In My Life
Pairing: Paul McCartney x Beatle!reader
Genre: idk what to call this. kinda a sadish thing with a happy ending.
Summary: (y/n) leaves the band after an argument with Paul. She goes back home to Germany, but Paul follows her.
Warning: cursing
Note: This is 100% fictional, the timeline also may not be accurate. Most songs aren't from that era either, sorry. Fyi, Paul and (y/n) had a one night stand a couple years back.
(y/n)- Your name
(y/f/n)- Your full name
(y/n/n)- your nickname
Three bloody months and Paul still hadn't heard anything from (y/n). It was as if she had disappeared into thin air. He had come knocking at her front door every day for the past few weeks just to be told by the maid that (y/n) was out. It was getting ridiculous. He knew that the last time they had seen each other, he had hurt her. He had hurt all of his friends. John, Ringo, George hadn't spoken to him either, but at least he knew that they were still alive. (y/n) on the other hand had vanished.
"Please Louise, just tell her I want to apologize." he begged the maid for the 35th time.
"I am sorry, Mr. McCartney, but she is not at home." Louise replied calmly.
"Is she even in the bloody country?" he asked exasperatedly.
"No, she went back home. She told me she's making her own album. I am not sure when she will be back." Louise said, surprised that he didn't know.
"Wait, she's in Germany?"
"Why yes. Didn't she say so?"
"No, no she didn't." he said quietly.
He couldn't believe that he had hurt (y/n) so badly that she had left the country. She had gone right back to the place she had left a decade ago.
He had to make this right again. He had to apologize.
༺ ༻
He walked into the tiny studio. Paul hadn't even made it to the reception area, when he already heard her voice.
"We only said goodby with words, I died a hundred times"
He stood still, to listen to (y/n)'s voice a little more
"Ohmeingott, Paul McCartney." the receptionist squeaked when she noticed him come in. (you probably already got the gist of this but it means 'ohmygod Paul McCartney')
"Umm... could you please tell (y/n)(y/l/n) that I'm here?" he asked tentatively, knowing that in such a small town the receptionist would not know english.
"Wie bitte?" she asked, confirming his suspicions. (pardon me)
"Who ist (y/f/n)" he asked again, trying to remember some German she had taught him many years ago. (Where is (y/f/n)
"Sie ist oben. Gehen sie die Treppen hoch un dann die erste Tür rechts." the receptionist said, pointing to the stairs in the back of the room. (she is upstairs. go up the stairs and then the first door right)
"Danke," Paul thanked her, and made his way upstairs, following the sound of (y/n)'s voice.
He quietly opened the door and entered the small room. (y/n) stood in the booth, a group of session musicians behind her. There was only one other person on his side of the glass. The bearded man who seemed to be the one recording turned and looked at him, but didn't say anything. After a few seconds he turned back to (y/n).
Hesitantly, Paul walked inside the studio, moving to stand in front of the window, so (y/n) could know that he was there. But the woman he wanted to be seen by didn't notice him for the whole time she was singing. Her eyes were closed, and she was focusing on the song with her whole being. After a few bars, the music died down and (y/n) opened her eyes. She had a big smile on her face, proud of herself for singing the last song. She jumped when she saw him standing there. The producer saw her reaction and gave her a look that asked 'you know this guy?'. She quickly composed herself and smiled. Giving Paul a small wave, (y/n) turned to the microphone.
"Sind wir hier fertig, Max?" she asked.
(are we done here, max?)
"Lass uns noch ein Lied heute machen, ok?" the producer said.
(lets do one more song, ok)
(y/n) snapped her fingers for a few beats and then began to sing again, the musicians following her lead with a bluesy tune.
"All I can ever be to you
Is a darkness that we know
And this regret I got accustomed to
Once it was so right
When we were at our high
Waiting for you in the hotel at night"
Paul watched her closely, not in the way a stalker stares at the object of their obsession, but in the way someone stares in wonder as the friend they have known all their life turns into something more.
It was as if he had never seen her before. Here, (y/n) performed with such confidence that she had never had in the studios the Beatles had recorded in. Her voice was different too. It was louder, fuller and more confident. It would now be impossible to just brush her off as someone who sang backing harmonies with George and Ringo.
"I cannot play myself again
I should just be my own best friend
Not fuck myself in the head with stupid men
He walks away
The sun goes down
He takes the day, but I'm grown
And in your way
In this blue shade
My tears dry on their own"
She even looked different. Time away from England had done her well. (y/n) no longer carried the sad, weary look in her eyes. Her (y/h/c) hair was pulled back into a messy ponytail, but her stubborn bags still fell around her face. She wore nothing fancy, just a simple black dress and boots, but to Paul, (y/n) looked as beautiful as ever.
༺ ༻
"(y/n)"
"Hi Paul." she said, giving him a small smile, "what brings you here?"
"I wanted to apologize for-" he began, but (y/n) interrupted him.
"Let's talk over lunch. I know a place."
He nodded in agreement and (y/n) led the way out of the studio. They walked around town a bit, it turned out to be even smaller than it seemed last night, when he was driving to the hotel. In the end, they stopped at a small pub that Paul immediately recognized. The Blues Cafe.
"I remember this place. We played our first show with you in the band here."
(y/n) grinned, "Yeah, we did."
"Does your grandfather still own this place?" he asked.
"Yeah, he still does. I'm working there again."
"You're joking."
"Nope."
"You're a bartender?"
"I prefer the term bistro manager, but on Tuesdays, Fridays and Saturdays, yeah I'm a bartender." she joked. Her (y/e/c) eyes sparkled mischievously, just like they always did when she was making a joke or saying something sarcastic.
Paul laughed at her statement. It felt good to be around her again. He had missed (y/n) more than he realized.
"You went from world famous musician to bartender?"
"Yep." she said cheerfully, popping the p.
"You are a strange woman (y/f/n)"
"Thank you darling. Now come in," she said, and went inside.
The pub hadn't changed much. Maybe there were a few more tables here and there, but that was it. The bar still ran along the right wall, and the same stage the Beatles had performed on in the early days stood to the right. A ragtag bunch of musicians that had taken residence upon that very stage, and they were softly doing Roy Orbison covers or something like that.
Paul followed (y/n) to a free table in the back and they ordered food and drinks.
"What did you want to talk about?" (y/n) asked him when the waiter went away.
"I wanted to apologize for what I said the last time we saw each other..."
*Flashback*
"Leave him alone Paul. He has written better songs than you and John combined." (y/n) said when Paul made an offhand comment on George's latest composition.
"That's just like you, (y/n), sticking up for George. It's not like you can write a good song for your life." John butted in before Paul could reply.
"I CAN write a song. And I have written multiple songs. You all just won't record them." (y/n) spat back.
"Darling, I don't know if it's you or your guitar that is out of tune, but the reason we never record your songs is because they're bollocks." Paul said without thinking.
(y/n) was silent for a moment. "Fuck you Paul," she said softly.
Then she abruptly got up, dropped the guitar that had been resting on her knees and ran out of the studio as fast as she could.
*End of Flashback*
"...I was an arse. A complete idiot. and I wanted to apologize for that. I'm sorry for never supporting you when you wanted us to record your songs. It was unfair. I should have actually listened to what you wrote. From what I heard in the studio, your songs are amazing. I know that this doesn't make what I said okay again, but I had to apologize. You're still one of my best friends, and I shouldn't have hurt you like that."
Paul stopped his rambling to look up at (y/n), who was grinning at him.
"I'm sorry." he repeated one last time.
"I heard. And it's okay." (y/n) said, "I forgive you."
He couldn't help but smile in relief. "Thank goodness."
"So how did you find me?" (y/n) asked, resting her head on her hand and looking up at him.
"I pestered Louise until she told me where you are." he said jokingly, trying to make it sound like he wasn't desperate to see her.
"You did not."
"Everyday, for 35 days." he admitted.
"Damn Macca, you're persistent." she laughed.
Paul smiled at her use of his old nickname. It had been a while since one of them had said it.
"Why did you come back here?" he asked.
(y/n) laughed sadly, "I just had to get away from everything. All the cameras, all the fans," she gestured around the half empty pub, "these people still see me as little (y/n/n) who used to run around playing waitress or putting on shows after school, not as (y/f/n) the fifth Beatle. I just needed the feeling of anonymity, if that's what you can call it, again."
He smiled, "I get that. It's hard sometimes."
"How are the others?" (y/n) asked, "I haven't spoken to them since I left."
"They're okay. We all miss you, you know?."
(y/n) was about to say something when an older man casually strolled up to where they were sitting, he gave Paul a polite nod and turned to (y/n).
"Komm und sing uns was, (y/n/n)." (come and sing us something )
"Jetzt nicht, Onkel Peter. Ich red doch gerade." (Not now, uncle Peter. im talking now.)
"Ach komm, nur ein par lieder."(come on, only a few songs)
She gave Paul an apologetic look.
"They want me to sing a bit." she explained, "I can always tell them no, if you want."
"No, no, no. Go on. Don't let me be a bother." he said encouragingly and (y/n) grinned.
She walked over to the stage and borrowed the microphone from the current singer.
"Guten tag alle miteinander. Wie geht es euch?" (Good day everyone. How are you?)
The crowd cheered.
"Dieses lied sorted ihr kennen, also singt mit." (You should know this song, so sing along)
(y/n) started singing one of her favorite songs, Blue Moon.
After the song was done the crowd gave a small cheer, and (y/n) took a small bow before she made a little speech.
"Ich freue mich euch mitzuteilen das einer guter freund von mir mich heute besucht. Und ich glaube das er sich freuen würde, ein lied mit mir zu singen." then she finished in english, "Paul, get your ass up here." (I am happy to tell you all that one of my good friends is visiting me today. And I'm sure he would love to sing a song with me.)
He looked around in surprise, but (y/n) gestured for him to come on stage.
"You know this one." she said to him as the band began to play a familiar song. (y/n) nodded at him, signaling him to start the song.
I saw her today, I saw her face
It was the face I loved and I knew
I had to run away and get down on my knees
And pray that they'd go away
But still they begin
The chorus began and (y/n) joined in
Needles and pins
Because of all my pride
The tears I gotta hide
Hey, I thought I was smart
I'd win her heart
Didn't think I'd do, but now I see
She's worse to him than me
Let her go ahead
Take his love instead
And one day she will see
Just how to say please
And get down on her knees
Hey, that's how it begins
She'll feel those needles and pins
Hurtin' her, hurtin' her
Why can't I stop and tell myself
I'm wrong, I'm wrong, so wrong
Why can't I stand up
And tell myself I'm strong
Because I saw her today, I saw her face
It was the face I loved and I knew
I had to run away and get down on my knees
And pray that they'd go away
But still they begin
Needles and pins
Because of all my pride
The tears I gotta hide
Oh, needles and pins
Needles and pins
Needles and pins
༺ ༻
They spent the rest of the day together. (y/n) showed him around town, visiting all the places they used to go when they were in Germany with the band. When it began getting dark, she walked him back to his hotel.
"So how long are you staying here?" (y/n) asked, and Paul detected a hint of hopefulness in her voice.
"I'm flying back home tomorrow." Paul replied sheepishly.
"Why?" she asked, this time disappointment clearly written on her face.
"I was worried you would still be angry at me, and not accept my apology and I didn't want to stick around if that was the case."
"Oh, who said I wasn't still angry with you?" (y/n) said.
"You are?" he asked worriedly.
"Oh I'm furious." (y/n) said, but only now did Paul catch the joking tone she was using.
By then, they had arrived at the door to the hotel he was staying at.
"I had fun tonight," he admitted.
"Yeah. It was nice singing with you again Macca."
Maybe it was the way she was looking at him, maybe it was because they were back in Germany, or maybe it was the simple fact that he was in love with her, but Paul leaned down and kissed her.
(y/n) was the first to pull away. He opened his eyes to look at her. Her (y/e/c) eyes were still shut, her lips pressed tightly together, as if to stop herself from crying.
"No," (y/n) whispered, "I'm sorry. I can't do this again. I can't bear to be another one night stand again. I want to be with you for more than one night every few years."
Tears were forming quickly in (y/n)'s eyes, but she continued, her voice shaking.
"If that's all you'll ever want from me, tell me now, so I can still walk away with my heart intact. It took me four years to heal since you broke it that last time. I don't know if I could do it again. So what will it be, Paul?"
He was so shocked at her statement that he couldn't make himself utter a single word. (y/n) seemed to accept this as his answer. Her eyes filled with tears and she turned away.
"Goodbye Paul." she said and began walking back down the dark road.
"(y/n) wait!" he called after her.
Either she didn't hear him, or chose to ignore him, but (y/n) didn't turn back. He cursed under his breath and took off after her.
"(y/n)! Don't go."
She spun around
"I want you, (y/n). I want to be with you."
"Are you sure?"
"I have never been more sure of anything in my life."
The songs used in order are:
- Back to black (Amy Winehouse)
- Tears dry on their own (Amy Winehouse)
- Needles and Pins (The Searchers)