Okay But

We've Got Tonight (Paul McCartney x Starr!Female!Reader)

Find Part Two Here

A/N: WOW, is all I can say. The alarming support from those of you reading my work is driving me to write more than EVER right now! I cannot say thank you enough, y'all. Your notes and comments inspire me, so please keep it up if you wanna read more from me!

I'm about to bless y'all with some McBeardy angst, so I hope you all enjoy!!

Also, this fic was inspired by Bob Seger's We've Got Tonight, so I highly recommend listening to the song before and/or after reading this one to get into the vibe of it.

Summary: Paul is in his lonesome after a break up. So are you. You decide to keep each other company.

WARNINGS: ANGST, but it gets sweet in the end. Mentions of cheating, low self esteem. Suggestive actions, mentions/insinuation of sex, but no smut (that'll be saved for a bonus part 2 if anyone's interested in that.)

There is mention of the Beatles' extended family, so if I have any incorrect info in here, I apologize in advance; I didn't want this to become too much of a history lesson.

Also, like my other fics, this one is a NOVEL, so please read when you have a good half hour+ of free time :)

I don't wanna rate this a T, but there is no smut in this, so please just be aware that there is sex mentioned/insinuated, so PLEASE just read at your own discretion. But most of all, enjoy!

Paul was sitting on the sofa in the den, alone with the lights out. He was staring out the window at the night in silence as he sucked down another cigarette and sipped at another glass of scotch.

It was late enough that the world around him was dead sleep, yet he was wide awake, and alone with his thoughts.

He broke it off with Linda. She was a sweet girl, and no one was really quite sure why things ended between them, but they all knew it was a mutual agreement.

Paul really hadn't been taking it well, though. He hadn't been sleeping right for almost a month, and he stared drinking a little more. He didn't want anyone really knowing, which is why he did it in his lonesome.

He wasn't necessarily by himself, because the rest of the Beatles were upstairs in their collective rooms asleep; but what made him feel alone was that alongside the bandmates in their rooms were their families and wives. And Paul just didn't have that.

Usually he would have been rather vocal over something that bothered him so much, but the band felt like recently they'd been clashing, so he wasn't wanting to bother them with something like that.

While Paul finished the final puff of his cigarette and put out the butt in the ashtray on the coffee table, his head snapped to the entrance of the den, where he caught sight of a silhouette in the threshold.

You stopped in your tracks when Paul made eye contact with you. You supposed he'd heard your footsteps.

From what you could tell from the light of the moon shining in through the window, Paul seemed worn out. He rubbed the side of his face with his free hand before wordlessly nodding to you in acknowledgement.

"... I'm sorry to intrude. I didn't know anyone was still awake. I was just needing a drink," you explained quietly. You'd met Paul a few times here and there-- you had to, with Ringo-- or Rich-- your brother, being one of his bandmates and all.

Paul was always kind when you interacted with each other, but you could definitely tell something was a little off about his behaviour this time around.

Rich did mention Paul's break-up to you briefly, but you were going through your own separation, so you were in your own head with your own problems. That's why Rich offered to bring you along with him, Maureen, Zak, and Jason on this trip with the rest of the guys and their families, so you could get away from thinking about your ex.

Unfortunately, the unfamiliar space put you in the same position as Paul; wide awake, in the middle of the night, with a racing mind.

"'S alright," he sighed before drinking the rest of the scotch in his glass and raising to his feet. You watched him move around the room to the alcohol cabinet right outside the kitchen.

He refilled his glass right to the top before wordlessly grabbing a second glass out, tossing in a few ice cubes, and filling it three quarters of the way before sliding it over to you.

Your eyes widened a little, considering you'd actually come down for some water, but maybe this was a sign you were going to want something stronger.

"... Should've asked you if you even like this stuff," Paul stated apologetically when he realized how gentlemanly he was not being. You smiled sadly at him, but picked up the glass anyways.

He matched his glass to the same level as yours before you both gently tapped them together. The sound of the glass chimed for a moment before you and Paul raised the drinks to your lips.

The scotch was harsh, and you surely made an unflattering face as you took a sip, but Paul didn't say anything to you, as he was too busy staring at the ice swirling around in his own glass.

"... What're you doing up so late, if you don't mind me asking?" You asked after a moment of silence, and Paul's big brown eyes met yours for another quiet second as he thought about what to respond with.

He pushed his tongue into his cheek before shrugging and mumbling into his glass, "thinking."

After taking another sip of his drink and staring off into space for a moment or two, he bit his lip, gesturing over to you with his glass.

"And you?" You shook your head, realizing it was your turn to scrounge up an excuse for being wide awake at such an absurd time.

"Can't sleep," you lied.

Paul frowned, motioning you to the sofa he was just sitting on to invite you to sit for a while. After a moment of pondering whether you should really go back to your room, you made up your mind and headed to the sofa, Paul following suit.

There was just something about the way his dark eyes gazed into yours, and behind them was this sadness you just couldn't ignore.

Before he took a seat, you were able to get another good look at him. He was in black jeans, and a green sweater; his day-clothes completely contrasting your pyjama set. He'd grown his hair out since you saw him last, and now he was sporting a full beard.

You always thought he was a good looking guy, but now, without being blinded by any bias, there was really no denying how handsome Paul had become since you seen him last.

In fact, it felt like every time you ended up seeing him next, he always seemed to look better and better, and you weren't quite sure how that was possible.

Paul took the seat right next to you, and he set his drink down on the coffee table, clasping his hands together, elbows on the thighs, and hanging his head.

"To be honest with you... I went through a separation about a month ago. And I don't seem to be handling it well." He finally sighed, turning his head so he was looking at you again. He unclasped his hands and ran his fingers through his beard a few times.

"I'm a romantic, y'know, and I'm not a fan of being so lonely." You nodded your head a little at his words. What was tough was that you didn't have anything encouraging to say to him because you were in the same boat.

Paul swallowed when you remained silent, and then he cleared his throat. He scratched the back of his head nervously as he leaned back into the sofa.

"I'm sorry, I know it's late, and you're probably just wanting to head to bed." He gave a little head nod of understanding as he rubbed his eye with his finger. "You're not here to talk to me about my problems."

It was your turn to set your drink down on the table, turning your attention to him again.

"Well... will that help make you feel better, perhaps?" you watched Paul's eyes meet yours again, and he pressed his lips together tightly in thought.

"... I don't know if there is really much to say," he said after a moment, reaching for his glass again.

"Thank you, though. Was very kind of you to offer somethin' like that."

After he took another sip of his drink, he gestured to you again with his glass.

"... Ringo sort of mentioned you were going through a separation too... You doin' okay?" Paul tried his best to be as inclusive as possible, but it was all rough stuff to talk about, so he treaded carefully.

"I mean..." you trailed off for a moment before responding with a simple, "I'm angry, above all else."

You were honestly taken aback by Paul's question. Rich wasn't necessarily the greatest person to receive comforting advice from, especially when it came to this separation, since he thought so highly of your ex, but you perhaps weren't telling him the whole truth.

But you were definitely surprised he even mentioned your pain to anyone else, let alone his bandmates.

"Kept a lot of heavy things to myself for a long time, it just became exhausting." Now it was your turn to reach for your scotch, still cringing at its strength as you took a generous mouthful.

Paul waited a beat before asking, "would talking about it with me maybe make you feel better?"

"... you really care to know that stuff?" You asked gently for clarification. As mentioned, you and Paul weren't close, you could probably count on one hand the amount of times you met him prior to this moment...

And this was heavy stuff you were seemingly about to share, and you really wanted to make sure he was okay with that.

Paul nodded his head without hesitation, and offered, "'s the least I can do for you for keeping me company so late."

You sighed a deep breath, and took a few more sips from your glass before putting it back down, curling your legs up to your chest, and began.

You told Paul about your ex. You told him about how you were with him for five years, and watched him slowly fall out of love with you, sleep around, and how you struggled with self-image and self-worth for a long time.

You also mentioned how you were the one to leave, but he had no idea you had any strength to do so, so he tried for a long while to guilt you into going back to him.

The difficult things to talk about made you a little more emotional, so you breathed your way through it slowly as to not cry. The drink Paul poured for you was helping you relax at least.

Paul was more than patient with you, and you were grateful for that. At one point during the lengthy conversation, he lit another cigarette, and began offering you drags throughout your story to calm your nerves.

You took those offers graciously, and thankfully.

"... I don't know. I just lay awake every night, wondering if there was something I could have done different so he didn't do what he did."

You were staring out the window with Paul now, taking in just how many stars you could actually see from the den. He took his final puffs of his smoke, the thin silver waves swirling in the air above the both of your heads.

"Sounds like he didn't cherish you enough when you were around," Paul debated gently, shaking his head and putting out his cigarette end in the ashtray next to the others. He picked up his scotch again before mumbling against the rim,

"He's not worth it."

You pulled yourself from the trance of the tiny lights outside to wipe remnants of silent, salty tears off your cheeks, and you used that moment to glance over at Paul, whose nose was still deep in the glass. When he pulled the drink away from his mouth and swallowed, you parted your lips to speak.

"... was Linda worth it?" You didn't mean it in a rude way, but you hadn't met her personally, and you wanted to pry Paul just a tiny bit.

He smiled, but it was bitter. You figured you struck a nerve, and before you could apologize for what you said, he answered simply, with tears glossing his own eyes,

"Yes. She was."

You tilted your head a little and frowned, trying to understand what drove them apart.

"It was just never the right timing. She was ready for things I wasn't in the beginning, and then down the road, when I was seemingly ready for those things, she wasn't. And I didn't want her wasting her time on a life she didn't wanna live, y'know?"

"So she's the one that got away," you mused gently.

"Indeed, she was." Paul nodded a little before finishing the rest of his scotch in his glass, leaning back again, and cradling his head in his hand as he looked at you for another quiet moment, resting his glass in-hand on his thigh.

"... I'm not a bad person, am I?" Those watery eyes never disappeared, and you had to break his sad gaze, opting to reach out and rub his shoulder comfortingly.

"Hey, no. Wasting your time, or her time, like the way my ex did to me, would have made you a bad person, Paul. Saying good bye was the right thing to do."

"Well, I wish that made me feel better," he mumbled, dropping his own gaze to the space between the both of you. He pushed a stray tear away before he thought you could see it, and then scratched at his beard again. You guessed that must have been a habit of his out of stress.

"Something about her made me feel like she was the one. Like we were meant to share the same story; but we always seemed to be on a different chapter,"

He sniffled, but only once. "That being said, was I perhaps too lovestruck in the end to want to believe that her future was meant to be shared with someone else?"

His voice carried so much sorrow, and you knew he needed some kind of advice. It took you a moment or so to find the right words to say to him.

"... Knowing my ex wasn't right for me and the reality of me leaving doesn't make me feel any better. At all." You offered to Paul, before adding,

"... But why should the expectations of those we chose to take out of our life dictate the way we behave today?"

The words that came out of your mouth were surprisingly wise, and you watched Paul's eyebrows knit together as he absorbed what you said.

He focused his sight to you again, a more determined look on his face. Paul knew you were absolutely right. He was a charmer; romancing people was his thing.

There was no denying Linda was special, but when he realized he really had no commitment in romancing her anymore, he finally understood that it was his own thoughts holding him back.

Even if it took him a little longer than expected, he knew you were right. He would recover from this.

"... I think you just opened my eyes and made me realize something... Thank you, y/n, really." He reached up with his free hand after a second, fingers grazing your own hand still on his arm in comfort, showing you his gratitude for your words of advice.

You smiled a little, glad you were able to help him somewhat through his times of trouble as you pulled your hand away.

Paul stood up again, retrieving his empty glass from the coffee table before facing you fully, a more genuine smile beginning to pull on the corners of his mouth, but it was still rather sad.

"I'm grabbing a refill, you too?"

Your sight drifted to your near-empty glass on the table.

Why let tonight go to waste? End so soon?

"Please," you asked, grabbing the glass yourself, but Paul began to tut at you as he grabbed the glass from your fingers.

"Please, I'll get it for you," he insisted, and you watched his slender figure move around the couch to head for the alcohol cabinet another time. He filled them only halfway this time, and on the way back he made a brief stop at the record player near the entrance of the den.

Soft classical music rang out quietly from the player once Paul dropped the needle down onto the vinyl, and he returned to his spot next to you with your two drinks. You thanked him quietly as he passed the glass over to you, and he leaned in a little, raising his drink between the two of you.

"Hello to... new beginnings," he began slowly.

"And Goodbye to false finales," you finished, your glasses tapping together again before you took yet another sip of the drink.

Paul matched your movements, his eyes watching you, even when you turned away to gaze longingly out the window for a moment, basking in the feeling of the gentle music flirting with your ears.

Sure, you and Paul could have went on for the rest of the night discussing your heartbreak, but you decided to drive the conversation elsewhere.

You sighted back to him after a while, his sight unwavering from you. Your eyes locked for just a beat before you decided aloud with a gentle nod,

"... you know, that beard really suits you."

Paul's eyebrows shot up, and his face darkened a little as he bit his lips between his teeth almost nervously.

"... Think so?"

You'd never seen him lack so much confidence when given a compliment before, but instead of pitying him, you almost admired his innocence.

It sounded like he needed to hear a compliment like that.

"Yes," you laughed airily, raising your glass up for another drink. Paul couldn't bite back his smile anymore, so he copied you to mask his lips. You then gestured to your head with the point of your finger as you swallowed the alcohol back easier and easier each time.

"Your hair, too. I think it's a nice length."

Your kind words made Paul feel warm and fuzzy inside, and he placed his scotch back down on the table.

"Well, thanks, Love." He rubbed the back of his neck, and laughed weakly. "I call it my 'Don't View The Mirror For Three Weeks' look."

Paul paused in his moments of self-deprecation to realize he should have maybe complimented you back. He took a second to take another good look at you as he decided what to say, exactly.

"... Y'know, the last time I saw you was a few years ago, now."

You thought for a moment on that. It had been a while since you'd seen him last. You nodded your head as you recalled the day.

"You're right, it has been some time. Christmas, 1966." John and Cynthia had hosted this massive holiday dinner, and everyone's extended family was there.

You were single at the time, and spent dinner conversing with Paul's sister, Ruth, who was at least fifteen years younger than you. There was no introduction made by Paul, she just walked up, introduced herself to you, and made a friend by herself.

She went on and on about school, and music, and how the potatoes were her favourite part of dinner; and you paid attention to everything she had to say, responding with your own opinions and jokes to keep her feeling included amongst the adults at the table.

And Paul, who was seated next to Ruth, couldn't help but overhear your conversations throughout the evening, and he found it rather charming that you treated Ruth with such respect despite her young age.

And after dinner, you and Ruth danced together almost the whole night. She eventually went over to do a little dancing with Paul, and you watched as she bounced around excitedly with her brother, who, for just a moment, locked eyes with you across the sea of dancing guests.

You remember giving him a shy wave with a smile, and he sent a wink back your way before returning his attention to Ruth, spinning her around as she squealed happily.

"... I'm rather fond of that evening," Paul stated simply, the reality of your melancholy evening strongly contrasting with the memories of the wonderful night.

Now you and Paul weren't so young, and this time he was noticing the little lines under your eyes, indicating the dragging march of time slowly catching up to you both.

"And, even after all the years that have passed... you still look as lovely tonight as you did then."

You blushed at Paul's compliment, biting back a stupid grin as you repeated the words in your head.

"And I admire your ever-present kindness," he added on, and you knew he really just meant he showed appreciation for lending him an ear in his time of need.

"More people need to be like you."

"I don't know what to say," you said honestly, settling for a gentle "thank you," in the end. Paul just nodded, unsure if there was anything to say back.

"You know..." you paused for a second, watching as Paul went for another sip from his glass. "It was quite a shame we never got a dance in that night together, just you and me."

Paul was mid sip when you said that, so you continued on.

"The music was great, everyone was in high spirits, and I was maybe too shy to approach you myself and ask you to dance with me. So I guess that's on me." You scratched your elbow as you announced your rather dumb confession to him.

Paul, who was nearly done with his drink now, waited a moment or two in thought, before rising to his feet, and wandering back over to the record player, scotch still in hand.

You tried to watch his movements over your shoulder, but it was really dark. All you knew was that he was changing the music.

The classical tune cut, and the player began to drawl a much slower, more recent song; one you hadn't yet heard.

Paul turned on his heel as he reapproached the sofa, taking the final sip of scotch he had left in his glass before placing it back down on the table, and reaching his hand out for you to take.

"Well, let's not let this dance wait any longer, then, yeah?"

You froze for just a moment, Paul's outstretched hand hung in the air for a few seconds, and your sight moved up to his face, where you noticed his confidence falter just a little.

"Again, I know it's late, and I know your plans for the night surely didn't include me..."

"But, still, here we are." Your words came out almost effortlessly. You finished your scotch as well, and when you finally put your hand in Paul's, he squeezed your fingers gently, that warm upturn finally returning to his lips.

He guided you slowly over to the windows so you weren't in so much darkness, the moonlight still shining just enough for you both to see one another; and when Paul decided he could see your face much better, he let his other hand drop to your waist, watching as your own hand rested on his forearm.

You both shifted from side to side to the beat of the music, and you stared absentmindedly at the small space between you both.

"... You okay?" He asked you quietly after a minute, and you looked up at him, cheeks reddening as you realized you could feel his breath fanning your face.

"I've realized just how long it's been since I last danced with someone like this," you mentioned sheepishly, and a little smirk pulled at the corner of Paul's mouth.

"You don't have two left feet, y'know," his tone was almost teasing, and you smiled back, glad he wasn't feeling so much sadness anymore.

Paul then added with a little shrug, "'Sides, I wanted to dance with you that night, too. But I'm very glad I have the honours now."

Paul began turning with you in slow circles together as you continued to sway, and you took a moment to decide your next words carefully.

"... I suppose what I'm trying to say is that it's different when you're dancing with someone who actually wants to dance with you. It's just... it's really nice. So thank you, Paul."

Paul let go of your waist for a moment, and raised your clasped hands above your heads so you could twirl under his arm.  When you did just that, and faced him again, he pulled you just a little closer than you were before, your torsos flush as his hand snaked slowly to the small of your back.

"Thank you," he mumbled back, quietly. You weren't entirely sure what he was thanking you for this time, but you never asked.

Instead, you shut your eyes and opted to rest your head in the crook of his neck as the hand you had on Paul's bicep slid upward so your arm circled around his shoulders, in a half embrace.

And then you felt Paul tilt his own head down as if to envelope you more. You'd be lying if you said your heart didn't skip a beat when he did that.

Paul then began to hum the lyrics of the song, quietly, as if you were the only person in the world who was meant to hear it. Both yours and his eyes were closed now as you two basked in such a beautiful moment.

Two lonely people, finding comfort, and peace in each other.

Paul raised your clasped hands closer to him so he could rest them against his chest. You could actually feel his heartbeat pounding against the side of your hand, which made you a little nervous, but not in a bad way.

Paul stopped moving you around in circles, but the swaying never ceased. He lifted his cheek off your crown after a while, and you couldn't help but open your eyes and raise your gaze back to his face.

Paul smiled so sweetly at you, and you watched his eyes shift ever so slightly from left to right as he looked back into yours. His eyebrows then worried for just a moment before he opened his mouth slightly as if to say something, but no words came out.

Your shifting finally slowed to a standstill, and you opened your mouth this time to speak, yet you found yourself in Paul's very position.

There was nothing to say.

You watched as his gaze softened on you, and you weren't sure if it was the drinks, or the lack of sleep, but it was like you could almost feel the gravity around you manipulating you to move just a little closer to him.

And he must have felt it as well. Paul's head began to drop slowly, and it wasn't long before you met him in the middle, your lips coming together in a very soft, and very unplanned kiss. The both of you kept still, almost as if the smallest move would have frightened the other away.

You were both holding your breath as well, and Paul pulled away from the kiss first, arm still wrapped around your back, hand still clasped in yours.

He was staring at you in awe, as were you, eyes wide, and lips still slightly parted as you both processed what exactly just happened.

Paul still couldn't muster any words, nor could you, for that matter; but he could definitely read your gaze. Your eyes were almost begging him to do that again.

And that's exactly what happened; your lips came crashing into each other again after only another second.

You weren't stupid, and neither was he. You both already knew this night was going to become something else entirely. You were craving the touch of someone, and you didn't even have to tell him.

You could just tell with the way he was moving his mouth against yours, and the way his body was flush with you, that he was wanting it just as bad.

Paul's hand finally let go of yours so he could lace his fingers into the hair at the back of your head, and your own hand slid around to his back. He tried pulling you even closer, but it just wasn't possible.

You sighed quietly as you kissed him again, and again, and Paul's hand unweaved itself from your hair as he cupped your face before breaking the kiss off again, another troubled look on his face.

"Ringo'll kill me if he knew I was--"

"Paul, please. I need this," you didn't let him finish his sentence. You didn't really care what your brother thought of anything, and you assumed, deep down, Paul really didn't care either, because he dove back in for more kisses as soon as he could.

His hands cupped your jawline as you gripped his sweater in your fists at his chest. You parted your mouth slightly and just melted into Paul's arms when he swiped his tongue along your bottom lip.

You moaned lowly against him, ears ringing, and all Paul could think to do was blindly shuffle you backwards towards the sofa, but instead, you felt the coffee table hit the back your legs, and you nearly stumbled back. The glasses, once filled with scotch but now only ice, shuffled against the table's surface at the force of you bumping into it.

Paul ended your kiss once more, one of his hands leaving the side of your face to circle around your hips quickly so you didn't fall back. He smiled at you when he knew you weren't going anywhere, offering you a teasing, "maybe you do have two left feet, Darling."

That wonderful pet name made your flesh rise with goosebumps, but all you could mumble to him was, "Just shut up and kiss me, Paul."

Without hesitation, he did just that, which felt like an eternity to the both of you since the last one.

He, still blindly, yet carefully, directed you around the table and to the sofa. Paul, with his hands holding your hips, was the first to sink down, but encouraged you to straddle him as soon as he was fully seated with an encouraging tap to the back of your thighs.

It was your turn to pull away now, your dominant hand resting flat against the centre of Paul's chest as you gave him a good once-over, feeling his heartbeat beneath your palm.

Paul was leaned back, lips parted and shining, assumably from the spit you'd been exchanging, and his eyes almost twinkling at you in adoration.

Your heart was full of something you hadn't felt in a very long time, and it was all because of this sensual interaction.

You reached out with your other hand and ran your thumb over his bottom lip, his shallow breath fluttering gently against the skin on your fingers. You tilted his head up and kissed him again, and your fingernails just couldn't resist playing with his beard any longer.

Paul's grip on your hips tightened when you started doing that, and when you decided to take your other hand off his chest and start playing with his hair, he let out a very low groan against your lips, and to both of your surprise, his hips bucked up involuntarily against you.

He gasped at his own actions, and you pulled away to view the look of apologetic shock written on his face. His cheeks and neck were flushed, and his eyebrows were bent in worry, again.

"I-I promise I didn't mean to..." Paul's voice carried a hint of... shame, almost. You watched as he nervously toyed his bottom lip between his teeth as he tried searching his brain for something to say, but the effects of his drink and your sweet attention had him grasping for any type of clear thought.

But all of his attempts went completely out the window when you lowered your hips down and rocked them back against his, his head falling back against the sofa as his eyes rolled, a guttural moan rumbling from deep within his chest.

It was absolutely apparent that Paul's jeans were lacking the room they'd possessed a few minutes prior, and when you repeated the circular motion with your hips again, feeling him hard against your core, you were rewarded with another low growl from him.

"W-wait," Paul uttered weakly after a second, arms and fingers tightening at your hips to keep you from moving around and teasing him again, as much as he didn't want you to stop.

"I want this so much. I want you so much," he began, taking a beat to rake his eyes down your body as his tongue swiped against his own bottom lip. His gaze flitted back to your eyes, and he swallowed nervously.

"I don't want you to do this if you aren't, y'know..." you waited for him to finish his thought, and his round pink cheeks seemed to flush just a little more.

"If you're not okay with it."

You took a second to think on his argument. You and he were relatively fresh out of troubled relationships, and you both seemed to be hurting from the aftermath of said relationships...

But you were so lonely, too. And, to each other, you were simply beautiful, and respectful people, offering your... company... in a time of isolation for you both.

And it wasn't like there was any label for what you two were, either. All you and Paul needed was to feel wanted-- to feel loved.

And only if you could experience such a feeling for one more night in your life, Paul was offering now. And you were going to take it.

"I want this moment to last, Paul. If you're okay with making me feel wanted again, I am more than comfortable doing the same for you."

You could see him visibly relax when you said that, relief washing over his features as he reached a hand up to caress the back of your neck and bring you into a single, sweet kiss. You still couldn't get over how gentle and polite he was still being about all of this.

"We should really... go to my room," Paul suggested quietly after pulling a fraction of an inch away from the contact. You nodded your head, sighing "okay" as Paul closed the gap between you both just once more, only for a peck.

He let go of your hips and he reached for your hands instead, fingers intertwining slowly, and affectionately. You slid out of his lap, and Paul rose to his feet, guiding you without a hurry towards of the threshold of the den, where you stood to greet him unexpectedly just an hour or so before this moment.

The 45 on the record player had since finished playing the song, needle spinning needlessly in silence. Paul briefly resituated the player before continuing your journey one step at a time towards his bedroom, the heart in your chest beating erratically.

You climbed the stairs together, one dragging step at a time, and Paul led you around the corner of the hallway, pausing at the first room on the right. He glanced over at you, hand on the doorknob as he gave you another look. One that was asking a final, "are you sure?"

You placed your free hand over Paul's without a sound, and together you opened the door. He pulled you in for one more intimate embrace, lips on yours again before he pulled you into the dark room, gently kicking the door closed behind him.

And that night, you stayed with Paul. Hand-in-hand, bodies entwined, souls healing, loneliness fading away, and hopes of feeling whole again finally returning.

Being awake in the middle of the night had never been so gratifying.

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A/A/N: I hope you all enjoyed this! like I said, I can always whip up a part 2 regarding what happened behind those closed doors, so lmk if you're interested in that at all! Thanks for the support again and stay tuned for more works!

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James II Part I (Paul McCartney x Fem!Reader)

Find Part I Here

A/N: Hello everyone! I feel bad I keep disappearing for like a year at a time; I've been accepted into college, and I've been doing a lot of upgrading work to get there. I also got a job at a dispensary which is great; hitting the John Pennon is helping with major writer's block! Thank you for your continued support and patience while I'm doing all of this. It means a lot that you are all still reading my work, some of which are well over 5 years old now. It means a lot to me that so many people enjoy my writing. I do this for you guys, so your comments and opinions are so kind and encouraging for me to get more work done, so thank you!

I would also like to thank my editor @strawb3rri-le for helping me brainstorm and plan out this story; we're so excited for this one to finally get on a roll!

Summary: Paul, after a long week of working, makes a decision about the girl at the library.

This fic is still written in Paul's POV, and it will probably stay that way because I love knowing what he's thinking about. Also this is a part 1 to a 2 part chapter, so that will be coming after I finish writing a second chapter for another popular fic I was writing.

WARNINGS: I used Y/n a few more times again and I cringe every time I use it and it's so painful, but that's the price you pay when you write x readers, eh? I don't think there are any swear words, maybe some objectification of women if you close one eye and tilt your head, but it's from a "rockstars just get laid so easily" perspective so just take it with a grain of salt.

T rating just in case a swear word or 2 found its way in here

Paul was really busy that next week. He couldn't find any time to be by himself because of the responsibility he had in The Beatles.

The album A Hard Day's Night was to be released about two months from then, as well as the movie of the same name. The guys only wrapped up on filming a month prior, but there weren't enough songs yet to call the album an album. While Paul, John, Ringo, and George were consistent with writing and recording their songs well within their due date, there was always added stress when there was a time limit.

And, even with all of that in mind, there were talks of preparing another album for release in December. So there the band was, spending a whole week in a recording studio brainstorming different songs for A Hard Day's Night. They all played random instrumental chords and progressions, and sung gibberish until proper lyrics formed from the early hours of every morning until late every night.

That Friday evening, they all collectively decided to wrap up early, and take the following day off. Everyone seemed rather relieved. Their work was slowly moving along, but a day to reset, everyone could agree, was well needed.

Paul got home around seven, sighing in contentment as he passed through the front door and dropped his shoulders.

He could finally relax.

He set his bass on the floor by the door, shrugged out of his jacket, and kicked his shoes off before making a beeline for the sofa. He sighed again as he sunk into the furniture for the first time since the previous weekend. All he wanted to do was lie down, and he was so glad he could finally do it. His arms hugged the pillow at his head as his body began to unwind.

It had been a long week, and only now was Paul feeling the weight of the built-up fatigue...

He napped for only about fifteen minutes, but it wasn't planned. He sat up again a moment after waking up so he didn't fall back to sleep, rubbing his face and yawning. He was hoping to stay awake for another couple of hours. Maybe making some dinner was a good idea.

Paul got up and wandered to the kitchen, searching through the refrigerator and pantry, and settled on making a sandwich for his final meal of the night.

He got the ingredients and threw it together rather quickly, bringing it back to the living room so he could eat at the sofa. On his way there, he turned on the radio, and set it to a quiet volume, digging into his sandwich as soon as he sat down.

His eyes wandered his apartment for a few minutes as he ate, admiring his possessions and sentiments on the walls and sitting on display. Sometimes it was easy to take this place for granted, but some really long weeks recording, or being on the road, was enough for that appreciation for his personal space to return.

Paul finished his sandwich, and as he reached to place the plate on the end table to his left, he caught a glimpse of a little black book sitting there.

It was the book he signed out of the library from the week before. Since his recent schedule didn't take too kindly to free time, he actually hadn't touched it since being at the library.

After a moment of debate, Paul reached over for the book, trading it for the plate. He examined the cover again. It was black leather, adorned with intricate designs punched into it. The title of the book read "Gourmet Mushrooms of Europe."

Paul didn't really know much about cooking, let alone different mushrooms used for cooking. He opened the book up, and a ripped page fell into his lap. He lifted it up, eyes softening as he read what the paper said.

"Y/n," he mumbled tenderly, examining everything else further. All that was written on it was her name, a smiley face, and a phone number.

Paul took a moment of his time to think about the situation at hand. The situation with her.

Truth be told, Paul wasn't really even allowed to be in public without supervision at the time because of how ridiculous the mobs and fans could be; especially with him. He managed to sneak out that day to be out of the apartment, and away from the clingy bodyguards, and he was a little on edge from the idea of something going wrong and being caught. A quiet library seemed to be the safest place for him, and he could be left alone to do his songwriting in peace.

What happened instead was him stumbling into a strong, unexpected infatuation with a curious girl who didn't know who he even was-- and Paul was so torn on whether this was a good thing or a bad thing.

There was no denying Paul felt that being famous was rather exciting. The attention you can get from being as well-known as he, felt exhilarating, even more so when you know you could probably have any girl you could ever want. The feeling of being able to tease and flirt with the opposite sex so confidently, and have it be that easy to win them over was unlike anything anyone could imagine experiencing, and Paul's career was only going up from there...

But, man, doesn't all that attention just feel synthetic?

What if he wanted this girl? The girl who was clueless? The girl who thought he was just a regular guy?

What if Paul could fall in love, and it was all real?

What if he were just James?

Paul enjoyed y/n's company so much, and what she had to say about her interests, and knowing her better as a person was an idea Paul was naturally gravitating towards, as would anyone if they met someone they were interested in.

However, doing something like this was probably going to end in her finding out the truth, whether it be through the media, other people, or even him.

He could fix all of that right there and then by calling her, and setting the record straight by telling her who he actually was... and potentially put that unbiased romance at risk.

This plan, although the most reasonable, and conscious decision, unfortunately didn't sit well with him at all.

The problem from every angle here was that Paul kind of wanted to try and pursue her romantically, and he didn't want to endanger a future entirely dependent on who he actually was.

But on the other hand, what were his other options? What if not calling her at all would be the best option? And have Paul be bitter the rest of his life for not taking a chance and losing her?

Or what about keeping up with the James charade? Paul had already lied about his name. What's he gonna lie about next? His last name? His job? His family? At what point does the lying become too much? Ironically, this was the only way he could receive the genuine connection he wanted with her... to lie about himself, and seriously threaten her trust for him if she found out the truth.

He didn't want to believe the third option was his only option. He wanted to believe he was a good person, and would tell the truth...

And he wouldn't admit it-- not in a hundred years-- but there was a tiny, little voice in the back of his head, whispering among all the other thoughts he was having, and the voice asked, "but wouldn't it be interesting to see just how long you get away with it?"

This wasn't a high Paul was wanting to chase... but he just... couldn't help but wonder exactly that. How long would it take for her to find out?

Had it been any other girl in the whole world, Paul would not have been overthinking, or making such a ridiculously big deal about some white lie like this.

But this wasn't any other girl in the whole world. This was someone who saw Paul and treated him like a regular human being, unbeknownst to her that the kindness and humanity she offered him as person was unlike anything he experienced in his day-to-day life as a musician. She didn't ogle at him, nor did she scream in his face, she didn't throw herself at him or try and grab at him. She just smiled kindly with her pretty lips and asked him questions, and it didn't seem to matter whether or not she'd ever see him again; what mattered was that she was kind to him in the limited time she had with him.

Her reserved nature was what appeared to be drawing Paul in, and a part of him also wondered if someone like him, living the lifestyle he was, would drive someone as quiet, and as simple as her away?

He didn't feel sorry for her, per se, but he did also note that she mentioned she'd never been in a relationship before, and taking advantage of her and making her feel used was not something he wanted to do.

Paul blinked once at the paper before his eyes slowly drifted back across the living room before his gaze settled on the telephone. He felt like he was glued to the sofa, still thinking of every possible scenario in his head where this could all work out for him in the end.

He stood up after about another minute of debate, took a deep breath, and approached the phone, her number in hand.

He was going to tell her the truth. No more playing any games.

He picked up the receiver, and dialed her number, hesitating on the final one, but choosing to stand his ground. He could hear the ringing in the receiver, and every second passing was more time for anxiety to begin welling up within. For a split moment, he considered hanging up and calling another time, but then there was shuffling, and he held his breath as he heard a voice on the other end.

"Hello?"

"Uh-- Y/n?" He asked after a second, chest tight with nerves. "... From the library?"

"James? Is that you?" Her excitement could be heard in her voice, and Paul took a seat in the chair next to the phone, huffing a shaky breath, and feeling his burning face with the back of his free hand. His name coming from her mouth was quite the sound, he almost forgot just how much he liked hearing her call him that. It was personal, and endearing.

"... yeah, uh, it's me. How uh... how're you doing?" He sounded so out of place, and he didn't even know how to segue into explaining all of this to her. He'd only met her once, but keeping a secret like this from her when Paul had these plans to romance her just didn't seem fair at all. He figured some small talk would be a good way to warm up, and then he'd get to the nitty gritty. He dropped his free hand on his leg from his forehead, squeezing his knee as he waited for her to respond.

"I'm alright, thanks. I just did a longer day at work today, so I don't have too many extra chores for Monday, so that's nice. What about you? Reading up on your book at all?"

Paul's eyes fell to the book again, across the room, and he nodded a little, even though he hadn't. "Yeah, uh, a few pages. I've been a bit busy at work myself but... I do have tomorrow off."

"Oh, so do I! I'm just about done my book from last week, so I'll be going back tomorrow morning to exchange it for a new one!"

Paul furrowed his brow a little at what she just said. "... that massive green book? You're done it already?"

She laughed airily on the other line. "I'm a librarian, James; reading is my life."

There was a split moment Paul's morality slipped, and he appeared to be at a crossroads again.

"Y'know... you might just see me there! I uh... I like going there to do some work. I'll be going in the morning. Perhaps, if I see you, we could continue where we left off, y'know...?"

He couldn't do it. He couldn't tell her. He couldn't risk this.

"That actually sounds lovely! Maybe we can do what we did last time, and talk about books. Or... sit in silence as we read and work. We can do that too," she suggested a little awkwardly.

Paul smiled at her dorkiness, sighing a little laugh before assuring her, "I would love to do that. I'll be there around nine."

"Me too! I'm excited to see you again, James." Her gentle voice made Paul blush yet again, biting back his smile as he responded, "likewise, Y/n. Good night."

He hung up the receiver, his body coursing with different emotions. Excitement. Anxiety. Confidence. Frustration. Affection.

Paul knew he did wrong there, not doing what he originally intended.

To make himself feel better, Paul thought that he could still be honest with her about everything else in his life, like his likes, dislikes, interests, etcetera; so when the time came that he needed to tell her the truth, the blow wouldn't be so hard. He could flirt with her, and be romantic with her, like Paul typically would, and still be James.

Once Paul could convince himself that he and James were one and the same, that's perhaps when his confidence and swoon-worthy pickups would return.

After sitting in the chair for another moment longer, he looked back up to the mushroom book.

He got up, made a few strides over and picked it up, flipping it open and starting on the very first page.

Well... if he was gonna try on this James character, and impress Y/n with him, he'd better get practicing.

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A/A/N: Thanks for reading, guys! I know this one was kind of filler considering it's almost been a full year since updating, but thank you for sticking around anyways! A second chapter for Do You Want To Know A Secret is coming next, so keep an eye out! Also, I am completely revamping my Tag List, so please let me know if you want to be added, and you'll be notified of all my upcoming writing!

Has this been done?

Joe Mazzello was always predestined to play John Deacon, because he was born on World Funky Disco Studio Day. September 21st, World Earth Wind and Fire Day.

Happy birthday Joe Mazzello. And happy Earth Wind and Fire Day.

REBLOG IF YOU'RE A QUEEN FAN

I don’t care if you’re a huge fan or a kinda fan or a new fan, just do it. I wanna see something.

McBeardy Fic dropping tomorrow, BE THERE OR BE SQUARE

Edit: IT'S HERE AND YOU CAN READ IT NOW

Joe Mazzello and how he was casted for the role of John Deacon.  (x)

listened to Bohemian Rhapsody today… i’m so very sorry

same anon that loved "this boy"

i loved "baby it's you" as well, such a cute story :) can't wait to read more beatles stuff from you !! i hope you write about ringo soon!

Thank you!!!!! I'm gonna he posting a McBeardy fic in about 30 minutes, and after I get a few George fics out, some Ringo WILL be coming! Please stay tuned, and thank you for the support!! <3