beer jerk

Pong Partner

A Shawn Mendes fanfic. 


A/N: I can’t believe I fucking wrote this. It’s long af and the smut part sucks but it’s my first time writing anything like this so keep that in mind. Feedback would be lovely xoxo (also if you’re not into smut, the smut doesn’t come til the end & it’s fluff up until then)

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11 of 99 ways to say I love you

Gray has known it a long time, somewhere far in the back of his mind. It happened before the Grand Magic Games, before their first S Class trial, before Galuna Island.

It budded while they were young. Too young to understand why they need to be around each other all the time, or why they only knew how to express that need through thrown fists and snarled insults.

It’s been rooted deeply in his chest for years, the affection he feels for Natsu. It’s flared and grown, made a comfy home within him until it became second nature to hold him, to touch and caress, bask in his presence, revel in their memories.

He has listened to Natsu gripe, laugh, cry. He’s competed against him, challenged him to better himself, held him while he cried, continues to do all that and more to this day.

Some days he looks at him and wonders how he got so lucky. He doesn’t voice this often. Natsu would brag entirely too much. Other days Natsu does something like smack his drink out of his own hand when he’s talking with his hands and too excited about whatever it is he’s going off on and shatters yet another glass. Those are the times Gray asks if this is really his mate, if this is who he’s fucking stuck with. That, he doesn’t hesitate to say, and he laughs when Natsu tosses the wet, alcohol soiled towel at him.

Some days Natsu looks at him the same way, whether it’s in awe or endearment when Gray makes an ass of himself.

He’s looking at him like that now, eyes puffy and red rimmed. Gray has tripped over the blanket, the one he just pulled out of the dryer to wrap Natsu in because he knows that never fails to make him feel better. Natsu can’t stop laughing and Gray’s grumbling for him to shut up.

Natsu slides off the couch, sits next to Gray, and wipes tears from his eyes. Gray’s struck with heat in his chest, familiar and welcome. They’re tears of mirth. He’s finally managed to cheer Natsu up after such a shitty day.

Natsu runs his fingers through Gray’s hair, grazes his nails against his scalp. “You’re–” he wheezes. He takes a moment to compose himself while Gray pretends he’s still offended. “You’re–” Natsu blinks those beautiful, bright eyes at Gray, and his expression shifts, from that endearment to awe. “You’re my best friend.”

Gray has known it a long time, somewhere far in the back of his mind. It happened before the Grand Magic Games, before their first S Class trial, before Galuna Island. But hearing Natsu say it out loud is like discovering it for the first time.

So he smiles, grabs one of Natsu’s hands, and presses a kiss to his knuckles. The same knuckles that have smashed into his teeth, the same knuckles that have devastated enemies that dare threaten him. “Yeah, Flamebrain, you too.” Natsu squeezes his hand around Gray’s. “You’re mine, too.”

Learning How to Kiss

TITLE: Learning How to Kiss 


AUTHOR : tomcuddlesfic


GENRE:  romance / fluff /angst

FIC SUMMARY: OC agrees to go on a date with Tom but is nervous because she’s never kissed anyone before.


AUTHORS NOTES/WARNINGS: A one shot based on the similar idea of my one shot A Lesson In Kissing. It doesn’t really follow the format of “How do I kiss” and “Teach me, please.” It’s more this is us kissing. I hope you guys like it and feedback would be splendid. 1 down 2 to go. :)

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it’s been about two hours since albert had come over to study – that’s what it was supposed to be, anyway. right now the beer bottles strewn around the room and the giggling ryker on his bed say different. ever since the accident the two needed to just relax a bit, and considering albert was one of the closest friends he had, right now, besides delilah, he figured it’d be nice to just sit down and drink a little, per albert’s suggestion. he stops laughing for a second to grab a half full beer bottle, holding his hand up, “dude, dude – lookit -” he jerks the beer bottle, watching the beer fly out before shooting out his un-broken hand, twisting it and watching flames burst out and encircle the alcohol before stopping it right before it hits the carpet, just turning to steam. he looks up to albert, a grin spreading over his face.

Dearest Benedict; (take 2)

Dearest Benedict;

You jerk.  Yeah.  You.  The Internet’s Sweetheart, the Fangirl’s Wet Dream.

You are a jerk.

I didn’t always think so.  I thought you were someone I’d like to sit down, have a beer with, and talk about anything and everything.  Someone who would have fun washing the dog, or making dinner, or hanging out with my family watching a movie.

Now though?  Pfft.

There was an inkling of your jerkiness last fall, when the NY article came out.  But, as you can see here:  I blamed it on your PR team.

Since your engagement announcement, you’ve been acting… weird.  Uncharacteristic.  Snarky, pissy, grumpy.  Whatever. 

Again- I wrote it off as stress from the Oscar campaign, the engagement, the pregnancy, the non-stop going going going.

I had a little side eye at your reaction to fans calling your name at the BAFTA red carpet, especially the wink.  But really- I’m a mom, and I understand what it’s like to try to have a conversation when people are shouting at you.  The wink at the camera was OTT though. 

HOWEVER- with the recent release of the Nightline interview, I’m thinking that maybe, just maybe- you’re actually a jerk.   “True fans know that they’re treading on something which is very dear and private to me.”

Who are YOU to tell ME whether or not I’m a true fan?  Who are YOU to tell ANYONE that? 

“Dear and private to me”  Oh please.  I hate to break it to you, but you forfeited your “privacy” when you dropped your engagement in the Times.  Yeah- it sucks, but you are a “famous” person, and when “famous” people do stuff like that, their privacy ceases to exist. 

Maybe if it had JUST been the public engagement announcement though, you could have retained some modicum of privacy.  But then there were the red carpets with the newly minted CumberQueen.  That’s cool- no reason you should have to hide a relationship.  Later followed by the innumerable interviews, both print and film, magazine articles, photo spreads.  Continue with the interviews with family members, and now your stylist is even tweeting information about your suits.

Guess what?  PEOPLE ARE EATING UP EVERYTHING YOU ARE DISHING OUT.  They love knowing stuff about you.  You are the It Boy. 

And then you go and basically say that “real fans” won’t read any articles, or watch any interviews, or pay attention to red carpets, because they know you’re such a private person, and even though YOU ARE THE ONE PUTTING ALL THAT OUT THERE, “real fans” know you don’t want anyone to know anything about you.  Because you know- you’re private.


Private is Scarlett Johansson getting married AND having a baby without the world knowing.

Private is James MacAvoy having a family that nobody sees splashed across the pages of People Magazine.

Private is Daniel Day Lewis marrying, having kids, living his life without telling Ellen about it.

So don’t invite fans into your life, and then be mad that they accept the invitation.  It just makes you look like a jerk.

growhome  asked:

clemmings, the first time luke gets drunk

[Also on AO3.]

Michael’s on his third beer and Luke’s on his lap by the time he realizes that Luke has the approximate alcohol tolerance of a malnourished baby squirrel.

Well, Luke’s not on his lap exactly, but it isn’t for lack of unsubtle trying. Michael had thought he was just, you know, sitting there looking cool, tucked into the corner of the couch with his beer, one arm slung over the back like a cool-ass dude who wasn’t like, lonely or whatever. But then Luke wobbled over like a sad lost penguin and flopped down beside him, fitted himself perfectly into the curve of Michael’s side and Michael’s stupid hand just sort of naturally migrated to Luke’s bony little shoulder and the point is, Luke’s trying to steal his beer, which Michael isn’t going to let him do, and also Luke’s tucked against him like he’s Michael’s girlfriend or something. He is not Michael’s girlfriend. Michael would have noticed that happening.

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