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cherry-velvet-skies · 1 month

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Marigolds In The Porch Lights (18+)

Gardener!George Harrison × GN!Reader

Genre: Smut (FINALLY), but also some Fluff and Angst

Warnings: A poor attempt at a shower sex scene, unprotected sex (ALWAYS USE PROTECTION, Y'ALL), and some kinda twisted feelings I guess idk these two are just constantly teasing each other

Words: 6.4k (I had so much fun with this y'all)

Summary: 1971 era; SEQUEL TO STRAWBERRY LEMONADE; George and Reader finally have their time together; also Geo is not famous in this so I guess it counts as AU lol

A/N: MUST READ STRAWBERRY LEMONADE FIRST FOR THIS TO MAKE SENSE! But honestly the amount of requests I got to make a sequel, anyone who's here has probably already read S.L. (also thank you for all the requests! <3)

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One week had gone by since the blossoming of your new relationship with George, and you could not stop thinking about him. Calling him during the week just for your own pleasures seemed rather selfish, so you forced yourself to wait the full week until his next Saturday gardening job. After all, that wouldn’t be fair to his personal schedule, now would it?

Now, here it was, the fateful Saturday afternoon, and the anticipation was swarming you. You knew that you were always his last appointment of the week, and you would have him all to yourself from now until the sunset. You contemplated walking outside naked to greet him, but quickly remembering that neighbors exist, the idea was obligated to fade away. You still wished you could, though.

You left the gate unlocked, allowing him to let himself in. He was so caring of your space, taking time to lock the gate behind him so as not to allow the opportunity of any unwanted guests. You waited by the patio for him, prepared with another plate of fresh strawberries and a cold glass of lemonade. You made enough for two this time, specifically if those two were going to be staying together for a while.

Upon George’s entry, he eyed the fruity treats reminiscent of his previous time here. Instead of helping himself to a snack, he approached you to place a patient kiss upon your lips, wrapping an arm tightly around your waist as he did so. His other hand held his gardening toolkit, keeping it at his side while you deepened the kiss. George was almost ready to drop the bag and take you in his arms, but felt he should at least accomplish what you’re paying him for first.

“How have you been?” You started, having a bit more courage to talk to him this time. He laid out his tools as he knelt in the grass.

“Doing what I normally do, I guess.” He replied absentmindedly, “Though I was excited to get back here and see how the strawberry seeds are doing.” He flashed you a cheeky grin, and your shoulders instantly floated down to a more relaxed stance. George wasn’t big on expressing his true feelings directly, but he had his own ways of getting his point across. You slowly drifted off, listening to his voice as he spoke, until he stopped, and you realized he was waiting for you to answer his question.

“Pardon?” You squeaked, causing George to tilt his head in confusion.

“You have been watering the strawberries, right?” He repeated, gesturing to the empty space beside him, “The soil looks moist, so I’d say they’re doing well.”

“Oh! Yes,” You giggled, “I purchased a book on how to care for them the morning after you planted it.” A wide smile spread on George’s face, giving you a short nod and happily moving on to the next patch of flowers. You wore a scarlet colored dress today, planning for him to give you a matching rose from your garden. You concluded that you were the one who could determine which type of flower you receive by the color you chose to wear that day. You weren’t sure if George was also aware of this arrangement, or he just enjoyed finding flowers for you too much to notice.

You had treated this time you spent with George almost like your first date. You wanted to know everything there is to know about him, no matter how minor. In the hours that he had been there, you learned that George also knew how to play guitar, and he enjoyed writing songs, but was never really interested in the life of fame and performing to the public, so he preferred not to pursue it. Being a gardener and getting as much time in nature as he could was more than enough to make him happy.

The time went faster than you both wanted it to, partly because this time felt like you had known each other for years. George had even taken the time to show you how to tend to certain flowers, as the rules differed based on the type of plant. He showed you all his tools, demonstrating how to use them and the best places to start to preserve the flowers, as well as any of his personal favorite natural additives to help the flowers grow. You now knew that adding common household items, such as white vinegar or banana peels can give your flowers a speed boost. George even explained how ground coffee could be beneficial to the soil if you decided to start growing vegetables. His wide range of knowledge was better than any purchasable book could provide.

Before you knew it, the sky was growing orange, and the sunset was upon you. More time to spend with George aside from his occupational responsibilities was not completely out of the question, so you hadn’t lost hope yet. That is, until you saw him reach for his bag to start packing up his tools.

“You’re leaving?” You blurted out, not wanting to sound desperate but your body not even giving you a chance to consider your words. “You just got here!”

George glanced down at his watch, eliciting a small chuckle. “I’ve been here for three hours, love.”

“Well it felt like three seconds to me.” You pouted, crossing your arms and slumping back against the tree you were sitting under. “And you said we would do more together next time! That’s what you said the last time you were here!”

“And we did, didn’t we?” George replied, not missing a beat. “Last time, there was much more uncomfortable silence. This time, we had a wonderful conversation.” He paused to remove his gloves and place them in the pocket on the side of his bag, slowly rising from where he was seated in the grass. “That’s a pretty big improvement, don’t you think? It’s something I can cherish, especially since we won’t be seeing each other next week.”

Your eyes widened. Initially, you weren’t sure if you had heard him correctly, but it was true. First you had missed out on quality time with George and now next week he wasn’t going to come by? You felt your heart sink, trying your hardest to keep the tears from escaping your eyes.

“Why not?” You whined, a little louder this time. You didn’t want to sound like you were throwing a tantrum, but it was difficult when that was exactly what you wanted to do.

“I’ll be out of town next weekend.” George replied matter-of-factly, “I’m going to visit my family as one of my relatives is getting married. The wedding is on Saturday, so I’ll be gone the whole weekend.”

You wanted to cry. You wanted to scream. You wanted to do anything that would make him stay. But why? He didn’t do anything wrong, but your impression of how the day would go when he got here was a lot different than how it actually went down. You felt like you were lied to, except that you weren’t. Last week, George said that you would ‘make more time for each other’ this time, and technically, you did. He never said what that time was going to be spent on. Perhaps you two had different ideas as to what his return would bring. But instead, you tightened your chest, putting away that tantrum for your alone time later.

“But I thought-” You stopped yourself, knowing that telling George what you really wanted could potentially lead to unwanted results, especially if he didn't feel the same way.

“Thought what?” George asked, staring at you as you mentally cursed yourself for popping a corner of the lid on Pandora's Box. “Did you have a plan for today?” He was too clever. There was no going back now.

“Well…” You started, feeling a blush creep up onto your cheeks, “Sort of…”

“Oh?” He teased, the sunset casting a brilliant sparkle on those dark brown eyes, “Well, come on then. Out with it.” You pursed your lips, shifting your gaze to the floor. George leaned in closer, the coarse hairs of his mustache brushing against the shell of your ear. “So long as we're pretending I don't already know.”

He knew what you wanted. He was going to make you say it.

You stood concerningly still, almost frozen. It was a battle of wits, but you weren't exactly sure if you wanted to win or lose. If you gave up now, and spilled your guts, would you get what you wanted? Or would George continue to string you along, making you wait anyway just to see you squirm?

George sighed, looking at his watch again. “Well,” he huffed, feigning annoyance, “if you have nothing else to say, I suppose I should be going now.” He kissed your cheek, wedging his hand into your own to leave his complementary petal before making his way to the gate. You couldn't even look at him as he left, feeling too embarrassed. Instead, you looked down at your hand. A rose petal, no surprise. You were about to head inside until you heard George call your name. You partially turned around, still feeling rather conflicted. He was standing on the other side of the gate, pointing towards the patio.

“I'd turn that light on if I were you. It gets rather dark out here.” He waited for you to respond. You slowly nodded, approaching the back stairs. And with that, he got in his car and drove off.

You flipped the switch, watching as the porch light came on. It was a glimmering golden yellow hue, expanding its beam about halfway through the garden. You weren't sure why George told you to put it on, but it did make the garden look brighter. Even when you were angry with him, you would still do whatever he wanted you to.

But why were you angry? George hadn't done anything wrong. You knew he was teasing you, but you didn't care. In fact, there was a part of you that liked it. You felt like he was playing with you without even touching you. Wrapped so tightly around his finger that you felt like it was your life force. It strangled you in the best way possible. Like an invisible leash secured around your neck, and he could pull you wherever he wanted. You were completely and truly captivated by him.

Slipping quietly into the house, you felt like you wanted to cry. The anger had subsided and was soon replaced by a persistent longing. Your disdain towards having to go two weeks without seeing George wasn’t even due to the fact that you were crazy about him. It had become a routine. At this point, you wished you hadn’t been so shy to start a conversation with him the first three times he showed up. That you hadn’t waited until just this previous week. Maybe things would be different now. Maybe you’d be closer.

You didn’t know where to go from there. Part of you accepted this as what it was, and you would see George eventually, while another part of you felt defeated that you wanted to do something about this when you knew you couldn’t.

When you woke up the next morning, your house felt quieter, despite you having always lived alone. Almost like George had been staying in the guest room this whole time unbeknownst to you. Perhaps he was a frequent visitor to the guest room in your brain.

You spent the rest of your weekend like any other weekend: it was another gorgeous spring day, and you loved to sit out on the patio and catch up on your reading while you enjoyed your lunch or an afternoon snack, hearing the faint melodies coming from your living room of whatever record you put on for the occasion. It was the only time you actually preferred being alone. Perhaps it was the only activity potent enough to fill the void of your longing for George.

When night came again, you headed inside, about to shut the patio door when you swore you heard a voice.

I’d turn that light on if I were you.

You froze, but briefly shrugged it off as being in your head. You looked outside, barely being able to see your garden, but knowing it was only your subconscious. You shut the door, turning to walk away until you heard it again.

It gets rather dark out here.

You sighed. Even when George wasn’t around, you felt like he was right beside you. You weren’t sure if you wanted to laugh or cry, so you released a noise that sounded like a mixture of both as you flicked the porch light on, not paying it another thought as you headed to the kitchen to prepare dinner.

Monday morning. You dreaded it more this week for some unknown yet obviously known reason. The past few weeks, you would just think about your weekend with George to get you through the boring parts of the day. But since this weekend did not pan out like you thought it would, there wasn’t much to occupy your mind. That was the hard part about all this. George didn’t have a typical nine-to-five. He would have gardening sessions scattered throughout his day. Sometimes he would be booked solid, and other days would be quick appointments for treatments, leaving more time for his personal schedule. Even if you wanted to meet up with him during the week, your strict schedule prevented you from having any time with him. Maybe something could’ve been worked out eventually, but the current state of your brain would not settle for that. You wanted him and you wanted him now.

When you got home that night, the feeling had not left. It was more manageable while you were away, but you felt like you were coming home to a house that was once full of life, only to no longer harbor that same feeling. You had never realized how much life George brought to your daily routine even when you didn’t live together. For a moment, you wondered why this was affecting you so much. Perhaps you were overreacting. You would see George again. It would just be longer than usual until you did. You released a heavy sigh, a sliver of hope that you could push this feeling out of your mind, for at least a little while, had begun to show itself.

Until night fell. You glanced at the back door.

The porch light.

That fucking porch light.

The entire time you lived here, you barely even acknowledged its existence. But ever since George made you aware of it, you think of it every night. Subconsciously, you thought maybe if you were consistent in putting it on every night, he would come back. He would find his way to you, sensing your desire to see him, and you would never be apart again. Never be alone again.

You turned it on again, simultaneously hopeful in your delusional scenario and growing impatient at how long your heart wanted to keep up the act.

The next morning, going by the door to shut the light felt like a walk of shame. What were you waiting for? George had his own schedule. His own life. He would see you when he could. You couldn’t help but start thinking if George was missing you as much as you were feeling every day was so bleak without him.

But yet, that night, you turned the porch light on again. Feeling an overwhelming, compelling urge to stay, you opened the back door, stepping out onto the patio. You stared up at the light, admiring the wonderful golden hue of the small bulb inside its painted glass shade. The shade was brushed in bright yellow, matching the bulb and some other accents of the house’s exterior decor. It seemed so much more prominent at night. It was the only thing visible from far away. A sign of life in the home. You smiled at the thought. You would’ve probably never got around to use it if it wasn’t for George. He truly did bring new life into your home.

Thanks to the light, you could see the first few rows of flowers in your garden surrounding the large tree in the center of the yard. This was your gradient row, as you loved to refer to it as. The row where George had taken many creative liberties, creating a smooth-flowing spectrum of colors around the tree like a color wheel. The warm tones faced the house, showing you your lovely spread of roses, tiger lilies, and marigolds.

The marigolds reminded you of the light. Bright, yellow, and outstanding. It was also one of the only few flowers in your garden that George had not given you petals from. You turned back to the light. You decided it could be your marigold petal. At least for now.

You didn’t stay long. You quickly returned inside, shuffling briskly back down the hall, trying to make it to the bathroom before the tears dripped off your face and down onto the floor.

The following morning, as your fingers brushed against the switch to turn off the light, you let out a loud sob. It had rained in the middle of the night, and the sight outside the back door, one of gray overcast and a messy, muddy garden, made it all feel much too real. You couldn’t hide it anymore. You missed George. Oh, how you missed him. One day a week wasn’t enough anymore. You needed more of him. So much more. More than your own mind, body, and soul would ever know.

You considered taking off work today, as your mangled emotions were surely draining your energy. But realizing that staying home would only twist the knife further, you conceded. It was almost as if any choice that life could make would've been wrong in your eyes. Whether you went to work or stayed home, you felt uncomfortable. If the work day went quickly, you were dreading coming home to face your feelings again. Yet, if the day dragged on, you groaned at the thought of having to endure more time until your fateful reunion with George. You were incessantly unsatisfied. Insatiable, even. The only correct answer was George. You needed him to give you what he had promised you, whether he was waiting for you to admit it or not. At this point, you wouldn't have even cared if you sounded desperate. You were desperate. You didn't care if you had to call him right now and divulge everything you felt. How badly you wanted and needed him. Your brain was chasing a fierce addiction, and George was your dealer.

That night had been the hardest so far. You couldn't even bring yourself to walk down that hall. The light wasn't going to be some magical beacon to signal George. You felt like you were holding onto nothing. You didn't care if the light wasn't on tonight. It made no difference anymore.

You went to sleep early that night. Your main thought process was to sleep as much as you could to make the days go by faster. You didn't even want to think about this Saturday. Your soul felt like it was grieving. But grieving what? George didn't break up with you. Technically, the two of you never even established any sort of declaration of a relationship anyway. But you felt like you belonged together. You were his and he was yours. As sweet as the thought was, you quickly shoved it away as you felt your eyes welling with tears.

You turned on your side to try and sleep when you heard a noise outside. It sounded like a low thud, but fairly close to your house. You shrugged it off at first, until you heard it again a few minutes later, sounding closer this time.

You sat up in bed, overtaken by fear. Living alone, you always worried about having to fight off intruders. Luckily, nothing had ever come of it. Until now.

Grabbing a broom from your hall closet to arm you, you headed into the living room. Your first instinct was to check out the front window, being too scared to open the door.

You peered through the curtains, seeing nothing to the left or right of the door, the street only illuminated by the porch lights of your surrounding neighbors. Of course the universe had to think of a way to remind you of what you were desperately trying to put out of your head.

You closed the curtains, ready to go back to bed when you heard what sounded like wet footsteps coming from your back door.

Oh fuck.

If this really was an intruder situation, you were anything but prepared. You glanced at the back door, hiding behind the hall corner. With your breath held and your muscles stiff as the wooden boards beneath your feet, you took slow steps down the hall. You lurched forward to quickly lock the door, which you normally did anyway but forgot that night as you never actually made it to the door without crying.

Knowing that the lock was safely in place brought you some time. Being closer to the door, you heard another sloshing sound, as well as some angry muttering. With your luck, the intruder slipped on the wet and muddy grass and was now disoriented, leaving you time to- well, do what, exactly?

You hadn't thought this far. Do you call the police? Make a loud noise in retaliation in hopes to scare them away? Armor yourself with throw pillows to burst through the door and use your broomstick to beat them senseless? Your mind was racing. The most reasonable thing to do in that moment, although it hurt quite a bit, would be the answer to whether this was really a life or death situation.

You turned on the porch light.

When the illuminating glow hit the grass below, you saw a person laying there, covered in mud, clearly not anticipating the new biome that had been created in your backyard. You screamed, causing the person to immediately look up at you. Upon making eye contact, you felt your heart spring up into your throat before free falling down to your stomach. You threw open the door, feeling like you were being fled with a million emotions at once, all conflicting each other. You stood there in shock, only being able to choke out one single word.

“...George?”

“I thought I told you to keep that bloody light on! I almost broke my neck out here!” George shouted, but couldn't keep a straight face long enough to be convincing, dissolving into a puddle of laughs back onto the ground. You felt your whole body fill with happiness. You dropped the broom, running out into the yard, slippers and all, squealing all the way before landing on top of him, trapping him in a tight hug.

You kissed him faster than your brain could process what you were doing. The familiar feeling of his soft skin, luscious hair and beard, and plush lips made your whole being swell with euphoria. Your golden yellow silk pajamas were now full of mud, but it didn't matter. George was back here with you. And you didn't need anything else.

“You’re getting all muddy, love.” George giggled, pushing damp strands of hair away from your face.

“I don't care!” You shouted while laughing, pressing loud, wet kisses across his face and neck. George wrapped his arms around you, resting his hands on your waist. You pulled away, staring into his eyes. It may have been late at night, but you felt wide awake as ever. Before you even opened your mouth to speak, you knew there were tears dripping down onto your cheeks. “I didn't think I'd see you again for a while.”

“I planned to stop by before I left, but I didn't have much time during the day.” George confessed. “I wanted to surprise you, but I'm realizing it might have been a better idea in my head.” He looked around the yard, then at his muddy clothes, eliciting a light chuckle. “Thinking about it now, I probably should've called first.”

“I'm just so happy to see you.” You replied, not even hearing half of what he said. You heard he planned to come back for you, and that was all you needed to know. “But I'm guessing your plan involved you being able to see once you got back here. Hence the, you know, porch light.” You averted your gaze, adding a nervous laugh.

“First I tried hopping over the fence, and tripped over that.” George explained, staring back at the gate. “Then I tried to walk quietly, and slipped in that big puddle over there. Not to mention I tripped over the center gradient, so I apologize for that. I'll be sure to fix it the next time I'm around.” He added with a swift cup of your chin and a kiss to your lips. You looked at the tree, seeing the warm toned flowers slightly uprooted, tiny specks of dirt adorning their golden petals. Honestly, that didn't even matter to you. The image of George trying to sneak into your backyard and failing miserably made you erupt into laughter again.

“I suggest you have to get cleaned up now, don't you?” You asked, running a finger through the thick layer of mud adorning his jeans.

“Well, yeah, but I refuse to get your floors all dirty.” George declared. You helped him up off the ground, trying your best to smudge the dirt out of his hair, as well as your own.

“You can leave the clothes in the laundry room. I'll deal with them tomorrow.” You replied. George shot you a look, helping you brush some of the grass off your pajamas.

“So it's already been decided that I'm spending the night, then?” You smirked, not saying anything back. George smiled, sneakily pinching the skin on your waist. You squealed, playfully batting his hand away. You turned to walk back to the patio when he spoke again.

“Even after we get out of these filthy clothes, we still have to get ourselves clean, you know.”

You froze, a chill running through your spine, excitement filling your body. You whipped your head around, grabbing George’s hand and leading him to the stairs. You were about to open the door when he put his arm out to stop you.

“I know you're excited, love, but I still don’t want to bring all this mud into your clean house.” He seemed genuinely concerned by this issue, but at this point, nothing was going to stop you.

“Okay, fine. Easy fix.” You stated, slipping the straps of your pajamas off your shoulders, followed by your underwear. George’s eyes widened as he watched the silken fabric pool around your ankles, leaving you completely nude standing on the patio. The cool air of this particular spring night began to wash over your body, and you shivered slightly. You weren't sure if it was from the sudden breeze, or the tantalizing feeling of this whole situation, but either way, your nipples were completely hard.

Seconds later, George followed suit, removing his muddy shoes, followed by his equally sodden shirt and pants. He stopped at his underwear, feeling a flash of uncertainty. He was no stranger to being nude, but being nude while standing on the back porch of his lover’s house in the middle of their classy suburban neighborhood? That was a new one.

He turned back to you, taking in the sight before him. Seeing your fully bare form, taking one slow drag of his eyes over your lower half, he quickly shuffled off the remaining piece of clothing and tossed it on the floor with the rest. You opened the door, scooping your clothes up in one swift motion, walking a mere few feet and tossing them in the laundry room to be dealt with eventually. You couldn’t be bothered right now. George did the same, keeping his clothes in a neat pile right beside yours, placing his boots by the door. He stood there for a few seconds, gauging your readiness to proceed. With a smirk on your face, you grabbed his hand, leading him into the bathroom.

You opened the shower curtain and turned the water on, feeling the warm steam slowly fill the room. You adjusted the water to a comfortably neutral temperature before climbing inside, leaving space for George to join you. You stayed under the stream of water, allowing it to take its time to rinse all the mud off your arms and legs, and most of it out of your hair, leaving you with a fresher start before moving on to shampoo and soap. You looked over your shoulder at George, who now seemed rather chilly, so you switched places, allowing him to rinse off as well. He had been wearing more covering clothes than you, so there wasn’t much dirt he needed to get off his body, but his hair was a different story. He spent extra time using his fingers to comb through his beard, which seemed to be a prime target for all that grass and soil.

Getting started on washing your body, you had briefly turned away from George to grab your soap. Before you could open the container, you heard a low shudder coming from behind you. You looked at George, who was now staring at you, while sporting quite the erection. You giggled, lightly poking his stomach. “Am I taking too long for you?”

“You know, for someone who wanted me so badly outside, and is now teasing me about having to wait, you’re quite mad, aren’t you?” He stated, glancing down at himself while continuing to rinse his hair. You laughed louder this time.

“I figured we would clean up first.” You said innocently. He chuckled.

“Why do that when we’re just gonna get dirty again, love?”

You bit your lip, holding back a whimper, but the way your legs involuntarily began to clench shut gave it away immediately.

You nodded. “I see. Well let’s get it on then.”

The second you finished your statement, George wasted no time grabbing your waist and pressing his lips against yours. It was a hungry kiss. Passionate. Longing. It had confirmed he missed you just as much as you missed him. You put your hands in his hair, which was now much softer under the water. You were the one to take that passion further, feeling his lips part and allowing your tongue to enter his mouth. He seemed to thoroughly enjoy this, moving his hands from your waist down to your ass, kneading it softly yet with an impatient edge to it. You were tempted to hook one leg over his waist, but the slippery floor beneath you made you fearful of losing your balance, so you refrained. But you wouldn't have even had time to take action, as George quickly pulled away, spinning you around and pushing you up against the shower wall. You put your hands out, both of them splayed out on either side of your head as your cheek made contact with the cold tile. George grabbed your waist again, slowly grinding against you, slightly pressing you between the wall and himself. The contrast in temperature between the cool, flat surface and the steamy air made your head spin before he even did anything else. He leaned in closer, pressing a kiss to your earlobe.

“I think you've waited long enough, my beautiful flower.” You moaned softly at his statement as you felt him enter you. Slowly, savoring it just as much as you. It was a bit of a stretch, but you never found it painful. The combination of the warm water and your mutual arousal provided a decent amount of lubrication.

George continued to leave kisses around the shell of your ear and down to your neck, resting his chin on your shoulder. Once he was all the way in, he steadied himself before going any further. “You doing okay, love?” He cooed, patiently waiting for your response.

You sighed blissfully, softly nodding your head and letting out a low “mhm” while taking in all the sensations around you. The mix of everything made you whine in pure ecstasy, feeling so full in the best way possible, not wanting to say or move much in fear of losing your grip on it. You felt like you were in a different world, where it was only you and George, and nothing else mattered. However, you were not in the mood to be kept waiting either, feeling like you were holding your breath a bit, waiting for his next move. You took another deep inhale and exhale, releasing another moan in the interim. “It's okay,” you mumbled, “you can keep going.”

George nodded, starting with a soft, slow pace. Even with shallow thrusts, you were already in heaven. You quickly got lost in the rhythm, hearing his occasional breathy sighs directly into your ear. Hearing him enjoy it just as much as you were only turned you on more. And the more George fell into a rhythm as well, the faster he went. His thrusts became quicker and harder, pushing you up against the wall with each motion. Your moans had just become one long groan of pleasure, the way your nipples dragged across the cold wall with each thrust stringing you along even further.

When you felt that pressure start to build, you couldn't even form a coherent sentence to signal anything, the only word falling from your lips a meek “George...” before a high-pitched whining overtook you again. George shushed you softly, rubbing his thumbs along your waist as he brought you closer to the edge.

“I know, flower. I know.”

What felt like seconds later, you felt your orgasm crash over you, a noise that sounded like a mix between a moan and a scream flying from your mouth, proclaiming your everlasting love and worship of the man behind you, feeling yourself begin to slump against the wall, trying to catch your breath. George finished shortly afterwards, his grip on your hips tightening as he came inside you. He tilted his head back, a low, steady groan signaling his release. He had no choice but to use the wall for support as well, nearly falling on top of you after he slowly slid out. It was times like these you considered turning off the shower head and just filling up the bath instead, as your legs felt like jelly by this point, leaving you with minimal energy to hold yourself up.

Before you could say anything else, you felt George’s hands on you again, running his fingers through your hair. You smelled the familiar scent of your shampoo, feeling it glide through your hair as you closed your eyes again. He held you tenderly, guiding your head to the water, gently tilting it back to rinse the suds from your hair.

Once finished, he started on your body, massaging the soap all over your back, making sure to be careful around any areas that were currently more sensitive than usual. You sighed happily, feeling pampered like royalty, so grateful to have him here with you.

After a few minutes, your legs didn't feel like that of a newborn giraffe anymore, so you turned around to face George, pressing a soft kiss to his lips before taking the bar of soap. “I got it from here.” You giggled, finishing yourself off before starting to help him out as he eyed your shampoo. It wasn't what he used, but it smelled nice, and there wasn’t much of a choice in this situation. He chuckled before squeezing a small amount onto his palm, looking down as you lathered up his chest and stomach.

Once you both had thoroughly cleaned up, you turned off the water and stepped out, fetching some large fluffy towels and equally soft robes to only increase your level of comfort. By now, both of you were free of mud, partially dry, and ever so tired. Wasting no time to climb into bed, you snuggled up against George, resting your head on his chest.

“I'm so happy you came back.” You whispered, placing a kiss right over where his heart is. George giggled, caressing your arm.

“I would've always come back, flower.” He paused with a pensive sigh. “I enjoy every second I spend with you. You give me new life. A new purpose to an already wonderful experience.” You stared up at him, eyes wide in awe. It was the first time he had openly expressed his feelings to you without hiding them behind his usual cheeky humor. It was the most beautiful thing you had ever heard.

“You have no idea how special you are to me.” You beamed, craning your neck up to kiss his jawline, surprised when he turned his face and you landed on his lips instead.

“And you to me.” He replied. You enjoyed the streak of added sappy statements from George, but you knew it was a big step for him, judging by the deep breath he took afterwards, followed by a swift “Let's get some sleep, love.”

“Okay,” you agreed, “but let me just make sure I locked the back door first.” George nodded, getting comfortable on his side of your bed as you hopped out from under the covers, shivering again as the cool night air came back with a vengeance on your naked body. You quickly put your robe on and shuffled down the hall. You clicked the lock shut and went to go back to your room when you noticed something out of the corner of your eye. Something yellow.

You looked around until you spotted it again, sticking out of the side of George’s boot. Bending down to get a closer look, you moved the muddy laces and pulled it out. A tear almost fell down your cheek and you held it between your fingers. A petal from one of your precious marigolds, presumably stuck there when George tripped over them on the way in. You smiled warmly, feeling your heart soar at the idea that George can give you a petal every visit, even if he didn't realize it. Without saying anything, you put the petal in the pocket of your robe and made your way down the hall, trying not to disturb George as you quietly slipped back into bed.

==============================

IT'S FINALLY HERE Y'ALL 😄 I'm so happy I can share it and it was definitely a fun plot to continue!

Taglist: @peaceloveandstarrs @queen-of-stars @nosegoes @cocteautwiny @thatgoesinthere-misshapes

(If you want to be added to my taglist, feel free to send an ask and let me know! 🥰)

#george harrison #george harrison x reader #the beatles #beatles #the beatles x reader #the beatles fanfiction #beatles x reader #beatles fanfiction #george harrison fanfiction #george harrison imagine #george harrison x y/n #george harrison x you #george harrison smut

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vivi-in-the-sky-with-diamonds · 1 year

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My Heart Went Boom (or how The Beatles would react to an s/o who loves their heartbeat)

(Image source is I honestly don't know, I found it on Pinterest- if you know the source, lemme know and I'll add it c: )

This is my first attempt at writing something for all four Beatles (I usually just write Paul ;A;) so please bear with me (and let me know if I've messed up someone's personality) c: also this was written by me specifically for me so it's incredibly niche and I'm honestly only posting in case someone else wants it lol (I'm sorry if it's super weird)

John:

John is a little shit

Anyway

He knows about your habit but refuses to tell you he knows, instead opting to aggravate the shit out of you in the most loving way possible

Most days, he'd come home, out of breath from outrunning fans and reporters, but still with a cheeky smile about his face

"Oh, my little birdie, my heart is beating so fast! Come listen?~"

You'd turn bright red bc how the fuck does he know about that

The day would pass with no other mention of it until you're lying in bed together

"You know I love you, Y/N" he says it almost like an apology

"I know, Johnny"

Paul:

Paul noticed you had a habit of lying on top of him, particularly on days when you were sad

It wasn't until he realized you also tapped his arm in a particular rhythm that he realized exactly what you were doing

After that, he'd make a note to always ask if you were okay or needed anything and to take some deep breaths to slow down his heart rate

Sometimes, if he senses that you're upset but you're not lying on top of him, he'll say, "Come listen to my heart?" (You never felt the need to verbally confess to him, as you had an unspoken understanding)

One time, his mouth got ahead of his brain, and out came, "Come listen, my heart?"

And thus, a new nickname was born

At some point, "my heart" becomes "mon coeur"

Sometimes, he'll ask completely in French and it makes your own heart flutter

George:

With George, it began as morbid curiosity

After all, he's such a skinny thing, if you look closely enough at any of his pulse points, you can see the rhythm

At some point, it turned into a comfort thing, knowing his heart beats only for you, even if it does sound like a bird fluttering half the time

One day, you're lying on the couch, watching the telly, head on his chest

"Are ye listenin' to my heart, Y/N?"

You blush at first, caught completely off-guard, but manage to say, "Yes"

He asks why and you explain

He's silent at first, not knowing what to think, but then his mouth turns up in a smile and his chest puffs with pride

It makes him feel strong knowing you feel comfort in him

Ringo:

You'd had the habit of listening to Ringo for a while, even before you started dating

You'd relish in the moments where you'd simply have a "friend cuddle", as the two of you called them, as you'd press your ear gently above his heart, hoping he wouldn't notice the ever-so delicate touch on his chest

After he'd gotten tonsillitis, though, your habit increased

He was oblivious, thinking you just wanted to hug or cuddle, but for you, it was almost like you needed to hear him to make sure he was alive and well

Sometimes, you'd find yourself pressed against him in the middle of the night, the spaces between beats agonizingly slow (even if it was an average 75 bpm)

At some point, he finally catches on. "Y/N, you know I'm alright now, right?"

You sigh. "I know, Ritchie, it's just-"

He'd cut you off by holding you tight and whispering reassurances in your ear

#mine #john lennon #paul mccartney #george harrison #ringo starr #the beatles #the beatles fanfiction #beatles x reader #beatles imagine #beatles imagines #john lennon x reader #paul mccartney x reader #george harrison x reader #ringo starr x reader #this is my official apology to the entirety of beatles tumblr #this has been in my brain for two weeks #vivi in the sky with fanfics #^^official fanfic tag

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sw33tsuccubus · 7 months

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𝒟𝒶𝓉𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒥𝑜𝒽𝓃 𝐿𝑒𝓃𝓃𝑜𝓃

𝓈𝓊𝓂𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓎: 𝒥𝑜𝒽𝓃 𝐿𝑒𝓃𝓃𝑜𝓃 𝒷𝑜𝓎𝒻𝓇𝒾𝑒𝓃𝒹 𝒽𝑒𝒶𝒹𝒸𝒶𝓃𝑜𝓃𝓈

He’s more laid back, doesn’t fall in love easily. He most likely started the relationship just to pass time and make things more enjoyable, and then fell for you.

He’s affectionate behind closed doors, he doesn’t want people to see how he acts for his loved one. In private, he’ll cuddle up to you and let you play with his hair while you two talk about anything and everything. In public, he’ll walk with your pinkies interlocked and will send you a lot of smiles.

He’s quite a housewife. He likes the house clean, the food prepared perfectly, and clothing always prepared to be worn. He lets you choose to do certain chores and then he’ll cover the rest.

He goes to bed early, since he wants to be energized for the next day. He’ll wear a random shirt and his boxers and just collapse into bed. He sleeps easily on his stomach if he’s on his own, but he wants to hold you if you’re together. He likes thinking he can protect you, so he’ll spoon you or lay you on top of him. He loves the weight, it comforts him.

He asks you to bring him lunch when he’s at the studio. He likes seeing you, it dissolves his stress about the situation. He kisses your cheek and thanks you, having you sit next to him while he eats. When he’s done, he gives you the trash and Tupperware and gives you a goodbye kiss on the lips.

He always brings you demos or tapes of their songs, he wants you to rate them. He trusts your judgement greatly. He especially wants to hear your thoughts on the songs George and Ringo write, just to see if they’re good enough for the record. He wouldn’t be able to tell if you mean your ‘sounds good!’s or not.

He gets jealous easily. He doesn’t like seeing people he doesn’t know approach you with a smile. He doesn’t know their intentions. Throws an arm around your shoulders and gives them either a smug smile or an annoyed look. This is why he likes giving you hickeys so often.

He loves kisses. Just a little too much. Kisses to the lips and the cheek are his favorite, but he’ll take a forehead kiss or a kiss to the top of the head. He’d get all flustered if you kissed his belly, telling you it’s gross. Compliment him and he’ll pull you into a hug and hide his face in your shoulder.

He doesn’t care about sex as long as it feels good. He’s rough, but he makes sure he’s not actually hurting you. He leaves hickeys anywhere he can access. You’ll normally have bruises from his hands grabbing you so hard. His favorite positions are missionary and mating press; he can see your face and access your neck and shoulders to mark up. He doesn’t care to make sure the door’s locked or the area is empty. John does what he wants.

#john lennon x reader #gn reader #beatles x reader #john lennon

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modmoptop · 6 months

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𝐣𝐨𝐡𝐧 𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐧𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐫! 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐢𝐧 𝐚 𝐜𝐨𝐳𝐲 𝐨𝐟𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐞, 𝐚 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞, 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐤 𝐚 𝐬𝐞𝐚 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐛𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐩𝐚𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬. 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐣𝐨𝐡𝐧 𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐧𝐨𝐧, 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐩𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐡𝐮𝐦𝐨𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚 𝐬𝐨𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐞.

𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭

𝐘/𝐍 𝐬𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐮𝐧𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐲𝐩𝐞𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐫, 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐩𝐨𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐲𝐞𝐭 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥. 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐟 𝐤𝐞𝐲𝐬, 𝐨𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐚 𝐫𝐡𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐦𝐢𝐜 𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐨𝐟𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐞, 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐟𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐚 𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐞 𝐬𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞. 𝐏𝐚𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬, 𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐛𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐟-𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐝-𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬, 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐤 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐫, 𝐚 𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐟𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐦𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧.

𝐎𝐮𝐭𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝 𝐦𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐧, 𝐨𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐛𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐬. 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐲, 𝐚 𝐜𝐫𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐬𝐞𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐨𝐜𝐤 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡 𝐩𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐮𝐭𝐞. 𝐘/𝐍'𝐬 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐝, 𝐮𝐬𝐮𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐚 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐭𝐲, 𝐟𝐞𝐥𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐚 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐝 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐭, 𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐮𝐧𝐲𝐢𝐞𝐥𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠.

𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐧, 𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐮𝐭𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭. 𝐇𝐞𝐫 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬, 𝐭𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐝, 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐜𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐲 𝐩𝐚𝐠𝐞, 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐫. 𝐁𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐚𝐩𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤, 𝐮𝐧𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐜𝐜𝐮𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠. 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐲𝐩𝐞𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐫, 𝐨𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲, 𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐬𝐞𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐝 𝐚 𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐢𝐭𝐬 𝐤𝐞𝐲𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐡 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐲 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐨𝐧 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐫𝐚𝐲𝐞𝐝 𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐬.

𝐉𝐨𝐡𝐧 𝐥𝐞𝐭 𝐡𝐢𝐦𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐞𝐭 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞, 𝐚 𝐬𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐟𝐮𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐰 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐧 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐰 𝐚𝐬 𝐡𝐞 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐮𝐧𝐮𝐬𝐮𝐚𝐥 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬. 𝐈𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐚 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐜 𝐛𝐮𝐳𝐳 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬𝐚𝐥, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐬𝐢𝐜 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐥𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐞𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬.

𝐇𝐞 𝐡𝐮𝐧𝐠 𝐮𝐩 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐜𝐨𝐚𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞𝐝 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐫 𝐛𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐨𝐫, 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐦𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐬𝐥𝐨𝐰 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐞, 𝐚𝐬 𝐢𝐟 𝐭𝐨 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞. 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐦𝐢𝐱𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫𝐧, 𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐭𝐨𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐟𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐞, 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐩𝐬 𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐞𝐭 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐨𝐝𝐞𝐧 𝐟𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐫.

𝐀𝐬 𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐝, 𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐘/𝐍 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐚𝐣𝐚𝐫 𝐝𝐨𝐨𝐫, 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐲𝐩𝐞𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐫. 𝐇𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐨𝐜𝐮𝐬 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐞, 𝐚 𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐞𝐚𝐦 𝐨𝐟 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐬𝐞𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐮𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐟𝐟 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝. 𝐒𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐢𝐝𝐧’𝐭 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐟𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐡 𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐨𝐟𝐭 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐨𝐫 𝐚𝐬 𝐉𝐨𝐡𝐧 𝐩𝐮𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐭 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧.

𝐒𝐭𝐞𝐩𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞, 𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚 𝐦𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭, 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐞. 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐦 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐟𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐠𝐠𝐥𝐞: 𝐩𝐚𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐰𝐧 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐲𝐩𝐞𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐚 𝐬𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐣𝐮𝐝𝐠𝐞, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐘/𝐍 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟, 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐛𝐨𝐭𝐡 𝐝𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐮𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐲 𝐞𝐱𝐡𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝. 𝐇𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐡𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐤𝐞𝐲𝐬, 𝐚𝐬 𝐢𝐟 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐨𝐯𝐞, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐠𝐥𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐥𝐲 𝐞𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐲.

𝐉𝐨𝐡𝐧'𝐬 𝐯𝐨𝐢𝐜𝐞, 𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐡𝐮𝐦𝐨𝐫, 𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞. "𝐈 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐝 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐤𝐢𝐝𝐧𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐫 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠," 𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐢𝐝 𝐬𝐨𝐟𝐭𝐥𝐲, 𝐚 𝐬𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐯𝐨𝐢𝐜𝐞. "𝐈𝐭'𝐬 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐞𝐭."

𝐘/𝐍 𝐥𝐞𝐭 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐚 𝐡𝐮𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐜𝐡𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐥𝐞, 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐯𝐨𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟-𝐝𝐞𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧. "𝐍𝐨𝐭 𝐤𝐢𝐝𝐧𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐝, 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬," 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬 𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐚 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐫. 𝐇𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐟𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐥𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐲 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐬, 𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐞𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫.

𝐉𝐨𝐡𝐧, 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐩𝐭𝐡 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐨𝐫𝐟𝐫𝐚𝐦𝐞, 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬 𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐜 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐩𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐞�� 𝐩𝐚𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬. "𝐒𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐜𝐞𝐫𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐢𝐬𝐧'𝐭 𝐝𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐟𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐫𝐬," 𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐛𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝, 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐝. "𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐬 𝐢𝐭'𝐬 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤, 𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐡?"

𝐒𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐢𝐧 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐧𝐞𝐜𝐤 𝐯𝐢𝐬𝐢𝐛𝐥𝐞. "𝐈'𝐯𝐞 𝐠𝐨𝐭 𝐚 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞, 𝐉𝐨𝐡𝐧. 𝐈 𝐜𝐚𝐧'𝐭 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐩," 𝐘/𝐍 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐝, 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐯𝐨𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐢𝐭𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭.

𝐉𝐨𝐡𝐧 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐤, 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐝𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐱𝐞𝐝 𝐲𝐞𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐟𝐮𝐥. "𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐚𝐬𝐤 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚𝐧 𝐞𝐱𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧. '𝐉𝐨𝐡𝐧 𝐋𝐞𝐧𝐧𝐨𝐧'𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐟𝐞 𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐬 𝐚 𝐛𝐢𝐭 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞.' 𝐈 𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐤𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐝𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐤," 𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐢𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐰𝐫𝐲 𝐬𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐞, 𝐭𝐫𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐨𝐝.

𝐘/𝐍 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐢𝐦, 𝐚 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐟𝐮𝐥 𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧. "𝐈𝐭’𝐬 𝐚 𝐛𝐢𝐭 𝐬𝐨𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 '𝐉𝐨𝐡𝐧 𝐋𝐞𝐧𝐧𝐨𝐧’𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐟𝐞' 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐝, 𝐝𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤?" 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞𝐝, 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐭 𝐦𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐥𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫.

𝐉𝐨𝐡𝐧 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐞𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐞𝐫, 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐨𝐧 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬. "𝐈’𝐝 𝐛𝐞 𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐚 𝐭𝐨𝐨𝐥 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐰𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐜 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐰𝐚𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐚𝐧 𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐭𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮’𝐯𝐞 𝐠𝐨𝐭," 𝐡𝐞 𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐝, 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐦𝐮𝐬𝐜𝐥𝐞𝐬.

𝐀 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐮𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐥𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐩𝐞𝐝 𝐘/𝐍, 𝐚 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐬𝐞𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐝 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐠𝐧 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐦. "𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐭'𝐬 𝐚 𝐭𝐞𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫, 𝐌𝐫. 𝐋𝐞𝐧𝐧𝐨𝐧," 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐢𝐝, 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐬𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐨𝐮𝐜𝐡.

𝐉𝐨𝐡𝐧'𝐬 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐮𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐨𝐧 𝐘/𝐍'𝐬 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬, 𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡 𝐦𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧. "𝐒𝐨, 𝐲𝐨𝐮’𝐫𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐭?" 𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐬𝐤𝐞𝐝, 𝐚 𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐞𝐟 𝐢𝐧 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐞.

𝐘/𝐍, 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐨𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐨𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐫𝐡𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐦 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐞, 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐟𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐭 𝐬𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐞, "𝐍𝐨𝐭 𝐞𝐱𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐥𝐲."

𝐉𝐨𝐡𝐧 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧, 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐩𝐬 𝐛𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐞𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐚 𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬. "𝐈 𝐟𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐬𝐨," 𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐫𝐦𝐮𝐫𝐞𝐝, 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐯𝐨𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧. "𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞’𝐬 𝐚 𝐜𝐞𝐫𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐦 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐠𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐝 𝐰𝐚𝐲."

"𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰," 𝐘/𝐍 𝐣𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤, 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐝, 𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐨𝐮𝐜𝐡.

"𝐈 𝐝𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐦𝐞𝐚𝐧," 𝐉𝐨𝐡𝐧 𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐝, 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐝𝐫𝐢𝐩𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐟𝐞𝐢𝐠𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐨𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞, 𝐚 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐟𝐮𝐥 𝐬𝐦𝐢𝐫𝐤 𝐨𝐧 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐞.

𝐘/𝐍 𝐥𝐞𝐭 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐚 𝐬𝐨𝐟𝐭 𝐥𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡, 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐲 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐱𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐮𝐫𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐤𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬. 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐦, 𝐟𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐭𝐡 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐲 𝐫𝐡𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐦 𝐨𝐟 𝐉𝐨𝐡𝐧'𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐞, 𝐬𝐞𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐥𝐲 𝐩𝐮𝐬𝐡 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞.

𝐀𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐚 𝐦𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭, 𝐉𝐨𝐡𝐧 𝐬𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐞𝐝, 𝐚 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐝 𝐛𝐨𝐭𝐡 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐠𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠. "𝐈𝐟 𝐈 𝐜𝐚𝐧'𝐭 𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤, 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐚𝐭 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐥𝐞𝐭 𝐦𝐞 𝐛𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐫," 𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝, 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐯𝐨𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫𝐧. "𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐞𝐚𝐭, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐈 𝐜𝐚𝐧’𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐟𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐢𝐧 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞."

𝐘/𝐍'𝐬 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬 𝐟𝐥𝐮𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧, 𝐦𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐠𝐚𝐳𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐦𝐢𝐱𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐭𝐮𝐝𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐝 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬𝐭. "𝐈 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐠𝐞," 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐚𝐲, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐢𝐧 𝐉𝐨𝐡𝐧'𝐬 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬, 𝐟𝐮𝐥𝐥 𝐨𝐟 𝐮𝐧𝐰𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐭, 𝐦𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬 𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐭𝐞𝐫.

"𝐋𝐞𝐭 𝐦𝐞 𝐝𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮," 𝐡𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐲, 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐧 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬. "𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐨𝐜𝐮𝐬 𝐨𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬. 𝐈'𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐭."

𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐬𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐧𝐨𝐝, 𝐘/𝐍 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐝𝐞𝐝, 𝐚 𝐬𝐨𝐟𝐭 𝐬𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐩𝐬. "𝐅𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐧, 𝐉𝐨𝐡𝐧. 𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮."

𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭, 𝐚 𝐰𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐟 𝐬𝐞𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐰𝐚𝐬𝐡 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐉𝐨𝐡𝐧. 𝐇𝐞 𝐠𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐬𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐞𝐳𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐩𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤, 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐧 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚𝐧 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐮𝐧𝐰𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐭.

@cafekitsune (border), @ceofjohnlennon (gif)

#1960s #john lennon #the beatles #john lennon fanfiction #john lennon imagines #john lennon x reader #the beatles fanfiction #fanfiction #john lennon fanfic #beatles x reader #fanfic

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goldenwilliamson · 1 year

Note

What about a Beatle!reader x Paul maybe or John where you guys are really good friends and flirt with each other all the time and then maybe one of you decides to act on it?

okay. so. i decided to make this request somewhat of a part 2 to this request that i wrote a little while ago. i just thought that writing about this already developed relationship with paul would be fun. hope its alright!

pairing: paul x reader

summary: after paul helps you out when you express your unrequited feelings towards george, you realise paul is the one you should be with. PART 1 HERE

warnings: PDA? lollll

George and Pattie's New Year's Eve party had well and truly kicked off. After your little deal with Paul you had floated around socialising with the people you knew. You were stood speaking with Eric Clapton when Paul sidled up to you.

"Oh, hello," you smiled as his arm moved around you and his hand found its resting place upon your hip.

“Hi,” Paul smiled at you with his eyelids slightly drooping. You can see he’s had a good amount to drink and smoke at this stage of the night.

Something in the way Paul is looking at you makes you feel flustered, almost like butterflies.

“Are you having a good night, love?” You ask.

“I’m having a wonderful time, how about you Eric, you alright?” Paul turns to Eric.

“Yes sir,” he smirks, looking between you both, “I’ll leave you to it then,” he sends a subtle wink toward Paul, which you don’t miss.

Paul spins you so that you are facing him completely and lets his hands rest around your waist, clasped at the small of your back. You shamelessly let your arms snake around his neck and look at him in a way you’ve never looked at him before. You were looking at Paul as if he was the most attractive man you’ve ever known.

“What are you trying to do?” You say, making Paul smirk.

He leans close enough to you that you think he’s about to kiss you on your neck, but instead he whispers, “Just trying to get him off your mind.”

There’s that feeling again. The butterflies, and the goosebumps all over your arms and legs.

You take in a sharp breath as he pulls away, “I think it’s working.”

Paul smiles proudly and laughs a little bit, "I never expected this would be happening."

"What's that?" You ask, your face lighting up at the sight of Paul's happiness.

"I never thought I'd be with you like this," he holds you a bit tighter and pulls you a bit closer to emphasise his point.

"Neither did I, but I'm liking it," you tell him honestly.

You feel so safe in his arms, and you honestly don't know how this had never happened before. Paul is constantly flirting with you, and you're always giving it straight back to him. You both have always played it off as jokey banter, but tonight it's clear that there was truth behind all that playfulness.

"I am too, love," Paul says.

You decide you don't want to wait around any longer, it just seems silly to deny yourself pleasure at this stage.

"Do I have to wait until midnight for you to kiss me?" You ask.

"I think we can work around that rule," Paul says as you both lean into each other smiling. You find each others lips with ease, fitting into each other like jigsaw pieces, and falling into a rhythm as you continue to kiss each other. Being with Paul was something you never knew would feel so good.

As you pull away, you can't help but smile, and you just about laugh at the situation.

"Why have we never done that before?" You say.

"Well until about an hour ago you were in love with my best mate," Paul explains.

He did his job well because right now George is the last thing on your mind, all you can manage to think about is how much you want to stay with Paul the rest of the night, and how you hope this isn't a one night thing.

"That was silly, I couldn't see that the person I should be with was right it front of me," you say.

"I couldn't see it either, but I can see it now."

"Kiss me again," you say, wanting to keep feeling that feeling over and over again.

"Happily."

#paul mccartney fic #paul mccartney x reader #paul mccartney imagine #paul mccartney fluff #beatlesimagines #beatles imagine #beatles fic #beatles x reader

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strawb3rri-le · 3 months

Text

i miss roleplaying online solely because now i’m so fascinated by this man i’d give anything to be truly delusional again tbh

#george harrison x reader #georgeharrison #beatles x reader #the beatles #roleplay #1960s

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thebeatles-world · 1 year

Text

Headcannons of your favorite Beatle member dating y/n who’s a teacher.

You are a teacher at a elementary school setting. It’s 1966.

You are currently dating (your favourite beatle member) for a while now.

Your students don’t believe you that you are dating (your favourite Beatle member)

They believe you when you show them a snapshots of you and (your favourite Beatle member) together, smiling, holding hands & kissing.

They go crazy and wild while seeing the snapshots.

The girls in your class are jealous.

Some of the boys in your class go “Ugh it’s the Beatles.” while rolling their eyes.

You and your students dance to “Twist and Shout.” By The Beatles in class.

“Guys I still can’t believe that Miss (Y/L/N) is dating one of The Beatle members!!” One of your students say.

They would beg you for (your favourite Beatle member) to come and visit your class.

You weren’t sure but you could always ask the principal for permission.

They would ask a bunch of questions about you and (your favourite Beatle member)

“Do you guys smooch all day?”

“Are you and (your favorite Beatle member) planning to get married one day?

“Is he ever going to come here to the classroom? We wanna meet him!!!”

You would go home at the end of the day to (your favorite Beatle member.)

“How was teaching today darling?” (Your favorite Beatle member) asked you.

“It was great!” You said.

You would talk about your students to (your favorite Beatle member)

“Wow they seem like great kids, I need to meet them someday.” (Your favorite Beatle member said)

“Oh trust me they are really wanna meet you.” You said with a chuckle.

(Your favorite Beatle member) would help you with school supplies for your students and help you out with planning lessons for your class.

“I see how much you care for those children y/n, I wish I had a teacher like you growing up.” (Your favorite Beatle member) told you.

(Your favorite Beatle member) was very supportive for your passion and love for teaching.

One day (your favorite Beatle member) made a surprise visit to your class.

Your whole class freaked out when they saw him.

“I can’t believe it’s actually him!!”

“Holy cow, it’s really him!!”

“He’s very handsome in person.”

“I think I’m going to pass out, I have a huge crush on him and he’s actually here in person!!!”

“I can’t believe he’s here in person!!”

You were shock yourself seeing your boyfriend here in your own classroom.

You introduce your class once again to (your favourite Beatles member) even though they knew who he already was.

(Your favorite Beatles member) waved at your class with a happy smile on his face.

You could tell that he already loved your students already.

Your students asked him questions and he answered them one by one.

(Your favourite beatles member) crackled a lot of jokes with your students which they roar with laughter.

Your students telling you that you are the coolest teacher they ever had because you are dating one of the members from the Beatles.

(Your favorite Beatles member) signing a lot of autographs for your students.

Your students wanting him to re-visit again one day.

(Your favorite Beatles member) telling you that your students are very lucky to have such a caring, loving, kind and a inspiration teacher like you.

✏️ 👩‍🏫

#the beatles music #the beatles x reader #the beatles headcannons #the beatles fandom #the beatles #ringo starr headcannons #paul mccartney headcannons #george harrison headcannons #john lennon headcannons #beatles x reader #the beatles imagines #the beatles tumblr

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ringstarrr · 1 year

Note

Hi. If you don't mind, would you mind doing a song fic for Taylor Swift's coney island with either John or George? I just feel like it would work really well, especially these lines: "And do you miss the rogue who coaxed you into paradise and left you there? Will you forgive my soul when you're too wise to trust me and too old to care?"

I Want to Tell You

pairing: john lennon x gender neutral!reader

warnings: angst, depression, self image

author's note: first of all, sorry for going missing for a few months. kinda had a burnout with college and work, but things are getting better - i think, at least.

and i kind of changed this a little lol i know it's a sad song and i made it accordingly, but the end is sweet. i might not be a swiftie but i'm a softie

1966.

It was like living through hell. Why did he have to say that? you’d think every once in a while since the whole bigger than Jesus broke out. John has always been one to make interesting comments - not to say controversial. You knowing him since you met at art school, it didn’t faze you a bit, yet, it was a different thing in America.

“They’re so fucking upright. It’s so phony.” You sought John during one of the tours you went by his side, still his girlfriend, flesh and nail. Now, long married, it’s been a few good months since you last followed beside him. John was getting more distant everyday and you didn’t know what to do.

He emitted his loud and heartwarming laugh. “I know, right?” John escorted you close to his chest, his nose in your hair. “Americans act like we are a bunch of weirdos. We are… different,” John chuckled, free hand hovering his face. “They’re nice. I’m the freak.”

This happened only a year prior to this fiasco. On that occasion, you made it your job to assure John he was an important person to the band and no matter what happened, you’d still be by his side. So far, you had maintained your words and stuck with John - even though he wouldn’t even look at you.

It made you insecure and going back in your head, trying to piece together why he had become such a loner those last months. Without preparation, you began to revisit your time at college, when you two first started dating. You were younger by a few years, and John was living the high of his teddy boy lifestyle.

He was a heartthrob. There was no other way to describe it.

Every single time you glanced in his direction, John’s eyes were already staring you down. Smiling smugly, he’d shake his head and wiggle his eyebrows. You were left blushing. It was heaven, knowing you caught the attention of someone like him. Your heart could melt just by the sight of him.

At the time, you weren’t looking for a relationship. But John had other plans. He flirted with you every chance he got, always putting some innuendo into everything. Even though you rolled your eyes every single time, you couldn’t deny to yourself how your hands would shake whenever John stormed in your direction. Neither could you say he didn’t make winter feel like a sunny afternoon in spring, considering the speeding beat of your heart and the way he caught your breath.

The memories left you wondering if you had closed your fists around something delicate for this to be happening. The silent tears fell down and you didn’t try to avoid the unstoppable. It was getting overbearing just to breath. When you first met, you thought that maybe 一 you were certain, to be completely honest 一 he’d be the death of you. At the time, the idea brought colour to your cheeks, thinking it’d be because of his antics and how flustered he made you feel. Now, you had the sour taste of knowing why.

Marrying one of the most desired man on the earth, show stopping sensation and global phenomenon was incredibly hard. And the business changed John’s usual upbeat and sarcastic nature. Theses things were still there but he wouldn’t show them as much. It turned him into a depressed and lonely wolf. John was starting to head straight to bed whenever he came home, telling you less and less about his life and what he was going through in his head.

Yet, you had an idea of why that was.

The press were writing a bunch of articles about all the things he and the boys did and, unfortunately, that included his health. Suddenly every news reporter was a nutritionist and they decided John was getting fat, which was far from the truth. You noticed how John was starving himself for awhile because of it, his self image completely deteriorated and his depression coming to a new highlight low-end. But John wouldn't say a word. You’d ask him, almost plead for him to open up you, but John wouldn't say a word.

In front of the television, you watched him and the band make yet another appearance for an interview. It was difficult for you to admit, but most of the time you heard his voice these days was on the TV. John was pushing you away. After talking to George, Ringo and Paul about the situation, they assured you this wasn’t happening just to you. John was pushing everyone away, whether he knew it or not.

Seeing that happy grin in his face on the telly, a sight you missed dearly, was enough to make your walls crumble down. You sobbed violently, crying out loud. What happened to my baby? Where did my baby go? Your whole body shook and your voice got hoarse by the second. But the moment you heard a car pull into the driveway, you pushed it all back inside, cleaning the tears’ path and clearing your throat. Uptight and anxious, you waited.

“You watching that crap?” was the first thing he said. John closed the front door, dropping his keys in the coffee table and sitting beside you on the couch. He slid his arm around you, turning you slightly to kiss you with care. After it ended, you two maintained faces close, noses brushing against one another, eyes closed. It was moments like this that made you feel everything was worth putting through.

“Just watching this group fine young men. They dress pretty well, especially that one” you said, turning a little to the TV, just enough so he could see your index finger pointing in his direction on the screen.

John snickered. “Nah, he looks like a twat.”

You snuggled your face against his neck, eyes closed. “And how was today, pretty boy?” as you whispered the question you immediately regretted it. John’s body grew rigid, moving away from you. I can’t do anything right.

“Ah,” he shrugged his shoulders, face showing how John cringed at the question. “It was… normal, I guess.” He bit down his lip, drawing in a deep breath. Silence emerged between youc and you wanted to scream. With a sigh, John got up. “Well, I’m taking a shower.”

Before you could think the decision over once more, you were speaking already. “John, can I ask you a question?” He was midway walking to your shared bedroom, stopping in his tracks. John turned around, confused.

Eyebrows knitted and hands on his waist, he answered. “Yeah, sure you can.”

“Did I shatter you?” your voice quivered, just a little above a purr. You felt tears threatening to form but you didn’t care. You needed to get it off of your chest, it was killing you. John was startled by the inquiry, eyes wide.

“What makes you think that, love?” He still was by the bedroom, slowly coming back to you.

“You never talk to me anymore, John.” A sorry laugh left your lips as you said it, feeling like a lunatic. “And you used to come to me anytime if you were struggling, to have a laugh... Now you can barely stand to be next to me.” Your eyes flickered to the roof, holding back the emotions in turmoil. “You never ask about me anymore. It’s like you couldn’t give less of a shit sometimes,” you turned your focus back to him and it crashed your feelings. He was crying with a straight face, biting the inside of his cheek. “If this is the long haul, how’d we get here so soon?”

You managed to get a laugh from him, smiling a bit. After a few seconds, he spoke up. “Sorry for not making you my centerfold,” John pushed the tears away with the back of his hand. “I hate that we turned into this… all because of me,” now it was his turn to cackle like a mad man, hands in his hair.

“It’s okay, John.” You gave him a half-hearted smile.

“No! Of course it’s not, love.” He took a long breath and began tapping his foot against the floor. “You are my wife, for fuck’s sake. I love you and I pushed away? I’m a dick.” John was obviously mad at himself. “I didn’t think it would upset you this much, love. Fuck.”

“Baby…” you cooed, getting up from the couch. You tried to reach for his hands, but he shook them instead.

“Don’t ‘baby’ me. I don’t want your pity.”

“John,” you took hold of his hand, your hold strong and tight. “Shut up. You’ve been through a lot and it’s okay to react like this. But you should be more aware of the fact that there are people that care and worry about you.” You pushed his fringe to the side with your free hand, resting it against his wet cheek. John closed his eyes. “You are not a bad guy, John. Just fucking stupid sometimes,” both of you laughed.

“What’s a lifetime of achievement if I pushed you to the edge but you were too polite to leave me?” You cringed at that, not agreeing with him.

“I would never leave you, sweetheart. I love you too much,” you said, laughing a little. “Just don’t push me away anymore. I’m always here for you.”

“Sorry for being fucking stupid.”

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paulmcf4rtney · 1 year

Note

oooo you want to do a ringo hc/imagine so bad oooo of literally anything i am DESPERATE

Of course!

Anon asks for general Ringo hcs!!! (reader is gn <3)

———

-When you first meet Ringo he’s very shy and can’t maintain eye contact too well with practically anyone, not even his band mates. But the reason is that he’s mostly just captured by your essence.

-He starts to get to know you better n’ vice versa, he opens up a little more with each day and you find it charming. You find yourself loving every little quirk about that man.

-Always has to build up courage to talk to you, you’re just so pretty it’s literally nerve wracking.

-But when he actually develops a *crush* on you!?!

-Would be trying to get your attention and maintain it with all of his being. He just wants your love.

-Ringo isn’t the type to be jealous, he isn’t too keen on confrontation. But when he sees George or even Paul lingering a little too long at your figure he’s frowning and glaring literal daggers.

-The boys would catch on quick after that, teasing him to tell you how he feels. Specifically John. “Cmon Rings, if you wanna claim what’s yours you might as well tell them.” (A devilish snicker would be coming from that man stg)

-You give him little nicknames, calling him Rich or Richie the most. To anyone else he wouldn’t think anything of it. But when you do it his heart skips a beat. *Every time.*

-Not good with PDA or physical touch, would rather tell you how he feels in private or give you affection when nobody is looking.

-If he needed to “assert dominance” he’d probably put his arm over your shoulder. Simple and subtle but still getting the word across.

-Also this man is insecure as HELL, if he ended up actually bagging you he’d be relieved but also scared you’d realize he’s not good enough, or that you’d find someone better.

-He expresses this out loud with you and you kiss his nose, reassuring him that you could never find anyone better than Ringo Starr. :)

#beatles x reader #ringo starr #richard starkey #the beatles #ringo hcs #beatles imagine

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beatlefics · 2 years

Text

Beatle Roommate Headcanons!

Paul

I don’t think Paul is particularly messy, but he’s definitely middle of the road on some things

It doesn’t mean he’s going to slack on you all the time, but more often than not he’ll try to help if he can

(he’s a very busy man, you know)

He is a tiiiiny bit lazy, but he tries not to be if he can help it

Paul keeps his own areas clean like in his area of the bedroom

God forbid something touches his precious bass and makes it dirty

(He’s very protective of his baby)

Some part of me really likes the idea of Paul knitting his own little sweaters and things like in MMT, so he keeps to himself in those kinds of hobbies while you live together

But to me, Paul is a bit average on cleanliness and tidiness around the house, but he’s not really a burden or anything to your roommate dynamic

John

Oh, god forbid the house is ever a mess.

This man may not seem like the type, but his Aunt Mimi taught him better than to leave his or anyone’s house a wreck!

“You really can’t be half-arsed to wash a dish?”

He’s so bitter about it on the outside, but to be truthful, he really does enjoy taking care of a home.

Very housewife-y

You’ll walk into the kitchen and find him in an apron and rubber gloves stg,,,

“John, what is this?”

“Cleaning :)”

He’s absolutely up at the crack of dawn and by the time you’re awake, he’s already made coffee, let the cats out, started the laundry and made a breakfast fit for a king

It doesn’t mean he’s nonstop about it, but he tries his best to be very consistent about keeping things tidy

Ringo

Ringo is an absolute sweetheart about sharing chores, even if you insist on doing some things by yourself

“Well, at least let me help, love. Two people get a job done faster than just one y’know.”

He’ll run errands for you if you’re feeling a bit lazy that day <:)

His drums are a bit noisy though, so you both have to soundproof his room to prevent yourselves from getting a noise complaint

And his snoring is RIDICULOUS

Thank god you’ve gotten used to it over time

Extra points if you also wear funky jewelry (rings, earrings, etc.)

But overall he’s a very calming presence to have around the apartment

Very reliable

George

Geo definitely keeps tapestries and things hung up around the apartment

Very hippie vibes (especially post-India George)

I feel like you’ll click very well if your vibes match

Geo makes the best food ever! (He’s a little bit of a foodie due to all the traveling with the band)

He's definitely smoking weed in the apartment as long as you allow him and it doesn't cause you any discomfort

I don’t want to say he’s messy, like-- he’ll do different chores around the house, but his space is his space

I wouldn’t be surprised if he left his shirts or random odds and ends around the house

“Hey, love, have you seen my--”

“Oh! It was just on the couch. Thanks, love!”

He's obviously going to have his own little meditation sessions in his room bc,, Hari Krishna

You are more than welcome to join too! He even invites you in when you poke your head in on him

It’s very calm in his room, just the vibes in this apartment are so immaculate ngl,,

#the beatles #beatles fics #beatles fanfiction #paul mccartney #ringo starr #george harrison #john lennon #headcanon #headcanons #fanfiction #beatles x reader #x reader #tw weed #good vibes #cute #wholesome #domestic beatles #domestic #domestic headcanons

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lick-me-lennon22 · 2 days

Text

How they'd react to you fainting

(thank you anon for this request !! it was fun to imagine how each of our boys would react in this situation 💕 I hope you all enjoy)

John

at first, John is convinced you're pulling a joke on him

he'd smirk and snicker, saying something along the lines of "If you wanted my attention you could've just asked, y'know"

when he fails to get a response from you, he'd kneel down and lightly tap your cheeks in an attempt to get you to snap out of it

"Hello...? Anyone home?"

however, when you don't immediately come to, his demeanor would shift to that of concern

John would become incredibly anxious and pace back and forth, muttering curses under his breath

"Oh, shit... Christ... don't go dyin' on me now"

he'd place his hands on your shoulders and give you a gentle but panicked shake

when he sees your eyes begin to flutter open, he sighs in relief

John would stand up and clear his throat, trying his best to regain his composure and tough exterior

he'd slip back into his usual playful banter, jokingly blaming his own charm for causing you to faint

however, you can hear the concern hidden behind his teasing as his voice wavers ever-so-slightly

you laugh weakly, reassuring him that it just happens sometimes and telling him you'll be okay

regardless, he would be extra clingy for the rest of the day, remaining vigilant to make sure you really are all right

Paul

upon seeing you begin to faint, Paul is caught completely off-guard

he'd let out a shocked gasp (or perhaps a bit of a girlish shriek) and try his best to catch you

he'd react quickly but calmly, cradling you in his arms and calling your name to try and bring you back to consciousness

"Y/N? Are you there, love? I'm right here"

he'd reassure you, stroking your hair and fanning your face gently in an attempt to wake you

he would maintain his composure for your sake, but on the inside he's deeply concerned to see you like this

Paul would make sure you're comfortable, humming softly to soothe you until you came to

you'd open your eyes to the sight of him hovering over you, his expression softening as he realizes you've finally awoken

"Easy now, darling- no need to faint on my account" he'd jest, trying to lighten the mood

he'd fret over you for the rest of the day, offering you everything you could possibly need and treating you even more like royalty than he already does

George

George would be a bit more composed in his reaction, but his concern would be just as strong

he would kneel beside you, checking your pulse and making sure your breathing is steady

he would display a sense of urgency, assessing the situation to the best of his ability

when he's certain you're stable, he would fetch you a cool cloth and place it on your forehead

he would call your name gently, trying his best to create a peaceful atmosphere to cause you as little undue stress as possible

he'd place a steady hand on your shoulder to provide a sense of safety and security for you, even subconsciously

when you finally wake up, George smiles softly down at you

"Good morning, sunshine. I brought you a little something"

he'd hold up a glass of water, which you'd gladly take as you sat upright, leaning against George while he rubbed gentle circles into your back

Ringo

when he sees you start to become lightheaded, Ringo is already visibly shaken

his intuition immediately kicks into overdrive

he'd place his hands on your shoulders and steady you as much as he can, gently laying you down on the couch when you've finally lost consciousness

he would hover around you nervously at first, unsure of what to do

with trembling hands, he'd check your vitals to make sure he doesn't need to call for immediate medical attention

once he's sure you'll be alright, Ringo would hold your face in his calloused hands, caressing your cheeks with his thumbs

he'd lean down and pepper your face with gentle kisses, hoping the sensation will bring you back to wakefulness

when he hears you giggle from the ticklish feeling, he'd let out an immediate and heavy sigh of relief

he would pull back and look down at you with a comforting smile

"Oh, thank goodness you're alright. What would I ever do without you?" he says lightheartedly, but you hear the sincerity in his voice

you reach your arms up and wrap them around his neck, pulling him in for a long, appreciative kiss

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cherry-velvet-skies · 9 months

Text

Strawberry Lemonade

Gardener!George Harrison × GN!Reader

Genre: About as close as it can get to smut without there actually being any sex

Warnings: Heavy makeout session, lotsa hickies, and a bit of a spit kink but who's counting, eh?

Words: 2.3k

Summary: 1971 era; Reader hires George as a gardener and quickly falls in love with him (Reader is wearing a dress but gender is unspecified)

=======================================

==================================

You had been trying to get closer with him for several days now. He was always busy working. After all, he was technically working for you.

To be fair, you had hired a gardener, and you didn't know what, or rather who, to expect. Although, had you been given a selection based on appearance, you would have gladly chosen him anyway.

There was something about him that was positively alluring. You thought he was so handsome. And in the three Saturdays he had been working in your backyard, all you managed to find out about him was his name. George.

George looked like your typical gardener, with his scruffy hair and worn out denim, his only focus being his craft. In all honesty, your favorite thing about his appearance was how little he cared for it. He had no desire to be neat. He found beauty in the natural world.

You enjoyed staying with George while he worked. He didn't seem to mind either. He loved telling you all kinds of things about each type of flower, such as where they originated from and which ones could be used for natural remedies in certain teas, soups, and medicines. You didn't even have to ask any questions. He was just ready and willing to share the information, which benefited you as you were still too shy to say much to him. His extensive knowledge was undoubtedly adorable. When you saw how excited he got every time he told you a fun fact, it only made you want to extend the conversation.

You loved George's voice. The way he spoke, slow and sultry, was so calculated in the best possible way. Every word he said was uttered with meaningful intent. He never spoke just to speak. He always spoke to connect. You noticed George licked his lips a lot when he spoke. You weren't sure if it was just a quirk, a nervous habit, or a flirtation technique.

Your fascination with him began on his first Saturday of coming to work. He noticed the rather large section of orange lilies in the center of your garden, acknowledging them as being your favorite. Before he left, he handed you a singular petal from said flower that had fallen off, placing it in the front pocket of the creamsicle colored dress you were wearing. After closing the gate behind him, he turned to look at you one last time.

“Orange is my favorite color, too.”

You allowed George to decorate the garden however he wished, which he was immensely appreciative of. If he felt that certain flowers looked better beside each other, or grew better in certain types of soil, who were you to oppose his artistic vision?

On this particular day, you had chosen to stay on the patio while he worked. You had prepared a plate of fresh strawberries, but knew that fruit could attract bugs that might eat your flowers. You had paired it with a tall glass of lemonade, and as you sat down, you questioned your decision. It was a particularly warm day, and George had already been working for a while. You thought he could use a refreshment too, or at least maybe some company.

Careful not to startle him, you walked over and offered him the glass of lemonade. Looking up at you, he smiled and reached for the cup, his gloves leaving a trace of fresh soil along the bottom. You thought it was quite endearing. You admired the way the short, dark brown hairs of his mustache grazed the top of the straw.

After taking a single sip, he handed the glass back to you, smiled again and went back to work. You figured maybe he wasn't thirsty, so you returned the cup to the patio table. Instead, you plucked a single strawberry from the plate and offered him that as well. He hesitated before taking it, but decided to accept it, removing his left glove so as not to dirty your hand. The way George’s fingertips brushed your palm when he reached for the berry made you shiver, but you tried not to show it. You think he still noticed.

He ate the small fruit in one bite, leaving only the piece with the leaves. Seeing that a few seeds were still left on the tip, he moved to the edge of the garden, scooped out a small patch of dirt, and placed the fruit inside, covering it up. You looked down, accepting the fact that you owned a strawberry bush now.

You turned to walk back to the patio again, but he motioned towards the large tree next to where he was working.

"You can stay." His voice was almost a whisper. "I don't mind."

You fetched your snack from the table and sat down against the tree without a second thought. You knew you were going to have dirt all over your mulberry colored dress when you stood up, but you didn't care. You would do anything to spend time with him.

You didn't talk, but just being there with George felt like heaven. You would occasionally glance over at him while he trimmed the thorns from the rose patch. Or the way he moved the marigolds next to the daisies to create a pastel gradient. He turned around just as you were staring at him and made eye contact with you. Feeling your cheeks blush, you offered him another strawberry to ease the tension. He showed you his gloved hands as if to say he couldn't, to which you held the berry up to his lips, requesting he take it from you directly.

George leaned forward, lacking hesitation, and took a bite. His plush lips, which were now stained with strawberry juice, kissed your fingers as you held the heart-shaped fruit, the red pigment dripping down your hand. He gazed at you so intensely you felt like you were shaking. You placed the stem back on the plate and set it on your lap.

Returning his piercing stare, you placed your fingers in your mouth, sucking them clean. Three weeks ago, you didn't even know his name, and now you were licking his strawberry flavored spit off your fingers. But you could tell this had an effect on him.

You took another sip of lemonade, and, noticing the rapidly emptying glass, offered him the final sip. He accepted, finishing the rest and placing the cup on the grass beside you. Once he was close enough, he tucked his fingers under your chin, tilting your head up to place his lips against your own. He tasted like strawberry lemonade. When he pulled away, a thin string of saliva was bridged between your lips, the sunlight revealing the slightest tint of rose gold from the fruitful concoction. Your eyes widened when you looked back at him, perplexed by his actions despite you wanting this more than anything. You didn’t expect him to feel the same way.

Without saying another word, George removed the glove from his other hand, placing the now bare hand on the back of your head, his other hand resting on your shoulder. He gently guided you to lay back, his hand protecting your head as you made contact with the grass below. He briefly stroked your hair before removing his hands, instead placing them on both sides of your hips. He stared down at you, rubbing his hand over your stomach through the fabric of your dress.

“Do I have permission to touch you, my flower?”

You nearly moaned at his new name for you, although you were a bit confused as he was technically currently touching you. But still, you nodded, intrigued by what he would do next.

George trailed his fingers up your torso towards your shoulders. He stopped at your chest, eyeing it for a short while. Normally a position like this would’ve been quite compromising for you, but you were surprisingly comfortable.

He hooked his fingers under the straps of your dress, dragging them down your shoulders, stopping right before they had completely fallen, preventing the fabric from leaving your chest entirely bare. He leaned forward to place small kisses across your chest, neck, and shoulders, occasionally biting softly. In one particular spot on the crease of your neck, he bit down a little too hard, but you didn’t even care. The gentle brushing from the coarse hairs of his beard provided a wonderful contrast between pain and pleasure. You threaded your hands through his hair, the loose waves beautifully framing his face. You felt his hands firmly massaging your hips with every breathy whimper that fell from your lips.

Once George decided your upper body had been marked thoroughly, along with a few wine-colored shapes ever so slightly bubbling to the surface of your skin, he ended with one final kiss to your lips. Your hands moved from his hair to cradle his face, raking your fingers across his beard. He pulled back to look at you again, every monochromatic tone of his heavenly brown eyes twinkled in the evening sun. Even now, you were still utterly speechless.

Removing his hands from your hips, George began drawing small circles with his fingers on the exposed skin just below the hem of your dress. He looked back up at you, a small “May I?” leaving his lips, to which you nodded again. George shook his head.

“I need to hear you this time, flower.”

You felt your heart skip a beat. You were so overwhelmed by the current situation that even forming a phrase of one simple word felt like an arduous task.

“Yes.” You whispered. George nodded slowly, placing his hands flat against your thighs, sliding his fingers up underneath your dress until he reached your hips, rubbing his thumbs along the fabric of your underwear. Holding you by the hips over your dress was not enough. He wanted to feel the warm softness of your skin. He wanted to become one with you in any way that he could.

George laid on top of you, knees at your sides to support his weight as he resumed kissing you. But you wanted him closer. Lifting your legs, you locked them around his waist, pushing him flush against you, forcing his arms higher towards your chest. This caused the straps of your dress to fall completely down your arms and the hem to scrunch up past your hips, your entire dress rolled in the center of your body like a belt, rendering you almost fully nude while George was still fully clothed. But you didn’t care. Your actions could be so brave and bold, yet saying a single word to him felt far too intimate.

“So beautiful…” His words were lost in thought right along with him, his lustful stare raking over your neck and chest before moving back up to your face. While he may have had his full weight on you now, you tried your hardest to move your hips beneath him. Your body ached for the slightest of friction, wantonly arching up to grind against his clothed crotch. He looked down as you did this, the corners of his lips curling into a slight smirk, almost mocking your neediness. But as you moved, you could feel the outline of him, slowly nearing full hardness, straining against the confines of his jeans. He wasn’t fooling anyone. He wanted this just as much as you did.

You softly gripped him at the shoulders, massaging your hands up his neck and back into his hair as he laid atop you again, burying his face in your chest, adding more blushing roses to the already blooming garden just above your nipples. That was one place George would look, but never touch. He repeatedly got quite close with both his mouth and fingers, watching as your eyes pleaded for him to touch you everywhere, but decided to save that journey for another time. He opted for keeping his hands firmly at your hips, guiding you while you continued to grind against him, your eyes closed and your head tilted back, completely willing to lose yourself in the immense pleasure.

Just as you felt yourself beginning to falter in rhythm, nearing the edge, George pulled back and stared at the sky. Noticing the change in the amount of daylight, he sat up, much to your confusion.

“Unfortunately, it’s time for me to go.” He said matter-of-factly, pushing the straps back up to your shoulders before moving to pack up his tools.

“Already?” You whined. “Can’t you stay a little longer?”

“That wouldn’t be fair to my personal schedule, now would it?” He teased. You thought he was walking toward the gate but instead stopped at a small patch of red violets he was tending to earlier. He was there for a few seconds before returning to you, who was now standing up, dusting the dirt off of your dress. George reached for your hand, and you felt something touch your palm. He placed a small kiss on your lips before gazing into your eyes again with the same intense stare.

“We’ll make more time for each other next week, my flower.”

You opened your mouth as if to reply but was consistently halted by some invisible force. By the time you felt like you could respond, George was already closing the gate behind him. You peered down at what he had left in your hand: a single petal from one of your red violets. You looked back up to see George still standing at the gate, predicting your confusion. He met your puzzled expression with a punctuating wink before walking to his car. You twirled the plum-colored petal between your fingers as its inspiration caught your eye out of your peripheral. Your cheeks immediately blushed a light pink as you saw the same color in a series of small love bites that were currently forming across your chest.

==================================

I just got a new computer today, and I thought what better way to celebrate than to finish one of my fics! This was the one that got the most votes in my poll of which WIP y'all wanted first. And I know it's quite long overdue, but I hope you enjoy! 🥰

#the beatles #beatles #the beatles x reader #the beatles fanfiction #george harrison #george harrison x reader #george harrison fanfiction #george harrison imagine #beatles x reader #beatles fanfiction #george harrison x you #george harrison x y/n

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