my name's mel and im super into the 60s/70s right now! my biggest inspo is stevie nicks and pattie boyd ‼(·'╻'·)
i plan on mostly writing for george harrison from the beatles. in the future, ill probably write for the other beatles so dont worry!!
one small warning, im still very new to writing and im also not british so... not everything ill write will be accurate/good LOL!! constructive criticism is welcome, just please be nice 🫶🏽
⋆. ೃ࿔.𖥔 ݁ ˖*:･༄
Boundaries & Rules
what i never post/write:
- NSFW (even slightly suggestive topics)
- weird age gap relationships 😭
- any hate speech/discrimination against any minority groups
- death (real or fiction)
- anything considered dead dove dont eat (so again, dont send me anything weird)
what i will post/write:
- george harrison 🤤🤤
- the other beatles (probably in the future)
- fluff (which is what ill write the most)
- angst (still practicing this one LOLL so it might not be great 😭)
- time specific fics (eg. "teddy boy beatles", "hamburg beatles", "1970s beatles", etc!)
again thinking about paul going "when stu joined the band WE took a bit of a backseat. WE were always a bit jealous or john's other relationships. GEORGE AND I felt a bit threatened" and then you read what george felt about stu and it's like "stu was so nice, i loved him" djsvjsklwkk
contains: [+] used in place of y/n, toothrotting fluff, probably grammar/spelling mistakes, very brief mentions of the band fighting with each othe
summary: since you've come to visit your brother, paul, he's offered to introduce you to his band. in exchange, you offer to paint them, telling him you need the practice anyways. you didn't think you'd meet anyone like minded until you met george.
author's note: not gonna lie to you guys, i’ve been sick all week 😓 i wrote this whole thing on my 'puter as i was trying to get better and scraped SOO MUCH of it LMAOO!! im trying something new with my writing too so hopefully you guys like it LOL!!!
“where the bloody hell is paul?” john sighs as he glances at the clock.
ringo interrupts his own humming to answer john, “he’s gone to go pick up his sister.” impatient as ever, john mumbles something sour under his breath while ringo goes back to practicing his parts of the song and humming again.
john starts talking about the wasted practice time and picking any other day for her to come ‘round but george tunes it all out. paul’s sister? he thinks, trying to remember the early days of their band. for the life of him, he can’t think of any significant memories of you.
“have we met paul’s sister?” george joins in the conversation, finally looking up from his guitar.
“don’t think i have.” ringo responds with a shrugs, “paul’s told me that she’s not one to stay in one place.”
“oh, hold on. is it that art college girl?” john perks up suddenly, looking the most positive he’s looked all day since he walked into the studio. “she’s a proper visionary, that one.”
george’s stuck in his own head, thinking of all the times he’s been over to the mccartney family house. all those times and he’s never seen paul’s sister? he’s met micheal, paul’s brother, plenty of times throughout the years and he hadn’t met you once? had he been so unobservant in the past that he’d never seen you or has paul just neglected to introduce you two?
his train of thought is interrupted by a loud voice over the intercom.
“beatles, i’m finally here!” paul’s voice sings out, a voice laughing behind him. “c’mere, [+]. don’t just laugh over there– come say hello!”
from inside the recording room, the beatles watch as paul pulls you into a side hug, putting the microphone next to your mouth. you gladly take the mic from him, looking over all the members of the band.
“hello, every beatle!” you wave enthusiastically to all of them behind the window. george swears that the polka dots on your sleeves look like smears in the air from how fast you wave to the band.
while you and paul laugh with each other and enter the recording room, everything else in the room fades into the background for george, your smiley and care-free demeanour being the only thing that remains clear.
he watches as john hugs you, asking about how life’s been treating you and your canvas. you’re humble, george notes, listening to how you describe your art as something that comes out as life goes by. he thinks that’s why john likes you so much– as he’s never met anyone he’s been as fond until you.
“oh!” paul finally says as he spots george’s very obvious staring, “i don’t think you’ve met george and ringo, have you?” you’re quick to shake your head, moving away from john to stick your hand out for george.
“hello!” your smile is infectious, his mind chirps at him, “you’re george, right?” he takes your hand, his head jerking nervously instead of nodding normally. “that’s right. it’s lovely to meet you, [+].”
neither of you pull away from the handshake, trying to read one another. the eye contact isn’t uncomfortable, surprisingly– you feel as if hes looking into your eyes to know your soul. his eyes are searching over your face, almost like he gets more and more mesmerized by you the longer he stares.
“oi, turn off your googly eyes, hassa!” ringo chimes in from behind george, clapping a loving hand on his shoulder, “i wanna say hello too.”
finally, he lets go, blinking out of his trance and moving aside for ringo to meet you. like george, you’re over the moon to meet him, shaking his hand and introducing yourself.
“[+]’s here to visit for a while and she’s offered to paint us.” paul says proudly, pushing you in front to show off how cool his sister is. “so lads, what d’ya think?”
john speaks up first, saying that the idea’s bloody brilliant and that he can’t wait to see how it comes out. ringo agrees next, joking with you to not forget to paint him in since he’s on the drums. george talks last, nodding on about how they haven’t been painted yet and how it’ll surely end up in a museum. both of you laugh and you wave off george’s comment but george isn’t joking. from everything he's seen today, he knows it’ll be phenomenal.
so there you sat, on a stool in the studio in front of an easel and canvas, carefully watching them play their songs and interact with each other. you paint the background first, then the simple silhouettes of each beatle, then the paint on top of that. each stroke of your brush brings the picture more to life, carefully adding details to each of the members.
as each hour passed, you began noticing more and more glances from harrison. his guitar doesn’t once buzz and his fingers never stop plucking on the strings but somehow, his eyes trace over the concentration of your face every other few minutes. he thought he was slick with how he was checking if you were enjoying your time in the studio, which he understands quickly that you are. you smile each time you back up to see the full canvas, not even close to the end result but somehow still satisfied with the results either way.
watching you paint every miniscule detail of this room that practically became home for the lads sparked something in him. you seemed so free from the world behind the easel, every brush against the canvas not only bettering your already easy mood but also putting him at ease too. he can feel the atmosphere change around him and the band. the once empty, somewhat tense air around the band now settled to be calm. each member is now joking and laughing through each mistake instead of snapping at one another.
he begins thinking your presence is one sent down to help them specifically.
🥛
you come by more and more frequently as the days pass by. some days you bring your canvas, your sketch book, your paints and charcoals– whatever element of art calls to you that day. you’ll be sketching paul’s bass absentmindedly while listening to him play one day and the next you’ll be blending the pastels of john’s portrait while he asks about where you’re off to next.
maybe that’s what he’s missing, george thinks to himself. maybe an outlet would make him as relaxed as you are.
🍨
“what’re you up to, luv?” a familiar british voice says behind you during the band’s lunch. the chair next to you scrapes against the tile floor. you don’t look up, your hands covered in charcoal as your pencil drags against the rough paper. “tryin’ to sketch a face by memory, george.”
he hums next to you, watching your hand sweep side to side to draw what he can only imagine is a beautiful replica of the person.
click!
it sounds next to you and you pause, looking up to see george, camera in hand pointed directly at you. he stays looking at you through the lens of the camera. you’re timeless– so timeless that he doesn’t think he’ll ever get over how stunning you are.
he looks down at your sketch book and there it is. it’s a charcoal portrait of him. it’s a side profile, his eyes focused down on something (his guitar probably, now that he thinks about it), and the lights shining down on him are creating shadows on his sharp features. no one’s ever drawn him, certainly not like this either. just looking at it, anyone could tell love and detail was put into it. the sketch is so intimate and personal to him.
“is that me?” he asks, his eyes looking over each and every small tick and line made on the paper.
you watch him marvel over your drawing and you laugh for the first time all day.
the entire day, the band’s been focused on making their songs sound new and “not like the same rubbish” meaning you were stuck listening to negotiating and bickering about instruments and lyrics. on a day that started off so gloomy and draining, george is the only one that could make you forget about it all.
“oh yeah!” you hold up the drawing for him to look at, “just wanted to do a simple warm up while you all have your break time.”
he hums and nods, eyes looking up from his drawn portrait to look over to you. you point at his camera, “you takin’ inspiration from me?” from anyone else, he’d think it’s egotistical to say that. however, from you, you say it with that same smile he fell in love with weeks ago and he can’t bring himself to find it offensive.
"yeah, yeah," he chuckles, glancing down at his camera in hand to try and hide the blush on his face. "you've caught me red-handed."
you're looking at him with a expression that he can only describe as adoration. “that's brilliant, george! is it alright if i try?” he nods softly before looking down to your hand and passing the camera to you, curious to see what you’ll do.
you closely look over the camera, turning it around and looking at each button. “always thought photography was beautiful…” you say softly, bringing the camera to your eye. from behind the lens of the camera, you look at george and you can’t help but stop and stare at him. his entire expression is full of affection but it’s his eyes that speak the most.
george’s eyes are always the easiest to read. not because he’s obvious with how he feels but because of the vulnerability that he shows is in the most subtle of ways. the fact his eyes soften when they look at you, or that they’re always crinckled at the outer corners because of his smile, or how they track after you when you leave the room– you learn quickly that he doesn’t do these things with anyone else. just you.
click!
you don’t rush to put the camera down, slowly lowering it to be met with george, who’s eyes haven’t left you once since he’s sat down. “perfect.” you practically whisper, your lips involuntarily smiling for you. he chuckles when you say that, looking away for a brief moment before meeting your eyes again. "yeah, right back at ya."
“it’s been nice,” you break the small silence between the two of you, placing the camera down on the table, “meeting someone who gets it. the beauty of art and it all.”
"what 'bout john?" he asks. "what 'bout john?" you playfully echo back at him.
he laughs at himself. "well, he's right fond of your art and all. he seems like he gets it." he explains, pointing at the portrait of him in your sketchbook. "i mean, you show this to him and he'll call you a genius and all that."
“well, he doesn't get it,” you shake your head, softly chuckling at the statement, “not fully at least. he's blinded by the fact that i was able to make it and not him. that's why he's so fond of me.”
"as in he sees you as a muse of sorts?" he clarifies, slowly understanding what you were trying to say.
you stare at the ceiling as you think. “in my opinion, i think he does.” you nod finally, “in a way. i really don't think he means to– that's just how he is.”
focusing back at george, you smile, “but you see beyond that it's me that made it, you just think it's all together lovely.”
"well, it is right lovely. yer a lovely person." he adds the last part after a moment of hesitation, "everyone who doesn't get it is daft."
you laugh, “most everyone’s daft then.”
"never say they weren't." he says it so casually you almost don’t process the words, just the weight of it.
you move closer to him, letting the moment take over your thinking. he feels your hand move to hold his cheek, gently turning his head to your lips. you press the kiss into his cheek, soft and fleeting before you pull away.
“thank you for being the only ‘not-daft’ one here.” you smile before getting up and grabbing your things to leave.
now george's sure you've been sent down to help him specifically.
hi everyone! again, sorry for not writing much ( ;´ - `;) i just got back from a family vacation and my phone broke with all my drafts and things were on it!! i swear, ill try putting out a few things on my computer! sorry to the anons who sent in requests five million years ago (╥﹏╥)
Sorry 💔 maybe some wedding night fluff where they’re just so happy to be married? Or he writes a sweet song for her and he’s really proud of it, it’s up to you
Here, There, And Everywhere
pairing: husband!paul x wife!reader
contains: reader and paul getting married, toothrotting fluff, everyone's happy, inspired by "here, there, and everywhere (remastered)" (specifically the 1993 version 🫶🏽)
summary: after a long wedding reception, paul decides to surprise you with a song he made dedicated to you.
author's note: no worries! thank you for sending this request in!! im very sorry for how long it took to write this 😓 i had to take time to research what paul was like. anyways, hope you liked it!! i had tons of fun writing this! ദ്ദി(ᵔᗜᵔ)
the wedding wasn't anything big or extravagant but it was everything you dreamed of. you exchanged beautiful vows, danced, and drank to the name of your love for each other. it was small; your family and friends, pauls family and friends– an intimate, personal wedding with loved ones.
by the time you and paul got home, you both couldn't keep your hands off of each other.
walking through the front door, you're pressed against him, arms looped around his torso as he holds you against his side. he’s been mumbling on and on about "my wife" and how you’re so "bloody perfect."
he lets go suddenly, his eyes falling on the guitar left in its case from the night before. you watch as a grin spreads on his face. he’s quick to rush to the living room, already putting the guitar strap over his head.
"'ve had a song rattlin' 'round my brain ever since i’ve met you." he says to you with a smile, staring deep into your eyes. you snort, seeing the excitment and love swirl in his pupils.
"since you've met me, paul?" you echo, finding the thought endearingly silly. your eyebrow raises with a tilt of your head, voice poking fun at him, "how long have you been writing this?"
he smirks, then shrugs like he hasn’t got a clue. he plucks a few strings before humming and sitting on the couch. your heads tilted the entire time you walk over to sit next to him, nose scrunched up in giddiness and confusion as he strums down on a G chord.
"to lead a better life," he sings softly, switching between chords effortlessly as he watches your eyes, looking as if it’ll tell him all the awnsers to life, "i need a love of my own."
he takes a small pause to watch you chuckle at him lightheartedly from the first two lines, practically mesmerized by you.
"here," he starts again, now with laughter in his voice, "making each day of the year."
you feel your head swaying along with the song, the melody and the message of it flowing into your mind.
"changing my life with a wave of her hand." the line comes off softer than the rest somehow, reminding you of the vows he said just a few hours before. "nobody can deny that theres something there."
his eyes are shut like he’s in his own world, the words falling from his lips like second nature, hands miraculously still on each chord perfectly.
"i want her everywhere," you swear you hear his voice crack ever so slightly, "and if shes beside me, i know i need never care."
you listen in awe. you've heard him sing so many songs, watched him write them too- you’ve never heard so much vulnerability from just his voice alone. it was like he was weeping with his words from just the idea of being yours till the end of time.
"but to love her is to need her everywhere." your head begins to fall against the back cushions of the couch, feeling the excitement from the day catch up to you suddenly.
you fight sleep, trying to keep your lids open while paul practically tucks you into bed with his song. "knowing that love is to share," you hear as you feel your lashes flutter shut and your head lay fully against the cushion next to you, "each one believing that love never dies."
"watching her eyes and hoping im always there." the song slows as he opens his eyes to be met with a sleeping version of his wife. strands of your hair are pressed between your face and the couch, he can already hear you beginning to softly snore, and you're turning your head slightly to get a better sleeping position.
he starts to place his guitar back in the case, still humming softly as he begins to walk back over to you.
"i will be here, there, and everywhere." he sings to you quietly as he presses a warm kiss to your temple before carefully placing your arms around his neck and picking you up.
he smiles as he carried you to your shared bedroom. you’re slowly placed onto the bed like you’ll break if he doesnt and covered in a blanket he draped over you.
"good night, my love." beside you, he crawls into bed, holding you close to his chest as he dozes off with the idea of you and him growing old in his mind.
the thing about paul's "you know"s is that you can never write a realistic number of them into a fic without it sounding insane. because "you know" was functionally a full stop to him
im afraid ive literally adapted these stupid "yknow"'s into my everyday life. like. when i dont know what to say. i say "yknow." and i shrug like an idiot 😭😭
Can I request a fic where like, Hamburg George having a gf that shows affection through biting him all over like a chew toy (in a cute way!!) and the others are like "Are you ok?" Seeing the marks and he's just "I love my girl 🤤"
*vanishes*
Something in The Way She Woos Me
pairing: hamburg!george x girlfriend!reader
contains: biting (lol), toothrotting fluff 😋😋, paul, john, pete, stuart are there (yay!!), pete and stu might act OOC bc i don't rlly know anything about them 😭😭
summary: you show your love by occasionally biting george. the other beatles hadnt seen it until tonight in the green room.
author's note: im actually in love with this ask!! it brought me out of my writer's block ngl 😭😭 thank you so much for requesting this for me anon!!! 🫶🏽🫶🏽
when the band was told they were booked in west germany, everyone was ecstatic, especially george. between the entire group, george was the youngest and the only one still in secondary school so a gig out of liverpool was unbelievable.
hamburg was one of the biggest gig the band was able to get. it was the complete opposite of liverpool. it was lively, flashing with big lights, and harbored the people with night lives.
however the gig itself wasn't the most exciting part for george. bringing you along was.
he had told john you’d help by being a roadie but everyone knew it was just an excuse to have you come with.
🎞
helping backstage was fun for you. you moved a couple amps, some unlabeled boxes, and george’s guitar around between the hotel and the venues. as long as you looked like a roadie, you didn’t mind.
the atmosphere buzzed with excitement as you looked over george one more time, his arm lazily laid across your shoulders. absentmindly, you take his hand between your lips, gently gnawing at the muscle on his hand.
"beatles, show's on in ten!" the sentence dies on john's lips when he looks around and is met with george's girl, nipping on his bandmate like a chew toy. john's face watches in awe, confusion evident on his face. george's just casually chatting to you, probably talking your ear off about amazing he finds everything here, while you nod along, laughing through the side of his thumb.
paul’s quick to come over to see what made john stop halfway done with his sentence. he stops dead in his tracks when his eyes land on you and george.
"what's george’s bird doin'?" paul broke the silence first. john shakes his head in disbelief. "looks like she's tryin' to take a bite outta him."
"puppy love these days." stuart laughs as he passes by, grinning as if hes seen it a million times with you two.
"don’t go nibblin' on his fingers too hard," john calls out, "we still need him as our guitarist!"
"aye, and he hasn’t got much meat on him." paul laughs next to him, a big grin on his face, "he’d make a pretty shite dinner."
you laugh with a smile, not taking their comments to heart. "i’m not gonna eat george, are you two mental?"
"yeah, sod off, both of you." george rolls his eyes before looking to you, "ignore 'em. 'specially john. he’s just mad he couldn’t bring cyn."
john's face drops, now glaring at the youngest beatle. "alright, georgie," john picks up his guitar, handing it to him a bored look as he shakes his head, "'stead of chattin it up with your girl, you should be practicing yer chords."
george stands up, slinging his guitar over him before leaning down to press a kiss to your cheek. "wish me luck, luv."
you give him a warm smile before taking his hand and pointing the indents of your teeth left on his skin. "my good luck charm."
he laughs before johns voice yells again. "going on soon!"
the four of them rush towards the green room door, standing to waiting for their name to be called.
everyone has been quiet until pete spoke up, "bloody hell, george, did a dog get to you?" he pointed to the younger boys hand, evidence of your teeth still marked on his hand.
"no, just my girl," he sighs dreamily, holding his hand up to display your sign of affection, "love 'er so bloody bad."
"she seems sweet but a bloody animal, that one." john warns pete, a smile across his face.
paul nods along with him, "right, watched her maul right through the poor lad."
"the boy's a sap for his girl, that's all." stuart clarifies, shaking his head at his friends antics.
pete shakes his head, confusion spread on his face, "would never let my bird do that to me."
in response, george just shrugs, adjusting his guitar, "just love 'er so much, dont think i could bring myself to care."
