Imagine You are playing a new character in the next Star Wars Episode and Adam Driver takes an interest in you.

“Whose that?” He asked, looking your direction. “That’s the new girl. Y/N.” John muttered, taking a swig of his water. Adam kept his gaze on you. His stomach fluttering every time you smiled. He wasn’t sure why he was drawn to you the way he was. But he knew, he wanted nothing more than to know you.

Originally posted by adambenkyloren


What beer goes with guacamole? And which brew adds a nice clean, crisp finish to spicy wings?

Those are burning questions for anyone who wants to take their snack game to the next level this Super Bowl weekend. And two craft beer experts who wrote the book on beer pairings have the answers.

Beer and food have loads of flavors in common, and they can complement each other beautifully. But most of us are just swigging and chewing mindlessly, missing an opportunity to appreciate interactions between the two, according to Julia Herz and Gwen Conley, authors of Beer Pairings: The Essential Guide From The Pairing Pros, published in December.

Beer And Snack Pairings: A Super Bowl Game Everyone Can Win

Photos: Morgan McCloy/NPR


Dean pressed his beer to his lips and took a swig of the liquid. “Ya know Sammy, Y/n is amazing” he spoke looking over to his younger brother. He chuckled “Yeah she’s pretty great”, “She is just so funny, and smart. She’s kickass, and I mean she’s smokin” he took another sip of his beer and looked at Sam, “You agree?”. Sam just smiled at his older brother, “Yeah, sure. You think maybe, you love her?”. Dean just stared, “I dunno, why are you asking me?”, he shrugged “Just curious since all you seem to do is talk about how amazing she is”. Dean rolled his eyes “So what if I am? Is that so bad?”, “No, not at all” Sam smiled at his brother.



“Well, that was a long case,” Sam said, twirling his beer bottle in his hand, the cool glass making a grinding noise on the wood table and leaving a ring of condensation behind. “You see Y/N yet today?” he asked, hoping it sounded indifferent when really his heart raced at just the thought of you.
Dean was mid-swig, but there was something in the way his eyes shot over to Sam’s face that caught Sam’s attention.

“What?” he asked his older brother.

Dean tilted his head. “Yeah, actually.”

Sam waited to see if he would continue.

Dean sniffed and looked down at the beer bottle in his hands. I bumped into her at the coffee place, but I didn’t actually talk to her. “She, uhh… She was on the phone.”

Sam cast Dean a strange look. “Okay…”

A small smirk curved Dean’s lips as he looked at his perplexed younger brother. “I happened to overhear her mention your name,” he dropped casually. 

Now Sam’s heart stopped completely. He cleared his throat. “Really?” 

Dean nodded. “Something about how she wished she could see you more often or something… You know, outside of the job.” Dean took another nonchalant sip of his beer.

“Huh,” Sam said, trying to hide how ecstatic he was hearing this. 

“I don’t know why anyone would want to see you more often but, hey–” Dean teased with a shrug.

But Sam didn’t care. He was too busy trying to come up with an excuse to see you again as soon as he could.


Genre: smut

Warnings: smut obviously! ;) 


With a hand on your phone, scrolling trough your Instagram feed - double tapping the posts that caught your eye, you were sat in front of the blonde haired man in the busy club. Nodding and giving distant oh yeah?s as he rambled about something. You honestly didn’t know what he was on about, you stopped listening thirty minutes ago. He was hot though, with his light hair pushed back, intense green eyes and light stubble. His shirt revealing chiselled muscles underneath the fabric. But he was incredibly uninteresting. You took a swig of your drink, feeling it burn as you swallowed. You’re gonna need a few of these to get trough the night. You just wanted to come home with him, straddle his hips, get on with it and never return his calls.

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Vincent pumped out his last set, staring at his reflection in the large mirror that spanned the white wall of the gym. Counting himself down silently, Taylor curled the bar, being sure to keep proper form. Thoughts circulated his brain in spirit flashes. He had so much on his mind. It was hard to focus on his work out. Finishing up, he let the barbell drop to the padded floor with a loud clank. He took a swig form his water bottle, letting his body cool down. He grabbed his phone and keys from the spot he had left them before heading into the locker room to rinse off and change. Opening the locker containing his spare clothes, Vincent couldn’t help but notice he wasn’t along. Taylor quietly shut his locker, gazing over at the familiar face. “What are you doing here? Isn’t it getting late?”

#LatePost #LastNightWasMadTrill. #MoonShine kind of night. #NoChasers NO #Shots Straight #Swigging #ActingOurAge #NoFucksGiven #ActingAFool #TillThereAintNothingLeft and we still managed to edit a dope video, took us till 4 am, but still. #Lol @bigfootage #WeLoveWhatWeDo #LifeIsAboutTheBIGGERPicture


Idk if I have the energy to finish my WIP today so instead my last contribution to Fenhawke week is gonna be the polished-up version of Seventeen, which is still the best shit I’ve ever written. Only a few, small changes but I think they’re good ones. If you like AO3 better it’s over here.

The decision to polish this one was inspired by today’s theme, hope (hA ha)


“…but then she wouldn’t have been a fishmonger, would she?”

Fenris bursts out laughing, then claps a hand over his mouth. He hadn’t mean to be quite that loud. In the opposite armchair, Hawke giggles, taking another swig of wine. “I can’t believe you actually laughed at that. No one’s ever laughed at that.”

“Perhaps they hadn’t had enough wine yet. Speaking of which…” Fenris reaches out.

Hawke leans forward and slaps the bottle into his hand. “You know, we should really get going. They’re probably wondering where we are.” He grins.

The innuendo ghosts between them like a shiner through the shallows, vanishing into darker waters where it dissuades pursuit. Fenris takes a long pull from the bottle and lurches to his feet. “You’re right. Let us depart.”

Hawke darts forward and catches the bottle as it dangles from Fenris’s careless grip. “I can’t believe you finished off the entire thing.”

“Pardon me? I was not alone in my efforts.”

Hawke snorts. “I drank a third of it. Maybe.”

He’s right. Fenris shrugs. “It saves me from having to get drunk off that vile substance they try to pass off as ale.” Then he descends the stairs, grasping the banister to keep his balance.

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