Ob-La-Di, Ob-La-Da, life goes on! (The Beatles X Reader)

Chapter 3

Y/N sat in her apartment trying to figure out exactly when, where, and why she was there. She had multiple newspaper clippings spread across her small dining table. She disclosed that the year was 1961. It seemed that she was in Liverpool, United Kingdom. The only question left was why Paul wanted her here. What was she supposed to do?

"You can save the Beatles." Rang in her head. What did he mean by that? Did he want her to stop them from breaking up, or stop...their deaths? She couldn't believe any of it. This all had to be some weird dream. Suddenly a knock came on the door. She stood up, surprised, and went to answer it. Opening the door, Paul stood with a bouquet. He had a silly grin on his face as he handed the flowers to her.

"Do you like them?" He asked with a slight blush. He wiped the sweat from his forehead. She noticed his guitar on his back. Where was his bass? Didn't he have practice--right the date. She had completely forgotten.

"They're beautiful." She remarked, setting them on the dining table. "Come on in." Paul nodded, letting himself in. He took his jacket off, placing it on a coat rack.

"Lovely place for a lovely lady." He grinned, walking up to her.

"Says the guy who just yesterday sent a flash mob after me." She smirked. Paul laughed, putting his hands on his hips. It was strange flirting with the younger Paul. He seemed genuinely nice, but sometime in the future, he was going to sing her into the past.

"Well, I thought my scheme was very attractive. Just watching it come together, made me smile." He explained, waving his hand in the air.

"Very attractive for an idiot." She laughed, patting him on the back. He glared at her, but his smile seemed to overshadow it.

"Shall we be off?" He asked, motioning towards the door. She looked at her attire which was nowhere near fit for an outing.

"I need a minute to change." She said, heading towards the bedroom. Picking out a light pink dress, she touched up her appearance. Of course, she had to at least look decent. Once she felt that her appearance was good enough, she walked back out to Paul. He was looking through her newspaper clippings.

"What are these?" He asked, sitting on her couch. What would be a good excuse? He couldn't know, she should just kill him while she had the chance! Of course, she would never actually do that, but she was already breaking the rules of time and space. Wait, but how and...no she couldn't kill her ticket out of the 1960s.

"Just some articles for my writing." She said, going over to sit next to him. He skimmed a couple of the articles.

"You're a writer?" He asked, a flash of curiosity in his eyes.

"Yeah..." She said softly, hiding behind her hair. Paul smiled at her.

"A good songwriter needs to know writing." Paul grinned, setting the clippings down.

"Songwriters are good storytellers too." Y/N chuckled, looking into his big brown eyes. They sat there silently for a moment. The tension in the room was heavy.

"You're right." Paul chimed. He stood up, heading towards the door. She followed him, waiting for him to grab his coat. "Does my lady need a coat?" He asked with a smirk.

"As always." She mused, lifting out her hand. He took his coat off the rack and then hers. Doing a dramatic bow he handed her her coat. She giggled.