Paul McCartney Imagines

2

September 11th, 1963 Your Point of View

I wake up with butterflies in my stomach. For a moment, I'm not sure why, and then it hits me like a ton of bricks – I'm getting married today. Not just married, but married to Paul McCartney. Yeah, that Paul McCartney from The Beatles. I still have to pinch myself sometimes.

As I lie in bed, staring at the ceiling, memories of our whirlwind romance flood my mind. Every moment has led to this day, from our first meeting at the Cavern Club to our late-night talks about music and life. I remember how nervous he was when he first asked me out, fumbling with his words in a way that differed from his confident stage persona. It was endearing.

I finally drag myself out of bed and catch a glimpse of my wedding dress hanging in the wardrobe. It's beautiful—a classic 60s style with a sweetheart neckline and lace sleeves. I run my fingers over the fabric, hardly believing this is real.

There's a knock at the door, and my mom peeks in. "Good morning, sweetheart! Today's the big day!" She's beaming, but I can see the hint of tears in her eyes.

"Morning, Mom," I say, hugging her. "I can't believe it's finally here."

She cups my face in her hands. "My little girl, all grown up and marrying a Beatle. Who would've thought?"

We share a laugh, and then it's a whirlwind of activity. My bridesmaids arrive, led by Cynthia, John's wife and my best friend. There's a flurry of hair curlers, makeup brushes, and excited chatter.

As Cynthia helps me into my dress, she grins and catches my eye in the mirror. "Y/N, Paul's jaw will hit the floor when he sees you. However, let's be honest: it does that every time you walk into a room. He's so in love with you it's ridiculous."

I blush, remembering how Paul looks at me. "He's pretty amazing himself," I admit.

"Oh, we know," another bridesmaid, Sarah, chimes in. "The way he talks about you in interviews... I swear, John rolls his eyes every time Paul mentions your name!"

We all laugh, and for a moment, the nerves subside. But as the makeup artist puts the finishing touches on my face, reality sets in again. I'm marrying Paul McCartney. Me. The girl who used to listen to their records and dream about meeting them one day.

My mom pops her head in again. "Hi, honey. Are you ready? This is it!"

I can see the mix of excitement and worry in her eyes. "Are you sure about this?" she asks, her voice soft.

I stand up, smoothing down my dress. "Yes, Mom. I'm sure. I can't wait."

She laughs, shaking her head. "It's just so surreal. My little girl is getting married to someone like Paul. Talk about fate, huh?"

As they fuss over my dress and veil, I sneak a look at my vows. I start tearing up just reading them. This is happening. I'm about to promise my life to Paul, and I couldn't be happier.

Paul's Point of View

I wake up way too early, my stomach in knots. Today's the day. I'm marrying the girl of my dreams. She's not just any girl - she's incredible. Sweet, kind, thoughtful, beautiful... the whole package. And for some reason, she chose me.

I lie in bed, thinking about how we got here. Meeting her at the Cavern Club, fumbling through asking her out (God, I was nervous), our first date at that little Italian restaurant... It all seems like yesterday and a lifetime ago at the same time.

There's a pounding on my door. "Oi, Macca! You alive in there?" John's voice. Of course.

I drag myself out of bed and open the door. John's standing there with George and Ringo, all suited up already.