bring me your skills

Commission for @inarelashionshipwithmyself

Lance had been cranky the last few weeks. On it’s own that wasn’t too unusual, Lance got cranky about the weirdest things.
About running out of the good face masks and having to use different ones that Allura gave him. About the mice not being in the mood to play with him when he wanted. About getting too little sleep. About getting too much sleep. About an alien he’d never seen before and never would again rejecting his embarrassing advances.
But usually his mood brightened again as quickly as it had soured and this lasting slump was starting to worry them.

Keith wasn’t the first who’d noticed it, he hardly ever was when it came to these things. But after Hunk had addressed Lance’s recent attitude and he’d started to pay attention, the signs couldn’t be ignored anymore.
Usually Lance chattered endlessly during their meals and meetings, now he hardly ever said a word, leaving the group as soon as he could where he’d despised being alone for long periods before.
He seemed tense during training sessions, focused but way too stubborn to really make anything out of it, the slightest mistake throwing him off for the whole day. Keith had caught him more than once on the training deck, using it late into the night, expression hardened and determined.

Whenever Hunk or Shiro or, lately, even Allura tried to talk to him he’d put on a cheery mask and pretend everything was fine before retreating to the shooting range to utterly destroy every target the ship gave him.
Keith didn’t know what to do, didn’t know how to reach Lance if not even their most empathetic team members could. He hadn’t felt this helpless since he heard the reports about the Kerberos mission failing.
Until the afternoon he was paired up with Lance for hand to hand combat training.

“That’s – okay, that’s enough”, Lance spat, squirming helplessly where Keith had him pinned, one hand tapping a fluttery rhythm against the floor. “I yield! Fuck, I yield!”
Keith furrowed his brows, not used to the other boy giving in this easily, but he still stepped back, offering Lance a hand to help him get up.
Lance scoffed and slapped the hand away, pushing himself upright. Frown deepening Keith watched him.

“You okay?”, he asked, wiping sweat from his forehead. They’d been sparring for a while already. Where Lance had been almost tenacious in the beginning the fire in his eyes had subsided with every failed try to overpower Keith, every time it was him tapping the mat instead.
Now he leveled Keith with an icy glare but instead of getting back into stance he turned away.
“Leave me alone”, he mumbled before he left the training deck.

Shiro perked up from where he was pinning Hunk against the floor, the yellow paladin about to twist free from the hold and counter it when he also noticed Lance’s retreat.
Allura stepped forward, hands on her hips as she called after him: “Lance! Lance, we’re not done, where do you think you’re…”
“It’s okay!”, Hunk called, having used the distraction to free himself and scramble to his feet. “It’s okay, I’ll go get him!”

“No”, Keith said, body moving before he could even think about it. “I’ll go, I’ll talk to him…” He could feel their eyes on him, skeptical and unsure. Could hear the breath Hunk took, the careful “Um, Keith buddy…”
But he just shook his head, going for the doors.
“I got this.”

As expected he found Lance in his room, already changed halfway out of his armor, the leg pieces still clinging to his body.
“I told you to leave me alone”, Lance mumbled, no emotion to be heard in his voice, but Keith still stepped further into the room, arms crossed and face determined.
“Yeah”, he answered, taking a look at the helmet and armor pieces Lance had put on the table for now. “But I wanna know what your deal is. You’ve been … weird.”
Lance huffed a dry laugh and shook his head.
“I’ve been…? No. Nothing. No deal, everything’s just … peachy.”

“Bullshit.” Keith shook his head. “You can tell Hunk and Shiro that. Because they want to … respect your privacy or whatever. But something’s wrong. I wanna know what.”
Lance groaned, throwing another armor piece onto the table.
“What, so you can feel even better about yourself? Just go away!”
Keith huffed and leaned a hip against the desk, trying to catch Lance’s gaze but the blue paladin already turned away from him again.

“Listen”, he began, not quite sure where this would lead but just going with it for now. “Just because you can’t beat me at hand to hand doesn’t mean…”
“Hand to hand? What can I beat you at then?”, Lance spat, whirling around to finally meet Keith’s gaze and there it was again, that fire he’d seen at the beginning of the training session. “You’re the amazing pilot, the martial arts expert, the brave one everybody loves and wants to be like! What else is there, what else … what else can I contribute?”
Keith frowned.

“You … you want to be like me?”
“Oh piss off!”, Lance cursed, turning away again with an exasperated huff. Slowly but surely Keith began to suspect he really wasn’t the right one for this job, that he was only making worse. Maybe he should retreat and send one of the others instead, to settle what he’d done wrong.
“I’m … I’m not good at this”, he began, already setting up to excuse himself when he had an idea. “At uh … talking to people. When they’re upset.”
“Oh really…” Lance’s voice was dripping with sarcasm but Keith pressed on.

“Or just in general. I just can’t seem to … connect with others. I’m not good at that. You are.”
Even though Lance’s back was turned to him Keith could see how he froze, head tilted a little. Listening. He took his chance and went on.
“Remember when we were on that desert planet and neither Pidge nor me could convince the aliens to let us evacuate them? But then you came in and only needed two minutes with their leader to make them trust us?”

Lance shook his head.
“You were still wearing your helmets, that was rude to them.”
“Yeah but we didn’t know! We never would have figured that out if you hadn’t!” Keith took a careful step forward, around Lance, to look at him again. Some of the tension had seeped out of the other boy’s shoulders and his expression wasn’t quite as hardened as before.
“Yeah”, Lance mumbled. “You guys would’ve been lost without me.”
“We would have been!”, Keith insisted, still not sure what he was doing, only that it seemed to work at least a little.

“And … and that’s not the only thing! You’re … you’re a great shot. An incredible shot! There’s a reason your bayard is a rifle and mine is for close combat. You’re our long range guy, yeah? You don’t have to beat me at hand to hand when you can beat me in a shooting competition any day. And your bond with your lion…”
That was apparently the wrong thing to say. Lance rolled his eyes and shook his head.
“Yours is better. The things Red does for you, it’s crazy…”

“Oh god!”, Keith groaned, throwing his arms out. “Stop comparing yourself to me! You’re your own person! And you bring your own skills to the team! We all need you and if you can’t see how much Blue adores you, you’re an even bigger idiot than I thought!”
There was a pause, Lance squinting at him as if deciding to trust him or not. Keith stubbornly held the gaze.

“You mean that, don’t you?”, Lance asked after a while, expression shifting from suspicious to thoughtful. He sucked his lower lip into his mouth, biting down on it.
“In case you haven’t noticed”, Keith said, posture relaxing again. “I’m also a really bad liar.”
Lance huffed another dry laugh at that but the creases around his eyes vanished as he relaxed.
“You really are”, he smiled tentatively and Keith couldn’t even bring himself to be mad at him. Not when he just coaxed a smile out of Lance. The first one in weeks.

Then Lance reached out to take his hand, squeezing it tightly, and Keith was way too surprised to react. The grip around his fingers was strong and warm, oddly pleasant.
“Come with me”, Lance said, tugging him towards the door without a care in the world for his half dismantled armor.
“What … where…”
“Shooting range”, Lance answered, completely nonchalant with a little shrug. “Wanna beat your ass at something right now.”
Keith snorted but let himself be dragged away. If that’s all it took to make Lance smile again he’d lose a hundred shooting competitions against him.

[This fanfic was a commission! Check out how to commission me or consider buying me a Coffee if you liked this story!]

akira-cr31-stuff  asked:

hey goddess, did you have any fan art based on fanfic called "voltron cafe" by pink hitman. this one have so many sweet moment ♥. if you haven't read it yet, can you please make the fanarts ♡~♡.*(actually i begging you to make one T_T) i am sure you with your goddess skill will bring me to paradise *i am over hype

Sure, I can draw fanart. If you like you can commission me. My contact is 

ginervcweasley  asked:

Ot4, Z ( make up your own). Lexa has her own part of the closet bc she never really had anything hers, did you ever mention how it came up between them? Like, did Lexa bring it up? Or did smth else happen? Bedazzle me with your writing skills, maestro ;D

Clarke is standing in front of Lexa in nothing but a t-shirt and underwear.

Lexa is frowning, her face scrunched up and there’s a twist of fluttering panic in her stomach that has nothing to do with her half naked girlfriend trying to talk her way into her lap.

Both of them are flustered and frustrated.

They officially moved into the new house three weeks ago and this isn’t the first time Lexa’s felt this tightening in her chest and the need to shrink into herself. Her things are mixin in with Clarke and Octavia’s, the house starting to feel like a place that they all live. They carve out little corners, pockets of themselves, bits of compromise. Lexa knows she’s mourning the loss of her autonomy. In her apartment what little she had was hers, and only hers.

Clarke is in Lexa’s t-shirt and Lexa can’t quite articulate what it is that’s making her frown because Clarke has amazing legs and there’s light smile on her lips and it’s clear that she wants to be in Lexa’s lap… or she did before Lexa crossed her arms over her chest and halted the whole flirtation.

“I’m just not in the mood,” Lexa stands, holding in her place in the book she had been reading with her finger and trying not to brush up against Clarke who doesn’t move back. She can barely make it past her without touching. She shivers with Clarke reaches out to catch her at the elbow.

“You’ve been hot and cold all week, Lexa.” She pulls gently at Lexa’s arm but doesn’t hold on tight. If Lexa wanted to pull away she could with little effort.

It feels silly and petty and pointless. She just needs to get used to sharing a space and things with someone that isn’t Anya. Just needs to trust them. She does, but there’s a part of her that is hung up. Lexa reaches out and tugs at the edge of the shirt Clarke is wearing, a simple white tee with a pocket on the front, nothing fancy. “You’re wearing my shirt.”

“If you wanted the shirt off you could have just said,” Clarke winks but her smile is soft and apologetic. She crosses her arms and pulls off the t-shirt tossing it across the back of the couch. “Better?”

“Clarke…” Lexa’s gazy flicks down, she can’t help it. “That’s wasn’t my point.” She frowns trying to focus on what her point was, but Clarke’s bra is lace, pale cream only a shade darker than her skin.

Clarke takes a step forward and catches her fingers through Lexa’s belt loops, pulling her close. “Lexa.” She’s trying to distract the melancholy out of her and she isn’t certain it will work.

“It’s just…” her gaze flicks over her shoulder to the shirt on the back of the couch. She should let it go and just pay attention to Clarke, but the memory is sitting there of being eight and having her clothes taken by the other girls in the group home, clothes Anya had spent her money on, being told she should share by their caretakers. She inhales sharply and it turns into a sniffle.

“Whoa, okay, no something is actually bothering you.” Clarke leans past Lexa and grabs the blanket off the back of the couch and wraps it around herself like a towel. Panic rises in her chest and she tries to push it down. Something being wrong doesn’t mean Lexa will shut down again or run. Maybe if she gets Lexa to talk she can stop whatever this that is happening.

“I just need to adjust.” Lexa shrugs.

Clarke nudges her back onto the couch to sit down and slips in next to her, brushing a stray tear from her cheek, “Talk to me? This is bugging you.” She presses her lips to Lexa’s shoulder and  threads their fingers together. “Is this about me wearing your shirt?”

Lexa stops herself from shrugging because she doesn’t really want to push Clarke away but the words stick in her throat. She talks around it. “You can Octavia share almost all your clothes. I know it’s just what you do. There are some things I don’t see her wear and vise versa… but there’s little that is distinctly either of yours… and now I’m part of that.”

Clarke lunges forward wrapping herself around Lexa, kissing her soundly. When she pulls away she sighs with relief. This is something fixable. “Lexa, if you want your own part of the closet that we don’t touch all you have to do is say so.” She presses her lips to Lexa’s forehead. “Except the fuzzy socks, those are too good to give up.”

When she pulls back Lexa is looking up at her with a small open wonder.

“That’s it?” She slips her hand under the edge of the blanket and finds her way to lay it against Clarke’s bare waist.

“We can talk with O when she gets back from her run with Raven.” Clarke shifts so she’s straddling Lexa’s lap. “Whatever you need. This is our house.”

Lexa leans forward, pressing a kiss to Clarke’s sternum, a smile on her lips. “It is, isn’t it?”

“Yep, you’re stuck with us now,” Clarke laughs softly and lifts Lexa’s chin with a gentle touch.

Lexa wraps her arms firmly around Clarke’s waist, the smile on her lips wrinkling her nose. “Good,” she says softly. “I know exactly what we should do while we wait for O, and it doesn’t involve any clothes.”

Clarke’s grin widens to match Lexa’s. She opens up the blanket and tosses it over them both with a laugh. As she leans over to kiss her she whispers, “I like this idea.”

*Insert clever mechanic pun title here* the Rumbelle fic

You keep bringing your car into my shop with a series of increasingly unlikely problems and my professional opinion is it’d be cheaper for you to just ask me to dinner already AU - From this post.

“What seems to be the problem, Mr. Gold?”

Some would say the way Belle French dressed on a normal day of work wasn’t at all attractive. The top of her one-piece denim work uniform was always tied around her waist, allowing her freer movement in her tanktop and the baggy pants. They were almost always stained in oil or grease. Her hair was pulled back in a tight ponytail, a few strands sticking to her forehead.

She was marvelous.

“The accelerator seems to be sticking, Miss French.” Gold said as he pulled the lever to pop the hood of his frankly immaculate Caddilac.

“Again?” Belle’s brows furrowed.

She lifted the hood, her gaze going focused as she looked over the engine and other things under the hood. It all looked like a blur of metal and wires to him, but Belle seemed to know what she was doing.

The town thought her odd, the daughter of the florist who spent most of her free time in sundresses and skirts in the library working at the local mechanic’s shop. But Mr. Gold, the most feared man in Storybrooke found it fascinating. The first time he’d brought his Caddilac in due to break problems he’d been wary of Belle French’s abilities. But the way she gave him a warm smile and touched his car as if it were an old friend gave him pause. The entire time she worked, they chatted, Gold insisting he remain present until the work was done. Belle didn’t bat an eye, talking with him about anything and everything that came to their minds. By the time his car was fixed, he didn’t want it to end. Ever since, if his car so much as clicked in an odd way, he brought it in if only just to see her smile again.

“Everything looks alright to me, Mr. Gold.” Belle said, letting the hood close as gently as she could. “Are you sure it was the accelerator?”

She was smiling at him again, and Gold felt something different about it today. He only shrugged it off.

“Well Miss French I’m not as well versed in the mechanics of vehicles but I know when my car feels off.”

Belle only nodded, stepping towards him for a moment, letting her finger run against the frame. For a moment he felt a pang of jealousy, which was ridiculous. Her hands were probably calloused and hard from working. But still part of him wanted to feel them on his skin.

“Mr. Gold I can guarantee your car is in miraculous condition.”

“And how can you be so sure, Miss French?”

“Well you do bring it to me to take care of.”

“Well perhaps your skills aren’t as great as they seem if I have to continue to bring it here.”

“Or perhaps you should stop paying me to fix problems that aren’t there and simply ask me out to dinner already.”

Gold gaped at her, the grip on his cane faltering. Belle only beamed. Had she been able to see through him this entire time? Was he truly being that obvious? No. No she must have wanted something. She knew he had money. She must have been trying to take advantage of him. That was simply it.

“Or perhaps I can treat you.” Belle suggested. “I’ve saved up more than enough for a nice evening out in New York.”

Gold stiffened. “You can’t. That’s now how–”

“Well it’s all money you’ve paid for me to fix your car. So it’s really as if you’re paying, if that’s your protest.”

She’d caught him. Belle French had read him like a book and given him no room to protest. Finally, he smiled. There was no use fighting it now.

“It seems I wasn’t being as discreet as I hoped…” Gold grumbled.

Belle giggled, an oddly delicate sound that clashed with her surroundings. “No not at all. But I didn’t mind. So…”

“Yes! Yes. Dinner. In New York. Friday. If…if you’d like?”

“Oh Mr. Gold…” Her warm smile was back, and her hand moved from his car to his hand. Impossibly, they were soft. And that made his bones tremble. “I’d love to.”

blacktelephone  asked:

hi meghan! i just wanted to say i've been on this site a long time, and nowadays the only thing bringing me back here is your writing (honestly, give me your skills. yo metaphors. yo characterization. pls) & your blog. then I discover u have a bts side blog!!!! you're Too Much i hope u know that :// thanks for brightening my experience here :) (ps: I, too, can't "keep it in the likes" lmao gonna have to fix that soon)

like…………. what do I even say to such a generous compliment

Not to be emotional but like im seconds away from just.. handing you my heart

Complimenting my overblown metaphors & my characterization (my nemesis) & my embarrassing rambly obsession w bts in one breath??? Give me? your hand in marriage??

Raffa. Love. This means so much to me. Thank YOU for brightening my inbox, and absolutely link me if you ever hop out of the likes and onto a fresh bts blog <3

Preferences #118 Walking out


‘Calum!’ You shouted stomping down the stairs, ‘Did you cheat on me?’ you asked as you walked towards him obviously a glare on your face because he was backing up the closer you got. ‘No.’ he stated but you didn’t believe him, ‘How could you?’ your voice came out weak, Calum immediately tried wrapping his arms round you, ‘Don’t touch me.’ You whispered before walking away not giving him time to explain. You walked out the door, slamming it behind you and walked off into darkness.


‘Hey, it’s Luke. If could er-leave a message after the beep.’ his answerphone rang out again making you sigh in frustration. He hadn’t spoken to you in a week, he was always busy and he never made the effort to call you and soon enough you were coming to breaking point. ‘I swear to God Luke, if you don’t answer your phone I’m walking out of this apartment. Bringing everything with me and finding someone who wants to speak to me.’ You told him angrily through voice mail before hanging up leaving you wondering if did actually want to speak to you.


Your arm was wrapped round Ashtons but you couldn’t help but feel like he was really uncomfortable. You looked up at him to see him just staring, ‘Ashton? Did you just hear me?’ you asked looking up at him but again there was no response. You sighed, standing up from the couch you were supposed to be cuddling on and walked out, needing to talk to someone who would actually reply.


‘Hey Mikey can I join?’ you asked when you saw him sat down playing video games, he didn’t remove his eyes from the screen. ‘Mikey?’ you asked but again there was no reply. ‘Anyone there?’ you asked waving a hand in front of his face. ‘Stop it, this is my first time playing in months, I don’t need you and your crap skills to bring me down.’ He whispered making you shrivel up, you felt your heart breaking apart with every beat. ‘Fine.’ You spat angrily standing up and walking out the door anger fusing your body. 

Part two?

Spy - Negan Imagine

anonymous asked:
Can I request a Negan imagine? The reader being a (spy) before the whole breakout defends herself when one of the savior a try to catch her & Negan falls for her? -
I know it’s not verbatim what you wanted but I hope you like it anon! :) 

‘She did this to you?’ The man sheepishly nods his head at Negan’s question and looks at the floor. Negan throws his head back and laughs. ‘Wow…I want to meet her. I think she’d be an asset to the group.’ The straggly bearded man pouts ‘She almost killed me.’ Negan nods his head ‘I know, but you’re one of my best men and she almost killed you. The woman’s gotta have some skills. Bring her to me.’

You throw your shoulders back as the thin man with the mean expression on his face enters the room. You tilt your head and smile at him ‘How’s your head?’ He goes to smack you across the face but you grab him by his wrist and twist his arm behind the back. Unfortunately this place is like a fortress and three other men and a woman enter the room, with guns raised to you. You loosen your grip on the man and step back as he shakes his shoulders out and stands up straight trying to maintain some semblance of power. ‘Negan wants to meet you.’

Negan double takes as she walks into the room. For some reason he was expecting someone ferrety looking but is blown away by her beauty. He can’t help but smile at her ‘Well aren’t you just the full package?’ He looks her up and down and despite her years of training she feels her cheeks flush with colour. This jerk is definitely attractive, but you keep your face impassive. Negan steps closer to you and looks in your face, your eyes look up and meet his. ‘I need a woman of your skill.’ You feel your eyes glisten as you lean closer to him ‘Is that right.’ You can feel his breath on your face, the iris of his eyes expanding as he looks at you.

Negan nods his head and is looking down into your face, you can feel your body come alive and alert, anticipating his touch. ‘Yeah…I reckon you have lots of skills you could teach me and my people.’ You lick your lips and lean forward and whisper in his ear ‘Oh, you have no idea the things I could teach you..Or the things I could do to you with just my bare hands.’ Negan growls and moves closer ‘Tell me more.’ You look up at him and raise your eyebrows, licking your lips ‘Send your men away and I’ll do more than tell.’ Negan turns to the room, and dismisses his men, you smile knowing the first step of your escape plan is in action.