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thisoneisbatter · 2 years

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Holy: Chapter Eight

This is a new fic that is completed but I think I’ll be rolling it out chapter by chapter because it is a long one. It’s brat tamer, jaded widower Sheriff Hassan in full effect. This fic does contain some very rough sex and consensual sexual violence in some chapters so please do not read if that is a trigger for you. Otherwise, please enjoy and leave feedback!

Holy

Chapter Eight

Word Count: 1k+

Rating: Explicit (18+ only)

Deep family secrets are finally revealed.

Hassan had promised to take the weekend to help Leslie go through her mother’s things. His intentions weren’t entirely altruistic. The state medical examiner hadn’t issued his report, but had said off the record that it definitely seemed like foul play. Unofficially, poisoning.

There wasn’t much evidence to collect in the guest room closet that could tie someone to Cindy’s murder, but maybe he could figure out what the hell was going on on the island and why someone would want to poison her to begin with.

“What’s in this box?” Hassan reached for a hat box at the top of closet. He’d been handing things down to Leslie, most of which she’d stuffed into a black trash bag. A stack of old National Geographics, a pair of dry rotten men’s penny loafers, exactly the types of things you’d expect to find. This box was different. It was leather and very old but well cared-for.

“Uhh, I think it’s like my adoption stuff.” She gestured to the bed where they’d been putting the things she wanted to keep; photo albums and a few of her mom’s old dresses. “It can just go over there.”

“Do you-can I look at it?” It felt wrong to ask. Something so incredibly personal. He was more prepared for her to say no than yes.

“It doesn’t have who my birth parents are or anything like that. Its just like, basic info.” She replied flippantly. “I’m going to take a couple of bags down to the trash. You can look at whatever. I don’t have, like, giant family secrets or whatever.” She shot him a mockingly crazy look, laughing a little at his interest.

Fifteen minutes later, when Leslie returned, Hassan was sitting in a chair by the window deeply engrossed in the papers he couldn’t even read. It was almost entirely in Romanian. A stack of handwritten notes, typewritten documents on impossibly thin paper, a photo of a crying baby wrapped in a threadbare blanket, and a maroon passport with a picture of a pale toddler in pigtails. The name was Lavinia Eder. It was Leslie.

“Your name is Lavinia?” He chuckled a bit.

“And your name is Hassan.” She pointed out the obvious with a smile.

“Why do you go by Leslie?” He couldn’t imagine calling her anything else.

“Lavinia sounds like an 80 year old woman with a hunch back selling potatoes. Not very in line with my personality.” It amazed him how little she seemed to care about her personal history. Maybe it was something she had already worked her way through earlier in her life, but it was surprising to him nonetheless.

“Can you read Romanian?” He asked, lifting the papers to indicate that he needed translation.

“Kind of.” She took a seat on the floor next to him. “I can read these ones,” she pointed to the typewritten ones, “but not the cursive notes.” She took the first fragile page from the file, staring at it for a long time, trying to process the letters through the out of practice dictionary in her mind. “Uh, okay. It says infant girl,” she smiled at him and mouthed me, “found at Biserica Neagra, which I guess means like, Black Church or whatever, in Brasov. Weight 2.2 kilograms. Infant found beneath statue of Saint Petroclus. I don’t know if I’m saying that right. January 21st, 1998. And that’s my birthday.” She winked. His heart was breaking imagining this tiny newborn left in the cold, and she fucking winked. “And then it just says I was moved to an orphanage in Bucharest, which is where my parents adopted me.” She handed the page to him, taking the next one in the stack. “Okay, this one is their request to adopt me. It just has my mom and dad on here saying they want the infant found in Brasov on my birthday. My mom told me she read about it in the paper.” She took the next page. “This one is saying that I am Lavinia, I’m 2 years old, I weigh 11 kilograms, it says ‘no damage’ but I think that’s talking about, like, disabilities and stuff. I think it’s just info about me at the orphanage.” She takes another page. “Uh, yeah, okay. This one is saying I’m being adopted by my parents on October 6th, 2001. They get me, my clothes, my blanket, and some papers.” She shot him a final smile. “And that’s it. Nothing that interesting.”

Hassan let her brush it off while they finished clearing out the upstairs rooms her mom used for storage. They ate pizza on her bedroom floor and had kind of boring sex before he called it a night. His mind was elsewhere.

He’d taken pictures of the papers in the box, more specifically, the handwritten notes. He knew it was a violation of her privacy. She hadn’t given him permission. For all he knew, she was saying she couldn’t read them because she didn’t want to. He just had to know.

The next morning, Hassan went into work early. He jumped head first into a Google rabbit hole almost immediately. At face value, Leslie’s adoption was unusual, but not extraordinary. Cindy, a Romanian woman living in America, saw that a baby was abandoned at a church and wanted to adopt her. Stuff like that happens. Once he started adding it all up, the details spelled something bizarre.

“Hey, Les.” He caught her the second she sat down at her desk. It was 8:30. She was late, but he had way too much swimming in his mind to even address it. “Come over here. I need to talk to you about something.”

“What’s up?” She rolled her chair to his desk, looking only mildly concerned.

“I know you’re probably going to be upset, but I took some pictures of the papers in your adoption file and looked up what they said.” He braced for impact.

“Whoa, Hassan, what the fuck?” Her look of disgust stung a bit, but he’d expected it. It was a violation of her trust after all.

“It’s uhm,” He leaned forward, smoothed his hand down his beard, and rested it on Leslie’s knee. “You’ve got to know there’s something weird going on there.”

“What, then?” It was her turn to find him incredibly annoying. “My parents were weird people. What did you find?”

“Okay,” Hassan pulled out his notepad and leaned back in his chair, ready to elevator pitch Leslie’s own life story to her. “So you were found in the Black Church in Brasov. Brasov is in…Transylvania.” He drew the word out, cringing a bit at her mocking raised eyebrow. It sounded so stupid out loud. “The statue you were found under was Saint Petrolcus of Troye. I tried to look stuff up but came up really short until I realized that your family isn’t Catholic. They’re Eastern Orthodox, right?” She nodded, starting to slump in her chair. He was right. The story wasn’t as cut and dry as she’d believed her entire life. “In the Orthodox church, he is the Patron Saint of Demons and Fever, and his feast day is January 21st.”

“So what does that mean, then?” She looked confused, but mostly angry. Either this was the coincidence of a lifetime, or she’d been lied to at some point by her own family.

“I’m not done, Leslie.” He almost didn’t want to tell her the rest. It sounded crazy. It was crazy. “Do you know how hard it is to find some kind of translation for cursive Romanian? It took me all morning, but I did find it.” He put his phone on the desk at their side with the photos of the three notes pulled up. “These papers were stuffed into the blanket with you when you were left.” He pointed to the first one, which read morții să rămână în pământ, “’May the dead stay in the ground.’ Weird thing to put on a baby. The second one,” he pointed to one reading salvatorul nostru de îngerii căzuți, “Our savior from the fallen angels.” He flipped to the last photo, this one more of a scrawl than the rest, clearly written in haste. It said ea va ști unde poate fi găsită lumina . “She knows where the light can be found.”

Leslie had her head in her hands now, not looking at Hassan.

“Now, Leslie, I want to think that you definitely didn’t know what these notes said, because you’d have told me. And it could also just be the scribblings of a crazy person. I’d believe that last bit for sure if it wasn’t for an email I got from the old Sheriff before I ever even moved to the island. It said, that if I need anything, I should ask Leslie, because she knows where everything can be found. That’s a strange way to word that, right? ‘She knows where everything can be found.’ I did a little extra research on Sheriff Henry. He was pretty well loved by everyone, but one thing he wasn’t was a Catholic. And neither am I, and neither are you, or your mother.” He leaned as far forward as he could, taking her head in his hands and lifting her face to be just inches from his. “Tell me why there are suddenly missing people on an island that hasn’t had more than a fender bender in almost 100 years, a woman is screaming about demons and then suddenly turns up dead, and her daughter, a Sheriff’s Deputy, has a few too many weird connections to be just a fluke.”

Leslie was in tears. Gasping, inescapable tears. Hassan suddenly became hyper-aware of his grip on her and pulled his hand away.

“I don’t understand what you’re accusing me of.” She gulped down a sob. “I don’t know what’s happening.”

“I’m not accusing you of anything.” He sat back, taking stock of what exactly he was doing. “I guess I’m accusing everyone else of something. I just don’t know what yet.”

“So what, Hassan, demons came to Crockett and killed my mother?” She didn’t sound entirely sarcastic. Maybe it was a start. Maybe she’d believe him.

“No, I think that Bev Keane killed your mother.”

#sheriff hassan x ofc #sheriff hassan smut #sheriff hassan #rahul kohli smut #midnight mass #midnight mass fanfiction

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fortheloveoffanfic · 4 months

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An Indecent Affair: The First Encounter

Sheriff Hassan x reader

Summary: On a rainy night after a town meeting at the school, the island's sheriff and English teacher act on mutual feelings.

Author's note: Look at me, back with a terrible title.

Warning: SMUT/NSFW, unprotected sex, a smidge of dom/sub dynamics, itty bitty bit of breeding kink.

Hassan chose Crockett because it's quiet; a sleepy little island four hours off the coast of the mainland, where the most serious crime was disorderly conduct by the town drunk. After his lengthy stint at NYPD came to a messy end and his wife's passing, it seemed like the perfect place to start afresh. He could reconnect with Ali and hopefully not face the same discrimination that he had in New York.

Of course, it only took a few months for Hassan to determine that he was wrong about both of those things. Ali is still upset about his life being uprooted and the people of Crockett have been less than welcoming.

Well, most of them.

He's managed to make one friend – sort of. Hassan doesn't actually know if Y/n would call herself his friend, but she's the closest thing he has to one.

She's also his son's English teacher, which is probably why she tries to make small talk when they bump into each other around town or waves at him when she passes him while he's making his morning rounds and she's jogging.

Jogging in a pair of tiny shorts and a tank top that usually seems a little too tight on her breasts, from her arsenal of skimpy workout clothes. Those moments usually make him extra grateful for the lessons of undercover work; being able to hide her effect on him with stoicism has been more of a blessing than he'd ever imagined it could be.

Because he sees the most exciting part of that boring little island when he's doing foot patrol at seven am.

If only Y/n knew what goes on in his head when he gets to his office with the image of her like that fresh in his mind. The light sheen of exertion making her skin shine, those tiny shorts hugging her ass while the top of breasts remain visible. She'd probably slap him in the face and call him a pervert – sometimes, Hassan wants to do it to himself.

But most times, he wants to bend her over his desk and –

“God,” he hears her huff as she stops to stand beside him just as after they've stepped out of the school, “It looks like it's gonna rain.”

Turning to look at her, Hassan furrows his brows. He heard what she said, but it takes another handful of seconds for him to process her words. Because of course his mind had been run amuck with lewd thoughts when it was her turn to speak at the meeting. She'd been saying something about wanting to encourage the children to read more by starting a book club, but she was saying it while dressed in tight, light wash jeans and a green, knitted sweater that doesn't make any effort to hide her curves.

“Oh,” he glances up at the grayish, milky sky, “yeah.” He wants to say more, but nothing else comes out.

“Figures tonight's the night I decided to walk.” And then, as if on cue, a drizzle starts up, “Great, great,” Y/n hastily adds.

“I can give you a ride,” Hassan hastily offers, the words leaving his mouth before he can fully think them through.

Caught off guard by his offer, Y/n stutters, “Uh…you don't have you – I wouldn't want to put you out –”

“You wouldn't be,” he threads his fingers through his beard and adds, “just…..doin’ my duty.”

Y/n huffs a quiet chuckle, just as the drizzle grows a little heavier. Thankfully, they're both still standing on the school’s front steps, where the roof extends far enough for them to stay covered. “The sheriff doubles as a taxi service?”

Cocking his lips into a half smirk, “protect and serve.”

Licking her lips, Y/n shakes her head. “Protect me from a head cold?” She giggles and his heart leaps a little. Though it isn't really the sound that rouses that effect, even if she does have quite a melodic laugh, its more knowing that she's laughing because of him.

“Pretty serious crime in my book,” he determines softly. She turns just in time for their eyes to meet; Y/n's laughter settles with a gentle hum and her smile softens. There's a glimmer in them that he doesn't think he's ever noticed before and it takes the sudden sound of thunder, like a whip cracking before a microphone, to snap them out of their little moment.

Shaking his head a little, Hassan swallows thickly and lifts his denim jacket over his head, leaving some room for Y/n to duck under it as well. “Shall we?”

“Yeah.” He thinks that's what she says, but it doesn't matter anyway because her stepping under the cover of his coat is enough of a response. That's probably the closest they've ever been, and it takes that proximity for him to realize that she's at least a foot shorter than him – which does nothing but fuel his dirty thoughts.

It would be so easy for him to back her up against a wall. Box her in, lift her off the floor and –

“It's locked.”

“What?” Despite his jacket over their heads, they're drenched by the time they get to his car.

“The door,” she grins, pulling on the handle for emphasis, “still locked.”

“Oh, shit. Yeah,” Hassan scoffs, using his free hand to rummage through the pockets of his jeans until he finds his keys. It doesn't take long for him to help her in and then get into his car after that. “Kinda defeats the purpose of offering you a ride, huh?” He jokes, tugging the door shut after clambering into the driver's side.

Y/n doesn't offer anything above a breathy laugh as Hassan gets the car started, and when he looks her way that time, Y/n hastily shifts her gaze to the road straight ahead.

She doesn't trust herself to keep looking at him, god knows she almost let impulse overrule better sense when they were standing outside of the school and then again when they'd just reached his car.

He's the sheriff. She teaches his son Shakespeare. It's wildly inappropriate and they are decent, professional people.

Which, arguably, makes the thought of it that much hotter. The tall, hunky, jaded sheriff and the young English teacher – the raunchy story writes itself.

And that's why she turns away when Hassan fixes his dark eyes on her while starting the car. Because she'll give in that time, and they're still in the school parking lot. Because the last thing she needs is the mayor, principal, a slew of parents and some of the other teachers witnessing her lunging for the sheriff.

Besides, she won't be able to bear the embarrassment of rejection. And she'd like to not have to walk through a storm.

The drive to her house, which is just one block over from Hassan and his son's, is racked with silence and a tension that Y/n figures is concentrated to her side of the car; every time she looks over at him, Hassan seems as cool and unaffected as ever. Wet hair matted to his brow, flannel shirt clinging to his broad frame and one hand firmly gripping the wheel while his other arm is casually draped along the edge of his door.

How dare he make something as mundane as driving look like foreplay?

“All good?” Hassan quips when he catches her eyes lingering.

“What?” She swallows thickly, feeling her cheeks heat up, “yeah. Totally. Good.”

“Good,” Hassan hums, returning his gaze to the road ahead as he turns onto her street. It's coming down in buckets by then, and Y/n is actually a little taken aback by how quickly the weather has deteriorated. It's been a little overcast all day, but that's hardly unusual for October and they haven't had rain in almost a month.

Y/n keeps her eyes trained outside the passenger window for the rest of the drive, which doesn't even last for very long after his last turn. When he stops at the curb in front of her house, a simple affair with exposed brick, a Dutch gable roof arched windows, Y/n doesn't get out immediately.

“Thanks for the ride,” she finally turns to him again.

Hassan nods stiffly, fingers absently tapping the bottom of the steering wheel, “no problem.”

“I owe you….like a coffee, or something,” Y/n offers, impulsively adding, “unless you'd rather I returned the favor right now.”

Immediately, she wants to kick herself for saying it, or even better yet have the ground open up below her.

“What?” Hassan rasps, head snapping up as he shifts in his seat.

“I….” Unable to gauge his reaction under his stoicism, Y/n tries to do some damage control. “I don't know why I said that,” she shakes her head hastily, “sometimes I just say….”

“Things you don't mean?”

“Really stupid things,” she huffs.

Hassan emits a slow hum. “What exactly does that mean?” He knits his brows, as if he's thinking really hard on the matter, “return the favor.”

Dragging her lower lip through her teeth, Y/n shrugs. She's already opened the can, best just let the worms out – or whatever would be a proper reconstruction of that phrase. “Whatever you want it to mean.”

He reaches over the consoul, the warmth of his large palm permeating the wet fabric of her jeans. “I've got some ideas,” his hand glides upwards, only stopping when his fingers are close enough to brush the area right under the zipper of her jeans.

“This is very inappropriate, Sheriff,” Y/n looks down at his hand on her thigh before panning her gaze back up to meet his.

“Then you could just say no,” he suggests.

Y/n means it; it is incredibly inappropriate. She'd never slept with a parent, but then again, a parent has never looked as good as Hassan el Shabazz.

“Oh fuck it.” Hastily unbuckling her seatbelt, Y/n leans over and grabs his face. As she presses her lips to Hassan’s in a heady kiss, he grips her hips and practically drags her into his lap.

“Shit,” he mumbles when her back hits the horn, “We can't –”

“What?” She breathes, words tumbling into his mouth.

“Well,” his words are barely making it out as their lips work hungrily, and when Y/n grinds against his crotch, Hassan groans loudly and squeezes her waist. “Not in here. I can…. barely…..fucking move.”

Snorting a chuckle, Y/n finally pulls away. Her chest is racked with heavy breaths and she's still gripping a fistful of dark blue flannel on one hand. “Fair. Wanna come in?”

“Do you even have to ask?” He shoots back, kissing Y/n hard one more time before she clumsily stubbles out. She leaves the door open for him and jogs up the short, paved path to the front steps.

Under the protection of the porch, and with the aid of the light she'd left on before leaving home, Y/n rummages through her small purse, finding them right as Hassan starts taking long strides towards her. She gets the door open just as he reaches her. Not waiting for them to get inside, Hassan snatches her hips again and crushes his mouth to hers.

Y/n stumbles backwards into the house, blindly discarding her purse as Hassan kicks the door shut. When he shoves her against the closest wall, she elicits a quiet oof that he eagerly muffles.

“Do you have any idea what you do to me?” He probs, trapping her between his firm body and the cool wall.

Smiling through slower kisses, Y/n's lithe fingers travel down his front to grab his crotch, the size of the bulge there making moisture pool in her center. “I think I've got a pretty good idea.”

“Yeah?” The word is a hoarse whisper as Y/n undoes the button and zipper of his jeans, “that's not even half of it, babygirl.”

Dipping her hand into his boxers, she gasps as she closes her hand in around his impressive girth. “What else?” She croons, using her thumb to spread around a bead of precum.

Lowering his head to lay his lips on her neck, Hassan alternates between pressing feverish kisses to her soft skin and nibbling on the area around her pulse. Simultaneously, his rough hands dip under the hem of her sweater, first flattening to rove the dip of her waist before journeying upwards to knead her breasts through her bra.

“Better if I show you,” he declares after tugging his teeth away from her neck. Making short work of pulling the sweater over her head, Hassan reaches for the button on her jeans, handling it so roughly that it pops right off, the soft sound of it hitting the floor drowned out by their heavy breathing.

“You're wearing a skirt the next time we see each other,” he warns while peeling off her pants and underwear. When they reach her ankles, Y/n can't seem to kick them off fast enough, her shoes getting lost in the hurry.

Hassan's jeans and boxers don't make it past his knees before he's grabbing the back of her thighs and hoisting her up. Y/n’s legs immediately hook to his hips and he barely lets a second go to waste before sliding into her.

“God!”

“Fuck!”

Their unison exclamations are accompanied by his vice grip on her hip tightening enough to leave bruises and her nails sinking into his shoulder blades. He fills her so completely that it burns and Y/n swears she can feel him in the lower part of her stomach.

But she wants more.

“Move. Please,” she whines desperately.

Eager to comply, Hassan stirs a steady pace of rough, controlled thrusts. With each roll of his hips, he removes himself almost completely before driving back into her. Every time their hips connect, Y/n swears he's hit something no one else has ever touched and she can't help the pitched yelp that breaks her lips, combating the sound pouring rain and rolling thunder.

Gripping the back of his neck, she cups his cheek with her other hand, urging his face closer. His tongue swirls around hers and she completely relinquishes any remaining semblance of control.

Reaching between them, Hassan presses his thumb to the bundle of nerves between her thighs, rubbing it in vigorous circles and effectively adding to the growing pressure in her stomach.

“Come on, sweetheart,” Hassan encourages when her legs start stiffening. “That's it babygirl,” he praises when her hips buck enthusiastically, “I wanna feel…..just like that,” he grunts through clenched teeth when Y/n finally pulses around his length. “Fuck!”

Hassan's release is on the heel of her, generous ribbons of his hot product drenching her walls. There's a stutter in the drilling motion of his hips, but he still manages to ride out their highs with an almost assaulting pace.

And then, when they're done, he slumps forward, his weight pinning her to the wall.

Despite the coolness provided by the storm raging outside, their both sweaty and there's a stifling heat surrounding them. Her legs are as good as jelly, and when Hassan gingerly detaches himself from her, the only thing keeping Y/n upright is his steadying, one handed grip. With his free hand, he reaches between her sore thighs; collecting the bits of silky moisture in curled fingers before slipping them between her folds.

“Shit,” Y/n hisses, leaning her head to his chest, which is somehow still guarded by his wet shirt.

“What?” Hassan prompts.

“I'm not on…..anything,” she admits. In the moment, it was the furthest thing from her mind, and even now, she's more concerned about his reaction than what it might mean for herself.

In fact, there's an odd sense of satisfaction that accompanies the thought of risking it all for the sheriff – knowing that of all the women he could chose from the island, the mainland or wherever the fuck he wants to, she's the one that he fucked brainless, and there won't be any denying it.

But that's something that she doesn't want to think about right now.

“Really?” She can practically hear his smirk and it forces her to loll her head back so she can try to make out his expression in the dimess, only illuminated by the occasional flash of lightning. “Then maybe we should see what happens if we do that again.”

#sheriff Hassan #rahul kohli #sheriff Hassan x reader #midnight mass #sheriff Hassan imagine #Rahul Kohli imagine #fanfiction #fanfic

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inlovewithquestionablecharacters · 1 year

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Masterlist

Hello hello finally got around to making a masterlist, hope yall enjoy

Masterlist Key

🥰=Fluff

🫣=Smut

🥲=Angst

House of the Dragon

Alicent: Secret touches🫣

Helaena: A mothers pain🥰🥲

Aemond: Sweet Caresses 🥰🥲

Aemond: An olive branch 🫣🥰

Aemond: The cowardly king🫣🥲

Aemond: Words of comfort🥰🥲

Aemond: Two side of the same coin 🥲

Aegon: A shoulder to cry on 🥰🥲

Polar

Duncan Vizla: Too Sweet for me 🥰🥲🫣

Hannibal

Hannibal: An ethical issue 🫣

Hannibal: Us lonely few🫣🥰

Hannibal: Jealousy, jealousy 🥰🫣 (request)

Hannibal : Everything is gray 🥰🫣 (request)

Hannibal: Temptation 🫣(request)

Hannibal: Off limits 🫣 (request)

Hannibal: Stitches and sweet kisses🥰🫣 (request)

Hannibal: Tender beginnings 🥰🫣 (request)

Hannibal: Teachers pet🥰🫣 (request)

Hannibal: Cravings 🫣

Hannibal: The thrill 🫣 (request)

Hannibal: Office hours 🫣 (request)

Hannibal: I did it for love (request)

Hannibal: What's mine is mine 🫣 (request)

Hannibal: Unexpected infatuation🫣 (request)

Hannibal: The friend we make along the way (request)

Hannibal: Motivation 🫣 (request)

Hannibal: A bit of relaxation 🫣 (request)

Hannibal: Words on paper 🫣 (request)

Hannibal: Homecoming 🫣 (request)

Hannibal: Friend or foe? (request)

Hannibal: Father Figure (request)

Hannibal/Will: In another life 🥰🥲 (request)

Will: Nightcap 🥰🫣

Will: Academic Validation 🫣

Will/Hannibal: Saviors🥰🥲

Triple Frontier

Santi/Frankie: Two is better than one🫣🥰

Saltburn

Oliver: The birthday boy🫣

One Piece (Live action)

Luffy: Love bites 🫣

Usopp: Shoot your shot 🫣 (request)

Sanji: Forbidden fruit 🫣

Good omens

Crowley: To love and be loved

Crowley X Aziraphale: Together

The last of us

Joel:A way to quiet the mind🫣

Joel and Tommy: Sharing is caring🫣

Joel: The things we do for those we love🥰

Joel: Tough guy act🥰🫣

The Marauders

Remus lupin: Late night whispers🥰

Remus Lupin:Bloddy Boggart🥰🥲

Remus Lupin : Mirror of erised🥰

Remus Lupin: The bet🥰

Sirius Black: The older brother pt1 🥰🫣

Sirius Black: The older brother pt2🥰🫣

Remus Lupin: The reunion🥲🥰🫣

Marvel

Eddie Brock: When you love something, you protect it🥰

Eddie Brock: Late night confessions🥰

Matt Murdock: When the world went quiet🥰

Matt Murdock: Safe and Sound🥰

Frank Castle: Spaghetti and Meatballs🥰🫣

Frank Castle: Dead Man walking🥰

Frank Castle: Bloody Savior🥰🫣

Frank Castle: The secrets we keep (request)🥰

Star Wars

Cassian Andor: Rescue Mission🥰

Cassian Andor: Hold me even if your hands are bloody

Poe Dameron: Stubborn to a fault🥰

Din Djarin: Another day🥰🥲

Din Djarin: Yours🥰

Din Djarin: Guilty Pleasure 🫣

Arcane

Slico: Revelations (There are 5 parts)🥰

Silco: The agreement (There are 2 parts)🥰

Silco: Unlikely alliance

Viktor: Guardian angel🥰

Viktor: Slow dancing in the dark (there are 2 parts)🥰

Midnight Mass

Sheriff Hassan: The new sheriff in town🥲

Sheriff Hassan: So this is the end🥰🥲

Avatar

Lo'ak: Reborn🥰

Neteyam: Reckless Behaviour🥰

Stranger Things

Eddie Munson: A helping hand🥰

Wednesday

Tyler: Not a monster, just done monstrous things

Xavier: Unrequited love🥲

Morbius

Milo(Lucian): I see red🫣

Milo (Lucian):You belong to me🫣

Milo(Lucian): Eternal (request)

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creepling · 1 year

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> 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.

-- 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, high chances i won't fw you.

-- 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 from time to time.

-- 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. 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, 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, 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, hands slaughter, danny gaines, leland mckinney, sonny williams, julie crawford, connie taylor, ana flores.

THE BEAR - richie jerimovich, sydney adamu, neil fak, marcus

X-MEN - wolverine, cyborg, beast, rogue, gambit, magneto, nightcrawler, morph, pyro, storm.

(all subject to change!!)

#rules #read before following/requesting

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rae-gar-targaryen · 11 months

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Will this weekend be the weekend i finish my sheriff hassan smut? WILL IT?! 👀👀👀

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mag-belly · 1 month

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masterlist.

KEY

Fandoms get added as I plan on writing for characters - feel free to request from what’s listed already.

Blue text - Planning

Italics…. - Work in Progress

Fluff - ☁️

Angst - 🩻

Smut - 🫀

MIDNIGHT MASS

✦ Father Paul H. x Reader....

✧ ㅤ

✦ Sheriff Hassan x Reader

✧ ㅤ

TWD

✦ Daryl D. x OC / Reader....

✧ ㅤ

RDR2

✦ ㅤ

✧ ㅤ

IHNMAIMS

✦ AM x Reader

✧ ㅤ

FALLOUT (TV)

✦ Cooper H. x OC / Reader

✧ ㅤ

FNAF

✦ ㅤ

✧ ㅤ

#fanfiction masterlist #masterlist #midnight mass #midnight mass masterlist #twd masterlist #twd #the walking dead masterlist #the walking dead #rdr2 masterlist #red dead redemption 2 masterlist #ihnmaims masterlist #i have no mouth and i must scream masterlist #fallout masterlist #fnaf masterlist #five nights at freddys masterlist

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ao3feed-midnightmass · 4 months

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you have tasted love and it tasted sweet you drank the blood and bit the meat

by laylaelfaoulylover You thought you had escaped the church when you left home. The new priest on Crockett keeps bringing it to your doorstep. Words: 1262, Chapters: 1/10, Language: English Fandoms: Midnight Mass (TV) Rating: Mature Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Categories: F/M Characters: Father Paul Hill | Monsignor John Pruitt, Sheriff Hassan (Midnight Mass), Erin Greene (Midnight Mass), Riley Flynn, Beverly Keane Relationships: Father Paul Hill | Monsignor John Pruitt/Reader Additional Tags: age gap, lots of ethel cain lyrics, Blood Drinking, freaky vampire priest, Some dubious consent, Eventual Smut, Oral Sex, Period Sex, immortality without consent, Eventual Murder, Strange Dynamics, older man looking for a dracula's bride situation, sometimes also does he think youre his daughter?, baking together, lots of religious talk from a non religious writer, sorry - Freeform, events may not be canon compliant, reader doesn't want to become her mother, reader becomes her mother, author has both mommy and daddy issues clearly June 07, 2024 at 06:09AM Read it on Ao3 » https://archiveofourown.org/works/56473243 ✞ Don’t forget to leave kudos and comments to let the author know you enjoyed their work ✞

#ao3feed-midnightmass #midnight mass #midnight mass fanfiction #ao3 #ao3feed

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velvet-paradox · 3 years

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Crushed

Fandom: Midnight Mass (2021)

Pairing: Sheriff Hassan x Female reader

Summary: Getting close to the new sheriff was easy, finding out you made him nervous was the icing on the cake.

Length: Long

Warnings: WOAH NSFW 18+, strong language, talks of past abuse, emotions, tiny mention of tobacco use, explicit content, the lawman is a sweetheart, SMUT, protected P in V, Oral (F receiving).

Tagging: @synnersaint @abandonedmemorys @topiaries @londondlady7 @rangotangomango @delightfully-anonymous @mrs-nandortherelentless @obeydontstray

Monday's were shipment days on Crockett Island, meaning more work for you at the general store but it also meant that your day went by in a flash. Sometimes that Flynn boy or his friend Ooker would stop by after school and lend you a hand, you'd give them each a King size candy bar of their choice for their youthful efforts manhandling jugs of water and pallets of rice.

"Are you coming out tomorrow night?" Warren asks, pulling out crumpled bills from his pocket as they fall to the counter and a few coins shatter to the ground in his haste. It was going to be dark soon and he wanted to make it home before then, something about some tournament online he wanted to watch.

"What's tomorrow night?" You toss his sweet tooth confectionaries in a small bag while you eye the boy over the counter.

"The high school is having an ice cream social, they're even gonna' let us pick out a movie."

"I thought those things were just for students and staff."

Warren shrugged and took the bag when the bell over the door chimed, another arrival and by the time you looked at the clock just in front of you by the beer coolers you had an inkling Joe Collie might be the culprit. "You were a substitute teacher, that counts right?"

"Hardly," you laughed fondly remembering how those rowdy kids did everything but their school work, they liked you so they didn't rib you too hard and you let them get away with it. Kids deserve some fun. Plus you didn't know what you were doing or supposed to be doing as Erin Greene had called you last minute the night before in a panic that one of the teachers was staying home the next day. Art was always your strong suit so covering for that particular class didn't sound that challenging. "That was one time Warren and you bunch scared me off the job for good!"

"Oh come on we weren't that bad." Warren mused and swung his bag of goodies, telling you you should come anyway before heading out, picking up his bike from the outside by the front windows and fall display.

Joe Collie was in fact perusing his options at the cooler, like he'd switch it up and not go with his old stand-by.

The door chimed again and when you looked up, and up for that matter you were sure that the sheriff would have to duck to get his tall frame inside. He was just a few inches shy of banging his head on the door jam itself. His thick black hair always looked in impressive shape, smooth and shining in the afternoon sun like he'd just dipped his whole head in oil.

You were the first to greet the new sheriff and his boy Ali when they came to join the community on Crockett Island. Fresh faces with new stories to tell were always welcome, you could only stand to hear a few of the parents' drabble on with the same tales you'd heard for the past three years when you yourself came out here to the sleepy town that the world forgot.

You were sure he could be rather imposing at his height and build but to you he was kind and had a good heart, the officer didn't even carry a weapon. He strolled in, eyeing Joe who had made his final decision and was coming up to the counter. Then he spotted you. He raised his eyebrows with a small smile hidden beneath his trim yet coarse beard. You wondered to yourself if he wore a ten gallon hat, if he would tip it your way or cover his heart with it.

Even worse you'd grown rather fond of him but that wasn't a bad thing, not at all but it did mean, since the sheriff's office was at the back of the general store that you two interacted on a daily. Again, not a crisis but it made you sort of fall for the lawman. It was just a crush because of circumstances, you told yourself that for the first few months when you noticed how fidgety your hands were or how swollen your tongue felt in your mouth when you talked to him. Eye contact was a fucking Olympic sport to you now.

You kept that to yourself like most things, only Erin Greene and Dr. Gutting knew the real you at this point.

"Afternoon Y/N." The sheriff said, picking up a protein bar and made a face at it before setting it back down grabbed a Milkyway instead. Apparently the people here had a craving for sweets lately.

"Afternoon sheriff." You responded in kind, smiling at him and hoping he didn't see the big fat red stamp of SUCKER on your forehead. You eyed the wedding band on his finger and you didn't ask questions. You didn't see a wife or mother when you met them, maybe they were only separated or the ring held a lot of value. Maybe an heirloom of sorts.

"Ah Joe Collie, and what sort of night am I going to have hmm?" He adverted his eyes to the bundled up town drunk, though you had spoken to him and knew his distress and exactly why he drank so much you felt bad for him. A few times in the colder months you'd drop off an extra casserole or two to tide him over and hopefully fill his portly belly with something more substantial than booze.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Joe grunted and set down the beer on the counter, digging out his wallet.

"You know what I mean. Are you going to be sleeping over again?" The sheriff asked.

"Ha ha Sharif, I'll be just fine on my own tonight thank you." Joe sneered and gave you a quick unhumorous smile as he passed you a ten dollar bill.

The lawman pursed his lips at the awful name, knowing full well he knew the taller and broader man standing before him in his uniform with his hands on his hips knew his true name. Joe just had a poor outlook on life and he gave the amount of shit given to him to others and had made shit salad out of life rather then trying to turn his lemons into something sweeter.

"We'll see about that."

"Oh we sure will," Joe took his change and moved around the sheriff, making a disgruntled voice as none other than Miss Beverly Keane stepped aside, holding the door for him as if she were some saint and not the bane of most of Crock Pot's existence, including your own.

With a bare freckled face and single braid with the ankle length floral skirt of hers did she give Joe half a smile before coming into the store, making a beeline for you behind the corner. Totally ignoring the big man in the room.

"Good afternoon Ms. Y/L/N," you knew damn well that her smile was about as fake as that mock Coach purse she held under arm. She'd boasted about her clearance find on the mainland too many times to care at this point. "I have a question for you; we're having an ice cream social tomorrow night at the school and I was wondering if you might have any of those little snack cakes. You know the ones that have the little colorful dots on them or zebra cakes, anything like that? some of the faculty would rather not have ice cream at an ice cream event, can you imagine?" Beverly scoffed and rolled her eyes, surely rolling them so far that she finally took notice of the sheriff standing just behind her. "Oh! good day sheriff, I didn't even see you there."

He gave her a tight lipped smile, as phony as the one she'd just given you before nodding his head at her. You swore you saw him wink at you before he strolled past you to his back office. "Have a good evening Bev."

"Anyway, do you have any of those here, in stock?"

"Last aisle on the left." You kept your conversation as relaxed as humanly possible.

She turned and ambled through the little store.

When she left Hassan came back out, ducking his head out just a little like he was hiding from the big bad wolf making sure the coast was clear. He looked at you and genuinely smiled. You didn't see him do it a lot but it sure was nice and even nicer to be on the receiving end of it.

"Is it safe?" He joked and slunk out, leaving the door open behind him as there was no real threat coming the stores way.

"Clear."

"She gives me the shakes."

"Beverly has that effect on people." You snorted and chuckled at the image of this big man getting the willies from little old Beverly as you flipped through a random gardening magazine on the counter, you'd dog eared a few landscape designs towards the front.

"You know I've been wondering... I've only really heard you and Joe Collie call her Beverly, everyone else calls her Bev. Is there a certain reason or...?" He strode up to the free side of the partition, leaning his top half on his arm while he tore open the candy bar, little snacks like those were on the house per the owner's request of course, not because you were sweet on the man in uniform. No, certainly not that. "I know she's not your favorite person but... just curious I guess."

"Because she asked me not to."

Hassan snorted.

"Well not exactly, when I first got here to the island she was incredibly nice to me, overly so and told me she preferred friends to call her Bev. She's no friend of mine so I call her Beverly; she knows exactly why." You explained.

"You're not from here?" Hassan's eyebrows met in the middle.

"Oh no. I've only been around here for almost three years now, weathered four storms so far. It can get pretty bad, not as bad as 2002; I'll let Wade tell you that one."

"She seems to irk you more than she does me."

"That's because Beverly Keane is a fucking monster."

Hassan's eyebrows, thick and neat with the right one having a missing slash that you were dying to know how he got raised damn near to his hairline. "A monster?"

"Oh yes. She's more like a fucking werewolf in a duck costume. She's so full of her own garbage she wouldn't recognize evil if it looked her in the eye and she does not look in a mirror, let me tell you." You griped, letting curses fly free in front the sheriff. You should bite your tongue but God help you that woman...

"So she is capable of being tolerable?" Hassan asked after a quiet beat, tearing off a chuck of the chocolate before popping it into his mouth, chewy slowly.

"I suppose anyone is. When I got here..." you stopped yourself and tucked the magazine under the shelf at your waist before bending down on your elbows. "We're friends right, sheriff?"

He finished chewing and nodded, almost leaning more into your space. "Of course Y/N. Of course we are." He blinked.

"Not too many people on the island know that I was married before. Erin and Sarah know, now you and unfortunately Beverly. I got as far away from that whole situation, anything familiar or held some sort of memory. I wanted it all gone so I found the farthest place I could from all of it and I ended up here in the Crock Pot. It wasn't all bad, the first two years of my marriage were great actually. We had a fun wedding, decent house but then year three came and," you sighed heavily and gave him a look that had him slowly rising to his full height, crossing his arms over his chest. "He lost his job which meant he lost his pension which also meant that it was somehow my fault. A lot of my blood, sweat and tears went into that house. Literally."

Hassan's eyebrows creased and even though his beard covered the lower half of his face, you could see his jaw clench. It made a little vein in his temple pop.

"He'd knocked me around one week then apologize the next, it was a routine at that point and I was stuck on the hamster wheel. I didn't have anymore friends or family to reach out to, he made sure to check my phone constantly for that. He was so paranoid... it was a nightmare."

"Sounds more like torture."

"Oh that came soon after," again Hassan made an incredulous face his fingers now digging into the bulge of his arms scratching at the denim. "TMI but... we were having a rut like most marriages do, him smacking me around was part of it but we tried, we tried different avenues, read some things watched some things. We'd play this sort of cat and mouse game and at it first it was fun, we were both on the same page running about the house laughing about how he was gonna' get me this time," you shook your head and sighed. "But one night... he wasn't laughing. It wasn't a game anymore, at least not to me."

The sheriff shut his eyes, sucking his teeth before thinking about just what you meant by that. "He... hurt you?"

You knew what he meant by that. "All the time. He told me he'd kill me if I ever told anyone what he was capable of. He said it so calmly I believed him instantly. I was surprised when I gave him the divorce papers that he didn't put up too much of a fight, maybe he was tired of beating me, who knows? He did give me a going away slap in the face when we left the lawyer's office though."

"Christ!"

"A monster," you pointed towards the front door. "I know a monster when I meet one. Like I said, Beverly was too nice and too eager and when I felt comfortable enough, like I do now with you, I told her the same story. And do you know what the first words out of her mouth were?"

Hassan silently shook his head.

You chuckled darkly. "She had the nerve to tell me he was probably trying to beat the Devil out of me, that I had let myself be preyed upon. That it was my fault my ex-husband beat me, that I had given him a reason to and that he was trying to right my wrongs. Make me an obedient little wife. You believe that?"

He shook his head in disbelief and honestly it sounded absurd to your own ears, it was too eccentric for Beverly yet she had made you to the be the villain in your own story. From that moment on you refused to bend your tongue around the shortened version of her name. You wanted so badly to twist the knife she'd stuck into your side those years ago into her back and what better way then to make her feel a little dig whenever you two saw each other. You knew it bothered her, you could see that tiny hint of displeasure when you said her name. It made you smile.

"As awful as that is and I am incredibly sorry you had to live through that; I can't seem to put it past her."

"She's a monster just like my ex-husband, only she thinks she's the Devil is in Crockett and not within."

....

"What do you think?" Erin Greene twirled in her new skirt, shorter than Beverly's puke floral from the day before. She looked good in serene colors, sage greens and powder blues. Those always made her eyes pop. It was still conservative. She spun again in her living room that you were occupying, a couple of glasses of wine in. She didn't mind.

"It's cute."

"Cute? come Y/N, it's just cute. Look at the movement." She twisted in her spot by the couch, a playful smile of her face. "It's beautiful!"

"Where are you going in that anyway?"

"The social." She shrugged and picked through a laundry basket on the couch, pulling out a cozy looking sweater, perfect for the chill of this time of year when the sun dipped behind the horizon and winter's fingertips kissed the island. "Aren't you going?"

"You're the second person to ask me that." You took a sip and shook your head no.

"Who was the first?"

"Warren Flynn."

Erin laughed. "Why am I not surprised? that boy has had a crush on you since you moved to the island."

"It'll break his little heart when he finds out I have a crush of my own then."

Uh oh. The wine was talking, your lips loose with facts when you covered your mouth. Wide eyed Erin rushed to your side, a glint of pure ecstatic nature over her face.

"You what?! who? tell me! You can trust me."

"I know I can I just-"

"If you say its the new sheriff I'm gonna' lose it."

So you didn't. You just shrugged and took a deep sip of wine.

"It is! oh I can't believe this," Erin squealed with delight. "You have to come to the school tonight, he's going to be there. You two would look so good together."

"Woah slow down Erin," you slowed her down. "It's just a crush. We see each other everyday it might just be an infatuation. Besides the man is married."

Erin's sweet face fell a little. "He's actually a widower," talking about the death of a partner is never easy as is but to hear it from someone else, someone you didn't work with everyday but a close trusted friend you wondered how friendly you and Hassan really were if he hadn't told you himself. Maybe it was too painful, still too fresh in his mind to talk about. Those wounds don't ever truly heal. You knew that. "She died a few years ago, Ali... he didn't understand and Hassan carried that weight for himself and his boy. He's a good man Y/N, you two would be lucky to have each other."

You didn't need Erin to tell you that, you knew Hassan was one of the good ones.

"I don't know Erin, I have no business at a school social."

"Sure you do, you were a sub once." Erin smiled sweetly.

"Again you're the second person to tell me that!"

The school gym looked different at night, the buzzing hallways now eerily quiet and vacant as Erin finally convinced you to join her and the kids for the festivities. On the agreement that you could finish off one more glass, knowing Beverly would be present you would like some sort of a buffer if you had to deal with her at any point that evening.

There were plenty of seats taken towards the front by projector screen, a few sat together in the back laughing and throwing popcorn at each other. It smelled sickly sweet in the gym. Erin waved at few teachers before heading over to the ice cream bar.

"Didn't think you were comin'."

You turned and saw the sheriff posted up on the other side of the doors you just came in through, leaned up against the brick wall with one foot against it as well, surveying the crowd with his hands on his hips, his usual stance.

"I wasn't. Erin talked me into it."

"She can talk you into oncoming traffic it seems."

You laughed a little too loudly at that, a smile on Hassan's face when you moved to stand next to him. "If that traffic is named Beverly Keane then yes she can."

"Ya' gonna' go get some ice cream?" He looked imposing in the darkened room, dark eyes made even darker.

"Maybe later, I'm not really big on sweets."

"No? 'm pretty sure I've seen you eat a candy bar or two."

"Here and there, not like you Mr. Milkyway." You elbows his side but he didn't even budge and then the wine crept in and made you think you might have just assaulted an officer. "I didn't mean to do that! I hope you're not gonna' arrest me."

"For what?" He laughed and looked down at you. You felt miles away. "Relax Y/N I'm off duty though I'm still dressed. We're just two friends talking. A little jab isn't high on my lock up list."

You fell into a comfortable conversation, watching the others mill about before deciding on one of three movies up for election and clinking of spoons in reusable plastic cups. You looked over to find Erin who was waving over at you, giving a thumbs up and you shook your head, wild eyed as she did so blatantly.

Not in front of the sheriff!

"I'm uh gonna' go find a seat, want me to save you one?"

"Nah you go on ahead, I'll be fine back here. Just in case Joe fails on his promise of staying in tonight."

You nodded, a little sad but pushed yourself off the wall and made your way around the chairs, picking a spot in the back row waiting for Erin if she ever did sit down. She must've gotten lost in a conversation with someone because the movie was a good thirty minutes in and you hadn't seen her since you were on the wall.

A chair moved next to you and you were just about to ask Erin where she was when you noticed familiar denim and long lean legs plop down next to you, knees out wide so he could he could fit comfortably. You smiled at Hassan and he returned the gesture, knocking his shoulder into yours ever so slightly before he clasped his hands in his lap.

....

"Just ask her Dad, how hard can it be?"

You were helping an older couple from a few miles out load up their car with groceries, it was Half Price Wednesday and they were sure to show up every time. Heavy cans in one paper bag that you saved pieces of the broken down cardboard boxed from stocking so the older husband wouldn't hurt himself when they arrived back home.

You heard Ali's voice but didn't see him, bending over in the trunk to make sure their eggs and bread were secured on top.

"Not so loud, jeez."

"You're the adult here aren't you?"

"Watch it son."

You didn't want to take the tip the old man gave you, a few crumbled fives. He did this every week and every week when he turned to hobble into the driver's seat you would tuck the bills back into one of the grocery bags before shutting the trunk and waving them off.

"Come on."

"Ali wait!"

"Hey Miss Y/N!" You turned to see Ali walking up to you at the front of the store, jogging ahead of his father on the wooden planks that creaked under his weight.

"Oh hey Ali. How's it goin'?"

"Good good. Listen uh what are you doing next Friday?"

You frowned. "Why? is this some kinda' teen prank or something?"

"No no. I was wondering, well Dad and I were wondering if you'd like to come to the mainland with us next Friday." Ali smiled, one similar to his father's without all that scruffy stuff.

"Oh really? don't you two go to mosque on Friday's?"

"We do but," Ali looked behind him as Hassan was approaching the pair of you, his mouth set in a fine line. "Afterwards we go to this really nice restaurant, I think it would be nice if you came with us time."

Ali jumped a little when his Dad was behind him then, large hands clamping down on his sons' shoulders, grounding him in place.

"What are you two talking about hmm?"

"I'll see what I can do." You smiled.

"Do? do about what?" Hassan's eyes narrowed, not wary but curious.

"I'll see you around!" Ali exclaimed when you slipped passed them, patting the sheriff's shoulder and back into the store and just as you walked through the chimes you heard Hassan's tone slightly change.

"Ali what did you say?!"

You were able to move your schedule around, swapped hours so you could make it time to the ferry docks where the ship was taking on passengers. You recognized Ali right away, looking around as if he'd stolen something valuable. His light yellow jacket standing out amongst the plain blacks and browns of other people's coats. He caught your eye, excited that you had showed up in time to catch the boat with him and his father but you didn't see the sheriff anywhere in sight.

You made your way to the ramp.

"You came!"

"I'm here," you smiled and looked around as people moved passed you to get on the ferry. "Where's your dad?"

"He just went to the bathroom, he hates the one on the ferry," Ali chuckled. "I think he's just extra nervous."

"Nervous? why would he be nervous?"

Ali rolled his eyes with a smile. "Because of you. You make him nervous Miss Y/N."

Shocked you took a step back. "Well that's not good."

"No no, not in a bad way! nervous in a good way. He likes you; a lot. He talks about you all the time at home, not in front of mom of course but... I know my dad and he's giving off serious heart eyes around the house." Ali beamed and you felt dizzy.

You opened your mouth to speak, the sun shining high in your face when heard boots approaching. You turned to see Hassan out of his uniform, a thick sweater poked out from underneath a mossy green jacket, his hands shoved into the pockets.

"Hey Y/N, what are you doing here?" He asked, looking hard at his son.

"I'm going to the mainland with you guys."

Hassan let out a nervous laugh, wiping at his brow before you all walked together over the ramp and onto the ship.

"You are?"

"Well I was waiting for an invite from you but Ali asked me first, I'll take one invite from one el-Shabbaz over none."

It was cute. Downright adorable how right Ali was about his father, Hassan had bumped your hand when you got onto the ferry, he'd apologized and fumbled over his words like he was tongue tied. Ali laughed but was face deep in his phone, no doubt texting Warren all about it. You lost track of how many times he'd smoothed a large hands over his hair, how many times you had caught him promptly looking away.

They left you in the city, heading off in the direction of the mosque. You knew this area well and went into numerous shops and stores, getting yourself a coffee as well. Might as well have something hot in your cold hands, kicking through some scattered leaves at your feet. Fall had certainly set in on the coast, nights were getting colder and blustery mornings left your face with a light sting. Fragments of frost on your windows and door when you locked up and headed into work.

A while later you met up with the pair, their eyes bright and they looked refreshed. Both of them smiling as they came down the street to greet you, letting Ali take the lead in walking your group towards the restaurant that he swore had the best breadsticks.

Ali was right. Everything in that little hole in the wall restaurant was delicious, you made it a point to take a picture of the menu and add it to your list to come back to. Hassan's sweet tooth was as real as it gets when the pleasant waitress came by with a fancy little dessert menu on beautiful cardstock. He shook his head but Ali urged his father, mentioning out loud that he always got dessert. Hassan seemed to panic and cleared his throat, making wide eyes at his son across from him. He ordered some cavity rotting cheesecake that had a caramel drizzle.

Hassan was a few forkfuls into the cake, close his eyes and lips around the fork as if it were heaven on a plate. Ali got up to use the bathroom, leaving you to have a possible conversation or to watch your town's Sherriff devour his dessert.

"Ali says I make you nervous."

Hassan choked and dropped his fork with a clatter off the plate, you were surprised it didn't ping off itself and fly down to the floor. He looked at you next to him, a slight reddening beginning to sheer through under his soft brown skin. "And why would he say that?"

You moved your mouth. "No clue, he seems to be under the impression that you might have a little crush on me."

Hassan took a healthy chug of his water that he had ordered with extra lemons before locking eyes with you, you felt warm and you could only imagine he felt it even more. The chemistry between you two was clear from day one when they got to the island, had shook hands and instantly hit it off.

"Um... well he's not wrong," Hassan kindly smiled, tapping his fingers on the cloth covered table. "I just- I don't know it feels weird, ya' know? Not weird to like you but weird that I thought I'd never feel that feeling again. I didn't need to worry about having those anymore I had my person, I had no other reason or will to look at anyone other my wife. She was perfect," Hassan licked his lips and folded his hands next to the remains of his dessert. "It feels weird to like you so much, to think I could be happy again. I feel guilty."

"You don't think your wife would want you to be happy?" You asked and touched his hands, he twitched a little but let you touch him.

"I don't know. I was happy with her, I'd feel like I was disrespecting her memory if I consumed a life with you. I don't want to forget her."

"How could you? she was your wife Hassan," at the mention of his name, one that you hadn't said since the day you met him he perked up and really seemed to look at you. "She was your person, like you said there's no way you could ever forget her or what she was like or the son she gave you. You have those memories and nostalgia for that life, that's completely normal. I like you too but if it's too much, too soon or you're just not ready at all that's fine," you squeezed his fingers. "Really, you take your time to heal. All the time you need. It's not at all like my marriage," you snorted a laugh to lighten the mood and he smiled at that. He even tightened it his hold on your hand.

A week had gone by, your usual banter and jokes flowed just as usual with both of your confessions. You were both adults but hadn't taken anything further then just the accountability of it. Though you did register the way he'd take his time looking at you, gave you full attention and saved up his smiles from the day just for you.

He came out of his office, light on his feet and almost ran into you as you came around the corner with a box of oranges to set out by the window. Hassan held your arms down and actually moved you over, like moved you. Your feet barely off the ground for all of 3.2 seconds but you were in the air by his mere strength. It made you hot for the rest of the day.

You weren't expecting him to be waiting around outside chatting with Joe as he scratched behind Pike's ears. You were just locking up for the night, the sun going down earlier and earlier since the shift to change your clocks back. It was getting close to freezing at night now on Crockett, little clouds of breath hung around everyone's mouths.

"Mind if I walk you home?" The sheriff asked once you'd locked the doors. He had his own set of keys looped to the front of his jeans in case he needed to hold someone for the night.

"Sure."

There was a benevolent look about the sheriff, giving Joe Collie a pointed look as the older man put up his hands in defeat before starting off towards your house. It really wasn't necessary to own a vehicle on the island, not like that anyway all of the things and places you needed to be were right on this side of the island.

Sometimes you'd wonder what it must've been like to grow up here in Crockett, to grow up knowing everyone and everything about the folks who lived here, who fished here, who had prospered. It wasn't a long walk but it wasn't short either, just enough to have a decent chitchat or enjoy a whole cigarette.

"I'm sorry about the other day," he stated, keeping his hands inside the pockets of his jacket. Getting the memo, this jacket had a nice thick fleece inner lining. "I didn't mean to spill out all of that."

"It's fine. I understand our situation is a little off but-"

"No I mean it," he stopped in the middle of the road, the houses that were lined on either side of the street had their windows and shutters closed, curtains letting out what little light there was left. "I really do you like you Y/N, I just don't- I don't want to cause more harm then good. I come with a lot of baggage."

You closed the gap between you which wasn't much but you could see the way his body stiffened up that he was alert to the conversation. "So do I. I'm not perfect and I don't claim to be, there might be some things you don't like about me or understand how I work. I may annoy the fuck out of you and you can't stand me, you could get bored or tired of me being around but..."

"But what?"

You looked up in his face, a shy smile on his lips while he stood there in front of you with his hands balled up into bashful fists. "But I like you too much not to try."

Hassan stared at you, trying to figure you out. That smile grew and he bent his head down to your level, dark brown eyes glittering in the overhead street lights. "I'd like to try it too."

Hassan smirked and looked away for a moment. "Is that your way of asking more than one thing?"

He took your hand in his, walking the rest of the way home. Beaten and warm.

You hovered on your front steps, going up two to be eye level with him, the other houses were black leaving you two in the dim light of the streetlamp near by. Not even crickets could be heard, just the faint swish of the water not too far away.

"Do you want to come inside?"

"Maybe."

"Ali will be home soon and I-"

"It's Saturday night, he's over at Warren's anyway, he's old enough to make himself something to eat right? he'll be fine. Nothing happens here anyway. And if it does," you pointed to his walkie-talkie clipped to his belt next to his keys. You took a step down and touched his arm with a question. "Too fast?"

"No. I'd like to come inside I just," he looked down at his hand, at war with himself it seemed as he spun the little silver band around his finger took a deep breath and pulled it off. He put in his front jacket pocket, buttoning the jewelry for safe keeping and gave it a pat. "Didn't feel right to wear it when I come in."

He told you to lead the way, following you up the steps and into your house.

After you turned on a few lights and gave him a quick tour, it wasn't a mansion by any means just a two bedroom bungalow but it was yours and nice and -

Before you knew it, Hassan had turned to you, ducking down and kissed your cheek. Just a little one, as if testing the waters as if he thought he might've lost his ability to kiss after so long. His lips were lonely. And soft.

"How about a real one?" You asked, he looked golden in the lighting of your bedroom. You put your hands in his jacket pockets, pulling yourself up him as he kissed you lightly on the mouth. He kept his lips closed, that first kiss feeling sending all kinds of tingles through your body was no doubt fluttering around inside him as well.

He hummed once he felt more comfortable, holding you close so you could smell his conditioner, beard oil and deodorant and something so distinctly Hassan you had to smile against his lips. His office always smelled like that. He pulled away, looking down at you.

You said his name.

"Fuck Y/N," he shook his head as his fingers flitted over your arms. "I know its' my name but... hearing you say it is something else. Only heard you say it once. Sounds sweet."

"It must, since now it's directed to you."

He frowned. "What does that mean?"

You smiled cheekily, cupping his head and talking lowly in his ear. "I say your name all the time, you're just never here to hear it."

Hassan practically growled, his eyes on fucking fire you barely had a chance to catch your breath before his mouth was on you again, kissing you harder, smacking his lips against yours like he'd never tasted anything better than your mouth right now. You moaned into his mouth, spurring him on when he started walking, tripping over his feet to get as close to you as possible.

"You think about me?" He mumbled against your lips, his beard warm against your cheek.

"All the time baby." He groaned and shut his eyes tight. "In the shower, in the morning especially at night," you hummed as he pushed his hips into yours at the foot of your bed. "But you know when I really sing your name; after I shave, nothing better than thinking about you inside me with nothing in the way."

"Ugh, you're bare?" He groaned again, chomping at the air.

"You wanna' find out?"

His eyes sprung open and you had never taken off your coat or clothes faster, the sounds of both you shedding your layers to end up in a haphazard pile at your feet.

"Fuck," Hassan had all but growled out against your thighs which he had been mouthing and nibbling over, "I almost forgot how much I love eating pussy."

You whined at the loss of his slick lips over your own, molding them back to your bundle of nerves. For a brief lapse you envied his lost wife having married this fucking mouth, with the exquisite way Hassan used his mouth against you, flicking and tonguing and knowing the way correct way to split your bare lower lips (save for the little landing stripe of trimmed of hair on your mound), how to suckle here and lap there had you lifting your hips against his working jaw. His persistence to get you off first, hands full of thick locks as if you'd float up and away.

Sheriff Hassan knew what he doing, that was for damn for sure.

Two thick fingers moved in and out of your cunt, curling them inside you. Exploring. You keened and tightened your grip, met with a satisfied groan that you fucking reeling. His beard tickled your naked thighs, the smooth and sensitive skin vibrating with his want and need to taste, to devour you whole.

"Don't stop don't you dare fucking st-" without warning you came, a squeal of obscenities as he lapped at your clit, savoring and twisting those thick fingers through your slick just how you liked.

As if he'd done this a thousand times.

You closed your legs around his head, shuddering through your orgasm, smiling in the dark. He didn't stop, though his mouth was away from your heat his lips now secured around his own fingers, cleaning you off of them.

Quite the sight. "You're really good at that." You panted with a satisfied grin.

"Good to know I haven't lost my charm." Hassan laughed and crawled up over you on the bed, how wrinkled your shirt was on your belly, pant-less and opening your legs to accommodate his larger size. He held your face, bringing you in for a sloppy kiss. He smiled against your lips, he stopped kissing your neck for just a moment when you fumbled at your bedside, blindly grabbing into the little drawer for a condom. You brought it up between you, the foil crinkled and made Hassan look.

"Are you sure?" His lips looked almost swollen, being put to work like that.

"I am if you are."

Hassan took the condom out of your hand, turning it over in his hands before pecking your nose and sitting back on his knees. His undershirt was the first to go, he looked good in the heather grey Henley he wore earlier now forgotten on the floor, he unclipped his keys and tossed them aside before tearing at his belt and zipper.

"You're sure about this?" God forbid you rush the man, you knew you wanted him but how much he wanted you remained be seen. He stopped just as his wiggled out of his jeans, large hands on his hips that drew just enough of your attention to the impressive bulge in his boxers. "I'm not pressuring you am I?" you asked and sat up on your elbows.

"No," he smiled and hovered over you, grinding himself into the soft meat of your inner thigh. You felt him pull himself out, at an odd angle but you did catch just enough of it when he tore open the foil and rolled the safety net down his shaft. Thick and brown and pointed directly at your center. You moved your legs further apart. "I want this. I want you."

"I want you too Hassan."

You saw him physically shiver, knowing what you were doing and then gasping when you felt him press himself into you. Hassan groaned, made incredible sounds and pants when he pushed.

It was slow and intimate, the way Hassan had caged you in starting off with shallow thrusts, taking your facial expressions and hastening breaths as clues. You reached up and cupped his jaw, fingers scratching lightly into his beard until he purred and closed his eyes, long lashes nearing the apples of his cheeks. You smiled and brought your legs up to his moving waist, leaning up to capture his parted lips in a sweet kiss.

"You feel amazing." Hassan grunted, (clearly not nervous at all now) shifting his weight so he was pressed up on his arm while the other felt around your ribs, ghosting over you covered breast, giving one a loving squeeze. "I want this to last, not sure how long I can though. Never felt a grip like this before."

He seemed to be talking to out loud, looking down between your bodies, his free hand coming around you leg to grip your thigh.

"You know this isn't a one time thing right?" You mewled and pressed your chest up into his, your hands holding onto the hem of his shirt, guiding him back in when he reared back.

He paused. "I was really hoping you would say that." He laughed and it vibrated through you.

He picked up the pace after that, not entirely spearing his cock into you but more of a molding together, your walls clenching around him to keep him right where you needed. Everything between you felt incredible and sweet, the way he looked at you while he broke you apart had your mouth opening with a silent plea, a beg to get you off again. Hassan bit down on your shoulder, a fulfilled sigh passing through his teeth.

A few hours had passed by, at least. A few more foil packets littered the floor under your bed. If you could, you'd have him soak in you, keep his thick cock lodged deep inside you while you slept. Or at anytime honestly now that you had broken down the barrier. Even though Hassan had just made love to you again, not fucking though with the power he had in those hips and strong legs of his you knew he could really lay it down if you asked. His hands moved on their own, feeling every inch of your skin, shedding you of your shirt and bra. Both of you naked and basking in the early morning hours of a frosty day.

He was fast asleep next to you, wore out and sated for the first time in years. He looked so blissful and sweet you didn't want to wake him but with the rays from your blinds expanded along your wall, you knew you had to get up.

So did Crockett's lawman.

You turned in his arms, giggling quietly when he stretched still asleep, to pull you to him. You stroked the bridge of his nose which he promptly wrinkled. "Hassan... we should get up."

"Mmm not yet."

You laughed and did it again. "The town is on fire."

" 's fine, we're surrounded by water."

You shook your head and snuggled into him, breathing him in which now held tiny hints of your own scent. You liked the feeling of his fingers, strong and capable of so much tickle the blade of your shoulder, holding you close. You shrugged off getting up, everyone who wanted a seat at Saint Patrick's would be putting on their Sunday best and ready for service. And besides; nothing ever happened on the Crock Pot anyway.

As you fell back to sleep there was no way in knowing just how naïve and sadly wrong you were.

#this was so fun #midnight mass imagine #midnight mass fic #midnight mass fanfiction #sheriff hassan #sheriff hassan imagine #midnight mass smut #sheriff hassan fic #sheriff hassan x reader #sheriff hassan x female reader #sheriff hassan x you #sheriff hassan x y/n #sheriffs hassan smut #nswf writing #my work #sheriff hassan el shabbaz x reader #sherriff hassan el-shabbaz x reader #sheriff el-shabbaz x female reader

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aesopsharpmybeloved · 2 years

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More Than Sinful

Suup. So this is kind of like a chaper two of my previous story Less Than Holy, though it can be read as a standalone. If you didn’t read the previous fic, here’s the deal: There’s no Angel, there’s no sucker gang, everbody lives, nobody dies, including Erin’s baby and Pike the dog. Also, Monsignor Pruitt is really in a hospital on the mainland and Father Paul is an another person entirely.

NSFW, go away children

Warnings: Female masturbation, Oral sex (male and female giving and receiving), Consensual unprotected sex (don’t be silly, wrap your willy and take your pilly), father paul is a virgin and also touch starved, tooth rotting fluff and it’s also super cheesy. Bone Apple Tea.

More Than Sinful - 7.1K

You yawned and stretched your back. Another morning, another way too early walk. Ever since Easter vigil, you woke early. The reason for this was to not bring any attention to yourself, or the object of your love. It wasn't unusual for lovers to hide their relationship, whether it was because of people who would not approve of it, their current situation or just the thrill of it. Your relationship was very much a secret though, a secret that could easily ruin lives. Unlike other girls, who found themselves boyfriends they could actually kiss in front of other people and show them off to their friends, you went and started an affair with the local parish priest. Which would be fine, if he were a Protestant one, but no, he was a catholic.

It was not a total secret, though. Your friend (probably the best one you've ever had) Erin Greene knew. You could nearly say she helped make the entire thing happen. After the Easter vigil and countless hours at the rectory, you were walking back home looking utterly disheveled. Your lips were raw and swollen, your hair was a bloody bird's nest and all your clothes were askew. You were deliciously snogged the entire night and you sure did look the part. You certainly didn't expect Erin and Riley to be chatting on a bench on the way to your home so late into the night. Or so early in the morning. Whatever. They noticed you immediately, as you walked home, but you were still on cloud nine and wouldn't even have noticed them if Erin hadn't said your name. You looked at them, your eyes widening and you felt like a deer caught in the headlights. Your friend took one look at you and started giggling. It was rather obvious to Riley, too, that you most likely spent the majority of your evening with a man, but only Erin knew exactly who the lucky guy was. Ten hours later, when you were, once again, lounging around her house, helping her prepare an apple pie, she only said: "Told you you'd be surprised." You grinned, but said nothing.

And that was that, really. You and Father Paul would spend time together as usual, having tea and going on walks, with the exception of sleeping at each other's place more often than not. Just sleeping though. Sleeping and kissing and talking quietly, as you were wrapped tight around each other. And then you'd wake up early, long before the other islanders, so you or Paul would be able to sneak away to your own home so as to not raise any suspicion. You could live with that, though. While it was very difficult to release Paul from your arms when you were so warm and comfortable, you could live with it, because you knew you'd return to those arms again.

The most difficult part was the 'only sleeping' part. You told yourself early on that you wouldn't push him to do anything he didn't want to do, and that you'd love him even if the two of you would never get intimate. And you meant it. But that didn't help with your longing, with the growing need within you. You felt his desire when you kissed him, sat upon his lap and you felt it nearly every morning, poking you from behind as you lazily kissed each other after waking up. Yet you didn't do anything about it. Like you promised to yourself you never pushed him, never took the lead to get you two to the next level. He had much more to lose than you and therefore this was his call. You were so ready and willing, but you'd never force him into anything, so all you had in that regard were the small reliefs you yourself could provide.

You kept on walking, breathing in the fresh cool morning air. You thought about him as you neared your home. He looked so utterly precious, lying on his bed among the pillows and blankets, his hair a mess and his face slightly flushed with sleep. He looked completely adorable, you decided, and it took all of your willpower not to jump straight back into his bed and carry on sleeping. Or do something else entirely. He looked like such a mess, your brain immediately started making up scenarios of how you could ruin him even further, how absolutely crumbled his pajamas could get, as you’d push them out of the way, but not completely off, and how would that flush on his cheeks spread down, onto his entire body, an inch at a time, before finally setting…

You huffed, annoyed. The sun was barely above the horizon and you were already bothered and aching. You willed yourself to get your mind out of the gutter and finally reached your front door. Your house was quiet and a dim, but you didn’t bother with the lights; you could have your eyes bound and still be perfectly able to orient yourself around your home. You made your way towards the bed, hoping to get some more sleep, but found yourself feeling terribly lonely and cold now that there wasn’t a tall warm body to wrap itself around you.

Your eyes focused on your bedside table. You could easily reach for the drawer, pull out the little battery operated toy you stored there and take care of the ache between your legs. Maybe you’ll even fall back asleep afterwards… You thought about it for a while and took notice of the alarm clock next to your head. It was just after 6 and it would be hours before you could see Paul again, since he had a daily mass to lead and confessions after that. You decided not to fight back your urges anymore, fishing your toy out of the drawer and getting rid of you clothing.

You started by teasing yourself with your hands. Your eyes were closed and in your mind’s eye the hands touching you, the fingers slowly circling your hardened nipples belonged to the local priest. You imagined his strong warm hands, as they so very slowly caressed every inch of your bare skin, and you even made up a mental image of him putting his pretty lips and pearly teeth to use. He would bite just above your shoulder and move down, until his hot mouth reached your breasts. He’d take turns gently biting and sucking on both of your buds, until they were all red and swollen and glistening with his saliva, oh you could almost really feel it.

Sneaking your hands lower, you finally reached your aching sex and your fingers started to make gentle circular motions around your clit, teasing it and making yourself gasp. You were still focused on your fantasy, how would Father Paul take his time with you, teasing you and making you let out all kinds of desperate sounds. You didn’t know why, but you were certain he’d treat you well, that he’d take perfect care of you. While you continued to rub at your clit, you slipped two fingers within you. You were wet and relaxed, still you imagined Paul, how he’d stretch your walls in order to fit within you, how he’d try out different angles until he located- “Ah!” Found it. You pulled your fingers out slightly, before thrusting them back in the same angle, slowly getting into a rhythm. Your hands worked in tandem, the attacks on your clit and g spot making the coil in your stomach burn brighter and brighter.

Finally, you took your fingers out entirely and grabbed the toy with your right hand. It wasn’t nearly as large as you guessed your priest must be, judging by the times you could feel his arousal through your clothes as you straddled him on his sofa to snog the daylights out of him. However, it would have to do, and you were certain that combining the toy and your fantasies would prove itself satisfactory enough. You ran the toy along your folds, both teasing yourself with it and getting it nice and wet, before you slowly pushed the tip inside. You threw your head back and as you pushed the entire length inside in the same angle as you did with your fingers. You imagined Paul doing this to you, imagined how he’d still for a bit and let you get used to it. You honestly wanted to make it last longer, but your frustration got the better of you, and you quickly became so lost in the sensations and fantasies, you just started thrusting the toy in and out of you quickly, hitting that perfect spot inside of you every time. Your other hand returned to attack your lovebud and the fire within you hotly grew, spreading and tightening in your stomach, before finally: “Oh god, oh Paul!” you whimpered desperately as you felt your walls twitching and warmth and pleasure spread throughout your entire body.

You laid on your bed, huffing and puffing, your heartbeat like a metal drum solo and your hair sticking to your face in a frankly uncomfortable way. You only allowed yourself to feel the delicious afterglow for now. After your breathing calmed down, you sighed sadly. You wished that you were with Paul, that he was the one who just made you see stars. You wished to make him feel this good too, to enjoy these sensations together, to be so close together and connected, like only lovers can be. Putting your hand to your face, you tried to push the hair out of your forehead before you remembered that only makes it worse. You had to clean up.

Slipping into a silky dressing gown, you pushed the bedclothes into your washing machine. As you were deciding which washing liquid to use, there came a knock from the front door. Absolutely forgetting how you must have looked, hair a mess, and still too flushed, you made your way towards the door and looked through the peephole at the person standing outside. It was Father Paul. You opened and gave him a gentle smile… And then you remembered just what exactly you were doing not fifteen minutes before and your smile disappeared and in its place a deep red colour of shame started rising.

“Hey,” Father Paul said, not noticing your messy appearance right away, “you left this at the rectory.” He held up his arm, in his hand was a silky shawl you wore around your neck on cool days, “I was taking a walk before daily mass and decided to stop by and-” Paul stopped abruptly, finally taking in your entire look. While you were dying of embarrassment, you couldn’t not notice how his pupils dilated, making his already dark eyes even darker, and how his cheeks took on a colour similar to yours. “I- I didn’t,” he started speaking again, but didn’t seem to find anything to say. Slowly, very slowly, his eyes went lower, taking in your dressing gown, as it wasn’t tied exactly tight and your cleavage was revealed to his hungry eyes. The flimsy thing was also rather short and he drank in your exposed thighs. If he wanted, he could just tear the fabric off you and reveal your body to him fully.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to come so… unannounced, I’ll come when the time is better,” he stammered then and hurriedly looked down at his feet, feeling guilty and shameful for his thoughts. After all, you were in your home, you could do whatever you wanted to, it was his own fault he caught you in such a (delicious, captivating, arousing) private manner. “Wait,” you whispered desperately and looked around the street. It was thankfully empty. You came a bit closer and nearly shyly pressed your lips to his. He didn’t even hesitate, his strong hands grabbed your waist and Paul pulled you to him, close and tight. He groaned into the kiss, as the smell of your skin, arousal still clinging to it, hit his nose, and you hungrily pushed your tongue next to his. After a moment, he ducked his head to press open mouthed kisses and bites on the side of your throat, making your knees buckle and hands clinging to him as if your life depended on it.

You felt him then, poking you into your thigh. You ground yourself into Father Paul and felt delighted at hearing him moan quietly and utter a soft ‘oh god’. You already wanted to grab his hands and lead him back to your house, when all of a sudden everything stopped. He held you at arms length and he looked delicious. You unconsciously slipped your hands into his hair and messed it up, he was red as a tomato, his breathing was laboured and you felt his fast heartbeat through the hands he was holding you with. There was sweat glistening upon his forehead and his lips were swollen. You thought Father Paul never looked so beautiful. While the lust hadn’t exactly left his eyes, there was panic rising within them too. “I have to serve mass.” Oh, damn it. You absolutely forgot about the mass. “Oh, blimey, I’m so sorry,” you started apologising, truly feeling horrible to have gotten him into such a situation, “I’m sorry, Paul, I swear, I didn’t mean to…” You subconsciously looked down, and saw his skinny jeans tenting obscenely at the crotch, making you blush further. “Hey,” came Paul’s voice, it was gentle and soft, just like he was, “I’m not mad. Oh I am not cross with you at all, it’s just, well. I can’t exactly go to church like this.” You looked at his face and saw him smiling down at you, lovingly. You smiled back.

“So just, you know…” you offered, “just imagine Bev Keane?” You almost burst out laughing at the outraged and scandalous expression he gave you after that. You managed to keep it down to quiet giggles, though. There was a mischievous look in his eyes then though and he leaned close again, his lips next to your ear. “Don’t do this to me,” he asked pleadingly, “or do you want me to never get it up again?” a slight tremor tore through your body at his rich voice so close to your ear, his hot breath warming your skin and his implications sending a new shiver of arousal through you. “Be at the rectory, in the evening?” he asked then, now standing at an acceptable distance, awkwardly trying to fix his hair. He probably did think of Bev, since after two minutes or so, he looked inconspicuous and put together like he always does.Which was an interesting contrast, as you looked even more ruined than before you opened the door. Feeling like you would squeal if you as much as opened your mouth, you only smiled and nodded. He reciprocated the gesture and set out on his way to the church. You closed the door and fell back against it, letting yourself slide down and smile like an utter goon.

—

God, it felt like the day would never end. You honestly suspected the time had slowed down and every minute felt like an hour. You got yourself cleaned up, washed your hair, and shaved your entire body until you were smooth like a bloody dolphin. You dolled yourself up in a way that was very unlike the Crockett island fashion, but you desperately wanted to look your absolute best for Paul. You put the washed beddings to dry on a rack and found that you still had plenty of time. Looking at your watch, you knew Erin would still be teaching and therefore had to find some way to spend your time. So you set off towards the island’s general store.

In front of it stood Joe Collie talking pleasantly with sheriff Hassan. The sheriff was leaning his strong tall build against a green desk, upon which sat baskets with vegetables. You raised your hand in a small wave and smiled at them. “Oh wow,” said Hassan, “you look nice. A bit too stylish for this place, don’t you think?” “You tryna hunt some man down, or something? Cause I don’t really think you’ll find someone in your league here, honey,” laughed Joe. Ever since he gave up drinking, he seemed to be in better spirits every day, and he and the sheriff began a little friendship. Pike was standing by his master’s side, eyeing you affectionately. You rolled your eyes: “Can’t a girl look presentable from time to time? You know, I used to dress like this almost all the time when I lived in the city. And I wasn't doing so for a bloke.” Hassan raised his hands: “Just kidding, just kidding. You look good.” “Thanks,” you called over your shoulder as you passed them and entered the store.

“Hello, come in, I’ll be right there!” sounded Annie Flynn’s voice from the back of the store. You looked around idly, not really needing to buy anything, but hoping that perhaps something would catch your eye. The general store had everything one could need, really, and while the selection was limited, it was enough for the entire island to get by. Whenever you needed something special, you just made it a shopping day on the mainland. Looking into the sweets aisle, you grinned and fetched yourself a shopping basket. Inside, you immediately put some dark chocolate and tea biscuits. A few aisles over, you decided to also take a bottle of white wine. It’d be perfect for the evening perhaps, you thought. “Okay, I’m back,” said Annie as she appeared behind the counter, “oh, hello, dear! Oh look at you!” “Hello, Mrs Flynn, how are you?” you said back with a smile and approached the register. “Oh, you know how it is, dear, business as usual,” she scanned your items and read out the total, “although you seem to be in a good mood. I like your dress. Is there some party I don’t know about?” she smiled at you as you paid. “No, not really,” you said, actually truthfully, “just wanted to look good.” And that was technically true, wasn’t it? You did want to look good. The fact that you wanted to look good for one specific person could be well left unsaid.

On your way back home, you could see kids flowing out of the schoolhouse and thought about chatting up Erin for a bit, but changed your mind when you saw Riley leaning against a railing nearby. You waved at him and he greeted you back. Not wanting to be the third wheel, you made your way back home. It was still too early to go to the rectory, as you knew Paul would be working on his homilies at this time. You sighed and flopped into a chair in your living room, content to just stare into nothing for a bit. Then an idea hit. You fetched your notebook and pencils from your bedroom and got comfortable in the chair again. On your phone, you found your favourite photo you had of Paul. You were on a beach during sunrise, sitting on a log, just watching the sea and you thought that the combination of the morning sun hitting the waves and the content expression on Paul’s face as the rays warmed his skin was one of the most beautiful things in this world. You asked him if you could take a photo to save the moment forever and he agreed.

You had been practising your drawing and painting for a while now and drawing the pastor came rather naturally to you. You lovingly observed his face in the photo and tried your best to replicate it on the paper. Once you were done, you looked at the portrait happily. It came out better than you had anticipated it would. It’s started to get dark and looking at the clock, you got up with a smile. You put the goods you bought in the afternoon in a bag, along with your notebook, and checked yourself out in a mirror one more time. You brushed a few tangles from your hair with your fingers and smiled at your reflection. You really did look good, your clothes were unlike this island, but not too crazy and your makeup was subtle and only highlighted your natural beauty. Feeling glad, you turned off the lights in your home and left.

As you neared Father Paul’s home, your stomach started tingling like mad, and you couldn’t tell whether you were excited, or nervous, or, most likely, both. You were excited because it seemed Paul would really finally get intimate with you, yet you were nervous, because you didn’t know if he actually wanted to. Sure he seemed pretty ready to have his way with you in the morning, but that could have been just a natural reaction and you had no idea if he was mentally and emotionally okay with it. But you couldn’t have imagined that look in his eyes this morning. That hunger that made a shiver run down your back, or the way his hands grasped at your dressing gown, as if he wanted it off your body. You were so full of anticipation and so lost in your thoughts, you barely even noticed that you were already standing in front of the rectory’s doors, just gawking at them like a weirdo.

Trying to calm your wild beating heart, you took one deep breath and raised your hand to gently knock on Father Paul’s door. He opened far too quickly, as if he'd been standing on the other side before you even came. He took one look behind you to see if there were no prying eyes and he quickly pulled you inside, shut the door behind you and locked it. However, it seemed that that’s where his boldness ended and he just kind of stood in the middle of the room, not exactly looking at you, balling his hands into fists every now and then. “Um,” you said after a while, “I bring gifts?” You fished out the wine and sweets you bought earlier out of your bag and set them down on the countertop. When you turned around, he was right behind you, his face unreadable and his expression strange. “Hey,” you touched his cheek lightly, and he flinched a bit, before he relaxed into your touch, “Paul, are you alright, love?”

That made him focus his entire attention on you and he stared into your eyes for a bit, before he averted his eyes again and let his head drop a bit. “No, um, I mean yes, I’m fine, I’m sorry, it’s just…” he reached his hand out and put it over your own, still on his cheek. “To be honest, I’m kind of out of my depth here,” he finally gave you a small smile and looked into your eyes, “I know what you want. I had my suspicions, and this morning confirmed them.” You sighed and held his cheeks with both hands now, pulling his face into the crook of your neck and holding it there, just petting his hair with one hand. “Yeah. I’m sorry, Paul, it’s kind of difficult not to have these… needs. Especially with you, because you’re honestly so perfect. You are always so kind to me, always giving attention and affection, freely. You listen to me and you know me better than many people who knew me for years. And you’re so sweet and funny and I can’t even express how absolutely handsome you are. Everything about you is beautiful, Paul. I love you.”

Paul held onto you now, his long arms around your waist and you felt warm and comfortable and happy. “But listen to me, and look at me,” you lifted his head up to be able to gaze into his eyes, “this is your call. I would never ever force myself on you, or make you do something you don’t want to. You took your vows and I know that even what we have now could get you into some serious trouble. And I don’t want to burden you any more than I’m already doing now, I never would. So I understand if you never want to get intimate with me. I couldn’t bear knowing I forced you to sin against your will, just because of my own desires.” You finished and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. Paul sighed and one of his hands caressed your cheek, settling on your lip and tracing it softly with his thumb.

“No,” he breathed finally, “no, you’re not a sin. It doesn’t feel like a sin with you. I love you, and I want to be with you. In every way. I couldn’t focus the entire day,” he admitted softly, letting his eyes drop again, “all I could think of was just how beautiful you looked, dressed only in that dressing gown, with your hair all out of place, you were on my mind all day. I wanted to come running to you the moment I finished the sermon, wanted to cancel the confessions, wanted to send Bev to hell when she came to me later to get my opinion on some event she’s organising or something. I couldn’t even focus on preparing tomorrow’s homily, all I did was think of you, and think of the things I want to do to you. Things I want to do with you. I know you would never force me to do something I don’t want, but you don’t have to worry about that, because I do want it! I want you. I need you. I wanted and needed you weeks ago, but I never gathered the courage, because…” he stopped to catch his breath, “I don’t actually really know how to go about it…” You could see his cheeks starting to flush, “I know the basics, of course, but I’m afraid I don’t even know how to start the entire… process.”

Your hands stayed on his face the entire time he was talking, so you just made him lift his head again to meet your eyes. There was a smile on your face and it only widened once you made eye contact. His pupils were blown wide again and despite his embarrassed blush, you could see he truly wanted you. That he wanted you as much as you wanted him. “Don’t worry, Paul,” you whispered softly and kissed his perfect cupid’s bow, “there’s not really one correct answer. We’ll just… see where it takes us. We can try to make each other feel good and step by step discover what does the other like best. We just have to be honest with each other. If one of us does something the other doesn’t like, we should just say not to do that. I want to make this good for you, but if I overstep, or it becomes too much, you just tell me, and I’ll stop. How’s that?” Father Paul smiled at you softly, his blush deepening, and pulled you into a kiss.

The kiss started out sweet, nearly chaste, but soon enough the intensity of it heightened. Paul then squeezed you close to him and you let out a happy sigh. He immediately took advantage of it and slowly pressed his tongue into your mouth. Your teeth clashed a bit as yours and the priest’s tongues caught each other in a sensual dance. Your fingers were in Paul’s thick soft hair and your fingernails lightly scratched at his scalp, which made him make a content little noise into your accepting mouth. After you both pulled back for some air, Paul dipped his face into your neck again, just like in the morning, pressing hot kisses and soft nips onto the sensitive skin. After a while, he found that spot that made you weak in the knees and he happily supported your weight. Once more, you felt the proof of his desire poking you and this time, you didn’t hold back as you buckled into him and he let out a moan. One of your hands left his hair to travel down from his shoulder to his sternum, over his flat belly and lower still, until it made contact with the throbbing organ in his jeans. Now was Paul’s turn to buckle into you and he lifted his head to lean his forehead against yours.

His eyes were glazed over and his pretty lips were parted and shiny with saliva. You squeezed him through his jeans again and got another delicious reaction. Smiling through your own arousal, you grabbed his hand and led him to his own bedroom. Once there, you sat him on his bed and stood before him. The smile didn’t leave your lips for even a single moment as you slowly started pulling off your clothes. You stepped out of your shoes and slowly peeled the pantyhose off each of your legs. Your jacket you laid on his dresser. Reaching behind yourself, you pulled the zipper of your dress down and let the whole thing fall from your shoulders to the ground, revealing your lacy underwear underneath. His breath hitched and he seemed mesmerised by your body and your curves, yet he didn’t reach for you. You worried you were going to get shy and self-conscious if you were to undress in front of him like this, but the way he ate you up with his eyes like you were next to godliness made you feel more confident than you ever felt before. You reached behind your back again and unclasped your bra, letting it hit the floor unceremoniously. Your knickers were the last thing to go. Terrible slowly you pushed them down your legs, until gravity finished your work for you.

He observed you lustfully, his eyes literally black and there was a small stain forming on the top of his jeans. Slowly, you put a leg on each side of his lap, effectively straddling him and reaching your hands for him. You kissed along the side of his face slowly, as you pulled the white collar off him and laid it carefully on his bedside table. One by one, you opened up the buttons of his shirt, revealing his beautiful, tanned skin, all the while kissing every inch of newly discovered area. You ducked your head to capture his right nipple in your mouth and bite at it softly. He oh so slowly wrapped his arms around you and leaned his head back. You shifted your attention to his other bud and continued your assault on the first with your fingers, until both of them were hardened and he let out a delicious sounding moan.

All the while, your other hand travelled lower, to squeeze him again, making his breath hitch and more sounds pour out of his mouth. You slowly extracted yourself from him and kneeled on the floor. You untied both of his shoes and pulled them off, his socks following behind. You then put your hands on his thighs until he looked at you and you moved your hands to his zipper. “This okay?” you whispered and he nodded at you once, not trusting his own voice. You pulled the button free from its hole and pulled down the zipper. He breathed a sigh of relief, as the pressure on his member decreased and raised his hips slightly, so you could pull down both his jeans and his pants and you did just so.

Now he was as bare in front of you as you were in front of him. And he was beautiful, nearly angelic in his appearance. He was large, like you thought he would be, and very nicely shaped. Your mouth watered at the sight of him. Remaining in your kneeling position, you slowly ran your hand up and down his shaft, watching his face for any sight of discomfort, but discovered none, as he closed his eyes in bliss and breathed out a little prayer. “Does that make you feel good, love?” you whispered, not wanting to break the moment of intimacy. He opened his eyes to look at you, eyes nearly unfocused and his face flushing prettily: “Oh, that feels… out of this world,” he replied, just as quietly. You smiled at him and lowered your face to his groin. You gave a soft lick to the head first, then licked a long stripe over his entire length. He only made small soft sounds until now, but when your lips enveloped him in your wet heat, the moan he made seemed to echo off the walls. It was an amazing sound, and you went a little crossed eyed so you could watch his face. He was so lost in his pleasure already.

You started bobbing your head a little, taking him a bit deeper each time you went down, all the while sucking slightly. He unconsciously slipped his fingers into your hair, not pulling or pushing you, just holding on for dear life while you pleasured him. You increased your suction, but gagged a little, when his tip hit the back of your throat. You weren’t about to give up though, feeling encouraged by his brilliant sounds, which were now constantly streaming out of his mouth, moans and whimpers melting together with soft pleas and your own name. You took him into your mouth entirely and stayed that way for a while, just sucking him and getting used to being so filled. When the discomfort faded you picked up the pace again, taking him deep, again and again, licking and sucking and caressing his bollocks with one of your hands. His sounds became desperate and you could feel by his throbbing that he was close. His head was still craned back and his eyes deeply shut, so you let him out of your mouth with a soft ‘pop’. “Paul, look at me, please,” you pleaded and he complied, looking at you with half lidded eyes. Continuing to keep eye contact, you took him as deep as you could and swallowed around him. “Oh good god!” his voice broke and he released into your throat, his entire body trembling with the intensity of his orgasm. You sputtered a bit at the hot bitter seed running down your throat, but managed to swallow all of him while your tongue licked him clean.

His strength gave out and he fell down onto his back on the bed, still trembling and breathing hard. You climbed after him on the bed and pulled him close, hiding your face into his collarbone. After a while, his arms went around you and he held you to him. “That was amazing,” he whispered slowly and kissed you on your lips, his tongue lazily exploring your mouth again, feeling the taste of you and himself on you. “Can I touch you now?” he asked, shyly, but he seemed to be calmer, bolder, perhaps. You smiled into his lips: “You never need to ask. You can touch me anywhere you want.” He nodded and kissed you again. After a while, he repositioned the two of you, so that you were both lying in the middle of his bed, with your head on the pillow and him on top of you.

He took his time with you just like you did with him, starting at your neck and occasionally asking if what he’s doing is okay. You willingly told him what felt good for you and it turned out he was a quick learner. Some spots you didn’t even have to mention, because he noticed the way your voice climbed higher when he found them. The feeling of him worshipping your body was so much better than it was in your fantasies and you were a moaning mess just from the way his teeth grazed your hard nipples while he whispered to you just how amazing and perfect you were, how good you smell and taste and how much he wants to make you feel good. He kissed down your stomach until he reached your pubic bone. Just like you did, he asked you if it’s okay to carry on and it took everything in you not to straight up beg.

He parted your legs and moved between them, looking at your sex fascinated. He reached a hand out and ran his fingers over your seam, spreading your slick folds. Your back arched and you mewled when his finger accidentally brushed over the little bundle of nerves. He took notice and tried to find the spot that made you feel so good. He truly was a quick learner. In no time at all, he was rubbing small circles around your clit, watching your reactions nearly mesmerised. He then put his fingers into his mouth, tasting your juices. He moaned at the taste of you and almost lunged, burying his face between your legs and lapping at your aching mound. You arched your back again, when you felt his tongue on your entrance and let out a broken moan when he pushed inside. He thrusted into you with his tongue as deeply as he could, but soon seemed to realise that his fingers might just do a better job at it, so he blindly reached them forwards and pushed two of them right alongside his tongue.

Almost like magic, he hit your sweet spot immediately and you cried out again. Seeing your reaction he repositioned his lips and tongue at the little nub he found before and began sucking and licking at it, while hitting the spot inside with his fingers. Similarly to him, your hand shot between your legs to grasp at his hair and your other hand pawed desperately at the sheets around you. It was so intense, never before had you started to near your climax this soon and you reckoned this was going to be a hurricane sized one. Once his other hand started playing with your nipples again, you knew you were done for. “Oh my god, Paul! Paul, I’m going to-!” you moaned his name like a prayer, you wouldn’t be able to stop your release even if you tried and instead you let it consume you. You saw white for a while and experienced the most pleasure you’ve ever had. Paul continued his ministrations and even though you felt like you just ran the marathon, the priest’s clever hands and mouth made you ready to go again very quickly.

“Paul, Paul please, please love, I really need you inside, please!” you could feel tears in your eyes as you begged him, grabbing at his shoulders weakly to pull him to you. He climbed up your body and took you into his arms. You could feel his hard shaft once more, sliding through your soaked folds and whimpered meekly. “Ready?” he said only, his voice low and dripping with arousal. You could only nod as you looked into his eyes, still shaking from your first orgasm and already feeling the coil renewed within you. He braced himself on one arm next to your head and grabbed his member, slowly guiding it into your tight cavern. He was big and you felt your walls stretching around him. You were so relaxed and so wet that he slid right in on the first stroke and both of you moaned shakily as he bottomed out.

He kissed your neck, nibbling on that spot under your ear, then moved his mouth to you chin and finally captured your lips in a messy, wonderful kiss as he pulled out and thrusted back in, hard, making you gasp. A few thrusts later, he changed the angle slightly and once again found the spot that made you see stars and claw at his back. He grinned against your mouth and did it again, and again, until you were a sweating, whimpering mess, and whatever you were trying to say came out incomprehensive and broken. You held onto him like a lifeline, locking your legs around your hips in a desperate attempt to get him even closer to you. “I love you, god I love you Paul! I’m so close, please, don’t stop, don’t ever stop.” Understanding what you were saying at last, he started getting lost in his own pleasure, his thrusts becoming irregular and snappish. His hand found your clit and starting attacking it unrelentingly, making you nearly scream out his name as you came undone below him, this time even stronger than before. He knew he wouldn’t last, especially now that your walls were squeezing him, milking him almost. “Inside, please,” you pleaded, your orgasmic high still running through you and he gratefully complied, moaning a deep ‘I love you’, his voice breaking at the last word.

You lied still for a long time, both of you coming down slowly, catching your breaths and listening to your heartbeats beating in a frenzied symphony. Finally, Father Paul rolled on his side, still holding onto you, so he could see into your face. In his opinion, you looked otherworldly beautiful, ethereal almost. Your messy hair was spread around your head like an angel’s halo and there was the most gentle, most content smile on your face. It reminded him of Mona Lisa’s smile. “That was absolutely perfect, love” you said softly and caressed his face with your palm. He grabbed your wrist gently and kissed it, holding it to his face. After both of you have calmed down, you went to clean up, both of you moving slowly and lazily, as your limbs felt heavy and tired. Once you lied under the blankets, legs entwined and with your head resting upon his strong chest, you remembered the drawing and excused yourself. Paul watched with a smile on his face, as you walked butt-naked back into his living room to fetch your notebook and happily opened up his arms again once you came back.

“What is this?” he asked as you handed him the simple notebook and told him to open it. He observed the drawing you’ve made of him, feeling very touched and knowing there was a tear forming in his eye. He couldn’t find the words to describe what he was feeling and felt like even if he connected all of the words the English language had to offer, he would probably never be able to tell you just how thankful he was. For everything, for your drawing, your love and care, for all the happiness just being in your presence brings him, or how much he actually loves you. So instead of embarrassing himself with a long monologue he wouldn’t be able to even phrase correctly in his exhausted state, he settled for a simple: “I love you so. God bless your heart.” You just looked at him, smiled with all the love coursing through you and kissed him on the lips.

Fin.

Hi. I hope you enjoyed. If you wanna, you can check this story out on AO3. I will pet your hair and tell you what a pretty thing you are for a comment ;u; Thank

also like, if you maybe wanted to request some headcanons or something ive got my inbox open 👀 i dont like promise anything but i might continue writing

#midnight mass #father paul #father paul hill #father paul x reader #father paul/reader #fanfiction #father paul hill x reader #smut and fluff #idiots in love #father paul is a virgin #tooth rotting fluff #sheriff hassan #joe collie #midnight mass fanfiction

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royalsunshinehotel · 2 years

Text

9:45pm (Hassan el-Shabbaz x f!reader, 18+)

Warnings: references to past violence, Social Media saves the day, thigh riding, loss of virginity?, reference to erotophobia, best friends to lovers, unprotected sex.

A year ago, Hassan el-Shabbaz had been shot in the line of duty. Those were his words, but you didn’t believe that cults fell under the jurisdiction of a small town Sheriff. You think of that night as little as possible, and each time you do, you shiver. An evening like this felt impossible back then, and you were here, living it.

The two of you needed this movie night. The movies were mostly awful, but sometimes you just wanted to sit next to him.

He was, and is, your responsibility.

Ever since you hitched a ride in Hassan's airlift back to the mainland, Ali had gotten the impression you were in love with his father.

You were, and you knew if a seventeen year old boy could see it, you hadn't been guarding your feelings as well as you thought.

But that couldn't matter right now. Hassan sets the bowl of popcorn down on the table, on your side of the couch. He'd been scowling for the past few days, his latest medical appointment had been that past Monday. He'd insisted on going alone, and you, his best friend, had said alright.

And of course, the one time you didn't ride the ferry with him, something happened. Technically, it wasn't your business, but he didn't keep secrets from you.

"Did you see Ali this week?" You ask, voice even. With effort, he turns to you.

"Yeah. He's doing good with school so far. Apparently going viral is good with the ladies." You raise an eyebrow, "his words, not mine."

"That's good, that's good. Now how are you?"

He grunts in response, not anticipating you swatting your hand on his arm.

"Somethings up, pal. Talk to me." You order and he gives you the side-eye.

"We can watch the movie at anytime...pal." He replies in a flat tone.

You say nothing

Hassan can't look at your face, because he knows your expression. Your making a pout, but your eyes are wide and soft. You started making this expression when you noticed how quickly he'd cave to you. But now you were worried. The two of you are supposed to be closer than this.

"I don't want to wreck the night."

"Hassan, tell me." You look like you're about to burst into tears, and he knows you well enough to know what your voice sounds like when that happens.

"I got released. This is as good as I'm going to get."

"but you're still doing physical therapy, right?" you question, silently begging him to look at you.

"I am. But I'm weak, and I'm old, and you'll be too polite to say your bored with me."

"That's the dumbest thing you've ever said Sheriff." Did he really think you could leave him after last Easter? You flash on that moment in the church where Hassan was pinned down, and you broke an Instagram live record streaming Father Paul and Beverly Keane poison the parish, and themselves.

"Hassan you got shot. Twice."

"Yeah, I was there. I've found peace with it, but I'm not what I was." What the fuck did that mean?

"You're not supposed to be, that's how guns work. And cults!"

"Okay, yes you're right. But I'm still fucking old. I don't want you to be my nurse!" His tone takes you by surprise. If you were about to cry earlier, you sure were now.

"Then how do you want me?"

Hassan takes your chin in his hand, angling your mouth to his. You gasp sharply, mind barely catching up with your mouth

Hm. Warm. Scratchy.

And as quick as he pulled you in, he pulls away.

"Please don't say anything," he asks, and all you can do is smile- a full, face cracking, sunbeam of a smile.

"Don't do that with your face," grumbles Hassan, trying to keep his so-called "cop-face", but masks were slipping, if not completely gone.

"Why?" You ask.

"I'll have to do this," he pulls you back in again, more fiercely this time, beard scratching your face. You feel winded, but it doesn't matter. You just want to be as close to him as possible.

Hassan feels the same, so when he moves you into his lap, you let him. You'd pictured yourself straddling him before, but the real thing is always better than a dream, you knew that too well.

When you smile, he has to follow suit, it's near impossible not to.

Your mouths slate together with ferocity as pressure in the room releases. Your thoughts, your plans, that had kept you so put together were floating out of your mind with a frightening speed.

It's not until you feel his teeth on your neck that you push him back.

"Hassan, I'm scared. I'm not- I don't do this." Your shaking in his grip, heart pounding in your ears. He moves his hands to your waist, bringing you down. You weren't scared of him, not really. This was just out of your realm of understanding. Only slightly, but still far.

"It doesn't have to be anything past this, we can stop."

"No. No I want more." You declare, Hassan's dark eyes going round looking at you.

"You want more?" He ask, looking you straight in the eye to see your response.

"Yeah." you shake your head for yes, and he grins for the first time in months.

"Let's try this. He says as his fingertips dig into you, helping your pelvis roll against his. Sparks make a home in your bones. The hardness beneath

"Did you like that?" You hold

"S'good." You whine. More, more more.

"Nothing to be afraid of, it's just me, right?"

If your mind had been clear, you would have had him explain every move he made.

"Maybe next time," you think, not questioning that there would be a next time. What you don't realize is that your words were out loud. Hassan was in something of a tailspin thinking about next time.

But he can't let himself go down that rabbit hole. He needs to kiss you until all the thoughts that made your brows furrow disappeared. You

"Hm?"

"Stand up a second," he orders, voice raspy. You obey. Hassan quickly and quietly pulls down your pajama pants, helping you step out of them.

"Use my leg." He says, and you don't quite know what he means, until he pulls you back down into his lap. He makes the same movement as before, only grinding your clit against a muscular thigh. You gasp at the contact, sending electric shocks through your body.

If you had been in a clear frame of mind, you would have worried about the growing wet patch, or that he was uncomfortable with your full weight on top of him, but he rolled you down on him again before you could verbalize your concerns.

"Hassan," It's too good, I don't know what to do. You want to say, years of feelings bubbling up.

"I know, I know." He couldn't know! How could he possibly know how angry and scared he'd had you. How dare he be the hero!

"Good girl, always so good." He praises softly, and your body takes over your mind again.

Rolling, you finish with a sad little whimper, leaning as far into him as you can. He's warm and steady and soft, and you hum in satisfaction,

"Feeling alright, sweetheart?" He asks, moving your hair out of your face.

"More." You set your face into an expression you hoped would come across as stern, but it wasn't. Pulling away from his warmth, your hands take a life of their own. You palm Hassan through his sweatpants, making his breath hitch, before wandering below the waistband and pulling him free.

Is this what people do? Is this how it's always supposed to feel?

It would almost be embarrassing how quickly you lined him up with your heat. If it was anyone else, but it wasn't. It's Hassan.

"Steady, just like that." He coaxes, grabbing your hips and making you slow down. Instinctively, you lean your forehead down against his.

Hassan had many dreams about what it might be like to have you stretched out on his cock like this. For a moment, just a moment, he wishes he'd kept up with drawing do he could capture your sweet little face, trying so hard to be brave, to take all of him that you could.

"Still scary?" He questions as you nuzzle into him.

"No." You hide your face in his shoulder as he rests his palms on your waist.

"Nice and slow." He coaches, but it doesn't last long. There was a shift in you that he didn't

He feels you lose a colorful nail digging into his shoulders, as you meet him halfway, instinct taking over. You're surreal. You're so calm and composed, and here you're grinding into him like an animal, chasing something you couldn't reach by yourself.

Hassan thinks, "Go on, take what you need. Take everything I have and I'll thank you for it."

You flutter around him, and Hassan gapes up at you. Your teeth catch his lower lip as your sheriff makes a strangled sound, trying with everything he had, to keep himself under control.

"Where?" He asks, and it takes you a full second to respond, lost to him and yourself.

"I'm on birth control." Hassan exhales, helping to bounce you a few final times before bringing you as close as he can, feeling you squirm and clench down around him.

The sound that leaves your mouth is a sound you have never made before, but it's not your fault.

The knot in your belly snaps, the levee breaks, the high wire you'd been walking has evaporated beneath your feet, and you were falling.

You take him with you, all the way down. The heat between your legs feels addictive, and correct. Fuck the consequences, the two of you deserved this.

You shiver and shake as he holds you steady. Your pussy still throbbing around him, despite his softening cock. The squelching and gasping the two of you make doesn't feel real.

None of this feels real, but then again, Easter had been a once-in-a-lifetime traumatic event, why couldn't he keep you here, like this.

Hassan had many dreams about what you would look like filled with him. Youre delicate, worn out, just as exhausted. Here you were, a more beautiful picture than he ever would have been able to dream up.

Hassan keeps you wrapped around him on the couch. He wanted to ask what you meant by "I'm scared." If it had something to do with last Easter, he'd have to introduce you to his therapist. If you'd overcome a phobia to have him like this, he'll have to make it up to you tenfold.

Though it's not like that would take any effort. The moment he set foot on this island, you had him. It was just a law of nature.

Your sheriff tells you that he loves you, quietly, pressing the words into your shoulder. The two of you stay still, listening to the bugs hum outside.

#rahul kohli #midnight mass #hassan el shabbaz #hassan x reader #sheriff hassan x reader #smut #deadass took me two months to write sorry bestie #bruh this isn't very capital-N Nasty but I hope it suffices

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kasha-formerlydrabbletastic · 2 years

Text

Parent/Teacher Night

Sheriff Hassan x Fem!Reader (Midnight Mass)

Summary: The reader is a teacher at the school on Crockett Island, engaged in a “flirtationship of the ages” with the local Sheriff, that finally comes to a steamy culmination.

Word count: 2,243

Warnings: MATURE READERS ONLY 18+ - MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. Public sex, creampie, P in V sex, oral sex (f receiving), swearing, a small dose of Bev Keane.

“Well, that's a welcome sight."

You take the banner down off the wall, smiling as you fold it into its original packaging; parent/teacher night was as expected, with the obvious meeting of parents and the explanation of your planned curriculum and first impressions of your students. You had seen Hassan briefly, a bright spot amongst the rather dull group of parents, but only briefly as you carried on your rehearsed speech and fielded questions that were, frankly, small-minded to a concerning degree. When they left to meet with the other handful of teachers the school has, your classroom was quiet, allowing you to decompress from the pressure.

The voice, deep and soothing, comes from behind you, and you turn to see Hassan, leaning against the door frame as his eyes rise to meet yours. His strong arms are folded over his sturdy chest and you can't help but let your mind wander, imagining once more what being held against that sturdy chest would feel like.

"Evening, Sheriff," you say before your tongue sweeps over your lips; Hassan's gaze falls once more for a brief second.

"I hope I'm not intruding," he says, pulling himself off the doorframe and stepping toward you, a relaxed swagger coming over him. "I know the night is over but..."

You study him from toe to tip, hoping against hope you'll get to feel some of that swagger as soon as possible.

"Parent/teacher night might be over, but I am more than happy to help with any questions you might have."

"I was hoping you'd make an exception," he says, his smile more of a smirk than anything you'd ever seen of him.

There's about three feet between you now, every cell in your body screaming for the gap to be closed. You and Hassan have been dancing around each other for months now, a flirtationship of the ages, but not once had either of you made a move to progress it. The tension was achingly palpable, pressing on you from every side and waiting for you to finally pop.

"Well, what else can I do for the man who keeps Crockett safe if not make an exception?"

"That's true," he says, his smirk growing cockier.

"Oh, please," you laugh. "Don't be so humble."

"I could try," he replies, "but what fun would that be?"

As if out of instinct, you step forward, gazing into Hassan's face for a moment before you say, "So what is it you need, Sheriff?"

"That's the question, isn't it?" he replies, matching your step forward; his voice is quiet, husky to say the least as a certain haze sets in. His brown eyes shift over every feature of your face, seemingly drinking you in as you feel his fingers lace with yours.

The slightest tremble excitedly quakes your body in response, and your fingers close around his. You tug him forward until your chests press together, feeling his warmth seep through your blouse to your skin.

"Hassan," you murmur with every intention to make another quip, but before you can, Hassan exhales, curling his hand around the base of your head and tilting it up.

His lips barely part as he lowers his face to yours, capturing the gasp that dances from your mouth. They're soft, warm, gentle in their first touch, and immediately intoxicating; it's like a dam has broken, the curl of anticipation from your belly exploding into exhilaration in your veins, coursing through to push you forward against Hassan, throwing your arms around his waist to pull him closer. You'd crawl into his skin if given the chance, but you'll settle for just being as close as possible, touching in as many places as possible.

Both of his hands now cradle your head as his lips part yours, his tongue slipping past, curious to explore your mouth. He hungers for you, craves you in ways he's never shown before. His body pushes forward, pressing your backside against your desk as the most obvious sign of his desire brushes against you.

You moan into his mouth, your core tingling with arousal. The very thought of his cock slipping into you is enough to soak your panties, made more potent by the feeling of his hands drifting down your neck and onto your chest. He paws at your breasts for a moment before they slide down your ribs and over your waist, not stopping until each hand is full of your rear. Hassan scoops you up, settling you on the edge of your desk without once breaking the kiss.

His fingers bunch up your long, modest skirt, hiking it up over your legs as you spread them to make room for him. The kiss grows more desperate and his fingertips press into your thighs, surely bruising them. They grope higher and higher up your legs until his thumbs rest near to your heat; you're certain if he just slips his thumb up half an inch, he will feel the tell-tale wetness he's causing.

In turn, your hands wander, feeling his soft and strong body through his uniform's button-up before you reach down and cup his bulge.

"Ah," he sighs against your lips, his forehead pressing against yours as you begin to stroke him outside his jeans. "Y/N, that feels so good."

"It'll feel even better once I take it out," you giggle.

This prompts Hassan to pull back, his expression messy with lust.

"Here?" he asks, his concern pushing through for just a moment.

"I'm up for it if you are," you reply, your hand already at work on his belt buckle.

"Fuck, I'm up for it," he says before he claims your mouth again.

Your fingers pull his belt open, then make quick work on his button and fly. Maneuvering the hole of his boxers, your hand dips inside, pulling his erection free of its cage. Hassan gasps as your fingers wrap around it, just barely able to close before gently stroking.

"Fuuuuuck," he groans, his grip on your thighs tightening.

With a twist of your wrist, he's eating out of the palm of your hand, needier than you ever imagined he could be. He ruts into your hand, seemingly unable to quench the instinct. The kiss is growing sloppy, his concentration falling into his cock as a bead of precum shines on the tip. You swipe the pad of your thumb over it, pulling back from Hassan's face and licking the digit clean.

"Fuck," he moans, but he doesn't let you continue.

Instead, he gently grabs your wrists, setting your hands on the edge of the desk before stealing another quick kiss. He then drops to his knees in front of you, eyes fixed on yours as he leans forward. His fingertip glides along the hem of your panties, tugging them aside to reveal your heat before he licks a stripe right between your lips. He teases your clit, flicking his tongue against it before he sucks it in between his lips.

"Oh, god," you murmur, glancing at the open door to your classroom and wondering if any other teachers might still be here.

Hell, if Bev Keane walked in on this... she'd shit her holier-than-thou pants.

Hassan, on the other hand, doesn't seem to even spare that a passing thought as he dives into you, his hands pressing your thighs apart the more involved his mouth becomes. He laps at you, tasting every drop of dew that drips from you with relish as your body begins to twitch. Your hips press forward, begging him to never stop, don't stop, don't ever, ever stop...

"God, Hassan," you gasp as he presses two fingers into you.

Thrusting his fingers in, he curls the tips up to catch your g-spot each time they pull back, sending a small dose of ecstasy every time. He carries on, his tongue dancing over your clit, his fingers pulling quick and heavy breaths from you.

Your fingers dig into the desk as you try to keep steady, your ass lifting from its seat the longer Hassan goes. It's only when you think you can't take it anymore that you explode, your orgasm bursting from your core.

"Fuck!" you gasp, gripping the desk. "Fuck, Hassan."

His tongue slows, licking its last few laps before he pulls away, pressing kiss after kiss along your thigh until he reaches your knee.

"You," he says, putting his fingers into his mouth and licking them clean, "taste so good. I could do that all day."

"I'm gonna hold you to that some day," you giggle, grasping the front of his shirt to pull him in for a kiss. Your other hand, though, reaches down to guide his cock into you.

"Fuck me," he moans when he's fully seated, entirely buried in your warmth.

He's thick, taking up a little too much room, but you don't mind. On the contrary, you positively ache as his cock stretches you out, putting pressure on every sensitive part of your cunt except...

Hassan presses his thumb to your clit, making you sigh when he circles the bundle of nerves softly, gently, as you acclimate to his size. His lips brush yours just as softly, coaxing your mouth open for a kiss before he pulls his hips back, thrusting forward. He starts slowly, a gentle to and fro. Soon, though, as your kisses become hungrier, so does he; he employs more power, each thrust pushing you back on the desk before you lean back, watching Hassan as he pumps inside you. His gaze drops down to the joining of your bodies, too, biting his lip as he ruts into you hard enough that the desk screeches back a couple inches.

"Fuck, you're gorgeous," he mutters, taking hold of your hips with his free hand. "I've wanted this... for so long... wanted you..."

His thumb presses just a little harder on your clit, drowning your reply in a low moan. The drag of his cock along your g-spot sends sparks from your core that dance with the tendrils of pleasure reaching from your clit, and you break once more, your walls pulsing around Hassan's cock. You grit your teeth to keep from shouting aloud as you come.

"Look at you," he murmurs, his hips grinding against yours. "So fucking pretty when you come."

You smile, sitting up to grasp his ass, to pull him as close to you as possible. He leans forward, too, his lips devouring yours in another kiss.

"Fuck, I'm gonna come," he growls against your mouth. "Where..."

"Come inside me, Hassan," you nearly beg, your fingers running through his hair as you pull him in.

He leans forward again, enough to where he plants his hands on the desktop to steady himself as he rails into you, your body absorbing every blow from every quick thrust he has. He grunts with the effort, slamming down until he comes; he groans, his pelvis pressed to yours as he empties himself inside you. With a few more gentle thrusts, he spends himself, ending with his face buried in your neck.

His beard tickles against your skin as he presses soft kisses on your neck. You relish the feeling, the post-coital glow that surrounds you as you hold him against your body.

However long after, he pulls away, his formerly hazy brown eyes now filled with a beautiful clarity.

"I know this is a little out of order," he says gently, "but will you let me take you out to dinner one night this week? There's this place on the mainland I'd really like to treat you to."

"On one condition," you say, pressing kisses to his neck.

"God, anything," he replies on a sigh.

"When we fuck after that," you say, looking into his eyes, "I at least get to see you naked."

"Only if I get to see you naked," he laughs, some of his cockiness making a return.

"Deal," you say, sealing it with a kiss. "We should really put ourselves back together before anyone catches us."

You feel Hassan pull out of you, his softening cock shining with your release; he pulls some tissues from a box on your desk, cleaning himself off before putting himself away.

"Can I walk you home, Miss Y/L/N?" he asks as you dismount off the desk.

You lick your lips, feeling his seed drip out of you as you situate your skirt.

"Let me tidy up first," you say, tugging him down by his shirt again, pressing your lips to his.

"Ahem."

The new voice comes from the doorway, and the two of you turn to see Bev Keane standing there, judgement all over her face.

"I'm sure necking like a couple of teenagers in an empty classroom is just fine to you, but there are some who are put off by public displays of affection like that."

You look at Hassan, having released his shirt already, and take a step back, holding your hands up.

"Apologies, Bev," you say. "It won't happen again."

"I should hope not," she replies. "We've got to close up for the night. Perhaps you and the sheriff would find yourselves more comfortable in the privacy of your own homes."

"Yes, ma'am," Hassan says, looking at you with a surreptitious wink.

Without further ado, he helps you tidy up, and the two of you follow Bev out of the school for the night, taking your dirty little secret home with you.

#sheriff hassan #sheriff hassan x reader #sheriff hassan smut #sheriff hassan x reader smut #midnight mass #midnight mass smut #rahul kohli #rahul kohli smut #sheriff hassan fanfiction #midnight mass fanfiction #reader insert

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thisoneisbatter · 2 years

Text

Holy: Chapter Seven

Holy

Chapter Seven

Word Count: 1k+

Rating: Explicit (18+ only)

Things start adding up, but it brings more questions than answers.

Hassan woke up to Leslie rolling over dramatically to get away from the sun streaming into his window. Her hair was wild on his pillow and her leg was thrown over his waist.

“Good morning, honey.” That was the third time he’d called her that. He made a mental note not to make a habit of it. He reached across her to his bedside table to look at his watch. It was after 7. He hadn’t intended to go into the office early like he usually did. The people from the state police wouldn’t be coming until 9:30 on the Breeze anyway. 7 was late for him, though.

“Good morning, honey.” She mocked back. He knew no kind deed would go unteased.

“I think it’s a good idea if I go into your house without you today to recover your mother.” He cut right to the chase. No sense in skirting around it. “If you don’t feel comfortable going into work, you’re more than welcome to stay here.”

“No, I want to work today.” She stretched her arms over her head, arching her back dramatically. “I think it will be good to take my mind off of things.”

Hassan snaked an arm under her torso and pulled her flush to him. His other hand gravitated to her face, cupping her cheek. He wanted to kiss her. He was so sure that if he let it, his body would do it without permission. He brushed his thumb over her lips instead.

“You were so sweet to me last night.” Her green eyes were dark and intense the way she was backlit, but her gaze still cut right into him. He tried to brush it off, scoffing like it’s what anyone would do. “No, Hassan, I’m serious. For once.” He gave her a pained smile. He didn’t for one moment regret the tenderness he’d shown her, but he was afraid of opening up more. It was already scary enough. “Why are you so good to me? I haven’t done anything to earn it.”

“Hey,” His hand had slipped down to the side of her neck. He could feel her pulse just below the surface. “That’s not-you don’t have to earn that. You deserve to be treated with care, Leslie.”

“Do you think this is all we’ll ever be?” She looked sad. Not the sadness she’d shown the night before. This was different, less raw, more gutting. It was something he suspected had been sitting with her for some time.

“This isn’t the right time to have this discussion.” He didn’t mean to be curt. It truly wasn’t the right time. He didn’t have an answer.

He thought about it all day. While he helped the medical examiner heft Cindy’s frail form into a body bag. While he rolled the carpet from the floor and stuffed the sheets into plastic bags. They didn’t exactly have a crime lab on Crockett. It would all be shipped away to almost certainly never be heard about again. An old woman collapsing wasn’t top tier crime anywhere else. They weren’t even positive it was a crime there on the island yet.

But still, he thought about what Leslie said. Would they ever be more? He couldn’t see a reason in any direction. What even was she to him then? A coworker, a subordinate, a young girl with a big mouth, a woman he occasionally took out his frustrations on. Was she going to be his wife some day? Would she want children? He was old and used up, tired of carrying on and on and on. Is that what she wanted? Leslie was so full of life and light and energy. Her mouth moved a mile a minute and Hassan rarely attempted to keep up. How would that work?

On the other hand, Leslie made him feel comfortable, wanted, accepted. She was in his corner in a place where very few people even wanted to be near him. She’d wiggled her way into his life, his bed, his thoughts, and she wasn’t going anywhere. It wasn’t the type of relationship he was used to, but it could be a relationship nonetheless. If he wanted it to be.

The Breeze left at 7:30 with the contents of Leslie’s living room on it, including her mother. Hassan drove home expecting to see her, but when he walked in he was greeted by his son and only him.

“No Leslie?” He questioned absently, toeing off his boots by the door.

“Don’t you guys like text each other?” Ali was already digging in the fridge, trying to will dinner to appear. “Why are you asking me?”

“Watch it.” He draped his coat over a chair and sat down, scratching his beard and breathing out the stress of the day.

“Is it true that someone murdered Ms. Cindy?” Ali sat down across from him, elbows on the table, hands planted between them firmly. Hassan didn’t answer. He simply shot Ali a pained, annoyed look. “What’s the point in my dad being a cop if I don’t get to know anything?”

“Have you considered that it may not be your business?” Hassan wanted coffee, but he also wanted to sleep. He settled for a cup of tea, crossing the kitchen to fill the kettle.

“Dad, Warren says that if Ms. Cindy just fell or had a heart attack or something you wouldn’t have called the cops on the mainland. And if Leslie did something you wouldn’t have taken her here to do whatever with her.”

The last sentence made Hassan wince a little. Teen boys suspecting that two adults are sleeping together is hardly notable, but in a small town things spread fast.

“So you’re a detective now?” He resisted the urge to shovel sugar into his tea. He intended to end this conversation quickly.

“So somebody did kill her?” Ali clapped his hands together, deciding that he was definitely correct. “What do you think happened?”

“I don’t know. That’s why we called the state police.” He sat down again, this time with his tea in hand and his most straight dad face. “If you hear anything, Ali, anything weird at all, you tell me. Okay?”

“I hear weird stuff all the time.” Ali looked smug, able to give Hassan information for once. “Ms. Keane has been pushing harder than usual lately for everyone to attend Mass. I don’t think that’s super weird because of who she is though. She left early yesterday, so we spent the afternoon with Ms. Greene’s class.”

Hassan sat forward quickly, startling Ali slightly. “What time did she go?” Leslie’s mom was cold when he checked her for a pulse. She had to have died sometime in the early afternoon to have cooled off that much. He wouldn’t know what the window was until the report from the state police came back, but it was something. Another puzzle piece on the table.

#sheriff hassan x ofc #sheriff hassan smut #sheriff hassan #rahul kohli smut #midnight mass fanfiction #midnight mass

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fortheloveoffanfic · 5 months

Text

Closing the Distance

Sheriff Hassan x Reader

Author's Note: I'm sorry its bad. I'm sorry this is the first I've written in this fandom. Just sorry all 'round.

Summary: Devastating news brings Sheriff Hassan and his neighbor closer together.

Warnings: Mentions of terminal illness, grief and death, brief mentions of SMUT

Crockett is small. Small enough for someone to walk from one end to the next in less than a day, small everyone to know each other by name, small enough for gossip to spread faster wildfire. It's part of why Hassan keeps his head down and his nose out of everyone’s business; small towns are close knit, they stick together, and he's already an outcast. So unless someone is explicitly breaking the law or being a public nuisance, Hassan keeps his distance.

Even if it's hard sometimes. Even if his cute neighbor brings over dinner for him and Ali when she cooks extra or waves at him when he's getting into his car in the morning while she's having coffee on the porch. Even if he does find himself wanting to prolong their conversation when he bumps into her while picking up groceries. Hassan keeps his distance, because even if Y/n has only lived on the island for a year longer than he has, she is not an outcast.

From the bits and pieces he's been able to pick up, Y/n’s mother grew up there and then their family spent most of her summers as a child on the island. In the same quaint house across the street from his, with weather beaten porch steps, a white French door guarded by thin yellow curtains and a kitchen window that faces the street. She moved there just after her grandmother passed and her grandfather fell ill. Everyone knows her, everyone likes her, not that he can blame them – even Bev likes her, though he doubts the feeling is mutual. And that's why Hassan keeps his distance; even Y/n isn't one of them, she's one of theirs.

So he keeps his distance.

Until he gets home from work one Friday evening just in time to see Y/n walking Sarah to her car. Before she gets in, they spend another couple minutes talking and while he doesn't want to sit in his car and stare, there's something about the dimness in her expression and the invisible weight pressing her shoulders into a solemn, downward curve that holds him there. Hassan can't recall ever seeing her like that – tired, sure, it would be impossible to be a caregiver and not feel the strain of it. But this evening is different, it's more than tired. He recognizes that look; that was how he looked when his wife reached her end.

Hassan waits until Sarah drives off before getting out of his own car. Y/n is still standing on the sidewalk, arms hugging herself and eyes cast in the direction of the receding car. She isn't dressed to be outside, denim shorts and a thin band tee are hardly enough to combat the October chill, especially when it's been raining on and off all day, and that's how he knows she's probably avoiding heading back in. And he simply can't stand to retreat to his own house when she's looking like she's about to fall apart.

So Hassan calls out to her.

“Hey neighbor,” it's just enough to beckon her attention, and his tone, he hopes, gives nothing away.

“Sheriff,” as Y/n turns to him, she tries to smile but her lips quiver and the effort doesn't reach her eyes. “Hey,” her voice cracks ever so slightly and he suddenly feels guilty about intruding on what might have been a private moment. “How are you?”

Of course she asks how he's doing when she's the one on the verge of tears.

“Doin’ alright,” he shrugs, stuffing his hands into his pockets, “you?”

Before anything leaves her lips, which she's pressed into a thin line, Y/n nods stiffly. “I'm….” She sniffles and Hassan steps closer until he's standing where Sarah's car had been parked. “I'm okay,” she manages softly, adverting her gaze to their feet.

He doesn't know what prompts him – his urge to comfort her or the fact that he'd wished someone had done that for him – but Hassan reaches out to lay a hand on her shoulder, and gives it an affectionate squeeze. “You sure?”

And he swears that's like slipping the pin out of the grenade. Or more accurately, throwing a pebble at a cracked window; the tiny thing that shatters something already so fragile.

A sob tumbles past her lips and without thinking, he pulls her against him. She's small enough for her head to settle against the center of his chest while he smooths his hand over her hair. Hassan knows all too well that now isn't the time for him to marvel at how well she fits in his arms, like they're two puzzle pieces just snapping into place. Despite his efforts though, the thought lingers in the back of his mind.

“He's dying,” she cries, words muffled as she keeps her face pressed to his chest, “He's dying and there's nothing else I can do for him.”

Her words make him hold her tighter, as if he's trying to keep her pieces from scattering. “I'm so sorry,” is the only thing he offers. All other words of sympathy and comfort feel wrong in the moment, so they stay like that and Hassan holds her until loud cries turn to slow tears. In fact, it isn't even him that pulls away – if it were up to him, he'd hold her until the next morning, longer if she needs it.

“God,” wiping her cheeks hastily, Y/n sniffles, continuing bashfully, “Sorry about that. I bet you're never gonna ask anyone how they're doing ever again.”

“Don't be so hard on yourself,” he counters dismissively, “is there anything I can do?”

Her smile, though genuine, is small and sad. “You've already done a lot,” Y/n assures him, “but maybe you could come in for coffee? If you have time,” she adds hastily.

He really had meant to come home and make dinner, hopefully get Ali to tell him about his day, but there's half a pizza in the fridge and he's pretty sure his son is gonna make up an excuse to not have dinner with him, the way he does every evening. Besides, he doesn't want to leave Y/n alone and another half hour can't hurt. “Coffee sounds good.”

Despite being embarrassed about her little meltdown, Y/n is enormously grateful that Hassan agrees to come in for coffee – and it's not even because of that silly little school girl crush she's been nursing since the day they met. It's because when it's just her and her grandfather in the house, she can hear his laboured breathing even in the rooms furthest from his bedroom and she's hoping that talking to the sheriff will distract her a little.

For just a few minutes, Y/n wants to pretend that the man who's wrapped up in some of her fondest memories isn't slipping away and Sarah hasn't just told her to start making arrangements.

His steps are soft as he follows her into the kitchen, and it takes getting there for her to remember that she's left a tray with food and medication on the table. “Shit,” she hisses softly, going to collect it off the small table.

“It's alright if you have to take that up,” Hassan says, halting in the doorway, “I can wait or….”

“No,” Y/n shakes her head as she empties a small bowl of rice cereal into the trash before grabbing a smaller bowl of applesauce to do the same with that, “This is from breakfast. He wouldn't eat it. Didn't eat dinner last night and….” When her voice starts shaking, Y/n stops herself and sets the dishes in the sink. Washing off her hands, she fixes her attention on the coffee maker. It's a nice one, the kind that comes with a milk frother. It's one of the few things that she'd brought from her apartment in the city to make life in Crockett a little more comfortable. “How do you take it?” She asks, slipping a mug into the designated place.

“Black, two sugars,” he returns, now standing near the table with his hands stuffed into his pockets. He makes the space look small, Y/n thinks, and on a regular day it's one of the things she fancies about him. He's so big, capable of being incredibly imposing and yet the only thing she ever feels in his presence is safe. And it's not because of his uniform or the fact that he's a man of the law, it's because there's a softness about Hassan that makes her yearn to be close to him.

It doesn't matter what everyone says about him, Y/n just doesn't see it. He doesn't say a lot, probably even less to her than everyone else on the island, but there's a kindness in his very rare smile and a sadness in his eyes that she wishes she could help with.

“We can talk about it, if you want,” Hassan offers as Y/n stirs two teaspoons of sugar into his coffee.

When Y/n turns to hand him the ceramic mug, she encourages him to sit before returning to the machine and it takes a couple minutes more to sort her thoughts out enough to address his suggestion. “I don't know if there is anything to talk about,” she admits, thumb nail flicking the edge of the tile countertop, “I knew he was terminal when I got here. It was never a matter of if, it was when. But now that its….when, I feel like it's too soon, you know?”

Hassan nods, and she knows that his agreement isn't just surface level empathy – she's heard about his wife from the gossipy folks in town. “I keep reading about all these people who grieve their parents, spouses…. grandparents before they die, because they know it's happening,” Y/n goes on, and at this point, she's rambling in hopes of making sense of her experience, “but it was never like that for me. Until now. I mean I knew he was gonna….” She can't even bring herself to say the words.

“But you didn't think it would be like this,” it's like he's taken the words right out of her mind when he says them. “You thought he'd just go to sleep one night, it would happen and then it would be over.”

“Yeah, exactly,” collecting her mug, Y/n assumes the chair closest to Hassan, “but this is so different. He's in pain, he won't eat, barely drinks water. I know that it's best for him, so he can be…..at peace again,” her eyes start welling up again, and much to her surprise, he reaches over and rests his free hand over. Y/n can count one hand the amount of times he's touched her. Four times.

He shook her hand when they first met and the three other times had happened that very evening.

Admittedly, it's a little confusing; she's spent so long convinced that he doesn't like her that it's hard to believe that him sitting in her kitchen isn't anything more than pity. But that hug didn't feel like pity and the sincerity in his eyes doesn't feel like that either. His thumb is caressing the side of her wrist, the roughness of his finger contrasting with the softness of his skin.

“I understand,” he determines quietly, “I know it doesn't help-”

“It does, you have no idea how much you've helped. Just by being here.” Y/n leans in a little, and Hassan cups her cheek.

“You shouldn't have to go through this alone,” he ghosts the apple of her cheek, “you're there for everyone, someone should be here for you.”

Her hand slides down the back of his forearm, stopping near his elbow. “I'm….” She goes to say glad, but its the wrong word, “grateful it's you. So thank you.”

“‘Course,” Hassan hums, before searching her eyes when she inches closer, “What?”

Y/n knows she's taking a pretty big risk, he's never shown any interest in her like that and she isn't quite sure that her next request has anything to do with her feelings for him. But she asks anyway. “What if I wanted to forget….just for a little while.” She leans in closer, and that time, he does too.

They're so close that Y/n can smell bits of Crockett's salty air mingling with a very subtle cologne. So close that it just takes a couple inches forward on her part for their lips to meet. He tastes like coffee, and his gray flecked beard scratches her face in the most enthralling way. Surprisingly, he reciprocates; his other hand reaches for the back of her neck as he deeps the kiss.

Clumsily, Y/n fumbles out of her chair and into his lap, his worn jeans rubbing against her exposed thighs. The chair scrapes along the hardwood floor when he tries to get it a couple inches away from the table, but neither of them pay any mind to the noise. His large palm inches down her back to eventually slips under the hem of her t-shirt while Y/n starts fiddling with the top button of his uniform.

“Y/n,” he mumbles her name as she pops the second button. Her reply is a hum and an attempt to press her lips to his a bit harder. The bulge in his jeans is firm against her thigh, encouraging her to suggestively grind against his crotch. “Y/n,” that time, Hassan tears his lips from hers and swiftly grabs both her wrists in on his hands, while the other stays firmly on her back – on the outside of her t-shirt.

“You don't want to?” Because of course, on top of overwhelming grief, she has to deal with the shame rejection after she tries to jump her neighbor's bones.

“Trust me,” he heaves, glancing down between them. She can still feel his hard on through his jeans and the thought of what it might feel like without restraint causes her to shift in anticipation. “I want to. But I don't think you want to,” and before she can get an argument in, he cuts her off, “At least, not like this.”

Hassan lets her wrists go in favor of cupping her face with both hands. Leaning in until their foreheads meet, he sighs heavily. “Whatever this could be shouldn't start because you're running away from feeling something difficult.”

“I'm not-” she tries to argue, but her voice breaks, “you’re right.”

“Just….give yourself some time. And when this is over, and you're really ready – and if you still want this – I'll be waiting.” That time, when their mouths meet, the kiss is more gentle. It isn't fueled by passion or haste, it's a promise.

When the break, Y/n slides out of his lap and goes to lean on the lip of the sink. Hiding her face in her hands, she groans loudly, “God,” she bemoans, “I feel so stupid.”

A weaker spot in the old floor creaks ever so slightly as Hassan stands and closes the short distance in a couple long strides. “Don't be,” he weans her hands off her face, holding them so he can caress her knuckles, “honestly, if you weren't crying thirty minutes ago no one would be able to pry me off you.”

His words rouse a quiet chuckle and Y/n spends another handful of seconds staring at their joined hands. “I'm gonna hold you to that,” she affirms quietly.

Hassan gives her hands a squeeze, “I'd hope so,” he glaces backwards at the window. It's starting to get dark out and there are a couple lights on over at his place, signaling that Ali is home. “I should…”

“Of course,” Y/n nods, “Yeah.”

His hands gently cup her neck and she curves her fingers over his wrists, thumbs absently stroking his skin. “If you need anything,” he lowers his head, so close the tips of their noses are almost touch, “you know where to find me.”

After a bit of hesitance, Hassan kisses her one last time before finally letting her hands go and turning to leave. In the doorway, he turns to offer her a short wave and sad, lopsided smile before continuing towards the front door. Meanwhile, Y/n lingers at the sink, toying with her nails even as the front door clicks shut. Through the window, she watches Hassan cross the street and stroll up the front before disappearing into his house.

And just like that, she can hear the wheezing again, and the sound of it causes her to elicit a shuddered breath. Despite her talk with the sheriff, Y/n is still unnerved by what may come within the next few days, but for the first time she isn't entirely unsure of what comes next. For a while, she'd been wondering what would come after; her grandfather is the only thing tying her to the island, but the thought of going back to the city is unnerving. Maybe now she won't have to though, at least, not for a little while longer.

#sheriff hassan #rahul kohli #sheriff hassan x reader #midnight mass #sheriff hassan imagine #rahul kohli imagine #fanfiction

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