lacedinribbons

[lacedinribbons]

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The Beatles Press Conference After Their USA Visit

obsessed with paul’s motherly ‘stop it’ slap after george’s offended comment

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[lacedinribbons]

In My Life (There’s You)

꒰ author note: hello! this is my very first fan fiction ever! I hope it’s not too cringe or sappy. but yknow that’s my favourite type of fanfic to be honest. I wouldn’t call myself a writer but I tried, i read alot of fanfics so I thought id give it ago :3 ꒱

꒰ pairing: john x gn!reader ꒱

꒰ summary: Waking up to John scribbling in his notebook — writing words of you for his new song, sharing cuddles and laughter. Something so simple but something you’ll never forget. ꒱

The soft hum of a record player and the distant sound of birds softly stirs you awake

You were curled up in a blanket on a second-hand couch, blinking a few times — then stretching out completely. that’s when you saw him,

John. Sitting by the window, scribbling in his new notebook, unaware that you have woken up yet.

His hair was a fluffy mess, glasses slipping slightly down the bridge of his nose. He looked peaceful, like he didn’t have to be anyone or anything but himself.

You yawn, “Are you writing a song?” You asked.

He looked up, a soft smile crept across his face. “Yeah”, he said. “All about you.”

You chuckled. “That’s a bit sappy for a rockstar no?”

John snickered making his way over to you in a old t-shirt he borrowed from Paul and plopped beside you and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear.

“I’ll write the sappiest thing you’ve ever heard if it means I get to keep lookin’ at you like this dear”

You rolled your eyes, heart fluttering. “You’re ridiculous.”

He leaned in, nose brushing yours. “Well, Im ridiculously in love with you.”

Your cheeks burned “You say that now, but wait until I finish the rest of those biscuits.”

John let out a small chuckle, resting his hand on his cheek. “Angel, you could turn into a giant biscuit and I’d still think you were the most beautiful little thing in the whole world.”

You giggled and rested your head on his shoulder. John took your hands into his, turning serious— that soft, rare kind of serious John only got when he was being completely honest.

“You know”, he said quietly, “I’ve sung a thousand love songs, but nothing comes close to the way I feel when I look at you.”

Your breath catches

“It’s not fireworks or screaming fans or spotlights. It’s this.” He looked towards the golden morning light pouring into your shared living room. “It’s waking up next to you, with our music on the record player. It’s the way you smile when you think no one is watching.”

He paused, his thumbs gently tracing circles over your knuckles.

“I don’t want to just write songs about you, I want to write a life with you.”

You stared at him, heart pounding in your chest , lips parting in awe. “You’re really saying all that to me? Me?”

John leaned in until your foreheads connected. “I’ve never meant anything more.”

He kissed you — slow, gentle like the whole world had narrowed down to this very moment.