}°'☆ beatle imagines - 🍃🌥

marlboros - p.m

tw: smoking.
don't smoke, kids!

×

Paul rested his foot on the vanity table before him, eyes boring at his illuminated reflection as his mind sank in a melancholic void. It was break time before the next shot, and he was bored out of his head.

He can't talk to John as he was too busy getting every girl drool over him outside, George can't be bothered either since he's at the canteen having a sandwich. All that's left in the dressing room is him, and Ringo. Well, Bongo doesn't really count since he's out like a light on the couch.

He can feel something tugging on his coat, and the urge to step outside and find an activity to do was beyond irritating. Yet, he resumed still, Ringo's snores as his background music.

Fuck. I'm craving something right now - a good smoke, perhaps?

Brows knit together in the middle of his forehead, Paul reached down to his pocket for a carton of fine Marlboros. Unfortunately, it consisted nothing but his wallet. Feeling slightly irritated, he huffed and stood up, the sharp scraping of his chair surprisingly loud. He patted the wrinkles on his pants and headed for the door.

×

"For fuck's sake, Agatha. Of course he's "one of a kind". He's John Lennon for god's sake! But he has a wife."

She stippled the peach rouge lightly on her cheeks, the color of it matching the lipgloss she applied just minutes ago on the same vanity. The girl looked ravishing, yet her face twisted in disgust as her friend gushed over a married man.

"Oh, I know, I know. But it just feels so different when he does what he did. Don't you see how he was lookin' at me?", she let out a long exhale of smoke. Accompanied by a cigarette on her right index and middle finger, Agatha's gaze bored to the ceiling.

"You're outta' your mind", the other girl shook her head and threw herself beside her friend on the mint green cushion, the scent of tar greeted her nose when she laughed. "I like the other one, tho'."

"Which one?"

"The cute one."

"George?"

"Naw! He's the quiet one", she took the roll of Marlboro Agatha offered. "It's Paul, I mean. Luv' his cheeks. Quite the charmer, too."

She hummed a sound of acknowledgement and huffed another smoke. Just before she could ask another question, a knock on the door averted their attention.

"Yes?", she stood up from her slumping position to a much more presentable pose.

The door opened to reveal a dark-haired man leaning nonchalantly against the doorframe. "Sorry to be such a bother, but have you ladies got a box o' smoke?", he asked with a smile.

His grin grew wider on the edge of his mouth the moment he saw that the two women were wearing nothing but corsets and a pair of performance stockings.

It's Paul McCartney.

After glancing at Agatha (she replied with a shrug), she struggled to hold back a wide grin.

"Sure thing, honey. Come, sit down."

.

As requested by dollgmc
Ok this was...a lil saucy but it's Paul so duh.

10 votes for part two of this? Perhaps ;)