#made me believe in starrison

[ringosmistress]

#this is doing numbers #follow me for more beatles bangers guys #god john was on something back then #john can't possibly hate octopus's garden more than maxwell's silver hammer #poor ringo #what was paul's take on that octopus song #i love it though #loved that scene where george was helping ringo with that song #made me believe in starrison #peace and love everyone #the beatles #john lennon #paul mccartney #george harrison #ringo starr #beatles #memes

[good-to-drive]

Midnight Confessions

Pairings: Lennison, Starrison

CW: nsfw, anal sex, mentions of oral sex, mentions of voyeurism

Word Count: ~4000

“I have to talk to you," George said softly. The only light in the room was pale blue moonlight, making Ritchie's eyes seem even brighter and more beautiful than they already were. And afraid. That made George's heart ache – Ritchie looked afraid.

"You can talk to me about anything," Ritchie said, voice warm and reassuring. He could smell the alcohol on George's breath and anxiety twisted in his stomach – a midnight, drunken confession could hardly be anything good. But he pushed down his worry to give George the most reassuring smile he could manage.

George rolled over for the hundredth time that night. Ritchie was fast asleep beside him, snoring gently. Gazing at his sleeping face, he was struck yet again by the sheer insanity of the situation. A year ago he never would have believed that he'd be sharing a bed with his best friend – in fact, he would have been disturbed at the very idea.

But those feelings felt so much duller, more distant when Ritchie was curled up beside him. Even in sleep he seemed so warm, so kind. You could see his huge heart in the lines of his face, the affection and concern that never quite left him, even in sleep.

George had always liked that about him, his kind face. Though it wasn't until they entered a relationship that he started to realize how handsome he was. That aspect of Ritchie crept up on him slowly until it was almost overwhelming, a solid kind of manliness that George didn't even know he liked.

He sighed, tucking his face into the pillow and then almost immediately tossing his head to the other side, restless and uncomfortable. Looking at Ritchie stoked the flicker of guilt in his chest. There was only one thing keeping him awake tonight.

John.

Wasn't he sort of the opposite of Ritchie? Ritchie had a warm, enveloping kind of charm that made George feel seen and loved. John had a kind of charm that had George chasing after the slightest shred of kindness or approval.

He'd been a fourteen year old kid when he first met him. Maybe he wouldn't have been quite so entranced except that Paul thought he was so perfect, so amazing, so much the guy, and in those days George always followed what Paul thought.

What would Paul think about this? About George and Ringo sharing a bed?

He pushed that thought away, turning his face towards the wall. It would never matter because Paul would never know.

But John knew. And as for what he thought about it… Even with Ritchie's warm breath on the back of his neck, George's stomach clenched to imagine just what exactly John thought.

He'd heard them. That day in the studio, the first time George got on his knees for Ritchie. He'd been horribly nervous, letting Ritchie handle him with such incredible care. Because there was a huge difference between kissing Ritchie, between having Ritchie go down on him, and then going down himself. It was private. It was vulnerable.

It was queer.

Because there was no denying now that George liked Ritchie that way. Not that he'd exactly wanted to deny it before. Sex didn't have to be about bodies, it could be about two spirits intertwining. And there was no spirit he loved more than Ritchie's.

But something shifted in him when he first got on his knees for another man. It was a moment he couldn't take back, a moment he gave exclusively to Ritchie. Because he trusted him, because he loved him, because he wanted him to know it.

But it hadn't been just for Ritchie. John was there, too – and, Christ, was John always going to be there? And George wasn't even quite sure what he meant by that, except that it made him bizarrely, stupidly angry to know that John had shared that moment.

George had given himself to Ritchie in the most intimate, personal way he could imagine, and without even asking John had taken a piece of him too. How like him.

And even that wasn't enough, was it?

George's face burned remembering how John had kissed him. Shame washed over him at the memory, though why he couldn't exactly say. He hadn't initiated the kiss. He'd even broken it off. He had nothing to feel sorry for.

But he did feel sorry. He felt so incredibly sorry that he hadn't even told Ritchie yet.

Was it because Ritchie might get the wrong idea? It was certainly possible. For such a handsome, successful man, Ritchie could be incredibly insecure. In some ways he remained convinced that the other three had a closeness he wasn't a part of, saw himself as the eternal newcomer.

He tossed and turned for a bit longer, getting sweaty under the covers. When it started to look like he was going to wake Ritchie George finally gave up.

As quietly as possible, he rolled out of bed and padded into the hallway. He needed a glass of water. Or a glass of whiskey, if Ritchie had anything of the sort.

***

"Ritchie," George whispered, gently shaking him awake. Ritchie blinked his enormous, puppy dog eyes and frowned slightly. "George? Is everything okay?"

George bit his lip. Suddenly this didn't feel like such a good idea. But there was no going back now.

"I have to talk to you," he said softly. The only light in the room was pale blue moonlight, making Ritchie's eyes seem even brighter and more beautiful than they already were. And afraid. That made George's heart ache – Ritchie looked afraid.

"You can talk to me about anything," Ritchie said, voice warm and reassuring. He could smell the alcohol on George's breath and anxiety twisted in his stomach – a midnight, drunken confession could hardly be anything good. But he pushed down his worry to give George the most reassuring smile he could manage.

He slid into a sitting position, twisted slightly to face George. His pajama top was partially unbuttoned and George had the sudden urge to curl up into his warm chest and forget everything he was about to say.

George took a deep breath. He couldn't think of any other way to say it. "John kissed me."

Ritchie stared. "I'm sorry?"

"John kissed me," George repeated, face heating up.

"John….. Lennon?" There was a heavy feeling in Ritchie's stomach.

George nearly laughed, a sharp, almost hysterical laughter that bubbled momentarily in his chest. It really was crazy, wasn't it, that John Lennon of all people would take an interest in George. John had always made it clear…. No, George pushed all that away. Ritchie was only surprised because they didn't know John was into men.

"Yeah. That John."

"How did it happen?" Ritchie asked. His voice was uncharacteristically distant, almost unemotional. He never withheld his emotions from George like that.

"He… it was at the party last week, and he'd been drinking, and he… he said he overheard us in the studio that day when I… you know what I mean. And then he just kissed me out of nowhere. And I pushed him right off–" that was almost true, almost, but George still felt guilt burning in his stomach, "and told him to fuck off and that was that."

Ringo nodded slowly, looking down at the bedsheets. He was quiet for a long moment, brow wrinkled. "Why did you wait a week to tell me?" He asked finally. "And why are you telling me now?"

George was a little taken aback. "I just felt guilty for not telling you. And I guess at first I didn't know what to think, but after I talked to John about it–"

"You talked to John before you talked to me?" Ringo asked sharply. His face was very still.

George swallowed. The whiskey wasn't quite sitting well, burning in the back of his throat. "I just had no idea what to think. I mean, it's John, y'know?"

Ringo did know. He knew the way George looked at John, even if George didn't. And he knew the way that John looked at George.

For just a moment, Ringo wanted nothing more than to strangle John.

But shame crept up on him. He should have known something like this was coming. George was too pretty, too smart, too perfect to go unnoticed. Maybe soon he'd realize he could do better than Ritchie, or maybe it would take a long time. Either way, he just wished it wasn't John.

John, who took up a ridiculous amount of space in George's brain. Who had been leading him around by the nose for years. Who knew George inside and out and loved him dearly even if he never admitted it.

Ritchie often felt that he understood the other boys better than they understood themselves. It was almost comical sometimes, watching Paul and John dance between hating and adoring each other because they couldn't accept either emotion.

And It was heartbreaking watching George reel in and out of adoring John. He always let George get just close enough for it to truly hurt when he pushed him away.

"I'm not mad," Ringo said honestly, and he saw George visibly relax. "But if he ever does anything like this again I need you to tell me right away."

His voice was firm, commanding, more so than George had ever heard it. George nodded mutely. Normally he liked it when Ringo took charge in their relationship, but this felt like an admonishment, and that was so rare.

Ringo's mouth twitched into a smile then. "Don't look so upset. I'm really not angry. I just think we need to be honest with each other, right?"

"Right," George said, smiling back, his voice tinged with relief.

It wasn't like this actually gave him any control over the situation – Ritchie understood that. But the promise still made him feel slightly better. At least if the worst came to pass he would see it coming.

"Does that mean you want to know what John and I talked about?" George asked tentatively, voice soft. It felt strange to speak any louder so late at night. This wasn't a conversation for daylight or loud voices.

Ringo desperately did not want to know. He shied from the thought like a hot coal. But, "Of course," he said, because right now George didn't need to know just how much it bothered him that George and John had talked about this almost behind his back.

"It wasn't much," George shrugged. "I told him to keep it to himself – I mean the kiss, but also you and I – and I asked him why he did it and… he said he just couldn't imagine why anyone would ever want to kiss me so he decided to see what all the fuss was about." George shrugged, seemingly indifferent, but Ringo knew better.

"Well that's nonsense," Ringo said drily. It was poison in his mouth but he couldn't stand for George to be so hurt, so put down, not by anybody. "It's obvious why anyone would want to be with you. You're bloody gorgeous."

A tiny smile graced George's lips, and Ringo's heart twisted. It was the idea of John finding him beautiful that had him smiling like that. Of course it was.

"So are you," George whispered, and Ringo let him nestle into his arms as the two of them nested down into the pillows. Even as anger and frustration and despair bubbled in his chest it felt so, so right to hold George's slim frame against his chest. It was warm and real and right and totally, totally his.

Even if it really wasn't anymore.

Ritchie tenderly placed his lips on George's temple, and then George tilted his head back to kiss him full on the mouth. George was always so tentative, so sweet, but tonight felt different. Tonight he kissed him fiercely, his tongue slipping between Ritchie's lips. Ritchie kissed him back just as hard.

His hand found the back of George's head and he stroked his hair, gently but firmly tilting his head and taking back control of the kiss. George was always more comfortable that way. Frankly, so was he. He enjoyed taking care of someone too much.

George let Ritchie take control, humming into his mouth as Ritchie's other hand found his arse and squeezed it firmly. There was already more heat, more intensity, than he was used to with Ritchie. It was almost like it had been with –

He cut that thought off, biting down gently on Ritchie's lower lip to make him growl and pull him into his lap. He felt Ritchie's hard on through his pajama bottoms and couldn't resist grinding his arse against it, eliciting the most delicious sounds.

This was his time with Ritchie. There was no room for anyone else, no room for the new and awful way that John had rooted himself in his head.

George slipped his hand under the waistband of Ritchie's pants and found his member. It was bigger than his own – bigger than most people's, he was pretty sure – and a strange little thrill went through him that he hadn't felt before. Fear and desire wrapped into one. Was tonight the night that…?

He wanted it to be. He always wanted it to be, even if the thought made something dark and shameful twist in his stomach.

He wouldn't worry about that. Right now he just worried about the sounds Ritchie was making, the way he gasped and moaned into the kiss but still never pulled away. His own large hand left the back of George's head, ghosted down his chest, and then palmed him through his pants.

George leaned back then, letting out an "oh" of pleasure. Ritchie's lips were curled into a smile as he pressed them against George's neck and jawline and then again against his mouth.

"Do you want to….?" Ritchie didn't quite finish the thought. George had a tendency to get a little squirrelly, a little sullen, when intercourse was brought up. As much as Ritchie tried to comfort him, George clearly still beat himself up for not being able to enjoy it.

It was a new kind of communication between the two of them, this language of kisses and touch. They'd always been able to read each other like a book, understand the slightest change in each other's body language, but now they were pressed up against each other and George felt Ritchie's heartbeat and gasping breath and gently thrusting hips as if they had melted together into one man.

It wasn't long before they were naked in each other's arms. At first, back when they were just entering this new era of their relationship, George had been terribly embarrassed of his skinny arms and hollow chest -- especially compared to Ringo's more solid frame. But it quickly became obvious that Ritchie utterly adored his body, and showed appreciation for every inch of it.

And there was something else, too, a deeper flicker of shame that made Ritchie's heart ache for George. But that was a piece of him even Ritchie couldn't reach.

Tonight, though, George nodded shyly and then tucked his face into Ritchie's shoulder and giggled. "I'll try, I mean," he said softly, and Ritchie could feel the heat from his face. Clearly tonight he was more embarrassed, more nervous, than actually reluctant or afraid.

Frankly, Ritchie would have been fine if George never slept with him. He just enjoyed their closeness, the way they made each other feel good. But George was determined to be good enough for him, no matter how many times Ritchie told him he already was.

Another thing I can't do. It was written on his face the first time they tried to sleep together and he had to tell Ritchie to stop. The second time he'd curled up with his back to him and Ritchie knew without looking at him that there were tears on his face. The shame and frustration radiating off of him nearly broke his heart.

It wasn't an experience Ritchie wanted to relive, maybe ever. But if George wanted to try – or wanted anything at all, really – Ritchie just had to indulge him. Even if it meant he'd be holding a miserable, sullen George at the end of the night.

Ritchie took a small glass bottle of lube out of the bedside table, and George rolled onto his back, blushing dark red as he spread his legs.

"I'm going to prep you first," Ritchie said gently. He always explained what he was doing, always kept up a running dialogue just to make sure George was at ease.

"God, but you're gorgeous," he breathed with genuine awe as one lubed finger gently massaged around George's entrance. In the pale moonlight George seemed to glow like some kind of fairytale creature, his blush only making him more adorable. With his legs spread wide and the shiest, sweetest look on his face he made a picture that Ritchie was certain he would remember for the rest of his life.

He gently slipped one finger inside, feeling the muscles immediately clamp down. George made a face, but Ritchie didn't withdraw the digit, knowing George would say something if it went beyond discomfort into pain. This always happened with George. His body tensed up and he got in his head.

He made gentle motions with his finger, watching George incredibly carefully, gauging every tiny movement. He waited until he was sure George was totally comfortable and then gently, slowly, carefully, Ritchie eased in a second finger.

He was buried up to the second knuckle, stroking gently, trying to relax George's tensing muscles. After a moment he tentatively spread his fingers apart just the tiniest bit. George whined slightly, and Ritchie immediately stopped.

"Are you alright?" He asked, voice breathy and concerned.

But, "It's fine," George breathed. "Do that again."

George had a tendency to hold back his discomfort sometimes, to pretend he was enjoying himself more than he really was. Ringo returned to soft, stroking motions for a few moments before George's walls relaxed around him and he could begin to scissor his fingers – just slightly – yet again.

"How does that feel?" he cooed.

George bit his lip, but there was no pain on his face. "I'm alright," he whispered. But Ritchie was hoping for much more than alright.

He slowly pumped in and out, fingers sliding further and further apart until he could easily fit a third. George tensed for a moment, as he always did, but then he let out a short, huffy breath and his body relaxed.

"That's okay?" Ringo asked. He was painfully hard watching George open up beneath him, but he made sure to keep his voice totally calm. He didn't want George to feel any kind of pressure.

George only nodded, his face flushed. He seemed to be enjoying himself at least a little. But Ritchie felt he could do better.

He continuously shifted angles inside of George, hoping to hit his spot. Finally, he was rewarded with a gasp and an arched back. He stroked that spot a few more times, enjoying the way George reacted underneath him. His head rolled to the side and he caught his lower lip between his teeth, his eyes squeezed shut. It was so beautiful to have this kind of power over George, the ability to make him feel so good.

"Are you ready,?" He asked huskily. George only nodded, biting his lip hard.

Ritchie grabbed the bottle of lube again with hands that shook ever so slightly . He made sure to fully coat his length, maybe even going a little overboard, but he was so scared of hurting George. He took himself in one hand and placed the other on George's hip. Slowly, carefully, he pressed the head of his cock against George's entrance.

Was this really happening? It was the farthest they'd ever gotten. Slowly, carefully, the head of his cock slid inside him. Ritchie bit back a string of curse words. God, but he was tight.

"Is this okay?" He asked breathlessly.

George's eyes were closed, his brows drawn. He didn't answer right away, and Ringo began to withdraw, but, "Keep going," George breathed. "It's alright."

"Only if you promise to relax," Ringo said, stroking George's sides.

George's eyes opened then, as deep and dark as the sky at night. "I'm okay," he said gently. "Just keep going."

Ringo felt he had no choice but to obey.

He slid almost all the way into George, slow and careful. It was taking so much self control not to pound into him, chase his release after such a long night, but for George he would do anything.

He'd said again and again that it didn't matter, but… Ringo wanted this. He wanted to be intimate with George in every way possible, to know him in every way possible. As George clenched down on him and Ringo stilled his movements he felt George's breath quicken, his heartbeat pounding in his skin, his hot breath on his neck.

"Do you need me to pull out?" He asked, concerned.

But again George pushed those concerns away. "I'm fine, just give me a few moments."

Ringo obliged, though his cock ached for stimulation. Finally George nodded, his cheeks burning red and his eyes watering, and Ringo began slow, gentle movements. He thrust himself in and out, watching George squirm underneath him, his mouth hanging open.

If it wasn't George it might not have been enough to make him come. He'd been with plenty of lads before and truth be told this was, well, okay at best.

But it was George. His George. And the mere fact that he was spread open underneath him, working so hard to be good for him, biting his lip and gasping as Ritchie finally found his spot with his cock and hit it again and again –

His pace quickened, becoming erratic. George didn't seem to mind, moaning now from a place deep in his chest.

"Oh, god, George, I'm close," Ringo gasped.

George only whined in response. Ringo knew he wasn't going to get him there through penetration alone. He grasped George's cock in his hand and began to pump him in time to his thrusts, and then George was coming all over his chest. The sight of George spread wide underneath him, gasping and sweaty and absolutely covered in his own come, was enough to push Ringo over the edge

He pulled out and came all over George's stomach, gasping his name.

The two of them lay in the sticky mess for a long while; finally George tapped him on the side, smiling. "I think we'd beter get cleaned up," he said.

Ritchie peeled off of him, both sticky with sweat and other things, and helped George to his feet. He was limping just a little bit, and Ringo wrapped his arms around his waist just to kiss him gently on the jaw. "You alright?" He asked softly.

George bent down to kiss Ringo on the nose. "I'm perfect."

You really are, Ringo thought dreamily.

***

After they returned from cleaning themselves up in the bathroom George slid into bed and pulled the covers tight around him. He patted the mattress next to him. "C'mon, Ritchie, I won't be able to sleep without you beside me," he said with a shy smile.

It was such a soft, vulnerable thing for George to say, almost out of character, and somehow Ritchie knew that something had shifted between them. A level of closeness, of vulnerability, that they hadn't had before. Ritchie made to crawl in beside him, but –

What was that? On the bedsheets?

Ringo felt terribly cold. Little dark spots, more than a few….

Blood?

"George," he asked, his deep voice a little higher than usual. "What is this?"

George propped himself up on an elbow, and then flushed darkly seeing the little black spots under the blue moonlight. "I don't know… maybe I… bled a little bit?"

Ringo's heart almost stopped. He traced a finger along the tiny drops of blood on the sheets, nearly shaking. "Why didn't you say something?" He asked, horrified. "I hurt you."

But George shook his head. "It didn't hurt that bad."

"I don't want to hurt you at all," Ringo said desperately. "I want you to like it as much as I do."

George shrugged, not meeting his eyes. "I thought maybe I just needed to… I just really wanted to make this work between us."

"But I've told you that I don't care." Ritchie was aware that he sounded like he was pleading.

George's brows narrowed. "I do care," he replied. He didn't know how to articulate why this was so important to him, why it was always important to him. A little piece of him that spoke more loudly with a few shots of whiskey in his stomach just wanted so badly to be enough for him. Enough for somebody.

"Don't be upset, Ritchie," he implored. "If it was too painful I'd have said something."

Ritchie only frowned, somewhat at a loss. "We're not doing that again," he said finally.

George looked almost as if he'd been hit. "What?" He asked weakly. "Are you really that angry?"

"No! No, I'm not angry at all. But I won't do that again until I'm sure I won't hurt you, and the only way to know that is if I know you're being honest with me."

George's lip actually trembled. "I'm sorry, Ritchie. I just…" his voice caught in his throat, and then Ritchie was wrapped around him, holding him while he forced down sudden tears.

"I'm sorry," George said again, voice tight. He felt like a child in Ritchie's arms, overwhelmed with the intensity of the experience, the shame of disappointing the person he loved when he'd been so certain he was finally enough for him, and the guilt that still burned in his chest because he could still, still feel John's lips on his mouth.

It had just been so cathartic, so real, so…. Unmistakable. All of it. Every moment. And this was truly, only theirs, only Ritchie's, and yet he didn't want it because George had disappointed him once again.

Would he ever get this right?

"There's nothing to apologize for," Ritchie reassured him, stroking his back. "You know I love you," he whispered.

It was something they didn't really say to each other very much. Deep down Ritchie thought it was probably just assumed – George had to understand how much he loved him, it was ridiculously obvious. Their romance had grown out of friendship, the strongest friendship he'd ever had.

But George nuzzled into his chest and held him even more tightly, and Ritchie wondered if maybe he needed to say it a little more often. "I love you," he repeated, a little more intensely.

"I love you, too," George whispered. He sounded just the littlest bit embarrassed, maybe even ashamed, and Ritchie felt a pang. But he pressed his lips to George's hair anyways.

At least for the moment George was still his, and he would care for him for as long as he could.

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

#lennison #starrison #george harrison x ringo starr #george harrison x john lennon #beatles #the beatles #george harrison #john lennon #ringo starr

[beatles-slash-fiction]

A Starrison continuation of the hun thing would be awsome! Maybe they could be talking about it and their trust beforehand? Idk, up to you!

George stares at the gun for a very long time after Ringo places it in the middle of the bed.

It’s almost as if he didn’t quite believe Ringo when he said he had one.

“Where did you get it from?” George asks quietly.

“Brian,” Ringo says truthfully. “I told him I wanted one to keep here and he arranged it.”

George swallows, his eyes a little wider now. “Why? Did you get it just for....just to ask me to do this?”

“No. I wanted it for protection. It freaked me out when the flat got burgled last month and I wanted it in case something like that happens again while we’re home. I want to be able to protect you.”

Ringo leaves out the fact that he’s been having nightmares ever since about deranged men breaking into the flat in the middle of the night and raping George in front of him before killing them both. He doesn’t want to frighten his boyfriend unnecessarily.

But Ringo has seen enough of the death threats and the other threats that have made their way to Brian’s office to know that’s not a completely ridiculous scenario.

“Do you even know how to use it?” George asks with a frown.

“Yes. John went shooting in America and he showed me.”

A little white lie. Ringo knows how to use it in theory. He’s just never fired one before.

George bites his lip. “And you want to use this as some kind of bedroom prop?”

“Unloaded,” Ringo says quickly. “And if you agree to it, I can show you it’s unloaded before we start. You know I’d never do anything to hurt you or put you in harm’s way. I’d die before I let anything happen to you.”

George nods, taking Ringo’s hand in his own. “Can I think about it? I trust you, I really do. I wouldn’t even consider it with anyone else. I’m just not sure if I’d be into it...I dunno.”

“Take your time and think about it,” Ringo says softly, kissing George’s cheek. “It’s absolutely fine if you don’t want to. I’m just glad I can put this stuff to you without fear of being laughed at or smacked round the head.”

They share a kiss, and George has a contemplative look on his face as Ringo carefully puts the gun away and hides it on the top shelf of their wardrobe.

He hopes he never has to use it for real.

#starrison

[mithranqueersmusings]

Starrison Week - Day 4 - Gardening

Rating: U

Summary: Ringo tries to find George in the garden.

Tags: One Shot, Fluff

Pairing: George Harrison/Ringo Starr

AO3 link here / Fic masterlist here

Ringo hated gardening, as much as he tried to enjoy it for the sake of George, he couldn't manage to force it. The garden at Friar Park was beyond gorgeous, it was a haven of all things natural and Ringo loved it, he just didn't love the work it required. George on the other hand seemed to love the efforts more than the reward, something Ringo couldn't really understand but he still respected it.

Today was another scorching day, which meant George would be up at the break of dawn to hurry out into the garden. Ringo rolled around in bed for a few hours after him, only waking up when the heat became unbearable with the sheets sticking to his skin. 

Locating George in the garden was a difficult task, and it only got more difficult as the garden grew. Ringo fixed up a tray of ice cold water with two glasses, then headed out to begin his search. 

"George!" Ringo called out freely, it was always a refreshing reminder of how far away they were from anyone else.

No reply. Ringo sighed and ventured further through the trimmed grass, George could've been anywhere by this point. It was weather like this that made Ringo proud of his decision to always wear sunglasses, even if might have looked a little ridiculous wearing nothing else but his boxers.

"Georgie!" Ringo tried once more, he was desperate for a drink. 

Every time Ringo journeyed into the greenery, he always spotted something new. Each little flower or low shrubbery felt like a little piece of George, soaking happily in the sun. Ringo thought he'd never see George fall in love with anything as much as he loved music - or Ringo - but gardening had essentially taken over his life; the love of music was still there of course, it was never going away, but the gardening seemed to be a way of George distancing himself entirely from The Beatles, something they still had to do despite the several years since they broke up, and even from himself. Music was an art, but gardening was more spiritual and selfless in a way.

"A man who plants a tree knowing he won't live to sit in it's shade understands the true meaning of life." George would often quote, Ringo had heard it somewhere before but hadn't thought much of it or fully understood it. 

The sun beat down onto Ringo's skin, luckily there'd been enough men in the past who planted trees here so that there was available shade to rest in.

"George, where are you!?" Ringo shouted for the third time.

"Up here!" George finally responded, confusing Ringo a little who struggled to see above his own head with the blinding sun's rays.

Ringo let out a laugh when he made out the shape of George relaxing in a tree, his hat pressed down on his head to shade his eyes. His long hair spilled down his body, giving him the appearance of some kind of wisened fairy or young wizard.

"What the bloody hell you doing up there?" Ringo asked with a grin.

"What you doing down there?" George retorted, patting a space on the wide branch he was reclining on.

"Not very likely." Ringo scoffed "Come down and get a drink, love."

George shook his head "You've gotta come up here I'm afraid."

Ringo gave him a disapproving look, George and him often got into these playful disagreements but he definitely didn't have the energy for this one, but it didn't look like George was going to budge - he could be painfully stubborn.

"Please?" George softened after seeing Ringo's expression "It's really beautiful."

Ringo continued to look at him somewhat sternly, but he couldn't keep it up. He let out a sigh and set down the tray on the floor, he took a large swig from the jug before sizing up the tree. He hadn't climbed one since he was a little boy, scuffing up his knees and messing up his hands. No matter how old he got, George managed to remain youthful in his unique, ageless way and this was just another example as to how.

"The things I do for you." Ringo announced before reaching his hand upwards to grab a branch.

It must've been quite the sight, Ringo Starr in his boxers and signature sunglasses climbing up a tree. This was just the kind of freedom the seclusion of Friar Park allowed them, it felt very different to how many celebrities just owned a ridiculously large house, with the expanse of nature surrounding the building it made it feel like a world all of its own. 

Ringo struggled at first to find his footing, luckily he was strong enough to pull himself up. Maybe he should've gone back to get dressed first, but he reckoned that would've ruined the moment. It took him way less time than he would've expected, managing to get up to George's level only in a few minutes. He could feel his skin getting irritated in places, but he didn't really care, not if it meant making George happy.

He let out an exhausted huff when he reached the top, scooting beside George and letting his legs dangle below. Ringo was never a fan of heights, but he felt secure enough where he sat. 

"Nice of you to join me." George said with a smile, he looked completely at ease.

"You owe me a bath." Ringo joked, finally able to relax.

"I think I can manage that." George pulled his hat backwards so that Ringo could see his eyes better "Have you given up on clothes? Not that I'm complaining."

"I wasn't planning on staying out here long, believe it or not." Ringo answered, he started kicking his legs.

"But look at that view." George instructed gently, nodding his head forwards to guide Ringo's gaze.

Ringo hadn't really considered why George had even been up here in the first place, but it all made sense as soon as he turned to look around. Even from this height he couldn't see the edges of the gardens, but a great deal of its beauty was revealed. The sun danced among the leaves, sparkling across the water of the ponds, it was beautiful. Exactly how much was George's work, Ringo wasn't sure, but he knew a great deal of it was.

Looking out upon the variety of life blossoming, Ringo finally understood what George's quote had meant. 

#the beatles #beatles #beatles fanfic #the beatles fanfic #beatles fanfiction #george harrison/ringo starr #ringo starr/george harrison #ringo starrxgeorge harrison #george harrisonxringo starr #starrison #starrison week

[johns-prince]

Do you still do fic requests? If you do, I'd like to request for a starrison fem Ringo.

Not even the bluest ocean waters could rival the blue that colored Rachel's eyes. It was a daft thought, George feeling cliche and soppy. But, it's true, even if it's bad poetry, it's true.

"You've the bluest eyes I've ever seen," George says, a slip of the tongue. He hadn't meant to say it out loud, but there it is. Those big blue, soppy cow eyes have turned towards him, the softest curve of a smile, and a light dusting of pink across her visage.

Swallowing thickly, Adams apple bobbing visibly, George could feel the heat crawling up his neck, to his face, the tips of his ears. Had she heard? Must've, even if the dancehall is crazy with youth and music their parents can't hardly understand, thrumming all around. Because she's looking at him, and smiling so sweetly, and--

"You've been staring then, Georgie?" Comes from one of the lads at the table, which earns a bit of jeering from the others, and George telling them all to piss off. Try to play it off as amusing, though, it hit closer to the truth then George would like to admit yet.

They were just, mates, he and Rachel had gotten close when she, John, Paula would go out after their shows, still strummed out on prellies and cheap alcohol (they figured the drummer was a boy at first, on account of being called Ringo by her previous bandmates and by those who'd introduce the band up) When Pete went off on his own, they got close to Rory Storm and his Hurricanes. Long story short, that's how he'd ended up knowing this pretty little thing before him, nicknamed Ringo ("See, got all these rings on me hand," she'd laughed, then, with a roll of her watery blue eyes, added, "And, just makes it easier gettin' shows, if they think the whole band is just lads, y'know?") And in which in the last few months, he's had no better luck ridding of these desires for her.

George didn't even realize he'd been off, lost in his thoughts, until he feels a small hand on his arm, giving him a little shake. Blinking out of it, he found himself gazing back at Rachel, those great big blue eyes of hers. "Sorry, what?" Cleared his throat, moving to the point her hand slipped off his arm.

"Let's dance, yeah?" She asks, again, smiling hopefully. At first George just, blinked stupidly at her, and could already feel himself growing painfully shy. Why was she asking him? A kid. He hated it but, that's what he was to her, wasn't he? Being three years older, she's practically a woman, while he's still considered an adolescent delinquent. And sure, maybe he'd gained a bit more confidence in himself when he came back from Hamburg (involuntarily), losing his virginity with an older woman. But, there's a difference between bedding older, working girls for a quick buck and a half, and seriously wanting to pursue an older bird, a classy girl, because you've stupidly developed feelings for her.

But, then you have another boy at the table, older then George, who's leaning over and offering himself as her dance partner, if George isn't up for it. Up for it? Why wouldn't I be up for it--

So, he acts, nearly jumping as he straightens up in his chair, accepting readily, "Right, I'll go for a twist with ya, lass."

Tries to ignore how seeing her face light up, and how eager she is, gets his stomach to do funny little summersaults. Or how his heart feels like it's going to leap out of his chest when she grabs his hand, pulling him towards the dance floor once he's up and standing himself.

A pretty little frock, dark in color, with her lovely hands all adorned in rings. Warm brown hair, framing her pale face, pinned and curled and styled for a night at the local dancehall. She's a dream.

At first, it was a bad dream edging on nightmare. He felt so goddamn high-strung, why? It's just Rachel for Godsake.

But that's just it, it's Rachel. Rachel, who only seemed to have the utmost patience for George as he worked through his nerves on the floor. Nearly stepping on her foot-- he was about to call it in. But the blue eyed sweetheart grabbed him, pulled him back, and smiling at him. "Don't go, you're doing fine." She sounded so honest, George really wanted to believe her. "Really," she said, softer, having to lean in a bit closer for him to catch it. Finds himself leaner down closer, too. "Long as you don't end up on the floor like Rory did, that one night, alright?"

A pause as he took it in, remembering that night in which someone took a photo of them, Paula was there... Holding someone's foot. Just their foot. Turned out to be Rory's. He'd been so pissed, the poor sod ended up on the filthy floor and simply hadn't in him to get back up for the picture, so, just his foot made it.

And then he was laughing, snickering, and soon enough so was Rachel. Alright, okay-- he can do this. "I suppose I can keep makin' an arse out of myself," George sighs, and Rachel gives him a playful little tut of sympathy. Poor lad. "But, just for you, a'right?" That seemed to catch her attention, almost off guard. He could feel himself wanting to clam up again, with her looking at him like that, so, boldly, grabbing for her hands, and saying loud over the music, the sound of moving bodies around them; "Here Ringo, let's dance."

He was still a bit rigid, making slip ups here and there, but as he made himself focus on the music, the beat, and the natural inclination for his eyes to find hers, soon enough, it wasn't so difficult anymore. Rachel clearly had a better knack for dancing than George, but he wasn't so bad, was able to keep up as they swung each other around, he spun her, her shimmying down then springing up, skirt whirling up and out and, and she looked amazing. The two simply riding off the waves of music and life around them. Laughing, laughing so much, smiling so hard, their cheeks started hurting.

No matter their hands would get damp and sweaty, or that Rachel ended up having to discard her shoes to continue dancing comfortably (made her even shorter), George having to toss his coat off. Neither caring that there was perspiration making strands of her stick to their foreheads, hairdos slowly coming undone, imperfect.

Must've danced through three songs, and at the end of the third the two leaned into each other's sides, moreso Rachel into George's. Him impulsively just, throwing his arm over her shoulders. They giggled and laughed through their panting, George pushing his ruined quiff back, and Rachel trying to fix a couple pins threatening to slip loose, brushing back loose strands behind her ears.

And then George realizes, and it's like his heart skipped a beat. She was so close, pressed firm against his side, such a warm presence through his shirt. His arm felt far too heavy back and around her shoulders but, she didn't seem to mind a pinch. She seemed rather content, natural, letting out a huff as she used her hand to fan herself. George wasn't sure what to really do.

And then a slower sort of song started up, and his breath hitched. A song for couples, for lovebirds that want their beau's to hold them and caress them, act as if their entire goal wasn't to just cop a feel or get a heated makeout later. Bit cynical, eh?

He was pulling away as he started, "Let's go back--" but as he slipped away, turned to head back, his arm was caught. Rachel had his arm, his wrist with both her hands. Half turned, glancing to those hands, then at Rachel, the look on her face had him curious.

She looked timid, and even in the low, smoky light, he could see that her face was tinted with a flush. Lower lip that she'd had caught between her teeth, slipping free as she spoke, no need to be so loud with such a softer song playing. "One more," a gentle tug was given to his arm, made him sway subtly, and finally turn fully to face her. Releasing his arm, she continued, "One more dance, okay?"

Those blue, blue eyes, did she even realize how deep they could penetrate someone? They looked so hopeful, it twisted his heart like someone would twist his arm. Those eyes were just for him.

"...Okay," George replied, with a soft upturn of his thin lips. Delight, those eyes gleamed, a soft smile breaking that shy, uncertain expression. Carefully, she found herself in his embrace, arms around his neck, and his around her petite little waist. Her head, resting against his chest, above his heart. She could probably hear it fluttering like a wild bird in a cage. Slowly, they rocked and swayed together.

One more dance, but, just for you.

#starrison #au: genderbend #fem!ringo #im not as versed in starrison as i am McLennon so #idk if this is any good at all i tried

[georgeharris0n]

Blisters On His Fingers - Chapter 2 - “First Date, If John Doesn’t Ruin it”

Rating: PG-13

Word Count: 4.3k

Chapters: 2/25

Pairing: George Harrison/Ringo Starr, Minor Paul McCartney/John Lennon

Plot Summery:  George can't help but watch Rory Storm and The Hurricanes play, but John and Paul know he just has his eyes for their drummer. Ringo has some problem with his hands, and George may just see his perfect opportunity to talk to the handsome drummer. (Hamburg Beatle Era)

Note: It’s herE! Here’s a litlle something, as a early Christmas gift! Multi Chapter Hamburg Starrison Fic? you bet! @cirilee​ and I worked very hard on research and planning for the fic and I’m so happy to finaLLY released the first continuation chapter (Thank you sOOO much Ciri! ily ::o::)

Read Chapter 1 Here

Inhaling the stale air in the Bambi Kino cinema was probably the worst thing to wake up to since arriving in Hamburg, but after last night, George barely even noticed. Peeking his eyes open, he adjusted to the artificial light in the damp cement block they called a room. He felt as light as air… George had kissed him. Ringo Starr, George Harrison kissed Ringo Starr.

It’s a wonder George had gotten any sleep at all after that. He remembers staring up at the pitch black ceiling for hours last night and just looking at his smile, the smoothness of his cheek and scruff of his jaw… reliving that moment when he just fucking went for it.

George let out a pleased sigh and stretched his arms above his head.

After a moment he turned over to the bed opposite his only to be faced with two snickering bastards staring back at him. Of-fucking-course, can’t have one single moment of peace can I?

“Sleep alright’ there princess?” John smirked taking a drag from his ciggy.

George groaned. No, not even John could ruin this morning for him.

“Shut up Lennon, and give me drag huh?” He reached toward the nightstand table for the cigarettes, but Paul swooped in all to quick before George could take a blow.

 “What the-”

 “You can have a ciggy after you tell us the details. So spill.” Paul smirked and scooted beside John, taking advantage of his leverage.

 “Details? I- what do you want to know? How do you know anything happened?” George stammered, he thought it would be easy to burst out and tell his best mates what happened, but his nerves seemed to get the best of him.

 Paul scoffed. “Well for starters, you woke up in this shithole with that dreamy smile on your face.”

George felt himself flush, gosh he was smiling pretty wide huh?

 “Yea, and not to mention you coming home at fucking 4 in the mornin’.” John quipped while tapping his ashes off onto the floor, which Paul detested, but couldn’t really argue with considering how nasty the room already was.

 “Well- I.. I’m sure you both enjoyed the alone time.” George teased, hoping to distract from himself a little longer. It held some truth, it was pretty hard living just the three in one room, even harder when he bunked with Pete. John and Paul rarely got to get cozy and the two of them were a committed item, which took awhile since John insisted he wasn’t “queer”. Course, he was over the moon for Paul the moment they met, which was pretty frustrating at first. George saw it, and he knows as soon as those two finally stopped being resisitent, they were all over each other.

 John leaned back lazily and chuckled. “I wish! Sadly, Paul wouldn’t put out. The only tossin’ and turnin’ all he’d do was worry about you getting home, real mood killer you are Georgie boy-” Paul smacked a pillow into John’s face before he kept running his mouth.

 “Piss off John! He’s distracting us! Come on’ George and tell us before John gets his teeth punched in will ya?”

George snickered at the display of Paul looking like an eager parent or older sibling, practically on the edge of his seat.

George fiddled a little with his hands, remembering how the night before he used these same ones to care for Ringo’s palms. How rough Ringo’s hands felt from years of drumming. George liked that much more than silky soft hands, it’s like every scar and callus could tell a story. He hoped Ringo would let him hold them again during their date- Ohfuck. THEIR DATE.

 “Shit! My date! He asked me on a date!” George was standing now, throwing off his blanket and immediately going into a panic.

 Ringostarraskedmeonadate! Howcould I forget thaT-

 The lad was already rummaging hopelessly for clean clothes to wear to no avail. While John and Paul were both now standing probably trying to catch up on the bomb he just dropped into the room.

 “You finally snagged a date with the Hurricane’s drummer?”

John was shocked like he couldn’t believe his ears.

 George looked up from his pile of clothes and he knew he was unfolding, it couldn't be stopped now. “I- well I kissed im’ first, then he asked to see me tomorrow, so… yes?”

 “Hold on! Wait- you’re telling me you kissed him and didn’t tell us? Just sat there like a smiling idiot knowing you kissed the lad we watched you pine over for months?” Paul was almost offended, all that waiting and George didn't tell him sooner?

 “Listen!” George didn’t have time for questions, the stakes were much higher now “Yes! Yes okay? I kissed him, and now we have a date,TODAY, and i have no fucking idea when he gets here so if one of you could get off your asses and HELP ME PLEASE!”

 George was losing his mind, he had no idea what to wear, how much time he had, what he was supposed to do- but of course, Paul did. “George, clean yourself up, and I’ll find you some clothes alright?”

 “Yeah, and calm down too, don’t want to spook him looking like you just left a crack house.”

 George looked over to the wall mirror, he did look frantic, definitely not first date with Ringo material. His eyes were wide, his hair was unruled, and he was nearly shaking. John had a point. This date was way too important, he can’t ruin it by being this nervous.

 George just needed to get ready and hope that he doesn’t make a fool of himself.

 Good luck with that.

 _______________

 Paul had George cleaned up real nice. Black drainies, and one of Paul’s clean white shirts tucked in made George cut a fine figure. Topped off with a large smooth pompadour. Very handsome and slim. Paul was very proud of the simple, yet refined appearance he made up for George’s date. He was a good looking lad all the same, and those fangs that pointed when he smiled had to be a deal breaker. Had he had more time (and spare cash), he almost wanted to go buy him a new fit to really shock Ringo. But- the look was still perfect in Paul’s opinion, but John was insistent he add his own little flare to the mix.

 “Make you look tougher, like on stage.”

 “He’s not going on stage John, he’s going on a date-”

 “Yes, and he’s going to wear the damn jacket!” John argued. Draping a leather jacket on George’s shoulders. He took a much larger role in the getting ready process then was expected. He and Paul fussed left and right over how George needed to look, what shirt, how to wear it, what to say, make his hair messy or clean. Boots or loafers. Smile or brood. The two just couldn’t agree.

 As per usual.

 “George needs this date to go off without a hitch! Who knows? If they go steady, we might get a new drummer.” John winked.

 Last week the lads had to get a replacement drummer to sit in after Pete hauled ass back to Liverpool for some kind of “family emergency”. John seems to think George’s date with Ringo could be an opportunity… Ringo was considered the best drummer as far as Liverpool was concerned, and despite George agreeing that Ringo was 20 times better than Pete, he didn’t like what John was implying. Paul seemed to catch onto it quicker than George was though.

“Oh no no NO, you’re not making George’s date about your little fued with Rory! That’s none of your business.” Paul chided, seeing through John’s casual tone. He knew that face and twinkle in his eyes. He was scheming, and John Lennon’s schemes never ended well.

 “I’m just saying, you can’t date between competing bands. If Geo plays his cards right-”

 George had heard enough, he wasn’t letting this crazy idea get to his head. He wanted to enjoy his date, not be John’s pon.

 He was about to speak up when suddenly a loud knock at the back door silenced the whole room.

 George looked at the door and felt his palms clam up. He shuffled his feet toward the handle. He thought he was going to pass out. This wasn’t even his first date, but it was his first with Ringo, and somehow that made it all the more important.

 Another, more faint knock, hit the door, making George jump back slightly. Is that him? Is he here? Gosh if it’s not him-

 “Don't just stand there! Open it.” Paul whispered, clearly waiting in anticipation.

 When George gathered up his non existent courage and opened the door up, his jaw nearly dropped to the floor…

 If he thought seeing Ringo up on stage, was in itself eye-catching, he was grossly unprepared for when he cleans up for a date.

 Ringo was standing at the door, looking a bit flustered, but non the less pleased to see George. That smile. George thought he might lose his footing had he not been gripping the door frame. He almost couldn’t believe what he was seeing. He wanted to drape an arm around Ringo’s shoulders and admire how handsome he looked. He was stunning, he was sporting nice fitted charcoal trousers, with a white and black checker striped shirt tucked in. He even topped it off with a black corduroy jacket.

 “Hmm... now that’s what I call boyfriend material.” Paul muttered behind George, who was also admiring Ringo’s attire.

 George barely registered what Paul said until Ringo finally spoke.

 “Gosh, I’m- speechless, you look real handsome George.” Ringo gaped while he shuffled his hands out of his pockets.

The two were both clearly nervous, and George just couldn’t even believe Ringo was really here. Last night had felt too much like a dream to be real, but… it was and he was here and-

 “Whoa there Ringo! You got on this fancy get up for our little Geo?”

 Fucking. Hell. John.

 Ringo let out a nervous laugh “Suppose’ so,  not too fancy I hope. Havn’t got too much money for a proper restaurant...” Ringo scratched the back of his neck. He seemed a little embarrassed, but George was pretty relieved. He wasn’t into fancy smacy places like that anyhow.

 But- he was into getting out of here with Ringo as soon as possible before John kept talking. Which was the perfect incentive to push his nerves away for a bit.

 “WELL- Guess will be going then! See ya fellas!” George was already walking down the steps and quickly leading Ringo away before those two ruined the date before it even starts.  

 “You better have him home at a respectable time young man!!!” John yelled out after them which made George cringe. Gosh those two I swear-

 George ran a hand up his hair. “Sorry about them, they’re a piece of work.”

 Ringo snickered, “Funny though, don’t worry, bet they pick on ya’ too much huh?”

 “You don’t know the half of it.”

 George and Ringo were walking down Grosse Freiheit, opposite corner from the KaiserKeller where they worked and typically spent their time. George hadn’t explored much of this side of town, but it seemed Ringo knew where they were going, so he didn’t mind it.

 It was nearly 3 in the afternoon, so most places had slow business. Once it neared about 5, that’s when most of the sailor, drunkards, and “fast women” slipped out for the nightlife. Despite the occasional peek of a prostitute in the day, most afternoons were strangely quiet considering this was a red light district.

 When George arrived in Hamburg, the idea of living in such loose city, with so much sex and alcohol seemed exciting, but other than the advantage of drinking, George wasn’t too into the easy sex. John and Paul tried to set him up once, but he ended up horrified, having not been with a women and being pretty certain he was gay at that point. That only solidified it. He ended up sending her away, she didn’t seem to bothered by it. Probably just looked like a spooked young boy.

 Paul stuck around to apologize about it. Make sure he was okay. If anything George was almost happy to know he didn’t fancy girls. John and Paul were always so defensive about it, but when George was having thoughts like that- it felt comforting to know his friends were the same way. That they could understand.

 George saw Ringo veering toward the right. They must be close. The walkway was definitely in more uncharted territory, but- a little more secluded. Ringo reached out his hand suddenly, and George hesitated. Sure there wasn’t anyone around, and the area didn’t persecute lads holding hands, but- it was still out in public, and George didn’t quite feel comfortable for that just yet.

 Ringo’s smile softened and he lowered his hand into his trouser pocket. “No worries Georgie, the place is right back here, follow me.”

 George walked with Ringo down a narrow alleyway leading to a wooden doorway on the side of the building. Already regretting not taking Ringo’s hand, but certainly thankful Richie wasn’t offended by his apprehension.

  A quick knock on the door, and it was soon opened up by another fellow. Clean looking boy with rosy cheeks and a slender chin, about Paul’s age or older maybe.

 “Afternoon Richard, back again so soon?” The boy smiled, clearly pleased to see Richard here. Where- wherever they were. George felt his arms tense, hoping he wasn’t already feeling jealousy on the date that’s barely started. “Where’s your tall friend?” He continued, while giving George a disappointed side glare.

 “Afternoon! Awe this isn’t much his scene really, he’s more interested in birds.” Ringo looked past the boy, and pointed over his shoulder to a booth past the bar-room.

 “Mind if we have a seat over that way?” Before the boy could give answer Ringo was already sliding through the doorway with George in tow.

 Now standing inside, George could really get a load of the place. It was definitely a bar, but why it was so hidden away was beyond him. It played great music out of some speakers, which seemed to be connected to the local radio. It was pretty full too, especially for this hour, but no one seemed to be very rowdy, mostly just dancing or a having a nice drink.

 One thing that did catch Georges eye was the clientele. Every person inside was a bloke. Not a single girl in sight. 

 “Ringo? Is- is this a gay bar?”

 Ringo stopped in front of the booth and looked back at George shyly.

 “I- yes, it’s pretty classy, but I wasn’t sure, you know? If you’d been to one before.” George tilted his head, in all honesty he had never seen one before now. It just seemed like they were myths considering how well hidden they were. Not to mention John, Paul, and George never played in gar bars, or expressed interest in one before. Though, Ringo’s logic made sense, why not go to a place that’s guaranteed to be safe for a first date. Not having to watch your back if he wanted to hold Ringo’s hand or maybe share a kiss.

 “I’m… I haven't, but I really like it here, seems like a perfect first date spot to me.” George smiled, sliding into the booth.

 The date started out really great. Ringo was even more adorable on dates. He ordered them both some drinks and they sipped away talking. It felt like they spoke for hours on end. Ringo was so fun to talk to, he was cute and much more cheeky than expected. He had the cutest little blush when George decided to move over to Ringo’s side and sit beside him in the booth. Letting his shoulder graze next to each other.

 The topic of how they ended up in Hamburg came up, and George talked about meeting John and Paul, and about how they let him join the band. The band that feels like his family, like he was always meant to be apart of them. He told Ringo stories and pranks they all pulled on each other, and about how he practically had to knock sense into them both about their feelings for each other.

 “They were fighting like mad all the time. Mostly John, pushing Paul away n’stuff.”

 Ringo listened attentively, “You could tell? That they were… pushing each other?”

 “Definitely, those two were inseparable, and the way John looked at Paul and the way Paul looked at John- you knew. I knew for sure. John had hurt Paul real bad one day, said he didn’t need him around anymore. Paul was devastated.  I had to talk with John and get it sorted out.”

 “How’d that go?”

 “Basically told him to get his shit together and tell Paul how he felt. Honestly, I’m surprised the bastard listened.” George laughed letting his little pointed teeth stick out a tad.

 “So… how long have you known… you um.. fancied...” Ringo paused, trying to find the right words for the question, but George had a feeling he knew.

 “A couple years now… I had a couple girlfriends back in Liverpool, but it never really took. I knew I fancied boys, but I didn’t know for sure if I fancied girls too or not. Nowadays, I know I’m gay, but I’ve-” George paused feeling embarrassment flush on his face. He almost wanted to end the conversation there, hoping Ringo wouldn't push him further, but the look in those blue eyes. The soft, sweet way Ringo listened and gazed back at George. Like he was savoring everything, every look and word George gave him.

George wasn’t afraid, no, not around Ringo.

 “I-um… I haven’t had a boyfriend before.”

 George felt his hand shake at his sides, feeling unsure… clearly Ringo had been around more often, he was older after all, and knew about gay bars, probably had a boyfriend once or twice too. George didn’t know this stuff, he’d only ever kissed a boy once and neither spoke about it after the fact. Would Ringo want some inexperienced lad who-

 George felt a sudden warmth interlock with his shaking fingertips. He moved his gaze back to Ringo. He was holding onto his hands, rubbing his thumb over each knuckle. Smoothing the tremor that left the joint until they were steady and calm. 

 I might faint.

 “Hey, neither have I okay? I’m still new to this too, but I know I like you George. A lot.”

 George blinked wildly. Ringo was new to this?

 Ringo could see George’s confusion considering their current place of establishment and chuckled. “I’ve known I am for awhile, me mum even had an idea about it when I was younger, she could just tell I never fancied girls, but finding fellas ain’t easy and not exactly safe. So no, I haven’t either. Did find this place with me mate Johnny though, but he’s just a best mate, doesn’t really swing that way.”

 Somehow knowing dates and boyfriends were a bit of new territory for Ringo brought George lots of comfort. He could feel his shoulders slack under his jacket. He wanted to loosen up, really just enjoy the date. Show Ringo a good time.

 Hurriedly, George stood up from the booth pulling Ringo up with him. The radio had several patrons out of their seats and swinging to a solid tune. A jazzy one, clearly hitting the backbeat like a rock n’ roller. George gave Ritchie a cocky grin and twisted his arm around giving Ringo a spin. George did little kicks and fancy moves with his feet, while Ringo showed off his funny little moves on the dance floor as well. Being honest, Ringo’s dances were outright ridiculous, but- in an endearing kind of way. He was silly and smiling so wide. Really enjoying himself when he danced with George and purposely tried to make him laugh with funky jumps and head shakes. George loved how funny Ringo was, the way he could just go along with things and make it 10 times better? The way his smile peeked out when those teddy boy curls bounced on his forehead, George was ready to spend the rest of the night like this. Giggling like school boys.

 As it got later, the dancing got a little too crowded for both the boys’ taste, and they decided to step out for the night. The walk was much longer going back, probably because the two weren’t quite ready for the date to be over just yet.

 “You really do look handsome this evening George.” Ringo remarked as they walked the chilly street back to the cinema.

 George grinned with his cheeky fangs and bumped Ringo with his arm. “How bout’ a kiss then? Paul worked real hard to get me all dressed up like this. Got to have a little credit where credits due.” George leaned into the lads shoulder, batting his eyelashes for dramatic effect.

 Ringo applauded the flirtation, clearly George was getting more comfortable. Very coy.

 “Sorry, I don’t kiss vamps on the first date.”He quipped, poking the side of George’s cheek playfully.

 Had this not been their first date George would have half a mind to marry Ringo on the spot. The way they bounced off each other so easily was unbelievable. The only fault was that the date was ending so soon. The streets here are just so complicated and… adult. Nothing simple, like burger joints or parks. George hated the idea of only being able to go out in the afternoons. Nightlife here was just so loud and indecent. “Gosh, maybe one of these days we can catch a bus out of here, go somewhere a little more normal.” George said gazing out ahead at countless street lights that dawned every corner.

 Ringo’s eyes widened. “You want to go out again then?”

 George felt his throat shrink. Oh fuck- You idiot. He was already daydreaming about the next date without even knowing if there was going to BE ONE.

 “If- you wanted. I thought- I mean. This one seemed to be going really well, but if your not interested I completely-” stop rambling please oh god please stop.

 “George!” George thanked Ringo internally for stopping him before he dug his grave even further.

 “I’d love to go on another date with you.’

 George thought he was going to say something, but his brain decided to go out of commission in that moment. Ringo didn’t seem to mind, the look on George’s face told him everything he needed to know. This was special. This thing between them, very special.

 It was quiet on the streets surprisingly. Not a prostitute or drunk in sight near the back of the cinema. It was nearly 9:30, which was hopefully “respectable” for John, but George wasn’t ready for it to be over, not just yet.

 George stopped before the steps to the door and turned to Ringo. His nerves that had been present throughout the evening had vanished, something about how he was feeling, the look in Ringo’s eyes. He felt like he was staring into the ocean. So welcoming, and vibrant. How could he stand here and not be utterly at peace?

 Ringo soon moved surprisingly close him. George wasn’t sure what it meant at first, but to be fair, there were lots of things that George didn’t know.

 He didn’t know his lovestruck crush would stand before him tonight and gingerly touch his cheek, or that he’d get so close they’d share a cold breath in a Hamburg alleyway. George would never have thought months ago, when he first met the boy, that he too would lean into the embrace. That George would get to wrap his arms around Ringo’s waist, slipping past his jacket and rest his palms on the small of the drummer’s back. He didn’t know that they’d glace down to those soft lips. Unconsciously waiting… for what? He wasn’t quite sure. Yes, he was.

 Ringo’s hand gilded behind his neck. Stroking his thumb gently under George’s jaw. George felt a shiver go up his spine. Feeling his heart pounding like crazy. He wanted this. He really did. All night he dreamt of the event that occurred that night, about the feeling of kissing Ringo, the way his lips felt on his. He was so close to that again, only this time, he wanted Ringo to kiss him. 

 The drummer hesitated. They had kissed before, but the fervor in the air that filled the non existent space between them was thick. Both of the boys breaths were seen in the cold air as they exchanged them. Ringo lids fluttered, and George let his own shut. Darkness allowing every touch and caress to feel all the more real. Abruptly, a hand tugged the collar of his leather jacket slightly, and he was pulled into those lips again. Both bodies immediately reacting as the two shared an earnest kiss. Ringo taking control with impelling affection.

 It was delightful but chaste, far too short for the guitarist’s liking. When they separated a moment, George barely gave Ringo time to catch his breath before pressing forward and allowing his tongue to slide past his lips. His fleeting impulse crashed into Ringo, and his hands clenched at the fabric of his striped shirt.  Ringo responded with matched eagerness and the two were soon both kissing with more passion than they’d ever felt before. George even let a soft moan slide past his lips as he felt Ringo tangle his fingers further into his hair.

 Neither wanted to stop, but George’s head was already getting dizzy and Ringo’s footing was starting to give way on the edge of the steps. They both reluctantly separated, and caught their breaths still not bearing any space between them, chests heaving with cold air against one another. George just wanted to stay here with Ringo in his arms, barely able to stand and looking just as dazed as George probably does.

 “Gee Ringo…” George’s lip twitch upward. “I thought you didn’t kiss vamps on the first date.”

Chapter 3 here!

#the beatles #beatles fanfiction #George Harrison #Ringo Starr #starrison #starrison fic #McLennon #beatles fic #paul mccartney #John Lennon #hamburg #blisters on his fingers #rory storm and the hurricanes

[thejplibrary]

Putting these two asks together! See also our high school and university categories for more fics!

Poetry Nights by ImagineBeatles (2/7 | 13,510 | PG-13)

21-year-old Paul McCartney, who has recovered from a mental breakdown due to stress and his mother’s sudden, unexpected death, has recently moved to London where he now rents a cheap flat with his friend George. Having needed to give up his medicine studies, he has decided to start over and go to art college instead where he meets the rude and troublesome John Lennon, a young poet, who, much to Paul’s dismay, also happens to be his neighbour.

We Can Be Outcasts Together by consulting_hedgehog (10/? | 11,132 | PG-13)

2017 is a difficult time, for politics and the like, but it is an especially difficult time to be unsure of your sexuality. John is a sixteen year old taking his GCSEs in the months coming up and the last thing he needs are doubts. After a small slip up in class, he becomes an outcast in a school he previously was a hero. Then a new lad who recently joined the school, steps into the light and reveals to John his own doubt as well, and the two schoolboys learn to look up to each other and are less alone than ever before. Modern AU.

We Can Work It Out by hello_goodbi (12/12 | 19,830 | PG-13)

Of all the roommates he could’ve been randomly assigned to, Paul just had to be stuck with John. It’s going to be a bloody miracle if they can make it through the year without coming to blows.

You Don't Know Me At All by whatabutthole (5/? | 10,649 | R) McLennon + Starrison

University. A chance for young adults to finally spread their wings and a time to embrace freedom. But...in George's case, a time to meet and deal with his (slightly unorganized) roommate. Ringo can't help it, the poor thing. He was never one to be Type A. George catches that right off and does not enjoy it one bit. They argue. A lot. It's not very good. Oh, and there's a cat. George hates that cat.

We Push And Pull Like A Magnet Do by toppermostofthepoppermost  (1/1 | 21,202 | NC-17)

College AU. There are theft accusations, flying butt plugs, beach roadtrips, ridiculous playlists, and two very different boys who might just be falling very hard for each other. (Maybe. Possibly. John isn't even stressing about it.) (Except he is. Obviously.)

You Take My Self-Control by ClaireHelene (4/? | 6,221 | PG-13)

Without knowing, Paul has made John fall head over heels for him. Though they're completely different, they seem to fit together perfectly fine (they just obviously don't realise). So in this story you'll see these two madly in love boys dancing around each other, and even though it's plain to see and everybody realises the chemistry between the two of them, they are the only ones not getting it.

Play Your Heart Out by prettyjohnnylennon (9/? | 20,151 | PG-13)

If you ask around Quarry Bank High School who John Lennon was, most of them would reply

“You mean the squinty git that always has something to say?”

And, rude though it might be, John didn’t care much for a reputation. He is in the process of building his way to his own success. Until he stumbles upon Paul McCartney, son of the school’s headmaster. Each have their own fair share of problems, but both have a shared solution. And, even though neither of them is willing to admit it, they need each other in more ways than one.

Suddenly, the road ahead doesn’t look so bleak.

Fly By My Window by Patates (7/7 | 19,172 | PG-13)

John and Paul keep bumping into each other, for better or for worse.

So Said My Soul by sunlaceandpaperflowers  (7/7 | 19,172 | PG-13)

To the vast majority, the world always remains black and white, forever devoid of any color. An entire new world becomes unlocked, it's said, after you meet a certain person—many go their whole lives unaware of such a thing, stuck behind a shut door. New university student Paul has plenty of cause to believe his life is taking a turn, but he never was really counting on meeting John Lennon—nor all the changes that come with that.

#admin: CJD #mclennon fic #anonymous #answered #tom-riddleston-me #fic list

[mithranqueersmusings]

Starrison Week - Day 7 - Free Day

Rating: U

Summary: Olivia has a gift for Ringo.

Tags: One Shot, Angst

Pairing: George Harrison/Ringo Starr

AO3 link here / Fic masterlist here

It had been a couple of years since George's passing, but it never seemed to get any easier for Ringo, any mention of his name or fleeting thought in his mind brought back the pain that never truly wavered. The hardest thing about grieving for Ringo was that he never truly felt he had the privacy to deal with it, they'd always be somebody asking about George: when was the last time he saw him, if they'd been close all these years and if he missed him. That final question was the most insulting, because of course he missed George; he missed him with every fibre of his existence, as much as any person could miss another. Some days were easier than others of course, but there wasn't a day that went by without a thought of George passing into Ringo's mind.

Ringo knew today would already be a little harder, attending an event for something - who could keep track these days? - which Olivia would also be attending. Ringo loved Olivia, she was the best thing to ever happen to George there was no doubt about it; she was kind and intelligent, managing somehow to keep George grounded for so many years. Seeing her would've been a joy, but every time Ringo saw her he couldn't help but thinking about the missing person between them.

They'd always speak to one another at events like these, Ringo especially liked to see how Dhani was getting on, and this occasion was no different. As Ringo approached her, he realised immediately there was something off by the expression of her face: he'd seen it a few times before, but not for years by this point. She approached Ringo with a hug, her charming smile lighting up her face.

"How are you?" She asked in her thick American accent, pulling away from the hug but leaving her hands resting on his shoulders.

Ringo smiled back at her "Alright, and yourself?" There was always an unspoken sadness between them, but both of them recognised its presence.

"Fine, fine." Olivia moved her hands away and began rummaging into her bag "I've got something for you."

"Oh?" Ringo asked, they'd given each other gifts before of course, but never in person.

Olivia pulled out a folded piece of paper, then handed it to Ringo with a smile "I found it inside the piano bench, can you believe it?"

Ringo accepted the paper gently "What is it?"

"It'll make sense when you open it, I'd wait until you're back home, though." Olivia explained, ever sweet.

Ringo eyed her quizzically "If you say so, thanks for whatever it is."

"You can thank me later." She brushed her hand over his arm softly, her eyes looked tearful, then gave it a quick squeeze before heading off into the array of people.

Ringo stood there for a few moments not moving, just holding the piece of paper in his hands. There was nothing more tempting than to open something when someone tells you to wait, but Ringo wanted to respect Olivia's advice; furthermore, if it was anything to do with George, Ringo didn't want to risk becoming an emotional wreck in front of all these people. And so he carried on mingling and drinking while the event carried on as if he didn't have the desperate urge to leave immediately, luckily time didn't pass too slowly.

When Ringo finally got home, he fished the paper out of his pocket almost instantly, but still didn't open it until he'd gotten comfortable in his living room. Now that he was finally able to look at it, part of him didn't want to. What could it even be? Ringo fumbled with the edges of the paper, it was clearly old from the way the sides had crumbled together, which no doubt meant that it was something George had written a long time ago. Ringo let out a heavy sigh, guessing what the contents might be would only make him feel more anxious, so it was best just to take a look. Now unfolded, he could see the paper was scrawled in an always familiar handwriting: George's. Ringo felt a pain already in his chest from seeing the curls of the letters, it was moments like this that made him realise just what little aspects of George he missed. Ringo powered through the initial ache and read the first line, it seemed to be a title of sorts.

Hey Ringo

The pain exponentially grew from this point on. Ringo knew it was silly to read these words as if George was speaking to him now, somewhere beyond this world, but it was difficult not to, especially when it felt so calming.

Hey Ringo now I want you to know That without you my guitar plays far too slow

Ringo felt his face tightening, already a lump in his throat growing as he continued to read. A song written by George would've been enough of a struggle, one written to him was even worse, but a song written to him about their love for one another, their inability to be without one another, all only to be discovered long after George had passed, was near unbearable.

And Ringo let me say this to you I've heard no drummer who can play it quite like you

Ringo found himself reading the words aloud, he wasn't quite sure when he'd started. He only wished he'd be able to hear George sing them, Ringo always thought he had such a beautiful voice. It wasn't the first time George had reassured Ringo on his drumming ability, it was impossible to forget the sight of all the flowers George had filled the studio with when he'd 'quit' the band all those years ago.

Wait a minute Mr G. Stop flattering me My drums sound bare When your guitar's not there

Ringo let out a sad laugh, the kind you make when your brain registers the happiness before the pain. This wasn't a simple case of Ringo merely missing when they played together as The Beatles, the two of them had continued to play for years after that. George had written songs for Ringo across the years, he wondered why this one had never surfaced before.

Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey Let me hear you playing

When had George written this? There was no date in sight, and considering it'd been stored away in Friar Park it could've been from any time at all. Had George even remembered he'd written it? During their years as The Beatles, George already had a plethora of songs he'd written that were just waiting to be recorded - many of then which never were.

Hey Ringo there's one thing that I've not said I'll play my guitar with you till I drop dead

It was at this point that Ringo realised he'd started crying, a teardrop fell onto the aged paper and left a small mark which began to grow. He quickly dabbed his eyes, no matter how justified his emotions felt in that moment he couldn't let them ruin this now treasured piece. Even though these words were never written with the meaning they now had, Ringo couldn't help viewing them that way. All the little disputes they may have had in their whole lives of knowing one another, seemed to wash away with these words.

Well, G. it's really nice the things you say But when you drop, please fall the other way

Another pained laugh, and more tears. Classic George, always ending with a joke even in the most sincere of situations. Ringo couldn't stop the tears from falling this time, he had to move the paper away to avoid drenching it.

Despite his weeping, Ringo still had a smile on his face, it was far too bittersweet to commit to one emotion. It felt like a new message, despite it clearly being several years old, that George was still able to communicate his love in this way. If anyone would've been able to somehow communicate through the vast and aching separation of death, Ringo thought it would've been George.

He imagined all the different George's of his life writing this down: whether it was the young, rebellious boy from Hamburg, the mopheaded cynic, the wise hippie, the gentle gardener or the mature and loving father he'd watched him become. While it was beyond upsetting to have experienced the loss of George, such a beautiful light in everyone's lives, in that moment Ringo felt blessed to have known him at all; especially to have been so important to him that he felt he'd immortalise their friendship in a song. Even though George never got round to finishing or recording it, Ringo didn't care, he'd cherish these words for the rest of his life.

For certain there is sadness where there is death, but in the memory of those we love there is true happiness and beauty.

#the beatles #beatles #beatles fanfic #the beatles fanfic #beatles fanfiction #george harrison/ringo starr #ringo starr/george harrison #ringo starrxgeorge harrison #george harrisonxringo starr #starrison #starrison week