#Paul McCartney Fanfiction

[cherry-velvet-skies]

Feeling Two-Foot Small (Part 2)

Tiny!Paul McCartney x Tiny!Reader

Genre: Fluff with a sprinkle of intimacy here and there

Warnings: Some kissing and mention of nudity but nothing too crazy

Words: 3.5k

A/N: If you have not read Part 1 yet, please read that first for this to make sense! Also, there's a bit of canon divergence at the end but it's fine

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The remainder of the day was spent with you and Paul skateboarding around your house, hiding under tables and couches, while occasionally sneaking back to your room in an attempt to grab a fruit snack or pretzel stick without getting caught. The game only had to end because it was getting dark, and since neither of you could reach a light switch, the rooms soon became pitch black. You, unfortunately, didn’t have any doll-sized flashlights, and you both realized this could get dangerous when Paul tried to run away from you and only succeeded in running directly into a leg of your kitchen table.

“Do you think the swelling has gone down yet?” Paul groaned as he stumbled back to the socks you two were using as a couch. “My head feels like it’s pounding.”

“I’m not sure,” you replied, “on account of the fact that I can’t even see you!” The sun had fully set now, and there was no hope for either of you finding any light sources, much less being able to see a mere hand in front of your face. It was as if you two were walking around with your eyes shut. The best thing to do was just to stay in your room and wait until morning.

“I wish I could see your face.” Paul chuckled, reaching out his hand that wasn’t massaging his forehead. You had a similar idea, blindly flailing your own arms until your hands brushed each other in the darkness. You both yelped, not expecting it, but quickly searched again until they voluntarily rejoined. You smiled as Paul rubbed his thumb over the back of your hand. You were quite grateful in that moment that he couldn’t see how hard you were blushing, but then again, you couldn’t tell if he was doing it too.

“I would reach for your face right now, but I don’t want to poke you in the eye.” You stated, punctuating your statement with a giggle. Paul took your hand that he was holding and guided it up to his cheek. You stroked the soft skin there, feeling the minute layer of stubble near his jaw. Paul closed his eyes, although it didn’t matter if he did, but it was merely a factor of immersing himself in the feeling. Adopting a more relaxed attitude, you gently cupped his cheek and traveled higher, finding the small bump on his forehead. You attempted to move him closer so you could place a kiss atop the bruise, but the lack of lighting made you miss and instead planted a kiss right on his eyelid.

“Oh, sorry.” You laughed awkwardly.

“If I had bumped my eye into the table, you’d be golden.” Paul teased. He reached for your hand again, sensing that you tried to pull it away after being discouraged by your incorrectly placed kiss. “But this is nice though,” he continued, “just hanging out here.” You gave him a look of confusion, until you realized he couldn’t see it.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, for me, the last couple of days have been pretty odd. Like I mentioned earlier, with the whole sacrifice thing. But it’s not only that, you know! Aside from trying to save one of my mates from having his head chopped off, he’s got these scientists after him too! They want his ring so they could sell it and get a fortune for it, but the ring is actually the reason why he’s due to be sacrificed!” Although Paul’s expression wasn’t visible, you could tell this was going to take a while. “He actually wants to get rid of the ring, you know, but the problem is he can’t get it off. And that’s why we needed the shrinking serum! But then the doorbell rang and the woman who was administering it dropped the needle and it ended up in my leg and now here I am!”

You stood quiet, unsure of how to approach this. What ring? Who are these scientists? Is this the same woman he was mentioning earlier? Who knew a dream could feel so real. If this was any indication of the inner workings of your subconscious, you considered getting yourself evaluated.

“That does sound like some crazy stuff.” You tried, hoping to trick your brain into changing the subject. Thankfully, it worked. There was a brief moment of silence between you two, and while that normally wouldn’t have been so bad, the pitch darkness surrounding you sent your brain straight into the realm of horror stories. In your mind, complete silence and complete darkness should never go together.

“It’s far too quiet in here,” Paul huffed, his voice carrying a hint of wariness, “Can we just talk about something else already?” Your eyes widened. It was like he read your mind! Oh, wait. You had to keep reminding yourself that all of this WAS in your mind.

“Sorry,” you apologized again, though you realized it wasn’t necessary, “I’m still just thinking about how I kissed your eyeball.” Your face scrunched as you relived the incident in your mind.

Paul chuckled to himself. “Maybe you should’ve aimed for something else then.”

You froze, pondering his statement. You were almost certain you knew what he was hinting at, but didn’t want to make any assumptions. Paul had no problem assuming you didn’t get the hint, so he clarified himself.

“Have you ever heard the theory that two people can find each other’s lips in complete darkness with nearly one-hundred percent accuracy?”

You felt yourself choke on your spit when you gulped. You weren’t sure if he was just making a flirty joke, or actually suggesting that you two kiss. How could he possibly insinuate something like that when you two only met for the first time this morning?

Oh, right! This is only a dream! It’s all in your mind! That also means you never really kissed someone’s eyeball by mistake. You felt your confidence returning. Well, if none of this is real, surely a little kiss couldn’t hurt.

“Are you suggesting we test it out?” You fired back, your boldness now purely compensatory.

“As a matter of fact, I was.” Paul replied. The smirk he was wearing while delivering his comment was practically audible.

You giggled before grabbing his hand again. “Then let the experiment begin.” 

Guiding Paul’s arm closer to you, you took this opportunity to instead rest his hand on your cheek. You didn’t really know where to go from there, as you obviously still couldn’t see. And Paul’s hand was the only thing that you were certain you could find. What would happen if you blindly tried to reach forward again? Would you make out with his left nostril this time instead?

As you were silently contemplating your approach, you felt Paul’s hot breath against your face, signaling he was coming closer. Within seconds, you felt his lips make contact with not only your face, but your lips, your top lip nestled firmly in between both of his, using this opportunity to suck on your bottom lip as he kissed you. You still closed your eyes, even though it wasn’t necessarily needed, but it still felt right.

Using your adequate proximity skills, you slowly brought your hands up to cup his cheeks, stroking them with your thumbs. Paul sighed, and you could’ve sworn you heard him trail off into a whimper, but weren’t completely sure. Your hands moved from his cheeks to the back of his neck to pull him closer, running your fingers through his hair. Feeling the texture of Paul’s silky hair while you kissed him was enough to stimulate your senses to a more optimal level. Or, at least you thought it was optimal. It didn’t feel like a dream anymore. It all felt so real. Too real.

Your eyes shot open and you hastily pulled away, much to Paul’s surprise. “What’s wrong?” He asked you, immediate tension apparent in his voice. “Did you not like it?”

“I…I don’t know.” You replied quietly. “It wasn’t you, I just…I don’t know.” You crossed your arms, desperately trying to crawl away from this awkward situation. 

“Perhaps I came on too strong then, yeah?” Paul mumbled, silently fidgeting as well. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” You felt bad. It wasn’t Paul’s fault. After all, you were the one who created him in your mind.

“You didn’t do anything wrong. I was okay with it at first, but then…I don’t know what happened. It didn’t feel right.” You couldn’t properly explain yourself, and that was always your downfall. You felt uneasy, but couldn’t pinpoint why. In fact, Paul’s kiss was actually quite nice. There was just something about the whole thing that wasn’t sitting right with you.

It was too quiet again. But what was left to talk about? It seemed that anything you both tried, something was bound to thicken the air. It felt like even in your dreams, things couldn’t go well. You gave up.

“Maybe we should just go to sleep.” You stated. Paul didn’t respond, although he wanted to try and work things out. He didn’t want to ruin things with his new friend. Possibly even more than a friend. But definitely not at this rate. He thought it was wrong to keep the statement left open, so he added a meek reply.

“Alright, then.”

You weren’t sure what to do for sleeping arrangements. The floor was too hard to sleep on, and you knew your back would pay the price the following morning. But there was absolutely no way you felt like ascending your pant leg fire pole up to your bed right now. There had to be some kind of compromise.

Seeing no other option, you blindly felt your way down to the sock couch that you and Paul had been sitting on this entire time, pulling the top sock off of the bottom one. Paul heard you doing all this, but had no clue what was going on. He felt a breeze across his body when you tossed one sock towards him. “Here, take this to sleep in.”

“Sleep in?” Paul clarified, wondering if he’d misheard you. “But this is a sock.”

“Well now it’s a sleeping bag.” You said nonchalantly, slipping off your plastic shoes and getting comfy in your sock. “It’s all I have.”

“But you’ve worn these!” Paul exclaimed. “I’m not sleeping INSIDE of it!”

“Good luck freezing all night, then.” You quipped, knowing he'd give in eventually.

Paul put his hands on his hips. “But it’s the middle of May. It’s not cold.” You felt yourself stretching the elastic of the sock to restrain yourself from getting more annoyed.

“Well I don’t have any tiny little blankets lying around, so your only other option is to sleep on the floor. You wanna wake up stiff as a board tomorrow? Fine. Not my problem.”

Paul giggled. “I think that might happen regardless of where I sleep, love.”

“JUST GO TO BED!” You huffed, while Paul was still snickering to himself as he tried to get cozy on top of the sock.

The night went slow. You couldn’t sleep. Perhaps it was because you were technically already dreaming? So falling asleep inside your dream seemed counterintuitive. At one point, a small strip of moonlight had made its way through the small gap in your curtains, which were still shut since you were too short to open them this morning. Now that you could see a bit better, you glanced over at Paul, who was sound asleep. He was laying on his stomach, his arms stretched out in front of him, creased at the elbow to support his head. The lower half of his body was reluctantly nestled inside the sock. You assumed he got cold and conceded to the sleeping bag, seeing as he was trying to keep his body as far away from the toe pocket as possible. Despite your earlier misunderstanding, Paul seemed comfortable around you as if he had known you for years. He looked so peaceful. Perhaps that was your method. This Paul character you had created in your dream was the picture of everything you wanted. Confidence, optimism, and peacefulness. You gave it all to him, while you, the true human, were still stuck with all the worries. Your brain was quite the tricky one.

You zoned in on the tranquil rhythm of Paul’s breathing, pulling your sock tighter towards your body like a cocoon. You smiled to yourself, trying to reabsorb some of Paul’s innate tranquility. You could feel the background noise slowly become more muffled as you drifted off into a deep sleep.

When you awoke the following morning, you were cold. You felt the brisk morning air pass over your whole body with ease. Perhaps you had wriggled out of your sock in the middle of the night and ended up on the floor, as you felt the hard wood below with a much greater intensity than you did the previous night. What surprised you the most was a single area of your back that felt…oddly warm. You opened your eyes, only to immediately shut them again, feeling incredibly disoriented. You curled your body into a fetal position, plastering your hands over your face to stop your head from swimming. You didn’t drink, but yet you felt hungover. If what happened to you last night was actually a dream, is it possible for you to still be reeling from it? You kept your eyes closed, trying to sit up as slowly as possible. You felt the way your skin creased and folded as you sat upright on the floor. Yep, you were definitely naked.

Trying to open your eyes again, you prepared for the immediate influx of stimulation. You stared at the window, hoping the soft light from the sun behind the curtains would give your eyes something more palatable to focus on. You watched as your surroundings slowly became clearer. And judging by the visual perspective of your bedroom, you were back to normal size. 

You laid back on the floor, breathing a sigh of relief that the weirdest dream of your life was now over. Until you felt that odd warmth beside you again, followed by a raspy voice.

“I guess the serum wore off, then.”

Oh, no.

You look over to see Paul, also completely naked, laying on the floor beside you, one arm propping up his head as he wore a huge smirk on his face. Not knowing how else to react, you screamed, causing him to scrunch his face as he had just woken up. You tried your best to cover yourself with your hands, but didn’t have much luck.

“What are you doing here?!” You shrieked, now glaring down at the array of busted open socks and doll clothes wedged underneath the both of you. Last night was, apparently, not a dream.

“I didn’t do anything, I swear!” Paul exclaimed, holding his hands up as if to say he was innocent, only for his head to hit the floor with a thunk, as there was now no hand to hold it up. He winced, rubbing the back of his head dejectedly. “Ow.”

You were trying hard not to stare at Paul’s body, but you had to admit, he had a very attractive figure. If one thing was for sure, Paul was absolutely right about the whole “waking up stiff” thing…

“Wait, so yesterday…that was real..?” You mumbled, wondering if you were still actually dreaming. Maybe you were stuck in a perpetual dream loop. Perhaps you had left your physical body and this is where you’d be for all eternity.

“What do you mean if it was real?” Questioned Paul, “Didn’t you hear my whole story about the serum? And the ring? Did you think I made that up? Which reminds me, I should probably get going, so…do you have any clothes I could wear out of here?”

Your gaze darted around the room, looking for, honestly, anything. Firstly, some clothes for you, much less for Paul. But also for answers. Even if Paul’s story was true, which was highly unlikely, that still doesn’t explain why you shrunk too. Were you given a phantom dose of serum in the middle of the night by a different mysterious woman? None of this made sense. You were just about to get up when Paul spoke again.

“You know, even if you don’t believe anything I said, I hope you’ll know I’m being honest when I say I enjoyed our time yesterday.” You turned to look at him, your expression one of confusion. “Being that small and all, I felt…helpless. I felt like anyone could just step on me if they wanted to. Or…lift me up and take me away. I never expected to find someone that understood what I was going through. And for that I’ll always be grateful.”

And that’s when it hit you. Being small wasn’t a curse or a punishment. It was a teachable moment. An opportunity to remind you that, no matter how big or small you were, you weren’t alone. Even as you always felt that you had to navigate around all the big people who you were afraid would step on you, there was someone out there who knew how you felt. Who you were meant to meet. Having to make yourself small to make space for others wasn’t a problem anymore when you met someone who gladly made enough space for the both of you.

“I…enjoyed it too,” You replied slowly, “And I do believe your story, Paul. As for how I ended up like that, we may never know. But it was fun to have someone to play with all day.” You chuckled, and Paul joined you as you both reminisced of your rather impressive game of hide and seek.

Paul sat up, reaching for your hand that was trying its best to cover your chest. He took it in his own as you let it fall from your body. You saw things differently now that you understood. This entire journey had been a confusing one, but you hoped that this was the beginning of a new chapter in your life. One where you looked at not only the world with a bit more kindness and optimism, but also yourself.

Paul guided your hand to pull you closer as he captured your lips in a sweet kiss. This time, you felt calmer, and more accepting of what was to come. You dropped your other hand from concealing your lower half to softly grasp his shoulder. You sighed into the kiss, feeling your lips melt as his tongue pushed past them. You lightly pressed on his shoulder, leading him to lay back on the floor as you lay on top of him, your hands threading in his dark brown hair while his rested on your lower back. There was no sexual tension to it. No desire to grope at various areas of the body. It was content. Peaceful and romantic. It was the sweetest kiss you ever had.

You both laid there for a while, no rush to go anywhere or do anything. Except for the two minute break you took to get dressed, as you were starting to get chilly again. You took the liberty of loaning Paul one of your oversized hoodies along with some sweatpants, which fit him perfectly. Although, not knowing when you’d see each other again, you think that Paul might just own those clothes now. You were just about to resume your kissing session when you saw Paul do a frantic double take out your bedroom window.

“There they are!” He squealed. “Look!” You tried to see what he was referring to, and sure enough, there were three guys walking down the street. Two taller ones, and one who was a bit shorter, who was wearing a huge and borderline tacky ruby ring on his left hand. They were all dressed in dark suits, all with similar haircuts, all calling out Paul’s name. You couldn’t believe it. Paul was actually telling the truth.

“Sorry to bolt, but if I don’t leave now, I’ll never catch up to them.” He said, stamping a quick kiss on your cheek before running to your front door. “Hope to see you again soon!” He called out before closing the door behind him. You managed to hear a muffled “wait up guys!” as he headed down the street. You stayed by the window to watch his three friends turn around, ecstatic to see him. One of the taller ones grabbed him by the hand as they all continued to run until they reached the end of the block, all piling in one car before taking off again. You smiled to yourself as you headed to the kitchen, thankful for what was probably the strangest yet most comforting moment of your life.

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PART 2 Y'ALL FINALYYY 😁😁😁 And yes obviously this is the final part but this fic was so fun to write! Let me know if y'all wanna see more stuff referencing the Beatle movies, and I have two other fics still in the works so I'll try and have those up as soon as I can! 🥰

[yangleeeh]

John and Paul as rats in Paris…. Inspired by: @flowersintheram

[sabonitoo]

Sit back and let the evening go

Sergeant Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band!

[buttahpie]

sigh….. opens up google docs

[imagine-mokey]

John Lennon

[beatleshalloween]

McLennon

[sunflowersinthedirt]

AFTER SHOW | PAUL MCCARTNEY 🎸

Where Paul really wants you and can't stand hiding it anymore OR where you have low self-esteem and don't see yourself as feminine and beautiful enough to attract anyone's attention.

female!reader, fluff.

| mentions of alcohol and pot, mature language and reader not feeling feminine enough. Written in first person. |

english is not my first language and gifs are not mine.

—

1965.

Nothing could have prepared me to see Paul being interviewed after the tenth show of that tour in the hotel by this girl. Sure, it was a usual scene, but she… She was beautiful. Red-haired, medium height, and rosy-skinned. She looked like one of those porcelain dolls people order for decoration. Delicate, polite and apparently funny. The hazel eyes of the english singer were solely focused on her, his smile stretching from ear to ear.

It made me sad in a way. But my mind couldn't figure out if it was because Paul was close to such a beautiful woman with a courteous smile for so long without me seeing him next to a woman, or if it was because she was everything I was not: Too beautiful.

The truth is it was always like this. I always had to compare myself with every woman who got close to the boys. I had been working with the Beatles for almost four months and had yet to see any erratic behavior from them towards me or any woman - They´are flirty, but not disrespectfull. Far from me wanting all of them, but sometimes a doubt would light up inside me: Am I pretty enough for a Beatle to notice me? Of course, not just them, but any man.


I walked down the hotel hall to my room, not wanting to notice anyone's presence there and hoping they wouldn't see me either. I went up to the corridor of the rooms so quickly that not even a camera flash would catch me if someone photographed me there. I heard footsteps behind me and felt a tap on my arm.

— Where are you going in such a hurry, luv? — It was Paul. His warm touch sent an electric current and a shiver through my stomach. I felt my face heating up too, but it could have been the wine Brian offered me earlier at the after show. — To my room. — I replied, a bit intoxicated by his scent and how close he was to me. Either I was too tipsy for having had two glasses of weak Chilean wine with Brian Epstein, or Paul's eyes had a different sparkle that night.

— Can I be your company? — He asked boldly and irresistibly. — I want to get out of here too.

I nodded positively. Paul and I walked down the room corridor, and I felt drained by the energy of the place. Paul seemed tired and high... His eyes continued to disturb me. I couldn't judge him because I was this high too.

His eyes shone and disturbed me in an attractive way, of course. After seeing him with the red-haired girl, I started comparing myself to her automatically. I wasn't unkempt, but I didn't feel feminine enough either. It was always a battle to get ready and force myself to see myself as a feminine woman. And being in Paul's company that night had a strange atmosphere.

Why would he prefer to stay with someone like me, so clumsy? He was my best friend... But what could I offer him if we were seen together? In my mind, we simply didn't match. Paul and I were closer because we had similar tastes. I adored him, and he was totally my type. A Liverpool gentleman, contrary to the thoughts of people who had prejudice against Liverpudlians. He liked photographs, good music, and had accompanied me (when he had time) to cinemas and theaters.

When I entered that room, I had almost forgotten he was my company that night. A cold, electrifying air passed through me, and my body shivered. I felt small in the vastness of the night of the tenth show of that tour. I was too lucky and knew it, knew that girls my age would die and kill to be in my place and work with the Beatles.

— What's wrong with you? — He asked, breaking the silence. A tone of concern was perceived. — You seem too quiet today.

I threw myself onto the double bed in the room. It was soft, comfortable, and had pocket springs. I heard the springs' noise, and my body wobbled a bit with the impact of my lazy throw onto it. I wanted to stay in that position forever if possible.

— It's nothing. — I lied. I didn't want to worry Paul. He and the other guys had an incredible performance at the show today. Brian was proud and trusted me blindly to accompany them in all this madness. — Just tired, and I drank too.

Paul threw himself on the mattress next to me, very close to me. Now we both stared at the white ceiling of the hotel room.

— Darling, stop it. I know when something is wrong with you. I didn't even see you smile today. — Paul commented, now turning to me. He knew, he knew me well... And I kind of hated myself for making it too obvious. It took me a while to turn to him and take my eyes off that ceiling.

Not because the hotel room ceiling was more interesting than Paul but because I could commit a big madness being centimeters away from his face. I could blame the earlier glasses of Chilean wine or realize that I had been in love with Paul for a long time and stop hurting myself so much. I knew this would end our friendship in a bad way.

— I smiled when you guys were on stage. — I didn't look at him. I could feel Paul's gaze burning my cheeks.

— I didn't see... — He said, his voice huskier, whining. Almost a moan. — Look at me, love. Tell me what's going on, hm? — He pleaded. I felt butterflies in my stomach. The wine's effect seemed to be affecting me more than it should.

I started to wonder if there was something more in the wine or if I was drunk intoxicated by Paul.

— Paulie... — I whispered his name, finally looking at him. I wanted to laugh nervously, so I bit my lips. Paul looked at me with the most needy expression in the world at that moment. Either that or I was going completely crazy...

Shit. He's beautiful, and I really liked him.

— Hm? — He murmured softly in response to me calling him. His eyes were low and dark, a look I had never seen in all this time working with the Beatles. — If I ask you something, would you be upset with me? — He asked, his voice low and firm.

— You know that I can't be angry with you. Just.. go ahead...— I blinked quickly, trying not to appear intoxicated by him.

— Can I? — He sounded nervous. — I mean, can I kiss you, darling? — He asked me. His hazel eyes locked on mine.

I took a deep breath, trying to process what I had just heard. It wasn't possible, was it? He wanted to kiss me. He. Wanted. To. Kiss. Me.

— Paul, I-

— I'm sorry. — He interrupted me, and I felt like an idiot. His eyes darkened, and the boy's face now had a sad expression. He sat on the bed with his back to me.

— Paul, I...

— It's just that I'm feeling different. I don't want to mess up our friendship. — He interrupted me again, and honestly, I couldn't be mad at him for interrupting me. I sat on the bed. Paul looked at the lamp, his long and curved eyelashes making a perfect drawing on his eyelid. I confirmed that even his profile was beautiful. — I'm kind of tired of this. And you keep disturbing my thoughts, you know? I can't sleep without thinking about you. — He finally confessed, now looking back at me. His thick lips moist and shining with his saliva.

My heart felt like a philharmonic band. He was driving me crazy.

— Y/N, I don't want to lose your-

I interrupted him and did the craziest thing. I silenced him with my lips on his. Paul gently held my face, his thumbs relaxed on my right cheek. I wanted to go fast, thirsty for him, he wanted to go slow. He tamed me like no one else could that night, tilting his head to deepen the lazy kiss. I felt like I would melt there... His mouth was warm, moist, the taste of wine sweetening my mouth. It was intimate and moved me like no man had ever done. The need for air became apparent, and we pulled apart, Paul still daring to steal a peck. Our lips swollen and red.

Suddenly, I felt shy. I had indeed kissed him, caught him by surprise. He had too, he kissed me back... Unbelievable that he reciprocated me and my repressed feelings.

— Paul... — I whispered, intoxicated, feeling my lips moist with his saliva. Our faces were still close but not close enough to be strange.

— Shh... — He gave me a long peck. — I know. Me too, darling.

And then nothing else mattered in that room but him and me.


[all-you-need-is-paul-mccartney]

James (Paul McCartney x Fem!Reader)

A/N: Hello! I've decided I have to make a chapter fic for Paulie because I'm in love with him. There are gonna be at LEAST 6 chapters in this fic, so there will be plenty more coming! Stick around, like and comment, and let me know if you want to be tagged when I release more chapters of this!

I want to personally thank my editor @strawb3rri-le for helping me make these ideas come into fruition. Literally cannot do this without you <3

Summary: Paul meets a pretty girl in the library one day, and is elated to find out she is oblivious to who he actually is.

This fic is written in third person from Paul's perspective, which is kind of different to how I normally write my x readers, so it might be a little jarring to read at first, but I just wanted to try something a little different :)

WARNINGS: I'm not certain I wrote any curse words in this one, but I'll say there is just to be on the safer side. Mentions of mushrooms/ fungi; not drug-related, but I figured I'd add that because some people don't like them. I use Y/n like 4 times in here around the end it drives me nuts, but it has to happen. I don't think there's much else.

This one is pretty safe, if I could rate it lower I would, but I'll mark it at T just to be on the safe side.

Paul could have watched the heavy raindrops hit the window pane for hours and hours. the grey clouds drifting in the sky above brought nothing but heavy showers to the streets of London that dark afternoon...

But that's not what he came to the library for.

He came here for some peace and quiet.

He wanted to get some more songwriting done, but the apartment didn't seem to be the place for it that day, and everywhere else just appeared to be crawling with girls. As much as Paul liked girls, he didn't want to be noticed, because then his day would have simply consisted of him trying to escape the hoards that would have started chasing after him.

The library felt like it made the most sense. People were there to read, study, keep to themselves; not to socialize with others and be loud. As long as he found a little private area to sit, he knew he wouldn't be bothered at all. He also figured, if he couldn't come up with any song ideas, he had tens of thousands of books to refer to for inspiration.

And that was the situation Paul was in at that moment. He'd been sitting in his little study nook for a while now, just staring blankly at his notebook, or out the window next to him. Usually the words came flowing from his mind, translated by his hand and onto the paper, yet that particular day, nothing seemed to be inspiring him.

He rose to his feet after a while, notebook shoved under his arm as he wandered off into one of the aisles nearest to him. He wasn't looking for any book in particular. Sometimes he'd just pull one off the shelf, flip to a random page, and read a random sentence in the middle of the text. If it seemed to be interesting enough to inspire even a single line in a song, Paul would use it. If not, off to the next book.

He began to do just that, with older books with worn spines, and newer books with colourful covers. Unfortunately, even after the fourth or fifth book he pulled from the aisle he was in, no inspiration seemed to manifest from what he was reading. He sighed as he pushed the book he was holding back into its place on the shelf before he made his way to the next aisle over.

Paul began repeating what he was doing before, reaching for a book, and flipping through the pages. This particular book, he cut three separate times, and not one sentence seemed to draw any kind of innovation for his songwriting.

Once again, Paul shoved the book back onto the shelf. As he stared ahead at all of the different pieces of literature before him, one book in particular seemed to catch his eye. It was green, with gold accents on the bevelling as well as the raised parts of the spine. Without a second thought, he reached up for it, only for his fingers to come into contact with someone else's.

Paul drew his hand back and glanced to his right, where a young woman about his age stood. He held his breath, fully expecting an overreaction from her at his presence.

Instead, she smiled awkwardly at him, her hand also drawn back close to her.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't realize you were after that one," she explained gently, and Paul blinked, raising a confused eyebrow before looking back to that specific book. After a moment, he pulled it down off the shelf and examined the cover, the golden text embossed into the front cover reading 'Europe's Most Common Mushrooms, and Fungi: A Field Guide'.

"Do you like learning about Mycology as well?" She asked curiously, and Paul's gaze shot up to her face, eyes squinting a little at her question.

He was half confused on what she was honestly asking him, but he was also kind of surprised she wasn't pointing and shouting at the fact that she found a Beatle in public.

"... Mycology?" He asked back sheepishly, and her awkward smile warmed up a little at his question. She pointed at the book cover before responding with another question. "You know, the study of mushrooms, and fungi?"

Paul's eyes dropped back down to the book before cracking it open and flipping to a random page as he was doing with all the others. A beautifully illustrated picture of a mushroom with a porous underside presented itself to the young man, and his eyebrows furrowed at the image.

"That is a Boletus Edulis," she explained quietly to him. "It's a tasty gourmet mushroom found in Europe, as well as in North America."

Paul looked back up to her briefly before returning to the book and flipping to another page, a red capped mushroom with white spots being the next image to catch his eye.

"Ooh, and that one there is an Amanita Muscaria, also known as the Fly Agaric. It received its name back in the day because grinding it up and putting it in window sills and doorways would repel flies from entering your home."

"... You sure know your mushrooms, huh?" Paul asked carefully, rather impressed with the few bits of information provided to him by this stranger.

"It's definitely a good hobby to get into. Nothing beats going out onto the trail and foraging them for dinner." She paused briefly before adding, "I mean... the boletes are fine, but perhaps not the amanitas." 

Paul closed the book up again before taking a final glance at the front cover.

"I'm uh... sort of grabbing books at random, looking for something inspiring. There needn't be a reason to hang onto this if you need it," Paul explained, presenting it to her so she could take it, and her fingers accidentally brushed against his once again as she took it from him.

The graze was so gentle, yet Paul felt his cheeks warm up at the contact. She was awfully pretty, he decided to himself in silence as he watched the look of joy on her face appear when she flipped the book open herself. She stopped on a page containing a drawing of a white mushroom dripping black ink at its edges.

Paul couldn't help but double take the image. To think there was so much about the world he didn't know a thing about... it made him feel so small, and insignificant.

She must have noticed his gaze on the page, and figured she'd teach him about one more specimen. "These ones," she began, with a rather excited exhale, turning the book Paul's way so he could see, "are Shaggy Mane mushrooms. They are edible and good, as long as you haven't consumed alcohol for a few days prior to, and post consumption. Then they'd be quite toxic."

She smiled at the tidbit and looked up to Paul's face, nose crinkling a little. "Isn't that just the neatest thing?"

Paul couldn't believe what he was hearing. He never really thought about mushrooms before. Sure, he'd seen brown and white ones before in the grass, or growing on trees, but there was something about the way she relayed the information with such passion, that just made it so interesting to him. It was unlike anything he ever experienced before.

"... You have a very natural way of describing this sort of stuff," Paul expressed, nodding his head to her positively. "I honestly never realized there were so many different ones."

"Oh, what I've told you doesn't even scratch the surface of the world of Mycology," she explained, the smile only growing on her face, and Paul couldn't help but smile back at her.

"... I should really leave to let you continue on with what you were doing," she said after a moment. "I do appreciate you listening to my ramblings. I know I can sometimes get carried away with this sort of stuff," her smile fell away a little. "Not many really care about fungi, so it's nice to talk about my interests with someone who's willing to listen."

Paul's own smile began to falter, rather upset that such a pleasant conversation, with such a pleasant person, had to end so soon. He hadn't encountered such a normal discussion in so long. Not that a conversation about mushrooms and fungi was normal, but Paul felt it was just so refreshing talking about anything but him and his fame.

"... well, I rather enjoyed what you had to say," he admitted lightly, an undeniable blush flourishing from the woman's cheeks as she appeared to smile again, a little brighter than before.

"Well... thank you, again. You're very kind," she repeated, waving her hand kindly as she turned on her heel and wandered off to the next aisle.

Paul's eyes watched her round the corner, and he stood there in disbelief. There was so much for him to unpack in his thoughts in that very moment.

She had to have been one of the prettiest girls he'd ever seen; minding her own business in a library by herself, and doing something she really enjoyed. Her intelligence on the subject showed through her excited rambling, which Paul could have listened to for much, much longer.

Her voice was so pleasant, happiness apparent in her words as she described every species effortlessly, as if she'd known it all since the day she was born. It left him wanting to hear more from her.

But the cherry on top of all of this, was that she didn't even acknowledge Paul as anything but another human being. Not some big musician with whom she obsessed over just because of his looks. For someone who remained so calm, and pleasant in conversation, Paul was certain she had no clue who he actually was.

And he loved that.

As much as fame brought excitement to his existence, Paul couldn't deny that the concept of a simple, normal life with someone who loved him for him, and not his popularity to the public, was something he seemed to yearn for more often as of late.

He loved the idea of being a nobody, especially to someone he wanted to be somebody to.

He looked over his shoulder to the empty space where that green and gold book once sat, deciding to reach for the one sitting next to it. It happened to be another book on mushrooms and fungi, but it had a lot more words in it than images. He flipped to the middle of the book and read the fist word he saw.

Symbiosis.

He felt dumb staring at the word. He knew there was only one person he could ask to inquire about what it meant. He glanced up through the bookshelves, eyes searching through the gaps of the works to find her.

She only happened to be in the next aisle over, scanning the book titles off the spines above her head carefully, too in her own world to notice Paul's obvious staring through the shelving units. She pulled a book down and read the summary on the back, Paul watching her eyelashes flit lower and lower as she absorbed the words like a sponge in water.

He noticed that as she read, her lips gently mouthed each word, and he soon found himself stuck in a trance. He observed how her tongue poked out between her teeth to mouth words with the letter L, and how her lips would press tightly together as she read words containing B, and M.

Who would have thought, Paul wondered, something so small could be so hypnotizing?

She made a small face of approval to the book before stacking it on top of the green one she was given by him, and she headed over to an empty table in the corner of the room. She faced towards the shelves, back to the wall so she could see the whole library from her spot.

Despite this, as soon as she made herself comfortable, she was solely focussed on the books, and her dominant hand wrote out her notes almost romantically, notebook pages filling effortlessly with information that brought her joy.

Paul was absolutely mesmerized by her movements. Screw the rain, he could have watched her for hours. He couldn't get over the little flick of her wrist when she ended a point, or the wonderful silent motion of her lips reading out the words.

She drove him mad in the best kind of way.

She flipped to the next page in her notebook, and Paul came back down to earth, realizing then just how creepy he must have appeared, standing close to the shelf, and peering through to the other side to watch the woman simply minding her own business from afar.

His shoes felt like they were filled with cement, but he worked up enough courage to slowly move towards her table, opting to stand by a nearby shelf and stare blankly at the spines as to not look so awkward.

What would I even say to her? was the only thought at the forefront of Paul's mind, the black mushroom book still in his hand, one of his fingers wedged between the pages to mark where that silly word was. He knew he was going to ask her about it, but he needed to smoothly segue into it, somehow.

This situation was rather a bother to Paul. He felt conflicted as to why he seemed so nervous about approaching her. He was a flirt, and he loved making girls feel giddy, why would this stranger be any different?

He was close enough that he could have called for her attention, but her focus was faithfully undivided, completely oblivious to Paul standing only fifteen feet away from her, trying to muster up the nerve to say something, anything.

After talking to her for only a minute and a half, and having parted ways for not even five more, Paul found himself deprived of her voice, longing to hear anything roll off her tongue, as long as it were to him. He was pining to have her attention so badly, but standing and admiring her from only a couple of steps away was only going to get him so far.

His palms were sweaty, and he wiped them on his pants haphazardly as he took a deep breath. He took one more second to nod his head positively for motivation, and he stepped out into the open, facing her completely. His heart pounded in his chest, but he pushed himself to take one more step forward. And that happened to be enough for her to notice.

The stranger raised her gaze up to Paul, the look of neutral concentration on her face softening into a pleasant smile.

Just that made Paul weak in the knees.

"Find anything inspiring yet?" She asked him in a friendly tone, eyeing the book in his hand as his thoughts flatlined. He didn't expect her to speak first. On the one hand, he was relieved that it indicated she was okay with talking to him, but on the other, it put him off-script, and now he had to actually use his brain to initiate discussion.

"I uh..." he struggled for a moment, glancing down at the book in his hand, as well.

"If I'm going to be quite honest... you talking about mushrooms so passionately was pretty inspiring. It's all I can think about."

The woman's eyebrows arched in surprise, a gentle dusting of pink spreading over her nose as she took in his words. She toyed her bottom lip between her teeth, and Paul couldn't help but drop his gaze for just a second to admire her mouth.

"You know, I'm really flattered that you said that," she expressed gently. "That means a great deal to me. Thank you."

Paul couldn't even feel his legs now, basking in her praise, as a flower would to the rays of sun on a warm spring day.

"... I couldn't help but grab another book like the one you're reading," he explained, lifting it up to show her, and the apples of her cheeks rounded as she smiled even wider. Paul hadn't ever recalled seeing such a beautiful face before.

"I... I saw a word I don't know. I think you're the only person who can help me." The confession made Paul feel a little self-conscious; he didn't want to seem entirely stupid in front of her, but she really didn't seem the type to make fun of him over something like this, and really damage his ego.

Without a word, she pulled the chair out next to her as a silent indication for Paul to take a seat, and he took the offer graciously. He set his notebook down onto the table, and then opened the book to where his finger marked the page cut. She leaned in a little to peer down at the text, and he pointed to the word, realizing only seconds after just how close she was to him. He could smell the faintness of her body wash, and it made his head swirl.

"... This one." He mumbled, watching her in his peripheral as she read the sentence in her head, and physically mouthing the words as her eyes tracked each letter.

"Ah, symbiosis. It basically means two different organisms are benefitting off each other in some way or another. We would be a good example of this, right now," she offered, tilting her head up to look at Paul, who's ears burned hot at the eye contact, but he kept strong and held it for as long as she wanted to look at him.

"You're keeping me pleasant company, and in return, I'm helping you learn about fungi." He thought her point was going to end there, but she quickly added on, "from a natural standpoint, fungi and trees have a symbiotic relationship. If it weren't for the millions of miles of fungal network underground, connecting all the living organisms together, plants wouldn't be able to communicate to each other, or convert their energy from one to the other to achieve optimal growth."

"So... everything would die without fungi?" Paul asked slowly.

"I believe so," she nodded her head. "They play a role in every step of a plant's life. Take a tree, for example."

She slid the green and gold book over to sit between them, and she flipped through the first few pages until she found a diagram of a tree's life cycle, pointing to the images as she rambled on.

"Fungi help them establish strong roots when they're young. Some fungi actually provide nutrients in the soil for the trees to use as energy to grow tall and strong."

She turned her gaze back to Paul. "Even at the end, if a mother tree is dying, she will begin to use the fungal networks below to disperse her energy to her kin, sacrificing herself so they can grow, instead. They use the networks underground to communicate in their own special way."

The young man appeared to be in a dream-like state, head in his palm as he looked on in favour of her words. But when he noticed she stopped speaking after a while, he blinked, finding she was smiling a little awkwardly again, as if she'd asked him a question.

"Hm?" He asked, propped hand dropping to the table. He felt rather guilty his attention diverted.

"... I'm boring you, aren't I?" There was a hint of sadness in her words, a weak smile at her lips, and Paul shook his head quickly.

"No, no! Believe me, I'm listening." He thought for a beat, face going warm again as he confessed, "I just... I really love the sound of your voice. You have a way with words, and I did get a little distracted by that." The young woman's face fell expressionless, and Paul continued.

"I may be rather daft on the subject, but there's just something in the way you talk about it that makes learning about it so much more enjoyable. Please, don't stop talking."

She opened her mouth to say something, but she shut it as she pondered what to respond to Paul with. Her face was flushed, and she was holding back a grin, which ultimately made Paul a little confident considering he was the one that made her flustered.

"... You probably say that to all of the girls you talk to," she finally replied, eyes casting down to the books to hide her blush, and he couldn't help but bite back a smile of his own.

"Well, none of the other girls I know are quite like you," he stated with poise, eyes still locked in on her, hands clasping together as he noticed her blush deepen, and a smile finally breaking through.

Paul then attempted to downplay such a strong interaction. Despite talking to her the way he wanted to, he didn't want her to be uncomfortable with how forward he felt he was being.

"What does your boyfriend think about your hobbies?" He asked. "He must be so proud, and fascinated by how passionate you are about all of this stuff, surely."

She looked back up to Paul, her smile weakening a little. "Boyfriend? Oh I uh..." she cleared her throat. "I don't... I don't have one of those."

Paul's eyebrows lowered a little. "... As in you just got out of a relationship?" He tried to clarify, to which she shook her head.

"As in I've never really... had one." She had a sheepish look on her face, cheeks now red out of embarrassment rather than flattery. Her response sent Paul's eyebrows shooting up in surprise, to say the least.

"... Never?" He repeated in disbelief. She pressed her lips together in a line tightly, shaking her head once again.

"This," she gestured to the books with her hand, "is my life. It has been my life since my early teenage years. Mushrooms and fungi are... strange, and because I like them, I guess that makes me kind of strange, as well."

Her self-dejecting statement made Paul feel bad. In his mind, someone like her not being taken, though washing the feeling of relief throughout him, didn't add up at all. Not even her fascination in mushrooms made her odd, in his eyes.

"... If it means anything to you, I think you're just absolutely lovely," he said, watching as her lip pressed into a little pout as she regarded his words.

"I'm telling you... every guy out there has no idea what they're missing out on."

Paul desperately wished he could read minds; especially hers. She didn't speak, and Paul assumed that the was simply trying to grasp for some words to say. If he were in her position, he wouldn't have known what to say, either.

"For once in my life, someone has actually made me speechless," she confessed, huffing a sigh as she rubbed one of her cheeks, as if that would have made her blush disappear.

"I want to tell you thank you, but that doesn't feel like nearly enough," she explained. "Honestly, your girlfriend is very lucky to have such a charming boyfriend. You have a way with words, yourself." Her comment made Paul laugh, but only once. Inside his chest, his heart was doing somersaults, but he was trying his hardest to keep his composure.

"What girlfriend?"

The woman gasped at his response. "You lie," she accused, yet Paul knew it was all in good nature by the smile on her face. "Even if you were, with a face like that, there's no way you don't have girls chasing after you all the time."

How the tables have turned, Paul thought; a little excited he found himself in the same spot as her only moments after he made the same mistake. Part of him wanted to respond to her with something witty, like "who says I don't?", but the other part of him didn't want that to arouse any questions that would segue into a conversation regarding his job.

He couldn't risk having her know everything, and fall for the idea of him.

"I guess I just... haven't found the right bird yet." He figured that was another truth he could hold by without entirely lying to this poor woman.

"That's fair. Well, whoever has the pleasure of ending up with you is a very lucky woman, indeed." Paul's cheeks darkened again, the compliment making his fingers feel a little numb. He noticed her eyes drifting to the window above his head before she suddenly closed her books shut.

"The rain's stopped. This has been a rather lovely conversation, but I do apologize. I must be leaving now."

Paul felt his stomach drop, and his mouth fell agape, watching worriedly as she gathered her belongings and rose to her feet.

"What-- you're leaving? Right now?"

He felt the same way he did back in the aisle when she cut the conversation short, full of disappointment that it all had to come to an end again.

"I was on my way to my parents' house before the rain started," she explained with a lopsided smile. "I'm helping my mother prepare for dinner tonight, but the rain was so bad, I figured I'd spend some time in here while I waited for it to die down. And I'm very glad I made that decision."

Paul nodded his head, realizing the last part of what she said alluded to making his acquaintance. He also found he couldn't be upset at such a wonderful gesture of kindness, her going to her parents'. "That is very sweet of you to do that for her," he said gently, standing up as well before she disappeared again.

"Before you go," he started, feeling hot beneath the collar as he tried to gather a little bit more courage to speak, her expecting eyes on him making him rather anxious.

"I would like to keep in contact with you," he paused briefly, "only if you want. I just... I've had a really pleasant time talking with you, and learning about your interests, and I would very much like to do all of this again."

Her cheeks rounded out again as her smile widened a little more-- Paul couldn't get over that damned smile of hers.

"You know... I would like that a lot," she finally answered, glancing down at her notebook before flipping to the last page and ripping it out. She folded it in half, and then tore it at the line, handing Paul one of the halves while she began writing on the other one. Paul watched with a pounding heart as she scratched out her phone number, and he began to do the same.

When they exchanged the papers, Paul examined the number she provided him, and then read the name she printed above it, a smiley face drawn next to it. he tried his best to concealing his excitement within.

"Y/n..." he mumbled thoughtfully, eyes casting back up to look at her. She laughed a little as she flipped the paper in her hand to show Paul, which only contained his phone number.

"That's me, but what am I to call you, exactly?"

This is where Paul found himself in another dilemma. He wanted her to call him Paul, but he also didn't want her putting two and two together if she recognized his name. He didn't want to entirely lie to her, either.

That's when a light bulb went off in his head. He realized the greatest loophole, and solution was staring him right in the face.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Paul reached for the paper again, scribbling his name at the top. But he wasn't using 'Paul'; he decided he was going to use his real first name.

"You can call me James," he explained, handing the paper back to her. She surveyed the name at the top of the paper before looking back up to him.

"Finally, a name to a face," she hummed in content. She then offered a hand out to Paul, to which he took so they could shake and say their farewells.

"It was an absolute pleasure meeting you, James."

It was the first time in a very long time Paul had been called that by anyone. He figured he would have hated the sound of it leaving her lips, but instead, it made his heart flutter. His face felt hot again, and it was apparent y/n could see the flush of his skin, because she smirked a little.

"The pleasure is all mine, Y/n. Please be safe." He finally let go of her hand, waving good bye as she did so as well, turning on her heel once again, and heading to the counter with her books to sign them out.

She slid Paul's phone number into her notebook as she walked away, and Paul just stood there for another moment as he watched her leave. He was was still feeling so many emotions now that he was alone, unable to help himself reaching back down to the piece of paper she gave him. He ran his fingers over her name and smiled a little to himself.

"Y/n..." her name was like a breath of fresh air to him. When he looked back up to catch one more glimpse of her, she was already gone. It made him feel a little empty, but when he noticed she left the black mushroom book for him, he felt just a little warmer inside.

Paul reached for the book, sliding her number into the pages, and deciding he was going to sign it out and try to learn a little on the subject. If they ever planned to meet in the future, he could try and impress her with some of the information he learned.

He didn't end up getting what he was looking for at the library, but he felt he was leaving with something he needed.

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A/A/N: Okay, I hope yous enjoyed that! Part 2 will happen as long as I have people requesting it. I have ideas, I'm just missing supporters<3

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[cherry-velvet-skies]

Feeling Two-Foot Small (Part 1)

Tiny!Paul McCartney × Tiny!Reader

Genre: Fluff with some Angsty bits

Warnings: Convos about insecurities and stuff but that's about it

Words: 3k

Summary: Takes place in the Help! movie universe (but Modern!AU I guess? Idk lol); Reader wonders what it's like to be small, gets their wish, and meets a tiny Paul along the way

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When people are asked if they wonder what it would feel like to be tiny, most of them think about the effects it would have on their life in a personal way. They rejoice at the idea of being the same size as their pet, having a small furry friend to play with. Some feel liberated at the idea of being able to get underneath all their furniture, hunting for all the loose paper clips, rubber bands, and hair ties they thought would never again see the light of day. Others might opt for a brief dive between the couch cushions to find every single stray coin that is now the size of their head.

You, on the other hand? Well, you think differently than that. You view being tiny from an outward perspective, pondering how being two or three inches high would have an effect on the world around you as opposed to you as an individual. When you shrink, do your clothes shrink with you? Or once you're small, do you lay naked inside a pile of now oversized fabric? Are those tiny skateboards you use for your fingers sturdy enough to support your weight? It would make getting around a whole lot easier. Does walking underneath the arch of a high heel shoe have the same implications as walking underneath a ladder? Would you receive some tiny alternate version of bad luck?

See, you don't think about what it is like to be small, because you already know that feeling quite well at your average height. You know what it's like to have the world tell you there isn't enough space for you, and that you must keep shrinking who you are until you fit. And sometimes, you are told to shrink so small that the only place you can fit is inside your own head. So why would you want to experience that sensation physically as well? However, it would be interesting to have your body match the way your mind has felt for a long while. In some sick, twisted way, you might feel right at home. 

But alas, it is only mere speculation. Something you didn’t want to think about anyway. You preferred not to fill your brain with any more possible outcomes of unachievable situations. You already did that enough with the things actually happening in your life. You already knew how it would all play out. You would spend hours sending your mind into such a frenzy that you tired yourself out, only to forcefully push the thought away the following morning. And if you weren’t careful, the topic would somehow barge its way back into your thoughts some weeks or months later, and the cycle would start anew. So, better to cut things off at the start, despite the part of you that couldn’t help but be the least bit curious.

When you awoke the following morning, something felt off. You opened your eyes to find the blanket completely over your head, which also felt much heavier than usual. You went to move the piece of fabric off your face until you realized that what was currently placed on top of you was two separate layers. You swiftly moved the first one off, poking your head out of the end only to realize it was the shirt you had put on before bed the previous night.

Mixed in with your confusion, your brain managed to form the idea that this was a dream. Your shirt and blanket becoming a hundred times bigger overnight is not physically possible. You felt like you were swiping the large blanket off your head for minutes until the bright beams of sunlight in your room hit your face. You sat up, only to notice that you had actually stood up, not that it made much of a difference. Whether you were standing or sitting, you still could barely see over the edge of the footboard. Glancing around, you noticed your pillow behind you, which was now the size of a giant’s, and the rest of your pyjamas crumpled beneath the blanket. A sudden breeze across the room alerted you that you were currently naked. And unless you were experiencing a rather severe case of Alice-in-Wonderland Syndrome, this was most definitely a dream.

You had always heard about lucid dreaming before, but the concept always frightened you. A dream that felt like reality? That doesn’t sound very safe. The only rule of lucid dreaming you remembered was never to use any of the bathrooms you see, as it will not end well. But other than that, exploring the world like this actually seemed kind of fun.

As you went to hop out of bed, You peered down the side of the cliff that was now your mattress, thankful you didn’t lose your impulse control and critically injured yourself from the start. You figured that if you somehow did end up shrinking in your sleep, you were going to need some serious level of strategy to get around.

Dragging one of the legs of your sweatpants over to the edge of the bed, you hoisted it over, hearing the elastic at the ankle thud as it hit the wooden floor. You looked down again before grabbing onto the side of the pant leg and using it to shimmy down to the floor like a fireman’s pole. If there was going to be any time in your life that you were grateful for not having a fear of heights, that time was now. But so far, your theory of your clothing not shrinking with you had been swiftly proven.

Once on the floor, your next task was to find new clothes. Or, at the very least, some type of fabric to keep you covered. Judging by how close you were to the floor, you gathered that your new height was about three inches, just like you had imagined. By those parameters, even your socks would be too big to clothe you. 

You felt like you were in a video game. Every single place you wanted to go felt like it took forever to get there. And that was when you spotted the perfect wardrobe. All these years, you knew something good would come out of your vintage Barbie doll collection. On the lower shelf of your desk, you had kept all the extra clothing your dolls weren’t wearing in a small bin. Luckily you were able to flip the lid open and start searching.

You may not have been able to see yourself in the mirror, but you felt like you looked good. One of Barbie’s rompers was big enough to look like a pantsuit on you, and one of Ken’s jackets was more than enough to keep you warm. Barbie’s winter boots weren’t exactly comfortable, considering they were nothing more than malleable plastic, but you didn’t exactly have much of a choice. In an equally small bin beside the clothes was a collection of small toys, including your finger-sized skateboard from when you were a little kid. Placing it beside you, you softly hopped on, pushing your foot and briskly gliding across your bedroom floor. As for your average-sized predictions, you had been spot on about the practicality of living a tiny life.

But now that you were properly dressed, you were most excited to try and explore the outside world. What you didn’t plan for, however, was how you were actually going to get out the door. After making your way to the exit, you groaned as the doorknob appeared to be a million miles away. You didn’t have any pets, so there was no convenient doggy door to use. Beside the door, you spied the small latch on top of the window. It was unlocked. Getting up there was going to be a pain, but it was your only logical way out.

Slinging your skateboard over your shoulder - with the convenient strap you made for it out of a pair of Barbie’s stockings - you began to climb up the curtain. The height from the window to the floor was about the same as getting up and down your bed, but getting up was definitely trickier. Once you settled on the window sill, you stuck the edge of your skateboard under the lip of the window, jumping on the other end of the board to pop it open. Granted, your decreased strength only opened it about an inch, but that was enough. You squeezed your way through the exit, and, seeing no other option, jumping down into the patch of dirt below. You didn’t injure yourself, but jumping that far didn’t feel good, especially after climbing up the curtain. This must have been what Tinkerbell felt like. Well, at least she had wings. And on top of just waking up and not eating anything, you already felt beat. 

That’s right. Food. You were so preoccupied with adapting to this new way of life you had forgotten to eat. In hindsight, the fridge had been too large to get anything out of anyway. But your prayers were soon answered as you noticed that the fruits in your neighbor’s garden were ripe and ready to be picked. You were sure they wouldn’t miss just one.

Dusting yourself off and skating a few feet ahead, you gently plucked a raspberry from the bottom of one of the bushes, making sure it hadn’t been tainted by any insects that might’ve gotten there before you. You would’ve only needed one anyway, seeing as a raspberry was now a watermelon in your world and one tiny berry would feed you for quite a few hours as you skated around. It also stained your lips a lovely shade of pink. Nature’s makeup, you thought.

Your neighborhood was pretty quiet in the morning, and being able to move about completely unseen actually brought you a level of comfort. No one to have to explain your circumstances to. No stray animals to drag you like a chew toy. You kind of liked it. To your surprise, the world wasn’t so bad from this height.

Reaching the end of your street, you decided to stop and take a rest. The sky looked like rain, and that was something you needed to watch out for. At this size, a raindrop could quite possibly waterboard you if you weren’t expecting it.

Taking shelter under a small plant in another person’s garden, you looked around at the other bushes and blades of grass around you. The garden felt like a rainforest. Tiny twigs and saplings took on the roles of redwoods and sequoias, towering above you, protecting you from the elements. You truly felt like a fairy. Like the ones who wore mushroom hats and made flower crowns from dandelion stems. The only thing that seemed a tad out of place was a gum wrapper that lay not too far from you. It was the perfect size for you to use as a blanket if you wanted it, but just as you got up to have a closer look, it moved. Clearly it was already occupied.

A boy with short brown hair popped out from underneath it, securing it around his waist like a bath towel. He turned around before you could hide, both of you screaming at the sight of each other. 

“How are you this small?” He blurted out, purely out of shock.

“Me? How are you this size?” You fired back, hoping he could give you some answers.

“I asked you first.” He retorted. You accepted that talking to him was certainly going to be an adventure.

“I woke up like this.” You explained. The boy seemed surprised, as if your reason was more simple than he expected. “Why, what happened to you?”

“It’s a long story.” He said sheepishly. “But one I hope is temporary. Nice clothes.” Sensing he wanted to change the subject, you lent him your jacket, which fit him perfectly. 

“They’re doll clothes. I had no other choice.” You chuckled. “I can give you some if you’d like.” The boy seemed unsure, but you persisted. “I know it’s not ideal, but it beats a gum wrapper.” The boy smiled this time, agreeing to go with you. You held out your hand to lead him back to the sidewalk and helped him on your skateboard. It was very clear he had never ridden one before, as he tightly gripped your waist the second you started moving. On the way back, you let him take a berry from your neighbor’s bush as well, to which he was very grateful.

“What’s your name, by the way?” You questioned. You told him your name as you watched his shoulders relax a bit, accepting you as his companion in this bizarre adventure.

“I’m Paul.” He said, trying to hold the giant raspberry and keep his gum wrapper towel from falling off at the same time.

The endeavor of getting back into your house was something Paul was not prepared for. Honestly, you weren’t too thrilled either, but you were prepared for anything by this point. You never thought that climbing the curtain would’ve been the easiest thing you’ve done so far. You both had to get back up to the window by climbing up the twigs of the nearest bush, which strangely enough, felt like one of those wobbly rope ladders at a playground. You got the hang of it pretty quickly, but Paul, however, did not. He eventually made it up, but with several rips and tears in his gum wrapper towel, which you were just grateful didn’t fall off entirely.

The rest of the trip was pretty simple. Paul enjoyed sliding down the curtain, but he was upset that he had to leave the raspberry behind as he couldn’t hold it and climb the bush at the same time. You promised you would get him another one.

Your selection of doll clothes was plenty for Paul to choose from. He ended up keeping the jacket you were wearing. It looked better on him anyway. He also chose one of Ken’s polo shirts to match it. The only pants that fit him were a pair of Barbie’s denim shorts. What the gum wrapper towel couldn’t tell you is he had quite the shapely figure. 

Once you both were settled, you tried to get whatever food you could from your kitchen. With Paul’s help, you were able to reach the bottom pantry shelf, succeeding in acquiring a package of fruit snacks and a small bag of pretzel sticks. A subpar diet as they may be, it was more than enough to get you both through the day.

“Okay,” You began, making a comfortable sitting area on your bedroom floor out of some old socks, “How did all of this happen?”

Paul began to explain his predicament, but in all honesty, he kind of lost you somewhere in the middle. He was talking about how he accidentally received a dose of shrinking serum that was actually supposed to go to his friend in order to stop him from becoming some sort of human sacrifice. Something like that. Well, at least you confirmed your suspicions that this was indeed a dream. Whoever this Paul was and how he got in your subconscious, he wasn’t making any sense whatsoever.

“But it’s temporary, right?” You asked. Paul shrugged his shoulders.

“I hope so. At least that’s what I was told from the woman who gave it to me. But then again, she says she is not always what she seems.” He stated nonchalantly. You furrowed your eyebrows. Yep. Definitely a dream.

“Well, what do you want to do in the meantime?” You suggested. Paul’s eyes widened. 

“There’s not much we can do outside without us getting stepped on or drowned by rain.” He crossed his arms, a small pout appearing on his lips. “Being this small is no fun.”

“Who said we had to go outside? There’s plenty to do in here!” You debated, much to Paul’s confusion. “I’m sure I have another one of these skateboards somewhere. We can race them around the house! Plus, now that we’re tiny, we can play a mean game of hide and seek.”

Originally, your disposition had been similar to Paul’s on this whole situation. Being this size was no fun. But only if you accepted that as a fact. If you make it fun, then anything can be enjoyable. 

“I suppose so.” Paul admitted. “It’s just that I’m not used to this, you know? Being so tiny and all.”

In the small amount of time you had spent with Paul, you gathered he was the type of person whose presence was regarded everywhere he went. His personality was considerably assertive, commanding attention. Though a bit boisterous at that, he was quite charming. Being the size of a toy was no doubt a blow to his ego.

“To be honest, being this small isn’t really much of a difference for me.” You confessed, eliciting a puzzled look from the boy beside you. “People don’t really notice me anyway, so I think it’s actually kind of better that I’m small enough to be out of everyone’s way.”

Paul scoffed at your statement, as if it was unfathomable for him that anyone would think such a thing about themselves. But insecurity was often just as voluminous as it was compensatory.

“So then you run the risk of being stepped on.”

“Then I move out of the way before it happens.”

“No, you tell people to stop stepping on you.” Paul’s gaze softened as he delivered his reply, a bit surprised by his own comment. Judging by the look on his face, you discerned this was his first time giving such a profound piece of advice. No matter what size you were, the key to not being overshadowed by others was not to avoid the situation entirely. It was to stop it from happening before it even began.

Without answering, you leaned forward to give Paul a hug. He tensed up at first, but quickly reciprocated your embrace, softly rubbing his hands up and down your back.

“So…” He whispered in your ear, “I’ll hide while you count?”

=======================================

I'm so glad I can post fics again! 🥰 This scene from the Help! movie is one of my favorites so I had to do something with it 🤭 This is a 2 part story so the second half will be up soon 😊

[yangleeeh]

Happy July 6th!!! 💚🩵

[sabonitoo]

mmmmmmmmmmmmm

[buttahpie]

(originally created and posted by @/maccaultra on tiktok!! all credit goes to them!)

I am going to be violently ill.

[imagine-mokey]

[beatleshalloween]

An early McLennon