Brian May And Roger Taylor Singing To Each Other

This Boy (George Harrison x Female!Reader)

A/N: Hey y'all! welcome to my first oneshot! a lot of my stories are very plot-driven and they end up becoming these long chapter fics but I'm gonna see if I can make a handful of oneshots in the next little bit to kind of give yous something to read while waiting for the longer fics to finish up. this is my first one, and it's for Georgie!

Summary: It's date night, and you're more than ready to meet your mystery date; George, however, is not.

WARNINGS: Swearing is in almost all my fics, so this one isn't safe either probably, hints of suggestive behaviour, slow burn, friends to lovers, lack of self-editing probably, etc. *This fic is also LONG AF so I would advise y'all to start reading this when you have nothing else to do*

I'll rate this one as a T. Enjoy, folks!

George checked the clock on the wall again and sighed gently.

You were still getting ready.

As much as it disappointed him, George agreed-- well, more like offered-- to drive you to your blind date one of your girlfriends set you up on.

It's not that he wasn't excited or proud of you for getting yourself out there. He knew you'd been meaning to do that since graduating school.

He was just frustrated at the fact that whichever lucky man was going on a date with you that night wasn't him.

When he found out about the date, he immediately vocalized his distrust for the mystery person, despite knowing absolutely zero about him. You seemed heartbroken at that, and to make it up to you, he offered to drive you to the date.

So there he was, sitting on the sofa in the living area of your flat, waiting for you to finish getting ready.

George had taken you to school dances in the past, and while your mother let you wear makeup to them, it never took you this long to apply it.

You were definitely dressing to impress tonight.

"Lucky man," he just mumbled under his breath at the thought of that boy.

You and George had been friends since you were children, and he deemed you his Best Friend Forever only an hour into your first playtime.

You spent your days as children riding your bikes to the park to play, and helping each other with homework at each other's houses every night.

However, that sort of platonic "buddy-buddy" dynamic changed when the both of you hit puberty.

It wasn't until a boy at George's school questioned him if you were his girlfriend, that George realized he had a crush on you. Some of his friends had girl friends, and they were always teased about whether or not they were dating, but this was the first time anyone had put you and George together.

After this discovery, (which he would endlessly thank the young boy who opened his eyes to the truth in the first place) George began to notice lots of little things about you that he hadn't before.

You would run your fingers through the hair on the back of his head during hugs, you never took your eyes away from him when he was speaking; there hadn't been one time to name that you'd ever made him upset or angry, but more or less excited, and free, and joyous.

And not to mention, the way you called him "Georgie" made his heart pound so loud and hard in his chest that he might as well have just completed a marathon...

He was in love with everything only when you were around.

Actually, as awkward as George thinks it is, Paul helped him realize he was physically attracted to you.

The boys were on their way to George's after school, a few years after George realized he had a little crush on you, and the teenagers both caught sight of you watering the front garden of your home at the request of your mother.

George stopped in his tracks when he saw you, his mouth hanging open as he watched you do your thing. After being enrolled in his boy's school, you never had much time to see one another, as much as it hurt him; so he cherished every moment he could see you.

"If her ma catches you out the window starin' at her daughter's arse the way you're doin' right now Harrison, they'll rip your tongue right out."

George's face went bright red, and he turned to look at Paul in horror, slapping him on the arm for saying such a thing. "I wasn't staring at her like that!" But he couldn't help but steal a glance at your behind since it was now the topic of discussion, though he really didn't want it to be.

Paul knew George felt compelled to say something to you, and he smirked as George awkwardly raised his hand to wave as he called to you from the other side of the street.

"H-hey, Y/n!"

You turned around, and grinned at who you'd seen.

"Hey Georgie! Hi Paulie!" You twiddled your fingers at them, and George's stomach churned in jealousy at the fact you had a nickname for Paul, as well.

"Your garden looks beautiful, Ms. Y/l/n!"

Paul stole George's line. He fucking stole his line!

"A-and you look just as lovely as ever!" George added to one-up his friend.

You put a hand to your heart. "You boys make my heart sing." George took pride in your words despite them partially being for Paul as well.

"We need to see each other more, yeah?" George never expected his question to really get him anywhere, but he was wrong.

"Why not tonight? I don't have any homework and my parents are leaving town 'round five for the weekend to visit my auntie and uncle."

George's answer came quick, and effortlessly. "I'll be 'round for six. Sound good?"

"Perfect! I'll see you tonight then." You waved to the boys again, and then went back to watering the garden after bidding farewell.

The rest of the walk home was just Paul making fun of how lovestruck George was with you, and by the time they got to his house, just down the road from yours, Paul looked over at his buddy and smiled.

"No wonder you value your time with your darlin' over there so much, Magpie. Looks like she would definitely be a fine birdie in bed."

George looked over at Paul, eyes wide, and his voice broke. "... What?!" The thought of going to bed with you never crossed his mind-- well, until that moment.

"Hey, her folks'll be gone by the time you go over! You can make your move then! It's perfect!" Paul's words laced with excitement made George feel panicked, and the boy shook his head worriedly after a moment. "M-maybe it's not the best idea to go tonight..."

"Why not? All you ever wanna do is be alone with her!" Paul set a hand on the other boy's shoulder when he didn't answer. "What's up, George?"

"Paul, I've never even kissed her. She doesn't even know I like her like that! What if she likes someone else?! What do I even do?!" Paul was the biggest heartbreaker George knew. He'd had like... ten girlfriends since they met, and he kissed a whole three of them. They didn't last long, much like the fate of other young relationships, but George took Paul's advice as serious guidance; he needed to in a time like this.

"You just need to be calm. Take some deep breaths. You'll know what to do when the time comes. I know you will."

That night, George had many opportunities to dive in for a kiss, or mention his feelings for you; some of those opportunities he even believed you encouraged, but he didn't budge out of utter fear of rejection. George knew for a fact that Paul was going to facepalm when he asks him for details on the visit to your place.

Instead, the night only consisted of talking, and the only contact you made were a couple of hugs and a kiss on the cheek (which left George a stumbling mess again), though you did agree to spend more time together, which is how your friendship lasted so long.

He was so close to having you, and because he was too scared to make the move Paul (and maybe you) were encouraging him to make so long ago, you slipped through his fingers; and since, the thought of not being able to have you that way never left his mind.

Especially not when you were now a gorgeous young lady, blindly torturing poor George, who beat himself up every day because he lost his chance.

You were like a piece of artwork to George. You could be loved, admired, and looked at by him, but he could never hold you or touch you.

And George hated that.

George wanted you to be his girl.

And you were his girl-- well, in a twisted way. You were always with him, smiling and laughing about nothing and everything, holding onto each other in your darkest nights and guiding one another through personal struggles...

But when other boys started to want you too, George wanted to make it a point to keep the majority of them away.

Some didn't heed George's threats and went on to pursue you anyways, only to be turned down on your front steps by yourself. George never understood why you never reciprocated anybody's feelings, but it's not like he was verbally complaining.

And that's what lead up to tonight. George had wanted you for so long, and the sudden knowledge of a blind date had him in shock, especially since this was your very first time giving in and agreeing to go.

It killed him to know some rando was going to appear out of thin air to whisk you away, whisper sweet nothings in your ear and eventually put his hands on you, thinking his love for you is stronger than any other despite knowing absolutely nothing about how you should be loved, and treated...

But George hid his fury from you because you were excited about this date.

And he would do anything for you.

George's rage-inducing, mind-racing thoughts were interrupted by the sound of your bedroom door clicking shut from behind him. He turned his head, heart in his throat, and you stepped into the room.

You wore a lovely high-waisted navy dress, and a pair of black flats. Your hair was half down, the rest coming together at the back of your head by a matching clip-on bow.

As expected, your makeup was quite noticeable. The burgundy colour of your lips and dark brown eyeshadow had George's head spinning, and he couldn't resist ogling at the way that dress fit you so well...

"So… How do I look? Like, if we were about to go on a date..."

A date? Us? We?!

George's palms began to sweat, and his heart did somersaults. If only.

It was only then that he realized his mouth was hanging slightly ajar, and after snapping it shut, he swallowed in embarrassment, not daring to look anywhere but your eyes again in fear of falling victim to your appearance again.

Imagine not being able to trust your eyes?

"... What would you think?"

George squeaked, his lips moving hesitantly though he didn't make a sound. His face was surely an embarrassing shade of red, and the longer he waited into answer, the more anticipated you looked for a response.

George rose to his feet and approached you, bravely deciding to give you another good onceover after a deep breath, though he kind of lost all sense of feeling in his legs when you smiled at him with that perfect mouth of yours...

"Wow." George sighed, eyelids falling heavy over his brown irises as he admired you.

"I just... you... wow, Y/n." He couldn't come up with a coherent sentence with the way you were staring at him like that.

God, he was absolutely smitten with you.

Your eyes shone joyously as you placed your hand on your heart, and George, as impossible to him as it seemed, fell so much more in love with you than he was just moments before. Your presence rendered him speechless, and the thought inflated your ego a lot more than you would have expected it to.

George remained silent, but his gaze was still glued to you. He'd looked at you for long enough in his life to probably draw you perfectly by memory, but he still took his time to drink in what he was given; because who knew if he'd ever be able to see more of you than this?

"I... I'm-- I'm speechless, is what I am." He cleared his throat after a moment and said, "I... honestly hope my eyes are doing all the talking for me."

"Aw, you're just a sweetiepie, aren't you?"

You beamed at George, blushing as you took another step toward him. "Well Georgie... if you keep looking at me and sweet-talking the way you are..." your warm words were carefully chosen, and it was obvious that George was hanging into every single word you were saying.

"I may just have to pass on this date and spend tonight with you." Your eyelids fell heavy over your eyes, and you offered George a smile that was suggesting something maybe not so innocent.

"Wh-what?!"

"... I said I'm ready to go." You raised your eyebrow in a little confusion at George's flustered state.

Oh my fucking God she didn't even say that?!

Idiot.

Idiot, idiot, idiot.

"... R-right, yes, of course." George shook his head as if to rid his brain of the idea of tricking him like that again. He offered his arm out to you, and you linked yours with his before walking to the door together.

You passed a mirror on the way out, and George caught a glimpse of the both of your reflections, and his chest felt like it was on fire.

He looked so happy to be with you in that moment.

And you looked so happy to be leaving to spend time with another man.

George just hoped at least the reflection of him and you were going on this date together, and both of those smiles were meant for each other.

George pulled up to whatever restaurant this guy wanted to meet you at, which was on the other side of town. George did not approve of this and even reminded you of this on the way there, though you insisted you'd be fine, like you had the couple of times he mentioned this before.

You looked at him after he threw his car into park, and he gave you a little smile after a moment, but it didn't reach his eyes.

"You do look beautiful, Y/n. This guy... he's very lucky."

"I... I don't know what to say."

"Say you believe me."

You didn't say anything. Instead, you smiled sadly, and leaned in to kiss George's cheek. His skin darkened to pink beneath your lips before you could pull away and leave the car with another goodbye, though his ears were ringing and he missed your final farewell.

She doesn't believe me...

George waited until he saw you were seated in the restaurant to put his car back into drive, but something kept him from lifting his foot off the brake. He watched you adjust your silverware at your table, and clasp your hands together in wait.

... Maybe George wanted to wait for this guy to show up.

But would he really want to kill himself by spying on you and watching you fall for someone who wasn't him over the course of one night?

That was the question that made him decide to look back, and pull out of his parking space before he could spot anyone even go near the building. He was in drive and speeding home moments later.

The car ride back to his flat was a quiet one. George kept the radio off, and his fingers drummed against the steering wheel the whole time as if he were almost impatient to get home and do nothing.

Every time he looked in the rear view mirror and saw his eyes stare back at him, it just reminded him that his reflection left that restaurant alone and just as disappointed as his real counterpart.

It wasn't long before George pulled into his building's parking space and sulked out of his car, slamming the door shut. His eyes and nose were burning from the assault of unfallen tears.

He dropped you off to meet this guy. This was all on him this time.

George loved you. He loved you with all his heart, enough to swallow his pride-- sacrifice his happiness for your own.

As much as he didn't want to admit it, dropping you off that night felt like he was letting you go.

And was he?

He pretty much stumbled through the door because his fucks to give for himself were pretty much nonexistent at this point. He kicked his shoes off, not caring if he scuffed up the wall with black marks.

He just wanted to have a long hot shower, crawl into bed, and hide from everyone.

And that's just what he did.

His shower was well over an hour long, and that's where he broke down and cried for the majority of the time. He cried about you, and the situation his own decisions put himself in. He cried in jealousy for the threat sweeping you off your feet right now, and he cried as if that was the last night he'd ever see you again.

When he got out of the shower, well after the stream went cold, he had no more tears to shed. He was dehydrated, and he felt broken. He did a half-assed job of drying himself off before leaving the bathroom and collapsing into bed, only a towel secured around his hips.

His face was pressed into his pillow, and he tucked his arms beneath it and submerged himself even further into the soft fabric.

He recently switched detergent to whichever one you regularly used, and he just took in the familiar scent; anything to make him feel more at home without you actually being present...

George had no idea how long he was in that position for, but he fell asleep like that, only to wake to the sound of the phone ringing.

He got up and stumbled out of his room to ease the obnoxiously loud phone by picking up the call, shouting, and hanging up on whoever decided to phone at this hour-- whichever hour it was.

"Yeah," George rasped through the receiver, his tone laced with underlying irritation. He just wanted to be left alone in his sadness.

"George..."

"... Y/n?" He was rubbing the sleep from his eyes with the palm of his hand before you spoke, but your voice made him freeze.

"Oh Georgie..." your voice was breaking over the phone, and he could tell it wasn't the connection.

"Y/n, my Love, what's the matter?!"

"George he... He didn't show." George's heart stopped.

He didn't show.

George's grip closed tighter and tighter on the phone receiver, and he could feel the pure rage bubbling in his chest, and the plastic receiver crackling from the force under his fingers.

"Where are you?" He demanded. "I'm coming right now to get you," George was about to start throwing his shoes on, despite wearing absolutely nothing to start off with, his towel discarded and still on the bed from when he passed out.

"The same place you dropped me off."

God dammit, this fucking guy had you go to the other side of town just to be forgotten about.

It was finally settled: if George ever found out who this guy was, he'd kill him for doing this to you.

"Don't move. Be there in five." As soon as George hung up the phone, he took off to his room. He was ready in record time: under a minute. Up until the day he died, George wouldn't have been able to dress as quick as he did that night, and he never knew how he did it.

What really mattered was that George got to the other side of town in about five minutes, as he said over the phone.

George whipped into the parking lot and got out of the car. He hurried over to the front of the building to go in and search for you, but he caught a glimpse of you sitting at the curb as he grabbed the door handle.

His grip eased on the lockset, and he slowly turned to you. You were facing away from him, arms folded as you tried to shield yourself from the cool evening wind. You had no clue he was even behind you.

George sighed gently, shedding his jacket off and placing it on your shoulders without another word. He could see your whole body relax from the weighted piece of clothing, and he wondered if his scent was comforting for you too, as it was vice versa.

George heard you breathe out, but you sniffled afterwards. It broke his heart to see you like this. George looked around to see if anyone was watching, because if there was a chance this guy was cackling away in a parked car at the sight of you in tears, George would have had no problem kicking his headlights in and slashing his tires.

He dropped to the curb and sat down right next to you, not hesitating to circle his arm around your body.

At his touch, you curled yourself into a ball, and George scooped you up to squeeze you tight. And against his chest, when you knew you were safe from all harm, you gently sobbed.

George let you cry it all out, and the tighter you held onto him, the tighter he held onto you.

"Am I just unlovable George...? Is that it?" Your words were quiet and muffled, but George heard every syllable you mustered.

He pulled away from your embrace to look you in the eyes, and his grip on your arms were firm, but not tight. "Now Y/n, you do not for one second even think you're unlovable. That is the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard." His eyebrows were lowered in anger at the very idea of you feeling unloved.

Tears began to well up in your eyes, and George's expression softened. He reached his hand up to your face, and he could feel you shaking. He pursed his lips and furrowed his brow again.

George wished then more than ever that he was the one who was supposed to see you. He would have shown up.

"Y/n, you deserve so much better than this. If you were mine, I’d make sure sitting alone on the curb, stood up, would be the last place you'd ever find yourself, especially when you were so excited to go out..."

George didn't know where his little spurt of confidence came from, but he was more focused on the words he was choosing to use with you, and what he was all going to say.

"... If I were yours...?" You sniffled again, cheeks and the tip of your nose turning pink and George paused at the sudden realization.

You still had a chance to be his.

And all because that boy didn't show up, he still had time to figure out how he could pull it all off; but it had to be tonight.

He took a deep breath.

"I mean, anyone would be lucky to date you. I just... I sometimes wonder why you were never mine. Why you're not mine..." his voice lowered throughout the sentence, and the end of his confession was barely above a whisper.

You watched George for a moment, lips parted, as if you couldn't believe your ears, and the young man panicked a little, deciding to disregard his last words before it suddenly became the topic of discussion.

"Oh, my Love," George's eyes suddenly saddened as he reached out to wipe away your fresh tears and smeared makeup with his thumb. Your bottom lip trembled at the contact, and he sighed.

"Just because he didn't show up doesn't mean your evening has gone to waste." He stood up and turned to look down at you.

"The night is still young." He then held his hand out in front of you, and you looked at it for a moment as if you didn't know what he wanted from you.

"Y/n... give me one night. Let me show you how a man should always treat you."

He wasn't quite sure if he just unintentionally asked you on a real life date, or if you thought of all this as an act, but even if you didn't reciprocate his feelings, it gave George the chance of a lifetime to at least pretend you were his, even if this opportunity only lasted one night.

"Please."

You didn't move at first, but George was patient. You eventually slowly reached your hand out, and George helped you up, not making the effort to let go of you afterwards.

George looked up at the restaurant, and did a double take. "... You... you don't even like fancy places like this, am I wrong?"  All you could think about when looking at him was that he knew you so well.

"A place like this on a first date is a clear sign he'd leave halfway through and I'd be stuck with the bill." George smiled a little, and so did you.

You wiped your final stray tear from your cheek and George gave your other hand a squeeze. "... I'd rather get a burger and go for a walk, to be honest."

"Then that's what we'll do," George confirmed with a nod. It was settled, then.

George and you strolled to the car, still hand-in-hand, and he courteously opened your door to help you in. He ran over to the other side afterwards and climbed in behind the wheel before pulling out and taking off to find somewhere for you both to eat.

You both came across this quiet burger place downtown, and the both of you were able to get a booth in the back for privacy so you could both scarf down your meals in peace.

George ordered the same food you did, and you both settled on sharing a milkshake together (a single milkshake eventually became two).

"God," you looked around the nearly empty joint before turning your gaze back to George. "Do you know how much more comfortable I feel in here?"

"Even when you're dressed like you belong in a dress shop window?" George smiled around his straw and you matched his grin. "Shut up. At least my hair is brushed out."

The poor guy had no clue until now that he forgot to comb his hair out after his depression shower, embarrassingly clawing his fingers through his locks to at least tidy up the mess on his head.

You just laughed out that you were teasing him, and the joyous hiccups from your laughter had George briefly forgetting everything negative that had happened so far that night.

After settling down a little, your food was brought out and you both started eating.

There wasn't much for the both of you to talk about other than the part of your day when you weren't together, and it wasn't like George wanted to mention what happened to him in the last two hours or make you upset by talking about your night.

Instead you both settled on joking about old times. Before the both of you knew it, George had you giggling and smiling once again before your dessert even came, and when the waitress came around to your table with your two-person cookie skillet, you grinned even wider.

You thanked the waitress before she went on her way, and you looked up across the treat to George, whom you were half expecting to be drooling over the cookie. Instead, he was in a dream-like trance, soft gaze fixed on you, and only you. You weren't too sure if he even knew the skillet was in front of him, he was so distracted.

"George...?" You called to him gently as to not frighten him when coming back down to reality. His response was almost immediate, like he could hear you.

And maybe he did.

"... I'm sorry, I don't know how many times I've tried to say this already tonight but have chickened out, but you look just..." George was examining every inch of you that he could see and you blushed, casting your eyes down to the table.

"Angel, look at me." George reached over the table and rested his hand over yours. You lifted your head to look him in the eye, and he hesitated for a moment. Your full attention flustered him, then again it always did, but he took a deep breath.

"You look heavenly, Y/n."

You said nothing. This time, he had you speechless, but nothing wasn't the response he was looking for.

"Dontcha believe me...?" His question echoed through your brain, and you blinked. George scanned your eyes after giving your hand a squeeze. He knew you had something to say, and he was at the edge of his seat in anticipation for your words.

"... Do you really think so?"

"Are you kidding me?! Y/n, I... when you came out of your room tonight I just... looking at you right now, I'm at a loss for words. Heavenly doesn't even scratch the surface. No word exists that perfectly describes how you look to me. Now, or ever."

There was yet another spurt of confidence that washed over George. He had a feeling his words and actions were getting the both of you somewhere, especially when his final sentence had you blushing the way you were.

At least he knew he was doing something right.

George's grip on your hand tightened a little, and he flipped your hands over so your palm was face-up in his. He brought your hand closer to him, and he kissed your fingertips before leaving a final one at the centre of your palm. His eyes never left your red face as he did this, and he grinned against your hand when you offered him a shy smile.

Oh... she IS actually liking this.

When he pulled away, George looked down at the still-untouched dessert, and he smiled, releasing another nervous breath he was holding as he finally let go of your hand. "Let's finish up so we can go on our walk. Sound good, my Love?"

You only nodded before digging in with him, every nudge of his hand against yours reducing you to a blushing mess, and George, who was gaining more confidence as every second passed, would just smile to himself knowing he was successfully turning the tables on you.

But it wasn't yet the time to give in and confess, as much as George wanted to. He still had a nice long walk to woo you on, and then he had to do the important step of walking you to your apartment door at the end of the night, and God knows that was the part he was dying to get to.

You finished your dessert not long after and George payed the bill. After helping you out of the booth, you'd left hand-in-hand again.

The both of you stepped out into the cool night and you looked up at George. "Are you cold? Did you want your jacket back?"

You were holding it in your other hand since you'd taken it off at dinner, and you shoved it in his direction without another word.

He laughed and took the jacket from you, unfolding it and pulling it back around your shoulders before rubbing his hands up and down your arms to keep you warm.

"You'll catch a cold without it. Besides, you look better in it anyways." He leaned in and kissed your cheek, smiling proudly to himself when he pulled away and continued to lead you to the car, deciding it'd be smoother to not turn around and gauge for a reaction from you.

Like before, George courteously opened the car door for you, and closed it when you were in. Their destination was his place. It wasn't for the reason one would think, but the idea of driving you to his home and inviting you in with every intention of walking right past the kettle made George's legs restless.

In reality there was a park down the road from his flat that cut pretty much directly to your own humble abode. You'd walked the trail hundreds of times together to look at the pretty flowers growing in the garden, but something told George that this time, like everything else happening that day, was going to be very different.

When you pulled up to his building he raced you to get to your door for the second time of the night; the first being at the burger place when you first arrived. He took your hand and helped you out of the car, and he didn't let go, even after locking the doors to his car and leading you both down the road.

There was a silence that fell between the both of you. It wasn't bad. You took this time to think about your night, as did George. With every step down the road and into the park you took, the smile on your face only grew wider. As for George, he began to sweat with every step he took.

Every foot forward led him closer and closer to your door, where he was going to finally let everything off his chest and confess to you. The problem was that George's confidence was quickly draining, and this was something he needed to do.

He eventually let go of your hand to wipe his palms off on his pant leg, and at the immediate loss of contact, you were turning to him with a confused look on your face.

"Sorry uh..." he breathed out slowly, cheeks dusted pink. "I-I don't know why, but I'm kinda nervous."

Your look of confusion faded into an unreadable one. "Was it holding my hand?"

George shook his head. "No no, not that, I want to hold your hand."

"So what's the problem?"

He just shook his head again. "Maybe it's just... the stress of making sure tonight is perfect for you."

"What?!" Your reaction was sudden, and George's eyebrows were raised high up on his forehead at your exclamation.

"George, tonight has already been perfect for me! I had a great meal, I'm on a lovely walk with you..." you reached out to take his hand again, and he lifted his gaze from his shoes to look you in the eye. You smiled up at him from under the streetlight, and George smiled back a little.

"Georgie, I would never have asked for a better night." You squeezed his fingers with yours and tugged him forward gently. "C'mon, Magpie. Let's get home. It'll be cooling down soon, and I don't want you walking outside much longer than needed tonight."

George followed behind, but you still took your time coming home since the both of you got caught up in another conversation. This time, it was about the flowers you were passing in the park.

"... I used to water those for you, y'know." He pointed to a cluster of marigolds. To think that was ten years earlier and they still stayed put, growing outwards and stronger than ever.

"I used to check on them every day to make sure they weren't dying. You told me one time you really liked those flowers and I just..." he smiled a little at the memory. "I just couldn't get enough of your smile every time you saw them."

You turned to look up at him. You had absolutely no clue he did that for you. It made you love the flowers even more, and your heart jumped a little when you realized that the marigolds were the very reason George insisted you both took the trail all the tine.

"I'll still come across them when passing flower shops. I always think of you when I see them."

"Wow. George, I... I never knew you paid that much attention to me."

"Why wouldn't I? You're my best friend."

And George didn't say anything after that, especially when you didn't respond to his last comment, which he didn't even mean to say.

By the time George could think up a sentence to save himself from friend-zoning the both of you right then and there, he felt like he'd left it for too long.

His heart was sinking, and he tried to shake off the comment best he could, and walked you the rest of the way home.

His stomach was in a knot as he looked up at your apartment building. The front door to the lobby looked intimidating, and his palms began to sweat again. You slipped your hand out of George's, and it distracted him from his racing thoughts.

"You think I'm gonna just leave you here?" His question was sudden, and you blinked once.

"I'm sorry?" You looked from George, to the apartment door which was ten feet away from the both of you. "But George, I'm home?"

"I have to walk you to your door." You laughed at his response, head thrown back as you sighed. "You mean to tell me you, George Harrison, are gonna walk up five flights of stairs in the next two minutes just to make sure you can hear me lock my door and know I'm safe?"

"Would it be a real date if I didn't?"

There was another beat of silence as George watched your eyes shift from left to right in thought. You pursed your lips a little, and then looked him in the eye.

"... Suppose it wouldn't be then, no."

"Then may I walk you to your door, Y/n?"

You finally answered him with a simple nod of your head, and George reached out to take your hand again. He wordlessly led you to the door which he opened for you, and then brought you to the flight of stairs. Nowhere else to go but up.

In about two minutes, you and George got to the fifth floor. As soon as he entered the hall, it felt like the walls were slowly closing together as you both took quiet, careful steps towards the end of the way.

The entire time, your hands were glued together, and no one let go, even when you were both finally stopped, and standing in front of your door.

"I'm sorry about tonight, Y/n. I know you were saying earlier tonight turned out perfect and everything but..." George's brain was still on that platonic comment he made on the walk.

"George, there is no one I would have rather spent tonight with than you. No one."

George squeezed your hand, and then sighed. "I just wish tonight happened under different circumstances."

"Different circumstances?" You repeated a little confused, and the boy in front of you pursed his lips and nodded his head.

Deep breaths. Here it goes.

"Y/n, ever since I found out about this date, my blood has just been boiling with jealousy for that boy. Hell, I still don't even know his name and I could tell you he isn't good for you."

You looked taken aback. Jealousy was definitely not where you thought he was going with all of this.

"I fell in love with you, Y/n. Years ago. And because I feared rejection, I didn't want to take my chances and say anything. But the truth of the matter is that I'd be the happiest person alive just to be able to love you openly. I can't stand to see you cry the way he made you tonight."

Again, you stood there, no words coming to mind to respond with. Your silence didn't make George stop.

"To think for years my feelings for you haven't gone away. I've always thought you felt the same, yet you were never mine." George paused. "When can this boy get you back again, Y/n?"

There was a long silence, his eyes searching yours for your answer, and you were staring up at him like a deer in headlights.

"I-- if I'd known-- I never thought-- George, I had no clue." He could see the lost look on your face, and it made his heart ache, especially when your lip began to tremble and your eyes started filling to the brim with tears.

"Why do you think I turned down every guy who's tried to get with me? I just... I never thought you'd love me back, Georgie." His emotions sank into a deep dark guilt. All this time, and you felt the same way about him...

And then he blinked.

You feel the same way about him!

George reached out to you, his hand cupping the side of your face and stroking your cheek with his thumb. Your tears began to fall, and he pulled you into his chest tightly for a moment. "My Love," he mumbled, pulling away just far enough for him to see your face again.

"Oh, even when you're crying, you are the most beautiful thing I've ever set eyes on..." There was a beat of nothing; just the sound of shallow breaths shared between the both of you before George began to inch in slowly towards you.

"... George, what are you doing...?" Your question was gentle, and you didn't stop him from coming any closer. You didn't want to stop him.

"Something I should've done a long time ago."

His attention fixated to your mouth once before your lips finally clashed together.

For over a decade, George had waited for the moment he tasted your lips; and now that it was here, he was almost scared he wouldn't know what to do.

The both of you were holding your breath since you both felt a little unsure at first, but it was a given, he was kissing his childhood best friend, and you were, too. You kissed back a little, and George exhaled lightly through his nose, a little relieved knowing you were getting a little more comfortable with the situation.

George's hands fell to your waist, fingers curling around your body as he eventually pulled you even closer. You parted your lips a little, and he bit down on your bottom lip, pulling away after hearing you gasp.

"Oh! Did I hurt you? I'm--" George could barely rush an apology out before you pulled him down to kiss him again, and pushing him backwards until his back was flat against your door. He watched as you closed the space between you again, and your lips were on his again.

His heart was pounding, ears ringing loudly as you slipped your tongue into his mouth, and all the boy could remember thinking about was how blissful it all was in that moment. George threw his arms around you and started pushing back just a little.

You pulled away from him to gasp in a breath, George's hands grabbing your arms and pinning you against your door so he could put you in the place he was moments before; to give you the moment to experience just a fraction of all the love he would be able to eventually give to you.

His lips briefly found the crook of your neck and you moaned quietly as George sucked at your skin a little, which only resulted in him pulling away just to lean back in to kiss your lips and swallow your pleasant hums.

You eventually pulled away to face him again, lips swelled and pink, and breaths quick. You never thought you'd have so much trouble breathing while kissing someone.

Then again, it's not everyday that the man you're kissing is George Harrison.

"I know it's rare to ask this on a first date but..." George leaned down to attach his lips to the column of your throat, and he hummed against your skin when you moaned gently, delaying your question for a moment.

"... Did you maybe wanna, I don't know, come in, stick around for some tea?"

"Is that even a question?" George asked lowly against your neck, and you smiled. You reached into your purse to retrieve your apartment keys, which you blindly stuck into the keyhole since George was back to kissing you again, and the both of you stumbled through the door as soon as you got it open.

You and George kicked your shoes off after shutting the door, and you pushed him up against the wall in the front corridor to kiss him once again.

Ten years was way too long for the both of you to be deprived of one another any further, and George gladly let you migrate your lips to his neck after a moment, tilting his head back for you to make things a little easier.

With your head buried into his neck and your arms circled around one another, George lazily opened this eyes to watch himself in that same mirror across the hall he looked into a few hours prior.

All the boy could do was smile to himself, breathing heavily as he watched your reflection switch to the other side of his neck after leaving a mark on the right side of his throat.

Not only was his reflection successful in this date tonight, but George himself pulled off the biggest risk he could imagine and it paid off.

He finally got the girl of his dreams.

----------------------------------------

A/A/N: honestly, this fic lives rent free in my head and it has been since I wrote it, so I gotta show it off to y'all. Again, I know it was long, but I really hope you enjoy it <3

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The Couple Next Door VII(Roger Taylor x Female!Reader)

Find Part Six Here

A/N: So, I kinda split this chapter into 2 parts bc it was so long. I’ll post the second one as soon as I post this one. I was also kinda upset bc I posted something this morning and there’s like… 2 notes on it (Thank you, fellow bloggers <3), so I’m trying to keep my mind off that.

But yes, you guys have been waiting for another chapter since February, so I’ve come to save the day (and your Quarantines)

Summary: John asks Roger for a favour.

(Read Roger as canonical, or Hardy!Roger, whatever brightens your day) 

WARNINGS: Mentions of oral sex, implications of sex, swearing probably, and maybe some errors bc I don’t wanna edit this

I’m putting the fic at a T, bc nothing really happens, but I advise to read at your own risk if you’re under 18

(Also, been waiting FOREVER to use this gif)

Roger hadn't fully crossed the threshold of the door to the control room at the studio when both Brian and John, both there way before him and Freddie, turned to him and called him over. 

 "Roger, do you know any sitters? Veronica and I are planning on going up and visiting her parents this weekend and we can't take Bobby with us."

 The look on John's face was clearly upsetting. He loved his son with all his heart, especially since Bobby was his first kid. It also probably didn't help that he was only a month or so old. 

 Roger wondered if there was ever going to be a day where he'd feel sad having to look for a nanny for a kid of his own. 

 "Just ask Brian to watch him. Surely Bobby would find entertainment in ripping all that hair from his scalp." 

 "Ha-ha. Very funny, Roger," Brian called back to him, arms and legs crossed as he spun around in his chair to face Roger head on. 

 "Chrissie and I are sharing our one year and I wanted to take her out this weekend." Roger shrugged. "Try Fred, then. He and Mary won't have a problem sitting for you, surely." 

 "Already asked, my Love," Freddie responded for John as he walked into the room, tossing a (fabulous, may I add) jean jacket down on the sofa pushed up against the back wall. 

 "Mary's visiting her father then, and I couldn't possibly care for a child on my own." 

 "You have like... fifteen cats, and you can't take care of a baby for a night or two?"

Fred just shrugged at Roger's question before taking a seat next to John. "Roger, do you think maybe you and Y/n could take him?" 

 Roger's face twisted in confusion. 

"Wait wait wait... us? Why us?!" 

 "Roger," John sounded desperate. "We will pay you guys! You can stay at our house! Everything you'll need will be there!"

 "John, I don't know..." 

 "Roger," Brian interrupted. The three other heads in the room turned to the curly-haired guitarist as he rose to his feet and crossed his arms over his chest. 

"You can use this chance to prove yourself to Y/n." 

 "Prove myself? What are you talking about?!" 

 "Don't tell us you've forgotten about that whole family issue you've been having," Freddie tisked playfully. 

 "This is your chance to show her you're father material," Brian explained, slapping Roger on the back. 

 "Look, I get you all love Y/n, and you think it's funny if I make a fool out of myself," 

 "It is pretty entertaining," John defended with a smile on his face, to which Roger glared back. 

 "But," Roger continued as Brian's hand fell back to his side. "The situation is between me and her. Not you guys." 

 "... But have you even spoken to her about it?" John asked quietly, to which Roger sighed. "It's just... It's complicated," Roger combed his hair back with his fingers. 

 "We're just trying to help, Rog. We all know you're dying to marry this girl." 

 "Shut up, Fred," Roger mumbled through his teeth. 

 "I'm just saying, marrying her would be a real problem-fixer with the whole... condo situation." 

 "They're not even dating," John reminded. 

 "Pssh. Yeah. And I'm not a Hysterical Queen," Freddie finished, kicking his legs up on the console, being mindful not to hit any buttons with the soles of his shoes. 

 "Besides, I can't think of one person I know who fucks their best friend and doesn't end up dating them in the end."

 It was Freddie, John, and Brian who pushed Roger to even begin that arrangement with you. 

 He'd set the both of you up, all along! 

 Roger opened his mouth to give Freddie a piece of his mind, and Brian's hand was already gripping onto the drummer's shoulder to hold him back from literally throwing himself at the other, entertained, quarter of the band. 

 "Hey guys," all four of them turned quickly to the source of the sound, and it turned out to be you, peeking out from behind the doorway, and revealing five paper cups of tea. "Woke up and figured I'd be nice today." 

 "Aw, could you hear your ears ringing, my Love? We were just talking about you," Freddie drawled happily. Roger glared at him as he spoke while Brian and John watched the situation unfold.

 "Me? What for?" You began pulling each paper cup from its place in the tray, and handing them out to each band member one-by-one as John cleared his throat to explain. 

 "Well, you see, Veronica wants to visit her parents this weekend, and we can't bring the baby with us. On top of that, we can't find a sitter." 

 "Well, why didn't you ask Roger? We'd be happy to take care of Bobby!" 

 "Is that so?" Freddie sarcastically asked, taking a sip of his tea before setting it down and dramatically throwing his hands behind his head. He leaned back into a relaxed state, giving Roger an amused look. 

 "Well we tried asking your Honey over here, and he said you two wouldn't be okay with it." Fred, Roger thought, is really asking for it. 

 "First of all, very funny," you smiled as you began counting on your fingers, clearly unaware of the depressing look on Roger's face when you dismissed Freddie's label for the drummer. 

 "Secondly, I love Bobby, why wouldn't we be okay with sitting for him?" 

 You glanced back at Roger before facing John again. "And thirdly, even if Roger doesn't wanna come, I will." 

John's eyes widened as a smile broke out onto his face. "So is that a yes? You'll do it?" 

 "Of course, Deaky!" 

 "Perfect! You can stay at our house and everything so we don't have to send the crib or anything with you! You're a lifesaver, Y/n!"

 "Anything for you and 'Ronica, Johnny." 

 "Well," Freddie clapped his hands once before kicking his legs off the console table and onto the floor. "Are we all good to practice now?" 

 "We should be," John confirmed as he downed some of his tea before standing up from his chair and stretching. 

 You turned back to Roger, taking a sip of your tea."I gotta go to work, Roggie. I'll see you tonight, 'round dinner, yeah?" 

 "Sure," he nodded as the room around the both of you bustled with the other three members of Queen preparing to enter the recording room. You nodded, and you turned to leave the room. 

 Roger watched you disappear behind the door, and Freddie called him to help record. 

 Despite this, Roger set his cup of tea down on the coffee table next to him, and actually took off out the door after you. 

 He assumed you'd be taking the lift, and knowing there were some issues with its mechanics, he knew for sure he could beat the lift to the bottom floor just before you could leave if he took the stairs. 

 Sure enough, when the doors to the lift opened on the ground floor, Roger was waiting for you on the other side. 

 It startled you, and before you could chastise him for scaring you, he stepped into the lift.

 "Quick talk before you leave," he mumbled hurriedly as he shut the lift's doors. 

"What?" You frowned in confusion. 

 "Look," he sighed. He tried to ignore how quiet it was in the lift, but it was hard to do that when he was the only one talking. 

 "That whole thing... with John and his son... I panicked." 

 God, he could hear himself thinking. 

 "I don't know anything about kids, let alone babies. I didn't wanna take responsibility for something I don't know how to care for." 

 "And I do," you responded, offering a warm smile to Roger before taking another drink of your tea. 

 "Love, you've nothing to worry about. I cared for my cousin in high school when he was just a baby. I've no issue in showing you the ropes."

 "I thought you were iffy with kids, like I am." 

 "I'm just “iffy” with the idea of becoming a mother, and having children of my own," you corrected, nudging him in the arm when your comment didn't gauge a reaction from him. 

 You just figured the neighbours and their expectations of the both of you were on his mind.

 "Hey, it's not like any of our neighbours are gonna see us with Bobby. We'll be at John's the whole time, right? Out of sight, out of mind."

 "Yeah, I guess." Roger shrugged. 

 "Don't think this will change anything. We're doing this for a friend, not to appease the old people surrounding our condo." 

 Roger didn't say anything, his eyes cast to the floor. Of course this was bothering him, and although you thought it was for all the wrong reasons, he never admitted to you why he was actually uneasy about the whole thing. 

 "Roger," you sighed, rubbing circles on his back with your free hand. "We'll be okay." 

 You held out your pinky from your paper cup as a promise. "... Trust?" 

 Roger looked at your innocent eyes and hopeful smile, and that boy caved in so fast he hadn't realized he solidified the promise until after speaking. "Trust, Y/n," he breathed gently. 

 You unlinked your pinky from Roger's, and you caught him frown. 

 "Better not be moody when you get off work," you warned playfully to him, opening the lift's door. 

 "And why is that?" Roger lightly challenged back, trying a smile, and offering it to you when it felt right. 

 You turned on your heel as you walked out, eyelids lowering as you lazily grinned at Roger. 

 "Because dinner and a blowjob will be waiting for you at home this evening," you said matter-of-factly. 

 You almost laughed at the starstruck look in the blond's eyes, mouth hanging open, and face burning a deep red. 

 You tapped the lift's button to send Roger back to the floor he needed. As the lift's doors began to close, Roger watched you turn and make your way to the building's entrance. 

 "See you tonight, Drummer Boy," you called over your shoulder to him. The lift's doors finally shut completely, and Roger stood in absolute dumbfoundment until the lift opened again. 

 He really couldn't believe how lucky he was to be able to have you. 

 As a friend, and, of course, as a stress-reliever. 

He made sure to keep a smile on his face the rest of the day. 

 When any of the guys questioned him, he'd just respond with a shrug, the tips of his ears flushing the same colour as his shirt. 

 And when Roger got home that night, dinner was most definitely ready for him... 

 Though with the look you were giving him as soon as the two of you sat at the table, you both made a silent agreement to head upstairs and just skip to dessert.

______________________________

A/A/N: I’m so sorry this took so long to post. The next one will be up within the next 2 hours. Thank you all for being so patient. I love Y’all.

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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.

_____________________________________________________

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!

Why is nobody talking about the real MVP Miami Beach turning up the volume at Live Aid and moving the sticker because HE FUCKING KNOWS QUEEN FUCKING ROCKS? I love that man.

Rest in peace John Lennon. You would have loved pink lemonade vapes

Killer Queen - Queen (Isolated Vocals)

fuck. fuck.

The Couple Next Door IV (Roger Taylor x Female!Reader)

Find Part III Here

A/N: Happy Early Valentine’s Day, Y’all! I wrote a lot for the next part of this series, so I decided to split them up in two chapters. I’m posting this one tonight, and the other will be up at some point tomorrow afternoon.

This chapter is in 3rd Person Omniscient for Rogie like the previous one, and the reader will not be in this chapter but the next one, so I apologize if it’s not that good.

Don’t forget to show your support and enjoyment for the fic by leaving likes, comments, and reblogging!

Summary: Roger has a chat with the band, and does some more thinking.

(Roger can be Ben Hardy!Rog or Real!Rog. Whatever stirs your soup.)

WARNINGS: Swearing, s l o w  b u r n, Mentions of sex (BuT nO sMuT [yet(?)]), no revision and editing bc I’m lazy, I think that’s it.

This one is leaning more towards an M rating than a T, so read at your own risk.

“Eh… no no no. Take it from the top. Roger?”

 The blond looked through the window to Freddie, who just made it to the practice. 

 He was wearing some ridiculous flashy outfit as usual, a pair of massive white sunglasses resting on the bridge of his nose while an equally distracting burgundy coat made its presence known on the singer’s shoulders. Whether he wore a shirt underneath is still a mystery.

 In his right hand, Freddie held a steaming hot cup of tea, gripped tight by his long fingers, each nail painted black. From the waist down, although he couldn’t see, Roger wouldn’t be surprised if Freddie was wearing booty shorts.

 "You okay, Love?“ 

 He only responded with a simple thumbs up, and an unenthusiastic look on his face; and although Fred didn’t seem too convinced, the music started playing, and Roger tried his part again.

 "Been out of the flow all morning,” Brian informed the frontman, biting his thumbnail and crossing his legs from the wall he leaned against. “He got here, and didn’t count us in the first few times we played. Figured he needed some time to play for himself.”

 "Hm,“ Freddie acknowledged, taking a peek at some loose papers scattered around the control desk and taking a sip of his tea.

 "And how long ago did you two decide this?“ 

 "Forty five minutes ago,” John grumbled at his spot at the control desk, legs crossed, and head propped up with his hand in bore. 

 "We tried confronting him and he’s not speaking,“ Brian explained. “Gave you a call and no one answered the phone. We assumed you were on your way.”

 Freddie looked around the room, and he pointed at the second, empty seat at the control desk. “Where’s–”

 After another timing mistake, Roger flung his drumstick towards the window, shouting profanities when the stick just riccoched and hit him right back, and startling the other three men in the process. 

 "… Y/n,“ Freddie finished carefully, eyes wide and focused on Roger’s movements. 

 "We both assume she’s got somethin’ to do with it. He won’t say anything.” John mumbled with a shrug. 

 Freddie pursed his lips, and sighed, scanning the control desk for the PA system’s button. 

 "Rog, my Love. Just… put the drumsticks down.“

 Roger, who was about to send his second drumstick against the wall to meet the fate his first one did, lowered his arm slowly to his side, eyeing his band’s frontman in the window, who was twiddling his fingers at him. 

 "Good. Now, come on in here. We’re all gonna sit down. Have a chat.“ 

 Roger’s shoulders slumped, and he left the recording room so he could regroup with his three other bandmates. Roger just frowned. Just as he suspected, Freddie was sporting a pair of body shorts. 

 Freddie moved his eyes from Roger to the empty seat next to John. 

 The drummer dropped into the chair, letting it roll him a little bit away from the staring eyes of the others. 

 "The others here tell me you’ve been a little… upset, since you’ve been here this morning." 

 Roger scoffed, and tried to stand from his chair, but Freddie dropped a comforting hand on his shoulder. 

 "I know there’s something wrong,” Freddie quietly mumbled. “We just wanna help you. Tell us what’s wrong, and you’re helping us, too.”

 Roger chewed the inside of his cheek, looking guiltily towards John and Brian. “… Hope you know I didn’t mean to shout earlier, yeah?" 

 "Kind of assumed so, yeah,” John offered a kind smile, to which Roger tried to return, but he just looked uncomfortable. 

 "It’s uh… it’s just, um…“

 "Is… y'know… is y/n okay?”

 Roger’s smile fell. “Wait, why? Why would she not be okay? Did you get a phone call from her?!” Roger stood up, “oh my God, is she okay?!”

 "Hey, hey, hey, calm down, calm down!“ Brian intervened, hands up. "She’s fine. We’ve heard nothing from her. We were just asking you.”

 Roger sat back down, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand and sighing deeply. “Look, I’m sorry. Yes. Yeah, it is her. She’s… Driving me nuts right now.”

 "Why now? You two were perfectly fine last week.“

 "It’s been the interactions with the neighbours,” Roger complained. “do you know how hard it is not to start sweating every time we hold hands in public now?”

 John frowned. “But… You hold other girls’ hands all the time. Why would y/n be different?”

 "I don’t know! I don’t know and that’s why I’m like this!“

 Freddie smirked, and Roger could sense the glint in his eyes despite them still being covered by his sunglasses.

 "Seems to me,” Freddie popped his lips. “Roger’s in love with y/n.”

 John smirked at the thought, and Brian had this wide grin on his face Roger really wanted to slap off.

 "Fred, I really don’t think that’s the problem here–“ 

 ”‘Ts weird. I’ve always had a thing for y/n, maybe I’m in love with her.“ 

 "Seeing a girl naked by accident doesn’t mean you’re in love with her, John.” Roger snapped back nearly immediately, to which Brian chimed in: 

 "Funny how you’re the one telling John that when I had to say the same thing to you in high school.“

 Roger was mad, but he was even more embarrassed. His face was a deep scarlet, and Freddie wasn’t sure if the colour of Roger’s cheeks were because of his fury, or because he knew Brian was right. 

 "Come talk to me, Roger. Talk to the King of Love,” Freddie coaxed Roger with his index finger as he fell back dramatically on the sofa against the wall opposite the control table. 

 Roger simply rolled his eyes and relocated to the empty seat on the sofa by Freddie’s feet. The frontman kicked his bare legs out and crossed them over Roger’s lap while stretching this thin arms and placing them behind his head.

 "When’d this all start happening, Rog? I mean the weird feelings.“ 

 To this, the drummer simply shrugged. "Last week we had dinner at the neighbours’. The husband was talking about children, and marriage, and it was like…" 

 Brian and John raised their eyebrows expectantly. 

 "It was like I wasn’t acting anymore.”

 Freddie gave a knowing smile, and hummed gently. “Did you feel comfortable? Being domestic and romantic with her?" 

 "Fred, I’ve lived with those two for three years, and they have zero personal space.” Brian’s eyes moved from his reflection in Freddie’s sunglasses to the stressful gaze in Roger’s. “… is it different?”

 "Bri, I had women over all the time when we lived with you. I had no reason to have a girlfriend. I slept around, got the physical affection I needed, and she was just a friend…“

 John pursed his lips. ”Was,“

 Roger nodded a little, his eyes casting downward and burning holes into his already torn jeans. "Yeah. Was." 

 The blond suddenly looked up at his other bandmates. "We’re pretending to be a couple in a conservative, strict neighbourhood. It’s not like y/n would allow me to invite groupies home with us while catty neighbours spy on us from across the way. I’m not getting the physical attention I used to have, especially since sleeping around is impossible now." 

 The room then fell silent, and no one exactly made an immediate effort to say anything. 

 And then John gave a half-shrug. 

 "Why don’t you ask y/n?" 

 "Ask her what?”

 "Ask her to give you that attention,“ Freddie finished John’s point in a matter-of-fact tone. 

 ”No,“ Roger gasped. "No. No no no!" 

 "What? It’s a great idea,” Brian tried to reason. 

 "It’s bloody suicide! What would she think of me?! A sex-addict? A creep? A waste of time?“

 ”Roger,“ Brian stopped Roger’s listing. "She’s a single, gorgeous woman who loves you with all her heart, romantically-speaking, or not. You two already have this sort of secret commitment thing happening anyways but with housing rather than physical affection.”

 "And your point is…?“ 

 Freddie took over for Brian then with a sigh. "She has nothing to lose. You have nothing to lose. Why would adding onto your deal be a bad thing?" 

 To this, Roger didn’t respond. He didn’t have an answer. Freddie continued. "You sleep with women with no strings attached all the time. Living with your best friend while also bedding her doesn’t seem like a bad idea. What are you gonna do, catch feelings for her? You’re just horny.”

 "… Do you really think that’s all that’s wrong?“ 

 "That you’re stressed and just need a good lay?” John clarified.

 "Absolutely.“

 It was almost as if a weight had been lifted off Roger’s shoulders. All of his past issues were gone, out of his mind. 

He had nothing to worry about. 

 "There’s that smile we all needed,” Freddie gushed at Roger, who lowered his head in mild embarrassment. 

 "C'mon Rog. Let’s get to work.“ Freddie jumped up to stand before the control table, and Brian took a seat next to John. Roger returned to his drum kit inside the recording room, and after a count-in, Roger started drumming. 

 Needless to say, practice was flawless for the rest of the day.

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A/A/N: I hope y’all enjoyed! Remember, new chapter up tomorrow!

@culturefiendtrashqueen @luvborhap @amy-brooklyn99 @scarsout @kimmietea @ohtheseboysilove @demo-wise @suavishowell @bohemianahoy @pippin248

I did a little concert for somebody in Hollywood. Paul McCartney was there. I've never met him before, but I'm a fucking fan of The Beatles. I'm in the back smoking, and they're like, "Sir Paul would like to meet you." I'm like, "For real? Hold on," and I put that blunt out. Cuh walk in the room like, "Don't put that down."

Snoop Dogg on meeting Paul McCartney

Across The Universe (Paul McCartney x Female!Reader)

A/N: Yeah, I’m totally about to drop this, and a new chapter for TCND today. I don’t know how many of y’all like the Beatles, but I wrote this, and wanna see if anyone will really want another part.

OKAY SO I’m gonna say right now that I do not own, or are affiliated with the Beatles in any way (RIP), and this story is based off of/ heavily inspired by the 2007 movie Across The Universe, but the main characters, Jude and Lucy, are represented as Paul and the Reader. All of the characters mentioned, or are in this chapter (Other than Vick) are either real people, or characters from the movie. 

Although all of the descriptive writing is mine, the concept was taken from the movie. A lot of the writing here has been altered from the movie to better fit the characters and situations they are in. I’ve added/ changed parts that weren’t in the movie in the first place, and I left a little out, again, for the purpose of the plot to kinda make more sense. This fic will be more focused on the relationship developing between the two love interests than in the movie, so lots of iconic scenes from the movie (Such as Prudence’s first scene, Jojo’s introduction to New York, etc) won’t be included in the fic, though those characters will make appearances at some point.

I will make up for the lack of content there with more scenes of Paul and the Reader interacting/ in situations that didn’t happen in the movie.

I advise you watch Across The Universe, or have already watched it before you read to prevent spoilers, bc there will probably be a lot of those. (Watching it when high makes it even better tbh, there’s some trippy stuff in that)

A L S O , In this AU, the Beatles do not exist, although it is set in the 60′s!! Paul is legit just a 23 year old guy who wants to see the world.

Summary: Paul decides to head to the United States; You say good bye to your boyfriend before he leaves for Vietnam.

WARNINGS: Swearing, mentions of War, Mike McCartney calling Paul out on some bs, probably a couple of grammar errors bc it’s like... 5:30 AM where I am, and I haven’t slept yet :)

This little fic will be rated T. just because of the swearing

Prom went just as you'd expected it to: You had a nice meal, and did some wonderful dancing with your boyfriend. Despite the blisters on your feet from your shoes, you disregarded them as a temporary memory of one of the last times you'd see Daniel before he took off for the war.

When he got the letter in the mail, he opened it in your presence. Up until the day he died, he felt guilty for making you one of the first to know of his draft.

He cried in your arms for a long while, and you put all your strength into holding your tears back to bring him comfort in such a difficult time.

America had only just entered the Vietnam War, and it didn't seem real to any of you until the day Daniel got that fucking letter.

After talking it over with him, Daniel proposed that the both of you should just enjoy the remaining time you had before he'd have to leave.

And that's what put you here, in the passenger seat of Daniel's car, his mouth leeched onto your neck as his fingers tangled themselves in your hair.

"My mum and dad are home," you explained gently; solemnly. Daniel pulled away from your neck, instead moving to rest his lips on your forehead. "Of course."

He pulled away completely then, stepping out of the car and moving to the other side to hold your door open for you.

You stepped out, and Daniel interlaced his fingers with yours as you both walked up the drive to your house. The both of you listened to the clicks of Daniel's shoes on the pavement-- you were barefoot, your heels hanging from your fingers.

When he'd brought you up the porch, you turned to lean against one of the house's banisters. Daniel saw the look on your face, the one that just screamed 'please don't leave.'

"I'll be home soon," he said confidently, reaching out to squeeze one of your hands. "They give you a furlough after boot camp."

"And after that?" You never got a verbal response. Daniel just wrapped his arms around you tightly. You squeezed your eyes shut, and hugged him back with all the strength you had.

_____________________________

And at this time, across the Pond in Liverpool, England, Paul McCartney was walking home his girlfriend Molly, who he'd been out at a bar with all night, drinking and dancing to the live bands said bar had to offer that evening (and morning).

"Who'll take me out next week? You'll be halfway around the world." She threw a glance over her shoulder, and all Paul could do was offer her a cheeky smile.

"Well it better not be Phil Scully."

Honestly, Paul knew he deserved the shove Molly gave him not moments later, but he just threw his arms around her with a laugh as they turned down her street.

Paul tried to slip into his back door as quietly as he could, being sure to force a fake cough so he could discreetly lock the door.

He was finally safe. He took the time to puff out the air he'd been holding in his lungs, and he rested his forehead against the door.

"... Finally back, I see?"

Paul cringed.

Fuck.

"Yeah... sorry, Dad."

Paul turned around, and sure enough, there his father was: at the table, an empty plate of crumbs sitting in front of him, a cup of tea in his hand, and the Liverpool Echo in the other.

"Your brother just got home, too," Mr. McCartney mumbled as he brought his mug to his lips.

"He was with his girlfriend."

"I was, too," Paul defended as he opened the refrigerator and snagged an apple off one of the shelves before kicking the door shut and leaning against the counter.

Mike, Paul's brother, had just stepped into the kitchen with the same intention as Paul: getting breakfast.

"Mornin!'"

Paul nodded his head to his brother, mouth already full of apple.

"But I know who Mike's girlfriend is, James."

"Ooh," Mike smiled wickedly. He'd come in at just the right time. "Yeah, James, Dad knows who my Bird is."

Paul cringed a little at the name. James. The only people he really allowed to call him James was his parents.

"I just haven't... found the right time to introduce her, 's all," Paul excused after he swallowed. To avoid saying anything else, he went in for another bite of the fruit.

"No, it's because I actually love my girlfriend," Mike chortled as he popped a slice of bread in the toaster by Paul's arm, which just resulted in a playful shove from his older brother.

"I love my girlfriend," He argued back.

"But have you even told her that?"

Paul rubbed the back of his neck. "Well... not exact--"

"Point proven," Mike pointed to his brother, eyeing his father proudly.

"Look, all I'm saying, James, is that clearly, if you're stalling an introduction, you don't plan on keeping her 'round," Mr. McCartney explained.

"Dad, it's... it's complicated." Paul was rubbing the back of his neck again before taking another bite from his apple.

"There's just no point in wasting your time with someone you're just gonna throw away,"

"Whoa whoa whoa," Paul put his hands up at his brother's comment. "Who said anything about throwing anyone away?!"

"Well, you are going to America in a couple of days," Mike pointed out, grinning widely as his toast popped. He moved around the kitchen for a knife and some butter from the table.

"You really gonna stay with her when you're gonna have all those single American girls around to choose from?"

Paul didn't answer. He just shoved the apple into his mouth, rolled his eyes, and moved to the other side of the room, where the staircase leading upstairs was located.

He took a seat on the first two steps as he continued eating away at his breakfast.

"Paul, when I was your age-- maybe even younger than you, I met your mother. I knew she was The One after our first date. I took her home to meet my parents immediately."

Paul waited patiently for his father to get to the point.

"If you're not bringing her 'round, maybe she ain't the right one. Just think about it."

No one really said much else. Mike had started eating his toast, and Mr. McCartney turned his attention back to the paper, so Paul went upstairs.

He shut the door to his room when he arrived, and sighed happily at the sight of his bed. He climbed right on without taking his coat off. He kicked his legs up and stared at the ceiling as he finished off his apple, tossing the core into the waste bin next to him.

He understood where his father was coming from, and maybe he was right. But, Paul wasn't exactly looking for a long-term partner like all his other friends had done after they graduated from school.

Even Mikey had hopped onto that gravy train.

Paul was twenty-three. He still had plenty of time to find a girlfriend and settle down. That's why he decided to take off to The Land Of Opportunity. He wanted to get out and experience what it was like outside his dreary hometown before he devoted the rest of his life to a wife and kids, and living as a boring, stereotypical family until the day he died.

Did he have a Visa to legally work in America?

Fuck no. But it's not like that was gonna stop him from finding some form of income, whether or not it was technically legal.

Paul sat up in his bed, turning to peer into his closet.

He was pulling his suitcases from there moments later, and he unzipped all of them to begin packing. There was nothing he really needed to pack rather than his clothes, cigarettes, passport, a photo of his mother, and a small notebook containing all the phone numbers he'd had to keep over the years.

His cousin's number was the one he was particularly packing the book for. Paul managed to convince him to make room for him at his place he shared with his friends just outside the Princeton University Campus, where he was currently studying.

"You're a lifesaver, Vick" Paul mumbled as he tossed the book into one of the suitcases, and zipping it back up.

_____________________________

"Sometimes I feel like you're not tellin' me everythin'," Molly mumbled as she pulled away from the swelling kiss Paul was trying to leave her before he parted for America.

"I just need a break from here, Molly. I'll be back before you know it," he tried to comfort her with his gentle words, but she just looked upset. 

"N'd a break from me," it sounded more like a statement.

"Don't be ridiculous," he offered a smile, but when she didn't really react to it, Paul slipped his fingers into her hair, and threw it behind her shoulder.

"I'll be missing you by tomorrow,"

"I bet," she mumbled, eyes fixed on a pebble on the sidewalk between her feet.

Paul pinched her chin, and tilted her head so she was looking right at him. He looked more serious now.

"I'll write home everyday."

"You better."

"N'd I'll send all my loving to you."

And that's all it took.

"You bastard," Molly tried concealing her grin, but Paul had her wrapped around his finger, and she gave in to his charm.

And not long after, she was giving into another one of his desperate kisses.

_____________________________

"I promise, every day I'll write, babe. I love you so much," Daniel rushed his words out between quick kisses he left on your lips, his hands squeezing your own tightly. He pulled away soon enough to give you a smile, and then the car he was in started driving away. 

His hands slipped away from yours, and you suddenly felt cold.

You wanted to chase after the car, but your feet stayed glued to the road. Your heart felt strained as you watched the car drive off and around the corner.

Good-bye, Danny.

_____________________________

A/A/N: If you want me to continue on with this, please let me know! I really really like the Beatles, and I wanted to give Paul x Reader a try. As always, likes, replies, and reblogs are always appreciated. And I promise, the next chapter to this will be much, much longer, if y’all want it enough <3