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wincestisasincest · 5 years

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2000 Man (A beatle!reader story) - Part 3: Anything You Can Do, I Can Do Better

“Okay, I said fluff, so here it is. I mean, there’s like hints of sex, but really it’s mostly fluff. I also said more John. Here he is, in all his glory.

I was absolutely fascinated with the concept of our reader being bisexual, so here’s a fic that plays around with it, and since the beatle!reader fandom has been very accepting of that idea, a lot of this will be more taking from head canons, and I will list the ones below that I use, as usual.

Also, as is the drill, credit to @casafrass for everything, though I doubt that you would find my blog if you didn’t already know hers, if that happens to be the case, please check her out. All the head canons are from her blog and its lovely anons.

One more thing, my dumbass finally realized that italics don’t actually appear on the Tumblr mobile app, so in the near future I will re-edit the two previous entries in this series to help out our mobile readers.

Description: It’s the year 2000, and y/n, the fifth member of the Beatles, is advertising her new book, Madam Beatle, in her first interview of the year. We see snapshots of her life, from when she joined the band, to the trials and tribulations, to the death of the band, and everything in between. Loosely inspired by Slumdog Millionaire.

Part: 1, 2, 3

Head canons: Beatle!reader being bi as fuuuuuuck, beatle!reader’s got game, female fans having a fat crush on our bi reader(also this one), beatle!reader stealing all the lad’s girls

Words: 2,747

Pairings: Okay, lowkey there is some John x reader here, though you super duper have to squint and, like always, you can look at it as friendship if you want to, and of course, there’s also groupie x reader

Warnings: S E X, like it’s implied, but they totally did it

“Alright, now, I’d like to move on to a slightly more... promiscuous topic. Y/n, and the audience, I’m sure you’ve heard about what’s become something of a phenomenon in recent years, more and more ‘groupies’, as they were referred to in the day, have been coming out and telling their stories of what their life was like back when rock and roll fan culture was born. Some of them share their thoughts and experiences on certain rock stars of their day, and you have not been excluded from it. We’ll come back to specifics later, but in general, what do you have to say on that?”

“Well, Harold, I think it’s a wonderful thing. Groupies were and still are an important part of the business that we reside in, and honestly, they made as much of a splash in the 60s as some celebrities did. I haven’t really heard any groupies mention me yet, but I suppose all I can hope for is that they were... positive reviews?”

“Indeed. Though, you do seem to have the most, let’s say, gender-equality in yours.”

“Well, it was the 60s. The skirts were getting shorter and shorter, women and men were becoming more expressive, and people just really stopped caring about the bullshit taboos that surround sex and gender. Though I may have been more well-known for it, it really affected all of the musicians that I knew on some level.”

“And how does it reflect in your own life story?”

“Well, I think especially in the early days, it had something of an effect on the fans. I was one of the main reasons why we drew a lot of male fans, but sometime later I discovered that I was also responsible for drawing in a lot of female fans. As time went on, and both our group and our fans got more daring with each other, one thing lead to another, and the next thing you know conservative Christian mothers are telling their daughters to stay away from girls like me, lest they succumb to their own feelings and not their parents need to be accepted.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“...in fact, some people are even comparing the Rolling Stones’ popularity to your own. Can you perhaps, tell us how you feel about that?” Like rats to cheese, the nosy reporters held their microphones and tape recorders up to the table where you and the lads were sitting, trying to comprehend the sea of petty attention that your career had garnered you.

“Well, there’s not really much to say,” John began, “They’re doing well for themselves and we’re doing well for ourselves. That’s really all there is to it, now. It’s not like we’re competing or anything, we’re on rather good terms.”

“Yeah,” Paul interjected, “And, I mean, I can’t speak for them, but all we’re here to do is make music that people will enjoy. If they enjoy us or the Stones, that’s not for us to decide.” That goddamned liar. Even the press had to know that they weren’t being completely genuine at this point, though the point that John and Paul had really been trying to make was clear: we’re not gonna give you what you want so stop asking.

Something chaotic woke up inside you.

“That Mick Jagger is pretty cute, though.” You commented into your own microphone. The crowd laughed, and you smiled, proud of yourself, and getting grunts and mock-angry looks from the lads.

You and the lads knew the truth of course. You and the Stones had a deep respect for each other, and were even close to becoming friends, but that wasn’t how this game was played. You couldn’t give the press anything too positive, or anything too negative. Just answer vaguely, and misdirect. And Paul did totally want people to like their music.

Brian muttered something to John on the side.

“Well, I’m being told that that’s all we can answer for now. Thank you all, and we’ll see you ‘round.”

You five cleared out of the chairs single-file and hustled out one of the side-doors. A small cloud of fans had already gathered, looking for either autographs, or touching or grabbing, or pictures, or just to tell the group that you were going to marry them one day. Brian had already told you that you would have just a few minutes for fans.

“Two girls coming directly for you.” George whispered in your ear, and you spun around to find a redhead and a blonde looking at you eagerly.

“Well, hi, girls! What can I do for you?”

“Oh my goodness, erm, hi y/n! We just wanted too, uh...” the redhead trailed off.

“We just wanted to say that we think you’re really cool, and you’re really pretty, and you’re a really good guitar-player, and um, we wanted to ask you to sign something for us.” They both stuck out a pair of white sneakers, which was admittedly something that you hadn’t been asked to sign before, though you weren’t complaining.

“Aww, well thanks, ladies, and it’s no problem,” You began to pull a sharpie that you always kept with you out of your jacket pocket, “Do you want me to sign both shoes, or just the right one, or...?”

“Um, both, if it’s no problem!” The redhead’s voice squeaked a little.

“Of course, why would it be a problem? Here.” You scrawled your signature on all four sneakers in the efficient manner that you were so used to be now, before looking back up at the girls and giving them a smile. The blonde one was beaming.

“Thanks, y/n, um-” it seemed as though she instantly stopped considering her actions, and in that moment, the blonde leaned in and kissed you right on the cheek.

You had to fight to hold back your blush.

“Aww, thanks girls, enjoy the sneakers, that’s a very stylish look if I do say so myself.”

“Y/n, get a move on!” John called at you as he was retreating from his horde. You could sense the disappointment in the mob that was following the girls, as they were all clearly waiting their turn to see if they could speak to you, but alas, time was too short.

“Wait, y/n, I-” someone behind the girls called.

“But I-” You had to evacuate.

“See you round, girls.” You flashed your million dollar smile before darting off to join John and the rest in your typical, sleek, black car.

Slowly, the mob began to speed up behind you as you were the last, sprinting towards that open door like it would be the last one you’d see in a while. As you reached the open car door, a pair of hands quickly pulled you in and another shut the door. You piled yourself next to George and Ringo, and directly across from John and Paul.

“I see y/n got some action, then.” Ringo poked your cheek. You noticed your reflection in the car window. That blonde had left you with a bright, red lipstick mark where your cheekbones looked their cutest.

“It seems I did.” Your cheeks flared up a little.

“Y/n, haven’t you heard, a marriage is between a man and a woman.” John snickered.

“Come off it, John. It’s not like that.”

“I’m not sure if I believe that, y/n.” Paul was joining in on the teasing, following John’s lead.

“Well, Paul, I don’t believe that I’m the only one of us who finds Mick Jagger attractive.” You shot back. George, Ringo, and yourself were the only ones who found it amusing.

“Very nice move you pulled there, by the way. Distracting them from the Beatles vs Stones debacle to have them writing about the Romeo and Juliet thing that you and Mick have going on. Quite the strategy.” John had put his glasses back on.

“Why should I care? The only newspapers that’ll be writing that are the same ones that say the Queen is actually a man.” You peered out the window, the mob of fans looking much like a collection of dolls now.

“And people read ‘em anyway.” George put his hands behind his head and leaned back in the seat, oddly relaxed.

- time skip because this is a thing that I do now -

The five of you had settled in a gentleman’s club for the evening. The club had a name, you were sure, but you hadn’t really bothered to check, as you were just here for the booze.

Even the lads weren’t really sure why we were here, but apparently, success had made us a part of the upper class, and this is what upper class people do. You’d think they would get a hobby or something.

You took a long sip of your Proseco, and through the liquid you could see a blurred scene of all of the lads’ attention suddenly grabbed by something to the left. You set the glass down.

John wolf-whistled.

A tall, slender brunette stalked up to the table. She was wearing a long, green velvet dress with a slit that allowed her right leg to creep out, while at the same time perfectly hugging her curves. Her lips were pursed, but still full, and her eyes had the longest lashes that you had ever seen.

“I thought I smelled a rat.” Her voice was like chocolate, both sweet and luscious.

“Awwww, c’mon love, don’t be like that, have a seat.” John slid a little to the side and patted the vacancy next to him.

You took a drag out of your cigarette and made eye contact with her. Green, just like her dress.

“Johnny here forgot that you introduce yourself before sexually harassing someone.” She half-smirked, half-smiled, and you felt pride, of all things, so much that you didn’t notice John’s side-eye.

“Well, if he’s John, then that must make you Paul,” her manicured nails were parallel with Paul’s chin, “George”, parallel with his mouth, “Ringo”, parallel with his nose, “and (y/n)”, directly down the center of your eyes, as if she was aiming to kill.

“Well, now that we’re all familiar, I don’t think you’ll mind joining us for a drink.” John called the waiter over as she took a seat.

“I wouldn’t say entirely familiar, for I haven’t the pleasure of knowing your name.” You swished your drink around in your glass. Paul, George, and Ringo pretended to be caught in a different conversation while you two chatted, though you knew full well that John wasn’t the only one with side-eye.

“I don’t know, I’m not supposed to give that out to strangers.”

“But you know ours. It’s only fair.”

“All’s fair in love and war, dear. I’ll take a sweet Vermouth on the rocks with a twist.” The waiter must’ve always been there, because you did not see him show up.

“Well, now that that’s settled, tell me about yourself.” John put an arm around her shoulder, which just didn’t seem to match with her perfect, clear, skin.

This would be a long night.

- time skiiiiiiiiiiiip for the hot brunette, also if you don’t find the type of person i described hot, imagine her as anything you like, you’re the reader after all-

The tango that you and John were dancing for this brunette’s attention was certainly not the most graceful. You only felt satisfied when her gaze was back on you, and preferably when she was smiling. Something about her, if you will, made you want more and more of her. Know everything about her. John wanted the same thing, and for once, he wasn’t going to get it.

“Well, I must go powder my nose, but I’ll be back shortly.”

“Better keep to that, or I might have to go looking for you.” John and you watched her leave, the clacking of her heels on the hardwood floor slowly faded out as she disappeared into the hallway.

Oh, yes, you’d forgotten about the rest of the world. George, Paul, and Ringo had already disappeared with intentions of partying at some of the more lively places.

“Alright, (y/n), what are we going to do about this?” John’s eyes weren’t like hers.

“About what?”

“Oh, don’t act all innocent. You’re the only thing getting in between me and the best bird in town.”

“What if I enjoy her conversation? I have just as much of a right to that as you. There are thousands of girls who would sleep with you, and none of them are as engaging conversationalists.”

“What the hell are you on about? I don’t bloody care about conversation, I want her.”

“If you think that making me angry is going to convince me, then you don’t know me half as well as you think you do. Not all of us are here to fuck, John.”

“Concerning that, I suggest that you go find someone to sleep with to take your mind off of things. You’re not winning this.”

“Let’s just see who the lady picks, John. Waiter, excuse me, some whiskey please.”

The lady picked someone else, you guessed. After 20 minutes of waiting, she hadn’t returned, and though John would never admit it, his mood and confidence was not nearly as high as he would’ve liked. Your whiskey bottle was completely empty.

“If it makes you feel any better,” you offered as John stared into his drink, “I lost too. There are other birdies in the sky, y’know.” Normally, John would’ve been angry, but after he’d passed a certain drink threshold, he became sad drunk rather than angry drunk.

“Yeah, you’re right, (y/n).”

“But you should know I’m not going to-”

“Don’t waste your breath. I’m not apologizing either.”

“I guess Paul is right. We are both assholes.”

John chuckled, before ruffling your hair.

“Wanna head back to the hotel, birdie?”

“I think I will, but the night is still young, John, I’m sure you can find someone else. That girl over there in the black has been starting at you all evening.”

“Yes. I’ve noticed. Well, I’ll see you, (y/n).” John sauntered over to the bar counter, and you gathered your purse before exiting down the hallway.

You felt morose, though you really couldn’t tell why. It was just a conversation, and surely not the most interesting ones that you would ever have. Hell, you hadn’t even known her name.

“Took you long enough, (n/n).”

There she was, leaning against the wall voyeuristically, her fingers laced around a cigarette holder. You could’ve sworn the smoke was in your eyes.

“What are you waiting for?”

“I think you know.”

“Would you like to, um, continue our conversation back at my hotel?” You never said ‘um’, what was going on?

“That would be agreeable.” Her heels clacked closer to you, and she put her hand on your shoulder.

Oh. That’s what that feeling was.

- Last time skip maybe -

You made your way downstairs, wearing clothes that were way more comfortable that whatever fancy thing you had put on last night. Your feet were still sore from the heels.

You pushed open the door to the conference room, breakfast already laid out, with the rest of the band and Brian already munching.

“(Y/n), at last, you’ve decided to join us.” Brian really did not feel like not being sarcastic this morning.

“Sorry, I slept in.”

“What’s new?” The lads snickered.

“Busy last night, hm?” Paul’s eyebrows flickered.

“Well, weren’t we all?” You sipped your orange juice.

“Not Johnny ‘ere.” Ringo’s head was resting on his hand, amusedly staring at John.

“Look, I would’ve, if she didn’t get offended so damn easily.” John really wasn’t in the mood, which was, of course, reason to tease him more.

“She slapped ‘im. Across the face. While wearing a ring.” George was on his fifth piece of toast.

“That first bird wasn’t married. ‘Other birdies in the sky’ my arse’.” He gave you a look.

“Oh yea, whatever happened to her?” Paul was all here for this drama.

“Left, without even telling us ‘er name. Bi-”

“Her name was Carla, John.” You cut him off. You loved John, but man had you had enough of his bullshit.

Paul had already put the whole thing together, a look of half-shock, half-waiting for John’s reaction, which at the moment was just puzzled. George nudged Ringo and whispered something. You smiled, and got up from the table to refill your plate.

John’s sharp voice cut through the room: “Wait a minute!”

#beatle!reader #beatles #the beatles #the beatles x reader #beatles x reader #john lennon #john lennon x reader #paul mccartney #paul mccartney x reader #george harrison #george harrison x reader #ringo starr #ringo starr x reader #60s #classic rock #madam beatle

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