Hi darling!
I’ve been writing since 2012, but I only started writing in English back in late 2019 - still, I’ve mustered quite an amount of fics so hopefully there’s something you’ll love among all my writing shenanigans! 🥰
You may have seen another MASTERLIST of mine floating about, this is the updated version since I have written more fics than one Tumblr post allows links for - had no idea there was a link limit but apparently there is 🙈
Want to be tagged?💚
You can tag yourself HERE!
Or tell me and I’ll gladly tag you! 😍
Characters written about: Severus Snape, Lucius Malfoy, Judge Turpin, Colonel Brandon, Hans Gruber, King Louis, Sheriff of Nottingham, Sinclair Bryant
[LINK TREE for all my places]
☕ Caffeinate me so I can keep on writing! ☕
DO NOT REPOST MY WORK!
»SNAPE FICS
- Latest update: October 2024
⩥ Pairings/Characters:
Snape x Reader
Snape x OC
Unpaired Snape
Young & Adult Snape
⩥ 30 Fics | Serials & One Shots
»HP WORLD FICS
- Latest update: January 2021
⩥ Pairings/Characters:
Lucius x Reader
⩥ 1 Fic | One Shots
»TURPIN FICS
- Latest update: June 2023
⩥ Pairings/Characters:
Turpin x Reader
Turpin x OC
⩥ 4 Fics | Chaptered Fulllenght Novel Trilogy & Chaptered Fic
»SNAPEMAS 2020
- COMPLETE ✔
⩥ Pairings/Characters:
Snape x Reader
Snape & McGonagall
Snape & Filch
Snape x Character
Snape & Characters
Snape & Daughter
⩥ 24 Fics | Serials & One Shots
»SNAPETOBER 2021
- COMPLETE ✔
⩥ Pairings/Characters:
Snape x Reader
Childhood Snape
Young Snape x Young Reader
⩥ 10 Fics | Serials & One Shots
»RICKMAS 2021
- COMPLETE ✔
⩥ Pairings/Characters:
Snape x Reader
Young Snape x Young Reader
(Snape x Fem!OC) Witch!Fem!OC x Muggle!Fem!OC
Brandon x Reader
Gruber x Reader
Turpin x Reader
Turpin x OC
Nottingham x OC
King Louis x OC
You (& Absolum / xBrandon /xTurpin /xSnape)
⩥ 24 Fics | Serials & One Shots
»RICKMAS 2022
- COMPLETE ✔
⩥ Pairings/Characters:
Brandon x Reader
Snape & Characters
Snape
Snape x OC
Young Snape x Young Reader
Young Snape x Young Muggle OC
Gruber x Reader
Gruber x OC
Turpin x Reader
You (With new friend & Alan)
⩥ 24 Fics | Serials & One Shots
»RICKMAS 2023
- COMPLETE ✔
⩥ Pairings/Characters:
Brandon x Reader
Brandon x OC
Snape x OC
Turpin x Reader
Turpin x OC
Gruber x OC
⩥ 24 Fics | Serials & One Shots
»RICKMAS 2024
- COMPLETE ✔
⩥ Pairings/Characters:
Brandon x OC
Gruber x OC
Turpin x OC
Snape x You
Sinclair x You
King Louis XVI & You
⩥ 24/24 Fics | Serials & One Shots
»RICKMAS 2025
- DAILY FICS THROUGH DECEMBER 2025
⩥ Pairings/Characters:
You & Writer + Alan
Brandon x You
Turpin x You
Snape x You
Gruber x You
Sinclair x You
(Continuously announced as fics are written/posted)
⩥ 22/24 Fics
[LINK TREE for all my places]
☕ Caffeinate me so I can keep on writing! ☕
All donations go towards my writing! 🥰
Thank you in advance for all the support of every kind!
Setting: It’s 1995, (10 years post-cannon, 9 years post-divorce in this story from The-Yucky-One-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named-By-Anything-But-Slander-Nicks) and you met Sinclair last year, instantly taking a liking to him. The past year, he’d bloomed into the talkative chap he used to be, even if you had no clue about his past beyond him being divorced and closed off before.
A/N: My brain is funny when tired + a little hopped up on painkillers from the dentist 😂😂😂 I hope you’ll love this, after the fighting and the deep conversations about cheating and divorce about needing time and being afraid of another Christmas spent with a broken heart and ice cream, we are now fighting death-wishing sheep in pretty conservatories with a panicky pupper Sinclair 😂👌🐑🐑🐑
Alright! Let’s wrap up Sinclair’s story for Rickmas2025!!!
Tags/TW’s: Kissing, Total Chaos, Sheep-Wrestling(?), Established Couple, Conflicting Emotions, The Right Person Changes Everything, Messy Emotions, Messy Thoughts and Scattered Talking, Confusion-Reflective Chaotic Writing Style, Info-Rambling
Word Count: 2.1k
LINKTREE // AO3 // MASTERLIST
Thirteen days had passed since you’d asked for time. Two weeks since the ugly Christmas sweater party, and what he’d done that set everything off in a roll of truths coming to light. Now, well, you were chomping at the bit to see him, to hug him, to kiss him, and just let him know you love him. Who wouldn’t love him? He’s the golden retriever of men.
You weren’t ready to ruin another Christmas, though. What if he’d changed his mind? Nope. For this year, you’d wait until the twenty-sixth before telling him that you love him, and to hear if he’d changed his mind or not regarding wanting you as well after everything — from his trauma response to you not being able to instantly digest everything for his sake and just blurt out how much you love the pupper of a man. That was the safest way to play it, for sure, to skip the whole ice cream and crying part of Christmas this year around by just waiting.
The phone blared on your desk with just one bloody minute left of the workday. You had no choice but to answer, though. Your boss glared through the window as you picked up the receiver. “Good afternoon, Y/n speaking, how may I—”
“THERE’S A SHEEP IN THE CONSERVATORY!” Sinclair shouted down the line in a rush. “I know I’m not supposed to call, not a word until you’ve decided and all, but there’s a whole SHEEP in the— Oh, you jumping bastard! Get off the bloody— NO! NO! NOT THE—” A loud rattling had you pulling the phone from your ear as the clock struck five pm.
You blinked, a whole sheep? Are there half sheep? “Sinclair?” you asked, putting the receiver to your ear once more. Muffled screaming, or shouting, and thuds of all kinds rang out on the other end. “Hello? Sinclair? Hellooo?” Bloody hell, this can’t be good. But you hung up, grabbed your coat, your bag, and rushed out of the office as your boss looked with drawn brows of confusion at you through the glass.
⩤•⫘•⩥
“NO! BAD SHEEP! BAD, BAD, oh for Christ and Mary, GET AWAY FROM ME!”
You couldn’t help but laugh with shaking shoulders and sucked-in lips (to keep it quiet) as you looked at the scene unfolding in the conservatory of Sinclair’s gorgeous home.
“NO! GO AWAY! I’m not a shepherd! Shoo!” he hollered, his robe flitting about his pyjama-clad legs where he stood atop the large chair with a rolled-up newspaper in his hand, aimed straight at the sheep’s head; some of Sinclair’s beloved plants hanging from its mouth, now that you took a second to look at it.
“Oh! There you are!” he shouted, an unapologetic rush to his voice and relief so palpable across his adorable face you couldn’t hold the laugh in anymore.
“What on earth are you doing?” You walked closer. “Are you going to hit it with that?” you asked disapprovingly, cocking your brow at the man looking close to ridiculous with one foot on the armrest and knees bent as if readying to pounce — or flee in a jump.
“What? No?”
“Sure looks like it. How did it even get in—” A loud braying interrupted you. “Yeah, yeah, I’ve already called for your owner.”
“You have?” asked Sinclair.
The sheep brayed and clomped off to the plants.
“NO! NOT THE MAGNO— NO! NOT THE RHODODENDRONS!”
“It’s a sheep, Clair. It’ll eat—”
“Stop it! STOP IT, DARLING! IT’S TOXIC!” Sinclair shouted in panic, waving and pointing wildly with the newspaper.
You didn’t hesitate, diving forward with a rush to grasp the walking sheep. It brayed as you grabbed at the wool on its neck. “Nope, nope, come on,” you grunted, fearing it would try to bite or kick you — or worse, run with you hanging on. “What can it eat?!”
“The green ones! The green ones! No, the other one!”
Sinclair waved and pointed some more while you fought and steered the sheep with an apparent deathwish. “Yes! That one!” he called excitedly as you redirected the sheep with all force in your body, and you let go (it wasted no time on fighting you when there was fresh greens to be had).
The doorbell rang as you brushed your hands against your legs. “That’s probably the owner,” you said, walking off.
“Hey! Hey! No, why are you leaving me here with the—”
You looked over your shoulder. “You’ll be fine, just stay up there, you little scardy-cat.”
“It might eat the cashmere!” He held up the end of his very fine-looking robe with something akin to terror over his widened and elongated features, mouth slightly open.
“Yeah, might,” you teased to his utter horror, apparently, before you took a right and headed for the door in a little sprint.
⩤•⫘•⩥
“There, that’s the last of it,” you said, wiping the last remnants of soil from the floor close to an hour later. “All clean!” you called to Sinclair, who was clearing away the broken pot and the chewed curtain in the garbage bin in the kitchen.
“Thank you, darling,” he said, coming around the bend as you closed the french doors to the conservatory — separating it from the rest of the house as the snow began to fall again beyond the enormous windows.
“It’s been a while now,” he said, handing you a cup of tea. “Have I— Do I cross your mind as often as you are on mine?” he continued with a voice so sweetly insecure you had to roll your eyes at him.
“I just need you,” you said in a straight-up confession, not saying anything unnecessary. “For this Christmas, the one thing on my wishlist, is you, Clair. That’s all, and I wanted to wait until after Christmas to tell you.”
“Why?”
It took a moment before you dared be truthful about it, but there was no need to hide it now that he’d already made it quite clear he really wanted you — why else would he have called you in an emergency? Why would he say you were always on his mind?
“Honestly…” you said quietly.
He nodded. “Honesty is quite great, quite grand, and quite wanted.”
“Yeah, I know… I just didn’t want to spend another Christmas with a broken heart, and we never really got to the full couple thing. I pretended we did, but we didn’t. So I thought, if I just stay quiet, I can pretend we’re a full-on happy couple, and I can spend Christmas not crying with a pint of ice cream, you know?”
Sinclair tilted his head, sipping his tea with a shake of his head. “I don’t really know, though. I love you, why would we not be a full couple, as you put it, even if we did have a fight—” he held up his hand when your head swivelled in a rush to him “—yes, I take full accountability for this first fight of ours, but we’ll have plenty more if all goes well, so just because we fight doesn’t mean we aren’t together anymore, does it? That would be nonsense. Nobody would be in a relationship then, it would be ice cream galore and tears all around. That’s not very Christmasy. Is it?”
You shook your head at him, not sure what else to do. Not that he gave you a chance to say anything.
“Anyway, why wouldn’t we be a full couple? We’re a couple, and we, or I at least, have no intention of not marrying you and have you by my side for the rest of my life. Do you have other plans?” he asked, sever all of a sudden, and he was honestly grandly attempting to hide the secret quiver in his voice you could still hear — you admired the fight he was seemingly putting up to be strong, though. “My darling, are you listening?” he asked while you tilted your head, lost for words for the moment.
“I won’t let you slip away this holiday, and now that I have you here, you ought to stay forever. Would you like that?”
You found your voice. “I’ve never even slept here.” You chuckled quite sadly.
“You haven’t?” he asked, seeming confused by the statement. “That can’t be right.”
“It is. You’ve spent the night at my place, but I’ve never stayed the night here.”
“Hm, well, we can’t have that. So you should stay the night.”
“Tonight?!”
“Yes. Tonight. Every night.”
“Every— Clair, what are you talking about?”
Sinclair stepped closer, discarding his tea on the table next to you. “Well, I think you ought to sleep here, stay here, be here when you’re not working or whatnot.” He gently took your free hand in his; those warm fingers stroked the back of your hand softly as he looked down. “You know, before the light bulb and all the other inventions that allow for more productivity and alterations of usable hours of the day, we used to sleep for eleven hours.” He tilted his head, looking up at you, as if seeking permission or wondering if you were paying attention. It was sweet. You always paid attention to his tangents and ramblings, though.
“Eleven hours of sleep? Sounds nice and revolutionary,” you said after a breath, wanting him to talk just a little bit more as he was starting to soften and lose some of the tension you’d barely been able to see hinted at under his loose clothing.
He smiled sweetly, a hint of that golden retriever excitement shining in his pretty eyes, so fixated on you even in his chatting. “We need sleep. Humans, I mean. But eleven hours of sleep is what the oligarchs see as lost maximising of profits, you know, to squeeze out of us lowly workers. Not to mention naps, we used to take naps frequently, and everything was done slowly. You had to wait between each aspect of something; there was no instant here or right this second there. Now it’s a rush, rushing and stressing and lacking sleep while being in light-polluted cities. Of course, if we’re tired and drained, we can’t rally and stand up to demand a reform, but society really ought to do just that. It’s not made for us, the human society is not fit for humans to—” He closed his mouth.
“What?” you asked, squeezing his hand gently.
“You are staying, aren’t you?” he asked, his puppy eyes all pleading and wanting.
“Yes,” you said with a smile of warmth as wide as the one his lips became at your reply.
“Good, I would like to attempt to sleep again. It’s been a struggle since you left without a promise to return again...”
“I’m sorry, Clair. That wasn’t my intention.”
He smiled. “I’m well aware, you’re kind to the bone.”
“Kind to the bone?” You laughed. “I think that’s a strange compliment, but I’ll take it.”
“Do you remember our mistletoe moment in the office?” he asked as you both stopped chuckling quietly, and you nodded. “Well—” He pointed upwards, getting your eyes to see not one but several mistletoes spread out all around the high ceiling and in the doorways’ tall arches.
“Sinclair, you’re hopeless.” You laughed, holding the tea out of the way before releasing his hand to grab at his neck just as his hands landed on your hips gently. “I don’t need any more time, or any mistletoe, just kiss me already,” you urged with a giggle, and he did.
Your lips pressed softly at first, and then he deepened the kiss with a warmth and want you’d not felt from him before. As you hummed into his mouth, and his arms wrapped themselves tighter around your waist, he seemed to let some inhibition go — something that had held him back went away, and you knew that you’d always be with him if you could help it.
Leaning back, he ended the kiss all too swiftly (if one asked you). But his blinding smile and softened eyes had your breath sticking in your throat in the best of ways.
“Knowing I’ll always be coming home to you,” he started quietly, chuckling and reaching up to grasp your neck as well. “It will be like Christmas every day, darling.”
“That’s quite the praise,” you said, cheeks turning warm under his honest eyes.
“Not praise enough.” He pulled you in again, kissing you harder and deeper while the tea in your hand sloshed over the cup’s edge with a splattering sound against the wooden floors...
LINKTREE // AO3 // MASTERLIST
A/N: Oh they are ADORABLE, aren’t they? Or, well, you guys, I guess 😂👏 That was it for Sinclair this year, and what a cute little couple we’ve ended up with, all up in their feelings and lovey-dovey 🥰👏
Pairing: Young & Adult Snape x Young & Adult!Fem!Reader
POV: Second, Reader & Third, Snape
Setting/History: You suffered amnesia when you were in an accident in December of 1977. You lost your loving parents as your flying carriage got trapped in a snowstorm and plummeted into a mountainside in northern Sweden. It took a year to find out who you were, but you never regained your memories of that day or what you had lived through before that. Only the faint memory of red snow flashed in your mind from time to time with a trailing horror so devastating it tormented you despite the lack of understanding of why. Now it’s 1999, one year after the war, and you have finally returned to your roots — even if you have no memory of them.
A/N: It’s time to end Snape’s story for Rickmas2025, I hope you’ll love it! I have few words to say of it but it is probably my favourite story ending of Rickmas2025… I hope you’ll enjoy it, darlings!❤
Tags/TW’s: Declarations of Love, Kissing, Overwhelming Devotion and Care, Past and Present Story Elements, Snape Lives, Post-War AU With History, Longing, Mutual Love, Lost Love Found Again, Amnesia from Adolescent Trauma Lifted, Painful Memories, Past Trauma Remembered, They Are Together At Last…
Word Count: 1.9k
LINKTREE // AO3 // MASTERLIST
⩤• SEVERUS •⩥
Two days had passed, with you sleeping through them, in the large mansion of marble and stone he found out to be your home. Unlike Malfoy Manner — where he had spent more time than he ever wished to remember — this space was warm, albeit too big. Your essence seemed to permeate the very walls, and all the fabrics and Christmas decorations softened it to a welcoming space. He did remember you being what he called filthy rich, but seeing how you grew up in such largeness of overflow was different to imagining a big house with a decorated porch (which he had no idea why he had imagined in his youth).
He had not explored much of the estate, though. He remained by your side while Christmas nights drew closer. Still, the nights were only of winter and darkness, but soon they would remind him again of how far away from family and friends he had been all his life. How in the cold skies, he found no peace or promise of hope. Not once had there been anything even close to such a thing as hope after your disappearance. Until, perhaps, now.
Looking out the large window, draped with glittering red curtains on either side, he drew a steadying breath. Out there, the stars shimmered, and snow sparkled in the air as the wind swirled it in the golden lantern glow. It is how it was the night you left… Some things never fade, and his memory of you that night seemed as detailed in that moment as it was when he experienced it all those years ago.
Your ever-watchful friend, Perri, had already sent correspondence to the healer Nikodemus, in Sweden, and received word in return of his arrival on the eve of Christmas Day. He wasn’t particularly happy about so much time passing when you had experienced such a traumatic and painful turn of events, with your memories flooding back at his appearance. Had it been his fault? Ought he have stayed away to keep the torment of your parents’ death at bay? I am selfish enough not to wish for it to be true...
His head swivelled as your hand gently grazed his. Your warm fingers stroked their way over his knuckles until you grasped his hand, and there were not snowflakes enough in the world to outnumber the thoughts and emotions colliding within him when you smiled at his stoic face with pure, unbound warmth. He dared not move, dared barely breathe as he sat stiffly on the edge of your bed, as he had not counted on you waking just yet.
⩤• YOU •⩥
There was a painful stillness to him, a stiffness to his back and muscles. You hadn’t expected him to be all love and heart, given the graveness of him, but feeling his cold hand lie so still under your grip had you smiling with sorrow. You wouldn’t be deterred, though. He’d held you, carried you, spoken so utterly softly with you, and shared memories in the most intimate of ways already so you knew there was warmth of a grand kind within him.
“Are you lonely, Severus?” you asked, your voice hoarse and low. “Have you been alone…all this time?”
“Yes,” he said, the gruff roughness of the low drawl had chills travelling down your spine of a delightful kind, despite his severity.
“Me, too,” you whispered as he offered you a glass of water with his free hand from the nightstand.
Sitting up, you refused to let go of his hand, but you took the glass in your other one as he watched you drink slowly.
“I promise, if you permit me to remain in your life, that never again will you be alone.” His words were stone-cold and so utterly low in tone. But, you knew him still, after all these years, you knew him deeply. His wish was so strong, and the longing in his eyes had you tearing up.
Your hand trembled, and he stole the glass away before you could drop it. “Thank you,” you said, feeling your throat soften already. “And I— Severus, I had you in my memories all this time because you matter. I know you’ve been remembering it for all these years, and I’m so sorry you didn’t find out, that we didn’t— That I couldn’t remember, couldn’t find you, couldn’t help…”
He reached up, his large hand grasping your jaw and chin so incredibly gently it made you press your hand against his to feel it more. The touch he offered was gentle and sweet in its hesitancy.
“I read about you,” you whispered with closed eyes. “The wizard who won the war, who fought the— The Dark Lord from within, and who has been praised as the bravest man… I couldn’t remember, I— I think it’s seeing you that’s triggering it all.” Your eyes remained closed, but you couldn’t miss how his breathing turned harder, not faster but deeper, and every little inch you were in contact sent a stiffness from him and into you.
“Bravest man, and most dangerous,” he murmured so quietly it was hard to grasp the words.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t there to—”
“Don’t,” he interrupted, and you looked up at him. “I do not wish for you to know of any of it.”
“What? But I thought—”
“Darling, the things I have done, what I have witnessed, it is torture to think of you knowing… I failed you so miserably,” he whispered with a voice akin to that of torment.
You moved slowly, your body stiff and weak from the past days, and he let you crawl atop his lap. His arms wrapped around you as you curled up in the safety of him so inexplicably inherent.
“Darling?” he drawled, your body softening as his chest vibrated beneath you.
“You make me feel safe.” So, so utterly safe. Nothing can get to me, take me away… Not in your arms. But the memories came from within you, not deterred by his presence.
“You have been as far away from family and friends as I have, have you not?” he asked.
But you shook your head. “No, I can’t compare my torment with yours, it would be rendered to a small ache and in my heart it’s far greater than that. I can’t compare my pain to yours, my loss, to your loss, it’s just so small.”
“Are you out of your mind? Lost your sense fully?”
“I don’t think I—”
“You lost everything. Your loss is yours, and even if my life has been a torment, with all the sorrow the world knows and more, yours is no lesser or smaller… That’s a preposterous thought.”
“Would you say so if the roles were reversed? If you had said your pain feels small compared to mine, would you accept that I don’t believe so?”
He turned quiet.
“Is it Christmas?” you asked, watching the snow while remaining in his embrace so utterly stiff but warm in its protectiveness.
“No. It’s the twenty-first.”
“Oh…”
“Saddened?” he wondered, adjusting his arms as you pressed further against his wide chest.
“No. I just hate Christmas nights, they’ve been…dark, and I’ve felt like I could almost remember the things that should never have faded to begin with.”
“You remember now, and through the years that lie ahead, you may change how it feels. Even if we can’t bring back the dead.”
“I would love to have my parents back, and all the years I’ve lost, but I…don’t think that’s how they would want me to spend my life. I don’t want to feel like I’m not living how they probably hope I will.”
Severus hummed, and you smiled at how it felt when pressed close. It was a sad smile, but who could blame you for it when sadness filled you in the midst of the joy. There was something about Severus that took everything away, and simultaneously allowed you to live in it all. Memories, and the present time, equally available and fully palpable without the fear that had haunted your lonely nights when nothing had been as it should.
You tilted your head back, not caring what you looked like when his eyes met yours with such utter warmth behind the dissolving layer of harshness. “Will you be the reason, when stars don’t align, for me to go on and find joy again? With…you?” you asked quietly, smiling through the sudden tears.
Severus gently moved his arm, and after a motion of his wand-holding hand, the room filled with lightly glowing stars all around. “I will always stay with you, find you, wait for you. If you allow it. If you want me to,” he murmured, as if the words were hard to speak and it warmed you in a manner you couldn’t dream anything else ever could.
You reached up to stroke his chilly cheek. “I love you.”
His eyes widened, and something seemed to travel through his entire body.
“Severus,” you said gently, sitting up atop his lap. “I love you. I’ve loved you for twenty-five years, and three of those you wouldn’t let me get close enough, and now I have twenty-two years to make up for.”
“What if…you stop?” he asked, no more than a breath after your declaration.
Silence lay between you as his eyes moved between yours, searching. “If you knew—”
You kissed him.
He jerked back and stiffened, but you followed, still pressing your lips to his until he softened with a sweetness so warm you whimpered as he harshly wrapped his trembling arms around you — not to hold you, but to keep you.
You wrapped your arms over his shoulders, nearly around his neck. “I love you wholly, Severus Snape.”
“Do you promise?” he murmured into your mouth; there was no heat to it, only the desperate longing of a broken man.
“My sweet little bat, I promise. I promise on the stars and the freedom you gifted the world through your unbearable sacrifices.”
“It was…for you, darling. For you, what you would have done.”
You leaned in closer, feeling his harsh, quick breath flowing over your neck and throat. “I know. MY sweet Severus, I know… But you did what no one else ever would have been able to. You are far stronger than me, than anyone else I know, and I’m sorry you had to be…”
⩤• SEVERUS • The night before Christmas Day •⩥
He watched you walk along the edge of the garden drenched in snow, a green scarf he’d gifted you that very evening sat wrapped thrice around your throat, and the too-big coat you’d stolen from his side of the closet swallowed you whole. His coat. You wore his coat again, and his broken heart couldn’t grasp the enormity of how life had turned. The warmth of you was a sensation he’d wished to feel for all those years you were lost to him — lost in the large world where he couldn’t find you.
He stood still, watching you twirling in the snow with your head tilted toward the star-speckled sky. His heart thudded harshly. Could there truly be such pounding of utter warmth inside a body that was marked so heavily with the torment of a dark and broken existence? Could his heart, so misused and unwanted, be a gift to someone as brilliantly wonderful as you? “I hope so…for I… I love you beyond life itself, darling...”
You stopped, smiling brightly at him while unknowingly setting his dark soul into a dance of the purest light. The wind pulled his hair about, and the coat flicked around his legs where it reached all the way to the snow below.
“Make the stars!” you called loudly to let the words reach him from so far away.
He chuckled, the distance hiding the rimming of tears in his eyes as he drew out his wand and flicked it in the shape of a star before they created a glowing arch above you. Your laugh filled his ears as you lit them up with your own spell in turn to send light all around, chasing away the dark of the night without a single struggle...
LINKTREE // AO3 // MASTERLIST
A/N: They made it - and they are loving each other, staying together and living happily ever after even if there will be hard times mixed with the wonderful ones. Gosh, I am so beyond in love with this story, I haven’t written properly for Snape in so long it feels like and this has just been such a lovely story to explore and partly get tossed at me at 3am in the morning in the midst of sleeping 🤣
I hope you’ve loved this! We have three more fics to go before Rickmas2025 is over, but we’re almost at the end of it all for this year ❤
Continuation of: (B1) A Christmas Wish, (B2) As the Right Bell Sounds, (B3) Winter Wonderland
A/N: We left at a real cliffy again last time, and now it’s been a few days so I’m chomping at the bits to sort this out for our dear Brandon and Y/n - let’s complete their story for Rickmas2025 with a marriage - we’ve got so many weddings this year! 😇❤
+A/N: We're celebrating Christmas with my dad tomorrow (here, hosting as usual), but it might be late before I get tomorrow's fic up, and it's also the last one I'm ahead with. 22, 23, and 24 aren't written and 23 I have Z-E-R-O clue what I should write for it, so that'll be fun to explore in a stressed rush as my in-laws are coming and staying for 3 days as well after dad 👀🙈 I hope your December is fabulous and that you're not stressing about like I am 😂👌
It was as if you dared not look at him, and he wondered why. He, who had spoken words of greatest consequence with his heart upon his sleeve most foolishly hopefully, well, he felt uncertain of your wish now that the sturdy ground lay beneath your feet. Had adrenaline overwhelmed you up there? Had he said something he ought not to? My heart is set, and my soul appears equally determined.
“Miss,” he started, clearing his throat as your gentle eyes glanced upwards at him. “Miss, are you finding yourself at a loss for words? Or, is it, perhaps, my actions that cause you a quieting discomfort now, when on steady ground?” The courage it took to speak was enormous. Battles and balls had little on the strength it required to open one’s heart, and his had been closed off for the longest of times. Yet, nothing quite felt like home like how speaking with you did so he found himself able.
“No, Colonel Brandon. Your actions and words have me most—” You turned quiet, averting your gaze as if you felt quite as moved as he. Could it truly be so?
He stepped forward, his hands reaching for yours where they rested against your dress’s outer skirt. He took your hand gently, feeling his heart galloping like horses across a raging battlefield. “I confess myself at a loss for words in your presence, miss. Even though…” He drew a steadying breath, quietly so, as he looked with unwavering eyes on you. “Even though it has never been easier to speak with another person, I am at a loss if you do not tell me your answer to my brazen question.” His heart drummed as if readying for the greatest battle.
“Please, do not prolong my agony but tell me swiftly if you wish to be my wife, despite the few moments shared, we can spend the many moments of the future together. And no, miss, my sense has not been swept away by the cold as you asked previously.” His heart now sat thickly in his throat, the nerves corded themselves under his skin, yet you kept him steady by your mere presence and he found the bravery he was renowned for — albeit for a different reason.
He witnessed your withheld smile falter, and the warmth in your eyes seemed lost from one hopeful moment to the next. “Miss?” he asked, all while keeping your gaze fixed by his, he would not yield in it.
“I am of poverty and servitude, Colonel,” you began with a quiet torment and fear in your voice he sensed echoed under his bravery. “You are far beyond my reach, and I ought not have you fall from the good grace of society by accepting—”
He boldly squeezed your hands. “Accept me. I beg you, to accept this old colonel with little but wealth and memories of war to his name. I will do my best by you, dear. I swear it. If…you will have me. If you will…allow me to attempt to bring you happiness.” There was a struggle within his chest to breathe; his confidence had all but abandoned its post with nought but hard-earned bravery rallying, and where he stood so straight-backed and firm in the views of the world, he felt nothing but fragile hope and a fear unknown to him before. One cannot be brave without fear. The greater the fear, the stronger the bravery needed to overcome it, and I shall overcome it for you.
⩤• YOU •⩥
He was beyond beautiful, from deep voice to bright eyes, straight back to long legs. But, what beauty his appearance held, was of little consequence when he had your heart soaring and your soul fluttering about as if carried by fairies in a swirling dance. His sweet words, his softened gaze, and the gentleness with which he held your stiff hands overwhelmed you in their earnest sweetness. This is a kind man, a prince charming if ever there was one, I’m sure of it…
“Dear, please, do not torture me further when I have you in my hold yet remain unknowing of your heart’s desire.” Your cheeks warmed, the fear ebbed away to nothing. “Will you take a roof cleaner, the daughter of a sweeper, to be your wife? Is it truly your wish to—”
“Yes.” Your breath faltered at his instant forwardness.
“But, Colonel, why? I do not understand what I—”
“Your kindness at heart, your angelic eyes, your sweet care and unassuming yet strong manner of existing in this harsh world, in the reality of your dangerous life, it is a wonder to behold.”
“I… Sir, I don’t understand how you can view me in such a fine manner. I have done nothing to earn such praise.” Your mind darkened, but he pulled on your hands and searched for your gaze with the softness you had only ever witnessed in his.
He drew a deeper breath through his nose and smiled. “Dear, you nearly died gruesomely upon our first meeting, yet you worried further about my health than your own. You have fought through your life dangerously, even I, with battles and wars behind me, appreciate your valour and strength for leading such a dangerous life unapologetically. I have not known many women such as you. I dare say, I have known none before.”
He spoke swiftly, his voice strong yet held low to keep the conversation private. Your heart fluttered, your fingers bent around his hands in return, while you fought tears of happiness at hearing him speak with factual examples of his seemingly misplaced praise. It appeared it was not.
“Miss Y/n, please. You would make me a proud husband should you accept me in marriage. I do not wish to ask for too much, but I will plead for your hand and hope that your heart may one day find warmth for me as my heart holds nothing but love for you.”
“Colonel,” you whispered, wanting to shout to the world that you felt the same. “I would love to be your wife. It would be an honour to be loved by the man I love so utterly in turn. A man so kind, so gentle, and so utterly caring.” You watched his face soften, his shoulders lowering as he seemed to turn light by your words spoken so utterly gently yet happily.
“We shall have a Christmas wedding, dear.”
A thrill shot through you, yet a whole year’s wait sounded too long when you wished to kiss him right then and there. “Within a year?” you asked, and he pulled you into his arms as if he had to have you there that very second.
“By the lord, no. We shall wed this Christmas, if I so must interrupt the Christmas Mass for it.”
⩤•⫘•⩥
Christopher had no need to interrupt the Christmas Mass for the two of you to be wed that Christmas. A mere week and a half had passed when you entered Delaford as Mrs Brandon. You couldn’t quite believe it, but you had no silly little wish of ever waking up if it in fact was a dream spanning weeks upon weeks.
“Darling, my dear love,” Christopher said, holding you close for a second before his head dipped low, and your stomach tangled itself in joyous knots of want as his lips graced yours so utterly softly.
“I love you,” you whispered against his lips.
“As I love you, my dear,” he murmured in return, the thickness of his voice as heavy as the love in your heart.
“Come, they must be waiting for us,” you said, not wanting to spare another second to the people who had witnessed you say yes in the church. But, alas, a wedding party was to be had.
“Duty calls, you mean?”
“Duty calls, time to rally the troops and please the masses,” you whispered cheekily, kissing him once more as butterflies filled your stomach and warmth exploded across your cheeks and chest.
“If I could but whisk you away, to dance across snow and be just you and I, my dear.”
“Yes,” you whispered, kissing his cheek before taking his arm to walk alongside him to the grandly decorated ballroom. “But we must do right by your friends and family, my sweet saviour.”
“Saviour?” he asked, and you nodded.
A little smile, so uncharacteristically mischievous, covered his slightly swollen lips. “I shall take great pleasure in telling Mrs Jennings that wives do, in fact, fall from the sky.”
“Christopher!” you laughed. “What a thing to say,” you continued with barely the countenance to hide your laughing.
You kept walking toward the ballroom as he spoke. “My dear, I believed the vastness of loneliness to be never-ending and all-consuming of my life until you, quite literally, fell from the sky and left me with a fully bruised back and stolen heart.”
“C-Christopher, please, you… My love, you shall never be lonely again. I will be by your side, forever—” you stopped walking, looking up at him with a sudden playful strictness “—but there better not be any other women falling from the sky atop you, you hear me?”
“Loud and clear, ma’am. Loud and clear.”
You laughed, he kissed your temple, and then you marched into the ballroom with wide smiles to the sound of loud cheers from the gathered friends and family. You danced the night away, never stopping to think of how a Christmas wish you’d thought to be so utterly silly and impossible had turned December into an absolute wonder.
Christopher dipped you, his steady hand at your lower back as unyielding as the smile stretching your lips as wide as they could possibly go. A set of violins sped up in their playing, your heart raced in tune, and he kissed you with devotion so earnest pouring out of him, only to be met by yours in equal measure.
“Merry Christmas, dear wife,” he said against your lips.
“Merry Christmas, my sweet husband,” you whispered in turn as he straightened the two of you and the world was so blissfully righted…
LINKTREE // AO3 // MASTERLIST
A/N: Imma just go over here and cry happy tears for a moment — they are so sweet and adoringly lovely. Seriously, they make my heart sing with joy and I hope you have loved following ladder!reader and this brave Colonel of ours this year 💞
Pairing: Young & Adult Snape x Young & Adult!Fem!Reader
POV: Second, Reader & Third, Snape
Setting/History: You suffered amnesia when you were in an accident in December of 1977. You lost your loving parents as your flying carriage got trapped in a snowstorm and plummeted into a mountainside in northern Sweden. It took a year to find out who you were, but you never regained your memories of that day or what you had lived through before that. Only the faint memory of red snow flashed in your mind from time to time with a trailing horror so devastating it tormented you despite the lack of understanding of why. Now it’s 1999, one year after the war, and you have finally returned to your roots — even if you have no memory of them.
A/N: I promise, you will think me crazy for this being matched to this prompt, but trust me and just believe because it will line up in the end, even if it seems so incredibly impossible. Also, get a teddy bear to cuddle your way through another longer part with all the damn feels (sorry, not sorry 🙃)
Tags/TW’s: Deadly Accident, Animals get Hurt/Mangled, Death, Mangled/Dismembered Bodies/Gore Described, Past and Present Story Elements, Snape Lives, Post-War AU With History, Longing, Mutual Love, Lost Love Found Again, Amnesia from Adolescent Trauma, Amnesia Partly Lifting, Painful Memories, Past Trauma Remembered, They Are Together At Last…
Abbr.: Y/N - Your Name
Word Count: 3.9k
LINKTREE // AO3 // MASTERLIST
⩤• YOU •⩥
Snow was softly falling, dreams called like bells in the distance, and there was nothing you could do but follow the sounds which consumed you further with each passing breath. The calmness made way for something suffocatingly gruesome in its coldness. Distress.
Fear so palpable it bit your cheeks with its chill, and the cries in broken neighs sent terror along our skin. In the distance, a troll roared, and another replied equally furiously. The ground shook as a tree slammed down, scattering the heavy snow and letting the hurling wind spread it about, even if the bite of it couldn’t quite get through the large coat you lay in.
“Mom!” you screamed, your voice oddly detached and echoed. “Dad?!” The snow turned everything hazy; you crawled forward either way, toward the fading noises of animals in insurmountable pain. The roars of trolls grew louder, angry snarls made the air tremble and vibrate between ground-shaking thuds, but you couldn’t see where the enormous beasts were.
You dragged yourself through the snow, so thick and heavy you could barely move. The flickering light ahead grew into two with a strange tilt as you staved off a scream. A shooting pain tore through your leg. “DAD! Please!” you cried out, but there was no reply. “P-please,” you cried, wanting nothing but your parents and their safety.
Bile rose as the specific blue of pegasus’s blood soaked the snow before you, beyond their broken bodies — mangled too painfully to let your eyes fully stay on them — lay the crushed carriage. Your heart splintered as realisation too terrible to grasp began to dawn. A shattering pain so consuming it drove you to scream louder than the blizzard. Witnessing your mom holding your dad in her arms, with his head in the wrong direction, and where there should have been an arm, there was just a bloody hole with blood slipping through your mom’s fingers; soaking her pearly white glove.
Your breath stuttered, barely escaping your tightened lungs. The cold air tore its way to your lungs as you began hyperventilating. “MOM! NO!” you screamed between painful breaths.
Her head tilted, blood covering most of it. “Little star…” she whispered, blood dripping out of her mouth as you crawled through the snow. “I’m…so sorry…we cannot-, cannot…remain with you.”
“No, Mom, Dad, please, please!”
You scrambled, flinging yourself through the snow in time to grasp their upper bodies as your mom’s strength waned. “No, no, no, no, no, Mom, Mommy, please, please, no…”
“Little star…” her bent fingers reached up, pressing oddly against your cheek “…you have…everything you need.”
“No, Mommy, please, I can heal you—” You looked away to see the damage, and there was just bloody snow and carnage all around. Your dad missed everything from his navel and down, your mom from the middle of her thighs. You reached for your wand to try anything.
You mom’s chest quivered as your grasp hardened. She glanced upwards, at you, with such loving eyes. “When it seems…that we have…have lost our way… Begin…again.”
“I— We— I will,” you cried as her last breath slipped away. You didn’t even have the slightest chance to try and save her. Your lamenting wail was heard far and wide.
Everything spun, your wails echoed out over and over, then whispered words to just believe, just believe, if you just believe. The snow lay warm against you, the biting wind did not feel cold, but the terror ripped through you from the depths of your chest as you screamed a sound so horrendous, not even the trolls dared roar in turn.
⩤• SEVERUS •⩥
“NO!” you screamed, the pain so raw it invited him to feel it as he ran to the living room.
“Y/n,” the other woman said, grabbing at your shoulders as he entered and halted abruptly in the doorway with a hammering heart.
A bloodcurdling scream left your lips as you bolted upright and scrambled off the couch, spinning, panting, crying. It tore his heart out to see you exude such terror, terror as grave as the one he’d witnessed under the Dark Lord’s rule, under Voldemort’s wand, what he himself had felt for years on end until he was more dead than alive.
“Calm down, calm— You’re safe,” the woman said as she tried to grip you, but you spun around without seeming to actually be fully present — he knew the glazed look of true nightmares with a mere glance.
“They died, they died, I couldn’t save them,” you panted, the pain in your voice so guttural and unbearable he leaned forward. “No, the trolls, the pega-, the carri-, snow, there was blood-blood-bloody and, and, and his coat, there were no legs—” You gagged, shaking your head vehemently, and the sheen of sweat offered a ghostly look when you turned in his direction.
Your flitting eyes seemed to attempt to focus on the woman before you, while he did all he could to stay so utterly still. He burned to hold you. His insides roared for your quivering body. Fear and wrath mingled in his blood while he held back, held still, despite everything in him pounding in the restraint he’d not exerted so fully since the war.
⩤• YOU •⩥
“Believe, believe, everything I need, believe, believe,” you whispered barely audibly as you tried to focus on Perri under your memories’ attack. You could smell the coat; the scent of Severus invaded you with such force you wanted to cry and rejoice simultaneously. The lanky, tall shadow wrapped in a snowy haze that had haunted you for so long finally stepped into the glow of the lantern, revealing himself as pieces of your life returned.
Large pieces, like what had happened, what you had been robbed of, what you had held within your grasp so securely one moment only for it to be destroyed in the next, most of it returned. You wavered, your body shaken beyond belief as panic surged with the pain and confusion. Everything at once, and nothing fully. The sound of bells in the distance haunted you from the nightmare memories.
You swayed, nauseated yet numbed. Perri held fast, and your hazy gaze found a large shadow in the doorway behind her. Your breath faltered as those onyx eyes held yours harshly. He was tall, broad, large. He was stiff, and still, and there. Right there, with a pain so vivid across his aged features, you felt yours reflected in near equality.
“Severus,” you gasped, his gaze instantly flickering with something livid, or alive. Tears filled your widening eyes, your body swaying a step toward him as your fingers reached forward of their own — the world seemed to narrow itself to just him. “S-Severus, oh god, Severus,” you cried brokenly, launching yourself forward, as if there was no time to waste. You rushed on stumbling legs with reaching arms and a desperate cry so full of pain you couldn’t even imagine it came from your own mouth.
He reached out, arms opening to catch you unfalteringly. He was steady, strong, there so unwaveringly it made you scream through the crying. He held you tighter against his broad chest, so incredibly sturdy in its unwavering rising and sinking through steady breaths, they clashed so audibly with your crying gasps as your soul threatened to leave your body if this hurt didn’t end.
You clawed at his clothes, and he held you with arms so strong you dared take a deeper breath and let go. The assault of memories overtaking your previously quiet mind, lacking anything and everything about who you had been, what you had felt, what you had seen and dreamt of as a young witch, was just too much. It was overwhelming.
“I will not let go,” he stated, his voice so dark it cradled you like a shadow as you clawed and gripped at him. “You are safe…Y/n.”
“Severus,” you cried into his chest, gripping even harder. “I couldn’t-, couldn’t remember.”
“You’re alright.” His fingers gripped you as if he feared you’d disappear, too. “You found me again,” he murmured, and, even if he sounded so different and appeared equally as familiar as he did a stranger, your heart told you he was what you’d dreamt of, what you’d sought, what you’d known was left behind yet obscured beyond that sensation of something being lost but out there.
“Don’t let me leave. Don’t...” You struggled to breathe, to speak, to voice what your heart called out. “Don’t let me disappear, p-please.”
A dark drone of a sound rumbled in his chest. “Never, darling.”
“I called you that,” you whispered, stuttering breaths mingling with the words. “And…my little bat,” you continued as the memory flowed, and the inexplicable safety his cradling arms were couldn’t have been falsified in any way. Your body knew, your soul was certain; your heart, too.
“Yes,” he said. “Temporary insanity to blame, perhaps,” he continued, and you brokenly laughed through the crying until it turned to wrecking sobs, tearing up your throat as your tears soaked his frock.
⩤• SEVERUS •⩥
You lay in his arms, cradled atop his legs as he sat in the wing-backed chair. The crackling fire mingled its snaps with your calm breaths in sleep of pure exhaustion, while dawn arrived beyond the windows, covered in those sparkling webs of ice across the pane, forcing the dawning light to filter through them before spreading across the floor and furniture alike.
The other woman, Perri, lay asleep on the couch while Severus refused to be lulled into the darkness when you still gripped his clothes — even in deep sleep — and, despite the relaxed breaths, your brows were tense as he watched over you. The warmth he’d not felt since the day you left returned within his chest, in his heart.
“You were by my side, even when I did not…deserve it,” Severus whispered, keeping his voice so utterly low with your ear pressed against his chest. “Have you heard of my deeds? Do you know what I’ve…done?” No. There is none alive who knows, who truly knows…
Your breaths hardened, a soft plea he couldn’t make out filtered past your lips.
“You are safe,” he said, the depth of his voice with the roughness of his damaged vocal cords made it sound like a dark promise even to his ears.
“…no…” you whimpered so quietly. “Believe,” you gasped as your eyes flung open in tune with your entire body roaring to life in his hold.
Your head jerked back, your eye snapping to his. The vast beauty of them, even in fright and hurt, had his breath faltering for a moment. But he allowed you to see the warmth in his own, working hard to keep the door to his mind and heart open for you — only for you.
“Sev?” Your voice cracked and quivered as he nodded. “We’re here.”
“Indeed,” he murmured, the warmth in his chest spreading further as your hand flattened against him — where that misused heart drummed unlike any other moment since you’d taken his hand all those years ago. “Nightmare?”
You shook your head. “Memories, I think…” You smiled as tears watered your eyes, turning them to a twinkling wonder that mesmerised and hurt him equally.
You lowered your gaze, and he watched as you studied your own hand where it lay flatly, with your thumb starting to stroke one of the many buttons absentmindedly, back and forth.
“I have new— No, old memories, but I don’t… I don’t know if I want them.”
His heart skipped a beat. “You wish them to disappear? To be lost, once more?”
You shook your head. “No.”
Your head tilted, catching first on his eyes and then moving further to the ceiling covered in the stars he’d created just for you. “Believe in what you feel inside, trusting starlight like captains of ships as they go sailing far across the sea to get where they need to be…” you whispered as he listened, a rasp to your tired voice.
“May I see?” he asked, sensing your sudden stiffening.
“My memories?”
He nodded, his hair falling forward slightly.
“They used to be like pin-straight curtains,” you whispered, reaching up to stroke back each side in turn as his breath hitched. “It’s wavier, thicker,” you continued as your fingers slipped through the strands, and he forced his body to remain still — to not shiver, not stir, to be steady.
“Indeed.”
“Sorry, I shouldn’t assume I…” You lowered your gaze to his utter dismay. “Someone as handsome as you, and brilliant. I shouldn’t just—”
He smiled as his fingers tightened their hold, that heat in his heart blooming so fervently his cheeks felt oddly warm. “You may touch me however, and whenever…you wish.”
You softened atop him, and a moment of silence passed with your gazes locked. He didn’t fear what those eyes sought; he didn’t hide when you kept gazing into his as if you needed it.
“You can look…” you said quietly, once more resting your hand against his chest — his heart drummed ever harder. “But it’s… It’s not nice,” you warned, which he nearly chuckled at — the horrors he had witnessed were not nice, either.
“I do not mind. Horrors are not foreign to me.” He focused on your gaze, a hint of fear shining through it. “Are you certain? I will see what you see…in your mind. All of it,” he clarified.
You nodded. “I trust you. You’re the safest person I know.”
His breath rumbled out. “You ought to acquaint yourself with far more people, then.” His words made you smile, even if it was just a small stretching of those lips he adored so much.
⩤• YOU •⩥
Severus slipped through your mind, ruffling your memories while forcing you to see it all once more in rapid motion. Your breath faltered, pain shot through your body in remembrance. But his presence stole away some of the terror; he fought back some of the darkness with his own shadowy appearance. Trust in starlight. Believe. Believe in what your heart is saying, and mine says I’m safe with him. Safe to… Begin again. Always begin again. Your parents had offered that as one of the most valuable ideas to take hold of you from the very beginning of your life — you had lost it for many years, but it had lived on in your struggles, even if you hadn’t recognised it.
Severus swirled around the phantom of you in your memories; he poked and prodded while you witnessed yourself fall apart by your parents’ bodies. Then the shadows turned to tendrils, grabbing the nearby trees and twisting them to castle walls before you came running down the corridor with a young, lanky, ever-grumpy Severus in tow.
Your heart skipped a beat, a smile stretching your lips as your point of view turned skewed. You seemed to sparkle, like fairydust swirled about your head mid-run. Your face turned back with a twisting of your neck, your hand reached the same direction, and for the first time, you saw yourself as something purely beautiful. Something magically beautiful that looked like you but also wasn’t quite how you remembered seeing yourself.
Your smile was truly wonderful, your eyes sparkled like stars, and you called his name in a way you had never heard before, sounding so utterly precious. This isn’t mine. You turned, seeing Severus nearly smiling at your teenage self before reaching out his hand with a strange warmth flitting through the air and into you. These are your memories, not… This is how you saw me?
His grave face lingered further back, those onyx eyes steadily on you as his body stood wrapped in shadows. “Severus...” you whispered.
“I’ve waited for twenty-two years.” He glided forward, those shadows becoming tendrils once more, and the world warped to the memory that had haunted you in a haze for years, but now it was different. “I watched you leave, and I believed you would find me again. But you were lost, and none disclosed a word of why.”
You watched him watch you leave. The memory was so utterly warm, so utterly beautiful yet lonely. It seemed like the magic slipped away, as if the bells in the distance died out as you got further away. Something lingered in the shadows of the forest.
“Darkness came after this,” Severus murmured, a pain much like your own in his voice.
“Darkness?”
“Darkness.” He wrapped you up in his shadows, and the memories faded as reality came back all around you just before you had time to see what happened later.
Severus drew a deeper breath. “Your memories are painful, darling. I’m sorry you had to witness your parents torn apart so gruesomely.”
“I’m sorry you were left behind, I didn’t know— I didn’t remember,” you replied, sitting up further atop those thick thighs keeping you so utterly steady while he straightened. “I’m not sure I’ve grasped it.”
“I would be surprised if you had. You ought not be alone for a while.”
“I’ll be with you, won’t I?”
His eyes widened, and you couldn’t help but feel equally charmed and worried. He was so different, so altered, yet he was exactly who you wished to be with, exactly who you’d imagined he’d become and simultaneously not at all who you’d thought waited in your future. You couldn’t explain it, it was just… You believed, that was all. You believed, and he watched you with a strange longing — like a child having to grow up yet wishing for life to remain the same.
“Won’t I?” you asked, resting your hands on his shoulder and forearm, where it lay next to your thigh.
“If you wish.”
“I do. I wish to be with you forev—”
“NOW, hold on!” came the sudden shout from Perri, and you nearly jumped out of your skin, wholly forgetting your friend was there, too.
“What the bloody hell is going on right now?!” she shrieked, horror and confusion tainting her usually happy voice.
“Perri!” You turned in Severus’s lap. “I remember. I remember what happened, my life, my childhood. I remember,” you said, standing with the help of Severus’s hand at your lower back as a little push.
Perri stiffened, her eyes big as saucers, before she shook her head and that full bottom lip began to tremble. “You remember?” she asked, covering her mouth with a stiff hand afterwards as a sob shook her.
“I remember.” You nodded, smiling with puffy eyes. “I remember my parents, my childhood, and…Severus,” you continued, glancing back at him where he remained in the chair. You already missed his steadying hand.
Then Perri moved and stole your attention back. “Y/n, oh, Merlin, I’m so happy,” she said, crying and blubbering like the easily moved witch she was. “I can’t believe it, after all these years?”
You nodded, taking her in your arms. “I have so much to tell you, Perri. So, so, so much.”
“There’s time for that later, we need to get you to Nikodemus right away. He’ll want to know all about this.”
You hugged her tightly, your energy already dipping low as your head spun with the strange mix of two lives, two parts of you, and only one link between the two available. You released Perri at that, turning toward Severus, who had risen and stood straight-backed behind you. “Will you come with me?”
“Where?”
“Brita Bluhilldal Hospital, it’s in northern Sweden, where I’ve been since...” Your voice trailed off as he nodded, not needing any further explanation.
“You cannot travel right now,” he said, though, and no room for arguing was given by his dark voice. “You need rest.”
“Come home with me?” you asked, no hesitation, as your heart sang with a wish so deep for him to remain close you dared not deny it. Suddenly having all those emotions back, all those sensations and feelings, it was indescribable.
Perri gasped. “Y/n, what are you—”
“Sev?” you asked, interrupting her as you kept your gaze on him.
“No, Y/n, you don’t understand who—”
“Come with me? Stay with me..?” you asked while Perri kept whispering by your ear.
He nodded, slowly but unmistakably certain in the motion.
Smiling, you reach for him. “Thank you,” you said as he took your hand slowly.
Your legs shook, and he grasped you firmly instantly.
“I’m sorry, I’m… I’m tired,” you said, smiling up at the man you’d lost and now found once more.
He held you closer. “With your friend as a guide, I will take you home. If you wish it.”
“Please,” you said, softening in his grip before he raised you up in his sturdy arms. “If you’ll stay.”
“Dreams are calling,” he murmured as your eyes drooped and he lifted you into his arms before sitting once more with you atop him. “Follow them. I will be here,” he assured as your head thunked against his shoulder.
Those words, though, they stirred something at the back of your head. “We were dreamers,” you murmured, struggling to keep your eyes open as memories fought with exhaustion, as they flitted between now and then, between haze and clarity. “They dreamed for me,” you murmured as the view of your smiling, loving parents warmed and lulled you into a soft sleep, held in the safest arms in the world…
TO BE CONTINUED
LINKTREE // AO3 // MASTERLIST
A/N: My sweet babies are struggling yet also feeling all the best feels - and all the cuddles, the holding, the eyecontact, the memory sharing!? Gosh, how am I to wrap this up with just one more part? 😭😭😭
Prompt 18: God Rest Ye Merry, Gentlemen - Nox Arcana (T5)
Song link: Spotify & YouTube
Pairing: Judge Turpin x Fem!Reader
POV: Second, Reader & Third, Turpin
Setting: London
Continuation of: ((T1) Carol of the Fates, (T2) Fairy Dance, (T3) Ice Storm, (T4) Winter Solitude
A/N: This is perhaps a liiiiitle abrupt, but I’m running out of prompts, time, and there’s a limit to how much I can write for each couple, each story, each prompt. However, I think it’s safe to say you’ll enjoy the ending of Turpin’s story for Rickmas2025 😇🤭❤
The pews overflowed in St Paul’s Cathedral. The ethereal building swallowed all; earl, duke, sweeper, and pauper alike. Your innards were in horrible condition, beyond tense and twisted over what lay before you. The aisle was such a long walk that you could barely make out the man of your dreams at the end of it. How were you supposed to manage all the way when your legs wished to give out? They stood hidden and trembling beyond layers upon layers upon even further layers of ivory white decorated with lace and pearls, all flowing down to a long train far grander than you had ever imagined your wedding dress would be.
A deep, dark vocalisation of a male choir joined flawlessly with the loud organ, drowning out the enormous crowd with the controlling of air blown through its large bellows. But they were all there to witness him take you as his wife. Me. He is taking me as his wife. His wife? I’m to be his wife? You could barely believe it. But he stands in wait for me; it truly is happening. My silly heart is getting its wish… Yet I am terrified?
Your legs moved of their own accord. With hammering heart and nervous knots riddling your insides, you witness his gaze locked upon you, and only you. It warmed something, and eased the tightness. The great and powerful man awaiting you by the priest was all that mattered. When his eyes held yours, there was no need to feel fright or worry. Judge Turpin would be your husband, and you his wife. With a mere week to grasp this fact, you had yet to overcome to shock of it all. To accept, and truly understand, that hope had not been cruel, and dreams had not taunted you for nothing.
Remembering when you had to reveal how the rumours had made you flee London over two weeks ago, and then the ordeal of having to witness the very woman those rumours were about stand right next to him as you explained the error upon your return to London — the horror and pure ghastliness of both their faces was a sight you would never forget. You could not let your mind remain on it at this moment, though.
You both stood before the priest, yet neither looked away from each other’s eyes. Your hand trembled within his sturdy, unyielding grasp. With the priest droning on, the judge’s thumb stroked the ridge of your knuckles assertively yet gently, and as he offered the smallest of smiles, your insides quivered in a delight so shamefully strong you wondered if you’d ever dare express it.
⩤• TURPIN •⩥
Entering his home with you on his arm, his little wisp turned faithful wife, he could not help but feel an unwavering warmth so wholly consuming it warmed even the tips of his fingers. It had little to do with the blazing fires and candles within his home, but much to do with how you held his gaze without a single hint of fear. There was never fear in your gaze when it rested upon him.
“Wife,” he said, pulling you forward before twisting you to face him. “We are home.” How his heart hammered at speaking such words, even if he would never let such a thing be shown in any manner at all.
Your cheeks rounded with a smile so utterly soft and demure in its spreading. “Indeed, sir. Home,” you nearly whispered, your gentle countenance so at odds with the ravaging need coursing through him as you lowered your head for a moment.
“We have much to discuss, little wisp.” Much indeed… How will you please me, I wonder? It was truly a question of how, not if.
You tilted your head so minimally he nearly missed it. “Do we, sir?” you asked, soft and questioning before him. “You are my husband, I think there is little to discuss, sir?”
He smiled slyly, holding himself back as your innocent eyes peered up at him with his finger under your chin, and all the ravaging thoughts flooded him at your unintentional obedience so utterly perfect in its naturalness. “You will be more, little wife of mine. Much, more.”
You gulped as his lips turned into a tight smirk. He could not miss the flash of curiosity shading those eyes and cheeks of yours. “Not tonight, though. We had guests waiting, and as much as I wish to lock you up and keep…you to myself—” he pulled you close enough for a kiss being possible as he spoke with harsh and drawn out punctuation “—we must do our duty, and I have yet to parade you before all…who have lost you to me, little wisp, my innocent little wife…”
⩤• YOU • One Year Later •⩥
Satin lay beneath your knees and shins. The pillow was thick, soft, and had become your most beloved seat — apart from perching atop your husband, that is. The grand man sat by his large desk, scribbling on important-looking parchment with his right hand while his left lay steadily wrapped along your jaw, his thumb stroking your cheek as your head rested against his thick thigh. Your eyes fluttered closed as the candle flickered and the scratching of the quill mingled with the wind outside.
Stirring, you found yourself nearly lying over your husband’s thighs, arm stretched over, and cheek pressed harshly against the bronze-toned pants. You whimpered, a shooting pleasure searing your body as his large fingers tweaked your exposed nipple before returning to stroking your bare breast slowly, perfectly steady in the motion you dared think had been done for a long moment, given the friction burn branding your skin nearly painfully.
“Sinful, wisp,” he droned, pinching your nipple anew. “I can smell you, little wife.”
“S-sir,” you whimpered while sitting up, straightening your back and placing your hands palms down atop your quivering, stiff thighs, and he let you — you ought not have fallen asleep or strewn yourself over him in such a manner to start with, but no reprimand came for it.
“Such a sight you are, little wisp,” he nearly drawled, but there was no mistaking the hunger in that deep voice of his. “Lie atop the desk, let me witness the true state of you,” he continued, and you could feel his gaze drink you in from above.
“S-sir,” you whispered, hoping your legs would allow you to stand without wobbling too much.
He grasped your hips as you swayed. Having sat on your knees for several hours, you were utterly stiff and the blood suddenly flowing freely once more had pins and needles attacking your calves and feet.
“Good. Now, fold,” he ordered as you stepped before him and leaned over the desk. “Apart,” he continued, his boot pushing your bare feet from one another as the cool wood sent shivers along your spine, and you arched your back at the contact.
“Stretch, little wife. Stretch for me.”
You obeyed, reaching your arms forward without lowering your behind. You knew how he loved to see everything, so you took hold of the edge of the desk while boldly pushing your back to arch further.
“Good.” His fingers were feather-light as they stroked up along the insides of your quivering thighs. “Such a pretty wife, such a pretty cunt, such a pretty little thing you are. Mine, so wholly,” he said, praising and taunting equally, but oh how you adored it.
Your breath hitched, your cunt throbbed, and you knew he could see the glistening arousal he had you feeling with little to no effort needed. It had taken time, months of work from him and you equally to get to this point, but now? Now, you were his to do as he pleased with, and he was always so utterly pleased to have you until you could barely take it anymore — then, he would give you everything. He never left you unsatisfied, and his greatest satisfaction seemed to be when you did absolutely nothing.
Doing nothing, that was a skill beyond skills. Sitting perfectly poised for hours, laying with your legs parted and strapped up mid-air without being able to do anything at all, kneeling by his side atop the perfectly shaped satin pillow while being so utterly still and quiet, holding so incredibly still as he took and gave with force or infuriating softness; there was no skill as great as the one to do nothing.
You were perfectly capable of doing the one thing he always wished of you, and seeing him come undone by your capability to take and yield, to exist in your demure countenance while he ravaged you even in rage and desperation was what drove him to madly loving you. His eyes were never able to hide the pride, the want, the undeniable approval. None but you ever received his undivided attention or full and unwavering approval. It was you, and you alone, who he truly valued.
In the darkened room, chills scampered across your skin as his thick fingers slid along your outer labia on either side. You were so utterly quiet, so utterly still, as his droning hum of approval at the slightly squelching sound filling the library when he pushed your labia inwards and then released the tension before his finger slipped between them and found you so utterly soaked and needy. He wasted no time slipping two fingers inside that trained cunt of yours.
You bit the inside of your lip, his warm fingers had stars dancing along your vision as he stroked leisurely but with force. The movement was slow, but the push against your inner walls had your body arching further as wet noises filled your ears along with his satisfied groan and the words “pretty little toy” spoken so adoringly gruffly it warmed your heart and had more moisture leaking out of you to his utter approval.
“You did well today,” he praised. “Down on your knees, by my side all day, where you belong.”
“Thank you, sir,” you whispered, turning your head to lay your cheek flush against the hard wood.
“You deserve to be fucked,” he continued, voice composed but fingers hardening inside you as he rose from the chair behind you. “Would you enjoy that, wisp? To take my cock like a good wife should always do?”
“Please, sir.” Your insides screamed for him, for the fullness and roughness of him.
Richard leaned over you, bracing one hand against the desk next to your stretched arm, before he dragged that perfect nose along your exposed throat as your head tilted. “You will be loud today, little wife. You will moan for me, let me hear what hides in that demure soul of yours. I want you free today.” His fingers left your cunt, and you heard his buttons being undone. “You did so well, and I will take everything you have. All…of…it, wisp.”
Your heart stuttered, your lips parting on a gasp, as he shoved himself inside with no further warning. You were beyond wet, beyond needy, and beyond ready to take him as swiftly as he wished. You didn’t mind the first burn, so light it hardly existed.
“Let me hear you, wife.” His order was harsh, decisive, and so utterly freeing after three days of quiet torment with no release to be had.
He pushed into you, the desk rocked as your hips would later become bruised by the force he pushed you against its edge with, you were certain. “Sir,” you whimpered, moaning softly as his hand pushed against your lower back, sliding upwards harshly. “Ohh,” you whimpered as his pace quickened and hardened further. You adored him harsh and rough, adored him taking, claiming, dragging whatever pleasure he wished from your body as he offered you so much more in turn.
His hand slid all the way to your scalp, where he fisted your loose hair. He bent you unnaturally, and it forced his cock deeper. “Feel me, wisp. Feel…me.”
“Richard— Oh, God,” you cried, and he groaned at the mention. “God, please, oh, oh, please—”
He pulled your hair further, slammed into you harder. Knowing the depravity between him and you was just and good, a husband bedding his wife as was his duty, even in the eyes of God, and, well, you knew it made him feel righteous in his actions. His God-fearing was ever present, and the depravity he needed equally so, but a consenting and loving wife seemed to alleviate all his grievances, and you could not help but feel cheekily good about being the one and only who could offer it to him.
Your body ached deliciously as he took and took, as you bent and whimpered. He stilled, his breathing so utterly harsh and his body so tense you could feel his thighs strain where they sat pressed against yours. “Not, yet,” he bit, nearly snarling the words, and you held so utterly still and quiet to keep him from releasing, and his hand let go of your hair, allowing a swift freeing from the pain in your back while his hands grasped your hips. “Sit.” He pulled you back and down atop him before you had a chance to move of your own accord.
His hands slid down your legs, pulling them apart to be stretched out on either side of his spread but sturdy ones. You were pulled as wide as you could be when his hands slid back up. “Lean back, eyes closed, and mouth shut. Breathe and moan as you like, but no words.”
You did as you were told.
“Good.”
His hands toyed with your nipples, his hands kneading your breasts perfectly while his lips lavished your neck with harsh kisses and stinging nibbles. You held so still atop him, his thick cock pushing against your pulsing insides. Your orgasm loomed over your head, your inwardly quivering body strained under the wish to yield to it. Not yet, he has not allowed it, yet.
“Pretty little wife, good little woman of mine,” he murmured by your ear as you arched and fought the need to wriggle atop him under the constant onslaught and nearly unbearable need to be set free in the overwhelming pleasure straining your muscles. You moaned and whined, but your lips remained closed, and no words came as he toyed with you freely. It burned, it strained, it hurt so good. You held out, held firm, remained strong even when you could barely draw breath for fear of coming.
“Beg for it. Beg me,” he said gruffly, the depth of his voice so hauntingly perfect you nearly fell over the edge from it alone. His fingers tweaked your nipples as your hands grasped the armrests on either side with straining knuckles. “P-please,” you whispered. “Please, sir, I beg of you. Allow me— Hnnng— P-please, allow-, allow me to come,” you asked with your voice half suffocated by the force exerted to hold your orgasm back.
“Such pretty pleading,” he murmured, praising and sounding satisfied while his own body sat rigidly under you.
“Husband, please.”
He stiffened further, his teeth biting down along your shoulder as his hips jerked upwards, and one hand surged down to circle your clit as he began to fuck into you mercilessly. You cried and whined, pleading and calling for your husband to please let you have your release, and it spurred him on, just as you knew it would. There was nothing in the world that had him so utterly maddened as hearing you plead for your husband, for him as your husband.
“Come for me,” he implored as he speared upwards with those strong legs straining perfectly beneath you. “Come with me, wife.”
“Oh, yes, God, hmmm— Please, yes, Richard!” you cried as your body convulsed at his roar of pleasure. As he grunted by your ear and squeezed you to him in raw adoration. He moaned against your neck as you shook and trembled atop him with your arms reaching up in fervent need to hold him. Your fingers grabbed at his hair, pulling and pushing equally at his nape while his release prolonged yours to perfection.
You were a slumping mess once you came down from the incredible high. Richard held you up, his fingers kneading and stroking your limp body with blooming aches all over. You felt used, wanted, cherished, and claimed — it was a heady mix of emotions you had fought to understand for many months at the beginning of your relationship. Now? They were heaven when handled properly, and Richard always took care of you, his sweet little wisp of a wife was to be adored and lavished upon you had learnt.
His thin lips kissed just below your earlobe as you released a deep breath.
“You did so well, my love.” He kissed your jaw. “You are such a delight, now let me take care of those aching legs.”
You moaned a quiet breath. “Richard, you are such a wonderful husband…” You were beyond tired, yet there was no missing the jerk of his cock where it still lay half-erect within our aching cunt, nor could you miss the way he tensed yet also seemed to curl around you at the only praise he accepted — being good to you.
“My sweet wife,” he whispered. “Let me bathe you, pamper you, adore you.”
“Please…”
“I love you, my little wisp of perfection embodied.”
Your heart seemed to sail out of your chest. “And I love you, my darling husband…”
You knew he would want you seated on the pillow of satin tomorrow as well, and you wished to be nowhere else. But right now, being lifted to his chest where you could feel his steady heartbeat thudding only for you as he carried you toward the bathroom, well, you were beyond happy to be where you were. Tomorrow, when your husband returned from a day at the court, you would await him by his desk on your knees atop the Egyptian silk with nothing but a ribbon in your hair…
LINKTREE // AO3 // MASTERLIST
A/N: I LOVE THEM AND LORD HAVE MERCY, THEY ARE PERFECT TOGETHER 😭👏❤
Continuation of: (H1) Wizards in Winter, (H2) Russian Dance, (H3) Candy Cane Lane
A/N: EYYY! Final part of Hans’s story for Rickmas2025 😱 It’s been a few days since Candy Cane Lane and we’ll be jumping a whole year into the future - I just neeeeed a sort of “how did it even pan out?” kinda end to this ‘cus I STILL WONDER WHAT REALLY HAPPENED WITH ANNA-LOUISA BACK IN 2022 FOR GOODNESS SAKE 😭😭😭 Like, I know what happened, but, I didn’t write it out so it’s still like all floaty and could change… This isn’t an OC story, obviously, but I still feel Y/n in this is distinct enough it almost could be an x OC story like Hans & Anna-Louisa’s 👀
Oh, and there’s SMUT 😘
Tags/TW’s: Breaking The Law, Robbery, Nicknames, SMUT, Proposal, Declarations Of Forever, Cuteness, He’s Only Sweet With Her, Finding Yourself (even if it happens to be so that you belong on the wrong side of the law 😅)
Abbr.: Y/N - Your Name | Y/l/n - Your last name
Word Count: 2.2k
LINKTREE // AO3 // MASTERLIST
⩤• ONE YEAR LATER •⩥
“Süße!” Hans shouted, calling for you as his hand reached out. “Beeil dich!” he continued with a wicked smile as he told you to be quick — that only had you falling even harder for the man you’d spent a year with on the run now. This was the third robbery he’d had you be part of, and now Karl was slowly driving with Hans hanging out of the open van door, reaching for you as you ran with the sixth sack of cash weighing you down.
You grabbed his hand, and he pulled you in before slamming the door shut — Karl sped off instantly, you tumbled to the floor on all fours, and a second later, he was on you.
“Mein Süße,” he purred by your ear, panting and kissing down your cheek until his lips devoured you, forcing your harsh breathing to deepen between moans.
“My snowman,” you hummed. “I’ll love you forever, even if you turn to a puddle in the sun.”
Hans chuckled deeply, kissing you with a lighter touch. “Perhaps we should hit the north pole and live happily ever after, hm?” he purred as Karl drove the van like a maniac.
His hand snuck in under your head. “Watch the pretty little head, mein Süße.” Your heart stuttered as he kissed the tip of your nose.
“You make me melt, Hans…”
“Mrs Snow,” he hummed quietly, almost jokingly, but it did little to stop your heart from swaying in your chest.
“Don’t tease me,” you whispered over the sounds of the van rolling along the road. “I want you to know I’m never leaving. You’re my home, no matter the season or location. If we have to hide from the cops, rob a bank, or if I have to bust you out, I’ll be there. I’ve come to like to play.” You grinned.
“Well,” he began quietly, his finger digging into your hair decisively. “You are my home, no matter the situation or place, mein tapfere kleine Süße.” He kissed you again before helping you sit up in one swift motion.
Karl drove the planned route, Hans and you split the money equally between the six bags, and Karl’s brother, Tony, sat quietly at the other end of the cramped space. He wasn’t as scary as Karl, but smarter and the apparent carer for Karl, who you’d understood had some challenges mentally. Physically? Not at all, he was a beast and stronger than you could fully understand, but he struggled with initiative and general understanding of consequences, taking the initiative, or doing anything not directly instructed.
Hans leaned against the van’s side while you sat cross-legged in the middle of the floor with a hand on one of the bags stuffed with money. “How far?”
“Ten minutes,” Tony replied while Hans’s eyes never left yours.
“Why?” he asked, smirking. “Feeling the effects of adrenaline, mein Süße?”
Heat crept along your cheeks. “Every-bloody-time,” you whispered, still not fully understanding your absolute fascination and adoration for your so-called snowman’s unlawful actions, but your body warmed and tingled all over the place — being smack in the middle of the action with adrenaline shooting through your veins only fuelled your love for him.
“We’ll hide from the sun, mein Süße, and the police,” he purred with every sliver of want fully on display in those grey eyes you could never get enough of. The way he looked at you, as if you were the first snow of winter, the last star in the sky, the tastiest candy cane (as you’d found out he was obsessed with the Christmas treat), and you would go as far as to say he would have eaten you if the opportunity presented itself right then and there.
But, he was not one for displays. You were his, and his alone, to watch and hear. So he simply drank you in, one intense gaze after another.
Wetting your lips, you blinked slowly at him. “I’ll go anywhere with you, you know that, Hans.”
He reached out, stroking your cheek oh-so-softly. “You are my home,” he declared.
“For all seasons,” you continued.
⩤•⫘•⩥
“I’m never leaving,” you whispered between kisses. “I’ll love you forever.”
“I love you, mein tapfere Süße.”
“Forever?”
He grabbed your face, hooking your eyes. “For eternity.” His words made you melt, turned your insides to a puddle, and there was no way in hell you’d be able to leave the man who’d, a year ago, turned your life upside down only to make it the right way up eventually. For you at least. For the world? Not so much.
His beard stroked against your cheeks and chin as he kissed you harder, those thin lips slid across yours before parting to have his skilled tongue take up a dance with your tongue.
“Hans,” you moaned as the fire crackled in the little wood stove at the centre of the tiny cabin, squared away between pines in the wintry dark of the woods. “Please,” you whined, burning up for his touch.
“Gently, Süße.” He took off the last pieces of clothing covering your body in the squeaking single bed. “Beautiful—” he whispered it “—Mein braves Mädchen, following me around the world so sweetly.”
“Hans, hnnng—” You couldn’t contain the noises.
When he spoke German, especially praising you as his good girl in his native tongue, it did something to you that had you losing your breath as your skin tightened with a need only his touch could satisfy. My snowman and me… My cold, adoring thief… For he was, his humour had appeared charming at first, but after a year with the man, you knew better. His humour was cold and deadly — except when he had fun with you. He was your snowman. Your cold man that turned soft for only you, as if you were the sun that could melt him, even if that was the last thing on earth you wished for. He was perfect just the way he was, even if it meant going below zero and hiding from the sun to be with him — aka, running from the cops and hiding from the law.
“Süße, stop thinking.” He nibbled at your throat. “We will be together always.”
“Yeah, we’ll always be together— Hnnng, oh,” you moaned as he found your nipple and sucked as his hands slid down your sides.
“Soft, silky, perfektion,” he murmured against your breast, the depth of his voice sending delicious vibrations into your flesh — making you whimper in delight.
“Hans, I need you, darling,” you said gently, a puddle under his touch. “Please, please, Hans.”
“Sch, calm, mein Süße. We have time.”
“I don’t care, I want you right now,” you whimpered and whined as your fingers entwined with his silky hair and the lush beard stroked a tickling, prickling trail down your stomach.
“Greedy creature, always wanting things instantly, always wanting more, wanting everything,” he hummed darkly.
“Says the man who is trying to conquer the world one heist at a time,” you nearly cried as his tongue swirled around your throbbing clit.
“There are no other worlds to conquer, you are the whole world to me, mein kleiner Süße.”
At his words, your world stopped spinning for a moment. “Making poetry for me?” you asked breathlessly as his fingers kneaded your upper thighs and his hooked nose burrowed into your pelvis as his tongue seemed to taste every inch of your cunt.
“Benefit of a classical education, Süße.” You chuckled as he spoke, and a strangled moan slipped out as his tongue dove deeper. “If it makes you love me more, I shall speak poetry to you,” he continued before kissing your inner thigh.
“I don’t think I can love you more than I do, my snowman has me melting into a puddle."
“You are always soft and warm for me.”
You smiled as he crawled up along your body. “Only for you. I’m Mrs Snow, after all,” you said quietly while wrapping your arms around his shoulders and neck.
Hans kissed you deeply, your legs wrapping around his waist with the warmth of him pressing closer, and the tip of his cock nudged your clit — eliciting a soft moan — and then he adjusted, pressing against your softened entrance slick with arousal.
“Hans, please,” you moaned into his mouth as he slowly pushed inside, dragging it out while your back arched and your heels dug into his firm ass as you desperately sought to have him quicker.
You both groaned as he seated himself all the way, stretching you with his girth and length. As he kissed your neck and grazed his teeth gently along the sensitive skin, he picked up the pace. The bed rocked against the wall, and the heat had your skin misting with sweat as his groans entwined themselves with your moans and pleadings for more.
After several days of high tension, with the now successful heist being over, both of you could finally enjoy each other in solitude. The pleasure soared ever higher as he took you harder and harder, finding the perfect angles and spots to stroke. You were a writhing mess beneath him — pleading and begging for him, for release, for more, for everything.
Life turned soft in that moment, for a split second, it was just soft and warm as pleasure made your body quake and shout his name. His deep groans of release had you warm with a feminine pride that he could find such pleasure with you when he never relaxed, he never softened, and he never allowed himself to let go and get lost. Only with you, his Süße.
“Perhaps, rather than Mrs Snow—” he kissed your cheek “—it is better if you are Mrs Gruber?”
“Mrs Gruber?” you asked, dazed by bliss and post-climax shivers. “Wait-, wait-, Hans, are you asking me to—”
“If I can’t catch you, mein Süße, I cannot call myself an exceptional thief. I must steal your heart wholly…”
Your eyes watered, your body turned to absolute mush, and your lips stretched in such a wide smile it damn near hurt. “Oh, Hans, yes, please, yes, steal all of me, Mr Handsome-German-Robber.”
He leaned in, kissing you softly on the tip of your nose before you grabbed him and kissed the daylight out of him while giggling and warming in every possible manner.
“I want to steal the perfect dress,” you whispered, and he chuckled in that marvellous way of his.
“You are a curious creature,” he said warmly. “I never expected to find a woman so aligned with my way of life, and so perfectly cute, so perfectly ready to jump in...”
“Well, I never knew I could live this life, and then you robbed me, almost literally—” you both chuckled “—and then I just, lost my senses, I guess. But I also found you, found myself, found a life I never knew existed.”
“It’s a dangerous life,” he said harshly, as if you hadn’t been part of it for a year already.
“The only danger, if you ask me, is losing you, Hans.”
“Scheiße, mein perfekt Y/n,” Hans whispered under his breath, the warmth of it fanned your face a second before he kissed you deeper, harder, and for a moment so long you felt stars dot your vision.
You gasped as your lips parted, your chest heaving. “I love you.”
“As I love you,” he replied before grabbing the cover and pulling it over your naked form while he left the bed. “Now, I have a present for you, Süße.” He winked and smirked that special smile of his as you sat up in bed with the cover pooling around your hips.
“Oh? An early Christmas present?”
“More, an engagement gift.”
“Hans,” you said with a shake of your head and a chuckle as he drew on a pair of boxers before tossing away a blanket, revealing a wrapped rectangular present.
He placed it atop your lap; it reached beyond both your knees and felt heavy. “What is this?”
“Open it,” he urged, sitting down on the edge of the bed. You gave him an excited look before ripping off the bow and then tearing apart the paper, only for a strange bag to appear in your lap. You gave him a look, but Hans only glanced down at the bag meaningly, and you unzipped it only to gasp at the large weapon in an array of whites and light greys — perfectly suited for the winter, for the woman belonging to the man gifting it to you.
“You shouldn’t have, Hans,” you said, raising it with both hands to check the sight along the long barrel. “But it’s bloody perfect.”
“You are perfect, Süße. Powerful, strong, and still so cute it makes my teeth rot at the mere sight of you. Spending Christmas with you will be interesting this year.” He smiled so warmly at you, and you aimed the weapon toward the little cups in the shelf across the room while he followed your every move. “We only have one more mission for the year, it’ll be a dangerous one, but we can pull it off.
“Well, now I have a machine gun, ho ho ho to danger,” you snickered as you lowered the weapon just in time to catch Hans’s lips as they crashed against yours anew.
“Mein tapfere kleine Süße,” he purred, warming your very core with his adoration as you blessed the day he decided to rob the bank and liberate you in his own way…
LINKTREE // AO3 // MASTERLIST
A/N: THEY ARE SO STINKING CUTE!!! It feel so good to see these two fall so fully in love, finding each other and having a quite sweet and fun life together despite the dangers. IIIIH, can’t believe we’ve come all the way to day 17 of Rickmas - it feels crazy (crazily good, too, though 😂👌)
Just wanted to pass by and say that the Rickmas 2025 is beautifully written and amazingly created. Your writing is the highlight of my holidays after losing my mom, so thank you so much for writing and posting still. You're one of my favorite authors and in so grateful for you to share your creations with us. Happy holidays!
Oh, darling, thank you so much for passing by and sending me this - I'm utterly warmed by your words and to know my writing has been of extra help this year. I'm terribly sorry about your mom, I can't imagine what you're going through at the moment, but sending all the warmth, hugs (if you like hugs) and care 💞
I'm honoured to be one of your favourite authors, it means so much to hear that, and thank you for appreciating my work and efforts - for appreciating sharing parts of my soul and heart, too. Thank you, and happy holidays, darling 💞
Continuation of: (H1) Wizards in Winter, (H2) Russian Dance, (H3) Candy Cane Lane
A/N: EYYY! Final part of Hans’s story for Rickmas2025 😱 It’s been a few days since Candy Cane Lane and we’ll be jumping a whole year into the future - I just neeeeed a sort of “how did it even pan out?” kinda end to this ‘cus I STILL WONDER WHAT REALLY HAPPENED WITH ANNA-LOUISA BACK IN 2022 FOR GOODNESS SAKE 😭😭😭 Like, I know what happened, but, I didn’t write it out so it’s still like all floaty and could change… This isn’t an OC story, obviously, but I still feel Y/n in this is distinct enough it almost could be an x OC story like Hans & Anna-Louisa’s 👀
Oh, and there’s SMUT 😘
Tags/TW’s: Breaking The Law, Robbery, Nicknames, SMUT, Proposal, Declarations Of Forever, Cuteness, He’s Only Sweet With Her, Finding Yourself (even if it happens to be so that you belong on the wrong side of the law 😅)
Abbr.: Y/N - Your Name | Y/l/n - Your last name
Word Count: 2.2k
LINKTREE // AO3 // MASTERLIST
⩤• ONE YEAR LATER •⩥
“Süße!” Hans shouted, calling for you as his hand reached out. “Beeil dich!” he continued with a wicked smile as he told you to be quick — that only had you falling even harder for the man you’d spent a year with on the run now. This was the third robbery he’d had you be part of, and now Karl was slowly driving with Hans hanging out of the open van door, reaching for you as you ran with the sixth sack of cash weighing you down.
You grabbed his hand, and he pulled you in before slamming the door shut — Karl sped off instantly, you tumbled to the floor on all fours, and a second later, he was on you.
“Mein Süße,” he purred by your ear, panting and kissing down your cheek until his lips devoured you, forcing your harsh breathing to deepen between moans.
“My snowman,” you hummed. “I’ll love you forever, even if you turn to a puddle in the sun.”
Hans chuckled deeply, kissing you with a lighter touch. “Perhaps we should hit the north pole and live happily ever after, hm?” he purred as Karl drove the van like a maniac.
His hand snuck in under your head. “Watch the pretty little head, mein Süße.” Your heart stuttered as he kissed the tip of your nose.
“You make me melt, Hans…”
“Mrs Snow,” he hummed quietly, almost jokingly, but it did little to stop your heart from swaying in your chest.
“Don’t tease me,” you whispered over the sounds of the van rolling along the road. “I want you to know I’m never leaving. You’re my home, no matter the season or location. If we have to hide from the cops, rob a bank, or if I have to bust you out, I’ll be there. I’ve come to like to play.” You grinned.
“Well,” he began quietly, his finger digging into your hair decisively. “You are my home, no matter the situation or place, mein tapfere kleine Süße.” He kissed you again before helping you sit up in one swift motion.
Karl drove the planned route, Hans and you split the money equally between the six bags, and Karl’s brother, Tony, sat quietly at the other end of the cramped space. He wasn’t as scary as Karl, but smarter and the apparent carer for Karl, who you’d understood had some challenges mentally. Physically? Not at all, he was a beast and stronger than you could fully understand, but he struggled with initiative and general understanding of consequences, taking the initiative, or doing anything not directly instructed.
Hans leaned against the van’s side while you sat cross-legged in the middle of the floor with a hand on one of the bags stuffed with money. “How far?”
“Ten minutes,” Tony replied while Hans’s eyes never left yours.
“Why?” he asked, smirking. “Feeling the effects of adrenaline, mein Süße?”
Heat crept along your cheeks. “Every-bloody-time,” you whispered, still not fully understanding your absolute fascination and adoration for your so-called snowman’s unlawful actions, but your body warmed and tingled all over the place — being smack in the middle of the action with adrenaline shooting through your veins only fuelled your love for him.
“We’ll hide from the sun, mein Süße, and the police,” he purred with every sliver of want fully on display in those grey eyes you could never get enough of. The way he looked at you, as if you were the first snow of winter, the last star in the sky, the tastiest candy cane (as you’d found out he was obsessed with the Christmas treat), and you would go as far as to say he would have eaten you if the opportunity presented itself right then and there.
But, he was not one for displays. You were his, and his alone, to watch and hear. So he simply drank you in, one intense gaze after another.
Wetting your lips, you blinked slowly at him. “I’ll go anywhere with you, you know that, Hans.”
He reached out, stroking your cheek oh-so-softly. “You are my home,” he declared.
“For all seasons,” you continued.
⩤•⫘•⩥
“I’m never leaving,” you whispered between kisses. “I’ll love you forever.”
“I love you, mein tapfere Süße.”
“Forever?”
He grabbed your face, hooking your eyes. “For eternity.” His words made you melt, turned your insides to a puddle, and there was no way in hell you’d be able to leave the man who’d, a year ago, turned your life upside down only to make it the right way up eventually. For you at least. For the world? Not so much.
His beard stroked against your cheeks and chin as he kissed you harder, those thin lips slid across yours before parting to have his skilled tongue take up a dance with your tongue.
“Hans,” you moaned as the fire crackled in the little wood stove at the centre of the tiny cabin, squared away between pines in the wintry dark of the woods. “Please,” you whined, burning up for his touch.
“Gently, Süße.” He took off the last pieces of clothing covering your body in the squeaking single bed. “Beautiful—” he whispered it “—Mein braves Mädchen, following me around the world so sweetly.”
“Hans, hnnng—” You couldn’t contain the noises.
When he spoke German, especially praising you as his good girl in his native tongue, it did something to you that had you losing your breath as your skin tightened with a need only his touch could satisfy. My snowman and me… My cold, adoring thief… For he was, his humour had appeared charming at first, but after a year with the man, you knew better. His humour was cold and deadly — except when he had fun with you. He was your snowman. Your cold man that turned soft for only you, as if you were the sun that could melt him, even if that was the last thing on earth you wished for. He was perfect just the way he was, even if it meant going below zero and hiding from the sun to be with him — aka, running from the cops and hiding from the law.
“Süße, stop thinking.” He nibbled at your throat. “We will be together always.”
“Yeah, we’ll always be together— Hnnng, oh,” you moaned as he found your nipple and sucked as his hands slid down your sides.
“Soft, silky, perfektion,” he murmured against your breast, the depth of his voice sending delicious vibrations into your flesh — making you whimper in delight.
“Hans, I need you, darling,” you said gently, a puddle under his touch. “Please, please, Hans.”
“Sch, calm, mein Süße. We have time.”
“I don’t care, I want you right now,” you whimpered and whined as your fingers entwined with his silky hair and the lush beard stroked a tickling, prickling trail down your stomach.
“Greedy creature, always wanting things instantly, always wanting more, wanting everything,” he hummed darkly.
“Says the man who is trying to conquer the world one heist at a time,” you nearly cried as his tongue swirled around your throbbing clit.
“There are no other worlds to conquer, you are the whole world to me, mein kleiner Süße.”
At his words, your world stopped spinning for a moment. “Making poetry for me?” you asked breathlessly as his fingers kneaded your upper thighs and his hooked nose burrowed into your pelvis as his tongue seemed to taste every inch of your cunt.
“Benefit of a classical education, Süße.” You chuckled as he spoke, and a strangled moan slipped out as his tongue dove deeper. “If it makes you love me more, I shall speak poetry to you,” he continued before kissing your inner thigh.
“I don’t think I can love you more than I do, my snowman has me melting into a puddle."
“You are always soft and warm for me.”
You smiled as he crawled up along your body. “Only for you. I’m Mrs Snow, after all,” you said quietly while wrapping your arms around his shoulders and neck.
Hans kissed you deeply, your legs wrapping around his waist with the warmth of him pressing closer, and the tip of his cock nudged your clit — eliciting a soft moan — and then he adjusted, pressing against your softened entrance slick with arousal.
“Hans, please,” you moaned into his mouth as he slowly pushed inside, dragging it out while your back arched and your heels dug into his firm ass as you desperately sought to have him quicker.
You both groaned as he seated himself all the way, stretching you with his girth and length. As he kissed your neck and grazed his teeth gently along the sensitive skin, he picked up the pace. The bed rocked against the wall, and the heat had your skin misting with sweat as his groans entwined themselves with your moans and pleadings for more.
After several days of high tension, with the now successful heist being over, both of you could finally enjoy each other in solitude. The pleasure soared ever higher as he took you harder and harder, finding the perfect angles and spots to stroke. You were a writhing mess beneath him — pleading and begging for him, for release, for more, for everything.
Life turned soft in that moment, for a split second, it was just soft and warm as pleasure made your body quake and shout his name. His deep groans of release had you warm with a feminine pride that he could find such pleasure with you when he never relaxed, he never softened, and he never allowed himself to let go and get lost. Only with you, his Süße.
“Perhaps, rather than Mrs Snow—” he kissed your cheek “—it is better if you are Mrs Gruber?”
“Mrs Gruber?” you asked, dazed by bliss and post-climax shivers. “Wait-, wait-, Hans, are you asking me to—”
“If I can’t catch you, mein Süße, I cannot call myself an exceptional thief. I must steal your heart wholly…”
Your eyes watered, your body turned to absolute mush, and your lips stretched in such a wide smile it damn near hurt. “Oh, Hans, yes, please, yes, steal all of me, Mr Handsome-German-Robber.”
He leaned in, kissing you softly on the tip of your nose before you grabbed him and kissed the daylight out of him while giggling and warming in every possible manner.
“I want to steal the perfect dress,” you whispered, and he chuckled in that marvellous way of his.
“You are a curious creature,” he said warmly. “I never expected to find a woman so aligned with my way of life, and so perfectly cute, so perfectly ready to jump in...”
“Well, I never knew I could live this life, and then you robbed me, almost literally—” you both chuckled “—and then I just, lost my senses, I guess. But I also found you, found myself, found a life I never knew existed.”
“It’s a dangerous life,” he said harshly, as if you hadn’t been part of it for a year already.
“The only danger, if you ask me, is losing you, Hans.”
“Scheiße, mein perfekt Y/n,” Hans whispered under his breath, the warmth of it fanned your face a second before he kissed you deeper, harder, and for a moment so long you felt stars dot your vision.
You gasped as your lips parted, your chest heaving. “I love you.”
“As I love you,” he replied before grabbing the cover and pulling it over your naked form while he left the bed. “Now, I have a present for you, Süße.” He winked and smirked that special smile of his as you sat up in bed with the cover pooling around your hips.
“Oh? An early Christmas present?”
“More, an engagement gift.”
“Hans,” you said with a shake of your head and a chuckle as he drew on a pair of boxers before tossing away a blanket, revealing a wrapped rectangular present.
He placed it atop your lap; it reached beyond both your knees and felt heavy. “What is this?”
“Open it,” he urged, sitting down on the edge of the bed. You gave him an excited look before ripping off the bow and then tearing apart the paper, only for a strange bag to appear in your lap. You gave him a look, but Hans only glanced down at the bag meaningly, and you unzipped it only to gasp at the large weapon in an array of whites and light greys — perfectly suited for the winter, for the woman belonging to the man gifting it to you.
“You shouldn’t have, Hans,” you said, raising it with both hands to check the sight along the long barrel. “But it’s bloody perfect.”
“You are perfect, Süße. Powerful, strong, and still so cute it makes my teeth rot at the mere sight of you. Spending Christmas with you will be interesting this year.” He smiled so warmly at you, and you aimed the weapon toward the little cups in the shelf across the room while he followed your every move. “We only have one more mission for the year, it’ll be a dangerous one, but we can pull it off.
“Well, now I have a machine gun, ho ho ho to danger,” you snickered as you lowered the weapon just in time to catch Hans’s lips as they crashed against yours anew.
“Mein tapfere kleine Süße,” he purred, warming your very core with his adoration as you blessed the day he decided to rob the bank and liberate you in his own way…
LINKTREE // AO3 // MASTERLIST
A/N: THEY ARE SO STINKING CUTE!!! It feel so good to see these two fall so fully in love, finding each other and having a quite sweet and fun life together despite the dangers. IIIIH, can’t believe we’ve come all the way to day 17 of Rickmas - it feels crazy (crazily good, too, though 😂👌)
I'm behind on rickmas-reading and it sucks (I WANNA READ MORE) but I'm gonna attempt to catch-up in the upcoming days as I've now managed to get ahead in writing and I now feel like I'm loosing my mind a little less
Also, how Snape's story is playing out in my head has me in a bloody chokehold, and Turpin? Oh we are throwing pillows and gushing over that story. Hans? Ha! They're epic and hilarious and will probably be the first couple to figure their stuff out. Sinclair is far too quiet atm but I think they'll sort their stuff out rather quickly while Brandon and ladder!reader are making my head spin unapologetically messily.
Oh well, all of them are moving in my thoughts so their stories will too - as fast as I can type 'em out that is
Like, one week later, I am AGAIN behind on reading and reblogging others writing - I'm doing my best and have so far managed to write 34k this December (YAY) - I have caught up on all commetns and reblgos and tags and everything today here as well as on AO3 - and I'm ahead with 2 fics so that's alllll good but I need to write the rest asap 'cus now the christmas celebrations start for real so I will be hustling my butt off with that as well from today BUT I WILL MANAGE!
It's the 17th, and I am doing better than any other year so, that has got to count for something. Right?
AND YOU DARLINGS ARE GIVING MY CREATIVITY LIFE WITH ALL YOUR COMMENTS/TAGS!!!! THANK YOU!
Prompt 15: Winter Solitude - Justin R. Durban (T4)
Song link: Spotify & YouTube
Pairing: Judge Turpin x Fem!Reader
POV: Second, Reader & Third, Turpin
Setting: Fareham
Continuation of: (T1) Carol of the Fates, (T2) Fairy Dance, (T3) Ice Storm
A/N: Alright, okay, we need to get this sorted and oh my gosh am I so utterly in love with how this yearning is just... I can't even... like, it's just alllllll there and he'll not accept no for an answer. Not that Y/n wants him to, no, no she's so wholly consumed by this palpable grief of a love she thinks is absolutely impossible, they are fucking idiots in love. That's what they are. Idiots in love finally exposing both of their pining 😩👌
Tags/TW’s: Love Revelation, Declaration of Want, He’s Possessive, Sorrow, Broken Heart, Unintended Confession, Yearning & Longing, Possessive Nature, Mutual Unknown Secret Pining, Short-form Slowburn, Self-deprecating Feelings & Thoughts, Emotional Turmoil, False Beliefs, Misunderstood Situation, Miscommunication If You Squint (lack of talking, more like it), Historical Vibes/Elizabethan-like Writing, D/s Tendency Hints, Soft Reader (not weak!)
Abbr.: Y/N - Your Name | Y/L/N - Your Last Name
Word Count: 1.5k
LINKTREE // AO3 // MASTERLIST
⩤• YOU •⩥
The snow kept falling, the wind continued its tug on your dress and the ends of his coat. There was no escape. The hurt was a dull blade scraping along your skin, as if seeking entrance through every inch of your aching body so abhorrently overrun with anguish. Judge Turpin stood so utterly still and stiff as you took an unprompted step back, leaving the shield of his broad back and wide shoulders covered in black. “I am so sorry,” you whispered, riddled with shame and a guilt that was not yours to carry, yet placed upon you by society nonetheless. Inescapable. Unbearable. Constant.
“Me?” he asked, his dark drone of a voice lacked all emotion and held no depth or tone to it.
“I am so terribly sorry, my Lord…” Your voice was scarcely a whisper. “You hold no blame,” you continued quietly. “I-, my heart is-, there are no-, I am truly utterly remorseful of my errant heart, sir…” There was no stopping the tears from flowing down your cold cheeks as you spoke so softly and painfully to the very man you had sought in all situations, yet never found seeking you in return.
He turned, so stiff and slow in his motions that it sent a single spike of fright through you. “I am your heart’s desire?” he asked slowly, pinning you with the steely gaze, showing nothing of what he felt as he stood deathly still and tall before you.
You gulped a breath, snivelling before exhaling shakily. You lowered your gaze, fighting the need to let go of the last strength keeping you on your feet. “Please,” you whispered through a suffocated whimper. “Even though I am of no wealth, no true standing, no worth to the world, I am not heartless. My heart, it… Lord Turpin, it does not listen to my wishes for it to cease. I-I-, I have tried,” you nearly whispered in earnest, cinching your eyes shut and keeping your head bowed, for you could not look upon the grand and stoic man with a brutality to every feature you found so incredibly mesmerising.
The wind loosened strands of your hair, making some stick to the stains of tears across your cheeks. “I have tried,” you said once more, barely able to force the words out. “God knows, I have done all in my power to end it. Yet I—” your mouth worked to swallow “—cannot stop my heart from wanting despite it being akin to a winter solitude of endless darkness and coldness.”
“Darkness…” he drawled, the word raking its way down your back as if his finger had trailed your spine. “And, coldness…”
You shivered, lowering your head further so the cold of winter swept across the top of your exposed neck. “To long for you, a man out of my reach, a man bound to wed another so perfectly matched, it is a dark and cold prison I shall never esca—” His polished boots came into view a second before his hand — clad in rough leather — gripped under your chin and tilted your head back in a motion so sharp your eyes snapped open fully.
He drew harsh breaths, his nostrils flaring on each of them, and the steely greys of his eyes stole your breath in a shallow gasp. He peered down at you, keeping you still with his fierce grip on your chin. You fought against the desperation to lean into his hand, to take whatever contact you were granted in that moment before your heart was to be forever ripped out of your body.
“I am bound only to one other.” The words were low, harsh, and unyielding.
“And she is perfect for you. I-, I know you shall be loved, and that is all that matters, sir,” you whispered, fighting the need to lean in and run away at the same time.
His fingers hardened, his brows drew together in what you could only term as rage. “You declare me bound to another?” He leaned closer. “There is but one for me, little wisp. One. And I shall have her. Mark me, I shall have you.”
There was no air to breathe. Your blood roared in your ears as the warmth of his breath fanned your face from how close he now was. He misspoke. “S-sir, you are to be wed,” you said with some difficulty due to his restriction of your jaw’s movement — or, perhaps, it was the sheer difficulty of speaking such words out loud.
“Yes.”
“Please, do not torment me further.”
“I shall torment you, always,” he murmured, a grim tone of truth to the words.
“You need put no effort into such an endeavour, I am beyond repair, my Lord.” The words mingled with the falling snow as your eyes were locked for an indecently long moment.
You blinked. Believing, for a moment, you saw him smile ever so slightly.
“I have restrained myself, for three. years. little wisp,” he said with emphasis through clenched teeth as he pulled on your chin, raising you to stand straight with him. “And now, you have been declared desiring me. There will be no relief from this torment; I will bind you to me. Forever. Nothing in this wretched world can prevent it.”
You jerked your chin free. Your breath came in short pants as you shook your head disbelievingly. Stepping backwards, his gaze never left you. You took another step, the hem of your dress getting trapped under the heel of your shoe, and you toppled backwards. The snow and layers of your skirt stopped the impact as you looked up at the towering man before you. He moved closer, taking long strides while your heart ran away from you at the mere thought of being bound forever to him. You already were, and would always be, though.
⩤• TURPIN •⩥
He watched you, sat atop the snow with your eyes fixed upon him — still, there was no fear in those demure eyes that left him aching for constant access to them, to you. He stepped closer, peering down with every ounce of his strength used to stave the incessant need to grasp you, hold you, keep you close. It had been a dull ache, furthered by the quiet solitude of his life, and there was now no escaping the possessive want he had held caged within him.
“S-Sir,” you whispered, so soft-spoken yet sounding tormented through it to his indecent delight.
“You shall not deny me,” he said, a sense of urgent desperation filling him. “Only one will be mine for eternity, and so help me God, it shall be you, little wisp.” The depth of his voice held not a candle to the vast extent of the words — rooted deeper than any ancient tree and more blinding than any ravaging blizzard.
He watched your cheeks turn yet another shade darker, studied how your throat worked to swallow between rapid breaths that moved your chest up and down in a rush. He took one last moment to watch you as an unbound woman. Once he grasped you anew, it would be for eternity. A heart holds no restrictions of society or propriety, and still, his mind could not stop asking how the heart of the demure little creature of softness and quiet countenance had been captivated by him when he was all she should never intermingle with.
Richard was a god-fearing, strict, unforgiving man, with the law and justice system held to the highest esteem. Yet, he was also flawed and cruel. He was depraved and dark. He knew he took matters seriously, and many times he was too harsh. The chill in his heart was undeniable. However, he was not cold enough to resist you. Not harsh enough to remain unaffected, but cruel enough to act upon his depraved desire to have you and wicked enough to ask forgiveness of God for his sins rather than denying them.
He stepped forth. The snow crunched underfoot, and his glove-clad hand reached out toward you. “Come, little wisp.” Your eyes flicked between his hand and face, before you — to his utter joy — reached up, and he grabbed your hand. “You shall be by my side, forever,” he declared while pulling you up and close.
You gasped as he deliberately pulled on your hand too roughly, forcing that alluring body of yours, so fully covered and hidden from sight in many layers of clothing to ward off the winter chill, to come closer than proper. Your hand sat splayed over his chest, just to the left of his heart, and as you looked up — and he placed his free hand at your lower back sturdily — he felt the whisper of a warmth wholly unfamiliar to him. Solitude became a thing he would no longer prize so highly.
It was the second time you were in his arms. The second time he held you close. A second time of that light hand of yours pressing against his chest. There shall never be another chest beneath that hand. Mark my words.
“M-My Lord,” you stuttered, attempting to back away.
He hardened his grip. “You shall not move away from me,” he declared in a low drawl, the hand at your back pressing even harder. “Mark me, little wisp. You shall never be in another embrace. None… than mine.”
TO BE CONTINUED
LINKTREE // AO3 // MASTERLIST
A/N: Offh, only got space enough for one more part of this, so... expect smut next time around as these yearning idiots are finally sorting this out. Do I hear wedding bells, too? 👀😇
Prompt 15: Winter Solitude - Justin R. Durban (T4)
Song link: Spotify & YouTube
Pairing: Judge Turpin x Fem!Reader
POV: Second, Reader & Third, Turpin
Setting: Fareham
Continuation of: (T1) Carol of the Fates, (T2) Fairy Dance, (T3) Ice Storm
A/N: Alright, okay, we need to get this sorted and oh my gosh am I so utterly in love with how this yearning is just... I can't even... like, it's just alllllll there and he'll not accept no for an answer. Not that Y/n wants him to, no, no she's so wholly consumed by this palpable grief of a love she thinks is absolutely impossible, they are fucking idiots in love. That's what they are. Idiots in love finally exposing both of their pining 😩👌
Tags/TW’s: Love Revelation, Declaration of Want, He’s Possessive, Sorrow, Broken Heart, Unintended Confession, Yearning & Longing, Possessive Nature, Mutual Unknown Secret Pining, Short-form Slowburn, Self-deprecating Feelings & Thoughts, Emotional Turmoil, False Beliefs, Misunderstood Situation, Miscommunication If You Squint (lack of talking, more like it), Historical Vibes/Elizabethan-like Writing, D/s Tendency Hints, Soft Reader (not weak!)
Abbr.: Y/N - Your Name | Y/L/N - Your Last Name
Word Count: 1.5k
LINKTREE // AO3 // MASTERLIST
⩤• YOU •⩥
The snow kept falling, the wind continued its tug on your dress and the ends of his coat. There was no escape. The hurt was a dull blade scraping along your skin, as if seeking entrance through every inch of your aching body so abhorrently overrun with anguish. Judge Turpin stood so utterly still and stiff as you took an unprompted step back, leaving the shield of his broad back and wide shoulders covered in black. “I am so sorry,” you whispered, riddled with shame and a guilt that was not yours to carry, yet placed upon you by society nonetheless. Inescapable. Unbearable. Constant.
“Me?” he asked, his dark drone of a voice lacked all emotion and held no depth or tone to it.
“I am so terribly sorry, my Lord…” Your voice was scarcely a whisper. “You hold no blame,” you continued quietly. “I-, my heart is-, there are no-, I am truly utterly remorseful of my errant heart, sir…” There was no stopping the tears from flowing down your cold cheeks as you spoke so softly and painfully to the very man you had sought in all situations, yet never found seeking you in return.
He turned, so stiff and slow in his motions that it sent a single spike of fright through you. “I am your heart’s desire?” he asked slowly, pinning you with the steely gaze, showing nothing of what he felt as he stood deathly still and tall before you.
You gulped a breath, snivelling before exhaling shakily. You lowered your gaze, fighting the need to let go of the last strength keeping you on your feet. “Please,” you whispered through a suffocated whimper. “Even though I am of no wealth, no true standing, no worth to the world, I am not heartless. My heart, it… Lord Turpin, it does not listen to my wishes for it to cease. I-I-, I have tried,” you nearly whispered in earnest, cinching your eyes shut and keeping your head bowed, for you could not look upon the grand and stoic man with a brutality to every feature you found so incredibly mesmerising.
The wind loosened strands of your hair, making some stick to the stains of tears across your cheeks. “I have tried,” you said once more, barely able to force the words out. “God knows, I have done all in my power to end it. Yet I—” your mouth worked to swallow “—cannot stop my heart from wanting despite it being akin to a winter solitude of endless darkness and coldness.”
“Darkness…” he drawled, the word raking its way down your back as if his finger had trailed your spine. “And, coldness…”
You shivered, lowering your head further so the cold of winter swept across the top of your exposed neck. “To long for you, a man out of my reach, a man bound to wed another so perfectly matched, it is a dark and cold prison I shall never esca—” His polished boots came into view a second before his hand — clad in rough leather — gripped under your chin and tilted your head back in a motion so sharp your eyes snapped open fully.
He drew harsh breaths, his nostrils flaring on each of them, and the steely greys of his eyes stole your breath in a shallow gasp. He peered down at you, keeping you still with his fierce grip on your chin. You fought against the desperation to lean into his hand, to take whatever contact you were granted in that moment before your heart was to be forever ripped out of your body.
“I am bound only to one other.” The words were low, harsh, and unyielding.
“And she is perfect for you. I-, I know you shall be loved, and that is all that matters, sir,” you whispered, fighting the need to lean in and run away at the same time.
His fingers hardened, his brows drew together in what you could only term as rage. “You declare me bound to another?” He leaned closer. “There is but one for me, little wisp. One. And I shall have her. Mark me, I shall have you.”
There was no air to breathe. Your blood roared in your ears as the warmth of his breath fanned your face from how close he now was. He misspoke. “S-sir, you are to be wed,” you said with some difficulty due to his restriction of your jaw’s movement — or, perhaps, it was the sheer difficulty of speaking such words out loud.
“Yes.”
“Please, do not torment me further.”
“I shall torment you, always,” he murmured, a grim tone of truth to the words.
“You need put no effort into such an endeavour, I am beyond repair, my Lord.” The words mingled with the falling snow as your eyes were locked for an indecently long moment.
You blinked. Believing, for a moment, you saw him smile ever so slightly.
“I have restrained myself, for three. years. little wisp,” he said with emphasis through clenched teeth as he pulled on your chin, raising you to stand straight with him. “And now, you have been declared desiring me. There will be no relief from this torment; I will bind you to me. Forever. Nothing in this wretched world can prevent it.”
You jerked your chin free. Your breath came in short pants as you shook your head disbelievingly. Stepping backwards, his gaze never left you. You took another step, the hem of your dress getting trapped under the heel of your shoe, and you toppled backwards. The snow and layers of your skirt stopped the impact as you looked up at the towering man before you. He moved closer, taking long strides while your heart ran away from you at the mere thought of being bound forever to him. You already were, and would always be, though.
⩤• TURPIN •⩥
He watched you, sat atop the snow with your eyes fixed upon him — still, there was no fear in those demure eyes that left him aching for constant access to them, to you. He stepped closer, peering down with every ounce of his strength used to stave the incessant need to grasp you, hold you, keep you close. It had been a dull ache, furthered by the quiet solitude of his life, and there was now no escaping the possessive want he had held caged within him.
“S-Sir,” you whispered, so soft-spoken yet sounding tormented through it to his indecent delight.
“You shall not deny me,” he said, a sense of urgent desperation filling him. “Only one will be mine for eternity, and so help me God, it shall be you, little wisp.” The depth of his voice held not a candle to the vast extent of the words — rooted deeper than any ancient tree and more blinding than any ravaging blizzard.
He watched your cheeks turn yet another shade darker, studied how your throat worked to swallow between rapid breaths that moved your chest up and down in a rush. He took one last moment to watch you as an unbound woman. Once he grasped you anew, it would be for eternity. A heart holds no restrictions of society or propriety, and still, his mind could not stop asking how the heart of the demure little creature of softness and quiet countenance had been captivated by him when he was all she should never intermingle with.
Richard was a god-fearing, strict, unforgiving man, with the law and justice system held to the highest esteem. Yet, he was also flawed and cruel. He was depraved and dark. He knew he took matters seriously, and many times he was too harsh. The chill in his heart was undeniable. However, he was not cold enough to resist you. Not harsh enough to remain unaffected, but cruel enough to act upon his depraved desire to have you and wicked enough to ask forgiveness of God for his sins rather than denying them.
He stepped forth. The snow crunched underfoot, and his glove-clad hand reached out toward you. “Come, little wisp.” Your eyes flicked between his hand and face, before you — to his utter joy — reached up, and he grabbed your hand. “You shall be by my side, forever,” he declared while pulling you up and close.
You gasped as he deliberately pulled on your hand too roughly, forcing that alluring body of yours, so fully covered and hidden from sight in many layers of clothing to ward off the winter chill, to come closer than proper. Your hand sat splayed over his chest, just to the left of his heart, and as you looked up — and he placed his free hand at your lower back sturdily — he felt the whisper of a warmth wholly unfamiliar to him. Solitude became a thing he would no longer prize so highly.
It was the second time you were in his arms. The second time he held you close. A second time of that light hand of yours pressing against his chest. There shall never be another chest beneath that hand. Mark my words.
“M-My Lord,” you stuttered, attempting to back away.
He hardened his grip. “You shall not move away from me,” he declared in a low drawl, the hand at your back pressing even harder. “Mark me, little wisp. You shall never be in another embrace. None… than mine.”
TO BE CONTINUED
LINKTREE // AO3 // MASTERLIST
A/N: Offh, only got space enough for one more part of this, so... expect smut next time around as these yearning idiots are finally sorting this out. Do I hear wedding bells, too? 👀😇
Prompt 15: Winter Solitude - Justin R. Durban (T4)
Song link: Spotify & YouTube
Pairing: Judge Turpin x Fem!Reader
POV: Second, Reader & Third, Turpin
Setting: Fareham
Continuation of: (T1) Carol of the Fates, (T2) Fairy Dance, (T3) Ice Storm
A/N: Alright, okay, we need to get this sorted and oh my gosh am I so utterly in love with how this yearning is just... I can't even... like, it's just alllllll there and he'll not accept no for an answer. Not that Y/n wants him to, no, no she's so wholly consumed by this palpable grief of a love she thinks is absolutely impossible, they are fucking idiots in love. That's what they are. Idiots in love finally exposing both of their pining 😩👌
Tags/TW’s: Love Revelation, Declaration of Want, He’s Possessive, Sorrow, Broken Heart, Unintended Confession, Yearning & Longing, Possessive Nature, Mutual Unknown Secret Pining, Short-form Slowburn, Self-deprecating Feelings & Thoughts, Emotional Turmoil, False Beliefs, Misunderstood Situation, Miscommunication If You Squint (lack of talking, more like it), Historical Vibes/Elizabethan-like Writing, D/s Tendency Hints, Soft Reader (not weak!)
Abbr.: Y/N - Your Name | Y/L/N - Your Last Name
Word Count: 1.5k
LINKTREE // AO3 // MASTERLIST
⩤• YOU •⩥
The snow kept falling, the wind continued its tug on your dress and the ends of his coat. There was no escape. The hurt was a dull blade scraping along your skin, as if seeking entrance through every inch of your aching body so abhorrently overrun with anguish. Judge Turpin stood so utterly still and stiff as you took an unprompted step back, leaving the shield of his broad back and wide shoulders covered in black. “I am so sorry,” you whispered, riddled with shame and a guilt that was not yours to carry, yet placed upon you by society nonetheless. Inescapable. Unbearable. Constant.
“Me?” he asked, his dark drone of a voice lacked all emotion and held no depth or tone to it.
“I am so terribly sorry, my Lord…” Your voice was scarcely a whisper. “You hold no blame,” you continued quietly. “I-, my heart is-, there are no-, I am truly utterly remorseful of my errant heart, sir…” There was no stopping the tears from flowing down your cold cheeks as you spoke so softly and painfully to the very man you had sought in all situations, yet never found seeking you in return.
He turned, so stiff and slow in his motions that it sent a single spike of fright through you. “I am your heart’s desire?” he asked slowly, pinning you with the steely gaze, showing nothing of what he felt as he stood deathly still and tall before you.
You gulped a breath, snivelling before exhaling shakily. You lowered your gaze, fighting the need to let go of the last strength keeping you on your feet. “Please,” you whispered through a suffocated whimper. “Even though I am of no wealth, no true standing, no worth to the world, I am not heartless. My heart, it… Lord Turpin, it does not listen to my wishes for it to cease. I-I-, I have tried,” you nearly whispered in earnest, cinching your eyes shut and keeping your head bowed, for you could not look upon the grand and stoic man with a brutality to every feature you found so incredibly mesmerising.
The wind loosened strands of your hair, making some stick to the stains of tears across your cheeks. “I have tried,” you said once more, barely able to force the words out. “God knows, I have done all in my power to end it. Yet I—” your mouth worked to swallow “—cannot stop my heart from wanting despite it being akin to a winter solitude of endless darkness and coldness.”
“Darkness…” he drawled, the word raking its way down your back as if his finger had trailed your spine. “And, coldness…”
You shivered, lowering your head further so the cold of winter swept across the top of your exposed neck. “To long for you, a man out of my reach, a man bound to wed another so perfectly matched, it is a dark and cold prison I shall never esca—” His polished boots came into view a second before his hand — clad in rough leather — gripped under your chin and tilted your head back in a motion so sharp your eyes snapped open fully.
He drew harsh breaths, his nostrils flaring on each of them, and the steely greys of his eyes stole your breath in a shallow gasp. He peered down at you, keeping you still with his fierce grip on your chin. You fought against the desperation to lean into his hand, to take whatever contact you were granted in that moment before your heart was to be forever ripped out of your body.
“I am bound only to one other.” The words were low, harsh, and unyielding.
“And she is perfect for you. I-, I know you shall be loved, and that is all that matters, sir,” you whispered, fighting the need to lean in and run away at the same time.
His fingers hardened, his brows drew together in what you could only term as rage. “You declare me bound to another?” He leaned closer. “There is but one for me, little wisp. One. And I shall have her. Mark me, I shall have you.”
There was no air to breathe. Your blood roared in your ears as the warmth of his breath fanned your face from how close he now was. He misspoke. “S-sir, you are to be wed,” you said with some difficulty due to his restriction of your jaw’s movement — or, perhaps, it was the sheer difficulty of speaking such words out loud.
“Yes.”
“Please, do not torment me further.”
“I shall torment you, always,” he murmured, a grim tone of truth to the words.
“You need put no effort into such an endeavour, I am beyond repair, my Lord.” The words mingled with the falling snow as your eyes were locked for an indecently long moment.
You blinked. Believing, for a moment, you saw him smile ever so slightly.
“I have restrained myself, for three. years. little wisp,” he said with emphasis through clenched teeth as he pulled on your chin, raising you to stand straight with him. “And now, you have been declared desiring me. There will be no relief from this torment; I will bind you to me. Forever. Nothing in this wretched world can prevent it.”
You jerked your chin free. Your breath came in short pants as you shook your head disbelievingly. Stepping backwards, his gaze never left you. You took another step, the hem of your dress getting trapped under the heel of your shoe, and you toppled backwards. The snow and layers of your skirt stopped the impact as you looked up at the towering man before you. He moved closer, taking long strides while your heart ran away from you at the mere thought of being bound forever to him. You already were, and would always be, though.
⩤• TURPIN •⩥
He watched you, sat atop the snow with your eyes fixed upon him — still, there was no fear in those demure eyes that left him aching for constant access to them, to you. He stepped closer, peering down with every ounce of his strength used to stave the incessant need to grasp you, hold you, keep you close. It had been a dull ache, furthered by the quiet solitude of his life, and there was now no escaping the possessive want he had held caged within him.
“S-Sir,” you whispered, so soft-spoken yet sounding tormented through it to his indecent delight.
“You shall not deny me,” he said, a sense of urgent desperation filling him. “Only one will be mine for eternity, and so help me God, it shall be you, little wisp.” The depth of his voice held not a candle to the vast extent of the words — rooted deeper than any ancient tree and more blinding than any ravaging blizzard.
He watched your cheeks turn yet another shade darker, studied how your throat worked to swallow between rapid breaths that moved your chest up and down in a rush. He took one last moment to watch you as an unbound woman. Once he grasped you anew, it would be for eternity. A heart holds no restrictions of society or propriety, and still, his mind could not stop asking how the heart of the demure little creature of softness and quiet countenance had been captivated by him when he was all she should never intermingle with.
Richard was a god-fearing, strict, unforgiving man, with the law and justice system held to the highest esteem. Yet, he was also flawed and cruel. He was depraved and dark. He knew he took matters seriously, and many times he was too harsh. The chill in his heart was undeniable. However, he was not cold enough to resist you. Not harsh enough to remain unaffected, but cruel enough to act upon his depraved desire to have you and wicked enough to ask forgiveness of God for his sins rather than denying them.
He stepped forth. The snow crunched underfoot, and his glove-clad hand reached out toward you. “Come, little wisp.” Your eyes flicked between his hand and face, before you — to his utter joy — reached up, and he grabbed your hand. “You shall be by my side, forever,” he declared while pulling you up and close.
You gasped as he deliberately pulled on your hand too roughly, forcing that alluring body of yours, so fully covered and hidden from sight in many layers of clothing to ward off the winter chill, to come closer than proper. Your hand sat splayed over his chest, just to the left of his heart, and as you looked up — and he placed his free hand at your lower back sturdily — he felt the whisper of a warmth wholly unfamiliar to him. Solitude became a thing he would no longer prize so highly.
It was the second time you were in his arms. The second time he held you close. A second time of that light hand of yours pressing against his chest. There shall never be another chest beneath that hand. Mark my words.
“M-My Lord,” you stuttered, attempting to back away.
He hardened his grip. “You shall not move away from me,” he declared in a low drawl, the hand at your back pressing even harder. “Mark me, little wisp. You shall never be in another embrace. None… than mine.”
TO BE CONTINUED
LINKTREE // AO3 // MASTERLIST
A/N: Offh, only got space enough for one more part of this, so... expect smut next time around as these yearning idiots are finally sorting this out. Do I hear wedding bells, too? 👀😇
Prompt 15: Winter Solitude - Justin R. Durban (T4)
Song link: Spotify & YouTube
Pairing: Judge Turpin x Fem!Reader
POV: Second, Reader & Third, Turpin
Setting: Fareham
Continuation of: (T1) Carol of the Fates, (T2) Fairy Dance, (T3) Ice Storm
A/N: Alright, okay, we need to get this sorted and oh my gosh am I so utterly in love with how this yearning is just... I can't even... like, it's just alllllll there and he'll not accept no for an answer. Not that Y/n wants him to, no, no she's so wholly consumed by this palpable grief of a love she thinks is absolutely impossible, they are fucking idiots in love. That's what they are. Idiots in love finally exposing both of their pining 😩👌
Tags/TW’s: Love Revelation, Declaration of Want, He’s Possessive, Sorrow, Broken Heart, Unintended Confession, Yearning & Longing, Possessive Nature, Mutual Unknown Secret Pining, Short-form Slowburn, Self-deprecating Feelings & Thoughts, Emotional Turmoil, False Beliefs, Misunderstood Situation, Miscommunication If You Squint (lack of talking, more like it), Historical Vibes/Elizabethan-like Writing, D/s Tendency Hints, Soft Reader (not weak!)
Abbr.: Y/N - Your Name | Y/L/N - Your Last Name
Word Count: 1.5k
LINKTREE // AO3 // MASTERLIST
⩤• YOU •⩥
The snow kept falling, the wind continued its tug on your dress and the ends of his coat. There was no escape. The hurt was a dull blade scraping along your skin, as if seeking entrance through every inch of your aching body so abhorrently overrun with anguish. Judge Turpin stood so utterly still and stiff as you took an unprompted step back, leaving the shield of his broad back and wide shoulders covered in black. “I am so sorry,” you whispered, riddled with shame and a guilt that was not yours to carry, yet placed upon you by society nonetheless. Inescapable. Unbearable. Constant.
“Me?” he asked, his dark drone of a voice lacked all emotion and held no depth or tone to it.
“I am so terribly sorry, my Lord…” Your voice was scarcely a whisper. “You hold no blame,” you continued quietly. “I-, my heart is-, there are no-, I am truly utterly remorseful of my errant heart, sir…” There was no stopping the tears from flowing down your cold cheeks as you spoke so softly and painfully to the very man you had sought in all situations, yet never found seeking you in return.
He turned, so stiff and slow in his motions that it sent a single spike of fright through you. “I am your heart’s desire?” he asked slowly, pinning you with the steely gaze, showing nothing of what he felt as he stood deathly still and tall before you.
You gulped a breath, snivelling before exhaling shakily. You lowered your gaze, fighting the need to let go of the last strength keeping you on your feet. “Please,” you whispered through a suffocated whimper. “Even though I am of no wealth, no true standing, no worth to the world, I am not heartless. My heart, it… Lord Turpin, it does not listen to my wishes for it to cease. I-I-, I have tried,” you nearly whispered in earnest, cinching your eyes shut and keeping your head bowed, for you could not look upon the grand and stoic man with a brutality to every feature you found so incredibly mesmerising.
The wind loosened strands of your hair, making some stick to the stains of tears across your cheeks. “I have tried,” you said once more, barely able to force the words out. “God knows, I have done all in my power to end it. Yet I—” your mouth worked to swallow “—cannot stop my heart from wanting despite it being akin to a winter solitude of endless darkness and coldness.”
“Darkness…” he drawled, the word raking its way down your back as if his finger had trailed your spine. “And, coldness…”
You shivered, lowering your head further so the cold of winter swept across the top of your exposed neck. “To long for you, a man out of my reach, a man bound to wed another so perfectly matched, it is a dark and cold prison I shall never esca—” His polished boots came into view a second before his hand — clad in rough leather — gripped under your chin and tilted your head back in a motion so sharp your eyes snapped open fully.
He drew harsh breaths, his nostrils flaring on each of them, and the steely greys of his eyes stole your breath in a shallow gasp. He peered down at you, keeping you still with his fierce grip on your chin. You fought against the desperation to lean into his hand, to take whatever contact you were granted in that moment before your heart was to be forever ripped out of your body.
“I am bound only to one other.” The words were low, harsh, and unyielding.
“And she is perfect for you. I-, I know you shall be loved, and that is all that matters, sir,” you whispered, fighting the need to lean in and run away at the same time.
His fingers hardened, his brows drew together in what you could only term as rage. “You declare me bound to another?” He leaned closer. “There is but one for me, little wisp. One. And I shall have her. Mark me, I shall have you.”
There was no air to breathe. Your blood roared in your ears as the warmth of his breath fanned your face from how close he now was. He misspoke. “S-sir, you are to be wed,” you said with some difficulty due to his restriction of your jaw’s movement — or, perhaps, it was the sheer difficulty of speaking such words out loud.
“Yes.”
“Please, do not torment me further.”
“I shall torment you, always,” he murmured, a grim tone of truth to the words.
“You need put no effort into such an endeavour, I am beyond repair, my Lord.” The words mingled with the falling snow as your eyes were locked for an indecently long moment.
You blinked. Believing, for a moment, you saw him smile ever so slightly.
“I have restrained myself, for three. years. little wisp,” he said with emphasis through clenched teeth as he pulled on your chin, raising you to stand straight with him. “And now, you have been declared desiring me. There will be no relief from this torment; I will bind you to me. Forever. Nothing in this wretched world can prevent it.”
You jerked your chin free. Your breath came in short pants as you shook your head disbelievingly. Stepping backwards, his gaze never left you. You took another step, the hem of your dress getting trapped under the heel of your shoe, and you toppled backwards. The snow and layers of your skirt stopped the impact as you looked up at the towering man before you. He moved closer, taking long strides while your heart ran away from you at the mere thought of being bound forever to him. You already were, and would always be, though.
⩤• TURPIN •⩥
He watched you, sat atop the snow with your eyes fixed upon him — still, there was no fear in those demure eyes that left him aching for constant access to them, to you. He stepped closer, peering down with every ounce of his strength used to stave the incessant need to grasp you, hold you, keep you close. It had been a dull ache, furthered by the quiet solitude of his life, and there was now no escaping the possessive want he had held caged within him.
“S-Sir,” you whispered, so soft-spoken yet sounding tormented through it to his indecent delight.
“You shall not deny me,” he said, a sense of urgent desperation filling him. “Only one will be mine for eternity, and so help me God, it shall be you, little wisp.” The depth of his voice held not a candle to the vast extent of the words — rooted deeper than any ancient tree and more blinding than any ravaging blizzard.
He watched your cheeks turn yet another shade darker, studied how your throat worked to swallow between rapid breaths that moved your chest up and down in a rush. He took one last moment to watch you as an unbound woman. Once he grasped you anew, it would be for eternity. A heart holds no restrictions of society or propriety, and still, his mind could not stop asking how the heart of the demure little creature of softness and quiet countenance had been captivated by him when he was all she should never intermingle with.
Richard was a god-fearing, strict, unforgiving man, with the law and justice system held to the highest esteem. Yet, he was also flawed and cruel. He was depraved and dark. He knew he took matters seriously, and many times he was too harsh. The chill in his heart was undeniable. However, he was not cold enough to resist you. Not harsh enough to remain unaffected, but cruel enough to act upon his depraved desire to have you and wicked enough to ask forgiveness of God for his sins rather than denying them.
He stepped forth. The snow crunched underfoot, and his glove-clad hand reached out toward you. “Come, little wisp.” Your eyes flicked between his hand and face, before you — to his utter joy — reached up, and he grabbed your hand. “You shall be by my side, forever,” he declared while pulling you up and close.
You gasped as he deliberately pulled on your hand too roughly, forcing that alluring body of yours, so fully covered and hidden from sight in many layers of clothing to ward off the winter chill, to come closer than proper. Your hand sat splayed over his chest, just to the left of his heart, and as you looked up — and he placed his free hand at your lower back sturdily — he felt the whisper of a warmth wholly unfamiliar to him. Solitude became a thing he would no longer prize so highly.
It was the second time you were in his arms. The second time he held you close. A second time of that light hand of yours pressing against his chest. There shall never be another chest beneath that hand. Mark my words.
“M-My Lord,” you stuttered, attempting to back away.
He hardened his grip. “You shall not move away from me,” he declared in a low drawl, the hand at your back pressing even harder. “Mark me, little wisp. You shall never be in another embrace. None… than mine.”
TO BE CONTINUED
LINKTREE // AO3 // MASTERLIST
A/N: Offh, only got space enough for one more part of this, so... expect smut next time around as these yearning idiots are finally sorting this out. Do I hear wedding bells, too? 👀😇
Continuation of: (T1) Carol of the Fates, (T2) Fairy Dance
A/N: IT'S TURPIN TIME BABES! HAPPY MIDWAY DAY! We're at the halfway point of Rickmas2025 and I am beyond excited to share this part of Turpin's serial for the year - we get allllllll the emotions and IIIIIIIH I hope you'll love this longer part!! 😘✨
Colonel Moore remained by your side throughout the day after a long night, during which the fractured pieces of broken hopes and dreams had kept you tossing and turning with little rest to be found. The colonel chatted happily, always the talkative and inviting man. Many had sought his hand in marriage, and a mere few months ago, a woman had managed to capture his attention. A widower, with three daughters, whom he had taken in as his own despite their older ages and the loud protests of his family.
You looked up at the man as he walked next to you along the snow-covered gravel path leading from the forest in the north toward your aunt’s home. The sun peeked through the heavy clouds for a moment, and the smiling man kept talking of potential men who could have captured your heart as the cottage came into view. You hadn’t the courage to ask him to stop, despite the pain slicing within you at each man mentioned that only reminded you of how unattainable Judge Turpin was — none of the men mentioned came close to his standing, his conduct, his place in the world. He is not even an option in outlandishly frivolous jester, in suggestions meant to be taken in the greatest humour…
“…but of course, there is dear old Bartimus Cornwell. Perhaps that old crook has captured your attention?” he said with mischief in his eyes and a humorous sound to his voice, making it all too obvious he, once more, jested about the old banker with love only for hard currency.
You chuckled quietly at the absurdity. “Colonel, you’re not being fair,” you said as he laughed loudly and freely. “Toying with me in such a manner, you indecent man,” you continued in an attempt to jest through the hurt.
At times, you wished to be more free-spirited, to be a bit open and take more space in the world, but it was not meant to be so. If I had been louder, more visible, would it have given me the opportunity to— No… do not go there, as it is silly, no matter my personality. I am no match for him.
“Miss (Y/n)? All well?” You nodded with a soft smile as he peered at you with his words pausing. “Well, I shall make it my mission to hear you laugh once more before I shall away.”
“You’re leaving already, sir?” He nodded with the ever-fixed smile he seemed to be accustomed to wearing. “My bride awaits in London, and from there we shall away to Cambridge after the new year arrives.”
“Cambridge?” You both stopped walking, facing each other as you held your hands clasped before you, looking up at the colonel. “That is a long journey, sir. I shall miss your company. We have seen little of you these past years.”
“Dear Miss (Y/n), ever so kind and gentle in your requests. I shall miss the entirety of your family, perhaps not so much that ever-nosey sister of yours—” he winked cheekily “—but I shall always remember our times fondly, as how I used to spin you about when you were but a child. How you’ve grown…”
You looked at each other for a moment, the memory of him hoisting you high by your waist, only to spin you as if on a joyous ride, was a fond one for you as well. It had been many years, and you were no longer a lithe little girl to be flung here and there so easily. “For old time’s sake,” Colonel Moore chuckled, and before you had time to react, he had grasped your waist, wrapped in layers upon layers of fabric, and lifted you with a jolt only to spin you around in circles.
You laughed in a giggle, your hands landing atop his narrow shoulders with your gloves and his thick coat separating the two of you.
“Louder, miss,” he beckoned as your feet nearly spun straight out and the world flung in a haze around you of whites and greys.
He laughed, and you gave off a giggling squeal as his fingers pressed on ticklish spots along your lower ribs.
“Colonel!” you called out in a quite loud voice, for being you, buried in giggles and a fondness only childhood memories could produce. “We shall fall!” you continued as the spinning grew rapid and you both moved over the road in the throes of it.
⩤• TURPIN •⩥
Snow sprayed under the horse’s hooves as the sky darkened, threatening to release a fresh wave of snow as the afternoon came. The cottage appeared on his right side, and he slid the horse to a harsh halt. A glorious sound rang through the air when he made to dismount. His head jerked to the side, and the wind tossed the loose strands of his hair not held by the tophat.
His heart close to halted in its rushed stampede from the hard riding as your smiling face captured him in flicks of time. You were being spun in the air by another man, looking up at you with a blinding smile and fondness. “Wisp,” Richard snarled in a harsh exhale, the depth of his voice mingling with the sudden squeal you let out.
His breath faltered, his aching muscles stiffened, and there was not enough snow during a hundred winters to compete with the chill stiffening his fingers around the reins as that possessive wrath only you could produce grasped his aching limbs.
“Colonel!” you called out, and never had he heard your voice so loud or clear. “We shall fall!”
The man spun you faster, and Richard’s molars ground harshly while he threw himself off the horse with a quick swing of his leg before his feet hit the ground with a thud. Remove your filthy paws of wickedness from her. He marched forward, each step a battle not to run, to not give in to a chase of the demure creature he witnessed in the throes of giggles and smiles for the first time in history.
Richard’s jaw clenched anew. He stopped as the two of you spun in revolting closeness. “Release her,” he demanded, the depth of his voice carrying it far despite the low tone.
“Colonel!” you shrieked as the man locked eyes with Richard for a second and lost his damn senses, stumbling and losing his hold of the most precious being in the whole of the wretched world.
You fell with a gasp. Richard’s heart spiked. He shot forward, reaching out rapidly.
“Offh—” You exhaled at the impact as he grabbed you, pulling you close with unmasked force.
His eyes locked with yours as you half lay in his arms with one of your gentle hands just barely pressed against his thundering chest. Your lips were slightly parted, hard breaths slipped past, which he could not escape noticing. You were the perfect weight in his arms, the perfect shape for them to hold, and your alarmed eyes halted any capability of movement when his insides hardened by restraint — the very same restraint he had tasked himself to exert each day since the first he held your gaze for that one too long moment.
You gulped, removing your hand from his chest in haste and fisting it against your own in that soft manner of yours. How he wondered if those hands would be as soft if placed upon his burning, naked flesh in another setting.
“My-, my Lord,” you whispered, breath stuttering and eyes lowering despite his errant wish for them to forever hold his gaze unwaveringly — without fear.
“Miss (Y/l/n),” he drawled through nearly closed lips, feeling you tense in his arms as he began to straighten the two of you. He held no desire to release you, no wish to allow the world to encroach upon your body with an ice storm of air filling the space between his and your body. Yet, once he was certain you stood steadily upon the snow-covered little road, he coerced his muscles to yield in their strained stiffness and release you.
He watched you, from perfectly held shoulders in their subdued eloquence to clutched hands tightly bound with locked fingers clad in leather gloves before you, and there was not a sight of the ever-changing world capable of outshining the beauty he witnessed in that moment. He was certain of that. No amount of future change or glorious history would ever be in competition for his gaze, and that made life unbearable at times — even one such as him, who was cold at heart, sought beauty in the world, and you had stolen the few glories he had thought himself to be the witness of previously by comparison.
Three crunching steps filled the air. “I believe introductions are in order,” the man said, speaking in a stiff yet warm tone Richard had no wish to ever hear again. You touched her so freely.
“Oh—” you looked back at the man “—yes, of course, Colonel,” you said, and his spine stiffened at the way you looked up at the man, not far from his age, yet there were no similarities in appearance. No matter your heart’s desire, little wisp, I will not yield in this endeavour of mine. You shall be mine. I shall shield you from the wicked ways of the world… and the men within it… with myself between you and all of it. I will teach you, little wisp.
“Judge Turpin—” you began, but had no time to say anything further.
The colonel stiffened visibly, clicking his heels together and bowing his head. “Judge Turpin,” he echoed. “No introduction necessary, I am aware of your legendary court,” he continued with a colder voice, infected by the very noise of fear-laced respect Richard was all too accustomed to now. You never speak with such a sound in your voice. His eyes remained locked on you as you looked back at him, those eyes of seductive submission and quiet beauty brutalised his insides with warmth.
Once more, your eyes held his for a moment too long. “Judge Turpin, s-sir, this is Colonel—”
“Moore,” he said lowly. “I am aware of this man.” His jaw clenched, remembering the very reason you had fled London and what the man had caused you to feel — and yet, I find you in his arms, smiling, giggling, laughing…
“I am honoured,” he interrupted, and Richard’s gaze slowly moved to the man standing tall a step behind you as he raised his head the little amount needed from your eye level, to the colonel’s, while he at all times peered down.
Silence stretched for a moment as Richard kept his anger from uprooting him. “You ought… not, be...” The darkness slithering up through his throat, making the words harsh beyond necessary as Colonel Moore paled, was not held back. “You take such liberties, Colonel.” Such… unwelcome, despicable, liberties… His mouth thinned to a mere line, and there was no want as deep in that moment as the one to move you physically behind him and sever all possibilities of the lousy colonel viewing you. You were to be for his eyes, and his eyes only. Wisp of mine. Mine, and mine alone. I shall see to that.
⩤• YOU •⩥
The world stood still. Your blood roared in your ears as your heart danced and crumbled at the very same time. You were but a step from the man you had fled London to escape, but a little tiny step from the man who had you in such a vice grip there was no telling if your soul would ever be for another, a mere step from the man you would have given all to be held by — now that his arms had held you tightly, even if only in an attempt to save you from falling, you knew there were no other arms you would ever be prevailed upon to be held by. There was none other. Only him. Only the man who glared with steel for eyes and spoke with the might of a king seeking to lay his desire and wrath upon the world without a care for another.
“Liberties? My Lord, I would do no such thing,” the colonel said, but you did not look away from Judge Turpin — who’s glare was now directed at the other man present.
“Are you not, do tell, to be wed this very spring, Colonel?” Judge Turpin intoned with severity, and it scratched exquisitely at the back of your head in a manner it ought not.
"Certainly, my Lord. I am to marry the most wonderful woman I have ever—”
“Silence.” The word was brutal. “You dare speak of another in such a manner before Miss (Y/n)?”
Your eyes moved between the two men as your heart tore in two — one part of it overjoyed with the underlying message of such words being that of care for you, and the other completely shattered at the truth of it never being so. My silly heart, why were you so foolish as to fall for such a man…
“Miss (Y/n)?” Colonel Moore asked, breaking the silence. “Are you—” The colonel turned silent, his sentence interrupted.
“You, Colonel,” Judge Turpin began while you staved off your tears, “are a wretched man. A smear upon the world. Men such as yourself, wicked and tainted with deceit, blemish this world. Colonel.”
“Judge Turpin,” Moore said, his voice low and restrained, but you did not miss the vibration of fear underneath it, you knew the colonel too well. “What have I done to cause such animosity, sir?” he continued as you prayed for the earth to swallow you whole, to bury your pain and want in the dirt beneath the ice and snow where it would cause no more harm to your heart or soul.
The judge took half a step forward, making him stand right by your side, giving you his profile, and with the mere tilting of your head, you could see his features set in restrained anger. He was powerful, harsh, gloriously so — a stark contrast to your countenance, and it only made the ache penetrate you further. You ought to have stood up for the colonel, ought to have stopped the exchange of words, ought to have spoken up or stepped forth, yet you did none of it. You hadn’t the courage or the right of mind to think of it in that painful moment, bringing forth all the years of torment certain distance and heartbreak created.
“You dare look upon her, when creating such a state as this?” Judge Turpin snarled, and it broke the trance his profile had you in while his hand moved outward to indicate your stiffened body and now trembling shoulders. Confusion swept through you, and then a pain so vile and cruel took over — he does not even know it is him… I have so little worth, he does not even consider that he created… Of course not. Of course not. Of course… not… And none other had ever seen it either, so why, by heaven and earth, had you still had a final shard of miserable hope he was aware of it?
Looking to your right, you saw the colonel stare at you. His eyes sought and appeared to find what they hunted for. A breath lodged in your throat, dread crept from your toes to the tips of your ears — freezing your body but not your pounding heart. “Do not, colonel, please, do not,” you whispered as all colour drained from his face, and he took half a step back as if utterly shocked. Revolted, even.
“So this is your heart’s foolish desire?” the colonel asked you directly, disbelief and breathlessness to his voice. “Miss (Y/n), I never could have imagined… I named so many, yet this is— I am at a loss, miss…” His voice no longer held such a friendly tone, a drip of disgust lingered within it even as his eyes glanced at the man your heart so erratically longed for, and it appeared the colonel knew you too well in turn, too. Please, do not speak it out loud; do not further my torment with acknowledgement. I can still hide from it before him.
The judge let out a hissed breath. “You lay such blame upon her?” he said callously, as if the colonel himself were at fault for the sickness within your heart’s depths that no cure would ever be found for. You knew that now, with the unobtainable man standing tall and rigid before you.
“I lay no blame upon her, sir.” He lowered his head. “I feel only sorrow, for Miss (Y/n), and fright. A delicate, and demure woman such as her… to think…” He shook his head in disbelief so grim you had never thought the colonel able to display.
“Colonel, please,” you said softly, nearly suffocating on the ever-growing lump in your throat with the burn of unshed tears stinging behind your eyes. “A marriage is to ensue; I am aware of my doom. I am a coward,” you said gently, a small smile of misery stretching your lips. “I fled London to escape, and yet, my doom seems to have followed me.” Why are you even here? Your eyes flickered to the judge, who still glared at Colonel Moore without sparing you a single glance. I am not worthy, and I am too aware of it for my heart to behave so errantly…
“You deserve more,” Colonel Moore said quietly, that fright and sorrow so evident when you knew his voice in detail.
“Yet I am less,” you replied, quickly wiping away the tear which fought itself free. “I shall not take liberties of a confession where there is no leniency for such a declaration, Colonel. I know my station.” You fought your body’s wish to bend, to fall to your knees and cradle your hands toward your chest to protect the sensitive heart hidden behind your ribs. But it would not have yielded any relief or protection.
“Your station…” Colonel Moore said with a dry breath as you lowered your gaze to the snow. “Always so demure, so quiet, so unassuming and soft, Miss (Y/n). I could not have guessed had we had an endless amount of time for it.”
You drew a shaken breath. “Thus proving my foolishness, Colonel.”
“Enough.” Judge Turpin stepped forth, grabbing your upper arm with his left hand before pushing you behind his back, making you gasp at the intensity shooting through you upon the decisive contact. “You speak… as if you hold no blame,” he continued in a voice so cold it made you shiver, and his hand stiffened where it still held your arm — your skin burned beneath the layers of fabric while a plea to feel those large hands without any barrier ravaged your insides without your allowance.
“Me? I hold no blame in this, Judge Turpin,” Colonel Moore said, taking a quick step back. “I would not be so calloused as to break a gentle heart such as hers so coldly.”
“Liar.”
You bit down on your lip, feeling the ruthless strength of the judge through the unyielding grip he now possessed of your arm, and there was no escaping the view of him a mere inch from his broad back, dressed in the darkest of black only deepened by the now falling snow landing and entwining with the fibres of the fabric. The power of his hold clashed with the softness of your own stance, even when stiffened by heartbreak, you trembled with yearning so deep it had your arm hanging in his grip.
You could not focus on the words being spoken between the men when he touched you. The swell of warmth from his moving of your body — as if placing you behind him would protect you from some unseen harm — fought the agony of the closeness he had placed you within. You stood, by his choice, within his personal space where you had seen but one other person be allowed. Do not think of her, the perfection of her on his arm, do not think of it.
“I do not possess the power or equal standing to speak my mind or accuse so freely, Your Lordship,” Colonel Moore said stiffly as tension seemed to taint the very air. “I am not the one responsible for her doom, sir. I would not wish her fate upon any man or woman, to have a heart possessed by a man such as you, it is a sentence as cruel as those you are infamous for.” His words turned into a ringing in your ears as the truth was revealed.
The world stood still. Judge Turpin’s grip turned bruising before loosening to the near loss of it. Your mind screamed for an end to your torment far louder than the thudding steps of Colonel Moore leaving, blocking the sound of everything but your rampaging pulse.
“Me?” he said so quietly that, had it not been for the immense depth of his brutal voice, it would have been an impossibility for the word to be heard. “Me?” His hand slid down your arm until it was lost and hung by his side while you barely remained standing. The ground swayed beneath your numbing feet.
“End this suffering, please,” you whispered, your voice clogged by an unspoken cry situated so deep within your chest that there was no chance of it gaining breath.
