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gucciwins · 20 days

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Nice To Meet Ya

a/n: part two to not another rockstar I have an idea for what I want from them so I'm excited to work on this. if you have any requests for them please feel free to send them my way.

word count: 2358

warnings: smut (male receiving)

Harry was in a trance for the entirety of Y/N’s set. He knew there were more people on stage part of her band, but he didn’t seem to process a single one. Harry could only focus on one thing, and that was Y/N. He wanted more time with her than the few minutes he got. Paul and Adam had tried talking to him during the show asking if he wanted another drink or what he thought but he brushed them off instead stepping away from the table and walking closer (as close as he can in a sold-out crowd) toward the stage.

Y/N fell to her knees and threw her head back. Harry felt his pants tighten and hated himself at that moment for being a typical man. How could anyone blame him? When all he could picture were those pretty red lips leaving marks on his skin.

He really needs to talk to her again.

When the lights go out and the awful dim lights come back on, Harry turns back to his friends who are talking to Ayo, who must have joined during the show.

“What did you think, Harry? Any good?” Ayo asks, unaware of his endless thoughts of the lead singer.

Everyone in the friend group knows Harry as the music nerd. Name an artist and he’ll name five songs. From oldies to rap, he’s open to it all. He even formed a band of his own in his youth but now produces music, something he found he’s better suited to. He’s surprised he hadn’t heard of “Cleopatra” before, the band carrying an original sound of rock and with Y/N’s vocals, he knew why the crowd was in the palm of her hand.

“I’m a fan,” he admits.

Paul pats him on his shoulder. “Pretty big by your reaction to the complete set.”

Harry’s cheeks turn pink. There is no denying it when his two friends couldn’t get his attention for a single second in 45 minutes.

“Well, can you blame me?” Harry tries to defend.

The group laughs, and Paul gestures for everyone to follow him. Harry wonders if they’re leaving already but knows better than to ask and simply follows in pursuit. Ayo is now leading them through a familiar walkway. Harry feels his heartbeat accelerate. He’s stuck between wanting to run out and ready to push in front of everyone to see Y/N again.

Ayo knocks on the door reading “Cleopatra”. A petite blonde opens the door.

The blonde shrieks and pulls Ayo into a hug. She drags Ayo in, leading everyone to follow. Harry takes that moment to look around the large dressing room where there are clothes thrown on the floor, bags of makeup sit on the bathroom counter. He knows that it must be a mess to clean up. There are three girls (blonde included) but no sign of Y/N. Introductions are being made when Y/N walks out shaking a towel through her hair and is now dressed in an oversized crew neck and sweats. She looks beautiful.

Harry tries his best to not stare at her, but it proves to be hard when she comes to stand in front of him with the rest of her bandmates.

“Lastly, Y/N, these are a few of my friends.” Ayo introduces going by the order. Y/N greets everyone by repeating their names and when it’s his turn Y/N smirks, accepting Harry’s outstretched hand.

“We’ve met, right Harry,” Y/N purrs.

Harry gulps, loving the feel of her hand trailing down his hand. “Yes, we met earlier.”

Y/N giggled, loving the effect she had on him. “Poor Harry seemed a bit lost.”

Ayo shakes her head. “He’s notorious for getting lost.”

“Hey now,” Harry interrupts.

Adam wags a finger at Harry. “Boy, we’ve had to stop the music at a bar once because no one could locate you.”

Harry pouts and spares a glance at Y/N, who looks amused with the information she’s being given. “And where was he?” Y/N inquires.

“In the toilets, holding a girl’s hair back.”

“Oh a gentleman,” the blonde says while giving Y/N a small nudge.

Harry scratches his neck nervously. “Uh, the girl’s friend asked for my help while she rallied her friends.”

He did not want to relive that memory. Harry was healing a broken heart back then when his friends dragged him to the bars. He didn’t want to drink, but before he knew it, he was throwing back tequila shot after tequila shot. Harry had been single since then. He’s always been a relationship guy.

Harry loved courting, taking people on dates. Paying for their meals or even opening the car door. He’d do every stereotypical romantic thing you’ve heard of until he’d fallen in love. It almost always led him to heartbreak, but he was a hopeless romantic. He’d never close his heart off to love.

“Well, I think that was very sweet.” Y/N smiles at Harry. “What did you all think of the show?”

Harry appreciates she took the attention off of him and decides to fall behind his friends while they mingle with Y/N bandmates whose name he does not remember yet. Adam is talking with Annabelle (red hair) and Jordan (pale with blue eyes). Harry is trying to remember everyone as he eases into conversation with them. He discovered that the blonde’s name was Estrella, who was born under a meteorite shower. Then there’s Y/N, whose name he’d never forget since learning. They had been playing a game of chase as he tries his best to talk with her, but she always manages to make it to the next group for conversation.

The night is winding down and Harry is afraid to go home without getting Y/N’s number. He feels aware of everyone in the room and it’s what has stopped him from going and stealing her for a conversation. As he is thinking about saying his goodbye’s Y/N comes to stand next to him happily joining the conversation with Paul, he was just having. Y/N is the type of person he thinks twice about approaching. Harry is confident in an environment he’s comfortable in, say the studio or a bookshop, but here in the venue where clearly Y/N runs the show, he isn’t sure how to proceed. Harry’s too stuck in his head.

“I’m going to steal Harry for a bit, Paul. I heard he’s a talented musician.” Y/N tells his friend, surprising Harry.

“By all means. Pick his brain.” Paul pushes Harry forward.

Y/N reaches for his hand, pausing for a moment to see if he’s alright with that. Harry gives her a nod, and it’s all the encouragement she needs.

She leads them down winding hallways until they step into a private green room with a couch and two guitars.

“I like to come here and play on my own before the show. Everyone knows not to bother me here,” Y/N tells him.

Harry feels honored, but also doesn’t know if she’s done this for others. “And why am I here?”

Y/N turns to look at him. A teasing smile sits on her glossed lips. “Come on, Harry. Do I really need to say it?”

Harry frowns. What can Y/N be referring to?

Y/N rolls her eyes, but he takes no offense as she walks back over to him. “The chemistry between us,” she purrs. “We’ve got to do something about it.”

“Do you want to go on a date?” Harry asks confidently, thinking this is what she’s searching for.

“Oh sweet boy,” Y/N walks in front of him. “I’m talking about taking care of this tension.”

Harry feels his pants tighten. He wants her more than anything. A taste of how sweet she must be, but it seems Y/N will be in charge of whatever happens in this room.

“What do you have in mind?”

Y/N twirls a piece of her hair. “Would you let me suck you off?”

Harry takes a deep breath. He’s never met someone as forward as Y/N. It’s clear she goes after what she wants. It doesn’t matter how she gets it.

“Shouldn’t I be rewarding you?”

Y/N laughs, pushing her hair back. “Who’s saying you’re not?”

Harry smiles at Y/N. He’s trying his best to get an understanding of her, but it’s clear she’s special.

“Now, am I okay to get on my knees and suck your cock?”

Harry has to choke back a moan. Y/N knows what she wants, and it’s Harry.

“Yes, please,” he whispers.

Pleased, Y/N gets down on her knees and unbuckles Harry’s belt. She’s quick to pull down his pants. Harry is hard, of course he is. Y/N is pleased, they’re a twinkle in her eyes as she looks up at him silently asking to remove this barrier. Harry gives her a nod. Y/N wastes no time in pulling down his briefs and is pleased to see his stiff cock.

Y/N’s face lights up with excitement. He’s much bigger than she expected. Y/N’s lips hovered over the tip, taking in the sheer size of his cock. Y/N felt herself get wet with desire and knew just how badly she needed this. She’d worry about taking care of herself later.

Harry shivered as Y/N’s warm breath trickled against the tip of his cock as her lips brushed against the head. He kept his eyes down, watching as Y/N eagerly dragged her soft, warm lips against the tip of his cock.

Y/N was lining his cock with kisses, getting lost in feeling him.

“Fuck, you look so pretty,” he muttered.

A soft moan left her lips in appreciation of his words. Harry watched on as Y/N took inch by inch into her mouth, coating his cock with her saliva.

“Ohh fuck,” Harry groaned as he stared down at the woman of his dreams. Her head moved up and down his cock as she sucked, her mouth forming a large ‘o’ shape. Her cheeks hollowed in as she sucked deeply against his dick. “Fuck, Y/N. Yes, baby!”

Y/N moaned against him as she pushed more of his cock down her throat. Her mouth watered as every inch of his cock pressed against her tongue. She bobbed back and forth, loving the taste of him in her mouth. Harry stared at Y/N in awe as she took every inch of him in her wet mouth. Y/N hungrily worked towards the base of his shaft. He let her keep going, and soon his cock hit the back of Y/N’s throat. She slowed a bit, gagging slightly, but it did not stop her from sucking.

After a few moments, Y/N pulled her mouth away from the base. She took a deep breath but didn’t pull away; she licked up his shaft. “You have a nice cock.” Y/N told him in a breathless tone.

Harry couldn’t believe this girl. “You’re an angel.”

Y/N smirked, “I wouldn’t say that.”

Y/N stroked him with her left hand. She loved how heavy he felt in her hand. Harry’s heaving breathing was a sign he was close. His stamina was impressive. Y/N had been with guys who’ve cum as soon as her lips touched their tip, but not Harry. She had to wonder what he was hiding under his shirt. She knew she was going to have some fun with him.

She kept her eyes locked on Harry’s as she lowered her head once again to suck his cock. The dirty sounds filled the room, Harry’s moans bouncing off the walls and going straight to her wet core. A fire burned through Y/N as she felt Harry getting close. His groans rang louder. Her name fell off his lips, effortlessly edging her on.

“Fuck, Y/N.” He pants. “I’m going to come.”

Harry says it as a warning for her to pull away, but Y/N is determined. She wants to swallow his come. She’s greedy for it.

“Y/N!” He warns one last time.

Y/N pulls away, her lips swollen and saliva dripping down her chin. “I want it down my throat, Harry.”

She bobs her head and waits for him. She takes as much of him as she can and feels Harry tense. He sets one hand in her hair. Y/N gasps against him, not expecting the pain but enjoying.

“Baby, Y/N I’m coming.”

Y/N hums as she slowly pulls off his cock. She sits back against her heels. Y/N makes a show for him to see she swallowed every last drop. Harry leans against the wall for support. Y/N cleans around her mouth with her thumb. She sees it’s a small drop and instead of wiping it off; she licks her thumb clean.

She flashes him a smile. Harry shakes his head, not believing what just happened. He’s not sure what to say. He wants to return the favor but Y/N’s phone rings. She takes a quick peek, and he knows it’s time to head back. Y/N helps him slip back on his briefs and pants. Harry offers her his hand to help her stand, and she accepts.

“That was fun. I’ve got to go now.” Y/N leans in and presses a kiss on his cheek. “Bye now”

“Can I have your number?” He shouts as she’s walking away. Harry can’t let her slip away.

Y/N turns and gives him a wink. “Check your pocket.”

He’s quick to put his hands in his jeans and in the front left pocket finds a piece of paper. It’s a ripped recipient and on the back in pink is a note with her phone number.

Please don’t make me wait long for a call xx Y/N

Harry wondered if calling her when he got home would make him seem eager? Guess he’ll have to try to find out.

#harry styles #harry styles smut #harry styles x reader #harry styles fluff #harry styles story #harry styles fic rec #harry styles one shot #harry styles series #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles imagine

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selfaware-bungou-stray-dogs · 2 months

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Self-Aware! BSD x SAGAU Imposter AU Crossover ideas. BEAST Edition

Part: [I] [II] [III] [IV] [V] [VI] [VII] [VIII]

🐅 BEAST! Atsushi Nakajima is lurking around Teyvat, hunting people, who have hurt you. White Reaper of Port Mafia will tear them to shreds.

He guards the house in his tiger form. He and OG! Atsushi will let you cuddle with their tiger forms to sleep.

🥋BEAST! Akutagawa Ryunosuke, together with Adam Frankenstein, are on rescue duty. He helps to safe people, who has helped you.

He will make hammock for you from his Rashomon.

🕴️BEAST! Gin Akutagawa is dealing with archiving documents from Teyvat. She is making notes, filling in holes in Information about Teyvat.

She is discussing news with you. She stays near, keeping you company.

📖 BEAST! Oda Sakunosuke is helping rescue people, who have helped you.

He is reading you bits of his book. Offered to write something only for you.

📝 BEAST! Dazai is helping OG! Dazai and Fyodor in planning revenge on Teyvat's people. His plans are more bloody and destructive.

He is staying close to you. He is silent, for the most part. Yet, he is ready to fight anyone, who have made you feel uncomfortable.

⛓️ BEAST! Chuuya Nakahara, together with OG! Chuuya and Paul Verlaine tearing through Teyvat's land with their abilities. BEAST! Chuuya is more ruthless. He will destroy towns, if it becomes necessary.

He is protecting you. He won't let anyone, who could put even the smallest frown on your face near you.

🧑‍⚕️BEAST! Mori Ougai is helping to look after saved people and after kids. He is silent around you, he doesn't want to scare you.

He is hugging you every time you feel scared. He will be there, let you cry on his shoulder.

👩‍⚕️BEAST! Elise is helping BEAST! Mori. She is making sure, that everyone will feel comfortable in new world.

She is taking care of you. She will bring you food and small presents. Everything, to make you feel better.

🌨️👿 BEAST! Kuyoka Izumi is hunting people, who have hurt you. Citizens, treasure horders, Fatui. Everyone will pay for their crimes.

She is bringing you goods from Teyvat. Paintings, tableware, silk... Anything, she can get her hands on.

_____

Tag list: @withered-blossoms , @myluckymoon @cocodrilofeliz @c4xcocoa @vvyeislazzy @whisperingwinters

#self-awarebsd #self-awareau #bungou stray dogs au #bungou stray dogs #bsd #bsd anime #bsd x gender neutral reader #gender neutral reader #imposter sagau #genshin impact sagau #sagau #sagau impostor au #imposter au

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m1ssunderstanding · 2 months

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Understanding Lennon McCartney Rewatch Part 1.2

George: We don't have to keep [an image] up, we just remain ourselves. Don't we, Ringo? Ringo: well, we do, I mean, it's the other two we're worried about. It's a joke about John and Paul being bigheads, but a crazy person – definitely not me – could also see it other ways if they wanted to.

Paul talking about their mutual friend when asked how they met and John telling him not to complicate it. They're so married it's ridiculous.

Always looking at each other with every single joke.

He looks like he's in a lovely enclosure at the petting zoo. I've always been so confused by this footage. Can anyone tell me what the hell is going on?

I LOVE that we now know Paul was cast as Thisbe and John as Pyramus and then they switched. I'm actually dying to know how and why that happened though. My first instinct was “of course. Paul was scared he'd look too convincing as a woman, so John did it for him.” But no. Paul dressed as a woman at the cavern, wore ladies lingerie in Hamburg, and wanted to do a full drag show on TV in the early seventies. So why not Thisbe?

Why do you as a man randomly bring up the color of your friend's dick while staring lovingly into his eyes?

It must be noted. They had a wonderful time playing star-crossed lovers.

The bickering pianos are so cute! And then John (prompting Paul): and John and I . . . Paul: oh I hate this. John: will probably carry on . . . Paul: we'll carry on songwriting . . . You just know Paul didn't hear the end of that one interview answer for a long long time. And it's because John just had to hear it over and over again.

Love the editing so that Paul smacks John's ass right as the symbols crash. 10/10 A+

This iconic moment. Poor George tally number 4.

Interviewer brings up marriage and John takes a shot like he wants to forget that the whole concept even exists. Literally poor Cynthia. And not even in an “lol her husband's gay” type of way. Just in a genuine “the way their relationship fell apart actually breaks my heart because she really did love him and in his way he loved her too but they were just so thoroughly incompatible” type of way.

Paul: makes a stupid dad joke. John: giggles gleefully and kicks his feet

I have never seen someone so disappointed that they didn't need to lend their friend a pen. Paul had his hand in his pocket before John even asked the interviewer for a pen and when the interviewer gives him one, Paul literally hangs his head like he's just been cut from the school play. I just. The obsession is frankly cartoonish. But also, he just needs to be needed, you know? How many songs does he have which conflate being needed and being loved?

The juxtaposition of Paul and John elaborately messing with the interviewer (“yes John Lenard, that's me” and “actually it's done by mirrors.”) vs George's “I don't know” and “yeah.” it's actually kind of mean editing but whatever. It is ULM not UH. Someone should make that though.

Again, John. Calm down. He's not that funny. Just look at Jimmy. That's the normal person's reaction to that joke. John is half the reason Paul has such a big head honestly.

Paul's answer to a question about the Beatles gaining a lot of adult fans is nice. Sometimes he shocks with a bit of wisdom. Sometimes his words don't get messed up at the point they hit his throat as he says.

What the fuck? Okay so the interviewer asks Paul what he likes in a girl, right? I've always been too distracted by Paul saying he likes a sense of humor and John doing an obnoxious fake laugh in the background because John. It's embarrassing how obvious you are. Stop.

But I never noticed Paul actually says “people”. The interviewer asks about girls and he says he likes “people - er - girls” to have a sense of humor. Huh. Okay.

So ULM was actually what made me a serious Beatles fan and this was the first moment where I had to pause it and verify to see if what I'd just read was actually true. It really is a doozy.

How to flirt. A guide by Paul McCartney. Step one: get your crush’s attention. This should be extremely easy. Just gesture vaguely at something you're holding. He'll be interested. Step two: do something suggestive to a phallic object. Step three: that's it. You've got him. He'll do whatever you want.

The editing in this thing truly is brutal. Just the jump cuts from a question about Cynthia to John and Paul making each other laugh to girls screaming to John and Paul unnecessarily touching to girls passed out on the ground to John and Paul desperate for each other's attention to girls waving signs to John and Paul sharing weird eye contact to girls physically mobbing them to John and Paul beaming at each other to a question about Jane. It really does drive home the immense pressure of compulsory heterosexuality back then.

Then a question that's obviously meant to poke a nerve and start some bad feelings. “Paul. Is John the leader of the Beatles?” Easily rebuffed with “no I'm not” and “there's no real leader”. I know I'm dramatic but really it's like every aspect of that society was against them you know? And they just kind of said "fuck you, we're crazy about each other."

Question: what do they think about when they're imprisoned in their hotel rooms? John: we don't think about one thing. *Whips head to look at Paul* well, some of us do. Oh and you know that how exactly? What, do you just have a printout of his every thought? Do you keep constant tabs on his dick?

Someone give me the heterosexual explanation of that moment when John very clearly and obviously checks out and appreciates Paul's ass as he and Ringo are pretending to be cowboys. Seriously. I'm at a loss here.

Poor George tally number six? Seven? They're asked what they'll do if England reinstates the draft. John brings up Southern Ireland. George brings up Germany. Paul and John plan their joint escape to Southern Ireland as if George hadn't even spoken.

The choice to play “Another Girl” over that quote of John's being like ‘Paul's actually much meaner than i am’ is great. Because that's seriously such a jerk song. I don't much like Jane, honestly, but fuck, she deserved so much better than Paul. He was such a douche.

Literally all the song choices in this are phenomenal. “Hide Your Love Away” over the montage of 60s homophobia moments? It's so genius. Saying everything without saying anything. Letting the Beatles do the talking.

The laugh track over the cartoon is honestly so sad. Nobody asked them if they were okay with being mocked like that and they never even made a dime off it. What would that have felt like to know that your being “too close” with your best friend was a running joke on TV?

“It's only love and that is all. Why should I feel the way I do?”

#paul mccartney #the beatles #john lennon #mclennon #ringo starr #george harrison

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juiles · 9 months

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All to well

Plot: idk. have fun!

Type: angst and fluff

Warnings: i am in no way saying that this is how all autistic people are!! This fic is based off my PERSONAL experience with autism and sensory overload. Please remember this as you read!!

Masterlist here!

Request here!

————————————————————————-

Being autistic has drawbacks for a normal person, but for an actress in Marvel movies, it was tough. I’m proud of who I am but I didn’t want the pitying looks, the comments or being stuck as only getting the “autistic” role so for my own sake, I’m not super open about it.

My parents are ashamed of it so they never told anyone and I was forced to mask anytime I was around anyone. Not even Scar knew, and she was my best friend, almost a mother figure to me. I didn’t want her to think any different of me. She’s known me since i was 7 and played her on screen adopted daughter in Iron Man 2.

We’re filming Endgame right now. I’m on my way to set with Scarlett. Today has been a rough day for me so far as my parents woke me up by screaming at me which then caused me to struggle in keeping my mask up. Scar picked me up and I’m already exhausted, I’ve caught myself stimming a few times and quickly stopped it.

When we pulled into the parking lot, i grabbed my bag and walked with her through set to our trailers where we left our stuff and we’re immediately shuffled to makeup and costumes.

“Oh shit…” I mutter staring at the costume in Erica’s hand. “I didn’t realize it was a fight scene today…”

“Babe.” Erica, my assistant and on set guardian says. She’s known about me since the first day which was when i was 7. “You’ve known about this for a week. Are you okay?”

“I’m super over stimulated right now…” I murmur tapping my leg in sets of 7, a common stim for me.

“Let’s do hair and makeup first okay? Keep you out of the costume until the last second okay?” I nod and the two of us move to hair and makeup where Scarlett is getting her hair done.

“Hey, where’s your costume kid?” She asks looking over at me.

“I uh-“ I glance at Erica who steps in for me quickly.

“It had a small tear in it so it’s getting fixed quickly.” Scarlet merely hums in response and I sit. Getting my wig on and makeup done is awful, having everyone touching me and all their voices so close to me ears. I feel a soft hand on my cheek and peek my eyes open to see Scar staring at me in concern.

“Stop grinding your jaw babe…” I release my jaw, not even realizing i had been doing it. “You okay love? You disappeared for a bit there.” I respond with a hum, my voice disappearing from within. “Let’s get your costume on and to set okay?”

I look around quickly and don’t see Erica, Scarlet must see the panic as she quickly says. “She got called away in an emergency. I’m going to be your guardian today.” I nod, feeling the panic bubble up in my chest, but give her a soft smile.

The two of us make our way to my trailer and she helps me quickly slip into the suit. I immediately want to rip it off as it’s skin tight and an uncomfortable material. It feels like it’s digging into my skin and pulling it away as if it’s velcro and my skin is the other side. I take a deep breath and come out to see Scar in costume waiting. “Ready?” I nod and we head to set where I realize it’s a busy day, all original 6 avengers, Lizzie, both Paul’s, Gwen and Cobie are all there. I internally groan as immediately, the girls are coming over to me and Scar talking a mile a minute. I stand next to Scarlett silently until Lizzie turns to me. “Hey kiddo. Ready to fight? We have to fly today.” My eyes widen for a moment before i force a smile and nod at the fake red head in front of me.

“What? Cat got your tongue?” This makes everyone around us laugh but it makes me feel awful. I have no voice, it comes and goes, when it’s gone, my parents ridicule me, I get hit. I look down as i feel my tears well up in my eyes and blink rapidly trying to will them away. I thank god silently when Joe calls us to places which means i get away from the now very suddenly concerned looking Scarlett, Lizzie and Cobie. I’m stuck with Renner as I get rigged up, the feeling of being sick suddenly appearing as more people touch me.

I feel the lump in my throat tighten and the feeling of the harness wrapped around me suddenly makes me feel like it’s constricting my breathing and everyone around me disappeared as my hands flung to the harness, in my panic my hands struggled with the buckle which just made me more infuriated and grunts started coming out as my tears blurred my vision.

I feel a set of hands on mine holding them down, i scream and rip mine away and start scratching at my throat trying to rip it open to get a breath. My eyes started blacking out and the last thing i see is Scarlett’s panicked face as she tries to grab at my hands before it all goes black.

Scarlett’s POV

I know something is off with y/n. Not off but just that she was different. I have had a feeling it was autism for a while now, today proved that to me.

She was silent the whole car ride to set, normally she’d be singing along the radio but she wouldn’t even let me turn it on today. As soon as we got to set she locked herself in her trailer without a word, the next time i saw her, she looked panicked and while she was getting her hair and makeup done she disappeared fully before i brought her back. She has days where she goes mute, she just calls them her bad days, they usually happen on days she has arguments with her parents but normally she can still communicate to me in different ways but today she was completely gone. It got worse as soon as she realized Erica was gone. Walking on to set, she tended up and i saw her tapping her thigh every once in a while. The comment that Lizzie made would normally make her laugh, her reaction today was off.

I watched her from the corner of my eye but had to look away for a second before i heard Renner.

“Y/N!! What are you doing?! You’re going to hurt yourself!” I whip my head around and my heart sinks as i see y/n struggling with her harness, her hands are shaking violently, tears streaming down her face, her eyes are glazed over. I bolt over and grab her hands gently.

“Y/n baby, stop. You’ve got to stop my love.” She rips her hands out of mine and starts clawing at her throat which is when i notice she’s not breathing properly. She’s barely able to get a small breath. Instincts kick in for me and i turn to the cast and crew crowding her. “Give her space. Now. I need someone to set up a dark room with minimal sound and her clothes she was wearing this morning as well as the blanket from my trailer. A cold cloth and her wig taken off.” I turn around as she starts to collapse, i grab her arm and quickly wrap an arm around her waist. “Now!”

It’s a bit of a blur after that honestly, the next thing i know, im alone with her in the green room after everything is unplugged and blankets are draped over the windows. Her wig is already off and someone hands me my blanket and her clothes before silently leaving. I help her unconscious body out of the suit and into her clothes before draping my weighted blanket over her body. I sit back and stare at her, not touching her at all but close enough if she needs me.

It felt like hours but looking at my watch, it shows it’s only been 20 minutes when she finally wakes up.

My heart is beating what feels like a million mile a minute with panic as i watch her blue eyes flutter open before she looks around the room for a moment. Her hand comes out of the blanket and she starts tapping her thigh again, her head nodding along to each tap. She squeezes her eyes shut and i can hear her voice mumbling. “I’m safe. I’m here. I’m y/n.” Over and over again, i quietly cough to get her attention and she quickly sits up and her head whips up to look at me with wide eyes, both hands start scratching at the other wrist. “Oh my god…”

“Baby, you are safe. It’s just me.”

“No… no… no no no no no no no no.” She started tugging her hair and rocking slightly. “They’re going to kill me… you aren’t supposed to know…”

I quickly scoot over and grab her hands before pulling her into my chest, she tenses for a moment before melting into my arms. “I can’t hide it anymore Scar…”

“I know baby… I know.” I mutter into her hair swaying us back and forth slightly.

“I’m autistic…”

“Oh baby i know…” She freezes and looks at me with wide eyes. I can ready the fear in her blue eyes. “You hide it really really well but I’m basically your mom my love. I had suspicions but didn’t want to push you into telling me. Today was too much.” She nods burying herself back into me. “I need you to know that I will always listen to you. That if you ever feel like that again, you can tell me and i’ll get you out of it. Baby seeing you pass out was terrifying. I need you to know that if you’re that overwhelmed, that you do not have to do all that.”

“But… my parents don’t want everyone knowing… they’re all gonna know now…” She mumbles into me, my heart cracks.

“Baby being autistic is not a bad thing. It makes you even more amazing. It’s not something to be ashamed of at all. You are allowed to be who you are. To stim when your emotions are too high. To have bad days. I am here to show you that.” I say looking her directly into her eyes. “I’m here to support you.”

Tears welled up in her eyes as she nodded quickly. She sat up and started tapping her thigh as she stared at me. “This is my favourite stim, it’s really subtle but it calms me down… i count the most important people in my life.” She then looks down at her hand as she taps each finger. “Scarlett.” Tap. “Lizzie.” Tap. “Renner.” Tap. “Gwen.” Tap. “Cobie.” Tap. “Rob.” Tap. “Rosie.” Tap. “It reminds me that you guys would love me, no matter how broken or weird i am because i know how much you care.” She looked up at me through her eyelashes. “Another one is tapping here.” She taps her chest right above her heart twice. “Right here.” She does the tap to each word. “This is where you sit in my body. I usually only do this one when I’m not wearing my necklace. Playing with that is the stim i can do out in public.” I pulled her into my arms again as I cried.

“Oh baby…”

“You’ve always been my safe space Scar…”

“And i will be your safe space for the rest of eternity.”

We sit in silence for a few minutes before she pulls away with a smile. “Thank you. For learning how to help me.”

“You are more than welcome my love. Let’s go home and have a calm day okay?” She nods before standing up, pulling my weighted blanket over herself. I stand and wrapping my arms around her waist, the two of us make our way out of the room to find Lizzie standing not too far away, crying into Gwyneths arms. Y/n instantly runs over to her and wraps her arms around the crying woman. Lizzie jumps before she turns and sees who it is and wraps the girl into her arms.

“I’m so sorry bug. I shouldn’t have made that comment. I know how bad your parents are.” Y/n shakes her head pulling back and squeezes Lizzie’s hands. “Liz that wasn’t what caused that.” She takes a glance back at me before taking a deep breath and looks back at Lizzie. “I’m autistic and I was overstimulated and everything was just too much. I won’t lie, the comment did hurt a little but i know you didn’t say it in a mean way. You didn’t hurt me, memories of my parents saying stuff hurt me. But not you.” Lizzie’s eyes widen and she glances at me before she nods breathing to calm herself down. “If you ever need to talk or are struggling you can talk to me bug.”

Y/n nods with a small smile. “I know Liz.”

“Hey. Me too.” We all turn our head to see Gwyneth with a pout on her face. “You scared the shit out of me kiddo. Never do that again. Understand?” She pulls y/n’s laughing form into her arms.

“I understand mother Paltrow.” She says making us all chuckle.

Y/n pulls away and biting her cheek looks at me. “I- i uh- I’m not ready to face everyone else yet…”

“They already left bug. It’s just us four left.” Lizzie said smoothing the crazy hair down on y/n’s head. “I couldn’t leave worried i hurt you and Gwyn couldn’t leave me alone but everyone else left to give you privacy. Scarlett went full mama bear mode and screamed at some people for trying to push her into anything. It was great.” Y/n chuckled, which brings a grin to my face.

“Of course you did. But i wouldn’t trade you for the world.”

“I love you too baby.” I say kissing her head softly.

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sethsclearwater · 8 months

Note

so i read your ‘gentle touches’ imagine and just thought about paul’s imprint sitting down with him pretty early on in the relationship and being like “i feel like you only want sex” and he’s like “i just don’t know how to express how much i love you” bc the poor baby has very little experience with soft sweet love :((

soft paul🥺🥺

...

you had sent paul a (much gentler) variation of the classic 'we need to talk' text not even 10 minutes prior when you heard a frantic knocking at your apartment door. you hadn't expected him to get so worked up about it but as soon as you opened your door you saw a very disheveled looking paul at your doorstep.

"paul-" you started, letting out a breathy laugh, "i didn't mean it like that," you added quickly, letting out an exhale when his features immediately softened and his shoulders noticabely dropped.

"what's wrong?" he asked nervously, peeking over you to scan your apartment in what you assumed to be an attempt to see if you had anyone else over.

you sighed softly, "come in, yea? it's not that serious," you explained, stepping back so he could step inside your apartment. when he didn't step any further than your doorstep as you closed the door, you quickly took his hand in yours and guided him over to your living room so the two of you could take a seat on your couch.

he was watching you anxiously, still clearly not understanding what was going on as he tried to figure out what prompted you to send that text in the first place, "i swear i'm not breaking up with you or anything," you started, turning your body so you could face him, your legs brushing against his as you pulled his hands into your lap so you could give them a gentle squeeze.

he didn't say anything so you took that as your sign to continue, "i just wanted to talk about our sex life," you murmured, a pink blush coating your features as you figured out what to say next. paul's brows furrowed as you thought through your next words, "i just sometimes feel like you only like me for sex and wanted to talk to you about it before it became a problem or something," you added, looking up at him as you tried to gauge his reaction to your confession.

paul's features noticeably softened as he relaxed, "you think i only like you for sex?" he asked, frowning as he slid one of his hands up to gently cup your jaw, rubbing soft circles against your cheek as he waited for you to respond.

despite his touch exterior he put on when he faced the rest of the world, he was always incredibly soft with you in his attempts not to fuck up your relationship.

you slowly nodded, "and i know that's not true but it just sometimes feels like that," you quickly explained, not wanting him to think he was really doing anything wrong because he wasn't.

he took in your words for a moment, seeming to think about his response before he replied, "i'm sorry i made you feel like that," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper as he apologized to you. you frowned, suddenly feeling a bit bad that you made him feel like he even needed to apologize to you in the first place. ubt before you could go to argue with him, he continued, "i just don't know how else to show you how much i love you," he added, letting out a soft sigh of relief when you crawled into his lap, quickly wrapping yourself around him so you could hug him close to you.

"i love you," you whispered, pressing a soft kiss to his collarbone, "and i know you love me too," you added with a soft giggle, eliciting a breathy laugh from paul as the tension in the room eased up a bit, "and i want to show you how else you can love me because there's so many other ways we can do that without just having sex," you explained, lifting your head to peek up at him.

he nodded slowly, both of you taking a moment before you continued, "not that i don't love having sex with you or anything," you added with another giggle, "i just want to show you that there's so many other ways we can love each other, you know?" you asked softly, smiling when he nodded, "so why don't we start with a movie night or something? i miss you," you offered and paul was quick to agree, nodding before he pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead.

#paul lahote #paul lahote x reader #paul lahote blurb #paul lahote imagine #paul lahote angst #paul lahote fluff #twilight #twilight wolves #twilight imagine #blurb #imagine #fluff #angst

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tracksidequeen · 1 year

Text

Thrist Tweets

Request: Hi, could you write a drabble in where the reader reads thirsty tweets with Toto?

Warning: Boss!TotoxAssistant!Reader, some vulgar language, daddy?

Words: 900k+

*****

"Have you thought about it?"

With a mischievous smile on your face you walk in Toto's office and sit down on the sofa.

“Thought about what?” he asks confused. He takes off his reading glasses and folds them gently.

"The suggestion Paul gave you, about reading thirst tweets for the social media account. The fans would love it..."

"-I swear, this is why Paul gives me a headache on the daily," he interrupts you shaking his head and gets up. He walks over to sit down next to you, as you eye at him with a cheeky look on your face. "What?!"

"...I would love it.” You say with a sarcastic, whiney voice.

He laughs, and then his face goes blank. "No."

"Toto, c'mon, it's fun!" You give his shoulder a slight shove.

"No," he repeats, but the excited look on your face makes him hesitate. "What are they even saying on there anyways?"

"OH, they are allll over you!" you say as you instantly grab your phone and open the comment section under a picture of him on the Mercedes twitter account.

"Mind you; admin is probably busy muting half of the comments under your photo's... for obvious reasons."

"What? Muting- when? Why?" He looks at you confused, understanding half of what you just said.

"When admin posts something of you, the fans have - let's say - and interesting form of showing their love for you." You give him a cheeky side-eye.

"You are enjoying this too much for my liking," he says and you show him the comments. He takes his folded reading glasses from his shirt and puts them on. Instantly he raises his eyebrows.

"You'd be reading this out loud and responding to it in the video." He looks at the comments on your screen and shakes his head with blushing cheeks.

"Don't be shy, read it out," you say teasingly.

"No, this is insane." His words say he doesn't want it, yet he can't take his eyes off your phone and continues reading. You hear him mumble under his breath- "Toto can eat a pumpernickle off my body any time of the day." He looks back at you.

"Why would anyone want to do that?”

He says it in a confused manner, but you hear in his voice how it stroked his ego. “Crazy, crazy." Without waiting for your reply he diverts his attention back to the phone. He leans over and starts scrolling your phone.

"I'd let Mr Wolff break my back like a glow-stick." His loud laugh fills the office. “Well that’s a bit aggressive, don’t you think?”

"I mean, we're all thinking it, they just wrote it."

Without saying a word he looks at you and you feel your cheeks getting warm. You continue scrolling through the comments under another photo of him so the topic can switch. But he doesn’t let you off the hook that easily.

"So you're thinking it as well?"

With a lost look on your face you say, "huh, what are you talking about?" He raises his eyebrows in response, and smirks before looking at your phone again.

"Toto can use my ass as his table to slam on, and I'd still say 'thank you daddy.'" He says laughing, "they are really getting creative with ways to flatter me.”

He looks at you, and without taking his eyes off you he says, “Secretly one of these is from you."

"Well, don't flatter yourself too much, Toto."

"You'll start calling me dad soon as well." You look at him confused, "why?" He nods his head at your screen, "they called me 'dad' at the end right?"

You feel your heart drop from the nervousness. Never in a million years would you have thought that you’d sit with your boss on his office sofa, discussing the terminology of the word...

"Daddy? You mean?"

"Yes, you'll start calling-" "Toto, nooo! That's not what they mean!" You say with part panic part hysterical laughter.

A questioning look emerges on his face as you can't stop laughing. "Well explain it then," he says. "Stop giggling so annoying."

He can't stand it when he doesn't understand something, and it's even worse when he's the center of the joke. "C'mon! Stop it, what?"

"Toto, they mean 'daddy', not as dad, but..." you say holding in your breath, but then you realise you're talking to your boss and suddenly your eyes fill with embarrassment. It's great how comfortable you feel around him, but there are some limits, you figure. "Toto, no, you're smart enough to figure this one out on your own."

"Would you call me daddy?"

"WHAT?" You say with widened eyes.

"I'm trying to figure out in which context you'd use- oooh." His face turns red. "I see."

"You're a joke Toto, absolutely ridiculous." You joke, to make him feel less uncomfortable for what he just said. But your efforts in making him less embarrassed was not necessary, because he rises above every situation.

"So, would you?" he asks with a smirk.

"Would I- what?"

"You can figure this one out on you own."

*****

#Toto Wolff #toto wolff drabble #toto wolff fic #toto wolff x reader #Toto Wolff x you #Formula 1 #formula 1 x reader #toto wolff imagine #thirst tweets

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i-draws-dinosaurs · 6 months

Note

Hey so the Dinosaur Autism has reawakened and I really really want to learn properly about dinosaurs. Is there a good book that's like an intro to the field? (I'm thinking of Stuff Matters, which is a really good intro to my field of materials science. It explains really important concepts in layman's terms, and covers simple things like concrete as well as cool novel materials like aerogel. I think every field should have a Stuff Matters.)

I don't want to just google "how to learn about dinosaurs" or whatever because that will be very overwhelming, so I thought I'd ask for some good starting points

I will always give a strong recommendation to Dinosaurs: How They Lived and Evolved by Darren Naish and Paul Barrett! It's the most up to date and comprehensive popular science book about dinosaurs out there right now, and the writing level is pitched towards the scientifically-interested layperson. It also has a lot of beautiful art by a variety of palaeoartists that portray modern thoughts on dinosaur appearance! There's the original 2016 edition and a revised and updated 2018 second edition, both of which give an excellent overview of dinosaur science although obviously the 2018 edition is a bit more up to date!

Another one is The Rise and Fall of the Dinosaurs by Steve Brusatte. I haven't personally read this one, but I have read his subsequent book The Rise and Reign of the Mammals and I was very pleased with the way he introduces scientific concepts the reader may not be familiar with. He provides a great deal of information about the animals themselves, but also talks a lot about the practical science of palaeontology in the field and the lab, which is honestly something that deserves more coverage! So based on my knowledge of his other work and positive reviews I've seen for his dinosaurs volume, I think this one is also well worth a read!

If anyone else has any good recommendations feel free to drop em in the notes!

#dinosaurs #paleontology #palaeoblr #book recs

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muzaktomyears · 20 days

Text

In 1980 Peter Brown, a former assistant to Brian Epstein who later ran Apple Corps, managed the Beatles and was best man at John Lennon and Yoko Ono’s wedding, started work on the definitive account of the Beatles. With the American author Steven Gaines, he spoke to the three surviving band members alongside wives, girlfriends, managers, friends, hangers-on and everyone else in the Fabs’ universe. The book promised to be the last word in Beatles history. Then in 1983 The Love You Make was published, and all hell broke loose.

“They were furious,” recalls Gaines, 78, still sounding pained at the memory. “Paul and Linda tore the book apart and burned it in the fireplace, page by page. There was an omerta, a code of silence around the Beatles, and they didn’t think anyone would come forward to tell the truth. But Queenie, Brian Epstein’s mother, told us above all else to be honest.”

“Even she didn’t think we would be quite so honest,” adds Brown, 87, his upper-crust English tones still in place after five decades in New York.

Why did The Love You Make, retitled by Beatles fans as The Muck You Rake, incite such strong feelings? The suggestion of an affair between Lennon and Epstein on a holiday to Barcelona in April 1963, only three weeks after the birth of Lennon’s son Julian, had something to do with it, but more significantly it was taken as a betrayal by a trusted insider. Brown and Gaines locked the recordings in a bank vault and never looked at them again — until now.

“Very good question,” Brown says, when I ask why he and Gaines have decided to publish All You Need Is Love, an oral history made up of the interview transcripts from which The Love You Make was drawn. He is speaking from the Manhattan apartment on Central Park West where he has lived since 1971. “When [Peter Jackson’s documentary] Get Back came out, a journalist from The New York Times wanted me to talk. I told him I hadn’t talked about the Beatles since the book was published and suggested he go to someone else. He said, ‘There isn’t anyone else. Paul, Ringo and you are the only ones left.’ And I thought, do I have a responsibility to clear it all up, once and for all?”

After the death of Epstein in 1967, Brown assumed the day-to-day responsibilities of managing the Beatles and Apple Corps. He had on his desk a red telephone whose number was known only to the four Beatles. Unsurprisingly, given his insider status, the interviews make for fascinating reading. Paul McCartney, yet to be asked the same questions about the Beatles thousands of times over, is remarkably unguarded. Asked by Gaines if the other Beatles were anti-Linda, he replies: “I should think so. Like we were anti-Yoko.” On the image the Fabs had for being good boys on tour, he says, “You are kidding,” before going on to reference a notorious incident involving members of Led Zeppelin, a groupie and a mud shark, concluding: “No, not in the least bit celibate. We just didn’t do it with fish.”

Ono, speaking in the spring of 1981, not long after Lennon was killed in December 1980, reveals that she didn’t sleep with Lennon for the first two years of their relationship — “John didn’t know how to make a move” — and claims that she was blamed by the Beatles camp, George Harrison in particular, for getting Lennon onto heroin in 1969. “Everything we did in those days, anything that was wrong, was my responsibility,” she tells Gaines. But everyone, from the Beatles’ notorious late-period manager Allen Klein to the Greek electronics wizard/hustler “Magic” Alex Mardas — “the Mordred of the Beatles’ Camelot” according to Brown — has their own version of events.

Going through the transcripts reminded Gaines of the long shadow cast by Lennon. “I didn’t realise how sensitive the other Beatles were to John’s opinion,” he says, speaking from his home in the Hamptons, Long Island. “Paul worried about what John would say [in the event Lennon died before being interviewed] and was still longing for his friendship. George said that John didn’t read his autobiography because it was called I, Me, Mine. Those interviews were done before John’s death and Paul’s heart was broken, even then. It wasn’t just the break-up of the Beatles. It was more personal than that.”

From around 1968, the transcripts reveal how the key Beatles duo started to come apart. McCartney’s enthusiasm was only getting stronger. But Lennon grew increasingly bored and disillusioned. “You have to remember that John wasn’t in love with his wife Cynthia,” Gaines says by way of explanation. “He wanted to get away from the life he was leading and that’s why he started to experiment with drugs, all the way up to heroin.”

Brown says Ono was, and probably still is, a distant, mysterious character, exactly the kind of person Lennon was looking for, having done the right thing and married the sensible, quiet Cynthia after she discovered she was pregnant with Julian in 1963. “John told me about meeting this woman, and how frustrated he was that he couldn’t get to know her better; he couldn’t take her to lunch because it would cause gossip. I gave him the key to my apartment so he and Yoko could be together in private and thought, naturally, they were going there to f***. When I went home that evening, the apartment was untouched. They did nothing more than sit on the sofa and talk. That’s what they wanted: to know each other.”

Regarding the long-held, unfair suggestion that Ono broke up the Beatles, Gaines says: “Yoko came along at the right moment to light the fuse, but the dynamite was already packed. They resented her, she was difficult to understand and had a deep effect on John, but they were getting more and more unhappy with each other and needed to have their own lives. As people in the interviews say again and again, [the split] was bound to happen.”

It was Brown who in May 1968 introduced McCartney to Linda Eastman, an ambitious young American photographer whom he knew from his business trips to New York, when she came to London on an assignment to shoot the Rolling Stones. “I was having dinner with Paul at the Bag O’ Nails [a club in Soho] when she turned up, so I introduced them and he was obviously taken with her,” Brown recalls. “The following Friday, May 19, we were holding a party for 12 top photographers at Brian Epstein’s house in London when she walked in. Paul says I didn’t introduce him to his wife … but I did.”

If the book has a villain it is Klein, the New York accountant who took over management of the Beatles and sacked everyone around them, much to McCartney’s horror. As Brown puts it: “He was a hideous person. He even looked like a crook: sloppy and fat, always wearing sneakers and sweatshirts. Everything he didn’t like was ‘for shit’.”

You wonder why Lennon fell for him. “The interviews suggest it is because Allen Klein offered Yoko a million dollars for her movie project,” Gaines says. “She was enticed and John would do anything Yoko said.”

“I asked Mick Jagger to come over and explain to the four Beatles who this Allen Klein was,” Brown remembers. “And John, in his wonderful way, had Klein turn up to the same meeting, which was deeply embarrassing. It made Mick very uncomfortable too.”

Epstein, the man who saw the Beatles’ potential in the first place, is a central figure in All You Need Is Love. It includes a transcript of a recording of him from 1966, not used for the original book. It was in the possession of Epstein’s attorney Nat Weiss, and seemingly made by Epstein to mark the end of the Beatles’ final tour. He claims not only that Lennon felt remorse for the infamous comment on the Beatles being bigger than Jesus — “What upset John more than anything else was that hundreds of people were hurt by that” — but that the Beatles would tour once more. “There’s no reason why they shouldn’t appear in public again,” Epstein claims. They never did, unless you count that rooftop performance on January 30, 1969.

“Brian was driving them around the north of England in his car for a year,” Brown remembers of the early days. “This Jewish guy from Liverpool, who was gay, was with these guys who had been hanging around in Hamburg, so both had interesting backgrounds. They understood each other.”

For Gaines, a self-described “gay Jewish boy from Brooklyn”, Epstein is at the heart of the story. “Brian never felt the love of a real relationship. Then he found the Beatles. Everyone thought it would be just another of his phases, but he had tremendous feelings for John, both sexual and intellectual, and that’s what really pushed him. If there was one thing that started the whole thing off, it was Brian’s love for John Lennon.”

That love affair was the contentious issue of the original book. In his interview, McCartney says of Lennon going to Spain with Epstein: “What was John doing, manipulating this manager of ours? Sucking up to him, going on holiday, becoming his special friend.” It wasn’t the suggestion of a homosexual relationship that was troubling McCartney, but the balance of power tilting in Lennon’s direction.

“Paul wanted to be in charge, and he deserved to be because he was the motor, the driving force,” Gaines says. “Paul felt that John would steal away the power. He felt threatened by John’s relationship with Brian.”

“Paul always wanted to be active,” Brown adds. “After Brian’s death the world had to be carried on. Who was going to do that? It wasn’t going to be John, George or Ringo. Brian was my best friend and I was very upset [at his death]. I had to go to the court to convince the magistrate that it wasn’t a suicide, and the following day Paul set up a meeting so we could discuss what we would do next. I said we’d do it next week, and he said, ‘No, it has to be now.’ He was right.”

How did Brown and Gaines feel about the horrified reaction to the book, not just from fans but the Beatles themselves? “The world has changed,” Gaines says, by way of answer. “Now, after all these years, hopefully people can see it as a truthful, loving and gentle book.” It has been decades since Brown spoke to the surviving Beatles and he has not contacted them about this new publication.

What the interviews really capture in eye-opening detail is the story of four young men who became a phenomenon, then had to deal with the fallout as the dream ended. On December 31, 1970, the day McCartney sued the other three to dissolve the partnership, Brown handed in his resignation as the Beatles’ day-to-day manager and officer of Apple Corps. Ringo Starr said to him: “You didn’t want to be a nursemaid any more, and half the time the babies wouldn’t listen to you anyway.” Brown moved to New York and became chief executive officer of the Robert Stigwood Organisation. But the Beatles never fully left him, and in the wake of Get Back — and the news that Sam Mendes is to direct four biopics, one on each Beatle — he decided he had one last job.

“We have finished our responsibilities,” Brown says with quiet authority. “It is the end of the story.”

EXTRACTS

‘It’s like bloody Julius Caesar, and I’m being stabbed in the back!’

Paul McCartney on the Beatles signing Allen Klein as manager against his wishes

[John Lennon] said, “I’m going with [Allen] Klein, what do you want to do about it?” and I kind of said, “I don’t think I will, that’s my roll.” Then George and Ringo said, “Yeah, we’ll go with John.” Which was their roll. But that was pretty much how it always ended up, the three of them wanted to do stuff, and I was always the fly in the ointment, I was always the one dragging his heels. John used to accuse me of stalling. In fact, there was one classic little meeting when we were recording Abbey Road. It was a Friday evening session, and I was sitting there, and I’d heard a rumour from Neil [Aspinall, road manager] or someone that there was something funny going around. So we got to the session, and Klein came in. To me, he was like a sort of demon that would always haunt my dreams. He got to me. Really, it was like I’d been dreaming of him as a dentist. Anyway, so at this meeting, everyone said, “You’re going to stall for ever now, we know you, you don’t even want to do it on Monday.” And I said, “Well, so what? It’s not a big deal, it’s our prerogative and it could wait a few more days.” They said, “Oh no, typical of you, all that stalling and what. Got to do it now.” I said, “Well, I’m not going to. I demand at least the weekend. I’ll look at it, and on Monday. This is supposed to be a recording session, after all.” I dug me heels in, and they said, “Right, well, we’re going to vote it.” I said, “No, you’ll never get Ringo to.” I looked at Ringo, and he kind of gave me this sick look like, yeah, I’m going with them. Then I said, “Well, this is like bloody Julius Caesar, and I’m being stabbed in the back!”

‘You don’t like to see a chick in the middle of the team’

Paul McCartney on Yoko Ono

Give Yoko a lot . . . that was basically what John and Yoko wanted, recognition for Yoko. We found her sitting on our amps, and like a football team, an all-male thing, you really don’t like to see a chick in the middle of the team. It’s a disturbing thing, they think it throws them off the game or whatever it was, and these were the reasons that I thought, well, this is crazy, we’re gonna have Yoko in the group next. Looking at it now, I feel a bit sorry for her because, if only I had been able to understand what the situation was and think, wait a minute, here’s a girl who’s not had enough attention. I can now not make this into a major crisis and just sort of say, “Sure, what harm is she doing on the amps?” I know they would have really loved me. You know, we didn’t like Yoko at first, and people did call her ugly and stuff, and that must be hard for someone who loves someone and is so passionately in love with them, but I still can’t — I’m still trying to see his point of view. What was the point of all that? They’re very suspicious people [Lennon and Ono], and one of the things that hurt me out of the whole affair, was that we’d come all that way together, and out of either a fault in my character, or out of lack of understanding in their character, I’d still never managed to impress upon them that I wasn’t trying to screw them. I don’t think that I have to this day.

How Cynthia Lennon was driven to drink — at an ashram

Alexis ‘Magic Alex’ Mardas on Ono’s love letters to Lennon

Alexis Mardas was also known as Magic Alex, a name John bestowed on him because he was so taken with Alex’s inventions. Alex was handsome, charming, and a charlatan. (He sued The [New York] Times in Britain for calling him a charlatan and settled out of court. He’s dead now.)

[The Maharishi] was fooling around with several American girls. The Maharishi was making all of us eat vegetarian food, very poorly cooked, but he was eating chicken. No alcohol was allowed in the camp. I had to smuggle alcohol in because Cynthia wanted to drink. Cynthia was very depressed. John was receiving letters from Yoko Ono. Yoko was planning to win John. She was writing very poetic and very romantic letters. I remember those letters because John was coming to me with the letters, and Yoko was saying to John that “I’m a cloud in the sky, and, when you read this letter, turn your head and look in the sky, and if you see a small cloud, this is Yoko. Away from you but watching you.” Poor Cynthia was prepared to do absolutely everything to win John. She was not even allowed to visit the house where John was staying. She was longing for a drink. Now, drinks, they were strictly prohibited in the ashram, but when it was discovered that Maharishi had a drink, I said, “Just a second, at least equal.”

‘He’s become so nasty’

George Harrison on reaching out to John Lennon

What’s wrong with John, he’s become so nasty. It sounds like he hasn’t moved an inch from where he was five or six years ago. I sent Ringo, John, and Paul all a copy of my book. I got a call from Paul. He called me up just to say how much he liked it. I shouldn’t have called it I Me Mine, because that title was a bit much. I sent a copy to John. I’m wondering if he’s actually received it, if he’s received it, he probably doesn’t like it or something offends him about it.

‘I told John that ... it was just a nice feeling’

Yoko Ono advising John Lennon how to take heroin

George said I put John on H, and it wasn’t true at all. I mean, John wouldn’t take anything unless he wanted to do it. When I went to Paris [before I met John], I just had a sniff of it and it was a beautiful feeling. Because the amount was small, I didn’t even get sick. It was just a nice feeling. So I told John that. When you take it properly — properly is not the right word — but when you really snort it, then you get sick right away if you’re not used to it. So I think maybe because I said it wasn’t a bad experience, maybe that had something to do with it, I don’t know. But I mean so, he kept saying, “Tell me how it was?” Why was he asking? That was sort of a preliminary because he wanted to take it, that’s why he was asking. And that’s how we did it. We never injected. Never.

‘It was time’

Ringo Starr on the end of the Beatles

Ringo Starr: Well, I’m pleased it happened because in so many ways, I’m glad it’s not going now. It was time. Things last only so long. Steven Gaines: The Rolling Stones are [still] going. Ringo Starr: Yeah, but they’re old men.

(source)

#the beatles #here we go

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alovesongshewrote · 1 year

Text

Slightly Stabbed | The Lost Boys x Reader

Plot: you get a little bit stabbed. oopsie? [The Lost Boys x GN!Reader]

Word count: 3807

Warnings: first aid, stab wounds, blood, the reader has some issues but it's ok

A/N: this is literally a fanfic in headcanon form, holy fuck. tumblr almost couldn’t handle this thicc thing

Sooooooo, here’s the thing about dating a group of vampires

They uh

They can smell blood

AND I KNOW WHAT YOU’RE THINKING, BUT WE AREN’T GOING THERE

At least not today

No, today we’re discussing the fun challenge that is Hiding Your Stab Wound From Your Four Boyfriends

(five boyfriends if you want to add michael, and five boyfriends one girlfriend if you want to add star)

Either way

All these bitches can smell your blood, which makes hiding injuries Difficult

It literally doesn’t matter how little blood there is, the second that red shit escapes your flesh prison, they Know

It makes papercuts very difficult, because you’ll be reading, you’ll get the papercut, and then one or more of them will just Appear behind you like

“Hi, could I offer you a band-aid? Or perhaps you could offer to give me a sip of your blood?”

It’s a fuckin

Process

Also, RIP to you if you ever get scratched in the face by something, because some of these fuckers

(paul and marko)

Will just

Lick your face

They don’t even give any warning, they’ll just lick you

It’s

It’s an experience, to be sure

It’s even more of an experience if you go with the idea that they have forked tongues

But anyway, we aren’t here to talk about little injuries

We’re here to talk about Stab Wounds and How To Hide Them

Short answer: you can’t hide them.

Aaand that’s it, thanks for coming to the TEDTalk everyone, rmr to like and subscribe, blah blah blah

Long answer:

Let’s start with how you got the stab wound

Because that’s very important

Now

There are lots of ways to get stabbed

The boardwalk isn’t the safest place

And i mean, you’ve seen the “people are strange” sequence, there are missing posters fucking everywhere

And yeah, all that murder that could be just the boys, but also

There could be other killers wandering around, you don’t know

There are also vampire hunters

And random delinquents

And people who just

Don’t Like The Boys

And by association, don’t like you

Whatever it is, whoever stabs you

They manage to get you one of the few times you’re on the boardwalk alone

To any passers by, it just looks like a fist fight- probably something that came out of harsh words and youthful anger

But alas, the sharp stinging in your side says something else

Actually, it’s less saying something else, and more screaming it

Nevertheless, you manage to fight off your attacker, and then you’re left standing on the boardwalk, your hands covered in blood as you try to put pressure on your wound

It’s a very strange experience

You’ve got a hole

In your side

You’re leaking blood

And you almost don’t know what to do next

But you know you can’t exactly go home like this, so you end up walking through the crowds on the boardwalk, fighting off shock and trying to ignore the bright lights and joyful screams around you as you try to find a bathroom to clean up in

If anyone notices that you’re hurt, you don’t notice them

Eventually, you find a bathroom, and once inside, you lock the door behind you and take a look in the mirror

As you stare down your reflection, you silently pray that the wound looks worse than it is

In part because it looks really bad

Like, bad enough to freak you out

But you’ve also got your fingers crossed that it looks worse than it is because, uh

If you die alone in a random boardwalk bathroom, David will kill you.

And yeah, the thought of an angry david sobers you up pretty quickly

You start doing first aid on yourself

You’re no pro, but you do your best with what you have

You clean the excess blood off of your wound with paper towels and tap water

At first you’re so focused on speed that you forget to be gentle

You regret it

But you quickly learn how to get shit done efficiently without needlessly torturing yourself

And thank fucking god, the wound does actually look worse than it is

The stab wound isn’t deep, and it didn’t hit anything important

It’s just gross

Once the bleeding stops, you frantically wash all of the blood off of your skin

And then you realize that you don’t have much to patch yourself up with

You end up using your jacket, which was already stained with your blood beyond repair

You rip it up for bandages, and then you realize that you’re uh

You’re probably going to have to get another shirt

Because yours has Noticeable Bloodstains

And not only will your Vampires notice that

But so will the General Public

So yeah, you buy a dumb t-shirt from the boardwalk

It says, “i survived the murder capital of the world and all i got was this stupid t-shirt”

You find it hilariously ironic that you are using this shirt to hide the fact that you almost didn’t survive the murder capital of the world

Anyway

You yeet your old shirt into a random fire, and then you head on back to the cave, hoping for the best

(hoping for the best here means: hoping that you don’t start bleeding again)

You don’t

And hey, when you get to the cave, it looks like the no one’s home

So that’s another win for you!

You walk on in and let yourself collapse onto one of the couches

And i mean, you instantly regret it, because ow

But it’s nice to feel something soft and comfortable after the time you had

You can’t relax, though

For one thing, every time you close your eyes you’re back there

Either getting stabbed by a stranger on the boardwalk, or shaking in the bathroom trying not to bleed out

You can feel your breath coming faster as the adrenaline in your system fades away and you start to realize that you were just stabbed

Someone pulled a knife on you, and they stabbed you

They could have killed you, you could have died, and you’re lucky you didn’t, but also, you’re not super lucky because you still got stabbed

And you really liked the shirt that you had to burn

And for another thing

There’s a vampire standing in front of you

When you open your eyes it makes you jump and scream a little

Which irritates your stab wound

Which makes you scream more and curl in on yourself

It’s very confusing to poor paul, who was already very confused because he could smell your blood even though none of your vampires bit you that day

Also, it’s not super relevant but you should know: he does kind of look like the “mom i frew up” meme

Or at least he does at first

Because the second you start to curl in on yourself, he is on you

Usually he’d apologize for startling you, but right now? Right now he can tell something’s up

Your boys might be dumbasses, but they’re more than smart enough to know when something is wrong

So, paul goes all

“Hey pretty thing, are you okay? What’s wrong?”

And you

You don’t want paul to worry, and you don’t want him to get mad at you for letting yourself get stabbed

And you really don’t want to talk about your stab wound in general

You just want paul to go so that you can have a panic attack over it in peace

But he doesn’t go

So you respond with

“I’m fine! Totally, totally fine, I just slept on my side weird and it’s bugging me, that’s all”

And y’know what, you’re actually mildly convincing

Too bad he can smell your blood

Thanks to that fun vampiric trait, he knows you aren’t telling him the truth

So, he leans in a little further, eyebrows furrowed, and he says

“You can tell me, baby. What’s wrong?”

Luckily (depending on who you ask) you don’t have to answer him, because marko drops into the cave

Yeaaaah, you were lucky enough to come home like, two minutes before the boys did

Rip

Anyway, it doesn’t take marko long to notice the scene on the couch

You’re curling up into the armrest and paul is leaning over you

It looks weird

And

You’re clutching your side

And paul looks concerned, so like i said, these boys may have like, three solid brain cells between them (three and a half if you want to count star) but they fucking Know when something’s up

Especially when something’s up with you

So, marko bounces over

And now he’s asking what’s wrong

He leans over the armrest of the couch

So he’s standing like, behind your head

And he asks, “What’s up, hot stuff?”

You lean your head back so you can look at him, you roll your eyes at the pet name, and again you say

“I’m fine. Paul’s just being a dick”

And paul, who now looks majorly offended, collapses onto the couch by your feet and goes

“I am not! I’m being a concerned boyfriend, you’re being a dick!”

Paul picked the wrong place to sit, because you kick him in the leg as hard as you can without hurting yourself

It’s not super hard, but paul acts like you stabbed him, ironically enough

While you and marko grin at his dramatics, david and dwayne drop into the cave

And uhhh, they’re much harder to distract, so good luck with that

Literally from the second they get into the cave, they’re both honed in on the smell of your blood

They make their way towards the couch you’re all crowded on, and as they do, david says

And he projects a bit, so the sound echos off the cave walls

“Why do I smell blood? Paul, Marko, did you start something without us?”

His tone is chiding, maybe a little teasing

But the second he sees their faces, his taunting demeanor drops to something much scarier

Concern

And now david says your name

And his voice gets a little deeper as he asks you why he can smell your blood

As you struggle to come up with an answer, david and dwayne make their way over to the couch

Dwayne, Known Sweet Boy, comes up behind the couch, takes your hand and kisses it

He doesn’t ask you anything, but he also doesn’t let go of your hands

You don’t look at his face

If you look at his face, you know he’s going to look back at you with an expression that is 100% concerned puppy dog, and you will crack like an egg and tell them everything

And then it’ll become a huge deal

And they won’t leave you alone

And you’ll probably cry in front of them

And you’ll make them waste their night taking care of you

And then you’ll get yelled at for being stupid, so no

You do not look at dwayne

Instead, you focus your attention on paul, who’s focusing on david, who’s focusing on you

And for a second, everything is silent

Then david kneels at your side which is fuckin

Rare

He likes to feel tall, kneeling is the Opposite of that

But he does it nonetheless

And he says your name again, and you Don’t Look At Him, you just keep your gaze straight and pretend to be somewhere else

Of course he says your name again, sounding more irritated this time

And he asks

“Why can we smell blood outside of the cave?”

And you relent a bit by answering

“Hey, it’s not like I’ve never bled around you before. Remember that time I fell? Or the time I gouged my shin open? Or the time one of the pigeons bit me?”

Yeahhh, even you know it’s a stupid argument

No matter how much blood you’ve lost around them, you know it doesn’t match this

And marko puts your thoughts to words

He legit says

“Yeah, but it’s never been this bad before, babe. What’s wrong?”

And after that you’re just

Bombarded with the boys asking some variation of “What’s wrong?” over and over

You cling to dwayne’s hand as their voices start to overwhelm you

But then he pulls away

And you just can’t take it anymore

So you yell

And you don’t mean to yell it, you just want to be heard

“OKAY, OKAY, fine, I’ll tell you”

They shut up, and instantly your voice drops like

A million decibels

As you say

“I… I may have been… lightly stabbed.”

There’s a beat of silence and then

“I’m sorry, you were STABBED?”

Dwayne breaks his silence, looking horrified, which is almost funny, because you know his methods of killing are a little more brutal than “stab the victim with a knife”

But then again, he’s never tried to kill you, so

Anyway, dwayne’s outburst is followed by paul and marko both shrieking some form of “excuse me”

(“I’M SORRY, WHAT?” and an actual, “EXCUSE ME?” respectively)

David is silent now as the other three just

Lose their shit

Paul is demanding to know where the wound is

Marko fucks off to go hunt for first aid supplies, but you can still hear him shouting about it

Dwayne has taken your hand back and he looks into your eyes as he asks

“Who did this to you?”

And quietly, you go

“Some douchebag on the boardwalk- look, guys, I was only lightly stabbed-”

And there’s another outburst

Paul and marko both yell that being “lightly” stabbed still isn’t good

Dwayne looks like he might kill someone or start crying, you aren’t sure which, maybe both

And that’s when david grabs your jaw

He’s surprisingly gentle with you- though, considering the stab wound, maybe that isn’t really a surprise

Either way

David makes you look at him, and he asks you

In a voice he reserves for quiet moments, which this isn’t, and special occasions, which this technically is

“Where’s the wound, baby?”

With a sigh, you tear your eyes from his and gingerly lift up your new shirt to reveal a blood-soaked makeshift bandage, which itself covers the shallow wound in your side

Haha, fuck

You wince at the sight of it

But your boys remain stone faced- if anything, they look angry

Except for paul, who also winces, but in a split second he goes from wincing to pissed like everyone else

And you let out a groan, because this is the one thing you were trying to avoid

Anger and concern

Just as you open your mouth to apologize, marko slams a small box of first aid stuff on the floor by the couch

You move to reach for it, but instantly, several pairs of hands are on you, pushing you (gently) back onto the couch

You

Roll Your Eyes

Fuckin vampires, always treating you like glass

“Hey, I’m not four years old,” you say, trying to sit up again, “I can treat my own stab wound”

Yeah, as you say it you manage to catch just how absurd your words sound

‘I can treat my own stab wound’ who says that?

You do, i guess

And you intend to follow through, but hey

You get pushed back down again

“Stay still, wouldya? Goddamn,” Marko fuckin growls as he pins your shoulders down, “We’re trying to help you, so stop moving.”

You give a very defiant wiggle. No one is amused but you.

With an irritated sigh, you resign yourself to staying on the couch

But it doesn’t stop you from trying to get them to leave you alone

“Look, guys, I’m fine. Don’t you have anything better to do than poke at me? Seriously-”

“Ha, you’re cute,” the response comes from paul this time

Paul who has, by the way, taken to holding your legs hostage

He continues with a very blunt

“But seriously, shut the fuck up and let us fix this, ‘kay?”

You glare at him, but with your legs and shoulders pinned, it’s not like you have much of a choice

So you just

Lie there

And try to pretend that this whole thing doesn’t make you want to break down crying because fuck, you couldn’t just almost get murdered, you also had to be a burden

Fuck.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck

As you lie on the couch, the night’s events replay in your head

And as your emotions build, every shitty thing that happened to you that particular week also replay in your head

As marko starts to patch you up, and dwayne takes over pinning your shoulders down, and david starts plotting the murder of whoever did this out loud, you just

Try to stop them from seeing that you are Not Doing Okay

And here comes second, even tougher challenge:

Hiding Your Feelings From Your Four Boyfriends

Yeahhh, you fail at this one, too

Paul notices the tears in your eyes right the fuck away

It helps that he’s looking at your face, and not focusing on the marko medical drama going on at your side

He reaches up towards your face and he just says

In the softest fucking voice

“Hey, what’s wrong baby?”

And you just

Snap

The tears come to the front, just a bit, but it doesn’t stop you from yelling

“Jesus fuck, CAN YOU ALL JUST FUCK OFF SO I CAN CRY ABOUT THIS ALONE? Go hunt, or something, just- just go away.”

…

They do not just go away

They don’t really know what to do with that

They just know that you’re hurting and it’s bad

And they Don’t want to leave you alone

So instead, paul and dwayne give your leg and shoulder a squeeze, respectively

In like, emotional solidarity

And david leans in towards you so that you can hear him say

“If one of us was stabbed, you would be upset, right?”

You nod and he continues

“So why is it any different for you? You’ve been stabbed, you’re allowed to have emotions.”

You’re in the middle of processing that when marko

dear marko

Gives your shoulder a very awkward pat and says

“Besides, crying is sexy!”

And he states it so matter-of-factly

And he does it with this little smile, that you’re sure is supposed to be comforting, but oh my god

David smacks him on the back of the head for that while you just

Start to giggle

It’s which devolves to a weird mix of laughter and tears

It’s like

Mostly laughter

Meanwhile, paul just starts to openly mock marko for his, “crying is sexy” comment

And before you know it, your side is properly bandaged up

Yay!

But of course, it isn’t over

Less yay!

You’re finally allowed to sit up, and immediately paul yoinks you into his side

He clings to you a little bit, too, like he’s not sure he’ll get to hold you ever again

And yknow what it makes sense, you’re human, and fleshy, and easily breakable, and you got stabbed

He’s allowed to be freaked out, too. They all are

Anyway

The second you’re up, david is on his knees in front of you again

His hands are on your thighs, and now it’s his turn to ask

“Now tell us, baby- who did this to you?”

You give them best description you can, and just like that, they’re all headed for the exit

Except for paul, who’s still clinging to you

But before they can leave you call out to them

And you say, “I’m sorry.”

Every single one of them freezes

The next voice you hear is david’s

He asks

“Why would you apologize?”

And you take a second to answer

Because in your head you have several answers for him, but it is

Very difficult to express them out loud

And as you figure out how the fuck you’re gonna verbalize any of your feelings, the boys come right back to you

Marko plops down on your other side, dwayne stands behind you, and again, david is in front of you

But you can really only focus on david, because once again, he’s on his knees with his hands on your thighs, and he’s looking at you with a mix of confusion and sadness that you rarely see on his face

And finally you say:

“I- um. I’m making all of you worry. And it was stupid of me to get stabbed in the first place, because I could’ve gotten myself killed, and then I fucking cried everywhere, and-”

And that’s where you get cut off

Because david leans in (and moves his hands up your thighs) and he says

“Now, why would you ever apologize for all of that?”

You look up and meet his eyes as he continues, but he’s turning to look at the boys around you as he says

“I mean, if we apologized for being stupid then Paul and Marko would never stop apologizing- and if we had to apologize for getting stabbed, well-”

Everyone looks at marko

And that little shit just grins like he didn’t almost get murdered by a bunch of teenagers, and he says

“I’m not apologizing for that.”

It’s a little shit thing to say, but david nods and says, “Exactly, so you don’t apologize either. It’d be stupid to apologize, okay?”

You nod a little bit, and he smiles and says

“That’s it, babe,” he kisses you on the forehead and he stands

“Now if you’ll excuse us, we have to go commit a murder. We’ll be back, don’t go anywhere. Paul, you’re good staying?”

Paul promptly buries his face in your shoulder and gives david a thumbs up

Marko stands up, stretches, and starts to bounce away

Dwayne leans down and kisses your temple before he also walks away

Marko then runs back to you to kiss your cheek (he got excited about the oncoming murder)

Aaand that leaves you and paul alone

You turn to face him

(you fail, because he’s not going to move his face from your shoulder until he wants to_

And you ask

“Hey, don’t you want to go do some murder? Doesn’t murder sound fun?”

And i mean it does

But that’s not the answer you get

The answer you get is a very stressed sounding

“IF YOU PEOPLE KEEP GETTING STABBED, I’M NOT GOING TO BE ABLE TO MURDER BECAUSE EVERYONE I LOVE WILL BE STABBED.”

Yep, you and marko really did a number on this poor guy

So, that starts challenge three

Not Getting Stabbed For The Mental Health Of Your Four Boyfriends

It’s an easier challenge, you succeed at this one

Idk about marko tho, marko’s probably gonna get stabbed again. Not necessarily by a person. Maybe by a fence.

anyway

#the lost boys x reader #the lost boys x gender neutral reader #tlb x reader #poly!the lost boys x reader #tlb david x reader #tlb paul x reader #tlb dwayne x reader #tlb marko x reader #poly!tlb x reader

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kierongillen · 2 months

Note

i have to know - as a disco elysium fan who didnt do disco, what would you say is essential disco listening for me?

I'm hugely behind on the asks, but I have to answer this one, because I'm going to answer a connected but completely different question, and then maybe then loop back to you. I'm just looking for an excuse to ramble, and do the writer equivalent of a warm-up sketch (i.e. waste time).

My apologies.

If you wake up and decide that you want to get into a whole genre of music, there's basically two tactics.

(There's also the "Why would anyone care to get into something they don't care about", which is one of the few things I have a "There's two sorts of people..." response to - those who when presented by something unknown either think "why should I know about that?" or "why don't I know about that?" I'm the latter, and it's served me well.)

The first tactic is simple.

Jump on a genre with Best Of in the title and follow your pleasure response. Here's a Spotify one. What interests you? What excited you? What makes you laugh? Probably explore more of that. If not, indulge widely, and see what sticks. At a glance, Disco playlists seem to have the problem of most playlists, in that strictly not everything on it is disco per se. For example, Dancing Queen strictly speaking isn't a disco song - but it's a song about disco, in every way. But if anything has found its way on a playlist, it's found its way on for a reason.

In your case, you're interested in what Disco resonates with Disco Elysium. Which I've bought for C, but not played, but I'm aware of in a "if I was still a games journalist, this is clearly one I would write a lot about." I spent years writing about Planescape Torment, and I know a spiritual successor when I see one.

This makes me think the area you want is basically the classier end - the big bleak emotions, the chilliness, the control, lonely on a dancefloor, lonely everywhere, oh-so-much cocaine, and - to steal Paul Lester's line - glass mountains on fire.

Which leads back to the second way of getting into a genre of music - which is to hit a major artist, and hit them hard.

When asked about "how shall I get into a band" my advice is actually the opposite of what I'm about to give. If you just want to get into a band, get Best Of, see what tracks you like, then go to the albums they're from. But if you're trying to get into a whole genre of music, that's a more serious endeavour, and may reward the opposite approach.

Basically pick a key album from a key band, and get into it, and grow from there. Read about the band - you don't need much, but a little helps. Learn how to listen to what their tracks do. And then you use that band as the single point of knowledge you have to orientate yourself to everything else you listen afterwarads.

There's a huge danger to this - basically, no-one is more ignorant than someone with a little knowledge. You have to be aware that you are the person who knows a bit about Boss Baby, and using that to get into things other than Boss Baby.

The strength is that it's a more holistic, lived in knowledge than just skimming the surface. You understand the music better as an artifact of their times, made by people, responding to their specific situation - which adds different flavours to your appreciation of it. Sure, your own response and how it finds a place in your life is always the thing which over-rules anything else - but the more you can listen for, the more you can hear, the more you can get from a work of art.

Anyway - I'm telling you to go and listen to Risque by Chic.

Chic are basically fucking awesome. If you don't know Disco at all, the opening Good Times chilly ironic take on American late-seventies culture is a great and (I suspect) Disco Elysium relevant intro. You'll know it as a sample, if nothing else, and the eight minutes version that opens Risque is a great way to think about it as both music for dancing (it is endless) and music for listening (it is boundless).

I got Risque as Paul Lester went to bat for it so hard in the Unknown Pleasures book the Maker stuck on the cover in 1995 (it was covering 20 albums that had fell out of the critical conversation, and it absolutely changed the dirction of my listening in the period). Here's Lester writing about Risque more recently for a taste, as the original piece doesn't appear to be online. I just read it in my copy, and it's a burst of love, describing it Disco as music about love - never sex, only love, and mainly love that is denied. That seems solid, at least for the best of chic.

Risque is the Chic album that Lloyd from Phonogram would have been listening to, certainly. I know I did.

(Plus At Last I Am Free from C'est Chic, obv)

There's a lot of Chic to listen to - their own work, especially in the period, and all their productions. Their work with Sister Sledge is of particular import - Lost In Music was one of the working title for Phonogram, and you can see and hear why. They're also the Disco band whose influence is perhaps most obvious in other bands. Everyone liked Chic. No Chic, no Orange Juice, no Orange Juice, no Smiths, etc.

Sister Sledge was the first live band I was at. My mum went to see them when she was eight and a half months pregnant. The temptration to say I'd have heard Lost in Music then and sold is tempting, but ahistorical - it's well before their work with Chic.

Anyway - get into Chic. It'll make your life better - and when your life isn't better, it's a superior context to lose yourself.

However, to go back to your question, as a Disco Elysium fan, I'm not sure it's actually THIS Disco you're looking for.

How about Disco Inferno?

Not Disco at all, but most like itself than anything else, which sounds like what I understand about Disco Elysium. right?

(DI Goes Pop is the starting place)

#Chic #Disco #disco elysium

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atlas-of-a-human-soul · 8 months

Text

Wildest dreams, pt. 28

Summary: Paul's gone. While the search for him is ongoing, Y/N is back home, awaiting his return.

Warnings: angst, fluff, sexual innuendos, swearing, talking about death, mental health issues and suicide

Wildest Dreams Masterlist

————————————

Tucking her legs under her, Y/N stares out the window. It’s been unusually cold lately, the skies turning darker with each passing day. The clouds are getting lower, spreading among the trees surrounding her home. Whenever autumn comes knocking, Y/N welcomes the rainy days and moody weather with both arms. She didn’t detest the cold as she once did, because Paul would always hold her a little bit closer. He’d often kiss her until they both struggled to keep their hands to each other and she had to beg for mercy before they were both late for work. It’s not like he’d kiss her any less in the summer, it’s just that he’s aware his warmth in already warm days is harder for Y/N’s body to handle. It’s why he’d give her space from time to time. Y/N hated that. That’s why she’d turn down the AC to freezing cold temperatures all the time just so she could enjoy Paul’s cuddles more.

She misses his cuddles now.

It’s been five days since Paul went out of the Cullen’s house and shifted into a wolf. When he’d lose his temper, Paul would be back by nightfall and Y/N never needed to worry. This felt different. Jacob didn’t tell her much at first, trying to sugarcoat what they’d discovered, but she wasn’t letting up. She could never let up when Paul was involved.

“You need to hear it from him, not me,” Jacob sighs.

Pinching the bridge of her nose, Y/N frowns deeply. “I don’t know what’s happening, but I know I feel that his heart is shattered and I -”, she pauses as a sob threatens to escape her. “I never feel his emotions unless they’re at an extreme and his pain is suffocating me right now.”

“It’s a deeply personal thing I can’t imagine Paul would want you to talk to us about.”

Chuckling dryly, she points a finger at Jacob’s chest. “You have no idea what he or I would want. You weren’t here when we were building this relationship from the ground up! You weren’t here as we grew up and you sure as hell weren’t here when we learned each other’s hearts by heart! So don’t tell me what he would or wouldn’t want, because I know what he wants, and that is me! And if he is in this state because he believes he’s done something that will take me away from him, I need to know what the fuck it is so I can convince him it isn’t his fault and that–,“ belting over she lets a shuddered breath pass her lips. Clutching her chest, Y/N’s knees hit the ground with a loud sob echoing throughout the room. Jacob’s quick to wrap his arms around her, looking at Edward in distress.

“She’s overwhelmed”, Edward explains before glancing at Jasper, who seems devastated by the constant waves of pure anguish coming off of Y/N.

In the blink of an eye, Jasper is beside Y/N, his hand running up and down her back as she gasps for breath. All the pain and confusion coursing through her blood is nearly enough to make anyone insane. Even Jasper is barely holding it together as he takes some of her pain, replacing the tsunami of negative emotions with a sense of tranquility.

It doesn’t take long for Y/N’s breathing to return to normal, but her tears don’t dry. Jasper can manipulate her emotions, but he can’t trick her body into forgetting everything.

“Just tell me,” she pleads. “I need to know how to bring him back home.”

“He’s found out you’d possess a rare ability if you were to join our family,” Carlisle answers, and her eyes find him immediately. “One that the Volturi would never allow to exist. That means they’d kill you if you were to change.”

Wiping her tears with the back of her hand, she furrows her eyebrows. “Then I won’t shift and it won’t be a problem.”

“Aro will know,” Alice chimes in. “He can read every thought anyone’s ever had just by touch. He’d find out about you. Even as a human, you’d be a threat. The potential you carry is enough for him to act.”

Letting out a heavy breath, Y/N shakes her head. “How do you even know I might have this power?”

“We asked a member of our extended family to visit,” Alice replies. “We didn’t want to take risks when it came to you. A Quileute imprint.”

“And if you didn’t? If he never told you what potential I carry? If we never even mentioned the possibility of me being part of your family?”

“You’d have never gone through what Paul saw the day he imprinted on you.”

“A self-actualizing prophesy,” Y/N nods. “Is it really as bad as it seems?” Y/N asks Alice. “Paul has always seemed traumatized by it, but he’s my imprint. Is it really a horrid way to die?”

For the first time, Y/N noticed emotions in the Cullens. The Cullens' stony faces are difficult to read by humans, but Y/N can no longer ignore the emotions she notices in them. It’s on all their faces–compassion and pity most of all.

“Okay then”, Y/N forces a small smile as she uses Jacob’s shoulders to help herself stand. Jasper doesn’t hesitate, holding her up as she stumbles during her attempt.

“We need to find my fiancé,” Y/N purses her lips. “Jacob,” she sighs. “Please find him and bring him back to me.”

“I will do my best,” he promises. “But it’s not easy when we get into this headspace. It once took me an entire summer to return to my human form.”

Nodding, she swallows thickly. “Tell him I need him. Tell him I love him and I don’t care about anything other than spending the rest of my life with him. I want to get married and I want us to live every single day to the fullest.”

“I’ll gather the rest of the pack still willing to shift,” Jacob pecks her forehead. “We can cover more ground and drag him back if necessary.”

As Jacob walks toward the door, he’s stopped as her fingers coil around his pinky finger–the only part of him she could reach as he all but ran to fulfill his promise.

“Don’t let him see me breaking down. He can’t ever know.”

Ever since, Y/N waited for her soulmate to return to her. Embry, Quill, and Seth joined Jacob in their search the very first night. Sam and his eldest son waited for Leah and her husband, Owen, to come from Port Angeles before joining the very next day.

Emily would visit with her youngest every morning. Y/N’d have her dad over for lunch, but it didn’t help distract her as much. The greatest thing Sam has ever done for her was give her and Paul his blessing to clue her father in. She didn’t tell him she was marked for certain death. It would kill him to know, but he knows enough to be aware her life is in danger. She told him Paul’s off with the pack trying to hunt down a rogue cold one, protecting the tribe. Kim and Jared would come over every other night for dinner. Y/N imagines it’s because they feel guilty about Jared’s lack of involvement in the search for Paul. He’s not shifted in so long, the human part of him is much stronger than the wolf. Y/N supposes they didn’t want to halt his aging now when they finally seem to look the same age. She can’t take it to heart. Perhaps she’d hate if Paul shifted after a decade too.

Claire and her wife visited on the second day. She’s never been too close to Claire as she and Andrea live far, about a five-hour drive in one direction. They mostly see each other for holidays, but Y/N appreciated her visiting very much. Catching up with them put her mind at ease for a few hours, long enough to maintain some semblance of sanity.

Renesmee showed up with Bella for a few hours on the third day, bringing loads of chocolates Edward knew Y/N liked. Apparently, he’s joined the search earlier that day with Emmett and Rosalie.

The only ones who never left her home were Daisy and Jasper. It would likely drive Embry crazy if he knew his imprint had been sitting beside a vampire this entire time, especially when that vampire was Jasper. He’s apparently less stable with his diet compared to others in his family, but Y/N likes it when he’s close by. If it weren’t for him micromanaging her emotions whenever they threatened to kill her, Y/N would have lost herself. Alice came and went, unable to handle the smell of wolves for too long. The smell of several wolves mixed together is much worse than Jacob's scent, she said.

“He’s going to come back”, Daisy hands her a cup of warm tea. It’s nothing compared to holding Paul’s hand, but if she closes her eyes for a few minutes, she can pretend he’s there, safe with her.

Daisy sits with her, feeling her loss. Embry’s never been away this long before. She can’t imagine how hard it must be for Y/N when she can’t even be sure Paul is alright when she can feel he’s in pain. At least Embry isn’t in danger and he isn’t heartbroken to the point of being stuck in his wolf form. He’ll definitely come back home. Paul might not. She doesn’t say that openly, but she carries that worry. Meeting Y/N was scary as hell, especially with how highly Embry used to talk about her. She knows they had a mutual crush on each other when they were younger, but it never seemed to work for them. Embry told her he didn’t want to mess up his friendship with Jacob, who was evidently in love with Y/N, but he also didn’t want to risk losing Y/N as a friend. It was easier to admire her from a distance.

It’s not like Daisy is insecure about her relationship with Embry now, but before she knew what imprinting was, it did cross her mind that Y/N might be competition. She only found out about imprints when Embry spilled the beans about Paul imprinting on Y/N when she first came back to town. He wasn’t aware she was close enough to hear him and the way he mocked Paul for it, but she heard it. It wasn’t hard making the connection about their own situation. Smiling, she remembers how stupid his face looked when she called him her imprint in bed that night. He nearly choked on his own saliva before she kissed him harder than ever before. She wishes he was with her to kiss him harder than that. Jared didn’t shift and leave Kim, so why did Embry? Shaking her head, she puts those thoughts away. Y/N is a close friend, possibly her closest friend, and she’s definitely Embry’s favorite person aside from herself. This is a small sacrifice for someone they both care about.

Jasper watches the two girls from the couch. He can sense the quickly shifting emotions in Daisy every day, but none of them are malicious. It’s evident she simply misses her husband. Y/N is a hurricane compared to Daisy. She’s impossible to predict and the devastation her emotions can cause is incredibly difficult to contain. He’s never truly delved much into imprint connections, perhaps because Jacob and Renesmee had a simple relationship. Renesmee didn’t pay him much attention until she ended things with her high school boyfriend. After graduation, that’s when she decided she wanted him…selfishly so. She never quite unlatched from him. Renesmee was more or less obsessed with him, jealous of Y/N’s friendship with him, but she was never in any pain regarding Jacob. As for the wolf side of the relationship, Jacob just wanted to protect her and make her happy. He didn’t necessarily love her the way Renesmee loved him, but he wouldn’t ever break her heart, even though his own wasn’t whole. Jasper always knew Jacob loved someone else and despite the imprinting tying him to his niece, Jacob never forgot the one he wanted truly. Seeing Jacob and Y/N in the same room revealed everything to him — he wanted what he could never have. And now he’s off, making sure Y/N can have some form of a happy ending as if she won’t die soon.

Never before did Jasper care much about humans, knowing they’re around only for a brief part of his immortal life. Very few did he care to befriend and, for some reason, Y/N felt like a person he wanted to be around. She didn’t make him thirsty, it’s her heart that speaks to him. So many people walk around hiding their true feelings, but she feels everything so clearly and she refuses to pretend otherwise. It’s rare to find someone like that. He has observed her mainly depressed in the time he's known her, but he wonders about the potential of being around her when she's truly happy.? He could get drunk on candid joyfulness Y/N is capable of feeling. Perhaps he’s going to be invited to the wedding when Paul returns. She’ll certainly be cheerful on that day and he has to know the other side of this despair. He can't believe that he cannot replace this pit of aching with ecstasy and serenity.

Alice finds him unreasonable for staying with Y/N inside the house she shares with Paul, but he can’t bring himself to leave yet. Not before she’s reunited with her fiancé. Leaving now is like playing with destiny. She deserves the relief he’s cautiously giving her, making sure she can feel her emotions without allowing them to cross the borders of what she can safely handle. Y/N needs him, even if others do not agree. Until Paul walks over the threshold of this house, Jasper will not leave. Y/N doesn’t demand it either. He can feel she’s grateful for his presence, for taking the edge off the very sharp knife her emotions tend to become.

So he stays, watching over the girls as the lighting tears apart the sky.

“What would happen if I were to join your family and Aro was,” Y/N pauses as she turns to look at Jasper, who seemed rather surprised she was talking about it. “Well, if he was eliminated, would it really be such a problem for me? For your family?”

Staring at Jasper, Y/N watches as his lips spread in a thin line and then into a genuine smile. She’s definitely gone mad. “You’d want to take on the Volturi?”

“I want to take on Aro,” she corrects. “If he was alone, he’d be easier to eliminate.”

“To kill, you mean,” Jasper states.

Shaking her head, she places the empty teacup down. “I understand the chances of it are minimal, but say I accept to be one of you and I get this magical power of making vampires human… Can’t I make him human?”

“Would he, like, just become a vampire again?” Daisy asks.

Jasper rubs his chin. The more time he spends around her, Y/N swears he does these little gestures for her benefit, something to take away from the ungodly beauty he possesses, to make him seem more human.

It's impossible to turn them into vampires after they have been cured. However, the rest of them would know. The entire army would be ready to dismember us to get to you.”

“Not if he disappears,” Y/N tries. “We could hold him hostage until he dies a human death.”

“That’s dark”, Daisy notes.

“It’s nothing compared to what he’s been doing for much longer than you’ve been alive,” Jasper argues. “He deserves far worse.”

“Could it work?” Y/N asks as Jasper’s phone lights up. “Alice?” The hope in her voice is so easily detectable that it makes Jasper almost frown when he sees it’s a message from Edward.

We found Paul.

“No. Edward says they found Paul.”

“Are they coming home?” Y/N jumps, running toward Jasper. “Call him, call him!”

Smiling as her hope brings alive the butterflies in his stomach, Jasper dials his brother immediately.

“Kind of hard to talk now”, Edward grunts as a loud growl sounds.

“I’m with Y/N. You’re on speaker.”

“Where is he”, Y/N grabs Jasper’s wrist, bringing her lips closer to the phone. “Is he okay?”

“Canada”, Edward sighs as the growling grows louder.

“Is that him?!” she exclaims. “Paul Lahote, you stop that right now!”

On command, the growls turn into whimpers and she can’t help the way her chin trembles with the pained sound leaving her fiancé.

“Come home,” she says softly. “I know you believe you put me in this situation, but that’s not true.” Sniffling, she pauses as if to wonder if saying it in front of everyone is unwise. It doesn’t take long for her to decide, choosing to prioritize Paul over her vulnerability. “If you and I never fell in love, I’d have been dead a long time ago. Paul, I came back home for a few months to tie up loose ends.”

Glancing at Daisy who stood by her, Y/N swallows thickly. “I was struggling with anxiety and depression. And I didn’t feel like I had anyone in this world other than my dad. I just…I was in therapy, but it didn’t really feel like it was working. The meds never really helped either. I was just so…so lonely.”

“Y/N”, Daisy rests a hand on her shoulder as a show of support.

“I was planning on taking my life and then you showed up in that forest with your stupid smile and gorgeous eyes and suddenly I had one more mystery to solve.” Smiling meekly, Y/N sighs. “Before long, I was falling in love with you and my friends returned to me and in that time, I started falling in love with life again. You saved my life, Paul Lahote, and I hate how cheesy that sounds, but you did. And whatever time I got now is still a lot longer than it would have been if we never met.”

Biting her lower lip, she closes her eyes. “You made me happier than I believed was possible. I love you and I want to marry you. I want to marry you and become your wife as we planned. Come back to me so we can enjoy this time we have left.”

“I will.”

She recognizes Paul’s voice immediately.

“I’ll be home soon. We’ll do whatever you want.” His voice is shaky, imbued with heavy emotions he’s attempting to keep under control.

Smiling, she nods. “A beach wedding would have been great, but the weather might not agree.”

“I’ll make sure it agrees,” Paul sniffles.

“Where we had our first date?”

“Sounds perfect!”

Neither spoke for a few moments. Each breath seems to hang in the air, heavy with unspoken thoughts. It’s the kind of silence that carries weight, a palpable tension that both parties are acutely aware of but hesitate to break. Y/N inhales sharply as Paul breaks the silence.

“I love you too.”

“I know”, she replies quietly.

“With all my heart.”

“I believe you.”

“I’ll see you soon,” Paul promises.

Nodding, she holds her breath as tears rush to her eyes. She can’t let Paul hear her crying. He’s carrying far too much guilt already and her tears shouldn’t be part of the load. Swallowing the growing lump at the back of her throat, she replies sweetly, her tone laced with all the love she wants to give him.

“I’ll hold you to that.”

__________________

Tags: @b-tchymoon @squiddaloo @abbiesxox @kellyashcroft @the-chaotic-cow @xxxjaexxx @captainrogers-19 @bexloxl @llovergirlll @adaydreamaway08 @sunsetevergreen @volturiwolf @twihard08 @galacticstxrdust @sorrow-and-bliss @ireadthensuetheauthors @missxmarvelous @locokoca @unstablekay @makhaia @venusdelaroix @avadakadabra93 @tearsforhan @a-marie-a @lendeluxe @seagulls-corner @jdbxws @konigslilslut @rottenstyx @itsmytimetoodream @dreamerwasfound @convolutings @thingfromlove @jennyamanda8 @havecourage-darling @luvr-exe @alittlejudgemental @turningtoclown @emptydoorsandpaintedwindows @marvelmenarebeautiful @bringmethe-world @alitaar @sugasthreedollarkookie @chloe-skywalker @heyheyheyggg @feral-ratatattat-king @queereddie @fandomrulesall-blog @queenotaku27 @dcgoddess @lilac-crowns-blog @small-town-wayward-daughter @yourqueentp @boreddemigodd @chaosgoblinreblogsthings @felinegrate @lunajay33 @gtfoana @hpboysslut2707 @tpwk-harry-styles @amberpanda99 @let-love-bleeds-red @mo-s-blog @nj01 @myheadsinanotherworld @problematicpastry @witchybabel

A/N: No clue why Tumblr is being a bitch today, I don't even know if the tags are working because it doesn't let me do my usual thing, so if you're on the tag list, please let me know if you got a notification or not. On a side note, I've had the worst stomach bug since Friday, so forgive me for the grammar, I beg for leniency. As usual, anyone wanting to be tagged can comment on the post, just make sure your blog visibility settings are on and that your blog hasn’t been flagged (blurry pfp is usually your clue that you have been flagged) as those are most common reasons why tumblr won’t let you be tagged. Also keep in mind changing your @ might mean you lose your tag since Tumblr acts like your blog no longer exists due to the change.

Part 29

#paul lahote #paul lahote x reader #twilight fandom #twilight fanfiction #twilight saga #twlight #paul lahote series #paul lahote imagine #paul lahote angst #jacob black #the cullens #paul lahote fanfic #paul lahote fic #jasper hale #imprint #imprinting

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pentacentric · 2 months

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I probably think way too much about how very little Sam knew about Mary. How John and Dean gave him almost nothing, to the point that she wasn't even really like a ghost shadowing his life, more like the story of one overheard in bits and pieces over the years. And yet, his whole life from when he can first remember—every bit of motivation or guilt, every point of pride or shame—is built around his mother, this person he isn't allowed to know.

I've written a lot of bits and pieces about it before, but never a standalone. This is actually an excerpt from a longer story, but I modified it some and I think it works on its own, hopefully (he knows about hunting already but that's really the only canon difference).

..........................

When Sam's in fourth grade, and has to write a page about his favorite memory, he asks for Dean's help. All he can seem to dredge up at the moment is just too weird or too farfetched. Things that say far too much about the way they live for a teacher to read.

So he asks Dean what he would write about.

After some teasing about his best memories being of all the times Sam's embarrassed himself (and a well-aimed pink rubber eraser hitting him between the eyes) Dean quiets down and turns thoughtful.

"Well, I dunno what my most favorite memory would be, really. I guess…" He bites his lip, chews on it for a second, gaze directed absently into the distance. "I think it would prob'ly be my first memories? It musta been, like, when I was three and four maybe. They're…of Mom."

"Oh." Sam's chest gets a little tight. He speaks quietly, cautiously. Dean—Dean and Dad both—they don't talk about her much. Sam's seen her picture, the one that Dad keeps in his journal, a few times, but he knows so little about her. Just that she was pretty (beautiful), with a smile that reminds of him of Dean's and wavy blonde hair. "What was she—what are they like?"

Dean smiles, maybe a little sad, but it's more than that. Warm, wistful; gaze still unfocused and distant. "Mostly…happy. Like…bright. She'd sing to me a lot, and, like, I didn't know the songs back then, but, when I hear 'em now, I can hear her voice singing them. Beatles, Beach Boys, Simon and Garfunkel, um…Peter, Paul, and Mary, maybe…" Dean chuffs out a laugh. "I remember Puff the Magic Dragon, at least…I think I even remember Dad teasin' her about how she better sing me some real music, too, not just sissy crap, but, I dunno, maybe I made that up."

Dean pauses, that bittersweet expression on his face, still, and Sam doesn't want him to get lost in it. He also doesn't want to miss this opportunity, if he can help it.

"I dunno. He'd say somethin' like that." Dean spares him half a smile, still somewhere else in his head. "What…what else do you remember? What'd you guys do together?"

"Well, not a whole lot. I guess mostly just the normal stuff you do with a little kid. Like legos, I remember we'd build castles an' fortresses and stuff. I wanted her to build me a car but we didn't have enough black bricks, so she made me a little boat instead. Dad said it looked like a bathtub." He smiles. "Um, she'd dance with me, sometimes. To the radio. Make lunch—I mostly remember sandwiches and Mac n' Cheese. I'd sit in that little seat in the cart when she went to the grocery store, and she'd ask me what was on the list and I'd pretend I could read it and make up dumb stuff."

The silence is longer this time. Sam breathes out, carefully. "What kinda stuff?"

"I dunno. Just silly things, like 'elephant steaks!' Or 'a unicorn!' Or 'poop n' rhubarb pie!'"

"Gross." Sam wrinkles his nose.

Dean grins at that. "I think you're, like, the only kid ever who never found poop and fart jokes funny."

"'Cause they're not."

When Dean laughs, muttering little weirdo, Sam looks around for something harmless to throw at him, pouts.

"Don't worry, Sammy, if anyone wonders why you're so weird I'll just tell them it's 'cause you still poop your pants, and you're kinda sensitive about it an' all."

"Dean."

Sam decides that his pencil is perfectly fine to throw after all and, as a concession, doesn't aim it at his head. Dean grins, not seeming too annoyed by the assault, so Sam decides to push his luck.

"Did Mom think it was funny? Your lists?"

Dean's melancholy little smile is back. "Yeah…yeah, I think she did. She'd always laugh, anyways. An' she had the best laugh. I'd make up stuff that just got more and more ridiculous just so I could keep watchin' her laugh." He sighs, shrugs. "Anyways, yeah…that's Mom. That's what I remember."

It gets quiet after that, and Sam can see Dean's face starting to shutter over as he withdraws. It's rare for Sam to get to see his brother so open and unguarded any more. Over the last few years, Dean's started to change; Sam can tell. Still fun, still charming, still affectionate, at least with Sam (mostly when there's no one else around to catch him being so uncool). But, even though they're not always alike—Dean doesn't usually brood, rarely explodes, and he never gets that kind of burning cold John does when he's focused on something—sometimes now he kinda reminds Sam of Dad. He's been more closed off, the way Dad can be, his deeper emotions pushed farther away, out of Sam's reach. Doesn't show when things get to him, like he used to.

It's actually kind of lonely, sometimes.

"So, what are you gonna write about, Sammy?"

When Sam shrugs, Dean suggests the time they ran out of gas on a back road in central Florida. They'd only walked two miles before an Oscar Myer Wienermobile came barreling down the road, seemingly out of nowhere, and gave them a lift to and from the closest gas station (still a good eight miles away). Sam counters with the night in Montana that Dad got so drunk he started fighting with the motel owner about yetis (Dad coming down hard on the side of 'hoax'). They ended up getting kicked out at two am after Dad had cut down the guy’s “Bigfoot Crossing” sign with an axe. They toss back and forth increasingly ridiculous ideas until they're both laughing so hard they're in literal tears. When John comes back, they can't even stop long enough to answer what's so funny. Dad just smiles, bemused and fond, and shakes his head before heading off to shower.

Sam thinks maybe he can add this afternoon to his Good Memories pile.

In the end, he waits until that evening, before bed, and easily fills up a page-and-a-half about the time, last summer, when Dad was on a hunt out west and he and Dean had spent all afternoon exploring tidal pools in Yaquina Head, Oregon, marveling at the tiny little aquatic worlds they found. He invents an older teenage cousin that tagged along so the teacher won't question why two young kids spent the day alone in a national park.

He gets an A.

From then on, Sam keeps his eyes out in thrift stores for cassettes from the bands Dean mentioned; pockets them when he can to listen to later on the beat-up Walkman knock-off Dean stole for him for his sixth birthday. He likes a lot of it, but he's careful about what he keeps; only his favorites. He stashes them in the bottom of his school bag, in the hollowed-out book that Bobby showed him how to make last year, on a rainy day when Sam got bored with watching old Westerns.

For some reason, he doesn't want Dean to know about them. Doesn't want him to feel like Sam's trying to take something away from him. So he slips them in when he's sitting in the back of the Impala alone, on long trips, and closes his eyes. Lets the albums pour into his ears over the headphones; shuts the rest of the world out. Sgt Pepper's. Pet Sounds. Bookends. He tries to imagine his mom, Mary, singing the songs to him, in a sunny kitchen.

But he can never really pull together a complete image of her; just bits and pieces, blurred-together impressions: yellow hair, the smiling face from the picture (looking kind of flat, like a mask), a flowered dress he'd seen in a shop window. And he doesn't know what her voice sounded like, so it kind of just ends up being a composite of the voices of some of his favorite teachers (along with the mother of a classmate back in Indiana who drove him home once when she spotted him waiting for the rain to stop under the playground slide).

So he gives up on trying to picture her, and, instead, just tries to sink into the music, sees if he can feel what she was feeling when she listened to it. Imagines the conversations they might have: which songs would be her favorites, why she would have liked them, where she was the first time she heard them playing.

When he hears those songs on the radio now, or over the speakers in a restaurant, it makes him feel kind of happy and sad at the same time.

They remind him of her.

(Except for America—for some reason, that one makes him think of Dean.)

#spn fic #sam winchester #dean winchester #weechesters #mary winchester #john winchester #sam's lonliness #motherless sam #supernatural fanfic #my fic

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all-you-need-is-paul-mccartney · 25 days

Text

Do You Want To Know A Secret (Teen!George Harrison x Teen!Lennon!Reader)

A/N: Hello, Happy Easter! I'm posting another oneshot, because why not? I feel like it could have been a little better than what I wrote, but I was in a bit of a rush to get it out. Who doesn't love some George?

Summary: It's 1961. You're John's sister and he refuses to let you talk to anyone in his band (and vice versa) despite your house being their practice location. George scores some alone time with you one day, and sings you a little song he composed for you.

WARNINGS: SUGGESTIVE BEHAVIOUR; the reader is pretty confident in this oneshot. Mentions of sex, but nothing further than a heated make out session/ neck kissing really occurs in this. Swearing, probably, but I could be wrong. George starts out shy but he is not by the end. There are probably some typos as well oops.

This one is T rated, but just read at your own risk because as mentioned, sex is discussed

It was 1961, a relatively warm Friday evening after dinner, where an eighteen year old George Harrison was accompanied by a nineteen year-old Paul McCartney, on the way to the Lennon household.

Band practice was that night, the newly renamed "Beatles" preparing for their next gig at the Cavern Club just that following evening. George had his guitar case in hand, and Paul, his base, as they walked and talked.

John's house could be spotted from where the two were now, and George, who was talking in that moment, lost train of thought when he spotted someone just outside the front door.

That someone was you. John's little sister. Aged eighteen; like George.

George could feel his heart fluttering as he watched you move around the front garden, watering can in hand as you tended to the little flowers in the window planters.

"Don't stare," Paul lightly chided in a sing-song tone, wagging his finger at George when he came back down to earth, cheeks flush at the idea of having been caught looking.

"But look at her," George groaned, hand gesturing towards you haphazardly before dropping it down helplessly at his side. "Just look at how perfect--"

"And off limits," Paul added quickly.

"... she is," George sighed as he finished his sentence, a rather upsetting frown on his face. The boys had since halted walking, making sure to be far enough away that you weren't in earshot of their conversation.

"Look, Harry," Paul rested a hand on the younger boy's shoulder in comfort. "I know how you feel. I'd be lying if I said I didn't think she was a looker, y'know?"

Paul and George glanced over at you for a moment, before he continued.

"... but if I had a sister, and three lads who couldn't keep their eyes off her, I couldn't say I wouldn't be doing what Lenny's doing right now."

George knew that Paul was right. As much as he hated it, John loved you very much, and was cautious of any guy trying to be near you, especially now that you were a young adult, and not some child.

Every time the band gathered at John's house, everyone seemed to be under a microscope-- including you. The boys weren't allowed to talk to you, and you couldn't even look at anyone without your brother hollering at you to get upstairs, or to refocus back to your homework, or whatever task you had at hand.

But in moments like this, where the protective older brother wasn't around, George took every chance he could to greet you with a smile on his face.

And he wasn't going to stop now.

"I get it, mate. I just... there's something about her." That's the simplest George could have explained it to Paul. He wasn't about to disclose that he dreamt of you almost every night, or that he relished in the moments of excitement and anxiety of being able to see you, if only for five seconds out of his entire week.

And he certainly would not have told him about the songs he was composing; his muse being you, of course.

It was all just one giant secret, and as much as George wanted to tell you, all he thought of were downsides in result of revealing such a thing to you.

George thought that you, for starters, were leaps and bounds out of his league, he was scared of being laughed at, and he would have been absolutely horrified if John were to ever find out.

The negatives drastically outweighed the positives, so he was better to keep his mouth shut.

George and Paul continued their trek to the building, and when they finally made it to the walkway leading to the door, you turned your head, smiling gently and waving to them once you realized who it was.

"Good afternoon, lads," you greeted politely, and George nearly melted at the sound of your voice.

"Hello, Miss Lennon," the boys responded in unison. George cringed a little at that, pushing through the door with Paul following close behind. As much as he wanted to stick around, he knew it would have been too risky.

And thank God he made made that choice. John was waiting for them in the main foyer, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest. He didn't seem too happy, but he wasn't quite pissed off, either; almost as if he were in limbo of the two.

"'Bout time yous showed up. Me n' Pete've been waiting forever. C'mon, now." John waved his hand as he headed for the basement stairs, and the boys wordlessly continued on so they could begin their practice. George only looked over his shoulder once before descending the steps, hoping to have caught just one more glimpse of you, but to no avail.

"We have a show tomorrow, and you boys decided to be a quarter of an hour late!" John complained on as he threw his guitar strap over his shoulder. Pete was in the corner of the room on his drum set just shaking his head as he grabbed his drumsticks and tapped a little on his instrument. he must have been there for a while already.

Paul and George hurriedly grabbed out their instruments, apologizing so the older boy's complaints would cease. "As long as you're ready to play now, I don't care."

John always got sort of tense when the other three boys were over, hyper-focussed on keeping you away from them and vice versa. He was more or less worried about Paul trying to flirt with you, so a lot of John's poor behaviour stemmed from that.

Little did he know that it was actually George who'd fallen head over heels for you.

But that wasn't something to worry about in that moment. What was important was that practice began, and that they had to see improvement before their show just that following night.

Practice was going well. They had been at it for nearly an hour at that point, and the more they worked, the more pleased each boy was with the sound. They took a brief pause for some water, and John was rifling through his pile of lyrics sitting on a table in the corner of the room, trying to decide which one to practice next.

As George finished the last drop of water in his glass, John piped up, "I don't have all my songs here. Must've left them in my room."

"Which ones?" George asked, empty glass still in-hand. "I'm running up for a refill, might as well grab that for you as well."

"I think I left them on my desk at the side. You sure you don't want me running up?"

George swatted his hand as he started for the stairs. "Don't worry 'bout it. Be back in a jiff."

George hopped up the stairs, leaving his glass on the kitchen counter next to the sink before moving down the main foyer. He paused at the front door to peek out the window to see if you were still outside, but he didn't see you from where he was standing. He sighed gently before turning and making his way up to the second floor.

George made his way down to John's room at the end of the hallway. It was the only room with the door open, and before he even made it into the room, he could see the pile of lyrics on the desk, right where John said they'd be.

He picked up the pile, shuffling through them and counting the pages as he did so. He took one more brief glance around the room to make sure he wasn't missing anything else. When he decided this was all he needed, he turned on his heel and headed out to the hallway.

George was just about to make it to the stairs when he felt someone take hold of his arm, and swiftly tug him into one of the other rooms. The moment was a blur for him, and it took him a second to piece together what happened. He was standing in the middle of the room-- your room.

And you were only three feet away from him, back against the door, and cheeks glowing pink.

"Hello," you smiled gently, and George had no clue what to say, pages clutched tightly against his chest as his brain swirled with millions of thoughts.

"Hi," he squeaked, face burning in humiliation at his flustered state, but he was in your room, for Christ's sake. Your room! He had no clue what to say to you, mouth hanging open as he tried to search his brain for some other words.

"Look, I know we're not supposed to be doing this," you expressed, and George could feel his heart doing violent flips in his chest, especially when you pushed yourself off the door to take a step or two closer to him. This was the longest conversation he had with you, to date.

"Johnny would kill me if he knew I had a boy in my room, you know," you took a moment to pause, and all George could do was nod his head in agreement, intoxicated by the way you walked, and the way you talked. There was a hint of something in your voice... but the boy couldn't quite place what it was. Yearning? That couldn't be right... could it?

"But where's the fun in that, huh?" You asked, hands clasped behind your back, eyes staring right back into his, and George couldn't help but break his gaze first, utterly intimidated by your confidence. His eyes fixated to the dress you were wearing, and he could see a playful smile dancing on your lips in his peripheral.

"... You like what you see, Georgie?" You asked lowly after a moment, and his stare shot back up to your face again, certain his legs were numb. The nickname rolled off your tongue so effortlessly, so perfectly. The things it was doing to him...

"I..." he could barely speak, breaths ragged. Not one coherent thought was at the forefront of his brain, other than one simple word.

"Pretty." Your smile was a little more genuine now after he said that, and you reached a hand up to tuck a little strand of hair behind your ear.

"You think I'm pretty?"

George just nodded again. It was only now that he realized how much shorter you were compared to him, as you were only a foot away from him; the closest you'd ever been. He was looking down at you, but you were, in no way, intimidated by him. It was actually quite the opposite.

"You know, Georgie, you're pretty handsome, yourself," you professed, smiling wider as George's face burned even hotter.

He couldn't even thank you, scared of what would have happened if he tried to utter any kind of response to you. You reached out to rest a hand on his arm, and your smile faltered just a little.

"You're really tense... am I making you uncomfortable?" George's eyes widened, swallowing nervously as he shook his head 'no' as quickly as he could. He didn't want-- whatever this was-- to stop. The sincere upturn of your lips returned, and George couldn't help but flit his gaze down to your lips.

If only he had as much confidence as you, he might have just dipped down to have a taste...

"Look, I don't wanna keep you any longer. I know Johnny's gonna be looking for you soon." You thought for a moment before mentioning, "usually after you boys leave, he's down there for another hour or so practicing his own songs. Come back and see me after, yeah? Get to know each other a little more?" You raised an eyebrow expectantly, and George nodded his head again.

"Okay," he managed to whisper, resulting in you rising to your toes, and wordlessly pecking him on the cheek.

He felt like he was dreaming.

"Run along now, before they get suspicious!"

George's feet, though seemingly glued to the floor moments before, took off quickly, opening the door, and disappearing out into the hallway, shutting it closed behind him. As soon as he was on his own, he sighed heavily, the rush of oxygen in his lungs making him feel light-headed.

For someone who seemed so innocent in the open, around others, George could never have guessed how much of a minx you were behind closed doors. One part of him was still in denial that his interaction with you was even real, let alone meant to be flirtatious in any way...

But man, he would have been stupid not to take you up on your offer. It was just another hour he had to spend practicing, and he'd be right back in there, hopefully earning another kiss on the cheek from you.

George looked at the lyric papers in his hands one last time before sighing one more time, and going back downstairs. He passed his forgotten water glass in the kitchen, mind on an entirely different planet.

He returned to the basement, handing John the papers. He thanked the younger boy, pausing for a second to watch him move to grab his guitar.

"Where's your glass, Harry?"

George tensed when John asked that, hand on the neck of the guitar.

"... Left it upstairs," he responded.

"Thought you were grabbing a refill?" John's inquiries had George grasping for what to say next, but he was quick enough.

"Refilled the glass up there, drank it, and figured I'd be fine for the rest of practice."

His confession, though a lie, was believable enough for John, who just nodded his head slowly and drew his attention to the papers after a second, discussing which song they were going to practice next.

George just flew under the radar then, and he mentally cursed himself for being so careless. He look a quick glance at Paul, who was giving him a look; almost as if he knew something happened up there.

But he would never know the truth.

The shared glance fell apart when John advised everyone to get into position for playing, and they did just that.

The hour seemed to drag, George felt; but as time moved on, the more anxious he began to feel again. By the time everyone was packing up to leave, he was almost vibrating with anxiety.

He wanted to be close to you again so badly, but he didn't want to make a fool of himself as he had in the last interaction.

Pete, Paul, and George wished John a good night, and climbed the stairs to the main floor in that order, leaving John alone to continue practicing. Pete left Paul and George in the main hallway with a little wave, and a short "see yous tomorrow," before taking off out the front door.

Paul grabbed the door handle next and turned back to George, who stood in one spot a little too far away from the door.

"... Not walking home with me?" He asked in confusion, and when George didn't have a disposable answer, the pieces seemed to be finally clicking for the other boy.

He opened his mouth as if to lecture George on how bad of an idea sticking around would be, but instead, he tightened his jaw, shook his head, and waved to him.

"G'night Harry," he tossed a little wave out before taking off into the dusk.

He was alone now.

That could only mean one thing.

George eyed the stairs, knowing that if he turned on his heel and walked out right then, it'd be one of the biggest mistakes in his life. But he couldn't deny the fact that he was nervous; intimidated by you, and your assertive, rather sexy behaviour from earlier.

He took a deep breath, grabbing the railing, and hiking up the stairs slowly.

He stood outside your bedroom door much longer than he would have liked to admit, taking deep breaths and reciting words over and over again in his brain, as if this whole interaction were scripted-- as if he knew what was going to happen.

When he finally composed himself properly, he rapped on the door gently, hoping you would hear his presence on the other side. When you finally came around to open the door, his heart skipped a beat.

"I was beginning to think you weren't coming back," you voiced softly, leaning against the doorframe, handle still in hand. You sounded a little relieved, almost, seeing the boy on the other side of the threshold.

You were in your pyjamas, a set that showed enough skin on your arms and legs that it made George, red-faced, shake his head to reactivate his brain, which pretty much short circuited.

"You goin' to bed?" His words left his mouth faster than he realized he was even saying them. Sure, it was getting late out, but would you have really changed if you were expecting company?

"Well, that depends. Will you be joining me?" You were so quick on your feet in response that it honestly impressed George, the heat returning to his face as he tried to think of what to say next, not daring to drop his line of sight below your chin.

"I'm only teasing you," you laughed after a moment of watching George squirm, pushing off the doorframe and allowing him to enter your bedroom again. As he passed you, he caught sight of you gazing up his body, shrugging and adding a little "... maybe," to the end of your sentence.

You were such a tease, and George set his guitar case off to the side, facing away from you, so he could hide just how giddy and flushed he was just being in there with you again. He rose to his feet and turned to face you. You were only a few feet away from him again, eyes on him intensely, smile still present.

"... I hope you know just how glad I am that you came back," you expressed again, honestly. George raised an eyebrow at that, shoving his hands in his pockets. He wanted to tear his gaze from yours so badly, but your face was just so gorgeous to look at, and he didn't want to be caught looking at your outfit again; he knew some more teasing would surely ensue if he was caught staring.

"Why wouldn't I come back?" George replied bashfully, shrugging his shoulders a little. "Wouldn't miss a chance to be here, with you, for the world."

Your stare softened at his words, beaming as your own cheeks flushed a pretty shade of pink. George wasn't sure you were really expecting something like that coming from him. "... You really mean that?"

George desperately wanted to elaborate a little further, but he just settled on giving you a little nod, smiling back shyly at your question.

"Maybe I thought I might've scared you off for being so forward earlier," you admitted timidly as you turned on your heel. You took a seat at the edge of your bed, and George surveyed your movements, eyebrows lifting a little when you reached out to pat the empty space next to you on the mattress after a moment.

"Care to take a seat?"

George accepted the invitation, and you felt the bed dip when he sat down. His eyes cast down to the floor, face still red at the idea of being in your presence; having your attention.

"You know, Georgie... my brother can be pretty stupid sometimes. But making this house the place for band practice, I think, was one of the best decisions he's ever made."

His eyes met yours again at your words, and you shrugged one of your shoulders.

"I'd be lying if I said I haven't been dying to talk to you. Or get to know you. You seem so kind, and you're so attractive, and John wants to keep you away from me, and I'm so sick of him deciding what's best for me."

Your eyes cast down between the both of you for a moment, and George could feel his heart trying to leap out of his chest. His fingertips felt numb, mouth hanging slack as you continued your profession.

"I knew the only way to get close and alone with you was to bring you in here. And I saw the way you were looking at me earlier, and I had to get you to come back."

It felt like the wind was knocked out of his lungs. Was he really that obvious when he was in here last?

"It's thrilling... having a boy like you in my room, while John's clueless out there as to what we're doing. What we could be doing..."

George's mind was going places he was never expecting it to that evening, especially with the help of you voicing it aloud. He was in utter disbelief of what you were telling him, convinced he'd fallen asleep throughout the day, and he was caught in some blissful dream he wished would never end.

"I feel a little selfish, springing so much information on you at once... but every time I see you, I desperately want to be with you; and today, I had to jump to take that chance. I couldn't wait another week, another day."

You smiled sheepishly, not really expecting George to say anything after that. You were honestly just trying to get your thoughts off your chest, and now that you had, you felt a lot better. You were also pleased with the little look of shock on George's face. You liked doing that to him.

You decided to break his trance by nodding over to his guitar case sitting on the floor. "So... You have plans to serenade me, Georgie?"

Your question definitely brought him back down to earth, and he took a quick glance at the case before looking back to you. Your confession was still ringing clear in his head like a bell. He felt he didn't have the words to admit his feelings as clearly as you had right on the spot...

He did, however, have the words pre-planned as lyrics, in a multitude of original songs he wrote for you.

"... I do, actually," he agreed, standing up to open his case and retrieve his instrument. George was feeling a little more excited now, knowing any girl these days would swoon at the idea of having music written for them, and he just hoped you would too.

He returned to the bed, deciding against tossing the strap over his shoulder. He faced you so you could hear and see every little thing he did. He was at least glad he didn't get performance anxiety on the guitar.

He gently strummed out a few different notes, deciding in his head which song he wanted to perform for you. One in particular stuck out in his mind, and he couldn't deny that it was the perfect choice.

He was a little worried about how you'd feel about his playing, and the lyrics, but he wanted to show you that he could be confident about this, especially since he was nearly certain now that his feelings were reciprocated. But he had to play it cool.

"It is a work in progress. I've only half of it written, but I really think you'll like it," George explained to you before allowing the notes to fill the air around you both.

"Listen,

Do you want to know a secret?

Do you promise not to tell?

Closer,

Let me whisper in your ear,

Say the words you long to hear,

I'm in love with you."

It was only then that you realized this was the first time you'd ever seen, or heard George play. This beautiful genius was being hidden away from you this whole time, and it was a blessing to see his work up close.

His left hand slid along the fretboard so easily, thumb and fingers on his right tickling the strings as if it were second nature to him. You couldn't decide which hand you wanted to look at. His digits were skillful on the instrument, and George made sure to almost exaggerate his movements to impress you.

He pretty much had you in a trance, now, daydreaming about what else those hands could do...

"I've known a secret for a week, or two,

Nobody knows, just we two,"

George had been worried the whole song about messing up the notes, eyes so focused on where his fingers were going... But he glanced up at you, realizing how hypnotized you were, like putty in his hands, and he decided there was nothing to worry about.

He decided to sing right to you now, soft eyes on your face, and when your field of view locked with his, he knew he wouldn't dare break the stare.

"Listen,"

This wasn't a song anymore.

"Do you want to know a secret?"

This was his confession.

"Do you promise not to tell?"

His way of showing you what you really meant to him.

"Closer,"

He wasn't clouded by any insecurities or doubt anymore.

"Let me whisper in your ear,"

Your gaze flitted down just enough to watch George's canines poke out from behind his lips as he sung, and your eyelashes lowered at the sight of his beautiful mouth.

"Say the words you long to hear,"

Your mind was absorbing the lyrics like a sponge in water, every single word eliciting a feeling so strong in your heart, you could hear it pumping in your ears.

"I'm in love with you."

George hummed away as he played the final notes, a little smile still on his lips when he let the last chord ring out into a room of silence.

When that stillness remained for a moment, George couldn't help but ask with a little bit of hesitation, "Well... what do you thi--"

He couldn't even get the rest of his question out before you darted at him, lips smashing into his as if he were about to disappear forever.

He let out a little surprised hum before he pulled the guitar out from between the both of you, and you took it as an opportunity to push your body closer to him, arms wrapping around his collarbone.

He blindly set the guitar down to lean it against your bed, and when he let go of the neck of the instrument, his hands went for your hips, squeezing your sides gently before pulling you right up into his lap. your actions bloomed a type of self-assurance within him he had no idea he could even possess.

It was your turn to squeal excitedly, but George's lips on yours muffled the sound. One of his hands snaked around to the small of your back before it slipped under your shirt, his palm dragging up your spine. His fingertips took note of each vertebrae it dipped up and down into, like the frets on his guitar.

This, George decided, was better than a dream. This whole situation unfolding around him made him feel as though he died and went to heaven.

He pulled his lips away from yours, free hand reaching up to grip your chin and directing you to tilt your head up. His lips suckled on the side of your neck, and the sound coming from your mouth was absolutely euphoric to him. But he removed his palm from your chin to cover your mouth, his other hand still feeling and memorizing every curve and dip in your back.

"You must be quiet, Love. Wouldn't want your brother knowing about all this fun we're having up here, eh?" Your eyes rolled back at his words, groaning into his hand as you felt George drag his teeth gently along the column of your throat.

Knowing you were enjoying this as much as he was only brought more confidence to his actions, and he let his tongue poke out to leave a large, wet kiss on your collarbone.

You were squirming in his lap, fingers sliding up into his hair and tugging so he knew he was doing everything right.

He groaned at the friction you were creating at the hips, and he pulled away from your neck to kiss your lips again after removing his hand and placing it on the back of your neck.

You swallowed his moans as you continued to grind in his lap, but both of your movements paused when you heard the guitar come crashing down to the carpeted floor. It wasn't as loud as it could have been, but it was loud enough.

You both kept an ear out, knowing that might have caught the attention of someone downstairs, and when you began to hear footsteps shuffling around, you began to panic a little, eyes wide and darting back to George, whose face was flushed from the assault of your kisses, and hair was a tangled mess from your fingers.

"You gotta hide," you rushed out quietly, and though you tried to climb out of George's lap, his hands kept you planted right where you were.

"What are you doing?!"

"... What if I didn't?" He challenged you a little, a daring smirk at his lips.

"Had you not been so naughty, with all that moving and teasing, the guitar wouldn't have fallen, eh? And we wouldn't be in this situation at all." The points of his canines were showing again, and you groaned at his words.

"George, I'd love to continue this, but John will kill you if we're caught, and we can't do this if you're dead!"

"Well then we just won't get caught," he responded simply. He was blinded by desire, his confidence seeping out of him like sap from a tree as he placed his mouth back on your neck.

The footsteps stopped outside your door, and you both heard a knock, George not showing any sign of stopping his actions.

"Don't come in, I'm-- I'm not wearing any clothes!!" It was the first thing you could blurt out to whoever was on the other side.

"Oh, baby, that'd be a sight to see," George mumbled against your skin, pulling your top down just enough so he could suck a dark spot just above your left breast so you could easily hide it away, and you sighed heavily at the contact, face burning red.

"Just heard a loud thud. Just making sure all is okay," it was John on the other side; completely oblivious to the actual scene occurring on the other side of the door.

"Yeah, a book from my shelf was knocked over! N-nothing to worry about!"

George grabbed your chin again when you were finished talking, shoving his tongue right into your mouth as you both heard John respond with, "oh, okay. Just making sure you're alright. Have a good night."

You listened closely as the footsteps quieted, and when there was no sign of anyone else on the second floor, let alone at the door, you pulled away from George's kiss.

"Well... how was that?"

"Risky," you replied, a rather unimpressed look on your face as you unraveled your arms from George's shoulders and crossed them over your chest.

"Well, you don't have to worry about him anymore, Love," he tried to give you another kiss, but you placed your fingers against his lips. It was your turn to smirk mischievously.

"You know what, Georgie... I think you've had enough action for tonight."

You could see the smug grin fall right off George's face as you removed your hand. Surely you had to have been joking. But when you pushed a little to get off him, his arms fell to his side, a little pout on his face.

"You're serious? Love, you got me all hot and bothered..."

"George, you really thought we were going to go all the way tonight with other people in the house?" You laughed out loud at that; and when you said it like that, he would have had to agree that it did sound ridiculous.

"Trust me, Georgie, I want to," you placed a hand on his cheek in comfort, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to his forehead, and he looked up at you as if he was the shy boy you interacted with just an hour before.

"But we both know doing that in an empty house would be far better than having to keep quiet about it, huh?"

All George could do was imagine that situation, eyes drifting shut, and tilting his head into your caressing hand.

"You're such a damn tease," he mumbled, eyes blinking back open after a moment.

"All good things come to those who wait," was all you said, leaving one, sweet kiss on his lips before pulling away, and nodding to his guitar. "We better pack you up and send you home."

You watched as George situated himself, placing his guitar back in the case, closing it and picking it up. You wrapped your arms around him gently, planting another kiss on his cheek.

"By the way... I think that song was beautiful," you whispered to him, and when you pulled away to see him smiling at you, you couldn't help but match the grin on your own lips.

"See you next week? Same time?"

"You don't even have to tell me twice," George responded with, and you just had to lean in for one more smooch on the lips, to which he eagerly reciprocated.

He then opened your window up, and took a step out. You watched as he climbed down the corner of the house slowly, and before he took off down the road, he blew you a kiss, to which you mimicked catching with your hand.

As George headed home, the sun now fallen over the horizon, those intimate moments he shared with you were at the very forefront of his mind. His hands could still feel your bare skin under his fingertips, and his mouth tingled as he remembered what it was like to have your lips on his.

He was just craving for the next moment he had alone with you.

______________________________________

A/A/N: And there we are! hope you all enjoy this, and I hope your Easter weekend was full of sun, and fun! Please let me know if you want to read more so I know it' worth it to post!

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