cracker-box-palace

[cracker-box-palace]

Reblog with the weirdest shit you’ve ever had to google as a writer

#things that are purple #how to describe someone’s energy without sounding like a hippy #what is a plum #where do plums grow #do plums grow in California #shoes from the fifties #are haunted house stories cliche or classic #should writing a story make me mad #is there anything thinner than water #these are just some it gets rly weird

[cracker-box-palace]

hey ik i sent in a request already but i have another one!! this weekend was really tough for me, i have some medical issues and i’ll be ok but it’s been rough to deal with. please forgive me for not going into detail but when i was trying to make me feel better i immediately thought of your writing. do you think you could write something for me? with paul (of course lol) where the reader is in the hospital recovering and they’re just having a sweet moment together? just fluff, not angst. i would love something happy. thank you so much in advance :))

Hello there:) I’m so sorry to hear that, I really hope you feel better soon and if you need anything at all, don’t hesitate to contact me, I’ll always be here💕💕 I know you sent the other request first, but I want you to feel better as soon as possible and I really hope this helps!!

The first sounds you hear when you wake up from your hazy, half-dream filled sleep-like state is the rhythmic, high beeping of the machine beside you. If it weren’t for that, there would be no indication to you that you’re even alive; your head feels darkly empty, but so full it’s seconds away from exploding at the same time, all you can feel is your dry, tired eyes scanning the blurry hospital room, and it takes you a few laboured seconds to remember even your own name.

Once your vision returns to at least somewhat normal and you’re able to wiggle your toes and fingers under the scratchy sheets of the bed, you take a deep breath and make a feeble attempt at raising your head from the pillow. Immediately, your ears fill with the sound of your own rushing blood and your vision goes almost completely black, and you can tell by the small needle taped to your lower arm that there’s a reason why you still can’t feel 90% of your body.

Just as you’re getting ready to slip right back into that drowse, the sound of frantic, stumbling footsteps through the hall fills your ears and you sluggishly swing your head to the side to face the closed door. The steps grow nearer and louder, and the metallic doorknob jerks to the side. The heavy door flies open and your half-closed eyes are met with the wide, worried eyes of Paul. He, his brow sweaty and his clothes in a complete mess, breathes a sigh of relief but his eyebrows do not lose their tense look of complete fear. You smile weakly at him. At least, you think you’re smiling.

“Oh, my god,” he breathes, his voice no more than a whimper. His eyes not leaving you, he swings the door shut behind him and rips his jacket off. “Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god,” he still worriedly mutters as he rushes around the room. He runs a hand through his messy hair, and when he reaches you, who is still smiling goofily, his hands hesitate, as if he’s not sure where or how to touch you.

“Hey, Paul,” you say, your voice so raspy it comes out little more than a whisper. He leans closer to you, and his hand roughly tugs on the cord feeding to the needle in your arm by accident. It pulls at your skin and you wince a bit, trying your best to make it so he doesn’t notice, but as he moves his arm even more it becomes tangled in the many different cords and lines connecting you to machines and such. You can’t help but laugh drunkenly at his clumsiness, although worry and embarrassment draws his light brow together and he gets continuously frustrated with himself as he tries desperately to untangle.

When he sees your expression, it seems to calm his tense face and his features soften. He kneels down right beside your bed, his eyes still wide and his gorgeous lips pursed in worry, to put a slightly shaky hand on your cheek. You nuzzle the warm, familiar touch, and it seems to send bolts and rays of brilliant colour rolling throughout your body. He rests his arm on the thin mattress, and his chin on his arm, looking at you with admiration and pure love in his eyes when you laboriously bring your own hand up to grasp his. After a few seconds of trying desperately to keep your drooping eyes open and savour this moment, the grips of heavy, confusing sleep eventually begin to win. When he sees you slowly leaving him, he stands up, careful not to move his hand too much.

“Don’t worry, luv,” he whispers, a smile on his lips. Stiffly and careful of all the equipment, he walks around the bed and sinks down behind you. “I’m not goin’ anywhere,”

He swings his feet over to join his body on the mattress, still clad in his iconic black boots. With your last bit of effort, you roll over to your back and lift your neck so he can slide his strong, pillowy arm behind it. You snuggle as close to him as you can, all your worries and pains and anticipations vanishing into the hazy fog until all that is left is his quiet, soothing breathing.

#classic rock #the beatles #fanfic #paul mccartney #beatles fanfiction #paul mccartney x reader #requests #paul mccartney fanfic

[cracker-box-palace]

hi, new follower here :) i really like your writing, you're great! i was wondering if you could make an imagine with george where the reader shaves her head and goes to the studio to get george and he's amazed by it, running his hand over her head all loving? thank you so much <3

Hii! Thank you so so much, and welcome haha!! This is such a great idea, I couldn’t wait to get started!! I hope you like it, and requests are always open!!

“Woah…” you hear a low, astonished breath from behind you. You whirl around and meet the wondering eyes of George, who had stood up from his folding chair and taken a few steps towards you. His unblinking eyes glide across your freshly shaven head, which you yourself are still not entirely used to, and his thoughtful expression gives away nothing.

“D-do you like it?” You ask with a tentative smile, twisting your neck every which way to give him every possible angle. Even though you had done this completely for yourself and it had made you surprisingly happy, you still want George’s opinion. Even though there’s no turning back, you think wryly to yourself.

Suddenly, he blinks away his blank expression, and his plump lips break into an unbelieving, amazed grin.

“You kidding?” He says in a high, childishly excited voice as he hurries towards you to reach an arm out to your head. He runs a tentative hand over the buzzed surface, and you both shutter at the odd, pleasant feeling. You laugh at his reaction, and your giggles intensify even more when he presses his soft lips against the very top of your head, placing both hands on your cheeks, and then scatters more quick pecks anywhere he can reach.

“I love it,” he enthuses between kisses.

#classic rock #the beatles #george harrison #fanfic #beatles fanfiction #george harrison x reader #george harrison fanfic #requests #imagine #beatles imagines

[cracker-box-palace]

Poetry Masterlist

{I’m shit at coming up with titles so this is gonna have to work}

*🌾🍂🍁

*🌷🌸🌺

*🌼🌻🌕

*🍃🪨🌳

*🥀🌒🌙

#cant you tell I’m shit at coming up with titles #poets of tumblr #masterlist #poetry masterlist #poetry

[cracker-box-palace]

Hanging aloft in a velvet sky

Your rough, glowing skin always bare

Do you wish to be down here

As badly as we yearn to join you up there?

If I hold my small hand before you

Your glow will spill over its sides

Your white somber lights will touch every corner

Of the land where your lovers reside

A night-doused flame laying perched atop all

Keeping darkness at bay with your glow

Keeping night owls company in your unearthly presence

Standing watch for the monsters below

Hey look another stupid lil poem

#classic rock #poetsandwriters #poetry #poets of tumblr

[cracker-box-palace]

Pick up a rock, I say.

Nestle it within your innocent fingers,

Hold its weight with your little arms,

Close your soft, tender palm around it

Pick up a rock, I say,

And we’ll play a game.

Pick up a stick, I say.

Twirl it between your infant hands,

And if you want, if you can,

Break it in half over your frail, scratched little knee.

Because then you’ll have two.

Pick up a stick, I say,

And we’ll play a game.

Pick up a leaf, I say.

Toss it up to the sky,

And watch with your wondering eyes wide as it flutters back down to you

Bring it to your red-tipped nose and inhale it’s earthy, green scent,

And, sweet child, never forget it.

Pick up a leaf, I say,

We can play a game.

Yet another stupid lil poem

#classic rock #poets of tumblr #poetry #poetsandwriters #writers on tumblr

[cracker-box-palace]

hi!! another request lol this time from the prompt list! could you do 18 with paul (sorry he’s my fave) maybe it’s late at night after a *romantic* night? i just thought the prompt was pure fluff material so whatever you come up with will be amazing! thank you in advance :) i’ve loved everything you’ve written so far btw

Hii!! Omg thank you I love love this request!!! If anyone else wants to request anything, I find this prompt list really great, and I always love hearing from people!! I know it’s a bit brief, but it felt right just to get to the point, I hope you like it!😁

Prompt #18: “such pretty hands,”

Such Pretty Hands

What a night. What an amazing, exhilarating, thrilling night. As you lay flat on your back, the sheets pulled up and laying indifferently over your bare chest, you turn your head over to Paul, laying similarily beside you with the covers draped low across his equally bare waist. His smooth, broad chest, slightly shiny with moisture and heaving quickly up and down, reflects the dim glow of the lamp beside you in an even softer, yellow gleam, and you’re momentarily mesmerized by it.

He runs a hand through his damp, tangled hair and, when his hand is once again free, he moves his whole arm to lay it over your shoulders and slide you closer to his warm, muscular body. You graciously snuggle closer to him. He plants a tender, smiling kiss against the skin of your forehead.

The longer you both lay there like that, your breath steadying and the comforting grips of sleep tugging at your eyelids, the more you realize this is all you need. As long as you can doze off each night in the warm embrace of Paul, feeling his warmth and his love in every movement, bathed in the warm shine of that lamp on the bedside table, you really can’t ask for anything else.

Paul sighs contently and his arm lazily drifts over towards you to lay his large hand comfortably on top of your own. Soon, he tenderly wraps his fingers around your hand and brings it up to examine in front of his face. He interlocks his fingers in yours, turns and twists it every which way, a look of leisurely fascination and affection on his sleepy face. He turns his head to face you, and plants another light kiss on your temple before letting go of a content sigh.

“Such pretty hands…” he mumbles almost to himself, and you giggle as he takes each finger to his lips and gives it a tender kiss. He splays his own fingers out and kindly pushes your wrist towards his so your palms are pressed against each other, your shorter fingers straining to reach his. He smiles a playful grin looking at the contrast between you two, and his fingers slide to the side to wedge them between the gaps and hold your hand tightly.

His arm falls back to his side, still tangled with yours, where it stays until you both doze off to a light, blissful slumber. And when you wake up the next morning, both of your hair even messier than before and your eyes heavy with the tiredness of a well-rested night, his hand still holds yours in its safe grip.

#classic rock #the beatles #fanfic #paul mccartney #beatles fanfiction #paul mccartney fanfic #requests #fanfic prompt #fanfiction prompt #paul mccartney x reader

[cracker-box-palace]

I've read your Beatles fanfiction stories, and I think they're great! As such, I'd like to make a request, if possible. I'd love a story with Paul and a female reader, right after the Beatles break up. He's depressed, he's drinking a lot, he's sleeping all day, and she helps him through it the best she can. He writes a song for her to try and express how grateful he is, and it's "Maybe I'm Amazed." Some angst, but a good deal of fluff too. Please and thank you!

Hi!! I’m so glad you like my writing, great request!! I hope this is what you were thinking!!

Maybe I’m Amazed

You had to do something. It wasn’t a simple matter of what was best for him, what you thought was right, now you know that if something didn’t change soon it would render you both helpless. If you didn’t take a hold of his outstretched hands and pull him to safety, he would surely drown in the perpetual sea of empty bottles, of cigarette butts and hazy, drunken days followed by restless, sleepless nights. He would drown in the rough, black sea of depression.

You know the breakup has been extremely hard on him. If anything, you know it better than anyone. It was a blatant fact that The Beatles were not going to last forever to anyone standing on the outside and peering through the metaphorical windows, but to Paul, that bond that the 4 men shared was something that would undeniably last forever. And maybe it was; just because the band had ceased to exist doesn’t mean that life will not go on, it doesn’t mean that they will never speak to each other again or at least do some sort of reconciliation. You just need to get him to see that. He had devoted an incredible portion of his life to that, and now that it was over, it seems like he doesn’t know what to do with himself, like he can’t even begin to conceive of a life without the constant of The Beatles, so he’s just given up even trying to. This whole situation has prompted him to do something you never thought in a million years that he would do; he let himself go. Grew a beard. Drank much more than he should have. Just slept and moped around all day. He was not only barrelling down a very dangerous road, but now you fear he’s going to take you with him.

You find yourself beginning to miss the times you used to share before all this, when you would go out with friends, when you would carve an hour or two out of both your days for a slow meander down the road, or around a park. Sometimes, the crisp London air would be filled with laughter and senseless chatter, sometimes all the words would run out and a comfortable silence would settle, which was almost just as nice. You would walk hand-in-hand as long as your legs would permit, and when you arrived home those feelings of comfort and solace would not end.

You have an idea. You raise your voice a bit to call Paul’s name into the silence of your large house, and when he doesn’t reply you walk into the living room, where you think he would most likely be. Sure enough, there he is, slumped darkly on the couch reading some sort of book. You hurry over behind him, and he cranes his neck to smile up at you.

“Hey, luv,” he says somewhat cheerfully, “what’s up?”

“I thought we would take a walk or something, just you and me,” you offer feebly, shrugging your shoulders a bit and giving him a humble smile. He looks at you doubtfully for a few seconds, not completely understanding. He sighs and thinks it over for a second, but you already know that he’s made up his mind. You place a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

“C’mon, Paul, it’ll be nice to get out,” maybe he’s just decided to humour you, maybe he’s realized that this is a battle he’s not going to win, but you’d like to think that you had actually gotten through to him. Either way, he agrees somewhat less wholeheartedly than you had hoped.

With your coats and boots on, you set out silently and gaze out at the dark green and yellow landscape stretching around you. Now, on a beautiful and serene property like this, you could walk right off the golden horizon and just keep going. Paul, with his long, curling hair rippling ever so slightly in the breeze and his dark, rustic beard nestled between his face and the collar of his grey coat, wraps his soft, warm hand around yours to lead you down the cobblestone walkway. When you catch up to him, his hand tightens and he begins to leisurely swing his arm as you walk, so close together that your shoulders bump against each other with each step.

You walk together in silence for a few minutes, each occasionally pointing to something that has caught their attention

You place a gentle hand on his broad shoulder and slow your footsteps to a stop, your gaze caught to the west across the wide, verdant field, all the way to where the lush green-yellow meets the bright, golden sensations of the upcoming sunrise. Paul looks confusedly at you for a moment, and when he doesn’t seem to notice what had made you stop in your tracks with such a look on your face, he follows your eyes across the landscape. Still he doesn’t seem to see it.

You raise a preoccupied hand towards the horizon, and point a finger directly at the bright orange, glowing fat orb. If you squint hard enough, you almost imagine you can see it slowly descending to the line where the painted sky meets the grass.

“Isn’t it beautiful?” You breathe, a smile dancing behind your eyes and coming through on your lips. Paul looks into those eyes, seeing the brilliant sunset reflected on their identical glassy surfaces, and puts an arm over your shoulders.

He wonders why the things he often sees reflected in those eyes of yours, like the sun on a bright day, the television late at night, or sometimes even the silhouette of his own face, always look so much brighter, so much more contrasted and saturated, when a smile graces the lips below them. And suddenly, he knows.

“Yeah,” he says, his eyes glued on the dazzling pinks and oranges of the western horizon as the sun lowers itself into the sea of green, and brings behind it a colourful twilight. “It is,”

You sit leaning against the side of a light grey garden shed, watching the sky and basking in each other’s closeness until the faint remains of the sun have faded away into a blue, starry darkness. When you begin to walk again, only the sounds of your footsteps on thin grass and your quiet, happy conversations accompany you. You can’t remember a time when you had felt happier.

2 days later

It has been two days since you and Paul had decided to take a quick, sunset walk around his extensive property. And still, whenever you think about it, you can’t help but get into a good mood. You hadn’t seen much of Paul in the past couple days, but you can tell when you do see him that there’s something new; it seems as though some kind of light had broken through his increasingly dark face.

As you consider asking him to accompany you once again later this afternoon, you hear his quick footsteps approaching you. You straighten up a bit, and when he gets closer you see a warm, almost giddy expression on his face.

“I need to show you something,” he says, with the first excited, genuine smile lightening his face that you had seen in what felt like forever. Before you can respond, he eagerly grabs your hand, encasing it in his own rougher, larger one and leading you into the den, filled with a soft yellow light, with a shining black piano nestled in the corner. Your chest immediately fills with an excitement that you had all but forgotten, a shaky, anxious kind of excitement that runs in waves across a room whenever a man like Paul sits down at a rickety piano bench.

He theatrically cracks his fingers and clears his throat, smiling up at you with a familiar sparkle in his dark eyes and a loving smile dancing on his lips. Finally, he lowers his hands to the piano as an air of seriousness encases him. His fingers crawl across the keys, signalling the start of a slow, beautiful melody. You’re immediately entranced, your eyes glassing over and unfocusing and your jaw slackening. And then, he takes a deep, shaky breath, and begins to sing.

“Baby, I’m amazed at the way you love me all the time,”

His fingers, already so passionate, pound against the weathered ivory keys of the piano with such force and comfort that you just stand there, temporarily dumbfounded beyond words.

His voice, so intense and raspy, like he’s pouring everything he has into it, radiates around the two of you in soft, smooth, intangible tendrils. You close your eyes and let it encase you, let it invade your head and blow the dust off the newly awoken space in your mind.

“And maybe I’m afraid of the way I love you,”

He tears his attention away from the piano for a second to look into your eyes, his face happy yet unsmiling, loving yet so serious you freeze. Your lips part in complete awe, and only then does he return to the piano.

“Maybe I’m amazed at the way you pulled me out of time,”

For the entire rest of the song, you stand transfixed, your eyes darting from Paul’s majestic hands dancing across the piano, to his angelic face. Nothing runs through your mind but the beautiful lyrics, so intent on their purpose, and the radiating melody of the full, deep piano. You feel as if this moment can’t possibly be real, and if you even flinch it will all go away, but deep down you know that these words would stay with you until you’re old and grey, and they are the last thing left in your mind.

When the final chords ring throughout the room and Paul shakily removes his hands from the piano, he glances up towards you to nervously gage your reaction. You don’t know what to say. Paul had written a song. For you. A beautiful, heartfelt, incredibly deep melody just for you, just because of you. He has touched the darkest, most hidden corners of your heart, and invaded them with a warm, shining light just like the painted sunset you had witnessed together only days before. Except you know that this glow will never go out, never eclipse into darkness again.

“Oh, Paul, it’s wonderful,” you breathe, not trusting yourself to speak. Your eyes well up with glimmering tears of awe and happiness. Seeing your reaction, Paul slowly stands up from the cushy bench and you immediately fall into his open arms.

“I thought you might like it,” he mutters, and you can tell just by his voice that he’s smiling. He wraps his arms so tightly around you that you can barely breathe, but you wouldn’t have it any other way, and picks you up so your feet dangle a few centimetres off the ground. Your hands wrap around his neck to steady yourself.

“Thank you,” he whispers, in a weak but meaningful voice right into your ear. Those two words carry so much weight, so many things unsaid but understood just the same. A loud gulp and a shaky sigh from him tell you he’s not letting go any time soon, and you couldn’t be happier.

#classic rock #the beatles #fanfic #paul mccartney #beatles fanfiction #paul mccartney fanfic #paul mccartney x reader #asks and replies #requests

[cracker-box-palace]

me, to my housemates, one of whom is a thermal engineer: if someone had hypothermia, is the best way to warm them up ‘spoon them’, or ‘cuddle chest to chest’? I feel like it could be either – spooning is the classic warming position, and you warm up the colder part, but spoon the front and you insulate the skin with the largest temperature delta

housemates: [fervent, serious debate]

me, after a couple of minutes: to be clear, this is for a final fantasy 7 fanfiction scene where my character got really cold, the stakes aren’t high in getting this completely right.

housemate: does the hypothermia exist sheerly as an excuse for the cuddling?

me: that is the only reason hypothermia exists in fanfiction.

[cracker-box-palace]

Yayyy! Could I request maybe a Paul imagine or whatever style you’d wanna do with it! Where possibly he thinks you like John and it gets a lil angsty? Only if your comfortable with that and thank uuuuu!!!

Hii! Omg I love this idea!! I tried to make it as brief as I could lol, I hope this is what you were thinking:

There was very obviously something wrong. Whether Paul was trying to make that obvious, or he was just terrible at hiding it, you aren’t quite sure, but it doesn’t change anything. Something is clearly bothering him.

“Paul, what’s been wrong with you? The past few days you’ve been a little…” you struggle to find the right word, a word that wouldn’t necessarily be offensive, but still get your point across, “off,”

He glances up at you in a surprisingly troubled sort of glare, and grumbles, “why don’t you ask John?” He had obviously meant for you not to hear it, but your eyes widen in shock and hurt when you do, like you had been slapped across the face. Immediately and without hesitation, you connect the dots; Paul is making a fairly blatant accusation, and you stammer to find the right words to respond.

“Paul, what are you saying?” You ask as seriously as you can. Paul looks worriedly at you, his eyes wide and concerned.

“I didn’t mean it that way…” he mumbles. You know a man like Paul would never do anything to hurt you intentionally, nor would he ever really believe that you could ever have eyes for anyone other than him. That being said, you can’t help but still feel the slightest bit offended. You will admit, you and John have gotten quite close over the time you and Paul had begun to date, and maybe John did have some kind of feelings for you, but you had done your best to pretend you didn’t notice his slight advances in order to not only save his feelings, but to keep Paul from jumping to the conclusions you fear he just had.

“Paul, you know I’d never do anything like that,” you mumble.

“I know, it’s just…” he searches his brain for just the right words, and you wait patiently while he does. “I can see how John looks at you, and I know him,” the finality and helplessness in his voice indicates that that’s all he’s going to say towards that topic, but he walks silently over to you to tentatively wrap his arms around your waist. When you don’t pull away and instead smile very subtly, he becomes a bit more comfortable.

“Paul, I need you to trust me.” You say sternly, but you are very careful not to sound angry. “I love you. Every morning when I wake up, I make the choice to be with you. If I ever doubted that for one minute, I wouldn’t be here; the last thing I want is to hurt you.” He nods his head slowly in eager agreement.

“I feel the exact same way.” He says in a slightly raspy, heartfelt voice so deep and filled with seriousness it surprises you a bit. “Y’know it was just me, right? I’m jus’ being paranoid, I don’t wanna lose you,” you permit yourself a warm smile, your head still hung a bit low but your eyes angled upwards to meet his.

“How can I make it up to you?” He asks, placing his tender fingers under your chin to bring your face closer to his. You hope the look in your eyes tells him you have a few ideas.

#classic rock #the beatles #fanfic #paul mccartney #imagine #paul mccartney x reader

[cracker-box-palace]

so i feel that this request is a little different. and stick with me lol it took forever to get the wording to make sense. lately i feel like my friends have been distancing themselves from me and that they don’t want to be friends with me anymore, and it’s been making me really sad lately. do you think you could write something where like the reader is going through this or similar and paul (of course lol) tries to be understanding and help? maybe he finds out ‘cause he’s so close with the band and reader is like “i wish i had that” or something

ik it’s a very random idea and you can make it whatever is easiest for you!! thank you!! :)

Hii! I’m so sorry that you feel that way, you’re such a nice person, you deserve to be around people that treat you right and make you feel good about yourself.

If you’re ever feeling sad or lonely, I’m always here, and you can talk to me whenever you want 💕💕

New Friends

(Crappy title I know but I couldn’t think of anything haha)

“Come on, it’ll be fun, trust me,” says Paul in his low, reassuring voice as he drives you both down the busy road towards the studio. He had finally succeeded in dragging you along to a session, much to your dismay and embarrassment. He had wanted to take you for so long now, but you had always found a way to get out of it. Until now.

Your sigh, not at all convinced, but smile at his attempt anyways.

“C’mon, luv, you need a break,” he says as he pulls into the parking lot. Okay, you can give him that; life had been a lot lately, and maybe this was just the thing you needed to just take a step back for a second. Maybe being around some new people, just forgetting everything else and goofing about with Paul and his mates would do you some good.

You walk hand in hand through the doors to the studio, and the other 3 men are already waiting patiently, warning up their instruments for a few hours of playing. When you walk in, heads turn and 3 warm, genuine smiles welcome you both. Paul nods at the men with a look you weren’t supposed to see, warning them to behave.

“Paulie, who’s the lady?” Asks John, with a sly look towards Paul and a wink at you.

“Watch it,” Paul replies, recognizing that look instantly and shutting him down. John looks at you and rolls his eyes, and you can’t help but laugh.

The boys rehearse and goof around for an unknown amount of time, and you laugh along with them the entire time. By the end, you have gotten to know each one of them at least a bit more, and Paul had made a wonderful introduction. You couldn’t tell for sure yet, but you think they like you quite well, and you certainly like them, too. You find yourself startled at your excitement to come back, and you can tell by the smug, satisfied look on Paul’s face that you’re not hiding it well.

Quite suddenly, Paul stands from the chair he had been sitting in and sets his bass in the empty seat, stretching with his hands as high as they would go.

“Alright, I’m makin’ tea, anybody want some?” He asks, already standing in the doorway to the small kitchen. 4 hands shoot eagerly upwards in unison, and he chuckles a bit before turning and getting the kettle ready. His quiet, musical whistling fills both rooms, along with the occasional metal clanging of the kettle and stove.

“Y’know, he really likes you,” George plops down in the chair beside you as soon as Paul is out of sight and leans sideways towards you, speaking in a low, sly tone. He looks up at you, awaiting your reaction.

“Really?” Is all you can manage. “How do you know?”

“Oh, he won’t shut up about you,”

“Every song he writes, it’s, oh, wait’ll Y/N hears this one, and, oh, she’d love this. It’s exhausting, really,”

A warm smile spreads across your face, and you feel the blush in your cheeks. All 3 men seem very pleased by your reaction.

At that moment, Paul strides in, distractedly fixing a button on his shirt. When he looks up at you 4, each wearing identical, silent expressions, he raises one eyebrow in suspicious confusion.

In perfect unison, the other 3 burst out in knowing laughter, all slyly glancing towards you with identical looks that say, this never happened. Paul lets the subject go and leans over to hand you your tea. Then, he plops himself down beside his friends again.

“You guys seem so tight,” you laugh.

“Yeah, you could say that,” replies Paul jokingly, as John ruffles a mocking hand in the younger man’s seemingly perfect hair. Before long, all four grown men are on the floor, laughing and joking and playing like children.

You had always seen yourself as a bit of a loner, but you would be lying if the way you had been treated before hadn’t hurt you, hadn’t taken its toll on you. Lately, it had seemed as though the people you thought had been closest to you had been distancing themselves, like they were trying to cut you out of their lives. You couldn’t help but think it was somehow your fault, but struggled to figure out why. These increasing feelings of loneliness had been beginning to get to you, and you had the helpless feeling that your life was changing right before your eyes, but there was nothing you could think of to do about it. It seemed like lately, a lot of the change hadn’t been all that good, but it had made you a lot more appreciative of at least one change of which you had been grateful time and time again; Paul. He had come into your life at the perfect time, and had introduced you to the kind of lifestyle and sense of friendship you had been searching for. Watching the way these 4 lads talked with each other, the way they played and teased and made fun and fought, but also the tremendous amount of love behind everything. They would do anything for the others.

“God, I wish I had something like that,” you mumble, a warm, humourless smile painting your face. Paul looks over towards you, and distances himself from the roughhousing to stride over to you. He drapes his arm heavily over your shoulders and pulls you in towards his warm body.

“Hun,” he says, his intelligent, loving eyes leaving yours to start proudly at the 3 smiling men in front of you. “You do.”

#classic rock #the beatles #fanfic #paul mccartney #beatles fanfiction #paul mccartney fanfic #paul mccartney x reader

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Tough Guy

Recommendation: @riverxxxo I’m so sorry it took this long, I had to take care of some other stuff before I could get to you. Anyway, hopefully this is what you were thinking, but I know this wasn’t your only idea, so if this one wasn’t quite what you were thinking or if you still want me to try the other one, just tell me.

Summary: reader comforts George after he gets a black eye.

“George, stay still!” You nag for probably the fifth time, putting your free hand on the back of his head to steady it so he won’t pull away again. Bunched up in your other hand is a faded white cloth you had soaked in cool water from the tap, and he winces each time you try to dab it on the small cut just beneath his eye. “I need to clean it before you can put ice on it,”

“George, stay still!” You nag for probably the fifth time, putting your free hand on the back of his head to steady it so he won’t pull away again. Bunched up in your other hand is a faded white cloth you had soaked in cool water from the tap, and he winces each time you try to dab it on the small cut just beneath his eye. “I need to clean it before you can put ice on it,”

When the cut is finally clean, you lean back to examine his face before picking up the frozen bag of peas you had set down beside you.

“How do I look?” He asks in a mockingly tough tone, raising one eyebrow and then wincing at the soreness. You chuckle, and put a hand to the side of his face.

“Hmm, it’s gonna swell,” you say. He huffs a disappointed sigh as you hand him a small mirror that had been sitting on your dresser. He holds it up to his face and examines his eye, already shifting from the sunken, white complexion to a puffy, darker one. You expected that that eye of his would turn every colour of the rainbow before the bruise finally faded away. He turns his face every which way, carefully inspecting his eye and the small red cut below it. He doesn’t seem impressed.

“Makes me look tough, don’t ya think?” He asks in a purposefully low, husky voice. You can’t help but burst out in laughter, and before long he’s giggling along with you. You shake your head with a smile and push the bag of peas into his hand, and he gingerly holds it up to his face.

“Y’know, that was pretty brave of you,” you admit. “defending your friend like that,”

He shrugs shyly with a proud, yet still modest smile.

After a moment, he takes the bag from his face (the swelling had gone the slightest bit down, but the colour was still steadily darkening, as you had expected) to look directly at you, one eye deep and filled with love, the other swollen half-shut.

“Thanks for takin’ care of me,” he says with a crooked half-smile. You break out in a humble grin, which only makes his smile grow wider.

#classic rock #the beatles #george harrison #fanfic #beatles fanfiction #george harrison x reader #george harrison fanfic

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Hiii! Are you taking requests??

I am!! Any Beatle, pairing (including Beatle girls) or x reader 💕

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sweet baby lord jesus

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so i was listening to some 80s paul and was inspired lol my idea was it’s been a few years since the beatles have split and he’s making his solo music but he starts doubting himself and his music and the reader supports him or something and is like “you’re paul effing mccartney of course your music is great!” (but like better said than that lol) i dunno i was feeling this idea (i’m sorry if it’s confusing!!) i trust you to make something awesome!!

FINALLY

It certainly took me long enough🤣🤣

Ok I’m so sorry it took me so long but here it is and I hope you like it!! I always love your requests so much 😁😁

If only you saw yourself the way I do

(Ps I hope you don’t mind some light swearing lol)

“Paul?” You ask tentatively as you walk into the living room. He whips his head up to look at you, trying to put on a pleasant face even though you can see the frustration behind those eyes. “Everything alright?” He nods with a smile, but scoots over graciously on the padded bench when you reach him. You sink down directly beside him and he lays his head moodily on your shoulder.

“Paul?” You ask tentatively as you walk into the living room. He whips his head up to look at you, trying to put on a pleasant face even though you can see the frustration behind those eyes. “Everything alright?” He nods with a smile, but scoots over graciously on the padded bench when you reach him. You sink down directly beside him and he lays his head moodily on your shoulder.

“God, I don’t know why this is so hard,” he mumbles. “It used to be so easy, I don’t know what’s wrong with me…”

“Nothings wrong with you,” you reassure him, putting a gentle hand over his shoulders. He sighs, not completely agreeing with you.

“Paul, just give it a minute. It’ll come.”

“I’ve given it almost a month!” He says, raising his head to look at you with worried eyes. He shakes his head in defeat and turns his attention back to the piano. “Y’know, if this was, say, 20 years ago-”

“Paul, you have to stop thinking like that.” You interrupt him firmly. It seems as though lately, he’s been saying things like that quite a bit. He’s beginning to doubt himself more and more as the days of endless writing and rewriting drag on, and you struggle to find a way to show him what the entire world thinks of him, not just as an ex-Beatle, but as an incredibly talented solo artist. All he does in response is look up at you with those sad, puppy dog eyes, his face unsmiling and the sides of his mouth pulled downwards. He shakes his head again.

“Honestly, I don’t even know why I try anymore,” he says shortly, almost as if he had regretted saying it before the words even left his mouth. He looks away, hoping you hadn’t heard, and attempts to stand up to occupy himself with something less frustrating. He rubs his eyes in exasperation, but you snake a hand around his upper arm to keep him still as you stand quickly up.

“You’re Paul fucking McCartney!” You exclaim. He looks at you with a kind of appalled confusion, as if you had just told him that two and two made four. And suddenly you get it; he doesn’t see himself in the same light that you do. While you see him as a practical musical genius, an incredibly smart, talented, amazing man, he sees himself as a regular has-been who’s just been grasping at straws these last few years, someone who can’t seem to let go of the life he lead all that time ago, someone who should just accept that things will never be like they used to be, and maybe he should just stop trying. You can’t bear to see what this has done to him, how much he truly misses his mates.

“Y/N, have you ever thought that that just isn’t enough anymore?” He sighs, hanging his head and looking up at you with stern, flaming eyes. He splays his hands out at his sides in a helpless gesture, but your grip on his arm doesn’t loosen one bit.

“No.” You say defiantly, not breaking his gaze even though you can tell he’s incredibly uncomfortable. “Not for one minute.” You take a deep breath and pull him back down to the cushy piano bench.

“I just wish you could see yourself like I do. Like everyone else does. You need to stop being so hard on yourself; I love you so much and it hurts to see you like this,” at least that seems to break through to him. He looks downwards and one side of his mouth turns up in a rueful smile. “You’re the most talented person I know, Paul. Your music does so much for so many people, you can’t stop! I know it seems really hard right now, and I know you might think you’re not making a difference, but trust me,” you give his hands a tight, reassuring squeeze, “this is what you’re meant to do.”

You put a hand on his back and patiently await his response. When he raises his head to finally look into your eyes, he is wearing a small, slightly teary-eyed smile. He leans slowly forward, his eyes sliding shut as his lips softly touch yours. After a second, he pulls away to wrap both arms around you.

“Thank you,” he says in a quiet, genuine voice that cracks near the end. “For everything.”

#classic rock #the beatles #fanfic prompt #beatles fanfiction #paul mccartney fanfic #fanfic #paul mccartney x reader #x reader

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Day 17 of Georgemas: George painted in his favorite color on this little sketch I made. That hair tho. 

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Last Christmas (George Harrison x Reader)

Day 13 of Georgemas!

1965 

It’s Christmastime. You’ve just arrived to where a whole bunch of friends and acquaintances, including you are to spend a Christmas week at a cottage in Cairngorms, Scotland, the snowiest national park. Your heart gives a skip, as you see someone arriving with some suitcases from afar. It’s George, your ex, and you see him walking alongside some friends. You are walking hand in hand with your very handsome new boyfriend. A pang of jealousy hits you when you see there’s a girl walking next to George. There is also a part of you that wants to show off your new man. You want to see his reaction. As they come closer his deep brown gaze makes eye contact with you and your heart starts to thump wildly inside your chest. As he greets your new boyfriend, you see him put on his forced smile, and as he comes to you to say hi, you two go in for a hug as it was routine, but you realize this before it’s too late, and instead of hugging him, you just give him your hand and the greeting ends up looking rather like a very bad karate standoff. 

After everyone’s things are settled at the cabin, you still cannot stop cringing at the encounter earlier. To calm yourself down, you decide to go down to the kitchen to see if there is some good eggnog or mince pie to snack on. This was a bad idea. “Of course George would be horking down all the food!” you nag yourself as you see him squatting with the door of the fridge covering him except his feet and arse. Since you hadn’t made any noise there was still an opportunity to get away without him noticing, and just as you start to move backward, he stands up with some kind of cake half in his mouth, and the other two hands full of all kinds of pastries. He is wearing your favorite black turtleneck sweater. “Y/n !” he tries to say, still with food in his mouth, with a bit of a guilty “I ate everything” look. “Georgie!- I mean, George, Geo, George,” you reply, instantly regretting it. “Would ye care for something? There’s all sorts o’stuff in here” he says smiling. “Yes, actually I was hoping for some eggnog…” you reply. “Oh lemme get that for ye,” he says, as you watch him go quickly to the glasses cabinet that’s next to you. You notice his long arms and his scent reaching above you to the cabinet as he does it, and he asks, “Would ye like it chilled or shall I heat it up a bit ?” “Just cold, please, thanks,” you reply. He settles next to you with the glass on the countertop. He serves some for himself too, and he motions you to clink your glasses together with a goofy smile. “Oh wait, I forgot to add some cinnamon on top” he says. Just then, you see Alan, your boyfriend appears at the door.

“Y/n! There you are, been looking for you”. He steps in next to you and puts an arm around your waist, “I’ve seen you somewhere haven’t I? Oh yes, you’re that guitar lad, of course. Didn’t know you two knew each other?” You and George look at each other. George awkwardly starts “Um, yes, you could say that” you quickly add, “Yeah, we met at? Where did we meet George?” You two turn pink, and you strut to the fridge to avoid being seen, leaving George with Alan. “We met at uh, one of me concerts…” Just then, John, Paul and Ringo walk in and Alan continues, “Oh cool cool, to what conservatory or uni did you go?” There was an uncomfortable silence, and then, turning down his eyes, George said, “ well, I learned the guitar by meself I guess, didn’t really go anywhere to study since I was 15…” “Oh well, I guess you don’t need to know how to read and write to make a show on stage do you?” he jokes looking at you, and you start to get annoyed at him for his impertinence, “excuse him George, he doesn’t really know much about artists…” you try to say to fix things to no avail, “It’s actually very lucky that you got to do one of those non serious professions innit?” he says to George “Wish I’d get payed loads for strumming on a guitar, I myself play a bit” “Well then you’ll very well know that it’s pretty damn difficult.” said John including himself in the conversation, and Paul adds “actually, John and meself can’t really play solos, so that’s why we’ve got George, cos he plays  all the difficult parts,“ and John went on "Yeh, you should try and see how much he practices, this guy’s obsessed with his guitar, very strong and agile fingers he has…I reckon that serves more than one purpose though, back in the day you should’ve heard the noise, all night, we couldn’t sleep back when he had a girlfr–” Ringo suddenly nudged John to stop him talking. “A dog, a dog, he used to, uh make him howl all night, you know… when he sang,” said Paul, talking matter of factly, and Ringo and John just looking horrified at each other. “Sorry about your dog…” said Alan confused and not really sure what to make of that. “What do you do, Alan?” said Ringo, kindly, “Oh, I’m an engineer, biomechanic, actually” he said proudly. “Oh Georgie here used to be an electrician, wasn’t he?” said Paul, “Just shut it, Paulie,” said John. George was embarrassed by that so to change the subject he asked, “and how long you and y/n been goin’ out?” “About, six months,” he replied, falsely, it was only two weeks. George felt his heart sink at this and left the kitchen. His main point in coming here was to win you back. You’d broken up because of George’s touring.

Later you go into the living room to help everyone tidy up the cabin. The Ronette’s Christmas record is playing. You are instantly drawn to the big Christmas tree. It smells like freshly cut pine. It already has lights on it, so you start putting some ornaments on it, trying to distribute them evenly. You see a very nice candy cane colored sphere, and you decide you want to put it on top of the tree so it can stand out, but the branch you want to put it on is just barely out of your reach, so you stand on your tiptoes and can see your hand shake as it tries to reach the branch, “Let me help you with that,” you hear George say when a slender hand takes it from you and finishes the job for you. Your backside bumps a bit against his chest as you stand down and regain your balance, and he steadies you with his hands on your shoulders. “I want to help too with the tree you know? It’s me favorite” he says grinning widely. “Well, come on and help me then!” George keeps trying to grab your attention goofing off with the ornaments, but you’re too busy to notice him, and peering through the branches you see two brown eyes in the midst of Christmas lights and green spikes. You blush and remember how last year you’d spent the best Christmas together. In the midst of this daydreaming, you feel something spikey fall on your head, and you look up to see George drop a garland on you, laughing. You hoop the remains of it around him. He doesn’t complain as he sees you wrap it further around him with his arms trapped beneath him. Both of you are now trapped and get a laughter attack. You can’t stop, you look at his toothy smile and completely forget everything around you. Suddenly everyone has left for the dining room, and you and George are left alone under the Christmas lights. “I thought you’d wait for me, luv,” “well, you didn’t specify that requirement when you broke up with me…would’ve been much easier, do you know how hard it was to find a replacement for you?” “I just thought it was…understood, I never thought it was final, like just a temporary eventuality y'know?” he said. “and what about that girl that was next to you earlier?” you asked, and he replied “you’re one to talk? Besides, I’ve only just met her on the way here, nothin’ going on there. Fortunately or rather unfortunately it’s impossible to replace ye,” He looked at you with that heavy brown gaze for what seemed like 1 hour, and then he got closer to you, and removed a dust fluff from your hair, but just then, you heard Alan asking around “Has anyone seen y/n?” Which made the magic end, and George quickly stepped 2 feet away from you. “Y/n, babe, c'mon, dinner’s ready and I’m starving." 

At dinner, you are seated at the exact opposite headboard end of the long table as George. There are candles and delicious food everywhere. Alan plants kisses on your cheek repeatedly and you limply hold his hand. You look up and you can see George frown from his seat. George gets jealous and finds a chocolate-dipped strawberry and licks the chocolate off it. As he does it, George catches you looking at him and he winks and smirks at you, sending all kinds of signals to your feelings. He accidentally gets some chocolate on his cheek remaining there for the next 40 minutes, (John, Paul, and Ringo preferring to laugh at this than tell him about it). You decide to do something about it, so you take your napkin, you get up, walk up to the opposite end of the table, and without stopping you make a face at George to follow you. You wait for him in the corridor just outside the dining room. It is only lit by the Christmas tree lights in the living room. He catches up and you say "You’ve got some chocolate on your cheek dear,” followed by a surprised “Really?” from George, who gives you a disbelieving look. He towers over you,  so you have to reach a bit high to proceed to rub the chocolate off with your napkin. Suddenly, he grabs your wrist and stoops to kiss you. Unable to process what’s just happened, you get weak in the knees and hold on to his neck. He moves his hands to your waist and tightens you around him as close as he possibly can. You can hear your quiet heavy breaths, as you both break the kiss and look into each other’s lust-filled eyes. “I better get back,” you say, as flustered, disappointed, and turned on as you could possibly be.

Back at the table, everyone seems too distracted talking to notice you were gone. You just sit at your place and look at George’s pinker than usual lips. Unable to do anything else, you just cross your legs and make a mental note to finish yourself off later. 

Christmas eve comes the next morning, and as you look out the window you notice it had snowed. 

There is to be an orange picking excursion. So everyone is getting ready to go out. George is in a huge coat at the kitchen, as usual, munching on some gingerbread cookies. He sees Alan approach him. “Listen. I know you have a history with y/n, but the fact is that we’re in a relationship, and I would appreciate it if you stayed away from her… ” he heads to leave the kitchen, the whole time, George hasn’t stopped eating cookies, when Alan suddenly turns and says’’ actually you know what? Speak another word to y/n and I will beat your slim arse down to a pulp you get that?“. As he leaves, John Paul and Ringo enter, already dressed. "What was he on about?” said Ringo. Putting down his cookie, George replies “Just some thing about me not talking a word to y/n or he’s gonna beat me up,” “And if he does that then we’ll beat the shit out of him too,” said John nonchalantly. “Oh, but you’ll do it won’t you, John? I can’t afford to get punched in me eye at this moment” said Paul. “ What’s this all about? ” you say as you enter. “Your nasty boyfriend told him that he couldn’t talk to you the rest of the day,” says John, passing by. “Of course we’re not following his advice though,” adds George, “What? Who is he to tell me what to do?” you said. You instantly go looking for him, and as you find him say “Listen, Alan, we’ve been going out for two weeks only, and you have no right to be threatening my friends like you did.” “Well I don’t care, I catch you two talking and I’m going to beat him up.” “I will talk to him whenever I please, and by the way, this is over,"  and before he could answer anything you went out the door.

 Everyone is already at least a mile ahead of you. You can’t really tell who’s who because everyone has a huge coat on, though you could tell which one was George because of his peculiar strut and long legs. You catch up to him and poke him from behind. You hide from his view as he looks round to identify the person making him turn 360, and you say, "Do you by any chance have any cookies left, Mr. Gingerbread man?” He reaches down to his pocket and says “Um, I do actually, ” he gave you a wrapped gingerbread girl. “Knew ye’d need some, so I saved this one for ye.” “Aw, I can’t believe you mustered the self-control to not eat it though,” “Well, I wouldn’t waste the opportunity, it was pretty hard to find since apparently most gingerbreads were normal fellas and didn’t have a dress I had to take'em all out from the jar to find this one.” he chuckles. You unwrap it and give it a bite. You walk in silence for a bit and then you blurt out “I just broke up with my boyfriend,”. George turns to look at you with a huge smile. There’s some snow on his fringe, and he picked you up and twirled you in the air. You reached up to him and kissed him. He grabbed your hand and slowed down the walking pace, making you fall behind from all the others. “I know a better place to pick oranges,” he led you through a perpendicular path, and as you walked through the green and snow-white pines, he asked “So, my efforts were enough after all to get you to break up with your six-month boyfriend then?” “Six months? We’d only been going out for two weeks… lying prick” “Wait up!” You heard John, Paul and Ringo shout, as you turned around and saw them running towards you. "We also want to pick oranges, you know?” said John. “You hate oranges,” said Paul. You arrived at a small gathering of orange trees. John started throwing snowballs as soon as he got his hands on some. You gathered a bit and threw one at John. Suddenly you felt one land on your shoulder. George had thrown it and quickly hid behind a tree. You turned around to see him with an “Oh no you didn’t expression” and quickly grabbed the biggest bunch both of your hands could hold and threw it to him right in the face. “Come on, we mustn’t get distracted from the oranges,” said Paul you say, “I agree with Paul,” you say. All of you start picking all you can find, and the basket is soon getting full, though John never mustered up the attention to bring them back and ended up throwing them at someone, it was enough with the ones the others picked. You jumped up to catch one, and only just missed it. When you feel George’s arms wrap around your hips and lift you up. You’re surprised and you feel your stomach going down, and instead of catching up to the orange, you screamed “George!” and in an effort to look down and putting your hands over him, you make him lose his balance and you see his wide-eyed surprised face as you both fall backward with you landing on top of him. “Thanks for breaking my fall,” you say, as you start planting kisses all over his jawline, and he tightens his grip around the many layers of coats you have on. “I’m being attacked! Help! ” he joked, and he rolled you over which resulted in you getting a freezing feeling on your back, but it didn’t matter because he started kissing you madly. The bristles from his Eskimo coat tickle your face.“They look like a couple of bears goin’ at it don’t they, Ringo? With those huge coats of theirs you can hardly tell who’s the fella and who’s the girl” “I’m just glad they’re back together, you know?” said Ringo. “And I hope this doesn’t interfere with our schedule though. Should’ve thought this through…” said Paul “ Come on fellas, let’s give them some privacy, ” said Ringo, and they left. 

George was on top of you kissing you lovingly, he slips his cold long hands under the many layers of your clothing, when all of a sudden, Alan appeared in between the trees. “Sod the hell off of my girl you sleaze.” He says as he gets closer. You both get up and fix your clothes. George says “Ah, she ain’t your girl no more. She’s me girl and always has been, and anyway, she doesn’t want to talk to you,” he says, protectively walking in front of you. Dodging George, you decide to take care of this and walk determinedly to Alan. “Didn’t you hear earlier, we’re done, so please, leave us alone,” “I wasn’t talking to you, you slut,” he said as he pushed you hard making you fall to the ground. George quickly went to your side and helps you get up. “Are you okay dear?” he says. Before you can answer you open your eyes at the sight of Alan lunging at George and pinning him to the ground, and as he’s about to punch George you quickly get up and try to grab Alan by the arm to drag him back, you wrestle with him from behind and after putting all your weight behind you, you separate him a bit from George but just then you receive an elbow directly in your face. Knocking you dizzy to the ground seeing lights everywhere. Alan turns around and tries to attack you, but George acts quickly and as he pulls him away from you says, “Don’t you dare touch her!” George says, he grabs him by the collar, and pushes him down to the ground, and starts punching him down without a shred of pity. You’d never seen him as mad. Alan’s face is already bloodied when you see the guys running towards George. “What the hell is goin’ on here?” says John. “I’m going to bloody kill him, he hurt y/n,” says George as he continues to punch him. Ringo gets behind George and starts dragging him back, John does the same with Alan, “Don’t you dare come near her again you twat!” still wrestling with Ringo to get free and attack him again. “Well, this poor fella looks like he hasn’t got a nose no more, I doubt he’ll come looking for more.” said John “y/n!” said George as he runs towards you and kneels next to you. Blood was trickling down your nose as you seemed to be coming back from half-unconsciousness. George quickly grabs a handkerchief from his pocket and applies pressure to your nose. “Are you okay, luv? You were very brave back there,” “and you’re my knight in shining armor” you answer he says as he lifts you up bridal style and starts carrying you back to the cabin. “Can we help?” said Paul, “Uh, who’s gonna carry the guy?” says Ringo.  John and Paul go and carry him by the ankles and wrists. “This guy’s gotta have his bags and a taxi waiting when he wakes up,” said John. “Y/n, next time, would you mind maybe not breaking up with George so we don’t have to, y'know, get into trouble?” says Paul. 

Back at the cabin, George lays you gently on the bed. He helps you take off your coat. He goes to your drawers and pulls out a clean set of pajamas and lays them next to you. “Here you go, luv,” he says and he turns to the door to leave, “well, I’ll uh, leave you to it,” your head is still pounding, and you find it hard to do anything. You look to him, and say “Help me, please?” making a sad puppy face. George blushes, and lowers his gaze to the floor. “Um, it’s not like you’ve not seen it before, Geo,” He agrees and goes to you.  You look at his brown over-grown mop top as he bends at different angles to take off your many layers of clothes. You see his lashes and close-knit eyebrows concentrate trying to tell on which is the front and back side of your tank top, turning it one way and then the other, deciding which one looks like the front. “The backside is the shorter one.” you say chuckling. As he dresses you, he ocasionally presses tiny loving pecks to your skin, and then he settles you in between the covers and  settles your pillows behind you so you can be comfortably sitting up.

 "Thank you so much for standing up for me, Geo, it’s rather hot I think,“ "Oh you think so?” he says cheerfully. You knew he was too shy to come up with an appropriate answer to that, but you could see it made him a stand up bit straighter. He disappears for some minutes, and this time he came back with a tray packed with all kinds of snacks and a cup of hot chocolate. “Here you go luv,” he says smiling sweetly as he carefully puts the tray in front of you. The whole jar of cookies seems to be in it. “You’d swear George was y/n’s auntie or somethin’ if you hadn’t walked in on them that time, ain’t it, Paul?” “Bugger off,” said George, as he stood up to close the door. 

The next day you wake up with George wrapped around you still with yesterday’s clothes on in the twin-sized bed and you’re happy just to watch him sleep, you wonder what he was up to last night, he looks tired, but you remember. It’s Christmas! So you shake him to wake him up, but unfortunately, this causes him to move too much and before he can wake up and be fully conscious of what’s happening, he falls off the bed. You hear him groan a bit, but then he wakes up fully, lays his elbows on the bed, and with a big toothy grin says “Y/n, it’s Christmas!” So he drags you out of bed, and like a little kid, rapidly goes down the stairs and straight to the tree. It seems you’re the only ones that haven’t grown up yet because the house is still dead quiet. As you focus your eyes on the foot of the tree, you see a vase with a bow, and the most beautiful magenta-colored flowers you’ve ever seen, and next to them a beautiful patterned watercolor of your initials. You get on your knees to see them up close and see that attached to them is a card that says “For y/n from George, Happy Christmas xxx,” you turn round to see him squatting next to you a bit uneasy, and he says “I’m so sorry I couldn’t get you a real proper present, it’s just that all this was improvised, and I didn’t really think you’d get back together with me so-” you shut him up by giving him a big hug and a loving kiss. “I love it, Geo, they’re the most beautiful flowers I’ve ever seen, how ever did you get them? And this painting? I’m going to frame it!” You both hear several footsteps approaching, and you turn around to see it’s Ringo, Paul and John coming. “What, no flowers for me George?!” says John in a high-pitched voice. “You should’ve seen, y/n, Georgie here going crazy yesterday all afternoon, the bloody bastard dragged us to look for an area where these flowers grew,” “We bailed out after half an hour, though George was out there till just before dark,” says Ringo. “And if that wasn’t enough, he still kept me up all night asking if the design or the colors for the painting were turning out alright! I tell ye, that’s definitely not what I went some months of art school for,” your heart beats for George as you find out that he’d pulled an all-nighter just to make your Christmas. You then noticed his wrinkled clothes had some dirt on them, and he even had a blue stain on his forehead and some purple on his chin. Your heart bursts for this. You panic when you remember you didn’t get him anything, how were you supposed to know? Everyone is now with their own presents, you reach for George’s hands, “I- I’m so sorry I didn’t think of making anything for you,  how could I make up for it?…I had no idea that…” and as you look at his long fingers he slides them to your waist, and you look up at his face he looks at you with a smirk and a gleam in his chocolate eyes “Well, I’ve got a couple of ideas… actually they’re four…or six?”, and he gets up and says to the others “Um, I think I’ll see everyone till evening, so Happy Christmas everyone,” and he quickly swoops you over his shoulder and as you giggle, carries you upstairs to the bedroom.  Despite missing dinner, you later consider that this was certainly a very happy Christmas. Fortunately you had plenty to eat upstairs.