oh my so smooth

How Dan and Phil probably broke up #33
  • Phil: ChiCKEn
Black Coffee And Bad Pickup Lines

Moaui//Hooked Wayfinder Coffee Shop Modern AU

“Black coffee, two sugars for Curly-,” The redhead cut herself off swiftly and turned her sharp gaze onto the man behind the till, hissing venomously under her breath, “Maui, I am NOT reading this out, you creep,”

Whilst on a much-needed break from her bad day at work, Moana seeks out some much-needed caffeine. However, she might’ve found more than she first set out to in the confident, flirtatious barista…

Chapter 1: Are You A Piece Of Art?

Moana Waialiki was not having a good day. Her boss was being even more of a dick than normal, her customers were exceptionally meaner today, and a throbbing pain had started to form between her eyebrows. Currently, she was attempting to explain the 40-day, no-stain return policy to a very loud, very angry woman who claimed that she had NEVER EVEN WORN THE GODDAMN SHIRT. The ‘goddamn shirt’ in question had (what she sincerely hoped was) a huge coffee stain down the front, spanning from the collar to just below the bust, and had very obviously been worn more than once.

“I’m sorry, m’am, there’s not really much I can do about-,”

I DEMAND TO SPEAK TO YOUR MANAGER!

“Of course,” Moana sighed half-heartedly as her boss fluttered around the customer delicately, leading her off to the side and away from the scene she had created, but not before shooting Moana a sharp glare. Who knew working in retail would be so hard? Moana groaned, her head falling gracelessly into her arms on the counter in front of her. A hand touched her shoulder carefully, and she looked up to meet a tan brunette with kind green eyes.

“You look like you need an early lunch break, Mo,” Fi smiled down at her gently. Moana opened her mouth to protest, but the tall woman beat her to it, “Go,” she laughed, “I’ll cover you. You could do with some caffeine,”
Moana smiled gratefully as she stood, significantly smaller than the willowy woman by at least a foot, “Thanks, Fi. You’re the best,”

She slipped out of the store quickly, grabbing her bag and coat before walking out onto the busy high street in front of her.

How Moana found herself in the cafe on the corner was beyond her. She supposed Fi’s remark on caffeine had unknowingly drawn her to the small coffee shop. Well, small was sort of an understatement. Lalotai was one of those buildings that looked small on the outside, but opened up into a much larger room. The lights were low, casting a slight shadow over the room and illuminating the deep purple walls ominously. There was music playing; she could pick out the undertones of a glam rock-y bass line, but the crowd was too loud for her to tell what it actually was. Speaking of Lalotai’s customers, every table in the joint was taken and the line stretching from the till to the doors was longer than she had expected for an independent business. Moana busied herself with her phone as she waited.

The mass was almost suffocating, if not slightly rowdy, but she quickly lost herself in the world of the internet. So lost that she barely even noticed when she got to the front of the line.

“What can I getcha, kid?” a smooth voice brought her back to the land of the living.

Moana let out a slightly aggressive “Excuse me?!” (She was just short, okay?!), but the words died slightly in the back of her throat as she snapped her eyes away from her phone. Stood, looking slightly out of place but completely at ease, behind the counter was a tall, chiselled God of a man. He had sun kissed skin and dark eyes, one thick eyebrow raised in obvious amusement. A smirk spread across his face slowly, and no, she was not intimidated. His huge hands rested on the counter separating them, black mandatory shirt sleeves rolled up to expose a sea of tattoos scaling his bare arms.

“What can I get you, you know, to drink? That is what you came here for, right?” He chuckled, and she felt heat rise to her face as her scowl deepened.

“I didn’t- that’s not what I- why would I-,” Moana cut herself off and ground out a, “Black coffee, two sugars,”

“You got it, kiddo- can I get your name?” The barista winked, smirk growing in size. She spluttered slightly, halfway through sliding her money onto the counter, mouth hanging open ready to protest- “Calm it, Curly, it’s for the cup,” He laughed again, and Moana blinked, fully aware that her face probably resembled that of a tomato. She subconsciously pushed her hair out of her face.

“Oh, uh, Moana,”

“Moa-what?”

Moana,”

“Monana?”

“Mo-a-na!”

“Moa- for gods- forget it,” The man scribbled something onto the side of her cup and passed it to the tall woman behind him, who got to work making her drink. She huffed indignantly and stepped to the side so that he could serve the next in line, painfully conscious to his eyes trained on her as she stood fidgeting.

It felt like an eternity had passed of awkward standing around before the tall woman finally turned around, with Moana’s drink in tow. Moana was slightly taken aback; despite her short red pixie cut, pasty skin (a sharp contrast to the dark, shadowy light) and fiery amber eyes, she bore a strong resemblance to Fi. She shook off the thought, however, when Fi’s doppelganger’s permanent scowl grew as she rolled her yellow eyes and dryly called out,

“Black coffee, two sugars for Curly-,” The redhead cut herself off swiftly and turned her sharp gaze onto the man behind the till, hissing venomously under her breath, “Maui, I am NOT reading this out, you creep,”

The barista- Maui (and he thought SHE had a weird name)- smirked, replying without looking up from the register “I’m not creepy, Kate, I’m suave,”

Kate practically growled in response, pushing the cup onto the counter. Moana snatched it up quickly, her eyes growing wide and her cheeks glowing red as she read the message he had scrawled onto her cup;

Curly – Are you a piece of art because I’d like to nail you up against a wall

Moana stood completely still for a whole of five seconds before whirling round, hitting herself in the face with her hair and storming through the crowd as fast as she possibly could, all the while feeling Maui’s burning gaze scorching a hole into the back of her head.

He watched her with a grin as she slammed the door and practically ran down the high street. Kate shot him a pointed look as they swapped positions, her at the register and him working the machines, and he let out a loud laugh.

“One day, you’re gonna get yourself fired,” She shook her head at him. How was he supposed to help himself, though? The girl was stunning, all big brown eyes and thick black lashes, with full lips that made him want to pull her over the counter and kiss her senseless, not to mention that she was a little spitfire with the voice of a freaking goddess- he couldn’t just let this complete stranger walk away and forget him!

“She’ll be back,” Maui hummed under his breath. Kate rolled her eyes again in reply.

A/N:  So this silly little fic is the product of the writer’s block I’ve been having on my bigger Moana fic which I hope to be posting soon. I’d like to continue this fic if I get enough positive reactions and reviews, though, since it was fun to write and so far I haven’t come across any Modern Moaui fics!! Leave a like if you enjoyed it and thanks for reading!!

Pidge: *shaves her legs for the first time since the garrison*

Pidge: So smoooooth. Lance feel my legs.

Lance: What?

Pidge: *sticks leg in Lance’s face* Feel them. They’re smooth.

Lance: *touches her legs*

Lance: … Oh my god they’re so smooth.

Pidge: I know!!

Lance: Hunk!! Come here!!

Hunk: What?

Pidge: Feel my legs.

Hunk: *blinks*

Lance: They’re so smooth dude you’ve gotta feel.

Hunk: *feels Pidge’s leg*

Hunk: Oh my God you’re right.

Shiro: *walks in* What’s going on here??

Pidge: Shiro come feel my legs!!

Shiro: Uh what?

Pidge: They’re super smooth.

Shiro: Maybe later.

Keith: What’s smooth?

Pidge: My legs come feel.

Keith: *shrugs and touches leg*

Keith: Did you put lotion on them?

Pidge: I shaved them.

Keith: Nice.

Shiro: *blinks and walks away*

[ Have a twerking Akane for your dash  ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) ]

Sexting - Joker X Reader

Originally posted by psychojokerjl

Imagine sexting with J: 

Joker text: Send me a pic doll ;)

You text: *sends a pic*

You text: Enjoy bad boy

Joker: “Oh my goodness..It’s so smooth” *Turning the phone horizontally so he can see it better* 

Joker text: Can wait for you to come home x

Marvin Gaye

A request by @kammykicks

Let’s Marvin Gaye and get it on
You got that healing that I want
Just like they say it in the song
Until the dawn, let’s Marvin Gaye and get it on

“Oh my god Penny! Come on! I love this song it’s so smooth.” You gush grabbing your best friends hand.
“I don’t know, why don’t you go and I’ll watch our stuff.”
“Fine. Party pooper.” You tease weaving your way out to the dance floor. Your hips are swaying to the beat, grinding down against the air.

We got this king size to ourselves
Don’t have to share with no one else
Don’t keep your secrets to yourself
It’s Kama sutra show and tell

Suddenly another body is moving against yours. Not in the gross fuck-you-through-your-jeans kind of movement but smooth, like he knows what he’s doing. You glance over at Penelope and shoot her the eyebrow raise asking if he’s hot. She nods eyes wide.

Woah
There’s loving in your eyes
That pulls me closer
It’s so subtle
I’m in trouble
But I’d love to be in trouble with you

You turn toward him and see that, indeed he is super hot. Dark skin, a clean clipped goatee and bald head. Normally you like a guy with nice hair but he rocks the bald look. He’s got some tribal tattoos that are peeking out from under his shirt. As you sway against one another to the music his hand is resting on your lower back.

Let’s Marvin Gaye and get it on
You got the healing that I want
Just like they say it in the song
Until the dawn, let’s Marvin Gaye and get it on

He’s not really grinding against you like most guys. He’s swaying and rolling his hips in time with yours. God can he move. You put an arm over his shoulder bringing your bodies even closer you feel his breath slide across your cheek as you move in closer. Your bodies are moving completely in sync, like you were meant to move together like this.

You got to give it up to me
I’m screaming mercy, mercy please
Just like they say it in the song
Until the dawn, let’s Marvin Gaye and get it on

He moves around behind you again and mutters in your ear, “Sorry beautiful he was getting a bit too up in my space.” You grin as the man he was talking about does a spin move and keeps on dancing wildly to the music. Your new friend moves close again and places his hands on your hips.

And when you leave me all alone
I’m like a stray without a home
I’m like a dog without a bone
I just want you for my own
I got to have you babe

You lean back into his chest, yup, just as ripped as you expected him to be. His fingertips brush the skin that’s been exposed between the bottom of your shirt and the top of your jeans. It has to be 90° on the dance floor but when his rough hands brush the soft skin of your stomach you get the chills.

Woah
There’s loving in your eyes
That pulls me closer
It’s so subtle
I’m in trouble
But I’d love to be in trouble with you

You drop your head back against him and close your eyes as the two of you continue to move together to the music. You place your hands on his wrists, not to remove his hands but to keep them where they are. The chemistry between you is crazy, it’s like you’ve known him forever.

Let’s Marvin Gaye and get it on
You got the healing that I want
Just like they say it in the song
Until the dawn, let’s Marvin Gaye and get it on

He turns you back around toward him and you’re straddling one of his legs as he pulls you as close to him as possible. Your bodies are crushed together, and you throw both your arms around his neck as he loops his around your waist.

Let’s Marvin Gaye and get it on
You got the healing that I want
Just like they say it in the song
Until the dawn, let’s Marvin Gaye and get it on, babe

Your faces are inches apart. You’ve never danced like this with someone before. You meet his eyes and he grins a slow, seductive smile at you. Your heart is pounding but not from the dancing that the two of you have been doing. He really is just too attractive.

I’m screaming mercy, mercy please
Just like they say it in the song
Until the dawn, let’s Marvin Gaye and get it on

It’s like he’s a magnet. You can’t seem to stop yourself from slowly moving closer and closer. His lips are just a breath from yours. He closes the gap between your mouths, pressing his lips to yours hungrily. One of his hands has come up to cup the back of your head as he slips his tongue into your mouth.

Just like they say it in a song
Until the dawn, let’s Marvin Gaye and get it on
Oooh

He pulls away from you as the song ends and dips you on the last note causing you to laugh.
“You’re not here by yourself are you?” He asks.
“No I came with my best friend.” You glance over at Penelope whose watching the two of you with her mouth open in surprise. She also looks surprisingly thrilled. “You?”
“Came to meet my best friend.” He says with a charming smile. “I guess she has a friend she wants to introduce me to.”
“Ah, well I hope I haven’t ruined her plans.”
“Well from the looks of it we may be talking about the same woman.” You look at him in surprise and he nods in Penelope’s direction. You look back over at her to see that she’s squealing and clapping her hands. She’s definitely thrilled. “Are you Margot?”
“Derek?” He nods and you both laugh then head to the freaking out blonde.
Thank you Charlie Puth. You think with a smirk as Derek wraps your hand in his.

fujkin

anonymous asked:

This is probably a question you get asked frequently but that Atem cosplay oh my god, how did you make all the good look so smooth and detailed??? It looks like magic

Thanks a lot 💕
I wrote a little tutorial over here ~> klick

erosfully  asked:

blaise & parvati for the slytherdor ship thing! 🌹 idk why but i just can't get over those two 🍵 thank you 🕊

[ in which blaise is still magic, and parvati is the most interesting thing to happen to him in a decade. for the @slytherdornet halloween challenge ]

  • to set the scene:
  • it’s nighttime. the creeptastic old cemetery where senior f®ight night is taking place is dark and desolate, and the silhouettes of crumbling headstones that haven’t been touched in a century look kind of like teeth. the moon is crescent-shaped, glowing that eerie, buttery yellow that’s trying just a little too hard to fit in for halloween, and there’s a dented aluminum keg propped up on a wheelbarrow next to the cast-iron fence that’s meant to keep people out of the woods.
  • blaise just wants a fucking cigarette.
  • and he knows why he’s there—“blend in, darling, that’s how we survive”—but he doesn’t know why some asshole with fake jheri curls is using blaise’s lighter to set a fucking pumpkin on fire.
  • “what,” blaise says, out loud, unable to fully mask his irritation. if he really wanted to, he could light up a whole pack of marlboros with just a tiny bit of friction between his fingertips, but—“magic is for saving lives and taking them, darling, nothing else”—party tricks are kind of beneath him at this point. he’s not one of those losers reading tarot cards on the boardwalk for twenty bucks and a misguided sense of purpose. obviously.
  • “right?” the girl next to him murmurs, slanting a commiserating glance his way. she’s pretty, he supposes, absently cataloguing smooth brown skin and expressively dark eyes and a twinkling garnet stud in her nose. there’s something else there, though, something hazy, almost, about how she’s looking at him. he doesn’t recognize her, but he’s pretty fucking positive he wouldn’t forget her, so. “guy’s a total pyro. voted for the senior prank to be, like, burning down the cafeteria.”
  • blaise literally does not care.
  • not about the senior prank, or the pyro, or this party, or the stultifying, too-familiar echo of petty high school gossip. he’s used to ignoring it. but his scalp is prickling, and his blood is running a little hotter than usual, a little stickier, which—“flare-ups aren’t uncommon, darling, not when we’re in close proximity to one another”—can’t be possible. makes zero goddamn sense. this girl still has her cheerleading uniform on from the game earlier. she’s probably going to start talking to him about fucking nail polish soon. he’s safe.
  • “i’m parvati,” the girl introduces herself, gaze slightly sharper than it had been. it shouldn’t be, honestly. liquid velvet shouldn’t have edges like a knife. “you’re new around here, aren’t you?”
  • “not really,” blaise replies, coolly, crossing his arms over his chest. he’s not wearing a costume. the idiot pyro had asked him if he was dressed as “black james dean” before his eyes had glazed over at the sight of the cheap green lighter in blaise’s pocket. “i don’t normally come to these…things.”
  • “these things,” parvati repeats, sounding amused. “so, why are you here now?
  • he shrugs, parting his lips with the barbell in his tongue, and thinks wistfully of charred tobacco and chicory-flavored smoke and silence. fuck. maybe he’d be better off hiding out with a crystal ball at a rust-bucket carnival in, like, ohio.
  • “hm,” she says, looking contemplative—looking frustrated—before she blinks it all away, feather-long lashes sweeping down over her cheeks. blaise is beginning to feel like he’s missing something. “well, it was…nice to meet you. here. let me get that back for you.”
  • he wrinkles his nose with an annoying twitch of confusion. “what are you talking about?”
  • she smirks.
  • his stomach does a fucking somersault.
  • and then she’s flicking her wrist, a preternaturally graceful movement that reminds him of jasmine gardens and lace-topped silk stockings and the past“we all have a millennia’s worth of memories in our veins, darling, we are history”—and blaise’s chipped Bic lighter is floating over to him, blurry with magic, invisible, most likely, to everyone but them.
  • “have a good night,” she whispers, voice smug and soft and lyrical, a siren’s song trapped behind plush red lips—“your allure can take many different forms, darling, just as your response to others’ can”—and blaise has to swallow, throat abruptly very, very dry.
  • “wait,” he blurts out, belatedly, swearing at himself in three different dead languages for not realizing sooner, for being so fucking comfortable with the monotony of his own boredom that he hadn’t even noticed that he wasn’t bored anymore. jesus. “hey. parvati, you said? i’m—”
  • “too late,” she interrupts, cutting him off with a deceptively sweet smile.
  • she turns to walk away, flipping a rope of thick, shiny black hair over her shoulder, a truly magnificent display that he doubts she’s ever had to practice. no. nothing so pedestrian. not from her.
  • he lets her go, though.
  • this time.

want one? send me a slytherdor ship for halloween!