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#john lennon imagine
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
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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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thebeatles-world · 1 year
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A Different Path
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Summary: It’s 2023. Y/N and her boyfriend get into an argument and y/n wishes that she got to go back in time and meet the Beatles…And her wish comes true.
You and your boyfriend got into an argument. You both been getting frustrated with each other for the past few days and you knew that it wasn’t going to work out no matter how much he loved you. You were ready to either break up with him or either take a break from the relationship.
“Whatever. I’ll give you some space.” Your boyfriend scolded, getting his phone and jacket from your bed.
“I don’t bloody care what you do.” You said as you rolled your eyes at him in frustration.
“You are not even British anyways so stop acting like you are British.” Your boyfriend said in an annoyed voice.
“Just get out!” You pointed at your door as you breathed in frustration.
“You listen way too much to the Beatles I swear.” Your boyfriend said before slamming your door.
“I don’t care what you think.” You screamed but it was too late. He already left your room.
With a groan, you slammed your drawers shut.
“Oh, I wish… I wish I went back in time and met the Beatles.” You said out loud.
You looked at your Beatles poster in sadness.
“Why… oh why… must I been born in the wrong generation.” You said softly.
You had tons of the Beatles songs on your Spotify playlist. You had thousands of photos saved of the Beatles from your gallery on your phone.
“Boys in this generation aren’t even that cute.” You said disgustedly.
You sighed as you looked at the Beatles poster on your wall once again.
They were sitting down together while smiling in black and white.
“Oh, how I wish I went back in time and met the Beatles.” You said hopefully as you closed your eyes.
Suddenly you felt dizzy. You felt as if everything in the room was spinning around you.
What’s happening?” You said in confusion as you could barely see due to the dizziness around you.
You lay down on your bed and tried not to get nauseous from the dizziness.
You closed your eyes and all you remembered is blacking out from the dizziness.
You felt yourself lying down on cold pavement ground. You slowly opened your eyes and noticed that you weren’t in your room anymore. You were lying down on a sidewalk and in a strange place.
“Where am I? What’s going on?.” You exclaimed in fear as you looked around you. This wasn’t your room or the town you lived in. This was a different place and a different kind of town that you didn’t recognize.
“Oh my, are you okay?” A male voice said behind you.
Before you could speak, you turned around to see who was speaking to you and you were in shock when you saw who it was.
It was George Harrison.
You felt too stunned to speak.
“I..I..” you managed to say but you couldn’t find the right words to say.
“Did you bump your head, love? You look pale.” George asked you as he put his hand on your forehead.
You felt your face turn bright red.
“Oh my gosh, I can’t believe he’s touching my forehead right now. I can’t believe he’s here in person.” You thought.
You tried your best not to fangirl in front of him. Even though you wanted to scream in excitement because George Harrison was here in person. Right in front of you.
You just nodded as you stared at him.
“I know who you are. You are George Harrison… From The Beatles.” You said weakly as you continued to stare at him.
“That’s right love.” He chucked.
“Where are your parents? I’m sure we can call them. There’s a pay phone not too far away or I can take you to your house?” George said.
You quickly panicked and tried to think fast of a way to make up a lie.
How crazy would it sound to tell George that you made a wish to meet the Beatles and it came true?
Well, you met one of them. Besides you honestly had a crush on all the Beatles and couldn’t decide which one was your favorite.
“I uh don’t have any parents. I’m an orphan here? I.. um… unfortunately my parents abandoned me here and went back to America.” You tried your best to make sure your lie made sense.
“Oh no love. That’s terrible. I’m so sorry.” George sadly said, feeling sorry for you.
You nodded sadly even though you were pretending to give a sob story to make George feel sorry for you.
“I’m all alone here. I know nothing about living here in England.” You continue to say, acting dramatic.
“Don’t worry darling, how about you come with me? So that’s why you won’t be alone here. I would hate for some creep to snatch you away. What do you say?” George offers you his hand to help you off the ground.
Your face turned bright red.
Oh my gosh… was this happening??
“Why yes of course.” You took George’s hand as he helped you off the ground.
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beiasluv · 2 years
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Imagine being the Beatles’ little sister (+modern au!)
A/N: call me weird if you would 💀 I adore the 20s version of an 80s rocks stars.
Enjoy!
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You are probably Paul‘s little sister
The first time that you know your brother is in a band, your mind was blown
How can this silly older brother of yours become a soon-to-be rock star
Of course, your brother was not the one who told you. He would never bring you into this mess.
“Paul, why didn't you tell me you're in a band?” “That's bloody ridiculous and amazing,” you rested your body against the wall.
“Well, you see those lads? They'll bring you to dangerous things that I...don’t want you to get,” he scratched his head.
“Then, why are you hanging out with them?” “Pleasee, just let me see you perform, you don’t want your little sister to see how talented you are?” you give him the puppy’s look.
“I’ll consider it, you bean,” he pats your head.
The bands did not know Paul had a little sister, either. Their minds were blown.
John would tease Paul to date you, but Paul declined heavily.
“Paulie got a little sister?!” John fake gasped.
“You should show her around since you’ll be here for a while,” Ringo wiggled his eyebrows. “Right, George?”
“Uh..yeah”
“Never, she’ll stay far from you lads as long as it is possible.”
“Alright, I say, lads, let’s go have dinner at Paul’s house!” John laughed.
“You Wankers!”
You finally met the Beatles and get along with them pretty well.
John was the one who opened up the most. He’ll talk to you about little things.
Ringo and George need a little time to get used to you.
Meeting with them is like having three more older brothers.
I’ll say… the bug boys’ biggest strength is not schoolwork.
They’ll teach you how to play different instruments. Sometimes, you join in their jam sessions.
George is very passionate about food with you. You are the only one he is happy to share food with.
They are very protective of you, how you dress, and who are you dating.
The Beatles are on tour and, of course, Paul has to drag you along with them with the excuse of “emotional support little sister.”
The boys will fight on the plane for who gets to sits with you.
“She’s my sister, of course, I sit with her!”
“No, you sit with her last time, it's my turn,” John refused.
“No, it's mine,” Ringo walks toward the chair but was taken back by Paul.
“It's okay, lads, I'll sit with George.”
You’ll help out with doing their hair and makeup. (especially for Paul)
“No, y/n, girls will like it like this,” he grabs the brush.
“Come on, Paul, you think I will make my brother look uglier?”
“Of course!” he said. you paused and laughed.
“Okay, okay, at least I want the best for my brother now.” you grab the brush and fix his hair.
“Y/N! help me with my hairr,” John teased.
“Coming!”
Most of the time, you’ll get left out during the after-parties, but George and Ringo will always check on you.
Ringo would dance while sitting with you.
George would sit and comforts you anytime. He’ll make sure to go for Paul after the party for leaving his little sister.
They are bunkers for you to the paparazzis
During one interview, Ringo let out your name and the fans went mad.
Who is this girl’s name they have mentioned?
Paul was quite angry, he intended to keep his sister out of the spotlight as long as he could.
They would receive threats from fans sent directly to the Beatles.
Many “To Y/N”s letters were appearing on your dining table. Paul unknowingly brought it home, for seeing your name, he wished he never did.
At first, you read them and soon you leave them piling on the table.
Some letters appeared at the studio while you were with them.
“Y/n? A letter for you,” George hands you an envelope.
“Oh, just leave it,” your face saddened.
“What’s wrong? You know you can tell me, right?” he holds your shoulder. You shake your head, “Please tell me what’s wrong?”
“They are death threats from the fans, George, they want me dead!” you cried into his chest.
“What?! How come! Ringo!” “It’s alright, dove, we’ll manage this out.”
Ringo apologized to you and in the end, you guys did a group hug.
They cheered you up by burning all the letters together. (ahem, Harry Potter)
In one interview, they decided to end this commotion. Obviously, most of the questions involved who y/n is.
“We’ve received many cards about the name y/n, so who is she?" the interviewer raised his mic.
“She is my sister and I want no more people sending death threats to her.”
“If we found out who you are, you’ll receive a lovely sue from us,” George steals the mic.
“Period,” said John.
modern au!
The Beatles are the meme lords of the time.
Your photo album is filled with their selfies.
You have to teach them how to use Instagram and Twitter.
Your personal tiktok became the Beatles’ tiktok because they are too lazy to create their own and like to steal your phone more.
You’ll dance, and out of nowhere, Ringo or John will join in. Paul and George will take the phone away because they said it's “inappropriate.”
They'll start Instagram lives just to argue with each other
Johnlemon has started an Instagram live with Georgehairyson
The Beatles arguing on Twitter.
“You Wankers!”- Paul Macandcheese. Twitted from iPod
If you like it any interactions would be appreciated, if not critics are open.
Today is a great day to take care of yourself!
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60swhore69 · 2 years
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Can someone please do a angsty but happy slow burn/long fic ending fic for John Lennon 🙏, I want some sweet comfort or hurt/jealousy but Like not always the reader being hurt or whatever. Thank you kind sir (or mam or whatever ur pronouns) 🧎‍♀️🛐
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conjcosby · 10 months
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Imagine by John Lennon ▫ The message is loud and clear. Stop gun violence and stop war. 🙏
https://vm.tiktok.com/ZGJ9ucSk9/
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littlewalken · 1 year
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What the hell! When did they have a revolution and make this asshole the crown prince of the hippies?
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franklyimissparis · 2 months
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never getting over this actually
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chirpingchorus · 3 months
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What am I supposed to do with this. What is wrong with him.
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rapidteszt · 2 years
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John Lennon's son Julian sings 'Imagine' for the first time in support of Ukraine – National
John Lennon’s son Julian sings ‘Imagine’ for the first time in support of Ukraine – National
Despite vowing never to sing her father’s hit song ImagineJulian Lennon released a blanket in support of Ukraine. Lennon, 59, made the rendition as part of Global Citizen’s social media rally, Stand Up For Ukraine, which is working to raise money for the war-torn country amid the Russian invasion. In a dark, candle-lit room, Lennon sang the ballad originally sung by his father, John. He was…
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elvispresley · 7 months
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John Lennon + his iconic orange glasses (1971)
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ringstarrr · 2 years
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If Not For You
summary: george calms you down after an awful fight with your parents
pairing: george harrison x gender neutral!reader
warnings: domestic violence, swearing, daddy issues, angst
author's note: please please please don't ever let anyone at all treat you like this. this is a sad and long one. it ends good ok. if you ever need someone to talk to, i'm always available
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1969.
You were shaking from the moment you left your parents' house. Now, sitting in the car in front of your home, it all came to you. Tears began to roll down your face quietly, and you started to feel the sharp pain of the slaps and punches your father threw at you as the adrenaline washed off. When you checked the rearview, you saw your cheek swollen, as were your lips. Your eyes hurt, the old man managed to land a punch there too.
You were horrible. At least now you were safe. Trembling, you took a deep breath and got out of the car, silently walking to the front door. The atmosphere of your shared house with George at Friar Park was something you didn't expect to need right now.
The soft sound of the new Bob Dylan record, Nashville Skyline, brought you a sense of peace much appreciated for the moment. It reminded you where you were - in your home, away from your family, out of harm's way. It also warmed your heart to know that - if Dylan was playing on the stereo - George was home.
"Love?" George called from the kitchen. It was late in the evening, and he was preparing himself a sandwich. He was worried and couldn't put his mind to doing anything from the moment you left to visit your parents. The Liverpudlian man was very much aware of your relationship with them, or lack of, though it wasn't a subject neither of you enjoyed discussing often. George knew they were abusive, but he didn't know to what extent.
You sat on the couch of the living room, sobbing quietly. With your head laid back, you caressed your temples and closed your eyes, you couldn't bring yourself to answer him.
"Hi," you tried. Your voice was hoarse, thick with misery. Immediately you listened to George's boots mix with Dylan's guitar. Hearing you like this made him uneasy, and he began searching for you anxiously. Then, George found you.
The anger in him enhanced for a moment, shocked. He ran to you, lowering himself to his knees. George was holding your hand in his tightly. Stroking your arm with care, he focused on your face.
"Honey, what happened?" The boy mumbled, moving his hand to caress your cheek softly. You hissed at the touch, to which George quickly moved his fingers to your hair. His expression was pure horror and fury combined.
"My parents didn't enjoy what I had to say," you sniffled. They had called you in to have dinner with them, to discuss a few things. "They were being hostile and saying a lot of mean stuff to me. Then, my dad thought the best way to make me shut up was slapping me across the face." You were shaking violently as you remember it, flashes running through your head. "He tried to punch me a few times. And well, he managed," you laughed amidst the pain. Your head was pounding, but you thought it was better to laugh at the situation than to cry your eyeballs out. You were already doing so, anyway.
George was speechless. His face was blank for a few seconds; then, completely soft with a tint of concern. "Where did he hit you, love?" You took a long breath as you pointed everywhere sore in your body to him. "What do you say I run you a bath?" He smiled lightly at you, his voice gentle. You beamed back, wiping your cheeks. After he kissed the back of your hand, George got up, extending his hand to you.
You gratefully took it in yours. George helped you get on your feet, moving his fingers to hold you tightly and closer by the waist. He pecked at your neck softly as the two of you strolled down the hall, then up the stairs to your bedroom. You laid your head on his shoulder, eyes shut. You found so much comfort in him. He was your safe harbour, your rock.
"It's going to be alright, baby. I've got you," George whispered against your hair.
Once you were inside your suite's bathroom, George began undressing you. Gently, he planted soft kisses along your skin, calming you down. George took extra care with the areas you were hurting the most. His eyebrows knitted together when he took notice of the fight's marks. He was still mad, though he decided you needed him before he could go and beat the shit out of your father.
That was something going on in the back of your mind - how would George react? You knew him pretty well, considering you were a happily married couple and had been together for a long time. You knew he wasn't against getting physical. You could only imagine his lanky figure over your father, and as fucked up as it was, you thought it would be funny.
The tub was ready, and George assisted you to enter it. The water was warm and soothing, your limbs melting into it. Your body was sore, and you felt like shutting down. You had stopped shaking, and your breathing was getting steadier. Much thanks to George's help and presence.
He was very attentive and careful with you, singing quietly a new tune of his as he washed your back. It brought you to tears again. How could someone who was supposed to love you treat you that badly? And how come you simultaneously had someone like George in your life, acting as if you were a piece of rare China? It didn't make sense to you, and it killed you to notice the discrepancy.
"Why do you even love me, Geo?" You uttered between sobs, your limbs quivering once more. George's hands stopped their movements, moving your hair out of your face. Your teary-eyed gaze fitted his gloomy one. His eyebrows united again. "I'm horrible, George. My dad fucking hates me. I'm a goddamn monster. You deserve better," you continued, weeping like a little kid.
"You are not, (y/n). Don't say that," George caressed your good cheek, bringing your face close. He was speaking under his voice too. You were the only people in the giant Victorian castle - yet it made it feel more intimate. "It's not your fault, okay? It's not your fault your father is a scumbag," he was clearly controlling himself as he breathed in and out soundly. Thinking of your father right now was enough to send him over the edge. "I love you for who you are, love. You make me happier just by being you. You can do literally nothing, and I'd think you are the greatest," he smiled lightly at you when a small giggle left your lips. "You are not a monster, honey. Don't let his nonsense get into your head, please." He pleaded softly, kissing your forehead.
George resumed running the sponge over your frame, carefully placing soft pecks now and then. Up your arms, shoulders, collarbone. Everywhere he could get his lips in. You persisted, whimpering calmly now from happiness - you even chuckled a bit at yourself. You found someone who truly loved you, in the good and the bad.
"I'm so thankful to have you," you stated after a while. George was applying shampoo to your hair, rinsing it off. He giggled cheerily, his fangs showing in that sweet smile. "If not for you, I'd be lost," to your surprise, George grinned even more before kissing you properly on the lips for the first time that night.
"I have something to show you later," he told you giggly. He put conditioner in your head, giving your scalp a massage. "I've got a new tune," George said in his shy tone, causing an enormous grin to spread across your features. You loved to hear his songs before anyone else. "But first, I've gotta take care of my baby," he pecked right behind your ear, a chuckle leaving your lips.
"Geo, what should I do?" You questioned him when it turned silent again. He looked at you with a puzzled expression, thinking it over. "I don't want them to hate me more than they already do." You were quiet, fear taking over your thoughts.
"First of all, we need to go to the police, love." George moved your hair back, staring straight at your eyes.
"But I don't want to cause them any more problems."
"So they can cause you more?" George's eyebrows were upon his forehead, and his tone gave you an idea of how mad he was. "This can't go on any longer, (y/n). For your own sake. You've got to put yourself first," he stared at you, his gaze filled with apprehension. "And I can't deal with the idea of them hurting you anymore. I want to kill your dad, (y/n). He's a fucking prick for treating you like this." His eyes got teary, and he quickly moved a hand to wipe the tears away. Your palm shifted to hold his face, thumb going over his cheek fondly.
"Aren't you going to fight him, are you?" You asked him, utterly tired.
"I really want to, but no. I won't," George sighed, pecking your hair as he got up. "I'm going to get you some painkillers. And I think you need some time alone to think it over," he smiled softly at you, opening the door. "I love you."
"I love you too," you said back, smiling tiredly at him.
Alone in the quietness of the bathroom, your mind went over the whole thing once more. This time you didn't cry - you were just enraged it happened. You drowned your body in the water for a few seconds before emerging again. You felt better and laughed as you remembered that someone had told you rage was powerful, even in the healing process.
You thought about going to the police, and what that would mean to your relationship with them. "That would probably ruin my dad's life," you concluded. But after a while, you began thinking about what George had said. It was about your safety, and since your father wasn't someone you could trust, denouncing him was the best option. That or pretend it never happened, like you did so many times. Now you were exhausted and completely tired of it. You weren't going to put on a happy face for them anymore. It was long overdue.
You didn't know how long it had been since George left, but the moment you enter the bedroom, he's in his pyjamas. He had laid yours on your side of the bed. Your lovely man was smoking a ciggie by the window, his back facing you. George definitely heard you come out of the bathroom, though he didn't turn. He didn't want to push you, taking your time. Putting the pyjamas on, you walked up to him, holding George by the waist, kissing his neck.
"Did you enjoy the bath?" George asked, looking at you from the corner of his eye. You shook your head positively. "How are you feeling?"
"Much better. Thank you." You kissed George, trying to express your love for him through the kiss. It seemed to work as he smiled into it. "I've made a decision," you sighed before saying. "We are going to the police." George didn't answer, and instead, a grin covered his face as he kissed you tightly. You held your arms around his neck, putting him even closer.
"Do you want to listen to the song, love?" George questioned, moving to get his guitar by his bedside. You trod to yours, taking the pills he left by your nightstand.
"Of course," you responded with a chuckle. You were resting against the headrest. You watched closely as George put the instrument on his tighs and strum it a bit.
Then, he began playing it. You recognized the tune - it was the one he was singing in the bathroom. Butterflies took your heart by surprise once George began singing.
"If not for you. Babe, I couldn't even find the door. I couldn't even see the floor. I'd be sad and blue, if not for you." His cheeks were rosy, but he kept going. You found it amusing that George still got embarrassed to sing in front of you. "If not for you, my sky would fall. Rain would gather, too. Without your love, I'd be nowhere at all. I'd be lost, if not for you." That part had you smiling like a fool.
When George put the guitar aside, you jumped to embrace him strongly. "That was so sweet."
"Well, it wouldn't be if not for you."
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thebeatles-world · 1 year
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Send in imagine requests of your favorite beatles member on my inbox or message me :)
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littleflower-426 · 8 months
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John Lennon in help! (1965)
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nikidontsurf · 1 month
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JOHN LENNON and GEORGE HARRISON during recording sessions for the "IMAGINE" album
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conjcosby · 10 months
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Stardate: 2023.5.23 ▫ This song is relevant today as well as years ago. The message is loud and clear. 🙏
https://www.tiktok.com/@conjcosby?_t=8cYDDofLyuo&_r=1
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