#sheriff hassan x oc

[because-edmund]

Mother I sober

Technically the last chapter!! But it’s not over until the serotonin runs out. I will be back with more Daphne and hassan

@the-redheaded-league @agirlinherhead @choosekindly @brew-a-pot-of-homosexualitea

https://archiveofourown.org/works/37904203/chapters/101756745

[littleredwritingcat]

Thirst Trap: Chapter 13 "Old Man, Take a Look at My Life"

Welp. Looks like the Monsignor's large, flying not-a-chicken has come home to roost. Reader, please make sure that your partner is not secretly an old person who's had a cryptid blood cocktail.

It's better for everyone involved.

Really it is.

@everythingbutresolved @agirlinherhead @honey-tree-evil-eye @labyrinthphanlivingafacade @plainlo-inthemorning @thenookienostradamus @fatherpaulmybeloved @rothko-mirror @thecorgimademedoit @mareyshelley @vintageglassheart02 @thegentlestmaenad @jyngerpeach @ebiemidnightlibrarian @chronic-ghost @girlwiththenegantattoo @aherdofbees @midwestmisfit @madsmilfelsen @yepthatsacowalright @supplanther @waytkayt @choosekindly @lovepollution @prettyblondguys

[creepling]

> CREEPLING'S RULES

DNI/BEFORE YOU FOLLOW

-- no racists, anti-LGBT+, TERFs, xenophobes, fatphobic and misogynistic people. or just anyone who has hate in their heart. my blog is a safe place so, politely, fuck off.

-- any minors/ageless blogs DNI. i am an adult that writes adult content, and i do not feel comfortable with minors interacting with me. it is for your own safety. if your age/age estimate is visible on your blog and you are over eighteen, i have no problem interacting with you.

-- blank blogs also DNI. this cess-pit of a site is full of bots and i'm not taking my chances. plus, it is restrictive interacting with blogless accounts and i like to do that with my followers.

-- if your account involves proana, ed, self-harm, TERF, right-wing politics, or loli/shota, DNI.

-- my fanfics will consist of dark content, smut and kinks. i tag my fanfics accordingly so DO NOT READ if you are uncomfortable with those subjects. please curate your own online experience, and you are free to block me to avoid my content; i won't take it personally.

-- fiction does not equal reality. i may write about certain things, but that does not mean i condone it irl. take that into consideration when reading my fanfics.

-- also have to drop the "i have a life outside fanfiction" type thing, but we all do. i may fall into inactivity from time to time, and that is okay. please do not demand me of my writing for your own consumption. remember i am a real person and deserve to be treated with respect.

REQUESTING INFORMATION

-- i am a majoritly x reader fanfic writer, but i do ships and oc x canon characters for commissions ONLY.

-- when writing reader i keep fem/gn in mind depending on the work. if you request male reader i'll try my hand at it, but full warning i haven't written male reader before.

-- my inbox is always open, but does not necessarily mean requests are open. for the time being requests are open most of the time, but i am always patient with my works and each request i accept might take a while to complete.

-- if you send a request, please state what you want in the piece. most notably the scenario and fem/gn/male/gen reader. the work will depend on how much i can write and what inspires me, so it can either be a one-shot, drabble or headcanon. i will state at the beginning which one it ends up being.

-- i also have the right to decline requests i do not want to write. whether that be because i do not think i can do it justice or it goes against my rules. if i decline your ask, it is never personal.

-- please refrain from duplicating asks, i always feel bad when i write a request that another writer is also working on. it makes things awkward.

WHAT I WRITE

age gaps (all 18+), breeding, breath play, cuckholding, corruption, dubcon, dacryphilia, drug use, degradation, femdom, fear play, gun play, knife play, kidnapping, mask kink, masturbation, monsterfucking, noncon, overstimulation, pegging, power dynamics, praising, s*x pollen, stepcest, spitting, somnophilia, voyeurism.

WHAT I DO NOT WRITE

age play, bestiality, eating disorders, foot fetish, furry, gender dysphoria, race play, smut involving anything with high schools/minor's spaces, suicide, self-harm, scat, water-sports, vomit, vore (no hate to these categories btw, it's just not my thing).

(reminder these are only for smut and dead dove fanfics, all fluff/angst categories i am fine with)

FANDOMS & CHARACTERS

THE BATMAN - batman/bruce wayne, edward nashton/the riddler, selina kyle/catwoman.

BALDUR'S GATE III - astarion, gale, shadowheart, karlach, haslin, wyll.

DANONATION (PAUL DANO CHARACTERS) - dwayne hoover, eli sunday, edward nashton, jay (okja), pierre bezukhov, calvin weir-fields, klitz.

HORROR SLASHERS - michael myers, jason vorhees, bubba sawyer, ghostface, tommy slater, candyman, brahms heelshire, bo sinclair, vincent sinclair, lester sinclair.

THE LAST OF US - joel miller, ellie willians, abby anderson.

MIDNIGHT MASS - paul hill, sheriff hassan, riley flynn, erin greene.

RESIDENT EVIL - leon s. kennedy, claire redfield, ada wong, jill valentine, carlos oliveira, ashley graham, luis serra navarro, alcina dimitrescu, karl heisenberg.

SUPERNATURAL - sam winchester, dean winchester, azazel, bobby singer, ava wilson

THE TEXAS CHAINSAW MASSACRE GAME - johnny slaughter, sissy slaughter, danny gaines, leland mckinney, sonny williams, julie crawford, connie taylor, ana flores.

(all subject to change!!)

[ao3feed-midnightmass]

running up that hill (make a deal with god)

by deaddpoetts if i only could make a deal with god and get him to swap our places… oc x father paul hill Words: 88, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English Fandoms: Midnight Mass (TV) Rating: Mature Warnings: Major Character Death Categories: F/M Characters: Father Paul Hill | Monsignor John Pruitt, Riley Flynn, Warren Flynn, Annie Flynn, Ed Flynn, Erin Greene (Midnight Mass), Sarah Gunning, Mildred Gunning, Beverly Keane, Leeza Scarborough, Dolly Scarborough, Sheriff Hassan (Midnight Mass), Ali Hassan, Ooker (Midnight Mass), Sturge (Midnight Mass) Relationships: Father Paul Hill | Monsignor John Pruitt/Original Female Character(s) Additional Tags: Soulmates, Vampires, Slow Burn, Priest Kink, Religion, Sexual Content, Falling In Love, Love Confessions, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Happy Ending, Alternate Universe August 08, 2022 at 09:35PM Read it on Ao3 » https://archiveofourown.org/works/40902162 ✞ Don’t forget to leave kudos and comments to let the author know you enjoyed their work ✞

[eddiemetalheadmunson]

the dying of the light: a midnight mass fanfic.

chapter I: she wanted storms, is located by clicking Keep Reading below.

chapter II: electric chapel

chapter III: running up to the altar

chapter IV: coming closer

chapter V: after dark

chapter VI: in flames

chapter VII: into the unknown

this is an adult work of fiction with adult themes:

this story is rated E (explicit) in accordance to AO3′s rating system (scroll down to the section titled “What do the ratings mean?” for more information), meaning it is strictly an 18+ work of fiction. minors DNI, please!

trigger warnings/tags:

topics i will ALWAYS POST TAGS for:

references of any kind regarding non-consensual content

references of any kind regarding addiction/relapsing

references of any kind regarding sexual trauma

trigger warning requests: 

if you would like me to tag any chapter for you personally, i am more than happy to do so. please don’t hesitate to ask. 👻 

now, on to the first little chapter of The Dying of the Light:

chapter I: she wanted storms

The biting wind stings Lilith’s cheeks as the ferry she’s on chugs itself from the mainland to the disheveled little town of Crockett. Small towns have their appeal, in their own way, so it wasn’t as if she was completely dreading her stay. A new adventure was welcome, especially at this point in her life. This remote town in the middle of the sea offered one thing she knows she’ll never receive back home: anonymity.

Lilith was just as shocked as her parents to find that her Great Grandfather had made her a beneficiary in his will, leaving her the deed to his tiny house in the weathered town. She knew they’d shared a few lovely memories together, like walks to the ice cream parlor on the mainland and strolls along the beach near his house, but… it didn’t make much sense that she was the one inheriting his home. It was such a personal gesture. In addition, he’d left her a lump sum of money with a note in scribbled cursive that she'd instantly recognized from years of birthday cards and letters that she’d kept, carefully preserved, in her closet. She could never throw away any cards sent to her. It just felt wrong. 

She pulls the letter out of her coat pocket for what must be the fifth time today and squints with a furrowed brow against the wind to gaze upon the scrawled words of someone she can no longer seek answers from.

“Do not go gentle into that good night.

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.”

You are my granddaughter born of the sun.

Thank you for shining on me in this life.

Stay strong for what is to come.

Shine on, my little one.

Always,

Your Great Grandad

She feels her throat close up for what feels like the thousandth time while reading his very last message to her before gently folding the letter up again and storing it securely in her satchel. As for what is to come, she has no clue, but she assumes he’s simply meaning “what lies ahead in life”. She rubs her cold, runny nose against the sleeve of her black coat and shakes off any lingering unnecessary emotions.  

He left me this little house for a reason. I’m going to honor that.

Before she can dwell much longer on the past, the present brings her to her senses by way of a loud horn announcing the arrival to the island that makes her practically jump out of her skin.

“Jesus christ…” she mumbles with a light laugh at her own jumpiness, grabbing ahold of her suitcase on wheels and awkwardly making her way towards the dock. The air is even colder here against the shoreline and it feels as if the wind is snaking its icy fingers under her clothes, chilling her to the bone. It’s not until she wrestles her way down the ramp, almost slipping and busting her ass in the process, that she looks up at the tiny little town of Crockett before her.

Desolation. That’s the first word that comes to mind. The houses themselves seem so lonely, save for the few that have their owners relaxing on the porch. She feels a chill run down her spine as she crosses the threshold from dock to land, and somewhere deep inside of her, she knows that every step she takes carries more weight than the one before. It triggers a spike of anxiety, but nothing severe enough to make her turn back. It feels like a beckoning. The town almost seems to crackle with energy as her boots leave muddy indents behind her on the path to the house. The first rumble of thunder vibrates through the atmosphere and she shivers, instantly recalling a favorite poem.

“You will hear thunder and remember me...” she mumbles quietly to herself with a little grin on her face while waving goodbye to the ferrymen and thanking them for her safe arrival. Her Great Grandfather was apparently unconcerned with socializing, she realizes, as she stumbles in front of an incredibly worn little house sitting on the very cusp of town, as far away from other humans as possible. It sits not far from the wooded area to its left, its porch facing the water. It’s the only house that faces towards the sunrise that she’s seen yet.

Looking up at the worn abode has her gripping her bags so tightly her knuckles turn white. The handling of death has never been a strong suit of hers, but not for lack of trying. There was no one she wouldn’t comfort or help through their own journey with losing someone. It’s something she was quite good at, in fact: comforting others. But in her own life, death and all of its finality, well…for something so inevitable in this world, it scared her beyond belief. It never seemed natural to her, contrary to all recorded existence of life.

All at once, a sliver of a memory manifests and she recalls playing on the sandy bank, her Great Grandfather reading a book and lazily pushing himself to and frow on the porch swing as he kept an eye on her. She remembers it being cold, far too cold to swim, but jumping and splashing into the water with abandon all the same. Free and limitless and unburdened by life and its inevitable pain. She remembers warm arms holding her that night when she fell ill, crying for her mom, but eventually being soothed by the gentle motion of his rocking chair. She couldn’t have been more than five.

It feels like being punched in the chest, how strongly the memory resurfaces now that she’s here. She shakes herself off, squaring her shoulders and gazing towards the front door. Before she can second guess herself, she begins hauling her suitcase up the creaking wooden stairs leading to the front door. A moment of panic hits her as she realizes she doesn’t even have a key yet, but with a gentle turn of the knob, the door opens without protest.

She’s instantly relieved at how barren the living room is. No couch, no TV, no nick knacks, no pictures, no poignancy…she’d promised to help sell the property only. Her mom had handled all of the furniture and décor, making sure to ship certain sentimental objects or pictures that family members had requested.

Lilith can’t stop the quiver of her lips as she breathes heavily through her nose, trying to compose herself as the familiar pang of longing to see her mom and dad envelopes her heart. The ocean was healing to her mother and her illness, and after exhausting all other options, she had encouraged them to move to the Cayman Islands and find some peace, some relief. They fought her hard, but she knew it was the right thing to do, no matter how much it made her soul ache to be so far from them. She just wanted to see them happy and unburdened. A treacherous tear makes its way down her cheek and she hastily wipes it away in annoyance at herself.

They’re healthy. They’re happy. That is everything.

Another round of thunder rumbles through the house, rattling the windows as she digs out the blanket she’d bought for the plane ride and fans it out onto the floor, grabbing a hoodie while she’s at it to scrunch up and use as a pillow. It’s been a long journey, and she feels the exhaustion of traveling slipping into her bones, begging for rest. She raises the blinds on one of the front windows a bit so the lightning will flicker inside the house as she sleeps. Storms meant comfort. Storms meant not being alone.

She uses one of her feet to slide off her clunky combat boot and does the same with the other before stretching towards the ceiling, feeling some of her bones pop, and yawning obnoxiously. Crawling onto her blanket, she lets her heavy head fall, and as she fades into slumber, she briefly remembers the last words of the poem she’d been reminded of earlier.

“You will hear thunder and remember me…and think: she wanted storms…”

A brief flash of light, followed by the gentle tremor of thunder vibrating through the floorboards beneath her, lull her into a deep and dreamless sleep.

[slasherbaby]

me drafting out a multi chapter fic of my oc x sheriff hassan

[because-edmund]

Funny girl

Now that I’ve got the main bits written down, im doing a few smaller filler chapters for places I want more of daphnes POV!! :) @the-redheaded-league @agirlinherhead @choosekindly

https://archiveofourown.org/works/37904203/chapters/102075837

[because-edmund]

Is this what you dreamed, then?

https://archiveofourown.org/works/37904203/chapters/98947170

THE WEDDING IS OUT. IT SUCKS BUT ITS DONE

@the-redheaded-league @agirlinherhead @brew-a-pot-of-homosexualitea @choosekindly

[because-edmund]

Angel of Small Death 2

Daphnes turn bby @the-redheaded-league @agirlinherhead @choosekindly

https://archiveofourown.org/works/39333444/chapters/98592642

[because-edmund]

Daphne Ask #?

Is there any family that Daphne would introduce Hassan to (whether intentionally or because of circumstance)?

Hehe story below 💕 @the-redheaded-league

I’m only ten years younger than her dad… Hassan thinks, waiting outside the strange house. Is that a little messed up? I don’t think so… Her father suddenly opens the door, and they’re finally let in to Daphnes family home.

He shakes the man’s hand after setting his suitcase on the floor, “It’s great to finally meet you!”

“It’s nice meeting you too, two years, huh? Sure she hasn’t driven you mad yet?” He laughs, Daphne glares at him before running to the restroom.

“Ah, yeah. She could never do that!” Hassan laughs. “She’s really quite amazing, sir.”

“You don’t have to call me sir! I’m only a little bit older than you after all!” Her father, Dan, laughs again.

“Yeah it’s cause of her daddy issues,” her younger sister, Lydia, yells from the table.

“Or maybe this dude is just a cradle robber,” her older one laughs.

Hassan chuckles a bit, tries to brush off the comments. When Daphne walks back from the restroom, he pulls her in to his side, not letting her go. “Are you ok?” She whispers.

“Yeah, shortcake.” He smiles back, gritting his teeth.

She gives him a weak smile back.

They were on a road trip, he had a training seminar to go to, and he tried his damndest to make it romantic, but when their hotel lost their reservations, the only option was to sleep at Daphnes dads house or the car.

Hassan settles them in what would’ve been Daphnes old room, had it not been entirely changed into a room for her dads step-grandchildren. Two twin beds, they couldn’t even sleep next to each other.

“Guess I don’t get my cuddles tonight, huh shortcake?” Hassan laughs.

“I’m sorry, it’s going to be a long night,” she rubs her temples, already feeling a headache.

“You got this, babe,” he sits next to her on her bed, hugging her tightly.

It goes pretty smoothly, all things considered. They make their comments, about his age, about her weight, about the fact she never visits. They both grin and bear it.

“Why her?” Lydia asks, in the middle of dinner.

“Excuse me?” Hassan replies, honestly taken a bit aback.

“It’s like, I know Erin lives on that island, she’s a bit prettier right?”

Hassan can’t find the words to answer this question, and before he can try to open his mouth, Gabby, the oldest says:

“Even Bev is.”

The two start laughing, Daphne rolling her eyes, wrapping her cardigan tighter around herself.

“I think your sister blows everyone, here or there, out the water.” Hassan says, picking at the food on his plate.

Her dad snorts, “Sure pal, wait until she has a meltdown. Girl is so sensitive. Can never even take a joke, I mean look at how she’s acting right now.”

Daphne, tired of it, gets up and starts to clean up their plates, not saying anything.

“Oh look, she’s being nice and actually cleaning for once,” Gabby laughs.

“Yeah, bud. You might have to hire a maid. This girl never cleans, lazy as all hell,” he sad sips on his whiskey. “You sure you don’t want any?”

“He’s muslim,” Daphne snaps, the first thing she’s said all night. “He doesn’t drink. And you shouldn’t either, you’re getting a bit rude.” She storms off the the kitchen, plates in hand.

“The fuck did you just say?” Her dad yells after her, and the second he gets out of his chair, Hassan is already grabbing him by the sleeve, forcing him to stay down.

“Don’t,” is all Hassan says, voice hard.

“Don’t what?” Her father slurs. “Teach her a lesson? How dare she talk to me like that, I’m your father show some respect!” He practically spits at Daphne, who’s frozen in place by the kitchen door.

Hassan glares at the man, “All of you should be ashamed of yourselves. Especially you.” In a swift and quick movement, he’s got the man pinned to the wall. “I think it’s best we all head to bed. Be out in the morning, and nothing has to get worse than it already is. Got it?” He looks around the room, seeing the two girls nod. “Good.” He lets the man go, before grabbing the dishes out of daphnes hands, sets them on the table and then holds her close to his chest all the way to the bedroom.

She’s crying the second the door closes, “I’m sorry,” she sobs into his chest. “I didn’t mean to make you mad…”

“You didn’t do anything wrong, shortcake.” Hassan holds her tight. “I see you why you can’t fucking stand them.

“They’ve gotten a lot better,” she laughs.

He pulls her out from his chest, stares into her eyes while he wipes her tears with his thumbs. “I love you, sweet girl.” He kisses her softly, just as she says it back.

He stays awake the whole night, and truly understands how Daphne learned to run.

[because-edmund]

Un-thinkable - I’m ready

AYOOOOO SECOND TO LAST CHAPTER FOR THIS BEAST (don’t worry I’ll be doing one shots and filling in blanks randomly, I love Daphne too much)

@the-redheaded-league @agirlinherhead @choosekindly @queerly-scribbling

https://archiveofourown.org/works/37904203/chapters/99146418

[because-edmund]

Angel of Small Death

https://archiveofourown.org/works/39333444

A little quickie (no pun intended) for you guys today. I’ll try to have their wedding out this week 🥲 @agirlinherhead @the-redheaded-league

[because-edmund]

You are your mothers child.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/37904203/chapters/99047403#workskin

👀 @the-redheaded-league @agirlinherhead @queerly-scribbling @choosekindly

[littleredwritingcat]

Thirst Trap: Chapter 12

"This I Have Discovered"

Hold on to those crowns, drama pals!

And wouldn't you know it? It feels real rough to find out the guy you're head over holy heels for is actually eighty, knew your mama, and also thinks you're dumb enough not to see the big ol' framed picture of him on the rectory wall.

Excuse me, John Paul Pruitt Hill. Are you for real?

Reluctantly, the priest leaves his bed - where you had previously bidden him to stay in the embrace of warm covers and your scent until his customary rising at six. For only a moment, he allows himself to lay on the pillow where your head had rested. He imagines smelling your hair & skin. Despite the morning cold that has stolen the warmth you’d left behind, he feels a low heat in a place he ought not.

Not right now, anyway.  

@waytkayt @honey-tree-evil-eye @agirlinherhead @plainlo-inthemorning @everythingbutresolved @thenookienostradamus @fatherpaulmybeloved @fatherpaulsimp @rothko-mirror @jyngerpeach @ebiemidnightlibrarian @thegentlestmaenad @midwestmisfit @choosekindly @girlwiththenegantattoo @aherdofbees @i-was-ok-then-i-saw-hamish @madsmilfelsen @prettyblondguys @supplanther @labyrinthphanlivingafacade

[littleredwritingcat]

And we're back!

Chapter 2: Preview

“I – I hope that maybe Potato and I can be on better terms in the future,” he admits, bushy brows arching upwards above the bridge of his nose as he lifts himself back into a standing position, looking full into your face.

You nod in acknowledgement.

“Potato is sorry that she’s been rude and will probably say ‘hello’ at mass tomorrow morning.”

Hot Priest grins and looks relieved. It’s a nice expression – because of course it is. The small crinkles around his eyes grow a little deeper, and for a moment he looks worn like the leather cover of a journal. You can tell he wants to be liked - is probably fine with not being <em>everyone’s</em> cup of tea but would rather be at peace with everyone he knows.  

Not needy, then. Just vulnerable in a disarming kind of way.

So how are things going at St. Pat's, you ask?

Why is there a potato in the preview?

How many ideas can one erotica writer really get out of early morning mass?

What should someone do if a feral cat shows up on their doorstep and refuses to leave?

And who is that tall fellow that just picked up his very own copy of Passionate Fortunes, anyway?

Buckle up, babies.

Things are getting increasingly cringe.

[because-edmund]

I’m Broken But I’ll Try

Whiskey and Wine part 6

(TW for self harm, suicide attempts, overall ANGST with a happy ending yall).

@the-redheaded-league and @agirlinherhead 💕

“Shortcake, are you feeling ok?” Hassan asks, she’s been off for a few days, and as they lay in bed together, she feels distant.

“I’m fine, grumpy bear…” she murmurs before flipping over, wrapping the blanket over her head.

He sighs, accepting that he won’t be able to get her to talk. He gets out of bed, and takes his morning shower, getting ready for work.

“I’ll see you in an hour?” He asks.

“Mhmm.” Is all he gets back.

She shows up late for work, she’s lucky no one came shopping, he doesn’t know how to work the register and frankly he’s worried her grandparents will yell at her over it. He tries to get her to talk there, but still nothing. It makes him sick to his stomach.

She’d been sleeping at his house almost every night since their first time three months ago, but the last month it had dwindled down to maybe once a week. He misses her, wants the best for her, but she won’t talk, and she hasn’t even been baking anymore. He feels like his hands are tied.

“Hassan, can I stop by tonight?” She asks.

“Of course you can!” He’s excited, it’s the first time she’s made plans for them in a while, and he thinks distantly that it’s a start to getting better.

“Thanks,” is all she says before leaving the store, and him alone with his thoughts.

When he gets home that night he asks Ali to go to Warrens house, and the kid, thankfully, obliges with little convincing. Hassan isn’t prepared to have sex, he actually doesn’t want to. He desperately wants to convince Daphne to try the therapist Grace sees. After a short phone call, Grace seemed to agree with him that their poor Daphne has been a bit more melancholy. He needs her better, needs her to be ok.

Instead she comes over with the most heart wrenching look on her face.

“Shortcake…” he breaths, she hasn’t even stepped inside his house yet, and he’s ready to bawl his eyes out.

“Hassan, we need to talk,” she barely squeaks out.

His stomach drops. He’d been through break ups before, but this one was sickeningly different.

“I need to end this,” she breathes as she steps in to the house. A house they had started decorating together not even three weeks ago.

“Why?” Is all he can push out.

She has tears in her eyes, spilling out down her cheeks. He wants to kiss them off of her. Tell her to forget this even happened.

“Hassan…” is all she breathes out.

“Why?” He asks again, he has anger rising in his chest, despair even. “Who is it? It has to be someone else, so who is it?”

“It’s really no one…” she cries.

“Then why? You know I love you and-“ he’s struggling so hard now. None of it is making sense. His world is being upturned and he hasn’t even left the front door hallway. Waves of dizziness and nausea clouding him.

“I know you do, and I love you too… but you deserve better. Trust me on this…” She steps forward, places a delicate hand on his beard. She hasn’t painted her nails in weeks. He misses that little detail about her.

He places his hand over hers, it covers hers entirely and he can’t help but let out a sob. “Please don’t, Daphne please. I don’t want- I don’t need anyone else. You’re perfect and my world-“

“Hassan, you need to stop, Ali is your world, you don’t need me messing it up anymore.” She cries back, her voice raising slightly.

It’s what tips him over, he steps back from her touch, it suddenly burning his skin. He can’t think straight, still dizzy, still about to vomit all over his freshly mopped floor. She’s crying so hard now, so is he.

“You never are messing it up… you never were. So why are you doing this?” He can’t control himself anymore. Voice raising, he can tell he’s scared her, as she shrinks closer to the door. She’s ready to run, she has before, when it was her dad yelling at her, he promised he would never do that.

She promised she would never leave.

He slams his fist on the wall next to him the loud bang eliciting a small scream from Daphne, he can’t even go comfort her, apologize even, he can’t see through his tears and she won’t give a good enough answer for him.

“You should leave. I’ll have Grace bring your stuff back,” he sobs out.

She doesn’t say anything, she simply leaves. Door shutting quietly behind her.

He doesn’t know how long he stands in the hallway. An hour maybe? Perhaps only five minutes. He doesn’t care. Ali finds him on the living room couch, the one where she would curl and watch movies with him, he had finally stopped crying, but still couldn’t think clearly.

“Dad…?” Is all Ali can ask.

“She- she br- broke up-“ he can’t finish the sentence he’s sobbing again, into his hands as his son drops his backpack and races over.

He starts hyperventilating as his kid holds him. It’s fucked up. Feels like it should be the other way around, Ali shouldn’t ever have to comfort his dad. And yet, here they are, both crying on the couch.

“She wouldn’t even tell me why,” he sobs. “She just kept saying ‘it was better this way.’”

“It’s okay, dad it’s okay…” he holds his father, Hassan’s head resting on his sons shoulder.

“It’s not,” he hiccups out. How could she do this? He was going to marry her, he just wanted a bit of dating first. He was going to ask her to move in this week. Ali had agreed to it. They were going to be happy, together, his favorite people all under his roof.

Ali gets his father to drink some water, to calm down. He wonders, briefly, if he should take his dads phone, call Grace. Hassan has always said she felt like a sister to him. He decides to wait until school the next morning. He makes his dad go to bed, and for the first time since his mother died, he sleeps in the bed next to him.

Hassan wakes up throughout the night, and can’t help crying. He prays he’s not waking Ali up, but sometimes he can feel his sons comforting hand on his back. He feels like he’s too old for this, stupid breakups. Acting like it’s the end of the world.

But for now, it is. All of his future plans have collapsed. He’s back to where he was when he first stepped foot on this shitty island, depressed, and bitterness seeping in again. Part of him can’t even believe he allowed himself to be hopeful, to have any form of happiness. If his wife’s death taught him anything, it’s that nothing good lasts.

Ali begs him to stay home that day, skip work. The island never has anything going on anyways. But, he can’t stay home, looking at all of her little trinkets she’s left.

“Ali, can you- can you help me clean the house, after school?” He asks, his voice barely audible.

“Yeah, but I really think-“ Ali gets cut off before he can finish.

“I’ll see you after school, okay?” He says, before walking about the door.

Annie Flynn is working today, Hassan wonders if he’ll ever see his shortcake at work again.

No, not his shortcake. Just Daphne.

“Hello, sheriff,” she grins. “Oh gosh, you look… you look, sheriff.”

“Thanks Annie, why are you here today?” He asks while getting his coffee. Trying not to let his voice, or body for that matter, shake.

“Daphne asked me to take her shifts the rest of the week, are you two ok?” She has that sweet concern dripping from her voice in the way only mothers can do.

Hassan fights back tears, he can feel them at the edge of his eyes. “Don’t think so,” is all he breathes out. He gives her a fake smile before locking himself in his room.

He’s crying again, he decides to just let himself. He doesn’t have much, if any, work today. So he just cries. Cries until he falls asleep on the cot Joe Collie spent half the week on before he went missing. Cries because of Daphne, cries because of Joe, cries because of Ali.

He cries because he wants his wife.

She would know what to do.

She would tell him to fight for her, to keep trying. Because he deserves life after her loss. He wants it, so badly. But now Daphne doesn’t, and it’s so out of left field he can’t even think of why. She’s been sad, her anxiety getting to her, but they’d still been in love.

Right?

He hears a knock at his door. He checks the clock, it’s suddenly noon. Figures it’s Ali, coming to check in on his lunch break. He fixes himself up as best as he can, wipes his face with the sleeve of his jacket, the roughness of the denim waking him back up.

He opens the door to find Paul, “Hey.”

“Hi, um, how’re you doing, father?” He asks, he doesn’t want to be seen by anyone today, let alone a guy friend.

“Brought some lunch, um, I just figured- Gracie is busy today, and I don’t really want to eat around Bev so-“ Paul is caught off by Hassan just crying again. He would’ve been having a nice lunch with Daphne right now. Something Halal, something she made with love.

“Hassan, what’s wrong?” Paul asks, stepping in and closing the door behind him.

“Paul, you know,” Hassan laughs.

“No, no, I really don’t.” Paul puts his hands on his friends shoulders.

“She fucking dumped me!” Hassan laughs through the tears.

“D-Daphne?” He asks, shock written on his face.

“Yeah…” he can’t even snap a sarcastic comment back. It’s all just too much. Too horrible.

“Hassan, how are you even at work right now? I-I would be- if Gracie- Hassan, you should be home. This is- Hassan, I should call-“ Paul stammers out.

Hassan snaps, “Don’t. Don’t call Grace. Don’t tell anyone. If no one knows yet, I want to keep it that way. No one needs to be in my fucking business but me.”

“Ok… ok.” Paul tries his best to comfort his friend. Just sits next to him, eating in silence, while hassan sometimes cries. Hassan doesn’t tell him much. He doesn’t need to.

At the school, Grace is a little worried that her phone hasn’t gone off yet. Paul should’ve updated on how his lunch was going by now. He usually updates on every single thing that happens. And the last one she got was almost an hour ago, when he was on his way to the sheriffs office.

Ali walked into her class, and she quickly hid her phone. “Hey,” she smiled.

“Ms. Reid, um, I think I should talk to you about something… at least Leeza is tell me I need too.” Ali is clearly nervous, the kid looks like he hasn’t slept all night.

“Of course, teacher student confidentiality. Unless it’s murder, then I’ll consider telling your dad,” she laughs.

“It’s kinda… about my dad?” Ali sighs.

“Oh.”

“Yeah, so, did you know Daphne broke up with him last night?”

“She what?” Is all Grace manages out. Daphne hadn’t even mentioned she was considering doing that.

“Yeah, she um, she came over and I guess just, broke it off. Wouldn’t tell dad why really, just… ended it. I wanted to know if you knew anything? If I can help fix this in any way…” Ali has tears in his eyes now.

And suddenly Graces phone rings.

“I’ll get back to you, ok? We’re gonna fix this, alright?” He nods back and she picks up her phone.

“Oh my god, Gracie! They- they broke up! I don’t know what to do! Hassan was crying the whole time, and he seems a wreck and he won’t say anything-“ Paul nearly word vomits into the phone, all the information he knows pouring out.

“It’s ok, it’s ok! We’re gonna… we’re gonna give her a few days ok? And then me and you are gonna talk to her. Make sure she’s calmed down and then we can fix this.”

“Yeah, we can fix this…” Paul breathes. Not very confident at all.

Hassan is back to work again the next day, and the day after that, and the day after that. He goes to mosque on Friday, and his phone only buzzes with messages from Paul, which he’s come to ignore. He knows they’re visiting Daphne today, try to talk to her. But he doesn’t want them too, however he knows there is no use in trying to stop them.

On the ferry ride back, Hassan can only think of how he wants to sleep the second he gets home. He doesn’t want to deal with Erin telling him to ‘nut up and get his girl back’ or Bev Keenes whispers of ‘I knew they wouldn’t last.’ His phone rings, it’s Grace. He ignores it.

It rings again, he ignores it.

It rings a third time, this one annoying him.

On the fourth he picks up. “What?” Is all he spits out.

“Daphne is at Sarah’s, it’s really bad Hassan, are you on your way back?” Grace is panicked, he can hear the tears in her voice, can vaguely hear Paul in the back, he keeps crying about blood.

“What do you mean,” Hassan whispers, his stomach is in his feet, he’s glad he’s sitting down, he thinks the wind got knocked out of him.

“Daphne- it’s hard to explain. She’s ok, I think, just- when will you be back? If you missed the ferry I’ll call Sturge and-“

“I’m on my way, I’m on my way, is she breathing? What’s going on? Please…” Hassan feels tears in his eyes again. Ali is now watching his every move with deep concentration, his breathing a little faster.

“She, she started um- she started cutting again. And- and I found her. She did it too deep, on her arm this time. Sarah says she’s definitely taken something too… she was really out of it.”

“Ok, but she’s with Sarah?” He’s really trying to steady his voice, not sound like he’s going panic, or rather that he is panicking.

“Yes, I need to get Paul cleaned up, he’s a bit panicked. I needed him to carry her…”

“Ok, I’ll be there soon. Please call me if anything happens.” He shakily puts his phone back in his pocket. He wants to throw up, to cry, to scream.

What did she mean Daphne was taken something? Daphne only ever did pot, and it was always with him, she didn’t even like doing it alone. And that wasn’t enough to do anything bad, to make her want to harm herself. Was it? Oh god, he didn’t even know anymore…

He couldn’t move the whole ferry ride back, it took a painstaking thirty minutes before they docked. He barely told Ali to just go wait at the house before bolting off to Sarah’s. He wasn’t sure if he had ever run that fast before, even when chasing stupid kids who didn’t want to get arrested.

He burst through the door, not even bothering to know, “Where is she?”

Grace got up from where she was holding Paul on Sarah’s small couch, “With Erin in the room. She’s still asleep, Sarah had to give her a sedative…” Grace helped Hassan take his jacket off, her eyes filled with worry.

He nodded, realizing now he’s out of breath.

“I think you should sit down, and we can all talk,” Grace whispered.

He nodded again, she led him to a chair, where there was already a glass of water waiting for him. He chugged it quickly, while Grace cleaned up Paul’s face.

“What happened?” He breathes out.

“Paul and I went to check on her while you were at mosque, we wanted to give her a few days before trying to… talk to her about what, what happened…

“She was in her bathroom, um, she couldn’t really talk. She just said she got “too deep” and was sorry. She kept saying she was sorry-“ Grace starts crying now. Paul holds her close to his chest.

“I came in when Grace called for me, I picked her up and ran straight here.” Paul is almost clinical in he the way he talks, trying desperately not to think too much about it. “Did you know she was doing this?”

Even though his tone is almost harsh, Hassan knows it’s just because he cares. “She used to do it, but she’d been clean for a couple years… only did it on her legs. She tried to, um, k-ki-“ he can’t say the word. “She tried something when she was a teenager but, she was fine! She was doing good, I thought we were doing good together and-“ Hassan can’t help but start crying into his hands.

Sarah walks out now, looking a bit tired, “Shes probably going to be out for the rest of the day, Erin is going to stay with me, would any of you get her medications from the house?” Grace nods. “Good, I think we all just need a breather.”

Hassan is sent back home to Ali, he tells the poor kid everything, and once again they fail to sleep next to each other in Hassan’s bed, both too worried to actually relax.

Hassan remembers when she first told him about the cutting, they were kissing in his office, when his hand went up her skirt and felt one of the scars. She told him everything then, and how she didn’t feel pretty with them, so he kissed each and every one before eating her out. He wanted her to feel like a goddess, like how he viewed her. He wasn’t dumb enough to ask her never to do it again for him. She had already been clean, and frankly he thinks asking that of a person isn’t right. They have to want to be better, for themselves, not for you.

When he gets to Sarah’s in the morning, he can hear Daphne talking to Erin, voice rough and tired. He wants to walk in but he’s frozen by the door. Riley had taken Ali to get flowers on the mainland, and Grace and Paul were making breakfast for everyone. It could almost be a normal morning.

“I didn’t want to take them, they weren’t working anymore…” Daphne says.

“That’s not how it works, sweetie. And I know you know that…” Sarah clicks her tongue.

“We’ll get you back on them, and get you all fixed up, baby girl.” Erin whispers.

He can barely see anything through the crack in the door, just Sarah writing things down on a clipboard. He can hear footsteps behind him, the creaking of old floorboards. When he turns around, Paul is shoving him into the room.

No backing out now.

Everyone is quiet, Erin is holding Daphne on the bed, stroking her hair the way a mother would a sick child. Erin would’ve been such a wonderful mom, Hassan distantly thinks. Daphne and him have their eyes locked and neither can speak. What does he say?

Paul is now in the room with Grace, and the two set up a small table by the bed with two bowls of oatmeal.

“Talk.” Is all Paul says before escorting everyone out of the room.

There’s a moment of silence, as Hassan finally takes in how Daphne looks. Her beautiful blue eyes have dark purple rings underneath them, she just looks so tired. There’s an emptiness to them too, like she lost all sense of spark, almost like a dead person. Her arms are wrapped in gauze, and somehow she looks smaller than he saw her a few days ago.

“Hiya…” she whispers.

“Hi…”

“I guess we should-“ he cuts her off by engulfing her in a hug.

“Oh my god, shortcake, I’ve missed you so much,” he cries. “What happened? Please, please, let me help. We don’t have to get back together, just let me help…” he sobs into her shoulder, her hands slowly wrap around him, one on his back the other in his hair. He can feel her tear drops on his neck.

“I didn’t mean to- I didn’t really want to-“ she sobs. He knows what she means.

“You don’t have to suffer alone anymore, you really don’t! And we can all help, Grace, Erin, Paul and Riley. Everyone. Why did you stop taking your meds, why did- why did you-“ he pulls himself off of her to look her in the eyes. His hand cupping her face, thumb wiping away tears.

“It wasn’t working, and just, I felt so awful. And I’m a burden, Hassan. You deserve better, someone who doesn’t stress you out or, bother you. You have a lot on your plate and I thought that me- me leaving would help…” she sobs again. He pulls her into his chest. Stroking her hair until she calms down.

“You never were-are any of those things, shortcake. You’re the love of my life! Ali loves you too! We- we were gonna ask you to move in with us,” he laughs and she does too. “Would you do that? Would you let me take care of you? You don’t even have to date me anymore, just let me help you get back on your feet and-“

“I want to date you!” She laughs through tears. “If you still want me… I’m really really broken right now, and I don’t know if I’ll ever be fully better…” she pulls away, he looks her in the eyes, swears he can see some of that spark back.

“Doll, we’re gonna get through this together. I love you, and I can’t wait to be your boyfriend again…”

She kisses him, he isn’t expecting it, but he returns it immediately.

He makes sure she eats her part of the breakfast after, watches her with reverence. When Ali and Riley bring the flowers later that night, he and Paul go grab essentials from Daphnes home, he’s not letting her even step another foot away from him.

When everyone is at Mass that Sunday, he and Grace talk to her about therapy, before escorting her back to his home. Or their home, as he now calls it. They set it up for her to go while he’s at mosque one Fridays, and Daphne wonders why she ever thought Hassan wouldn’t want her anymore.

They have a bit to work through, but he’s never been happier.