several sizes too small

Save Yourself (Steve One-shot)

Characters: reader, Steve (Natasha, Bucky, and Sam mentioned)

Summary: After a disastrous mission and harsh romantic rejection, you find yourself in a downward spiral of destructive behavior until Steve steps in and shows you you’re worth saving.

Warnings: All the angst. Little bit of fluff. Mentions of death, sex, destructive behavior, suicide and self harm (mild), alcohol abuse. 

Word Count: 2.4k (another failed drabble, ya’ll. I’m a wordy birdy)

Song Inspiration: Save Yourself by Kaleo

Y/N: Late night angst strikes again! I thought about this song and story all day at work. I’m still working on my multiple series, but needed a little change of pace. I’ve also been missing Steve lately. I was reminded of Chris Evans’ advice about his noisy brain so I included that. This got a lot darker than I anticipated. I have no idea how it’ll be received, so let me know your thoughts. I adore you all!! <3

p.s. Happy Birthday, Chris Evans!!! :) 

Full Masterlist


Originally posted by dailyteamcap


Wincing at the unusually loud noise, you exited the elevator and tiptoed barefoot down the hallway toward your room. Rounding the corner, you placed a hand to the side of your head, hoping the incessant pounding would subside soon. You snuck forward quietly, high heels dangled from your other hand with a clutch purse wedged under your arm. At least you remembered to grab your purse this time.

“Have a nice time last night?”

You cringed. Only ten feet away from your room, you heard the one voice you hoped not the hear coming from the one man you were avoiding. Straightening up from your sneaking position, you slowly turned toward the voice.

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So Many Stars (Ch. 1)

Pairing: Phan
Genre: Chaptered fic, AU
Word count: 3,320 words
Description: After graduating with his law degree, Dan decides to move to Japan to teach English for a year.

A/N: so i’ve been wanting to write a phan au where they are english teachers in japan for a long time. this is going to be a pretty long, chaptered fic. please read if you’re interested!


It was 36 degrees outside — literally human body temperature — and the air was so thick with humidity Dan was pretty sure he could take a bite out of it. Yet here he was, sat in a full suit and tie in a room where the only relief from the sweltering heat came from the half-assed breeze that occasionally drifted through the open windows. His shirt was plastered to his back with sweat, and he was pretty sure it was going to have to be surgically removed later on. The vinyl couch he sat on felt like it was made of lava. 

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Don’t Look At Her pt 3

A/N: Hey there, sorry it’s been so long. I’ve had quite a few personal issues lately, but I’m trying to get back into the swing of writing. Sorry if this chapter is bad, I’m not very happy with it. Nonetheless, I hope you enjoy, and please send feedback, it means a lot.

Word count: 1790

Warnings/triggers: language, Bucky being an ass. It’s gonna be a sloooooow burn guys

Tags at the bottom 

Originally posted by caps-bucky

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The Court of King Steilsson - Dennor Fanfic

“You shall pay for your crimes, filthy trespasser!”

Lukas raised an eyebrow, unamused. “What the fuck, Mathias.”

When Lukas went out grocery shopping that morning, he hadn’t expected to return to a trashed house and his boyfriend dressed as a viking.

The man in question was sporting a brown cloak and a horned helmet, waving a foam axe in his hand. “There is no Mathias here. I am Bearskin Firebeard, soldier of the dark, protector of the light, and guardian of the great court of Steilsson.”

“Well, fartbeard, if you don’t get your butt out here to help me carry the shopping, the only thing you’ll have to guard is your precious triple-sized beer mug.”

Mathias broke character for a second, eyes widening in horror. “You wouldn’t.”

“I think,” bit Lukas, “you’ll find that I would. Where’s Emil?”

Face morphing back into his ‘viking’ persona, Mathias rest his fist over his chest. “If, by Emil, you are referring to my lord and liege, King Steilsson, he is in the throne room. I shall take you there now, so that he may serve your judgement.”

“By all means, lead the way, Viking,”

“That’s sir Viking, to you.”

Lukas snorted in reply.

After he dumped the grocery bags on the counter, Mathias led him through the house, over discarded toys and between rooms, until they reached the entrance of Emil’s playroom. Halting outside the drawn curtain, Mathias called: “I have brought you the intruder, my king.”

From inside, a small voice rang out, “Bring him forth, Sir Mathias.”

By this point, Lukas was completely lost. What was this, some extravagant game of dress up?

He had little time to ponder his bemusement as his boyfriend stepped forwards and ripped open the curtains, pushing him inside by his shoulders. He opened his mouth to complain, but was stunned to silence at the sight before him.

In the centre of the room, perched upon a garish throne made entirely from lego, was his younger brother. The six year old was adorned in a velvet cloak, draping over the throne and pooling on the floor. Upon his head sat a crown which was clearly several sizes too large, the front falling over his eyes. His small shoes dangled several feet from the ground, and his stuffed puffin toy was nestled on his shoulder.

Lukas’s first instinct was to laugh and coo at the adorable sight, but his brother’s deadly serious expression prompted him to bite his lip and play along.

After thoroughly inspecting the trespasser, Emil opened his mouth to speak. “You must think yourself deific, coming here without consent.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Everyone north of the great sea knows of my kingdom, and what happens to those who dare defy me.”

Lukas bared his chest, lifting his chin to lock eyes with the ‘ruler’. “By all means, your majesty, enlighten me.”

Emil nodded his head towards Mathias. “Show him, warrior.”

Mathias bowed in compliance. “As you wish.” Then, seemingly out of nowhere, he whipped out Lukas’s prized box of butter-pecan biscuits. With a smirk, he poured several onto his hand, and promptly stuffed them in his mouth.

“Stop! Those are mine!” Lukas jumped up, his usually expressionless face morphed in panic. No-one messed with his butter-pecan biscuits.

“I’m afraid this is the price you pay for disobeying the rules of the land.” Emil cut in, face austere.

“Please! I’ll do anything, just don’t touch my biscuits!”

Emil paused, thoughtful. “Anything, you say?”

“Yes, I swear,” Lukas begged, glaring at Mathias from the corner of his eye.

“Hmm,” mused Emil. “Allow me to confer with Mr. Puffin.” With a haughty toss of the head, Emil turned to face his stuffed toy. He whispered to it in hushed Icelandic, pausing every now and then as if to listen to its response. Finally, Emil turned back to his brother, small face determined.

“We have reached a decision.”

“Which is?”

Little Emil folded his arms over his chest. “In exchange for the preservation of your biscuits, I demand 3 party bags of Djúpur licorice. Do we have ourselves a deal?”

Lukas frowned, incredulous. “Emil, that’s like 20 pounds of candy. You can’t seriously-“

“Do we have a deal?” Emil interrupted, intransigent.

Under any other circumstances, Lukas would have given his brother a hard scolding for that kind of backtalk. But, against his better judgement, Lukas couldn’t bring himself to chasten the boy on behalf of how utterly adorable he looked in that little cloak and the oversized crown. With an eye roll and an inward sigh, Lukas relented.

“Fine, fine, you can have your licorice.”

For the first time that afternoon, Emil broke character, his face splitting into a beam of triumph. Lukas got the feeling that he hadn’t really expected to have his demands entertained.

“But first, your majesty, I am obliged to inform you of your fatal flaw.”

Emil’s grin faltered, and he peered down at his brother suspiciously. “What are you talking about?”

“I have a secret weapon, one that is impervious to any of your tricks.”

“And that is?”

Lukas glanced up with a smirk, gaze trained on his brother. “That I’m the tickle monster!”

Before Emil had a chance to respond, Lukas dived forwards and scooped the small boy in his arms, flopping him in a pile of pillows. Without pause, he began scratching his fingers at Emil’s sides. The young boy panted hysterically, biting his lip in an effort not to laugh.

Almost immediately, Mathias came to join in on the fun, holding down his arms and legs to give Lukas full tickling access.

Emil glowered at him in betrayal. “You can’t do this!” he wheezed. “You are my loyal s-servant-“ He broke off, still desperately trying to maintain his stoicism.

“C’mon Icey, we all know that Lukas is my real boss here.” Mathias grinned, before releasing his ankle to tickle him right in-between his neck and his shoulder.

At the unexpected attack, Emil’s resolve finally broke, and he exploded in high-pitched peels of laughter.

“Stah-hop, I need to b-breathe!” he gasped, little tears escaping his eyes and rolling down his cheeks.

Lukas and Mathias, the cruel guardians they were, did not heed his request, instead tickling him even more fiercely. By this point, Mathias was giggling almost as much as Emil, and Lukas couldn’t suppress the small smile tugging at his own lips.

After a few minutes of furious tickling, the laughter began to abate, and the three flopped side-by-side on the pillow pile, exhausted. Mathias sought out Lukas’s hand, twining their fingers together and offering him a giddy smile.

Between them, Emil’s breaths began to slow, and after a little while he fell into a soft doze. His thumb was hooked in his small mouth, toy puffin tucked to his stomach.

Come to think of it, Lukas was starting to feel a little drowsy himself. Looking over, he saw that Mathias had the same idea, and was drifting to sleep where he lay. Lukas let his own eyes flutter closed, comforted by the warm presence of the two boys he called ‘family’.

Almost as soon as he did so, he was roused by a sleepy voice. “Bróðir?”

Lukas turned to see Emil peering up at him, half lidded. “Yes, Emil?”

“I still get my licorice after this, right?”

“…I’ll think about it.”

Satisfied, the little boy adjusted his position and went back to sleep, curled up between his guardians.

With a soft smile, Lukas gazed over his two boys. Mathias was still dressed in his viking attire, cloak splayed out around him and hair spiking in every direction. He slept with his mouth open, drooling slightly and snoring obnoxiously. The Dane was just as much a child as Emil, if not more.

With a roll of his eyes and a fond huff, Lukas tightened his grip on his hand and closed his eyes. Together, the mismatched trio slept, smiles on their faces and a warm sensation blooming in their chests.

please give me feedback, or let me know what you think in the tags :)) it’s aso on my ao3 and my


Ah… What can I say. I feel like a mother whose son has just told her that he wants to live as the girl he’s always felt he was. So, here I am watching him toss out his worn out pair of work jeans. He’s stopped wearing that ridiculous baseball cap and shaken all his lovely long locks free. He…, or rather, ‘she’ is putting on her first dress–just something I used to wear, several sizes too small for her. She peeks into the mirror, half scared and so unsure of what to make of herself, saying to me with a mirthless laugh, how hideous and ridiculous she must look, while I am thinking that she’s the most beautiful and brave girl I’ve ever met. She turns a few times, scrutinising her reflection, holding her shoulders up in an effort to make herself appear smaller, less masculine. She catches me looking at her, and almost immediately her eyes cast down. “I wish I wasn’t so tall,” she smiles meekly. “It’s hard to get a date.” Her gaze returns to the mirror and with a tired smile she mumbles to herself; “Will this get any better?”

anonymous asked:

OK but for your consideration, Kylo in crop tops?

“what do you think?”

hux is taken aback by the question from the stranger currently posing awkwardly in front of the dressing room mirrors.  he doesn’t often shop in department stores - does all he can to avoid them, in fact.  he’s always been more attracted to smallish boutique-style shops.  doesn’t like the crowds; the experience is more personal without them, and not being forced to paw through racks at bloomingdale’s like the rest of the masses helps to avoid showing up at department parties wearing the same tie as someone else. 

also helps to avoid this - this being having to interact with men damn near his age trying on articles that stopped being appropriate at least a decade ago.

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The Signs as my weird dad stories
  • Aries: One time he slept through a tornado
  • Taurus: He gave a girl a box of sand for christmas bc he didnt know how to tell her he didnt wanna date her
  • Gemini: In london he got hit by a bottle rocket and didnt even flinch but he did cuss out the kids who shot it
  • Leo: he threw some racist asshole down our stairs and kicked him out of the house.
  • Cancer: he went to a concert and went into the moshpit, and someone brought a 2x4 and fucking hit him with it
  • Virgo: one morning i woke up and went upstairs, and he had brought up the first level of parappa the rapper on youtube and was rapping to it perfectly
  • Libra: Back when my mom's iguana was alive, if my dad made cornbread, he would start going after him and one time my dad threw a piece of cornbread and locked himself in the bathroom to hide from the big fat fucking lizard
  • Scorpio: My dad once spilled some shit on the fridge and he was really tired so he called paper towels "wipey swipes"
  • Sagittarius: when my dad found out that my mom was gonna have a baby, his reaction was "me and my stupid dinkie"
  • Capricorn: my dad owns a lot of plain black t-shirts while i owe one, and i left my one black shirt outside of my room and he tried wearing it thinking it was his (which was several sizes too small)
  • Aquarius: i asked my dad who he was romancing in dragon age: inquisition and he said nobody and i think about his aromantic asexual elf oc from time to time
  • Pisces: he tried convincing my mom to name me babyzilla
Achieving Survival (Part 3)

Title: Achieving Survival (Part 3)
Pairing: Future reader x ?? 
Word Count: 2139

Part 1, Part 2

Sorry it took a while for this part to come out! I had it partially done, but was stuck at a point where I was unsure as to whether I should add another character (not going to say who, because I ended up not adding them) to the story. But juggling six was hard enough! So here’s the part 3 that I promised the anon that I would get out by this week! I’d love comments, or even just suggestion on what you think I should add to this! 

You looked at the smoke, making its way towards your group. You may have mistaken it for a cloud if you did not see Michael chucking a pipe bomb towards the small congregation of zombies in front of you.

While the bomb’s beeping did attract the infected towards it, causing its explosion to impact quite a few of them—or at least from the squishing sounds you heard after the bomb combusted—it in no way meant they were all wiped out.

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Yo Ho Ho

So this post happened and I had to write Klaine as pirates as written by Santana in a ridiculous romance novel. 

I’m sorry. 

Captain Kork E. Hornswoggle stood on the quarter deck of his schooner, his mainsail raised proudly, a telescope held erect in his grip. Kork’s alabaster skin glowed in the sunlight shimmering off of the waves as he searched the vast cerulean ocean from top to bottom.

“As empty as always,” Kork said, a sigh escaping his dainty, lady-like lips. Where was his adventure? His thrills and chills on the high seas? He didn’t become a swishy, swashbuckling pirate to spend his days polishing his own sword in his private chambers.

Kork shoved his telescope back in his circulation-restricting extremely tight leather pants and turned to dash off and find some rum to drown his sorrows.

Suddenly! A man landed in front of him. Kork stumbled back, hand flying to his broad yet completely hairless chest, grasping the many, many billowing ruffles of his shirt. “Why you’re—“

The man bowed. “Bubbles ‘Lazy Eye’ Anderson at your service.” He was small yet swarthy, also wearing inhumanly tight pants and a shirt several sizes too small, with a hard shellack of dark hair. Kork had heard legends that bullets would ricochet right off it. Still, he was very attractive.

“Well, shiver my timbers,” Kork said.

“I was hoping to find somewhere to bury my treasure,” Bubbles replied.

Finally some excitement, Kork thought, heat rushing to his throbbing manhood. As Bubbles “Lazy Eye” Anderson swaggered around, clearly enjoying being the center of attention, Kork knew exactly what booty he wanted to plunder.

“Okay, Santana, seriously? This is terrible.” 

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December 7th, 2014

AUTHOR: Anonymous

7th of December, 2014

On the crowded London street, sirens blared and firefighters rushed into the smoky building. I stood with my neighbours under the street lamps as they watched from a safe distance and wondered what they might have lost in the fire.

Truth be told, I should have been wondering the same thing myself. I should have been concerned about the risk to anyone still trapped in the building and the possible damage to my flat. But I wasn’t. In my defense, it was rather hard to focus on a measly fire when Alfred F. Jones was half-naked and standing right next to me.

We had met a few times in passing, and I had always thought that the young international student was rather handsome. Now I had to revise my estimate: Alfred was drop-dead gorgeous. With his spectacles askew and his blond hair sticking out at all angles, he looked like he had just emerged from night of wild love-making. And his abs. Those abs! Alfred’s tanned skin and rock-hard six-pack belonged on the cover of a magazine. Preferably the sort of magazine sold in brown-paper bags.

My gaze drifted lower as I admired the American’s taut buttocks. I wasn’t surprised to see that he owned American-flag briefs. I wondered if all of his briefs were red, white, and blue. But even the silly nationalism couldn’t detract from his perfect arse. I blushed guiltily when I noticed him glancing my way.

“You okay there, Artie?” he asked, his handsomeness mixed with concern.

“I’m fine.” I arched an eyebrow and tried to pretend I hadn’t been ogling him a moment earlier. “I’m surprised you haven’t raced back into the building trying to be a hero.”

Alfred pouted, still handsomely. “I did, but they kept kicking me out!”

“Just because you look like a superhero doesn’t mean you need to act like one.” I nearly clapped a hand over my mouth. Oh crap, I hadn’t meant to say that.

He grinned. “You really thinks so?”

I shrugged and tried to keep calm and carry on. “Yes, leave the heroics to people with protective gear and training.”

“No, I meant… never mind.” He sighed and fell silent. It wasn’t until he shivered that I realised the poor lad had to be freezing. I should have noticed sooner; I was supposed to be a gentleman.

“Here,” I said as I pulled off my coat and offered it to Alfred. I didn’t need it, judging by how warm my cheeks felt. Of course, I knew it would be several sizes too small, but it was better than nothing. My efforts were immediately rewarded with the brilliant grin that crossed Alfred’s face.

“Thanks!” He tossed the jacket over his shoulder like a cape. “It took so long to find my glasses I didn’t have time to grab anything else,” he explained sheepishly.

We watched as the firefighters gave the all-clear. I tried to focus on the building, honestly, but my eyes kept drifting back to the shirtless American.

Alfred caught my gaze and grinned. “Hey, Artie. You weren’t cooking, were you?”

“Oh, sod off,” I grumbled. “I was in bed.”

“Yeah, guess I should’ve known. Those are cute teddy-bear PJs, by the way,” he said, chuckling as he pointed at my pyjamas.

I was saved from having to respond as one of the firefighters came over to let us know which flats were safe to reenter and which had to be repaired first. Mine was thankfully safe, but poor Alfred wasn’t so lucky. Apparently the electrical wiring in his flat had been badly damaged by the fire. He sighed and I felt the immense need to cheer him up.

“You’re welcome to stay with me,” I offered, and he cheerfully accepted.

I did it because I was a gentleman and certainly not out of any ulterior motives. The repairs wouldn’t last more than a few days, and I was happy to let him use my sofa. Of course, if he preferred to share the bed, well, that also could be arranged…

Needless to say, Alfred F. Jones moved in with me and he never moved out.


For Iggycat

Story time with Hils

So, as you may or may not know there is a book version of Captain America: The Winter Soldier aimed at younger children

As you can imagine there are one or two key scenes missing so I have decided to try and fill the gaps. So, grab a cushion and settle down. It’s story time.

Captain America also liked to wear shirts that were several sizes too small for him.

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