hardy lunch

Ellie my child… oh God, you know there is a fuckening shitstorm brewing for this woman

“I dreamt I was at Axehampton, lying by the waterfall”

And every single episode brings us closer and closer to Joe

Then there’s her dad and kiddos and the problems with Tom

And her personal grief, the way she can relate to Trish’s needs, and what happened to her, and how she’s so traumatised by what men have done and hiding it behind this wall of anger


something bad is going to happen to ellie and when it does I’m going to defenestrate myself

Fic: Not Sorry, You Knob

Find on: ao3
Pairing: Hardy x Rose
Rating: Mature (to be safe…)
Summary: Rose asks Alec to attend a Vitex event, and he refuses. Rose resorts to other methods of persuasion.
Notes: In response to this hilarious photo. Also, for @timepetalsprompts Teninch free for all. Also, shoutout to @aneclipsedhabitue for her assistance.

This is my first time writing our favorite grumpy Scottish lump, and this is also unbeta’d.

“No, Rose, I’m not going to some stupid, bloody Vitex event.” Alec crossed his arms and his legs and leaned on the kitchen counter.

She leaned on the counter opposite him. Her jaw dropped a little. “Why not?”

He closed his eyes, waved his hand, and shook his head. “Oh, don’t do the eyes thing with me.”

“What ‘eyes thing’?”

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hardyrose  asked:

Hardy x Hannah prompt: gossip is swarming broadchurch about Hardy's new girlfriend. All is hypothetical until they're caught red-handed :o lol. Have fun and thanks :)

All in all

700 words


Why can’t I write anything with a normal amount of emotion for these two? (Because I love them so much, that’s why.)

Hardy looked up from his computer screen to find Hannah standing in his office doorway.

“What are you doing here?”

“Brought you lunch.”

Hardy frowned, she wasn’t the type to cook for him.

“Well, bought you lunch.” She held up an M&S plastic bag.

“That’s more like it.”

He removed his glasses and stood up to greet her properly, but he noticed his coworkers trying to casually peer into his office.

“Bloody rubberneckers.”

Hannah’s arrival in Broadchurch a week ago had people talking like only small town peeps could. She was younger than him and way out of his league. Speculations abounded as to the nature of their relationship: sister, mistress, witness, prostitute.  Of course, Hannah loved to provoke these rumours as evidenced by her see-through blue blouse— not that he was complaining.

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