Ringo Imagine:

You gazed at yourself in the mirror as you dusted a tint of peach blush on to your cheeks and slathered on a light shade of red upon your lips. Your eyes darted over to the corner of your dresser, where a framed photo of you and your boyfriend, Ringo, stood. You were both hugging in the picture, with his nose nuzzled into the crook of your neck. You smiled at it.

You were getting yourself ready in your vanity for dinner at a fancy Italian restaurant. You were quite excited. You loved Italian food, and you couldn't wait to eat a classic risotto with Ringo.

Speak of the devil, Ringo leaned against the wall by the doorway, watching you fix up your makeup with a smile of adoration. In his eyes, you were a true picture of perfection, for he had never seen anyone look as beautiful as you.

"You don't need that much makeup, love," he chuckled. "You're much more beautiful without it."

"It's just a little bit, Ringo," you grinned. "And I know I don't need it. But I like wearing it. I feel more classy."

Ringo shook his head. "It's not that I don't love it. I just love your face. It's nice to look at, that's all."

"Why thank you, Richard."

He scratched the back of his neck, his blue eyes thoughtful. Then, he smiled. "How about we forget about the restaurant? We'll just eat here. We can make our own Italian feast."

You turned to him and blinked. "Can we make risotto?" you asked.

"Of course! I mean, I'm not quite sure how to make that... Actually, I don't even know what that is."

"Rice, honey. It's rice."

"Well, I'm sure we'll figure it out! Come on, Y/N. Let's get cooking! It'll be fun!"

You couldn't say no to that face, and besides, it did sound like fun. You dropped your brush and took Ringo's hand. You both skipped to the kitchen like children.

"So risotto," Ringo said, clapping his hands together as you brought out pots and pans. "What do we need for that?"

"Well, for starters, rice..."

***

Halfway through the cooking process, the risotto was actually looking quite nice. You found a recipe in your mother's cookbook and went from there. Although the kitchen was quite a mess. There were splats on the walls and kitchenware littered all over the counter. Not to mention Ringo had accidentally spilled half of the bag of rice on the floor. Other than that, things were going well. And Ringo was right: it was really fun.

"It's almost ready!" Ringo announced.

"Hey Ringo, come here for a second," you said with an innocent smile, your hands clasped behind your back.

Ringo curiously approached you, his head tilted to the side. "What's up, love?"

You didn't reply. Instead, you brought your hands out from behind your back, where you were hiding a tube of lipstick. You quickly slathered on a bit on Ringo's mouth, making him jump back in surprise.

"Noooo!" he squealed, but with a laugh. "What was that for?"

"You wanted to stay home for dinner, so I did for you," you giggled. "So now you have to do something for me. It's makeover time!"

"Come again?" Ringo's eyes widened. "You want to put makeup on me?"

"Please," you pouted, puckering your lips like a child begging for candy. "Just this once. You'll look so pretty."

Just as you couldn't say no to him, he could not possibly say no to you. After a small whine, he said, "Okay. But just this one time. Deal?"

"Deal!" you said eagerly as you sprinted back to your vanity to grab your makeup bag.

Ten minutes later, as you were carefully flicking mascara on Ringo's eyelashes, he said, "Make me look good, okay? And for the record, I'm never telling the lads about this. I'll never hear the end of it."

"Fair enough," you laughed. "Now hold still. And don't blink so much, I need to get this right."

After another few minutes, you finally announced, "Finished! Have a look!"

Ringo drew in a deep breath and gazed at himself in the little mirror you provided him. His jaw dropped to the floor; he couldn't believe what he was seeing.

His lips were painted a bright shade of rouge. His cheeks were tinted a lighter pink, a little more rosy than normal. Oh, but his eyes... His eyelashes were much longer than he realized, especially with all that mascara. And the eyeliner framing the lashes was quite on point, he had to admit. You actually did a good job.

"Oh, Y/N, I look so fabulous!" he cried, getting up from his seat and posing like a model. You burst out laughing. "I'd make a really pretty girl, wouldn't you say?"

"All the girls would be jealous!" you chortled.

"How flattering! So elegant, such grace!"

You went up to him and pecked his lips, smearing some of the lipstick.

"You know I have to tell the lads about this, right?"

"Y/N... please don't."

Long story short, the boys found out. And Ringo had the longest year of his life.

Requested by @marmaladeskies67!