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mithranqueersmusings · 4 years

Text

Before This Dance Is Through I

Chapter: 1/16

Rating: T

Summary: Ringo's being going through a dry spell for the last year or so and when he regretfully tells his best friend John, he insists on taking them to an all-male strip club for some "fun". Ringo isn't sure whether it's the alcohol, his desperation or a mixture of the two but he thinks he might be falling in love with a stripper.

Tags: AU - Strippers, Modern Setting, Smut, Slow Burn

Pairings: George Harrison/Ringo Starr, John Lennon/Paul McCartney

AO3 link here / Fic masterlist here

It had been over a year since Ringo had sex, but the only thing worse than that was telling his best friend John drunkenly one night. John never seemed to have any trouble finding someone to sleep with, it was like second nature to him, but still neither of them seemed to be making any progress in the relationship department. Ringo had never been a massive fan of one night stands, but at this point he'd take anything he could get; John on the other hand seemed to prefer them, the amount of notifications he got on his phone from Grindr or Tinder, or whatever new app he was trying out, was astounding. In general John was more open - and obvious - about his sexuality, sporting a pin that read 'sword swallower' almost every time they went out. Ringo wasn't ashamed to be gay, that was far from the truth, but he just never seemed to align with the more flamboyant expression that a lot of gay men tended to follow. Despite all this, it didn't stop him from allowing John to drag him out to Pride every year covered in glitter and cheap boas, or to a gay club every other weekend, or in tonight's strange case: a strip club.

The two of them tried to meet up at least once a week to have a catch-up and tonight was one of those nights, it had started with dinner at Ringo's place but ended up - as it often did - at the pub. John was very open about his sex life, Ringo didn't particularly mind but recently it had been bothering him since he had no stories of his own to share. It was difficult to pinpoint exactly why it had been so long, it seemed like in the blink of an eye a few months had turned into over a year. He was just always so busy with work and when he wasn't working he was either sleeping or with John, there was just no room for another person; although his bed did feel incredibly empty. Ringo knew that all it would take would be to follow John's confident lead, to get dressed up - or down - and to seek somebody out in the club, or even try one of his "dating" apps, but as he got older Ringo just didn't feel incredibly comfortable doing that. He had begged John to not drag them out to a club that night, which he begrudgingly agreed to, but it then lead to the dreaded question.

"Well how long has it been since..." John finished the sentence with a raise of his eyebrow.

"Since what?" Ringo chuckled nervously behind his drink.

"Since you had a good shag." John widened his eyes dramatically, stretching his neck forward.

"Erm... Not that long." Ringo mumbled then desperately took a sip of his beer.

"Jesus, that long?" John tutted and leaned back in his chair "Why didn't you tell me? I could've set you up with someone."

"No offence but I'm not massively interested in your 'friends'." Ringo bent his first two fingers to make air quotes.

"There you go again talking about 'interested in', it's just sex Ringo!" John raised his voice a little, a telltale sign he was getting drunk.

"Keep your voice down, Jesus." Ringo hissed "I'm just sick of all the meaningless sex, alright?"

"You say meaningless like it's a bad word." John chuckled then sighed when he saw Ringo's disapproving look "Fine, fine. But that doesn't mean we still can't have some fun tonight."

"No, John. I am not in the mood for a club tonight." Ringo said plainly.

"I didn't say anything about a club." John grinned in his signature way, a way that made Ringo panic.

"What then?" Ringo asked cautiously.

"Well..." John began, drawing out the word "There's a little place I've been frequenting that might interest you."

"Out with it, Lennon." Ringo rolled his eyes with a small laugh.

"Just hear me out, okay? Because as soon as I say the word you're instantly gonna say no." John had put his drink down now, meaning he was being 'serious'.

"What word?" Ringo huffed.

"Strip club." John spoke quickly "That's two words but you get my point."

"No." Ringo said simply.

"Come on! Why not?" John whined, reaching his hand forward to pull at Ringo's sleeve.

"Because I don't want to. The last thing I need is some lad giving me a lap dance and I cum like that." Ringo clicked his fingers to emphasise his point which made John laugh.

"You're so modest." John giggled "It'll be fun, I swear. If you don't want any meaningless sex or whatever, you may as well go the next extreme."

"That makes no sense." Ringo was trying not to smile but it was difficult with John.

"Look, you're probably gonna go home tonight and wank to some boring, twinky porno, right? How's it any different to go and watch some beautiful, twinky dancers in real life? I'll tell you how it's different, it's better." John had begun pointing his finger with almost every word.

Ringo sat in silence for a moment then burst into laughter "I hate that you know me so well."

"I'm your best friend, it's my job. It's also my job to get you out of this rut you've gotten yourself into, and if you won't let me set you up with anyone and I'm guessing you won't let me get you a prostitute..." John paused and looked at Ringo with hopeful eyes.

"No." Ringo scoffed.

"Then you have to at least let me take you to this strip club. It's not that seedy, I promise. There's some gorgeous guys there, and I mean gorgeous. You don't even need to get a lap dance or anything if you don't want to, we can just sit at the back and drink, just like we're doing now." John retained his hopeful gaze.

Ringo paused once again, screwing up his face slightly in thought then let out a heavy breath "Fine."

"Really?" John almost gasped.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. I'm just about drunk enough to go along with this." Ringo laughed "Let's just go now before I change my mind."

The two of them downed what was left in their drinks and headed out into the night. Ringo pulled his coat close to his body as they walked down the street, John leading the way excitedly; Ringo couldn't remember the last time he'd seen him so happy. It was cold enough to justify getting an Uber, but Ringo didn't think he'd enjoy the knowing look on the driver's face when he dropped them off at a strip club. The walk to the gay quarter of the city was a familiar one, it was almost exclusively where John spent his time therefore where Ringo would find himself at the end of most of their nights together. Ringo was aware of a few more 'adult' establishments in this part of town but sometimes it was hard to tell the difference between what was a sex shop and what was merely a gay bar with a raunchy name. It didn't take too long before they'd arrived outside a fairly large building painted all black with neon trimmings around the doors and windows and a few people outside smoking; they passed John a knowing nod which Ringo was hardly surprised by.

"The Helter Skelter?" Ringo asked as he read the sign, turning to John.

John shrugged his shoulders "It's phallic, I suppose."

The inside looked considerably less questionable than the exterior, but it was also incredibly dark. As they entered one of the bouncers greeted John warmly, and Ringo was certain he'd seen him in the morning at John's at least once or twice. The music was loud to say the least, it probably wasn't any louder than it was at the club but the whole atmosphere made everything seem more claustrophobic. There were two bars that Ringo could see, one near the entrance and one towards the back which gave a better view of the main stage. The scantily dressed men hadn't caught Ringo's eye immediately, though he was consciously trying not to stare, but once he noticed them it was hard to ignore; almost all of the men walking around were shirtless, some of them in nothing but a jockstrap and a bow-tie or a hat - Ringo wasn't sure whether that was meant to be sexy or comical. He suddenly felt very aware of his presence and couldn't feel like he could walk much further than the door, but John was already sauntering in like he owned the place, which he probably wished he did. John turned around when he noticed Ringo wasn't beside him, gave him a frustrated look and hurried back over to his side.

"What's wrong? Cock got your tongue?" John winked but it didn't help Ringo relax in the slightest.

"I should probably go home." Ringo murmured, he didn't feel like he had full control over his mouth.

"Don't be a git, we're here now. Let's just get a drink and observe, okay?" John didn't wait for a response, instead he practically dragged Ringo over to the bar.

The bartender offered John his usual and Ringo ordered the same, not knowing exactly what he was ordering but his brain didn't feel able to process the question.

"How often do you come here?" Ringo asked when the bartender turned around to make their drinks.

"Not as often as I'd like." John was already perusing the crowd.

"But why?" Ringo turned his back to the club, feeling unable to look at the spectacle on the main stage.

"I dunno, I just like it. Mixes it up a little. It's an art, you know? But its like... sexy art." John rambled and Ringo couldn't help little out a low chuckle.

"Sexy art? Sometimes I wonder why I'm still friends with you." Ringo mumbled.

The bartender returned with their drinks and the two of them muttered a thanks, Ringo began drinking it desperately to calm his nerves. Out of the corner of his eye he could see John mouthing words to someone across the room, as much as he told himself he didn't want to know what was happening he couldn't help turning in his seat to get a better look. On the other side of the club was a man meeting John's gaze and mouthing back at him, he was holding a tray of drinks and serving a group of men without breaking eye contact. Once the tray was cleared the man gave a smile to the customers then began walking over to the two of them. He was one of the few men actually wearing a shirt but his bottom half was almost entirely exposed, wearing tight, black shorts and boots with a sleeveless, white shirt with a black bow-tie to match, it was supposed to be some kind of a 'sexy waiter' costume Ringo guessed. He had a very pretty face, Ringo had to admit, with dark hair and large, doe eyes and a fairly slim body; yet the petite appearance he had was counteracted by his body hair, of which there was quite a lot, with his arms and legs covered. Ringo wasn't trying to stare but it was difficult when someone looked so inviting, but the man hadn't given a single glance to Ringo as he walked over, rather his eyes were fixed on John's entirely.

"Fancy seeing you here." The man spoke, he had quite a soothing voice.

"Haven't scared me off just yet." John grinned but then turned to look at Ringo "Where are my manners? This is my mate, Ringo. It's his first time in a strip club, can you believe it?"

"Virgin, eh?" The man laughed "Well we'll have to make sure you have a good time tonight, won't we?"

Ringo felt his face getting a little hot with the man looking directly at him, he let out a nervous laugh "I'll probably just stick to drinking."

"Come off it, we're gonna get you a lovely lad." John nudged him playfully then turned back to the man "Who's working tonight?"

"Same old. Except, we do have a newbie that started two weeks ago." The man smiled somewhat devilishly "He moved over from the joint that shut down, what was it called..."

"Honey Pie?" John replied a little too quick.

"That's the one. Awful name." The man chuckled.

"I can agree with that." Ringo spoke after taking a final sip from his drink, signalling to the bartender to get another.

"Well he's up on stage next I think, in a few minutes or so." He gestured to the stage where a man was currently on all fours twerking to a Britney Spears song "Could give you some time alone, Ringo, while I take care of your friend here."

Ringo gulped and looked over to John who had his eyebrows raised suggestively "No harm in looking, I suppose."

"That's the spirit, Rings." John smirked "We'll just finish up our drinks, when the new guy's up I'll come and grab you, yeah?"

"Sure thing, love." The man winked then headed back off into the club.

Ringo had already almost finished his second drink, gripping tightly onto the glass as though it would crush his nerves somehow. John slapped him on the back warmly, ordered a second drink for himself and leaned on the bar so that he could get a view of both Ringo and the rest of the room.

"You two seem to get along." Ringo had tried to sound jokey but the tension in his body was immense.

"Oh yeah, me and Paulie go way back." John chuckled.

"Paulie?" Ringo asked.

"Well his name's Paul but you know me, I love my pet names." John finished the last drop of his first drink.

"Not much of a stripper name is it? Paul." Ringo chuckled quietly.

"Well he's a stripper and his name is Paul." John was looking at Ringo a little worriedly "What should he be called?"

"I guess you're right. I just figured it was like porn stars or something." Ringo let out a heavy breath and tried to straighten his back, he'd been huddling over the bar as though it would protect him somehow.

"Well you better not make that mistake again. That'll get you kicked out before you can say 'latex jockstrap'." John picked up his second drink now.

"Why do I feel like you're doing this to punish me?" Ringo groaned.

"Loosen up, Ringo. Let's get another drink in you and we'll see how you feel, yeah? I'll stay with you if you want but I figured you might be a little more comfortable without me hovering around." John motioned to the bartender for another round "All you have to do is sit back and watch the bloke dance, is that so hard?"

"It might be hard, that's the problem." Ringo laughed, he felt himself loosening up a little.

"I wouldn't worry about that, they probably take it as a compliment. Hell if I was grinding on a bloke's lap and he didn't even get a semi I think I'd slap him one." John patted Ringo on the back again, a lot harder than he probably intended.

John continued trying to get Ringo to relax for the next several minutes and it seemed to work, although Ringo felt the alcohol was the main factor, and it wasn't too long before the stage was emptied and a voice came over the club announcing the next dancer: Spike.

"Spike?" Ringo asked with a giggle.

"Oh so Paul isn't stripper enough but Spike is too stripper? Make your mind up." John got up from his seat and motioned Ringo to do the same.

They headed over to the seats that surrounded the stage, Ringo wanted to sit at the back but John shoved him forward to the front. Before he vanished off in search of Paul, he reached into his pocket and fished out a couple crumpled notes which he then thrust into Ringo's hand. Ringo stood there dumbfounded for a moment before music began playing and he quickly sat down in a chair, he regretted how close he was to the stage immediately but he figured it might look a little insulting if he moved now. He tried looking around for John but he was nowhere to be seen, neither was Paul for that matter.

Ringo recognised the song quickly, it was 'Fame' by David Bowie and it was some consolation that the music was at least familiar but then he began to worry whether he'd be able to listen to it again without this memory coming back to his mind. He didn't have very long to worry because someone was walking out onto the stage, and Ringo swore for a moment his heart stopped. Spike, although Ringo seriously doubted that was his real name, was absolutely gorgeous. He came out in a mesh vest and purple baggy trousers, his dark hair was slightly coiffed - an attempt to give him a Bowie look - and his face was insanely chiselled. Ringo's mouth dried up almost immediately and he cursed himself for not bringing a drink with him, a part of him wanted to get up from his seat and rush out of the club but an even larger part was desperate to stay, to watch.

Spike made his way slowly down the stage, swaying his supple hips as he walked, a serious and sultry look in his eyes. There was a fixed pole in the middle of the stage which he gradually moved over to, standing in front of it then lowering himself down to the ground with his legs spread wide with one hand ghosting over the pole and the other running down the inside of his thigh. Some of the other men in the club had already begun whooping, yet Ringo didn't feel like he could make a noise if he tried. Spike then began thrusting his hips slowly into the air, rolling them in a circle with his mouth slightly hanging open. He lowered himself onto the stage floor so that he was balancing on his knees, he straightened his back and ran the hand that had previously been gripping the pole to run over his chest. His slender fingers began toying with the fabric at the bottom of the vest, his other hand mirroring the first, and he raised his eyebrows just slightly in the direction of a group of men who called out incoherently to answer the unasked question. Then the vest was peeled off his body agonisingly slow revealing a toned chest beneath it, and Ringo suddenly realised he'd been clenching his fists tight enough that his nails had begun to leave marks.

Ringo swore he was feeling light headed, his vision felt a little fuzzy and his heart was racing. Spike had continued moving his hips to the beat of the song, one hand roaming over his now bare chest. Much to Ringo's dismay he began walking off the stage into the crowd, first heading over to the group of men Paul had been serving earlier to collect the notes they were eagerly waving in the air. There weren't too many people in the club, it was a Wednesday night after all, which meant Ringo wasn't as hidden as he'd like to be. When he saw Spike turning his gaze to look at him, a bank note currently between his teeth, he felt his heart drop. Both of his fists were clenched in his lap and his heartbeat sounded almost as loud as the music, but worst of all he was hard. Shit. If it would've looked rude to have moved seats earlier, it would have been like a spit in the face if he got up and walked away now.

Ringo wasn't sure if Spike could see the intense panic he was currently experiencing, perhaps that was the very reason he was coming over. He continued to sway his hips as he walked, his brooding eyes fixed unshakably onto Ringo's, a small smirk on his thin lips. Spike looked Ringo up and down, his tongue darting over what looked like rather sharp teeth, before he turned his back on him and began lowering himself down onto his lap. No contact was made, instead he hovered painfully close over Ringo's growing erection, grinding his hips with his hands sliding over the silky material of his trousers. It was torture, but just about bearable. Ringo was gripping the arms of the chair ridiculously tightly, he wondered if he'd be able to break them through the power of his panic alone. He focused on controlling his breathing, but it was increasingly difficult when Spike looked over his bare shoulder and licked his top lip sinfully. You can do this, Ringo kept telling himself, and he almost believed it until things got much, much worse. There was a ripping sound and Ringo felt all the air leaving his body, he couldn't even prevent the rather pathetic moan that left his lips; Spike had torn off his trousers in one fluid motion, throwing the discarded fabric onto the stage, revealing nothing but a jockstrap underneath.

The group of men began cheering again, one of them urging Spike to come back over but he didn't pay them much attention. Instead he turned back around to face Ringo which only made things more difficult - hard would've been a better word to use - with Spike's bulge almost eye-level with Ringo and his sharp face looking down at him. Ringo looked up to meet his dark eyes and felt like he could've orgasmed then and there from a single touch but before he could get too used to the sight, Spike was returning to the stage. Ringo had no idea how a single song had managed to last this long, but apparently it had, and he was almost certain he couldn't survive another minute of it. When Spike had begun wrapping himself around the pole, Ringo forced himself to get up from the seat and find the nearest bathroom to cool off. While a part of him was still worried about appearing disrespectful, he wasn't quite prepared to be reduced to a pile of sweat and moans in front of all those people.

In the bathroom, which was thankfully empty, he splashed his face with cold water and stared at his face hard in the mirror to gain some sense of normality. Part of him wished he'd be able to hide in there until the club closed but unfortunately that wasn't a valid option. He took a few deep breaths and headed out of the bathroom, making a beeline to the bar near the entrance and ordering a drink immediately. Spike was still on stage dancing to another Bowie number, but Ringo forced himself not to look. Two drinks later and Ringo felt an all-too-familiar slap on his back as John reappeared into his sight.

"What you doing sulking over here?" John asked, he had a very satisfied grin on his face "You're missing the show!"

"Fuck you." Ringo chuckled, the glass in his hand was almost empty.

"What? Why?" John scoffed.

"Look at him, he almost killed me!" Ringo gestured drunkenly over to the stage.

"Jesus, I'll be honest I didn't expect him to look like that." John snickered "You can't tell me you didn't enjoy it."

"A little too much, if I'm honest." Ringo sighed "But right now I'd love to go home and have a very, very cold shower."

"You sure I can't tempt you to a private dance?" John nudged him.

"No." Ringo said firmly, but his speech was a little slurred "Home, now."

"Fine, suit yourself." John groaned "Did you at least give him some money?"

Ringo paused for a moment then reached into his pocket, pulling out the same notes John had given him "Oh, suppose I forgot. My mind was a little preoccupied."

"Who raised you?" John scoffed, snatching the money back "The money's not for you."

"You do owe m-" Ringo began but John cut him off.

"Don't start with that." John was looking out across the room again and motioned for Paul to come over.

"You want another one already?" Paul purred after hurrying over and looking down at the money.

"Not tonight, love." John winked "Can you pass this on to the new fella, Ringo was too busy trying not to cream his pants that he forgot to tip him."

Paul looked over at Ringo with a smug smile "Enjoyed the show then?"

"Depends on your definition of 'enjoyed'." Ringo mumbled into his drink.

"I'll make sure it gets to him." Paul swore as he took the notes from John and tucked them into the waistband of his shorts, Ringo debated how hygienic that was, then disappeared into the club once again.

There was a silence between the two of them for a while before John began to laugh for no real reason, and Ringo couldn't prevent the contagious nature of it, so the two of them sat laughing at the bar for a few minutes. When the silence fell again, Ringo was the first to speak.

"Now can we go home, please?" Ringo urged, discarding his empty glass on the bar.

"Fine, fine. Thanks for coming with me tonight, and more importantly: you're welcome." John got up from his seat and Ringo sluggishly followed him.

"For what?" Ringo asked.

"For giving you something new to wank about." John giggled.

#the beatles #beatles #beatles fanfic #the beatles fanfic #beatles fanfiction #george harrison/ringo starr #ringo starr/george harrison #ringo starrxgeorge harrison #george harrisonxringo starr #starrison #mclennon

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patsdrabbles · 4 years

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He’s Mine

Title: He’s Mine Fandom: The Traveling Wilburys Pairing: Bob Dylan/George Harrison Rating: Gen Word Count: 2402 Summary: There was a woman standing in the hyacinth flowerbed. An in-universe AU of my WIP Dylarrison fanfic “Planting Trees”; things don’t happen/get revealed like that in the main fic. The gist is the following: Bob is between a broken engagement and a new album that needs to be written and escaped to a mansion he bought in the middle of an English forest. There he meets George, who has explanations for everything. But some things are for Bob to be found out on his own. A/N: Part 20 of my Daily Fanfic Chocolates calendar :D For the prompt “’my current partner is a huge asshole and I need a reason to break up with them, so will you pretend to be my possessive and violent ex’ + Dylarrison” sent to me by both @savoy-brown-shoe and @siliconpine! I put a little twist on it, but I hope that’s alright! ^^ Please enjoy ❤

(links to AO3 and the DFC masterpost are in the reblogs!)

There was a woman standing in the hyacinth flowerbed.

Bob knew so, because he spotted her first on his walk with George through the garden. George had wanted to teach him more about the plants growing here and their proper care, and Bob had found it all too easy to agree.

Instead of learning about flowers now, however, they approached the woman, who just remained where she stood as they got closer.

It was the fur coat that should have told him, Bob later thought in retrospective.

It was the honey-voiced yet sharp “Bob!” that made him realize that trouble was ahead.

Before the bafflement left him, enabling him to utter the important question of what the hell she was doing here, in England, George already spoke up.

“And who’s that, standing in my hyacinths?”

George frowned and Bob had never seen him so pissed off before. Huh. Maybe he did have a chance of getting out alive of this after all.

“That’s... Macy. The woman I cheated on my ex-fiancée with like an idiot.”

George halted, then nodded knowingly when he remembered – one of the few things they both remembered of their recent drunk late-night conversation.

“Macy–” George started, then paused for a moment, not knowing her last name and regretting the loss of emphasis his address had because of it. “Firstly, I would kindly ask you to get out of my hyacinths.”

She shrugged carelessly, but stepped out of the flowerbed at last. Bob expected George to relax thereafter, but he was clearly mistaken. The tension in George’s shoulders only seemed to increase as he stepped closer towards her.

“And secondly, I would ask you to leave right now and not return, before I get really angry.”

She laughed.

She laughed in his face and showed off teeth that suddenly frightened Bob. They looked canine, and for a split moment, he could have sworn that her eyes flashed yellow and her fingernails were literally sharp as razor blades. He instinctively took as step back.

“Sure, dearie.”

She gave George a put-on lascivious grin and once-over that made Bob want to gag. She was gorgeous, yes, and it had been the last straw to doom his already doomed relationship, but now that he saw her in the daylight? Quite frankly, she was scaring him. And his list of reasons as to why currently kept growing by the minute.

“But I’m not gonna leave without dear Bobby here.”

She said it in a way that would have a bystander think that she was simply implying having a good time, but there was an undertone to her voice that told him that he was a dead man if he followed her. Potentially, literally dead.

“Well, sorry luv’, but I don’t think so.” George’s voice had dropped quiet, but it had a dangerous undertone.

“Dear ‘Bobby’ here... he isn’t going anywhere. Lest of all with you.”

A low, rumbling sound started to fill the air, and it took Bob a handful of seconds to realize that Macy was growling.

“Is that so?” she asked, and when had she moved to stand face to face to him?

Suddenly, faster than his vision could comprehend, a hand grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and he was being yanked forward.

“You’ll thank me, trust me,” she said with a honeyed voice as her grip on Bob’s shirt tightened.

She only got one step farther before George stood right in front of them, hissing. And fucking hell, had his teeth always been so damn sharp?

“He’s mine, and you are going to let go off him this instant, or you’re not going to leave this place alive.”

For some reason, Bob knew that he wasn’t making empty threats and a shiver ran down his spine.

Without a word of warning, he found himself yanked out of Macy’s hold and pushed behind George and thereby out of her reach. Which was good, because the very next moment, George was already pinning her to a tree with both his hands as she struggled against his grasp. Her fur coat seemed to blur, and Bob squinted, not sure if he had gone insane or was simply panicking.

But in the end, there was no denying the fact that Macy, the woman, had just turned into a huge... wolf?

The wolf was still struggling against George, but his grip didn’t only look vice-like but seemingly was it, as well, and he didn’t let go of her once.

“You will leave this place. You won’t ever return here, either.” He leaned in and let his teeth flash again, staring sternly into the eyes of the wolf who Bob was only then beginning to comprehend was Macy.

The wolf – Macy – turned her head to the side, trying to evade his gaze.

“He is mine to enjoy and you won’t get a bite of him, not now, nor ever.” George turned his head and gave Bob a soft smile that made Bob get weak in the knees for a multitude of reasons. He wasn’t anyone’s anything but he wouldn’t correct George; he could see what game he was playing. “I know a good thing when I see one and you? Are late.”

George leaned in and bared his teeth again, and for the first time since Macy’s unexpevted appearance, the cogwheels in Bob’s head began to turn, and he finally, finally began to understand a good amount of things about George – including the reason why Macy had overtaken herself when she decided to challenge him.

George was not the janitor’s son. Or perhaps he was, but then his dad must have died a very, very long time ago.

Bob had a lot of questions, but all of them disappeared to the back of his mind when George simply picked up the wolf – Macy – and marched her right off the grounds. Hesitantly, unwilling to end up being torn into literal pieces, Bob followed the two of them. He should probably be running, leave before George returned, but for some reason, he wasn’t worried about him. He found that he was the opposite of scared. He felt save with George.

George’s hold on Macy didn’t loosen for a single moment, and by the time the house behind them had noticeably shrunk in size, she was starting to transform back into her human shape.

“Rrrrrgh – let go of me!” were her first words, but George just shrugged.

“You came into my house, young lady–” He grinned, but there was a dangerous glint in his eyes. “You play by my rules, and those are to be nice.”

She just snorted and he shook his head as if he were disappointed by her. “Trust me, I could have hurt you if I wanted to – and you really made me want to earlier – but... I won’t.”

She kicked against his shin then but he simply kept walking. Bob didn’t have words to describe what he was feeling right then, but it was an odd mixture of pride and awe and relief.

When George set her down, he kept hold of her with one hand, which seemed to be enough to keep her in place. That came as a relief to Bob since now she wasn’t only throwing George deadly glances, but him, as well. This time around, however, he didn’t take a step back. He remained where he stood with a safe distance to the two of them and kept watching.

“How sweet. Your food is already following you.” Macy laughed. “Does he know that if you want to, you can kill him? That he won’t be a forever-young rock star if you decide against keeping him?” She looked George in the eye and smiled. “You know that he used to be quite famous, right? Are you up to date on the music scene? Because that man was quite something... ten years ago or so.”

It’s a stab at him but Bob couldn’t have cared any less. George already knew who he was, had for a while. It didn’t matter. It wasn’t like George was going to make a go for his blood anyway. Bob was pretty sure of that, although he wouldn’t have been able to explain why.

“Or do you maybe want your own, personal... rough-voiced songbird?” Macy raised an eyebrow, looking genuinely interested now.

George remained silent for a moment, then shook his head.

“I don’t owe you an answer, and I hope you’re aware of that.”

She grinned. “But...?”

“He has other skills that are worth keeping him around for... for now.”

She laughed, and this time it sounded genuine. Meanwhile, George’s tone of voice wasn’t the only thing that had had a shiver run down Bob’s spine. No, much rather it was the implication of George’s lie that had caused Bob’s breath to hitch.

“Look, I’ve spent a lot of time and money following old Bobby here.” She looked around herself with an evaluating glance. She also seemed to see or smell something in the trees at their side, judging by her tilted head and suddenly narrowing eyes. “Allow me to go on a hunt on these grounds – I’m assuming they belong to the mansion? – and I’ll go. Sounds fair?”

George remained quiet for a moment, then nodded.

“I’d hardly call showing up on someone’s flowerbed and demanding his lover fair, but I see where you are coming from. But these are Bob’s grounds, not mine. You’ll need to get his permission.”

Their gazes met, and George nodded gently once Macy had turned her head to look at Bob.

She grinned, and her teeth were sharp, and Bob just wanted for her to be gone.

He lifted his shoulders in a slow shrug and murmured: “Sure, go ahead. But don’t kill off the entire forest population, alright?”

He already anticipated another one of her laughs, but instead, George spoke up again.

“You swear on your life to stand by your word? You get to hunt on the grounds today, but you won’t ever get closer to the mansion than this.” He pointed at the section of the road they were standing on. “And you won’t ever return here after today, nor follow Bob ever again?”

She looked back at Bob for a moment, then at George again, and smiled tightly.

“You have my word.”

George nodded and let go of her. She kept standing in front of him for a moment, considering her next move, and looked toward the forest again.

“Alright. Goodbye then.”

She turned around and left to their right, turning into her wolf form the very second she broke into a run.

George and Bob remained standing in the middle of the street for a long, silent moment.

“I... cheated on my ex-fiancée with a murderous wolf?” Bob finally managed to get out.

You told her I was your lover? was what he wanted to ask as well, but didn’t.

“Yes?” George eyed him carefully, waiting for the other shoe to drop and Bob starting to run away. He honestly wouldn’t have blamed him.

But that moment never came.

“Thank you, George. That was–” Bob met his eyes and gave him a weak smile. “Thank you.”

When neither of them said anything further, Bob pointed toward the mansion with a movement of his head. “Let’s get back, huh?”

They slowly made their way back, George constantly checking the woods to their sides for movement, but relieved that there was none, and Bob walking quietly next to him, mostly staring at the ground, lost in thought.

Back inside the mansion, however, Bob stopped walking the moment they both had crossed the threshold.

“You are not going to kill me. Even though you are a vampire or something like that and easily could.”

It wasn’t a question but a statement.

George took in Bob for a moment. He should have known Bob better, trusted him more. He wasn’t sure when he could ever have brought up the matter of “by the by, I’m undead”, though. It didn’t matter anymore anyway; Bob knew now. And he was still there and trusted him.

“I won’t. And yes I am and could, but I won’t. You don’t know how hard I tried not to, and now I found a way, and–”

“George, you’re babbling.”

Bob was smiling and George took a deep breath.

“I’m sure you have a few questions.”

“I have a great load of ‘em. But that can wait for later. For now, just– Thank you again. I didn’t know what Macy was till earlier, and you saved my life, literally.”

Also, you are really strong? And you said I was your lover in a way that convinced even me it was true for a second? was what Bob didn’t say but thought as he saw what had happened pass again in his mind’s eye. He had been a hell of a lucky bastard, having had George by his side when Macy had appeared.

He was a hell of a lucky bastard to have George by his side, full stop.

Even though it was as a friend and not, as George had implied for the sake of his subterfuge and keeping Bob safe, as a lover.

There was still the matter of George’s former fiancée.

And even that aside... Bob was unsure if George really reciprocated those – he would have had to admit to it to himself eventually anyway, so he might just do it today – feelings he was starting to develop for the other man.

George gave him a soft smile. “It’s alright.”

He looked at Bob with a concerned gaze, and only then did Bob realize that he was shaking.

George spoke up again. “I could go collect some herbs in the garden, but...” He shook his head. “I trust she’ll stay away from the mansion and, more importantly, you now, but... Better not take any risks.”

Bob raised an eyebrow in question as George’s gaze got lost in the distance and he scratched his chin.

“I think we have a tea in the kitchen that should do the job, though, as well.”

George smiled as he reached for Bob’s hand and took it in his.

“C’mon, let’s get something for the nerves.”

Bob followed him – trusting him with his life, in fact, and shaking more than before now that George’s colder hand held his own hand, gently.

#dylarrison #the traveling wilburys #the traveling wilburys fanfiction #bob dylan #george harrison #ttw ff #my posts #my fanfics #pat writes #He's Mine #Planting Trees #vampire!george #Daily Fanfic Chocolates #fanfic advent calendar #21.12.2019 #2019 #savoy brown shoe #savoy-brown-shoe #siliconpine

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itsbuckysworld · 5 years

Text

HELLO SPRING DAY 6

Pairing: Teacher!Bucky x Teacher!Reader Category: Teacher AU! Warnings: fluff bomb! Two idiots in love acting like preteens with crushes. Word Count: 2K i went sooo ham. Guest Appearance: Steef and Sammy

Summary: It’s picture day at their Middle School. Mr. Barnes is wearing his best definitely not to impress Ms. Y/L/N, and Ms. Y/L/N is wearing her best, definitely not to impress Mr. Barnes.

Day 6: Photograph, for my Spring Short Story Writing Event

YOUR OUTFIT \\\ /// MR.BARNES

Bucky fixed his small bowtie with a wide grin as he looked at the kids walking in, being dropped off by smiley parents, and wearing their absolute best. It was picture day at St. George’s Middle School, and his class had won both first and second place at the state science fair, so besides taking individual photos, the kids had earned their own page on the yearbook, a photo congratulating their success and their teachers’ as well, so he’d insisted they come dressed to the nines and ready to have fun, promising them he would come in his best outfit as well.

He got chuckles and comments from Sam and Steve, his coworkers, when he walked into the teacher’s room early that morning in search for coffee, but he kindly reminded them that only teachers with award winning classes got to dress as fancy as him. “Ya sure that’s the only reason you’re spiffed up as if you’re going to the met gala?” Steve commented with a slight raise of his eyebrow, half ignoring Sam’s confused glance at his choice of words. “Spiffed up, it means well-dressed” “Don’t use complex words in front of Wilson, you know how he gets” Bucky mocked, trying to avert the focus of the conversation off of him. “I understood, what I don’t understand is why you and Y/N haven’t jumped each other bones yet”

Ah there it was, Bucky rolled his eyes over the rim of his coffee mug.

Y/N the newest addition to St. George’s teacher council, a science teacher, been there for a little over a year and had already won his kids the top spots at the competition last month by being the catalyst for their newfound love for science. Ever since she had accidentally spilt her coffee all over him during a lunch period, back when she was only two months into teaching at this school, Bucky had been smitten, but that’s something he didn’t want anyone to know, more specifically Steve or Sam. So he evaded every Y/N talk with his two friends, at all costs.

Except Steve could read him too well, and he wasn’t able to keep the secret from Sam, who wasn’t blind either, and so the teasing was always present. Specially when he was so easy to read, exiting the teacher’s room as soon as her name was mentioned, setting way to greet his students coming in.

Was he extra dolled up for his photo with both his class and Y/N? Maybe, but he was not going to admit it out loud.

“Good morning Mr. Barnes!” claimed little Harrison, giving him a high-five as he was coming in. Bucky was just finishing answering the young boy when he heard Steve call his name barely above a whisper from down the hall. His blue eyes shot up, only to find his childhood best friend using his head to point not so discreetly to his right. As Bucky straightened up and looked, his breath was knocked out of his lungs.

There you were, coming in the school grounds with your books clutched tight to your chest, the characteristic blue pen you always kept behind your ear. Your blouse was adorned with butterflies, much like the ones fluttering in his tummy, a flowy summery yellow skirt complementing the outfit and you looked so young and bright and beautiful that he’s sure his heart is not going to be able to contain itself in his chest.

You walk down the hall, wiggling your fingers in his direction as a hello, and giving him your brightest smile. It’s not until you’re almost walking right past him that he shakes his head and blurts out an excited “Hi! Morning!” to you. Your giggle is like music to his ears and watching your figure walk away down the hall is all he can do – that and try not to drool – as he sees the swish of the skirt with each step you take, your hair free and bouncy as you say hello to everyone you encounter down the hallway. His eyes meet Steve’s knowing ones when he stops looking at your distant frame, and he’s smacked back to reality, clearing his throat and shrugging at Steve – as if saying “pshh, I was not staring at her, im totally cool” – and fleeing his best friend’s intense stare when the bell rings.

He has the reddest cheeks when he begins his morning announcements.

Steve and Sam’s banter doesn’t end, it only resumes as they stand in line waiting to get their picture taken for the yearbook, it only subsides when you walk in and join them, talking about anything and everything. Even though they are not verbal about his huge crush on you, he can feel it in their glances and their inside jokes that keep coming up now and then. His contributions to the conversation are minimal and space-y. It’s difficult to make whole sentences when you’re around. How did he become a teacher again? He’s supposed to know how to fucking talk. “Now best dressed award goes to you Y/N” Sam implies, smiling over at Bucky all too knowingly. You blush slightly and laugh, fanning your face jokingly. “Why thank you, Mr. Wilson” “Looking to impress anyone?” Steve continues and it takes everything in Bucky not to step on his friend’s foot and shut him up. “Hmmm, maybe, maybe not” you say and the glance you give Bucky has his mind reeling. Did that mean anything? No way, no fucking way. He stammers, but the coy glance is over before he can fully register what just happened. “We’ll see” you say and walk over to the table with refreshments to get yourself a bottle of water.

He can’t get it any harder even if he tried. You already had your photo taken and of course you look amazing in it – he has yet to see it, but he just knows – and now here you were making light conversation with him as you waited for the kids to take their photo. You don’t have to, but you like his company and he’s weak at the knees when you tell him so, thinking back to that look you spared him. He really does try his best to maintain a logical conversation that doesn’t showcase how lovestruck he is over you, but it’s so damn hard. He’s sure he’s complimented your outfit a good three times in the course of the day, but each time he does, he wins one of your giggles and it’s worth it. He also takes note that you didn’t giggle the same way when Sam had told you you looked cute and he has to almost slap himself to not look too much into it.

His class walks in, all of them in an organized line, all prim and proper, two of them holding onto the trophies they had snatched and it feels his heart with pride. You grab his arm and squeal, equally happy they’ve done such an amazing job, and his heart flutters in his chest. That’s got to be some medical condition he needs to get checked, but at the same time, you two look like proud parents at their kid’s graduation and the image doesn’t go over his head.

Breathe Bucky. Breathe, he tells himself as the two of you stand behind the posing kids, shoulder to shoulder and you decide to wrap your arm around his for the photo. “Mr. Barnes should hold the trophy for one photo!” one of the children says and he’s quick to retract. “No, no. This is all your effort. If anything, Ms. Y/L/N should hold one” your hand tugs at his when he finishes his sentence that has caused the kids to debate up a storm on which adult should hold what. He looks back at you. “No no. I agree with Mr. Barnes” you say and he’s always adored how you say his last name, probably more than when you call him by his first. “The trophy is yours guys” “Miss, we want you to hold it for a photo, you too Mr. Barnes” Morgan, one of the preppiest and smartest in the group speaks over everyone else, and they all agree as they place one of the trophies in Bucky’s hand, the other on yours.

You give him a shrug and a quick wink, and all he can do is stare with a dumb grin on his face, but you’re looking right back at him and he really likes it. He could look at you for hours, his eyes dancing over your features, memorizing them, appreciating them. “Could we get the teachers looking at the camera?” the photographer adds, snapping you out of your trance, getting you to turn to look at the camera. He stammers and chuckles nervously through an apology, and your giggle is in his ear, causing him to have trouble breathing.

He’s got a tight grip on your hand as he helps you down the stacks placed to organize the kids on the frame and not have anyone covered by someone taller on the front. The kids are all laughing and murmuring, their pitter patter fading in the back, exiting the gymnasium and on their way to the next class. You trip slightly and his hands rush to your waist to stabilize you, the apples of his cheeks red as they have ever been and the sight is endearing. “Thank you” your voice is barely above a whisper as he slowly lets go of you, but remains close, at half arms reach. His blue eyes find yours. Your smile mirrors his, shy and nervous. Flirty. And in a quick spurt of confidence, you stand on the tip of your toes and press your lips to his cheek, a millimeter away from the corner of his mouth.

Ok, now his cheeks are redder than ever. Warm and fuzzy is how he describes the feeling that small peck gave him, from the tip of his toes to the last strand of his hair.

The two of you stand there, for who knows how long, because time is irrelevant right now as Bucky processes and rehearses something to say. Meanwhile you beat yourself up in your head. So awkward, so awkward so awkward! You have ruined everything!

The school bell cuts the moment short, making him almost jump a foot away from you and you both clear your throats. “I should… I-” he points over his shoulder making a silly face and dancing on the balls of his feet. “Yeah, yeah, sure! I have uh…” you laugh nervously. “Class and, and, and-” “Exams to grade!” you hum in agreement, raising your arms and looking at the ceiling as if saying sooo many exams “And, you know…” he chirps in, clapping his hands awkwardly and rubbing his palms together. You sway to and fro, playing with the hem of your skirt and nodding obsessively at nothing. “Totally! Me too” he starts to walk away, cursing himself under his breath. What in the world was that? No, fix it Barnes, fix it now.

He’s halfway the distance to the door when he does a 180 and returns to stuttering, his hand nervously and furiously scratching at the back of his head. “Hey so…” “Yeah?” the response is too quick for your liking, how silly of you, why are you such a mess when he’s around? “Uh, maybe we- we could… you know grab some coffee after? And grade! Grade those assignments” “Yeah! Grade ‘em! Of course!” “Yeah, it’d be easier, right? If we- If we” “Got it, yeah... I’m free” “You are?” you nod frantically, cheeks blazing hot. “Good! Good, good” he stares at the patterns on his shoes “Great” “Awesome”

Bucky bites at his bottom lip, hands sunken down deep in his pockets and you’re no different, fingers intertwined behind your back to keep yourself occupied. In a few short steps, Bucky’s regained the distance he put between the two of you, pressing the quickest peck on your cheek before rushing back away, he clears his throat, letting somewhat of a laugh escape, and then is out the gym with his shoulders up to his ears.

He feels like a schoolboy once again, and you’re not far away, swishing your skirt from side to side, your lip between your teeth and a coy giggle deserving of the schoolgirl with a crush award, hand on your chest as you sigh in relief. Oh, finally.

feedback is greatly appreciated and encouraged!! I WENT HAM WITH THIS AND OH THE FLUFF. I ALSO EXPECT TO WRITE MORE TEACHER!BUCKY IN THE FUTURE. Be it college, high school or middle school teacher, I have a lot of mr. barnes inspo, and Ms. Y/L/N as well.

Hope you enjoyed it!

#IBW: Hello Spring 2019 #ibwhellospringday6 #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes au #teacher!AU #teacher!Bucky #AU #fanfiction #fluff

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givemequeen · 5 years

Text

going to pride with The Beatles

(not my picture; source) request: Beatles x reader hcs modern au, where reader is either not cis or not straight and they go to a PRIDE PROTEST!! I think it'll be really cute. (Also lgbtq+ for the win) a/n: i chose bi reader because if you know you know and sorry if i say anything wrong about pride. i want to go but i can’t because of several reasons. so yeah ALSO GUYS FEEL FREE TO ASK MORE lgbtq!reader :))) pairing: The Beatles x bisexual!reader summary: going to pride with them x year: physically early 60s (63-65) but its 2019 so modern au? word count: 597

paul:

when you came out to him he was like ‘sicko’

of course, he cared in an ‘i-love-you-thanks-for-telling-me’ way

but wasn’t like ‘this-changes-everything’

was so happy when you asked him to go to pride with him

he had never been, he had heard of pride but never been

he had always wanted to go so when you asked him he went all out

he bought bi flags for both of you and got t-shirts and everything

let’s just say he went all out

and you loved it

when you guys got there the morning of pride he had a lil surprise for you

turns out he got u backstage tickets to every performance

AND he is performing

his show is the last one and it’s so romantic

it’s aimed at you

just love songs

with a gay twist

you loved it. he loved it. everyone loved it.

george:

was kinda like Paul

pretty chill about it

going to pride was great!

fans didn’t run to him

mostly cause not that many people noticed him

he wore big funny Halloweeny-pride glasses, a hat and painted a pride flag across his cheeks

you laughed so much when you saw him

“oh shut up yn. it’s cute”

“sure is Harrison”

since both your identities were hidden the day was pretty sick

George loved it because he hadn’t gone out like this (without anyone knowing him) in so long

he was fucking hypnotized by your big smile as you jumped around and danced at an after party

enjoyed it a lot and put it on his calendar to go next year

john:

john was a bit surprised

he didn’t know much about it

so you told him all about it

when you found out

how you found out

the next day he surprises you with a pride flag and a very cheesy sign that said “come to pride with me”

you were like “when did u make that??” but didn’t question it

he was very excited because he just was okay

you were also surprised but accepted since you had always wanted to go to pride

john has already gone once

mostly by accident cause he was piss drunk and didn’t know were he was

so he held ur hand tightly and led you through it

all the fans were pretty chill

they all asked wtf was he doing but he just said moral support/fun cause he didn’t want to ‘expose’ you

it was so fun and John loved it

“erm yn...” he said after you got ready for bed. you put down your book and looked at him, he sat in front of you at the foot of the bed

“can we go again next year?”

ringo:

he had so many questions

but like in a cute way

not annoying

you asked him to come with you to pride

his eyes lit up like a little kid in Christmas

he was so curious about everything

so he bought everything he saw

then he took you backstage and you met all your favourite (gay) artists

Ringo kinda just sat back and let you enjoy the night

you were a bit sad since you thought you were boring him so when you went up to him at an after-party he was like

“wait what- i’m not bored, i just dont want to hold you back, y’know?”

“hold me back?”

“yeah, do your thing.”

“Ringo you’re not holding me back!”

“promise?”

“promise, now come on. i want to party with you!”

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mithranqueersmusings · 4 years

Text

Before This Dance Is Through XII

Chapter: 12/16

Rating: T

Tags: AU - Strippers, Modern Setting, Smut, Slow Burn

Pairings: George Harrison/Ringo Starr, John Lennon/Paul McCartney

AO3 link here / Fic masterlist here

The following morning, Ringo made the snap decision of deleting the app and cancelling his subscription. He was surprised at how easily he was able to do it, staring at the blank space of where the app used to be. Whether it looked strange or not he didn't truly care, at least that's what he told himself, because whatever George thought of him didn't matter. It never mattered, even right from the beginning. The conversation last night, if it could even be called that, just proved to him that George just wanted to mess around with him because he knew that he could; and he really could, even Ringo didn't know how much he'd be willing to put up with just for George's enjoyment. But he wasn't going to do that anymore, he wanted to believe that it was a matter of pride, that he didn't want someone to know that they had that much of a hold on him, but he knew that wasn't the case.

The true reason he had to distance himself now, before things got much further, was because it would just hurt too much. He couldn't sit around hoping that George liked him, reading between the lines of everything he did or said and trying to piece together what it all meant. He couldn't really afford it either.

Of course George didn't like him. How could he? After how pathetic Ringo had been: almost losing his mind just because George touched him, trying to hide behind a fake profile and failing miserably. This wasn't like him, he'd never acted like this about a guy before, and that had to be a bad sign.

As he got ready for the day he swore to himself he would never set foot in that club again, no matter how much John might beg. It was just too degrading, and far too painful. Behind all this shame and anger was the stinging realisation that he truly liked George, someone he would never be able to have. Even if George didn't have his rule, there was no way he could be truly interested. Ringo was nothing but a game, easy prey to be played with. Part of him wanted to just give in, to allow himself to suffer as long as it meant he could look at George, to merely be in his presence. But it would kill him, because soon enough George would get tired of him and he'd be left right back where he started: utterly alone.

Luckily Ringo had work to distract him, the activity days he'd been participating in had resulted in a few more students and even though Ringo knew most of them weren't going to last, it would at least get his mind off things. Ringo had been particularly taken with a young boy who had expressed big dreams of becoming a famous drummer; he reminded Ringo very much of his younger self in many ways. It was a little bittersweet, to see a child so happy, remembering how happy he'd been at that same age then to compare it to all the issues he was battling all these years later. Maybe it wasn't the best distraction after all, but it was a sure sight better than being stuck at home on his own.

He'd seen John a few times but he was being strangely reclusive, which usually happened when he was going through a 'creative period' so Ringo was careful not to pester him too much. Even if he was able to get John's undivided attention, he wasn't sure he'd completely want it. After all John had the ability to read Ringo better than anyone, and he'd no doubt realise something was up before Ringo even opened his mouth. He didn't want to tell John about everything that had happened, not yet, but there was no chance he'd be able to look John in the eye and tell him that everything was alright.

Ringo ended up having the entire week booked with lessons, which was pretty uncommon for him, but with the summer holidays beginning a lot of children or younger students felt like picking up a new hobby to fill their spare time. In an hour one of his new students would be arriving at his place for their first lesson; occasionally a student wouldn't have a drum kit of their own, so Ringo offered his own up for the first few lessons to allow his students to get a feel for whether they really wanted to commit to drumming or not. After all, Ringo was one of the more affordable drum teachers in the area, and kits could be ridiculously expensive so he was very sympathetic to people who might not be able to afford their own.

He'd tidied up the place in the morning, throwing away all takeaway containers and rushing about with the hoover. First impressions were important, and he couldn't imagine this student being very likely to return for a second lesson if the makeshift classroom was an absolute pigsty. It was a hot day but he still tried to dress professionally, wearing a burgundy shirt with the sleeves rolled up and loose black jeans.

The doorbell rang out through the flat and Ringo hurried over to the door, taking a deep breath and putting on the warmest smile he could manage before opening it. The smile died almost immediately, his heart sinking in his chest.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" Ringo blurted out without thinking, louder than he'd intended.

"Is that how you talk to all of your students?" George grinned, he was leaning on the doorframe like a jock in a teen movie.

Of course it was George. Why wouldn't it be? As if traumatising him several nights ago wasn't enough, he just had to turn up at his house too. Ringo supposed he must've been someone truly rotten in a past life if God was going to treat him like this. What part of 'I don't want to see George again' didn't he understand? Maybe he should start wishing he'd never see a winning lottery ticket, or a brand new car.

Ringo didn't say anything, just stood there gripping the door. Could he slam it in his face? Because that's what he felt like doing. It wasn't anger at George, not really, after all he hadn't necessarily done anything wrong. It was just rage at the entire situation, that seeing George had smacked him in the face with the realisation that he couldn't just ignore these feelings in hopes that they'd vanish.

"I just figured I'd switch things around a bit. You're always visiting me at work, so why don't I come and see you?" George cocked his eyebrow.

"But this is my house." Ringo responded dumbfounded.

"Well if you had an office or a studio that's where I'd be, but since you don't..." George let the rest of the sentence hang in the air, he looked at Ringo expectantly as though he wanted to be invited in.

Ringo was almost certain he hadn't blinked since he'd opened the door, he'd just been staring at George as though he'd vanish if he looked long enough. He was wearing sunglasses which were resting on the end of his nose, allowing Ringo to see into his glittering eyes; they were small and rectangular, Ringo thought they would've looked ridiculous on anyone else. He was wearing the fur coat he'd worn on the night they'd gotten a drink, a night Ringo had fruitlessly attempted to forget.

This was the real decision: was he going to let him in? He had paid for a lesson, but Ringo had a sneaking suspicion that George had an alterior motive for being here. Allowing him into his house would really be admitting defeat, accepting that he couldn't fight these feelings. Was George really here just to mess him around? It seemed a little extreme, even by George's standards.

It had been very easy for Ringo to tell himself that he was going to get over George - why he needed to get over someone he'd never actually dated was a problem for a different time - but being confronted with the sight of him now made it abundant that it'd been a lie. Just seeing George made him happy, made his stomach flutter and his heart stutter, and that was never going away.

"Come in, I guess." Ringo tried to maintain his cool as he stepped aside and George sauntered past him.

George scoped around the living room, Ringo wasn't quite sure what he'd been looking for. Seeing him here was very strange, something he'd only seen in his late night fantasies.

"Nice place." George said simply, moving around the small space.

"Thanks." Ringo took a few steps into the room "How did you find me?"

"Believe it or not there's not many drum teachers called Ringo around here." George moved over to inspect the drum kit.

"Are you seriously here to drum? I don't want to seem rude but-" Ringo was getting a little exasperated.

"Is that so hard to believe?" George grinned once again and Ringo felt weak in the knees "Maybe I just wanted to see you. Could be either one."

"George, please... Don't." Ringo sighed, he couldn't look at him.

"Don't what?" George took a step towards him "I can leave if you like." He paused "Is that what you want?"

"I-I don't know." Ringo stammered, he felt his face hearing up "Why are you doing this?"

"Doing what? I just thought it'd be fun to come and see you." George paused again, for a moment he dropped his typical demeanour "I thought I'd scared you off."

"What do you mean?" Ringo found the strength to look at him, the grin was gone and he almost looked scared.

"Nevermind, this was a bad idea. I should just go." George shook his head and began making his way to the door.

Ringo moved instinctively, grabbing George's wrist as he tried to push past. It wasn't a tight grip, far from it, but it was enough to make George stop in his tracks. This was the first time Ringo had touched him like this, intentionally and without any encouragement, and it felt a little strange. He could feel the heat and softness of his skin, pulling that soft hiss from George that came with the sudden coldness of his rings.

"Don't... Don't leave." Ringo spoke in a quiet voice.

"Okay." George responded in kind, almost shakily.

Ringo gingerly let go off his wrist, George slowly turned around so that they were facing one another. The hallway was small, there was only a little distance between them, yet none of them moved. The silence was thick, clouding Ringo's mind as he looked up at George who returned the gaze intensely.

"How did you know it was me?" Ringo was desperate to break the silence, he couldn't bear George looking at him like that any longer, but he didn't dare say what he really wanted to.

George laughed, it was quiet and a little husky "You really wanna know?"

"Yes." Ringo let out a small chuckle.

"Well I had my suspicions as soon as you asked me how I was." George explained with a smile "Most people who message me don't bother with the formalities."

"Oh, I see." Ringo felt a little embarrassed "What else?"

George let out a sigh, breaking their eye contact and placing his hands on his hips, a little frustrated "Ringo, you know when we're at the strip club, it's not just you checking me out. You do realise that, don't you?" George began "I know you're probably too freaked out to notice, but I'm looking at you too."

"But... You never saw me naked." Ringo tried to look back on their conversation in his head, desperate to make sense of it all.

"In real life, sure." George turned his face to look at Ringo directly again, his eyes were serious but his lips were curled playfully "I noticed things about you, Ringo. Small things."

George took a large step forward, closing the space between them completely. Ringo let out a quiet gasp, pressing himself against the wall in an attempt to get away, but there was nowhere to go. George lifted his finger to push gently at Ringo's shirt collar, tracing over his neck and top of his chest lightly.

"When I'm this close, I can see the shape of your collar bones, how smooth your chest is." George pressed his other hand flat against Ringo's thigh "I'll notice the shape of your legs, your hips, your waist. Do you understand?"

Ringo nodded, he knew if he opened his mouth all he'd be able to let out would be a pathetic gasp or moan. George was proving his point a little too well, Ringo felt even more panicked than he did whenever George would be this close to him at the club. But wasn't this what he'd wanted all this time? The two of them finally alone, far away from that place.

"If that answers your question, I've got one of my own." George only needed to whisper for Ringo to hear him, his breath was hot against Ringo's cheek "All those things you said, did you mean them?"

Ringo gulped, this was all too much. George's finger tracing along the outline of his collarbone, his thumb rubbing the inside of his thigh. The hands were bad enough but even worse was George's stare, his dark eyes saying so much and yet still unreadable. Ringo had never been this close to his face for so long, it was usually his arse or crotch or something equally as explicit, and he felt like he was truly seeing him now. Why did he have to be so gorgeous? Ringo doubted he'd put up with this much stress for anyone else, in fact he knew he wouldn't.

"Yes." Ringo breathed out, he felt his body tencing in anticipation - he expected George to pull away, that wolfish grin on his face, only to leave without a further word.

"Really?" George's voice faltered a little and Ringo looked at him worriedly "You think I'm beautiful?"

It wasn't the direction Ringo had been expecting, he let out an exasperated laugh in shock "Seriously? You're seriously asking me that?"

"What?" George moved his head away sightly but his hands remained in place "It's not something you hear a lot in my line of work." His attitude was quickly returning, but Ringo couldn't forget that slipping of the mask.

"You're beautiful, George." Ringo admitted, he moved his own hand from where it'd been glued to his side and lifted it to brush against the softness of George's face, he flinched very briefly "I thought that the moment I saw you."

George laughed, his eyes darting away quickly, it was something Ringo had seen a million times with John whenever he tried to genuinely compliment him about something John was insecure about - which was most things.

"You're not making this easy for me, are you?" George asked with a little sadness in his voice.

"Me!?" Ringo exclaimed with a hearty chuckle, letting his hand fall from George's face "Do you know the amount of agony you've put me through?"

George began to laugh too "Couldn't help myself."

They stayed stood like that for a while, both laughing with almost no space between them. George still hadn't moved his hands and Ringo was very grateful for it, he'd gotten so used the the feeling.

"So I take it you don't actually want to learn to drum?" Ringo asked, he felt surprisingly calm.

"Well that's not strictly true." George began but broke his sentence off with a laugh when he saw Ringo raising his eyebrow "Fine, fine... I just wanted to see you. Happy now?"

"As long as you're still gonna pay me." Ringo responded with a smile.

"Oh, is that how it is?" George began rubbing his thumb over Ringo's clothed thigh again.

"I don't see you dancing for free." Ringo retorted.

"In your dreams." George let his sharp teeth poke through as his grin widened.

"And what about your dreams?" Ringo asked almost in a whisper.

"I think you know what I want." George moved his face even closer, breathing against the exposed skin of Ringo's neck.

"What about your rule?" Ringo felt himself warming up a little.

"You're not my customer. You're my teacher." George chuckled, his mouth mere inches away from Ringo and he had to stop himself from holding his breath.

"What if I don't sleep with my students?" Ringo asked, his voice was higher pitched than usual.

"Then I'll just have to convince you to change your mind." George punctuated his sentence by finally closing that small space, pressing his wet lips against Ringo's neck and kissing it roughly.

Ringo felt like he was in a dream, in fact this was one of his dreams, but it was really happening. George moved his hand up to Ringo's waist and scraped his teeth lightly against the sensitive skin on his neck. He pressed two more kisses as he gradually moved upwards, then removed his mouth entirely and brought his head to rest against Ringo's. He'd seen George's glare countless times before, but never quite like this, knowing it was purely for him and him alone.

"You said you'd do anything to have me. Well, here I am." George practically purred the words and Ringo didn't waste another second, locking their lips together so roughly that it knocked George backwards until he was pushed up against the opposite wall.

George didn't respond at first, no doubt in shock, but as soon as he registered what was happening he was reciprocating Ringo's vigour with ease. Ringo cupped his face desperately, soaking in the joy of finally being able to hold him like this. George's hand cupped Ringo's hip, the other lightly grabbing his arse. George tasted like tea and smoke, completely ordinary things, yet it was almost transformed into ambrosia for Ringo, he couldn't get enough.

This was really happening. Maybe God had been kinder than Ringo had first anticipated, he only prayed this wouldn't be snatched away from him just as he got used to it. If that was going to be the case, Ringo was going to make sure he used every single second to his advantage, he was going to fight for it. He wanted this, he needed it. He was even beginning to believe that he deserved it.

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mithranqueersmusings · 4 years

Text

Baby, You’re A Rich Man II

Chapter: 2/28

Rating: T

Summary: Ringo could never understand why that group of three boys made him feel so uncomfortable, or why the way George looked at him sent him into a panic. After a chance encounter Ringo discovers the truth and has no clue what to do with the information.

Tags: AU - Gangsters, Slow Burn, Smut, Eventual Romance, Violence, Angst

Pairings: George Harrison/Ringo Starr, John Lennon/Paul McCartney

AO3 link here / Fic masterlist here

Ringo still couldn't shake his feeling of exhaustion, even with what he assumed was a knife poking into his back. The man's grip on his arm was tight but he could still turn around if he really wanted to. Ringo hadn't been in many fights, he liked to avoid them whenever he could because the last thing he wanted was to end up in hospital, he was sick of being holed up in there. His hands were still deep in his pockets and he considered gripping his keys and trying to do a number on this guy, but he didn't like his chances.

"Just give me your wallet, and I won't have to do anything unpleasant." It was a gruff voice, and Ringo could tell even without turning around that they were quite a bit taller than himself, which he was certain why he had been targeted.

"I don't have it on me." Ringo spoke truthfully, his voice was somewhat hoarse with panic "All I've got is some tips from work."

The man sighed and Ringo could feel the knife pressing slightly harder into his back which sent a wave of panic through his body; he didn't carry his wallet on his just in case this exact situation occurred but was he going to be stabbed for taking that exact precaution?

"Bullshit." The man spat as he drove his foot into the back of Ringo's knee, making him fall forward into the ground roughly.

He fell onto the concrete hard, only being able to shield himself somewhat with his hands which got scuffed badly. The man lowered his weight onto Ringo's back, making him unable to move, as he rooted through the pockets of his coat. The mugger pulled out the note from George and scoffed, stuffing it into his own pocket.

"You're lucky you've got this mate." The man drove his knee into Ringo's back harder which made him groan "You can keep your change." He laughed as he cut his knife through the bottom of Ringo's pocket which made all the coins he'd made on his shift to fall out onto the hard ground.

He felt the man shift as he began to get up, chuckling to himself and spitting down onto Ringo who just lay still, not wanting to risk angering him in any way. He heard the man's footsteps walking away down the alley behind him and Ringo lifted his head somewhat and decided he wouldn't get up until he was out of his sight. Then Ringo saw another figure approaching from the end of the alley, he assumed at first that it was a friend of the mugger's and cringed at the thought of them relishing in their victory while he still lay pathetically in the alley. Yet the two appeared to be arguing and Ringo lifted himself up as best he could, he felt winded from the fall and his back was aching. He heard raised voices and suddenly the second figure shoved the mugger against the wall hard and Ringo gasped, he scrambled to his feet as fast as he could and collected all the spilled coins. The figure landed a hard punch on the mugger who fell to the ground only to be met by a series of hard kicks. Was his mugger getting mugged? Ringo couldn't stand to watch it anymore, in a normal situation he'd try and help the victim but he wasn't sure that word applied here, so he moved down the alley as quietly as he could while making small glances behind him to make sure he wasn't being followed. The mugger was being mercilessly kicked and Ringo could hear his cries of pain echo down to him until they stopped; Ringo turned around again to see the second man coming towards him at a rapid pace so Ringo broke out in a sprint.

"Stop!" The voice called out but Ringo didn't stop, he kept running to the end of the alley and gripped onto his house keys tightly as he thought he might have to use them this time.

He was almost at the end and then he'd be free, surely nobody would attack him on a populated street, or at least he hoped. But then, as if his luck couldn't get any worse that day, two more figures turned into the alley and blocked off his exit. Ringo halted immediately as he realised he knew their faces, it was John and Paul. They didn't look at him aggressively, but he could tell for certain that they weren't going to let him pass. What were they doing here? The realisation hit Ringo hard when he turned to look behind him to find George was the one rushing after him, he was the one who attacked his mugger. What the fuck was going on? George stopped a few paces away from Ringo, he had a small cut on his cheek that was bleeding and he was panting heavily. Ringo stumbled backwards into the wall, not feeling as though he could hold himself up any longer. There was silence among the four of them as George held out a crumbled bank note which was covered in specks of blood. Ringo looked down at the money then up at George who's expression was as blank as ever.

"What the fuck?" Was all Ringo managed to breathe out, feeling frozen in place.

"This is yours, isn't it?" George cracked a small smile, his breath was returning to him now.

"Were you following me?" Ringo felt that he already knew the answer but he didn't know what else to say.

"I'm not a big fan of the word 'followed'." John piped up, his arms were crossed across his chest. "Protected has a nicer ring to it."

Ringo's mouth dropped open but no words came out, he was utterly speechless.

"You must be pretty freaked out." Paul spoke softly "We can explain if you want us to, if not you're free to go home."

"So you were following me then? Do you do that sort of thing a lot or did you just get a feeling that I might get mugged tonight?" Ringo's voice was becoming aggressive as he felt himself calming down, he was able to stand up without support of the wall.

"Look, Ringo, we just wanted to make sure you got home alright, that's all." George was still holding out the bloody note.

"You could've just asked to walk me home, that's what normal people do!" Ringo felt his rage bubbling but he didn't think it was really directed at them, he was just confused and scared and tired "I knew there was something off about you lot, you're bloody mental. What did you even do to that guy, did you kill him?"

George scoffed "Course not. I just roughed him up I bit, I wouldn't have if he didn't get me with his knife." He pointed to the cut on his face which was bleeding down his cheek, but he seemed entirely unbothered by it. "I don't expect you to thank us or anything, just take your money and get home." He took a step closer to Ringo with the money extended, but Ringo just slapped it out of his hand.

"I don't want your dirty money. Fuck knows where you even got that from." Ringo scowled "Just leave me alone, let me go home and stay the fuck away from me."

George sighed and looked at the other two who made way for Ringo without a word, they both had a somewhat sad expression on their face. Ringo pushed past them and hurried out of the alley towards his house, as he put the keys in the front door he turned to the alley where he could still see the three of them watching him from the darkness. He held up his middle finger as a last sign of resistance before disappearing into his house. He leant all his weight against the closed door behind him, closing his eyes and sighing deeply. It wasn't very often Ringo felt so rough, he knew he should probably have a bath to clean himself up and calm himself down but he was far too exhausted and all he had the energy to do was to collapse on his bed face first and sleep. As soon as his head hit the pillow his exhaustion weighed down upon him and he struggled to keep his eyes open for much longer, drifting into a deep sleep.

Luckily Ringo didn't have to work for the next two days, he was very thankful that he could stay in the safety of his own home away from muggers and strange men. The previous night played on his mind throughout the day, the hole in his pocket and bruises made it difficult to forget, but he tried his best not to get caught in the whirlwind of thoughts in his head. He spent the first few hours of the day in bed before finally dragging himself to the bathroom to run himself a bath. He looked at his bruises in the mirror as best he could, his back was marked pretty badly along with his knees and hands. It wasn't best to dwell on the negative but Ringo couldn't shake the ghastly feeling he got when thinking about what might have happened if he'd attacked the guy or said the wrong thing. It made him shudder when he remembered the feeling of the knife pressing into his back and he wondered how long it would be before he was able to forget it. One thing he tried his best not to think about was George, the way he witnessed him mercilessly beating his attacker or how pleading his eyes looked when approaching him afterwards. One thing Ringo prided himself on was his accurate judge of character, at least from that horrible ordeal he knew why he had such a bad feeling about those three boys. That was where his train of thought stopped, he didn't want to get lost in theories about who they are or what they did because he knew it'd only freak him out more. His largest worry now was whether they'd come back to his work, or even turn up at his house. It was best not to think about, Ringo decided, as he sunk into the warm bath water with the loud radio beside him drowning out his thoughts.

By the time Ringo returned to work he was no longer sore but was still mentally rattled. Luckily it wasn't too long of a shift today, only 2-7, and he found himself pleasantly distracted as he worked throughout the day. He decided not to take a lunch break so he could finish a little earlier to get as much drum practice in as possible, he'd spent his days off holed up in his room with his kit. He tried his best not to play too loud, but with drums that was almost impossible, and it hurt to play with all the cuts and scuffs on his hands, but he played all he could and felt much better for it; his drumming was his best and only emotional outlet. His colleague came into work around 4 and rushed over to Ringo as soon as he caught sight of him. Ringo did get along with him somewhat, in the way that work colleagues do, but he always had the feeling that he liked him far more than Ringo cared for him.

"Ringo mate! How you doing?" He said with a smile, he almost never started his shift when he was supposed to as he was always chatting with the staff.

"Been better, but not too shabby." Ringo smiled back "How about yourself?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. You'll never guess who was in here yesterday asking about you." He was always one for gossip, and if any news got to him first he liked to parade it around like he'd discovered the meaning of life.

Ringo paused, his heart sank as he knew immediately who it was but nonetheless still entertained the conversation. "Who was it?"

"One of them scary blokes, the ones in the suits. Never seen them apart from each other before, but it was just the one lad on his own, you know the one with the eyes? Proper scary like." He rambled "Came in around 6 yesterday asking if you were working, I told him no and he asked when you'd next be in."

"What did you tell him?" Ringo asked urgently, causing his colleague to raise and eyebrow.

"I told him you were working today at 2." He spoke with caution now "Should I not have? Is something going on? I figured he just really liked you or something, cause he just walked out without even ordering anything. Maybe he just wants to give you a fat cheque or something." He chuckled but Ringo felt anything but humourous.

Ringo didn't want to explain everything that happened, he barely even knew this guy and the last thing he wanted was word getting out that Ringo was being stalked by some shady men, especially if said shady men caught wind of the rumour. He just sighed and ran his hand through his hair, unsure what the best course of action to take was.

"Has he not been in yet? Maybe he's not coming." His co-worker was clearly trying to reassure Ringo, even though he didn't know why he needed reassuring.

"Yeah, maybe." Ringo chuckled weakly but he had a sour feeling that it wasn't the case. He carried on cleaning tables and his colleague left to get his apron on.

Another hour passed and there was no sign of any of the boys which should've been a relief to Ringo, but it only put him more on edge. The worst thing about this whole situation was how little Ringo knew, he still had no idea what they even wanted with him or even if they even wanted anything at all. Luckily Ringo had the dinner rush to distract him right up to the end of his shift, but as soon as he walked out the door back into the world he was riddled with fear. Not only did he have the possibility of getting mugged again, which would've been bad enough on its own, but he was also potentially being watched and followed at every moment. He swore off walking down the alley even though it wasn't that dark, it would be a long time before he walked down there again. It added another 10 minutes onto his walk but he didn't mind too much, he rarely got out of the house if it wasn't just going to and from work. He started to whistle as he turned onto his street, secretly hoping that he'd avoided whatever situation he might've been getting himself into, but his hopes were crushed when he saw an all too familiar figure sitting on the steps outside his house. It was George, seemingly alone, smoking a cigarette and looking around him every so often. Eventually he spotted Ringo and he stood up abruptly, putting out his cigarette and placing his hands in his pockets. He looked pretty harmless from where Ringo was standing, he was very slim and didn't carry himself very aggressively but as Ringo got closer and George's hard face and deep eyes came into focus Ringo felt fear building up in his stomach. He stopped a significant distance away from George, he was afraid to get too close to him, and he wondered whether it was safe to even be here at all.

"Hi." George spoke first, his tone was as serious as always but his demeanour was unthreatening "I know you told me to leave you alone, but-"

"But you decided to wait around outside my house for me to finish work instead?" Ringo tried to sound dangerous, but he just couldn't manage it, not when he felt this scared and especially not with George's eyes staring at him like that.

"I couldn't help myself." George's voice got quieter but he didn't break eye contact "John and Paul don't know I'm here. I just had to come and talk to you, to explain myself."

Ringo didn't know what to say, on all accounts he should be calling the police but there was something in George's voice that sounded genuine. "Are you expecting me to let you into my house?" Ringo questioned, folding his arms across his chest in an attempt to look threatening.

"I'm not expecting anything." George took a few steps closer to him, and Ringo became uncomfortably aware of how much taller George was than him. A part of his brain told him to run, to shove past him and lock himself in his house, but he didn't. He looked at the cut on George's cheek which was beginning to heal, his instinct told him to reach out to touch it but he resisted. He looked almost defeated, nothing like the imposing presence he had been when he'd asked for his name all those days ago.

"Well you better start explaining, and quick." Ringo's heart was beating faster than he'd care to admit.

"I can't really say out here." George looked down at Ringo with his dark eyes "Would you let me buy you dinner? As an apology, and you can get all the answers you want."

"Is that what all this is? A ploy to get me to have dinner with you?" Ringo wanted it to come out as angry, but it didn't, instead it was soft and quiet, so he cleared his throat rather pathetically.

"No, there's no ploy. Just let me take you to dinner, anywhere you want. If not I'll just go, and I'll leave you alone." George's breath smelled of smoke and it was hot against Ringo's face, he wanted to take a step back but he didn't want to look weak.

Ringo had to admit the fact that he was hungry, he hadn't eaten since breakfast and he wasn't even sure he had any food in. He'd never been asked out to dinner before, he didn't have any friends generous enough to ever pay for him and he was such a difficult eater that he never really bothered with restaurants anyway. He felt himself warming to the idea, even with the part of his brain screaming that something was wrong, he just couldn't convince himself that George was going to hurt him as he looked into his eyes. Certainly there was a bigger picture here, and Ringo felt that it wouldn't be easy to get the information that he wanted or if he even wanted the information at all. He didn't want to admit it, but maybe the feelings of panic he felt when George looked at him or spoke to him weren't exactly fear but instead were something more personal, more intimate. He felt his mouth drying as he held George's gaze and was only able to speak when he turned away.

"Alright then." Ringo croaked, still uncertain whether he was making the right decision "But if there's any funny business, I swear I'll-"

"Don't make promises you don't intend to keep." George interrupted, grinning down at Ringo who felt incredibly small and vulnerable at that moment, exposing his sharp teeth which sent a flutter in Ringo's stomach.

He felt like he might be making the stupidest decision of his life, but he didn't care.

#beatles fanfic #the beatles fanfic #beatles fanfiction #the beatles fanfiction #george harrison/ringo starr #george harrisonxringo starr #ringo starr/george harrison #ringo starrxgeorge harrison #starrison #beatles #the beatles

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mithranqueersmusings · 4 years

Text

Baby, You’re A Rich Man XVI

Chapter: 16/28

Rating: T (Violence Warning)

Tags: AU - Gangsters, Slow Burn, Smut, Eventual Romance, Violence, Angst

Pairings: George Harrison/Ringo Starr, John Lennon/Paul McCartney

AO3 link here / Fic masterlist here

Ringo had ducked off the stage as soon as he heard the gunshots, he hurt his ankle somewhat as he sloppily landed on the ground and took shelter in the nearest booth. The rest of the band had scattered, most of them heading through the door to the backstage area immediately, but Shane had remained scoping the area until his eyes landed on Ringo. He rushed over to where he was crouched under the table and seized his arm aggressively.

"We've gotta get out of here, now." He commanded, trying to pull Ringo out.

Ringo tried to push him away, attempting to loosen the tight grip he had on his arm "I can't Shane, not while George is still here."

Shane sighed "Don't be stupid, you have no idea what you're getting yourself into. Just come with me, Ringo, he's not worth dying for."

"You don't know him." Ringo smiled sadly "I can't leave him behind, I just can't. Just go, Shane."

Shane nodded solemnly, letting go of Ringo's arm and hurrying to the backstage door while trying to keep his body low. The initial gunshots had been followed by a series of screams, yells and the sound of glasses smashing. Ringo crawled out from under the table slowly, the dance floor had cleared completely and the sounds of screaming faded into the distance as the majority of the crowd managed to escape. He tried to keep his mind focused, as much as the terror of the whole situation tried to possess him he wouldn't allow himself to simply flee. As much as his mind told him that George was fine, that he'd know exactly what to do in this situation, he knew deep down that he wouldn't be able to live with himself if he left him behind. He crept behind one of the many pillars dotted around the room that allowed him to get a full view of what was going on. He could see bloody footprints and trails heading towards the main entrance and it made him wince, he only hoped the people managed to get out alive.

He could hear voices, then he spotted the suspicious men he'd noticed earlier huddled in the centre of the room. There was four of them, all holding guns in their hands, and they all set off in opposite directions after conferring with one another. Ringo moved to the next pillar as carefully as he could manage, then he could finally see the table where George had been sitting previously, but he was no longer there. Ringo froze. Was he dead? Had he managed to get out? Maybe Ringo was just being an absolute moron for sticking around and George was already searching for him outside. He had to take a deep breath and shake his head to bring himself back into his body, trying his best to spot George somewhere hidden. The issue with the club is that it had been designed for privacy, particularly the booths, that were hidden away in all of the corners or obstructed by huge pillars or ornaments so that you couldn't see directly into them. Ringo squinted his eyes as he thought he saw a glimmer on the floor of one of the booths, but before he could make out exactly what it was a hand grabbed him roughly from behind.

The hand covered Ringo's mouth, stopping him from screaming, and pulled him back further into the darkness of the club. Ringo struggled as best he could, but their other hand pinned his arms back and all he could do was wildly kick his legs. He paused for a second, trying his best to not let the panic overcome him, and was able to swing his leg backwards hard enough into his attacker's knee that his grip on Ringo's arms faltered and he was able to free himself. Ringo pushed himself away immediately, spinning around to land a punch on the man's face. But the man was far too quick for him, and he caught Ringo's arm and twisted it to force him down to the ground. Ringo cried out in pain as his face was pushed down into the dirty carpet, and he heard voices calling from the centre of the room.

"I've got one!" His attacker shouted, the pride in his voice clear.

Ringo then heard the sound of tape being ripped from above him and before he was able to think through the pain he felt his wrists being tied together sloppily. Then he was dragged by his hair into the centre of the room where the four men he'd seen originally seemed to be waiting for him.

"Well isn't he pretty in pink." One man laughed.

"Who is he? He's not one of theirs."

"No clue, but he was sneaking around that's for sure." His attacker spat on the ground next to Ringo's knees.

"I recognise him... I've seen him with the Harrison lad quite a few times."

"Is that so? He could be useful then."

"Should we take him back with us?"

"Just wait a minute, let me try something." One of the men grinned, walking over to Ringo and seizing him by the neck to bring him closer into the middle.

The man pulled out a gun and Ringo yelped, he was cursing himself for being so careless. He felt the cold metal of the barrel pushing against his temple as he knelt on the ground, his arm was throbbing in pain and he felt like bursting into tears.

"Now! We wouldn't want anything sour to happen to your little friend now, would we Harrison?" The man announced, looking around the room for any sign of movement "Let's just make this easy for all of us, come out now and we won't have to hurt him."

Silence.

What if George wasn't even here? He easily could've gotten away, and if so was Ringo just going to die all the same? Ringo squeezed his eyes shut tightly as he heard the hammer of the gun being pulled back. This was really it.

"Last chance! If you don't want to get brains all over your friends lovely suit I suggest you show yourself, now." He called louder this time.

Silence.

Ringo steadied his breathing, trying to ignore the sweat forming on his forehead or the way his throat burned with the desire to cry. He had to pray the man was bluffing, he had to pray for something.

"Alright!" A voice called from afar, and Ringo felt a mixture of relief and horror when he recognised it as George's.

Ringo's eyes shot open and searched desperately for him, trying not to jerk too violently, when he saw him stepping out from one of the booths with his hands up. Ringo had never seen a more pained expression on his face than when he saw Ringo in such a desperate position.

"Are you alone?" The man asked, his hand still gripping the gun "Where are the other two?"

"They got out." George said plainly, taking slow steps down the stairs and closer to the group.

"Why didn't you?" The man asked with a grin.

George glanced immediately to Ringo, but brought his gaze back to the man a second later "What do you want?"

"Well things got a little ugly the last time, didn't they? We're willing to give your guys another chance, to make up for all the mess you made. If you don't kick up a fuss this can all go smoothly. We don't want to kill you, we're not animals." The man said with the gun still pressed against Ringo's head.

"Fine." George sighed "But you don't need to take him, he's got nothing to do with any of this." He was struggling to hide the panic in his voice.

"I dunno... He must be pretty important to you, so I think we'll bring him along." He finally moved the gun away but Ringo wasn't any less tense.

"He's not." George said flatly, but it looked like there were tears in his eyes "I just don't want anyone getting hurt, I couldn't care less about him."

Ringo looked at George desperately but he wouldn't return his gaze.

"Is that so? I guess we won't be needing him then." The man tutted, then signalled to some of the other men to move.

Two men approached Ringo now, one roughly dragging him to stand up shakily onto his weak legs. He was returned once more to his helpless position with his arms pinned behind his back, then the second man approached with his fists raised. Ringo turned his head and shut his eyes as if it would lessen the pain, but he couldn't ignore the sting of the man's fist punching his stomach. He was hit again and again, the building was silent except for the sound of Ringo crying out in pain and the repeated noise of the punches landing on his body. Ringo managed to open his eyes and catch a glimpse of George who stood there watching, he could see the tension in George's body and how his hands were shaking as they were still held up above his head. As much as he knew George was trying to protect him through all this, it still hurt to know that George wasn't doing anything to stop it. Ringo wished he could fight back, to just do something, but his body was only growing weaker and his chances against a group of armed men were ridiculously slim.

After what felt like a lifetime, George finally spoke up in a strangled shout.

"Stop it! Jesus, fine... Do what you want with me just leave him alone." George had never sounded so desperate, and the tears in his eyes were beginning to fall "Please."

The man who had previously held the gun to Ringo's head, who he figured had to be the leader of this little group, chuckled when he saw how effectively his plan had worked. He made another signal with his hands and Ringo was once again dropped to the floor, his knees would've stung with pain if his body wasn't already drowning in agony. His face and torso were bruised and aching, he struggled to open one of his eyes and it hurt to breathe. George made a step to rush towards Ringo, his face completely distraught, but the man held up his gun again but this time pointed it at George.

"Let's not get carried away here. You forced us to do that, don't forget it." His voice was like poison "Now I think we've stayed here far too long already, we best be on our way."

The man nodded and the remaining two men rushed towards George, kicking the back of his leg to force him to the ground and taping his wrists together behind his back just as they had with Ringo. George didn't resist, his head was bowed in shame. Ringo stared at him defiantly, trying to send his thoughts into George's head so that he would finally look at him, but he never did.

When George was tied up, himself and Ringo were carried out hastily from the club where two cars were waiting. The streets were fairly empty given the time of night and Ringo wondered how the police hadn't arrived yet. The boots of the cars were opened and George and Ringo were carelessly tossed inside like luggage. When darkness descended onto Ringo as the boot was shut with him inside, the panic really began to set in. It was pitch black in there and it made no real difference whether his eyes were open or not. He tried to struggle in his restraints but it was no use, he wasn't going to get out of them by himself. Then the car's engine turned on and it began to speed off down the road, rocking Ringo around in the boot roughly. None of this felt real, it was like some disorientating nightmare.

He began to curse himself for not running out of the club with everyone else, but then his mind debated what might've happened to George if he hadn't. It probably would've turned out for the best, both of them managing to escape and reunite without any problems at all, but Ringo just had to be so careless. There was no use dwelling on it now, he just had to pray that he'd get out of here alive. They had said they didn't want to kill them, but they didn't strike Ringo as the most trustworthy people. His whole body was still aching, he'd never experienced pain like this before and he hoped he never would again. He hoped the worst of it was over, and that it wouldn't be long before someone came to save them. George had told him about what had happened with Paul before, and they'd gotten him out safely, but it had also resulted in George getting stabbed and a bunch of dead bodies. Ringo shuddered in the darkness, trying to keep his mind as calm as it could be in a situation like this, but it wasn't easy.

After a long while the car came to a halt, Ringo tried to guess how long they'd been driving for and estimate where they might've ended up but it was near impossible. The boot was opened once more, the light flooding in blindingly, and Ringo was thrown out onto the hard road.

"Get up." The man said gruffly, forcing Ringo to his feet and shoving him forward.

They were at some kind of abandoned building, Ringo didn't recognise it which only made him feel all the more uneasy. He was ushered inside carelessly, he could barely walk but he had to keep going, until they came to a small, bare room which was lit by a single hanging light bulb. The man shoved Ringo forward harshly, causing him to fall to the floor yet again, and then slammed the door shut. Ringo hastily looked around the room for some way out, for something to get his bindings off him but it was stripped bare. A few moments later the door opened again and George was thrown to the ground in front of him, and this time when the door was shut he could hear it being locked.

Ringo wanted to rush over to George, to wrap his arms around him and hold him close, but he couldn't. They both looked at one another with pain in their eyes, and it was George who spoke first.

"I'm so fucking sorry, Ringo. This is all my fault, I never should've got you that job in the first place. It's all my fault." George sounded close to tears and it pained Ringo more than any injury he'd endured.

"George." Ringo spoke softly "You can't blame yourself. I shouldn't have stayed behind to look for you, it's my own stupid fault."

"I'm not gonna let them hurt you anymore." George began sounding angry but his eyes were still filled with tears "Over my dead body."

"Please, George, just calm down. Everything's gonna be alright, they'll send someone for us just like they did for Paul, right?" Ringo tried his best to smile comfortingly, but his face was all bruised and bloodied.

"Eventually... But there's no knowing how long that'll be. We've really pissed these guys off, and I don't trust them one bit." George spat "We have to get out of here ourselves."

"How are we gonna manage that?"

"I dunno yet, I'll think of something..."

"What about your knife, do you still have it?"

"No, they took it off me right quick. We just need something sharp to pierce through the tape, then we can at least be up and moving." Ringo had never heard George sound so focused.

Ringo racked his brain to think of something, looking around the small room and then over at George "What about your belt?"

"What?"

"Your belt... You know, that sharp bit on the buckle. Would that work?"

"It's worth a shot." George smiled now and it eased Ringo's pain somewhat.

George stood up then as best he could, wobbling as he did, then walked over to Ringo who did the same.

"It's gonna be fiddly, but you've gotta try to push it through the tape hard enough to make a hole. Once you've done that I should be able to get them off you." George explained "Just relax, alright?"

Ringo nodded then turned his back to George so that his hands could awkwardly reach for his belt. It would've been a lot easier if he could see what he was doing, but he knew his captors weren't really considering what was best for him. With his wrists pressed so close together it was difficult to get a grip on the thin piece of metal and even more difficult was trying to angle it so it could hit his restraints. Ringo began to get flustered, losing grip of the metal or moving his wrists down too quickly and missing it entirely. This wasn't going to work, and the panic in his mind began to rise again. George noticed he was getting frustrated and rested his chin on Ringo's shoulder.

"Calm down, love. Just breathe, and try again. I'm right here with you." He whispered, kissing Ringo's neck lightly before pulling back so Ringo could try again.

Ringo took a deep breath and got hold of the metal once more, then pulled his wrists upwards and slammed them down hard until he felt it pushing through the tape. He gasped, even though he felt it tearing at his skin somewhat he didn't care.

"It's through." Ringo breathed, but he felt more tense than he had previously.

"Well done. Now I'm gonna try and rip them off you, hold still." George was still whispering as he turned around to get his finger through the small hole Ringo had created.

Ringo felt George pulling at the tape desperately, but it wouldn't tear and he heard George sighing behind him. He tried again with more force but to no avail.

"I'm gonna have to use my teeth. Can you get up against the wall, love?" George spoke softly and Ringo appreciated how much George was trying to calm him.

Ringo obliged and pressed his front up against the wall, George knelt down behind him and kept adjusting his angle as he tried to get a grip with his teeth. It was awkward to say the least, and Ringo only felt appreciative that he was stuck with George rather than anyone else. After a few tries George managed to get a grip of the restraint in his mouth and he jerked his neck to try and tear it. At first nothing happened but Ringo remained calm, he had to trust George that this was going to work. Then he heard a ripping sound, it was only short but it was something.

"Alright, almost there. You're doing so good, Ringo, just stay calm." George's voice was tight.

He set to work again and it wasn't long before he had ripped through the tape, Ringo couldn't help thinking how useful George's sharp teeth must've been in all this, and finally Ringo could move his arms freely. The restraints were lose enough that Ringo could break through them and the feeling of the tape falling to the ground was something beyond relief. He turned around with an ecstatic expression in his face and quickly set to work on freeing George too. It wasn't easy, the tape was thick and tight, but he persevered and soon they were both free.

Immediately George captured Ringo in a hug, pulling the older man closely to him and taking in a deep breath.

"You did it." George said softly "God you're brilliant, Ringo."

"Let's not get too excited just yet." Ringo chuckled, holding George tightly "We still have to get out of here."

"Right." George huffed, pulling away reluctantly "I've got a plan. Just do what I say and we should get out of here in one piece, alright?"

"Alright." Ringo breathed.

"Before we try this, I just wanna say..." George's voice trailed off "You mean an awful lot to me, Ringo, and I'll do everything I can to keep you safe. If it comes down to it and you can get out without me, I want you to go, okay?"

"George don't be insane, I'm not gonna leave here without you." Ringo placed his hand on George's neck gently.

"Please, Ringo, I couldn't live with myself if you- If..." George struggled to meet Ringo's gaze.

"You've gotta get this in your head, George, we're in this together. No matter what happens I'm gonna be here with you, yeah?" Ringo smiled weakly "I care about you, George, more than anything... In case I don't get a chance to say this: I love you, okay?"

George looked up at Ringo in alarm, those were the last words he was expecting to hear right now. Ringo looked afraid, as though he instantly regretted the words as soon as he said them but when he opened his mouth to explain himself, George silenced him with a kiss. It was a short kiss, but a passionate one, and George whispered in Ringo's ear as he pulled away.

"I love you too, Ringo."

"Really?"

"Really." George smiled, his hand caressing Ringo's check "Now let's get out of here so I can show you how much I mean it."

"Alright, what's the plan?"

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