The Beatles Preferences + Imagines

little sandwich baggie {j.l.}

~Mid October, 1967~

~London, UK~

     Where is he?  You thought to yourself. Practically pacing the area between the living room and kitchen, your mind was flooded with all kinds of crazy ideas of what your husband, John, was doing. You knew it was a busy time for the band since they were recording some kind of psychedelic album that was supposedly going to 'pave the way for music forever' as Paul would say. During your frantic treading, you noticed a sandwich baggie crammed under the television stand. You strutted over to crouch down, and let out an angry sigh.

     "One time thing, huh?" you mumbled to yourself. You didn't even have to examine it any closer; you knew it was cocaine. You knew John had done some kind of narcotics before, and he told you 'it was a one time thing' and 'I don't know, Y/N, everyone was doing it.'. He had promised  that he would never do it again, and yet here you were, holding his sandwich baggie filled a substance that would ruin his life if you let him continue. You had no other choice than to wait for him to get home. Patient, Y/N you reminded yourself. All of the sudden, your 'beloved' husband burst threw the door, acting strange. 

     "Where were you John?" You inquired, already knowing the answer, but you wanted him to know of your presence in the late night. Startled, all he managed to get out was your name. You were furious. And he had no idea because his eyes were so dilated and glazed over with whatever he had consumed. 

     "Do you need a new watch? Or maybe hearing aids? Because you're late and I asked a question." You said sharply, not even trying to hide the anger and passive aggressiveness. 

     "I- well- the band- we were just practicing and Paul messed up and we had to restart." You scoffed at his remark. He sounded like a child stuttering about. 

     "If that question was too hard for you to answer, maybe you could tell me what this is." You uncrossed your arms and showed poor John the baggie. You thought he couldn't get anymore shocked, but boy were you wrong. His eyes got surprisingly larger and his pale cheeks were flooded with blood. Not much longer, he dashed onto the couch where you were sitting and grabbed it out of your hands. In that short time, you noticed the same white powered substance on his mustache. 

     "John! You said it was a one time thing! Now you have it stashed around the house!" You tried to grab the bag, but the drug must have heightened his reflexes. He quickly stuffed it in his pocket, while staring at you. Don't cry. It's what he wants. Don't you dare cry Y/N. You stood straight up and looked your husband in the eyes.

     "John, give it to me. If you could see yourself you would be embarrassed. Please give it to me." 

     "No. It's mine. Why do you have to be so uptight? All the other girls come to the studio and do it with us. But I have to leave mine at home because she is such a buzz kill." You were done playing his silly game. You reached for his pocket, but immediately felt a stinging sensation creep upon your cheek. You glared at John, his face full of regret. You weren't thinking about not crying now. Now you were furious. 

     You darted up the stairs into your shared room and locked the door. You knew he was following you. You could hear his shaky breaths outside the wooden door. You grabbed a bag, any bag would do, and began packing. You packed a few of the luxurious clothes John had bought months before. You grabbed your diamond necklace. You grabbed your makeup. You only took things that were the most valuable and a few articles of clothing to last you a week or two. You threw it over your shoulder and bolted out the bedroom door, passing a crying John. He grabbed your wrist and you turned to look at him. He mouthed an 'I'm sorry' and for a second you believed him. You wanted to stay. You wanted to unpack and cook dinner and cuddle on the couch. But that wasn't an option. You needed to get away from him for a while. 

     You grabbed the keys off of the coffee table and ran out the door. You didn't start sobbing until you buckled your seat belt, but you knew you had to drive. You didn't know where to go. Certainly not Paul's. How obvious that would be. And you couldn't go to your parents. You decided that Pattie and George have always accepted you into their home, and George would always protect you, even if it was John that you needed protection from. Pulling into their familiar driveway, you dried your tears and grabbed your bag. 

     "Y/N- what are you- Oh my gosh! George! Come here!" Pattie seemed to notice the hand-shaped print on your cheek. George came rushing in his blue plaid pjs, and stood aghast at the sight of you. You were rushed in by the both of them. George sat on the couch with you while Pattie brewed 3 cups of tea. You could do nothing except sob into George's shirt, while occasionally getting a few words out. You could tell he was fuming, which was strange for such a quiet man. They both insisted for you to rest, and promised they would do something tomorrow morning. 

fubdbfhsdbfsd idk how i feel about this y'all like i think it was good for me ya know like to let all my anger about john out but it was saddddd. idk if i should do a part two or just leave it in this ominous ending. Also i've done paul, ringo, and john imagines but no geo ones so if you'd like you can comment or dm me some ideas 

Question 23: Opinion on ringo's beard 

Answer 23: y'all don't hate me but this was the worst thing to happen to poor ritchie. 0/10 never again

Question 24: Beatle you'd marry

Answer 24: fsfbjsjdnffnj idk tbh like Paul is sooo sooo sweet and romantic and John is just so funny and brilliant and George is so compassionate and beautiful and Ringo is just a big teddy bear man ya know i'll just take all of them-

Anyways love ya babes peace and love -B