#SKKSJFSDKLJFSDK SOFTNESS ALERT !!!!!!!

[blackberry-gingham]

Can I request a cute Ringo x Reader where Ringo falls for the reader who’s just an assistant in the neighboring recording studio from theirs?😆❤️ and the reader is extremely shy haha

😂😂😂 I was actually referring to my very long list of drafts and requests, but I do appreciate the eagerness to help a bored girl out, so I’ll do this one now anyway haha. Besides, Ringo needs more solo fics on this blog and shy reader is always a good one 😌🥺 Thank you, and enjoy!

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The old florescent lights hum overhead, flooding the recording room with a bright, hot light. Ringo wipes the back of his palm across his forehead, vaguely listening to John, Paul, and George as they discuss some tweaks they should make to that last recording or so. Paul never seems to be satisfied, and now John and George have teamed up to start bickering with him. Their alliance does not matter however, as it would appear Paul has no plans to budge.

Their voices get louder and louder, and Ringo lights up a cigarette in the meantime, hoping it’ll help with the pounding in his head. Doesn’t he get a say in all this? The others may not say it, but he knows what they think. He’s the weakest link here, “Just the drummer, not even a very great one”, or some rubbish like that. 

John slams his guitar down onto its stand with a twang ad now he’s dangerously close to being up in Paul’s face as he continues to argue. George appears as though he’s about to fall back and mediate the situation he helped escalate, but before anyone can do anything, Brian slams the door open, “That’s enough now! Get out and cool off, the three of you!”, he shakes his head out and rubs it as though it’s hurting him, before taking his leave.

“Fine by me!”, Paul gives John a pointed look and storms off, with the other two making similar statements and following close, but not too close, behind.

And poor little Ringo is left alone. Forgotten. 

Suddenly the room feels cold, like the vacuum of space, and Ringo himself is the one feeling hot. He knows he’s not one of the star trio, but how about a little respect, eh? Maybe a “you’re doing great Ringo?” Or, “you can take five, too?”

But no, nothing of the sort.

Ringo’s face twists into a scowl as these thought swirl through his mind. He’s as much a member of this band as any of the other three! This isn’t fair! On that note, he smashes his cigarette into a nearby ashtray and jumps up from his stool as it clatters to the floor. You know what? He needs more then a break. He needs some fresh air.

With a head full of steam, he stomps down the stairwell and through the hall, all the way to the big, double glass doors. He only stops when the sound of pouring rain breaks through the fog of his thoughts. The rain is coming down in droves, thundering in a flurry of drops off of the sidewalk, and not a single soul can be seen outside. 

For a moment, he considers turning around and going back to the studio. Or perhaps finding an abandoned break room, away from the others, and blowing off steam there, but...

No. He shakes out his head and heaves the heavy door open out into the downpour. He’s had enough of this whole damn building, and he’s not going to let a little rain stop him from getting the break he needs.

Ringo walks and walks as the icy water soaks through his fine suit, to his skin, and down to his very bones. Perhaps this wasn’t the wisest decision, he thinks. He takes a few more steps, trying to tough it out, but after a window rattling sneeze he decides to duck into the next building he can. This whole street is made up of little recording studios, so it’s not as much of a change of scenery as he’d have liked... but at least it’s something.

A corridor filled with office doors stretches out before him and, rather then continue leaking a little pool here in the entry way, he decides to go find somewhere to take a load off. 

Ugh, he feels absolutely filled with water, like a damn sink sponge. Ringo tilts his head to the side as he sloshes along and bangs the side of his head, hoping to dislodge some water. It seems to be having some effect at least, and just as he’s about to switch ears, an unexpected collision knocks him on his back.

“Tsk, oh no no no...”

A timid voice mutters softly, and even through his waterlogged ears, Ringo can hear the sound of scuffling and paper shuffling. 

“Oh, I’m so sorry! Um, are you... alright?”

Ringo sits up, but his soaked mop top is completely obscuring his vision. He can only imagine how silly he must look to you right now, sopping wet and a full curtain of hair hiding nearly everything except, of course, his bulbous nose. Great. He huffs, and parts his bangs with both hands to see you.

You look about as shy as you sound, and perhaps even a little afraid. But also... kind, and sweet, and caring, and... Pretty. So pretty...

“Oh! Ringo! I um... I’m such a big fan...”, you laugh nervously, and despite the warm words, your face seems caught in some sort of a wince as you go about busying yourself with picking up your stack of papers and folders.

But he doesn’t want you to be scared. Or nervous, or intimidated, or stressed, or... or anything like that! He wants to see that concerned, but sweet smile he heard you wearing when you were first talking and didn’t know who he was. He sees the very faint little lines by the corners of your nostrils, and just by that he knows you like to laugh. He sees how eager you are to collect these things and go about your day, and he feels a connection to you through it. He knows what that’s like... running around and doing other people’s business. 

Hop to it! 

We need this done like that!

Don’t mess this up!

All of it.

Ringo hurries around to scramble onto his knees with you, “Oh no no, I’m sorry! Here, let me help...” He snatches up some stray pages into a nice stack, and as much as you want to tell him it’s ok and he doesn’t have to, you can’t bring yourself to say a peep.

The two of you work in harmony, and as you finally reach for the last sheet, it would seem Ringo has the same idea. Your hand touches down on it first, with his finding it’s way right over top of yours. It’s surprisingly big, particularly compared to yours, and while you blush at the thoughts it’s giving you, Ringo is thankfully too distracted by how soft and perfect your skin feels under his callused paw.

You come to your senses quickly though, forcing yourself to snap out of your daydreams. Nervous energy takes over and you jerk your hand away a little too roughly. “Ahem, sorry but I really mu- ow” You put the last paper on your stack and set the whole thing down to cradle your hand. A small cut has been made on your knuckle and a fine line of blood begins to seep out.

Ringo looks guiltily from your injury to his ornately engraved ring, the culprit of your little gash. He bites his bottom lip and adds his papers to yours, before scooting closer. “I uh, I-I’m so sorry. Uh here, here...”, he pulls out a handkerchief from inside his suit jacket and goes to apply it to your now freely bleeding cut.

“Oh, you don’t have to-!”

“No no, I insist! It’s the least I can do...”, he looks up at you almost pleadingly. Anything he can do to communicate to you how badly he wants to help.

With your go ahead, he gently wraps up your hand with a neat little bow underneath. He holds your hand in both of his, offering it timidly to show you his work,“...Better?”

Relived, you smile sweetly at him, and it’s even more wonderful of a sight then he imagined, “Yes, thank you... Still hurts a bit though”, you chuckle.

“Oh... I know a trick to help with that!”, Ringo smiles cheerily, gently grasping your fingers in one hand and slides his other down to support your elbow as he brings your knuckles to his lips. They’re thick and soft and warm... and as though a soothing fireplace has been lit beside you, suddenly it feels as though any rainy day chills or frayed nerves have been purged from your body. 

His lips linger on your knuckles for a few extra seconds, and when he comes up to the shy, but blissful smile you’re wearing, he thinks in that moment that nothing would make him happier then to see you happy... But knowing he was the one to give you that smile... He’s over joyed. 

And with a fleeting thought, he wishes he could give you a smile like that every day. He finds it that adorably endearing...

He brushes his hair out of his face once more, still holding your hand, and gives you a toothy grin as he huffs a nervous laugh of his own. His eyes are caught on yours now, and how sparkly and vibrant they are. He can’t bear to tear his gaze away, even as he asks, “I... uh... C-can I help you take your papers?”

You give a tiny, melodic laugh and the sound of it sends Ringo’s heart pounding with excitement. With your free hand, you return a stray loc of hair to the rest of his side swept bangs and when his face is all clear, you press a soft, timid kiss to the tip of his long, round nose. 

“I’d love that...”