#hassan el shabbaz x reader

[tropes-and-tales]

unintentionally caressing each other with sheriff hassan? i’ve been dying for more of him 🥹

The very first touch between you and Hassan is a handshake.  When he arrives on Crockett Island, he meets many of the inhabitants.  He shakes a lot of hands.  He notes the tight smiles, the wary eyes.  The lone Muslim on a mostly white, mostly Catholic island.  There’s guardedness there.

When you shake his hand, you look him square in the eyes.  You grin at him, pump his hand.  You make a silly joke about crime in his new jurisdiction, but the atmosphere is so tense that Hassan cracks a smile.

You have that knack, he’ll come to find:  the ability to drain tension from a situation.  The talent to soothe, to give comfort.

-----

You’re a touchy person, Hassan notices.  You hug people, do this thing where you clasp their bicep, high up near the shoulder in greeting.  You’re the type of person to steady yourself on another person if you’re laughing, which is Hassan’s favorite:  he loves startling a laugh out of you, the way you brace yourself against him as you giggle.

You don’t seem to notice you do it.  It’s not intentional, he thinks.  

There’s a moment at a school board meeting when Bev tries to push an agenda of prayers in the morning class.  Hassan prickles at the woman’s prejudice because of course she doesn’t mean any prayers other than Christian ones.  

Back and forth the two of them argue, and Bev is so good at toeing the line of microaggressions.  She doesn’t quite come out and accuse him of terrorism, but she nudges against it.  Hassan feels his blood go hot with anger, but you’re the one who gently interjects that Crockett Island’s school is a public one.  You’re the one that gently points out to Bev that prayer is prohibited, but a moment of silent reflection would be fine.

You’re the one who lays a soft hand on Hassan’s wrist as you speak.  You’re seated beside him, crammed into a tiny school desk, and you reach out to touch him.  You give him a gentle squeeze as if to say, “I’m here.  I’m on your side.”

The warm touch of your fingers encircling his wrist…he swears he can feel his blood pressure ticking back down.  Once the issue is settled and the meeting moves onto the topic of roof repairs to the building, you don’t remove your hand, and Hassan’s pulse thuds slow and steady as you hold him.

She doesn’t even realize she’s touching me, he thinks but he refuses to shift.  He refuses to draw attention to it.  

Hassan can admit it to himself:  he likes the feeling of your hand on him.

-----

He never proactively touches you.  He’ll hug you back, a stiff arm around your shoulders, but he doesn’t initiate.  He’s not a touchy person like you, and what if he’s wrongly interpreting your touch as more than just friendly?

He’s happy with what he gets.  A friendly hug from you can nourish him for an entire week of his usual lonely nights.

-----

You usually stop by the general store on Tuesday afternoons, and you usually stop by his office in the back of the building.  You usually stand in his doorway and shoot the breeze with him, and it makes him feel almost like a native Islander—Crockett Island inhabitants are famous for their ability to stand in doorways (or sit on porches or stand on the sandy pathways) and bullshit with each other.

This Tuesday?  He sees you enter the store, and the glimpse he catches makes him sit forward in his seat. You look…off.  Tired?  A little drawn and wan.  Your bright eyes are missing their usual cheerful gleam.

He’s out of his seat and leaving his office when you crumple and fall.  

He gets to you first.  Karen, the owner of the store, reaches you second, and Hassan is already cupping your face, peering down at you as you slowly wake up.

“Wha—” you start to say, but Karen leans over, tells you that you passed out.

Hassan’s heart is in his throat, but this is well-trod ground for the people of Crockett Island.  Karen knows what the score is—you have a blood sugar issue, and it’s paired with the fact that you often skip lunch.  You’ve been getting dizzy since adolescence, passing out enough that people know what to do.  Erin mentioned it once in passing, and Hassan had filed the fact away but never witnessed it until now.  The older woman chides you gently, asks Hassan to stay with you, then goes to get Doc Gunning.

“Sorry,” you mumble from the floor. 

“Don’t apologize.”  He has one hand still cupping your face, and the other grips your hand.  “Do you want to try to sit up?”

You nod.  He gets an arm under your shoulders and helps you sit up.  You scoot back a little until you’re leaning against the counter and Hassan kneels beside you.

It’s strange that you won’t quite meet his eye now.  You scrub a hand over your face and stare down at your lap. 

“You okay?” he asks.  He squeezes your hand and he’s pleased when you squeeze him back with some strength.

“Embarrassed.”

“Why?”

You glance at him, offer a rueful smile.  “Well, now you won’t think I’m cool.”

Hassan laughs.  He eases his arm out from behind your shoulders, and he reaches out and brushes a bit of hair back from your face before his palm returns to cup your face.  He isn’t aware he’s doing it; it’s second-nature, unintentional.  

“Oh, I never thought you were cool,” he teases.  He draws his thumb over your cheekbone, feels the flush his touch raises. 

“Liar,” you reply, but your smile is more you now, less sheepish.    

He could ask why you care what he thinks, but he doesn’t.  He thinks he might know.  He thinks that maybe his nights needn’t be lonely forever.

Hassan shifts until he’s sitting beside you, and he eases his arm back over your shoulders.  He draws you against him, braces you against him.  He bends his head close to your ear and chides you gently as Karen had:  admonishes you to take care of yourself, to be more mindful of how you’re feeling.  He sees you nodding, hears you promise that you will.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, and he holds you tight until the doctor arrives. 

#ask game #sheriff hassan #sheriff hassan el shabbaz x reader #hassan el shabbaz #sheriff hassan x reader #sheriff hassan imagine #sheriff hassan el shabbaz imagine #midnight mass #tropes and tales

[littleredwritingcat]

“O my Jesus, forgive us our sins, save us from the fire of hell, lead all souls to heaven, especially those who are in most need of Thy mercy. O my Jesus, forgive us our sins, save us…”

Father Paul is rocking back and forth, holding one of your hands with both of his own. He keeps repeating the prayer while Sarah tries everything she can to bring you back for the second time in an hour.

It doesn’t seem like an overdose. It doesn’t seem like an aneurysm or – or a heart attack. In fact, your heart is working at an incredible pace. And you’re burning up. And you’re bleeding. The nose is gushing a steady stream and blood is starting to trickle through the closed eyelids combined with tears and it’s coming out from your fingernails, covering the priest’s hands in thin rivulets.

Sarah has never seen this before.

And we're back!

Again!

To those of you who have held on this long - thank you. I know this fic has been slow to update, but I hope I'm crafting something that's high quality. I adore you, and you deserve that.

So, you know what this is all building to. Maybe not "how" just yet - but the inevitable is coming. *Of course* I mean a big fat confrontation between Sheriff Hassan and Monsignor "Liar Liar Pants On Fire"

This is where it all starts to get real, my loves. Hang on to your rosaries! From here on out, there's a dearth of sunshine and pop tarts till story's end.

Also, it should be noted that I have absolutely no medical training and your suspension of disbelief is going to have to kick in.

I'm a doctor but I'm not *that* kind of doctor.

Tagging some mutes and supporters new and old this time.

*mwah*

@everythingbutresolved @agirlinherhead @honey-tree-evil-eye @thenookienostradamus @prettyblondguys @girlwiththenegantattoo @midwestmisfit @rothko-mirror @jyngerpeach @chronic-ghost @yepthatsacowalright @lovepollution @ebiemidnightlibrarian @choosekindly @madsmilfelsen @purplelupins @daughterofaries @turbulent-protagonist @perpetual-fangirl900 @happyvintagegirl40 @vintageglassheart02 @p-e-r-s-e-p-h-o-n-e @labyrinthphanlivingafacade @

#midnight mass #hamfam #father paul hill #monsignor john pruitt #midnight mass fic #father paul x reader #hassan el shabbaz #sheriff hassan #sarah gunning #trigger warning for blood #things are fine until they're not #midnight mass fandom #thirst trap fic

[royalsunshinehotel]

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

[nocturnal-milk-dud]

IT'S SPOOKY SEASON AND I COULD NOT BE MORE EXCITED FOR YOUR SPOOKY COME BACK

can I please request Hassan and 30 Days of Night? I wanna smash two of my faves together 🖤

I finally finished something!!! Yay! Also you were insane for this...but I should've seen it coming

My Hands Won't Keep You Safe

Pairing: Sheriff Hassan el-Shabbaz x Reader

Warnings/notes: blood; violence; I was overwhelmed by all the directions I could've gone with this but I ultimately wanted "soft"; it's actually pretty tame but I LOVE IT

Rating: PG-13

Word count: 1368

Your hand rests in Hassan’s and you try not to think about how you can feel his blood moving under his skin. Or how you can hear every heartbeat in the room.

“What are we going to do?” you had asked.

“Whatever you want to do,” he’d replied.

The others all wanted you dead, still do probably, but you had been the only one to hear the scream, the only one to run out into the night and bring her back alive.

They’d pulled the girl away from you and tried to bring an ax down on your neck. Would have if Hassan hadn’t put himself in the way.

A wave of nausea passes over you and you rest your head against the bars. Your skin is clammy from a sickly, burning heat, the epicenter the cut on your neck. You pass your tongue over your teeth, feeling the unnatural sharpness of them. The keen tangy smell of sweat hits the back of your throat but there's something else, something richer and sweeter coming to the surface. You look over to where Hassan is sleeping uncomfortably just on the other side of the bars and all you see is fire. He's bright and warm and for a moment you think the sun has come several days early. You want to reach out to him. You want to sink your teeth into him and taste the sun. You clench your eyes shut and cover your face.

“Are you hungry?” You look up at the sound of a gentle voice. The small girl with blood crusted in her hair is standing on the other side of the bars, holding a granola bar in her hands. You give her a smile that’s more like a wince, and shake your head, even though you’re starving. She tugs awkwardly at the sleeve of her jacket and the action catches your eye. So does the small trickle of blood working its way down the back of her hand.

“Are you okay?” you ask, but you already know the answer. It comes to you through your nose. Something smells off, you don’t know any other way to describe it. The girl doesn’t answer, doesn’t get the chance to.

“Get away from there.” It’s Roberta, an older woman who always spared you a kind smile, which makes the scowl she gives you that much more painful. Roberta takes the girl by the arm, guiding her away from the cell door. You watch Cliff–the man who came at you with the ax–take their place, his brow furrowing, nostrils flaring, knuckles white around his weapon.

“I’ve had enough of this,” Cliff says. “Those things are tearing this town to pieces and we’re supposed to sit here and wait for this one to turn? No. No, I’m not gonna do it.” Hassan slowly pushes himself to his feet, towering over the agitated man.

“What are you doing, Cliff?” he asks, his tone almost conversational.

“C’mon, Sheriff, look at them!” Cliff says, as if that’s all the argument he needs–and maybe it is. “They're a ticking time bomb! For Christ’s sake–they already look just like those things!” You turn away at the feeling of eyes on you.

“I’m not interested in unnecessary bloodshed here,” Hassan simply states.

“Unnecessary?” Cliff scoffs. “Way I see it, we’re just getting ahead of things, and you’re afraid to admit I’m right.” A tighter, more threatening circle had formed around Hassan as Cliff spoke and Hassan eyes each haggard, hungry survivor carefully.

“They aren't hurting anybody, and that girl is alive because of them, or have you all forgotten?” There’s a pause as the entire room seems to let go of the breath it’s holding. You hear a sound like the scuttling of rats.

Cliff opens his mouth to speak, but you shush him, hearing something land on the roof of the building next door. Hassan crouches down, his face close to the bars.

“What is it?’ he whispers.

“They’re surrounding us,” you reply, your voice just as quiet. Hassan turns to talk to the others, his hand outstretched in a calming gesture, but before he can get a word out, Cliff strikes him in the side of the head with the ax handle. Hassan’s head bounces brutally off the metal bars and he collapses limply to the floor. You cry out before you can think better of it, and reach out to him. Cliff brings the ax down and you recoil before he can strike your arm.

“Let’s get out of here,” he says to the others, and when some hesitate: “what? You wanna stay with someone who’s gonna gamble with your safety? Who’s gonna risk your lives for one of them?” He gestures to you with the butt of his ax. “Get going, we’ll make for the general store like we planned.” You try to catch the attention of those with doubt in their eyes, those who know you, who care for Hassan, who don’t want blood on their hands. You try to tell them it’s not safe, but none listen. They all leave, one by one, wind and snow blustering in behind them. Cliff hangs behind, and you watch as he searches Hassan’s pockets and belt. He comes up with the cell keys and dangles them triumphantly before you. Without taking his eyes off you, he pockets them and leaves, not bothering to close the door.

The scent of blood is overwhelming.

“Hassan?” You lay down on your stomach and reach through the bars, giving Hassan’s body a soft shake. Your hand moves to his face, turning his head towards you. A patch of blood stains the right side of his head and face, but his heart is still beating.

Soft growls make you stop breathing, and your eyes rest on the back door Cliff left open. Snow scatters across the floor, the wind wailing like a ghost. Another threat you can do absolutely nothing about. Cliff means to make you watch Hassan die–one way or another. Your stomach sits in a tight knot and you want to throw yourself against the cell door.

You carefully drag Hassan as close to the bars as you can, his arm resting in your lap, the skin of his wrist exposed. Those creatures will not have him. The cold will not have him.

Screams shatter the night, followed by the animalistic shrieks of the creatures. Something bolts past the open door and your body tenses. Hassan still hasn’t woken, and you glance at his slack face. When your eyes return to the door a figure waits there. It stands motionless, shrouded in the thick darkness. Your grip on Hassan tightens. You run your tongue over your lips.

You bring Hassan’s wrist to your mouth, but you’re suddenly not sure if you can do it.

The figure passes over the threshold, ushered in by the wind.

"Forgive me," you whisper.

The figure moves soundlessly, taking their time. Your teeth brush at his soft skin.

You can’t break it. Your mouth is frozen, your eyes open in a wide, desperate panic, your breathing frantic. You can’t do it. You have to do it.

A hand reaches through the bars. A small hand, holding a set of keys. You let go of Hassan. You can make out the little girl in the lamplight now. Her eyes are like yours. Her mouth is bloody. You glance at Hassan, worried she’ll turn her hungry attention to him, but she doesn’t seem interested. She just shakes the keys at you, and they jingle sharply.

You let yourself out quickly and go to Hassan, taking him in your arms. His eyes open slowly, as if they’d rather stay closed.

“I have to get him somewhere safe,” you say to the girl. “I have to–” you look down at the wet, warm spot of blood on your hand, the sunlight coming from Hassan’s head wound, and your mind empties, your mouth waters, your stomach aches, your whole body seems to wake up and reach for it. You clamp down on your tongue with your needle teeth and smear the blood on your pants.

“I have to get him somewhere safe,” you repeat, hauling the semi-conscious Hassan to his feet.

#spooky season #spooky season fic #30 days of night #midnight mass #sheriff hassan #rahul kohli #acrossthesestars

[ao3feed-midnightmass]

Late Morning

by royalsunshinehotel You had met Hassan el-Shabbaz some months before, when he had to ‘bring you in’ for decorating the side of your house with a mural. Bev Keane insisted it would “lower property value”, and it was “nothing more than graffiti”, and you had the sneaking suspicion that the sheriff only put you in his car so he could drive the two of you away from Crockett’s most popular resident. Words: 2618, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English Fandoms: Midnight Mass (TV) Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Categories: F/M Characters: Sheriff Hassan (Midnight Mass) Relationships: Hassan x Reader April 10, 2024 at 09:10PM Read it on Ao3 » https://archiveofourown.org/works/55118008 ✞ 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

[grampstaxidermy87]

Behind locked doors

Requester: @badasseddy

Request: Hello there! I saw you taking requests and I neeeeeeed some more Sheriff Hassan in my life.can you write something with a fem!reader, when she's being harassed regularly (house broken into, stolen items and stuff, weird messages left) and nobody believes her. Hassan doesn't even know about this before overhearing the reader confront someone suspicious. So he tries to help the reader, maybe the sheriff spends a night at the reader's place to look out or something. It can be a little bit smutty, kinda angsty, and I would die to have Hassan in action, cathing the bad guy, saving the day.Thank you very much, I hope this gives you an idea.

An: Hello love sorry this took so long but thank you for the request! I agree there's not enough love for this hunk of a man! Hassan is legit my favorite character and I am in love with Rahul.Anyways I hope you enjoy darlin!

Warning:18+,slightSmut, swearing,stalking, break-ins, death, blood,stabbing.

It was funny really.

How the very second you show signs that your life isn’t perfect...that you’re different...everyone turns their backs on you. Just when you need them most, they look at you like you’re the devil coming to corrupt their ‘pure’ souls.

How fucking hypocritical.

Letting out an irritated sigh I tossed the broken lock into the metal can by my front gate, putting the lid back on I tugged my sweater closer when I felt another chill from the wind. The night was cold and windy as the island prepared for a small storm that would be passing by later tonight.

Normally I enjoyed a night of listening to the rain, sitting on my covered porch with a good book and coffee and just listen to it fall. It was soothing to me…but now I dreaded the thought of being alone at night for longer than a minute or two.

“Well, Howdy neighbor!” I jumped at the sudden intrusion to my thoughts, whipping around to see a dreadfully familiar face.

“G-Good evening, Wilbur.” I greeted back to the towering figure who leaned against the fence that separated us. Something I was grateful for.

Wilbur Murphy was my next-door neighbor, having moved into the old Mulberry’s house a month ago after they moved back to mainland to be closer to their daughter who just gave birth to their first grandchild.

I had been close to the elderly couple, being the last two houses on the street, so it saddened me to see them go. I had hoped to have the same neighborly relationship with the person who moved into their home, expecting them to be just as lovely as the Mulberry’s.

Instead what I got was a man who gave me the chills just by thinking about him, I knew it was wrong of me to start accusing the man of things without hard evidence.

But the signs all pointed to him! Ever since Wilbur moved in next door, I had received creepy letters phrased like a husband writing love notes to his wife, not to mention the few times I had even caught him snooping around my garbage when he thought I wasn’t home.

So when I began to see signs that someone was breaking into my home at night and messing with things why wouldn’t I assume it was him, but the worst part of it all was that no matter who I told everyone looked at me the same way.

Like I was crazy..

“That’s the fifth lock this week and it isn’t even Thursday! Those kids still messing with you?” The ‘friendly’ man inquired with a sickeningly sweet smile, and it took everything in me to hold down the bile that rose in my throat.

A small uncomfortable smile graced my lips as I forced out a laugh, "Ah Yea, you know those kids love their little pranks.” He grinned wider and nodded, "You know I could come keep you company tonight, make sure they don’t mess with you again tonight. It really isn’t good for a young woman like you to be all by herself in a big house like that.”

My stomach twisted at his offer, but before I even got the chance to turn him down, I heard the familiar click of my gate moving. “Evening Mr. Murphy. (Y/n).” Relief flooded my heart as I looked over to see the sheriff leaning against the old metal. His eyes were suspicious as they eyed the Creepy man but when they fell onto me, they turned soft and tender.

It was hard to ignore how much it affected me, leaving a pleasantly tingly feeling throughout my body and I knew there was probably a blush rising on my face.

There were only three people on the entire Island who knew of my crush on the island sheriff, My best friends Sarah and Erin…. And the sheriff's own son, Ali.

How the teen figured it out still puzzled me to this day, He had told me that he knew during one of our weekly piano sessions. The kid was smart, I’d give him that.

“Sheriff, what can I do for you?” Wilbur asked with barely hidden spite in his voice, clearly annoyed by the interruption.

Hassan saw right through it though, keeping a calm and easy facade but I could see the small quirk of amusement on the corner of his lip that drove me wild.

“Just doing my nightly rounds before the storm hits, Miss (L/n) here asked me earlier to help her prep.” He shot me a wink when he saw the confusion on my face, understanding donned on me and I quickly schooled my expression before Wilbur looked back at me.

“Oh, there’s no need to both such a busy man. Don’t worry about it sheriff, I can help (Y/n).” He just wouldn’t take the hint would he.

Hassan was unphazed however, shaking his head and waving the man off. “It's fine Mr. Murphy, she’s my last stop anyways. Plus, what kind of man would I be if I went back on my promises.”

Wilbur was getting frustrated, that much was certain as he realized Hassan would not be deterred no matter how hard he tried.

“I see...I suppose you’re right. Well, if you find yourself needing more capable assistance (Y/n),you know where to find me.” He spit giving Hassan a dirty look before turning and storming off back into his house.

It suddenly was easier to breath as I placed a hand on my chest, Looking over gratefully to my handsome hero I saw him closing the gate and walking over to my side.

“Is he always that...pleasant?” Hassan asked with a quirk of his split brow. Oh, how I’d love to kiss it...

“Sadly…that isn’t even the worst of it. Usually he’s much more persistent.” Concern filled those entrancing dark eyes of his as his brows furrowed together.

“I want an explanation. Now!” I looked down in shame at his scolding gaze.

Taking a deep breath, I braced myself before telling him everything, the broken locks, the missing items, the notes…everything.

“Why the hell didn’t you tell me this (Y/n)?! (Y/n) the badge isn’t just for show, and even without it I am still your friend.” His expression was one of hurt, it was hard to look into his eyes...

“You should be able to tell me shit like this! Do you know how much I care about you?! I don’t know what I’d do with myself if something happened to you and I could have prevented it!” My eyes were wide when he finished, his breathing heavy as his worry crashed into my heart in waves. I hadn’t expected him to care so much..

“Hassan...” he took a deep breath and pinched the bridge of his nose, "I’m sorry..It’s just..You were the first one to welcome Ali and me onto Crockett with open arms and not a hint of prejudice, (Y/n) you have been there for me through every bad day. Hell, you even protected my son against Beverly when she was being her usual racist ass self! Yea he told me all about that, which thank you...”

A heavy blush was visible on my face at his praise, I had told Ali not to tell his father because I didn’t want him to possibly get in a fight with the devilish woman and risk getting in trouble.

“P-Please don’t thank me, Ali is a sweet kid and didn’t deserve the shit she spewed out of that unholy mouth of hers.” I gulped looking anywhere but him so I didn’t have to risk becoming more of a flustered mess.

“What I’m getting at is that Ali loves you (Y/n)…and he’s not the only one.” The last part was spoken as a whisper. His deep voice going so soft that I had almost missed it.

Almost.

My heart was soaring, I was on cloud 9, The very man who has plagued my every thought since he moved onto this horrible island just admitted that he loved me.

Say something (Y/n)! Anything!

Floundering like a fish trying to come up with some totally intelligent way to voice my own feelings I watched as misunderstanding flooded those dark eyes of his.

“You don’t have to return my feelings, I’m sorry for just tossing this on you.” He began to rethink everything and close in on himself but right as he went to back away, I collected myself. Quicker than he could react I grabbed the collar of his Jean jacket and pulled him closer.

Crashing our lips together he wasted no time in sliding his arm around my waist and tangling a strong hand in my hair, his mustache tickled my nose from how hard we were pressed together. I could care less, I have waited for this moment for too long to let anything stand in my way now that I knew he felt the same.

We pulled away for air, the taller man leaning his forehead against mine as an awed expression covered his face, his eyes shut in pure bliss. “Better than I thought it would be...” I giggled softly at his mumbled words.

“I’ve wanted to do that since the moment I met you.” His eyes opened and a dopey grin pulled at his lips, "Looks like I have a lot of lost time to make up for then, Huh?” Matching his excitement, I gasped as he lifted me up, my legs wrapping around his waist while holding onto his shoulders.

Our laughter filled the air as he carried me inside…stuck in our own little world we missed the curtains ripping shut next door.

—————

Hassan winced as he shoulder-checked the doorway, but he didn’t dare to drop me as he kicked the door closed and set me down on the kitchen counter.

Standing between my legs he focused solely on my lips that were meshed against his as his hands squeezed my hips making me gasp into his mouth, with my lips parting it gave him the perfect opportunity to slip his tongue in to taste me.

"Fuck, you're intoxicating..." He groaned when he pulled away and moved down to my bare neck, kissing and nibling at my sensitive skin.

"H-Hassan, please...touch me..." His breath hitched in his throat at my whine, feeling his pants tighten as I begged for him to relieve the pressure twisting away in my gut.

"Don't worry baby, When I'm done with you, you're gonna be screaming my name." He said with that devilish smirk that drove me crazy. His hands sunk down to push my skirt up until it pooled on my hips.His mustache tickled as he kissed the tender flesh of my neck,all while I watched his every move with eager anticipation. A shiver rolled up my spine when the cold air hit my clothed privates. "Look at you, already so wet for me...shit baby..."

He pulled away slightly and licked his lips as he lightly grazed his thumb over the growing wet patch on my silk panties, "Don't tease!" I whimpered shifting on the counter in an attempt to press harder on his hand.

Amused by my pitiful effort he pulled his hand away,smirking when I whined at the loss of contact. “As much as I want to fuck you into the counter right now,let me make sure everything is safe first.” The look on my face was simply comical as he stepped away. “You’re a jerk!” I huffed feeling unsatisfied as I fixed my skirt and slipped off the counter.

His chuckle filled my ears as I pushed past him,only to gasp when a strong grasp caught my waist and pulled me into a warm body. His breath tickled my ear as he leaned into me,his hands gripping the meat of my hips to the point where I knew I’d have bruises by morning…good.

“You love it,besides I plan on making sure you can’t walk tomorrow.” A whimper built in my throat by the promise in his words,”But I have a piano lesson with-“ my voice quit on me when I felt his hot tongue on the shell of my ear,making my knees grow weak. Luckily his grip on my was the only thing keeping me stable.

“I think his father will understand,though that just means you’ll have to make it up to me..and I’ve already got plenty of ideas.” His husky tone vibrated in my mind,leaving me with nothing but the thought of him and what he was going to do to me.

“Hassan..” turning my face towards his I stared at his lips as he did the same to mine. Sharing our breath..I didn’t know who made the first move but I was thankful as we hungrily devoured each other,he turned my body and hugged me close as his hands knotted in my hair.

I pulled away enough to kiss along his jaw as I fought with the buttons of his work shirt,”Hah..baby you’re so fucking-“ a sudden thump from the second floor caused us to both freeze.

His grip tightened as he stared at the ceiling,whispering lowly to me when he noticed my hands shaking. “I’m guessing you don’t have a cat?” He clenched his jaw when he saw me shake my head out of the corner of his eye.

“Grab a knife and hide,wait for me to come get you.” Before I could argue he pulled away and began making his way to the hall that led to my stairway.

Reluctant to leave him alone I pulled a knife from the block on the counter and quickly followed him.

He sighed when he saw me,shaking his head he knew it was a long shot to get me to stay behind. “Stay behind me and don’t leave my sight.” He whispered and I nodded in understanding.

He took my hand and kept me close as he quietly trekked up the steep staircase,when we made it to the second floor I tensed when I saw that at the end of the hall the window had been opened and the picture frame on the wall next to it had fallen to the floor.

“Stay here,they might still be in the house.” I nodded and held the knife in both hands in front of me as I watched him slowly approach the window,stopping only to grab an empty vase from a drawer.

He glanced through the window to check for any signs of possible intruders before he turned towards me to say something…only for a loud thump to stop him. His head snapped to the door next to him that I knew led to my guest room, he glanced at me for a second to motion for me to be quiet as he shifted the vase in his grasp before slowly grasping and turning the handle.

I inched closer as he pushed the door open, looking around the dark room before letting out a sigh,”Nothi-“ I screamed when a blur tackled him to the ground,The vase shattered beside his head from the sheer force of his fall.

“Hassan!” I screamed when I realized he had been knocked out before looking towards his attacker with fear.

I should have known…

“Hello neighbor.” Wilbur Murphy leered at me with a terrifying grin.

“This whole time..it was you..” He chuckled darkly,finding the tremble in my voice adorable. He easily lifted himself off of Hassan before slowly approaching me.

“I’m surprised you hadn’t realized sooner darling,all those gifts and love notes. But it’s alright,I’m just glad I don’t have to sneak around and hide my love for you anymore!” Tears filled my eyes as I began backing away,holding the knife higher with trembling hands.

“S-Stay away from me!” His smile fell a bit,”Now darling I know you’re scared,But think of it this way:I know everything about you. You’re deepest darkest secrets all the way to the most intimate parts of you,I know you better than you know yourself!” He laughed holding his arms out as if expecting me to run into them.

I’d rather die.

“You’re a monster…you made me think I was going crazy…everyone thought I was crazy..” he had the audacity to not even look ashamed,in fact he looked proud of himself.

“Amazing isn’t it,all I had to do was flash a smile at those whores and they were ready to believe whatever I told them.” He hummed dropping his hands and giving me a once-over as he grew closer.

“You always were different,never one to fall for my flirty quips and smiles..it’s what attracted me first.That..Independence that I wanted to ruin..to make you reliant on me and only me was my biggest wish.” I froze when I felt the edge of the steps on my heel,I was trapped.

And he knew it.

“Don’t fight me (Y/n)…come with me and I will worship you,as you deserve.” He stopped once the tip of the knife pressed against his chest,not pressing hard enough to slice the skin but enough to show he wasn’t afraid of it.

I flinched when his hand came up to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear,”I’ll kill him if you say no.” It made me sick to my stomach,how he could say such a horrible thing with that charming smile.

“I won’t let you hurt him.” His smile turn to a stoic expression,his eyes showing just how deadly he was.

“You don’t have a cho-“ motion behind him caught my attention,tossing the knife behind me I quickly threw myself at the wall and out of the way.

Wilbur yelled out in shock as a strong force body slammed him from behind,causing him to fall face first down the steps.

“Hassan!” I yelled grabbing the back of his shirt and yanking him back before he could fall to,we both tumbled back just as Wilbur reached the bottom with a loud thud.

“Shit…Are you okay?” He shifted onto his side to look me over for any signs of injury.

Shaking my head I let out a haggard breath,”No…All this time and he was right next door..” he frowned and sat up,carefully lifting me into his arms and hugging me close. “It’s over..He can’t hurt you now.” Tears cascaded down my cheeks as I wrapped my arms around his neck and buried my face into his neck,He comfortingly rubbed my back,cooing loving words into my ear as he looked down the staircase.

Wilbur Murphy laid unmoving at the bottom,his limbs twisted in disgusting ways a the kitchen knife was buried deep in his back.

Hassan would make sure no one ever hurt the ones he loved ever again.

#hassan el shabbaz x reader #sheriff hassan x reader #midnight mass x reader #midnight mass #sheriff hassan #rahul kohli

[imaginesandideas]

if we’re being filthy… hassan likes c*ckwarming change my mind

why would I tho....... 👀

pick up the phone

NSFW (+18) under the cut !!!

„Yes, yes, of c-ourse.” He’s trying so hard not to groan right now. This call is taking way too long. So long, it’d be enough to bore someone else to death, but he’s going through something so much worse…

That old couple from a few houses away is doing their weekly shopping in the general store just behind the wall, and Hassan’s on the phone with some captain from the mainland who was supposed to bring some important supplies, but you couldn’t care less.

Your ass is basically dancing on his lap at this point, his cock slipping in and out ever so slightly with each roll of your hips.

And honestly, it requires a lot of patience and mental strength to watch you like this and not to grunt at least. In fact he already did it, twice, and covered it up with a cough or four.

Hassan’s always impressed with how skilled you are when you want something. Even more if he asked for it first.

And yet you’re so cruel for doing him like this. He only asked you to sit on him, to let him slide into you, just for a bit. And now his choking on his words like a schoolboy in the principal’s office.

Though he cannot help but let his free hand explore the treat sitting on him, as you’re gripping his weeping dick with your tight walls. His fingers expertly reveal your bare hip from underneath your knee-length skirt making it so much harder for him to focus.

He’s so hungry for you he kneads your flesh like he wants to bite it, mark it.

He has to bite back that moan but some of it still spills out and you turn your head to shoot him a glare.

„Sssh! You’re on the phone!” You whisper-yell and he mouths back an apologetic „I know!”, even though it’s all your fault. You and your pretty ass will get him in trouble one of these days but he knows it’ll be worth it.

#sheriff hassan x reader #sheriff hassan smut #hassan el shabbaz x reader #hassan el shabbaz smut #midnight mass smut #request #full fic #my fics #hassan el shabbaz #midnight mass imagine #im on my train to hell rn and i'm having a BLAST #(thanks y'all for keeping my brain occupied with this good good boy i love y'all ❤️) #(AND I LOVE UR BRAIN ANON)

[raggedy-dxctor]

dating Sheriff Hassan headcannons

feel like he's gonna be your biggest fan ever

he's so proud of you no matter what

big fan of hugs, like bear hugs and hugs where he picks you up and twirls you around

big fan of pda, holds you band everywhere and isn't scared to kiss you infront of anyone, his favourite thing about pda is bev's digust and shock

the type to wake you up with a cup of coffee every morning

always there for you, he's the perfect shoulder to cry on and you're always there for him, which he absolutely adores about you

take care of ali and help him in any way you can and this man will put a ring on your finger in no time

take the piss out of bev and annoy her and he'll be so in love with you for the rest of time

probably makes little photo books like scrap books of you both and gives it to you on your anniversary or birthday

big fan of pet names

literally could not care less what your religion or beliefs are, as long as you're respectful he'll love you until his last breath

bonus points if you're interested his takes on religion, beliefs, etc and let him teach you about it, the whole time he'll just be the embodiment of tue heart eyes emoji

flowers left right and centre, gives you a new bunch every month

so determined to help you achieve your dreams and goals

lowkey dates like cuddling on the sofa as you watch movies or walking around the island

#midnight mass #sheriff hassan #sheriff hassan x reader #hassan el shabbaz #hassan el shabbaz x reader #rahul kohli

[space-helen]

Saved

Words: 1683

Pairing: Sheriff Hassan x reader

A/N: Spoilers ahead (ofc) I really liked writing this one

Request:  I finished midnight mass the day it came out and this has been going through my head since. Sheriff Hassan x reader where she hasn't been going to mass either and she's with the group at the end and helps save him? Maybe they get away? - Anon

______________________

You splashed the gas over the back of the building knowing Erin was inside and the Sheriff was out the front. 

Dropping the can to the floor you took a couple of steps back and waited as instructed. 

What you didn’t expect to hear was a large bang, a gunshot. Eyes wide you stood and listened, you could hear the murmur of voices.

You knew if you moved in the direction of the voices you’d be dead. Frozen in time you felt your chest heaving, the nights events finally catching up with you.

Eventually snapping out of it, not knowing how much time had passed you reached for your pocket and tried to pull out the lighter, the building should have caught fire by now. 

Hoping no one was inside you opened the lighter and hesitated. Moving your thumb ready to strike the flame a sudden heat and roar of fire had you taking a step back. Was it done?

The original plan was to light it from the back and subtly get away together but the others weren’t around. Something must have gone wrong. 

Not caring about what would happen to you your legs were soon carrying you around the side of the building. The air was thick and tasted like fumes, your eyes went wide as you looked up to see Ali coming towards you supporting his father’s weight.

You continued towards them but stopped a short distance away, not sure of Ali’s motives. “Are you guys?” That’s when you noticed how Hassan was clutching his side.

“Y/N.” Hassan breathed out, his eyes softened and he let out a sigh of relief as he saw you.

“He was shot.” his sons words fell out of this mouth. “I don’t want him to become one of us. He doesn’t deserve it.” Ali shook his head and you could see the regret and fear in his eyes.

You nodded and closed the gap, You looped your arm around Hassan to take Ali’s place. You knew the boy wasn’t going to hurt either of you.

 “I only have until sunrise.” the words were spoken fast, you looked towards the boy and could see the worry in his eyes.

“We know” you whispered. Hassan turned his head and locked his eyes with yours, you could see how full of sadness they were.

There was a silent discussion between the three of you to make the next decision. Propping Hassan up against a tree you took a look at the gunshot wound as Ali watched. 

The wound was red with blood but relatively clean and looked to be a through and through on a rather fleshy part, a lucky position to be shot. You weren’t an expert at first aid but you knew enough to know that he’d live as long as it was kept clean and pressure on it was maintained.

You pulled the backpack off your back and began to rummage through it. As a team you’d gathered any supplies you could find before the town went up in flames. It didn’t take you long to pull out the first aid supplies you’d need.

“This is going to hurt.” you warned the man.

“I can handle it.” his eyes sparkled as he gave you a weak smile.

Taking a damp piece of gauze you began to dab the wound gently and the man let out a yelp. Ali was at his side in seconds and offered his hand to his father. The love between the two of them overwhelming and you felt tears well in your eyes at what was soon to happen.

You made quick work of cleaning and wrapping up the wound tightly before helping the man stand back up and supporting his weight again so you could make a move on. 

Looking up at the sky you could see it changing colour, a warning of the sunrise about to come.

The three of you had soon made it to the beach. Hassan practically flopped into the sand. The three of you sat side by side for a second just in the presence of each other you breathed in the sea air and watched the familiar waves before you.

Seeing the sky change colour even more you began to stand “I’ll give the two of you some space.”

A pressure on your wrist had you stopping. “You can stay.”

Hassan’s eyes were filled with sadness and pleading, you could almost sense that he wanted someone there with him after what was to come. You looked towards his son to make sure he was ok with it as well, the boy’s nod had you taking your seat in coarse the sand again.

There was another silent exchange of words beside you between the two men. You stared at the sunset and could see movement beside you out of the corner of your eye.

Turning your head the sight beside you had the tears welling up in your eyes, they were praying. Looking forward to the sun again you let the tears fall and you wiped them away with the back of your hand.

You’d become close to the sheriff over the past couple of months since you’d been here and you knew just how much he loved his son. Ali was his everything. You hadn’t got to know his son as well but you felt the sadness of losing him. 

Once the tears started they wouldn’t stop. The little island you’d originally hated had grown on you and had become something you loved. Everything was in ruins. You thought about what everything could have been if Mass hadn’t happened tonight. You thought about all of your friends who were dead or soon to be. 

More movement slightly further down the beach had you turning towards it. Focussing your eyes you could see Beverly watching Ali and Hassan praying for a second. You watched her actions and she was soon digging into the sand with her hands.

You could feel the sunrise coming. Taking one last look at Ali and Hassan you watched as the boy put his hand on his father. 

Hassan placed one of his hands on top of his sons and reached for your hand with the other one to create a chain between the three of you. Looking towards his son he let out a sob and you could see his body shaking with tears.

As the sun came up the boy burst into flames and was soon ash. The man let out a strangled cry before leaning forward into the ash of his son. Placing his hand in it he silently cried as he clung onto your hand. 

You don’t know how long the two of you were there. You’d ended up with your arms wrapped around the man as he cried into your shoulder and you consoled him.

He eventually pulled away when his sobs had subsided. “I’m sorry.”

“There’s no need to be.” 

“What now?” the two of you looked out onto the water.

“We get onto the second boat Warren said he’d leave us. It’s only small but with the two of us I think we’ll be ok.”

The man nodded “Do you think we’ll make it?”

“We have to try. We didn’t come this far to not make it. We can’t leave Warren and Leeza alone out there.”

“You’re right.” the man wiped at his face again. 

You gave the mans hand a reassuring squeeze and he gave you the weakest smile. He looked down at his son’s ashes for a second and began to make a hole in the ground. Moving to your knees you helped the man dig the hole. He gently pushed the remaining ashes into the hole and spoke some parting words and prayer as you both covered it over with sand.

Although, still obviously in pain Hassan had gathered more strength and was able to walk without your support, albeit slow, the two of you soon came across the last remaining boat.

“Have you ever been in a boat?” you asked as the two of you moved it to the shoreline

“Once or twice.” he admitted

You took off your backpack and placed it into the boat. Helping the injured man into it he went to sit down near the oars.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“Y/N please let me.”

“You’re injured and I’m relatively uninjured so I’m not letting you.”

The man had no strength to argue and moved away, you allowed him to take a seat and get comfy before gently pushing the boat until it hit slightly deeper water and clambering inside. 

You began to row and gradually moved the boat pretty far away from the land.

“Look” 

You stopped rowing and turned, the island was all lit up with orange flames as it burnt. Your eyes didn’t linger for long, and you soon turned back to Hassan.

“Do you think anyone will believe us?”

The man thought it over in his head “Probably not.”

You nodded “I have to admit I barely believed it when Erin told me. Even before she told me I searched for every explanation possible for all of the miracles. At least Leeza’s and Warren’s blood should help support us”

“It’s one twisted story.” the two of you were silent again.

The island was long gone from view and that’s when Hassan broke the silence again. 

“Thank you Y/N.”

“There’s no need.”

“Without you I would still be on that island, maybe even dead.”

Letting go of the oars you leant forward and placed a hand on Hassan’s arm, his eyes came up to yours and you gave him a sad smile. Allowing the water to carry the boat you reached towards the backpack and opened it up. Pulling out a bottle of water you handed it to the man. You were unsure if you should say what you wanted to but after what’d happened, you really had nothing to lose.

“Without you, I would have given up hope entirely so it looks like we saved each other.”

Tag List: (open)

Midnight Mass:

Sheriff Hassan:

#sheriff hassan x reader #hassan el-shabbaz x reader #hassan el shabbaz x reader #midnight mass x reader #midnight mass spoiler

[tatiana-petrovna]

bury me

fandon: midnight mass pairing: hassan el-shabazz x OFC reader warnings: nsft / smut / size difference kink / age difference kink (18+ OFC) summary: Graveyards aren’t really supposed to be a meetcute. But there he was, all 6’4” and crying silently into a bouquet of white roses. [completed] ***please don't interact if you're under 18 thank you***

Playlist

You’d been visiting your dad. You really hadn’t known him. Not really. You were born just before 9/11. He’d only held you for two weeks before the towers fell.

Still, you came here to talk to the man often enough that you felt close to him. The idea that graveyards were meant to be creepy had always confused you. The same warmth some kids felt when they remembered their dad teaching them to ride a bike, you felt here.

Crossing the grass, you wander over to him. Offer up some tissues from your purse.

His voice is wet with tears as he thanks you. He tells you about his wife and pulls you in for a hug when you tell him your dad’s badge number. Turns out, they would’ve served in the same precinct if the timing had been right. Ironic, how the thing that ended your father’s career is what kick started his.

He tells you his son is with his aunt for the weekend, happily letting his brain fry over a PS4 console. You laugh and invite him over for coffee.

The sky is dark by the time you reach your loft. Wind blustering up in angry gusts against your windows. The Nor’easter every weather forecaster has been excited about for the last three days is finally delivering on its promise.

You’re careful with the coffee grounds as you measure out a little more than necessary. Your mother always taught you to make coffee strong.

After hanging up his coat and setting his boots by the door, Hassan wanders into the kitchen. His hand nearly covers the breadth of your slender back as he brushes it down your spine. Just for a moment. Almost gentlemanly. Almost hungry for more.

Your big brown eyes flicker to his as he leans back against your counter, facing you. Outside the rain starts to fall in heavy sheets. You know it would make more sense to just flip the lights on. Instead, you decide to light a few candles.

Once you push start, the scent of coffee grounds mingles with the toasted vanilla of your candles and the whole apartment starts to smell like a café.

Wordlessly, you close the space between you both. With your boots by the door, he towers over your short frame. Not at all threatening. More like an old oak tree cradling you protectively in its shadow.

You brush one small hand over the worn down flannel covering his ribs as if he’s yours to touch. With your heart pounding so loud in your chest, you think he must be able to hear it too.

Fitting his hands to the curve of your lower back, Hassan tugs you flush against his warm body. His breath tickles as his nose skims across your forehead. Then buries into your mass of curls.

His lungs expand around a deep breath as he drinks in the notes of your perfume. Chestnut and cinnamon and burning wood.

“Hmm,” He muses, relaxing back against the counter. “You smell even better than the candles.”

A smile tugs at your mouth, your head already dizzy. As you lean up on your toes and curl your fingers into the open collar of his flannel, you feel his grip fist around your sweater. The kiss is soft at first. Then hungry. Wanting.

The apartment is tiny and he shuffles you backwards easily until your legs hit the mattress and you’re both laying diagonally across the blankets.

Carefully, your legs curl around his hips. Fingers lose themselves in his thick hair. You gotta admit, something about the grey streaks you find there make your stomach tighten with excitement. Knowing he’s so much older than you, being able to feel how patient and experienced he is in every kiss. All of it makes you ache, right down to the marrow in your bones.

Neither of you in much of a rush, you take your time. Savor the feeling of each other’s bodies so close. The weight of him on top of you. The heat that’s only growing. Every little brush of friction and massaging caress of your tongues.

Slowly, you undo the buttons of his flannel and help get the material untucked from his jeans. Your hands drag up his chest, squeezing his shoulders before feeling over them, pushing the flannel away in the process.

Distracted by your hands, Hassan nuzzles along the sensitive skin of your neck. Burrows his face in the pocket of heat between your skin and the thick curls that blanket it. The way his mouth latches against your neck, sucking gently, leaving a trail of light marks, draws a gasp from your lungs. Makes your hips tilt and your spine arch in pleasure.

“Ohhh… mmhmm…” Nodding your encouragement, you squirm under him. Shifting enough to help him get your body free of the turtleneck sweater and tartan miniskirt you’d been wearing.

To do so, he must untangle your legs from around his middle. But he doesn’t mind, because it gives him the pleasure of looking you over. Soaking in every perfect inch of you.

“You’re so fucking beautiful it hurts…” The words come mumbled against your lips, because he can’t really stay away from you for that long.

His jeans come next and you can’t help yourself from retaliating after all his teasing. Though only in part for revenge. Curiosity is ravaging your mind. And it does not go unrewarded.

Caressing over the bulge in his boxer briefs, you feel a moan of surprise slip out of your throat. God, he’s so thick. You didn’t even know a man could be made so thick. You know you’ve never felt anything like that… but now you really want to. Need to.

Fingers brushing down his muscular chest, you push gently at his briefs. Take him in your hand. And the sounds he makes as you touch him. The way he trembles as if he’d forgotten what it was to be held.

His big brown eyes find yours in the semi dark of your room, one forearm resting on the bed as you start to guide him. The vulnerable hitches of his breath match the softness in his eyes as his knuckles brush a lock of hair from off your cheek. Lips hovering near yours, he’s not quite kissing you. But somehow sharing the same heavy, erratic breathing feels even more intimate. Reaching down, Hassan uses his free hand to tug your thigh up around his waist so you have proper leverage.

Though after a few moments of struggling, he arches an eyebrow at you.

"You've done this before, right?" Nose knocking yours gently, he flashes you a playful smirk.

Sighing in defeat, you roll your eyes and nudge at his shoulder once he's released from your grasp.

"Not with someone as..." A blush darkens your skin and you bite your lip. The twitch that draws out of his cock isn't lost on you, though you refrain from comment. A shy sort of hush falls over your voice as if you're scared of being caught. "As big as you."

Brows lifting, his head quirks. Those weren't the words he was expecting. But he's more than happy to see your needs met. If he's honest... he really enjoys the thought of guiding you a bit. Of taking this slower than a random hook-up might normally afford.

Dropping a soft kiss to your forehead, he nuzzles your skin. Reaches between the two of you to grip your wrist and press it back into the sheets beside your head.

"I'm gunna take care'f you darlin', hmm?"

Letting go of your hand, his touch travels south, knuckles caressing the soft skin just above your folds. A gasp seizes your throat as he feels over your entrance, teasing against it. Then he’s spreading your slick heat around and the sudden friction against your clit makes your fingers fist around the blankets.

“Ahhh…” Crying out softly, you grasp at his bicep. His eyes stay fixed to your every reaction, savoring each shudder and little moan. It makes his insides burn to know he’s the reason you’re coming undone.

Purring softly, you shift into his touch, chasing the friction, desperate for more. And maybe it’s been a while for him (you’d clocked the year of death on that headstone pretty easily), but his skill still rivals all the university boys your own age that have tried in vain to please you. God, none of them even come close.

His mouth catches yours just as he’s bringing you to the edge, and your cries are muffled into a firm, passionate kiss. The wet heat of your cum pools around his fingers and he pulls away from your kiss only to taste you. The sight of his thick fingers, glistening with your pleasure is enough to make your toes curl. But then he’s sucking the sticky sweetness off as if it's honey and wasting any would be a criminal offense. And you tremble just a bit watching him, only half from the aftershocks.

With his free hand, he smooths your hair back from your face. Drops a few soft kisses across your forehead and temple and cheek.

“Good girl…” The low rumble of his voice is enough to make you needy all over again, despite the satisfaction he’s already given you.

His touch caressing lower again, the light brush of his fingers around your neck tickles. Still covered in the lace of your bra, he gives your breasts a gentle squeeze. Feeling around along your slender back, Hassan unsnaps the material easily and helps you toss it away. Something about the heat of his bare chest to yours feels primal. Makes you almost feral as he kisses you again.

“Take a deep breath for me, baby girl.” He watches you carefully, nodding when you follow orders promptly.

Slowly, two fingers press inside you. Deeper. Deeper. And deeper still. When he’s buried to his knuckles, you feel his fingers curl just enough to stretch you a bit. In so doing a gentle pressure finds your g-spot and your chest caves hard in response.

“Holy...fuck… just like that…” Head pressing back into the mattress, you can’t help squirming under him. The pleasure is so fucking overwhelming that no matter how badly you want to keep looking up at his perfect face, you can’t stop your eyes rolling back. When his thick fingers start a slow but firm rhythm, you feel your thighs begin to tremble in seconds. Fucking hell, he knows what he’s doing.

“S’that good, baby girl?” Free hand sliding into your curls, he cradles your head to his shoulder. Tips his own enough so you can feel his breath tickling over the shell of your ear. “S’that what you need?”

Arms curling up around him, your fingers press into the muscle of his strong back until your nails go white.

“Yes...fuck, yes...don’t stop…”

You can feel the smirk of satisfaction on his lips as he nips at your earlobe. His fingers thrust a bit firmer, a bit faster. And your cries turn to guttural moans. Your mind goes blurry at the edges, everything melting into a searing white heat. Even in this foggy state of mind, it’s not lost on you that you’re so wet now the sheets are a mess. That you’ve completely soaked his fingers. But he seems to enjoy it, so you let yourself enjoy it too.

Thrusting his fingers harder, you nearly scream as the pressure to your g-spot sends your whole body into shivers.

“Right there, right there....don’t stop!” Your pleas fall desperate and breathless. And in vain.

Just before you can finish, Hassan pulls his fingers free. A wicked smile pulls at his mouth the second you start keening for more.

“Like a hungry little kitten you are, hmm?” Nuzzling between your eyes, he drops a kiss there. Grips himself and brushes his cock through your now drenched folds. “So greedy, baby girl…”

You nod eagerly in agreement, pupils blown wide with an insatiable feral need.

“Mmhmm… fuck, please?”

“You ready for all of this now, baby girl? Did we get you worked up just right?”

“Yes...fucking yes...I need you. I’m ready and I fucking need you. Please?” God, you’re practically in tears and it’s so pathetic and you can tell you can just tell he’s enjoying being the one to undo you so completely.

Merely for the sake of torturing you, Hassan hovers over you a few seconds longer. Then without a word of warning, pushes inside. Slowly but all at once. Eyes rolling back hard, you have to bite his shoulder just to muffle the scream of blinding pleasure that follows.

His own groans run deep through his chest and you can feel him shudder in your arms.

“How are you so...tight? ...Ahh…”

For a moment, you’re both still. Just trying to catch your breath. Trying to adjust to one another. Then, you guide him down into a deep kiss, rolling your hips up against his own. He gasps at the sudden pleasure, practically purring as you do it again. Grasping one of your wrists, Hassan presses your hand back into the bed. Pins you down with a roll of his own hips.

From there, it’s almost a competition. Both of you grinding and working the other over, breathless from your attempts. Growling as he starts to thrust, you drag the nails of your free hand firmly down his back. Savoring the hiss that he gives up in return.

His mouth latches to your throat in retaliation, eager to leave marks across your soft skin. Imagining the boys that must check you out all across New York, his toes curl at the thought of them seeing the bruises left across your neck. At anyone backing off, assuming you must be taken. And he knows he can’t really claim you. At least, not this soon. But he likes the thought of trying that feeling on anyway. The feeling of being selfish with you, of having you all to himself.

Teeth dragging across his shoulder, you try to muffle the cries as he thrusts harder. Your whole body is shaking as he bottoms out inside of you, over and over again. Jesus Christ, you’ve never been filled up so full before. Taking him once would’ve been enough to ruin you for all other men. But to take thrust after thrust like this...the blinding pleasure of it is relentless.

“I’m gunna finish inside of you, baby girl.” He growls in your ear, the words a warning, not a request. And honestly, you’d forgotten to even mention protection before this moment. And you know this is fucking stupid, because you don’t really sleep around ever so why would you bother with contraceptives? But you think you might cry if he were to pull out.

Nodding quickly, you pull back to find his eyes, wanting to watch him come. Stealing a breathy kiss or two, his hips give you a few more deep, rough thrusts. The explosion of ecstasy ripping open his insides leaves the look in his eyes so fucking weak. Between that vulnerability and the feeling of him filling you up with his seed, you have no hope of holding on.

Burying your face in the heat of his neck, you whimper and whine and claw at his skin hard enough to leave marks.

“Fuck!” The feeling of your orgasm squeezing him like a molten vice is nearly enough to make him come a second time.

Still shaking, he rolls onto his back. The soft groan that follows tells you his spine and arms must be aching just as badly as your thighs. But it’s a satisfying ache. One you hope doesn’t fade too soon.

His arms stay wrapped loose around you, keeping you cradled to his chest. Kissing softly through the beads of sweat along his shoulder, you nuzzle at him. Both of you are still trying to catch your breath, but you can’t help just wanting to touch him. Taste him for as long as he’ll let you. If he minds, he doesn’t say so. Just lays in the quiet with you, brushing his fingertips up your spine and down your arms like he’s trying to trace you into his memory.

You like that he doesn’t rush to scoot out from under you. That he doesn’t grab his clothes and mutter something about calling you when he doesn’t even have your number. He’s nothing at all like the boys your age you’ve hooked up with who all took maybe five minutes and didn’t even ask if you’d finished.

Nosing into your curls, he takes a deep breath of your post-sex scent and smiles fondly to himself.

“I don’t wanna leave…”

“Well, you still haven’t had your coffee…” Resting your chin on his chest, you give him a mischievous smile.

“Coffee sounds...nice.” He eyes you as if he’s not talking about coffee at all. "Cream...lots of sugar..."

“Mmhmmm…” Nodding in agreement, you feel a grin take over your face as you lean up enough to catch his mouth in a soft, slow kiss. Somehow the tenderness there is just as intense as any bitemark or scratch you exchanged while he was fucking you senseless.

#sheriff hassan x reader #hassan el shabbaz x reader #rahul kohli #sheriff hassan #midnight mass fic #midnight mass fanfiction #my writing #story: bury me

[tropes-and-tales]

Oh my gosh, more prompts! 🤗

Because I watched it recently, may I request “you can kiss me, you know” OR “come back to bed” with the one and only Sheriff Hassan?

Hassan grew up and lived in the city for most of his life, so he’s not prepared for a lot of the realities of island living.

The quiet, for example.  The darkness, for another.  Crockett Island is so small and sparsely populated that Hassan has to relearn how to fall asleep without the ceaseless sound of traffic and city noises.

There’s also the proximity to nature.  In the city, it was often easy to pretend that nature was a tame thing, something to bind up in manicured parks.  On the island, nature can be fierce and unpredictable and right outside his door.

Like the storm rolling across the tiny island.  Hassan stands at his bedroom window, watching it.  Lightning flashes leave blue-white afterimages floating behind his eyelids  The lightning bursts illuminate the sheets of rain drumming from the sky, the wind bending the scrubby trees nearly in half.  The first roll of thunder woke him up, but you?

You grew up on Crockett Island.  You don’t wake when the storm starts, but you stir now—he hears the rustling of the sheets, the sleepy groan you make—and then you wake.

A moment later, he hears the soft thump of your feet hitting the floor, and a moment after that, he feels your arms slide around his bare waist.

“Enjoying the show?” you ask, and your voice is sleep-rough, smoky.  

“Never had storms like this in the city.”

“You did.  You just never noticed because there wasn’t as much sky.  It got blocked out by all the buildings.”

He hums in agreement.  He gets an arm around you, then gently pulls you to him until you’re tucked under his arm and against his side.  He turns his head to drag his nose through your hair, to take in the familiar scent of you.

You stand together at his window and watch the storm.  When a particularly close-sounding peal of thunder booms, he jumps and it makes you laugh.

“Tough guy sheriff scared by a little rain?” you tease, and you draw your fingernails along the naked skin of his side, making him squirm at the ticklish sensation.

“I’m not scared of anything,” he replies, and he drops his voice, makes it gruff to sound tougher.  You laugh again.

“Duly noted, Sheriff.”  You release him, and you tilt your head up to him with your lips pursed until he grins, bends his head, and kisses you.

“Come back to bed,” you add.  You do a cute pirouette as you spin away from him, back towards the bed. Hassan watches you in the half-light of the bedroom, takes in the sight of you in his discarded t-shirt, your hair mussed and wild.  

Another crack of lightning startles him from his reverie, and he—taller, with longer legs—takes a few strides to catch up to you.  He scoops you into his arms, your surprised squeal ceding to laughter as he carries you the rest of the way and then unceremoniously dumps you onto the bed.  He dives right in, follows you down and cages you in with his arms as he arches his body over yours.  He dips his head and kisses you again, this time with more intention.

Maybe he’s a little scared of the storm.  He’s not used to such wild weather right at his door—but island living has its upsides, like weathering the storms…in bed…with you.

#ask game #sheriff hassan #sheriff hassan x reader #sheriff hassan imagine #sheriff hassan el shabbaz x reader #hassan el shabbaz #sheriff hassan el shabbaz imagine #midnight mass #tropes and tales

[littleredwritingcat]

Thirst Trap - Chapter 10: "Saturday Night's Alright For Fighting"

"Perfect love Y/N. Remember? There is no fear in love; but perfect love casteth out fear: because fear hath torment.”

“This is a terrible decision,” you yell.

“I am a hot dumpster fire of terrible decisions! Why are you warming your hands on the hot dumpster fire of terrible decisions, Paul? I am not going to make out with a man of the cloth in the middle of a church!”

Ok, sinners and meow meow lovers. If you've made it this far, I congratulate you. Time to put the "burn" in "slow burn."

@everythingbutresolved @agirlinherhead @honey-tree-evil-eve @labyrinthphanlivingafacade @plainlo-inthemorning @thenookienostradamus @fatherpaulsimp @fatherpaulmybelovedulsimpbackup @rothko-mirror @meownsignor @thecorgimademedoit @mareyshelley @vintageglassheart02 @thegentlestmaenad @jyngerpeach @ebiemidnightlibrarian @choosekindly @girlwiththenegantattoo @aherdofbees @i-was-ok-then-i-saw-hamish @midwestmisfit @madsmilfelsen

#thirst trap fic #midnight mass fandom #midnight mass fanfiction #father paul hill x reader #monsignor meow meow #monsignor john pruitt x reader #erin greene #riley flynn #hassan el shabbaz #18+ only #slaps hood of fic #“You can fit so much angst into this thing!”

[enaelyork]

En odeur de Sainteté [A Father PaulxOc Story]

Let me introduce my next fanfiction. Coming this November (I hope so!)

Summary :

Everyone here says that those who leave the island are the ones who succeed in their lives.

What do we say about those who come back?

Nastasie has returned for working as a teacher in school. Not out of coercion, but because she realized that life was much worse on the continent than here. Because she wants to forget, to be forgotten. Unfortunately, some things don't change on Crockpot Island.

Well, that's what she thought before meeting the sheriff ... And this strange priest who seems determined to make her set feet in the Church.

Bad luck, she has a rather bad temper ... and he is rather stubborn.

Themes : Ennemy to lover, Love triangle, canon divergent, Questioning on faith, Catholiscism, Muslim, Bev is a bitch, i love slowburn, somes smut here, blasphemy, humour.

CHAPTER LIST ~~

TAG LIST (ASK FOR)

#midnight mass #fanfiction #romance #father paul hill #monsignor john pruitt #monsignor pruitt x reader #father paul x reader #hassan el shabbaz #Sherif hassan x reader #hassan el shabbaz x reader #father paul #paul hill #monsignor pruitt #beverly keane #erin greene

[nocturnal-milk-dud]

Room For Two

Pairing: Sheriff Hassan el-Shabbaz x Reader

Summary: Ali gets into trouble and goes to you instead of his dad

Warning/notes: mini angst; some fluff; stressed out dad Hassan; drowning reference; inebriation; two very smart dumb people; yearning; I'm only on episode 4 so maybe this sucks and is OOC, and also no spoilers please

@artemiseamoon @heresathreebee @acrossthesestars

Rating: PG-13

Word count: 989

The boy stands on your porch, shivering and drenched to the skin, looking like a cat that fell in a bathtub. His whole right side is covered in mud, and he’s missing a shoe.

“I can’t go home,” he pleads with you. Ali had been coming back from the Uppards with Ooker and Warren when the sky broke open with rain, and the wind and waves tossed the boat around. And now he’s at your door, too scared to go home and face his dad. You let the boy in and find him a towel, a faded band tee, and a pair of gray sweatpants that used to belong to your husband. For some reason you can’t get rid of them. You get a glass of water and place it on the bedside table.

“I have to call your dad,” you say once Ali is settled in your spare bedroom. He starts to protest but you give him a look that shuts him up immediately. “I need to call him. He needs to know where you are, and that you’re safe.” Your tone tells him there’s no room for arguing, so he doesn’t. Instead he punches the pillow a couple times and hunkers down under the covers. You shut off the light and close the door. 

You’re sitting on the porch when Hassan arrives. You’d called him after putting Ali’s clothes in the washer and checking in on the boy one more time. 

“Sheriff,” you say, putting on a heavy Southern accent and tipping an imaginary hat. The action usually gets a smile out of him, but not tonight. Hassan is ruffled, mentally and physically. His hair is falling in front of his forehead, and he’s wearing a gray t-shirt, jeans and a jacket thrown on in a hurry. He bounds up your porch steps. 

“Where is he?” Hassan asks.

“He’s inside,” you say. Hassan reaches for the door and you reach for Hassan, putting a hand on his arm. “Sleeping,” you add. “Sit down.” You gesture to the small cushioned sofa. He meets you halfway, deciding to lean unhappily against the railing, arms crossed over his chest. The two of you remain there in a heavy silence.

“Are you okay?” you try, not quite sure how else to break the silence.

“My son almost drowned and he thought he couldn’t tell me about it, so no, not really,” he says before smoothing a hand over the lower half of his face and searching the porch for answers. “Why didn’t he just come home?” You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t already been thinking about this question, or some version of it. 

“At my parent’s house there was a tree outside my bedroom window. I would use it to sneak out. One night when I was sixteen, I came home completely wasted. But I climbed that tree so much that I didn’t even think about it. I fell and broke my arm. I was more scared of my dad than the pain, but I was also too drunk to really feel it, and I know it’s not the same. Anyway, if I had someone like me then, I would’ve gone to them too. All I could think was my dad was gonna be pissed--it didn’t cross my mind that he might be scared. Talk to him tomorrow, hug him. It’ll work out.” You see the tension slowly leaving Hassan’s shoulders and he rubs the back of his neck. You curl your fingers in your blanket, unable to stop yourself from imagining his face cradled in your hands, relaxing as you stretch up on tiptoe to kiss his forehead.

“What did your dad do?” Hassan asks eventually.

“He asked me if I was okay, took me to the hospital. When it was all over he laughed at me and grounded me for a month.” You smile at the memory, and the two of you are silent again. It’s late, and you’re tired. You know he is too, the adrenaline having seeped out, taking its effects with it. 

“You can stay here if you want,” you offer. “There’s room.” Hassan shakes his head, pushing away from the railing.

“I need to walk,” he says and you watch as he lopes down the steps and stalks off into the night. 

Hassan does come back. The cold hits hard halfway through his walk, and he’s huddled deep into his jacket, fists in his pockets pulling it tight around his chest. And he’s exhausted, so much more than he realized. Your porch is empty when he returns, but you have a bad habit of leaving the dutch door to your kitchen unlocked. He lets himself in, kicking off his boots, making sure to lock the door behind him. The house is quiet and he treads softly back to your bedroom. He doesn’t know what he’s going to do when he gets there, and his heart is beating insistently, a beat he hasn’t felt in what seems like a very long time. Your door is closed and it’s dark at the gap between the door and the carpet. Hassan lifts his hand. He wants to knock, but he doesn’t, just rests his hand on the door. 

You’re not sleeping. A tree branch is knocking at your window and you’re staring at the ceiling, thinking things that you reserve for the dark privacy of your bedroom. Hands pulling warmth back into your body, a beard brushing against your skin, deep growls buried in the curve of your neck. You can’t turn your brain off and eventually you give up and leave the room. When you turn the lights on in the kitchen you see him. Hassan is stretched out on your couch, fast asleep, arm tucked under his head. You smile softly and pull a blanket off the back of a chair, covering him with it. You want to do more: place a kiss on his forehead or stroke his cheek, but you don’t. You shut the lights off and go back to your room. 

#sheriff hassan x reader #hassan el shabbaz x reader #midnight mass #midnight mass fic #hassan el shabbaz #rahul kohli

[grampstaxidermy87]

! Welcome to Gramps Blog!

(Sorry loves, had an issue with the last account, second times a charm!)

-Hey guys gals and non-binary pals! You can call me grandpa, I’m just a 21-year- old horror fan who loves Vampires,sci-fi, and anything 80’s.

What I’ll do: Smut/Fluff/Angst/Polyamory

Male!reader/fem!reader/gn!reader/child!reader/etc.

Here’s the fandoms I write for:

Twilight\Volturi

(Poly/platonic/separate)

-Aro Volturi

-Marcus Volturi

-Caius Volturi

-Demetri Volturi

-Felix Volturi

-Jane and Alec (platonic only!)

-Suplicia Volturi

-Athenadora Volturi

The Lost Boys 1987

(Platonic/Poly/separate)

-David

-Paul

-Dwayne

-Marko

-Max

-Lucy Emerson

-Sam Emerson

Midnight Mass

(Platonic/Poly/separate)

-Monsignor Pruitt/Father Paul

-Sheriff Hassan El Shabazz

Stranger Things

(Platonic/Poly/separate)

-Billy Hargrove

-Eddie Munson

-Steve Harrington

-Jim Hopper

-Joyce Byers

-Murray Bauman

-Nancy Wheeler

-Robin Buckley

-Karen Wheeler

Last updated: 7/19/22

#volturi #volturi x reader #midnight mass #midnight mass x reader #sheriff hassan x reader #monsignor pruitt x reader #father paul x reader #hassan el shabbaz x reader #the lost boys x reader #the lost boys 1987 #twilight saga

[imaginesandideas]

the keys

Happy Sinday! 🥳  I’ve been teasing y’all about this one long enough, so here it is!!

summary: You’ve had a bad day, so you go to the one place on Crockett Island that feels like home...

word count: 3,5 k-ish ooof

WARNINGS: A LOT of emotions and some confessions, slightly philosophical and existential themes, mentions of death, grief and nightmares, but most of all, it’s NSFW (18+ only pls) and poetic filth (also remember to wrap it before you tap it my darlings!)

p.s: Hassan is a switch and I take no criticism 🤭

~~~~~

 The day started off beautifully. 

You keep reminiscing that goodbye kiss. His fingers were keen but reserved, as if he was stopping himself, or the both of you for that matter, because it was already 9am on Friday. There were things for you to get done before the weekend, meetings to attend, people to talk with… the regular. 

“I- have- to- go-“ he purred into your lips with each intake of breath between rushed kisses. 

“Me-too- sheriff-“ you responded back emphasizing the last word with a smirk. 

You’re just as breathless as he is. Cause he makes you feel so many things, makes you smile even now when you think about that morning.

When he’s pulled back, a tired sigh escaped his lips.

“Wade is going to give me a lecture about being late again. And it’s all because of you, you know?”

 And though he was making a tough guy face again, all serious and frowned, you couldn’t help but get lost in the softness of his warm, smooth gaze. So full of devotion that you wish you could shrink yourself sometimes. 

 But the day went on. And pretty quickly it isn’t just memories of him that cloud your mind... 

Maybe it’s just one of these days, you think. Sometimes everything is too much, even the normal, repetitive tasks seem too hard to bear. 

And so you end up walking yourself to the El Shabbaz home instead of your own earlier than usually, not really hoping that he’ll be there. 

Well, you know for a fact that he’s at the school meeting, he’s been stressed about it all week, partially because he’s been having some problems with Ali lately. The boy is clearly going through some sort of a phase, normal at his age but still. It’s something new. For both of them. Especially after the loss of Ali’s beloved mother and Hassan’s soulmate…

  The key feels even heavier your hand now than it did when he first gave it to you. 

You didn’t get the whole idea at first, laughed it off, called him a party-killer to which he responded with a sincere „just in case”. 

But underneath it all, you felt grateful. For the trust he’s given you, for the fact that he’s opened up to you enough to actually let you in. For the fact that he literally gave you a key to his life on the island forgotten by everyone. 

Especially grateful, because today you feel like you have nowhere to go, despite having a house of your own nearby. And you crave the safety he provides you with.

 The house is empty upon your arrival. Looking around you notice Ali’s backpack tossed in the corner, so you assume he must be busy catching the last breaths of freedom somewhere, before his dad comes home and grounds his ass for good after today’s parent-teacher meeting.

   It feels natural to be surrounded by these walls by now. Wrapped in their familiar warmth, identical to the one Hassan carries with himself everyewhere he goes. In the firm but gentle way he walks, speaks, touches. With the attention and empathy he emanates.

 But you aren’t a visitor here anymore, no, you know which way to go, and almost instantly, you head towards Hassan’s bedroom. It’s only fair since you’re seeking a temporary shelter of his presence. Even if he’s not physically there. 

 Once inside, you smile softly. There are some clothes scattered here and there, some already folded. At his nightstand, some trinkets, memories locked inside objects. You note that he borrowed that book you were talking so much about from the local library. Even started reading it. The thought itself makes your heart grow a little fonder.

 Now, you don’t remember falling asleep but here you are, fully awake, fully clothed under a thick blanket that smells exactly like him. Α significant contrast to the feeling of cold sweat running down your back.

 It was a nightmare, still alive in your head and heart. An irrational one really, a mess of horror, gore and running. The details already become a blur as you blink away the darkness that surrounds you. But maybe sometimes it’s better like this, to not remember.

 When you pick up your phone it’s past 11pm already.

And at an instant, you hear him. Hear his footsteps on the squeaking wooden floors, his exhausted groans.

Then you hear him in the kitchen. The dishes as they’re being carefully put in the sink, most likely after he and Ali have had a late dinner. 

 You wonder if they prayed together before Ali went to sleep. There’s been some tension between them around this topic in the past few weeks, and you know just how much it affects Hassan as a father. It saddens him but he doesn’t want to fight his son, he wants to lift him up above everything else.

 And then you hear something you haven’t heard before, a melody. It’s a quiet, hushed one, but nevertheless it’s sweet to your ears. 

It never crossed your mind how his voice would sound if he sang, but hearing it makes him seem like a different person. The lyrics are foreign to you, maybe it’s not even English, you cannot tell from afar. But it’s so mellow, so smooth. Like you’re in a dream again, but this time it’s a good dream.

You close your eyes, wrapped in his smell, tone, his warmth.

His touch.

„Hey… oh love, you should’ve texted me, I wouldn’t make so much noise, wouldn’t wake you up.”

The man sat on the edge of his own bed is wrapping the covers slightly tighter around you, eyes wide and attentive, rough hands somehow even more careful. And he’s worried, you see it in the wrinkles around his eyes and on his forehead when the nightstand lamp finally illuminates his face.

„Hassan.” You sit up suddenly, arms hardly enveloping his broad frame. He smells like cigarette smoke and something peppery, like herbs he brews for a better sleep. The hairs from his beard scratch the top of your head briefly before he plants a prolonged kiss there. His embrace calms you down, it always does. And still, your voice trembles ever so slightly as you speak again, this time into his chest. „I just had a terrible day and thought I’d stop by. Wanted to wait for you but I think I fell asleep, and now you’re here.”

„Shhh, it’s alright, I know… I know how it feels…” He whispers with a pained sigh. Both of you inhale deeply in an almost meditative manner, and exhale nearly simultaneously. You chuckle at that and he smiles to himself.

„You used the key.”

He’s smiling even wider now, proud like a lion. You can’t see it, still glued to his chest, but you feel it in the way it puffs out with pride underneaths your fingertips, in the way his voice rings over your head.

Slowly, you crane your neck to look him in the eyes.

He’s so smug about it, with that damn smirk on his face.

„Yeah I did. And what about it?”

A dry chuckle.

„What about it? Well, a ‘thank you’ would be nice for starters?”

But your lips are at his first and he doesn’t mind, instead he plays along your little game. His hands are slowly becoming greedy as they glide over your sides, groping with each confirmatory moan that leaves your mouth. 

Your fingers desperately try to reach his skin but it’s like his clothes    purposefully stand in your way, effectively shielding him from you.

You want him out of that damn shirt, you want to rip it off and feel him instead.

Suddenly Hassan pulls away. Both of you pant as he warily turns around to peek at the door. Always a father. And it looks so hot on him, it makes you want him inside you even more. 

„You drive me fucking insane.” He breathes out. 

„I know.” Of course you’re teasing him, provoking the reaction you desire the most. 

 He knows, he’s smart and you’re more than aware of this. He could leave you right now and save his pride, but that same pride won’t let it slide just like that, not when he has you at his grasp. So close he can feel your heart beating nearly in the same rhytm as his. 

Beautiful like a dream, with disheveled hair and heated skin.

And when he looks as you like this, you just know. 

It takes you forever, even longer than that evening, hell, longer than that whole damned day. Cause it took hours on hours on hours of building each others’ trust. But it’s out at the speed of light and yet it seems like eternity almost.

„I think I love you.” You whisper.

Hassan stops breathing for a second or two, or so it appears. His mouth agape but you catch a glipse of sparkle in his eyes. 

„You- think?!”

No, he doesn’t even give you a chance to add anything and instead knocks the air out of your lungs as he launches forward, locking lips with yours again. And this time it’s more fervent, moving down to your neck, teeth worshiping your skin with slow but violent markings.

 And then, lower, but only when you nod at him in consent as you lay down. Right now you’d do anything just to make him go faster, just to cut your bated breath short. 

Desperately, you grip the longer strands of hair atop his head and he hums into your freshly uncovered hip. 

 He keeps dreaming of your skin, have been ever since he’s touched you for the first time. And every time he gets a chance, like a starved man, he feasts. Feeds of the feel of your skin, off your touch. Mouth latches onto the flesh of your thighs, and he nips and sucks, leaves a trail of kisses down your legs while removing the oh-so irritating pieces of clothing along the way. When he sits up again it’s only so he can quickly get out of his own clothes completely. 

And to admire you. Your perfectly carved form reflecting in his eyes.

And you too cannot help but just stare, in complete awe of him, of the things he does to your head.

Brows furrowed in an alluring way. Mouth curling into a smirk when your eyes descend over his heaving abdomen. Eyes so dark you could swim in their night abyss.

“Stop staring, or I won’t be able to stop myself any longer.”

His voice is almost authoritative now and you straighten your leg in an attempt to reach him somehow.

“Then don’t.” You tease. And it’s already too late to turn back.

Hassan shoots you a scolding look and you groan, helpless as ever. He’s about to ravish you whole, even if he keeps acting that he’s taking his sweet time with you. 

In no time he crawls in between your parted legs. 

“Hassan! Oh-”

You’re trapped, a moaning mess trying to shimmy away and out of the reach of his puffed lips and thick tongue, the sharp scratches of his soft beard on your delicate skin. It’s like his face was sculpted to please. To please you. Now he just wants to hear a whine, a cry. A plea.

 Hassan wants you on the edge, begging, praising him. 

He needs to see you break right in front of him for mere moments that feel like a whole eternity. An eternity within and with you.

„Please…”

It’s an unspoken confirmation. He earned it.

He’s doing a fucking good job.

And you just look so spent and ethereal when he looks up at you from beneath a thick line of his eyelashes… 

Yet again, he climbs up, stopping at your sternum to place another loving kiss there before he glances at your elated face. When he raises on his stretched arms, you don’t even have to beg again. 

 Your whole body tenses for a second or two, eyes wide open as he enters you steadily.

 He’s thick and veiny. Fucking delightful to say the least. You’ve been with Hassan plenty of times, on numerous occassions, but each time it’s bliss. And each time it makes the air stop in your lungs. 

Your brain is filled to the brim with chants of his name, clouded with pleasure, till it leaves your body with tears gathering in the corners of your eyes.

“Oh God- Hassan-“

He, on the other hand, is feeling ecstatic, as he pants like an ancient idol in raging fury. Skin glowing with sweat and whole body rhythmically shaking and tensing at the same time, with each calculated thrust.

“Come on sugar.”

 Yet again he finds himself lost in you. The entirely of you. Surrounded by your tightening walls and soft pieces of sentences, moaned repeatedly into the air. They’re being pulled out of you with the sheet force of his hips snapping into yours, and his chest grows with pride. 

„Baby- oh Hassan, p-please”

The sheer thought of filling you makes him feral. Gripping your hips the man speeds up, following your moans and gasps, screams silenced with the force of your teeth biting into your lips.

 He wants to worship you, please you forever, he thinks then. Had been thinking about it even before he’s given you the key.

It was so easy to fall for you and it still blows his mind. 

 Suddenly you gasp and he catches it last minute. Cause every time he can, he does everything in his power to watch you at the gates of your bliss. He drinks it with his dark, hungry eyes. The way you squirm, how you pant and moan, how your body shakes involuntarily. He sees that light in your eyes and comes too, with a shudder and a line of deep, throaty moans that make your walls twitch again.

“Oh fuck.”

You feel everything and nothing all the same. You’re not even sure who said it first, maybe you just repeated it in your head, or maybe you both did between the rapidly taken breaths. 

 When he pulls out you miss his closeness already. The pleasure is just one part of it all really, cause you miss that intimacy, that weave you create together. As if words, languages can’t bind you two enough, as if there is more. 

  Sometimes in your conversations Hassan mentions fate, how it affects our lives whether we believe in some sort of god or not. He says that some things are inevitable, like change or loss. Like grief.

Same goes with people. They come into our lives for different reasons. Some of them are destined to change our lives, some are destined to teach us. About loss, forgiveness, patience, joy. And all of them, all of these relationships will be interwoven into the fabric of our being. Deep down you wonder if he tells you that on purpose, because he believes that something just like that led you to each other.

 That afterthought keeps coming back to you whenever you’re together. Even now, as the mattress dips under his weight by your side, and you feel like maybe all of it, the lows and the ups, were meant to led you both here.

  And maybe you do want him to remember what you impulsively uttered, right before your bodies became one yet again…

“I’m glad I gave you that key.”

He exclaims out of blue, pulling you out of your thoughts. And smiles right in your face, all smug like the sun itself, like he was right all along. And most likely, he was. He always fucking is.

You snort half-slyly. 

“Of course you’re glad. I warmed your sheets for free. You’re welcome.”

“Free? Come on, I paid you back with all the interest.” He frowns first, but sighs right after when he notices that you’re trying to stifle a laugh at his genuine offence. 

 He cups your jaw in his rough hands then, and you inch closer instantly taking the opportunity to climb on top of him.

You’re always so damn difficult, but that’s fine. Nothing he cannot handle. 

Though it doesn’t help that you look so beautiful in the soft light cast by his nightstand lamp... Maybe they still have them at that one store from the mainland. He should probably buy another one now, for symmetry’s sake. And for you too.

Cause he could watch you all day in this damn light. Your illuminated skin feels soft underneath his fingertips, curves defined by time and the way you’re positioned. Sat on top of him, like a sculpture just for him to admire. Like he got the best seat at a venue. 

 He never admitted it out loud but when you’re above him... it actually might be his favourite place to be. It makes him hard all over again, but there’s still time for that.

  In moments like these he wishes he could grasp you whole, make himself bigger just so he could embrace you completely, hide your sensibility from the cruel world you were both born into. He’s been through a lot in his life, and he knows you can handle just as much, but still he’d do anything and more to protect both Ali and you.

  Your more delicate fingers are a big contrast to his rather sturdy facial features when your hands reach to caress his face.

In your eyes, he looks regal, skin and hair are like peppered with threads of time and experience. He laughs when you tell him that he’s like „fine wine”. Mainly cause it’s cheesy, and he doesn’t really believe it most of the time. But you know the smile that comes after you say it.

He’s… happy with you. You make him feel better about life and himself, even if he didn’t admit it to you yet.

 Feeling goosebumps on your skin when he draws mindless shapes on your back he decides to try his luck.

“Did you really mean it?”

Like a thunder, it rips through your spine. He heard your hushed confession. He remembered it.

“What do you mean?”

Play dumb, your mind prompts you. But really you just want him to say it back. So you know everything he’s done for you, everything he’s ever whispered into your hair, into your brain, was real. That you didn’t dream it. 

With a long inhale beforehand, he speaks in a low tone.

„That you love me.”

 The reality is simple as it is. Both of you crave confirmation, an assurance. That none of this is going away, that the other is just as much in love. 

 For Hassan it’s harder to admit out loud. His thoughts are often dark, he’s already experienced love and loss, he feels grief everyday. And he didn’t expect happiness again. In reality, he’s been mentally preparing himself for a lonesome and grim aging full of regret.

And yet, life slowly becomes brighter with you. It gets easier each day and there’s no denying of that. He wants you in his life.

You whisper back shakily.

„Yeah. I do.”

His lips curl into a small smile. A smirk almost.

„You just want a gratuitous fuck every once in a while, that’s what it is.”

This old fucking bastard. You’re ready to stand up but he sits up and locks you in place, with his arms intertwined behind your back.

„Hey, hey! Look at me! I was- well... trying to be funny like you. And besides, you know I would never mind even if you did. Especially since you always come for me so beautifully.” 

You groan looking away, only it’s very difficult when he starts assaulting your chest with those plump lips of his. Kicking yourself mentally for the moan that just left your throat on its own (to his clear satisfaction), you give in and lock your gaze with his once more. 

 And it’s like seeing affection personified. Even his brows, with that bloody hot cut going through one of them, look apologetic and soft. Only for you.

“I know I’m no fun most of the time, but that’s why I’ve got you.” He speaks slightly louder now, in his signature honey dipped tone that makes your thighs tremble. In fact he has a firm grip on them right now, relishing every little reaction of your body to his words. Feeling what’s invisible to the naked eye. 

“And I want you to know, that I think…” A deep breath and he looks into your eyes again. “I love you too.”

You eyes well up, but so do his. Fingers tearing through the dense forest of his beard, you cup his jaw and lean forward slowly. The kiss itself is like a stamp now, like your signatures combined. An oath signed by your pledges.

Suddenly he pulls away and both of you groan in dismay.

„Okay no crying on my watch.” His fingers swiftly gather the tears that alredy started reaching your cheeks. 

Next, you feel him shift underneath you, like he’s getting impatient.

Truthfully speaking he is, and so are you. He’s been on your mind almost all day, and now you know that the feelings have been mutual all along.

As you shift over his lap, Hassan growls. 

„You want me again?”

You decide that you love it when he speaks to you in this tone. Authority dripping like lliquor. Savory and sweet. Sharpened by cigarette smoke and peppermint. And yet, rich as milk. 

„I always do.” His cock twitches between your legs at your response. When you move over him, positioning yourself on your knees, spreading yourself open, right above the already swollen head, he swallows with a clear bob of his Adam’s apple. „But this time - it’s my treat.”

~~~~~

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