I love The Beatles, their music changed the world. none of 'em of are perfect but that's what makes 'em The Beatles.
I write McLennon fanfiction, so inbox me some ideas sometime! i finish them when i can :)
You’re welcome! I’m so glad you like it Xx :)
Thank you so much! Xx :D
Omg thank you! Xx :) I’m so happy you like them haha Xx
Done! I’m sorry if it’s bad haha Xx
That’s really funny actually cos no one BUT you thinks that and seeing as you’re on Anon yourself that makes this a petty coward act. I’d actually like to talk to you off anon about your reasons why you feel the need to bully someone on a social site just because you don’t like their blog, it’s stupid, childish and people who send hate like this are cowards and bullies who can’t say things OFF anon. So if you wish to bully me further then please get off anon. Thanks Luv Xx
Done! Hope this is right Xx :)
*set in 1977.*
"Good to see you." John grinned. His arms were crossed and he looked so young and cool as he leaned against the door to his home. His feet crossed over slightly, his fingers tapping his arms, his eyes shining.
"Better be bloody good to see me." Paul mocked. "Flew all the way here from London."
"For me?" John batted his eyelashes in a very ‘McCartney’ way, tilting his head to the side as the picture of innocence.
"Who else?" There was teasing in the tone, still a strong scent of mocking covered any affection that might have laced Paul’s voice but it was true.
Who else would he flew to another country for just because that person asked him to? Maybe Linda but certainly not any other woman he had ever been with.
"Come in." John ushered Paul inside with a wave of his thin hand. "Yoko and Sean are away for a few days so I’m lonely you see." John explained as he moved sheets of paper off the couch to clear room for Paul to sit.
It was a small gesture but Paul smiled all the same.
"Linda doesn’t mind I’m here." Paul answered John’s unasked question He saw in the older man’s eyes since he opened the door. "She calls it ‘our business’-you and me. She doesn’t try to pry or understand."
"Seems like quite a woman." John whistled.
"She is." Paul nodded. "She does understand though…..Or as best as anyone can I suppose." Paul continued.
John felt a surge of jealousy course through him and he feared, for a moment, it would control his actions. That famous Lennon jealousy that made so many people leave him but John took a moment to stare at Paul’s face, that old happiness shone and the jealousy was replaced with fondness. He could never hate someone that made Paul look like that.
"I used to dream about us, you know." John said after some time, a comfortable silence had enveloped the room and John wished to kill it.
“Our life. What our life would be like. I was like a bird planning her fucking wedding day.”
Paul stared at John and his lips twisted slightly. In the old days John would have never been able to admit something like that, he could have never shown his feelings that much and Paul had to thank Yoko for a brief second. That woman had helped bring John out and he couldn’t hate her for that.
"Oh yeah?" Paul picked at his nails and scratched his knee staring at John shyly not knowing what to say.
"Yeah." John nodded. "We’d be in Liverpool, back at that dumb fete and I’d see you or more so I’d just look at you and I’d just say ‘I’m home’. And then-oh Fuck this is terrible-then we’d live happily ever after, or what our ever after would look like. Wouldn’t be happy but it would be enough, you know?" John picked at the old stuffing coming out of the couch. When he was younger John would never have been able to look at Paul after such a confession but there he was….staring straight into Paul’s hazel eyes hoping to see the same dream reflected back at him (John remembered when he first noticed Paul’s eyes were hazel. They were 18 and he was already in too deep without even knowing it).
"Was that a confession of love, Lennon?" Paul asked, masking his shock with teasing. He clenched his hands painfully and he knew his cheeks were probably red and his smile too large but he couldn’t break eye contact.
"Maybe." John teased right back. He rested his chin on the palm on his hand, letting his arm rest on his knee as he leaned forward with a smile.
Paul couldn’t speak. His throat blocked with words he wished he could have spoken years before and his common sense blurred with the image of John Lennon’s smile.
"Sounds like a lovely dream." Paul finally strained out. "Fulfilled or not."
"It was." John said sincerely. ‘Could have been. Maybe.’ John’s smile faltered but he never broke eye contact.
"Can I kiss you?" John asked.
"You’ve never asked me that before." Paul let the shock cover his face this time.
"You’ve never said no before. I knew you’d never say no before." John replied.
Paul wasn’t sure if he should be offended by that, he was a bit in a way but he couldn’t deny it. He was head over heels and when he was younger Paul was sure he must have jumped like a puppy when John kissed him. It saddened Paul when he realised how long ago It was, it saddened him but not as much as it used to.
It felt too fast, the moment went by too fast. John walked over with caution and shyness in his steps, he kneeled down before Paul and as he slowly and gently ran his hands over and held Paul’s cheeks Paul felt his hands twitch and he just wanted to pull John close but it wasn’t the 60’s anymore so he refrained.
The kiss was just like it used to be.
Maybe softer and more hesitant but still the same nonetheless.
It felt like they were teenagers kissing for the first time in Hamburg but without the fear of getting caught. It was like kissing in their hotel rooms during tours but with the knowledge it wouldn’t last forever.
John was the one to break the kiss, he always had to be the one to break things with Paul in a desperate attempt to make the pain hurt less, it was a vain action but it was a habit he’d never gotten over.
John looked at Paul and for a moment he felt at home, he wondered what kind of life they would have had if they stayed calm or if they’d taken chances instead of putting them as wrong timing. John wondered if he could have given Paul a better life than the one Linda gave him.
"Home, Johnny?" Paul had the annoying, uncanny ability to read John’s thought. Well that wasn’t entirely true, Paul couldn’t read John to a T but he could well enough for it to annoy John.
"Don’t flatter yourself, Macca." John warned fondly.
Paul smiled and John felt like whatever was going to happen didn’t matter because Paul was smiling at him. Only him.
Omg that is so nice! I’m so flattered, I’m smiling so much. I’m so shocked you think I’m that good but thank you Xx
I want to become a psychologist actually but if I get better at writing I might give it a go, you know? :)
:) You’re not bothering me at all haha sorry I don’t have the specific link but it’s on a Blog called ‘amoralto’.
Sorry if that doesn’t help Xx
I heard the audio and I just thought it was so interesting, it didn’t really inspire the whole fic though but while I was writing the ending I remembered it and I thought it would be perfect to add in.
I’m so glad you like it! Xx :)
(Requested By letsjustliehereforever)
John never thought marriage was important. Ok well that was a lie, it was a lie he told people because he didn’t want to think marriage was important.
But there was a time when John valued marriage and even dreamed of it.
In college John wanted to marry Cynthia, he dreamt about marrying her, he had plans for their life together but then he got married and as always things weren’t what he thought they were. It broke John’s heart to see Cynthia (his once dear, lovely Cyn) upset about their marriage but he was just selfish enough to lock Cynthia away, back in his mind in the place he never dared to open again. Too painful, memories always were.
John dreamt of marrying Paul.
He woke up next to the man once in 1966 and as he stared at Paul’s peaceful, beautiful face and John knew he could see himself doing the same thing for the rest of his life. His guilt regarding Cynthia disappeared as he stared at Paul, not the Paul that the media saw but HIS Paul, the one only he knew. Paul woke up and kissed him and John wanted to marry him.
He wanted to tell the world he was a queer for his best mate and for fucks sake he wanted to marry him. The whole fucking white wedding deal, he wanted it all and more. He wanted Paul.
He never told Paul that.
He thought he’d have time.
He, selfishly, thought Paul would never get over him.
But the way Paul looked at that American bird. Linda. Paul looked at Linda the way John looked at Paul and John knew he’d lost him for good.
That was the kind of look you never grow out of. That look of love and happiness never fades from someone’s eyes. It stays forever, painfully so.
He and Paul tiptoed around each other, they slept with women but they always came back to each other. That was their deal, that’s what they did.
When Paul met Linda John thought it would be the same, he ignored the look in Paul’s eyes and the clenching in his heart because it was supposed to be the same.
But, as always, Paul surprised him and he had to fall in love.
Fuck him, John thought. Fuck. Him.
John dreamt about marrying Paul.
The next time he saw Paul after that wedding, Paul walked into the studio holding Linda’s hand smiling down at Heather (that was another thing that flashed warning signs in John’s head. That kid. Paul being so gentle and fatherly towards a little girl. John should have guessed Paul would fall in love). John stood up and he watched Paul kiss Linda’s head and John didn’t even feel sad anymore, He felt numb.
"I dreamt about you last night." John announced none too discreetly, he stared straight at Paul.
“Did you dream about me?”
A long, painful pause ensured. Paul eyes darted over John’s face trying to find a hint of teasing, a hint of joking that seemed to always follow John’s tone. Upon finding none Paul gulped and straightened his back.
"I can’t remember."
"Ah." John tapped his thigh thoughtfully.
“It was amazing. Felt very real, you must’ve dreamt it, it was like I was touchin’ you.”
Paul’s face grew sad for a short second but it was soon covered in a fake indifferent smile that after years of heartbreak he had mastered well.
"Nothing to worry about, though?" Paul asked.
"Nothing to worry about, no." John responded.
It didn’t matter anymore, or well, John would force his heart to begin to convince himself it didn’t.