My Favorite Thing About Tumblr Is Just How Easy And Real The Possibility Is Of Finding HUGELY Popular

Oh god it's the original

the beatles in help! (1965)

50 notes and i’ll throw his backpack in the dumpster

Insert Brian and Roger in traffic in separate cars

*turtle crossing the street*

Roger: *gets out of car and picks up the turtle*

Brian: Aww that’s so sweet of him

Roger: *brings turtle back with him to the car*

Brian: WH A T

Phelps; “You know Jack Kelso?”

Biggs; “He’s an insurance investigator over at California Fire and Life. Our paths cross from time to time. For some reason, seeing you makes me think of him.”

Lift Confessions II (Roger Taylor x Female!Reader)

A/N: I am really going HAM on this series, guys. I love it so much tbh. the amount of traffic I’ve accumulated the last few days on my blog has me SHOOK. I’m so glad I’m bringing entertainment to well-deserved people! Love y’all!

Summary: It’s Friday. You just need to survive one whole work day before the night is all yours and Roger’s.

(Again, BoRhap or real Roger, whatever tickles your peaches)

WARNINGS: Swearing, Vaguely Mature Subject Matter 

I’d rate this big boy a T.

 It was definitely Friday.

 And it was definitely seven o'clock.

 A.M.

 You watched as the red numbers on your alarm clock changed every infinity.

 Twelve hours until dinner.

 Two hours until work.

 You felt as if you’d been lying awake in your bed for years. You barely had any sleep the night before, taking to the alarm clock as a distraction from your thoughts.

 7:02, and your mind still raced with your heart.

 It had only been two days since the situation regarding you, a lift, and a certain blond beauty occurred. Despite this, those days dragged on almost as if each day were a lifetime.

 You’d had those days off, and you only did what you were doing now; staring at that damned alarm clock.

 You didn’t know if you were excited or scared of this dinner with Roger. On one hand, you didn’t know how well the night would go considering your relationship with him had been transparent for a whole two years…

 But you couldn’t help but think back to his confession in the lift. One you’d forgotten about until just this morning.

 “My Doll, I have been in love with you since the moment I set eyes on you, and I never stopped.”

 You shut your eyes and sighed. You remembered his voice being so gentle, and how the pause after his confession hung in the air in a very pleasant way.

 You remembered how his bright blue eyes carved effortlessly into your heart and soul, and how his soft listings of the little domestic and romantic things he wanted to do with you had your chest nearly bursting with every butterfly that could have coexisted in your being at once.

 You opened your eyes and frowned.

 7:04.

 You wished you’d responded to what Roger had said.

 You could think of a million and one things to tell him if you were back in that situation.

 In the lift.

 7:05.

 And a million and two things to tell him.

                                                                         "Higher.“

 "Fred, if this is gonna be like Bohemian Rhapsody, I may just have to leave–" 

"Roger, Darling, you’re doing great here. Your falsetto is fantastic, but it just doesn’t seem to want to match tones.”

 Roger sighed, pressing the palm of his right hand against his headphones. With his other hand, he spun his finger in a counter clockwise motion.

 "Replay,“ he requested with a yawn. Roger really needed his morning coffee.

 Freddie replayed the audio, and Roger waited for his falsetto.

 In that moment, you ran through the doors of the console room the band was in, five cups of coffee and tea hot and ready for your coworkers and yourself.

 "Sorry, the lineup was long, and they kept screwing up Roger’s order. As always.”

 John leaned back in his swivel chair so he could see you past Freddie.

 "You… seriously made sure they got his order right? That’s not… usual for you.“

 You shrugged, setting the trays of coffee on the side table before removing your raincoat. "Figured I’d be nice today.”

 You heard the famous Roger Taylor Falsetto from the studio.

 "Still trying to perfect that part?“ You asked, taking Brian’s chair next to Freddie since he moved to retrieve his tea.

 "Yeah. He insisted this song needed this one falsetto, but it’s not looking too good.”

 You nodded at Brian’s response, and glanced down at the empty case the song’s tape was in. It was labelled “Somebody To Love.”

 You pursed your lips, and looked up at Roger through the last window, only to see him looking back at you. You smiled the tiniest bit, and he returned it…

 That is… until his attention was brought back to Freddie, who was scolding him for completely missing his time to hit his notes.

 A break for Roger was called, and he left the studio. He knelt down next to your seat to talk to you, but he could see John glaring at him in harsh suspicion from over your shoulder.

 Neither he, Freddie, nor Brian were aware of what happened the few nights before.

 You found the silence the smallest bit awkward, so after clearing your throat, you smiled a little. “So I uh… I got you your coffee. For real this time. One and a half milk, one and a half sugar.”

 "… Really?“ Roger got to his feet, and moved to the coffee table to grab his drink.

 "Thought I should. You’re all working very hard. You deserve it.”

 Roger took a sip of his coffee and hummed gently. “T'is a shame. I was just starting to enjoy the sweetness of two milk and two sugar.”

 You just rolled your eyes in response, a smile at your lips. "You’re welcome, Blondie.”

 From the other side of the room, Brian watched closely at the unusual encounter. Seeing a dinosaur in the middle of London in this time period would have been more believable to see than you and Roger…

 "Are they flirting?“ John asked Brian in a hushed tone. He’d read his mind, but the lanky guitarist only answered with a shrug of his shoulders.

 Freddie was more amused by yours and Roger’s engagement, mindfully leaning against the console board with his arms crossed over his chest, and a smirk on his lips.

 Despite his desperate want to call you both out for your strange behaviour, he’d much prefer watching John and Brian go mad trying to figure the situation out.

 "If I may,” John cleared his throat apprehensively, eyes narrowed. 

“But Roger, you haven’t made one snide remark to y/n, and she’s already been here for a whole three minutes." 

He paused. "Not that I’m wanting you both to fight.”

 Roger just shrugged, and proceeded to hand you your order. This was the first time he didn’t try to purposely spill a hot drink on you in two years, and it was a very relieving feeling.

 "Change of heart ‘suppose.“

 After the boys’ coffee break, they found themselves back in the recording studio. You sat in the console room, and gave little suggestions to them every once in a while on how to improve the song.

 Despite this, you knew that Somebody To Love was already a masterpiece. 

 "Can we start just before that falsetto, y/n?” Roger asked over the mic. You just nodded, and rewound the tape.

 "Got no feel, I got no rhythm,“ you nodded your head along to Freddie’s vocals, and the already recorded instruments blasting through the speakers of both rooms.

 You weren’t prepared to hear a wail of a falsetto coming from Roger. You snapped your head up to look at the band in the recording studio, Roger beaming at you in success.

 You rose to your feet and cheered for the blond as the song continued on.

 You knew for certain this take really counted.

 The long repetition of the band members pleading the listeners to "find me somebody to love” eventually arrived in the song.

 Whether this was purely a coincidence or not, Roger held eye contact with you the entire time he sang, a smile never able to leave his mouth every time he said that “L” word.

 And you just found that fact utterly adorable and innocent.

 It was true, then.

 He really did forgive you.

 And he really did love you.

 "Lunch time!“ Brian announced with an excited clap of his hands. "Roger, it’s your turn to choose.”

 Roger was sitting at the console board, staring at his reflection in the window separating the room you five were in, and the studio.

 "I may have to skip out on lunch today, lads. I really need to practice some other songs for this album.“

 While Freddie was obliged to leave, Brian and John found this really doubtful. You were staying behind to pack up the instruments the band weren’t going to use for the rest of the recording that day.

 Why would someone insist on staying behind to be near an enemy? None of it was making sense.

 Brian knew you. He’d known you since university. He just didn’t understand why you weren’t mouthing Roger off, or making an excuse to leave him behind.

 Despite this, Freddie found himself out, and Brian and John followed.

 You were lying on the couch behind Roger, reading a book. You weren’t really paying attention to it, though.

 Especially not when you heard Roger’s swivel chair squeak. "Hey, Doll,” Roger greeted as he sat on the armrest of the couch by your feet.

 You glanced up over the pages of your book, bending your legs so Roger could slip into the now vacant seat. You stretched your legs back out, and Roger rested his hand on one of your kneecaps.

 "Hi, Loverboy,“ you acknowledged back, dipping your head back behind the book.

 "Whatcha readin’?”

 You shook your head. “Nothin’ interesting.”

 You closed the book and dropped it on the floor, resting your arms over your stomach. “Whatcha practicin’?” You nodded your head towards the recording studio.

 Roger gave you the same answer you did. 

 "Nothin’ interesting.“

 Your lips twitched into a smile, and you closed your eyes.

 Roger just watched you, his thumb rubbing circles over your kneecap in a slow, repetitive pattern.

 "It’s so weird… being like this with you again.”

 "Tell me about it, Doll.“

 The only thing that really could be heard was the analog clock on the wall. You opened your eyes and examined the time.

 1:34.

 Five hours and twenty six minutes until dinner.

 Three hours and twenty six minutes until the end of the work day. 

 "Why don’t I teach you some drumming?”

 You moved your gaze from the second hand on the clock to Roger, whose eyes were wide and hopeful.

 "What is this, 1974?“

 "It just may be. For this lunch. If you want.”

 You turned to face the live room’s tempting door handle.

 "… only for a few minutes. I still need to pack up for everyone else.“

 Roger beamed, and you lifted your legs to set him free. He immediately grabbed your hand, and pulled you into the studio, shutting the door behind you rather quickly.

 "Okay okay,” Roger took a seat in his drumming stool, and turned to you, patting his thigh innocently with his hand.

 "A special seat for a special lady.“

 "In your lap? You call that special?”

 "Well, not me, but some women might.“

 You smiled, and shook your head. "Gross.”

 Despite this, you seated yourself in Roger’s lap, and he spun the both of you around so you were behind the drums.

 "Here,“ he gave you his drumsticks from his back pocket, and put them in your hands.

 He went to cup his larger hands over yours, and you teasingly mumbled "gee, at least take me to dinner first.”

 Roger shifted over so he could look at your face. “You mean to tell me I have to buy you dinner to hold your hand, but lap-sitting is completely fine?”

 You shrugged, your uncontrollable grin resulting in a smile from Roger.

 You both turned back to the drums, and Roger started naming the different types of drums on the kit.

 Of course, you knew everything he told you. He’d told you before. You’d dealt with his drums and put them away for the longest time. Before…

 "–And here’s the snare. T’s my favourite because its name is fun to say.“

 You just let Roger talk. You missed hearing his voice speak with such passion.

 You missed doing things like this with him.

 You missed him.

 How blind were you in the past not to catch on to how into you Roger was?

 How into you he is now.

  You opened your mouth to speak, but Roger was still going on about the drum kit.

 You didn’t cut him off.

 But you let him help you play.

 He helped you play both simple and complicated songs, his arms guiding yours to the correct drums and cymbals at the right time.

 At one point, Roger let go of your arms, and you kept to the notes he’d taught you moments before.

 "You’re doin’ well, Doll.” He watched the drumsticks tap the cymbals over your shoulder, his hands innocently resting at your waist.

 You repeated the same notes for a minute or so before you felt Roger’s arms slide around your body into a gentle embrace.

 "… Rog?“

 "I’m sorry, y/n. About the last few years. How I’ve treated you…”

 He rested his head on your shoulder, and you reached up to comb his hair with your fingers.

 "Hey, hey now. It’s okay. I’m okay. We’re okay.“

 Although Roger found some relief in your words, he tightened his arms around you. You just sighed, and leaned back, turning your head to kiss his temple.

 "It was justified, and all is forgiven, Hun. Let’s put these last two years behind us. Start over, yeah?”

 Roger turned his head to face you, and after looking at you for a moment or so, he nodded his head.

 "Thank you, Doll.“ One of his arms unravelled from around your waist, and he let his own fingers glide through your hair.

 You shut your eyes, and basked in the short amount of time Roger gave you this attention.

 When you opened your eyes, Roger’s gaze was obviously fixated on your lips. You lifted your head up a little, and his eyes flicked up to meet yours, gently, and kindly smiling.

 "Y'know… you have nice lips.”

 Your cheeks glowed, and you shyly looked away. Roger laughed– a short exhale out his nostrils.

 "Don’t make me kiss you, y/n.“ You turned back to him, and the both of you’d found yourselves moving ever so slightly closer to each other.

 Before he got too close, you pressed the tips of your fingers to his mouth, and smiled innocently.

 "Whatever you say, Blondie.”

 Roger’s mouth fell open in shock after you pulled your hand away.

 "I wasn’t being serious!“

 "No, Meddows. I’m doing what you asked,” you’d never looked so smug in your life, or sounded so proud.

 You believe this was the first time you’d put the Roger Taylor in his place.

 You glanced up at the clock, and proceeded to do a double take. “Shit!”

 You jumped out of Roger’s lap, and started running around the studio, gathering cords, and wrapping them up frantically.

 "What?!“

 "We spent that whole hour drumming and talking! The boys will be back any moment!”

 Roger wordlessly got to his feet and helped you clean up. You were thankful for that. You just never verbally expressed it.

 When Freddie, John, and Brian all returned from lunch, not only was the studio empty of any unnecessary instruments, but your relationship with Roger, if you could even believe it, had been strengthened even further after the confession on the lift.

 As much as it bummed you out, you and Roger didn’t kiss in the studio.

 Were you close when Roger was apologizing?

 Absolutely.

 It was something that plagued your mind for the rest of the day.

 The clock in the console room struck five, and you took a deep breath.

 Two hours until dinner.

 Brian entered the console room from the studio, his Red Special in hand. He was spending the last few hours practicing his solos for other songs on the album they were working on, and John was also in there with him at some point.

 "That was a great practice, everyone!“ Freddie announced, a painfully wide grin on his face.

 "Why don’t we all go for drinks tonight? My treat.”

 You looked over at Roger with mild worry, shrugging on your raincoat slowly.

 "I can’t tonight, Fred,“ Roger said apologetically. "I’ve plans I can’t cancel.” Freddie nodded in understanding.

 "What about you, y/n?“ John asked.

 "I have a date, actually.” At that, the room went quiet.

 This was new.

 Brian raised an eyebrow. “You… you’ve met someone?”

 You swallowed. You didn’t think this was going to be such a big deal. You’ve dated around after your breakup with Steven. Why is it different now?

 "Old friend,“ you explained. "Our friendship’s been kinda vacant. We wanted to reconnect. See what’d happen, you know?”

 You swear on your life that you saw a hint of jealousy in Roger’s eyes, but it soon faded away when he realized the mistake he made.

 Fucking dumbass, I was talking about you!

 You shook your head a little in mild frustration, but smiled once more.

 "Best be going, actually. Date’s at seven. Have a good night everyone!“

 You heard a collective "good bye"s from Fred, Brian, and John, but an isolated "have fun tonight, y/n,” from Roger.

 You shut the door to the studio, and made your way to the lift. As soon as the doors of the lift closed, you audibly groaned.

 "Fucking moron.“

 This little shit really just got jealous over himself.

 Maybe all those months of faking hatred towards one another was really getting to him.

 The lift, since it was broken, was very slow going down the elevator shaft. It gave you time to think.

 After this date, you hoped to come clean with Freddie, Brian, and John about the state of your relationship with Roger.

 Messages wouldn’t be underlying, nor would your unusual behaviour towards the drummer.

 This situation was very complicated the more you thought about it, but you really hoped a fun night out with Roger would be enough to solve everything. 

 And it would.

                                                                          A/A/N: This was very long so I apologize for the wait. I also wanna thank y’all for being patient. As always, comments, and feedback are always welcome!

@radiob-l-a-hblah @bohemiansweede @demo-wise @culturefiendtrashqueen @luvborhap

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!

Guess who may or may not have written another entire chapter for The Couple Next Door and will be posting it tomorrow?

This girl

UPDATE: Guess who may or may not have written a frick ton more of the next chapter and needs a day or so to revise and edit?

This girl

Guess who’s lacking inspiration for one series

This girl

And guess who’s gonna start writing an entirely different series starting tonight

This girl