bar liquor

Writing Prompts

Send me a number and any specific details you might like to see included.

1. Can you just back off?
2. I’m right here, okay? You’re all right.
3. Lock the door.
4. Keep it up and see what happens.
5. Don’t touch me right now.
6. That lipstick’s not gonna stay put for long.
7. Baby, just breathe.
8. This is a terrible idea.
9. For fuck’s sake, just shut up.
10. It’s too early for this.
11. If you keep squeezing that hard, you’ll break my hand.
12. I’m just stressed.
13. What did you break?
14. It’s four A.M.
15. I don’t need you anymore.
16. What an interesting conclusion.
17. And now you’re naked. Okay.
18. What are you wearing?
19. You’re overreacting.
20. I can’t believe you don’t even know my eye color.
21. And you thought I’d be okay with that?
22. You can’t keep doing this.
23. I’m so sorry. I can’t even tell you how sorry I am.
24. Why do you smell like smoke?
25. Why do you smell like a walking liquor bar?
26. Why do you smell like perfume?
27. Is there someone else? Don’t lie.
28. You took advantage of me.
29. If you think you’re getting out of this that easily, you’re sadly mistaken.
30. You put us both in danger.
31. I don’t understand you.
32. You’re just asking for it.
33. I could just choke you right now.
34. You are everything to me.
35. This is gonna hurt.
36. I don’t deserve this.
37. You can’t just fix everything with a kiss. This isn’t a booboo.
38. Can you slow down?
39. It feels deeper this way.
40. Did you just stick your fingers in my mouth?
41. Your family is in the other room!
42. I’m begging you.
43. Hey, you’re safe now. It’s over.
44. Where is all of my underwear?
45. I almost died.
46. This isn’t just one of your little jokes.
47. What did you do to your hair?
48. You’re scaring me.
49. I think I drank too much.
50. Well, this was unexpected.
51. It’s too late for that.
52. I didn’t mean to hurt you.
53. It’s your birthday. It is your birthday, right?
54. You’re just gonna leave me here?
55. That’s mine. You’re not taking it.
56. You made that more sexual than it should have been.
57. I’m not just gonna wait around for you.
58. That’s my only clean shirt.
59. Did you use my cologne? You smell like me.
60. I feel like I might be sick.
61. I can’t believe you would do this.
62. Don’t underestimate me. I’m a seasoned pro.
63. Your mom says differently.
64. Did you steal this?
65. I thought I lost you.
66. I think you need a shower.
67. Call an ambulance.
68. I can’t talk about this anymore.
69. Can you put your mouth here?
70. You taste like toothpaste.
71. A little manky-panky.
72. I’m going to absolutely wreck you.
73. Don’t ever say that again.
74. I don’t really care what you think.
75. I can’t do that.
76. This is a train wreck.
77. Do you need some tissues?
78. You can fuck right off.
79. You’re still gonna go, aren’t you?
80. I cannot believe you forgot. This was important to me.
81. If you buy that, I’m leaving you.
82. Can we just start fresh?
83. Don’t forget the condoms!
84. I feel like I’ve been split in two.
85. I’ve never felt anything like that.
86. You’re driving me mad.
87. This is completely different.
88. Can you believe the moon tonight?
89. Wait, why are you crying?
90. You’re making this hard for me.
91. I hope you rot in hell.
92. I think you’re an angel.
93. Do this for me and I’ll do anything you want.
94. I’m gonna take good care of you.
95. Let’s see what you’ve got.
96. I went easy on you.
97. I’m getting better, right?
98. Read my fucking lips.
99. You make me happy.
100. I can feel your heart beating.

Vedi, ogni sorso di liquore che tu bevi, uccide mille cellule del cervello. Ma questo non importa perché ne abbiamo miliardi di altre. Prima muoiono quelle della tristezza, per cui ti fai una gran bella risata. Poi se ne vanno le cellule della calma, e così tu cominci a parlare a voce molto alta anche se non hai nessun motivo per farlo. Ma questo va bene, perché le cellule stupide se ne vanno subito dopo, così dici cose intelligenti. E alla fine tocca alle cellule della memoria, che sono figlie di puttana dure a morire…
—  La leggenda di Bagger Vance
An Arranged Marriage Chapter 7

Dean Winchester x Reader

1300 Words

Story Summary: An AU of sorts. Where hunter’s have communities, and arrange marriages for their young. Y/N is from the Northwest region, arranged to marry Dean, from the midwest region.

Catch Up Here: Masterpost

Sinking down on your mattress, you curled into a small ball, trying to reason with yourself. Sure, this was all new and unexpected, but you had known that your life would be forever changed once you became married. 

You just hadn’t expected Dean to be so handsome, and so hard to read. You hadn’t expected to live away from everything you knew, the community life you had always known. 

Then there was the business of Angels as best friends, and the fact that you and Dean were meant to be. That thought didn’t bother you nearly as much as you had let on. Sure, it had all seemed overwhelming, but even with his grumpy and stubborn ways, you could easily see Dean was a good man. A man you could easily fall in love with.

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anonymous asked:

Can you write something where you and Niall have broken up and she contemplates going to his party for his single and she sees him with another girl and she gets really upset? You can end it however you please, thank you! :)

Six months.  Six months since you’d last felt his hands on your skin.  Six months since you’d heard his breathy giggle close to your ear.  Six months since you’d been happy.  He’d tried to warn you that the distance would be hard.  That his time would be stretched between the studio and promo.  You’d assured him it would be fine……until it wasn’t.  Looking back, the actual break up was completely unnecessary.  You’d been too stubborn.  Too hurt.  You’d wanted him to run after you, beg you to come back, promise things would get better.  He’d been hurt and confused, analyzing every last word you’d spoken trying to figure out where he went wrong.  In the end he’d let you go.  Not because he wanted to, but because he thought a little space to cool down would put things in perspective.  

Neither of you picked up the phone.  For six months.

Now you were in the back of an Uber, sat outside his sprawling LA house.  You could see the house ablaze with light over the wall and hear the faint sounds of splashing water and lilting laughter from the party guests around the pool.  You picked at the corner of the invitation in your hands.  Simple beige cardstock with his new logo embossed in the center.  He was throwing a party to celebrate the success of his latest single.  When you’d pulled the piece of paper out of the envelope it felt like all the air was sucked from the room.  You hadn’t even listened to the song yet, too afraid of the emotions it would dredge up.  

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Escape the bachelor party

Prelude

“No women.  Do ye hear me?  No escorts, waitresses, exotic dancers, prostitutes, strippers…in short, Ian, if they’ve titties, I don’t want them there. Ye ken?”

“Jamie.  Ye ken I would never – “

“Bollocks, Ian.  I ken ye would!  Just to watch me ears go scarlet.”


Main Event

Poker.  And whisky. So much whisky.  

Jenny had massive amounts of food waiting, and Jamie had a crate of the Fraser’s best sent over from the Distillery.  Truth be told he was looking forward to a night with the lads.  One week before he was no longer a bachelor.  One week until he’d be a married man.  Claire’s husband.  Of all the things he was looking forward to, the band on his finger was the most.

Murtagh was tough.  He had a good poker face anyway, and the beard made it even harder to read.  He never bet heavily either, so it was tough to know if he had a good hand or not. Ian was shite at cards.  His uncles were ruthless. They’d go all in just to cripple you for the fun of it. Willie was fast becoming one of the lads and it made Jamie happy to know the loyal young man was fitting in and finding his way in the family business.  Rupert was pretty good, too.  He liked to pretend every hand he had was crap, and then he’d rob you blind with a Royal Flush.

They were well into their cups by the time talk turned to the upcoming nuptials.

“She’s bonny, Jamie, I’ll give ye that,” Dougal said as he raised two fingers and discarded.  “Can’t say the same of my own Maura, God love her.  Even a blind man would say she wasna bonny.”

Ian spit his drink across the table.  

Colum, who could hold his liquor better than all of them, just shook his head.  

Rupert drained the last of his whisky and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, “Aye, she’s bonny, yer Claire.  Although, I like a hen with a bit o’ meat on her.”

Dougal closed his eyes and leaned back in his chair, “I can think of worse things, then holdin’ on to that pair o’ sweet kakin’…”

“ENOUGH!”  Jamie roared.

Silence.    

“Forgive my brother, Jamie.” Colum’s voice soothed a room that went completely still.  “I wish there was a way to muzzle the idiot.”   He pointed a finger at Dougal.  “Maura deserves better than you, man.”  

“Aye, aye, aye….”  Dougal slapped his cards face down, stood and stumbled to the table for some food.

“Wha’ do ye like bessst about Claire, Jamie?” Willie slurred, eyes glazed over in drink.

Jamie, whose eyes were somewhat unfocused himself, swayed a little.  “Her arse.”

The room exploded into laughter.

Willie turned a shade of pink.  “I meant her personality.”

“Oh. Weel.  She’s fun.  And she can talk for hours about anything and everything.  She makes ye feel like ye’ve known her forever.  She’s a way about her that calms me to my soul.”  Jamie looked off into the distance for a minute, then shook his pickled brain.  He clapped a hand on Willie’s shoulder and said, “But she’s got a damn fine ass, man. I mean, Christ, gives me a terrible cockstand just to think of it.”  Chuckles from the older men as Willie started to squirm, “And she’s got this pair of hot pink knickers that….”

“JAMIE!”

Every man froze in place.  

Jamie slowly turned around.  

“Jenny.  Hey.” He waved awkwardly at his sister.

“How dare ye talk about yer future wife like some common hoor.”  She looked about the room.  What a bunch of drunkards.  Time to shut this down.

“That’s it.  Show’s over lads.”  She walked over to the bar, locked up the liquor and gathered the glasses.  She pointed at her husband.  “Show them where the blankets are,” and with a fist full of tumblers she headed out of the room. “Sleep well, gentlemen,” she called over her shoulder.

Ian turned to his friends with a sloppy wave, “Sleep well, gent…men,” and promptly stumbled into the back of his wife who’d suddenly stopped.  “Oof! Christ, Jenny…”

“Where do ye think yer going?”  Jenny said, glasses clinking.

Ian’s head lolled to the side, confusion evident. “To bed with ye, my fair Janet.”

“Think again,” Jenny snorted, and spun on her heels to leave.


Postlude

Claire sat curled up in the large leather chair by the fireplace, reading.  

She and Jenny had had a nice night with the children.  They all made their own pizzas, and then she and Jenny gave them baths to get the sauce out of theirs ears and hair and from between fingers.  They played games, and ended the night with Claire tucking in wee Jamie and Maggie, and reading them both a story.  

She’d planned to let Jamie have the night alone with his friends and family, but Jenny called to say she would like the company and told Claire to bring an overnight bag for her and Jamie. “I ken this lot, none of them will be fit to go home tonight.  I’ll not be in stuck in a house with a bunch of drunks on my own!”

She heard the heavy steps in the hall. The door opened, and Jamie came in. He stopped dead at the sight of her and smiled.  His eyes were having trouble focusing.  He staggered to the edge of the bed and struggled to remove his shoes.

Claire didn’t say or word.  Or move to help him.  Foolish prat.  He’ll deserve whatever headache he’ll have in the morning.  

Jamie breathed deeply and staggered a couple of steps forward, swaying slightly.  

“Are ye a dream, my own?  Or real?” he said, eyes narrowed.

Claire decided to stay still, and quiet to see how this played out.   

“Tha thu am boireannach bu bhrèagha a chunnaic mi riamh,” he whispered. “Agus a ‘smaoineachadh, bi thu leamsa a dh'aithghearr.”  Claire wouldn’t have been able to move if she tried.  Jamie didn’t speak Gaelic often, except to swear.  This wasn’t swearing.  The low rhythm of his voice sounded like poetry. 

“Och! “ Jamie flapped a hand at his vision and scrubbed at his face with both hands.  She could hear the rasp of his stubble.  “Mo graidh.  Ye are real, are ye, no?” 

Oh, the temptation to answer. 

“Best ye aren’t.  After what I admitted tonight.”  Jamie attempted three times to pull the tee shirt over his head.  “Talkin’ about yer arse like that.” 

Claire raised an eyebrow.   

“I mean, it’s a damn fine arse, mo graidh.  Drives me mad.  But I shouldna disrespect –“ his voice muffled for a bit as his face disappeared under the cotton, “-air beulaibh mo theaghlach.” 

He finally managed to pull the shirt over his head, and tousled his red curls in the process.  He looked like a child who’d just woken up from a nap.  

He looked at her again.  

“Tha thu taibhse?”   

Claire had never heard Jamie speak this much in his native tongue.  She had to admit, it turned her on.  Big time.   

“Your eyes,” Jamie said.  He smiled softly, and raised a hand as if trying to touch her cheek.  “They’re the colour of our finest whisky, with the sun shining through.” 

Slowly, Jamie stepped backward, trying to find the bed. It took all of Claire’s strength not to call out for him to watch himself.  As it was he hit the edge of the bed with the backs of his knees, and flopped over.  She almost giggled as he struggled to sit up.   He tried to focus on her again, his eyes glazed over.

“One week,” his finger wagged in her direction. “One week, and I’ll be Mr. James Beauchamp.”

Claire snorted.

“I mean, you’ll be Mr. James Beauchamp.  No.  That doesna sound right.”

Jamie placed his index finger against his lips, tapping rhythmically as he tried to make sense to himself.  He tried again, “Mrs. Claire Beau…no…,” he measured every word. “Mrs. James Alexander Fraser Mackenzie….no, wait….”

“Fhalbh,” he swore.

And to Claire’s profound amusement, the love of her life promptly passed out.