody Sangster: In this film about early John and his path to the Beatles, there are (arguably) new, nuanced details about his familial life and childhood/background that haven’t typically been conveyed in prior film portrayals of Lennon—and this “new, nuanced” bit comes from reading reviews and hearing comments about how many people watching the film (what I would consider, like, a “general population” of Beatles fans) didn’t even know about the details of his mother’s death. In the film, there’s a scene where Paul’s playing Julia’s banjo, and long story short John gets in a fight with someone and tosses the banjo and storms out. Paul follows him out there and he punches Paul in the face, who goes crumbling to the concrete. So, that’s the “punching scene”. The point is, Paul McCartney reportedly made it very clear that that never happened (i.e., that John had never hit him) after he saw the film and was not happy about it. (I’ve heard this “not happy about [the film]” narrative over and over, but I can’t seem to find any great direct quotes from Paul, other than people saying that Paul wasn’t a fan and suggesting he wasn’t happy about certain other portrayals [lol]- so if anyone has any, I’d love to hear about it!). Essentially, in response, Taylor Johnson tried to defend the emotional validity of the film and suggested, like, well we think John probably wanted to hit Paul a lot of the time, and the movie is just activating an interpretation of that. But, yeah, the point was that Paul was pissed about the punch scene and was reportedly very adamant that John never, ever hit him. And it’s not as though Paul had issues with the violence of it, because if it was that, why would he discuss it as an inaccuracy? Is there a nicer way to punch someone in the face? And, that would be completely neglecting the 0.2 seconds later when John realizes what he’s done and pulls Paul into a tight hug, which forms a very beautiful street shot of one morphed being shortly thereafter (side note: creative decision meant to emphasize the oneness in their bond of losing their mothers? anyway).

Two of Us (2000) television drama with Jared Harris and Aidan Quinn: First off, I feel like it’s worth mentioning that this is directed by Michael Lindsay-Hogg (who is also the director of Let it Be (1970), so... guy who spend hours upon hours with and watching the Beatles?). In this movie, there’s an elevator scene where John and Paul are messing around, cracking jokes and getting in a playfight and whatnot, and in the midst of it all John kisses him. After a couple of seconds, Paul pushes him off and doesn’t say anything for a moment. Then, he just makes a joke (”Just ‘cause Yoko’s away doesn’t mean you have to stop brushing your teeth”) and they laugh it off. Contrary to Nowhere Boy, Paul rather liked Two of Us as remarked on by Aidan Quinn in an interview on April 18, 2004: “Just after I finished the film, I went on holiday and Paul McCartney was staying at the same place. I met him and we became quite friendly. Later, he saw the film and fortunately he liked it. It would have been terrible if he'd hated it.” It appears that Paul is very complimentary of Two of Us - hence, the joke in the fandom that like “paul likes the kissing scene”. Paul hasn’t said anything about the kiss directly that I can find (sus in and of itself), but there’s been reasonable arguments made for the validity of the scene in that all of the other portrayals of John and Paul in the film are so accurate and realistic and truthful (see: Martin Lewis quote)—why would this detail be any different?

We could analyze these films and creative decisions separately and in comparison for hours and hours, but I find the McCartney responses a particular area of interest. Because don’t we think if Paul was adamant about setting the narrative straight on things that did or didn’t happen between him and John, and if he wanted to continue to push his ever-insistent narrative of ‘John wasn’t gay bc if he was he would’ve made a pass at me (or someone else) in 20 years’, he would also want to make it very well-known that the kissing scene didn’t happen either? With the same level of insistence? Though the movies themselves aren’t reduced to these two polarized scenes, is it not worth considering why Paul chose to speak out about one, but not the other? If it was an issue of setting the record straight (no pun intended), would Paul not wish to exercise the same amount of caution with kissing scenes as with fighting scenes, especially given what we know about how he has typically viewed and discussed sexuality? 

Or, could it possibly be that the kissing scene—in its presentation of playfighting, spontaneity, a brief moment of confusion and realization, then laughed off and construed as a joke—isn’t an inaccuracy?

[phoneybeatlemania-bit-the-dust]

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!

[mimikyugirl]

Falling In Love Again

-one shot-

.George declares himself to Y/N at a party. .Pairing F!Reader with George Harrison.

Warning: ABUSIVE BEHAVIOR

Word Count: 2.9k

"You're ready?"

The knock on the door was accompanied by the voice of your boyfriend, who was already anxiously awaiting to leave for the party.

It was debut night for the guys' first album, and you were going to gather at Brian's house for some drinks "Something casual" he said.

You were just putting on the last earring, finishing the look you had planned all week. The red dress hung just above your knees and the leather jacket you borrowed from George created the perfect contrast. She had two little pins that read "I'm a Beatles Girl!" and "I Love Paul McCartney!" placed there by George.

"Now I am" you thought, taking one last look in the mirror before turning to grab your bag and open the door.

John had his back against the outside of your house, his hands in his pockets and his neck thrown back in a position of pure boredom. He turned around as he heard the door open "Finally, Y/N. Bloody hell I thought…" He stopped talking as he turned to look at you, making you smile shyly.

His eyes happily followed the drawn of your legs until they reached the jacket. John's gaze quickly changed. What was once an approving smile quickly turned into an impatient face and what looked like anger "Do you really need to wear that jacket today? I mean..." He tossed the cigarette he was smoking to the ground "You've been wearing it every day since George left it here."

It was true.

Two weeks ago, when George was getting ready to go on tour and dropped by to see you, he left the jacket "Just in case you forget about me, love" was the premise he used.

Not even John did anything like that.

You used it religiously every day to remember your best friend, but that information didn't sit very well with John.

Even more recently, after they came back from a few shows in Germany and John seemed to pay less and less attention to you. The vibe was getting harder and harder to get around.

Ever since you guys started dating, Geo was a big sticking point, as John swore that George was secretly in love with you.

"I know that I'm the one who got yer love, but if they see you talk to him that way, they'll laugh at my face" Was usually what he said when the jealous attacks would start. You understood him.

In parts.

You and Geo were really close since you were kids and even though he was your first kiss, (John can't even DREAM this happened) nothing else happened between you guys afterwards. He was a constant presence in your life and in your home and there were no secrets between you.

Recently you've felt more comfortable with him than you've felt with John, which could create a tense atmosphere when the three of you were together.

George joined the band and as a result you met John. It was love at first sight, although it's a daunting task to remind him all the time that he's loved.

John didn't mind Paul's flirtations, Ringo's hugs, or even if you walked hand in hand with Maureen, but if George smiled in your direction, he'd promptly step between you two.

"It's not like you like me wearing yours, right?" You said, feeling a little disappointed that John didn't even seem to notice the effort you putted in the look.

"I don't think that kind of jacket suits girls. That's all, Y/N" He spoke under his breath.

You looked at John for a few seconds, waiting for any indication that he was joking "Are you fucking serious right now, John?" You asked, hugging George's jacket to your chest "I..." You tried to get John to look into your eyes as he avoided it at all costs when he was angry "How about a "How pretty your dress is, Y/N" or "How nice to see you and have the opportunity to spend the night with you, since all I do now is distribute my time between tours and all the fucking fans that chase me on the street all the time, Y/N."

Your blood boiled at the disregard John seemed to treat you with, and your voice grew louder as you spoke.

As you prepared to continue what would have been the start of an overwhelming argument, you saw a figure move quickly behind John.

He was suddenly engulfed in an embrace by George who, unaware, had arrived ready to meet his friends.

"Hey, love" He said, looking up at you as he hugged John from behind "I'm not too late, am I?"

John quickly freed himself from Geo's embrace and walked quickly towards the car.

"What happened to him?" He said pointing worriedly at John "Did I do something wrong?"

You shook your head, trying to smile at him and shake off the tension of the moment "No, Geo, it's good to see you. It's just John, y'know. Again."

You turned to lock the door and then felt a gentle touch on your waist. George was closer now, staring into your face for a sign that everything was okay, but he couldn't find it.

"I can't understand how he treat you like this, Y/N. None of us can, actually" He said, checking if John was still sitting in the car. He was watching the two of you in such a way that you felt scared. You were scared he would go over there and take out his anger on Geo.

"Paul tried to talk to John when we got back, y'know. He worried that maybe this whole band thing made John distance himself a little bit, but, well..." He stopped, stretched his fingers and adjusted one of the pins that were crooked on your jacket "You know John. He made a joke and it all came to that" Geo's hands were still gently placed on the jacket, as if he'd forgotten to move.

"I don't think just saying that I love him has been enough. In fact, I think just loving him hasn't been enough" You said, trying to keep Geo from seeing how lost you felt "But thanks for trying, love. I couldn't ask for better friends.” You flicked your hand up and gave Geo's a quick squeeze, drawing a gentle smile from him.

"It looks beautiful on you, by the way" He said "What, Geo?" Turning his eyes from yours to let them roam your body, George completed "Everything, love."

Geo's smile was set to his face for a few seconds, he was looking at you like someone who urgently needed to say something. As soon as he opened his mouth to speak, a loud blast of the car's horn interrupted him.

John was sitting impatiently in the car, honking to get both of you attention "CAN WE FOCKING GO?" He screamed.

You walked side by side to the car. George jumped in annoyed silence into the backseat and you tried not to wrinkle the fabric of your dress as you sat down to drive. Geo's jacket was a comfortable hug next to the treatment John was giving you at the time.

"If he's like this sober..." You thought, staring straight ahead and considering whether you should actually get out of there with John that night. The mood didn't really start out very well.

"Y/N?" John said, waking you up from the question "Are you going to start driving or should we be even more late -'cause of you?"

That pushed you over the edge.

Before you could say anything, George was quicker "Alright, that's it" He said, getting out of the car and quickly opening the door on John's side "You're going to get out of the car and walk. You're not going to do that with her today."

After a few seconds of silence, when John saw that Geo was prepared to throw him out of the car if he had to, he got out angrily, slamming the door in his way out "Fucking unbelievable" He spat as he walked away. John didn't even look at you during all this.

George had an expression of rage in his eyes that you had never seen before. He was always ready to fight for his friends and seeing him there almost fighting John to protect you made your heart feel warmer.

"Are you okay?" He jumped into the car, sitting down where John was before "Sorry I... I'm not gonna sit here and watch him talk to you like that, Y/N" His hand brushed a strand of your hair and your gaze fell immediately to George's face. He had a worried and careful expression.

You felt like leaning over against his chest, just enjoying the safety of the situation. Away from the party and away from John "We don't have to go if we don't want to. I can stay here with you" He said "And miss your party? No way Geo. We'll go and John can learn to be less of a spoiled brat by himself."

He settled happily beside you in the car and you started talking about the night.

Geo praised the combination of your outfit and you said you loved the coat he wore "Paul picked it for me. He said it matches my skin or something like dat" He said.

A light rain pelted the car window and left the street shining all the way to Brian's house.

As soon as you arrived, you and George were greeted with great joy by Paul and Maureen at Brian's front door, sitting there finishing off a cigarette.

You and George walked into the house together, greeting Ringo and Brian who were talking fervently about a new camera, and said a quick hello to Mal.

Your eyes didn't take long to find John. He was sitting on the couch, his arms greedily around a girl you didn't know. He looked at you and quickly shifted his attention and smiles back to the girl.

Your heart sank.

George, who also saw John sitting there, wrapped your hand in his and pulled you to the opposite side of the room, a narrow hallway crammed with paintings where not even the noises from the party dared reach.

"Look at me" George had his hands positioned on the sides of your face and gently stroked your cheeks with his thumbs "Don't let him get to you. He does it on purpose, y'know, he expects a reaction. Don't give him one."

You nodded in agreement and George gave you a quick kiss on the cheek. In an unexpected move, his hands joined yours and you walked back into the room hand in hand.

The feeling of security that this gave you was enough for you to get carried away with everything that was happening.

The house was filled with the sounds of conversation, of people celebrating the boys' success, and you and Geo quickly poured yourself drinks and made your way closer to the music.

George's coat was already tossed somewhere when he held out his hands in clear invitation to a dance. The people around watched the scene smiling, waiting to see if the invitation would be accepted.

"Don't make me look like a clown here, Y/N. It's just a dance" He said, trying to convince you.

You took George's hands and everyone around you cheered excitedly, including Paul who was standing there with a glass in his hand.

George danced like an animated child, totally messed up but completely adorable and you couldn't stop laughing as you twirled around the room.

You bumped into someone while you danced and when you turned to apologize, it was John.

He was standing there, gaze bleary from the alcohol and his expression serious. You stopped immediately and just stood there watching him, wondering what his reaction would be to seeing you there with George.

Paul, who was right behind, soon approached his friend and stepped between you, whispering to John "Come on, love, let's take a walk outside, you and me" But John pulled away quickly.

In the blink of an eye, the glass of whiskey that had been in John's hands was hurled in George's direction, wetting his clothes and splattering glass all over the room.

The scene had been ugly enough for the entire party to hold its breath.

"IF YOU WANT HER THAT MUCH, YOU CAN FUCKING HAVE HER" He screamed with tears in his eyes, before being dragged from there by Paul and Mal.

You ran in the opposite direction, too embarrassed to stand there.

"Y/N!" You heard George's voice calling you, but it quickly fell behind as you disappeared into the garden.

You followed a trail of lights leading to the farthest part of the place for a few minutes.

Alone in Brian's garden, cut off from the rest of the party, the lawn was still wet from the earlier rain and sank awkwardly when you stepped on it. You decided to walk without your shoes, then.

John's words were still painfully replaying in your mind "IF YOU WANT HER THAT MUCH, YOU CAN FUCKING HAVE HER."

You let your feet sink into the fresh grass, too embarrassed to go back to the party but not feeling the least bit compelled to look for your now, ex boyfriend.

The party had fairy lights everywhere, lighting the way to the nearby hills and to the pool that was lower on the grounds. The view of the woods was beautiful and slowly began to be taken by fog, unsuspectingly swallowing the couples who laughed in the middle of the tall grass.

You spent a few minutes standing there watching the fog, until you heard the grass rustle behind you, signaling someone's arrival. You turned, perhaps expecting to see John, ready to continue the fight, but it was George coming towards you. He was already tucked into his thick, elegant coat again, but like you, he also had his shoes in his hands.

"Finally, love. I've never seen anyone run so fast" He said, approaching slowly.

You saw that he had a small cut on his hand, the result of the glass thrown by John and you had to control not to cry right there. George followed your eyes and gave a smile "Don't worry about it. It's just a scratch" He shook his hand and moved to your side.

It didn't take long for him to ask the question you dreaded "So... Why did John say that about having you? I've never seen him act like that."

"The truth is..." You thought for a few seconds before starting to explain "John was always jealous of you. He had a crazy theory that you were secretly in love with me" You watched George out of the corner of your eye, trying to see his reaction "I think he's just afraid to be alone and... well, I think he was so afraid, he ended up making it happen himself."

The cool, wet breeze was enough to make your body shiver.

"I think he's a big wanker if he didn't realize he had the best girl in the world on his side" George's voice was soft, his accent tickling your ears "If it was... well, if it was me, I would take care of you in the way you really deserve."

He was looking at you now. Unable to meet George's piercing gaze, you had to lower your face to hide your flushed cheeks.

George moved closer, his fingers shyly caressing your hand "I've been trying to tell you this for a few years, Y/N. Before John or the Beatles even happened" His eyes were fixed on your lips now. A part of you already knew what he was going to say, the same part that always knew John wasn't wrong.

"John's theory might not be that crazy, love, I... Since we..." He took his fingers from your hand and took a deep breath, as if gathering courage to continue.

It was then that your fingers slipped into his hands, pulling them back into yours and holding them tightly.

"Since we kissed, I feel like you carry a part of me with you. A part that never had the courage to belong to anyone else" George came closer and closer, as if he needed to break the distance that had been built throughout these years "I know you fell in love with John but... I don't think there's been a day since that I've known what it really is to be whole."

Your eyes filled with tears when you heard the boy's words. All those years he'd been by your side, watching your romance with John and the toxic way it unfolded. All these years of living with a forbidden feeling. All these years you could have had the right person.

"Y/N, I...I have always been and will always be madly in love with you, even if..." He looked at your joined hands for a few seconds before continuing, "Even if you chose someone else. I'll keep falling in love with you again every time I see you."

It wasn't reason when you pulled George against your chest and pressed your lips together. It wasn't reason when you whispered that he was your choice, that you loved him and never wanted him away from you again. It wasn't the safe choice to decide to go against John's jealousy or to choose this night among them all to realize that you wanted George.

It was love.

It remained love when he asked repeatedly if this was really happening, when his lips sought yours more and more, or when George's gaze was pure affection for you.

It remained being love, every day and for every moment where it was fitting to be.

[mysweetgeo]

I Need You (Part 7)

Summary: Sequel Series to the Do You Want to Know a Secret ? Series. Reader accepts a job as a photographer for a band as they begin a tour mid-1966, what happens when she finds out that she knows them ?

Soon after you’d landed, everyone was getting settled in their rooms and you were laid on your bed, thinking of what was to come during this trip.

You had packed dozens of rolls of film, in anticipation for all of the concerts and for the couple of days that you had to explore prior to the first show.

You were loading a new roll of film into your camera when you heard a knock at your door.

“It’s open!” You replied.

Soon John was laying on his stomach on your bed, Paul was sat beside him, Ringo was sitting at the chair beside the desk, and George was leaning against the wall watching you.

“Y’know, George, I think she’d get more done without you gawkin’ at ‘er,” John remarked upon seeing him watch your every move.

You flushed, looking down at your bag shoving everything you would need for the day into it.

“Shove off, John,” George said, his face turning a bright red upon being caught.

Paul, John, and Ringo were now laughing at George’s embarrassed state, while George remained quiet.

“C’mon lads, leave ‘im alone,” you said as you pulled your bag onto your shoulder and looking at George.

He looked up at you and offered a shy smile, which you gently returned.

“God, you guys aren’t allowed to pull that crap here. Not with me in the room at least,” Paul said in disgust.

“Me either,” Ringo and John said in unison.

You rolled your eyes and started making your way to the door, George following closely behind you.

“Coming then?” You asked, stopping and turning over your shoulder, which caused George to bump into you, his hands falling to your waist to hold you upright.

“Sorry,” he murmured, his breath fanning your neck as your body became warm.

“Gross,” John muttered as the three of them got up to follow you and George, who still had a hand on your waist.

You almost hadn’t noticed it, as it was almost second nature to you, had John not pointed it out to the two of you when you were about to leave the hotel.

“Y’know, I think it’s called an ‘affair’ when you’re seen in public with your arm around another girl,” he said cockily, you knew he was enjoying making your lives a living hell.

George quickly retracted his arm and the two of you blushed again, moving away from one another.

As the five of you stepped onto the street, the boys were instantly mobbed, and George and John rushed to shield you from the crowd.

You held onto the back of George’s suit as they continued to walk down the street, signing a couple autographs to keep the fans at bay.

Eventually it had calmed down a bit, and you let go of George so that you could walk beside him.

You took out your camera, once you were far enough away from the crowds, and began snapping photos of the scenery, as well as taking some lovely shots of the boys.

You were all laughing and making jokes as you took some cute pictures of them giggling with each other when George suddenly stole your camera from your hands and snapped a picture of you laughing with Paul.

“George! Stop that I probably look terrible—you’re wasting my film!” You protested as you tried to grab your camera back from his grip.

He held the camera up high in the air, just out of your reach as he slipped an arm around your shoulders.

“You always look beautiful,” he whispered quietly so that only you could hear him.

Your face turned red and you looked down as George turned the camera around with his arm outstretched as he snapped a picture of the two of you.

You turned your head to face him and give him a stern look, while he just turned and grinned down at you, snapping yet another picture of the two of you.

You rolled your eyes and took the opportunity to lunge forward and grab your camera from his outstretched hand.

“Ha!” You exclaimed as you held the camera close to your chest while George launched himself at you, wrapping his arms around you, beginning to tickle you.

“George! Knock it off!” You yelled between fits of giggles, the two of you in your own little world as you laughed together.

All of a sudden your foot got caught in a groove in the cobblestone street and soon you lost your balance and began falling forward, knocking George over and taking him with you. He held onto you tightly as you fell on his chest.

The two of you were in extremely close proximity, as you looked into each others eyes, your lips not far from each others.

The electricity pulled you close to him and soon your found your lips on one anothers, completely forgetting about the three boys who stood and watched you.

George cupped your face with his large hands as the two of you kissed.

You were interrupted when you heard a camera flash and you jumped, rolling yourself off of George as the two of you looked around to see where the camera flash had come from.

As you turned to look, you saw John smiling with a conniving little grin on his face as he held your camera, which seemed to have fallen from your grasp when you and George fell.

You stood and dusted your skirt off and walked straight up to John, yanking your camera from his grasp.

“Pervert,” you muttered.

“Not a pervert if you’re practically having sex in the streets,” he retorted, flashing you a smirk with his eyebrow cocked.

You instantly flushed and were at a loss for words, knowing John had won this battle of wits.

You rolled your eyes and continued walking, Paul and John chuckling to themselves as Ringo helped George back to his feet.

After the boys eventually began getting bored of sightseeing, the group of you headed back to the hotel, and you went straight into your room and plopped yourself onto your bed, thinking about what had happened with George today.

Had that been a photographer for a newspaper or something instead of John, that could have ruined his career, and broken Pattie’s heart.

You knew you needed to stop what you had going with George before it got more serious than it already was.

I mean you’d already talked about marriage, and he was still married!

You heard a knock on your door, interrupting your thoughts, “Go away,” you muttered rolling over so your head was in the pillows.

“‘ts me, love,” you heard Paul’s voice.

“I said, ‘Go away,’” you mumbled, your voice muffled by the pillows.

“I know, but I know you needed someone to talk to who isn’t involved and isn’t going to judge you. So here I am,” he said, smiling and sitting beside you on your bed.

You groaned and sat up against your headboard, moving over so Paul could sit beside you in the same position, “You’re right.”

Paul grinned cheekily as he put an arm around your shoulders and pulled you into him, “Go on then,” he said before pressing a kiss to your temple.

“I don’t even know where to begin, really,” you mumbled, leaning into Paul’s touch. “There’s a lot.”

“I’ve got all night, love,” Paul replied, a friendly smile on his face.

You took a deep breath in before beginning to speak, “I just don’t know what to do, I’m in love with him, and he’s in love with me, why does life have to be so difficult,” you said, sounding very defeated as tears filled your eyes.

“Oh, love,” Paul said as he wiped your tears and pulled you into his lap so that he could hug you properly. “I know it’s hard now, but it will get better. He’ll realize what he has to do sooner or later, and when he does you’ll know it’s been worth it all along,” he whispers into your hair as you cry into his chest.

“I just need him,” you cried, your heart so heavy as you held tightly onto Paul, soaking his shirt with your tears.

He stroked your hair as you cried, “I know, darling, I know.”

He continued to hold you until you’d stopped crying and were just laying on his chest, silent because you were exhausted, not just from crying but also from the flight.

“Can you stay with me, Paul? I don’t want to be alone,” you murmured.

“Of course, dear,” he replied, still stroking your hair softly.

Your eyelids began to grow heavy, fluttering shut as you fell asleep, Paul’s arms around you like a comforting cage.

[theyreonlynoodlesmike]

How would the guys handle a “girly girl” S/O? Either poly or individual is fine with me. Thanks!

"How would the boys act with a S/O who is a girly girl? Could they handle that?" -anon

I've said this once and I'll say it again!!! I don't think the boys have a type!! So if you're a girly girl?? Totally won't care. Here you go!! (Made this poly btw)

Poly!Lost Boys x Girly Girl S/O

The boys had spotted you on the boardwalk. Pastels, teased hair, manicured nails, and expertly done makeup to match. You were a prim little girly girl, and their complete opposite. For some reason, that only drew them to you

At first, they just wanted to mess with you. "Piss off the princess" as David had some eloquently put. And it was fun. So fun, actually. They flirted with you, of course, but David made sure to play with your hair, putting a strand out of place. He stroked your cheek, his gaze making you flustered as you tried your best to keep up with them. You could've sworn a second ago you had been surrounded by your friends, but they were nowhere to be found now. Marko had leaned in close, a wide smile on his face as he asked what perfume you used and blatantly took a whiff. You had squirmed at his closeness, and tried to give him a reply. He'd hummed, telling you that he liked it with a grin that made the compliment seem far too suggestive (even if it wasn't). Paul took your distraction as an opportunity to play with the edge of your skirt. You yelped and bat his hands away, but he was already leaning down. He whispered in your ear, "Nice heels. Though, I'm surprised your feet don't hurt. Maybe you wanna spend some time off them?" He flirted. Dwayne was the only one that didn't tease you as ruthlessly as the others, and he caught you before the blonde terror twins could make you trip backwards. You had pressed your back right up against his chest, and quickly looked up to see the handsome brunette. It was all a little much for you, the onslaught of teasing and flirting, and you had flushed bright red. Dwayne rubbed his knuckle against your cheek, quietly asking, "What's wrong, princess?" And that had been the final straw. You had broken away from the four, stomping off as you cursed the boys and their antics. They had jeered, calling for you and asking you to come back

They bothered you every night after that, and eventually they weren't such an unwelcome sight. Really...they could be quite charming when they wanted to be. Despite the warnings you'd recieved about "boys like them", you ended up dating them. All four of them.

Marko low-key likes that you're extremely girly. It makes him look more tough whenever you stand besides him, and he's definitely willing to fight anyone who bothers you. Marko would interlock his arm with yours, and ask you questions about the things you liked (even if they were things he had no interest in). He would even talk to you about makeup and fashion, and just saw your style as your own personal self-expression. He liked to hang out in your room and play with all the stuff you had on your walls. He's not big on wearing makeup himself, but he likes to watch you put it on. He'll hover just a little bit out of the sight of the mirror, tilting his head to the side as you focus on applying your eyeshadow and eyeliner. He likes to watch you make yourself "look pretty" and will argue that, "You're always pretty". He always smiles when you ask him what color you should use, and he grins a little bit more at the boardwalk that night. Will watch "girly" movies and shows with you, and actually likes some of them. Will even listen to some "girly" music with you. Likes to listen to gossip, and totally knows all the names of your friends. Is one of the only boys that can tolerate your friends. Will still tease you from time to time about how girly you are, but he never means it in a bad way. Was totally ko-ed that one time you were chewing bubblegum and blew a bubble while talking to him. Won't explain why, but he just thinks it was really hot. The two of you went into an alleyway, and he was the one chewing gum when you left.

Paul had been completely devastated when he heard that your favorite singers were Cyndi Lauper and Madonna, and had tried to convince you to come back to the cave with them just so he could show you some "real music". You had denied, as you were hesitant about getting on one of their death machines. Especially Paul's. The first time he had you listen to metal, you had just said, "this sounds very angry" and you swore that Paul looked like he was about to cry. Literally conditions you to like it, but will mostly put on soft rock/ballads as a "compromise". He listens to some of your music as well, and one time you caught him humming "Physical" by Olivia Newton John afterwards. He's the most willing to let you put some make-up on him, but only something that "rockstars" would wear. You end up finding out that Paul looks really good with some eyeliner. Let's you paint his nails, but the boy can barely sit still long enough for you to do one coat. And trying to wait for it to dry? Forget it. He even likes the painted nails, but, again, he cannot sit still. Paul loves the fact that you mostly wear skirts. Whistles every time he sees you, and is definitely the type to try to sneak his hands under your skirt to try to cop a feel. If you sit on his lap, his hand is going straight to your legs. You gotta hold them so he won't try anything. Likes to pick out your outfits, even if he usually aims to make it as skimpy as possible and most of his choices get vetoed.

Dwayne is the nicest to you, and he treats you like a little princess. He always tells you that you look pretty, and would let you talk about whatever you wanted. He just likes hearing you talk, even if he has no idea what you're saying. Listens to you talk so much that he starts to pick up some of your slang. In his deep voice, he just says, "That was totally bogus". Type to hold open doors for you and treat you like a lady, even if the others make fun of him for it. He's your giant bodyguard, and he basically makes sure no one tries to take advantage of you based on how non-intimidating you look. The type to buy steal you whatever you want, and may spoil you a bit. If you like a certain piece of jewelry, he's giving you it the next night. He was the one that helped you pick out your earrings when you and them decided to become more official. Let's you braid and brush his hair, but he never wears it out of the cave. If you wear sneakers one night, he'll tie your shoelaces for you so you don't have to bend down in your skirt. Low-key has a kink for when you put on lip-gloss. He just likes watching you apply it, and will pull you into a kiss as soon as your done. It's one of the rare instances where he'll do PDA, so you let it slide that when he pulls back and half of your lip gloss is on his lips instead. He just comments, "Bubblegum." And acts like nothing happened. You mostly want to ride with him because he's the safest, and he always helps you on/off of his bike

David could be a perfect gentleman at times, when he wasn't being an ass. He teases you the most out of all the boys. He likes how feminine you are, mainly because it makes him feel more manly and tough. His all black coat and punk/metal look really constrasts with your feminine style, and he loves watching how beach go-ers immediately back down when you tell them that he's your boyfriend. Yeah, they weren't expecting that. He enjoys pushing your boundaries and testing your knowledge on things outside the mainstream. He will even suggest books and movies to you, but it wasn't until you started dating that he actually got you to listen to him. This was mainly by literally giving you his copies or watching them with you at the cave. You two mainly have conversations about those things, or about the things going on in your life. He's really not the type to be interested in girly things, so rip- Loves and almost insists on having you ride with him, mainly because he loves the way you have to hike up your skirt and how tightly you grip onto him. Definitely teases you by calling you "little girl" along with his usual "kitten" and "sweetheart". Likes that you're a girly girl a little bit too much, especially the fact that you get your nails done. You scratched your nails down his back one (1) time in bed, and he had to keep himself from vamping out and biting you in retaliation. Likes to joke about how he and the boys are "corrupting" you, but secretly thinks it's kind of hot

The boys all call you "barbie" and it's a running joke in your relationship. If you ever start to annoy them, they'll say, "Okay, Barbie"

One of the boys favorite things is picking you up from the mall or the boardwalk when you're with all your friends. They live for the looks your friends give them, whether they're judging your choices or giggling at how cute they are. One of your friends comments about you not possibly being able to date all of them long term, and the boys roll their eyes. David just replies, "Long term is exactly what we had in mind", and ends up telling you about their vampirism soon after. It was a bit of a shock, but after some time to adjust they were able to convince you it wasn't as bad as you thought. But they knew convincing you to change would be a whole other battle...

Overall, none of the boys really mind that you're girly, but they'll definitely tease you for it

[themagicalmysticalboy]

PLEASE do that bob&george oneshot there's barely any content for them I love your stuff!!! :D

a/n: in which George and Bob Dylan are v e r y high on acid. this is technically closer to what a shroom high is like as opposed to an acid high but who cares abt semantics, right?

You've Really Got A Hold On Me

The flower pattern on the wall was doubling and tripling into a never-ending spiral, budding and blossoming in the blink of an eye. John joking and making the intimate circle of people laugh brought the wallpaper’s movements to a slow end. George took in a deep breath, grounding himself. Brian was to his right with his knees to his chest. Cynthia fell to his left, cuddled up against John. Leaving George directly in front of his friend.

They all sat around on the floor as the party around them went on. George wasn’t quite sure what John said but the flame of Cynthia’s lighter dancing strangely as she lit a spliff was enough to have him giggling. A wave-like sensation followed and tumbled through his body pleasantly. His fingers were a retreating tide, stretching impossibly long as he fiddled with a tune on the guitar only to come back to normal. He curled and uncurled his toes, feeling them roll like a carpet being put into storage. His whole body could be a rolled-up carpet for all he knew. Wouldn’t that be nice? But then again, carpets can’t hear and George was quite enjoying the music at the moment. Someone was playing a familiar song on the piano but the name of it couldn’t be placed.

Before he really understood his thought process, he was standing and his guitar was propped against a chair.

“Where you off to?” John was looking up at him with half-lidded eyes and a far-away smile.

“Duh know.” George laughed at the realization and let his feet guide him away.

Enough acid, alcohol, and weed had gone around that the party was nearing its peak. Whose party? At whose house? For what occasion? No clue. The important thing was that it felt warm. And not in an uncomfortable way. More like an excited hug from a long-unseen friend. Vibrantly dressed people filled the room and lined the walls. Some melted into the floor while others didn’t even touch it. Music was still going and Paul’s voice belted lyrics with the tune of the piano. He wasn’t visible in the crowd of people but he sure could be heard.

Swiping a drink from a serving table, George strode through the crowd and ascended a set of wildly painted stairs. Two birds sat together, painting a step with a bottle of sparkling nail polish. They didn’t look up as people passed. They only saw each other as they practically sat in one another’s lap. George rather liked when people did that- got lost in each other. He excused himself to pass and moved along.

At the top of the stairs, a couple rushed into a room in a fit of laughter and kissing. The door slammed behind them as George went by. The sound hit every inch of his body like a brick wall and suddenly the fringed lamps were giving off the worst lighting possible. When he tried to breathe he found that the warm hug had turned into a stranglehold. With the chug of his drink, George took swift strides down the hall. Tension rose in his muscles and tendons with each movement and the lights only got brighter and brighter, threatening to blind him. Finally, he opened the very last door at the very end of the hallway.

New energy from the space calmed him almost immediately. The glow of the lights somehow tasted much kinder in there and no one else was occupying the space, save for a tabby cat.

“You mind the intrusion?” He addressed the cat. It responded with a short meow and settled on the couch, unbothered. “Ta.”

The door clicked closed, sealing in the soft vibes. The art studio he found himself in was covered with finished and half-finished work. One piece still sat at the easel with nothing but a messy black background. Paint and drop cloths cluttered the space around the easel and couch. The floor was a beautiful and giant daisy, splattered with freckles of stray paint. George laid himself down on a delicate white pedal and took in the energy of the room. He felt yellow and orange bursting in his chest and behind his eyes.

There was a rhythmic knocking at the door. It echoed and bounced until it was all George could hear. The muffled chatter and music from the party fell away to the knockknock, knockknock, knock. The orange in his chest fell way to blue which melted into yellow seamlessly. He wasn’t very sure how to respond to the knocking, so he didn’t.

The door creaked open, regardless, and George slowly sat up to find a mess of curly hair on top of a small frame. “Bobby,” He greeted with a toothy grin. “You’ve got to ask the cat if you can stay.”

“Oh, man. Really?” Bob smiled, awkwardly removing the cigarette from between his lips though both hands already held drinks. “Well,” he asked the starring tabby, glancing to George as they both tried not to laugh.

The cat hopped from its resting spot and rubbed against Bob’s trousers. He looked to George to see if he had passed.

“Oi, well, now you have to leave. They like you more than me.”

“Apologies to your ego,” He stated as he sat in the center of the daisy and placed one cup in front of George before taking a sip of his own.

“I’ve got a drink, actually.”

“I’m sure yours isn’t water.”

The green vibrations romped around George and he took up the water appreciatively. “I feel romanced.” And he kind of meant it though his tone made it seem more of a jest.

Bob only hummed, placing his cigarette back between his lips. He leaned back on both hands to stare at the ceiling, casting his features into the soft yellow lighting. Both his legs were laid out flat, one foot on either side of George. “It’s loud down there. I couldn’t feel - see - anything right, you know? The noise was a cloud over my eyes.” Smoke poured from between his lips, delicately floating into the air.

“Mmm, suffocating like.” As Bob rose his head up George realized he hadn’t been seeing right either. A radius of color encapsulated him, dancing softly above his skin. It shimmered around him in an impossible display of greens and yellows. He saw nothing like it when he was downstairs. “Blinding too, yeah.”

“You Beatles are hard to find. You, Ringo, and John, at least. If anything, Paul’s hard to lose.”

George rested his elbows on his knees and leaned forward. God. He really hadn’t seen anything before this very moment. “Paul’s good for company ‘til he finds a bird to fly off with or gets bored,” he answered listlessly, lost in the explosion of color and energy before him. “Do you see all the colors?” He had to ask, even if it sounded a little silly out loud. “You’re as good as a rainbow.”

Bob gave a youthful grin and tilted his head. New shades of blue and green and yellow spun out from around him. “Yeah. You look like the sun just as it’s rising.”

The flow of energy between them felt magnetic, compelling George to move closer. Once they both occupied the bright yellow center of the daisy- George’s legs overtop of Bob’s thighs- the pull finally settled.

“You think it’s our auras,” he asked as he rested his hands above Bob’s hips.

“All I know is that I can see all of you.” He said as his eyes flicked between George’s eyes and mouth. “I could taste your favorite song on your lips.”

Though he fought to keep a straight face, his lips defied him and curled into a smile. He bit down on his bottom lip in a vain attempt to gain control but quickly gave up. “You think so?”

Bob nodded ever so slightly and cupped the side of George's face. His calloused fingertip gently rubbed his cheekbone. “Can I…?”

They were almost nose to nose already. It took so little effort to close the gap that George barely registered that he had done it at all until their lips grazed and a bolt of lightning struck through his veins, illuminating the room so brightly that George could see the pale yellow through his closed eyes. His fingers curled into the fabric of Bob’s shirt as he pressed into the kiss.

When they parted Bob’s head fell onto his shoulder, his hands circling George to clasp behind his back. “Hold me, please. Hold me, squeeze, hold me, hold me,” He sang softly, his usual folksy vocals nowhere to be found. “You really got a hold on me. I said you really got a hold on me.”

George gave a breathy chuckle and did as the song called for, holding Bob tighter in his arms. “The Miracles. Can never go wrong there.”

Bob raised his head and they kissed again before George repositioned. He tugged Bob along with him until they were both flat on their backs, laying on the same flower pedal, hand in hand.

After a while, Bob pressed his head into George’s. “How long do the colors last?”

“Probably another hour.”

Bob rolled on his side and George turned his head so they could meet eyes. “What even is an hour?”

With a quizzical glance at his own fringe, he surmised, “Somewhere between five seconds and an infinity.”

“Perfect. We’ll lay here ‘til then.”

[blackberry-gingham]

Hewo :3

Saw you write headcanons ❤. Could ya do one of dati g the guys while being yourself a guitarist in another band ??

Thnks

Yus I can UwU

George

I honestly feel like guitar reader with George would be soooo cool and laid back!

Like, honestly any relationship with George I feel would be like a "we're friends first and foremost, and significant others second" deal

So even tho you guys are in seperate bands, there's never like any "ok, but ONE OF US has to be the better one" type of tension/joking lmao

It really is just a lot of you two practicing together, trading tips, and just all around honing your skills together

That said, I could see the two of you needing time away from your band mates a lot and so the brainstorming with each other is a bit of a cover up

It's not that you don't like your band, or him his, it's just that you need your space to recharge and the others can be a bit.... much, being rock stars and all

Anyway, the two of you are very skilled guitarists so there would definitely be plenty ideas worth picking each other's brains for!

I think you and George would've met during the Beatles hamburg days in a little dive type of place

Your careers took off in seperate ways later on, but you both just clicked at the time and so you kept in contact ever since!

Despite how close you are with George, you don't really come in to feature on a song or just hangout in studio with all the boys

Or vice versa for George and your band tbh

Everyone jokes about needing to keep an eye on you both before you run off together and make your own band lol

Secretly, you both have considered it, but you're happy with your current bands and besides you two have your thing going, and that suits you just fine

John

Ok, so not to step on anyone's toes but ???

I personally headcannon reader to be like a slightly, but noticably, better guitarist then John ????

Like things definitely get competitive between you two

At first, John's kinda jelous tbh

I'd just imagine any brainstorming or private practice sessions being a lot of you bouncing ideas off of him and him just being his brutally honest self and not really doing much bonding with you

At first, that is

Bc as we all know, the root of jealously is insecurity! So I think having reader around to encourage the real John out as well as your genuine admiration of his playing skills, would turn his attitude around!!

When it clicks for him, it's like an "um duh" moment where he realizes that you're not out trying to claim the title of "better then John Lennon" or something

Not everything is a competition, and besides, you love him! It doesn't matter who's "more talented"

I feel like you and John met backstage after a show, like maybe you and your band opened for the Beatles or even vice versa!!

He's a little begrudging of it, but from musician to musician, he just had to tell you how great you were that night

After that came a few chance run ins between your bands and before long, you and John figured why not?

I mean, you both at least respect each other's musical talent, why not get to know each other!

You come sometimes to listen in on the Beatles recording sessions, and it's not uncommon for the rest of the boys to kick John off lead guitar and have you "show him how it's done"

It's just a little inside joke at this point lmao

He likes to act all offended and huffy of course, but when you're not around he loves to brag to the lads about how amazing you are, both as a musician and a person!!

The boys can get a little annoyed on occasion when you do come over tho, seeing as recording time sometimes turns into a bit of pissing competition between you and John

But it's all in good fun and also sooo obvious you two love each other and enjoy having a little go at one another from time to time, so they're happy for you both

Paul

Finally, someone who isn't also a guitarist lmao

Of all the other boys, you and Paul compliment each other, musically and instrumentally that is, the MOST

Like John and Paul are the lyrical masterminds always and forever obviously, but if Paul is looking to get a certain tune out? He tries to get in contact with you whenever he can!

It's just that you get him, like John does, but in a different way, if that makes sense. You know?

He'll oftentimes bring his and John's lyrics and a bass sample he's got for it and ask your opinion on the bass playing and even what kind of guitar chords you think would work with it!

Your private practice sessions aren't all work tho, sometimes Paul just serenades you with his bass and his voice and the two of you chill together

You and Paul are DEFINITELY old friends, like from childhood days!!

You've known each other basically since forever, which is how you're able to craft sheet music so well together, but life simply took you in different directions to different bands

Once you two seperated for that while that he was in Hamburg, he realised just how much he missed you and didn't want to be without you or your expertise!

He was 100% going to ask you to join his band, but you had already found your own :/

That didn't matter too much tho, Paul figured the least he could do was finally ask you out so he wouldn't have to be without you!

You've been together ever since

Typically you don't really come to the Beatles studio sessions, but Paul has been known to come over to you and your bands sessions for sure!

Your bassist is just fine of course! But I mean... Who could say no to some tips and input from good ol macca?

The boys poke at Paul a lot for "cheating on them" with you when it comes to writing sheet music, but they can't deny that you come up with really good stuff together!!

Ringo

I think of all the boys, you and Ringo have like the least amount of tension between yourselves lol

Like there's a tiny bit of competition with any other string musician I'd think, but Ringo and his drums are in a whole other field!

Honestly, Ringo is just in awe of you and your skills

Granted, he doesn't really know enough about guitars to dissect the fine details of what makes you so great or compare you to John and George, but I mean... he thinks you sound absolutely incredible!!

Now, he's not the best drummer in the world, but he keeps great time and you love him for it! Especially when you two have practice time together

And he's so pleased to hear that

A lot of the time, Ringo likes to think he plays for you, rather then just with you and that internal motivation honestly helps push his skills to new heights!!

I feel like you two met totally by accident lol

Like he wandered into your recording studio by mistake one day

"Oh sorry, I heard the guitar and I thought you were George!"

You two share a laugh after he explains himself just a bit more, but you got on so quickly, that the rest is history!

Honestly, the other boys love having you there for their recording sessions

Like seriously, they appreciate you lol

They always tell you Ringo is at his absolute best when you're in the studio, and it's true!

It's to such a point that you've featured as a guest guitarist when the boys play live more then once, just to give Ringo that extra little push

Your favorite spot on stage is right beside him and his drums :)

Bonus:

In the post Beatles era, your Beatle either joins your band, or if that's lost as well, you two form a new group or just a plain duo together!

The transition is a bit of an adjustment period for your Beatle still, but having you there to support them after things fall apart is a HUGE relief

That, and having a familiar face who's also a talented musician to enter a new era of music making with is kind of exciting!

All in all, having you there eases your Beatles post breakup pain and you guys go on to make a couple iconic, landmark albums together ❤️

[mithranqueersmusings]

I Think I'll Love You Too III

Chapter: 3/?

Rating: U

Summary: George and Ringo have been going out officially for a couple of months. Ringo anticipated that dating a stripper would be complicated, but he didn't understand exactly how complicated it would be.

Tags: Modern AU, Established Relationship

Pairing: George Harrison/Ringo Starr (Background McLennon)

AO3 link here / Fic masterlist here

Ringo hadn't been back to The Helter Skelter since he and George had started dating, much to the disappointment of John who had been begging constantly. However there cane a point where George began to grow suspicious, evidently he was worried that his relationship history was beginning to repeat itself. Not that he expressed any of these concerns to Ringo, instead he dropped passive aggressive hints and made vague comments which unfortunately reminded Ringo of the potential downsides to dating. Once the clues had been deciphered, Ringo vowed to return to the club the following night which seemed to please both John and George.

"You're not gonna get jealous are you?" George had asked while getting ready for his shift "Because if you are, just don't come."

Ringo certainly wasn't enjoying the harsher side of George but he understood the defensive tactic well "Of course not." He sat behind George who was doing his makeup in the mirror and wrapped his arms around his waist "What have I got to be jealous about?"

"I'm just saying..." George leaned in to the touch "You might think you won't get jealous, but when you see me rubbing my arse on some ugly bloke you might flip."

"George." Ringo said sternly "Stop worrying, please. I'll be just fine."

"Hmm, if you're sure." George sounded distracted as he coated his eyelashes in mascara.

Ringo had headed back home when George had left for work, he saw no use in hanging around the club so early in the evening. He caught up on some much needed sleep, his body was still rather exhausted. When night fell, John was excitedly knocking on Ringo's door. Awakening feeling groggy and disoriented Ringo shuffled over to open it. John burst in immediately, swinging the door so violently that Ringo had to jump backwards to avoid being hit.

"Jesus!" Ringo scolded "Could've taken my nose off."

"I'd be doing you a favour." John joked with a grin, collapsing onto Ringo's sofa "You got anything to drink?"

"Nice to see you too." Ringo scoffed, closing the door.

The two of them shared a few cold beers before heading out to the club, blasting the radio as they drove through the night. John was eager to see Paul, even though they'd spent the last few nights together, it was refreshing for Ringo to see his best friend so happy.

Ringo had forgotten how loud the music had been, the vibrations rattling in his ears as they made their way past the bouncer and into the warmth of the club. It was relatively packed, unsurprisingly for a Saturday night, but luckily their usual seats at the bar were free. John didn't even have to order a drink, as soon as he sat down he was being served without a word. Ringo supposed it would be an impressive sight if they weren't in a strip club, the thought passed his mind that John had paid the bartender prior just to make him look cool.

Ringo didn't recognise the dancer on stage, they had short platinum blonde hair and intricate tattoos dotted across their skin. Neither of them paid much attention, far more invested in their own conversation. Eventually they were shooed away from the bar to make room for other customers, so they sat at the back of the rows of chair and continued their nonsensical discussion as best they could.

"Ey up." John's tone changed as he nodded his head towards the stage "Someone's got their eye on you."

Ringo didn't register the words entirely at first, both his thoughts and visions gradually  blurring as he drank more and more. John nudged Ringo to direct his attention, the dancer was making their way through the throng of customers who were eagerly waving money in the air. Gradually they maneuverered over to Ringo and John, swinging their hips with their eyes glued to Ringo.

"Shit." Ringo breathed with a hint of a laugh.

He looked around the room to see if George was around, but there was no sign of him. As the dancer got closer and closer, Ringo figured there was nothing he could do but humour them and to get the whole thing over with as soon as possible. He could hardly complain, it was the guy's job after all. John seemed ready to burst into a fit of laughter upon witnessing Ringo's dilemma, his face scrunched up in an attempt to keep it in.

It was strange to compare the difference in emotion Ringo felt when being singled out by this new dancer versus how he'd previously felt with George; surprisingly the nerves were still present but were far more of a negative rather than actual excitement. Ringo leaned back in his chair a little in an attempt to gain some distance from the blonde dancer who had begun gyrating in front of him, but the gesture was mistaken for encouragement as he only intensified his lewd movements. John's laughter began pouring from his pursed lips, luckily the music masked the noise so that the dancer took no notice.

Ringo felt a hand on his shoulder, he assumed it was John trying to further his discomfort but then he heard shouting behind him and he knew something was up. Turning his head, Ringo saw an extremely pissed off looking George.

"You trying to be funny?" George was yelling, his hand possessively pressing down on Ringo's skin.

The other dancer seemed unfazed, passing George a momentary glance before reaching his hand forward to caress Ringo's cheek; at least that's where Ringo assumed he was aiming for it never reached it's destination. George gripped the dancer's wrist, the anger in his face melting away into a strange kind of satisfaction.

"Watch it." George spoke in a low voice, Ringo hardly even heard it.

By this point John was unable to restrain his emotions, his mouth agape in shock for a few moments before laughing again; George paid no attention to him, his dark eyes fixed solely on the blonde in front of him. He tried to shake George's hand off, it was causing quite the scene, but couldn't. After a few more moments of struggling, George released his grip and the dancer shuffled sheepishly away and attempted to finish their number with the little dignity they had left.

Ringo started laughing now, mostly because he was nervous, but was silenced when George ordered him to meet him outside. John gave Ringo a look which said 'good luck' with a mixture of both encouragement and worry.

In the cold air of the night Ringo felt himself sobering up a little, he hadn't fully registered the whole situation but it still felt pretty comical to him, though that may have just been the alcohol.

"You alright?" Ringo broke the silence, offering George a cigarette who snatched it.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah." George mumbled as he lit it.

"One too many 'yeah's there, I think." Ringo chuckled.

George just looked at him, saying nothing. Ringo knitted his brows together in worry.

"Er- You gonna say anything?" Ringo shifted his weight between his feet awkwardly.

George said nothing for a few more moments then finally said "I'm sorry."

Ringo laughed again "Sorry? For what?"

"I..." George broke off his speech with a huff "That was out of line. On my part, I mean."

Ringo rolled his eyes and moved closer to George, interlacing their fingers together "Don't be daft, George. I get it."

"But- I just..." George sighed, Ringo had never seen him so internally frustrated, he tried to speak again but Ringo silenced him with a kiss.

"You don't have to explain yourself to me." Ringo said firmly, his hands cupping George's cheeks.

"I- Alright..." George huffed, closing his eyes in an attempt to dispel the frustration "I really hate that new prick."

Ringo laughed, breaking whatever tension was laugh "I can tell. What's his deal anyway?"

"Oh, I dunno." George flicked his cigarette away "Think he's jealous of me or something. Can you blame him?"

"Not at all." Ringo hummed happily, planting a short kiss on George's now cold lips.

Ringo could feel the tension leaving George's body: his shoulders lowering, his breath slowing. He wondered whether he'd ever be able to have a drama-free night at this place.

"You wanna go back in?" Ringo offered, rubbing his thumb on George's cheek before pulling the hand away entirely.

"Sure, sure." George still seemed a little distracted, Ringo knew he wasn't being told everything "Let me get you a drink."

"If you're offering." Ringo smiled, leading the way back into the humid club.

"Will you stay until I finish?" George asked, sounding almost shy "Please." He added after a moment.

"Of course." Ringo held the door open for George to walk through.

Inside George led them over to the bar where he ordered another round for both Ringo and John. He placed a brief kiss on Ringo's cheek then vanished into the crowds. Ringo let out a huff of air, managing to find John who had moved to the front of the stage and was hollering even louder than the music. It was no mystery as to why, Paul was currently onstage spinning around the pole in a way Ringo only assumed was incredibly difficult. He was wearing no shirt yet a multicoloured tie was hanging around his neck, his trousers a sheer black material with relatively high platform boots on his feet.

When John realised Ringo had returned, he offered him a cheesy grin which revealed how drunk he really was. His face lit up when Ringo offered him yet another drink, accepting it gladly and downing it almost instantly.

"Everything alright?" John yelled into Ringo's ear, his eyes not moving from Paul.

"Yeah." Ringo shouted back, it was all that needed to be said.

As soon as Paul had finished his number, he sought John out in the crowd instantly and the two disappeared giggling excitedly into one of the private room. This left Ringo alone to think and, more importantly, drink. He spotted the blonde dancer serving drinks later on but avoided eye contact as best he could.

George had been appearing and disappearing throughout the night but Ringo didn't really mind, it wouldn't be too long until the club was closing for the night. Ringo tucked himself away in a distant corner, finishing an array of drinks and scrolling through his phone aimlessly.

Eventually John resurfaced, dark bruises dotting the skin of his neck, with a very satisfied grin. He didn't hang around for too long, helping Ringo finish some of his drinks, before excitedly saying goodbye to head to Paul's for the night. It was a relief to Ringo, he no longer had to worry about getting him home safely.

George appeared only several minutes later, his skin covered in a sheen of sweat from exertion. Ringo smiled at him drunkenly, stumbling up from his seat and banging into the table which knocked a few empty glasses over.

"Ready to go?" Ringo asked "You're sober enough to drive, right? Because I am not."

"Sure thing." George pulled Ringo close to his body "I'm bloody knackered, let's just get to bed."

Ringo made a noise of agreement "Lemme just have a piss, then we'll go."

"You don't wanna go in there, trust me." George scoffed, nodding his head towards the toilet "It gets blocked every night, it's dead grotty."

Ringo curled his lip up in disgust "Really? I don't care, I'll just-"

George stopped Ringo from turning away "No, no, really, it's dreadful. I'll just get us home quick, alright?"

There was a strange tone to George's voice, at least Ringo thought so but his senses were considerably dulled from the alcohol. Ringo gave him a quizzical look but allowed himself to be pulled out of the club all the same, his stomach feeling a little sensitive as the car pulled out onto the road.

George was silent, his hands gripping the wheel tightly as he drove. Ringo wasn't quite sure what was awaiting him when they were fully alone back at George's place, but he knew it was something big.

[lennonsprincess]

I Want You

Mal/Paul

*smut*

It wasn’t fair.

God, how could one boy be so pretty?

Mal sat in the corner of the studio, watching the boys rehearse.

Well, it was more like one specific boy.

And that boy was Paul.

Mal had recently found himself attracted to Paul, and not in an innocent kind of way. It was more of an “I need to fuck every hole you have”, kind of way.

It all started a few months ago when they were on tour. Everyone had been staying in hotel rooms. George and Ringo were in one room, Mal and Brian in the other, and most importantly, John and Paul in the last one, right beside Mal and Brian. One night, when Mal was just about to fall asleep, he heard some suspicious noises coming from the other side of the wall. It started off quiet, just a light thumping noise, but soon it started to get louder and faster, and before he knew it, he was hearing moans.

“Oh fuck John! Mm, harder!”

Mal’s eyes widened when he heard what was clearly Paul moaning and whimpering for John to fuck him. As much as Mal wanted to fall asleep, he couldn’t keep himself from listening to the gorgeous moans that were coming from Paul.

Mal shut his eyes tightly as he listened to Paul getting pounded, trying to ignore his hardening dick. Mal slowly turned his head toward Brian, sighing in relief when he found him fast asleep in the other bed. Mal slowly slid his hand to his clothed crotch, palming himself through his underwear. ‘I just need to relieve myself,’ Mal thought, ‘It’s not my fault Paul sounds like a girl.’

Mal closed his eyes as he slid his hand underneath his boxers, slowly wrapping his fingers around his hot shaft.

“Ah~ fuck me, Johnny! Harder mm!”

Mal blocked out John’s name from Paul’s cry as he pumped his fist, imagining he was the one fucking Paul. He could almost see what Paul looked like right now. Squirming as a cock was shoved roughly in and out of his perfect ass. Oh, his face would look so pretty. Puppy dog eyes glazed over with lust, pretty mouth hanging open and letting out the cutest little moans.

Mal couldn’t take it anymore. He came to sound Paul calling out John’s name, but the thought of him calling out his own.

Ever since then, Mal hasn’t been able to look at Paul without thinking of what he would look like underneath him, and it was driving him crazy.

Mal was snapped out of his daze when he heard a yell come from John.

“Holy shit Paul, we don’t need to start again! We’ve done it like 30 times! It’s not our fault you keep screwing up.”

Paul’s eyes darkened when he heard John.

“Oh, please,” Paul said sarcastically, “Don’t even pretend I’m the one screwing up, John.”

“God, sometimes you can be such a cunt.” John mumbled as he started to put away his guitar.

Paul’s eyes widened at John’s tone, clearly caught off guard by his comment.

“Excuse me?” Paul asked, raising his eyebrows.

“I said,” John started, closing his guitar case and turning towards Paul, “Sometimes you can be such a cunt.”

Paul stood completely still, his facial expression unreadable.

“Fine,” Paul said, biting his lip. “Play your own bloody bass then.”

And with that, Paul turned around and walked out of the studio, signaling Mal to follow. Mal assumed it was because John had driven Paul to the studio, and would now need Mal to drive him home. This sort of thing happened quite often. John would say something stupid to Paul and start a whole argument. Nothing too serious would ever come out of it, so Mal knew there was nothing to worry about. They were both usually fine the next day, and Mal always assumed it was because they had makeup sex that night

“You can drive me home, right?” Paul asked, turning around to face Mal.

“Yeah, I’ve got nothing better to do.” Mal joked, happy to see a small smile form on Paul’s face.

“Thanks.”

The car ride to Paul’s house was short and silent. With Paul staring out the window the whole time, it was hard to start a conversation.

Mal stopped the car at Paul’s house and unlocked the doors. As Paul reached for the handle he turned his head toward Mal.

“Thanks for driving me, Mal,” Paul said, a sad smile plastered on his face. He turned toward the door again and started to open it, when suddenly, he turned back toward Mal. “Hey, would you like to come in for a drink or somethin’?” Paul asked. Mal’s face lit up, but he quickly tried to hold in his excitement.

“Are you sure? I don’t want to be a bother.” Mal responded.

“Don’t be silly, you’re no bother. And plus, since John’s not here I’ll need some company.”

Mal didn’t know why, but the tone in Paul’s voice seemed a bit suggestive. It must’ve just been his imagination, he thought.

“Alright, why not.” Mal agreed.

As they walked through the front door of Paul’s house, Mal took a deep breath through his nose, taking in the warm smell that reminded him of Paul. They made their way through the hall and into the living room, where Paul motioned for Mal to take a seat. Mal slowly sat down and watched as Paul stood in front of him, legs pressed together and hands held behind his back in a nervous manner. Fuck, he looked so precious. Mal bit his lip, his eyes scanning Paul’s body.

“Uh- would you like something to drink?” Paul blurted out, ignoring the way Mal looked at him.

“Oh, I’m alright,” Mal responded.

Paul nodded awkwardly and sat down on the couch beside Mal. They sat in silence for a bit until Mal decided he had had enough.

“So how are things with John?” Mal asked, catching Paul a bit off guard.

“Oh- I…” He paused for a bit, “So are you just pretending you didn’t see what happened in the studio or…”

Mal laughed.

“No I mean… are you two a couple or what?”

Mal hoped he didn’t sound too wanting with that question. He just needed to know the answer. He needed to know if he could have Paul.

“Well… it’s complicated…” Paul said, looking down at his hand that was rubbing the leather couch. “I mean, I love John. Like a lot. But sometimes he can just be so stubborn. He says hurtful things all the time. He always says he doesn’t mean it, and I know he doesn’t, but it’s just so hard to believe him when he does it over and over again.”

Mal nodded.

“It’s just… not too good for my mental health y’know?” Paul joked a bit.

Mal chuckled, looking down at the coffee table by his knees,

“Is there anything you do like about your relationship?”

Paul took a moment to process Mal’s question and smiled,

“Well… the sex is pretty good.”

Bingo

“Oh yeah?” Mal asked with a smirk.

Paul nodded shyly.

“And how often does that happen?”

“Almost every night.” Paul laughed nervously, “That’s the reason I’m so angry that we got into an argument… I was looking forward to tonight.”

Paul mumbled that last bit just loud enough for Mal to hear.

“Had something planned for tonight, did ya?” Mal said with a wicked smile.

Paul was planning on not responding to that question, but somehow his body took control and he nodded his head.

“And what would that be?”

Paul didn’t respond.

“Y’know…” Mal started, inching closer to Paul, “You don’t always need John to give you pleasure.”

Paul looked up at Mal with a confused look on his face.

“What do you mean?”

Instead of responding, Mal slowly moved his hand to rest on Paul’s thigh, hoping that that would send him the message.

Paul’s face turned a dark shade of pink when he realized what Mal was insinuating. Paul let out a whimper as Mal started to move his large hand up towards Paul’s crotch.

“Why don’t you tell me what John was going to do to you,” Mal whispered in Paul’s ear, causing a shiver to run down Paul’s spine.

“I- he was gonna… mm tie me up…” Paul whimpered.

Mal felt his dick twitch at that.

“And…?”

“And… he said he was… Mm!-” Paul was cut off by a moan, caused by Mal giving his crotch a squeeze. “He said he was gonna… f-fuck me until I couldn’t walk.”

“Mm... and anything else?” Mal mumbled, moving his other hand underneath Paul’s shirt.

“Y-Yes… he was gonna make me his g-good boy… ah~ his dirty slut…”

Mal smiled at that, looking Paul straight in the eye.

“You know who else can do that?” Mal growled.

Paul knew the answer to that question but shook his head anyway.

“Me.”

And with that Mal forcibly pushed Paul down onto the couch, attacking his lips roughly. Paul let out a moan as he felt Mal’s hand begin to make its way up to his neck.

Kissing Paul was just how Mal imagined. His lips were plump and soft, like two pillows. They felt so good against his rougher ones. Mal wanted to stay like this forever, but he knew there were more important matters to get to.

“Why don’t we head to the bedroom?” Mal said against Paul’s lips, breaking the kiss.

Paul nodded his head feverishly.

It was when they both stood up to make their way to the bedroom when Paul realized how tall Mal really was. He towered over Paul by 7 inches and it made Paul feel so small. He loved it. Paul suddenly got butterflies in his stomach at the thought of what Mal could do to him. He could probably hold him down, pick him up, and even throw him around the room with ease. God, Paul couldn’t wait. John was pretty good at those kinds of things, but Paul could imagine how well someone bigger than John would do it.

When they entered the bedroom, Mal immediately slammed Paul against the wall, causing him to let out a high pitched squeak. Mal chuckled as he attacked Paul’s mouth with his own, nearly shoving his tongue down Paul’s throat. Paul moaned into the kiss as he felt Mal’s hands roam up and down his body, stopping when they found his ass. Mal roughly squeezed Paul’s ass, making Paul break the kiss and moan.

“Mm Mal!” Paul whined as Mal moved his kisses to Paul’s neck.

“So sweet…” Mal groaned in between kisses.

Paul was getting impatient. He wanted Mal to fuck him, and he wanted it now.

“Mm fuck me, Mal! Oh please!” Paul cried.

Mal stopped his movements and looked down at Paul, admiring how absolutely wrecked he looked already. His hair a mess, his cheeks red, and his doe eyes watering. He looked so beautifully vulnerable, and it made Mal feel powerful.

“Sorry, what was that?” Mal teased.

“Ngh- fuck me!” Paul whined.

“Fuck me, who?”

Mal knew what he wanted, and he wasn’t stopping until he got it.

“... fuck me, Mal?” Paul asked quietly.

“Try again,” Mal commanded, running a hand up toward Paul’s neck.

“Fuck me… s-sir?”

“Closer…”

Paul’s eyes scanned Mal’s body, trying to find some sort of a clue to what Mal was implying. Soon, Paul found himself lost in the thought of how large and strong Mal was. The large hand on his neck made Paul feel like a little boy compared to him.

Oh.

Paul got it.

“Daddy…” Paul whispered, still unsure that it was the right move.

“I’m sorry, baby, could you speak up?” Mal asked, squeezing Paul’s neck.

“Mmm… daddy! F-Fuck me, daddy!” Paul cried, losing all self-control.

Mal grinned at that and quickly threw Paul onto the bed. Paul gasped as he hit the bed, but quickly shut up when Mal flipped him over and started to pull down his pants.

“God your ass is lovely, Paulie…” Mal groaned when he got Paul’s pants off. “No wonder John fucks it so often.”

Paul whined at the mention of John.

“Is it only John who fucks it, or do other men do as well?” Mal questioned as he rubbed Paul’s ass cheeks, giving them a light slap.

Paul squeaked.

“Does he share you?”

Paul shook his head, knowing that John could never let such a thing happen. Mal noticed Paul’s response.

“Oh… you must be getting bored of the same old cock. You need to be reshaped.” Mal commented, spreading Paul’s cheeks and taking a look at his hole. He groaned when he saw it twitch. “Where’s the lube.”

“I-In the drawer…” Paul whimpered, pointing toward the table beside the bed.

Mal leaned over Paul to grab the lube out of the drawer. As he leaned over he took a quick glance at Paul’s lips, suddenly giving him the need to have them wrapped around something.

“Turn around,” Mal said sternly, as he pulled down his pants.

Paul complied and turned around to face Mal, gasping as his eyes met his enormous dick. Paul had never seen dick so big. He thought John’s was big, but now looking at Mal’s, John seemed small. Paul wasn’t sure if he could take it all.

“Y-Your so big,” Paul said in an innocent voice.

“Mm, could you take it in your mouth, baby?” Mal asked.

Paul wasn’t sure if he could, but he nodded anyway and brought his head to Mal’s cock. He opened his mouth and wrapped his lips around the tip, noticing how wide he had to open his mouth to fit the head in. Paul carefully licked the tip, moaning when he felt John wrap his fingers in his hair. Paul slowly started to take more of Mal in his mouth, hollowing out his cheeks to try and fit it in. Once Mal’s cock hit the back of Paul’s throat, he started to bob up and down his shaft. Paul dragged his tongue along the underside of Mal’s dick, causing him to groan and pull Paul’s hair. Paul’s head jerked forward from the force of the tug, making the cock in his mouth to slip into the back of his throat. Paul gagged and pulled back a bit, looking up at Mal.

“M that’s right, Paulie. Choke on my cock.” Mal grumbled, yanking Paul forward once again and taking a deep breath through his nose as he felt his cock go down Paul’s throat.

Paul felt tears start to form in his eyes as Mal started to throat fuck him. He gagged nearly every time Mal pushed in, finding himself unable to open his throat up for Mal’s cock. It was just too thick.

Mal suddenly felt his orgasm start to approach and quickly pulled out of Paul’s mouth. He couldn’t let himself cum without fucking Paul.

Mal quickly pushed Paul down on his back, keeping one hand splayed on his chest. Paul gasped as he felt a wet finger circle the rim of his whole.

“Mmm…” Paul whimpered, spreading his legs.

Mal slowly pushed one finger into Paul’s tight hole and started to open Paul up.

“Oh… mm daddy.” Paul moaned as he was stretched.

“You like that baby boy?” Mal growled. “You like my fingers in your ass?”

“Y-yes… but I w-want your cock.” Paul whimpered as Mal added a second finger.

“Already Paulie? Aren’t you a needy slut.”

Paul whined when Mal pulled out his fingers and lined up his cock with his hole. Paul lifted his head up to look down at Mal’s cock, gasping when he noticed how thick it was compared to his small hole. He had no idea how it was going to fit.

“You ready, baby?” Mal asked.

“Mmhm…” Paul leaned his head back on the bed and closed his eyes.

Mal pushed into Paul, groaning at the feeling of Paul stretching around him.

“Ah…” Paul whined as he was nearly split in half around Mals cock.

Mal continued to push in until he bottomed out.

“God look at you spread around my cock, taking it so well.” Mal praised as he pulled out and pushed back in, making Paul cry out.

“Oh, d-daddy! You’re too big!” Paul squeaked as Mal continued to thrust in and out of him. Paul swore he could feel him in his stomach.

“Oh but you take it so well baby,” Mal said speeding up his thrusts. “God such a slut.”

Suddenly, Mal hit Paul’s prostate, causing Paul to scream.

“I-Oh D-daddy!! Mmm, fuck me!”

Mal looked down at Paul and grinned as he sped up his thrusts, loving how beautiful Paul looked underneath him. Mal’s eyes traveled down to Paul’s stomach, where he saw a sight he never expected. He could see his own dick pressing against Paul’s stomach, pulsing in and out. Mal quickly pressed his hand onto Paul’s stomach, groaning as he felt himself inside Paul.

“Mmm, you feel that baby?” Mal mumbled as he thrusted into Paul.

“Mmm fuck! Ah… daddy!” Paul seemed to be in his own world, clearly not hearing what Mal had said. Tears were streaming down his face as he was stretched like he never had been before. Paul was in heaven.

“Oh god, Paulie I’m close…” Mal moaned as he felt his orgasm approach. “Mmm gonna release my hot cum inside your… tight little hole.”

“Oh please do! I n-need it… mm ah-!” Paul screamed as his own orgasm tore through him unexpectedly. Spilling his semen all over his stomach. Mal followed, grunting as he buried himself as deep as he could in Paul while his cum poured into him. Paul whimpered at the feeling of being filled with Mal. It was unlike anything he’s felt before.

To Paul’s displeasure, Mal began to pull out of Paul, causing Paul to whine as he started to clench around Mal to try to get him to stay in.

“Please stay… mm just a bit longer.” Paul pleaded.

Mal smiled and pushed back in.

“Not for too long though…”

And as if on cue, the two men heard the front door open.

 John.

[toovirgins]

Le Rêve - Part 8

Summary: A desperate Paul tries to make things right.

Part 8/8. A big thank you to those of you that have followed along, and I hope you enjoy the ending! :)

With the dreary weather came added traffic, and despite the monetary incentive, the cab ride took a little over an hour and a half.

Paul grumbled a less-than-polite “Thank you” as he pushed his way out of the car and back into the rain, which had slowed to a bearable drizzle now. He waited a moment for the cab to drive off, feeling oddly insecure about his destination. The car disappeared around the bend, and before he could get around to feeling silly about the gesture, Paul leaned over and carefully plucked a handful of flowers from the neighbors’ rosebush. Cautious not to nick himself on the thorns, he arranged them in a disheveled bouquet and took a deep breath.

The thick trees loomed over him as he quickly checked both ways and crossed the street. The long and winding walkway seemed to stretch out for miles in front of him, growing farther away each time he blinked the droplets out of his eyelashes. Never had the walk up the drive seemed so insurmountable.

When Paul finally reached the front door, he noticed his hands were shaking. His pulse picked up as he knocked sharply, and he stepped back to wait.

And wait.

And wait.

Paul felt tears of frustration burn against his lower eyelids. He wasn’t sure what he’d expected—he hadn’t called (reasoning being he didn’t think John would have picked up), and who was he to assume that John had simply gone home after what had just happened? Who was he to assume anything?

“Fuck,” Paul murmured aloud, wiping his nose on his sleeve and turning to go. “This is ridiculous.”

He managed to take one step before the sound of a latch rattled through the air, and the door creaked open.

“Paul?”

Paul spun around instantly, whipping the bouquet around his back. “Hm?”

Cynthia eyed the strange angle of Paul’s elbow as she mindlessly dried her hands on a dish rag. She took a cautious half-step out the door eyes flicking around the porch, presumably surveying to see if anyone else had accompanied him.

“It’s bloody miserable out here,” she noted, dropping the air of perplexity in an instant, though her eyes kept trailing to the bend of his arm that hid the flowers. “Come on, let’s get you inside. I was just making supper.”

Shaken out of his daze, Paul adopted a charming, gracious persona and ushered her back inside with an “after you” wave of a hand. Cynthia spun on her heel, throwing the towel over her shoulder and disappearing into the house. Paul followed not far behind, careful to drop the roses into the bushes before ducking under the doorway.

“John’s around here somewhere,” she called over her shoulder as Paul removed his shoes and coat. “Are you two writing together tonight? He’s been in a sour mood ever since he got back from the studio today. I figured he’d cancelled anything.”

Paul felt a massive wave of guilt wash over him. The picture of John’s face, just before he’d run out, burned behind his eyelids: the mixture of fear and shame and disappointment and hurt. Paul had spent the first hour and a half alone in the studio trying to push the image from his mind.

Cynthia blinked at him patiently, and he realized that she was waiting for an answer.

Paul cleared his throat unceremoniously, neither party acknowledging that he hadn’t brought anything besides himself. “Erm, yes. Writing. Maybe he’s forgotten.”

“I wish he’d tell me these things,” she muttered, half to herself, turning back towards the direction of the kitchen. “Be nice to be a bit prepared for guests.”

Paul shot her what he hoped was a convincing smile. “Cyn, am I really a guest to you, after all these years? Besides, ‘m not hungry anyway, thanks.”

She gave him a playful grin over her shoulder in return. “Right. I’d still like to be a good hostess, even if it’s just for family.”

The way she said “family” turned Paul’s stomach inside out. He felt a sudden chill settle over his body, sending a shudder down his spine. The innocent, welcoming, familial smile on Cynthia’s face no longer seemed any of those things, but instead made him want to curl into a ball, or take off running and never look back. It seemed to hit him all at once—Cynthia, Julian, John. A husband and a father. And his best mate. What had he come to accomplish? What did he think was going to happen? Paul suddenly felt nauseous, and the memory of John’s breathy curses as Paul pulled him to the brink of orgasm flashed through his mind.

Shit. What was he doing here?

“Y’know, actually,” Paul started, taking a step back and stumbling over a stray toy that only made him feel worse. “He’s probably in no state to write, if he’s all worked up, so I should really get going, sorry to bother—”

“What are you doing here?”

Paul and Cynthia both froze, neither hearing the man enter the room, but neither missing the bitterness of his voice, either.

John stood a step or two behind Cynthia, almost protectively, peering over her shoulder at Paul with a frostiness he’d only seen in recent arguments. Paul only stared back helplessly, wordlessly, everything that he wanted to say rendered unspeakable in the presence of the third party.

The three of them stood in that arrangement for a solid minute, no one daring to speak. Paul watched Cynthia shift uncomfortably at the tension, witnessing something she was clearly not privy to. To Paul’s relief (or dismay?), she quickly muttered something about checking on the food and excused herself from the hostility.

“We need to talk,” Paul said quietly, as soon as she was out of earshot.

John’s gaze followed his wife’s path out of the entryway. His eyes flicked back to Paul’s, angry, hesitant. Paul held his breath as he waited for the man to explode, exposing himself and his partner and all of the fucked up mess they’d gotten themselves in.

Instead, John sighed defeatedly. “Fine. Let’s go for a walk.”

—

Paul wracked his brain for something to say.

The ground moulded softly to their feet, sticks and leaves dampened by the earlier downpour and less than vocal. There was an eerie echo in the air, the kind of atmosphere that only exists after a heavy rain, when one is made aware of just how earthly the world is. The sounds were naught, the wind was still, the smell fragrant and sharp. Typically a pleasure, the serenity of the environment only seemed to mock the tension between them.

He knew he needed to be the first to talk. In the context of everything that had happened, Paul figured he had needed to be the first to talk a lot. He knew that John was expecting, even if he wasn’t sure of what to expect, and Paul needed to deliver. Something, at least.

But where to start? Because, “Hey, mate, sorry for not saying I love you back,” felt like a pretty shit place to start.

After two more minutes of walking in silence, Paul started to wonder if a place to start was as good as anything.

He cleared his throat, sensing John tense beside him at the sudden sound. Neither lifted their eyes. Now that he had John’s attention, it was now or never.

“I—erm. I’m sorry. For not saying it.”

John shook his head, but the way his features softened in amusement didn’t go unnoticed by Paul, who suddenly felt like crying with relief. Especially at the next remark. “Shit place to start, mate.”

“Figured why beat around the bush, right? Straight to the point, it is,” Paul joked, unable to suppress his giddiness at the tease of normalcy.

“Trying new things, are we?” John quipped, an edge to his voice.

Ah, the tease of normalcy. Exactly as it sounded.

“John, I—”

“Why?” John interrupted, halting suddenly. He turned towards Paul, his eyes dull with smoldering anger. Residual anger accumulated and compressed into the coals that were confronting him now. Paul felt dumbfounded, and a bit fearful.

“I-Why what?”

John gestured helplessly around them. His voice sounded extremely tired. “Why this? All of it?”

Paul heard the question for what it was. Why me?

“I love you.”

“Bullshit.”

“No,” Paul insisted, taking a step forward. They froze, neither knowing what he would do next. John’s eyes were wide, almost as if his fight or flight instinct was scrutinizing Paul’s every move. After a beat of silence, Paul scoffed and stepped backwards once more. “I mean it.”

“Why didn’t you say it?” John sounded pouty, like a child. Insulted.

“Because!” The word came out much stronger than Paul intended, shocking even himself. He took a shaky breath and raised a hand to his mouth to nibble on his thumbnail as he sorted it out. He began to pace, John’s eyes following him back and forth expectantly. He tried again.

“Because, I don’t know what to do with that feeling. I don’t know how to feel about you. I never have. Even from the moment I saw you, and you looked so fit with the guitar and the quiff and the way you were singing ‘Come Go With Me’ directly to me. And you weren’t, but it felt like it. And I’d never been so nervous in my entire life than when I talked to you after. Because you were John, the lad I’d seen on the bus and at the shop and on the streets, the lad I’d heard about but never actually met. And when I did meet you? It was like everything had fallen into place. Me mum, me dad, school, a career, war; all the things in life that were a drag to me weren’t even there anymore. Because I was in a band with the great John Lennon!

“And I came to hate anyone that had you more than I did. I can’t get on with people because of it—Pete Shotton never shut his gob about all your wild misadventures together, and I’d want to punch a bloody hole in the wall when I would see your eyes on Stu during ‘Love Me Tender’. And I feel so fuckin’ bad to this day for the way I treated Geo when he showed us his first song, but I couldn’t have someone else to compete with for you. I couldn’t. Because I need to be around you, John. I need to be yours as much as you are mine.

“And it’s only grown in all the years. At first, I needed you to like me. Then, I needed you to be proud of me. Then I needed you to trust me, as your equal, and come to me for things and with things. And for us to have the silent little conversations, and to be in tune with one another, and to know you better than I know myself and be known by you. And I still need all of those things, but there’s a new element. Now there’s the want.And maybe it started with some stupid fuckin’ dream but my feelings didn’t stay there. And it took a lot of reflection, to put these feelings into perspective. I've had a lot of time to think, recently. But now I recognize them for what they are. And I’ve never felt like this about anyone before, John. No one ever tells you that when you really love someone, there’s a lot more to it than just love. Or maybe all that is love. But if-if this, between us? If it’s not love, then-then I’m not sure what is.”

There was a long beat of silence. John gazed up at him with an unreadable expression.

“Fuck,” he whispered.

Paul wrung his hands out in front of him, only now noticing how badly they were shaking. His chest heaved as though he’d only just finished a marathon. Fuck, indeed. “Mm.”

“The roses were cute,” John remarked, after a moment. A teasing smile threatened to envelop his features.

Paul stopped in his tracks, feeling his mouth form a surprised “o” as his mind fought for an excuse. Whatever he expected John to say after all that, that was not it.

Finally, he settled on something just as suave and poetic as his earlier monologue: “Huh?”

“Saw ‘em through the window,” he answered dismissively. “Bit queer. But, cute nonetheless.”

Paul blushed furiously, chastising the all-too-large part of himself that craved romanticism.

“I would’ve forgiven you, anyroad. Even without the roses,” John added quietly, his gaze dropping. He gave the ground a crooked smile. “Maybe not for a while, and maybe not all the way. But I can’t… help me self around you. I can’t explain it. And it’s absolutely awful, y’know. It’s been hard for me, too. Because I know that even if you just…” He paused, searching for the right word. “Used me, I’d still come back to you. Don’t get me wrong, I’d be right pissed for a while. It’d hurt like hell, but not as much as being away from you. Not as much as whatever has happened between us.”

The confession was painful. Paul felt a sharp twinge in his heart, almost as if it was the blade that he’d placed there himself. The idea that these past few weeks John had been moping around, ignoring him, reciprocating every effort to ensure that they were never alone, had been because John had thought he was being used. That Paul wanted him, but not in the same way that he wanted Paul.

He didn’t know what else to do.

John breath hitched as his back slammed into the stone wall, but his gasp was cut short as Paul’s lips devoured his own. His mind short-circuited, nothing more in the world existing at that moment than John, John, John. It’s over now, he wanted to comfort, to take John’s head in his hands and stroke the beautiful auburn hair behind his ears and thumb a stray tear from his cheek before placing a honey-sweet kiss on his trembling lips. You don’t have to feel that way anymore. And all he could do in the moment was try to convey that recognition through the kiss.

Fuck it if it would complicate things. Fuck it if they had to hide. Fuck it if it had to end someday. Because right now, all that mattered was John and Paul. As they were meant to be.

John hesitated only a millisecond before back fervently, almost as if he was afraid they would drift away from one another if he gave it any less effort. His tongue was elusive, licking into Paul’s mouth in all the right places but retreating as Paul chased it with his own. Their torsos were a mess of hands and body, pulling restlessly at one another every which way. Paul couldn’t get enough—he was too deliriously happy that they simply weren’t fighting anymore.

As the desperation began to subside, and the boys realized that they were both finally going to stay, the kisses gradually grew light and chaste. Paul felt lightheaded when they finally broke away for a deep breath. John gazed up at him, perfectly picturesque. His cheeks were flushed, lips pink and shiny, his breath coming out in short puffs between them in the shared air. Neither one of them dared speak, as they’d ruined far less important reunions than this with far too many words. The shared silence said more than words could, anyway. Neither had to explain the gravity of the situation to feel it.

Paul wasn’t sure when it had happened, but their fingers were laced together. Gently, as if trying not to spook a wild animal, he lowered them to the ground. Neither minded too much about the rain or the leaves or the damp dirt as they curled into one another, backs against the stone wall. They spent a long time listening to one another’s breathing as it slowed, watching rivulets of rainwater snake from leaf to leaf before pooling at their feet. Everything was okay.

“Paul?”

“Hm?” His fingers traced lazy circles on the soft underside of John’s forearm. His eyes were open, staring at a beading droplet, but they felt locked in a daze that was a cross between asleep and awake.

“Paul.”

Paul groaned at the insistency, a twinge of annoyance stirring in his chest at the interrupted bliss. “Yes?”

“What now?”

Paul blew a long stripe of air out of his lips. “I don’t know,” he answered honestly. “I rather don’t want to consider it. The implications of it,” he rephrased quickly, panic welling up in his throat at the similarity of another “forget it” line. It threatened to bring a whole mess of neural connections that he simply didn’t want to deal with, namely: the awkwardness of the car ride and his resultantly strained relationship with Brian; the tensions in the group and an explanation for their soon-to-be-easing; the way George’s eyes slipped in between them more often than ever, but this time with an air of trauma; how the hell they were going to keep this to themselves if they were so god-awful at it already. Yes, better not to consider the implications yet.

John nodded in understanding. He waited a moment before speaking again.

“Cyn and I…”

As John trailed off, Paul’s eyes shot wide with alarm. His head whipped around to face John with a terror he hoped didn’t present as dramatic as it felt. No, no, no, why was he bringing her up? Why? When finally, finally everything was going well?

John refused to meet his gaze, and Paul waited patiently for the dreaded words of regret to come.

“We’re done for.”

Paul blinked uncomprehendingly.

“I mean,” John began, scratching the back of his neck. “Not officially, or anythin’. But I can see it. We’ve been cold for a while now, an’ it’s only a matter of time ‘fore she up and leaves me. We haven’t talked about it. But… I’ve been with her for ages, Paul. I know her at this point. There’s nothing left.”

“Why are you telling me this?” Paul asked quietly.

“Because you’re not just some bird, Paul!” John immediately flushed, realizing how silly the words sounded out loud, especially in the wake of their earlier conversation. He tried to backtrack, speaking slowly, explanatory. “I mean—I… Listen. I haven’t been the best to Cyn. There’s been loads of others, but it never meant anything. And you and I? I don’t know what this is.” He laughed, suddenly, as if the realization was just now striking. “Christ, do I not know. But it’s too good and too right. And I feel like I owe it to ya—to us—to cut the ties that may be stronger, even if it’s ties of a meaningless institution. I jus’—I dunno. I don’t want you thinking I keep you around for a good fuck and a song or two.”

Paul felt a wide grin spread across his features, and not only at the messy comment. He elected not the mention the way his stomach flipped upside down at the way John had said “us”. Instead, he chuckled lightly, and fished around in his pocket for a ciggie.

“And what a way with words he has. Ladies and gentleman, the better half of the world’s most famous songwriting duo!”

John scowled playfully. “Oh, piss off. How’s this for a rephrase: On account of our complicated and lustful affair of cosmic proportions, I would love it if you considered yourself an exquisite lady of the night proficient in excellent lovemaking and even more excellent intellectual stimulation and is paid with reciprocation rather than meaningless currency.”

Paul frowned around the fag as he focused on lighting it. “Worse. Much worse.”

John gave him a cheeky wink and flicked the end of his nose, causing Paul to gasp and drop the butt end of the cigarette onto his chest, leaving an angry black mark on the shirt. Paul jerked from the shock and swore. John only cackled at his misfortune.

Paul scowled at the loss of his fresh ciggie and the fading surprise of the burn mark. He hastily brushed at the ring, which he now realized was a minute but fizzling hole, and shot John an accusatory (but, regretfully, uncontrollably good-natured) glare. “You’re a child, Lennon.”

John grinned. “But you love me.”

Paul sighed, and for the first time in weeks, he felt utterly, blissfully, peacefully happy.

“Yes. I do.”

[phoneybeatlemania-bit-the-dust]

hii can you do "not everything is a joke"?

4. “Not everything is a joke.”

“Just fuck off John.” Paul stated in response with an exhausted, blunt edge, as he started to make his way away from the table at which the two sat with their mates. John just smiled cruelly at this, taking another sip from his beer – but somewhere deep beneath that smile, a part of him was panicking, as echoes of abandonment raced through his mind.

He didn’t think too much of the argument for a couple days, until he tried giving Paul a ring.

“Hello?” an optimistic voice that could not be mistaken for anyone other than Paul picked up.

“Right there Paul? Its John-”

He interjected, “I know who it is.”

“D’you wanna go out tonight? Im bored outta me fuckin’ mind here.”

There was a pause. And then a sigh. And then, “John, I don’t wanna talk to you right now.”

“You what?” He laughed slightly, it seemed he scarcely could believe Paul was being serious right now.

“I don’t wanna see you right now, and I don’t wanna talk to you either.”

John took a moment to absorb this, then mumbled, “This yer dads doin’ Macca?”

“Listen, ive gotta go John. Bye.” He hung up.

For the next week or so, John would attempt repeatedly to ring Paul and engage him in conversation, but Paul would simply just hang up once he’d heard Johns voice. Finally, this abandonment had built up a blockage within John, and he was prepared to explode.

He went round to the McCartneys estate, but after knocking on the door he was met with Mikey, Pauls brother.

“Right there John?”

“Yeah, ‘m fine,” a blatant lie, “is Paul in?”

“Nah - he’s out with some girl.” Something inside began to crumble within John after hearing that - though of course he’d had to hide that hurt.

“D’you know- d’you know where they are?”

“Well, they should be down the cafe, but I dunno if they’d still be there.”

“Ah well, cheers mate.”

He’d spotted them within seconds of entering the cafe - though they were still yet to see him. Infuriated and irrational, he walked over to Paul and the girl he was sat with.

“Busy are ye Macca?” he interjected aggressively. Paul wanted to refuse to deign him with a response that would allow John to engage him in an argument, and so he only replied bluntly, “Yeah. I am, John.” John wasn’t leaving though, instead he actually took a seat beside Pauls.

“Busy doin’ what then? Shagging?” Paul looked over to the girl, and he saw a blush cross her faced, however, John continued coarsely, “Fucking?”

He wanted to remain calm, but instead he spat back, “Fuck off Lennon!”

“Embarrassing you, am I?”

“Yeah, you are actually.” He responded irritatedly.

“Good.” He forced a wicked smile to conceal the immensity of the pain that lay beneath it, in his ever-fractured mind and self. He continued, drawing closer to shouting, garnering more attention from those around him, “Why wont you return my fuckin’ calls?”

“I dont wanna do this here John.”

“I dont give a shit Paul - answer me bloody question.”

Knowing there was no reasoning with John, Paul reluctantly gave in, “Fine. Fine - but im not doin’ it here mate.” He stood up, and John naturally followed him with a desperate willingness. “Ill be back in second Ro’.”

Rose, the girl Paul was with, dropped him a smile and a sweet, “Okay,” before Paul existed with John, entering the cafes emptied bathroom.

“Im not happy about that shit you just pulled there John.”

“Yeah? Well im not too fuckin’ happy with you either ye twat.”

Paul disregarded this, continuing, “I mean - have you no self control mate? I was only ignoring you for a fuckin’ week, and you go mad like that! And ye haven’t even apologised-“

“Fer fucks sake mate - it was a fuckin’ joke!”

“Yeah, well not everything is a bloody joke, Lennon. Alright. I don’t appreciate you comparing me all the time to fuckin’ bird,” perhaps he might have gotten through to John here, had he not mumbled the added detail, “’sides, you’re the one who normally…you know. You’re usually the bird.”

***

Ive gotta be honest, im really not proud of this fic :( I dunno what it is but I just struggled with writing it for some reason, despite liking the prompt and my idea for it. I dunno, but I feel like ive gotta publish it by now cause its been quite a few days since I said id write fics and I didn’t want anyone to feel like I was just ignoring them or anything.

(PS im not just saying all this so that I can get people to compliment my work or anything, like im fine y’know just a little little little disappointed and dissatisfaction with my work here, and so I just wanted to add that I don’t think this fic is really up to par and sorry i dunno im rambling whoops) (but im fine lol)

[pagingevilspawn]

You Said You’d Grow Old With Me

again, another one-shot that i never posted on tumblr, only the link, so yeah! im also pretty sure this fic makes no sense, but my 4 am brain wrote it so...

____

"thought we had the time, had our lives, now you'll never get older, older"

~*~

TW// major character death

takes place some time after 16x15, before 16x16.

____

Jo was laying in her bed. Their bed. The bed that felt too cold. The bed that felt too empty. The bed that felt too big. After crying she felt better, having Link comfort her while she broke down. She wanted him back. She wanted him to answer her calls. She needed to know if he was okay. If he left her like she thought he did she at least needed to know if he was okay. One call. One text. Thats all she was asking for.

Except she wouldn't be satisfied with that. The five different positive pregnancy tests to the side of her were an example. She was pregnant. They were pregnant. How the hell did that happen? She was just pranking him about having a baby a two months ago, and now she really was going to have one? And at the best of times too. Right when her husband decides to go MIA.

She wasn't sure how long she sat there for, staring blankly into the distance, her body incapable of feeling anything. Numb. Thats how she felt. She felt like she was bathing in a tub of ice and all her sense and nerves had just shut down. Numb.

She'd only been numb once before, after seeing Paul for the first time in five years. Bu this was worse, oh this was so much worse. She couldn't breathe. She couldn't move. She couldn't talk. She couldn't do anything, she was just numb.

She wishes she could say she was startled by the sound of knocking her door, but she wasn't. She'd gotten used to Meredith and Link coming over at random hours of the day. Sometimes to rant about anything, or sometimes to just talk with her.

Maybe it's Alex, she thinks, and with that thought she gets up from the too big bed and makes her way to the loft's wooden door.

Please be you please be you.

The door opens and the sight she sees is one she wishes she didn't.

In one second she knew that her whole world was about to crumble under her feet. Oh god, how badly she wished she stayed in bed, how badly she wished she was at the hospital.

"Ma'am is this the home of Alexander Karev?" the officer asks, looking up from his notepad, his partner standing next to him dutifully.

Jo gulps visibly, already feeling the tears burning in her eyes. "Y-yes, he's my husband, i'm his wife."

The two officer share a sympathetic glance. "We're afraid there's been an accident.

____

After a short phone call with Meredith and one plane ride to some place in Oregon, Jo is standing outside some hospital she's never heard of, Meredith right by her side, holding her hand so tightly, like it was a life-line. Because it was. They knew nothing. All they knew was that Alex was involved in a ca accident that involved a drunk driver, and they hadn't been able to identify him for the past two weeks. They didn't know anything. Was he alive? Was he dead? Had they simply only contacted her so they would know what to do with his body? Was he seriously just okay and he was in a medically induced coma? Did he have amnesia? Did he not remember who he was?

For two weeks her husband had been just another John Doe. One that they see in the pit nearly every day.

He wasn't Doctor Alex. He was even a doctor. He wasn't her husband. He wasn't a best friend, a companion, a lover. He wasn't a surgeon who saved the lives of tiny humans. He wasn't a guy who made little kids less scared of the hospital. He was just another meaningless John Doe, taking up space in the ICU.

But oh, she felt guilty. So guilty. She was worried that he was having some kind of secret affair while he was really just in the hospital.

Meredith squeezes her hand, "You ready?" she croaks out, her red rimmed eyes string up at the hospital in front of her. Meredith wasn't ready. She wasn't ready for what stood behind those doors. She wasn't ready.

"No." Jo shakes her head, a few stray tears already coming down her cheek. She hadn't gotten them to stop. She physically couldn't get them to stop. Ever since those six dreadful words came out of the officer mouth.

Meredith sighs in understanding, "I know." she says, stepping forward and taking the first steps, Jo following behind her robotically.

No, not robotically. Numbly.

How naive she was, thinking that what she felt earlier was numbness, this was a whole new level. This was paralyzing. This was frightening. This was feeling her body start to disintegrate piece by piece.

Without knowing it she was standing on the sixth floor, the ICU. Meredith leans over the nurses station, asking for the room number for Alex Karev.

Jo doesn't see the sad, sympathetic smile the nurse gives the two, but Meredith does. And that's when she knew that things weren't going to be alright. Nothing was going to be bright and shiny and happy with unicorns and rainbows.

Somehow, they end up on the other side of the Alex's room, but Jo had yet to look up from her gaze on the floor. She's never noticed how white the linoleum of hospital floor were. They were shiny too. So shiny that she could see her reflection.

It was when Meredith lets out a soft sob that she finally decides to look up, not at all prepared for the sight in front of her.

The sight of her husband, the love of her life, lying in a bed, tubes sticking out of every possible place in his body.

It was then she felt her whole world crash down. Crash down and burn. A gut wrenching sob escapes her throat, a hand coming up to cover her mouth as the tears come down her face. They come down so fast she cant even wipe them away until her face is soaked again.

"Mer I-i," she chokes out, feeling her breathing start to pick up as she tries and fails to form her words.

Meredith nods, "Go in." she whispers brokenly, watching as a doctor makes his way towards.

The doctor holds out his palm to the blonde, "Hi i'm Doctor Kelsey, i'm the neurosurgeon on Mr. Karev's case-"

"It's doctor." she interrupts him. "Doctor Karev. Doctor Alex Karev." she says slowly.

The man nods, "Okay, Dr. Karev has been here for fifteen days now. There was an MVC on the 45 with a drunk driver and he ended up getting very severely injured-"

She cuts him off again, "I'm sorry, let me introduce myself. I'm Dr. Meredith Grey."

She watches as the man's eyes widen in surprise. He was standing in front of Meredith Grey? The Meredith Grey? Catherine Fox Award Meredith Grey? Daughter of two time Catherine Fox recipient Ellis Grey?

"W-wow. I-its an honor to meet you Doctor Grey, i'm a big fan." he says, smiling brightly.

Meredith jolts back in shock, eyes narrowing at the man who was about ten years older than her. "It's an honor to meet me?" she hisses, watching as the fellow surgeon's smile falls as quickly as it appeared.

"I-its an honor to meet me? That's what you have to say? You have the audacity to say that, as i stand here, outside of the room of my best friend, who is alive because of tubes and vents? It's an honor to meet me, when the only reason i'm here if because my best friend, my person, is lying there, unable to move or breathe, or talk? It's an honor to meet me?" Meredith yells , tears escaping her eyes, earning the attention from the others in the ICU, but she didn't care.

The man nods furiously, "O-of course, i'm so sorry Doctor Grey, that was very disrespectful of me." he says, going on to explain the extent of Alex's injuries.

___

Jo stumbles into the room lifelessly, seeing the unmoving body of her husband lying on the bed.

The sight causes a whole new round of tears to spring into her eyes and down her cheeks, "Oh Alex," she chokes out, grabbing ahold of his left hand, clasping it firmly in her palm.

it was cold. Way too cold. Normally his hands were warm. Not sweaty or clammy, they were just warm and soothing, perfect for her's to slip into at any time of the day.

She feels the cold band of his wedding ring touch her fingers and that's when she lets the sobs take over.

The gut wrenching, heart breaking, deep sobs as she collapses on the side of his bed and onto her knees, completely ignoring the chair next to her.

She couldn't hold herself up. its like her legs could not longer support her, like they had turned into helpless piles of water, "Alex please." she begs, lips trembling as she places kiss over kiss on his hand.

She wasn't stupid, she was a doctor. She knew what all the tuning and the wires and the ventilators meant.

"Please tell me this is just some joke. Some really mean, really awful joke. Please Alex. Please." she cries.

"Please tell me this is just a nightmare, an awful, awful nightmare. Please tell me this isn't real Alex. Please." she begs, holding his hand so tight as her body shakes with sobs.

She shakes her head, laughing softly at first, then louder and louder, "Oh god." she sobs, her laughter coming to a halt. "This is real." she whispers, feeling as her tears drop from her eyes to the floor.

"No Alex. you don't get to die on me alright? Because, because i cant live without you okay? You-you need to know that. If you, if you die, i die." she says, taking both of her palms and clasping her tiny hands around his big one.

She shakes her head, "No Alex. You don't get to do this to me. You don't get to leave me. We-we meed to grow old a and grey, and we need to have kids. So many kids. We need to have at least three kids. We need to get a dog a-and travel the world. We still need to do that Alex."

Jo sniffles, "But it's not only you that needs me Alex, this baby needs you too." she sobs, standing up and sitting down on the bed, taking Alex's hand and placing it over her stomach, hoping that this would be enough. That this would be enough for him to wake up, to defy all medical standards and wake the hell up.

"Please Alex, this baby needs you." Jo sobs, "Because, i sure as hell can't do this without you. Y-you're the peds surgeon Alex, you were practically born to be a dad." she wipes her tears to no avail, since they just kept coming. "You need to hold this baby in your arms, you need to be there with me to tell them about how we had sex in a shed next to a corpse on our wedding on their wedding day. You-you need to see them grow up and graduate Alex."

"Y-you need to be there Alex. I need you, Mer needs. Zola and Bailey and Ellis, they need you. The tiny children that you save all the time need you. They need Doctor Alex. I need Doctor Alex."

"I-i need you to get so overprotective if it's a girl when she has her first boyfriend. I need to watch you teach our baby how to wrestle if he's a boy. Or a girl, i'm not judging." she chuckles soft'y, holding his palm against her still flat abdomen.

She lays down beside him, laying there in silence for a long time. She lets the thoughts roam in her mind.

Jo sighs, "I hated you at first." she starts, absentmindedly threading her fingers though his hair like she had done so many time before. 'Like seriously, you were one of the biggest assholes I ever met." she chuckles softly.

"And then there was the teen mom who was just going to abandon her baby that i went al crazy on, rightfully so by the way." she smiles slightly, knowing that if he could somehow hear her he was probably rolling his eyes. "And then suddenly, i told you my whole life story, just like that. I'd never done that with anyone before." she sighs, glancing back down to her stomach, where she had her hand clasped in his in a hold over her stomach. "I'd never opened up to someone so easily before. It was like... my heart knew I could trust you before any other part of me could."

"I know i know, you're laughing at me. I sound like something out of a cheesy lifetime movie." she smiles softly. "And then came Ben and Bailey's wedding, and then, before i knew it, you were my best friend."

She starts to trace his fingers, something she always did to calm her down, "And then, one day, i was drinking a beer at Joe's with Jason, and all i could think was that i would rather be with you, on the couch that I bought, and watching action movies with you. That's when i realized i was i love with you." she whispers, some new tears building in her eyes.

"And then we wen through crap. So much crap Alex. That's why this can't be the end. Thats why this can't be the end of us okay? Because we've been through too much crap to let a drunk driver end us."

"Please Alex, i'm begging you, come back." she sobs, starting to pound her fists on his chest.

"Come back! Come back you son of a bitch! Come back!" Jo cries, unable to atop the steady flow of water coming down her face.

"Please Alex." Jo begs, her eyes so red and puffy that they looked like she had been crying for years. "You-you have my whole heart Alex. And i-if you die, you will crush it, and I wont make it. I cant live without you okay? You hear me? I need you Alex. I- i cant breathe. I cant breathe, ii cant exist in a world without you in it, okay?" she sobs, hyperventilating as she trues to get her words out, which only came out in barely audible sobs.

Somewhere along the way she cries herself to sleep, waking up a nearly a whole day later to a view of Meredith, Amelia, Tom, Jackson, Arizona, Callie, Link, Cristina, Bailey, and Richard standing outside the ICU.

And for one second, before she opens her eyes, she forgets everything, simply snuggling into the body and the scent she missed so much, a combination of aftershave and spearmint.

And then she remembers.

And oh god, she just wants to die.

She feels like a knife is being driven through her heart, stabbing her again and again and again, with absolutely no intention to stop.

Eventually Meredith breaks her out of her trance by knocking on the door, in which Jo responds by a head nod, letting her know that it was okay to come in.

The blonde enters, flowed by Amelia and Tom. "I called them. I wanted them here to consult, look at all his scans, everything." Meredith mutters, her voice hoarse and broken from trying to hold in her tears.

Jo looks up at the two, a small glimmer of hope shining in her eyes, "P-please." she stutters out, her voice high pitched and squeaky, sounding more broken than they'd ever heard her before, "tell me you guys can do something."

Amelia takes a deep breath, letting a few drops of water pool in her eyes, "Jo-"

"No," she sobs, shaking her head. "It took me twenty-seven years to find him, longer to realize i loved him, and even longer to be able to marry him." she starts to shake, trying to take in every detail of his face.

His overgrown stubble.

The soft creases around his eyes.

The slight wrinkles etched into his forehead.

"Jo, we can't bring him back. I'm so sorry." Tom says, trying to put a comforting hand on her shoulder, which she shakes off.

She slowly nods, unconsciously mumbling something about how she was going to let everyone say their goodbyes before she said hers.

So thats what she did. One by one the said their tearful, heartbroken goodbyes, still i denial that the man they loved would soon be gone.

Jo goes in one last time, lying down next to him, holding his figure in her arms. "I love you." she sobs.

"I haven't said that enough. I love you Alex. God, I love you so much jerkface. I didn't know it was possible to love someone as much as i love you." she cried, her tears an endless flow into a river. "I love you, i love you, i love you."

"And, please, please love me enough to come back." she begs him, still holding onto that tiny bit of hope.

"You said we'd be together forever Alex. You and me. Please, please let there be forever." she pleads with him one last time, giving him a soft kiss on his cheek.

With one deep breath she gives a nod to the nurse, who slowly begins to remove the ventilator. Then she unplugs him from all the machine.

She lays her head on his heart, feeling as he breathes one last time under her.

And then, she places a kiss on his lips, one last time

and all of a sudden,

he was gone.

"we had plans, we had visions, now i cant see ahead. We were one, were golden, forever you said."

"didn't say goodbye now I'm frozen in time getting colder, colder. "

"One last word. One last moment. To ask you why, you left me here behind."

"You said you'd grow old with me."

[mysweetgeo]

Do You Want to Know a Secret ? (Part 7)

Summary: Reader and George have been best friends since they were kids, but when The Beatles got big, they were forced apart. What happens when George returns for a couple weeks wanting their friendship to return to normal?

It was a few days before you saw George again, and you knew his time back home was running out.

Fearful that he’d leave in three days and soon forget you again, you called him asking him to come over for drinks, something you’d have done a few years ago when you would snag a bottle of vodka from your father’s liquor cabinet and replace what you’d drank with water.

You’d gone to the liquor store and gotten a large bottle of vodka, and stopped at the grocery to grab a couple bottles of coke to chase the alcohol with.

You were wearing a green velvet mini skirt with a white blouse tucked into the waistband when George arrived, you’d told him just to come in and lock the door before he came upstairs.

“Hey,” you said with a grin as you held up the large bottle of vodka.

He smiled in return, “Hello, love,” he replied, sitting beside you on your bed.

“Straight up or mixed?” You asked, holding two square scotch glasses.

“I think I’ll do with just a coke for right now, let me settle in,” he said with a laugh, taking the bottle from your hand when you handed it to him.

“Suit yourself,” you mumbled before taking a shot straight from the bottle, your face contorting as the liquid burned its way down your throat.

He laughed at the face you made before noticing the Bob Dylan album you had on the turntable. he hummed at this realisation, “I quite like his tunes, don’t you?” He asked.

You nodded, “I do, lotsa bluesy ones on this one,” you replied, setting the bottle down as the disc came to an end. “What would you like to listen to?” You asked as you stood, removing the disc and placing it carefully back into the sleeve.

“Doesn’t much matter to me, whatever you’d like,” he replied, taking a sip from his coke.

You nodding, humming to yourself as you sat on the floor to look through your albums.

“You mind if I listen to With The Beatles again? I quite like All My Loving and haven’t been able to get it out of my head in days,” you said, grabbing the album and standing to place it on the turntable.

“‘Course not, just cover your ears at my tracks, they’re ear piercing,” he joked.

You walked back over to your bed as It Won’t Be Long began playing, “that’s not true George, I like all three songs that you sing on this album, your voice is quite soothing,” you said honestly.

He gave you a half smile and looked down at his lap, “No need to kiss up, love, you can admit it’s terrible—don’t go soft for my benefit.”

“‘m not George, honest. I adore your voice,” you said, lifting his chin so he would look at you, “I wouldn’t lie to you about that.”

“But you’d lie about something else?” He asked, teasing you.

You hummed in response, “Oh definitely, don’t ask me about your guitar skills, I wouldn’t be able to hold back.”

He grinned, a loud laugh escaping his mouth.

You smiled, realising your hand was still touching his face and suddenly it burnt you to be this close.

You removed your hand and placed it in your lap, smiling when you heard All My Loving begin to play.

You hummed along with the tune before joining Paul’s vocals, “And then while I’m away, I’ll write home every day, and I’ll send all my loving to you.”

George couldn’t contain the loving smile that spread across his face as you sang, “Your voice is lovely, (Y/N), just as lovely as I remember it being,” he spoke during the small instrumental break.

You flushed, “Oh hush, Geo, I’m no Paul McCartney—or George Harrison for that matter,” you said with a laugh.

He snorted when you’d said his name, “And I’m no (Y/N Y/L/N).”

You rolled your eyes as the song ended and Don’t Bother Me began playing, “You wrote this one, yeah?” You asked.

He nodded, “Terrible isn’t it?”

You shook your head, “On the contrary—I quite like this one, it’s got a darker mood that I cannot get enough of,” you said. “Who is it about?” You asked, looking over to him.

He just shrugged, “Not sure, maybe a bird,” he mumbled.

You nodded, not pressing him any further, “Fancy a shot now?”

He nodded, taking a gulp from the bottle, his face also contorting in disgust as a disapproving groan escaped his mouth.

You laughed, and took one right after him, which didn’t burn nearly as much as the last one you’d taken, though you chased this one with a sip of your coke.

You groaned and stood to flip the record, but grinned when you remembered what the first song on this side was.

“Why’re you smiling like that—you look absolutely mad,” George asked.

You tried to supress your smile, “You’ll see,” you said, coming to sit beside him again.

Well I’m gonna write a little letter, gonna mail it to my local DJ

George groaned as his voice filled the room, causing you to let out a laugh, your body pressing into his as you tried to contain it.

“Sing it for me Georgie!” You exclaimed, after your laughter had subsided.

He rolled his eyes, “You know my temperature's rising and the jukebox blows a fuse, my heart's beating rhythm and my soul keeps singing the blues roll over Beethoven and tell Tchaikovsky the news,” he sang, his eyes on you the entire time.

It was unlike anything you’d ever experienced, his voice wasn’t an exact match to the record, but it was incredible to be sitting across from George, and having him sing to you, and only you—it made you want to kiss him, but you knew you couldn’t do that without consequences.

He continued to sing, reaching over and grabbing your hand, only adding to the warm feeling that bubbled in your stomach.

You tried to push away the feeling as it intensified, and suddenly you were too close to George and it took everything in you to pull away for a second, breaking eye contact with him as you covered what you’d done by grabbing your coke and holding it in your hands.

George tried to his his hurt expression as you took your hand away from his grasp.

The song ended soon after, and you sat silently as the rest of the record played.

You got up to change the record, deciding to play your copy of Please Please Me.

“This okay with you?” You asked, holding up the sleeve as you put the needle on the disc.

George hummed in response, taking another swig of vodka straight from the bottle.

You leaned against your wall observing the cover art for a few moments, your eyes lingering on George and his sweet baby face.

“Who’re ye lookin at Paul or John?” You heard him ask from across the room.

You looked up and met his eyes, “Neither,” you answered honestly.

“Ringo then? Didn’t exactly peg him as your type,” he said with a half-hearted laugh.

You shook your head, “He’s not,” you answered.

“Surely you weren’t looking at me?” he asked incredulously.

“You’ve got a baby face, Geo,” you replied, turning your attention back to the album cover, flipping it over to observe the back.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asks.

“That you look young,” you reply, not looking up from the back cover.

He huffed and took yet another swig from the bottle, putting the top back on the bottle and leaning back on your bed.

Soon enough the first side was over and you flipped the disc before taking a large sip from the bottle and laying beside him on the bed.

You smiled when Love Me Do began to play, “I remember when you first released this one,” you said.

He nods, “Feels like so long ago,” he says.

“Can’t believe its been nearly three years,” you said, sighing contentedly.

He only hums in response, leaving the two of you in a comfortable silence for a few minutes as the song plays out.

You’ll never know how much I really love you

You’ll never know how much I really care

All of a sudden you were welcomed with a stirring of feelings in your stomach as a forgotten memory comes back to you.

He pulled you close to him, leaving barely enough room to breathe, and began to sway you back and forth.

He sang softly in your ear, “Do you want to know a secret? Do you promise not to tell? Oh, closer.”

You felt yourself pressing yourself closer to him, aching for him to tell you.

“Let me whisper in your ear,” he murmured breathlessly in your ear, “say the words you long to hear.”

“I’m in love with you,” he whispered, softly kissing your neck.

You sighed in content, allowing him to attack your neck and jaw with kisses.

“Oh, George,” you mumbled softly.

George’s lips moved to your cheek, progressively moving towards your mouth.

You let out a groan when he pulled away, “Can I kiss you?” He murmured.

All you could do was nod, your body aching for his touch, your lips yearning for reciprocation.

You looked into each other’s eyes before George pressed his lips against yours, and your world stopped.

You gasped, sitting up and covering your mouth, looking at George, who seemingly had realized the same thing.

His eyes were wide, looking at you and not knowing what to say or do.

The song played out as the memory played in your mind, his hands on your body burning you as it played out.

You stood up, not knowing what to do with yourself, beginning to pace as you thought the entire moment over in your mind.

George watched you pace back and forth, not wanting to interrupt or say anything wrong.

All of a sudden you stopped and just stared at him, not caring that the music had stopped.

“Why did you kiss me?” You asked.

He looks at you, not quite knowing how to put his feelings into words.

After a moment, he spoke up, “‘ve been mad for you for years, (Y/N),” he said softly.

You felt tears in your eyes, “Years?” You choked out, it almost came out as a whine.

He nodded, confirming what he’d said as he stood up to meet you where you stood in the center of your room.

“You didn’t tell me, George, I-I’ve been trying get over you for years now,” you stuttered, anger coursing through your body. “How dare you keep that from me! I had a right to know!” You yelled, pushing him away from you.

“(Y/N)-“ He began but you interrupted again.

“No, George, I loved you for years—years, George. And then you left, you left and you didn’t even try to contact me or anything! No calls no letters, not even a bloody hello!” You raged, pushing at his chest as you cried.

“Years?” He asked, grabbing your wrists and holding them.

“Yes, years! What part of that don’t you understand?” you yelled, trying to get your wrists free.

“If I’m not mistaken you didn’t speak up either! And last time I checked—love is a two way street,” he yelled back, dangerously close.

“George you don’t get it! You left! You left me here and you just went!” You cried, fighting the grip he had on your wrists.

“You didn’t stop me!” He yelled in your face, maintaining a tight grip on your wrists.

“How can you say that! You know I could never stop you from leaving! What was I supposed to do? Tell you not to go? Even if I did—you’d have resented me for stopping you, the nerve you have to say that,” you said, as you stopped fighting his grip.

“I would have, y’know, I wouldn’t have gone if you gave me a reason to stay,” he says in a deep voice as he released your wrists.

“I wouldn’t have let you even if you tried,” you said quietly, not looking him in the eyes.

It was quiet for several minutes before you spoke again, “I think you should leave, George,” you said in a small voice.

“What? Why? We can work this out—“ He began to step towards you, but you interrupted him by putting a hand on his chest to keep him away.

“I need time, George, you have to give me time,” you said, backing away from him.

“(Y/N),” he said softly, if you weren’t so close you might not have heard him.

“No, George, please,” you begged, opening your door for him.

He looked at you before beginning to make his way to the door, but not before standing in front of you and pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“I love you,” he whispered, turning and walking out the door.

After he’d left, you closed your door, holding the handle for a moment, “I love you, too,” you murmured.