ringo loved you— a lot. he would do anything for you. but he knew how insecure you felt, feeling to have to compete against all his female fans all the time. he was a beatle after all. but he would always try to make you understand that you were all that mattered to him.

you were sitting on the sofa, bawling your eyes out when ringo came in after a session in the studio with the rest of his band. when seeing you there, he quickly took off his shoes and rushed over to you, sitting down next to you.

“what’s wrong, lassie?” he asks in his liverpudlian accent, moving a strand of hair behind your ear.