A/N: Hi There! That's my Masterlist which will include all my published Writings so far. I hope you enjoy it! Please remember that English isn’t my native language and that my Writings will include Mistakes and maybe weird formed sentences.
If you don't want to miss my posts let me know and I´ll add you to my Taglist! :)
(GIF Rights belong to @byaseashore)
Masterlist
to be continued. (last update. April.03)
Snapemas Challenge 2020
A/N: I wrote those for the Snapemas Challenge 2020 by @deepperplexity. You can find the original Post here!
Mistletoe or The Bells - (Severus Snape x Reader)
The Weasley Twins hex Severus and Y/N! There's only one way to get rid of it.
Christmas Card - (Student!Severus x Student!Reader)
Severus gets surprised by an unexpected Christmas Card and couldn't be happier about it!
Smiles - (Severus Snape x Teacher!Reader)
Severus is mean to Y/N a young new teacher at Hogwarts which makes her wonder what she could’ve done to upset him this much.
Snow - (Severus Snape x Spouse!Reader)
Y/N usually loves Christmas and the whole Spirit of it but this year they can't quite get right into it. Thankfully Severus is there to help them.
Memories - (Severus Snape x Teacher!Reader)
About how Severus and Y/N meet, fall in love and how Severus finds Ways to make all those Memories permanent.
Christmas Food - (Severus Snape)
After he survived the Battle of Hogwarts he wasn't expecting to getting tricked into having Christmas Dinner with some Friends of the Order.
Ice Skating - (Student!Snape x Student!Reader)
Pt. 2 of Christmas Card , Severus finally gets to know who wrote him his special Christmas Card and eventually goes to his first date ever!
Snowballs - (Best Friend!Snape x Best Friend! Reader)
Severus is having a Snowball fight with his Best Friend Y/N.
Fever - (Severus Snape x Potions Assistant! Reader)
Y/N is the new Potions Assistant to Potions Master Severus Snape. Packed with a lot of work she won't even notice how she catches a heavy Fever right before Christmas which makes Severus worry about her.
Slippery Slope - (Severus Snape x Muggle! Reader) NSFW SMUT
In one of the coldest Nights of the Winter Y/N slips on her stairs, loses her keys and needs help from her Neighbour Mr. Snape. Only to leading to things getting smutty ...
Lanterns - (Severus Snape x Spouse! Reader)
Since Severus had become the Headmaster he had changed. Now he urgently wants to meet his Spouse only to tell her something of high importance.
Gingerbread House - (Severus Snape)
Severus has been stressed out lately only to be surprised by a Gingerbread House from one of his Students.
Christmas Present - (Severus Snape x Teacher!Reader)
After a long time of secretly liking each other Severus and Y/N finally get closer as they reveal each others Christmas Presents.
Writings
Valentines Day - (Severus Snape)
Severus is deeply in love while celebrating Valentines Day.
Someone who appreciates me - (Severus Snape x Reader)
Years after the Battle of Hogwarts Severus is getting matched up by Minerva against his will.
A pinch of her Luck - (Minerva McGonagall)
The Story of how Minerva McGonagall on how she grew to become friends with Student!Severus Snape.
Caught - (Severus Snape x Reader)
Severus admitted that he might have cheated on Y/N.
Phases of the Moon - (Severus Snape x Orphan!Y/N Flitwick)
As Severus reaches his darkest times he suddenly finds a Friend. But where will it lead them?
Antidote - Severus Snape x ?
Prologue
#1 Tableware and Tears
Requested Work
A/N: This is a collection of all of my requested written Work so far! If you want to suggest an Idea you can use my Prompt list! as help or just send it to me over here! The rules for a request are also at the End of my Prompt list. I can't wait to hear from you! :)
Pregnancy Reveal - (Severus Snape x Reader)
Y/N reveals her Pregnancy on Christmas through a Present!
Flirting at Work - (Severus Snape x Wife!Reader)
Severus visits his Wife at Work taking his Chance to flirt with her right away.
Admitting his Feelings - (Student!Snape x Slytherin!Reader)
Headcanon, Severus has to finally admit his Feelings for his Slytherin Friend.
Break up and Make up - (Severus Snape x Reader)
Y/N and Severus Relationship has failed. As they have broken up Y/N tries to move on. Still struggling with old feelings she is about to marry someone else until Severus tries to win her back.
I miss you - (Dad!Snape x Child!Reader)
Y/N admits to their Dad that they miss him since he has been back working at Hogwarts.
Writing Recommendations
I also wrote a Post about Fic Recommendations. You should definitely check it out and send those Writers some love. Over Time I will continue to add more to the Post. :)
Writing Platforms
Wattpad: @ pasteldungeon
Ao3: @ snapeficition
Tumblr: @ snapefiction
Disclaimer:
All rights of the Harry Potter Franchise/ WIZARDING WORLD are reserved by JKR and Warner Bros.
I do not own those Characters nor the Wizarding World. Sadly.
Prompt 10: Russian Dance; The Nutcracker - Tchaikovsky (H2)
Song link: Spotify & YouTube
Pairing: Hans Gruber x Fem!Reader
POV: Second, Reader
Continuation of: (H1) Wizards in Winter
A/N: Alright, this thing is still just a “I want to have unbridled fun writing so don’t think too hard, just go with it” fic - ‘kay, adore youuuu! Have fun 😂👏
Tags/TW’s: Instant Infatuation, Breaking/Running From The Law, Super Mild Violence, Nicknames, Cute Near-Fluff Amidst Chaos, Voice Appreciation tbh 👀
Word Count: 1k
LINKTREE // AO3 // MASTERLIST
Your legs barely held you up as you flung your coat on, simultaneously half-running in a strange, tangling walk on wobbly legs toward the door leading out of the bank at the back of the building. You had two security doors to cross before the outer door opened, and the icy air of December hit you in the face. It jerked you out of some of the muddying adrenaline, fuelling fear and anxiety alike as your heart galloped.
Dragging a deep breath, a rush unlike any other consumed you. “I just robbed a bloody bank, for a stranger who—”
“Süße,” came the drawled rumble of that very stranger. “No time to throw away, come.” He grabbed your hand and jerked you into motion as he passed while talking without stopping for even half a step.
“Where are—” Alarms began to blare from within the bank. “Oh shit.”
“Beeil dich. There’s no time,” he snapped, tugging on your arm once more as you both set off in a quick stride.
“We should run,” you managed to push out, looking over your shoulder toward the bank. Your heart nearly choked you by sitting poundingly in your throat where it had no business being.
“No, no running, it draws attention, makes us memorable. Walk quick, come—” he wrapped your arm around his “—we shall walk quickly, and talk about dinner.”
“Dinner?”
“Yes, like couples do.”
“Couples?”
Mr Robber halted for half a step, muttering something in German, and then kept walking just as quickly. “Pretend, Süße,” he clarified. “Pretend we are a couple just walking along.”
Oh, right, of course! Wait, where are we going? “Where are we going for dinner, then?” you asked, stumbling along the snow-covered cobblestones of the alley passage in your indoor work shoes while trying to catch your breath and calm your heart. You couldn’t, of course.
“How about Suffolk?” he began, his voice unbelievably steady and charming.
“Suffolk? Suffolk?” you asked, disbelief dripping from your voice in turn.
“Perhaps you wish to be snatched away to Rome, instead?” He smirked at you as you passed a larger street and kept going down another alleyway.
“Snatched— You mean swept away? Wait, Rome?” Your brain couldn’t compute what the bloody hell was going on in such a rapid motion of events.
“No?” He chuckled, seeming so bloody calm while running away from doing a damn robbery. “How about France? Perhaps the Riviera is more to your taste?” he continued without seeming phased at all.
You baulked at him, managing to keep your legs moving as the man seemed to be having quite fun — at your expense. But, despite the bizarre situation, his looks and that voice of his only made you tingle more. You were acting like some schoolgirl being blinded by hormones, but in reality, you had just had a crash-out and robbed a bank in broad daylight with a German stranger.
“Süße—” he snagged your attention instantly “—you are quite the curiosity.” He said as you kept staring up at him, being guided by his arm when you weren’t looking where you were going. “I have yet to decide if you are to be kept or not, but I am sure you can be of use—” Sirens filled the air. You both stopped, hearing them come closer from the echo down the alley, as if this was one of those scenes in a romcom drama when the stakes rise, and there was just this strange sensation of reality not really being real in that moment.
Then the sirens blasted louder. “That’s not good,” you whispered, reality making a comeback along with black dots dancing along your vision with a fresh surge of panic. You couldn’t quite feel your feet, but your heart had itself set upon compensating for that with its own exaggerated pounding.
“Verdammt!”
“Can we run for it?” you asked, feeling that mix of fear and adrenaline battle with the irrational need to remain with the dangerous stranger you felt inexplicably drawn to. Perhaps I’ve just lost my damn mind completely? I can’t be that hungry, surely?
He looked at you, baffled it seemed, before he smirked and the sirens grew louder. “Together?"
You nodded, grabbing his glove-clad hand by moving your hand down along his steady forearm.
“Ah, you are a wonder.” He squeezed your hand, and you nearly fell apart under his charming eyes as those white teeth glinted when he smiled. “Run, tapferer kleiner Süße.”
You had no idea what he’d said at the end, but whatever it was, it sounded as if he purred the words, and that was really all your brain could latch onto at that moment as you remained dazed and fixated on those grey eyes of his. “Run,” he said anew, and you did.
You ran with your hands interlocked, snow sprayed behind you with each step as you kicked it up, and for some reason, it felt like you were in a movie. Reality became distant as you ran and jumped, as the sirens hunted you and snow crunched loudly, and the most handsome man you had ever seen held your hand so firmly that there was no chance of you slipping out of his grip.
You ran faster, the surroundings became a blur, and the German kept you on your feet. “Jump!” he called as a snow mound stood in your way of the next road, and — much like in the Russian dance in The Nutcracker — you leapt into the air with a thrill.
“Bloody hell!” You nearly toppled.
He grabbed you. “Get in,” he said as he righted you, and a white van stood with an open door across from you. You barrelled inside, feeling the strangest of smiles stretch your lips as you turned around to check on Hans, but a pain so sharp it stole your breath and vision erupted across your temple. You crashed to the van’s floor with only the whoosh of a breath before there was nothing.
TO BE CONTINUED
LINKTREE // AO3 // MASTERLIST
A/N: Well, that took a turn - part two of this crazy story and it’s your head being bashed rather than gnarly old Mrs Crow’s in the first part 😂 Oh my gosh, this one is so much fun to write and with the music it’s just such an experience 😂👏
Setting: The Lands Around Delaford Estate & Delaford Estate
Continuation of: Prompt 1. Chimney Soot
A/N: This was harder to write than I'd thought it would be. My own greatest death fear is drowning, no other manner of dying scares me more than that but this fic as being buried alive and it's quite a horrendous thing too - and it's Christmas time, what a super jolly way to spend it 😂 Gosh, I hope you weren't expecting Rickmas2023 to be all sweet and fluffy 🙈👍❤
On another note, we're making an ice rink in our backyard (nearly done) and I just realised this year I have no prompt for ice skating 😱 Like, sure, you can connect almost any prompt with Ice Skating but there's no dedicated prompt for it this year - feels a little weird 😂
Tags/TW’s: Buried Alive, Fear Of Being Harmed, Mentions Past Physical Hurt (hand lashing and punishment), Fear Of Losing Someone, Mentions Past/Current Fears (being buried alive) ...and good doggies doing a good job too
Abbr.: Y/N - Your Name
Word Count: 3.2k+
LINKTREE // AO3 // MASTERLIST
⩤• You •⩥
You wiped at your face, the soot still clung to your skin, leaving you looking like a bandit raccoon as the handkerchief had protected your lower face. The dusty dress lay abandoned on the floor as you pulled on the rags you’d come to Delaford in. This can’t be happening, cannot, cannot be happening! The colonel! I-, I-, oh, I’m my own ruin!
You banged open the door, and slammed it shut by cheer force while running before you even released the handle. The winding, narrow steps were a death trap in your rush to get away. You were not going to stay for a lashing, for a rough yelling, for any punishment the upstanding man deemed fit for your actions — for your lack of knowledge about the very man himself rendering you unable to treat him correctly even. You didn’t even take the time to say goodbye to Mrs Garber, or inform Cook about you leaving. You just ran out into the snowy winter land outside as the winds whipped around, tossing about that very snow. While the clouds hid the warming rays of the sun, the sky was as grey as your trembling hands.
The night had gifted the world with another few inches of snow the stable boys were helping the other servants to shovel, but the servants’ side wasn’t cleared yet so your legs plummeted into the white cold to your mid-thighs. You shivered and hissed as your dress hiked up, the long underpants you wore upon your arrival were still up in your quarters. Your rush hadn’t allowed for more than your dress, shoes, and cloak to be put on.
You clumsily forced your way through the snow, not knowing where any paths were you only focused on reaching the tree line up ahead. It was far off, but you were determined to get away before anyone could get their hands on you. His gentle eyes still lingered in your head, the sweet warmth his voice spread through you, the slight scrutiny he’d viewed you with — as if he’d been trying to see beyond the soot and covering handkerchief. You’d never felt any tingle like the one he’d made your skin warm under. What was that even? A sudden lapse of judgement? A lust, like other men throw my way when they want to take advantage?No, that thought didn’t sit right with you. His gentleness was too clear, yet you knew nothing about him and you had met people like that before. Kind, caring, sweet — on the outside. Behind closed doors, that was a different matter entirely.
You feel forward, plummeting into the snow as your foot tripped on something. You were crawling forward a second later, determined to reach the trees, to hide among them and get away from the estate you had hoped would have been your salvation through the freezing winter. Now, well, you were even worse off than before. Stupid, stupid, stupid! I shouldn’t have tried so hard! I should have just told Mrs Thatch about the clog!
You reached the trees just as the sound of hounds filled the air. A foreboding dread filled you from within as you picked up the pace and nearly ploughed your way through the snow, your foggy breath heaving out of you while the hounds' yelps and howls seemed to turn louder. You grasped the first low-hanging branch of a pine and pulled yourself forward as the imposing trees sheltered you from the biting winds, the sounds of the hounds half drowned out as you dragged and pulled yourself forward until the snow lessened, burdening the branches above rather than the ground below.
A sigh of relief escaped you as you grabbed another branch and pulled yourself forward one final time before the snow only reached your knees. The relief was felt too soon while you sought to get deeper among the trees. You stumbled forward, snagging your foot on a hidden root below, only to grab a hold of another branch. It slipped through your numbing fingers, the pine needles like cutting blades — hardened by the cold — as they sliced at your palms while you ended up in the snow with a panted breath at the impact nearly burying your face in the white cold. Then you were pummelled.
The branch had been released with such force the tree swayed, its branches being freed of the heavy snow above before the sudden springing rippled through the nearest tree. Snow came crashing down in waves and you could do nothing but shield your face as the weight forced you to lay still — burying you completely without your cry of fear penetrating the deadly mass. Lord, no, you thought as you lay immobile with only a small bubble of air around your face thanks to your raised arms.
Why his chuckle echoed in your head, why the sturdiness of his body against yours filtered through the fear, why the gentle curiosity in his eyes shimmered before your mind's eyes you couldn’t tell. The echo of silver bells, the crackling of a fire, the swirl of dancing couples in wonderful dresses and beautiful frocks seemed like a hazy fog of a dream you’d wished for all your life and were now never to experience. Not even as an attentive maid blending into the scenery without anyone taking notice. In that foggy dream, keeping the horror of your grave of snow at a distance, he stood at the very centre and his eyes — gentle and sweet — were only on you. The tingling warmth in your numb fingers and toes felt as real as the crawling chill along your back while you struggled more and more to breathe and stay conscious.
⩤• Brandon •⩥
“Samson, search!” he bellowed, his voice travelling further than needed. Your dusty handkerchief held tightly in his harsh fist, the hound’s nose just having been buried in it before the other dogs took a whiff. The hound howled, setting the other dogs off with yelps and barks as they dove into the snow, the path your body had cut through it already starting to fill with the swirling snow the harsh winds threw about.
He had never been spellbound before. The way he had seen only your eyes surrounded by black ash ought to have discouraged any sensations within his chest but, alas, the wonder your eyes were and the manner you spoke with had taken him by such surprise his heart had no chance but to pound. He’d never thought sticking his head in a chimney while talking about Santa Claus would have lurched his entire body into a warm pounding. You had spoken so sweetly, your eyes those of someone who knew hardship yet prevailed. He was enthralled with the glimmer in them the second your eyes had connected in the dark of the chimney.
The hound howled again as he stepped out of the protective walls of stone, through the servants’ door, and felt himself sink to right above his knee in the snow. Remembering the disarray of your quarters, the discarded dress, the abandoned second undergarments that should have clad your body to protect against the snow — no matter the horridly tattered state of the thin fabrics — made his stomach twist.
He was not unfamiliar with the cold, the wetness, the dampness of melted snow, and how it would cling to one’s body. He had spent far too many seasons in service of the royals not to have experienced all sorts of weather and their respective challenges. And now you were out there, exposed and frightened given the horrendous look you had offered him before running away in a poof of swirling ash dust. There had been something wrong with that look, the dread of it — and the manner you had wrung your hands before you. what harm has befallen you before? Have hands been laid atop you for such a small thing as spreading ash?
He gave chase, following the loud dogs with servants following behind him with his heart in a harsh pounding. The snow wasted no time clinging to him, seeping through his clothes not suitable for the weather in the slightest. The only thing he’d done was drape a heavy cloak around himself while Mr Barkley had fetched the hunting dogs, his beloved hound at the helm of the pack. He was grateful for having taken that extra second to at least do that as the wind was bitingly cold, nearly clawing at his cheeks while the sky above seemed to darken by the second until the snow being thrown about was so thick the clouds above were no longer visible.
“Samson! Search!” he called, the hound howling back while your trembling shoulders filled his head. Something had been done to you, someone had hurt you for something akin to what had just happened and he could not fathom anyone harming anyone over cleaning, or stumbling, or not knowing the face of a man they had never before met.
Samson howled and came bolting back toward him, Christopher felt his heart stop as the dog kept sniffing the ground at his feet, searching for a fresher scent. The trail you’d left behind was gone, he could barely see an inch before him as the snow stuck to his lashes. He pulled out the handkerchief again, beckoning Samson to take a new whiff — the hound ignored him while sniffing the ground harder, burrowing his nose below the top layer before digging his way through the snow toward the trees Christopher knew lay not far away even if he could not see them.
“Sir Brandon!” Mr Barr called behind him. “Sir! The winds are too strong!” the man called over the howling of that very phenomenon of nature.
“We shall find her! Or she will perish out here!” he called back, not stopping his trudge forward despite the snow gripping him nearly to his mid-thighs by that time. I shall not lose her to this storm , he thought while leaning forward to push through the snow faster, following the small dent after Samson and the rest of the dogs.
“Sir! It’s too dangerous!” Mr Barr called, but he ignored it. He had faced danger, and the storm wrapping him up was nothing compared to the horrors of his past, or the pain contained within it.
They reached the trees and the thickness of the branches kept the worst of the winds at bay, the snow on the ground lessening for each step until it barely came to his knees and he could move faster. Samson’s howl up ahead caught his attention, he’d found something. Christopher barged forward, running despite the snow and whipping branches, until he found his dogs digging at what appeared to be a mound of snow created by yielding branches.
His heart leapt toward his throat, making it difficult to breathe. Are you in there? His mind had time to wonder before he lurched into action. If you lay buried under such heavy snow, had you any air to breathe? Had you broken anything? Were you crushed? To be buried alive had been one of his greatest fears back in the East Indies, and even before that. When he was a lesser man, fighting in trenches filled with muddy water that could have easily turned into a watery grave in the madness of battle.
He dug, and dug, and dug until his skin felt as if it would slide off his icy fingers and his nails crack with the cold. That was when your fingers appeared, icy cold and unmoving. His lungs stuttered on a sharp intake of air while Samson licked the fingers quickly. He dug with all his might just as the servants appeared behind him.
“Dig, men! Dig! ” he demanded with such a dark rumble he barely recognized his frantic voice himself.
A frantic moment later you were dug out from the snowy grave he would not allow to become an eternal resting place. He dragged you too forcefully into his arms, wiping away snow from your cold face, smearing the ash further — hiding your face from him behind a blotchy mess of black and grey — but he could not have cared less as he saw foggy air part from between your lips. His shoulders sank with relief before he held you up and took off his cloak by interchanging his arms. You were tightly wrapped but unresponsive as he stood with Samson by his leg, his entire body wiggling with the motion of his tail as it wagged relentlessly from having found his target.
⩤• You •⩥
You shivered, a wet rag graced your forehead in a rubbing motion while the deep sigh of a woman echoed all around you.
“Stupid child, why would you run in such a manner,” Mrs Garber nearly whispered, the familiarity of her voice softening the pounding of your heart. “And from the colonel no less, foolish girl.” You couldn’t tell if your mother’s long-lost friend was angry or worried, her voice didn’t let it slip through fully.
When your eyes blinked open she was leaning over you, and you were almost too warm.
“Oh, Y/n,” she said while you blinked a few more times to clear your vision. “Foolish girl, you had me so worried!” she chided, but, perhaps affectionately so.
“Mary?” you asked and she sighed but nodded. “Where-, where am I?” you asked as your eyes flicked about the glorious room as you tried to move your stiff limbs. A giant canopy of thick fabric was above you, the mattress beneath was the most comfortable one you’d ever laid upon, and the covers atop you felt lush — like silk, expensive silk.
“Oh, sweet child, you’re in—”
“Mrs Thatch,” came that gravelly voice which sent goosebumps along every inch of your skin while your heart picked up the pace a notch as you turned your eyes toward the slightly ajar door. “Give me an occupation, or I shall run mad,” he continued so quietly it shouldn’t have been possible for you to hear the words. But his voice travelled far, even in such a low tone appearing to be far away given the echo to it.
“Colonel, sir,” that shrill voice from the grand room before said. “There is little to do but wait. She is in good care with Mrs Garber, sir.”
Your eyebrows scrunched, he sounded anxious — it didn’t suit that voice at all to have such a tone. You found yourself wishing to hear that chuckle of his again. Perhaps you had a fever and were delirious?
“You have had the master so worried, Y/n. How could you do such a thing to the good man?” Mrs Garber chided quietly but you couldn’t quite grasp the words. “Now, you lay here and I shall fetch the man before he drives himself to insanity. You apologise, you hear me? He is a gentle soul, I will not have you tormenting the respectable man with your nonsense behaviour. Your mother wasn't able to run away but that does not give you the right to bolt in such a manner.” Her eyes were harsh, nearly glaringly so, as she rose and tucked the cover all the way up to your chin before smoothing out your hair in what you believed to be an attempt at making you appear more decent.
Your heart pounded harder with each step she moved toward the door. When she pushed it open you sat up, the cover pooling around your waist while the nightshirt placed on you kept you covered from your collarbones and down.
“She’s awake, sir,” Mrs Garber said and, not a second later, he was in the doorway.
“Miss Y/l/n,” he said without taking so much as half a step into the room itself. His voice was that of relief, his gentle eyes warm in the glow of the hearth at the opposite end of the room from where you lay in a giant bed.
You felt your cheeks heat, your fingers gripping the cover atop your legs harshly while your eyes folded from his intent viewing of you. Your heart ran amok as he stood in figure-disclosing attire with his black frock coat nearly clinging to his waist while the shiny boots adorning his feet glimmered in just as black a colour.
“Miss Y/n/l? Are you fairing?” he asked while taking a step closer, making your head jerk up.
“I-, I am,” you stuttered. “Sir, I’m-, I apologies, for my behaviour,” you continued while you endeavoured to remember what had happened after you lost your grip on the branch with slicing blades for pine needles.
“Not a word about it,” he said as he began moving in, toward the foot of the bed. The light of the fire encased him in a glowing halo, making his hair shimmer and the glimmer in his eyes appeared brighter as his eyes held yours.
Why is my heart running rampant? I’m-, I’m all tingly all over when he views me. Your thoughts were uncertain but your body seemed to react in a wholly new way to the grand man before you.
“Are you hurt?” he asked, his voice dipping lower. You could only manage to shake your head.
“You were buried in the snow,” he said after a moment. His fingers curled around the footrest of the bed, his knuckles whitening at the force used. Your breath hitched at the sight, so alike hands around a riding crop used for lashings.
Your fingers began fidgeting, your hands wringing and rubbing atop the cover. The memory of the pain was far too fresh.
“Miss?” he said, snatching your attention. “Are your hands hurting?” You stiffened for a second before you let go and grabbed the cover anew while shaking your head.
“Did someone lay harm upon you?” You didn’t move, didn’t say a thing, only kept your eyes on his whitening knuckles. It was a common thing, after all. Masters laid hands upon their servants as they deemed fit, and you had time and time again ended up at the mercy of such wicked, cruel men and women were either fate or a coincidence.
Your breath hitched as he suddenly pushed off the bed frame, stepping around to stand at your side in less than three long strides. You shrunk into the mattress, his imposing figure hard to take so closely — yet, it wasn’t just fear of retribution that made you do so. No, no there was something else entirely imposing about him that you fought against so as not to be drawn in. If it were his handsomeness, the memory of his sweet chuckle, or those gentle eyes that now seemed to flare with something darker you couldn’t quite say. But he warmed you in places he ought not to have been able to reach at all.
“No matter,” he said quietly, a mere drawl of a whisper. “You are safe here, miss. No harm will befall you within my estate.”
“S-sir?” you squeaked out, confused at his sweet words spoken in such a harsh tone. “Are you not to punish me?” you continued with a tremble to your voice that had far more to do with the warmth he spread within you than the question you’d just asked.
His eyes flared before his entire face softened. “No, my sweet. No punishment shall ever befall you for breathing life into my heart with those eyes of yours.”
…To Be Continued…
LINKTREE // AO3 // MASTERLIST
A/N: Ugh, theses two... Gosh, I do love it when emotions are instant and soulmate-like 😩👏 And another cliffhanger it is - are we excited to see where this goes? 👀😘
I'm working as hard as I can to make sure I'm as early as possible posting and I'm going to start working on tomorrow's prompt right away, I have a little extra time today (aka I'm taking the time today 'cus I need it 😂) so perhaps I'll start working on Thursday's prompt too - tomorrow we're getting back to Turpin again anyway! 🥰👏
Q: If you had to choose between only listening to Christmas music and no other music or only watching Christmas movies and no other movies through all of December - what would you choose? 👀
A: I'd say I'd choose Christmas music - but, I love it and almost exclusively listen to Christmas music through November and December anyway 😂 Only watching Christmas movies would be harder 🙈
A/N: IT'S THE FIRST OF DECEMBER AND RICKMAS2023 IS STARTING! 😍👏 We're kicking it off with our sweet Colonel Brandon - tbh it feels like a tradition to start with him now 😂👍 - and I'm so, so, so ready for this year's event to unfold. I have so many stories in my head I hope to write this year and there will be more longer fics (several parts) this year if all goes as planned too! IIIIIIIH I'M SO EXCITED!
Thank you for being here and know that no matter at what time you read my fics I always, always, always love to hear from my readers so even if you're here in 2027 don't hesitate to leave comments if you want to 🥰 I hope my writing shenanigans can spread some joy and warmth up until Christmas Eve and I am so THANKFUL to all who has messaged me through the year about being excited for this event - your encouragement means so much! THANK YOU! And let's get this show on the roa-, err, screen! 🤭❤
Tags/TW’s: Mentions [past lashings, past family trauma, lack of family], Hunger, Being Cold, Being lost in life, Old friendships, Being afraid/Feeling fear, “Want/Longing at first sight”, Hidden identity, Running away, Accidental embrace.
Abbr.: Y/N - Your Name | Y/L/N - Your Last Name
Word Count: 2.9k+
LINKTREE // AO3 // MASTERLIST
Snow flitted toward the ground; little lifeless flakes of frozen water droplets turned to crispy beauty. The first sign of the approach of true winter. You shivered and pulled your tattered cloak closer toward your body while the hem barely reached your ankles. The basket within your grasp was too heavy, the breaths you drew too cold.
Life would soon turn ruthless beyond compare for you. No home, no family, no sanctuary from the biting chill nor the clinging wetness of melting snow resting upon your shivering shoulders. Yet still, you walked on. The only one left in the world who would possibly offer help lived just beyond the hill you shakily climbed while the ground beneath your feet began to turn white.
Miss Mary had been a friend of your mother. The only one remaining after all the years of seclusion crafted by your father. He had always been a man of madness — of possessive rage, and harsh fists. Life, as you knew it, had always been cruel and unkind. From the moment you were able to hold a broom somewhat upright you’d been put to work by the man who created you and no protection had come from the woman who birthed you. May you burn in the fire pits of hell for all the years to come, you thought as you gripped the wicker basket with whitening knuckles.
The wind whipped your hair about, loosening it from both clips and bonnet alike. You lowered your gaze and trudged on, avoiding the flakes endeavouring to stab your eyes as you came to the top of the hill. You took no time to rest, merely following the road down toward the fork where you would take a left and hopefully within no time at all arrive at the estate. Please, please let Mary be there at this time…
The forking of the road came and went, your body turned nearly numb while the wind picked up all around. Then it appeared, like a fairytale castle nestled between old oaks and stretching walls of moss-covered stone. Light flickered in the windows, a warm glow calling out to stave off the encroaching night as the sun said its farewell and abandoned you.
Your feet felt like blocks of ice as you moved up the narrow stone steps at the back of the building, where servants entered the estate unseen by its owners and guests. You reached out and knocked, your frozen hand feeling the echo of the impact yet the numbness made you wonder if perhaps you’d merely graced the old wood.
The door opened a moment later, a wave of warmth from within flooding you for a second.
“Yes?” said the older gentleman while holding a candle up to shed light upon your harrowed face.
“Sir, I am Miss Y/n Y/l/n,” you began with a shake to your voice as you shivered profusely. “Does Miss Mary still hold a position in this household?” you enquired while raising your gaze toward the man who seemed somewhat friendly, there was no glare of distaste in his eyes at the very least.
“Oh, she does, are you a friend of hers, Miss Y/l/n?”
“My mother was, I do not know if she remembers me very well though.”
“Well, step inside, Sir Brandon would be most unhappy about keeping a woman out in the cold while waiting,” the man continued and you scrunched your eyebrows, you were not sure who Sir Brandon was beyond being the owner of the estate and a colonel.
The man walked off in a quick stride while you stood just inside the door. You were too cold and wet for the warmth in the servants’ entrance hall to be of any real use to you so you kept shivering while remaining in your wet clothes which still had little flakes of snow stuck in the fibres.
“Goodness me,” a familiar voice said on a gasp. Miss Mary appeared in the doorway with her hand pressed against her chest in something you could only describe as shock.
“Miss Mary,” you said with a quiver to your voice. “I’m sorry for appearing in such a manner, without an invitation nor a word of my arrival beforehand,” you continued quietly while you tried your utmost to hold on to the basket while your numb fingers ached with the prickling of needles as the warmth slowly began to thaw you.
“Y/n, dear oh dear,” she whispered as she walked up to you, a sweet worry half visible in her features that had you sigh a deep breath of relief.
***
When morning came you were warm and comfortable for the first time since early summer. You hadn’t had a proper night’s sleep in months and the rest had done wonders even if your entire body still ached from the backbreaking work you had managed to procure in recent times.
You wasted no time getting up and dressed. Just as you secured your tattered bonnet a knock came from the door. You opened it only to find Miss Mary with a bundle of neatly folded clothes in her arms, a warm smile tinted with worry gracing her lips.
“These are for you, dear,” she said and stepped inside before you closed the door behind her. “Master Brandon is a fine gentleman and I spoke to him on your behalf, you now hold a position here at Delaford.” You blinked at her words, unable to fully grasp them, or the ease she spoke of her master with. You had yet to meet a kind master; your doubt of the man was not unfounded but not supported either.
“I have work? Here? With you?” you asked, dubious but also relieved beyond measure. Grateful for Miss Mary’s kindness.
“Not with me, dear. I am one of five housemaids, I am sectioned to the upper west quarters. I have procured you work as a scullery maid, Cook is a strict woman but fair. She sees hard work and those who do their due diligence under her are rewarded thusly. You will also keep the main fireplace in order, sorting the coal and wood stocking, sweeping the ashes, and polishing the spark guard. Mrs Thatch is old of age and struggles with this task of her allocated quarters, hence it now falls to you,” Miss Mary said, rattling it all off with precision while moving about in your newly acquired room — tugging at the faded curtains, straightening a pillow. The familiarity with her mannerisms and speech was a comfort to you, remembering it from many years ago when you had been but a tiny child.
“Thank you, Miss Mary.” She nodded at you with her tight but kind smile.
“Miss Mary,” she said quietly, “been many years since I was called that.”
“Oh?”
“It’s Mrs Garber now, Y/n. And, as I’m sure you are aware, you are below my station and hence will call me by that name from now on. I shall call you by your first name, as is practice.” You nodded at her words, they weren’t spoken harshly, just in a no-nonsense sort of way.
“Well, Mrs Garber, thank you for all of this. I will do my absolute best so you’re pleased and stay in good grace with the master.”
“Oh, I do not doubt it. Now, change into your new clothes after you’ve bathed, you reek of street and dirt. We cannot have that.”
You blushed deeply. “I shall do so instantly.”
“The kitchen is to the left of where you entered yesterday, you will find your way to Cook on your own?” You nodded and smiled at the kind woman before she left the room with another smile aimed at you.
***
Mrs Garber had been right. Cook was a strict woman, ruling her kitchen with a sense of urgency to everything. But you managed to keep up, managed to not be in the way while doing your tasks around the others flying about with spoons, pots, pans, chopping boards, and all types of food going from one part of the kitchen to another in a flurry.
You were putting back a giant pot you’d just scrubbed to an inch of its life — making the iron nearly shine in the dim light — when Cook told you to pay attention. It was first then you noticed the little bell to your right (one among many) was chiming gently. You wiped your hands, stowed away the rag, and grabbed one of the coal baskets before leaving the hectic kitchen behind. With the heavy basket in a tight grip you silently, stealthily, moved through the estate toward the main part where you’d order the fireplace as the little bell indicated needed doing.
The room was grand, with large pillars lining the walls in stony white and shining floors reflecting the warm glow of the chandelier high above. You did your best to keep to the outskirts, blending in as well as you could with the environment despite there not being anyone in the room. You picked up the pace, sat the heavy basket by the fireplace, and got to work clearing out the old ashes after placing a sheet beneath to protect the flooring.
After emptying everything, sweeping the last bit of dust out, and wiping the grills you leaned in to inspect the stone — making sure there was nothing left — only to look up and see a whole clogging of soot just beyond reach from your seated position. Oh, fabulous… That’ll take me up the chimney to clean. You sighed deeply and grabbed the poker next to the fireplace before crawling inside the fireplace to reach the clogging. T his hasn’t been cleaned in ages.
You squinted, aiming for the clog, only to halt mid-motion. You grabbed your handkerchief and tied it around your face to not inhale whatever was about to come down on you. You grabbed the poker anew, aimed, and jabbed at the nearly rock-hard piece. It took three hard jabs before you broke through the exterior and the heavens rained down soot and ashes atop you.
You didn’t have time to turn away, to back out of the tight space, or even cover your face before you were covered in grey and black. Glorious, perfect, now I’ll be dragging dust and soot all through the house! Mrs Garber will be scolded for making the master hire such a travesty for a scullery maid. I’ll be out on the streets again… Your thoughts swirled while your eyes watered as you kept working on clearing the clogging, you were already a complete mess of chimney soot either way, why not spare the others the suffering if you were already to be scolded for messing up the newly swabbed floors. Your hand fisted, but you resisted the urge to hit the hard surface around you in the tight space, breaking your hand would do nobody any good.
“I believed Santa Claus to be a red-dressed man,” came the most delicious, gravely voice. It echoed all around you in the tight space as your entire body froze. “It seems, I was mistaken,” the man continued and it sounded as if he were even closer. You looked down only to see the most handsome face peering up at you from below.
Your eyes widened, your mouth agape under the handkerchief as you took in the sweet smile, the flowy hair, the hooked nose and gentle eyes.
“You are not the mysterious man of Christmas, are you, miss?” he asked and your knees trembled in secret — hidden behind your drab dress that used to be white with a black apron, it was now all grey. You managed to shake your head though, and he chuckled. The sweetest sound ever to grace your ears, amplified by the echo of the chimney you stood in.
“Miss, I believe this is the work of a chimney man, a sweeper.”
“I-, I-, Sir, it was clogged,” you managed to say, even if it came out muffled. “I was cleaning the hearth, saw the clog and thought I ought to take care of it. It’s-, it’s a fire hazard. I wouldn’t-, wouldn’t want the grand colonel’s house to burn down, Sir.”
“The colonel?” he asked, tilting his head, or, well, he tilted his head further — how was he even looking up at you? He must be bent most awkwardly.
“Yes, Sir. The colonel who saw fit to hire even a scullery maid such as I,” you said. “Mrs Garber professes him to be a most wonderful master. I’ve yet to meet the man, but I dare say I shan’t have such a pleasure after the mess I’ve caused… Sir,” you replied in a near ramble, flustered by how the man peered at you most gently. Sweeter on the eyes than any man you’d ever witnessed before. The red coat with golden details you could just hint from his shoulder complimented his skin, his hooked nose was oddly beautiful paired with his strong cheekbones and thin lips.
“A wonderful master, you say, miss?”
“Yes, Sir. Mrs Garber told me so.”
“Will you step out of the chimney, this position hardly warrants for decent conversation, miss.”
“S-sir, I am not one for you to hold decent conversations with, I’m merely a scullery maid.” He chuckled at that, again sending trembles through your already weak knees.
“Miss, out of the chimney, if you please,” he said but his voice was gentle and calm, almost a hint of something warm to it. “We shall order a sweeper to visit, you ought not feel the need to take on such a task.”
The man disappeared from the chimney, making you realise his head had been right by those trembling legs of yours, far too close for decency but that was due to the lack of space of course. You drew a steadying breath and began to crouch, backing out of the fireplace with minuscule motions so as not to make the dust flare up. Your foot found the edge of the raised stone and you tried not to turn around too quickly even if your heart hammered at the prospect of seeing the gentleman fully.
You stood up too quickly. Your head banged the edge of the mantel, your other foot stepped right on the edge of the plateau, your trembling knees wobbled and you stumbled out onto to polished floor — your arms flailing, your dress swirling while spreading dust all over. No, no, no! You headed toward the floor in a dusty mess when the man caught you up, his strong body firmly pressed against yours as he took your weight with ease, not even faltering a single step at the sudden impact.
His hands squeezed around your waist, the warmth of his skin penetrating the two layers of fabric almost instantly while a tingle, unlike any other, shot through you. Your hands had grabbed his biceps, strong and unyielding beneath your palms. You blinked rapidly to clear the soot from your lashes while tilting your head only to find him peering down at you with those gentle eyes — a curiosity within them.
“Sir, I’m terribly sorry,” you exhaled shakily as he helped you straighten. Your eyes flickered away from him only to find a literal imprint of dust over his front, outlining you. “I’m terribly, terribly, terribly sorry,” you rushed out in a mere breath as you backed away from him, bowed and your eyes on the polished boots he wore.
“Miss, are you well?” he asked while taking a step toward you.
“Oh, I’ve made a mess of you, Sir,” you whispered while thoughts of being back out on the street swam through your head in a sea of fear and worry. Surely, the colonel will cast me out, making a mess of a guest of his. A guest so kind and sweet to boot too.
“The floors!” came a shrill old voice from behind you. “Maid! What have you done to the floo— And the colonel! ” the voice shrieked. Your eyes widened, your entire body draining of the warmth his gentle eyes and thunderously gravely voice had inflected upon it. The colonel? You wished to curl up right then and there, to disappear completely.
“I’m-, I’m-, I’m so terribly sorry, Sir-, Colonel,” you squeaked, desperate to keep your tears from running down your soot-covered cheeks. It was useless. The clicking of servant heels from behind you, the nearly scrutinizing eyes from the man before you, the shaking of your shoulders, and the lack of breath in your lungs all had you in a vice grip of fear. Last time you left a stain on polished floors you’d endured four lashings over your naked hands. Hands you were now gripping tightly before you, wringing them and spreading the now moist soot all over them.
You couldn’t stay there. You had already made such a mess, made a fool of yourself, and created problems for the very man who employed you — probably out of pity, or worse because Mrs Garber stuck out her neck for you. You did the only thing you could do. You bowed as deep as your body would allow and just as the other servant with the shrill voice reached your side you bolted — spreading dust all around while running towards the kitchens to get to your room where you’d change into your own clothes and leave before any lashing could be given.
“Miss!” came that thunderous voice. “Miss, wait!” he called in a rush that managed to stroke your spine, within your skin. The most pleasurable sound you’d ever heard came from the man who employed you and whose clothes and floors you had just darkened with chimney soot and ashes — as if you were tarnishing the man himself with your very presence in his grand estate.
…To Be Continued…
LINKTREE // AO3 // MASTERLIST
A/N: THE FIRST FIC OF RICKMAS2023! 😍👏 Oh I hope you enjoyed this little introduction to this yeas event - as you've probably noticed I am using a system of numbers and letters to make it easier to find which fics that belong to each other this year, I hope it'll be of help as I have hopes for doing several longer fics with several parts this year.
Anyway, I hope you're ready for another December of fan-derful reading, darling! 👏❤ Please do say hello in the comments if you want to, and as I've noticed it's sometimes difficult to know what to comment or find the courage to do so without any prompting I'm promoting you from the very beginning! 🥰
MERRY RICKMAS DARLINGS! 💚
I'll be adding a question in the End Note of each fic, so if you don't know what to comment you can always answer that if you want to let me know you're here and having a good time. I'll add my own answer as well! ❤❤❤
Q: Who's your favourite Alan Rickman character? 😍
A: For me it's Judge Turpin! 👀
old drawing I finished today, I have so many to finish… Anyway!
the flowers used are some that make up the 'Draught of Living Death': Asphodel, Valerian, and Wormwood leaves. References kindly taken from medieval illustrations.
