The Beatles Imagines

Period (George)

"Urgh," You groaned and writhed in the bed. You couldn't get comfortable at all. Your back was sore, You felt physically sick and your stomach aches.

"Y/N," what's wrong?" George came into the room, ready for bed in his adorable pyjamas. There were adorable because they were only cute little sorts. He slept topless and that was just fine with you.

"Nothing much," you grumbled and hid your face into a pillow.

"That's a lie," you felt a soft kiss on the back of your shoulder. As George got into bed, the mattress shook.

"I'm telling you, it's nothing," you said again, with zero energy.

"I'm not stupid Y/N. You're telling me what's wrong, otherwise I won't go to sleep and I'll be asking you all night long," he threatened sweetly, looking all tanned from his gardening escapades.

"You don't want to know," you turned your resting head to watch him and those gorgeous brown eyes blinked back at you, his swooping lashes long like spiders legs.

"I want to know more than anything," he swept a piece of hair from your eyes with hot hands.

"I think I'm going to start my you know what. I can feel it," you mumbled and blushed a bright pink.

George had no clue what you were referring to. "What's a you know what?"

"You know?" You hinted again, sighing at how oblivious guys were to this sort of thing.

"No," he repeated and knitted his large brows.

"MY PERIOD GEORGE," you half shouted in exasperation and looked away.

"Oh. Thats a you know what," was all he could say to your mini outburst. You knew he'd been married before, but you didn't know how much he knew about periods.

"Yes, it is," you snapped and closed your eyes in pain.

"Does it hurt?" He asked softly, in a gentle tone.

"Yes."

"Where?"

"Everywhere. Mostly my stomach and my back," you sighed in pain.

Suddenly the covers were pulled away from your body and George's warm hands snaked over to your spine. You were lying on your front so it wasn't too hard for him. "Where?" He asked again, staring to place his hands on different sections of your back. "Here? Or here?"

"There," you whispered and nodded into the pillow when his hands touched the place it hurt most.

"Okay, love," he applied some pressure to the sore area and moved his hands in alternate directions to massage you. You couldn't help but breathe a sigh of relief, a bit of relief from the horrid sensations. "Better?" His soft as honey voice dropped.

"A bit." You agreed. "Thank you."

"No, thank you. I don't know how you do all of this. You're a strong woman. I love that about you."