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harrisonstories · 1 year

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Above: George Harrison in a wheelchair after injuring his foot at Friar Park in March 1979. Photographer unknown. The brake wouldn't work on the small tractor he was riding, so he put his foot down on the path, only for the back wheel of the tractor to run over it. Below: Laurie Fidler's version of the story I typed up for this post. It's much shorter and the details are a little different. [click to enlarge]

From the WALH Beatles fanzine - Issue #26 - April 1979.

George in L.A. - March 1979

I came home from school at about 3:30 (step one), which is real early for me. It was hot, so I just peeled off some clothes and switched on the TV. It just happened to be on CBS (step two). Because it was so hot I just sat on the couch and relaxed, when all of a sudden I hear "These are the stories we are working on for the 4:30, 5:00 and 6:00 news..blah blah…and Pat O'Brian will have an interview with former Beatle George Harrison." That was all I had to hear to take me out of a nice state of relaxation. A hundred thoughts began to run thru my mind: call the gang, get my camera ready, get a tape recorder, where was the interview taking place, when, was it in L.A.??? -- etc., etc., etc.! I called Laurie…no answer. God! She's not home from work yet. I called Sandi...she had to work late...again I get on the phone to call Selita. Yay! -- she's home! "Selita, get on over to my house, George is going to be interviewed, bring your camera!" (I have a big color TV.) I kept trying to call Laurie but still no answer. Where the hell was she?? By then I had tried to work all the tape recorders in the house (3) and of course not one of them worked. I was so mad.

Finally, Laurie called saying she went to see Sandi at work and she told her to call me right away, something about George. I told her about it and she said: "While I come over, call the station to first find out if it's live." Needless to say at hearing the word live, I went slightly mad. I then began to make calls -- I think about 6 of them -- each time getting closer to his whereabouts. As I was talking I kept thinking to myself, "God! I work well under pressure." I was very calm and professional on the phone. My final call was to Warner Bros. where I found out that George was holding a press conf. at that moment. After telling her some far-fetched story (what's funny was that she believed me), she told me where the conf. was being held, bless her.

Called Laurie back up to tell her to forget about the show, we are going to go see George at Warner Bros. She made it up to my house in a few seconds flat. I hardly had time to grab my camera and film and a photo for George (I prayed) to sign.

We hear her honking and we run out to the car in near panic (since it's now about 5:00pm and full rush hour), we get in, and WE'RE OFF TO SEE THE WIZARD, THE WONDERFUL WIZARD OF....

Laurie, I think, if she were in competition for the world's fastest driver would have won hands down. We made it to Burbank in about 20-25 minutes. A miracle in itself, not to mention when the freeway is bumper-to-bumper. Laurie always was good at dodge-the-cars.

After parking the car and walking towards the front entrance, a quiet fear began to come over me. I'm not sure if it was fear of not being able to finally meet him face to face after so many years, or the fear of actually meeting him. From a total state of nerves I found myself totally calm and at peace with myself (isn't there something that says the calm before the storm??).

Then I began to notice a lot of people walking down the street with George's new LP and some press releases, and as we approached the gates, more and more people began to file out. "Oh god, it's already over, maybe he left" was my first thought, which saddened me considerably. I proceeded to ask some reporter if he knew if George had already left. "He left a long time ago," was his answer in a rather shitty tone. I again felt sad but there was no way I was going to budge an inch, at which time Laurie's friend comes and says that the conf. went great and that George was funny and very nice. After asking if he was still in, she replied she was pretty sure he was because he went in (after the conf.) to talk to Mo.

All that was left to do was wait. So we did. We went to the parking lot to see if we could spot one of his cars but nothing looked right, however the first car my eye caught sight of was a gorgeous bronze Bentley, brand new and very classy. We wanted (or at least I did) to go and check it out but then someone else would walk out the doors of Warners. Every time those doors opened I felt I would die. Finally, a security guard (sweetest man you'd ever want to meet) came outside because at 6:00 Warners officially closes, so he was there (I'm not sure why). We asked him if he knew George was still in there, at which point he turned to look at the cars in the lot and said, "Yeah, that's the car he came in this morning", pointing to the Bentley. Me: "Do you know if there are any other exits?" Guard: "No, he'll have to come out from there, he'll be carrying a cane, he was limping."

Limping?? What does he mean, limping, how, why, when, where, who...We thanked him for being so nice and just began to talk amongst ourselves trying to implant the assurance that yes, this was it, and yes Virginia there really is a Santa Claus.

A few seconds later, the guard says to us, "HERE HE COMES!" I turned to see him coming towards us expecting to see that wonderful lively bounce, but instead I saw him limping and quite badly at that. He was so lovely I don't think I'll quite be able to put in words what my feelings were at that point. All i could think of was how beautiful and young he really is. Pictures are really a very false representation of him.

We started to walk towards him and stopped (since he had to pass us to get to his car). When he reached us my first concern was to ask him what had happened to his foot. He replied with a gorgeous smile, "Oh, I just hurt my foot." Thank you George, but that's a bit obvious since his foot was all bandaged. He was wearing beige cords, a printed shirt (white/blue and blue flaps). He was also wearing his big Dark Horse necklace, the blue one, and no wedding ring. I'm usually not so observant but I couldn't keep my eyes off of him. Ah! That man is BEWITCHING.

The best part however was his hair, it's short and sporting and it suits him wonderfully. Lovely, just lovely.

Laurie asked him to sign a couple of autographs (ala Beatles) and again with an enormous smile he said, "Oh, sure!" What a sweetheart, you should have seen him trying to get comfortable with his cane before signing. However, he was enjoying it or so it seemed. As he signed I asked if I could snap a couple of pics, and to answer he looked right at me (I know now that I can live thru anything, his looks are the ultimate test) and said: "Sure, if you can be quick." As I was taking some shots I heard him say, "Oh, where'd you get this one?" I looked to see that he was checking out my photo of him, really interested, and I said "I got it out of a Japanese calendar." He seemed so pleased. God! I wanted to hug him (let's keep it clean). Every once in a while he would stare at me so that I could take a photo, well, needless to say I never did manage to get one whenever he did that because I couldn't do anything but look back. He was so cute. I bet he knew his affects on me because he seemed to get a kick out of doing it.

He then began to walk towards the Bentley which was a few feet away. As he was getting into the car (hopping in so as not to put weight on his hurt foot) I told him (I think, or was it Laurie) that I loved his new album. It was light-up time again, his whole face was a warm grin. "Do you really like it then?" "Of course," I said. "Do you have the album?" He again seemed interested -- ah, such a gentleman! Laurie then said, "I love 'Blow Away', come on George, knock those Bee Gees off the charts!" (as she thinks of it now, she can't believe she said that -- I can't either!) After hearing that he just about cracked up and made a gesture like, oh well, we try. He was getting ready to go (he had a driver, a nice guy who was enjoying the whole thing nicely) so I asked how Dhani was. This question brought about the biggest smile yet (after George nirvana) and the reply, "Oh, he's just fine!" "And Olivia?" "She's fine too." He then said he had to go and said bye. At the second he left, already I couldn't believe what had happened, all I could remember was how beautiful, young, happy and gentle he was. He has absolutely no airs about him at all. He makes you feel more like a friend, asking you questions. I could have not have dreamt of a more totally terrific meeting with George. I thought I'd be very nervous but instead I was calm with a kind of inner glow. Absolutely mind-blowing. My last thought was, God, it was worth the waiting, and how much I do feel for him...Stefania Catone.

#george harrison #olivia harrison #dhani harrison #the beatles #mo ostin #fan encounters #WALH #can't help but admire the hustle of fans before the internet #call the gang #1979

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zilabee · 2 years

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Nilsson/Beatles

[John] was a creative producer, was productive, and got a lot of work done in a short time. He’d wake up in the morning five minutes before you would and he’d be shining your shoes. I’m serious, literally shining your shoes, really manic. [...] The most important thing I learned from him was to follow through, to finish what you start. If you say you’re going to send someone a postcard, send a postcard. He always followed through.

-- an interview with Harry from about a week after John's death

"I wasn’t a very close friend – no one was a very close friend to John other than the Beatles."

-- a little audio clip from 1984

There's no way to hide if you're Ringo. John could walk around invisibly. I walked down the street with him many times and if he wanted to be invisible you just wouldn't spot him.

- - Harry, interviewed 1982

“George was talking about how wonderful the whole thing was going to be, trying to convince Harry to join the company,” Mr McLean recalled. “It was all great until Harry said, ‘The only thing is, I don’t think I could be managed by a gay man.” (Mr. Epstein’s sexuality was known by many in the industry at the time.)

Incensed, Mr Harrison gave his assistant a nod. “In a heartbeat, Harry was out of the house.”

-- the gay architects of classic rock, (courtesy of @harrisonstories)

“...we are all sad and sullen and standing around the grave and George goes, ‘Fuck You.’ And we are all shocked, and we thought he was having some kind of angst. And then he says, ‘That was always my favourite song: ‘You’re Breaking My Heart, Tearing it Apart, Well Fuck you,’ so then we all joined in and sang it.”

-- Mark Hudson, talking about Harry's funeral

"I am sending you this note to encourage you to be strong and positive. I was very privileged to know your Dad whom I knew as a lovely guy and a great talent. [...] Sending the very best vibrations to you, love Paul."

-- a letter Paul wrote to Harry's son, encouraging him not to die of cancer

To my mind, he’s an almost equal mix of Paul’s talents and John’s damage. […] Nilsson is Paul without the drive to achieve, to show off, to show up. He’s Paul without the bossiness, a Paul more interested in being John’s buddy than his equal…

-- article on Hey Dullblog

I do have one thing with, uh, Harry and Paul, and that was from a hotel in Paris where it was Paul and Linda, and Harry and my mom, Diane. The four of them were in a hotel room in Paris, and my mom had a reel to reel tape recorder, and she was just recording everything that they were doing, and Paul started playing Blackbird on an acoustic guitar - before the White Album came out, no-one had ever heard it before. And Paul just started playing it, and singing it, and then Harry started singing along, so there's a recording of Harry harmonising with Paul on Blackbird. Uh, before the white album even came out, which I thought was pretty amazing.

-- Harry's son, Zak, talking on a podcast

“Ringo was the beat behind the beatles, and they're called the beatles, and he was the beat. [...] When he plays you hear him, he's there, he makes things that drummers will be copying for a hundred years. I mean he is that good.I hate it when guys say you know, "is he really a good drummer?" Are you crazy!? Are you nuts? The guy's amazing and he plays drums better than anybody.”

- - Harry, interviewed 1982

“Well first of all he said he was a better drummer than Ringo, which is impossible.”

- - Harry, interviewed 1982, talking about Pete Best

[Late in his life Nilsson's accountant cheated him out of most of his money.] Ringo Starr bought a modest house for the family to live in. [...] Meanwhile, Yoko Ono sent a sizeable check to provide what she called "seed money" for his next project, with a very sympathetic letter, saying: "I know you are an exceptionally clever man, and pretty soon you'll hit the gold mine again, be your cocky self, and become obnoxious to all us mortals! Get Going!"

Nilsson: The Life of a Singer-Songwriter, by Alyn Shipton

#this is my last harry quotes post #I don't have versions #for Paul or George #weirdly enough Harry was closest with the two beatles who were abandoned by their fathers and drinking to compensate #harry nilsson #george harrison #john lennon #paul mccartney #ringo starr #yoko ono #the beatles

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whatdoesshedotothem · 1 year

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Tuesday 10 November 1835

7 ¼

11 ½

no kiss ready in 50 minutes damp morning F48° at 8 5 and sat over it talking to A- till 9 - came upstairs for ¼ hour and at accounts - then left A- to go to Cliff hill and I went out into the farmyard and about in the fields till 11 50 when George told me A- would stay at Cliff hill tonight and John said he had brought 2 letters from her from H-x (1 from Huddersfield Miss Atkinsons and 1 from Mr Barber Leeds) - opened the latter - wrote A- a kind note a ½ sheet full containing copy of what I advised her writing and sending back by George to post to Mr Barber in brief answer to his rigmarole of 3 pages and ends - thank him for his letter would have made no objection to paying his expense had he come - but glad he did not come - glad he was saved the useless trouble of the journey ‘as I am satisfied you are not at all the sort of person I am in want of for my intended school - I had no expectation that anyone of your superior education and attainments would have answered my advertisement; and I can only hope that you will soon meet with a situation much more likely to suit you than a village school like mine - I am sir, your obedient servant’ - went out again at 12 40 - saw the men at work again at 1 ½ and came in - a little light shower sent me in - fair in less than ½ hour - dressed at my desk at 2 - I think more and more A- and I will never go on together forever I felt this strongly on Sunday at church even last night just before getting into bed she was in one of her out of sorts humours I knew not what for unless that I asked for the plan I got done of the old church some time ago she has a queer temper and as she gradually begins to have a will of her own her queerness her requiring much attention her emptiness as a companion strike me more and more her leaving me shall be her own doing but I hope I shall be ready when the time shall come and not fret myself to death about it till 2 ¼ wrote the above of today - from 2 ¼ to 4 ½ wrote 2 ½ sheets full nice enough kind chitchat letter to Lady Stuart - had Charles H- up - no deals good enough at Hainsworth’s - Charles told the foreman they loose not worth 6 ¾ per ft.- saw Hainsworth himself who that was mistake - were 6 ¼ per ft.- told Charles I would not have bad wood - to see if Greenwood had any good deals - if not, to take Mark Hepworth and his wood waggon and go to Harrison at Leeds on Thursday - then went down to Mr Husband for a minute or 2 - he brought me the bill for Adney bridge labour £39+ - including these interruptions from 4 ½ to 6 ¾ wrote and sent 3 pages of ½ sheet and under the seal to Lady Stuart de R- and enclosed my letter to her ‘The Lady Lady Stuart de Rothesay’ and my letter to ‘the honourable Lady Stuart’ under cover to the ‘Lord Stuart de Rothesay Highcliffe Christchurch Hants’ - and sent also A-‘s letter to Mr Barber 7 Alfred Place Leeds - dinner at 6 50 - coffee - went to my father and Marian about 8 and staid reading the paper (latterly alone) till 9 - letter tonight from Mr Johnson ‘107 Regent street London’ dated yesterday the 2 first containing a copy of a letter to Mr Johnson from a Mr Davey who Mr Johnson thinks very likely to suit us for the Lightcliffe school - the account Mr Davey gives of himself what is said of him by Mr Johnson is very promising - he about 38 or 40 married but has no children except an adopted niece of his wife’s - seems a very clever sort of man - I am taken with the description - How A- may feel upon it is another matter - seems to be assez fort is mathematics and all we want - was instructed in the Central National school about 13 years ago - Began my letter to Lady Stuart with ‘A letter from Vere a few days ago inquires if I am yet alive - I think I should scarcely know that I am, were I not roused by the incidental remark ‘aunt Stuart never mentions you so I suppose you are equally communicative to her’ - I see that I seem to forget even those whom I most constantly and affectionately remember - this is too much - I meant merely to wait till you would be about arriving at Highcliffe - Perhaps you have already been there a fortnight or 3 weeks - the happiness of all around you, the fine sea-breezes, the place you like best next to your own pretty Lodge, must surely have done you good, and this satisfies me - for I am not so unreasonable as to fancy you have had many thoughts to spare for me - But do not quite forget me - the very shadow of a fear of being absolutely forgotten would only add to the melancholy of my tied down here’ - should be delighted to join the Xmas party at Bradfield house but I cannot leave home -.....’I sometimes half regret (tho’ I have never owned ½ so much to anyone before) that I have entered into so many and serious concerns - yet, if all was to come over again, perhaps I should not better know how to keep aloof - I am, in point of property, so close upon the heels of my busiest neighbours, there is always something they want me to do, or undo - I long to be en voyage again..... you do not know how much I regit [regret] that I have seen so little of you during this my 2 years stay in England’ - the schoolmaster-seeking failed in London but hope all will now be settled by Xmas - ‘not so easy as I fancied it, to find good solid information combined with good conduct and good sound [?] as to church and state - political! the mind of the people is sadly warped - it is more and more evident and I know not what to make of it - the registration has not gained us much if anything - I cannot understand the injudiciousness of those of Mr James Wortley’s friends who declined his offer to pay the whole or part (I cannot possibly learn which) of the expense of his last election - those very friends were probably neither the wealthiest of his supporters, not those how would again come forward in the same way with the most real cheerfulness - the people call out for a man of money - the town is said to say it cannot support such expense again - whether H-x is to be a corporation town or not, seems to hang upon the calculation of expenses - I suppose parliament is to be petitioned next session for the din of steam carriages to pass within 3 or 4 miles of us - whenever I dare think of travelling, it is, to try the railroad at Leipzig, and be steamed down the Danube - but I have not forgotten Copenhagen and the north’ .... ‘Do not quite forget me and believe me, dearest Lady Stuart very affectionately yours AL’ to Lady S- de R- ‘my dearest Lady Stuart it was very good indeed of you to write to me so soon and from dear Charlotte I really did not expect one syllable - she had excuse quite enough - I rejoice with all my heart at all your happiness - Poor dear Louisa! I daresay she behaves beautifully - but surely her reward is at hand - I regret (tho’ I am ashamed of being so selfish) that Mr Canning gave her a watch - I conclude Lady Stuart is with you, and, I hope very much the better for all the

SH:7/ML/E/18/0128

happiness around her, and for the fine sea-breezes of Highcliffe - Time slips away from me most extraordinary, tho’ it is not exactly an absolute freedom from anxiety that makes my days and hours seem so short - I had no idea of its being so long since I had heard from and written to anybody till a letter from Vere, the other day, roused me up, and put me in sad fear, that, seeming to forget, I should really be forgotten - may this evil, at least, be far from me! - I am very busy, far too busy - I see my building and other concerns gradually enlarge themselves beyond my 1st intentions - but I have still time for thought of other things - Surely the cholera will not always rage in Italy - and, if some of or Pyrenees party may meet again en voyage, may it be in Italy!’ anxious about Lady S- to know how she bears so much journeying - ‘but I know from experience, that the real is often much greater than the apparent amount of bodily strength - a love of change of place sometimes clings to us to the last - my aunt told me the other night, she could very well bear to return to Paris! yet her state of dropsical feebleness and suffering seems extreme..... my love to Charlotte and Louisa - you know I have always been one of Lord Stuart’s admires, that hommages from him are particularly valued, and I hope you will tell him so with my best regards - Believe me always my dear Lady Stuart, very truly yours A Lister’ - 20 minutes with my aunt till 10 0 - just before and afterwards till 10 40 wrote the last 15 lines of the last page but one, the whole of the last page and so far of this - damp but tolerably good working morning till 12 then a little light rain - rain between 1 and 2 for ½ hour and heavy show at 3 - afterwards damp but tolerably good working afternoon - F50° now at 10 ¾ pm in my study - (fire in the stove)

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podcastdrita · 2 years

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Ringo starr today

Q: Oh, good! No weird side effects or anything? Starr: I've got both jabs and I'm feeling groovy. That (concert) is seven or eight minutes long in the original (film) – it's now 43 minutes. It's beautiful and it's joyful and we play live on the roof. So I love Peter and I love what he's doing. And every time he came to LA, he'd come over with his iPad and say, "Look at this." And I'd say, "Yes! There's laughter and there's joy," and (footage) of the band being the band: digging each other, fooling around. And we found 56 hours of unused film, so we gave (Jackson) that. I remember lots of humor, lots of laughter. We had lots of those moments, but we had a lot of loving, too, and that was never shown. It was based on a couple of seconds of what two guys (McCartney and George Harrison) went through. Starr: Yeah, I'm always moaning that the Michael Lindsay-Hogg (documentary) was miserable and it was. 27) is a recut of the 1970 film "Let It Be" about the making of the band's final album. Q: Peter Jackson's new documentary "The Beatles: Get Back" (in theaters Aug. 'Let It Be' at 50: Why the Beatles' last album is a 'mess,' but still spawned a masterpiece But I never know where they're coming from. I can't sit there like, "I'm going to write now." I write a lot of lines down that I feel could be good songs later. Rex frontman) Marc Bolan came over for dinner one night and that's how he talked: "Hey, back off! Ah, boogaloo!" Then I go to bed at night and I can hear (the chorus), "Back off boogaloo." I ran downstairs trying to put it on tape but none of my machines worked, so I was stealing batteries from my children's toys. It came out of the blue like "Back Off Boogaloo." (T. I thought I was writing a big blues number. Q: "Don't Pass Me By" is a personal favorite of mine. It was great because they were all joining in. Starr: Well, "With A Little Help from My Friends," that gave me a whole career, really. Q: Do you have a favorite Beatles song you sang lead on? I was a rock star and they made me a balladeer! (Laughs.) Then they started writing for me and ruined my whole career. They're records I love, so we did my versions. Starr: No, they'd always say, "We've got a song for you." When they couldn't be bothered writing for me, I started by doing Carl Perkins ( "Honey Don't," which the Beatles covered in 1964) or "Boys" (by The Shirelles, recorded by the Beatles in 1963). Did you ask Paul McCartney to write you a song or how did you wind up singing "Yellow Submarine?" Q: The Beatles' "Revolver" album turns 55 later this year. I mix it myself with salad and fruits and put it all in the spinner. Every morning it's berries, no matter what else is on the plate. It's always with berries. I have a protein drink (during) the day and a protein bar. The two B's, baby! I don't know if it's good for everybody, but I set my palate on what I want. Starr: Yeah, I'm telling you: blueberries and broccoli. Is it really just the broccoli, blueberries and vegetarian diet that keep you so young? I had two tours I had to let go of, and I've already canceled the May/June one this year because I don't think it'll be safe. six times? You've got to help protect yourself if you can, but I was really pissed off. I have a beautiful box here (on Zoom), but I've been in it a lot. So there's "zooming in" in that way, and I think we are all zooming in a little emotionally. When you see the (cover of) the EP, it's a big camera lens behind me. Question: Your EP is titled "Zoom In," which is a very apt title for right now. Review: Paul McCartney's experimental 'McCartney III' is a welcome return The jovial Starr, 80, who just released the new book "Ringo Rocks: 30 Years of the All Starrs," recently caught up with USA TODAY for a wide-ranging chat over – what else? – Zoom: Starr recorded the five-track effort over Zoom with famous pals including Paul McCartney and Dave Grohl, who feature on the wistful "Here's to the Nights." He also invited some musicians into his Los Angeles home studio, which "was a lifesaver for me, to be able to hang out with another musician with a mask on, at least 10 feet or 6 feet away." "There's not a lot of hugging and I'm a big hugger, but you've got to stop all that lately," says the legendary Beatles drummer, whose new solo EP, "Zoom In," is out Friday. If there's one thing Ringo Starr misses most about pre-pandemic life, it's probably the hugs.

#Ringo starr today

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hareharrison · 3 years

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hold me

pairing: george harrison x reader

summary: george is in the process of finishing abbey road, and has been repeatedly coming home frustrated. instead of talking to you about it, he distances himself completely, and only speaks to you in annoyance or anger, and lashes out on you. he doesn’t know how much it affects you and one day comes home to the effects firsthand.

warnings: hurt/comfort, angst, angy geo, neurodivergent reader, invasive thoughts, mental breakdown/panic attack, but it works out in the end

a/n: hayyyy ok so i wrote this as a comfort fic for myself, and i decided to post it cause why not. i struggle with intense fear of abandonment cause of bpd haha fun 😐and wanted to make it from the POV of a neurodivergent reader?? so this is like a comfort fic for ND readers?? idk if i need to put any other potential trigger warnings for this but if i do please lmk and i will fix it

year: 1969

the flat was quiet without him. to be honest, it was quiet with or without him, lately. as much as you didn’t want to admit it, george had been distant. he was always a quiet person, but he has never dismissed you this much. you knew that his job could be tiring and you tried not to overthink it, but you couldn’t help but feel bad. a voice in your head was planting horrible ideas, saying things like, “you fucked up, he doesn’t like you anymore, you’re annoying.” but still, you pushed on and tried your best to ignore the noise in your brain.

you sigh heavily and slide back into the couch. you had the next two days off of work, and nothing to do. george of course had to work on your days off, which left you alone at home. with your thoughts. it was hard getting through today, your intrusive thoughts were particularly loud... but he would be home any minute now, which brought on a bit of hope; seeing him should rid you of your own jailhoused mind.

the tv played some sitcom in front of you, which you had no interest in. all you could think about was if you ruined things. what if he was thinking of leaving you? it would be your fault... and yet you couldn’t think of a single thing you’ve ever done that might have hurt him.

the door opened gently and let in a cool draft that brushed against your warm skin. you look toward the entrance, seeing your george sigh heavily with exhaustion as he took his shoes and coat off. he looked up to you, his boldly furrowed brows softening.

“hi, love,” he says, walking toward you. you stand and approach him to greet him with a quick kiss. he holds you for a little longer than usual, and you take the opportunity to melt into his arms and breathe in his smell, something you’d been deprived of recently. he rests his chin on top of your head, which laid comfortably on his rising chest. it was moments like this that made all your worries slip away, moments like this that you wished you could cling onto forever and ever.

“how was your day?” you ask, finally leaning back to look up at him. he lets go of you and runs a hand through his long hair.

“not good,” he says, a frown on his perfectly sculpted face. you return his expression at the sight of him being sad. quickly, you remember your dinner ideas. maybe that would cheer him up.

“hey, maybe we can go get something to eat? maybe get your mind off of things?” you suggest, looking up at his brown eyes. he looks down at you, eyes full of regret.

“i’m sorry love, but i’d rather just head to bed already,” he says remorsefully. you smile softly and reassure him that it’s okay and he should get some rest. but part of you breaks inside, knowing he doesn’t want to spend time with you.

he headed upstairs and you followed, the painful ideas returning at full speed.

“you’re so annoying, of course he doesn’t want to spend any time with you. you’re so annoying and clingy,” your brain says and you flinch at the harsh thoughts. through your entire bedtime routine, thoughts flooded your mind and filled your entire being up, and you felt like you were being drowned from the inside out. george stood next to you as you both brushed your teeth, not speaking a single word to you or giving you a single glance. you changed into one of george’s t-shirts and watched as he slid out of his clothes and into his pajamas in seconds. he muttered a monotone, “good night,” before turning on his side, his back facting you.

as much as you didn’t want to, you believed the mean voices and hung your head as you got into bed next to george.

you slept back to back that night.

————————————————————

the sun seeped into your room through your windows, and invaded your bed, waking you rather unpleasantly. you groan lightly as you reached over your bed for george, but only found empty space. his side of the bed was cold, indicating that he’d been up for a while now.

you sit up slowly, rubbing your eyes as the aromas of freshly brewed coffee and morning dew hit your senses. you hear the song of the early birds chirping as your feet hit the cool floor. as you head downstairs, you can hear george on the phone, and you soon see him muttering softly before taking a long drag from his cigarette. you don’t bother him, seeing that there was paperwork on the table and his call must be business related. naturally, you decide to head for the coffee, the smell luring you in like a fish.

you poured the hot, dark liquid into your favorite mug and add in your preferred amounts of cream and sugar. looking out the window, you see water drip gently from the leaves of a tree that george and you had planted a year ago. you sip your coffee and reminisce about the times you used to actually spend time with george. how nice it was, seeing him smile so often.

you suddenly hear george raise his voice at the phone, something unlike him entirely. you jump at the unpleasant sound before peeking through the hallway to see what on earth was happening.

“no, i don’t care! i want the bloody bastard fired, in fact, tell him not to bother showing up today,” he shouts into the phone before slamming it down, placing his head between his knees and groaning in frustration. seeing george this upset and acting out on it was truly a rare sighting, and you thought carefully about what to next.

after careful consideration, you tiptoe into the room and gently rest a hand on his shoulder, the sudden contact making him flinch.

“christ, (y/n) are you trying to give me a bloody heart attack?” he grumbles before lighting another cigarette.

“sorry,” you say softly, “would you like some tea?” you figure it could calm his anger and soothe some of his abnormal irritability.

“what? tea? there’s already coffee made,” he says rudely. you take a step back, saying nothing. you know that you didn’t do anything and that this behavior would pass. george was never like this. your eyes find the time and see that george should have left ten minutes ago.

“george, you’re gonna be late to work,” you say, thinking you could at least do something helpful. his head snaps back at you and his once soft face turned hard with anger.

“what are you implying? you want me gone?” he stands up and angrily grabs all of the papers scattered on the table, shoving them into a folder and the folder into his bag, “fine, i’ll leave. im out the door.”

you look at him in confusion, you’d barely woken up and were just trying to help, “what’s the matter with you?”

“what’s the matter with me,” he repeats, looking away and scoffing. he runs his hand through his hair in frustration, “im sick of this, (y/n)! im sick of life. i come home exhausted and you have half a mind to ask me if i want to talk about it!”

“you always want to go straight to bed,” you defend yourself, hurt that he would even suggest that you don’t care about him. his dark eyes glare into your own for a moment that feels like hours, trying to think of somethig clever to say in response, but he just wasn’t ever much of a fighter. he finally chooses to put his cigarette out on the table’s ashtray and grab his coat. if you wanted him out of the house, he was more than happy to comply.

“george-“ you start.

“no,” he cuts you off, “don’t say anything right now, i can’t even look at you.” and he doesn’t, he ignores your presence entirely as he picks up his bag and walks out the door.

you’re left in the cold house, alone, hurt, and dumbfounded. you couldn’t believe what had just happened. you couldn’t believe that george, your george, had taken his anger out on you, simply for trying to help his morning be less shitty. worse than that, he thought you wanted him gone, when all you wanted was to be with him. is this how it was going to be now? a bitter, loveless relationship? your eyes sting with fresh tears at the thought, and a huge lump in your throat grows painfully. you take a deep breath before heading upstairs. you wanted anything but to cry this early in the morning, and the only reason you got up somewhat early was to see george before he left to work. now that your morning was ruined, you figured heading back to bed was the next best thing.

you climb back into your shared bed, suppressing your emotions with the warmth of your fluffy blankets and soft pillows. the comfort of a bed felt almost like a hug, and you sighed, letting the pain drift away as you fell asleep.

————————————————————

when you opened your eyes, the realization hit you. you’d slept until the sun began to set, completely ignoring your emotions, stuffing them down inside of you like an overflowing trash can. being awake made them fling right back at you; sleeping didn’t change a thing, and was only a temporary pause in your pain.

all of your feelings came back to you at once, and it once again felt like you were drowning internally. only this time, the thoughts weren’t the invasive factor. your emotions were overwhelmingly intense on top of your brain practically screaming horrible things to you. your breathing quickens as you feel tears slide down your face. this time you werent able to swallow the thick lump in your throat, and you began to weep softly.

this was it, george was leaving you. he hates you, he wants nothing to do with you. there was nothing you could do but hug your knees and cry. you choked on a sob and started rocking back and forth in attempts to try to soothe yourself. but you couldn’t stop, it felt like your entire world was falling apart. you soon began to have shortness of breath and struggled with your breathing, feeling your heart beat at an intense rate that you couldn’t control.

your bedroom door opens, revealing george’s early arrival. he immediately rushes to your side, afraid to touch you but wanting so bad to comfort you.

“(y/n)? (y/n), breathe. breathe, baby,” he takes your hand and you look at him. you aren’t sure if him being here is making the situation better or worse. seeing him try to help you stirred all kinds of feelings in your mind. you felt like you weren’t good enough for him, like you didn’t deserve his help.

george begins breathing in through his nose and out of his mouth, gently guiding you and hoping you will try to do the same. he sits in front of you on the bed and holds your face in his gentle hands. you look up into his eyes, the chocolate features of his face soothing you as your breath began to steady.

“that’s it,” he encourages.

“do you hate me?” you cry softly.

“what? no, (y/n), i’d give my life for yours, do you know that? you’re so, very special to me,” he slides over to sit beside you on the bed and wraps his long arms around you.

“why are you so distant?” you look up at him, and tears continue to roll down your flushed cheeks, “you acted so mean to me this morning, i feel like you want nothing to do with me.”

george is hurt by your words. he truly didn’t mean to be distant, and he never wanted to hurt you.

“i’m sorry,” he says, “ive been so overwhelmed i haven’t stopped to think of how you must feel. im really sorry my love i never meant to hurt you like this.” he embraces you tightly and you give into his comforting touch, wrapping your arms around his torso and digging your face into his chest.

you take a deep breath, “i understand,” you say before looking up to him to whisper, “i miss you. i miss us.”

“i miss you too darling,” he pauses for a moment, “how about i take tomorrow off? we can do whatever you’d like.”

you sniffle, “what about the album? the deadline?”

“i can fake sick. nothing is more important to me than you,” he says, “i want nothing more than to be with you. i love you so much.”

you smile when he presses a soft kiss to your aching head, “now how about we go have something to eat? i’m starved.”

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all-you-need-is-paul-mccartney · 3 years

Text

The Couple Next Door IX (Roger Taylor x Female!Reader)

Find Part Eight Here

A/N: Surprise! I’m briefly back from a year-long Hiatus and I have one chapter for TCND, one for ATU AND a George Harrison one-shot I’m just gonna drop and then probably disappear again for another few months. I’m also finding it even more difficult to write for Roger seeing as I’ve kinda been listening to nothing but The Beatles for the last fifteen months and I really only hear Queen at work, so that’s gotta change. But I am very sorry about the LONG wait. I really do appreciate you guys, and I think you’ve all waited quite long enough to find out what happens next...

Summary: Roger and Y/N spend the morning taking care of Bobby; they talk a little more about the future and come to the conclusion they both want the same thing.

(Let your imagination run free, bc this can be either Canon or Borhap!Roger)

WARNINGS: Swearing is probably a given at this point, self-doubt, mentions/ suggestions of sex (advise you to avoid if you’re under 18), and I usually revise when I’m stoned so there’s probably some typos in here too, sorry.

Rated T for Teen-- (I feel like a video game rating smh)

Bobby was crying again.

Granted, it was about seven in the morning, and he did sleep for the rest of the night.

Roger was the last of the both of you to wake up; not because of the crying-- he didn't even hear the crying-- but he was wrapped up in the blankets with you, and you were trying to remove yourself from his grasp.

"Don't leave," Roger grumbled as he pulled you tightly against his chest, eyes remaining closed as you whispered back to him.

"But I have to go. Baby's cryin'."

Roger loosened his grip on you, much to his dismay, and you slipped from his embrace, leaving him cold, and alone.

"Come back, Baby..." He really hoped his gravelly plea would entice you to return from the nursery after tending to Bobby, and although you were probably against having sex in your friends' bed, he figured there was no harm in testing the waters.

"That's not how that works when you have a baby, Rog. The day starts now."

Roger groaned in protest, but as he rubbed his eyes with the palms of his hands, he revealed to himself that you were no longer in the room, and the baby's cries settled when he heard your voice float down the hall from the nursery room.

Roger, as much as he didn't want to, tossed the comforter off of his body, and after rising to his feet and combing his fingers through his hair, he shuffled out of the bedroom and made a beeline to the stairs.

He was glad he was familiar with John's kitchen; because he was certain you had no idea where anything was, meaning he would be the one preparing breakfast that morning, and the one following it, most likely.

Fuck it, he would (try to) cook you up seven different meals a day if you asked him.

Anything for you.

He put the kettle on, and moved to the pantry in search for John's teabags, yawning lightly as he pulled the door open.

Nothing in the pantry really stuck out to him as being a good breakfast that morning, so Roger ended up migrating to the fridge after retrieving the tea, where his eyes fell on the carton of eggs on the bottom shelf.

He settled on making French Toast for breakfast seeing as he, according to you, made the best French Toast in England.

So he got to work whipping up some eggs and pulling four slices of bread from the bread box on the counter-- but not before he got one of Bobby's bottles out for you, warmed it, and placed it on the kitchen table.

Roger was frying the French Toast in no time, and he hummed gently as he busied himself with focusing on the now whistling kettle, and when the right time to flip the toast would be.

"... I thought you were still in bed," your words were sudden, and it made Roger jump a little. But when he realized it was only you, Bobby in your arms, his mouth contorted into a dopey smile.

"Nah," Roger turned the pan's burner down a little, and after he flipped the French Toast, he set his spatula on the counter, turning to face you.

"I was gonna let you sleep in, since you were so reluctant on waking up," you explained with a yawn. "But here you are awake, and making breakfast before me."

"Well it wouldn't be fair then, would it? Me sleeping in while you've all this work to do?"

"I don't know, would it?"

"I really don't think so, Dove."

He felt pride swell in his chest when pink dusted your cheeks at the sound of your new nickname, and he took this chance to swoon you further by pulling you in gently by the elbows, and he enveloped both you and Bobby in his embrace.

"Beautiful..." Roger's voice was barely a whisper as he touched his lips to your jawline, and you responded with a soft exhale.

"Even when you've just woken up," Roger mumbled against the skin of your neck, lips curling into a smile, "you are the prettiest goddamned thing I've ever laid eyes on."

"Mmm, down, boy," you purred back jokingly, taking a small step back. "Baby still needs to eat."

"Well yours is coming right up," he teased, "and Bobby's is already at the table." Roger pointed to the bottle on the other side of the room before tapping your rear. "Take a seat, and I'll bring your food over."

You didn't have to be told twice. You took a seat at the table, and although Bobby was growing a little agitated, it was short lived when you put the bottle of milk in his possession.

Roger, not five minutes after you sat down, joined you at the table with your French Toast and your mug of tea, made just the way you liked it, of course.

"'S the right tea, yeah?"

You took a quick look at the label hanging from the mug.

"Yep." Your eyes squinted after letting the label fall where the string tied to it would let it. "Y'know, you've been making my tea right for months, you don't have to check to make sure you're right."

"You know I'm always gonna make sure it's to your liking."

"And I love you for it."

"Hopefully for other things too. I'm not just good at being your barista."

"Oh, don't you worry. I'm not overlooking your other good traits," you smiled as you brought your mug to your lips and having the first sip of tea of the day.

As Roger sat down next to you with his own plate of food and mug of tea, he decided to wait on Bobby to finish so he could eat with you.

So, naturally, he took the time to evaluate again what kind of situation he was in.

There was nothing like watching you care for Bobby. Roger had known you for years, and not once in his life did he ever think he would be sitting next to you at breakfast while feeding a baby, whether or not the child was his own, or yours.

The whole scene looked too good to be true, though like the previous night, Roger just drank in the sight of you putting all your love and care into a child at breakfast with him.

How did you think you weren't cut out for being a mother?

This was in your nature.

The domesticity of the situation made Roger a little emotional. This was the closest he'd ever gotten to experiencing a breakfast with a family he'd built, and he spent every passing second filling his mind and heart with the beautiful sight before him.

"Y/n, you would make a wonderful mother." Roger's words left his mouth faster than his brain could register what he'd said.

You looked to Roger from Bobby, cheeks and tips of your ears darkening, and Roger was talking again before he could realize it and catch himself.

"Any man would be so damn lucky to have you. I honestly can't believe you stick around me still."

Your face was feeling real hot, now. Roger's head was still lagging behind his words, and clearly, he wasn't done talking.

"You could be out building a beautiful family right now, but instead you're babysitting with your best friend who you also occasionally sleep with. I just... I don't understand."

It took you a second to respond, but Roger didn't blame you. Honestly, he didn't even know what he would have said if he were asked the same question.

"... Well, I love you, Roger."

Your words were simple, and Roger knew your statement was nothing but platonic, but that didn't stop his heart from pounding against his ribcage.

You'd said those exact three words to him minutes earlier, but the context of the conversations contrasted their meanings.

"But we promised each other at the beginning of all of this that we'd be fine giving up pursuing family life if that means living with one another..."

"... You sound unsure, now."

The atmosphere felt heavy, and it was almost as if Bobby had known making noise wasn't in his best interest. He decided to finish eating at the right time.

"... It's not that I'm unsure. It's just..."

Roger waited patiently for you to answer, but you had noticed Bobby finished his milk, and you took the bottle from him.

You burped him, and placed a pacifier you pulled from your pocket in Bobby's mouth. You must have gotten it from upstairs before you came down.

"Let me," Roger offered his arms out for the baby, and you let him take Bobby. You'd stood up and moved to the sink to wash the bottle.

Meanwhile, Roger, who'd also gotten to his feet, was slowly walking around the kitchen. He was praising Bobby for finishing all his breakfast, insisting he was so proud of him, his smile wide and gaze adoring as he evaluated the child in his arms.

"It's just that. There. The way you're behaving with him," you turn to face Roger, finger pointed at him. "The way you're treating him as your own."

Roger's mouth opened and closed a few times, but after shutting his jaw for the third time, he decided the best thing to do in this situation would be to keep quiet.

"You'd make the most wonderful father, Roger. The way you behave with Bobby, god, the way you behaved with Raymond the other day," you sounded frustrated, and all Roger could do was watch you pace the kitchen, his sheepish face now a deep red.

"It's just that I would want the father of my kids to be just like you. I wouldn't settle for anything less."

Roger opened his mouth again to speak. He felt like his chest was on fire. Your thoughts were becoming painstakingly parallel to his, Roger had noticed. He couldn't get any words out before you started speaking again.

"Like you said last night, this job is giving us a chance to experience what it'd be like to have a family... and maybe I'm upset I did throw the chance to have all of that away."

You looked like you were on the verge of tears, and all Roger could do was watch you and listen to what you had to say.

"Roger, I hope you know you will always have a special place in my heart. You're my family, you have been for the last five years of my life, and there's no doubt about it. But being able to have a child..."

Your hands ghosted over the robe's fabric covering your definitely unpregnant belly. "... I think I want to have children."

"... Y/n I hope you know I feel exactly the same way."

And then everything was clear.

Roger understood where his band was coming from.

Getting married to you would solve all your problems.

He knew what the both of you were thinking in this new moment of silence, but there was absolutely no way Roger was going to fall to one knee and propose to you right now when he wasn't even romantically involved with you.

And he just felt it would be very inappropriate if he took this moment to spontaneously ask you on a romantic date with the intentions of courting you.

"Listen, Y/n," Roger finally built up enough courage to break the silence. Bobby cut him off with a short cry, and Roger immediately started swaying the baby in his arms. Sure enough, Bobby's agitation ceased, and Roger could continue, keeping the movement going.

"Just because we're living together without families now doesn't mean we won't be able to have families, say, five to ten years down the road."

At this point, although it was necessary, Roger didn't really want to mention the discomfort he felt when imagining you falling for someone who wasn't him.

Your eyes were big and sad, lip pouted as you considered Roger's words. "... are you sure?"

The idea of you and him having to move out of the condo Roger risked the both of your love lives for didn't sit well with him.

You'd be gone making sweet love to some lucky asshole who probably didn't deserve to be in your presence, while Roger goes on a bender, gets ahold of some weed and coke, and sleeps with enough girls to distract him from realizing he'd thrown the best thing in his life away-- you.

He didn't want you to think he thought you were selfish. The last thing he needed right now was to feel guilty for making you feel guilty.

So he just nodded. "No house isn't forever anyways." When you didn't respond to his little joke, he sighed.

"Y/n, we're still so young. You don't have to commit yourself to anything like that just yet. Enjoy being able to go out drinking with me every weekend, and sleeping in on our days off. Your chance to start a family will come when the time is right."

You let out a shaky breath. Roger was actually a little surprised with how well you were keeping yourself together.

But his actions put the both of you here, and to see that this conversation nearly reduced you to tears had Roger drowning in guilt, even without the help of mentioning any of his inner conflict to you.

"I just hope you're right." Your voice was broken and your fingers were tangled stressfully in your hair.

"Hey," Roger's voice had gone soft again, his rocking slowing to a halt, and you looked up to find him with an open arm, awaiting your touch.

You slowly unravelled your fingers from your hair, and you gave into the hug not moments later. Roger pulled you to his chest tightly, his free arm occupied by the baby.

"Y'know... I made you French Toast to start the day off good." When you didn't say anything in response, Roger pulled away from you just enough to look you in the face.

He was giving you that same look he did at the Garrison's again; that unreadable gaze he'd achieved with those big blue eyes that seemingly bored holes into your very soul.

His free hand slipped up from your back to your neck, and he leaned in to just touch his lips to the corner of your mouth.

So close, yet so far away.

It wasn't before long that he pulled away from you, but Roger just couldn't keep his eyes off you.

"You come sit down and enjoy your French Toast, Dove. I've got Bobby."

"But--"

"Please?"

Roger knew he'd convinced you as soon as he said that magic word. Though you took a moment to look from the bundle in his arms to the breakfast you really were dying to dig into, you eventually sighed out a gentle "thank you," before taking your seat again at the table.

He came around and kissed the top of your head. "Enjoy, Honey." Roger took a seat next to you, Bobby still in his one arm, and the both of you ate your French Toast in relative silence for the first few seconds.

"... God, you really do make good French Toast, Blondie." Roger was smiling now. At least you were talking again.

"I only improved my cooking skills for you, y'know," he admitted with a mouthful of his food, though he didn't sound ashamed of it.

"And thank God for that. Cooking every other night sure beats cooking every night."

"You can say that again," Roger mumbled before shoving the last of his breakfast into his mouth. You still slowly ate away at your meal, and Roger was making funny faces at Bobby in between taking sips of his tea.

The telephone in the living room started ringing, and you stood up to go get it, but Roger immediately dropped his fork and grabbed your wrist.

"Nuh-uh. I just finished eating. You still have a little bit to go. Take Bobby and I'll get it." You scooped the baby up without another word, smiling when he opened his eyes.

"Can you at least bring back his rattle from his play pen?"

"Can do, Princess," he called over his shoulder as he approached the phone.

"H'lo?"

"Roger?"

"Oh, hey, John!" Roger tucked the phone's handset under his chin, carrying the telephone in his left hand so he could get Bobby's rattle.

"Isn't it a little early to be up?" Roger glanced at the clock, which read that it was quarter after seven.

"Biological clocks. Just wanting to checking in. Is Bobby okay? Has he been any trouble?"

"No, of course not! He's doing fine, John." Roger tucked the rattle in his back pocket when he found it, and returned to the writing desk where the phone was meant to stay.

That was something he loved about you. You always bought him pyjamas with pockets. The concept was cool, and being able to use them was even cooler.

"Y/n's got him in the kitchen right now," he explained, taking the handset again with his now free hand. "We're all just finishing up breakfast, actually."

"Oh good. How is she?" John paused for a second, his voice dropping a little lower. "... How are you guys?"

Roger made sure his voice was a little quiet, as well. "John, this may have been your guys' best idea ever. I don't know why I was against this in the beginning."

"Really?! What's happened already?!" John, everyone would have guessed to be one to avoid certain kinds of gossip, though when it came to Roger's business with you, he liked checking up on that.

"I told her about all that family stuff."

"And?"

"And, well..." Roger set the phone back onto the desk and scratched the back of his neck. "... She may or may not be having the same problem," he mumbled.

"So... so you both want a family?" John tried clarifying.

"Yes."

"Then why are you two not together?!" Roger slipped away around the corner into the main hall with just the receiver so he was a little further away from the kitchen. He didn't want you hearing their conversation, or John through the receiver.

"Well I'm not asking her here!"

"Then where? And when?"

Roger knew John was just getting excited, and his questions honestly had Roger brainstorming every possibility when it came to asking you.

"... I don't know, yet," Roger said after a while of thinking. "But soon. God, it needs to be soon." He didn't quite know why he was pressuring himself to ask you sooner than later.

Maybe it was because he was scared someone much better and more deserving of you (or alternatively, a selfish prick) was going to waltz in and steal you from him just before he had you for sure.

"Do you need any help with that part? I can get Fred and Bri--"

"No no no, it's okay, John." Roger leaned up against the wall of the hallway, fingers tapping the handset absentmindedly with his eyes squeezed shut for a moment.

"You guys have already done enough, really. I... I think I'm good on my own from here."

"Well, I'm glad," John expressed to Roger. "It's not every day you need to help Roger Taylor get with a girl, y'know."

"This is different, and you know it."

"I just like to tease," John defended, and Roger could even hear a smile evident in his words.

"Anyways, Veronica and I will be home tomorrow around noon. Y/n's got our number. You two take care."

"Of course, you too," Roger was making his way back to the writing desk.

"Thanks. Oh, and Roger?" John added quickly.

"Hm?"

"If you two end up doing anything, for God's sake, please wash the sheets."

As John was speaking, you'd walked into the living room with Bobby in your arms. "We're gonna go and have some play time, now! Yes we are!"

Roger was too panicked by your presence to even realize you weren't paying any attention to the phone call, and he hoped to God you didn't hear a single thing John had said. "Yeah-yes! Laundry. Will do."

He nodded his head once, though John couldn't see him, and after saying their good byes, Roger hung up the phone.

He turned to where you were in the living room. You were looking in the play pen for something, and Roger suddenly remembered the rattle in his back pocket.

He pulled it out hurriedly and held it out to you. "Shit! I'm so sorry about that--"

"Don't swear, Roger," you took the rattle, a smile on your lips you both knew you were trying to frown away. "There's a baby here."

"What? He doesn't know what that word means."

"Well, the more you keep saying it, the more of a chance he has at that being his first word, and I do not need the Deacon Family hunting us down for teaching their kid swears." You looked from Roger down to Bobby, shaking the rattle gently and grinning when Bobby squealed happily and reached out for the toy.

You took a seat on the couch, and played around with Bobby while Roger went back to the kitchen to do the dishes.

From 7:30 AM to about 2:30, all that really happened was play-time and lunch, something Roger prepared. You offered to do the dishes, but Roger wouldn't allow it. He just suggested you put Bobby up for his nap. He'd fallen asleep in your arms during play-time, like he did with Roger the night before.

The both of you thought it was crazy Bobby would just fall asleep rather than cry, but honestly, neither of you were complaining. Quiet baby for the win!

Roger just finished putting the last plate on the drying rack on the counter as he listened above for your footsteps leaving Bobby's room. He dried his hands off with the dishtowel hanging over his shoulder after turning off the faucet.

From behind, Roger felt a pair of arms slowly circle his body, and he smiled warmly at the feeling of you pressed against his back.

"He asleep?"

"Mhm."

Roger's smile only widened as you inched your palms up his chest. He turned in your arms and pressed his hands against your hips, inching you closer as he leaned back against the kitchen sink.

"Well, what do we do, now?" Roger asked. He sounded like he was up to no good. With the sultry look in his eyes and the way the smile on his lips looked like he was repressing a naughty suggestion, he knew you knew he already had something on his mind.

"Well, I mean," your hands slipped up into Roger's long hair, fingers tangling themselves between the strands. "Anything, really."

You knew what game Roger was playing, and you loved how cute he was, thinking he was going to have you on your knees for him.

His eyes shamelessly raked over the top half of your body, and he squeezed his hands, still at your hips.

"What'll you be doing with your free time, Roger?" You took one more step closer to him, and he pulled you the rest of the way to him so your groin was flush with his.

"I'm looking right at her."

He was already strained against his jeans, and you just offered a smile, fingers tightening their grip in Roger's hair.

"Mmm... I kinda like the sound of that," you admitted lowly, half of a smile on your lips. You shifted your hips from side to side, and Roger tried to pull you even closer.

You rolled your hips against Roger again, and the cheekiness in his face fell with a look of long-awaited relief, and his head dropped to your shoulder.

One of his hands moved up to grab you by the back of your neck, and when he lifted his head to look at you again, his second hand dragged upwards from your hip to squeeze your waist.

Roger lifted the hand by your neck, and combed your hair back with his fingers. His eyes fell onto yours for a brief moment, and you could have sworn there was something he tried to tell you there.

You just couldn't read him.

But he didn't care. He pulled you in close again, and his lips were on yours.

You'd kissed Roger before. Not in public, but definitely in the bedroom. And they weren't very scarce. Honestly, if Roger's lips weren't somewhere else on your body, they'd be on yours.

But why was this feeling different from all the other times he'd kissed you?

He was being a lot less forceful and needy than he usually was.

His grip wasn't tight on you, and it wasn't like he was crushing you against him as if indicating he needed more of you, now.

He was holding you rather, and the hand at your waist circled around to press against your lower back. The hand on your neck shifted a little forward so Roger could gently slide the pad of his thumb down the column of your throat.

The both of you were holding your breath, and Roger was the first to pull away. The both of you sucked in some air, and before you could even draw in a full breath, Roger's lips were on yours again.

He pushed towards you, guiding you backwards until your back was flat against the refrigerator. His warm hands grabbed for yours and he pinned them above your head by your wrists.

Okay. This, was something you were used to. But there was nothing that could have prepared you for when Roger's hands loosened their grip on your wrists, and he was lacing his fingers between your own.

Your hands felt very small in Roger's. How had he never noticed that before? What else had he neglected to realize about you?

In that moment, he felt you pull away to breathe, and he looked down at you worriedly, fingers frozen, yet still laced with yours.

"I- uh... I-I'm sorry--"

"No no, don't be. It's okay," your response was very rushed, but you didn't skip a word.

There was about a minute of silence, your hot breaths mingling in the space between your lips, though your gazes were locked with one another, and you couldn't look away.

"Did-uh... did you want me to... to stop?" His question was gentle, almost sincere-sounding, but he still made no effort to move from his place.

"No. God, no." And as soon as you'd answered, Roger closed the space between the both of you again, his fingers unwound from yours to grab you by the jaw, and you just held his waist, pushing your body as close to him as he would let you.

He shifted around a little, and moved his leg between yours. You could feel his mouth bend into a smirk against yours, and he began to apply pressure to the apex of your legs with his knee.

Before long, as much as you wanted to resist it, you fell to Roger's submission, and as you waited for him to grab your waist and put you wherever, he hesitated for a second, and dropped his hands from yours.

You opened your eyes again to find Roger, face red, and staring at your chest. Not in an ogling way, but more of a method to avoid looking you in the eye.

He could tell you were looking at him, and he shifted his gaze to you. He itched at his hands awkwardly, mouth opening and closing as he tried to explain himself.

You just waited. You gave him time to think, and he had an answer for you sooner than either of you would have thought.

"I just... I wanna try something else. I don’t want to control you like I do every night."

It wasn't much of an explanation, but a good beginning to a demonstration.

"Will you come to bed with me, Y/n?" His offer was gentle, yet confident, despite offering a hand out hesitantly.

When you dropped your hand into his, all of the tension in Roger's being relaxed, and he quietly led you up the stairs, past the nursery, and into John and Veronica's room.

Before you could say anything he gently explained that he'd do laundry later, and then he pulled you in for another kiss he'd been waiting to give you since the last one.

Roger pulled you closer to him, hands cupping your face as his lips began to desperately chase after yours. You kissed Roger back with just as much vigor, but then he slowed the movements of his mouth, and guided you backwards until the back of your legs hit the edge of the bed.

Roger helped lower you down onto the bed, and he leaned over you, dipping down to kiss your lips again. He knelt between your legs, and pulled them up around his waist so he could lean in even closer.

You felt his hands squeeze your hips, and he pulled at your bottom lip with his teeth. You hummed lowly, your eyelashes kissing your cheeks as Roger pulled away ever so slightly-- just enough to pull his shirt off of him, and close the distance between your bodies again.

You tangled your hands into his hair, and he hummed in approval before pulling back just once more.

"I'm sure that's hardly fair..."

"What?"

"This," Roger tugged gently at the hem of your shirt.

"Why's yours still on?"

"... I never said it had to be."

Roger exhaled, and slowly pulled your shirt up over your head after you raised your arms to help him out a little.

He placed the palm of his hand over the smooth skin of your belly as he stared at your bare torso. And before long, he dipping down to kiss you again.

You reciprocated his actions, wrapping your arms around his neck and tightening your legs around his hips, to which he rocked himself against your core, and then---

Bam!

The headboard hit the wall, and Bobby woke up.

"Nooo..." you squeezed your eyes shut as the baby's cries began to reverberate down the hallway.

"Fuck!" Roger groaned, eyebrows knitted together helplessly as he climbed off of you. You both knew it was Roger who technically woke the baby up, and it was just silently agreed on that he went to put him back down.

"Dammit to hell, those separated headboards."

Roger opened the nursery door, and made his way to the crib in the corner of the room. Bobby's cheeks were wet with tears, and Roger's heart sank. "'M sorry, little guy. C'mere. Come see uncle Roger."

He picked the baby up and rocked him back and forth, though it wasn't exactly doing much, so Roger took a seat in the rocking chair on the opposite side of the room, swaying the both of them with a push of his feet.

Bobby's cries settled, and Roger felt proud of himself. Sure, he wanted to get back to what he was doing before, but instead he took his time in making sure Bobby was comfortable and not in need of anything before he drifted off to sleep again.

Bobby played around with Roger's fingers a few moments after his agitation ceased, and he couldn't believe how large his hands were in comparison to Bobby's. He was once that size.

A little while later Roger set Bobby down in his crib, and the infant was out. The drummer smiled at his accomplishment. He didn't even need your help.

With that, he left the room without a sound.

He stepped into John and Veronica's room, and closed the door quietly behind him. He was in the middle of turning on his heel when he stopped dead in his tracks.

You'd taken some of the pillows off the bed and wedged them between the wall and the headboard to keep the bed from making noise.

You were also splayed out on the bed in a lot less clothing than he remembered you in when he left.

With a teasing beckon from your finger, Roger knew three things were for certain.

1. You were the smartest woman he knew.

2. You were the most gorgeous woman he'd ever laid eyes on.

3. He, the Roger Taylor, had fallen madly, and helplessly in love with you.

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

A/A/N: Again, you’ve all been waiting long enough for the next chapter, so here you are. i hope you all enjoy, and if my response is great with this one, I’ll see if I can spit out another one soon <3

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beatles-slash-fiction · 3 years

Text

George Harrison isn’t quite how Pattie had imagined he would be.

She had always imagined that if she ever got to meet the Beatles, they would be arrogant and loud and boisterous, but the reality couldn’t be further from that. They’re all so sweet snd polite, especially to the girls who are extras on set, and she finds herself pleasantly surprised.

George is the quietest of them all, and Pattie finds he’s the one she’s immediately drawn to. The conversation flows between them easily when he sits next to her at lunch, and it’s been a long time since since she’s got on so well with someone she’s only just met.

When they finish filming for the day, he asks her if she’d like to go out to dinner.

“Oh,” Pattie says, feeling a little embarrassed that she’s misread the situation. “It’s a lovely offer, but...I’m afraid I have a boyfriend.”

George chuckles and turns slightly red. “So do I. Sorry if that came off a little...well. I didn’t mean it like that. It just seems like you and I could be good friends and it would be nice to see you again. I don’t have a lot of friends outside the music business.”

He seems almost sad as he says that last part.

But Pattie smiles at him and agrees that dinner would be lovely.

*****

It’s only three weeks later that Pattie discovers George Harrison’s boyfriend is in fact Ringo Starr.

“Sorry you had to read about it in the newspaper,” George sighs with frustration. “We were trying to keep it quiet for a little while longer.”

He shoots a shy smile at Ringo, who has also joined them for dinner today.

“Now the world and his wife knows,” Ringo chuckles, but he looks happy as he laces his fingers with George’s.

Pattie is happy for them. They seem like a sweet couple, and it’s clear that their romance has blossomed from a strong friendship.

“You’ll have broken the hearts of half the men and women in Britain,” Pattie says softly.

The two of them share a secret smile, and Pattie wonders if she’ll ever have someone she can share a secret smile with.

*****

Pattie sees George as often as she can when he’s not on tour or working long hours in the studio.

He quickly becomes her best friend; they share everything with each other. George consoles Pattie every time a boy breaks her heart, as well as the odd time a girl does too. Pattie has never had a friend who she can be so open with; they talk about sex and their hopes and fears, and Pattie trusts George more than anyone.

She can’t help but feel a little bit sad when George moves to Surrey with Ringo.

She’s happy for them, of course she is. She knows that George has been wanting to leave London for a while; he’s desperate to get out of a flat and into a house with a nice big garden.

But it means that Pattie can’t just nip over to see George in less than ten minutes. Now she’ll have to settle for talking to him on the other end of the phone, and seeing him less frequently.

George does invite her to visit almost as soon as they’ve moved though, and as soon as Pattie sees the house she knows it’s perfect for him.

“You’re welcome any time,” George tells her cheerfully. “We have lots of rooms to spare.”

“Probably not for much longer though,” Pattie chuckles, and George just laughs shyly.

*****

Pattie feels rather honoured that she is the first person to find out that George and Ringo are engaged.

They’re in London for work and so suggest meeting up for dinner one night, and Pattie has barely given them both a hug before George is excitedly flashing a diamond ring at her.

“It’s gorgeous,” she says, trying not to sound jealous as she admires the beautiful ring. “I want to hear the story, of course.”

It sounds like it was a simple proposal; Ringo asked George to marry him before they went to bed one night, but it sounds really sweet and George looks over the moon.

“You’ll come to the wedding?” George says excitedly. “It would mean so much to us.”

Pattie accepts the invitation happily.

It turns out to be a small wedding. In addition to Pattie, George and Ringo invite their families, John, Paul, and Brian. It’s over in twenty minutes, but Pattie thinks it’s terribly romantic.

She wishes them nothing but a happy marriage, but she can’t help but wonder if she’s losing a little more of her best friend.

*****

Pattie finds her own husband and builds her own life, but she still can’t help but feel something is missing.

When George excitedly tells her that he’s expecting a baby, she wants to be nothing but happy for him.

But it only reminds her of her own struggles to get pregnant. That’s something she hasn’t yet shared with George.

When the baby is born Pattie visits George in the hospital and holds the little one in her arms and it just breaks her heart.

At that point she starts to live a little vicariously through George.

Pattie visits George and Ringo as often as she can to dote on the little one, and as the years pass they have more children while she is still left with none.

She tells George about her desire for the children she’ll never have, and he comforts her in just the way she needs. George has always made her feel like a part of the family, and she’ll be eternally grateful for that.

George keeps his word, of course. Pattie has an invitation to every birthday, every Christmas, every Easter. She watches George and Ringo’s children grow and she spoils them like they were her own.

Pattie may not ever have the family she once thought she might have, but she’s a part of something just as special.

*****

The second worst day of Pattie’s life is when George tells her he has cancer.

He sounds so calm when he says it, and Pattie really has to admire his strength. She ends up bawling her eyes out in his arms, and she can’t help but think it should be the other way around.

Pattie does everything she can to support him and Ringo and the children. She’s there to help with anything they need, and her heart breaks a little more each day as George gets weaker.

The worst day of Pattie’s life is when George dies.

Ringo phones her a little after four in the morning, and she’s never heard him sound so broken.

She drives over to the house right that instant, and holds Ringo while he cries and figures out what to say to the children.

She helps Ringo with the funeral arrangements, and flies with him to India to scatter George’s ashes. She’s glad she’s there for that.

She’s thinks of that beautiful boy she met all those years ago on that film set, and even though they never had romantic feelings towards one another, she can’t help but think he was the great love of her life.

#starrison #mpreg

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mrepstein · 3 years

Photo

The Beatles Book Monthly (No. 5, December 1963)

‘A TALE OF FOUR BEATLES’ by Billy Shepherd

PART IV (PART I // PART II // PART III)

Part IV opens in June, 1961 and charts Brian Epstein's early involvement with the Beatles.

And so the Beatles, with two experience-garnering trips to Germany behind them, got back to Liverpool. A swingin’ scene... and they were very much a part of it. It was the end of June, 1961.

But though they liked having more money to spend, they hadn’t the foggiest idea of just how much they were worth. The offers came in. Anything between £6 and £14 was the pay-packet, to be shared between Messrs. Lennon, McCartney, Harrison and drummer Pete Best.

“We just didn’t know,” admits George. “We loved the work, the excitement. We didn’t realise we were often being exploited. But it was hard work and somehow we didn’t seem to have much money in the kitty after we’d kept our equipment up to scratch...”

July, 1961, could go down as a summit meeting in Merseybeat history. A steamy, summery, shimmery night at Litherland Town Hall. A young promoter named Brian Kelly announced his attraction: The Beatmakers.

George Harrison was on lead guitar. Paul McCartney on rhythm. John Lennon on piano. Drummers were Pete Best and Freddie Marsden. Les Maguire operated on saxophone, Les Chadwick on bass guitar - and Gerry Marsden nipped on and off behind a big grin to take the vocals.

Gerry and the Pacemakers and the Beatles had linked up. For one night only and for a fee which is the smallest fraction of what they’d command for such a show now.

It led to friendships between the group members... but it didn’t seem to be leading to that pot of gold at the end of the rainbow for the Beatles.

Says John: “We went on knocking ourselves out night after night but somehow there was a bit of frustration creeping in to it all. It didn’t seem to be leading anywhere.”

But the audiences were greatly appreciative.

Says Paul: “We started accepting dates further south. We got pretty near London on some of them. No change of material for us - still the stuff that went down so well in Germany. But we were veering away from the leather gear. Don’t make this sound big-headed, but the fact is that a lot of other groups were copying the way we looked on stage. So we changed to more ordinary clothes for a while.”

But in September, depression set in. Paul and John took themselves off to Paris for a holiday. They remember being flat broke. Remember having to search through every pocket to rake up enough francs for a Coke. Now, of course, they can go where they please and not count the cost.

And George and Pete stayed on in Liverpool, virtually lost to the Beat scene. Ray McFall, owner of the Cavern Club remembers seeing Messrs. Harrison and Best around the lunch-time sessions but they seemed dispirited. They took a lot of persuading even to join in on the impromptu roar-ups.

Let well-known Liverpool show compere Bob Wooler fill in the background to this black spot in the Beatles’ history.

“I’ve known the boys since the early days. I’ve been a long-time admirer. What they really needed was a manager in those far-off days. They seemed content not to argue about the fees they were offered. And they didn’t seem to realise that they were pulling in crowds on the strength of their own name and performance.

“After all, they had to live. They had to look after their equipment - and they often had travelling expenses to pay. It’s all very well being popular and enjoying your work, but you should be paid what you’re worth as well.

“Ray McFall at the Cavern was different. If the crowd was good, he upped the fee. That’s why the boys have always been so loyal to the Cavern. But you can understand them being puzzled at the lack of hard cash from their other venues where they were so often doubling the attendances.”

Paul and John were meanwhile spending a lot of time on their song-writing. You’ll see how much they’d already achieved in this direction as the story pushes on to the first recording days.

John and Paul could never sit down and simply write a song to order. They admit: “We have to wait for the ideas to arrive. It can happen anywhere. On a bus, or a train, or backstage at a dance-hall or theatre. Sometimes the title suggests itself first. Then we get going on the words and music. Sometimes we’ve finished a very successful seller in less than an hour.”

But their most pressing need was for a manager. Paul has told me “When we first started on paid jobs, we honestly thought we weren’t manageable. We thought nobody would want to bother with us. We were a pretty off-beat bunch of characters, to say the least. And we had a sense of humour which somehow involved us all and which was hardly in the interests of discipline. So, for a long time, we just didn’t take any notice of the advice that we should be properly handled. ‘Who’d WANT US,’ was the way we thought...

“And that’s where we were wrong...”

A MANAGER. Liverpool man Allan Williams took on the chore for a while... he now runs the Blue Angel Club on Merseyside.

But the man who was to make show business history with the Beatles knew nothing about the group in that September of 1961. That man, of course, was Brian Epstein, one-time drama student, member of a family which owned a chain of furniture and radio-TV stores in Liverpool.

He was not exactly WITH the beat scene. But he WAS in touch with the public taste through his work in the record department of the stores. He’d been there for five years, building up the business, enlarging the staff roster and increasing the turnover.

And in September, 1961, he was a puzzled man. Fans kept approaching him with: “Have you any records by the Beatles?” Brian mused. Pondered. Wondered. One young lad was particularly persistent in his demands. Brian dug deep into the record-lists. And found reference to that “My Bonnie” single, recorded in Germany, on which the Beatles played a strictly supporting role to guitar-star Tony Sheridan.

“I became Beatle-conscious for a while,” he says. “I always tried to work on the theory that the customer was right - and if they wanted the Beatles, well... I’d do my best to supply the Beatles. Eventually I traced the source and ordered some 200 copies for the record-stores. They sold quickly...

“Then out of the blue I heard they were Liverpool boys, had a rapidly-growing following - and were actually playing in a club near the store. It was a place that I’m sure I’d visited before, a sort of teenage gathering-place, but I really didn’t know much about it.

“After a while, I thought I’d better pop down there and see what all the fuss was about.”

Brian Epstein went to the Cavern. Met the Beatles. And things really started happening for the ambitious but not-too-sure group.

There are two ways of looking at this near-historic meeting. Brian Epstein’s. And the Beatles’ viewpoint.

Beatles first. Said George: “He started talking to us about the record that had created the demand. We didn’t know much about him but he seemed very interested in us and also a little bit baffled.

“He came back several times and talked to us. It seemed there was something he wanted to say, but he wouldn’t come out with it. He just kind of watched us and studied what we were doing. One day, he took us to the store and introduced us. We thought he looked rather red and embarrassed about it all.

“Eventually, he started talking about becoming our manager. Well, we hadn’t really had anybody actually VOLUNTEER in that sense. At the same time, he was very honest about it all - you know, like saying he didn’t really know anything about managing a group like us. He sort of hinted that he was keen if we’d go along with him...”

Brian, quite honestly, thought that the Beatles looked a mess. He wondered what exactly they thought they were trying to be. Their strange jackets, the rather scruffy jeans, the hair-styles, which could only have been styled on something called “chaos.”

“But there was something enormously attractive about them,” he recalls. “I liked the way they worked and the obvious enthusiasm they put into their numbers. People talk about the Liverpool sound but I sometimes wonder what exactly they mean. These boys put everything into their routines but they didn’t use echo. That struck me as being a very good thing.

“It was the boys themselves, though, who really swung it. Each had something which I could see would be highly commercial if only someone could push it to the top. They were DIFFERENT characters but they were so obviously part of the whole. Quite frankly, I was excited about their prospects, provided some things could be changed.”

And Brian told his friends: “This could easily turn out to be the biggest show business attraction since Elvis Presley.” It’s a tribute to his foresight and intuition that that is precisely what has happened.

Brian decided to get the boys together at a round-table conference at his store. A time was fixed and the boys agreed. But Beatles are not always the easiest of people to organise. Brian sat waiting... and waiting... and waiting. He was trying to cope with the vastly complex figures of Christmas orders for the store and minutes were precious to him.

Eventually THREE Beatles arrived. George, John and Pete. No Paul. Story goes that Brian got George to ring through and see what had happened to the left-handed guitar-star. And that Paul admitted he was still in the bath... but wouldn’t be long!

Brian was rather on his high-horse. He felt it was not the right thing for someone who wanted to talk business to be kept waiting. He pointed out that Paul, the cherubic one of the four, would be extremely late. “Yes,” said George, forcing back a grin. “But he’ll also be extremely clean.”

Says Brian: “That sense of humour is invaluable. You could hardly feel annoyed at their lack of business ability. They were just four individual and off-beat characters.”

Prior to Brian taking such an interest, there was great concern among Cavern people that there was a chance of the Beatles packing in all thoughts of show business careers. Bob Wooler had tried hard to get BBC television producer Jack Good interested in the group. Jack had produced beat shows, like “Six-Five Special” which had been the stepping-stone to success for artistes like Cliff Richard. But Jack was also in demand in the States... and he’d gone there to further his own career long before Bob could get any decision from the telly-folk.

Brian, having eventually assembled all four Beatles in the same room, put his propositions to them. He went through a process of brain-washing, though he did it all very tactfully. He didn’t like their manner of dress. Wasn’t knocked out by the unruly hair-cuts. Was singularly unimpressed by the way they casually drank tea on stage while in the middle of shows.

He pleaded with them rather than ordered them. He knew they were a valuable property and he was knocked out at the way their personal following was growing through the Merseyside area.

Said John: “He’d tell us that jeans were not particularity smart and could we possibly manage to wear PROPER trousers. But he didn’t want us suddenly looking square. He let us have our own sense of individuality.”

He added: “We respected his views. We stopped champing at cheese rolls and jam butties on stage. We paid a lot more attention to what we were doing. Did our best to be on time. And we smartened up, in the sense that we wore suits instead of any sloppy old clothes.”

It was a master-plan. A long-term plan if necessary but it was aimed at making the most of four young men who clearly had that star quality in them... even though a recording contract was still more than nine months away.

Obviously, Brian Epstein’s main job was to get the group on record. He knew the strength of their popularity in Liverpool and he felt it wouldn’t be a hard job to interest some of the London companies. But that was where Brian was wrong.

He even delayed any sort of action until the results of the 1961 “Mersey Beat Poll” were announced. That came up at the end of the year. And the Beatles were high and dry in top place in this important survey of how the public felt about the myriad groups operating in the scene. Said Brian: “I thought this was the ‘Open Sesame’ to the recording scene. I felt that Liverpool was important enough to have London executives falling about to sign the boys. I was wrong...”

Brian, though technically still in charge of important parts of the family business, threw himself into the job of getting the Beatles known nationally. He had the backing of the Beatles’ parents and it was to be no holds barred for the major break through.

He started visiting London. Hopefully. Optimistically. But record executives showed an alarming tendency to register non-committal gloom. Brian had to keep reporting apparent failure to the boys - by now riding higher than ever in popular acclaim in Liverpool.

Cont’d next month in No. 6

#Brian Epstein #The Beatles #Beatles Book Monthly #1963 #60s #Billy Shepherd

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cultofbeatles · 4 years

Text

parts of pattie boyd’s book wonderful tonight that involved george that stuck out to me:

pattie didn't have any of the beatles records at first and only bought please please me since she was going to be in their film

“on first impressions, john seemed more cynical and brash than the others, ringo the most endearing, paul was cute, and george, with velvet brown eyes and dark chestnut hair, was the best looking man i’d ever seen.”

during a lunch break pattie and george sat next to each other and were both very shy

george asked pattie “will you marry me?” and after she laughed he said, “well, if you won't marry me, will you have dinner with me tonight?” and she turned him down.

she deadass invited george to hang out with her and her boyfriend at the time.

pattie and george are both pisces.

once reshoots for the film were happening george asked pattie about her boyfriend, she said she had dumped him, and george once again asked her for dinner. she accepted this time.

brian epstein joined them for their first date.

they sat side by side and were too scared to even hold the others hand.

george got along great with pattie’s family.

pattie liked cynthia lennon but found her difficult to make friends with.

“she wasn't like my friends, who enjoyed a giggle and some fun: she was rather serious, and often, i thought, behaved more like john’s mother than wife.”

there was a rumor that john and pattie were having an affair and pattie worried cynthia believed it. it wasn't true.

maureen cox (ringo’s girlfriend) was another beatles girl that pattie had a hard time being friends with. but said that she was “jolly and friendly, more relaxed than cynthia.”

pattie got along best with jane asher but saw her the least.

“i felt there was definitely a north-south divide among the wives and girlfriends. and i had the definite impressions that the girls from the north (maureen and cynthia) felt they has a prior clam to the boys.” okay shade, we see you.

(talking about going on holiday with john, cynthia, and george) “it was a good way to split the group. john and paul were the closest in some ways and immensely creative together, but they clashed if they were in each other’s pockets for too long.”

george asked pattie to cut his hair while on holiday and one of the cleaners found his hair and kept it.

(talking about george) “he was so beautiful and so funny.”

once a “weird looking man” tried to force his way into pattie and george’s house. pattie thought he was either a salesman or a jehovahs witness. it turns out it was paul in disguise.

george said the only place he got peace was in the bathroom of his hotel suite.

pattie got a lot of letters saying that if she didn't leave george there would be a curse put on her.

pattie’s cleaner was a male ballet dancer and “a terrific duster.”

pattie would count the days till george came back. once he jumped into the bed early in the morning to wake her up.

those two would deadass not lock their doors and were surprised that clothes were going missing...what is with older generations and not locking their doors i -

george would be in the studio from 11 am - 11 pm. sometimes midnight.

george’s mom loved when john would visit and would always ask him for an “upper.”

when john lennon is your drug dealer.

pattie wasn't a good cook but was optimistic.

“i loved listening to him (play guitar), loved the sound of the guitar in the house. sometimes i would start to talk and he'd be so deep in thought about the lyrics or the melody he was writing that he wouldn't answer. we’d be the same room but he wasn't really with me: he was in his head.”

pattie developed a kidney disorder.

(talking about the beatles dynamic) “in many aspects they were still children. they had few real friends apart from each other, and when they were asked questions they could answer as one - they were so much on each other’s wavelength. if one went to a gallery opening, they all went; if one bought a new car or new house, they all did. if one seemed in danger of taking himself too seriously, the others knocked it out of him.”

one evening george stopped the car and said, “let’s get married. i'll speak to brian.” they went to brian’s house, george went inside, and when he came back in the car he said, “brian says it’s okay. will you marry me? we can get married in january.”

briannnnnnn, is it my turn to get married yet pleaseeeee

pattie invited her absent father to their wedding but he did not come.

at the train station everyone left cynthia behind as she was carrying the suitcases and john was carrying nothing. peter brown had to go back and get her.

pattie’s quote from the lsd in the coffee moment is hilarious to me. “you've just had lsd. it was in the coffee.” john lennon: “how dare you fucking do this to us?”

pattie and george didn't go to brian’s funeral in liverpool but george sent one single sunflower.

pattie stopped modeling because george didnt like it. and she felt like she lost a part of herself.

maureen was afraid of flies.

during the India trip, mia farrow told john that maharishi was inappropriate with her and john wanted everyone leave after that.

after India george and pattie’s relationship changed.

(talking about george) “some days he would be all right, but on others he seemed withdrawn and depressed. this was new: he had never been depressed before, but there was nothing i could do. it wasn't about me, but i found that my moods started to mirror his...so bad indeed, that at times i felt almost suicidal. i don't think i was ever in any real danger of killing myself, but i got as far as working out how i would do it: i would put on a diaphanous ossie clark dress and jump off beachy head.”

george became more obvious about his cheating. it hurt pattie.

george was gaslighting her.

cilla black was staying at george and pattie’s house and was uncomfortably close to george so pattie left. six days latter george called to tell her the girl was gone and she could come home.

“..but my ego was too fragile and i couldn't see it as anything other than betrayal. i felt unloved and miserable.”

“jane asher came home unexpectedly from new york and found another woman in the house, an american girl - and did what i should probably have done with george...”

george would start to talk about his feelings about paul or john but would stop bc he never wanted to admit that he felt left out.

“we had once been so close, so honest and open with each other. now a distance had developed between us..”

(about yoko contributing to the beatles break up) “the four had never allowed anyone into the recording studios with them, but yoko not only sat by john throughout every session, he consulted her about the music they were making, which upset paul.”

during the let it be sessions there was a time with george and paul got in a fist fight and george left.

the same day john told George he was leaving the beatles, george’s mom told him she was ill and in critical condition.

i love that she vibe checked george. “he was bringing home bad vibes.”

george continued cheating and they continued arguing.

“my diary is full of entries about my unhappiness and the disintegration of our relationship.”

john came to visit george and pattie’s new mansion and said that it was so dark he didn't know how they could live in it, and george recommended that he took of his sunglasses.

eric clapton being a piece of shit and saying “if you won't be with me pattie i will become addicted to heroin.”

pattie said the only thing she had left was cooking and george took that away.

the couple was suppose to go on holiday together but george cancelled last minute bc he didn't want to go with her. he ended up going to spain.

“when i challenged him, he denied it and tried once again to make me feel as though i was paranoid.”

i'm not even...the whole fucking story of the george and maureen affair PISSES ME OFF more than i can describe. maybe i’ll make a whole other post but omfg i'm fuming. fuck them bothhhh. they deserve no rights.

george harrison, mere days before their wedding anniversary: “let’s get a divorce this year.” what an amazing new years resolution jerk.

ringo offered pattie a job.

when george told ringo about the affair pattie was so mad she dyed her hair red.

george loved pattie’s little brother and was his role model but he wouldn't come to the man’s wedding even though he was invited.

the night pattie told george she was leaving him george came to bed in sadness and said, “don't go.”

“i'm going.”

george invited pattie to dhani’s eighteenth birthday party bc she “had to be there. she was family.”

george had become more of an older brother to her now.

pattie had learned about john’s death from eric clapton and immediately went to the beatles office in london to hang out with everyone there.

(after finding out about george’s death) “i couldn't bare the thought of a world without george. when i left him for eric, he had said that if things didn't work out, ever, i could always come to him and he would look after me. it was such a selfless, loving, generous thing to say and it had always been tucked away at the back of my mind. now that sense of security had gone.”

the last time they saw each other was when george called saying he wanted to visit her new cottage and see her.

pattie didn't go to his funeral nor did she go to the memorial concert that took place a year later. but she spent that day high on the mountains thinking of george. “i was happy to mourn him alone and in my own way.”

she would have dreams of george after his death. “oh george, it’s so wonderful that you are alive after all, this is so fabulous; i knew they had all made a mistake.”

and then she’d wake up.

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