Rating: General! There’s no smut here to worry about, it’ s just a cute and fluffy little fanfic!

JULY 6, 1957

Sounds of laughter drifted in through my open bedroom window. I looked down at the street below to see a crowd of teenage boys goofing about. I rested my head against the window pane as I watched them go about their antics, fake punching each other and running off in mad circles. A few of them were carrying guitars.

“Ay Johnny, I betcha two ciggies that yer fat arse is gonna crack the flatbed on the lorry!” one lad shouted.

He cackled while the others collapsed on the ground around him, crying tears of laughter. I snickered. One of the older looking boys in the gang walked over to the smart lad and tapped him upside the head.

“Shut yer fat gob up Shotton before I crack you one with my guitar!”

The boy held up his instrument and shook it at the lad who bolted away playfully in fear. That must be “John.” I could hear an engine rumbling up the street, backfiring a few times and the boys scrambled to gather up their gear.

“It’s here!”

The old jalopy pulled up to the curb and the boys hopped on the back. “John” paid the driver and climbed up on the back. They rearranged their equipment on the flatbed and slapped the cab of the lorry, alerting the driver to pull away slowly.

“LONG LIVE THE QUARRYMEN!” They yelled as the lorry took a left turn at the end of the street.

Quarrymen? Where have I heard that name before…? I suddenly remembered seeing a sign around the neighbourhood advertising the annual Garden Fete at the Woolton Church with some group called the “Quarrymen” that were topping the bill. That must be where they’re headed. A flash of excitement ran through me as I thought of joining the afternoon’s festivities. I’ve got to get there! I jumped up and grabbed my purse, catching a quick glimpse of myself in the mirror before I left my room. I ran downstairs and shouted to my mother that I’d be home later before she had the chance to ask me where I was going and disprove my plans and out the door I went.

I walked up the street, remembering the trail of the vehicle and went off in the direction of the church. As I neared the church, I saw the lorry parked in the courtyard. In the distance, the boys were standing on an outdoor stage. I made my way to the front of the crowd standing around. As the setup came into full view, I saw that there were five boys all together. Each of them looked to be about sixteen or seventeen, hair greased back in the Ted style, guitars slung around their shoulders. The boy named John was standing at the front of group, his back turned to the audience. Cigarette perched between his lips, he was quietly talking over some chord changes with his mates for the opening song. When he turned around, my heart almost stopped beating. He had on a pair of black drainies and a faded, red plaid shirt. His darkish blonde hair was quiffed up in an ode-to-Elvis style and framed his mature face. His jawline and scowling expression cut the air as swiftly as his handsomeness took my breath away.

Lost in daydream over his looks, I snapped back into reality when the microphone screeched. John rocked the microphone back in forth in its stand to resolve the technical difficulty.

“Ello boys and girls. I’m John and this is me band the Quarrymen. We’re mighty glad to be here and we hope you enjoy the show yeah!”

And with that, they counted off and kicked into “Come Go With Me”. Still focused on the leading Ted, I watched as he plunked out the chords and half shouted the song because of the terrible amplification. I loved this song but something about it sounded off. Come little darling, come and go with me… Down, down, down, to the penitentiary… He’s singing the wrong words! I giggled at his comedic lyrics as only a true git could forget the words to a song this badly. He squinted as he scanned the crowd with his eyes and then he suddenly stopped in my direction. He opened his eyes wide, a smile cracked at the corner of his mouth and he winked at me! My heart skipped a beat and I found myself beginning to smile like crazy.

“What a great little band, eh?”

Someone beside me nudged my elbow. I turned and locked eyes with a boy in a white jacket. His wide hazel eyes sparkled in anticipation of my answer.

“Yes of course!” I cheered.

He smiled back at me with delight, the jerry-curl of dark hair on his forehead raised with his kind expression.

“Say, whaddya think if we hang around a little while and see if we can chat up with the band after the show? The name’s Paul by the way.” He charmingly stuck out his hand for me to shake.

There was just something in his eyes I couldn’t resist.

“I think that would be an absolutely wonderful idea, Paul!” His touch felt like an electric spark and in that instant, I knew I was becoming the witness of something much bigger than just a friendship with these two lads.

I turned back to the band. John was still focused in my direction with a smile on his singing lips. I beamed a smile back at him and I think it made him blush. Paul and I jumped up and down to the music, feeling the beat of the drum in our souls. Would the lads I met that day ever change the world with their music? Two teenage hooligans with beat-up guitars and Rock ‘N’ Roll in their hearts could never do such a thing. But then again, maybe some day they’d break hearts around the world just as they broke mine that summer day in Liverpool.

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anonymous asked:

The day is almost here. Their wedding day. It's just two days away, and Cassius couldn't be more excited. He loves Jerry with all of his heart, and he can't wait to be married to him. He wakes up that morning, curled into Jerry's chest, the vampire already awake. "Good morning, handsome." He mumbles, smiling up at him. (@professor-cassius-eldridge)

He’s lost in thought, but when he hears his mate’s sweet voice, the corners of his lips twitch into a smile and he looks back down at him. “Morning, baby.” @professor-cassius-eldridge