my pub

2

I rode my bike to the forest last week and I got lost for a while! It was amazing :’) also this is last week’s spread! (I’m actually spending most of the time doing nothing but watching movies haha)

America: So.. I was reading about how alcoholics can be found in like, everyone’s lives. It’s a common issue, ya know

Canada: Oh yeah, I bet we can even name some people in this room.

…….

England: Why are all of you looking at me?! 

Prussia: And me! What are you trying to say?

England: What the hell?

Prussia: Hey, do you want to go to the pub after this? Talk about this bullshit?

England: Yes. Actually. I do. 

ahem

@lears​ found this adorable fic by @drarrytrash​ and then we were discussing how much of a tragedy it is that there isn’t more lesbian drarry and so here is my starting point:

  • draco malfoy the queen lesbian of hogwarts: silver rings on her fingers and her hair cut short and blunt at her jawline; pointy-toed black polished boots that people whisper are dragonskin; looks bored and faintly offended every time a boy talks to her; clean bare nails that she files down short and square; a collection of high-waisted dark green trousers of expensive material that she wears with white silk shirts, folding open over her collarbone; everyone whispers about her buying fancy lingerie but when she stoops down one day in potions it’s just the clear dark line of a cotton sports bra; spends history of magic drumming her fingers on the table and slowly setting everyone on edge; comes back to eighth year hard and tired and unsmiling; has a bad tempered black cat and the slytherins say she talks to it, and the first year slytherins say it talks back; drinks mostly red wine, often cheap, often sour, usually to piss her dad off; taller than crabbe and goyle, now only taller than goyle; excellent eyebrows, thin mouth; looks like she could eat you alive and will.

  • harry potter bisexual hero: same unruly hair as ever except in fifth year when she buzzed it short (only she ended up missing the comparisons to her dad, let it grow out a bit again); oversized t-shirts, oversized jumpers, oversized flannel shirts, no bra; quidditch muscles in her thighs and arms; bitten nails that sometimes have half-flaked off polish that luna’s applied; lugs crates of beer with ron and ginny to drink down by the lake; wears a large oversized denim jacket and breaks sirius’s motorbike out of storage when she’s seventeen; tips back on her chair in class so far that people make bets if she’ll fall out; spends her summers from fifth year onwards going into london and catching the underground nowhere in particular, sitting in fluorescent chippies late at night and eating chips soaked in salt and vinegar; knuckle tattoos; has been known to haul crookshanks up by the scruff of his neck and hold him so his front paws are hanging over her shoulder, and he purrs like an engine; big hands, long fingers, and a hot look in her eyes like she wants to touch you.

  • together: draco straight-backed and mouth-pursed at hogsmeade, and harry ambling easily next to her; draco turns up to ancient runes late one morning in a faded pink sweatshirt that says WITCH LOVING WITCHES: FLORIDA KEYS CAMP 1986 that absolutely does not suit her and glares at anyone who looks at her; harry and draco’s cat in a silent possessive war; double dates with ginny and pansy to quidditch matches, where draco, harry, and ginny scream themselves hoarse and pansy reads her magazine; racing each other across the hogwarts lawn, tackling each other in the trees; apparating somewhere remote and wild and spending four days hiking mostly in silence, harry shouldering a heavy backpack with their tent in it, draco stopping every hour or so to check her map; when they start dating draco abruptly stops making fun of how dishevelled harry always is, and harry doesn’t get it until she notices how much longer draco looks at her now, the way draco skims her fingers along the strip of harry’s stomach where her sweater is riding up, the way draco watches her now like she wasn’t allowed before; much later, a flat with white walls and many plants; plus a huge golden bathtub they sit in together, draco propping her legs up on the rim to shave them (when she feels like shaving them), harry leaning down to kiss draco’s ankle, both of them eyeing each other, smirking, waiting, letting the room get hot and close and tense and waiting to see who’s going to give in and make the first move; and a large windowsill that they use to sit in and get stoned.
Dive

Hey, look. Another Ed Sheeran inspired fic. You tired of these yet? This gets a bit obnoxiously inspired at the end because hot damn I could not resist. Well, actually, the middle – it was originally going to be the end but they decided to fuck instead so… fairly explicit smut ahead? I don’t know how to class this, people – <overshare> but if we’re classing smut based on a 1-10 ‘how thirsty is the author’ scale, this is about a 100000000 </overshare>. ANYWAY – No, I didn’t put the lyrics actually in the bloody thing, but I recommend a listen (if only because this is a damn good song).

Also – last one shot for a while. After the next chapter of The Underground goes up (this weekend???) I’m going on fic hiatus until mid-May because your girl has seminar papers to write. I know, I’m crying too.

Summary: James is in a band, Lily is thirsty af. Muggle AU, Met in a Pub AU (a thing?), Smut.

Find it on FF or AO3


The pub was packed.

It was loud and sweaty and the air smelled like hard liquor and beer and the cigarette smoke wafting in off the street. Her local was normally a quiet, subdued place (though it occasionally got a bit rowdy on pub quiz night) - it was a lowkey pub, the bartenders were all really nice (though she had her favourite), and the regulars were cool. On New Act Fridays, though, the place exploded. It was a scene she’d long since moved on from since leaving uni, one full of writhing bodies and spilled drinks, but she always made a special exception for what was, probably, her favourite pub event. So, it seemed, did everyone the hell else in Leytonstone.

Lily tipped her head in thanks to the bartender as he dropped off her third gin and tonic, squeezed the lime into her glass, turned back around on her stool. She swirled her drink, leaned her back up against the bar, and surveyed the crowd. Everyone was largely chatting amongst themselves while they waited for the next act to get set up - a few people were pressed up against the wall and snogging furiously in the far corner, but Lily knew the number would at least double by the end of the night.

There was a pair of men on the small stage in the corner, a lanky blonde and a tall one with a mop of jet black hair, setting up their instruments as they prepped for, Lily assumed, their set. A man with a leather jacket stumbled out of the crowd, grabbed the blonde one by the neck with one hand, a fistful of his white t-shirt in his other, whispered something in his ear, pressed a kiss to his lips - the blonde smiled, beamed, before shoving the man, now laughing so loudly Lily could hear him from across the pub, off the stage.

Her eyes flicked away from them as the blonde sat down at his drums, began twisting something she couldn’t see - she turned back to the black haired man. He was fiddling with the tuning pegs on his guitar, his fingers plucking the strings, a look of deep concentration on his face. She moved her eyes over the long, lean muscles on his forearm, the tendons popping out in that absurdly sexy way that they always seem to do on guitar players, took another sip of her drink. He was part-way through tuning the fifth string when his eyes snapped up and met hers almost immediately, like he’d felt her eyes on him. She couldn’t tell what colour his eyes were, not from this distance, but she watched his gaze travel slowly down her body (her breath caught in her throat) before his eyes met hers again and he arched an eyebrow. Lily bit her lip - his lips hitched up into a cocky, lopsided smirk.

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Soooo I have a headcanon (well…I guess it’s a headcanon, but it’s something I hope might actually happen) that Chas filmed the speeches at Robron’s wedding reception.

Like…I found it a bit odd that Robert mentioned his speech (to Aaron outside the pub), but we didn’t get to see it. So I have this headcanon that it did happen, that Robert probably did make some long soppy speech, and maybe Aaron said a few words too (not a lot, and certainly not he way Robert did!) and that Chas filmed it (as she appeared to be filming them dancing/cuddling too).

So my headcanon is, that at some point over the next few weeks/however long Aaron is inside, Robert is going to watch these videos. Like just sit there in the quiet and watch them. I can imagine Chas telling him that she’s put all the wedding stuff on a disk for him, but he can’t bring himself to watch (because he’s sort of embarrassed, but also he just can’t bring himself to watch them without Aaron) but one day he just….he can’t stand being away from Aaron any longer, and just needs to feel close to him, so he brings himself to watch the footage of them on the happiest day of their lives.

I would love this so so so much if Emmerdale actually like….showed this. Like you can’t say (twice!) about Robert making a speech and then not show it. So imagine if they did show it, just weeks later, with Robert watching it on the TV or on his laptop. Like wobbly home-movie style footage with Chas “aww’ing” over the top of it.

I mean I don’t actually think this will happen, but bY GOD I would love it if it did. Either way, it’s going to happen in my mind <3