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kaylinelizabeth4004 · 1 year ago

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Between Two Lungs/Heaven is Here Pt 2

SYNOPSIS: Y/N tries to process the idea of eternity and reincarnation. Aziraphale begins to identify his feelings for both Crowley and Y/N. Crowley is pining and moody

WORD COUNT: 7k

TAGS: Aziraphale x Reader x Crowley, Aziraphale x Reader, Aziraphale x Crowley, fluff, soulmates, pining, kind of confession, so much fluff, emotional hurt/comfort, pov third person, fluff and angst

A/N: i didn’t mean for this to be as long as it is, and I mean the story itself. But there will be a part 3. This focuses more on Aziraphale, next more on Crowley. Sorry this isn’t as long as the last but felt like it was wrapped up

She felt like she was vibrating as a human, small little shakes destroying her entire sense of balance. Nina had made her take her break, though it was far too early in her shift, and she sat in the back with her legs shaking so violently the table rattled. She'd broken her mug that was sitting on top of it. Y/N was absentminded the entire shift, messing up orders and stuttering with each customer she talked to. Eventually Nina pulled her aside during a lull.

"What is going on?"

"What do you mean?" Y/N asked, eyes wide as she seemed to realize that this wasn't a 'here's the sugar, don't forget the napkins' spiel - the kind of spiel every new person got during the first month of their job, that was both helpful and insulting - but a 'you're fucking up spiel' - which was significantly less enjoyable and filled the receiver with such shame and embarrassment they considered the different cliffs nearby. During a particularly intense thought she considered the cliffs of Broadchurch, before remembering that was from a television show.

"Don't be daft. You've been a good barista these past few weeks, then that couple comes in and you're dancing like a bee."

"A bee?"

"They dance to communicate," Nina said plainly, as though it was an obvious comparison. Nina was sometimes so in her own head, tracking her own thought process, that she couldn't comprehend why it wasn't someone else's immediate thought as well. It was something her shrink told her to work on.

"Oh, sorry. I, they just rattled me." Y/N tried to ignore the image in her head of Nina moonwalking while firing her or someone salsaing on their way to tell someone their son has tried tragically. It was terribly funny and she was not in a terribly funny sort of mood. Demons and angels did that to a person.

Nina stared at her for a moment, "you a homophobe?"

"Oh! Oh my god, no. Never, that's not what I mean. No, no, no," she was rambling, not knowing what to say and now terrified her boss thought she was a homophone. She tried to consider how to explain to Nina that she wasn't homophobic, she'd just been pulled aside by a literal angel and demon who told her that her soul has been trapped on earth for more than 2,000 years eternally connected to them with their miscommunication and angst, which means that when the world does indeed end in fire she will definitely be there and might not have a place to go after the fact aside from miserable eternity. So she settled on saying something close enough to the truth that Nina wouldn't think she's a piece of shit that should be fired. "They, they made these comments about fate. Eternity and whatever. It wasn't bad, they weren't bad, I just got spooked. Not really religious, didn't know what to think of it."

Nina blinked rapidly and paused, letting Y/N's words sink in. "You're like this cause you're having a crisis of fate?"

"I- I, well yeah. It sounds silly. Just got to me."

"We get missionaries in here all the time, the Mormons won't leave me alone. You gonna be like this every time someone mentions God?"

"No! This is a one time thing, I promise. I'm not usually like this. I think it was the de - redhead, he drank like a lot of espresso and he was talking very intense-like." Whenever she got anxious her language devolved into likes and ums, stutters and little comments that only made sense to herself. She sometimes wished she could press an off button to stop the random shit that just decided to spew from her.

Nina looked at her with a sort of blanket skepticism she carried into each conversation. One of the things Maggie both loved and struggled with. Eventually she nodded, "right, okay. Life gets tough, people throw us off. I get it. I'm gonna send you home today, you're a mess even if it is a one time thing. Next time this happens, you tell me so we can fix it." Y/N's shoulders slumped at being sent home, feeling like she failed Nina. Nina, being surprisingly observant, went to reassure her, "shop closes in an hour anyways. Only one person comes in regularly and it's my partner, I'll be fine."

Y/N nodded, untying her apron and hanging it up. Nina gave her a smile as she left, trying awkwardly to comfort her. She really did appreciate the attempts, even if Nina's somewhat harsh demeanor failed to always communicate that.

Y/N loitered outside the shop for a minute, staring at the antique shop of 'Mr. Fell' who she'd come to realize just a few short hours ago belonged to the actual angel Aziraphale. She should go talk to them. They'd told her to. Aziraphale had insisted that she come over after her shift to discuss this situation more, maybe she could start to recover some of her past memories. She'd gotten a few initially, remembering the ring and Crowley's eyes. Crowley had suggested he just make Nina forget she was working and to let her go freely. While tempted by the demon's offer, she'd only had this job for two weeks and wasn't about to risk it all. Though it clearly wasn't the worst of her problems.

She began to cross the street to the building. It was tall and cute, tucked on a street corner and just old enough to be charming. Windows with drawn blinds teased at stacks and stacks of books, but even without approaching the door she knew it'd have a closed sign. Nina had told her when she first started at the coffee shop that the bookshop was never open, the owner liked having space for his personal library rather than actually selling any of his precious books.

Parked in front of the shop was a black Bentley. It was a vintage style though Y/N knew nothing about the year aside from it was older than 1980, and even then it was a hazarded guess. It was sleek, kept in prime condition. Inside one of the windows there was a film with two bullet holes printed on it, something that made Y/N smile. Her grandfather had one of them as well, said he'd bought it because of James Bond. In the back seat she spotted a cardboard box labeled 'troublemaker' with a plant sticking out of it. It's leaves were wilting. Somehow, without even being told, Y/N knew the Bentley was Crowley's.

She lingered in front of the doors. She wanted to knock, she had to knock, but it was bloody scary to face your entire past, present, and future in one go. But, with bravery unmatched since the laudanum accident in the '30s - the 1830s, that is - she knocked.

Behind the door she heard two voices talking, the deeper grumbling and getting closer as he walked to the door. Then it swung open with a gusto, revealing the shape of Crowley.

She swallowed. He was imposing, tall and thin as he peered down a just slightly crooked nose. His hair was beautifully curled back on his head, though the slightest hairs fell onto his forehead. Though his spectacles covered his eyes, she let out a breath knowing those eyes were still there. His eyes had been a constant in her life.

"We're closed- oh. It's you." He said, his voice getting hoarse as he stared at her.

"Who is it - oh! Dear, you're here. Come, come in." Aziraphale said from further in the shop, standing with a book in his hands and spectacles on his nose. He looked kind and sweet, back straight and plush, pink lips curved into a smile. Crowley moved aside for her, letting her cross the threshold with anxious steps. He slammed the door shut.

The bookshop was exactly as she expected. Stacks and stacks of slightly dusty book shelves, covered with as many books as possible. There were horrors, romances, histories, science fictions, fantasies and Bibles. A remarkable number of bibles actually. They had a whole row shoved full of copies of the Bible. Y/N didn't feel like analyzing why an Angel would want well over 20 copies of his group's history but who was she to judge? She owned 5 copies of her favorite book, the Hunchback of Notre Dame. Perhaps a little boring as it was a classic, but the story had hooked her since she saw the enamoring - although a slightly questionable choice to be a children's movie - Disney adaptation. One look into the music and she was glued to the story. The shop smelled of vanilla and old books, a combination that helped calm her racing heart.

"Hi," she said softly once she realized the unearthly beings were staring at her expectantly.

"Hi," Crowley said back. He hadn't taken his spectacles off, and she didn't like that.

"I, um, I love the shop. It's so warm."

"I can, err, lower the temperature if you require, dearest," Aziraphale said, wanting to help calm her but not knowing how.

"No, I meant the atmosphere is warm. Like a hug. But t-thank you," she said. Then after a pause she added, "Aziraphale."

"Would you like a cup of tea, dear?" Aziraphale said finally after a long moment where the three exchanged glances at one another, unaware of what to do next. The tension was so thick she briefly wondered if she jumped from a ledge if she’d be caught in it’s stupid bloody web. A weird and kind of stupid analogy but it seemed to bring her back to reality. Silly things always did.

She let out a breath, "fuck yeah."

Crowley chuckled at this, sauntering back to where he'd been sitting by Aziraphale's desk. Aziraphale gave a curt nod and went into some back room. She lingered by the door.

"C'mon over here, I don't bite," he said, taking a sip of wine from a glass she hadn't seen sit on the end table. His posture was sprawled on a comfy chair, one leg hanging over the arm of it.

"I'm beginning to doubt that," she said with a little laugh, grateful for his relaxed energy to bring down some of the tension. She walked over and sat on a sofa that was surprisingly comfortable, letting herself sink into the cushions.

"Only if you ask, darling," Crowley said with a wink. He immediately regretted the wink but tried not to let it show. He was never an intentionally flirty individual so when he did say flirty things, often by accident, he cringed at himself.

But she just flushed at his words and got comfortable on the sofa. She wasn't upset, in fact she shot back with a, "only in your wildest dreams, love." The term love sent his human heart racing and he quickly looked away. Only Aziraphale had made him feel this way and he hadn't even begun to process those emotions, let alone do it a second time for her.

Aziraphale returned with two steaming mugs of tea and a bottle of wine which he promptly handed over to Crowley. She thanked him and sipped the drink, letting out a happy sigh at the cinnamon thrown in. She loved cinnamon.

"How are you feeling, my dear?" Aziraphale asked, his eyes wide and full of concern. "It can be a lot to take in."

"I'll admit I've kind of been in a state of shock. It doesn't feel real. Not that I don't believe you, I mean you did stop time and I remember your ring. It's, it's kind of frightening, actually? If that doesn't sound childish."

"Earth's full of s'frightening things," Crowley said in a strange sort of reassurance.

"Right, well while I appreciate that sentiment, you two aren't from Earth. So it's another layer of frightening."

"Perhaps we could help ease your worry by answering some questions?"

"Oh, I don't know. I have so many, I don't want to waste your time." She said, running her tongue over her lips quickly. She was struggling to maintain eye contact.

"Darling, you aren't a waste." This kind statement came, surprisingly - or unsurprisingly depending who you asked, as Aziraphale watched with a fondness towards a certain demon Y/N couldn't explain - from Crowley. "We could ask you some as well if you'd like. Even the scales a bit."

She blew out a breath, nodding. Her heart was racing inside her chest. Strangely enough she did trust these two unearthly beings, but she didn't know what to do or say. She'd never imagine herself being in a situation like this before, and she couldn't fathom the words. They slid on her tongue but wouldn't come out. So she meekly said, "you first?"

Aziraphale and Crowley exchanged a glance. Aziraphale smiled when he looked into Crowley's eyes, remembering how he and Y/N had agreed they were the demon's best feature. They made him look so kind, even if it seemed a roundabout sort of way. Crowley, on the other hand, was admiring the way Aziraphale guided what felt like such a new and unknown conversation. The Angel took lead with a breath and a kind smile, "what is your favorite dessert?"

Her mouth dropped slightly as her eyes lit up, she hadn't expected such an innocent question. "I- I don't know. I can be quite picky. Maybe Tiramisu? I quite fancy that."

"How lovely! Such a wonderful choice." Aziraphale clapped eagerly, now craving a nice cold Tiramisu with a warm cup of coffee right beside it. And of course water as a palate cleanser. Oh and perhaps -

"What-," she started, then seemed to lose steam. Y/N straightened, setting her mug down and sitting more firmly. "When did you meet me? First meet me?"

Crowley gestured for Aziraphale to start. The Angel began, "we met you in 55BC. You couldn't have been more than 25, maybe a little younger given you were unmarried at the time. Crowley and I went to eat oysters, and you were in a corner crying. Julius Caesar had just announced his invasion on Britannia, and you had a brother and father who were both in the Navy. You worried over their safety. I blessed you eternally, and Crowley cursed you eternally."

"What made you curse me?"

Crowley looked embarrassed, "I wasn't used to the whole cursing thing so it was a surprise for s'both. You tripped over my foot and called me an asshole."

Her eyebrows shot up and she laughed slightly. Then she stilled, searching her brain for as much memory as she could. It was hidden in the back of her head, hazy ideas of what happened with no coherent life story. She mused to herself that all those hyper realistic historical dreams she had must have some founding in her experience. Her experience. There was a Y/N that existed out of this body and this name, and she existed over 2,000 years previously. She was a sister and a daughter, she had fears and worries just like she did now. It was a frightening concept.

Crowley seemed to notice Y/N sink into herself, mind moving so quick with all these ideas. He couldn't well tell her not to overthink it because even trying to think about it was overthinking it, but he knew he had to be careful with it. Ease her into the world with little memories here and there. "You like Shakespeare?"

"Oh, I, yes I do. I love Shakespeare's works. I performed in one of his plays in secondary school."

"Which one?"

"Taming of the Shrew," she laughed. "Horrible meaning nowadays, but I was lucky enough to be Katherine. It was fun yelling and banging things up on stage."

Crowley and Aziraphale chuckled, they would have loved to see that performance. They imagined her standing brave, eyes sharp and shoulders pulled back as she spat venomous words to all of the men who dared to stand in her way. She was a passionate woman - time couldn't steal that - regardless of her acting ability, they wanted to see and feel it all.

"Did I ever see Shakespeare?"

"Funny you mentioned it, dearest, but yes. We met you once at Hamlet's rehearsals. You were quite enamored with the stage," Aziraphale looked wistfully into Y/N's eyes. "I know it seems odd to say given the strange circumstances, but it's one of my favorite memories of you. Before I realized who you were, I always thought fondly of the girl who broke in to see a Shakespeare show. You were so excited to be alive and experience life, that can be quite refreshing for an immortal creature."

Y/N's chest felt tight and she tried to swallow the emotion in her chest. She'd been there, seen it with her own eyes with people she didn't know she'd known and would know. The idea of reincarnation, of a soul going through the motions of life forever, haunted her and she suddenly felt as though she couldn't breathe. They were being wonderful with her, patient and kind. They knew that the concept of eternity wasn't easy, a brain couldn't wrap around it just right. It was so much, it was too much. She felt trapped and stupid, so stupid - shouldn't she be able to process this? Characters in film and book seem to understand the confusion around them like it was common sense, they don't panic over each thought related to what it is. Her chest was tight, she closed her eyes and tried to fight back tears she didn't know were there. This was too much, why would some God give all of this to humans?

She suddenly felt a hand along her back, gently rubbing up and down. It was Aziraphale, hands large, warm, and consistent along her spine. She released a shaky breath. "Breathe with me, dearest. Inhale... exhale. Inhale..."

Crowley appeared, sitting on the floor and leaning against the coffee table. He pointed to her hand and asked, "May I?"

She nodded and he lifted it, letting his fingers rub mindless circles into her palms. They were short and sweet, running up to her elbow and down to her finger tips. They made her shudder but in the best way.

Her heart started to calm down, the world stopped spinning beneath her. She focused on Aziraphale's warm hands on her back, Crowley's ginger touches to her arm. They were kind and gentle. It made her feel safe, it made her feel appreciated. In the back of her mind she felt those stupid, mindless thoughts about self loathing and incompetence.

Crowley seemed to sense these feelings. Whether he could read her mind or she was just that transparent she didn't know, but he jumped in. "Y/N, it'snot bad to question the universe. The universe is bloody strange, no one can make sense of it."

She opened her eyes now, blinking away the tears, and looked into his. His glasses were still on and she slowly went to remove them, to reveal the eyes she remembered. These eyes were raw, these eyes didn't lie. They were kind to her. She nodded.

"Dearest, if you are comfortable, would you like to take a rest? I have a bed upstairs if you'd like," Aziraphale said. She turned to look to him. His eyes were glassy and his nose pink, as though he was fighting to hold back tears himself. She liked his face, he had a pretty face. Pink lips with a perfect little Cupid's bow on the top, turned up in an attempt at a smile. She could tell he was struggling, wanting to help her.

So she nodded, stood up on wobbly legs and followed after Aziraphale up a winded staircase to a cozy bedroom. It was small, but covered with antiques and precious books on a desk in the corner. A large bed took up most of the room, made up nearly with beige sheets and many, many fluffy pillows. Aziraphale took his time fussing, folding back the sheets and making sure the pillows were just right. She climbed into the bed and laid her head down, smiling in affirmation.

"Now, dearest, we will be right downstairs. You remember that this situation is frightening, you are not wrong. If you need either of us just call."

She reached out for his hand and kissed his palm, muttering "thank you," against his skin. He nodded, flushed cheeks and ears, and hoped for her to sleep well. She closed her eyes, willing to be swept away in a world without fear.

—————

Aziraphale went down the steps quietly, meeting Crowley back where they were. Crowley had put his spectacles back on, sprawling in the chair. However, Aziraphale knew Crowley well enough to know that it wasn't as casual as it looked. He could tell by the way Crowley adjusted awkwardly that he, too, was trying to hide his emotions. Aziraphale sat down on the couch where Y/N had sat, his hands on his legs awkwardly before he sighed.

Aziraphale poured himself a glass of Crowley's wine, savoring the sharp taste. Crowley's brows shot up and he smirked, "bad day, eh?"

"I still do not understand the concept of sarcasm."

"It's funny, Angel."

"Hardly, if it was funny I would laugh."

Crowley chuckled to himself, sipping the wine. Aziraphale was so unintentionally hilarious sometimes. He glanced outside the window, peeking through the blinds as the sun started to slip behind the buildings. Crowley wondered vaguely how Y/N was feeling, wondered how they could ever make her feel better. There was no good way out of this situation, it'd never happened before and was certainly not going to happen again.

As Crowley thought about Y/N and the world, Aziraphale was caught thinking about the demon. He thought back to how kind he had been to Y/N, how he'd asked for permission to distract her with light touch. His reassuring words she hadn't asked for but he seemed to know she needed to here. The way he understood how terrifying the prospect of life truly was. Aziraphale had had this thought for a while, but it seemed to suddenly strike him that Crowley truly wasn't evil at all. In fact, he was kinder than most angels Aziraphale knew.

Questions. All it has been to cause Crowley to fall was some questions meant out of kindness. And yet questions were what he encouraged, what he did to help Y/N and help Aziraphale. He asked Aziraphale about anything, knowing how the Angel loved to learn and discover. He prompted him to reach farther, do better, not settle for what is known but look for more. Questions paved the way to understanding, which might not always lead to happiness, but it can settle the soul. Crowley had learned a long time ago that knowing is half the battle, but he'd rather stand half a chance than not at all.

"You were very kind to her," Aziraphale eventually said.

"Ngk, she was s'panicking."

"You didn't have to reassure her."

Crowley made a noise in the back of his throat as though he resented that statement, "yous might say that but when you trap someone to eternity, she deserves ki - not bad stuff."

Almost a dangerous slip up. Crowley was typically very aware of the words he spoke and how it could get him in trouble. Though his affiliation with Hell was pretty much done, they still had the power to torture him need be. No use letting the word out that he could ever be 'kind.' Crowley remembered what life was like after the 1830s, and his back seemed to burn with the memory. Scars that never truly heal, but reform, each step more painful than the last. But that was a moment for a different day, different circumstances.

Aziraphale went to speak, then doubted himself. Then he strengthened, reminding himself that things are different. He was going to make a move. "Crowley, I was planning to read my book. Would you - would you like to sit with me while I do?"

Crowley blinked, not understanding Aziraphale's poorly explained request, "I am sssitting Angel."

"Over here." Aziraphale said awkwardly, gesturing to the space around him.

Crowley didn't understand what Aziraphale meant. On the angels lap? Certainly not, neither of them were ready for that level of intimacy. Right beside him? Perhaps, but Aziraphale patted his thigh so perhaps not. The Angel cleared his throat, "I thought, perhaps, you could rest your head on my lap while I read."

Crowley's eyebrows shot up. Ah. Despite himself his cheeks flushed pink, but he wanted more than anything to fulfill the angel's request. He'd never dreamed that Aziraphale would prompt anything.

They stared at one another, realizing what this meant. In this moment they were acknowledging an unspoken part of their relationship, that they were certainly more than friends or acquaintances and far from enemies. That they might 'fancy' each other, as the humans say. This was their person, and they were wrapped eternally with one another. Crowley knew another fact, they were wrapped eternally with Y/N. And they couldn't make their relationship with her function if they could not understand themselves either. He also knew that Aziraphale looked very handsome, ankles crossed and book posed in hand as he waited for the demon.

Crowley sauntered over, laying closer to the edge so his legs could dangle off the arm. Then he let his head fall on the angel's lap. Aziraphale had very strong thighs, always had. They were warm through his trousers, and all of him smelled of vanilla and old books. Crowley let himself close his eyes, cherishing the warmth and surprising comfort of the position.

He felt soft fingers start to scratch lightly at his scalp, musing with his hair as gently as possible. Crowley let out a small moan at the feeling, Satan it felt good to have your hair played with. Aziraphale chuckled.

"What're you reading?"

"Henry V."

Crowley swallowed before asking, "Can yous read it to me?"

Aziraphale smiled, "of course, darling." He flipped back to the first scene for Crowley's sake. "The chorus sings 'O for a muse of fire, that would ascend the brightest Heaven of invention' ..."

Though they wouldn’t say the words until much later, until emotions seemed to swirl round them and they couldn’t not address it, this was the best way they could say it.

It crossed a demon’s mind for the first clear time, I’m in love with an Angel.

It crossed an angel’s mind for the first clear time, I’m in love with a demon.

—————

She woke up the next morning to the sun blinking through the blinds. She hadn't slept that hard in a long time and she let herself wake up slowly, sleep threatening to take her over again. Y/N sighed, that was nice. Aziraphale's room was organized chaos, and as she woke up she let her eyes adjust to all the little things throughout the room. Trinkets.

A snow-globe that looked like early 1900s, multiple copies of Beowulf in various conditions stacked on his desk, a note from Crowley signed with a large signature taped to the wall, a map of England with a pin sticking out of a town called Tadfield. A whole person's history in one collection.

Y/N was significantly calmer this morning that she was yesterday. She'd woken up for a moment during the night and began to let her mind wander to all the possibilities, before stopping herself and falling asleep. Today, she found herself more used to the idea. It was strange, uncomfortable even, but she wasn't panicking.

She got out of bed, rolling her ankles and stretching her body. Her bobble had fallen out during the night and she grabbed it to pull her hair back and out of her face. Then she carefully went downstairs, smelling the warm scent of baked goods wafting its way to her. When she entered a kitchen that seemed hidden behind rooms full of books, she saw Aziraphale in his vest and trousers paired with an apron covered in sweet little hearts.

"Good morning, my dear!" He said when he saw her. He was making some tea and gestured for her to take a seat at the island table while the kettle finished boiling. "How did you sleep?"

"Really well, actually," she said with a little laugh, her voice hoarse from her first words.

He turned to her, smile so genuine it shocked her, "I'm so glad to hear it. I am making us some cinnamon rolls. I've also decided to slice up some apples to go with it, I thought the freshness of the fruit might be nice first thing in the morning."

"That sounds amazing," she said. "Where is Crowley?"

"He said he had some business to attend to. Shouldn't be out long, I assure you, dearest."

She mulled over in mind what 'business' Crowley had. She knew from some of their explanations in the cafe that they don't necessarily work for Heaven or Hell as they used to, they're more or less independent. That left them to live life as they see fit, so what business could a demon have?

"Thank you, Aziraphale. For everything."

He glanced up, surprised. He came over and grasped her hand lightly, "my dear, this is a strange thing that has happened to you. Crowley and I wish to support you."

"If I can ask... why? You could have not told me, you could have continued without dealing with the consequences. I'd have never known."

"We couldn't do that. You didn't choose this, and we did not mean to do it."

"I don't want to be your responsibility, that's not fair either."

He blushed, "It's, err, it's more than that. We want to be with you. In whatever way you'll take us, myself and Crowley. If I may be forward, we've yearned for you for too long to lose you the first time we realize what we have."

"You've not even known me? I could be horrible."

"You are not horrible, dearest. I could feel it if you were. It's ... odd. Our souls are drawn to you and we want you in our lives, even without knowing the details. Both Crowley and I have longed for the woman with the strange encounters throughout time, and we finally found her. The souls are linked, even without reason, and we'll take you in any way we can."

Her mouth dropped open, forming a little shocked 'o.' That was hot. Is that weird to say that was hot? She'd never had a man - granted he wasn't a man just presenting male - confess wanting her, in any way, like that. It made her toes tingle and her heart warm, and she stared deeply into Aziraphale's blue eyes to be certain this was no joke. She knew he was an Angel but she put that aside and looked at him. He said they were drawn to her, and without saying the word implied they'd loved her for years without knowing. She isn't the sort this happens to, she doesn't have creatures who want to know her and understand her like this. It was a pure connection, one built on a link they couldn't understand but knew all the same. Mysterious ways of the Almighty and all. She kept looking into those eyes, searching for any sort of trickery. Despite herself, she knew he wasn't the sort to lie.

The kettle started to screech and Aziraphale pulled away to pour the cuppas, destroying the moment. He slid hers in front of her, just as she likes it. It was delightful.

Y/N watched Aziraphale move around the kitchen. He wasn't a particularly tall man, but he wasn't short either. She let her eyes fall along his strong forearms, revealed by his sleeves rolled to the elbow, lightly dusted with hair. His hands were capable, yet she knew they were soft. He might not be the most conventional sort of attractive, the type that movie stars are, but she was struck by him. Aziraphale had a draw to him that made her blush and glance down, suddenly shy in his presence yet knowing she was safe in who she is.

She realized that she wanted to know more about him, she wanted to hear his stories about his life, regardless of if she was in it. She wanted to know more about his relationship with Crowley, and what they had that seemed to be left unsaid. Y/N couldn't believe the fantastical reality that started playing in her head, a world where she lived and loved a demon and an Angel. Love was getting ahead of herself, she should be more careful. She longed for a good relationship with them, but that didn't mean that it had to be a romantic relationship. But, as she looked back at the Angel she sighed, damn did the Angel have great thighs.

"Dearest?" He asked, eyes wide and mouth just slightly parted as he stared at her.

She glanced down. Her tea had gotten cold and a warm cinnamon roll with apple slices on the side sat in front of her. "O-oh. Thank you."

"Is everything alright?" Damn him for sounding so sincere, blue eyes sweet like candy.

"You won't laugh?" She asked with a small smile, though she'd already made the decision to tell him honestly. She had a feeling lying would not make things easier in this relationship.

"No," Aziraphale answered precisely.

"I was distracted by you. You're so handsome."

Aziraphale seemed to have a little shock, as though he didn't believe that is what she said. "Pardon?"

"I," She laughed softly, embarrassed to revealing that so boldly. Y/N always admired those who were bold, and in the moments it was needed to she would, but she didn't often express those thoughts. Mainly for a fear of being seen as a creep, but also because rejection is a scary thought. But Aziraphale was sweet, and seemed flattered that she thought him to be handsome. "I think you're very handsome. I like looking at you."

His cheeks flushed pink and he took a rushed sip of his tea, "well, thank you darling. I- I hadn't quite expected that. I've been told I'm soft."

She laughed, "so? Soft isn't a bad thing."

"Do you like soft?"

"Sure, I like soft, I like hard. Besides, I believe personality and talent makes a person attractive anyhow, it's not too important what it might look like to society."

"How do you mean?"

"Well, there's plenty of people who look just as the world wants for beauty. And I don't mean to say they're unattractive, they are. But I personally believe that a kind, talented man who might be ugly to the papers is the most attractive you'll encounter. And a mean, untalented man touted as attractive tends to be ugly. Words change appearances."

"You're very wise, my dear," Aziraphale said with a warm smile, placing his hand over hers. She took a shaking breath, looking up at him. He was close to her now, hot breath that smelled of cinnamon hitting her cheeks as a hand lifted near her cheek, "May I?"

She didn't know what he was asking, but she nodded because she knew she'd relish in it all the same. First Aziraphale's hand went to the bobble round her hair, gently releasing it so it fell down. Her scalp itched from the strain, and his fingers gently massaged it. His hands were strong, capable.

She was struck for a moment with a memory that seemed forgotten. Her holding the hand of a kind stranger as she slid a finger onto his finger, the way he'd clutched hers as though he might lose her. They were warm then, kind. These hands had also blessed her when she wasn't looking, guided her safely home, and cared for her at the bank of the river at St James's park. For Aziraphale it was a flash, a mere second as the memories went through her mind but she felt them deeply, surrounding her. She could feel the dirt floor of the Globe theatre beneath her feet, or the way her heart had jumped when she spotted him in 1865. It was overwhelming and beautiful, she saw a whole person's history in her interactions with him, with them. It was stupid, it was silly, but she wanted to know them. She wanted to experience the life she could only remember in fragments.

Y/N hadn't realized that tears had come down her cheeks until those hands that spoke the history came to hold her face. She leaned into his touch, the pads of his thumbs wiping the tears away.

"My dear, may I?" Aziraphale asked, his voice suddenly huskier than she'd ever heard it. Her eyes opened, staring into his. He cried also, gentle tears down his sweet cheeks. She hadn't realized she'd been holding onto his vest.

"Aziraphale... I remember you."

That was the invitation, the consent, he needed. With a gentle sort of ferocity, Aziraphale leaned in and took her lips in his own. It was eager yet restrained as it held her in place, imploring her to feel all that he felt. All 2,000 years of yearning over an unknown idea. She kissed back with an intensity she didn't know she had. She hadn't much kissing experience, not the sort to fancy many people due to her high standards that seemed only met by non-humans, but with each inexperienced stroke she paired it with passion and enthusiasm. He guided her, led her through the kiss with grace. It was like a dance. It was messy at times, noses clashing and tear stained cheeks brushing, but it was perfect. It was Aziraphale and Y/N, and they seemed to understand what the other needed.

They parted from air, their mouths not far from one another's as they let out gasps. Y/N wanted more, this Angel was dangerously close to becoming her own brand of oxygen and that kiss was the best bloody one she'd ever had. Her first was a horrible sort, a lad with no lips and horrible breath.

Aziraphale leaned in and pressed a chaste kiss to Y/N's lips before pulling away more definitely. They were both right messes. Mouths swollen and pink, cheeks flushed, and hair ruined. Y/N hadn't even realized her hands had gotten buried in those soft curls, and his explored her locks that now hung free. She had a thing for good hair, and it seemed the Angel did too.

"Did - did I overstep any boundaries?" He asked, having to clear his throat. His voice came back to his normal register, though it seemed to ring with suppressed emotions.

"No," she said simply. "You didn't."

Aziraphale blew out a breath, letting his forehead fall against hers with a soft laugh, "I worried, my dear, that that was a rash decision on my part. You have only, technically, known me for two days."

"I've known you for a lifetime, love."

The nickname seemed to roll off her tongue, as it had the other night with Crowley. Comfortable, easy. And Aziraphale tried to stop the way his vessel's heart jumped at the thought of love. Too early, yes.

"Let's eat our breakfast, shall we?"

"I'm starved," she answered back, sitting on a bar stool and pulling her plate towards her. "This looks delightful."

They ate together with small bits of conversation intermixed between flushed glances when they caught the other staring at them. Aziraphale's food was as good as it looked, sweetness baked into a cinnamon delight that made her roll her eyes back. God she could eat this whole. Or, she supposed, she should say Aziraphale she could eat this whole, remove Her from the equation. Soon Y/N realized that she had a shift coming up at Nina's cafe, and needed to run to her flat to change.

"Your apron is at the front, dearest, with your purse from yesterday. We left them untouched."

"Oh, good, thank you Angel."

She went out and grabbed her purse, checking to make sure she had everything she needed. Then she realized her hair falling in her face. "Aziraphale?"

"Hmm?"

"I need my bobble back."

"Your what, dearest?"

"My bobble, hair tie thing. What you took out of my hair."

Aziraphale hummed as he walked into the main area and towards his desk, an odd yet attractive set of glasses on his nose. "I've not the faintest idea what you're talking about, love. Perhaps it fell."

Ah. Unlikely story. Especially unlikely given the bobble now on the angel's wrist. Guess he fancied her hair like that, round her face. She rolled her eyes and made to leave, before hesitating at the door. "Thank you, Aziraphale. For.. for taking me seriously. It's a strange idea, my soul being immortal and what not. I'm struggling to adjust. But I know that I want you and I want Crowley, I want to figure this out."

Aziraphale's chest seemed to lighten at the words and he smiled at the woman standing before him. She was beautiful and calm as she said this, her hair looking radiant. Y/N was quite right, he fancied her hair indeed. "I'm glad to hear that, Y/N. After your shift, if you'd like, you may come back to the bookshop?"

She smiled, "I'd like that. I, I think I'll pop round to my flat after work first to wash my hair. Let me write my number for you."

Y/N quickly scribbled her number on the front page of a very modern copy of Hunchback of Notre Dame, handing it to Aziraphale and saying, "it's my favorite book. Thought this new copy could handle the defacement."

Then she left quickly and the Angel watched her figure race past the door towards her flat, lips still pink from kissing an Angel.

#good omens #good omens season 2 #aziraphale x crowley #fanfiction #good omens fanfiction #fluff #aziraphale x crowley x reader #aziraphale x reader #so much fluff #angsty fluff #emotional hurt/comfort #binging broadchurch #accidentally made this a series #didn’t mean to but now there will be probably a part 3 and 4 #so sorry to the people who were really invested #sorry this is short

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somethinglikethatyeah83 · 2 years ago

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YOU'RE ALRIGHT: Alec Hardy

Pairing: Alec Hardy x Reader

Warnings: He's having a bad day but no mentions of anything sensitive

Summary: Alec comes home from the office after a bad day, what can you do to help? Be with him.

Word Count: 1.1K

The front door slammed shut, startling me. Dinner was going to be ready in only about ten minutes, but Alec was supposed to be home half an hour ago. I was actually about to message him. Asking whether he was held back at work. I hadn’t had a chance to even finish the message before I heard the keys in the door and a few seconds later, it was being slammed.

It was Alec, of curse, it couldn’t have been anyone else. It was just that usually he would come straight into the kitchen, resting his head sleepily against my shoulder as I served dinner up.

On the good days.

On the not so good days, he would come home and storm straight upstairs. When he hadn’t solved a case, or there had been too many interruptions, or something had hit him a little too close to his heart. I didn’t know how to help when we first started going out, but now engaged, I knew him like the back of my hand.

I left the kitchen, putting my phone and the tea towel down onto the kitchen top, making my way into the hall. “Alec, honey?”

After no reply, I sighed quietly, knowing what was about to happen. I grabbed the railing and proceeded up the stairs, towards our shared bedroom, knowing that's where he resides on days like these. The door was partly open, but no noise came from inside.

He was in there though, sitting on the bed, shoes discarded at the foot of the bed, fists clenched into the duvet cover I’d made this morning. It didn’t matter that he had messed it up, it mattered what had ruined his day and how I could help him.

“Alec?”

All I got was a grunt in reply. I laugh slightly under my breath, a fond smile on my lips as I stalked over to him, settling myself on the bed next to him.

“Bad day?”

“Could bloody say that.” He grumbled, not looking me in the eye.

“Anything I can do to help?”

He shook his head, my softness automatically calming him even

though I’d only said a few words. His grip on the bed sheets

loosened, his left hand lifted and settled over mine, silently telling me he was thankful I was here. Thankful that I was one of the few people that could put up with his ‘bullshittery’ as he called it.

He shrugged, grumbling as he always did. Not wanting to speak out of fear he would go too far. Getting angry like he used to. It was one of his greatest fears - getting too angry around me.

I’d been telling him for years now that he didn’t have to be scared, that I could handle his shouting, but he simply refused.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Alec shook his head.

“Would you like a hug?” I asked, slowly going through the different questions I asked on days like this, knowing I’d always find a way to help him eventually.

This question was always the one that worked. Often, he didn’t reply, just pulled me in for a hug without saying anything, today was the same.

His hands rested on my waist and he lifted me up, settling me into his lap sideways. I sent him a soft smile as he buried his head into my neck ,feeling his warm breath on the sensitive skin. I wrapped my arms around his neck as his arms squeezed my waist, completely engulfed by him.

“You’re alright.” I murmured. “I’m here. Everything is going to be okay.”

An incoherent noise came from him, which I only know from the vibrations against my shoulder. I pulled away, cupping both cheeks in my hands, softly running my thumbs over his cheekbones. His eyes were dark and heavy, no longer angry but just melancholy, now. All I wanted to do was to hold him and make everything alright, but I knew there wasn’t anything on this Earth that could completely cure him from his past.

“Dinner’s ready downstairs, if you’re up for it?” I offered, voice still soft as he looked up at me with those big sad eyes of his. “Yeah?”

He nodded, eyes closed for just a second. “Dinner. Yeah.”

In complete silence, I slipped from his lap and softly grabbed his hand and stood up, dragging him with me. Once we got downstairs, I served dinner in silence. It was a simple meal, but I would have made his favourite if I had known he would be in this situation. I didn't know, though.

Once we sat down at the table, I was surprised when he asked me to tell him about my day. I would have thought he wanted silence. He obviously noticed my surprised look.

“C’mon, I like hearing you talk.” Which I knew, but it was nice to hear him say it aloud.

So I told him everything. Every little detail of my day and watched as he listened to my stupid little stories of my day off. I knew that it calmed him. It was good knowing that the little things were helping. Having normality helped. A place to come home to and relax. Because as much as he loved his job, everybody knew he was a workaholic, not knowing when to stop.

He did, though, when he was home.

After dinner, we stacked the dishwasher and went into the living room, all the big lights off and all the small lamps dim, lighting the room. It was cosy, to put it simply. We could still hear the seagulls chattering overhead as they flew around the neighbourhood. It was a place where neither of us had to worry about anything, we could just relax and be content.

I plopped myself down on the sofa, Alec shortly behind me, holding his hand as he sat as close to me as possible.

We sat there watching TV until we were both so tired we could barely make it up the stairs to bed. It was a few hours of the news, quiz shows and soaps. Neither of us were really watching it, though, just talking to each other and taking the piss of the small scenes we managed to catch. What mattered was that we were together, huddled up on the sofa.

Alec had always had a problem with sleeping, and when he eventually did, his dreams were plagued with his past, but tonight, he slept fine. He was alright. Wrapped around me and huddling warmth from the both of us. It was alright. He would be fine. I’d make sure of it.

#alec hardy #broadchurch #alec hardy angst #alec hardy x reader #alec hardy x yn #alec hardy fluff

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cannibalcoyote · 2 years ago

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Unraveled Ch.3: The Family

Ch.2 Ch.4

After doing some paperwork for about an hour Ellie suddenly runs into the office, rushing over to my desk.

"Come on Els! The beach has been blocked off and we're both being called down there. Apparently there is a body." Ellie whispers quickly to me in distress.

I look up at her, feeling my memories attempting to resurface, but I quickly push them back, swallowing my nerves as I put on my cold, stern exterior. We quickly walked out of the department, hopping into our respective cars and heading over to the beach. I can constantly feel the memories of that little girl's body in the water trying to pick its way into my vision, but I shake it off. I couldn't avenge her, but I can try and solve whoever it is that we find.

Flashing our badges we park our cars and get access to the beach, I stumble slightly in the sand as Ellie and I weave through the small group of people beginning to crowd against the police tape.

We walk straight up to the tape, quickly being allowed in by the uniforms, Ellie going first and walking towards the body. I, however, feel myself slowing down, the waves rolling and the image of a child's dead body being all too similar. My mind and my body feel disconnected, like I am physically here but my mind is simply watching the nauseating scene unfold.

The only thought in my mind being, 'Is this penance for my downfalls, God?', closing my eyes and sharply reopening them I push myself forwards, watching Ellie beginning to get emotional, I think I heard her saying 'no' and 'I know this boy.' Both of these caused my blood to run just that much colder.

I trek towards the body with false confidence, keeping my eyes trained on the body. I can see figures of the D.I. and Ellie having a slight confrontation in my peripheral vision, but I pay them no mind as I spot the body of Danny Latimer lying in the cold sand.

I then look up when I hear an all too familiar accent and tone. The buried feeling of longing resurfacing as the voice awakens old memories.

"Shut it down. You're working a case now!" His voice was serious and his accent Scottish, I finally look up to see his face. He luckily hasn't seen me yet, but seeing him causes my striding over there to hesitate greatly as I feel my facade of confidence crumbling in mere seconds.

He introduced himself to Ellie but I care not about that, all I can focus on is the face of my best friend, Alec Hardy. Luckily they are talking about Danny, him turning around as Ellie identifies the body, Alec turning around as he learns this information. The sickening feeling in my gut is only growing in this whole situation, but I push myself forward. I've got a crime to solve now and I can't let past personal experience interfere with that.

I walk forwards, my feet feeling heavy, the type of heavy like when your boots are filled with water that can never be emptied. I only stop when I reach Ellie, trying to stay out of Alec's view.

"Ellie? Is that who I think it is?" My question rang through the tense air, my voice soft and accent not as noticeable. Ellie jumped in fright before realizing it's me.

"How bad are the uniforms at keeping civilians out of a crime scene?!" Alec exclaims in anger, luckily not looking at me yet.

"They're not that bad, seeing as I'm no civilian Alec." I state. Ellie looks at me in surprise and confusion as I call our new D.I. by his first name. Even he freezes at my tense greeting, almost as if having a moment of realization at hearing my voice. He slowly turns to see my face, the face of his missing best friend, the face of a person he desperately longed for though thought he would never see again.

"Elswyth?" His soft yet gruff voice is full of longing and questioning. His eyes seemingly darkening in sadness as he remembers our past together. Sadly we don't get long to remember as I hear the sound of someone who is not going to take this situation well at all, Beth Latimer.

"Oh, God, who's that?" Alec questions as he shifts his gaze to the distraught mother.

Ellie and I both looked as well with wide eyes, seeing one of our closest friends and mother to the now deceased Danny. We both glance at each other before stumbling forwards, holding our arms out to catch Beth before she can reach Danny. Ellie is telling her she can't be here, but my only focus is to keep her from reaching Danny. I grab her, struggling as she pulls me slightly forward, Alec grabbing her too until the uniforms finally rush over and drag her back, Beth fighting violently as she screams about how those are Danny's trainers, screaming both of our names in despair.

I quickly look away, stumbling backwards slightly, this is all wrong, it's happening all over again. I feel as though I'm going to collapse and be sick when two strong arms grasp me quickly, holding me against their chest as comforting words are spoken quietly. I recognize him, his smell and touch are the same even after not seeing him for so long. He turns me around, as I rest my head against him, his arms wrapped tightly around me as we both understand how this is affecting each other.

After a few more moments I push away from him, I can't let Ellie see this, she would quickly catch on to what happened in my past, and I don't want her hating me like how she loathes Alec. He looks at me as I stumble back again, reaching out to steady me but I push his hands away, he stops immediately, looking down slightly and lowering his hand at my rejection. I can't stand looking at him sad, so instead I turn to Ellie, her hands against her forehead at the despair of Beth. I quickly pull her into a hug, I know this is going to be one of the worst experiences of her life, and I have to be there to make sure it doesn't end up how my case did.

——————————

We're walking along the cliffs, the tape now blocking the edge. We all walk through the y'all grass, I cross my arms across my body as a form of comfort, the waves below splashing loudly.

"They let people walk along here, no safety barriers?" Alec questions, his tone confused as to why.

"It's the coastal path, people know to be careful." Ellie responds simply, all of us continuing to trudge through the tall grass.

"It's a death trap." Alec states as he looks behind us then back around. I give a small, almost nonexistent smile at how blunt he still is, hopefully he doesn't realize how much I've missed his rudely blunt and socially awkward personality.

We continue walking, finally running into SOCO at the crime scene.

"How's it going?" Alec asks as we stop to speak with Brian.

"Well, from what we've got up here, sir, it's looking like the rockfall around the body was faked." Brian responded solemnly. My eyes going dark as I now know for sure that this is a murder.

"What do you mean?" Ellie questions. I hold in my sigh of annoyance as I remember that I can't be mad, this is after all her first murder, as well as this town's first murder; I'm going to have to be patient for Ellie. Brian continues to talk but I feel my mind wandering elsewhere as I examine the area in my head, already having seen that there was no proof Danny was even up here, I then begin to think of all possible suspects, the family are always suspects at first, as well as anyone he might've seen on a day to day basis.

I don't even realize we're leaving until I hear my name being yelled, "Els! Let's go!" I quickly look over to see Alec glance over at my frozen form before walking down the path and Ellie waving me over before following Alec. I quickly run over to catch up, hearing Alec telling Ellie to get the pathologist to hurry up even if it's preliminary. I walk a few feet behind them both, my head looking down at the steps until I hear a sharp yell that grabs my attention.

"D.S. Miller! D.S. Carlisle!"

"Who's that?" Alec questions Ellie as to why someone is shouting our names. I look up to see the one and only obnoxious reporter, Olly Stevens. I push in between them, pushing both of them forwards faster.

"Just keep walking." Ellie sighs as she picks up the pace.

"Ellie! Els!" Olly shouts as if we're best buds.

"He seems to know both of you." Alec states, albeit a little bitterly as he looks at me. I roll my eyes knowing exactly what he's thinking.

"Auntie Ellie! Auntie Els!"

"No no no, don't pull that bullshit Olly." I angrily snarl as I continue walking, now leaving the other two behind as I head to my car.

"I told you, don't do that!" I hear Ellie practically growl at him in annoyance. I ignore them as I go to open my door, looking back to see Alec scowl and release a disgusted sound when hearing Olly works for the Broadchurch Echo. I smile slightly at that scowl upon his face, it makes me remember back to when I would call him Hardy when we were younger and he would scowl in annoyance before returning the favor and calling me Carlisle. I realize what I'm doing and wipe the smile off my face, slipping into my old Alfa Romeo and waiting for Ellie to leave, hearing bits of their conversation and how they're not giving statements.

Olly, seeming to not have any luck with them, instead rushes over to my car.

"Auntie Els, I heard there was a body?"

"Don't pull that shit Oliver, we're not giving statements right now, and you are not allowed to speculate. Now shut it and wait till we give a proper statement." Feeling pissed I slam my door, harshly shifting gears before I speed off to follow Ellie to the Latimer house.

——————————

We all exit our vehicles, Ellie looking a little confused and perturbed. Alec must've told her to tell him if the family we're acting odd. I understand why she's acting like that, but she needs to understand that right now everybody's a suspect. Ellie walks up to the doors first, Alec hangs back and pulls me aside.

"Els, I know this case is bringing up bad memories, if you want to hang back in the cars I understand." Alec states, his normally rough Scottish voice now quiet and concerned. I smile slightly, resting my hand against his shoulder as he looks at my eyes.

"I would love to take up that offer, but this is Ellie's first homicide, and I can't let her face that with you, I know you understand what you're doing, but Ellie won't listen to you, she needs me there to guide her." I pat his chest before walking up to the door, Mark answering it. A flash of uncertainty streaming across his eyes as he greets Alec, Ellie, and myself.

We enter their home, meeting the whole family in the living room. Beth standing up, anxious and restless as she already knows why we're here. Her daughter Chloe, gazing up at me as if begging me to tell them it's not Danny. I look away, the ground becoming my sole focus as they take their seats.

"Hi I'm Detective Inspector Alec Hardy, and I believe you know D.S. Miller and D.S. Carlisle" Alec introduces, inviting them to sit down as he grabs me and himself a chair. We all sit down, the whole family distraught, Ellie barely keeping it together, and Alec being the one forced to keep it together. I'm simply there, I'm there for Ellie and the family, and now I'm also here to make sure that Alec is alright as well.

"The body of a young boy was found..." Alec starts before Beth interrupts, being hushed by Mark before he tells Alec to continue.

"We believe it's Danny's body." Alec states.

Beth looks over at us as she breaks down, "Please Ellie, Elspeth... Was it him?" Beth's question destroys Ellie, she looks over at me before nodding in confirmation to Beth. Beth breaking down even more now, Ellie being unable to hold in some of her tears.

The whole family shudders, the dread of the situation amplifies as everyone cries and Mark attempts to keep it together and hold the family.

I have a feeling of complete emptiness, this is the second murder of a child I have to investigate where I know the family personally, and this is going to be the one to destroy what was left of my shattered soul. My hands shake slightly, and Alec discreetly reaches over to hold them, running his thumb over the top of my hand to calm me down whilst still keeping an eye on the family's reaction. I knew this case was hitting close to home for him as well, so I attempted to soothe him as well, squeezing his hands in thanks and comfort.

Ch.2 Ch.4

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bluebell-9 · 1 year ago

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Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Broadchurch, Doctor Who Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Alec Hardy/Ellie Miller Characters: Alec Hardy (Broadchurch), Ellie Miller (Broadchurch), Fred Miller (Broadchurch), Original Character (Broadchurch) Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Post-Canon, Slice of Life, Romance, Reflection, Doctor Who References, Romantic Fluff Summary:

An evening with a favourite telly programme has Ellie Miller thinking about seizing the day. She employs her considerable persuasive skills to get Alec Hardy to fall in line.

#broadchurch #doctor who #fanfic #fanfiction #alec hardy #ellie miller #post-canon #romantic fluff #reflection #doctor who reference

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raz-writes-the-thing · 11 months ago

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Nip To The Park (Broadchurch Drabble)

Alec Hardy x GN!Reader / requests are open

Summary: Alec discovers your newest yappy crime.

Fic type: Crack/fluff

BROADCHURCH: @clarina04 @kaylinelizabeth4004 @yeethaw13 @stevekempscocktails @go-bonkers-go-foolish @peytonpenguin37 @quickslvxrr @madspads @catlynharper @merrilark @jaziona92 @iguirisu (send an ask to be added to a tag list!)

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“Wha’ the fuck is that?” Alec asked with his lips pursed into a very unimpressed grimace. “And what-” he enunciated the word- “is it doing in my house?”

You let out a rather un-charming ‘uh’ sound, dragging it out while you attempted to find literally any excuse for the creature tugging behind your back. Your eyes darted left and then right. Alec’s grimace deepened, losing his patience.

“It’s nothing,” you replied, hiding the leash. You didn’t notice the loop sticking out from your other side.

“Y’cannae expect me t’believe there’s nothin’ there,” he said, gesturing wildly. The poor man was three steps in the door and already gesticulating and waving his tone about like a man worn down with desperation.

“Don’t know what you’re talking about, my love,” you replied, not even looking down at the rather fluffy and rather medium-sized dog sniffing at your feet.

“Och- you’re ridiculous, why is there a dog in my house, darling?”

Oh, so he was pronouncing his ‘g’s now. This was not good. You let go of the leash and picked the dog up, grunting as you did so. His little tail wagged side to side happily.

“Alright, so, uh, listen- here’s the thing,” you chuckled nervously. “I might have gone out today. And there might have been an adoption set-up going at the park. And I might have stopped in to have a quick look and say hello. And I might have looked into his eyes a bit too long. And…”

“And?” Alec asked, already knowing the answer but forcing you to come out with it anyway.

“And I might have brought him home.”

Alec finished putting his stuff down, hanging his keys and coat on their various hooks. You took a step back, careful not to trip on the lead. The dog in your arms sniffed at your chin and tried to lick your face.

When you fended off his kisses and looked back up, Alec was coming towards you. Your eyes widened with fear. Alec was a cop- not even. He was a detective. He could definitely kill you and cover it up successfully if he really wanted to.

Then, he slumped his shoulders, drooping in front of you like a sad balloon. You watched him warily as he raised a hand to pet between the dogs’ ears.

“Oh, f’er fucks sake,” he groaned, scratching the little fella on the neck. “Wha’s ‘is name, then?”

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owen-writes · 1 year ago

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Masterpost

NSFW = 🚫 ANGST = 😭 FLUFF = ❤️

Cale Erendreich - Bad Samaritan

Just Some Blood (Gender Neutral) 😭

Silent Secrets (Gender Neutral) 😭

Silent Secrets Part 2 (Gender Neutral) 😭

Learn Some Manners (Gender Neutral) ❤️

Alec Hardy - Broadchurch

You Can't Run (Male Reader) 😭

Trivial Matters (Male Reader) ❤️

Shameful Flirting (Gender Neutral) ❤️

Sleep, Love (Gender Neutral) ❤️

Crowley - Good Omens

Backhanded Compliments (Gender Neutral) ❤️

Ineffable Husbands - Good Omens

Dysphoria Blues (Gender Neutral) ❤️

Saul Silva - Fate: The Winx Saga

Reckless (Gender Neutral Teen) ❤️

#alec hardy x reader #cale erendreich x reader #aziraphale x reader #crowley x reader #crowley x aziraphale x reader #saul silva x reader #x reader #male reader #gender neutral reader

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lyspunkt-star · 6 months ago

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Broadchurch ramble 3

So, I've been thinking, the friendship(or maybe more?) between Daisy and Chloe is soooooo cuteeeeee!! But sadly, we didn't get enough in the show...

And tbh I also believe Alec, Ellie and Beth are sharing some bonds as well (not just the single parent thing ofc).

Look at them in S3, especially between Beth and Alec, they were clearly not strangers to each other like they used to be in S1. Maybe not that close yet, like Ellie with Beth or Ellie with Alec, but there's a good chance they will become great friends and even family. Not only because their daughters' relationship, but also their own similarities. They had both experienced painful losses and long periods of darkness and pain. But all of these horrors made them stronger, they're always fighters and they never give in. Surely the better they get to know each other, the more they will respect each other, they just need some time.

In my Broadchurch headcanon, Hardys, Millers and Latimers will become a family. Family of choice. They understand each other, respect each other and ofc, love each other. Also have some domestic routines, like Alec babysits boys when others go out for a girls night, Daisy asks Ellie and Beth for help with some girl stuff like shopping advice, Tom asks Alec to teach him how to shave...They won't hesitate to help each other, or even, defend for/protect others when needed.

They've been through so much shit, all of them. So yeah, let's give them sooo much love they really deserve, but didn't get in the show.

We need domestic fluff and comfort.

#broadchurch #alec hardy #ellie miller #beth latimer #self indulgent #I need them all LOVED #NO MORE PAIN FOR THEM PLS #broadchurch found family #my broadchurch ramble

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aboutcustardcreams · 3 months ago

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People Help the People

Still grieving cause I finished watching another amazing series "Broadchurch" and this is my way to cope. Writing! I hope this is a healthy mechanism cause it's the only thing I do. Always. No kidding. Hope there aren't many typos or mistakes, because guess what? I didn't reread :3

Summary: Sometimes it's nice to be reminded by those you love how much you mean to them. Beth Latimer is natural at that. /Set somewhere in season three/

word count: 3800 ish

When Chloe picked up her phone, you glanced at her with the corner of your eye. As ‘dad’ slipped from her lips, the episode you two were so carefully watching turned unimportant, so you paused it.

It was no secret that Chloe was particularly tethered to Mark, all things considered. It had been incredibly painful for her to see her parents drafting apart, filing the divorce’s papers and taking different paths. Beth with you and Mark… well, by himself, wandering here and there, searching for who knows what.

You met Beth some months after the trial; she and Mark were already in crisis by then. Their marriage, you learned, broke long before Joe Miller took their son’s life, but they only admitted it to themselves after the tragedy fell upon them, too busy mourning their son. With everything going on, to talk about their marriage going south didn’t seem right, nor as important as dealing with a pain so colossal as the loss of a child, by hand of a friend, no less.

“Yeah, everything’s fine here,” she responds lightly, but honestly. “Mom’s reading a bedtime story to Lizzie and I’m watching a movie,” she briefly glanced up at you, a tight smile curving her lips, “Yeah. With her.”

You froze, suddenly feeling uneasy. You couldn’t be one hundred percent sure, but you got the feeling that Mark probably asked if you were near her. Her daughter. Not yours. As if he wouldn’t know. Where else would you be anyway, considering you lived there now? You never fully grasped what his opinion of you was. If he hated you, envied you or tolerated you.

You leaned back against the couch, and forced yourself to push aside those voices in your head, still accusing you of living in someone else's nest.

It’s been a few days since the last time Mark dropped in to say hello. Weeks, maybe. Maybe he passed by when you weren’t there, or met up with the girls somewhere else. Beth would tell you if she met him in the street, but she didn’t. You knew it was difficult for him to show up and be a dad, despite everything.

“So late at night?” Chloe’s voice takes you from your thoughts, “Are you far? Maybe I could��”

You tried to think of the reasons why Mark would call Chloe at this time of the evening. You could think of nothing immediate. You turned towards the teenager again, gwaning at your lip, as you spotted Chloe’s side profile crunched up in concern. Features dimming a bit. Only a moment ago, she had another light in her eyes, she was smiling and commenting on the movie as the two of you watched it. She cared for you, liked you, maybe loved you. On your part, there were no doubts whatsoever, you loved Chloe and Lizzie as if they were yours.

Before meeting you, Beth had nobody to talk to. It took her some time to let you in, trust you, as it should have been, all things considered. But when she did, your life opened up to a myriad of possibilities. To be able to enter her world had been the best gift you could ever wish for. She found a friend in you, a trustworthy one. You gave her a sense of stability she was so desperately looking for. And then, it all blossomed into love. Before finding you, everything revolved around Mark and his grief. Sometimes it still feels that way. He made Danny’s death all about him, and that behavior caused great damage to the Latimer’s family that eventually fell apart for good. Beth was the one who suffered the most, in your opinion. Because she had to crowd out her ongoing pain to deal with Chloe and Mark’s. Then you came along, and made it a little easier to deal with it all.

At first, you remember, you didn’t have the words. What was to say to a woman who lost something as important and essential as a child? For a while, you had no idea how to help her. So you did the only thing you could do, be there, be present. Listen to her cries and outbursts, hold her with the promise to never ever leave her side. That’s when she started to heal, to feel better, to smile more, to act like she was alive again.

“No, I know, I’m just worried,” Chloe’s hand reached out to yours, probably having noticed the nervous drumming of your fingertips over the fabric of the couch. You met her eyes then, and she gave you a soft smile, when you gently intertwined your fingers together.

“I miss you too, dad,” she trails off, and you feel your chest tighten a bit, “do you think we can meet up soon? Maybe we can have lunch together, here at home? Lizzie would love that and–”

You winced when her hopeful tone turned into a discouraged one, “Oh, yeah right. I get it,” her attempt at pretending to be alright by whatever he told her didn’t convince you for a second.

It doesn’t take a genie to understand he let her down. Again. Why was it so hard to show up and be there for his daughters? It enraged you, his behavior.

When Chloe withdraws her hand from your grasp, you’re sure to feel your heart creaking slightly. Her jaw tightens as she nods wordlessly, only briefly throwing you a look, whose meaning turned out to be quite a mystery. Until it didn’t.

“Oh,” you breathed out, blinking repeatedly. You mouthed a small ‘sorry’ before getting up from the couch, later motioning to her you’d go outside for a breath of fresh air, acting as if being indirectly told to leave didn’t hurt you. Get a grip on yourself, and woman up. You gave her one last tight smile, and then reached up to the front door, stepped outside only to sit down at the entrance, on the stairs. Flopping down, you raked your fingers through your hair, ruffling it a bit.

You looked up at the sky, a pout soon forming on your face. No stars. You were hoping to see the stars.

You find yourself thinking about a lot of things. Your life with Beth. Your relationship with Chloe and Lizzie. And the highly questionable behavior of Mark. After four years, he still struggled to move on. Never tried to, perhaps. A part of you thought Mark died with Danny that day, becoming the ghost of the man he used to be. Only an empty shell, unable to find any form of comfort, not even in the eyes of his daughters.

Beth, somehow, succeeded where Mark failed. That woman never failed to surprise you. Beth was the strongest person you’ve ever met in your entire life, she even helped other people now, as sexual assault crisis worker. When you thought she couldn’t surprise you more, she showed up one day telling you about her new job, with so much excitement flashing in her eyes. You were so proud of her. So immensely grateful to have crossed paths with her. Beth had been able to convert her ongoing pain into something noble and useful to the community, despite that same community letting her down when it came to getting justice for her son.

A single tear slipped down your cheek, at the thought. You’re quick to wipe it away, when you hear the front door creaking open again.

A smile crept on your features, when you feel the warmth of a familiar jacket fall upon your shoulders. Of course it would be hers. She knows how you love her clothes. Her scent filled your nostrils right away, and you can’t help but inhale deeply to have more of it. “Chloe told me you were here,” she stroked your head, and you glanced up at her, finally meeting her eyes.

You hummed, “looks like you found me,” you teased softly.

“What are you doing here?”, she crouched down by your side, her thighs touching yours as she does.

You cling to the jacket, and take in a small sigh, before replying, “Chloe was on the phone, I thought I’d give her some privacy. Is she still-”

Beth shakes her head, predicting your question. You hummed, a tight smile graced upon your lips. A part of you wanted to ask if she was alright, but you asked something different, instead. “Lizzie is asleep?”

Beth nodded with a smile. She later scooped you a bit closer, draping an arm over your hip. “Yeah, she wants you to know that you’re way better than me at doing the voice of Mr. Penguin,” her attempts at sounding annoyed aren’t convincing in the slightest. When you looked up at her, you spotted the veil of amusement flashing in her eyes, making you chuckle.

“Aahw, is that so?” You leaned further to kiss that adorable pout of hers. It was true, you were good; the only problem was that Lizzie hardly ever fell asleep when it was you narrating the stories, because of the energy and the poignancy you used. Story time with you became a real playtime. That’s why you three made a deal, you’d be the one reading the adventures of Mr. Penguin on the weekends, when there was no school the day after.

Beth gently squeezed your hip, “Don’t be smug now,” she teased, and you chuckled against her mouth, “I can teach you how to be more convincing for the next time. Mr. Penguin has a specific accent, you know,” you teased, eyebrows shooting up in a cheeky way. She hummed, before pressing her lips against your hairline, offering you a sweet cuddle.

When she pulled away, she said, “You know, you didn’t need to leave the house to give Chlo some privacy earlier.”

You hesitated, looking down on your lap. “I didn’t leave the house,” you explained. “I’m on the porch, am I not?”

“Still,” she insisted, gesturing to where you were sitting. You sighed and rolled your shoulders, probably in the attempt to downplay the topic, but Beth was having none of that. She clasped your chin and gently lifted it so that you’d meet her eyes. Your heart can’t help but beat faster.

“Why are you here, really?” Her sweetness turns you into a puddle.

“No reason, Beth…”, you insisted uneasily.

With her hazel eyes squinted, she muttered “Liar,” to you. “You should know better than to do that to me.”

You laughed slightly, merely shaking your head at her ways. “Beth,” you started meekly, “I simply thought that Chlo needed a moment of privacy,” it wasn’t a lie, it just simply wasn’t the whole truth. “It felt like she couldn’t talk freely to Mark with me sitting so close.”

She cleared her throat, nodding in understanding. “So it was because of him?”

“Not because of him,” you objected, sounding almost childish.

She giggled. “Hey, I know, alright? I’m just teasing you. Will you stop worrying so much? Don’t act like you don’t belong in this house.”

Confusion flashed across your face. “How exactly am I doing that?”

She raised an eyebrow, looking at you as if it was kind of obvious, “By sitting on the porch because Chloe was on the phone.”

You shyly ducked your head, a little smile tugging at your lips, “you mean your property stops at the doorway? What about this beautiful garden over here?”

“First of all it’s our property, not just mine” she sounded almost offended by your assumption. You giggled, a wave of warmth flashed through your heart and lit up your eyes once again. She had superpowers, Beth Latimer. She couldn’t be a common human being, because of how extraordinary she was. “You belong here. By my side, with Chloe and Lizzie,” she brushed her hand over your cheek, before brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “Don’t you ever doubt that for a moment, please.”

“I never do,” you respond, fondly. “It’s just– I just wish things between Chloe and Mark were different. Better. All she wants is her dad close and he– it seems to me he doesn’t care enough. Which is ridiculous, and cruel,” you know you’ve started rambling the moment your hands go flying here and there to give emphasis to your speech. “I know it’s not my place to judge, and I’m sorry if I do. I should probably shut my mouth, so if I’m crossing a line, feel free to slap me, but Jesus, he enrages me!”

The light in Beth’s eyes slowly dimmed, not because of your opinion of Mark, but at the realization of all the things you were only now allowing yourself to voice out loud. You were always so calm, so composed, probably for the sake of the family. She had been like that so she knew what it felt like. So she lets you continue, despite wanting nothing more than cupping your cheeks and kissing all your worries away.

“I can’t stand it when he keeps letting her down. I see how it hurts her. How can he not notice? And Lizzie, gosh, she is still young, but someday she will ask questions about why her dad is hardly ever and then guess what? You’re gonna be the one picking up the pieces, again, and it’s not fair. It’s just not fair, Beth,” you stopped abruptly, feeling short of breath.

Beth’s hand is still on your face. “Hey, it’s okay, trust me, I know. And it’s perfectly normal for you to feel that way, and you know why?” You looked up at her, frowning confusedly. She, on the other hand, gave you the calmest, most genuine smile to ever exist. How did she have an answer for everything? “Because you’re the closest thing to a parent for the girls. You feel responsible for them, you care for them in a way that– I swear, it moves me like nothing else. When something goes wrong, you’re there for them, you help them out, you make them laugh. It’s not just me. You pick up the pieces as much as I do and you don’t even see it.”

“But—“ you still try to object meekly.

Her response is categorical, yet there is fondness in her voice. “No buts.”

For a second you just sit there awkwardly, looking adorably conflicted in Beth’s eyes. Then she chuckles, and despite the sound of it, there’s something sad flashing in her eyes. “Listen to me very carefully. I felt so lonely, for a really long time. Even before all that happened with Danny. But then I met you,” she paused, voice filling with raw and vivid emotion. “And I just— you showed me what it means to be seen, to be alive, and feel like a teenager in love who’s afraid of nothing and enthusiastic at everything.” A single tear wets your cheek; you don’t even notice, not until her thumb brushes against your skin. “You gave me another chance at falling in love and, my dear, how I love being in love with you,” her smile wobbled, and you felt your heart flutter in your chest. Butterflies tickling your stomach, up to your throat.

You have so many things to tell her, yet nothing could ever top her speech, or match your feelings. “Beth, I–” How to describe a love so colossal as yours with only a lifetime at your disposal? She looked at you as if she knew, though. “I love you. I love you so, so much,” you leaned closer to her, adhering your forehead against hers, delicately brushing the tip of her nose with yours. “You’re everything to me, and the girls, you’re right– they feel like mine, egotistically speaking.” She smiled amusedly at that, slightly shaking her head, “They are yours,” she assures.

You hummed, in thought. “I just wish I could do more for you and Chloe, but sometimes all I feel is this sense of worthlessness inside.”

Beth’s brows furrowed almost painfully, “which is ridiculous,” she placed a hand upon your chest, gently pulling away so that she could see your eyes better, and get these crazy ideas out of your system, somehow. “The girls adore you, you hear me? I do. So much my heart could burst any moment for all the love I feel for you.” She is so cute when she is all flustered. Once again, you find her fingertips raking through your hair, to better expose your face, the face of the woman she couldn’t do without. “You’re one of the best people I’ve ever met, so please, treat yourself with kindness, or else…”

You gasped, when leaning closer, Beth nibbled on your skin instead of kissing your cheek like you had expected, “Oi! You bit me!”

She grinned, eyebrows shooting up amusedly, “you deserved that.”

“Maybe I did,” you conceded, sweeping your tongue over your lips. She caught the movement with her eyes, and her mouth suddenly went dry.

“Kiss me, Beth.” You were sure that the sky was devoid of any stars that night, and yet, you could bet to see a constellation in her hazel eyes as soon as you came with that whispered request. A smile creeps up to her face, those cute little wrinkles in the corner of her eyes widen, making her look even more beautiful.

She drew closer, holding onto your jacket, her jacket, her lips parting but still not touching yours, “ask me again,” her teasings are so deliciously irresistible.

You moaned, the sound though is destined to muffle in her mouth, and you can’t wait. “Kiss me, Beth. Please, just kiss me.”

She clings to you in a way that makes you feel all warm inside. She is gentle, yet there’s a side of her that’s also possessive and needy. And that turns you on so much. The thought of her needing you as much as you needed her darkened your eyes and you couldn’t help that.

She chased your lips, hands tangling in your hair, and breaths coming short and uneven within seconds.

You were wrong before to think there were no stars that night. Suddenly your vision was filled with them. Luminous, unreal tiny dots everywhere. Shining bright into her eyes, her smile, echoing in the sound of her lips popping and crashing against yours.

“You shine so bright, Beth,” At your confession, she whimpers, head gets lighter, to the point that she feels like floating. To keep balance, she pulls you even closer, holding on to you for dear life. She pushes her tongue past your lips, crashes against yours, fights for dominance. She takes all the oxygen and you’re more than happy to end up breathless for her.

Her voice sends you a tingle, “If I shine, I do it for you,” her hands slide to your middle, guiding you to crawl on top of her. As she says that, the kiss deepens even more and you giggle, both for what she just said, and by the tip of her tongue expertly lapping at the inside of your mouth.

Her back gently leans against the doorframe as you lie on top of her as she asked. After that, a silly idea comes up to your mind so you lift your jacket over your heads, creating a little love nest.

“We look like two crazy teenagers,” Beth stifled a laugh.

You nodded your head, pecking at her nose. “Imagine if Chloe saw us. Busted by your daughter,” she chuckled again and started playing with the tips of your hair.

“Well, I think she would sue us to the police for having traumatized her,” the way she said that, so seriously, and without the slightest doubt causes both your eyes and mouth to part open in horror.

When Beth bursts into a fit of giggles, you realize she was just teasing you. What a pushover you are. What a tease she is.

“Ha, ha! Very funny, Beth,” you said sarcastically.

“You have to admit it is,” she trailed off, cheekily.

Before you can reply to that, the front door swings open, causing Beth to slide rearward, and with you still on top of her, her hands tightened around your middle on instinct as the two of you squealed.

“What are you two— oh. Oh!” Chloe’s voice is filled with amusement as she puts two and two together. “On the porch, mom? Really?”

“It wasn’t like–!” You objected, heat rushing to your cheeks. Then you freeze, while Beth’s heart fills with such tenderness, in the fact of what has just happened. Her mouth parts ajar, the corners slightly up.

You looked at her, utterly in awe. Then at Chloe. Slowly, almost mechanically. She spoke to you. Not Beth. It was you who called mom.

Beth can’t help the tears pricking at her eyes.

You realize Beth can’t really get up, not before you do it first. You blink repeatedly, still feeling all flustered and confused by everything that just happened within minutes, before clumsily pulling yourself up, and then helping Beth on her feet as well.

You need to be sure, so you ask Chloe, “did you call me—?”

Chuckling nervously, she stutters out, “Mom, yeah. Uhm... sorry, it came out so naturally. If you don’t want me to–”

You’re quick to interject, seeing where this is going, “Oh no, no, no. No, I do,” your voice rises several octaves all of the sudden. Chloe hardly stifles a laugh at your demeanor, while Beth’s hand finds yours and laces your fingers together, in reassurance. You cleared your throat then, “if it feels right to you, so it does to me.”

“Really? Cool,” a wave of sudden embarrassment colored her pale cheeks, but that didn’t prevent her from smiling at you. “We still have fifteen minutes till the end of the episode, so whenever you two are ready–” she grinned, before vanishing into the house again.

You’ve never felt so lightheaded before. Of a good kind, obviously.

“Did that actually happen?”

“Sure sounds like it,” echoed Beth, with a grin, before pressing a soft, chaste kiss above your lips. She leans into you, as you walk inside again. Heart lighter and happier. With her fingers still curled with yours, your thumb traces slow patterns over the back of her hand.

“What were you watching?” She asks, pulling you on her lap as she flops down the couch next to Chloe, who grabbed the remote.

“Ah you know–” you mused, “There’s this guy, really cool, thick eyebrows, good heart, who travels through space and time in a police box.”

Beth laughs lightly, “that sounds silly. What’s his name?”

Chloe scolds her softly, “It’s not silly, it’s sci-fi, mom.”

“Name’s Doctor, by the way,” you grinned from ear to ear, impatiently waiting for her to say the next words.

Both you and Chloe exchange a knowing glance before bursting out laughing at Beth’s confused frown and question, “Doctor who?”

#broadchurch #broadchurchfanfic #broadchuchimagine #beth latimer #chloe latimer #beth latimer x reader #mark latimer #fluff and angst #domestic fluff #hurt comfort #doctor who mentioned #jodie whittaker

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