#paul mccartney imagine

[iheartjohnlennon]

The Beatles NSFW Alphabet - Paul

 

 

@heiterhund <<< co-writer xxx🩷🎀

 

 

 

 

 

 

A is for Aftercare (How he treats you after sex, what happens after sex, etc...)

• Paul's very chatty with you at the end of it, then after that he just lies with you.

• Sex takes all of his energy and he can barely move himself. While he still has you, he’ll talk your ear off about everything and anything, important or not.

• And he 100% asks you how the sex was and how it felt - he wants a review.

• After you guys talk, he just stares up at the ceiling, daydreaming, dazed. He looks lovely, you just sit up and stroke his face, your breasts in his face as he mumbles how much he loves you.

 

 

B is for Body part (His favourite body part of yours)

• Your breasts win everything for him.

• He just thinks they sit so prettily, he loves the curve of your chest - the underside of them. How soft they feel in his grasp. They get him so distracted.

• He also loves the way your tits bounce when he’s fucking you.

• He can grab them, suck them, squeeze them, fuck them, finish on them. They're just...everything.

 

 

C is for Cum (Where he likes to cum)

• Paul adores cumming on your breasts, no matter the position you do.

• He loves the way it looks - your tits being covered in his white, glistening seed.

 

 

D is for Dirty secret (Something utterly filthy that he did/or does/or wants to do behind your back.)

• Sometimes Paul will either purposely let his friends hear you get fucked or just tell them about what you both get up to. 

• It started off as a joke when George made an off handed comment about the marks on Paul’s skin, usually the dark love bites littering his neck. 

• Due to this, Paul really, really feels the need to tell his bandmates how well you guys fuck. Their reactions just fuel their ego.

 

 

E is for Experience (How experienced is he?)

• Those prostitutes in Hamburg taught him a lot, a lot.

• Not to mention he's a bit of a whore anyways so he picks up knowledge and stuff.

• Paul knows and has experience past mere orgasm. He could be a sex therapist or something at this point.

 

 

F is for Favourite position (How he loves to fuck you)

• Paul really likes anything where he doesn’t have to put in much work. He’s honestly a lazy lover. He doesn’t mind topping though, you just have to ask. 

• He prefers cowgirl, because he gets to have his hands on your pretty hips and watch your tits bounce as you do it.

• But that’s not to say he won’t do any other positions! He just has to admit that watching you, watching your face, is his favourite thing to do. 

 

 

G is for Goofy (How silly is he during sex?)

•Sex with Paul isn’t long enough for a full conversation, let alone smart quips.

•He might laugh if he can’t get it in the first time, or if he hits himself or something. But other than that, he just isn’t silly during sex. He takes it very seriously. 

 

 

G is also for Goal (What's his goal and/or dream in relation to sex)

• His goal is to cum! To cum everywhere and anywhere you will let him.

• He obviously cares about your orgasm, but… he feels like he should finish first, y’know?

 

 

H is for Hair (How well groomed he is, does the carpet match the drapes, etc..)

• This depends on the era, really.

• Early 1960s Paul would be very well groomed, neatly trimmed and not too long. Just a pretty thing that frames his cock, really.

• Going to 1966 and up? Yeah…maybe it would be a little unruly, but not like a jungle.

• After 1968 though…he just stopped caring!

 

 

I is for Intimacy (How romantic he is during sex, etc..)

• His intimacy depends on your relationship.

• If it’s a fling, expect him to hump and dump within a day. If you’re his girlfriend though? Expect him to be as caring as he can be, for the moment, anyways.

• There’s really no big scene in the bedroom, no music, no romantic lighting - just him being slower and taking his time. Your hands intertwined as he mumbles and tells you how much you mean to him.

• It doesn’t happen often, but he does want it to be often. So long as your relationship develops.

 

 

J is for Jack off (Masturbation headcanon)

• Paul loves to jerk off.

• He thinks it’s the easiest thing to do. Plus, it focuses solely on his pleasure.

• He thinks about you when he does it, usually with his back pressed against the headboard cock in hand, as he tugs and twists until his hand is covered in his release.

 

 

K is for Kink (One or more of their kinks in relation to you)

• Paul has a huge breeding kink. He gets so hard when he thinks about knocking you up. It makes his cock throb and ache with need. He usually tries to cum inside you, hushing your muffled concerns with his hand over your mouth as he keeps thrusting into you.

“Shh, it’s alright, I think you’ll be a great mother. Don’t you want me to be a father, love?”

• Usually that’s his attempt at soothing you, and it makes him even more excited.

• His other kink is cross dressing… nothing too extreme, but he loves when he’s able to wear something frilly and girly. He loves the way he looks in panties, it makes his dick look bigger, which is more of an ego boost.

• One word: pegging. He loves feeling like the bitch in the relationship. He makes cute little whimpers, hands fisted into the sheets as he tilts his head back. He refuses to take it on all fours, though. That's too much for him. He prefers being on his back, legs wrapped around your waist as you ease the tip of the strap into him. His pouty lips part as he lets out a shaky breath - cheeks flushing pink. 

 

 

L is for Location (Favourite place to do the deed)

• The comfort of his own home just brings him a peace he rarely feels since he's constantly bombarded with fans and press and money.

• Doesn't matter where in your home, just as long as it's there.

 

 

M is for Motivation (What turns them on about you, gets him hard, makes him cum, etc..)

• Paul loves the faces you make during sex.

• He thinks you look so pretty fucked out and flushed. Your cheeks are so flushed, he thinks it looks better than any makeup you’ve ever worn.

• Your lips are so swollen from all the desperate kissing shared between you two, usually glistening with saliva (It’s Paul, he’s a messy kisser and that won’t ever change.)

• Eager humping, harsh gripping, and loud pants are usually Paul's tell tale signs that he’s about to cum.

 

 

N is for No (Turn offs, what pisses him off, etc..)

• Paul isn’t too thrilled at the idea of threesomes.  He doesn’t like the idea of sharing you because what’s his is his. 

• But if John asked or any close friends, he probably wouldn’t mind too much… No one else though, he’s the only one who knows how to fuck you. So why would you want someone else to join in? This is why he's so possessive, he wouldn't be able to even bear the thought of any other cock being inside of you.

 

 

 

O is for Oral sex (Does he prefer giving or receiving? How does he give, how does he receive?)

• He prefers getting head than giving head.

• He likes the way your lips wrap around his dick, tongue lapping the underside of his head - before you graze his shaft with your teeth. It sends a deep chill down his spine…

• When your nose nuzzles what pubic hair he does have, he’s about ready to cum down your throat. His hand usually finds its way to your hair, making a fist into it - pulling you up and down until he’s reached his climax.

• He does like eating you out though! It’s just not his preference. you might have to ask once or twice, unless he’s high or drunk.

• If that's the case, then he’s on you like some animal in heat. Sloppy kisses pressed against your clit, tongue dragging down to your entrance before he wiggles his tongue into it.

 

 

P is for Pace (Fast or slow? Rough or sensual? Etc)

• It’s not slow, like, at all.

• He's on you until he’s cumming inside of you.

• It's very fast, rough, desperate humping, like a rabbit. Sometimes he’ll hold you in place, hips jerking in quick messy directions.

• It can be romantic! Just…usually it isn’t.

 

 

Q is for Quickie (His opinion on quickies, how often they happen, etc..)

• Oh, he LOVES quickies.

• That’s usually what sex is like with him anyways! There may not be long rounds, but there’s usually so much fucking throughout the day.

• The beds too far away? Don’t worry, he’s already lifting up your dress, tugging down your stockings, and sliding his dick into you.

• He’s backstage during a performance? he already has you in the supply closet, hand over your mouth as he has his way with you.

 

 

R is for Risk (What kind of risks will they take.)

• Paul is 100% a pregnancy risk kind of guy.

• He kind of gets off on it as well, getting you pregnant “accidentally”.

• He'll not want to wear a condom and you'll ask him if he's sure, he just shrugs like...how bad can it be!

• He does want you to have his children eventually, he just likes the idea of having them unplanned.

• He just wants to raw dog you in peace, okay?

Paul finally had you to himself. 

The long day of answering the media, signing autographs, shaking hands - it was all so monotonous. 

But he’d do it all again if it meant he’d get to come home to you, naked, on his bed spread beneath him.

His dick was shoved into you, hands shoving your knees up to your chest - as he gave harsh, short thrusts. 

You let out soft whines, eyes rolling back as you took it like the good girl that you are.

“Fuck,” he groaned.

“Y’know, ‘m not wearing a rubber,” he huffed out in your ear, the smirk evident in his tone. 

Your eyes shot open as you tried to turn your head to speak into his ear.

“B-But, Paul,” you tried to speak, words getting caught in your throat as he continued to fuck you. Your nails dug into his back, leaving scratches as you tried to focus and tell him about the obvious risk. 

“Easy now, quiet down, I wouldn’t quite mind getting you pregnant y’know…”

 

 

S is for Stamina (How many rounds he can last, how quickly can they cum, etc..)

• He’s like a rabbit, he can and will fuck everyday if given the chance.

• He can’t do long rounds, each round is about 10-15 minutes. but there’s at least four rounds before he gives out and feels like he's been drained of his cum and will never cum again.

• Paul can cum in five minutes if you let him, but he’s always edging himself so you can enjoy sex as well.

 

 

T is for Toys (Does he own toys, use them, what kind of toys, etc?)

• You both have used your dildo, but not in the way where Paul just uses it by himself. You had to share it for the moment when you first tried pegging him.

• He asked one day if you guys could try something new. He and John were talking over lunch about sex - and John brought up something about the prostate, just a silly thought.

• Paul had to pretend he wasn’t interested, joking with John how stupid it sounded!

• But it’s all he could think of until he was home with you. He was nervous to ask about, thinking you’d see him as some sort of homosexual. You didn't, you have such an active sex life that trying new things in the bedroom never seems like a bad idea.

• Safe to say, Paul loved his prostate being stimulated. Due to that, you now own a strap on.

• Paul also doesn’t mind you having toys. He personally buys you them as well and likes watching you unbox them. 

 

 

U is for Unfair (How much does he like to tease you, how does he tease you, etc..)

• He’s extremely unfair, but not in the teasing sense.

• Paul simply adores you, but he’s extremely selfish when it comes to pleasure. If you don't finish but he's tired and can't go on, he'll make you beg to finish. A lot of begging.

 

 

V is for Volume (How loud is he, what noises does he make, what does he say, etc..)

• He doesn’t make loud sounds, but he is pretty noisy.

• He groans and whines, huffs and pants as he’s inside you.

• He’ll usually lean down next to your ear and rasp and breathe out how good your pussy feels.

• But that’s probably the most coherent sentence he’ll make out. Most of the time it’s just his gasps and sighs.

 

 

W is for Wildcard (Random sexual headcanon.)

• Paul never thought he’d agree to this. His jealousy made him an extremely bitter lover. Which was super ironic considering you always saw him flirting with fans.

• Though that’s not the point.

• John came over to visit one day, the group was taking a break from playing.

• Paul saw the way John was eyeing you, his brows lowering each time John complimented you - or would place his hand on your knee when talking.

• He couldn’t take it anymore and when you went upstairs to grab something, Paul approached his friend.

“Are you serious?” He asked through gritted teeth, ensuring you didn’t hear.

“Well, no, I’m John.” He responded, a shit eating grin plastered across his features. 

His attitude was making Paul more pissed, “Can you please drop the act for one second? You cannot be hitting on my girlfriend in my home!”

John didn’t look amused, his eyes fixated on Paul as he debated about his next step.

“Well, if I can’t be hitting on her in your home - can I be fucking her?”

And so there he was, sat across in the chair that your clothes usually laid on, facing your bed. He was being cucked by Lennon, and honestly? It wasn’t as bad as he thought.

Each time John rammed himself in you, he would ask: "Is this good? Do you like it-" and each time you would whine, teasing him, saying how Paul could do it better.

 

 

X is for X-ray (His cock.)

• Okay…so…5 inches solid, extremely average.

• He's circumcised at least! That's one plus! And his balls are good enough, a nice round pair.

• And dear God, is it a good 5 inches though. In spite of his size (which doesn't bother him too much) he knows exactly how to use it, and use it he fucking does.

• Size matters unless you're called James Paul McCartney. 

 

 

Y is for Yearning (His sex drive, how much do they want you?)

• He's like a dog in heat when you are both alone.

• In fact, even when you aren't alone, he'll still want you. Little touches under the table, spontaneous quickies, grabbing your arse and your tits.

• Paul is absolutely insatiable. 

 

 

Z is for Zzz (Sleep afterwards?)

• He falls asleep after at least 40 minutes of talking to you and daydreaming.

• You watch him doze off slowly before sleeping yourself.

• He sleeps like a baby unless he's stressed or has to write or produce.

The other two coming soon x

John's here

[goldenwilliamson]

What about a Beatle!reader x Paul maybe or John where you guys are really good friends and flirt with each other all the time and then maybe one of you decides to act on it?

okay. so. i decided to make this request somewhat of a part 2 to this request that i wrote a little while ago. i just thought that writing about this already developed relationship with paul would be fun. hope its alright!

pairing: paul x reader

summary: after paul helps you out when you express your unrequited feelings towards george, you realise paul is the one you should be with. PART 1 HERE

warnings: PDA? lollll

George and Pattie's New Year's Eve party had well and truly kicked off. After your little deal with Paul you had floated around socialising with the people you knew. You were stood speaking with Eric Clapton when Paul sidled up to you.

"Oh, hello," you smiled as his arm moved around you and his hand found its resting place upon your hip.

“Hi,” Paul smiled at you with his eyelids slightly drooping. You can see he’s had a good amount to drink and smoke at this stage of the night. 

Something in the way Paul is looking at you makes you feel flustered, almost like butterflies. 

“Are you having a good night, love?” You ask.

“I’m having a wonderful time, how about you Eric, you alright?” Paul turns to Eric.

“Yes sir,” he smirks, looking between you both, “I’ll leave you to it then,” he sends a subtle wink toward Paul, which you don’t miss.

Paul spins you so that you are facing him completely and lets his hands rest around your waist, clasped at the small of your back. You shamelessly let your arms snake around his neck and look at him in a way you’ve never looked at him before. You were looking at Paul as if he was the most attractive man you’ve ever known.

“What are you trying to do?” You say, making Paul smirk.

He leans close enough to you that you think he’s about to kiss you on your neck, but instead he whispers, “Just trying to get him off your mind.”

There’s that feeling again. The butterflies, and the goosebumps all over your arms and legs.

You take in a sharp breath as he pulls away, “I think it’s working.”

Paul smiles proudly and laughs a little bit, "I never expected this would be happening."

"What's that?" You ask, your face lighting up at the sight of Paul's happiness.

"I never thought I'd be with you like this," he holds you a bit tighter and pulls you a bit closer to emphasise his point.

"Neither did I, but I'm liking it," you tell him honestly.

You feel so safe in his arms, and you honestly don't know how this had never happened before. Paul is constantly flirting with you, and you're always giving it straight back to him. You both have always played it off as jokey banter, but tonight it's clear that there was truth behind all that playfulness.

"I am too, love," Paul says.

You decide you don't want to wait around any longer, it just seems silly to deny yourself pleasure at this stage.

"Do I have to wait until midnight for you to kiss me?" You ask.

"I think we can work around that rule," Paul says as you both lean into each other smiling. You find each others lips with ease, fitting into each other like jigsaw pieces, and falling into a rhythm as you continue to kiss each other. Being with Paul was something you never knew would feel so good.

As you pull away, you can't help but smile, and you just about laugh at the situation.

"Why have we never done that before?" You say.

"Well until about an hour ago you were in love with my best mate," Paul explains.

He did his job well because right now George is the last thing on your mind, all you can manage to think about is how much you want to stay with Paul the rest of the night, and how you hope this isn't a one night thing.

"That was silly, I couldn't see that the person I should be with was right it front of me," you say.

"I couldn't see it either, but I can see it now."

"Kiss me again," you say, wanting to keep feeling that feeling over and over again.

"Happily."

[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.

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

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! 🥰

[ringstarrr]

Hi. If you don't mind, would you mind doing a song fic for Taylor Swift's coney island with either John or George? I just feel like it would work really well, especially these lines: "And do you miss the rogue who coaxed you into paradise and left you there? Will you forgive my soul when you're too wise to trust me and too old to care?"

I Want to Tell You

pairing: john lennon x gender neutral!reader

warnings: angst, depression, self image

author's note: first of all, sorry for going missing for a few months. kinda had a burnout with college and work, but things are getting better - i think, at least.

and i kind of changed this a little lol i know it's a sad song and i made it accordingly, but the end is sweet. i might not be a swiftie but i'm a softie

1966.

It was like living through hell. Why did he have to say that? you’d think every once in a while since the whole bigger than Jesus broke out. John has always been one to make interesting comments - not to say controversial. You knowing him since you met at art school, it didn’t faze you a bit, yet, it was a different thing in America.

“They’re so fucking upright. It’s so phony.” You sought John during one of the tours you went by his side, still his girlfriend, flesh and nail. Now, long married, it’s been a few good months since you last followed beside him. John was getting more distant everyday and you didn’t know what to do.

He emitted his loud and heartwarming laugh. “I know, right?” John escorted you close to his chest, his nose in your hair. “Americans act like we are a bunch of weirdos. We are… different,” John chuckled, free hand hovering his face. “They’re nice. I’m the freak.”

This happened only a year prior to this fiasco. On that occasion, you made it your job to assure John he was an important person to the band and no matter what happened, you’d still be by his side. So far, you had maintained your words and stuck with John - even though he wouldn’t even look at you.

It made you insecure and going back in your head, trying to piece together why he had become such a loner those last months. Without preparation, you began to revisit your time at college, when you two first started dating. You were younger by a few years, and John was living the high of his teddy boy lifestyle. 

He was a heartthrob. There was no other way to describe it.

Every single time you glanced in his direction, John’s eyes were already staring you down. Smiling smugly, he’d shake his head and wiggle his eyebrows. You were left blushing. It was heaven, knowing you caught the attention of someone like him. Your heart could melt just by the sight of him.

At the time, you weren’t looking for a relationship. But John had other plans. He flirted with you every chance he got, always putting some innuendo into everything. Even though you rolled your eyes every single time, you couldn’t deny to yourself how your hands would shake whenever John stormed in your direction. Neither could you say he didn’t make winter feel like a sunny afternoon in spring, considering the speeding beat of your heart and the way he caught your breath.

The memories left you wondering if you had closed your fists around something delicate for this to be happening. The silent tears fell down and you didn’t try to avoid the unstoppable. It was getting overbearing just to breath. When you first met, you thought that maybe 一 you were certain, to be completely honest 一 he’d be the death of you. At the time, the idea brought colour to your cheeks, thinking it’d be because of his antics and how flustered he made you feel. Now, you had the sour taste of knowing why.

Marrying one of the most desired man on the earth, show stopping sensation and global phenomenon was incredibly hard. And the business changed John’s usual upbeat and sarcastic nature. Theses things were still there but he wouldn’t show them as much. It turned him into a depressed and lonely wolf. John was starting to head straight to bed whenever he came home, telling you less and less about his life and what he was going through in his head. 

Yet, you had an idea of why that was.

The press were writing a bunch of articles about all the things he and the boys did and, unfortunately, that included his health. Suddenly every news reporter was a nutritionist and they decided John was getting fat, which was far from the truth. You noticed how John was starving himself for awhile because of it, his self image completely deteriorated and his depression coming to a new highlight low-end. But John wouldn't say a word. You’d ask him, almost plead for him to open up you, but John wouldn't say a word.

In front of the television, you watched him and the band make yet another appearance for an interview. It was difficult for you to admit, but most of the time you heard his voice these days was on the TV. John was pushing you away. After talking to George, Ringo and Paul about the situation, they assured you this wasn’t happening just to you. John was pushing everyone away, whether he knew it or not.

Seeing that happy grin in his face on the telly, a sight you missed dearly, was enough to make your walls crumble down. You sobbed violently, crying out loud. What happened to my baby? Where did my baby go? Your whole body shook and your voice got hoarse by the second. But the moment you heard a car pull into the driveway, you pushed it all back inside, cleaning the tears’ path and clearing your throat. Uptight and anxious, you waited. 

“You watching that crap?” was the first thing he said. John closed the front door, dropping his keys in the coffee table and sitting beside you on the couch. He slid his arm around you, turning you slightly to kiss you with care. After it ended, you two maintained faces close, noses brushing against one another, eyes closed. It was moments like this that made you feel everything was worth putting through. 

“Just watching this group fine young men. They dress pretty well, especially that one” you said, turning a little to the TV, just enough so he could see your index finger pointing in his direction on the screen. 

John snickered. “Nah, he looks like a twat.”

You snuggled your face against his neck, eyes closed. “And how was today, pretty boy?” as you whispered the question you immediately regretted it. John’s body grew rigid, moving away from you. I can’t do anything right.

“Ah,” he shrugged his shoulders, face showing how John cringed at the question. “It was… normal, I guess.” He bit down his lip, drawing in a deep breath. Silence emerged between youc and you wanted to scream. With a sigh, John got up. “Well, I’m taking a shower.” 

Before you could think the decision over once more, you were speaking already. “John, can I ask you a question?” He was midway walking to your shared bedroom, stopping in his tracks. John turned around, confused.

Eyebrows knitted and hands on his waist, he answered. “Yeah, sure you can.” 

“Did I shatter you?” your voice quivered, just a little above a purr. You felt tears threatening to form but you didn’t care. You needed to get it off of your chest, it was killing you. John was startled by the inquiry, eyes wide.

“What makes you think that, love?” He still was by the bedroom, slowly coming back to you.

“You never talk to me anymore, John.” A sorry laugh left your lips as you said it, feeling like a lunatic. “And you used to come to me anytime if you were struggling, to have a laugh... Now you can barely stand to be next to me.” Your eyes flickered to the roof, holding back the emotions in turmoil. “You never ask about me anymore. It’s like you couldn’t give less of a shit sometimes,” you turned your focus back to him and it crashed your feelings. He was crying with a straight face, biting the inside of his cheek. “If this is the long haul, how’d we get here so soon?” 

You managed to get a laugh from him, smiling a bit. After a few seconds, he spoke up. “Sorry for not making you my centerfold,” John pushed the tears away with the back of his hand. “I hate that we turned into this… all because of me,” now it was his turn to cackle like a mad man, hands in his hair.

“It’s okay, John.” You gave him a half-hearted smile.

“No! Of course it’s not, love.” He took a long breath and began tapping his foot against the floor. “You are my wife, for fuck’s sake. I love you and I pushed away? I’m a dick.” John was obviously mad at himself. “I didn’t think it would upset you this much, love. Fuck.”

“Baby…” you cooed, getting up from the couch. You tried to reach for his hands, but he shook them instead.

“Don’t ‘baby’ me. I don’t want your pity.”

“John,” you took hold of his hand, your hold strong and tight. “Shut up. You’ve been through a lot and it’s okay to react like this. But you should be more aware of the fact that there are people that care and worry about you.” You pushed his fringe to the side with your free hand, resting it against his wet cheek. John closed his eyes. “You are not a bad guy, John. Just fucking stupid sometimes,” both of you laughed. 

“What’s a lifetime of achievement if I pushed you to the edge but you were too polite to leave me?” You cringed at that, not agreeing with him.

“I would never leave you, sweetheart. I love you too much,” you said, laughing a little. “Just don’t push me away anymore. I’m always here for you.”

“Sorry for being fucking stupid.”

[ringosmistress]

[budingatuno]

I baked this meme today oh boy

[mclennon-amv]

beetles

[windybluebelles]

I don’t think, as a fandom, we have utilitiesed the concept of immortal Alfred along side the Fawcett time bubble.

Now, I know for a fact that it canon Alfred is not immortal and has intact died, I also just don’t give a shit

I’m also fairly sure that time bubble fawcett has never been canon, and at the very least isn’t anymore, I still don’t care.

Just picture, Itty Bitty Billy Batson (orphan whos entire support system from when he was younger is just entirely gone) hears a familiar voice coming through Batman’s personal comms, and just kinda thinks,

Holy Shit that’s Uncle Al

Now he’s obviously very confused, last time he heard anything about his Uncle Al was approximately in like 1954, and he was around the same age as his parents who I imagine couldn’t be any younger than like 30. So how tf is he not brain dead and being fed through a tube by now? (I’m sure there are some very functional 90 year olds but like… what are the chances?)

I imagine that Billy would eventually figure out that Alfred works for the Wayne family in Gotham (I also imagine that he now vaguely know Batman’s identity but he’s also like 12 so why would he care?) and finds a way to get there as soon as possible.

I’m picturing just like, Tim or someone opening the door to this tiny little boy whos holding a box full of pictures and letters and is politely asking if he can ‘Speak with uncle-err, Mr Pennyworth?’

[beatlesmenrock]

excerpt from my beatles book that i thrifted! the image of the boys sleeping in the van together in my head is so cute to me

[repressedgaymer]

"I dream about him... The thing is when you've had a relationship like that for so long, such a deep relationship. I love it when people revisit you in your dreams. I often have band dreams and they're crazy… I'm often with John, just talking about doing something, and I come to get my Hofner bass, ready to play, and it's covered in sticky tape. You know, dreams! I'm picking all this stuff off trying to talk to him."

— Paul McCartney, Sept 24, 2019, on The Late Show with Steve Colbert -> link here

[iheartjohnlennon]

pleaseee ur smut is the best can you do a 60s paul or john x reader smutt, body worship and can you make paul a sweetheart and john rough and hard smut pleasee but the combo of them together xoxo

In her arms

London, '64

Word count: 1583

Tags: Body Worship, Romantic Fluff, Light Angst

             

Paul sat on the edge of the bed, note pad in hand, trying to work. The room was quiet, save for the occasional chord and written word as he desperately searched for the write melody. It wasn't really coming together this late August afternoon.

"Stop staring at me, Y/N." Paul said to her, looking up briefly. He tried his best to sound mean and dismissive but he was holding back a smile.

"Hm?" She raised an eyebrow.

"Nevermind." He sighed.

 

She wasn't distracting at him at all - she was just laying on the floor quietly, reading a magazine, absorbed in her own world. But for Paul that was the problem.

He looked back down at his papers with a sigh, he clicked his pen occasionally, trying to find the sudden inspiration to write something he actually liked.

Unfinished lyrics, random doodles and random thoughts - god, he despised having writers block.

His eyes kept drifting to her, even though he knew he needed to focus.

It was impossible not to notice how peaceful she looked, her hair splayed out on the rug, the gentle rise and fall of her chest as she concentrated. He found himself getting lost in thoughts of her, how her body felt against his, how she sounded when he had her all to himself.

He internally grumbled to himself, trying to steady his thoughts on things he thought were more important. But his thoughts just kept coming back stronger each time. Every chord he played felt off, every lyric he wrote felt wrong because his mind was somewhere else - her.

 

He set the notepad and guitar down with a frustrated sigh, running a hand through his hair. This song wasn't going to happen, not when all he could think about was her.

For a second, he tried to resist, picking up the pen again and staring at the messy page. But it was useless, he couldn't separate himself from her.

"Fuck.." He mumbled.

 

"You win.." Paul said, more to himself than her, as he stood up from the bed. He walked over to where she was lying, positioning himself directly above her. His shadow fell across her magazine, pulling her out of her reading.

She looked up. "I win? What are you talking about?"

Paul rubbed the back of his neck, a sheepish smile on his face as he looked down at her.

“I can’t concentrate. I’ve been trying to write for the last bloody hour, but all I can think about is you, Y/N.”

She set the magazine aside, propping herself up on her elbows. “And what exactly have you been thinking about?” she asked, a teasing lilt in her voice.

Paul’s smile widened as he crouched down beside her, his eyes locked on hers. “Well, y'know...I'd rather be doing a lot things than looking at a page. I mean, I'd rather stare at you for an hour."

She grinned, rolling onto her side to face him fully. “You could’ve just said something, you know. I wouldn’t mind helping you take a break.”

Paul leaned in closer, his lips hovering just above hers. "Really?" he murmured, his breath warm against her skin.

She nodded, her hands reaching up to rest on his shoulders, pulling him down to her. "Yes," she whispered back, "it’s not fair to keep all those pretty thoughts to yourself."

He chuckled softly, the sound vibrating through his chest as he finally closed the distance, kissing her with a mix of relief and desire. "You’re right," he said, his voice husky between smooches, "and I think it’s time I stopped fighting it."

She didn’t need to be told twice. Sliding over to him, she wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him down further into a slow, languid kiss. He responded eagerly, his hands coming up to cradle her face, his thumbs brushing over her cheeks as he deepened the kiss.

Then he reluctantly pulled back from the kiss, he wouldn't mind taking her on the floor, but he felt too pretentious about it right now.

"C'mon, love." Paul instructed. His hand gently grasped hers and led her towards their bed. His touch was very reassuring. She couldn't help but feel a flutter of excitement in her stomach.

 

Paul gently pushed her back onto the bed, her head settled into the pillows. His lips never leaving her as he hovered over her. His hands began to wander, exploring the shape of her body with a reverence that made her heart beat slower.

"You are so beautiful," he murmured against her lips, his voice low and filled with awe. He kissed down her neck, trailing his lips over her collarbone, his hands caressing her as if he was imprinting every millimetre of her to his memory.

 

With gentle, almost hesitant hands, he began to undress her as if she were a fragile piece of glass.

Slowly, he slid her skirt down over her hips, careful not to snag the fabric, then his fingers unbuttoned her blouse.

He removed each piece of clothing until she laid in only her undergarments, vulnerable. She could feel the warmth from his body as he took his time savouring every inch of her body with his eyes.

 

Paul reached behind her back then unclasped her bra, he put it on the floor.

He greedily palmed both of her breasts, he adored the feel of them.

They fit perfectly, like two puzzle pieces completing each other, and he can't help but marvel at how they were seemingly made for his hands alone. He caressed and squeezed them, reveling in their softness and warmth. She sighs in pleasure and he knows that this is exactly where he belongs.

He held her hips as he lowered himself down.

Paul took his time, essentially worshipping her body with slow and deliberate kisses. His lips found their way to her breasts, and he paused, staring at them with a look of pure admiration before placing soft, open-mouthed kisses on the skin.

"Perfect," he whispered, his voice thick with desire as he continued to lavish attention on her chest, his tongue tracing patterns around her nipples.

Her hands tangled in his hair, urging him on as he moved lower, his kisses growing more urgent, more needy.

His warm lips pressed against the supple skin of her abdomen. His hand traced patterns over her stomach, reveling in the smoothness. As he inched lower, his breath quickened with anticipation. He could feel the heat radiating from her core, enticing him.

He spread her legs spread slightly wider. It was his favourite place to be, nestled between her thighs. But he didn't want to indulge too long in tasting her too long because he yearned to make love to her.

With tentative strokes of his tongue, he began to lick the slit, liking every gasp and moan that escaped her lips in the moment.

He gently presses his lips to her clit, sucking tentatively at first and then more firmly as her body continues to respond to his touch. 

 

Satisfied with his performance, he moves back up her body, feeling a sense of accomplishment. Paul quickly strips off his trousers and boxers, not even bothering with his shirt, he's too eager.

 

Paul aligned himself with her entrance, pausing for just a moment to lock eyes with her, He slowly entered her, taking his time.

As he started to move inside her, Paul’s words came out in soft, reverent whispers, praising her, telling her how perfect she felt, how much he needed her.

The world outside ceased to exist; there was only Paul, his love for her, and the feeling of being cherished in a way that made her feel like the most precious thing in the world.

 

Paul’s pace began to quicken, his slow and measured thrusts becoming more urgent as he felt his own climax approaching. His breath came in ragged gasps, his forehead resting against hers as he locked eyes with her, his gaze filled with nothing but love and desire.

"I love you," he whispered, his voice strained with the effort to hold on just a little longer, wanting to bring her with him. "I love you so much, Y/N."

She could feel the tension building in his body, the way his movements became less controlled, more desperate as he pushed the both of them closer to the edge. His words, his touch, everything about this moment was overwhelming.

As soon as he felt her begin to tighten around him, heard the way she moaned his name, Paul couldn’t hold back any longer. With one final thrust, he pulled out, his hand quickly wrapping around himself as he came with a groan, spilling his release across her stomach.

 

For a moment, he just stayed there, hovering above her, breathing heavily, his eyes fixed on the sight of her beneath him. He was in awe, the intensity of his feelings for her almost too much to bear.

Slowly, Paul collapsed beside her, still catching his breath, his hand coming up to gently wipe the sweat from her forehead. "You're amazing," he whispered, pressing a soft kiss to her temple. "I don't know what I’d do without you...your body, your mind, everything."

As they laid there together, tangled in the sheets, Paul wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close as he let out a contented sigh. The world outside could wait; right now, all that mattered was this moment, with her in his arms.

[javelinbk]

Original trailer for A Hard Day’s Night, released 7th July 1964 - part two (part one)

[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

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

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

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?”

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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 😊

[franklyimissparis]

never getting over this actually

[ringosmistress]

[abbycadoodle]

silly ass bugs smh 🙄