1958

you were sitting on the sofa of paul mccartney's living room, zoned out, as he, pete, george, eric and john - your boyfriend - played their music. you always tagged along with the group - eric was your older brother and so he didn't really have a choice.

they were all a bit older than you, but they still liked you.. john especially. at first, you guys had your relationship in secret. eric wouldn't be too happy seeing his little sister with an eighteen year old. but overtime you stopped caring about hiding it, to the point where you'd snog together infront of all of them.

but you and john's relationship wasn't so perfect. you were young - you couldn't really stand up for yourself. atleast not to a guy almost five years older than you.

the boys finished playing their song and decided on a little break. paul went to the kitchen to grab some beers, eric going with him, as john slumped down onto the sofa beside you, putting an arm around your shoulder. pete sat beside him and george sat beside you. you were smooshed now, by all them.

john accidently kicked his pack of cigarettes away when kicking off his shoes, and he patted your shoulder, leaning back. "oh, fuck. pass me those fags, would ya, love?" he sighed, pushing you off the sofa. he's always ask you to do things for him, like you were a slave. and none of the others ever said anything about it because, well, it was the 50s and they were teenage boys.

when you got off the sofa, john smacked your ass, causing an erruption of laughter from the other lads. johnny just smirked, watching as you kneeled down to pick up the fags.

"atta girl." he mumbled, as paul and eric came back with six beers, one for everyone. including you.