1964.

your boyfriend had turned cocky, real cocky. years of being famous and titled as the most handsome man in the entirety of the united kingdom had finally caught up to him - it pissed you off.

he was full of himself, constantly trying to impress other people - even bloody men! you were right there but no, the idiot didnt want you.

“papers ar’ calling me sexy again, love.” he calls out from the living room, you can almost hear the smirk playing on his lips.

“are they?” you reply, a sigh escaping from your mouth. you were sick of it, can he shut up for five minutes about his appearance?

you hear a hum from the other room and then movement towards the kitchen, the room where you are pacing around - then, there he was, stood in the doorway in all of his glory.

“are you sick of me yet?” he laughs, grabbing a glass with his delicate hand and filling it with water.

you cross your arms, watching the man with a frown. “sick of what?”

he turns towards you, leaning against the countertop while cradling his glass in hand - the way hes looking at you is making your legs weak.

“sick of me.” he says, his voice almost a whisper. “you seem it.”

he doesnt look hurt, he just looks cocky with that stupid grin on his face.

“yes, i am. youre full of yourself.” you reply, turning to face the countertop instead of him and cleaning it.

obviously, you dont mean it like that. he wouldnt care if you meant it like that anyway, he has many other fish in the sea.

you hear him place his glass, then suddenly, you feel his entire body pressed against your back and his hands slithering down to your waist. his breath is warm on your neck, a feeling that makes your underwear soon turn wet.

“ye’ think so, sweetheart?” he purrs into your ear, his fingers tickling your waist.

you could barely form the words but of course he did not need to know that. “i know so.”

the man hums, just stopping to think for a second before you feel his lips grazing along the bottom of your ear on your neck, sucking gently. the hands that are rested on your waist soon slide down to rest on your hips, his thumbs dipped inside of your pants.

“whats up with ye’ attitude lately, doll?” he whispers against your neck, going back to kissing it but in a different spot which makes your body tremble.

“none of your business, paul.” those words cheer him on, he bites down lightly while sucking, causing you to whimper.

you can feel him smile against you, his thumbs rubbing your bare skin and his lips sucking your neck - its all so overwhelming yet so beautiful; you in the kitchen, your boyfriend stood behind you with his arms wrapped around you as he makes you wet.

“yeah baby, really?”

“yes, really.”

“why is it none of my business?”

you were soaked, so fucking wet for him - hes never spoken to you like this, hes always been so soft-spoken and sweet.

“paul.” you whine out, too desperate for him - it makes him chuckle.

“yes?” he replies, his thumbs dipping deeper into your pants.

you just grab his hand, placing it over your clothed crotch and spreading your legs against him - his hand presses down, causing you to grind against him.

“say sorry.”

“im sorry.”

“good girl. are you gonna stop being a brat now?”

“fuck, yes.”

you pathetically moan, you cant cope with this. paul has a way with words, thats something.

an

heyheyhey!, as we can all tell i can NOT write smut and just end it on a cliff hanger so i dont want to talk about this 🥹

1964

john was sat in the recording studio, sat writing lyrics which he swore were about women - lyrics that he swore were not about his best mate.

he couldnt get that man out of his mind no matter how hard he tried to and it began to really play with him - hes not gay, he just appreciates paul.

so there john is, his face in his hands as he whispers a tune into his palms. hes alone in the studio this evening, everybody left around an hour ago.

paul noticed that john didnt leave, it hurt him a little. he wanted to ride home with his best mate but he never got to.

so paul didnt exactly leave, he stood outside of the building smoking fags to build up the courage to walk back through the doors to the studio.

it took him an hour. a whole bloody hour to go see his mate.

after what was like eternity, paul walks into the room where john is humming a soft tune to himself.

“john love, what ar’ you doing?” he questions, a teasing smile on his face.

the familiar voice made johns skin tingle, he looks up from his hands at the beautiful boy with a returning smile.

“writing.” he replies, gesturing towards the sheet of paper before him.

paul nods at johns words, slowly walking towards him and grabbing the sheet without permission.

‘if i fell in love with you, would you promise to be true?’

paul skimmed through it all, each lyric hitting him a little too close to home. john watched him with anticipation, very scared for his reaction.

paul looked away from the sheet, his eyebrows raised with a grin. “this is go-“

“i was gonna give it ya’ for valentines day.” john says, completely cutting paul off. “in a card of course.”

pauls grin turned into a smirk, he turns away to go find his bass - his stomach could bloody explode.

A/N

very sorry that this is so short. ive had NO motivation to write lately but i hope this is okay!

also did you know that john actually did give paul a valentines card with the lyrics to if i fell in it? 🤤

1963

the evening before, snow began to fall as the boys were working on new music and you were giving feedback to the four. winter climate came to liverpool and it was giving it out for thick snow - just around the corner from christmas, too.

of course, the sweet boy ringo insisted that you came home with him. he didn’t want to imagine you walking home as ice built up on the pavements and he most definitely didn’t want to imagine you freezing to death as you attempted to get home.

he got an taxi back to his place with you beside him, the thought of your company in his home made a smile stick to his face throughout the entire car ride and you found it adorable, a smile on your face too.

once you both made it to his humble home, he begged you to sleep in his bed while he took the couch and he brought you a cup of tea to settle down for the night.

the next morning, you awaken to a familiar scent - ringos scent. a small grin appears across your face as you stir out of his bed. of course, you are no stranger to ringos house. you know your way around the small space.

you make your way to his living room, where he said he was sleeping last night.

and there he is, peacefully sleeping. one of his arms spilling off of the couch, same with his foot. his mouth is wide as he snores, you cackle to yourself.

“ringo!” you shout, startling the poor boy. “wake up, hon.” - you obviously had to shout, he would of never woken up if you didn’t.

ringo rubbed his eyes with a small groan before opening his eyes and looking at you - his lips curl up. “you bloody startled me.” he says, his voice cracking.

you laugh at him, watching him adjust his rings and bracelets.

“i had to shout. you snore so loud.” you cross your arms, discreetly checking him out. you swear that you can see the blanket slightly tented at his crotch.

as you wait for him to fully awaken, you look around his living room - you look outside the window. the snow from last night has now turned into a full on storm.

you walk closer to the window and look outside, it is up to the bloody windowsill. “not to alarm you,” you say, turning to the now sat up boy. “i think we might be snowed-in.”

he stands up immediately, walking over to the window and sighing. ringo loves snow but not when he and his band mates have one more song to play together before the album is completed.

you notice the tent in his pants again, it is way more prominent now that he doesn’t have a blanket wrapped around him. morning wood, for god sake.

“fabulous.” he says with a sarcastic ring to it.

“absolutely.” you reply, your eyes never leaving the spot on his crotch.

the boy notices, of course he does for fuck sake. it’s a bit obvious that you are looking at his norwegian wood, isn’t it?

he clears his throat and begins playing with his rings. he can feel it leaking under your gaze, this is so embarrassing for him. “are you gonna keep.. staring?” he questions, trying to sound polite about it.

he doesn’t bother looking at you, he can see you in the corner of his eye - he just wants to crawl into a wall right now.

“sorry, sorry.” you choke on your spit, looking back at his side profile. the white lighting from the snow makes him even more gorgeous, his nose more pronounced. “want me to help out?” you tease, half banter, half serious.

his eyes widen and he coughs even louder than he did before, you can see his cheeks turning pink.

ringo slowly turned to you, a little like a meerkat. “you mean like.. like serious?” his eyes stay wide as he attempts to hold eye contact with you. “like serious serious?”

you giggle to yourself at his reaction and nod straight after, you feel a little damp over his nerves.

and little did you know, this boy always wanted you - this explains his state.

“yes, i want you to help me.” he bites the inside of his cheek, walking back over to the sofa.

there he is, his pants puddled around his ankles and his body pushed up against the back of the sofa - he is still fiddling around with his rings.

“you don’t have to be so nervy, ya know?” you whisper, placing a small kiss to his clothed member which causes his hips to thrust upward.

“i know, i know.” he whispers back, his words sound raspy, they almost sound like small whimpers.

you start by peeling his boxers off, revealing his average sized cock. he is leaking a whole lot, small dribbles of precum falling down the sides.

your thumb circles his tip after a few seconds of admiring his cock, it makes his knees weak - an immediate moan falls out of his mouth.

you keep up your thumbs movements, spreading his precum along his pink tip before placing a quick kiss to it, his hips go upward yet again.

you are noticing a pattern here. “do you want me to suck you?” you question, looking up at him from between his thighs.

he nods desperately, unable to get his words out.

you nod in return, beginning your journey down to his shaft.

i loved writing this but i got lazy so please let me know if you would like something else 💔 anyway yes! i absolutely love ringo he is so adorable, please give my king some love guys

1964

today is the day that you are going to watch your boyfriend get interviewed with his band-mates for the first time in forever.

you are a little scared, not for yourself but for him. his nerves have been getting the best of him lately - he is constantly fidgeting around with things, sometimes even rambling about complete opposite subjects. its probably just stress, hopefully. just stress.

there the two of them are, in his changing room which is located backstage.

you are looking through all of the outfits which are hung up on a rail attached to the wall - a grey suit really sticks out to you. definitely pauls colour.

“hey, paul.” you call, grabbing the coat hanger which is holding the suit. “what about this?” you hand it to him and he grabs it carefully.

it takes the boy only a few seconds to decide if he is going to wear it or not, of course it’s a yes. he would literally do anything just for you to see him as pretty.

“are y’sure that it would look good, yeah?” he holds it up to his chest, a small smirk appearing on his lips.

you cant help but lean towards him and kiss his cheek, he is too adorable. you pat his shoulder reassuringly. “im positive! go try it on!”

he looks over at the clock which is hung lazily on the wall, realising that he has fifteen minutes. it definitely makes him speed up, he’s practically running behind the curtain in the dressing room.

you go and sit in the seat that he was previously sat in, directly in front of a mirror. you take the opportunity to fix your hair as you wait for him.

after about a minute of awkward silence, you finally hear his sweet voice again. “uh.. Y/N. i’m not sure if it fits right, love.” he chokes out, partially laughing as he walks back into the room.

you turn away from the mirror and face him, he looks handsome. its just the pants, a little small but will be fine as long as he doesn’t get hard. not too hard to do.

“of course they fit you, just don’t get bloody hard.”

he furrows his brows at your words before breaking down into laughter.

“right. ten minutes.”

ten minutes go by in no time, paul’s hair is fixed, his suit is fixed and his face is the same, beautiful as always.

him and john are told that they will be interviewed together first, the cameras are being set, the interviewer is getting ready and the set is being sorted.

“m’ surprisingly not anxious at all.” paul smiles, taking a drag of his fag. “i’m glad i’m not being interviewed on my own.”

you nod at him, a short and sweet nod. “i’m glad too!”

the two simply smile at eachother and his gaze drops to your lips, it causes a small chuckle to fall out of your mouth and of course, you give into his puppy gaze and peck his lips.

his forehead goes to rest against yours and he closes his eyes. the cigarette that he was smoking is suddenly forgotten on the floor, you use your foot to put it out.

“wooden flooring. you should be more careful.” you whisper in a teasing tone.

he kisses your lips again, he is addicted to your lips - exactly like sugar, they are. “my bad.” he whispers, his voice muffled by your lips.

his head moves to the crook of your neck, his lips place small kisses that make your breathing hitch.

“paul, the interview.” you remind him, almost whimpering the words out. he’s good with that mouth of his. too good, even.

“bleeding hell,” he sighs, placing a few more pepper kisses across your neck. “stupid interviews always in th’ bloody way.”

he continued kissing your neck, kissing your skin is basically a drug for this man. he needed it, craved it all the time.

and he didn’t stop up until the final call could be heard from the speaker, he needed to be up on stage.

“paul.” you moan quietly, getting him to stop and stand up. “cmon.”

“for crying out loud.” he sighs, his voice low in your ear. you could feel yourself dampen at his voice - gosh.

the boy gets up from his seat and so do you, you make your way to a seat where you can watch and he makes his way to the stage.

once john and paul are seated, the woman who is interviewing them then also sits next to the two, a smile on her face as she greets them - paul looks strangely uncomfortable.

she introduces herself before the final countdown and then the microphones get tested and so do the cameras, the countdown then begins.

10..9..8..

he makes eye contact with you. the contact looks like a cry for help, his hand is crammed between his thighs and his legs begin swaying from side to side.

6..5..4..

he looks down at his lap, you know exactly whats going on now. the poor sod.

2..1.. “and.. begin!”

paul kept squirming in his seat and john couldn’t keep his laughter in, you found it amusing and quite arousing at the same time.

you swear at times where him and john laughed, you could hear small whimpers at the end of each laugh.

but, he played it off great. good on him.

i bloody love this interview so i decided to write about what caused his wood LMAOO anyway yes thankyou

requests open<3

1964.

it had been a long day for paul. countless interviewers running up to him to ask questions, girls following him around while their husbands feel jealousy and constant flashing lights in his eyes.

obviously, it was not only him going through this - it was his band mates too. they were sick of it, all of them. why couldn’t they just make music and be left alone?

however, today a new question had been thrown at paul, it made the day a little more interesting. it was one that made john tease paul for hours after it was answered, one that made his stomach sink to the floor.

“paul. you have said that you are not in a relationship but could you explain the countless images of you and your assistant, miss Y/N?”

paul laughed though his mind immediately went to his bestfriends beautiful face - one of his hands started to play with his earlobe.

“can a man not have a relationship with a woman, eh?”

its a few hours after the question, the words that the reporter spat at him were still ringing through his head like a melody from a favourite song.

the group were sat together, each member messing about with their instrument - then there was you, sat reading the bloody paper.

“are y’still thinking about that bleeding interview, paul?” john questions as his skinny fingers strum the strings on his guitar slowly.

as john fills in the silence, everybody in the room perks their heads up to listen in and attempt to engage in the conversation.

paul paused his playing and looked at john - his eyes narrow at him. he knows that john is teasing him, its bullshit. “no, am not actually.”

john lets out a hum and places his guitar down, he crosses his arms soon after. he wants to argue, the twat. “y’sure?”

john would just argue back and forth, paul knows that so he accepts his fate. god, john can be such a pain in the arse.

you were still sat reading the newspaper, your nose was practically sniffing the lines of words but you were listening to the boys, you were eyeing paul.

“what are you all on about?” you question, looking up from the neatly opened paper and placing it down.

you watch as the boys steal cheeky little glances at each other. pauls glances are more death stares though, to be fair.

“you n’ paul are in a relationship.” john snorts, throwing a ball of paper at ringo.

paul shakes his head at you, his eyes wide. the skin on his cheeks begins to turn a soft pink shade. its cute, really - his own makeup.

you cant help but laugh. although, it does make your stomach flip at the thought of dating him. “are we now? who told y’that?”

“paul.” all of the boys say together, going back to their instruments.

poor paulie was left in the corner, his head in his hands as he attempted to calm himself. god, he would do anything to date you.

the way he cares and the way his voice turns soft whenever he is there to comfort people is enough to make hyun-ju feel at peace. to know that she is with a man like him, a caring soul, is everything to her.

the way he speaks in a soothing tone when with his daughter - when hes teaching her small things like how tomatoes grow or how to draw a bunny, hyun-jus heart flutters, she grows weak. a gentle man like him.. with her? well i never.

the way his eyes search for hers in a room full of people, almost craving her sight. then, when he finds them, his eyes turn to sparkles. she notices each time and her heart beats faster every single time.

the way his small stubble scratches against her while he leaves kisses against her skin in the early hours of the morning - it makes her giggle and her giggles never fail to make him smile against her. his small gestures as she awakens are better than any morning coffee.

the way his hair falls on his handsome features while in a conversation with somebody is truly a work of art. especially when its during a conversation with her, it makes her wish that she could draw like him - she most definitely would sketch him.

every day she finds something new to admire about him, even the smallest of things. every day she finds herself falling more and more in love with him.

gyeong-seok, the man in her dreams.

a/n : this is so short but i was listening to “im your man” by leonard cohen and it got me admiring seok like hyunju would - i wanted to write about it!

hyun-ju walks along the streets of soeul, the only thought clung to her head being her boyfriend, gyeong-seok waiting for her at their home. she went to a nearby shop to grab ingredients that he needed for something he is cooking for the two.

of course, the boy insisted that he would go instead but she refused and is definitely regretting it now. here she is, a plastic bag full of small ingredients wrapped around her arm tightly, clinging on for dear life.

she notices people glancing, snickering and stealing extra glances - all she wants is to crawl into a hole and cry. preferably, the hole had her boyfriend in it. she doesnt know what people are laughing at but she prays that it isnt her.

she finds her pace picking up, tears swarming in her eyes and her body forcing itself past the crowd of unknown people - she’s overwhelmed, dying to be in gyeong-seoks arms.

then, her traces get stopped - she is met by a man, a tall one at that. his face is familiar, one that she has definitely seen before but her mind is basically blank to be able to remember who he is. she wipes her eyes before making awkward eye contact, waiting for him to speak.

“arent you that boy that thinks hes a girl?” the man crosses his arms, soon smirking over at what appears to be his small friend group who are staring at the two.

hyun-jus stomach sinks, she feels sick. was this a mistake? a stupid dare? oh, this has definitely made her day turn bad.

it takes her a moment to form her words, her eyes are threatening to tear but she pushes through it. “what? no, no im not.”

a fake, awkward chuckle escapes her mouth in attempt to conceal her sadness.

he laughed to himself and curled his lips up while looking over at his friends once again.

“thats not what my friend said, freak.” he mutters the word freak but keeps it at a volume where hyun-ju can still hear - and she did hear. that word was louder than any other word that she has heard today.

the man then jogs over to his friends, leaving the girl alone. she feels a tear drop from her eye despite her trying to remain strong.

she has to remain strong, for seoks sake.

after a depressing walk home, she finally makes it to the door and exhales the moment her hand touches the handle. gyeong-seok can read her like a book, she doesnt want to make him turn sad for her.

she turns the handle and steps inside, soon heading towards the kitchen. there he was, humming to himself as he mixes up some things in a bowl - so effortlessly pretty.

“seok? im home.” she speaks quietly with a small crack in her voice, not wanting to startle the poor boy.

he turns towards the voice with a smile, his eyes widen with happiness. he finds her beautiful, thats what brought a smile to his face.

“hey! how did it go?” he goes back to mixing the ingredients though his attention is still on her.

she ignores his question with a sigh and throws herself onto the couch, she needs to be held by him. she needs him close, she cant take this discriminatory world.

when he hears the sigh, he drops what hes doing and immediately goes over to her on the couch - the smile that was on his face has now turned to a worried expression.

“what happened, angel? are you okay?” he sits down next to her and leaves space between the two, he doesnt want to overwhelm her.

blanked, again.

and then suddenly, she crawls over to him and puts her head on his lap with tears slowly falling out of her eyes. his arms wrap around her tightly, hes being patient - not forcing her to speak.

they sit like that for a while, him simply just holding her and her fully accepting it. its comforting, its warm and its slowly taking her mind off of the earlier encounter.

“people are just discriminative.”