a lot of liquor

You’re not my Wife

The girl handed you the phone with a giddy smile. “Do you mind taking the picture?” she begged. 

You laughed and took her phone from her. “Sure, sweetheart. But I’ll warn ya, that one gets a little handsy when he is drunk,” you said, gesturing toward Jensen. “And he was drunk off his ass three whiskey’s ago,” you laughed with a wink. 

The girl laughed before stepping between Jensen and Jared. They both towered over her. She couldn’t wipe the adorable smile off of her face. You smiled to yourself as you raised the phone to take the picture. 

You were watching the screen as Jensen planted a firm kiss on the girl’s temple. You had to stifle a giggle as you heard him lean back and start talking to her. 

“Damn, Y/N, you smell so good. Did you change perfumes or something? And when did your hair get so long?” he asked, looking down at the girl. 

You tossed your head back in laughter as you snapped the picture then got Jensen’s attention. 

You snapped your fingers so that Jensen looked up at you.

“Hey, Jensen!” you giggled. 

When his eyes met yours, he smiled in recognition then looked back at the girl he had just kissed. He looked thoroughly confused. 

“You’re not my wife,” he slurred as he pulled away from the girl. “Who are you again?” 

Jared laughed as he pulled the girl into a hug. 

“Don’t mind his drunk ass,” Jared laughed as he squeezed the fan to his chest. “Y/N warned you about how he gets when he has had a few too many,” he said shaking his head. 

“Hey!” Jensen said indignantly. “We’re celebrating, Asshat!” he declared as he looked at you then back at Jared. Your eyes went wide. Jensen had no filter after a lot of liquor. He was about to spill the beans to everyone. 

“Jens, I think that’s enough,” you said, your eyes wide as he looked at you confused still. 

“What, beautiful? We ARE celebrating. We have a damn good reason to celebrate,” he said, walking toward you, snaking his arms around your waist and pulling you close, nuzzling into your neck. 

“I know,” you whispered, letting your hands settle on Jensen’s shoulders. “But the reason we are celebrating  is still a secret,” you reminded him. 

Jensen kissed your neck then pulled away to look you in the eye. “You mean they don’t know you’re pregnant?” he asked. 

You slapped a hand over his mouth, and he just smiled back at you his eyes lighting up as he kissed your palm. 

“What?” Jared and Gen said at the same time as the girl walked away. 

“They do now,” you laughed. “We were waiting until we told both of our parents,” you added, popping Jensen in the stomach. He shrugged innocently as he looked from you to Gen and Jared. “But I should have known once this one started drinking, it wouldn’t be a secret for long,” you laughed. 

Jensen contemplated you for a minute. “Secrets are stupid,” he declared. “Hey everybody! Listen up!” he yelled at no one in particular. “My sexy, gorgeous, beautiful wife is PREGNANT!” he declared triumphantly. “And I’m the lucky son of a bitch that knocked her up. Now THAT part was fun,” he laughed. 

“Okay, that’s enough, Ackles,” you laughed, kissing him quickly so that he would shut up. His tongue tangled with yours before the two of you pulled away breathless. 

“That mean you wanna get started on another?” he teased, running his hand up under your shirt. 

“Down boy,” you said, slapping his hand away. “What am I gonna do with you?” you laughed, kissing him once more. 

“Congrats, guys,” Jared said with a laugh, pulling you both into a bear hug. 

“Thanks man,” Jensen said seriously. “She is one hell of a woman,” he added, looking at you proudly. 

“Oh?” you asked. 

“Hell yeah,” Jensen replied, pulling you into his arms and kissing you with fervor.  

“Don’t you forget it, Ackles,” you teased, running your hands along the length of his back, the mystery picture girl long forgotten. 

Southern Gothic (also known as Gothic Americana, or Dark Folk) is a genre of music characterized by a fusion of alternative rock and classic country/folk. The genre shares thematic connections with the Southern Gothic genre of literature, and indeed the parameters of what makes something Gothic Americana appears to have more in common with literary genres than traditional musical ones. Songs often examine poverty, criminal behavior, religious imagery, death, ghosts, family, lost love, alcohol, murder, the devil and betrayal.


“It was always so hot, and everyone was so polite, and everything was all surface but underneath it was like a bomb waiting to go off. I always felt that way about the South, that beneath the smiles and southern hospitality and politeness were a lot of guns and liquor and secrets.”
James McBride, The Color of Water: A Black Man’s Tribute to His White Mother


As a southern woman and a southern witch, I can assure you that our region is haunted: by the past, by ghosts, by untold secrets, by an ancient magic that so few know how to tap into.  This music has always been an inspiration to my craft.  I hope you enjoy the as much as I loved creating it.  –Salt


Listen to “Ghost Rivers: a Southern Gothic Playlist” on Spotify.

- ̗̀  plots inspired by divide // ed sheeran  ̖́-

under the cut you’ll find possible plots for every single song ( 16  )  +1 extra for supermarket flowers from the album ‘divide’ by ed sheeran. everything can, of course, be altered to your likings as these were just some of my ideas. i linked the songs so that you can be inspired a little more as you’re reading the plot!

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10

“No one really needs me,” he says, and there’s no self-pity in his voice. It’s true his family doesn’t need him. They will mourn him, as will a handful of friends. But they will get on. Even Haymitch with the help of a lot of white liquor, will get on. I realize only one person will be damaged beyond repair if Peeta dies. Me.
“I do,” I say. “I need you.”

anonymous asked:

katsudeku + 11) things you said when you were drunk

this is not a night for tragedy (on ao3)

Izuku’s finishing up the last of his drills for the day when Katsuki barges in, dripping water all over the recently cleared floor. He is swaying on his feet, unsteady, and the shoulders of his jacket are damp. Izuku takes one look at him and, after a beat of turning the thought over in his head, promptly steps closer, just in case Katsuki decides to pass out.

“Deku,” Katsuki scowls when he sees him, but it’s confused. “Where’d you run off to?”

“I let myself out early after that last drinking game, remember?” Izuku reminds him, smiling wryly. He curls a careful hand around Katsuki’s wrist, catching a whiff of the alcohol Kirishima must have gotten him to drink, and then when Katsuki doesn’t push him off, folds Katsuki’s hand into his own. “Let’s get you back to your room, alright?”

“I can do it myself,” Katsuki says gruffly, and this time he does yank his hand away from Izuku’s grasp. He turns away from Izuku abruptly, and makes it three steps forward before he stumbles, landing in a rumpled heap of blonde hair and leather on the gym floor. “For fuck’s sake”.

Izuku’s trying not to smile when he crouches down beside him, but judging from the scowl on Katsuki’s face, he’s doing a poor job at it. Times like these, Izuku finds it hard to be afraid of Katsuki. Which is a moot point, really; Izuku hasn’t been afraid of him in a long time. “Kacchan,” he tries again, sliding a hand onto Katsuki’s shoulder and shaking him gently. “Come on, I’ll take you back. You can sleep in your bed all you want”.

Katsuki looks at him, forehead creasing, his expression somehow at once angry and soft—a strange juxtaposition. He smiles, simpering. “Well, aren’t you just the best”.

There’s a sun shower out. Against the faint light of the afternoon sky, Katsuki is all angles, one side of his face illuminated, caught in the sun’s slowly dwindling rays. Izuku feels the words form, unbidden, on his tongue. Feels them catch on his teeth, almost tumbling out.  You don’t mean that, he meant to laugh, but Izuku blinks, thrown off-kilter, and what comes out is: “You’re drunk”.

“Your point?” Katsuki snorts, and it finally sinks in, how wasted he is, when Katsuki’s hand curls in on Izuku’s arm, and he hooks his chin over Izuku’s shoulder the way he used to do when they’d closer and they’d been kids. If anyone were to walk in on them now, they’d look like they were in an embrace. Katsuki doesn’t say anything else for a moment, and then, quietly: “There was always something about you I didn’t hate”.

Even with his heart silently seizing in his chest, Izuku still has half a mind to think that Kirishima should never be allowed to sneak in booze and Mina should never be allowed to pick drinking games because she never loses and Katsuki should never be allowed to touch any liquor because he can’t handle it. And because he’s got a tendency of saying all sorts of ridiculous things when he’s drunk.

“Yeah?” Izuku finally says, as he hooks a careful arm around Katsuki’s waist and pulls him to his feet, his voice going ragged. “Tell me in the morning and I just might believe you”.

Katsuki slants him a look from underneath his lashes, the red of his eyes bright even under the dim lighting, and it’s not a seductive expression—it doesn’t even have its usual fire in it. On the contrary, it’s soft, almost artless, but it makes something in Izuku’s chest come undone.

“Tomorrow,” Katsuki leans in close—Izuku can smell the alcohol on his breath, warm and fruity and intoxicating—and does not avert his gaze. “Remind me and I’ll reconfirm”.

“Okay,” Izuku swallows, presses his lips together and tries not to notice the way Katsuki curls into him, the press of his forehead against Izuku’s skin fever-hot. Always fever-hot. “I’ll hold you to that”.

Off Limits

Originally posted by wonderfulworldofwinchester

Request: Can you write a fic where like dean and the reader are at a bar or something finding out shit for a case and some guy/bartender starts hitting on the reader and Dean gets super defensive. Oh and it being like really fluffy, sorry I live for that shit 😂

Request: Hi, I love reading what you write and I was wondering if you’re still taking requests. If you are, can you do one where it’s Dean and the Reader and he gets SUPER defensive over the Reader to the point where if anyone hits on her he kind of hurts the guy or punches him? Thanks!

Pairing: Dean x reader

Word Count: 800ish

Warnings: language, lil’ bit of violence

A/N: Combined these two since they went hand in hand…


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Mutual Destruction - Jeff Atkins x Reader // Part Three

<Part Two

Playlist (Optional)

Sober || (Melodrama) - Lorde

Angel Of Small Death & The Codeine Scene - Hozier

A/N: I mean, I’m pretty certain you’ve all realised this now, but this is slow-burning. Jeff x Y/N ARE endgame. Don’t give up on this yet! Idk how I feel about this part though… I really hate myself for doing this to baby Monty…


“Nope! There’s still a bit in the bottom!” She giggled.

“Come on Y/N, I’m going to be way more drunk than you at this point!” Zach chuckled lovingly, but downed it anyway.

“No you won’t, I can’t even remember what I’ve had at this point. Your parents sure have a lot of liquor.” She looked around her at the empty bottles.

“For people who don’t drink, it’s quite impressive.” He snorted.

“I’m starting to think this idea wasn’t a good one. We’re on the top of a roof drinking alcohol!” She laughed manically. He joined in.

“WOOOOOO!” He shouted. “Honestly though, you know I’d never let anything happen to you, Y/N.”  He stroked her cheek. Leaning in for the kiss, she thought how she’d never love a boy as much as this one. He was made for her, she thought.

The taste of vodka, and tequila, and gin, and whatever-the-fuck-else they’d consumed swilled between their mouths. Some drunk kisses had the ability to chase a person into sobreity, then make them feel drunk all over again just off of the presence of the other person.

—–

“Hello? Earth to Y/N? It’s 3:30 and you’ve got a revision date with a handsome prince.“ Jeff chuckled, sliding into the seat next to her.

“Shit, hey Jeff.” She smiled, pushing her textbook forward to reach down and grab some more notes from her bag.

“I’d love to know the psychology of daydreaming,” He teased.

She rolled her eyes. “We’ll get there. Get a pen.”

After some hardcore studying separation anxiety in babies, Jeff cleared his throat.

“Did you manage to talk to Monty at all since last week?”

“You’re very interested in my love life, Jeff.” She smirked, looking up from her notes.

“Not really. More like I don’t want to see anymore damaged knuckles.” He winced.

“I’ll talk to him.” She pressed. He seemed satisfied with the response and nodded.

Once again, Jeff hung on to every word she said, making detailed notes and asking questions. It was kind of adorable.

“Next week is going to be an intense one. I’m guessing you have ‘The Psychology Of Love by Sigmund Freud?” She asked as she closed up her textbook.

“Uh, yeah.” He nodded awkwardly. “Isn’t he the one who had a thing for his mum?”

“Not quite, don’t worry you’ll see next week. He’s just who we’re starting with. As you know 20% of our final grade relies on our coursework surrounding our chosen psychology of love.” She pushed her chair in and slung her bag over her shoulder.

“Right.” He nodded. “I’ll see you next week?”

“See you round.” She waved to his figure leaving the library.

—–

As it usually happened on Summer days like these, the boys sat outside to eat their lunch and maybe throw a ball about.

“So, uh, Monty,” Jeff said through a bite of his sandwich.

“This is about Y/N, isn’t it?” Montgomery sighed.

Jeff cocked his head in a yes.

“I haven’t spoken to her since then. You can’t say ‘i-told-you-so’ yet.”

“I know, I just wanted to check how you were doing.” Jeff genuinely cared for his friend, and knew how much of a problem this was for him. 

But before Montgomery had a chance to speak, Bryce was back.

“Atkins, that hot brunette is eyeing you up.” He nodded in her direction. Jeff glanced back.

“Not again.” He muttered.

“What?” Monty asked.

“We had a thing last summer.” He shrugged. “It was nothing, literally, I don’t know why she keeps looking at me like that.” He threw his hand up.

That’s when Monty stopped listening. Why did Jeff deserve to feel the smugness of being totally completely right about Y/N because they were exactly the same. Monty didn’t know how he hadn’t noticed before. He’d known what Jeff was like, but it just seemed…different.

“It’s a bit warm out here really. I’m gonna head inside.” He stood, not so much as looking at the boys before violently throwing his lunch into the trash can.

—–

At the end of her psychology lesson the next day, Jeff approached her.

“Look!” He pointed to the ten mark pop quiz they’d done at the start of the lesson. “Only just over a week of your help and I’m already improving.” He grinned. She couldn’t help but mimic his expression, it was contagious.

“I’m proud of you Jeff.” She punched his shoulder as they made their way out of the classroom.

“Thanks, Y/N, really.” He called out as he walked backwards in the direction of his locker. She was really happy that she’d actually done something positive for once.

Her locker rattled as she entered the combination.

Y/N wasn’t evil, but her track record wasn’t the best, and for once, she had these high spirits which felt amazing.

In that moment was when it happened.

In her peripheral vision she saw Montgomery storming down the hall, headed in her direction.

“Y/N, we need to talk.” He slammed her locker door in front of her, barely scraping her nose. She inhaled.

“Not here, Monty.” She looked around at the surrounding students.

“Where then? You’ve put this off once, Atkins isn’t here this time to save you.” He moved in toward her face, his hot breath tickling her face.  Dammit, he was attractive, but hard work.

“Who said I needed saving? I just don’t want you to embarrass yourself.” She hit back coolly. Upon noticing he wasn’t budging, she added; “Fine, what is it?”

“So like I was saying before, we were so rudely interrupted, you’ve been ignoring me all week.”

“Not ignoring, just not actively paying attention to.” She leaned against the lockers nonchalantly.

“So what? You just gonna bang me and fuck off?” He was almost shouting now.

“Come on Monty, you didn’t really think this meant more, did you?” She scoffed.

“Well, going on a date usually implies that, yeah!” He shook his head in disbelief. “You know, I’ve actually liked you for a while now, and i thought ‘she’s asked me on a date, I’m the luckiest guy in the world.’ But i guess I was the unluckiest. I should’ve never fallen for you.”

“Jeez. My mistake. I thought you’d know by now.” She felt bad, she really did. But she couldn’t tap into that. The first time she’d approached Monty she’d addressed how they had known each-other so long but never done anything, and now she remembered why. The way her demeanor affected Monty must look awful to a passerby, and maybe it looked awful to the ghost of herself as well.

“I should’ve listened to Jeff!” Monty spat at Y/N. Quite the crowd was beginning to form around the two of them at the lockers.

“Jeff, huh? And what did he say about me?” She smirked.

“You’d break my heart. Or, in so many words.” He looked at her despairingly. His jaw clenched.

“Jeff’s a smart guy.” Her liquid cyanide voice dripped off her tongue, her eyes emotionless and harsh. Monty shook his head slowly, before turning and violently kicking the lockers, and storming out the way he came.

She rolled her eyes at the spectators, can never mind their own business. They started making their way away from her, leaving her in an empty corridor. Or so she thought.

“Did you have to do that?” A soft voice floated in from behind her. It was deafening. The voice she’d been trying to get out of her nightmares. It felt like she hadn’t heard it in so long, but that couldn’t be true because it visited her nightly. Her entire body tensed knowing who was behind her. She didn’t know what to do.

“Do what?” She asked weakly, not bringing herself to turn around, instead finding a very interesting spot on the floor to focus her gaze on.

“Y/N, I don’t know what’s happened to you since we broke up, but you’ve become a real bitch. Monty didn’t deserve that. I don’t know, is this some kind of revenge? Are you trying to get back at me or something by hurting my friends?” He voice was stern, with a hint of hurt. “Are you going to look at me?”

Shocked with a wave of her usual confidence, she swung round on her heel and faced Zach. He looked even more adorable close up. But she wouldn’t let that distract her.

“Zach, look, It’s sweet that you think highly enough of yourself to assume I’m not over you, But facts are facts.” And lies are lies. “You’ll just have to find some way to come to terms with the fact that I’m not still pining over you, and that believe it or not this is about me.” She faltered a little, but all in all the show was a good one. Oscar-worthy, maybe.

“Like I said, real bitch.” He scoffed, pulling on his bag strap and pushing past her carelessly. It took all of her not to break down right there and then. But she didn’t. She gripped her mouth with her hand and slumped against the lockers exhaling. What the fuck was she doing? What the fuck had she done?

6

No one really needs me,” he says, and there’s no self pity in his voice. It’s true his family doesn’t need him. They will mourn him, as will a handful of friends. But they will get on. Even Haymitch, with the help of a lot of white liquor, will get on. I realize only one person will be damaged beyond repair if Peeta dies. Me.”

Business

Originally posted by bonniebird

Tommy x Reader (Requested by Anon)

Hey!! Could you do a Tommy/ reader imagine were the reader own her own business and Tommy and the brothers wants to do business with her and she’s super feisty and doesn’t take sh*t from anyone and he’s mesmerised by her? Thank you!

Running a business wasn’t easy. Being a woman and running your own business was even harder - especially in a man’s world.It was rare when men who did the same took you seriously. It was why you were so feisty and stand-off-ish. It was rare when you actually made businesses deals but you would hold a meeting out of courtesy. Today you were meeting with the brothers who ran Shelby Limited, a company that was known for being run by the Peaky Blinders and illegal. You weren’t sure who the brothers were as you were pretty new to Small Heath.

You were from France and had came to Birmingham looking for a new start and ended up starting your own business. Your business was one for transporting alcohol to America where they were dealing with prohibition. It was a guaranteed way to make money. You’re secretary walked into your office asking if he could let in the Shelby brothers. You put away your books and locked them in the drawer before nodding.

Within the next minute, you had three men in peaky caps and suits sitting in front of you. You extended your hand over your desk and the man in the middle took it, giving it a shake.

“Boys, it’s nice to meet you,” You said as you offered your hand to the other two.

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D&D Shenanigans: How My Players Got An Inn At Level 3 

So I DM a party of four, and they’re all of chaotic/lawful alignments, split down the middle for neutral/evil. Coupled with that they’re all smartasses in and out of character. It’s exhausting. I’m exhausted. But every now and then, their fuckery will give gems like this: 

So my party, a lizardfolk bard, a tiefling witchhunter, an aasimar paladin, and a human cleric, arrive in the human city Folasade, they see the queen who basically hires them as mercenaries and then go to a high-class inn called the “White Stag Inn.” Where they introduce themselves and make it clear they are guests of the queen and are then served food by a very nervous barkeep. 

Little do they know that he’s so nervous because he has poisoned their food. And when they realize that, the witchunter (who is SO trigger happy that I have had to rewrite encounters so they’re less likely to murder the crucial NPCs) shoots the barkeep while he begs for his life. They then question the cook, and shoot him too, while he also begs for his life. 

Now I’m not sure what I expected them to do after this point, maybe start the quest that the cook laid out for them before dying? But that is not what they did, what they did, was take all the money out of the cash register. 

Alright fine.

Then they hid the bodies. 

Again, cool.

Then, they said they were going to find the deed. 

They wanted to take ownership of the inn

Okay, unexpected, but sure, there’s a deed somewhere in the inn, but it’s in a lockbox in a locked room with very very good locks. If they can get to that deed, then fine, they can have the inn, but the DC is WAY too high for level 3 players to get it without a nat 20 probably. 

Here’s what I forgot. 

One of my players is really good at breaking the game while not technically breaking any rules. Really good. Which player was this? The bard. You know what stats they broke? 

Dex and charisma. 

So my unpickable locks proved to be nothing. They were rolling above 20 at level fucking 3. I could see them roll and then count on their fingers what the final roll was, at some point I looked over at their dice to see what the base roll was. 

9

What was the final roll? 

21

They found the deed. 

I don’t know. I don’t know how they did it. They explained it to me and I forgot. I was t i r e d. 

So they have the deed, I expected them to maybe go to the queen, or go on the quest. But no, they raided the liquor cabinet.

Alright, that’s not TOO out there. So you find liquor. In fact you find LOTS of liquor. It’s a high class place okay. They got it all. Fuck yourselves up while I eat this ding-dong you- 

“I cast minor illusion to create a giant flaming skull over the inn.” 

“A massive skull forms over the inn, it’s jaw opening in a silent laugh. For a moment it illuminates the houses around you, you heard people scream until it fades-” 

“I dO IT AGAIN IT’S A CANTRIP.” 

So they did it again, attracting a guard, who they cast vicious mockery on, and runs away screaming. 

This was all done by the bard btw, with the witchhunter with them laughing along, while the cleric and the paladin got high in an opium drug den/brothel. Eventually, the bard casted one last spell, that made all animals around the inn fall asleep. Including an owl. Who flew through the window and was then adopted by the witchunter. Who then got so drunk they didn’t remember actually getting the owl and someone else had to explain to them why they woke up with an owl preening their hair. 

Anyway, that’s how my party got an owl. And an inn. Which they have to do some SERIOUS PR for because the entire city now thinks it’s haunted.

To which the party replied “Well just the garden!” where they buried the bodies under the sod. 

That I Can Do

A/N: An anon request for a fic where the BAU goes out and Spencer gets drunk. He ends up staring at the reader a lot and showering her with compliments. Fluffy drunk Spencer, some drunk dancing and kissing. @coveofmemories

                                                              —–

“Oh my god,” Garcia laughed, watching as Reid walked back to their table like a baby giraffe just finding its legs. “Reid is so drunk. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him so drunk.”

The genius could actually hold his liquor. But he was holding quite a lot of it. “He’s so wasted,” you said, dancing with your ladies on the floor. “He normally doesn’t drink so much, I wonder why he decided to this time.”

Emily and JJ giggled much to your confusion. “I think I know why,” Emily said. “I think boy genius has a crush and he needed some liquid courage to get himself to say something.” Why wouldn’t Reid tell you if he had a crush on someone? He told you everything. Unless he just had his eye on someone since you’d walked in. 

“Are you serious?!” JJ screamed, unable to be heard over the loud music coming from the speakers. “He’s got the hots for you!”

You scrunched your face up in confusion. “Me? No way,” you huffed. There was no way he had the hots for you. To prove it to them, you left them on the dance floor and walked back toward Reid and the rest of the guys. “Hey babes.” You greeted them breezily, raking your hand through your hair; by the end of the night, you’d be able to tell JJ that she was out of her mind. “I’m parched. I think I need another drink.”

“I’ll come with you, beautiful,” Reid slurred, slinking his arm around your shoulder. Oh my god. JJ wasn’t actually out of her mind. Well, technically she still could be. Reid was beyond wasted. Maybe he didn’t feel this way when he wasn’t soaking in alcohol. Hotch, Rossi, who’d been very reluctantly dragged out (Hotch’s doing), and Morgan smiled wide. Had Spencer been talking about you to them? What the hell was going on? Never in a million years would you have thought Reid had the hots for you. “You’re so pretty,” he said as he leaned his head against your shoulder. You could practically feel him puddling on the ground. If it weren’t for him leaning on you, he would no doubt be on the floor right now. “I can’t believe I’ve never told you how pretty you are. I needed a-alcohol.”

“Reid, stop talking. You are so wasted,” you said, pushing his long hair back behind his ear. You were going to have to make sure he got home safely tonight. Sure you were pretty wasted yourself, but you were the responsible drunk - no matter how drunk you were, you made sure your friends were home safe.

“I know what you’re thinking,” he said. As you looked into his eyes, you could see his pupils darting around like mad. It was like he’d ingested enough alcohol to make them float.

“I don’t think you do, Reid.” You’d always thought Reid was cute, but with work as crazy as it was, you hadn’t really thought to pursue a relationship at all. Plus, as you’d told the girls, you never had an inkling that he had a thing for you. You honestly still didn’t believe it. “I think you’re talking crazy because you’re wasted.”

“But I’m not…talking crazy that is. I am very, very drunk though. But I’m definitely not talking crazy. You think I’m only saying you’re pretty because I’m drunk, but I’m not. I’ve always thought you were pretty, but you’re intimidating and gorgeous and I never believed you’d like me so I made myself get drunk to tell you how pretty you are.” As the bartender came back with your drinks, you watched as Reid took another sip. “I’m going to nurse this one. Otherwise, I think I might throw up.”

“I think that’s a good idea, Reid,” you laughed. In nearly three sips, you’d downed half the beer you’d ordered. You had no idea how to react to him liking you. Actually you did. Your immediate reaction was to kiss him, but one, you didn’t want to give everyone else the satisfaction of seeing that they were right, and two, you weren’t big on public displays of affection. 

However…the idea of him being drunk enough to actually dance with you made you wonder whether or not you should throw away your aversion to PDAs. He never danced. Ever. So you kind of wanted to take advantage of his drunkenness and get him to dance. “Reid, you wanna dance?” you asked casually. 

“Sure, why not,” he said setting his beer down on the table. He didn’t make eye contact with anyone, but you could see in everyone’s eyes that all they needed was some popcorn and they could sit back and watch the show. Fine, you would give them a show - nosy fuckers. “I’m super drunk anyway. Maybe alcohol makes me better on my feet.”

As you both made your way onto the dance floor, you took his hands in yours, turning around so your back was too his front. With ease, his body swayed with yours to the music. “You’re a good dancer too. And you’re pretty. How do you do that?” he slurred into your ear.

Your threw your head back and laughed. God, he was drunk. “I guess I’m just multi-talented, Reid. But I think you might be right about the alcohol making you a better dancer. You’re moving right along with me.”

“Wow, I guess it is working,” he laughed wildly as he looked down at his feet. He was so fucking wasted. When you made eye contact with JJ, she did that “I see you” gesture. Whether or not you did anything with Reid, everyone on the team was going to think that you did - so fuck it.

Just as the music began to switch to a different pace, you made a point of locking eyes with everyone on the team. Once you knew you had their attention, you reached behind you, placed your hand around the side of his neck and pulled his face toward yours, taking his mouth in a heated kiss. When you pulled your lips from his, he shook his head like a confused puppy. “Did that actually happen or am I just really, really drunk?”

“Both,” you laughed. “I think we have an audience.” 

Beyond confused, Reid looked around to see his teammates looking between you both. “I normally don’t do that kind of thing in front of people,” he laughed, placing his hand on JJ’s shoulder.

“No you don’t,” you replied. “Maybe we should get you home so you don’t fall over.”

He stumbled over your way, nearly losing his footing, but you caught him and righted him. “But I thought you wanted to dance?”

“If you come with me now, so you don’t fall over in an alcohol-induced stupor, I will dance with you before you pass out for the night. Okay?” you said, smirking at the rest of the team as you walked out of the club. 

“Deal,” he yawned. You weren’t going to get to dance with him; he was gonna pass out the second you got him home. “Can I get another kiss too?”

“That I can do.”

Play It Again (Steve x Reader)

Author’s Note: Hey guys!! So this is a part of @amarvelouswritings 700 follower celebration. I would post it later, but this upcoming week is total nuts and I don’t wan to procrastinate and forget. It’s inspired by Luke Bryan’s song Play It Again.  As always, feedback would be much appreciated. Enjoy! :)

Summary: Tony is throwing a beach bash to kick off the summer when someone catches Steve’s eye.

Other Characters: Tony, Wanda (mentioned)

Warnings: Fluff, talk about drunk/buzzed driving, almost smut

Word Count: 1,107

Originally posted by belle333black

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

hello! can i get some headcanons with drunk todoroki and his fem s/o? mainly fluff but if you wanna add some nsfw headcanons in there then go for it ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

((Taking a smol break from the letters with this request, because I like it ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)))

-Todoroki is the affectionate drunk

-The very, very affectionate drunk

-He’s not even that happy when he drinks too much

-He just says weird stuff he’d never say when sober

-It’s usually contained to hugs and smooches

-But sometimes he’ll go overboard

-However, s/o generally doesn’t feel well if they do the do with him while he’s drunk

-Mostly because of what he’s like the morning after

-Pukes all over the place

-He really can’t hold his liquor well and it shows

-It shows, a lot

-Mostly when he gets drunk after a pint of beer

-It’s fascinating, really

anonymous asked:

I need an alex relapsing due to everything with her father and maybe her past and maggie being there for her because I relapsed myself :/ being an alcoholic is fun....

She’s thrown things and she’s screamed and she’s stormed out of the apartment and she’s wanted to, wanted to, god, she’s wanted to.

But she hasn’t had a drink in three months and fourteen days.

Three months and fourteen days because Maggie Sawyer noticed. And Maggie Sawyer cared.

But she almost gets catapulted across the galaxy, and her sister blows out her powers saving her, saving them all – again – and her father says he’d understand if she shot him, and she hates herself because part of her wants to, wants to, because how dare he tell her that he participated in a genocidal plan for her, for her, for her. 

Isn’t Eliza already blaming her for enough? For how didn’t you see this, Alexandra, I thought you were supposed to be trained for this sort of thing and how could you have gone in there alone, Alexandra, I know you’re powerful, but you’re not your sister, dear, you need to accept that you have limitations, for she wouldn’t have had to blow out her powers saving all of you if you had thought this through more rationally, Alexandra.

She kicks at the couch and she heads downstairs.

Heads downstairs, because Maggie had helped her get rid of all the alcohol in her apartment – and god, it had been a lot – but Maggie can’t close the liquor shops around her apartment.

Heads downstairs, because the liquor store is closer than the closest meeting.

And Maggie’s at work.

And Alex is a grown woman.

A grown woman whose father abandoned her, whose father participated in a genocidal forced deportation plan in her name, whose father was everything and whose father was nothing, nothing, nothing, like the man she’s spent all these years agonizing over. Wanting to be like.

Alex is a grown woman, and doesn’t she fight hard enough, and doesn’t she deserve just one, just one, because without anything, she can’t. Without anything, there’s no dulling her heightened senses and there’s no dulling her hellish agony.

Just one.

She pays in cash and she’s more than halfway through the damn bottle before Maggie’s tentative knock on her door. She chuckles wryly to herself, because she always knew she’d be a disappointment to Maggie.

Always knew she’d fail her.

She staggered to the door, a masochistic grin on her face, because let’s see how far ride or die really goes.

Maggie takes one look at her and Maggie doesn’t blink and Maggie doesn’t yell and Maggie doesn’t even let her face fall.

“Alex,” is all she whispers, and she stares at her like she’s never loved anyone more.

Alex doesn’t realize that her lip is trembling, doesn’t realize that her body is shaking, until she’s collapsed into Maggie’s arms, until she’s racking with sobs and almost toppling them both over, but Maggie’s stance is stronger than Alex’s worst self-hate, and Maggie calls her sweetie when she gasps out how sorry she is, and Maggie tells her she’s wrong when she moans out what a failure she is, and Maggie tells her she’s so brave when she sobs out how she’s ruined all of her progress, ruined them, ruined herself, ruined everything.

Failed everything.

Everyone.

Again.

“Alex, you’re allowed. You’re allowed to relapse, and you’re allowed to still love yourself. Is tonight ideal, babe? No. Did you mess up? Yeah. But you know what, sweetie? You’re doing something so brave, so hard, so terrifying, and you’re doing so good. You’re allowed to be human and you’re allowed to make mistakes. Because you know what, Danvers? You can slip up and still be worthy of love. You can slip up and still be perfect. You can slip up and still make it better. I promise you. Okay? I’m not going anywhere. I’m not. I promise.”

“I wouldn’t blame you if you did.”

“I’m not going anywhere, Alex. Understand me? Ride or die includes relapses. It’s part of the deal, babe.”

“But I failed you.”

“No. You didn’t hurt me, Alex. You’re not being abusive to anyone but yourself, babe, and we can work with that. Okay? I’m not going anywhere, Alex. Unless you want me to.”

Alex grabs at the back of her shirt and pulls her closer, closer, closer.

“Please stay.”

“Of course, Alex. Of course I will.”

In the dead of the night

Pairing: Thomas Sharpe x Reader

Wanings: LET’S TALK ABOUT SEXY BABY.

Summary: You’re the daughter of one of the richest men in town, and you’re bound to inherit his business and that is how you met Sir Thomas Sharpe, a mysterious English man that is just about to find out that you rule town and you want things your way, and your way only.

A/N: I’ve never done a Thomas one shot, and actually, this was a mere exception for a dear person of mine. Enjoy!


Originally posted by mercilessraven

You saw him walking out of the main office. His suit seemed to be a bit old; you could tell from afar, but it was quite well-kept for the years it must have had. His black hair was longer than the usual for a man, and if you really looked at him, behind that pristine skin, he showed some sort of misery, the typical misery from a life that was most probably not easy.

He was tired; the bags under his eyes gave him away, but you couldn’t quite decipher if it was because of the long journey from one side of the ocean to the other, or because his soul was a rather tired one. You were taken away from your thoughts as your boss coughed loudly next to you. You took a deep breath and looked up at him.

“Miss (Y/L/N),” Mr. Hughes started with his deep voice, “could you please take our future associate somewhere nice tonight?” He pointed at the slim, tall man with his fat fingers. “Maybe going out for dinner? Perhaps a show at the theater? Get creative.”

“What do I look like to you, Mr. Hughes?” You asked in a melodic voice. “You know, there are special women for that job, and as far as I am concerned, I am not that, am I?” you smiled widely and from the corner of your eye you saw the man, the future associate, trying to hold back his laughter. “And I’m quite sure he’s a grown up man and he could get by on his own, right?” Mr. Hughes tried to say something, but his words got stuck on his tongue.

“As much as I’d like to, ma’am,” the black haired man chimed in, with a dazzling English accent, “I have arrived here just a few days ago, and I still don’t quite know my way around town, but it seems like you have something else to do, so it’s quite alright—”

“Well,” you sighed dramatically, “someone’s got to save the company, right?” You rolled your eyes in exhaustion. “Lucky you, I’m the heir to this so-called throne,” you stood up and extended your hand to the English, “(Y/N) (Y/L/N), it’s a pleasure to meet you, and I hope after tonight we can really be associates,” you flashed a smile, ignoring everything that happened around you, Mr. Hughes included. His green eyes were like a siren’s song and you were nothing but a fool sailor on the way to doom.

“Sir Thomas Sharpe,” he held your hand in his pale one, and leaned forward to gently brush his lips on the back of it, “the pleasure is all mine, I hope.”

“Mr. Hughes,” you said as you took your jacket from the back of the chair, “if my father comes tell him I’m making business, nothing to worry about.” You pulled from Sir Thomas’s hand and lead the way out of the office.

You took him for a walk near the park, just to get to know him better. He was Sir Thomas Sharpe, the last Sharpe –along with his sister—in a long line of Sharpes. He had a big, old, house back in the mother land and he had nothing to rely on more than the family business that had been kept forever: clay mining; something you never thought it could be a thing. His sister, Lady Lucille, hadn’t married, and she still lived with him; unfortunately –not for you—she wasn’t able to come along with him so she had to stay at home taking care of both the house and the business.

“Are you and your sister very close?” You asked. “For the way you speak of her, you must be.”

“Quite close, yes,” he nodded, but in his voice you could tell there was a taint of gloominess.

“And do you miss her?” You bit your bottom lip nervously. “Do you wish she was here now?”

“Not as much as you would think,” he shrugged carelessly, and obviously absent from the conversation. Once he felt the tension in the air, he asked, “and do you have any more siblings?”

“They all died at a very young age,” you shook your head, “I am supposed to be the oldest, but truth is that in time, I’ve become an only child,” you sighed, looking away, “my youngest brother took my mother away when I was just 10.”

“I’m so very sorry to hear that,” he gulped, finding your eyes with his piercing ones; for a minute, and even though you were sitting, your knees felt week. “So, are we really going out for dinner tonight?”

“Yes, I’ll make the reservation and pick you up at 9. Be ready,” you smiled wickedly and kissed his cheek goodbye. For a woman your age, you were quite the daredevil and all girls gave you a nasty look just because you couldn’t care less for their opinions.

Just a few minutes past 9 you arrived to the restaurant that you had so carefully picked. The food was incredible, and with his company, it tasted even better. With a bit of liquor, Sir Thomas seemed a lot more eager to share his secrets; a life of abandonment, the constant pressure that his sister put on his shoulders, and even the need for freedom that he longed so badly and that in just a few days he was getting. He did say he envied you, for being the only child of a very loving father, and the freedom and financial independency you had from it.

“A woman involved with the economy and money?” Sir Thomas asked as he took the glass to his lips. You tried to look away, but the way they pressed against the clear glass was absolutely mesmerizing. “America is quite a wonder, isn’t it? Are you sure you’re not interested in politics as well?” He laughed, showing his perfect teeth in his wide smile. You noticed how his nose wrinkled and his eyes slightly closed; you wondered how long had he been without laughing so purely.

“Things are not that much different in this side of the pond, Sir Thomas,” you replied with a quick rise of your brows and a slight smile. “Although women do give me a strange look whenever I go around, apparently I don’t fit in the pattern. You’d have to live here a lifetime just to start understanding my conception of the American way. I can’t imagine how things would be like in England.”

“They are much different, as you could assume,” he give you a quick nod, “and are you happy with the life you’re living? Doesn’t it get a bit lonely?”

“I don’t know,” you replied with a sigh, “I have to admit that sometimes it does; men are too afraid of my personality and my only friends are the maids at home. I talk to them a lot because I don’t want to worry papa with my nonsense, he’s got a lot of work on his own to be worrying about the female struggles,” you shrugged and took the glass to your lips and let the amberish liquid run down your throat. “But I think my life is bound to be very busy in a matter of years so probably I will have no time for a husband.”

After hours of conversation and drinking, your head felt a little light and your senses were numbed by the amount of beverage you just had. It was not a common thing that you could drink like a man, but with such a great companion and with an even greater conversation, hours flew away and alcohol ran down your throat like water.

Somehow, you woke up the next day wrapped in the comfort of your sheets but you were not sure of how you’d made it there. Your maid knocked softly and made her way inside your room with a silver tray full of things so you could recover your energies.

“A fine, English gentleman came around earlier today,” Anna said in a melodic and accusing voice, giving you a knowing smile, “and he wanted to see you.”

“What did you tell him?” You hurriedly asked, feeling less hangover now.

“That you weren’t feeling alright,” she assured you, “but he promised to pay you a visit at 7,” just when she was about to leave the room, she turned her head to you and said: “Beware, (Y/N),” her voice was now more serious, “he might be English and charming, and have a pair of green eyes that would make any woman melt from the inside, but even I can tell he’s a fortune hunter. Do what you want with him, but don’t let him trick you.”

“I thought you knew me better, Anna,” you took a hand to your chest, “he might be everything you said, but I have an empire to look after when the day comes. I have greater things in mind rather than a man who might only like me for the fortune I have… Papa raised me well,” you replied; it took you a second to realize how cold your words sounded and how cold-hearted you actually were. “And he did not raise a fool, at least not entirely.” She sighed in relief and left you alone with a hunger that was out of this world.

At 7, and as promised, Sir Thomas Sharpe was welcomed inside the house. You came down the long staircase wearing a long, baby blue dress. Anna came down with you, giving you her final warnings on the English. You told her that you knew quite well what you were doing, but being completely honest, the minute you saw him there you were lost. His eyes were all you could see, and the necessity of making him reveal his deepest secrets grew ardent in you; well, not only that, but also the need of undressing him to witness how England blessed the men.

You invited him to have dinner together; just the two of you again, and he seemed a lot more reserved than at the restaurant. Michael, your butler was there to keep an eye on the stranger just as Anna told him. Nevertheless, he was still as charming as usual.

The night was still warm; summer was on its highest point and people walked around town as if nothing could ever interrupt their happiness. You told Michael that you’d go for a little walk and that you wanted to be alone for “as long as you needed.”

“Sir Thomas,” you said, when you were far enough from the house, “you ought to know that I’m the kind of woman who always gets what she wants, always” you smiled wickedly, “and I hope my intentions with you meet yours towards me. If you don’t feel the same, then it’s quite alright and we will never speak of it—”

Sir Sharpe interrupted you by cupping your face with his slim hands and pulling you closer, crashing his lips on yours to kiss you so ardently, yet so softly that you thought you’d melt right there. Your hands held on to his wrists, not wanting to let go of him because he was without a doubt the best thing he had happened to you in many years.

He seemed so eager to have you in his arms, to be finally able to kiss you even though it hadn’t even been 24 hours since you two had met. It wasn’t love, you were sure about that, but what you felt for him was more than that and you didn’t need to put a name or label on it. You felt something for Sir Thomas Sharpe, and that was all you wanted to know. Well, that, and that he was apparently on the same page as you.

You were not sure how, but in just a matter of seconds –or at least that’s how it seemed in your mind—you were back at the house, completely unseen by the staff. You took him to your bedroom, and after you locked the door as you usually did, the fun and games begun.

He kissed you again, and walked you to the soft mattress in which you fell, and in the dead of the night you’d surely go unnoticed. You slid away from your dress and started peeling off his vest and shirt. The garments revealed a pale skin that seemed to shine under the moonlight, and there were also some rough parts on it. His childhood must have been difficult, otherwise you couldn’t explain why there were scars on such canvas.

His long fingers traced your side, moving along with your curves and melting with your skin to be just one. His lips parted from yours to kiss their way down your breasts and stomach, reaching your throbbing innermost thighs, where his free fingers lazily played with your sex, making you squirm and tremble under his greedy touch.

“So sensitive,” he growled in between kisses, “so ready.”

He positioned in between your spread legs and when you were about to beg him to fuck you senseless, his mouth was capturing your bud and sucking hard on it. You threw your head back and had to suppress a loud moan. Your hands tangled with his soft hair and kept him in place while he worked your folds so right that you couldn’t have sworn you were seeing stars, and not exactly those up in the sky.

Once he decided it was enough torture, he kicked off his pants and positioned himself on top of you. With his hands on the sides of your body, he began thrusting; slowly at first, so you could have the time to adjust to his size. He had his forehead pressed against yours, and when you started to feel better, you nodded to let him know that he could increase his speed, which he happily complied.

He glued your lips to you just for the sake of keeping you silent as he had you at his mercy; you wanted him to do whatever he wanted with you. You were his, and he was yours. He pounded you hard and fast, and it was blissful. You were a mess; a shaking, sweaty and complete mess.

After coming, he stayed with you, caressing your hair and just being a complete sweetheart. He looked at you with the most loving eyes someone had ever given you, and if it wasn’t for Anna’s words earlier that day, you would have given him everything.

You covered yourself with the silk robe that hung on the door of the wardrobe, and saw Sir Thomas as he dressed up again. His eyes were shining, and when he looked at you, a wide smile spread on his thin lips.

“I have to go,” Sir Thomas said as he buttoned up his shirt and fixed his hair, “my time here is very little…” if you didn’t know better, you could say he didn’t really want to leave. “Thank you, for an interesting evening and a pleasant night,” he bowed his head.

“Sir Thomas…” you bit your bottom lip, reaching out your hand to hold his, “if you ever come back… we might have another dinner just the two of us, wouldn’t you like that?” You lingered with his fingers, tangling yours and not even looking at him; if you had, perhaps you would have told him to stay there with you for an eternity.

“(Y/N),” he placed his free hand under your chin and made you look up, “you have made me the happiest man in just a matter of hours and I can never thank you enough for that,” his voice was softer than ever, “but you know I cannot stay here even if I wanted to…”

“I know,” you nodded, shaking your head, “but first…” you placed your hand behind his head and pulled him for one last kiss. “Thank you,” you sighed.

You walked him to the backdoor, making sure no one would see him sneaking out; he was one with the shadows and soon after, he disappeared from your sight and your life.

Modern HBO War Headcanons

So I had some people ask for more modern TP and BoB headcanons, which i’m more than happy to deliver! So without further ado: 

  • Chuckler has seen every episode of SpongeBob SquarePants. He can and will reference them and if you don’t get the reference he will be vaguely disappointed. 
  • Webster and Liebgott got snowed in together one time. Liebgott became bored enough that he actually agreed to play Scrabble with Web. Web kept trying to use big, pretentious words. Liebgott would call him out on it every time and they would just descend into another argument. What should have been a short game turned into four straight hours of bickering and Liebgott’s ultimate triumph. He, of course, will not let Webster live it down.
  • Luz throws a massive Halloween party every year where everyone is invited. One year Tab showed up with his face painted entirely pink. He was “Pink Floyd”.
  • Hoosier and Tab started a doggie rescue service that caters toward placing dogs with veterans. Nixon is one of their top donators. Joe Toye was one of their first participants. He saw this squatty, old English Bulldog with its tongue hanging out and he kinda fell in love.  Its name was originally Spike, but Joe calls him “Bud” so much that it essentially became his new name.
  • Webster was given two pairs of shark socks and a shark coloring book in the Easy Company Secret Santa last Christmas.  He’s almost certain it was a gag gift but he unabashedly loves them. One pair of socks has sharks all over them and the other looks like the sharks are eating his feet. He uses the coloring book to relax when he’s hit a mental roadblock while working on a story for his paper.
  •  Luz is the host of a pretty popular radio show. On the side he does voice acting, particularly for video games.  Sometimes one of the other guys will be playing a game and realize that the NPC they are talking to is Luz, which is both great and weird.
  • Babe has the absolute worst (or best, if it’s your thing I guess?) taste in alcoholic beverages. For instance, he loves mixing Kool-Aid with pretty much anything. What’s more, when he gets drunk he starts singing and doing some pretty terrible karaoke.
  •  Hoosier, similarly, enjoys really shitty, cheap beer. He drinks a lot, almost a concerning amount. But since he isn’t drinking hard liquor he always looks a lot more sober than some of the guys around him.
  • Snafu knows one of the guys on the show Swamp People. They both frequent the same bar. According to Sanf, “He’s alright.”
  • Snafu has also managed to thoroughly creep out all his neighbors. He’s one of those dudes that just sits on his porch for hours, just chillin’. But he stares at all the people that walk by with his big ol’bug eyes and just grunts when someone says hello.
  • Buck’s place is basically a frat house on Superbowl Sunday. Everybody comes to party, even those that don’t care about football at all. (I’m looking at you, Hoosier.)  
  • Actual local saint Shifty Powers does yard work and other little odd jobs for his elderly neighbors. Sometimes when he needs an extra set of hands for a job, Lipton or Randleman will come around and help.  The nice, elderly women will always bake them some kind of treats in return.

yesindeedio  asked:

OKAY!! EMERGENCY!! my mom is forcing me to speak at an event, and to spite her i want to end my speech by saying, "here is a quote from the great philosopher Kim Han," and then say some deep thing he's said (because there's so many). do you have any i could use?

Since I don’t know at what kind of event you have to hold the speech, I’ll just post my favorite hanbin quotes and you can look for yourself if you can use any of them. 

  • “Do not do it half-heartedly. Devote your life into it.”
  • “A winner is someone who gets up one more time when he is knocked down.”
  • “There is more to life than studying. Just do what you like.”
  • “I think we are able to stand here and sing because of the tears you shed for us. The happiness you felt with us, starting back from WIN. I’m so glad I became a singer and I’m so happy to meet you. We met so many people here, I think that this is a huge blessing for us. Really, thank you so much. And there is one thing we all want to say together. Well I don’t know if it will transfer over to you, but we’ll shout it together loudly. THANK YOU!”
  • “The gods asked me ‘won’t you regret this?’ I answered without hesitation ‘why should I regret?’. What’s left behind is either success or failure.”
  • “There is nothing humans can’t do. Just do it!”
  • “I don’t make music to make it to the charts. I’m happy even if just one person listens to our songs. I used to be fussy about the charts. I was blinded by something unnecessary. I let go of that, and it got a lot better.”
  • “It was like hell. But after being in hell, hell became comfortable. If I go to hell again, I think I’ll be prepared.”
  • “The moment they relax, I eat them up.”
  • “My determination has no choice but to be different from others.”
  • “If I were you I’d practice day and night. I would be too pissed not to. Where’s you determination? Do you really want this? Are you desperate? Your nose should be bleeding by now. You should feel so exhausted that you’d think you might die. Why do you even sleep? Why do you go to the house? Why do you rest? Why are you taking the weekends off?”
  • “In 10 years, I’ll be the best.”
  • “I want to become a person who doesn’t change even after debut.”
  • “Happiness, sorrow, hope, anger, desire, despair, love. What’s the meaning of these emotions that you feel only for a moment.”
  • “I absolutely have no regrets.” 
  • “All I could do as a leader, is to protect the team.”
  • “Before 6th grade, my dream changed once every 2 days. My parents said that if my dream doesn’t change for a year then they’ll help me with that dream and that was becoming a rapper. To see that my dream did come true, I think I was lucky.”
  • “Our business got nothing to do with you.”
  • “I don’t know this games rules. But fuck it, I don’t care. I will do it my way.”
  • “The pain given by god, I was getting over it. Brothers that share blood and flesh I was trying to protect.” 
  • “Hey haters, sorry, it’s my time now.”
  • “After ‘WIN’ ended, we went back to training. Fans sending their love, our families rooting for us and our performances. I wrote songs to cherish those memories.”
  • “No limit, gon touch the sky.”
  • “If you don’t know me, get to know me now. Korea’s music industry had no owner, but it’s mine now. If that disgusts you and you have the confidence, try to take away my leadership.
  • “Everyone look closely at how far I’ll come.”
  • “The fans are my motivation. They’re the reason I make music. I’m thankful that they experience sadness and happiness with us. They’re the people that make me make music.”
  • “We will become the best.”
  • “Life is sometimes heaven, sometimes hell. Sometimes pleasure, sometimes pain.”
  • “ I fell and learned how to walk on my own.”
  • “Giving up my youth, I ran barefoot for three years. Living each day nervous about tomorrow.I had no choice but to throw away the pressure and failure.”
  • “From now on I don’t want to bother about success or failure. I don’t want to think about win or lose. As long as we can bring happiness and good songs to you all then we are satisfied.”
  • “I don’t hate anyone. I learned from my mom that I shouldn’t hate people.”
  • “What are we fighting for? What do we find so funny? We are still young and naive, we just want happiness. After lots of moments of regret and the liquor glass that is emptied out along with our hearts. With the people and music that I like, this should be a satisfactory life.”
  • “Let’s take it slow, let’s last real long, let’s stay together until we die.” 
  • “The reason why I can’t run away when the gun is pointing at me? The reason why I can sleep in peace during the night after dark? What am I living for? I’m living for my fam, for my fan, do this thing for my team, for myself.”