#taxi kebab

[fragmentsdecuticule]

On repeat.

[x-heesy]

𝗙𝗥𝗘𝝠𝗞𝗜𝗡𝗚𝗙𝗨𝗖𝗞𝗜𝗡𝗚𝗕𝗘𝝠𝗨𝗧𝗜𝗙𝗨𝗟

𝗠𝝝𝗡𝗗𝝠𝗬 𝗠𝝝𝗧𝗜𝗩𝝠𝗧𝗜𝝝𝗡

𝗧𝗛𝗜𝗭𝗭 𝗜𝗭 𝝠 𝗚𝗜𝗙 𝝠𝗧𝗧𝝠𝗖𝗞

𝗪𝝝𝗡𝗗𝗘𝗥𝗙𝗨𝗟 𝗜 𝗖𝝝𝗨𝗟𝗗 𝗖𝗥𝗬

𝗟𝝝𝗦𝗧 𝗜𝗡 𝗦𝗧𝗘𝗥𝗘𝝝

𝗠𝝝𝝝𝗗 𝗕𝝝𝝠𝗥𝗗

𝗛𝗘𝗟𝗟 𝗬 𝝠𝗦𝗦

𝗚 𝝝 𝗗 𝗜 𝗦 𝝠 𝗗 𝗝

ΓЯДCҜФFΓHΞDДУ

𝗜 𝝠𝗠 𝝠 𝗗𝝠𝗡𝗖𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗦𝝠𝗡𝗗𝗪𝗜𝗖𝗛 🎧💃🏽🕺🏼🪩🚀💥

#panicdynamicpandemic #trackoftheday #gifattack #gifmania #moody #edm 4 my habibi @noramahmood97 #electronicmusic #shakewhatyamamagaveya #raaaaven #electroshockboogie #dancemfdance #partymusic #lostinmusic #thankslordformusick

Ttabla - Musique de Fête, Vol. 2 by TAXI KEBAB

[zelzelez]

losing my shit and finding so much fun with, in, over this song!!!

[sixeye-sketch]

waiting for the replacement busses for our train to be staffed after a failed excursion to some german mountains. we were delayed two hours due to the train fuckery and all instructions being in german and then one more hour when i drank a bottled rum&cola and got nervous and got us off at the wrong station (dark shoutout to oberau). thoughts on that glued in here to prevent the page from disintegrating due to all the red paint i poured over it earlier. also that's some water damage in the top center likely from sweat

[paulpingminho]

[toomuchracket]

falling for you (flatmate!matty x reader)

promptober day 10, and there was nobody else i could have written this for. a fluffy but slightly angsty pining lovesick moment, before the two of you are actually flatmates and you're just babies on nights out in manc. i hope you enjoy!

p.s. yeah, i know the pic is the wrong era for this, lol. but it's alllll about the vibes <3

matty's trying his damnedest not to stare at you right now.

he's failing miserably, though. the copious amount of alcohol in his body is rinsing all the sense out of his brain - well, what little you hadn't already stolen from him when you met him earlier outside your halls of residence, all made-up and glowing - and he really cannot tear his eyes away from you, saying bye to your friends at the door of the nightclub.

matty blinks, and self-awareness hits him like a freight train. nah. he's being weird. he needs to get a grip.

but then you turn towards him, waiting on behalf of both of you in the cloakroom queue, and you smile, and all thoughts about stopping looking at you fly out of matty's head. how can he be expected to focus on anything but that face of yours? the vodka's made your beautiful eyes softer, and a combination of marlboros and mac lipstick have made your lips pouty and kissable. well, more so than usual, matty thinks.

he's so distracted by your beauty that he almost doesn't hear the cloakroom attendant shout him up to the window. stumbling slightly - he'd say over his own feet, you'd say due to drunkenness (and you'd be right) - matty exchanges his two tickets for the jackets you and him had been all but forced to wear to prevent the freezing october air getting to you, and wanders over to you. wordlessly, in a well-rehearsed routine, he slings his own jacket over his shoulder as he helps you into yours.

you murmur a thank you. "you hungry?"

for you, yes. for a kebab, no, matty wishes he could say. but he can't, so he just shakes his head.

"neither am i," you say, helping him zip up his leather jacket. your dexterity has been diminished by your drinking, and one of the fringes on the sleeve of your own coat gets stuck between the metal teeth of his. clearly, your brain has also been affected by the alcohol; you frown at the zip, unable to see why it won't move. "huh?"

matty smiles, moving to help you. "got caught on your coat. sorry, darlin'."

"oh, s'fine. thanks," you reply, as you're unstuck once again. with a smile, you hold a hand out to matty. "shall we?"

like he'd ever say no to you. "we shall."

and the walk back to your uni begins.

if it had been raining, matty would have done the gentlemanly thing and sprung for a taxi. but it isn't, for once; actually, he thinks, it's kind of a perfect night. the sky is inky-black, devoid of any clouds, and the two of you are just drunk enough that the streetlights look just as pretty as the stars you can't see from so far into the city like this. he's more thankful for the cold air now than he was before the two of you went out - after the close heat of the nightclub, and the internal glow of the however many shots you did, the coolness is welcome. that, and it forces you to secure matty's hand in your own for warmth, which is maybe the most perfect aspect of the night, in his opinion.

naturally, then, a pang of heartbreak hits him when you break the hold to rifle through your handbag. when you procure a half-empty pack of cigs, though, it dissipates.

"want one?" you ask, holding the open end of the packet towards matty.

"no thanks, sweetheart," he says. he isn't lying: the thought of anything clouding his vision of you, even cigarette smoke, is unbearable. but then a spark of an idea crackles somewhere in his brain - whether it's in spite of or because of his tipsy state, matty isn't sure, but either way it tells him he shouldn't be so quick to refuse. so, tentatively, he continues speaking. "i'll gladly share one with you, though."

you take your time answering, slowly pulling a cig from the pack and shoving the rest back in your bag, then digging around for your lighter. matty chews his cheeks during this performance, terror that he's overstepped a friendship boundary of some sort beginning to creep up his spine. but then you shrug, and say "alright", and he's fine.

well, he's not fine, actually - the next words that leave your mouth are "need your help to light it, though, matty". 

fuck. his hands so close to your jaw, close enough that he could take hold of it and kiss you before his brain could convince him that it was too much of a risk to your friendship? that's dangerous.

god, he's so drunk. and so definitely in love with you.

what matty is first and foremost, though, is a good friend. shoving down any and all romantic and/or sexual thoughts about you and your lips as best he can (which is, admittedly, not very well), he turns to face you and takes the lighter from your hand. "c'mere then."

when you oblige, silently, and look up at him with your lips parted and those sparkly doe eyes of yours, matty bites the inside of his lip so hard he feels it bleed. christ. this was perhaps a bad idea.

but the cig is right there, waiting to be lit, so he takes a deep breath, cupping the lighter as he flicks the flame into existence and brings it to your mouth. the orange glow illuminates you quite beautifully, and suddenly matty's head is filled with thoughts of you across from him, like you are now, but sat at a candlelit, white-clothed table with a glass of wine and a fancy dinner before you. and, if he's being honest, also with thoughts of you underneath him, face blissful and softly lit by the candles dotted around the room as he fucks you slowly and tenderly.

for fuck's sake. you're his best friend. he can't be thinking of you like that. why can't he stop thinking about you like that tonight? maybe he's going insane. he has no idea. but whatever is compelling him seems to lessen as you step back and exhale the smoke. "thank you, babe."

babe? that's new. but not unwelcome, not at all. matty feels his heart flutter at the pet name.

"s'alright," he smiles. now it's his turn to hold out a hand. "shall we keep going?"

"mhmm," you quickly take another puff of the cig, before sliding it between matty's lips with a giggle and taking his hand; you have to tug him forward a few paces before he regains control of his brain, but he quickly manages it, and the walk home continues.

for the most part, it's uneventful, aside from the alien feeling of your hand constantly in matty's. that is, until he tries to be clever and inhale the cig mid-conversation, and ends up exhaling directly in your face when you turn to listen to him without him fully noticing.

you cough a little bit when the smoke hits you, and matty panics (and internally facepalms. what a fucking idiot he is) as he throws the cig on the ground and stamps it out. "shit! i'm so sorry, sweetheart, i didn't mean that! you alright?"

"s'ok, i'm ok, don't worry," you assure him, waving away both his fretting and the lingering smoke. when it clears from in front of your face, matty's heartbeat increases as he takes in your amused smile and your even-more-sparkly-than-earlier eyes. you're beautiful. you're fucking glowing. and you're tucking yourself under his arm and cosying into his side as you walk. jesus christ. "this is a lot better for us, don't you think?"

matty's cheeks lift into a smile. "definitely."

it really is better, matty thinks, walking towards the front door of your halls with you snuggled into his chest. much like every other aspect of matty's life, you fit seamlessly into his side - you just feel so right there, so natural, as if the two of you were biologically designed to be together. maybe someday, he hopes, you will be; not two best friends traipsing into uni accommodation for a post-night out sleepover, but a pair of lovers heading home after a date.

he doubts that'll actually happen, given that he'd have to go through the impossible task of telling you how he feels first, but still. it's a nice distant daydream, one he's still giddily thinking about when you unlock the front door and pull him through several more until you reach your bedroom.

you groan when you flick the light on and see the state of your bed, makeup palettes and hair products and failed outfit options strewn across it. matty immediately jumps into problem-solving mode; anything to stop you being unhappy, after all. "where do you want all this stuff, darlin'?"

"the fucking floor," you grumble.

"so… where i'm meant to sleep?"

your head snaps up, and you catch matty's eye in the mirror as you take your earrings out. "well," you turn to face him, your expression… nervous? "you could just, y'know, share the bed with me."

oh. matty can feel his heart pounding in his ears, diminishing the volume of your continuing (and frantic) monologue: "i mean, i know it'll be tight cos it's a single, and you've always insisted on sleeping on the floor even when i've offered to let you have the bed, but it's really cold tonight and i wouldn't mind the extra heat, and at least if we're sharing i know you won't be freezing and you'll be comfy, yeah?"

"ok," matty says, despite barely registering anything you said in his fugue state. he's drunk, and lovesick, but he's not an idiot. "yeah. we'll share."

your face breaks into a relieved smile. "ok. good. um, before that, would you…?"

"oh, of course," matty darts over to you as quickly as he can, while you turn to face the mirror again and lift your hair up. slowly, with fingers fumbling just as much from nerves as from alcohol consumption, he undoes the zip on the back of your dress. the perfume still lingering on the back of your neck clouds his brain with every breath he takes, and the organ threatens to completely shut down when matty pulls the zip down low enough to reveal a lack of bra clasps underneath your outfit. once he's finished undoing you, he steps back while he still has the ability to do so, turning away from you. "there you go."

"thank you," comes the reply from behind him, followed by the sounds of fabric rustling and drawers opening. matty busies himself with carefully clearing your bed, only turning back round when you tap his arm; he smiles when he sees you in a big t-shirt, hair shoved up messily and makeup half-removed, holding out a pair of sweatpants he recognises as his. "you left these here last time. i thought you might want them to sleep in. and i did wash them, before you ask."

you roll your eyes as matty presses the trousers to his nose anyway as a joke - when he registers that his clothes now smell like you and your washing powder, however, it stops being funny in favour of being lovelorn-inducing. but his smile quickly returns when he properly notices the design on the t-shirt you're wearing. "i cannot believe you're wearing a drive like i do shirt to bed. thought you were more proud of me, to be honest, darlin'."

"of course i am, but it's comfy," you protest, brow furrowing in the most adorable way as you frown. it softens wistfully as you continue. "and it reminds me of home."

weird, matty thinks. you're not from- oh. christ.

he's home, to you. 

what a fucking thought that is. matty's not quite sure how he's managing to stay sane, but he smiles, pulling you into a tight hug and stroking your back. "that's very lovely of you, sweetheart."

"s'just the truth," you reach up on tiptoe to pat matty on the head, before pulling away. he misses you immediately. "you wanna get ready for bed?"

does he ever. 

matty nods, kicking his shoes off and quickly undressing while you climb into bed. despite the fact you've seen him in shorts and nothing else before, he wonders if he should feel self-conscious as he strips to his underwear in front of you; something's definitely different with the two of you tonight, matty's sure of it, and he can't quite tell if that's a good or bad thing. probably good, although that might be wishful thinking on his part, just like the way he's convinced your eyes linger on his torso with interest in the mirror when he takes his shirt off.

anyway. clad in his sweatpants and no more, matty climbs into your single bed. he tries to get as comfy as he can, facing away from and without touching you - whether that's to ensure your space and comfort or to stop himself from agonising over how much he likes you, matty has no idea. he isn't comfortable in the slightest, but he'll endure it.

you, on the other hand, have other ideas. with a sigh of "daft boy", you move forward so your body is against matty's back, slinging an arm and leg over his front and spooning him. "is this alright? i figured it was the best way to keep us warm."

"it's perfect, sweetheart," matty replies, and he isn't lying. despite how much it hurts being so close to you and repressing how he really feels about you, matty's surprisingly chill about the way you're clinging to him. cautiously, but feeling compelled to do so, he brings his hand up to stroke your thigh; when you hum contentedly, matty rests it there. "goodnight."

"mmm, night," you yawn out, the blanket of sleep falling on you fast. "love you."

matty smiles, half sadly, half dreamily. "love you too, darlin'."

the next day, he writes a new song.

[tarttheart]

DESIGNATED DRIVER - JAMIE TARTT x YOU

summary: you spend a night out before Jamie picks you up and takes you home.

word count: 800+

warnings: language, alcohol consumption

It was Friday night. One of your good friends from work was leaving which could only mean it was going to be a long fucking night out on the town.

You messaged Jamie to let him know you would be home late and not to wait up because lord alone knew what time you would actually be done.

Jamie: text when you’re done yeh? I’ll come get ya

You: don’t worry about it, I’ll take a taxi.

You smiled and pocketed your phone appreciating the thought but not wanting to trouble your boyfriend who was going to be up at 4am to start his daily workout.

It was the third bar of the night and you were about nine drinks deep and making merry with your workmates. Everyone laughed at the odd tales another colleague’s girlfriend brought to the table and reminisced about all the crazy nights they had had prior to this one.

One more stop, one more stop. It was your last drink of the night and you watched on as the group played darts. It had been a long one and you were tired. What you would give to teleport home and snuggle up to Jamie. You smiled at the thought although you knew the last thing you wanted to do was wake him when you got into bed that night. Poor thing definitely needed his beauty sleep.

Jamie: surely you’re done soon?

You: go to sleep babe, I’ll be heading home soon.

Jamie: don’t move a fucking muscle, I’ll be there soon.

You supported one of your managers in his quest to stay upright while the rest of the group finished their game of darts before everyone made their way to the nearby kebab shop. While you were hungry, a kebab just did not seem appealing. There was no way you would feel comfortable taking a messy kebab into Jamie’s expensive car. Even though you knew he would tolerate it for you, you were also well aware that it would hurt his soul if you got anything dirty.

You stood with the group as everyone took their time finishing their kebabs on the side of the road.

“What are you waiting for?” One of them asked as you stood without any food and had made no effort to hail down a taxi yet.

“My boyfriend is coming to pick me.”

“Ooooooh,” one of your friends teased.

You blushed. While it was common knowledge that you had a boyfriend, his identity remained a mystery to most. He never joined the merriment given his strict workout regimen and you never brought it up because the last thing you wanted it to sound like was bragging. Yes, most of your mates were guys and they were not going to ask to be hooked up with a soccer player but it still was not something you were going to openly advertise.

“That’s a sick car,” one of the guys commented as the flashy car you know so well made its way down the street.

“Well, that’s my ride,” you said as casually as you could while waving Jamie down to the surprise of the group.

“Holy fucking shit,” another colleague swore, “is that Jamie Tartt?”

You got in and gave Jamie a little peck before waving your final goodbye to some of the shocked faces. You felt bad that one of your best friends from work was going to have to field the questions but not enough to dwell on it.

“Do you work with any girls?” Jamie asked and you knew it came from a place of curiosity and not jealousy. Okay, maybe a little bit of jealousy.

“I do, they’ve already left.”

“Right, right. Drank them under the table, did yeh? How much have you had to drink, love?”

You slowly counted up the rounds in your head before responding with a sheepish “11”.

Jamie shook his head and laughed. Your alcohol tolerance was one of those things that surprised most people and while you were slightly embarrassed by its implications, you were also proud of being able to hold your own in a male-dominated team. Being able to drink your weight in alcohol meant you had been quickly accepted as one of the team and it made a chunk of your job so much easier when you were able to become friendly with most of your colleagues over a pint or ten. Whether that was fair or not was debatable but you felt lucky to benefit from it.

Jamie grabbed the bottle of water in his console and forced it into your hands.

“Drink up, we don’t want you too hungover tomorrow.”

You nodded and took a big swig of water, enjoying how refreshing the plain beverage was after a night of alcohol.

“Missed you tonight,” you admitted.

Sure, it was fun having a big night out with good friends but it did not always measure up to cuddling with Jamie on the couch after dinner while you watched some TV.

“I missed you too, love,” he said, looking over with a smile as you watched him lovingly.

“Can’t wait to cuddle when we get home.”

“Me too.”

[tmrwds]

Sinkkumies lyrics + English translation

Siit on aikaa kun oon taas single man Ruokavalio Olvi ja king kebab Mä oon tikissä ku Till Lindemann Vapailla markkinoilla keeping my head up Olin kiinni suhteessa josta jäi henkiset mustelmat Nousin siivilleni uudestaan

On taksit pihalla ja nyt on aikaa baarei kiertää Pääl parhainta parfyymii koska ei voi haista hieltä Vielä jaksaa vaik oon jo toista viikkoo putkeen tien pääl Mutta minne tie viekään sitä ei voi tietää

Nyt nautin hetkestä Kun en oo nyxä vaan exä Ei ole väliä mistä herään Tai kenen vierestä On aika nostaa purjetta Ja antaa tuulen kuljettaa

Sinkkumies sinkkumies Liitelee linnun lailla tuo mies Sinkkumies sinkkumies Vapailla markkinoilla tuo mies Sinkkumies sinkkumies Minne lie matkalla tuo sinkkumies Ken tietää

Siit on aikaa kun oon taas single man (???) Ku oon ulkona muutaman dillen kaa Pasin, Karin ja Villen kaa Mul on himassa tunnelmaa Voin mitä vaan kattoo ja kuunnella Mä elän sinkun suurinta unelmaa

On moottoritie niin kuuma Ja se kiehtoo miestä Nuo kauniit neidot hameissaan vie katseen tiestä Vielä jaksaa vaik oon jo toista viikkoo putkeen tien pääl Mutta minne tie viekään sitä ei voi tietää

Nyt nautin hetkestä Kun en oo nyxä vaan exä Ei ole väliä mistä herään Tai kenen vierestä On aika nostaa purjetta Ja antaa tuulen kuljettaa

Sinkkumies sinkkumies Liitelee linnun lailla tuo mies Sinkkumies sinkkumies Vapailla markkinoilla tuo mies Sinkkumies sinkkumies Minne lie matkalla tuo sinkkumies Ken tietää

(??) Kun sinkkumies täysin huolta vailla juhlii Ilman että toinen puolisko kaipaa mustii sukkii

Liitelee linnun lailla tuo sinkkumies Vapailla markkinoilla tuo sinkkumies Minne lie matkalla tuo sinkkumies Ken tietää

---

English:

Been a while since I was a single man My diet is Olvi and king kebab I'm fit like Till Lindeman In the free market keeping my head up I was tied in a relationship that left me emotionally bruised I've risen on my wings again

The taxi is at the yard and now I have time to roam the bars Wearing the best perfume because can't smell like sweat Still keeping up even thought it's my second week straight on the road But where the road takes me, there's no knowing

Now I'm enjoying the moment As I'm not the current but the ex It doesn't matter where I wake up from Or next to who It's time to set sail And let the wind carry me

Single man single man Flying like a bird, that man Single man single man In the free market, that man Single man single man Wherever is he going, that single man Who knows

It's been a while since I was a single man (???) When I'm out with a few fools With Pasi, Kari and Ville I have a [good] atmosphere at home I can watch and listen to anything I'm living single's biggest dream

The highway is so hot And it fascinates the man Those beautiful ladies in their skirts take my eyes off the road Still keeping up even thought it's my second week straight on the road But where the road takes me, there's no knowing

Now I'm enjoying the moment As I'm not the current but the ex It doesn't matter where I wake up from Or next to who It's time to set sail And let the wind carry me

Single man single man Flying like a bird, that man Single man single man In the free market, that man Single man single man Wherever is he going, that single man Who knows

(???) When the single man parties without any worries Without the other half needing to be jealous

Flying like a bird, that single man In the free market, that single man Wherever is he going, that single man Who knows

[stormoflina]

Happy New Year's Eve to everyone! 😁🎉🍷

I saw the tiktok boys doing this trend in the international break, and the idea stayed with me, and it's fitting rn anyway. If it's lame I will just blame my friends for giving me bad experiences 😸

Rating how a night-out with lfc players would go (this is for the girlies, do mind that):

Virg: You would feel the most safe and relaxed on a night-out in your whole entire life. Virg would literally scare all unwanted comments and wandering hands just with his aura. He would buy you whisky, trying to be fancy, but by the end of the night you would be on your 4th beer together, doing karaoke. He would leave by like 1 am tho. 9/10

Tsimi: he drinks one vodka-redbull and it's over. And by that I mean it's not really over, quite the opposite actually. Not leaving the club until they literally close. He would be bouncing up the walls, dancing with everyone, chatting up to strangers while waiting for drinks, running around, making new best friends every bathroom break, falling in love at least 3 times just that night. A nice, eventful night, but by the end, you would probably be exhausted. 7/10

Joey: Ngl, you would probably be kinda worried about partying with him, thinking he's a bit dull or the atmosphere will be awkward... Only to be completely wrong and for you to have the best night of your life? He takes shots like a champ, smooth dance moves,a great wingman and has the best drunk advice to your drunk first world problems. He also knows the best place to get kebab place after the club and walks you home. 10/10

Ibou: Go out with him and you will have the time of your life. Takes the best pictures and tags you, likes and comments, just to get the guy you like all hot and bothered. Pretends he doesn't understand English and starts cursing out people in French, just because. Outfit on point. -1 point for making your stomach hurt from laughing too much. 9/10

Robbo: It's either a heartfelt hug and temple kisses while pouring your heart out kind of night or trying to use the street lamps as a strip pole while laughing like the two of you have lost your minds kind of night. Brings his own alcohol for pre gaming, because "it's much better, trust me." He's never a quiet person, both with each drink he has, the volume of his voice just increases. He tries to guess the dick size of random guys who try to chat you up. You will need 2-3 days to recover from this night, but it's all worth it. 10/10

Darwin: Unlike Kostas, Darwin is NOT allowed to drink redbull-vodkas, not under any circumstances. Instead he drinks literally anything else. He especially likes those colourful cocktails. When they start to hit, he picks up the straws and pretends he is a walrus. Who cares about the language barrier, you can communicate just fine by dancing together. Darwin is a really good dancer, alright, all eyes glued to him. Somehow he gets into a fight and gets thrown out. He claims he is innocent, but who actually knows. There are always other clubs! 8/10

Joel: When you ask him out he just glares at you with raised eyebrows. Still, he shows up, with an unimpressed expression glued to his face all night until they start playing Timberland. Suddenly the coconut man is all arms up and legs moving. He leaves randomly before midnight without telling you tho. 5/10

Trent: The night kinda takes a wrong route before it can even start, when he makes a bet about which one of you can take more shots without stopping. Trent wins, his eyes sparkling and a relaxed, loop-sided smile already plastered on his face. He pays for the taxi and is extremely smug about the girls he claims he will get. Tries to make another bet with you on who can pull the most. Ends up sulking after he gets rejected (nevermind that literally everyone else wants a piece of him). He doesn't dance, just stands like a stick, licking his lips and holding his drink. Starts asking horny questions after 2 am. 8.5/10

Macca: Takes forever to pee, because he starts making friends with everyone in the bathrooms. Brings his own personalized maté cup, but God knows what’s inside. Judging by how red-faced he gets as the night goes on, it must be something strong tho. Good dancer, if only he would stop doing googly eyes at people while he promised it was a friends only night… 6/10 

Domi: The pre-gaming might be more fun than the actual party. Takes forever to get ready, because he keeps talking too much, showing you his favourite songs and offering his grandpa’s pálinka. Puts in way too much hair product. By the time you get to the club, both of you are comfortably drunk. Not the best dancer, but enthusiasm makes up for it.  He starts eyefucking random hot people. It gets annoying by 3 am, when you are ready to go home and sleep and he still has way too much energy. 8/10

Jota: Keeps complaining that he didn’t want to go, then drinks everyone under the table. Like it’s actually annoying how unfazed he seems. Takes good care of you, looking after you, bringing you water, but still, when you are tipsy, dizzy and feels like you are going to throw up, you would rather have him shut up about FIFA for a sec. 6.5/10

Ali: Says he will not drink, because he has stuff to do early in the morning, but still comes and has a great time. Funny, kind and polite, and very good looking, which turns out to be a bit of a problem, after people just won’t stop asking him out. Gives you great advice when you start talking about the guy you like. His dancing is cute, but a bit old fashioned. 8/10

[bubuslutty]

part 8: carpool karaoke

Pairing: platonic moon boys x fem!reader

word count: 897

Tags: reader is referred to darling because i said so (and steven calls her darling cuz he’s a lil british dude innit), some fluff with our boy Jake!!

Warnings: none

Summary: darling stays late to the library and texts jake to come n pick her up

a/n: Nu Nu & You Wish by Flyana Boss

Me: jake

Me: are you done with work?

Jake: yeah why?

Me: are you home?

Jake: not yet

Me: can you pick me up pls?

Jake: where are you?

Me: library

Jake: I’ll be there in 15

Darling waits for Jake in front of the library building, hood pulled over her head and trying to act like a roadman so she won’t get harassed or killed by some stranger in the middle of the night.

When Jake pulls up in his black taxi, she sighs in relief, bag slung over her shoulder and opens the passenger door, getting in and chucking her bag into the back seats.

“How was work?” She asked, turning her head to look at the man, a dark shadow cast over his eyes due to his hat, his gloved fingers resting on the wheel.

“Good, how was studying?” He asked.

“Torture, can I play some music?” 

“Sure. Are you hungry?” Jake asked and she paused for a second, “A bit yeah, do you want to go somewhere specific?”

Jake ends up driving them to his favourite Kebab place while Darling sings along to the music playing through the car’s speakers. And Jake bobs his head along the beat, tapping his fingers against the wheel when they’re at a red light while Darling sings her heart out to the cuntiest and girliest song ever, and this time it’s songs from a duo called Flyana Boss.

She even goes as far as to make a whole seated choreography in his passenger seat while he glances at her once in a while, secretly amused. She sure has a lot of energy when she has very visible dark circles and droopy tired eyes, maybe it’s human zoomies or some shit, whatever it is, it gives Jake some entertainment in his otherwise empty cab.

Jake also ends up victim to listening to whatever new music she’s listening to at the moment, gracing his ears with new noises and melodies every other week when he has to drive her somewhere. And sometimes, he adds some of her played songs to his own Spotify playlist, without telling her of course, because that’ll make her ego big for no reason and annoy him.

And when they do get kebabs, they sit at a two-person table, facing each other while eating. And Darling is rambling and babbling about random things, she does that sometimes, if she gets enough tired, she somehow becomes delusional and starts talking with no filter.

Jake doesn’t mind the chatting, he’s just happy to be eating something before passing out in bed to rest. But hanging out with their neighbour is also nice. It was nice to have to listen to another voice other than Khonshu’s or the screams of death and pain in dark hallways.

Jake doesn’t tell her about his job, she knows he’s a cab driver as cover, but has never asked anything about what he actually does. And she’s no dummy, she knows he serves Khonshu’s justice with his fists and a gun strapped up to him at all times.

To put it shortly, he’s quite a grey character while she’s violently colourful.

“Yep, that’s what I’m talking about, yummy in my tummy-” Darling talks to herself and nods while devouring her kebab and shoving chips down her throat.

“Thanks for paying, by the way.” She thanks him without looking up.

“Don’t worry about it, anything for my favourite clown.” Jake teases, taking off his hat and running his hand through his slicked-back hair, white crisp button-up stretching over his broad shoulders, muscled back and biceps.

“Hey!” Darling glares at him and he laughs, “You’re a clown. You sometimes dress like one, and you procrastinate revising for tests and then when they approach, you have a panic attack and Steven has to hold your hand while you revise.” 

“Don’t make fun of me, I’m trying!” Darling whines, taking a swing from her Fanta.

“I know,” Jake says, and that’s one of the closest things he can get to as a compliment.

“I’m done, let’s go.” Darling eventually says, slapping her hands on her thighs like a 40-year-old dad and starts cleaning up the table while Jake helps and wears his jacket and hat.

“Cheers, bossman! Good night!” Darling says loudly, giving the man behind the counter a thumbs up and walking out of the door as Jake gives the man a polite nod.

Jake unlocks the cab and goes around to his door, and when he notices her still standing there, he frowns, “What are you doing?”

“Look,” She points at the sky, behind him, and he turns around, “The moon looks beautiful tonight.” 

Jake looks up at the sky, free of any clouds and sees the bright moon shining in the middle of the sky, in all of its beautiful glory, “Hm, it’s nice.”

“Jake, whatever you’ve done tonight, you did a good thing. So thank you.” Darling says, voice low, almost a whisper.

Jake doesn’t say anything and keeps staring at the moon, feeling a warmth spread through his chest. He shivers and turns to look at her, “Get in, Steven has class tomorrow and so do you.” 

“Fine, mum.” Darling groans dramatically and gets in the car, buckling herself in.

“Can I play some mu-”

“Hell nah.”

“Why not? I thought you liked my music?”

“You’ve had your turn, now it’s mine.”

Tag list (pls ask to be added or removed): @bobastayhigh @weblesstherains @h-leigh @unspokenmoon @ahookedheroespureheart @thursdaywritings @gebstargeb 

[fckingsofthips]

Feedist Kinktober, Day 10 - Exhibition

I don't think she realises how much she's eaten. The first fold of her belly is creeping over the waistband of her skirt, barely covered by her top.

Everyone else has finished eating, said the mains were big enough for them, but she wanted dessert.

"Oh don't worry, we don't want you to feel like you can't have a good time!" "Oh I know, we'll get some more cocktails so we've all got something on the table."

She's out with her five friends, all joined at the hip since their college days, but only she has piled the weight on, year by year. The group chatters around her, getting giddier with their sickly sweet cocktails, while she fills her mouth with spoonfuls of creamy cheesecake and vanilla ice cream. The cheesecake, sliced into, reveals fluffy pockets of air, a deceptively light, whipped texture to it. The biscuit crumbles as her spoon hits it, preceding the sharp tap of metal against porcelain. She's entranced, paying no mind to her body's cues that it's had enough, holding the ice cream in her mouth to melt and trickle down her throat. When she finally finishes, everyone insists on splitting the bill evenly, even though everyone knows she's eaten more than her fair share.

Into the night they go, ready to party until sunrise (or until the first person complains of being tired and the rest of them realise how much they want to go back to the friend's house they started in.)

I don't think she realises how much she's eaten. As her belly has expanded, she's tried to mitigate the press of her waistband by shifting it higher, to little success in making it comfortable. It's revealed a glimpse of her cellulite covered ass cheeks.

The girls all follow her into the kebab shop, eyeing her new revealing setup, and everyone orders something to soak up the last two hours' of alcohol. She finds bliss in the heat of soft potato, teeth tearing through the gentle fried crisp of the fries, tongue lapping at the salt and seasoning they're coated in. She barely notices as people tip their leftovers into her container, happy to keep chasing the satisfaction in each bite. Once finished, she lets out a huge, rattling belch that alerts the other patrons to her ass spilling off the kebab shop seat, the upper fold of her belly spilling out of her too-small top and over her restrictive waistband. Her friends don't gawk, instead cooing over her big belly, giving it a pat, and helping to lift her off her seat.

Time to call a taxi and head back to someone's house together. Squeezing into the van to fit around her, drunkenly rubbing her thighs, leaning over her and resting their heads on her soft shoulders. Giggling each time she lets out another tight burp, soothing her with caresses if they suspect she noticed.

I don't think she realises how much she's eaten. All staggering through the front door, someone's thoughtful enough to unzip her skirt, and she eases down heavily onto the sofa, stomach rolling out over her thighs.

Someone brings out a bowl of chocolate snacks, placed in her arm's reach, but she doesn't need to lift herself. Slender hands bring the sweet chocolate to her lips, and she moans in pleasure as the chocolate melts and gives way to a rich caramel. The girls rub and soothe her belly, gently pushing at the firmness as it loudly tries to digest.

When her moans turn to snores, the chocolates are put away, and they all fight for space on the sofa to curl up next to her.

She doesn't realise how much she ate that night, but they do.

[jamietarttsnorthernattitude]

Drabble prompt-

“You dumbass. Don’t do that. Ever again.”

I think I did it! I think I actually wrote a drabble. And crossed off another @badthingshappenbingo square!

UPDATE: I did not do it lmao

UPDATE2: Now on ao3 so I can have everything together.

Jamie Tartt was going to be the death of him.

“You dumbass. Don’t do that. Ever again.”

Roy pressed his thumb and index finger against the bridge of his nose and sighed deeply.

“What was I supposed to do?” Jamie scoffed.

“Not that!” Roy said, trying to keep his voice down but failing.

“You were going to fucking fall!”

“Your fucking point?” Roy asked, psychotic eyebrows shooting nearly to his hairline.

“Didn’t want you to get hurt,” Jamie pouted.

“So you got hurt instead?”

“Didn’t think that part through, did I?”

“No fucking shit.”

“Well, innit better me than you and your old man bones? They’re probably just dust in there held together by anger and stubbornness. My bones are young and strong.”

“Jamie your wrist is broken.”

“I told you I didn’t think it through, alright?”

Jamie adjusted the ice pack on his wrist. The pair had been having a similar conversation on and off since they arrived at A&E. All the trouble started on a bike ride. They were nearing the coffee shop by Keeley’s office, intent on bringing her and Barbara coffee and pastries while they worked on their latest campaign.

They were bike riding when Roy’s tire caught a divot. He started to tip and Jamie lept off his bike to try to catch Roy before he landed on his bad knee. And it worked. Roy didn’t land on his bad knee, unfortunately, all Roy’s weight landed on Jamie’s outstretched wrist instead. Ice packs and x-rays replaced coffees and scones.

So much for an uneventful off-season.

“Next time, maybe wrist guards, knee and elbow pads for everyone. And helmets. Definitely helmets,” Ruth said, pulling back the curtain where the pair sat waiting. “I’m afraid I have bad news.”

“Fuck.”

“That is my diagnosis. Yes.”

“Fucking professional. Is it really broken?”

Ruth turned her ipad to show the pair the x-ray and pointed. “Unfortunately, yes. You can see the break right there.”

“Fuuuuuuuuuck,” Roy and Jamie said simultaneously.

“Told you.”

“Fuck off.”

Ruth rolled her eyes. “There’s minor displacement, so I can reduce it and then we’ll get you in a cast and get you out of here a soon as we can.”

True to her word, Jamie and Roy are waiting for Ruth an hour later, Jamie’s broken wrist secured in a cast and sling.

“You’re such a dumbass,” Roy said again.

“Stop calling me that,” Jamie said and Roy began to feel badly.

The situation seemed to sink in for Jamie once the cast was applied. The nerve block meant he wasn’t in too much pain but that wouldn’t last and right now the lad just looked uncomfortable.

“I’m sorry. I just, I hate seeing you hurt and especially when it was my fault.”

“How was it your fault?” Jamie asked skeptically.

“You were trying to catch me. Did you hit your fucking head too?”

“It were an accident, Roy. If anyone’s to blame it’s the fucking pot hole you drove through. Thinking of writing a strongly worded letter to our boy Sadiq Khan about the maintenance of London’s roads.”

“I’m impressed you know who the Mayor is.”

“Fuck off. Met him at one of the England matches couple of weeks ago.”

“I’m sorry,” Roy said again then motioned vaguely at Jamie. ”About all this.”

“I told. you, it were an accident,” Jamie shrugged then winced as it jostled his injured wrist.

“Ready lads?” Ruth appeared holding a bag with pain medication she handed to Roy.

“We picking Phoebe up?” Jamie asked.

“I can drive you home first if you want?”

The bikes were abandoned after the incident and they’d taken a taxi to the hospital, thankful Ruth’s shift ended as they were ready to leave.

“Let’s get Phoebe and then Roy said he’d buy us all kebabs, didn’t you, Royo?”

“When the fuck did I say that?”

“You did. Felt bad on account of landing on me and all.”

“Right, yeah,” Roy said as he helped Jamie into Ruth’s Range Rover and buckled him in, careful of his sling. “But seriously, don’t do that again, yeah?”

“No promises, mate.”

One way or another, Jamie Tartt was going to be the death of him.

[yeastinfectionvale]

Masterlist

Franky really shouldn't be standing on the side of the road alone. But there she was, thumb out and backpack on the floor.

A few cars drove past but none stopped.

How the fuck was she supposed to get to her job interview?

The taxi that was pre-paid and supposed to get her from Rome to the Rossi shop in god knows where ditched her in the middle of nowhere. Her phone had died and in a rush she hadn't had breakfast. Franky sighed, picking up her backpack and starting to walk, hoping to find somewhere to stay the night and try not to get murdered by an ax-wielding madman.

HORK. what the fuck?

She turned around to see a small power yellow fiat 500 slowing down.

Well she was going to die. Someone call her mother and ring the funeral home. Ave Maria and all that.

A small woman with mousey brown hair leaned out the window, a pair of sunglasses firmly planted on her face. "Are you okay?" The mystery woman asked, a Spanish accent evident in her voice. Maybe it was the kindness in the woman's smile or the fact that Franky was dehydrated but she felt as if she could trust her. She shook her head slightly as the woman laughed. The woman pushed the passenger door open and gestured for Franky to get in.

Oh she was so fucking dying.

Franky climbed in as the woman began to drive again. "I'm driving to Tavullia, I can drop you off there if you want." The woman said as Franky nodded gratefully. "I'm Alexia." She took a hand off the steering wheel and Franky shook it. "Franky. What's taking you to Tavullia?"

Alexia gripped the steering wheel, her brows furrowing. "Getting revenge." Franky sat there awkwardly.

Nope she was 100% dead, Alexia was an ax-murderer and was going to chop her up into a kebab.

"This bitch in Tavullia played with my sister's heart so I'm going to throw a brick at her window." Alexia cleared up as Franky relaxed. "Understandable. I'm supposed to be going to a job interview but I'm pretty sure I've messed up my chances by being late. I don't even know where I'm going, my phone's dead and the address is in it." Alexia patted Franky's hand. "Want to throw a brick at a bitch's window?" Franky laughed and nodded, "yeah why not, let's avenge your sister."

The pair drove, making small talk as Franky learned more about Alexia and her sister Marcia. Alexia learnt more about Franky, her family and how she was a trained mechanic. The both of them exchanged numbers, vowing to stay in contact as a story as interesting as this has to be told. A friendship blossoming from what was a day gone wrong.

They laughed loudly as they pulled into a wholesale store for builders, purchasing two singular bricks and some chalk. Franky wrote what Alexia dictated onto the bricks as they neared the edge of Tavullia. The sun had begun to set, streetlights not yet turning on.

"Ready?" She asked as Alexia slipped into a dirt road and into a commercial area. Alexia nodded, parking the car behind a tree. In front of them was a large building, a business of some sort, Franky couldn't make out the name as it was too dark. The pair got out of the car and made their way to the building.

The sun had set fully but the streetlight hadn't turned on yet. If they wanted to throw the bricks they had to do it now. Alexis took the brick from Franky's hand and tossed it in the air twice before launching it through the storefront. No alarm went off as Alexia laughed. Franky tossed the brick between her hands, thinking about missing her interview, about the taxi deserting her and about how she had become good friends with Alexia only to have to be split. Channelling her anger, Franky threw the brick up and into the upstairs section of the shop. The light turned on as soon as the window broke.

Fuck. They both were so dead.

Alexia grabbed Franky's hand as they both ran into an alleyway. They stayed hidden, slowly walking out to the car hand in hand as if nothing happened. Alexia paused before getting in. "Call me when your phone is charged." She said hugging Franky. "Text me when you get home safe." She replied. Alexia passed Franky her backpack and hugged her again before climbing into her car.

Franky watched Alexia drive away as the streetlights finally turned on. Pulling her backpack on she began to walk in the direction of the store they bricked, her breath catching in her throat as she read the name of the store.

Rossi Family mechanic. Oh fuck off.

Franky watched a disgruntled and clearly half asleep woman walk out the store with a broom in her hand. She walked up to her and coughed lightly. "Um is this the Rossi mechanic?" The woman looked up, drool crackled around the corner of her lips. "Yeah who's asking?" Franky adjusted the strap of her backpack. "I'm Franca Morbidelli, I was supposed to have an interview today." The woman looked her up and down before handing Franky a broom. "I'm Marcolina Bezzecchi, call me Bez. You're hired. Start sweeping."

Oh okay?

She did as told, cleaning up the glass that she helped shatter, silently nodding along to Bez's rant about everything and anything. They quickly cleaned up and Bez invited her inside. Franky and Bez ate a quick dinner before Bez led her to a small room where she could sleep.

Franky put her phone to charge, opening it and sending a quick text to Alexia before falling asleep.

[itbmojojoejo]

Crumbs Asks:

You’re on a night out with the Coccham Squad - give me the rundown. Who’s a riot on the dance floor, who’s throwing up down the front of themselves, who’s doing a crafty Irish goodbye, etc.

Alright, I imagine it would go a little like this - (man I ran away with this one lmao thank you Ange💜)

It's a weekday, starts off with the usual "Just one drink!" from Finan, but it's never one drink, and this is heavily debated at the bar when a second round is ordered.

Sihtric is being a typical wife guy, regularly texting her a 'be home soon.' - he's done it like 4 times already, she knows he isn't coming home anytime soon.

Uhtred is having a blast at the jukebox, singing/shouting out of tune to all his favourites with the occasional dad dance move thrown in. And I'm right there with him trying to entice Osferth to join. (He's having none of it so far, laughing at the spectacle)

Finan orders shots, everyone weakly protests. Shots are had and the group moves on to a livelier place. Everyone's dancing now, it's not as sexy as we'd like to believe, it's terrible.

Osferth can't handle the shots that Uhtred is now buying with every round, he's the poor sod throwing up into a planter in the back corner of the smoking area.

Next thing its 3am and we're at a cash machine because the kebab shops card reader isn't working. Typical. And then it's me doing the crafty irish goodbye, slipping into a taxi with my food watching Finan trying to feed Osferth mozzarella sticks.