1964

beatlemania was at its peak. fans were going crazy over these four liverpudlian lads. and so, as a result of this, john, paul, george and ringo ended up with a lot of money— a stark contrast to how they first were, when they began making music.

and so, john, your husband, being the irresponsible yet loving young man he was, decided to spoil, and i mean spoil you, for your (choose age) birthday.

you and john were walking around shops, and you were wearing a pretty dress john had surprised you with in the morning, right when you woke up. all day, he had been doing cute little things like carrying you when you got tired or holding your hand as you walked. he was already carrying quite a few shopping bags in his arms, and even when you offered to hold some, he refused, saying that you were going to get princess treatment today.

“where next, love?” he asked, wiggling his eyebrows in that cheeky way, like he always did, and he nudged you, nodding over to a shop right in-front of you. it looked expensive, with jewellery and dresses and heels and bags. “what about there, hm?”