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harrisongslimited · 1 month

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George Chapter of the Day. March 13, 2024

Greetings my dear tumblr and Beatles' families! Happy to announce I'm popping a foot into the fanfiction pool and seeing 👀 what happens. Your comments are more than welcome!!

All the important stuff:

Title: I Saw Her Standing There

Story Description: John, Paul, George and Ringo meet Joie Armagh, a strong willed American girl, who influences their lives more than they wanted.

Trigger Warnings: swearing, drinking, smoking, drug references, adult situations and behavior, M/F smut, fluff, falling in love, tense arguments, angst.

**18 only please***

**This is a work of fiction. As such, it should not be read as a factual account of events or as biography. While many characters of the story bear the names of actual people, they and their actions have been imagined by the author and should be considered products of the imagination. This story is fictional and the events did not happen. It is written and re-produced here online for the purposes of entertainment only.**

Author's Note: I've noticed many fanfics have a Starrison or a McLennon flair, but this story will be M/F interactions including smut. It's just how I see them! Now if you're under 18, just move yourself right along. As I'm not there to patrol over you, just be strong and pass this up. I had to wait to read adult material and so do you!

Thank you to gif artists and photo owners.

Phew! That's over....

She was across the room from him; he could barely see her without his thick, black rimmed glasses. He felt her. Felt her as if she were standing within inches of him. His skin was hot. The light brown hair on his arms came alive – his stomach grumbled with a feral intensity.

Chapter 1

There was something about her. Something, he figured, she didn't know about yet, something she didn't know how to use – yet – but it made John Winston Lennon rearrange his slumped body to a nearly half-attentive position.

John watched her as best he could without his glasses. He was nearly blind without them, but acknowledged only to himself that he was far too vain to wear them in public. Besides, if he had to see something that important, Paul, George or Ringo would alert him. But at this moment, they were too interested in their own orbits to notice much.

She was talking to someone. Someone he didn't know – which he didn't care much about. From her body language, he could tell it was tense. She ran a hand through her short, auburn hair, and he continued to watch as she pointedly aggravated the man she was talking to.

This, to John, was great entertainment.

She turned in John's direction, although he couldn't tell if she saw him or not. It was nice she wasn't straining to scope out a look at the four of them , like they were the side-show freaks they felt like – or make a mad dash for the table to try to touch him like he was some bloody good luck charm. He liked that. Maybe she didn't give a shit who they were. THAT, he nodded to himself, would be refreshing for a fucking change.

She was, however, very pissed off at the little runt who was running the audition and had he been asked, John would have agreed with her. The whole scene was outrageously idiotic, as were their whole lives now, but he had danced with the devil and this was payback time.

The little moron in charge, whom John was introduced to but couldn't have cared less about, was a highly paid ass-kisser with a slimy handshake and badly manipulated crew cut. John might have the appearance of someone who didn't give a shit, but he took in everything. Every person, every nuance, every sight and smell and sound. Nothing got past him, unless he wanted it to. And the little California-tanned wild bird was giving it to the little pisser and John couldn't take his eyes away from her. It made him jealous and angry and aroused that she could do what he wasn't allowed to.

Brian was about to intervene, as the pisser/wild bird barney was holding up the whole show. He wanted to tell Brian to leave her alone, that she was practically giving him a hand job from across the room, but he also had an immediate urge to get the hell out of this place. He didn't like the United States. Too much fucking sunshine and not a decent cup of tea within 10,000 miles. But, as was his current circumstance, money, the promise of women and fame had too much a hold on all four of them for anyone to say "piss off" and head back home to England. Because as sure as the sun rose in the east, if one went home, they'd ALL go home.

John watched as Brian interrupted the moron and the woman of his dreams. He threw an elbow into Paul's side to wordlessly alert him to the situation. Paul lifted up his brown eyes and tried to force a smile.

"Another one?"

"No man. Totally different. She's cutting that audition manager a new asshole."

"Good. Maybe we can get the fuck out of here. I'm beginning to think I made a wrong move when I chose a band over plumber's apprentice."

John looked at Paul. "You? A plumber? I'd pay to see your ass rooting out some loo in the low rent district."

"Piss off....," he answered. "So what's going on?"

John filled him in. Ringo and George were both still half asleep, cigarettes hanging off their lower lips. No one made any attempt to pay attention when their manager approached them.

"Get those bloody fags out of your mouths," Brian said to them. "You are all clean cut, working class boys from across the pond – and well paid to act your parts. So sit up and pay attention."

John made an obscene gesture. Ringo turned his back to him continuing to smoke and George leaned forward and gazed at Brian with his middle finger slowly working its way up to his temple.

Paul, ever the diplomat, made a valiant attempt to appear slightly more involved. "Look Brian, we aren't trying to make your life hell, but this is getting out of hand. We've spent 2 hours evaluating 200 girls who want to have a role in this movie. Really, it doesn't matter. We don't even know what the movie is about. Just have that little audition manager pick out the best of the bunch and send everyone on their way."

Brian sighed and pulled up a chair. John knew they were about to be lectured from the Brian Epstein Guide to Managing a Famous British Band. John wished he could order about a dozen Scotch and Cokes and call it a day.

"Boys," he started.

Ringo, George and John turned the switches off and began cruising down the avenues of their brains. Paul pretended to listen and caught the gist of the whole thing.

They were famous. Yes, he remembered that. There were politics involved in being famous. Yes, he remembered that. It was sometimes necessary to go through these things for the publicity. Yes, he remembered that.

"Just like a politician. You have to, figuratively speaking, kiss the babies and hug the old ladies. Half these girls are daughters of Hollywood big-wigs. We can't piss them off. We must pretend we are gentlemen."

"Thank God we've had lessons...." John piped in. "Now shut the hell up and tell me who that bird is."

"Who?"

"The one who is still going off on the audition manager."

Brian turned and jumped up. "Oh shit."

John sat totally upright for the first time all day as he saw her coming towards them at a determined gait. The audition manager followed her, mumbling.

Brian was about to intercept her when John looked at him sternly. "Back off, big man. Let her have her say."

If there was one thing Brian knew, it was when to absolutely listen to John. He could manipulate the other three on an individual basis, but John alone or the 4 of them enmasse, well, that was the ballgame. He let out a heavy breath.

John stood to watch her walk towards them. He had seen plenty of pretty girls since becoming famous. He had HAD plenty of pretty girls since becoming famous, but this pissed off bird was in a class by herself. She was nothing like the girls he normally went after – nothing like the birds of his own turf. He was, at this stage of his life, attracted to "bee-bees", Beautiful, Brainless and Sexy chicks who knew better than to open their mouths for anything except a blow-job. After a brief affair consisting of plenty of sex and perhaps a late night supper or two, maybe an autograph or an album, it was less of a problem to diplomatically dump a BB than it was a hometown girl or some mate's sister.

John had his exit line and delivered it with the precision of Olivier playing Hamlet. He could conjure up this little boy lost persona, with a pained "this is going to hurt me more than it is you" look and begin his speech. "I'm SOOO sorry, but I've realized that I really DO love my wife and I don't know how to thank you for helping me see the honest truth. I have to go back to her. Your unselfishness and honesty showed me what I must do. I know you'll understand. I can't tell you what you have done for me. I will never forget you (insert name or not). "

And it worked. 99% of the time. The other 1%, Brian took care of.

All at once, she was in front of them. Directly in between Paul and George. John shifted in his chair to look at her.

"Look, I know this is all fun and games, but it's 95 degrees out there in the hallway and girls are dropping like flies. There's no water, no air. C'mon---hasn't everyone had enough?"

Brian walked over to her and extended a courtly British hand. "I'm sorry Ms. but you will have to get back into line or leave the audition. You are causing a disruption."

The young woman looked at Brian then beseechingly at the four English lads that were sitting before her. John, for once in his life, was speechless.

Paul stood and faced her. "We didn't know..." was all he could muster. She was not amused. Not amused at all with any of them. George turned his eyes toward her and remained quiet.

"Well, now you do," she said without emotion, then sighed. "Look, I know you are the biggest things to come out of England since Earl Grey, but it's really hot out there. Can you put an end to this?"

George finally spoke. "What are you doing here?"

Her brown eyes flashed at him. "Does it matter? I'm just trying to get those other girls out of the heat."

"Why do you care?" John blurted out, his cigarette smoke exiting his mouth.

She sighed and was going to speak when Brian returned with a police officer and the audition manager.

"Hold off...." John eyed him.

The police officer stared at the woman for a minute before saying, "Joie?"

She looked at him and smiled. "Yes. It's me. I'm just trying to get those girls out of the heat, Mr. Watson. Or get them some water or something. I know they are all probably daughters of movie studios, but they are melting just the same."

Officer Watson turned to Brian. "I know this girl. She doesn't mean any harm. And after all, she has a point...."

John and Brian exchanged looks. Brian knew it well.

"We will get the girls out of the heat and move this along...." He answered properly.

"Thank you." Was all she said. And she turned to leave.

She didn't give a shit that they were the Beatles. She didn't give a shit if she got a bit part in their first movie. She just didn't give a shit about them. What she cared about was 90 remaining strangers, struggling in the heat.

John was enamored.

The audition manager was sweating profusely. He was too old for this shit. He had been around the greats---Barrymore, Hepburn, Gable. These punks from somewhere in England might make every girl wet her pants, but all they were was trouble to him.

Brian pulled him aside and a plan was made to move the line of girls along so they could get a look at the Lads from Liverpool and Brian would pick the 15 or so they needed in bit parts. The others would be given a ticket to the final concert in the film. All Brian knew for sure is that there was going to be a concert at the end. And 100 seats were to be occupied by the offspring of Hollywood elites. The other seats were to be auctioned off to fans through the fan club.

This is what he knew....as the screenwriter typed away, tucked safely back in London.

"Mal...." John groused at their assistant. "get her number....."

#the beatles #george harrison #john lennon #paul mccartney #ringo starr #beatlemania #Beatles fanfic #george harrison fanfic #i saw her standing there

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peaceloveandstarrs · 10 months

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For the Ship prompts, could you do #1 or #16 (your choice) and I would like to ship George and myself lmao

Need me some sleepy snuggles with older George if you could 🥰

(Also yes I'm on anon but you know who this is lol 🤭)

i absolutely do know who this is!!! <3

good morning, lazily

1992

The early morning sunlight filtered in through the blinds, casting a dreamy glow over you and George. You were drifting in and out of sleep, only vaguely aware of the light coming in. You made a soft, sleepy sound. It was too early to wake up. Plus, you had George beside you, still sleeping peacefully. You opened your eyes and gazed at him. He was the picture of tranquility. His chest rose and fell with each deep and even breath, and he snored softly. George turned over onto his side, facing you and nestling further under the covers. He had no intention of getting up either. Not that you minded.

You wanted to spoon, but at the same time, you didn't want to take your eyes off of George. He was so handsome. Yes, he had the lines and wrinkles from aging, and his body and face had filled out from his Beatle days, and his hair had gotten a salt-and-pepper look to it, but to you, that made him that much more handsome. To him, he was even more handsome now than he was in his Beatle days. Something about that age and maturity was incredibly appealing to you.

You sighed softly. How had you gotten so lucky? Of all the people in the world, George had chosen to be with you. You! He loved you, absolutely adored you, and sometimes you wondered why he did. But when you got into your head and convinced yourself that you were unlovable, unworthy of anyone's love, much less his, George was always there to bring you out of the spiral and show you all of the things you couldn't see about yourself. You loved him. Oh, did you love him. And each morning, you thanked your lucky stars that you got to go through life with him.

You reached across and grazed your fingertips over George's skin and mustache, admiring the contrast between his warm skin and the scratchiness of his facial hair. He'd grown the mustache at your recommendation, an off-hand mention that you loved how he'd looked in the late 60s when he'd first grown it. And his skin... you didn't know how he kept it so soft, but whatever he did, you were grateful. You felt him twitch under your fingertips, like he was trying to get rid of a fly without touching it, and bit back a giggle. All of his little sleepy motions were so cute. You saw him open his eyes and smiled gently.

“Hi,” you whispered.

George groaned softly as he stretched his body and felt his muscles wake after a good night's sleep. Still not awake enough to speak yet, he pulled you close to him. You cooed softly and rested your head on his chest. It was strong. Solid. Firm. It provided you with a sense of comfort and security that nothing else did. And you didn't know how to show him just how grateful you were. Your breathing synced with George's as he played with your hair. God. This was what you'd craved for your entire life. Safety. Security. The sense that everything was okay. And it was. George was your rock, your safety net, the one on which you could depend.

“Good morning, darling,” George whispered after a few moments. “How'd you sleep?”

“Wonderfully,” you said gently. Because I was with you. “You?”

George hummed softly, a low rumble that resonated in his chest. “Best night I've had in ages.”

You smiled and nuzzled against his chest, listening to the steady heartbeat. The two of you stayed there for a moment, just enjoying the lazy morning. But after a few minutes, you felt George's fingers under your chin, gently lifting your head. You knew what he wanted. You sat up with a warm smile on your face and shifted closer.

And as soon as you were close enough, George leaned in and met your lips with his. It was a soft peck, but he went in for another, and another, and another... you happily obliged. The two of you kissed slowly and lazily, wrapped up in each others arms. George gave you a gentle hug as he kissed you with the energy of a man who had all the time in the world. You made a soft sound in his mouth as his tongue lazily explored your mouth. Yours slid languidly in and out of George's mouth, only stopping when he needed to pull back for air.

George rested his forehead against yours as he caught his breath, smiling and pushing a strand of hair away. Unable to resist, you gave him one last kiss.

“How's that for a good morning?” he said playfully.

“Absolutely perfect.”

And it was. You had your love, you were well-rested, you were happy. It didn't get any better than that.

#george x reader #george harrison x reader #reader insert #beatles fanfic #beatles fanfiction

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ringstarrr · 1 year

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Hi. If you don't mind, would you mind doing a song fic for Taylor Swift's coney island with either John or George? I just feel like it would work really well, especially these lines: "And do you miss the rogue who coaxed you into paradise and left you there? Will you forgive my soul when you're too wise to trust me and too old to care?"

I Want to Tell You

pairing: john lennon x gender neutral!reader

warnings: angst, depression, self image

author's note: first of all, sorry for going missing for a few months. kinda had a burnout with college and work, but things are getting better - i think, at least.

and i kind of changed this a little lol i know it's a sad song and i made it accordingly, but the end is sweet. i might not be a swiftie but i'm a softie

1966.

It was like living through hell. Why did he have to say that? you’d think every once in a while since the whole bigger than Jesus broke out. John has always been one to make interesting comments - not to say controversial. You knowing him since you met at art school, it didn’t faze you a bit, yet, it was a different thing in America.

“They’re so fucking upright. It’s so phony.” You sought John during one of the tours you went by his side, still his girlfriend, flesh and nail. Now, long married, it’s been a few good months since you last followed beside him. John was getting more distant everyday and you didn’t know what to do.

He emitted his loud and heartwarming laugh. “I know, right?” John escorted you close to his chest, his nose in your hair. “Americans act like we are a bunch of weirdos. We are… different,” John chuckled, free hand hovering his face. “They’re nice. I’m the freak.”

This happened only a year prior to this fiasco. On that occasion, you made it your job to assure John he was an important person to the band and no matter what happened, you’d still be by his side. So far, you had maintained your words and stuck with John - even though he wouldn’t even look at you.

It made you insecure and going back in your head, trying to piece together why he had become such a loner those last months. Without preparation, you began to revisit your time at college, when you two first started dating. You were younger by a few years, and John was living the high of his teddy boy lifestyle.

He was a heartthrob. There was no other way to describe it.

Every single time you glanced in his direction, John’s eyes were already staring you down. Smiling smugly, he’d shake his head and wiggle his eyebrows. You were left blushing. It was heaven, knowing you caught the attention of someone like him. Your heart could melt just by the sight of him.

At the time, you weren’t looking for a relationship. But John had other plans. He flirted with you every chance he got, always putting some innuendo into everything. Even though you rolled your eyes every single time, you couldn’t deny to yourself how your hands would shake whenever John stormed in your direction. Neither could you say he didn’t make winter feel like a sunny afternoon in spring, considering the speeding beat of your heart and the way he caught your breath.

The memories left you wondering if you had closed your fists around something delicate for this to be happening. The silent tears fell down and you didn’t try to avoid the unstoppable. It was getting overbearing just to breath. When you first met, you thought that maybe 一 you were certain, to be completely honest 一 he’d be the death of you. At the time, the idea brought colour to your cheeks, thinking it’d be because of his antics and how flustered he made you feel. Now, you had the sour taste of knowing why.

Marrying one of the most desired man on the earth, show stopping sensation and global phenomenon was incredibly hard. And the business changed John’s usual upbeat and sarcastic nature. Theses things were still there but he wouldn’t show them as much. It turned him into a depressed and lonely wolf. John was starting to head straight to bed whenever he came home, telling you less and less about his life and what he was going through in his head.

Yet, you had an idea of why that was.

The press were writing a bunch of articles about all the things he and the boys did and, unfortunately, that included his health. Suddenly every news reporter was a nutritionist and they decided John was getting fat, which was far from the truth. You noticed how John was starving himself for awhile because of it, his self image completely deteriorated and his depression coming to a new highlight low-end. But John wouldn't say a word. You’d ask him, almost plead for him to open up you, but John wouldn't say a word.

In front of the television, you watched him and the band make yet another appearance for an interview. It was difficult for you to admit, but most of the time you heard his voice these days was on the TV. John was pushing you away. After talking to George, Ringo and Paul about the situation, they assured you this wasn’t happening just to you. John was pushing everyone away, whether he knew it or not.

Seeing that happy grin in his face on the telly, a sight you missed dearly, was enough to make your walls crumble down. You sobbed violently, crying out loud. What happened to my baby? Where did my baby go? Your whole body shook and your voice got hoarse by the second. But the moment you heard a car pull into the driveway, you pushed it all back inside, cleaning the tears’ path and clearing your throat. Uptight and anxious, you waited.

“You watching that crap?” was the first thing he said. John closed the front door, dropping his keys in the coffee table and sitting beside you on the couch. He slid his arm around you, turning you slightly to kiss you with care. After it ended, you two maintained faces close, noses brushing against one another, eyes closed. It was moments like this that made you feel everything was worth putting through.

“Just watching this group fine young men. They dress pretty well, especially that one” you said, turning a little to the TV, just enough so he could see your index finger pointing in his direction on the screen.

John snickered. “Nah, he looks like a twat.”

You snuggled your face against his neck, eyes closed. “And how was today, pretty boy?” as you whispered the question you immediately regretted it. John’s body grew rigid, moving away from you. I can’t do anything right.

“Ah,” he shrugged his shoulders, face showing how John cringed at the question. “It was… normal, I guess.” He bit down his lip, drawing in a deep breath. Silence emerged between youc and you wanted to scream. With a sigh, John got up. “Well, I’m taking a shower.”

Before you could think the decision over once more, you were speaking already. “John, can I ask you a question?” He was midway walking to your shared bedroom, stopping in his tracks. John turned around, confused.

Eyebrows knitted and hands on his waist, he answered. “Yeah, sure you can.”

“Did I shatter you?” your voice quivered, just a little above a purr. You felt tears threatening to form but you didn’t care. You needed to get it off of your chest, it was killing you. John was startled by the inquiry, eyes wide.

“What makes you think that, love?” He still was by the bedroom, slowly coming back to you.

“You never talk to me anymore, John.” A sorry laugh left your lips as you said it, feeling like a lunatic. “And you used to come to me anytime if you were struggling, to have a laugh... Now you can barely stand to be next to me.” Your eyes flickered to the roof, holding back the emotions in turmoil. “You never ask about me anymore. It’s like you couldn’t give less of a shit sometimes,” you turned your focus back to him and it crashed your feelings. He was crying with a straight face, biting the inside of his cheek. “If this is the long haul, how’d we get here so soon?”

You managed to get a laugh from him, smiling a bit. After a few seconds, he spoke up. “Sorry for not making you my centerfold,” John pushed the tears away with the back of his hand. “I hate that we turned into this… all because of me,” now it was his turn to cackle like a mad man, hands in his hair.

“It’s okay, John.” You gave him a half-hearted smile.

“No! Of course it’s not, love.” He took a long breath and began tapping his foot against the floor. “You are my wife, for fuck’s sake. I love you and I pushed away? I’m a dick.” John was obviously mad at himself. “I didn’t think it would upset you this much, love. Fuck.”

“Baby…” you cooed, getting up from the couch. You tried to reach for his hands, but he shook them instead.

“Don’t ‘baby’ me. I don’t want your pity.”

“John,” you took hold of his hand, your hold strong and tight. “Shut up. You’ve been through a lot and it’s okay to react like this. But you should be more aware of the fact that there are people that care and worry about you.” You pushed his fringe to the side with your free hand, resting it against his wet cheek. John closed his eyes. “You are not a bad guy, John. Just fucking stupid sometimes,” both of you laughed.

“What’s a lifetime of achievement if I pushed you to the edge but you were too polite to leave me?” You cringed at that, not agreeing with him.

“I would never leave you, sweetheart. I love you too much,” you said, laughing a little. “Just don’t push me away anymore. I’m always here for you.”

“Sorry for being fucking stupid.”

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tenitchyfingers · 3 months

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Literally SHAKING AND CRYING I’M AT WORK I CAN’T EAT 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

#and why the sea is boiling hot #madamboogie #THEY’RE SUPPOSED TO MEET JULIAN GOD WHY IS WORK A THING #UGHHHHHH #Beatles fanfic

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walkuntilthedaylight · 2 years

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In 1961, John Lennon and Paul McCartney left abruptly on a trip to Spain, via France.

In 1967, they finally come home to face the consequences.

I was gripped and compelled by a terrible madness and wrote this in less than 72 hours. Technically a response to this @beatleskinkmeme prompt, though it got away from me a bit. Please enjoy!

#mclennon #beatles fanfic #my fic #i'm recovering from a wrist injury and used my entire weekly word count on this #suffering for my art

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likesomekindofcheese · 2 years

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I just wanted to request something for the Beatles, please. How Would the Beatles whoo their love interest? Like how would they pine after they or her

Ooooo! OOOOOOO! That's a good one! I even got to reread bits of Cynthia Lenon's memoirs about John Lennon to research this in addition to my own observations and my theory on what their Love Languages would be.

No warnings, just a lot of fluff!

Reader here is gender neutral!

Each Beatle trying to woo someone they're interested in would include...

John

John would play the guitar. He’d be that guy on a college campus who just plays songs to try and score. He would bring it around with him slung on his back and try to win you by his attempts to play whatever song you request.

When he looks at you, his face softens. It loses its cynical expression. He begins to relax and lets his guard down.

He’d give you “wicked commentary” to make you laugh anytime. He would think of some god quips and be more chatty on purpose.

But then he would give you compliments. There's be compliments complimenting how you looked or on your outfit or about some accomplishment or thing you did!

He’d also dance with you. If there was a party or something and music was on, he would dance with you but it would be a slower, more romantic song.

Then he’d plainly ask you out. You would be overjoyed and say yes and have the best time! :)

Paul

Paul likes to (attempt to and sometimes genuinely) COOK. So he would definitely whip up something and then bring it over in a pan or a bag for you as a treat.

But let's get one thing clear: He is a HUGE ASS FLIRT. He'd be on your side like a puppy and lay it on thick. There is no subtlety with this man.

But also He buys you little gifts. If there was a record or tickets to a movie (cause then you would *gasp* have to go with him!) or anything with your interests, he would find it out and give it to you.

He’d be bowled over and amazed by you and just frickin’ stare at you like the eighth wonder of the world.

Paul I think would then think of some creative way to ask you out like attaching it to a flower or some new gloves or something. You would just grin and accept it, kissing him on the cheek to make him blush.

George

He is very shy though and would muster up the courage to even talk to you. The boys would encourage and hype him up as he walks over to ask you about the weather as they stand in the back with popcorn.

He’d be the type already daydreaming about your wedding and more 😉. He really hopes no one notices him spacing out but he knows that if he keeps asking you about the weather or what's on TV then it's a step closer to his fantasies coming true!

He would joke around and tease you like John, but he is careful never to cross any lines because he respects you so much!

he’d get defensive and try to protect you physically. If someone was getting mad at you, he'd step in between and put an arm over you to keep you safe or place a hand on your shoulder.

He's a more physical gesture kind of guy. His heart explodes on the inside when you consent for him to hug you.

But he has a lot of strength and determination to get you to date him. He would finally ask you out and go on that date at last! Once you are steady, he is more laid back!

Ringo

He’d want to protect and shelter you! Because he's small and had a vulnerable past, he would want to use that to protect you! He’d also cling onto your hand for security and even if you got a little cold.

Like George, he would get all defensive. But his are more verbal. He would talk things out with you or dress down anyone who crosses paths with you. He would then lead you away and comfort you about whatever happened.

He would want to DANCE with you and ask you to dance!! But unlike John, it would be faster and more fun as you both lose yourself and have fun! He would just beam at your smile.

He'd make excuses to spend more time with you. He'd walk you to places, stay longer at parties, etc.

He would take photos and videos of you to flirt with you because he finds you so gorgeous!! But of course, he'd try to be sneaky about it but if you agree to a picture with him, he'd just melt.

When you are hanging out, just getting some snacks and a soda at a diner, that's when he asks you out. Though you joke that this is a technical first date and you both laugh and smile, making promises to go to a nicer restaurant tomorrow as an official couple.

Taglist: @queenlover05 @0x0spunky-monkey0x0 @yourlocalmusicalprostitute

#beatles imagine #beatles fanfic #beatles fanfiction #beatles x reader #beatles headcanons #beatles hc #beatles fluff #carrie writes

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mithranqueersmusings · 10 months

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Here There and Everywhere IV

Chapter: 4/?

Rating: U

Summary: You’re a regular to The Cavern and you’ve always loved watching The Beatles play, even if you do have to deal with sweaty crowds, screaming girls and pervy guys. One day under rather unfortunate circumstances, you finally get to meet them which eventually, and oddly, leads to them living with you.

Tags: Domestic fluff, slow burn, eventual smut/romance

Pairings: George Harrison/Reader

AO3 link here / Fic masterlist here

The four boys and yourself were introduced to a bleak, grey morning as you stepped out of the house. Murmurs of activity could be heard and spotted down the street, with men hurrying off to work with briefcases in hand and women chattering with their neighbours with a warm cup of tea clutched in their grasp. You found yourself naturally gravitating towards George as the five of you walked towards the main road, but worries started to form about how obvious your affection might be. Always inclining a little too much towards paranoia, you began to fear that failing to mask your appreciation of him - to put it mildly - would not only push the rest of the group away but could even make George uncomfortable. Whenever you joined your friends at The Cavern, each girl made no secret of who her favourite of the four was; you could recall, rather embarrassingly now, how each of you would fantasise about being with their respective choice. From the very beginning, George had drawn your eye. Maybe it was because he was the youngest and closest to your own age, but it was certainly much more than that. As a quiet person yourself, there seemed to be an immediate connection with the brooding boy at the back of the stage, with dark eyebrows knitted close together as he played along with the rest. So many girls were enamoured by the brightness of Paul's eyes or the strength of John's features, but you were almost always watching George. Considering how much time had been spent daydreaming about even having a conversation with the mysterious guitarist, it was so peculiar now that you were walking right beside him as though you were merely friends. You knew it would take some time to readdress the power imbalance in your mind, essentially shifting from idolising an essential stranger to welcoming him into your home. Evidently, it was obvious that you were lost in your thoughts because John span around from his conversation with Ringo to question you blatantly.

"Not having doubts, are we?" He grinned, his hair still ruffled from the night before.

You were caught off guard, but this surprise soon melted away into a genuine smile "Unlikely." You retorted, raising your eyebrow, "Unless there's something you're not telling me?"

"Many, many things." John's grin widened "I'd much rather you found out yourself, though."

Ringo gave John a soft nudge, knocking him slightly into the road "Can you stop ruining our chances of sleeping under a decent roof for a few minutes?"

"You act as though we're uncivilised beasts." Paul chimed in, standing at the head of the group to guide the way.

"Not at all! I just act like an uncivilised beast." John's good humour seemed to be unshakable, causing you to laugh quietly as you watched his charade "Not that you seem to mind, Paulie."

George let out a soft groan, rolling his eyes "Keep it in your trousers, John, it's not even midday yet."

Watching them bounce off of one another effortlessly filled you with a sense of complete ease. Even though John was clearly the most unhinged of the group, there was no doubt in your mind that he merely wanted to make the others laugh. As if on cue, John slinked closer to George following his comment, walking backwards as though it took no effort at all.

"That's funny, I don't recall you saying that last night after your little bathroom incident." John teased, from the brightness of his eyes, it was clear he was trying to push George's buttons, you only wished that you weren't caught in the crossfire.

"How did you-" George began, his face scrunching up in frustration.

"Thin walls, my friend." John winked, turning his gaze to you with a playful expression "Awfully convenient that he walked in at that exact moment, don't you think?"

A knot in your stomach threatened to form with these words, building off of your fear that the intentions of these seemingly innocent musicians were far more sinister than you dared to consider. Yet, you fought back against this urge, reminding yourself of how genuinely apologetic George had been alongside how eager he had been to diffuse the awkwardness of the situation by putting himself in the same position.

"I do think that you might be projecting a little." You winked back at him "Just keep those thin walls in mind when you're shacking up with Paul, yeah?"

John's face dropped for a moment before an even broader smile replaced his fleeting sorrow. He bowed down dramatically as though submitting to your retort. Ringo was laughing heartily while Paul tried to maintain a composed expression so as not to commit entirely to either side of the dispute. Feeling rather proud of yourself, you turned to smile over at George, who was looking right back at you. The intensity of his gaze made your sense of elation falter for a second, but you tried desperately to hide this from your expression. George's thin lips curled upwards, only just exposing the bottom of his sharp canines, and you were instantly at ease. It wasn't too long before you'd arrived at the strange establishment that the boys had been calling home for the time being. Even before you went inside, you almost knew what to expect. The walls were dull and hostile, as though the entire structure was built out of concrete. There seemed to be no indication that anyone was living here, perhaps other than the smell. Tentatively, you followed Paul inside to an even more depressing interior.

"Remind me who blackmailed you into living here." You mumbled, almost to yourself, as a key was produced to unlock the door to a minuscule living space.

"I wouldn't go as far as blackmailed, but it was John's idea." Ringo chuckled as you all crammed into the tiny room.

Thinking back on John's comment that the four of them lived in a cupboard, you realised that even that was an optimistic outlook. Four battered mattresses were crammed into each of the corners, with belongings strewn about as though an earthquake had just occurred. There seemed to be no rhyme or reason to any of it, and you genuinely started to question whether this was some sort of practical joke. Like clockwork, each of the boys started to gather their belongings haphazardly into any sort of container they could find. Whilst you never thought of yourself as a particularly clean or orderly person, watching clothes and books getting shoved mercilessly into bags already bursting at the seams caused a noticeable amount of discomfort.

"You've seriously been sleeping in here?" You asked in utter disbelief, cautiously taking a seat on the mattress with the least amount of stains.

"The glamorous life of rock'n'roll." Paul laughed as he took a seat next to you "It's not that bad, honestly. By the time we finish a show, we're so knackered that we all basically pass out."

"The drink helps, of course." Ringo added as he rummaged through a pile of clothes.

"But... I thought you guys grew up around here. Why don't you just live at home?" You were desperate for answers, not being able to logically put together a reason for willingly staying in a place as dreary as this.

"Where's your sense of adventure?" John blurted out, currently using his foot to flatten the contents of his bag so that he could shove even more inside "You're not going to get much life experience cooped up with your rents, are you?"

"Oh sure, lot's of life experience." You feigned agreement "Maybe even as much as the diseases you'll catch, I reckon."

"She's got you there, John." George spoke up, previously being very quiet as he gathered his meagre belongings together, and John responded with a childish sticking out of the tongue.

"Come on, now we've got a chance of getting out of here, you all suddenly despite it?" John scoffed "You know that we wouldn't have been able to get up to half the stupid shit we've been doing if we had to go home every night."

John looked around the room with an inquisitive glare, stumping George, Paul, and Ringo from saying anything in disagreement. You immediately wanted to ask exactly what sort of things they had been getting up to in such a cramped space, but part of you didn't really want to know the answer. If anything, the magazines that had been quickly hidden before you'd gotten a chance to even read the cover gave you a small indication of what John meant. There were also some empty bottles messily dotted about the room, making it clear that heavy drinking was a favoured pastime.

"Should I expect this 'stupid shit' to continue under my roof, then?" You posed the question to all of them, not just John, hoping to get a vague idea of exactly what you were getting yourself into.

Paul answered instantaneously, not even giving John the chance to get a breath out "We'll be nothing but respectful, I think you'll find. That isn't to say we won't get a little boisterous now and again, but we're certainly not going to put you out."

"Unless you want us to, of course." Ringo caught you by surprise as he playfully mussed up your hair as he walked past, trying to gather the last bits and pieces that had been left out.

"I'm in no rush to start acting like a mother or a landlady." You spoke with clarity and confidence "Don't think of me as some uptight matron, alright? If anything, I'm drawn more towards stupid shit than I am the mundane life I've been living as of late."

"Now you're talking." George chuckled, triumphantly throwing a bag over his shoulder.

"Careful now, don't say something you might regret." Paul warned with a smile, following George's lead and gathering all the bags together.

"I think she's perfectly capable of saying exactly what she means, thank you!" John was clearly growing more and more excited "I think this momentous occasion calls for a bit of celebration, don't you?"

John met your gaze with a twinkle in his eye, and there seemed to be nothing you could do to stop the waves of laughter pouring out. Even though you knew deep down that you were getting yourself into something bizarre and somewhat taboo, it was clear that it was likely one of the best decisions you'd ever made. Exactly how you were going to explain to anyone why a band of wayward musicians had started occupying your childhood home, you didn't know, but a large part of you didn't care in the slightest. Being in the orbit of these lively young men made you feel more content and genuinely excited about life than ever before, so there was no way you were going to spoil it by thinking too much or considering all the potential downsides. Instead, you urged yourself to merely go with the flow and see where it took you. If George was going to be along for the ride, you couldn't think of anywhere else you'd rather be. Although no words were exchanged, you got the impression that John knew exactly what you were thinking because the mischievous look spread across his angular face only intensified.

"Considering our accommodation has already been provided, seems only fair that we take care of the rest, right lads?" Ringo posed the question more as a statement.

All three boys nodded in almost eerie unison, reminding you of one of the reasons you were so enraptured with them in the very place whenever watching them on stage. There was a moment of stillness after this, but it didn't last for long. John evidently could not keep his excitement contained for much longer as he rushed towards you without warning. Your eyes widened in confusion as you were lifted off of the floor and into his arms. Even though you had no idea what was going on, you couldn't stop yourself from giggling like a child. Ringo wasn't far behind, spinning his keys around his finger in preparation for piling into his car. Paul and George disgruntledly carried the bags with full arms and bulking shoulders, murmuring about John's exceptional talent of avoiding responsibility. Your captor mirrored your laughter, kicking doors open as you made your way back onto the street. Despite his erratic nature, you felt undisputedly safe in his company, and you almost hoped that he'd carry you all the way home like this. Yet, before long, he had to set you back onto the ground while the heaving bags were thrown into the boot of Ringo's car. Being unable to drive yourself, it was hard not to be excited about everything this vehicle opened to you. While your subconscious tried eagerly to manufacture reasons that you should be feeling incredibly nervous about this whole ordeal, you overwrote them with genuine excitement about the shenanigans you would all be getting up to.

"Nice car." Was all you managed to articulate from this array of thoughts.

"And for that, you can ride up front with me." Ringo opened the door for you chivalrously, to which you responded with an equally exaggerated courtesy.

"Watch out, he uses that line on all the birds." George almost made you jump with his silent approach, but he ducked into the car before you could even respond.

"Steady on, George. It's not like he's asking her to handle his stick shift." Paul teased, nudging George further into the car so that he could sit by the window.

You tried to stop your cheeks from blushing, but there was little you could do. Instead, you busied yourself with the seatbelt while the boys continued to mess about in the back. It reminded you a lot of being back at school, excluding the depressing authoritative regime and the need to remember useless facts, as the lightness of their dynamic was so contagious that you felt as though there was nothing to worry about. The only thing that made your stomach flip, however minimally, was the effect George's eyes seemed to have on you, even if they were caught momentarily in the rearview mirror. John was demonstrably going to be a handful, but nothing you couldn't manage. Ringo and Paul were both more level-headed and considerate, so you knew there'd be no problems there. George, on the other hand, seemed unpredictable in a way completely different from John. You knew how likely it was that things would get messy, but the possible benefits of being able to spend time with these boys far outweighed any issues you could foresee in the not-too-distant future. For the time being, you were going to enjoy yourself. Ringo gave you a reassuring smirk before you drove off, and you pushed yourself to remain in this state of relaxation.

"Not heading straight home, are we?" John queried, slotting his head in between the two seats.

"Where did you have in mind?" Ringo responded, keeping his eyes firmly on the road.

"I do recall someone saying something about a celebration." John giggled "Correct me if I'm wrong, but it's not much of a celebration without a drink or two."

"Really? I recall that certain someone being you, if my memory doesn't fail me." Paul tried to pull John back into his seat to no avail.

"Come on." John pleaded "If anything, look at it as a test. We'll get so railed that we show what absolute twats we really are. Then, if it’s not to your liking, we'll be off in the morning."

"Don't think you need a drop of alcohol to make that clear, John." George poked, his sharp teeth teasingly showing.

"Har har." John rolled his eyes "It'll be a laugh, alright? I'll cover the costs if I bleeding have to."

"That'll be the day." Ringo didn't even hesitate but quickly softened the blow "It would be fun, though. Get it all out in the open so we're not keeping up appearances for the sake of it."

"And what if I absolutely embarrass myself, what then?" You asked, half joking.

"Then we know we've found a kindred spirit." John's smile widened once again, only now being satisfied enough to sit back in his seat.

Ringo drove past the turning for your house, continuing on to the nearest shop to pick up a few bottles of whatever poison John had in mind. A bubbling of nerves started to form deep in your stomach, but it was hard to decipher whether it was actual panic or just pure excitement. It had been a long time since you'd completely let loose in the comfort of your own home, and part of you worried about what might slip out. At that very moment, you were surrounded by four of the most charismatic and attractive boys who had bothered to give you the time of day; it was simply too good to be true. There was no way something catastrophic wasn't waiting up ahead to rip it all from you. Even so, there was no denying that there was fun to be had before this inevitable disaster. If that was the case, you were determined to make the most of it while it lasted, even if it meant overstepping a boundary or two. Cautiously, you watched George in the rearview mirror, moving your gaze away whenever you thought he might catch you staring. With so much mystery surrounding him, you couldn't help feeling anticipation about what a generous helping of alcohol might do to his demeanour. Considering how things had gone the night before, there was a chance that something spectacular might happen. All you had to do was play your cards right, whatever that meant in a strange situation such as this. It would help if you even knew what cards you were holding in the first place, let alone what to do with them.

#beatles #the beatles #beatles fanfic #the beatles fanfic #george harrison/reader

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theoldmixer · 2 years

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Mclennon sick!fic & hurt/comfort

Because I couldn't do just one. Now I'm starting of series of hurt/comfort and sick!fics

Part 1: Man, I had a dreadful flight: Paul gets motion sick on a flight to the US. John protects and comforts.

Part 2: If misery try a taste of honey During the recording of Twist and Shout, John loses his voice and Paul brings him tea. Lots and lots of tea.

Part 3: Doc, it's only a scratch: Paul gets into an accident on Boxing day 1965. John rushes over when he hears the news.

Part 4: I Feel Fine: Paul falls ill while on tour in 1963 and tries to go about his day.

*New* Part 5: The jukebox blows a fuse: Paul reaches his boiling point in his petty jealousy of Stuart.

#beatles fanfic #my fanfiction #mclennon #hurt/comfort #sickfic

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glowing-gold · 5 months

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Go read my current works on Ao3, if u feel so inclined!

a brief interruption, a slight malfunction - 12k, John/Paul smut. My first co-authored fic w @magzthemad! They fuck after the rooftop concert. Some of my most favorite sex I’ve ever written. Full of emotion.

Writing Letters (On My Wall) - 89k. Complete. John/Paul, long format slow burn. Paul writes to John anonymously because they’re not speaking. Ends with 20k of smut.

Cold Turkey - 8k, John/Paul, smut, John is withdrawing from heroin and begs Paul to fuck him. Explicit.

A Toot and a Snore- 25k, John/Paul, angst and smut, lost weekend era fix it fic. Explicit.

For Auld Lang Synd- 50k, John/Paul, 9 chapters, 1967-68 pepper era first time fic. Slow burn to smutty payoff. Explicit.

A Silent Question- 49k, John/Paul, 5 chapters, 1963 first time fic. Smut throughout. Explicit.

#the beatles #paul mccartney #john lennon #mclennon #george harrison #ringo starr #beatles fanfiction #Beatles fanfic #mclennon fanfiction #McLennon fanfic #ao3fic #ao3 #Beatles ao3 #McLennon ao3

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danciinwith-myself · 1 year

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have started writing again bc u dont choose hyperfixations they choose you <3 please give it a read it's a rewrite of one of my other fics , kudos and comments n reblogs are seriously appreciated ily all

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harrisongslimited · 2 months

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George Chapter of the Day

Hi Happy Beatle and tumblr Families! I'm working on a Beatles fanfic and to be honest, I'd love your opinions. I don't profess to be a great writer or anything...it's just that I've been a Beatles fan a long time, and stories have been buzzing around in my head forever. So I thought putting the stories down on paper would be fun..(or why I've gone stark raving mad). If it sucks beyond measure I will take it down and say goodbye to that magnificent writing career I'm going for. (Right).

I've read many of your stories and must say we have a talented bunch posting here! I'm a big hockey fan, so I'm enjoying those fanfics. I may tackle one on Brandon Hagel when I finish my Beatles story.

Anyway, I'm going to post the synopsis, trigger warnings, and first chapter very soon. I will also keep up my George Picture of the Day, which has been a lot of fun to do. And thank you for correcting my errors!

Thanks to the tumblr and Beatle families from harrisongslimited.

#the beatles #beatles #george harrison #john lennon #paul mccartney #beatles fanfiction #george chapter of the day #fanfic #beatles fanfic #beatlemania #writing #writing on tumblr #fan fic writing

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peaceloveandstarrs · 9 months

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McHarrison, 43

are you sure this is your first time?

(AN: this is long, i apologize! lol)

WARNING: NSFW

“Bloody cord, c’mon…”

Paul fiddled with the cord on his bass, kneeling in front of it to get a better look at the jack. The band was preparing to rehearse for their upcoming appearance on some television show to promote their new album. They’d done so many of them lately that they were having a hard time remembering what the shows were called. Not that it really mattered. They would play a couple of songs, maybe talk to the host after, then go back to their rooms. And for this trip, Paul was sharing with George.

That was lucky, really, because he’d been spending some intimate time with George when they could be alone. They hadn’t done much yet, just wanking each other off after a heated snog against the wall or on the bed. And while their wanks were satisfying, Paul was beginning to want more. He found himself wondering what George felt like in his mouth. What he tasted like. What his cum would feel like in his mouth and throat.

Paul shook his head. He was still accepting his attraction to another man, so the idea of sucking George off was a bit unnerving. But at the same time, it was incredibly hot. Paul squirmed, trying not to get himself too worked up before rehearsal. The more he tried to stop it, the more difficult it became to get the memory of George’s deep moan out of his head. The way his back arched as he came, the way he swore as he got close… fuck.

“Focus,” Paul scolded himself.

He plugged the bass into the amp and started to stand, only to find himself face-to-face with someone’s crotch. Paul swallowed hard as he looked up and saw just whose it was.

George’s.

He shifted uncomfortably as he felt his cock twitch with interest in his trousers. God, what he wouldn’t give to be able to act on his fantasy right here, right now. Just… pull George into some secluded area, get on his knees, and suck him off. But there was one problem. He’d never done it before. Sure, he’d gotten plenty of blowjobs from birds over the years. But this was his first time being this intimate with a man. What if he was bad at it? He chewed at his fingernail as his anxiety began to build.

No. He wasn’t going to go down that spiral. He knew what kinds of touches George liked, surely it’d be similar with his mouth. Suddenly his mind was flooded with all sorts of sinful images… George’s hands in Paul’s hair as Paul sucked him off. George moaning and swearing as his back arched up off the bed. George cumming into Paul’s mouth, pulling Paul’s hair…Paul felt himself stiffening in his trousers.

“Somethin’ on yer mind?” George teased when he looked down and saw the growing bulge in Paul’s trousers. He gave Paul a wicked smirk, which didn’t help the situation. George’s confidence was one of the sexiest things about him, after all.

Paul quickly stood before anyone could catch him in the rather compromising position. After all, what would the others think if they saw Paul on his knees in front of George with George smirking at him? He carefully covered his bulge with his hands. To anyone walking by, it would look like an innocent, casual conversation between bandmates, probably about the songs or something. But George and Paul knew better. Added to the eroticism, if Paul was honest with himself.

It was now or never, Paul told himself. He swallowed hard and leaned in closer to George. “There’s something I wanna try when we get done here,” he whispered, subtly raising his eyebrows before leaning back and going to his bass.

George was intrigued. What did Paul, who wasn’t as secure in his attraction to men, want to do? Before he could get too carried away, they were called to get into position. Good timing. George put on his guitar and focused all of his attention on the rehearsal as well as he could, which was a challenge given Paul’s tease.

Fortunately for Paul and George, they were able to remain focused enough on the music to prevent anyone from asking questions. They made the quick trip back to the hotel after dodging the onslaught of fans that had found out where the rehearsal was and stayed out there hoping to catch a glimpse of their favorite band.

Paul made it to the room first, George following closely behind. He locked the door behind him, turning to face Paul. A visibly nervous Paul.

“So. Ye wanted to try somethin’?”

Paul nodded and rubbed his sweaty palms on his thighs. “I did. I wanted to - to try sucking ye off,” he stammered.

George looked at Paul, taken aback by the bluntness. It wasn’t typical; Paul tended to dance around things he wasn’t completely comfortable with. But perhaps because it was the two of them, Paul felt safe saying it. George felt a rush of affection for the man.

“Ever done it before?” George asked as he headed towards the bed and beckoned Paul to join him. Paul shook his head, joining George on the bed. He looked down. George was already half hard, probably from thinking about getting a blow job. “First, ye gotta relax. It’s just me.”

Paul nodded again and leaned in for a kiss. Something he knew he was good at, something that would help his mind shut off and stay in the moment. The kiss started slow, but it wasn’t long before they were making out, Paul on top of George, shirts off and tongues exploring as they rubbed their clothed cocks together. He could feel George’s hardness pressing against his own and knew it was time. He pulled away, kissing down George’s chest as his hands fumbled with the buttons on George’s jeans.

“Here. This’ll make it easier.” George moved to sit on the edge of the bed, taking off his jeans and pulling down his underpants. Paul took a deep breath as George’s erection stood against his stomach. That was going in his mouth. And George was a bit bigger than average. “On your knees…”

The command was gentle, but Paul felt compelled to obey. He got down on his knees and thought. George always reacted strongly to touch on the tip. So, Paul kissed the tip softly, glancing up at George before beginning to suckle on it. George gasped, a sign for Paul to keep going. Paul began to take George into his mouth. He never felt teeth when he’d gotten sucked off, so he covered his with his lips as he went from experience, slowly bobbing his head a little. George moaned softly as Paul flattened his tongue. Okay, so that was good.

It wasn’t terrible, just odd. George’s cock was hard and heavy on his mouth, and Paul’s instinct was to gag as he went further down. When it was too much, Paul wrapped his hand around the base. George always reacted well to touch, so Paul tried his best to stroke his lover’s cock in time with the slow, firm sucks. George swore as the combination of touch and tongue sent waves of pleasure through his entire body.

“Fuck…” George moaned. “Are - are you sure this is your first time? Because… oh fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck, Paul… more… please…”

Who was Paul to disobey? George’s moans and gasps fueled his confidence, and he began to speed up his motions, sloppily running his tongue along a vein on the underside of George’s cock. George moaned almost constantly, swearing… and then Paul felt George’s body tense. Which meant… he was close to cumming. The idea of swallowing wasn’t appealing. Not yet, at least. But he didn’t want to disappoint…

Fortunately, George was somehow able to sense Paul’s discomfort. He pulled out of Paul’s mouth, leaving Paul to stroke him off with his own saliva as the lube. He looked up, silently thanking George as he skillfully stroked him, paying attention to all of George’s most sensitive places. And then… with a shout, George came, back arching as he spurt hot and white over his stomach and Paul’s hand. Paul reached down with his free hand, palming himself. God. He was achingly hard… but he pushed that to the back of his mind as he stroked George through the aftershocks of his orgasm.

“Shit…” George breathed once his pleasure had subsided and he was able to talk again. “Had no idea ye could do that…”

“Neither, uh, neither did I,” Paul admitted. Feeling a bit more secure, he made a show of palming his erection through his trousers.

“Proud of ye,” George teased. He wiggled his eyebrows and patted the bed beside him. “Now… I’d like to return the favour….”

#mcharrison #paul x george #george x paul #beatles fanfiction #beatles fanfic #beatles slash

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waveofahand · 2 years

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“Come over here, boy, and let me bite your thighs”

I’m making very tardy responses to comments that piled up while I was sick, and found a comment from this old one-shot I’d written a while back, about an injured and very high Jane Asher tempting Paul from her hospital bed. I might as well admit now that the whole stupid story came about because of this image, which was the first time (but not the last) that I came across a picture of those thighs and gasped out loud. Because... I can’t explain this life-ruiner, okay? I just did. And do. I mean, seriously, I still gasp.

Anyway, I have since then made plenty of appreciations for this idiot’s stupid, bowlegged, asymmetrical, big-head-alien beauty -- as well as his shoulders and other body parts and his general glow-ability, and so I need not wax all salivating here. Because I shouldn’t. I mustn’t. It’s wrong to objectify. Right? So yeah. This is how we process. We mustn’t objectify this man in a nearly 60 year old photo. Instead, we’ll just let his girlfriend do it for us:

Paul's eyebrows rose up to his hairline. “I’m sorry, do what, now?” “Take off your trousers for me,” she smiled. "Go on. Stand over there and drop them, so I can look at you." "What, right here and now? In your hospital bed and with nurses all around?" He helped himself to some of her water. Then he coughed, and sipped some more. "Perhaps later. You’ve seen my thighs before, love.” “I know," Jane drawled as though her tongue was too big for her mouth. "But I never understood your thighs until I saw them in the paper...and now I want to watch them. And I’m so…so high.” “Indeed, you’re trippin’ balls, lass,” Paul laughed out loud, enjoying her mood immensely. “And just where did you see my thighs and have an epiphany, and suddenly come to comprehend them?” “You were in Miami, I think? There were palm trees. And you’d gone swimming, and there was a snap of you, drying your hair and you looked so…like you. And your thighs were wet. Your thighs were all there.” “I do generally try to keep them near me as I move about…” “That's good thinking! Because I want to chew on them. You should bring them to me, now. Let a Viking princess bite your thighs.” Paul ducked his head, rubbing his neck and doing his best to chase that image from his head. He thoroughly approved of the idea of Jane chewing on him wherever and however she might like, but her timing was lousy. “I cut the picture out, you know…” “Oh? For a scrapbook? Or to keep under your pillow?” “No, no!” Jane managed a horrified stage whisper. “Imagine if someone saw that! No, I keep your thighs in the drawer for my knickers. With my knickers.” Paul bit his knuckle and crossed his legs, unable to completely hold back a laugh even as Jane’s knickers on his thighs made their appearance in his mind. And chewing. This girl needed to go to sleep, now. But…her knickers. She had nice knickers, he knew. Lacy and sweet, and very huggy around her bum, which he loved to squeeze. Oh, God. And now her bum was in his head, too. It was getting very crowded in there, and Paul…well, Paul’s self-control didn’t always extend to keeping down The McSéamus, that lively Irish warrior who lived between his legs and had a bad habit of popping up at precisely the wrong times, all ready to engage with whomever was handy. Paul recalled a particularly embarrassing televised interview during which, thanks to John's wicked and intentional backstage summoning, the too-ready tyrant had refused to be subdued and made a pest of himself throughout the segment. And here the restless little bugger was, in a hospital room, already starting to rouse when he had to know Paul wouldn't let him loose. That fellow was trouble, The McSéamus. Oh...trouble. A happy campaigner, for sure, but indiscriminate and often a bit too alert to any possible opportunity to make an advance. It was the fault of The McSéamus that Paul, knowing he needed to change the subject, couldn't resist flirting a bit more instead. “You know, Jane, sweet, you should maybe keep the picture in the drawer of your nightstand. That way when I’m not around, you know, you could um…look at my thighs before you go to sleep. Maybe be a little bit naughty with yourself, then, and help yourself off into a sweet dream, yeah?” He wiggled his eyebrows at her. "And then you can tell me all about it, when I call from the road..." “I would mark you.” Jane said, dreamily. “All over your legs. I’d bite you. I want to chew on you right there." Her eyes zeroed in on a spot high on Paul's right thigh and he swore he could feel a singe. "I'd brand you like a Viking princess would brand an Irish slave.” She ran her tongue over her teeth, looking straight at him. “A Black Irish one. With hairy thighs.” Paul let loose a mild groan and began to regret offering to stay.

Yes, see...that’s Jane objectifying the boy. Not me. I’m a grown up. Anyway, you can read it at AO3, if you want to find out if Paul succumbs!

#Young Paul McCartney #beatles miami 1964 #Thighs #Jane Asher #why is he like this?#appreciation #life-ruiner #beatles fanfic #Stupid idiot beauty

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