I Did A Little Concert For Somebody In Hollywood. Paul McCartney Was There. I've Never Met Him Before,

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

Freddie: So we’re still squabbling over that fact, that’s what he’s trying to say Roger: rawr

(x)

I know a lot of people have different opinions about this, so I'm gonna post mine.

I just feel so blessed to know there are people out there who will take time out of their busy days to sit down and read my stories.

A like makes me giddy.

A reblog makes me smile.

A comment/reply has me bouncing off the walls.

The like and reply buttons are there for a reason. This isn't JUST a reblogging site, although it is helpful for other creators to share their work around for others to see.

But not everyone requires a reblog to feel proud of their work.

Hell, I get more inspiration and pride from my work from reading comments than taking a look at the number of reblogs my post made.

So I encourage you all to:

1. Like what you see.

2. Leave feedback and comments for writers to swoon over the next few days.

3. Reblog a work if you feel it NEEDS to be read by others.

This is just coming from me, a writer who gets excited if I get 10 likes on a post in two days, and then nothing for two weeks.

The smallest bit of support you give us writers leaves colossal impacts, and we thank the readers Tumblr-wide for a simple click of a button.

For someone like me, the button you choose to support me with does not matter.

Like, Reply, Reblog, whichever one you decide to leave, I will still be grateful a thousand times over for your support.

You know, this is why content creators end up abandoning their works, right?

80 likes compared to 10 reblogs means that only 12% of people decided that what you did is worth showing other people.

If you like the thing, reblog it. You don’t even have to add tags, just spread it so that a) other people can see it, and b) the creator gets recognition for what they did.

Obviously, those numbers are never going to match, but the divide should not be that huge.

It’s even more important right now, because tumblr is garbage and they’ve stopped allowing anything with an outside link from appearing in tags. Writers/artists cannot tag things to their twitter/store/writing website. That can cause a significant drop in views, especially for newer creators.

Like… we aren’t asking for much. A few reblogs. Reviews/comments. No creator should have to beg for that much.

“We have begun the Reaping, begun the preparation of our life during the Collapse. The Father tells us that God will salt this earth for seven years and only after will his New Eden grow. Those unprepared will descend into madness but we will thrive, for I have claimed every part of this valley in the name of the Father. The food, the supplies and the people now belong to the Project at Eden’s Gate. If they are not handed over willingly they will be taken by force. If you try to fight, try to resist - you will be purged. But if you open your hearts to the Project at Eden’s Gate, if you share your bounty with us we will protect you from the calamity to come. All are welcome in our garden. You just have to say “yes”.”

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.

_______________________________

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

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

So I very rarely draw anything digitally because I find it very difficult but I found this the easiest way to do these. So as soon as I read this prompt, I immediately thought of the benefits of using medicinal marijuana. I was under the influence when sketching these. The first one-- the less detailed one-- was my original. The other one was one I spent more time on (clearly), and I'd completely forgotten about my first sketch.

The second one looks more like a fairy, but I think I get my point across.

Design an angel based on any sort of medicine or medical treatment you are familiar with. If you are not familiar with any medicine or medical treatment, draw a bandage angel.

“I pray that you hear these words before it’s too late.” - Joseph

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