#rickmas

[spectrestrings]

Title: DAY 21 Pairing: Severus Snape x Fem!Reader || Harry Potter Categories: fluff kinda RICKMAS: Christmas Nights - Kevin Walker Word count: 2k

🎶Oh it flickers From a light Something lingers In the cold skies And hope is all I′m need'n And love is all I′m feel'n🎶

Christmas rolled by again. Every year was the same, and to some extent, this repetitiveness caused Severus to feel a nostalgia he disliked. Why did he dislike it? He couldn't tell. Perhaps it was because it made him feel exposed. It made him relive some experiences he would have rather stayed personal. Maybe it wasn't even this profound an explanation. Maybe in his heart, he was bitter to know and see others experience a kind of joy he hadn't been allowed by fortune to feel. Familiar safety? A loving home? What did those mean to Severus now, if not a bitter sting of fate that came back every year to remind him of how unlucky he had been?

It did not bother him that all students, or at least most, were gone home. He felt relieved to know he did not have to stand guard for those little rascals who compromised his work.

Yet he had to admit, without them causing trouble, things were too quiet. Which would have been great, had he not gotten used to being on his guard at all times. Expecting to find a mess around every corner because what did those youngling wizards and witches do if not cause trouble? Some professors left, too; others stayed. To no surprise, if he had a choice, he chose to remain in Hogwarts, for nothing really awaited him outside, which he couldn't find within the grounds of the school. There were occasions when he had no choice because Dumbledore sent him away. If that didn't happen, then Severus always stayed.

This year was one of those when Dumbledore did not interfere with Severus Snape's decisions and allowed the man to choose by himself how he would spend the holidays. And so, Severus stayed back. During the first day of his winter break, he remained in his chambers for most of the day, lingering by his cauldrons, concerning himself with plans of work he had to undertake once the winter break ceased.

🎶Christmas night stay with me Through the years that lay ahead When I'm far away from family and friends And give me strength when I need it And love to fill my heart Be the reason when the stars don′t align🎶

The next day, he came out of 'hiding' momentarily, scanning the grounds of Hogwarts for the presence of other professors and students, which remained. He found, to his enjoyment, that the usual troublemakers had returned to their homes and there would only be calm around the school for the break. Among the professors, too, stayed those he tolerated best. You were one of these witches that he took a liking to. Perhaps saying he enjoyed your company would be too far-fetched because Severus preferred his privacy to remain sacred. He did, however, undoubtedly find you to be a worthy partner for conversation and a pleasing dinner companion.

When Severus found out you would be staying at Hogwarts, he was pleased. Did he wonder why you didn't go to a more joyous place for the holidays? Yes. Did he find it strange that you did not comment previously about your plans to remain at Hogwarts? Absolutely. However, he did not bring it up because, ultimately, it was your privacy, and he had no reason to attempt to pierce it with questions you might have found undesirable. He thought of himself. Would he want to be asked about his choice to remain at Hogwarts? Most definitely not, since that would have put him in a spotlight he had attempted to avoid at all costs. Thus, he made up his mind not to ask any questions that would put either of you in a spot you didn't desire.

Severus Snape tolerated you enough that he spent his dinners sitting with you. The conversations he had with you remained, for the most part, surface-level, artificial. Yet this was better than what your other professor colleagues could say about their bond to Severus, who would turn his back entirely on them and disregard their words. With you, even though it was shallow at the start, you could proudly say there was at least something to start from.

"Do you have any questions about your curriculum?"

"Severus, I assure you, I might be in my first year working here, but I learn quickly." You smiled, waiting for dessert. "Plus, I am not teaching something as preposterously complicated as Potions." There was a hint of a wink there as you said that. You were half serious. Potions was indeed one of the more difficult classes, but you added a little irony meant to stroke his ego.

He caught onto it quickly and eyed you, quietly at first, then the least change happened in his eyes.

Almost a spark of warmth, which he brushed away by turning his gaze from you.

"I do not need foolish flattering. It won't have any consequence for me. I remain unchanged; thus, you cannot sway me with your silly words." Severus glanced down at his plate, but your sudden chuckle made his head snap in your direction. Worried at first that you would comment and say something rude, he was stunned to see a smile on your face.

"Oh, you are the death of all liveliness, Severus."

Whilst your words had the unfortunate double meaning, one being an insult of sorts, the tone made Severus understand you were amused. Severus Snape saw no ill thought and so waited for your further clarification.

"What possible desire could I have to sway you one way or another, Severus? What is there I might want from you?" You smirked, then turned to your dessert as it finally reached the table. "Honestly, Severus, you should learn to receive compliments."

He huffed, glancing down at his dessert. "I am aware of my capabilities."

"That's lovely."

Severus squinted at you, then grunted. You had to admit it was funny to see Severus at a loss for once.

🎶Oh Christmas nights All the sorrow The world knows Come tomorrow Hope shows That never again will you feel alone Let the spirit of the light guide you home🎶

"When you finish pretending, maybe you could make an effort and admit you are just afraid to get praise from your colleagues." Your small coy comment angered Severus enough to want to snap back, but you were quicker and wittier than he was when it came to words.

"Why would I be afraid of such a nonsensical thing?"

"I don't know, you tell me."

"You fantasise improbable scenarios, Miss L/N."

You rolled your eyes and turned your entire body to face him, not just your head. "Maybe I do. Or maybe you are just not ready to admit you put on a show. Nobody really knows who you really are; that must be quite lonely. I wonder if this show is just for us. Or if it extends to you. Do you know who you are? What do you like? Want?"

You realised perhaps you pushed him too far and stopped, giving him an apologetic look. To your surprise, Severus had not snapped at you or left, but was left in a thoughtful pose, glancing out into the Hall at something you couldn't see. Maybe you struck a nerve? Or he chose to detach his mind and ignore your ramble.

Either way, when you realised you must have crossed a line, you sighed and apologised. "I went too far, didn't I? Sorry."  

For a while, neither of you spoke, and the stillness soon became awkward. It wasn't uncomfortable in the usual sense, but rather it was pressing on you like a heavy weight. To you, it felt like this choice of conversation had done something irreparable to the security Severus must have felt until now, when choosing to talk to you. And as usual, when such a weighing feeling surfaces, people try to divert, to change the course toward calmer waters.

"I heard Headmaster Dumbledore doesn't have any work for us during the winter break. We are completely free to do as we please."

Severus came to and sighed. You pulled him away from his half-catatonic state with your words, and his head turned to you after that dreadful silence that had engulfed the table beforehand.

"Yes, that is indeed correct," Severus mumbled, less harsh and fierce. There was a sort of numbness in his tone. "That is not a common occurrence, you must know. The Headmaster is known to hand out tasks often, so we must be grateful."

"I know I am grateful. Taking a breather after dealing with the kids is incredible. Don't get me wrong, I enjoy the job, but I also enjoy taking breaks from it."

Severus nodded.

No further questions. No inquiries. No exchanges. For a time, the table dove into that eerie dullness. You were starting to think perhaps Severus was trying to communicate to you without words that he wanted you to leave. With that in mind, you were about to stand and excuse yourself for the evening when he spoke again.

🎶Christmas nights stay with me Through the years that lay ahead When I′m far away from family and friends And give me strength when I need it And love to fill my heart Be the reason when the stars don't align Take it all away from me one day But some things never fade🎶

"I do not understand certain things about you either, Miss L/N."

Your eyes widened. The change of topic was both unexpected and strange. It put you in the spotlight faster than you had time to react. Thus, for a minute, you had no idea what to tell Severus, other than watch him and expect some follow-up. Yet, none came. Despite your initial guess that Severus was trying to get at you for changing the conversation from the usual superficial topics to something else, you were surprised to find that his inquiry was honest and his curiosity stemmed from genuine interest, not malice.

"About me?" You ended up speaking after a while. "I don't think I've been hiding anything of great importance for my character."

Severus' brow raised, waiting.

"I have no issue answering your curiosities if you have any, Severus. But I don't know what it is you want to know."

"For instance, why is it you stayed?"

You sighed, turning your attention to your now-empty plate. "To teach at Hogwarts?" You assumed Severus wanted something more meaningful, yet you heard his plain, 'no.'

"No, silly woman. I know the answer to that." He crossed his arms. "Why did you choose to stay here for the winter break?"

You nearly laughed. Severus, on the other hand, became worried instantly that he had crossed the line he imposed on himself at the start. He will attempt to keep everything surface-level and avoid causing a situation. But things happened. Your questions stirred something in him, and they snowballed into this question, which worried him far more than it worried you.

"That's it? Oh, Severus." You chuckled, and the chuckle turned into a laugh. You thought it had been evident from the start, but there you were, looking foolish and mysterious in front of Severus, who was oblivious to the reason for your choice.

"What is so amusing, silly woman?"

You glanced at him, and your laugh softened, leaving behind an honest smile. You smiled at him, and that look made Severus feel his defences grow. There was something strange in your eyes. Not destructive, not wrong, but distant.

A distant, familiar look which he remembered but couldn't quite place.

"I stayed because I knew you would."

Severus didn't reply.

"That's it."

"What do you mean?"

You shook your head, then blushed, glancing down at the table.

"I mean, I thought it would be nice to spend this year's Christmas here with you."

🎶Christmas night stay with me Through the years that lay ahead When I′m far away from family and friends And give me strength when I need it And love to fill my heart Be the reason when the stars don't align Oh Christmas nights🎶

[smilingformoney]

Fireside

Rickmas 2025 Day 9 | Sweeney Todd | Judge Turpin/Reader

Word Count: 3k

Content: smut, dubcon, semi-forced blowjob, period-typical homophobia and sexism, yn is afab pretending to be amab

Part 2: God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen | Part 3: Christmas Nights

Read on Ao3 or below the cut:

On your first day at court, you nearly slipped up before you’d even started.

You approached the front desk to introduce yourself as Judge Turpin’s new clerk, and almost gave them your real name. Fortunately, you caught yourself before it was too late, and introduced yourself by your brother’s name instead.

You were directed down a series of elaborate hallways, and every time you passed someone, you expected them to call you out, for someone to point at you and cry out “girl!” in alarm.

But nobody paid you any mind. Lawyers and judges and seasoned clerks strode past you, some with confidence and billowing robes, some with skewed wigs and the panic of a man trying to keep his head above water.

Nobody saw that you were a girl in boy’s clothing. If they did, they didn’t care.

There was only one person you really had to fool, who also happened to be the last person one would want to make a fool of: Judge Turpin.

You had to convince him. You had to. This was your only opportunity to do anything with your life, to make yourself useful and provide for your family. Your brother was slow and incapable of even feeding himself, let alone working as a clerk; but he was a boy, which apparently made him more eligible for a clerk’s position than you.

You were close enough in age that you could claim his birth certificate to be yours, and so you took his name and applied for an open position as a court clerk.

You weren’t interviewed by the Judge himself, but by his assistant, Beadle Bamford, who seemed easily fooled by your short haircut and the bandage around your chest. He didn’t speak to you like an equal, of course, but it was a nice change of pace not to be leered at for once.

You found the Judge’s chambers and knocked on the large, ornate door.

“Enter,” came a commanding baritone voice that sent shivers down your spine.

You heaved open the heavy door handle and stepped into the room. You had interviewed here with the Beadle, so it was familiar, but nevertheless imposing. Large portraits of former judges adorned the walls, and at the far end of the room, behind the desk, was a portrait of Judge Turpin; in front of that, smaller but just as imposing, was the man himself, sitting at his desk with a pen in his hand, not bothering to look up from whatever he was writing.

“Good morning, my Lord. My name is [B/n] [L/n]; I’m your new clerk.”

Turpin grunted, still not looking at you, and gestured towards the seat in front of his desk. You crossed the room and sat down, reminding yourself to sit like a man by separating your knees and ankles.

You waited for Turpin to finish what he was doing. After a few minutes, you began to wonder if he was expecting you to do or say something first, and you were just considering speaking when he folded up his paper, sealed it, and set it aside.

He finally looked up at you with mild disinterest. His expression was unreadable, and you had no idea whether he could see right through you or not.

“The Beadle tells me you’re of a respectable landed family,” Turpin said curiously. “And yet, you require work. Why?”

“I don’t need work for survival, sir. I need it for my own sanity.”

Turpin raised an eyebrow and waited for you to explain.

“I want to contribute to society. I don’t want to loiter around the estate waiting to be married.”

Turpin sat back in his chair and steepled his fingers, still looking at you as if you were some curiosity.

“And you will achieve that as my clerk how?”

“I’ve heard of the work you do, sir. More hangings and transportation sentences than any other judge in London. When I heard you were looking for a clerk, I considered it my best opportunity to see how justice is truly done.”

The corner of Turpin’s mouth twitched in what you took to be the closest thing to a smile you might get from him.

“Very well. I’ll be delivering a judgment this morning. You’re to take notes and deliver a detailed summary, in triplicate: one for my records, and one each for prosecution and defence. Usually, I would expect this within two hours; as this is your first time, I shall give you until the end of the day.”

“Yes, sir. Understood, sir.”

——

You delivered Turpin’s judgment to him within three hours.

You could have done it within two, but you wanted to take the extra time to ensure everything was perfect. If Turpin was impressed, he didn’t show it; he just took the judgment from you and gave you another task.

You continued like this for weeks, completing Turpin’s tasks efficiently and accurately, and receiving only grunts and more orders in return. He barely looked at you, and said as little as possible.

You assumed he hated you at worst, and didn’t think you worthy of a second thought at best.

Turpin was, in fact, plagued by you.

He prayed. He flagellated. He gave you harder and harder tasks, hoping you would slip up enough that he could find an excuse to fire you.

Instead, you exceeded expectations every time, and he still couldn’t rid himself of the impure thoughts that pervaded him.

It was no good. He had to send you away.

You were surprised when Judge Turpin invited you on a stroll through Hyde Park after court had adjourned for the day. He barely seemed to want you in his presence during court hours; why on earth would he want your company for a stroll afterwards?

You said yes, of course; not just for curiosity, but because you feared what might happen if you said no.

You meandered down the edge of the Serpentine, hands clasped behind your back and keeping a respectable distance from the Judge. It was a nuisance, walking like this — it pushed your chest out, which made you worry that Turpin was going to notice your breasts. But this was how men walked, and you could be no exception. Turpin walked with a cane, which excused him from putting his hands behind his back, and you wondered if you could feign some injury to your ankle to give yourself the same excuse.

Turpin monologued throughout the entire walk, about the law and righteousness and the temptations of man, and you wondered where he was going with all this. You nodded along, agreeing where necessary, but kept your words to a minimum.

Just as Turpin stopped walking and turned to you to say something of apparent import, a dog appeared out of nowhere and, apparently thinking Turpin’s cane to be a bone, took the cane in his mouth and ran off with it. Taken by surprise, and no longer able to rely on his cane for balance on an already uneven riverside, Turpin stumbled… and fell into the water.

Without a moment of hesitation, you tore off your heavy jacket — thick, to better hide the feminine contours of your torso — and tossed it aside before jumping into the water after the Judge.

You managed to wrap your arms around his waist and, after much panicked flailing from both of you, pulled him back towards the edge, where you both grabbed onto the ground and heaved yourselves up and out of the water.

“Whose damned mutt dare attack me?!” Turpin roared as he clambered to his feet, looking around wildly for the culprit.

“I beg your forgiveness, my Lord,” said a man who approached with the cane in his hand. “My dog — he thought your cane was a bone, you see —”

Turpin grabbed the cane back from the man, hurling profanities at him, and it was only when the man had all but ran away in fear that the Judge turned back to you.

“Bloody imbecile! Are you well, Mr [L/n]?”

You pushed yourself to your feet, shivering. Your jacket still lay discarded on the footpath.

“Yes, I’m quite alright, sir,” you said through chattering teeth. Turpin was staring at you as if you’d just sprung a second head, and you realised you were wearing only your shirt — you quickly grabbed the jacket from the ground, shook the dirt from it, and slipped it back on.

“Perhaps we ought to find somewhere to warm up,” you suggested, wrapping your arms around your torso for warmth. “A pub with a hearth, perhaps?”

Turpin was still staring at you strangely. Then, he smiled. It was more of a smirk than a smile, but it surprised you nonetheless.

“Indeed we should. We’ll adjourn to my house; I have a perfectly suitable fireplace, certainly grander than those found in public houses, and we’ll certainly be safe from wild mutts there.”

Turpin immediately strode away, and you hurried to follow him, thinking you both must look quite the sight walking across Hyde Park dripping wet, but Turpin walked with such confidence, nobody dared to stare.

The carriage ride to Turpin’s house was silent, and Turpin was back to staring at you.

You wished he wouldn’t. It was unnerving.

Especially as it was difficult not to stare back. Not in his eyes — those, you avoided with ease. But you had to stop your eyes from wandering to his chest, where his shirt clung to his skin under his waistcoat, and the droplets of water on his gold trousers only served to highlight the outline of his thighs and his —

You looked away entirely, choosing to focus instead on the back wall of the carriage.

The carriage stopped, and Turpin disembarked first. As you climbed out after him, he put his hand out to you, and you took it by instinct.

You realised what had just happened as soon as he let go of your hand and turned towards the front door.

Men didn’t need help getting out of carriages, and neither did you — but a gentleman always helps a lady step down.

Did he know? He must have known. How could he have known? Was that why he had been staring at you?

You took a deep breath as you followed Turpin to his door, and that was when you realised that the bandage that flattened your chest was no longer restricting your airways.

You glanced down.

Shit.

The bandage must have come undone in the river. Your shirt was wet and clinging to your skin. You’d been standing there like an idiot before remembering that your jacket was on the ground.

You hesitated, and although he had his back to you, Turpin seemed to notice it. He paused in the doorway, turned, and beckoned you in.

“Come.”

You obeyed. You had to. Not to do so would surely be even more suspect.

Turpin barked orders at the servants that appeared — from where, you couldn’t tell — and you followed him into a room that looked to be a study, with long shelves of books lining the walls. A maid was already lighting the fire, and Turpin attended to pouring a tumbler of whiskey.

You hadn’t been instructed to sit, so you stood. You hadn’t been offered a drink, so your hands were empty when Turpin turned to you, a drink in his own hand.

The fire roared into life, and the maid disappeared.

“Come, stand by the fire with me,” Turpin instructed you. “We should warm ourselves so as not to catch a chill.”

You obeyed, and it was indeed a relief to stand by the fire’s warmth; you rubbed your hands together, attempting to get the blood circulating again.

Turpin stared at you. Again.

He took a sip of his drink. You watched the fire as you warmed your hands, but you didn’t need to look at him to know he was staring. You could feel his gaze on you, piercing through the air.

“Take off your jacket.”

You looked up at him then.

“My Lord?”

He took a step closer.

“You heard me, Mr [L/n]. Take. off. your jacket.”

Oh, he knew. He definitely knew.

His expressions had always been unreadable, though you’d come to read some of his moods. This one, though you couldn’t quite put a finger on his feelings, you knew exactly how it made you feel: terrified.

Turpin’s grip on his tumbler tightened. The air felt thicker, heavier. You seemed to have forgotten how to breathe.

Turpin raised the tumbler to his lips and, in the few moments it took him to pour the whiskey down his throat, you peeled the jacket from your shoulders and let it fall to the floor.

You didn’t need to look down to know what Turpin saw when he lowered his head, the tumbler in his hand now empty.

You could feel the wet shirt clinging to your skin. You could hear the sharp inhale of Turpin’s breath. And you could see the way his eyes darted downwards, staring unashamedly at your chest.

“Now the shirt.”

“Sir —”

Turpin’s eyes snapped up to yours, something dangerous behind them. You almost took a step back in fear.

“The shirt. Now.”

You knew he would be angry if he found out. You thought he would shout at you, insult you, send you away.

You didn’t think he would shame you.

You took the hem of the shirt between your fingers and peeled it away from your skin as you pulled it upwards and over your head. For a few moments your vision of Turpin was obscured, and once the shirt had passed over your head, you saw that Turpin had placed his tumbler on the mantle and taken a step closer to you.

He reached up and hooked a finger underneath the loose bandage. He gave it a light tug, and it fell away easily, as if it had only been pretending to cling onto your skin.

Turpin’s lip curled in a snarl, his fingers balling the bandage in his fist as if it had done him a personal slight — and perhaps it had.

His eyes were practically burning into your chest.

“And the rest.”

His voice was low, so low it was barely audible, but it was laced with an anger that terrified you more than shouting ever would have, so you obeyed without question. Your boots came off first, then your trousers — and, finally, your undergarments.

You shivered. You were still wet and cold, though the fire was making steady work of that. But more than that, you felt vulnerable in a way you never had before.

You wished he’d say something, do something — anything but stand there and stare at you, the balled-up bandage still in his hand.

Then, without warning, he threw the bandage in the fire. You blinked in surprise at the sudden movement, but you didn’t protest.

It wasn’t like you needed it anymore.

He raised his hand to his neck and began tugging at his cravat.

“Do you realise,” he growled, “how long I have spent praying?”

The cravat was discarded. His fingers moved to his waistcoat.

“The hours spent begging the Lord to rid me of impure thoughts.”

The waistcoat was unbuttoned. Turpin shrugged it off and threw it aside to join the cravat on the floor.

“The lengths I have gone to… because every night, I would close my eyes to sleep, and all I could think about was my bloody clerk.”

Your eyes widened in surprise. He thought of you at night? You thought he barely gave you a second thought when you were standing in front of him, let alone when the court day was over.

Now he was pulling his shirt over his head. What on earth was he doing? Did he intend to prove to you what a man looks like?

He bent to remove his boots. You stood, frozen in fear, watching Judge Turpin taking off his boots, the flickering firelight highlighting the shape of his bare shoulders.

As he stood, he unbuttoned his trousers and pulled them down. He stepped out of them, kicking them aside, and now you were the one staring.

His manhood was large, red, and pointing right at you. It was almost accusatory.

It looked even more intimidating when Turpin pushed you down to your knees, leaving you face to face with it.

He grabbed your face and squeezed, forcing your jaw to drop and your lips to part.

He stuffed your mouth full before you could blink.

“This… this is what pervaded me,” Turpin groaned. Both hands held your head in place, and he ignored you when you choked. “Those lips… so perfectly made to wrap around a cock.”

His hips began to thrust, shoving his cock in and out of your mouth violently, the tip coming dangerously close to your throat each time. You panicked, unable to breathe —

“Breathe through your nose,” Turpin instructed you. You did so, and with relief found your lungs filling with air again.

Instinctively, you grabbed onto Turpin’s thighs for purchase as his thrusts became more aggressive. His grip on your head tightened, and you could hear him muttering to himself.

“Lying little slut… think you can make a fool of me, hm? No one makes a fool of Judge Turpin — no one — I’ll remind you what you’re good for!”

He yanked on your hair, pulling your head back, and you gasped for air as he pulled out of your mouth. With one hand gripping your hair, Turpin’s other hand wrapped around his cock as he tugged on it one, two, three times — and ropes of white liquid shot out of the end, landing on your chest as Turpin cried out, his grip on your hair loosening a little as he seemed to physically relax, his shoulders dropping slightly as that uptight, rigid posture that was so imposing suddenly falling away.

It didn’t make him any less imposing, though.

He took a step back, looking down at you, drinking in the sight of you on your knees, stark naked, his seed across your chest glinting in the firelight.

It was the most erotic sight he’d ever seen.

And in that moment, both of you knew — he wasn’t done with you yet.

[myveryownfanfiction]

18+ MINORS AND THOSE WITHOUT AGE IN BIO DNI

rickmas day 19 Believe

tags: @illiana-mystery, @iobsessoverfictionalmen, @mikey-darinstar, @smilingformoney, @deepperplexity, @abaddon-queenof-hell

earrings: mention of scar

“they’re down.” Severus murmured as he flopped down on the couch. “Took three bedtime stories and two promises of pancakes in the morning but they’re down.” I chuckled as I ducked under his arm to curl up on his chest.

“they’re most definitely your children.” I teased as he sighed.

“They’re little gremlins is what they are.” Severus chuckled. I gently smacked his chest.

“they’re dreamers.” I chastised. Severus rolled his eyes. “We were dreamers not so long ago.” Severus shifted slightly as I tugged on his collar, scar coming into view.

“we all had to grow up.” He murmured, swallowing thickly as my fingertips ghosted the side of his neck. I got up quietly and turned on the radio. He gave me a panicked look as I held out my hand.

“don’t worry. There’s still the charm on the door from when they were babies. No sound it. But every sound out.” I assured him. Severus nodded before getting up and taking my hand. we started to gently sway to the song that was playing. “Believe in what your heart is saying, hear the melody that’s playing. There’s no time to waste. There’s so much to celebrate.” I sang along. Severus smiled softly at me before pressing a kiss to my forehead.

“believe in what you feel inside and give your dreams the wings to fly.” He joined in with his smooth baritone. “You have everything you need. If you just believe.” I smiled at him before laying my head on his shoulder. “It’s different when it’s your own children. When you have several thousand running around, you can’t wait to get away from them.”

“but when you’re home alone with them, you want to be by their side fostering their dreams all the time.” I finished. Severus nodded.

“thank you.” He whispered, face pressed against my head.

“for what?” I asked, pulling back slightly. Severus smiled at me before kissing me.

“giving me the opportunity to believe in my own little dreamers.” He whispered.

[deepperplexity]

Prompt 11: Candy Cane Lane - Sia (H3)

Song link: Spotify & YouTube

Pairing: Hans Gruber x Fem!Reader

POV: Second, Reader

Continuation of: (H1) Wizards in Winter, (H2) Russian Dance

A/N: LET’S GO! Had to continue the Crazy-Hans-Ride right away 😂👏 Seriously, I’m having a blast writing his story this year, he’s always so much fun and his stories and the FMC (be it Y/n or and OC) is always such a treat each and every year 😅👌

Tags/TW’s: ❤Nicknames❤, Budding Relationship, Declarations of Want, Kissing, Falling For The Bad Guy (LIGHT Be Gentle For Her/Be Bad For Him vibes with humour and a crash-out 👀)

Abbr.: Y/N - Your Name | Y/l/n - Your last name

Word Count: 1.4k

LINKTREE // AO3 // MASTERLIST

You groaned, rubbing at your temple. “Bloody hell,” you muttered as you sat up. “What the actual fuck?” you continued as you rubbed and groaned. “Süße.” You jerked, your head lifting, and reality danced in like an intrusive carol when the handsome German robber smiled charmingly at you. “You.” He chuckled. “Yes, me, Süße. Here,” he said, holding out a candy cane for you, but your eyes swept up and behind him as he sat in the open door of the van you remembered having jumped into.

“Where are we?” Your gaze flew over the billowing landscape drenched in sparkling snow beyond. “This isn’t—” “No, it isn’t. We are hours from—” “What the hell did I do?!” you shrieked, rising so fast your head hit the van’s roof and you winced a curse. “I robbed a bank. I robbed the bank!” you groan-screamed while leaning forward, rubbing at your head while red, yellow, pink and green dots flitted past your vision before orange and purple made them fade out to nothing. “I robbed a bloody bank! The bank I work at! Bloody hell…”

Panic surged as you stumble-jumped out of the van. Drawing deep breaths, you tried to shake your head to make it make sense, and then his steady hand took hold of yours with a warmth so arresting it had your breath stuttering for a second as you jerked and looked at him.

“Süße, tapfere kleine Süße,” he said in that deep drawl, and you found yourself squeezing his glove-clad hand. “You are a brave one—” he chuckled while reaching up to close your open mouth for you “—and I shall keep you, like a friend for the holiday. A friend who likes to play.” His voice was such a deep purr, it sent shivers down your spine. “A friend? That doesn’t quite sound like what I had in mind…” you whispered, smiling shyly yet boldly at the gorgeous man. He chuckled. “Is that so?” You nodded slowly. “Well, then perhaps we should clarify that the type of friend I have in mind, would be the kind with benefits, as it’s so lightly called.”

All of it was bizarre — obviously — but your body still tingled, your mind still blurred and a certain mischievous streak of fun wickedness surged in you at his closeness. Something about the man speaking with such a charming smile, such an enthralling accent, and such an inviting gorgeousness with that secret hint of being bad… it had you hooked.

He held up the candy cane again. “We’ll eat all the candy canes.” He smiled and handed it over to you. “We’ll have some fun, Süße. Take a trip down Candy Cane Lane with me?” You snorted a laugh, warmed and intrigued in a stupidly comical way. “I’ll be a friend who loves to play, and eat all the candy canes you offer. But only if you make sure I’ll have enough candy canes for a lifetime.” “A lifetime, hm?” he asked while snaking an arm around your waist before pulling you close. “Your teeth will deteriorate.” You burst out laughing. “Rot. My teeth will rot,” you chuckled while reaching up to lay your arms around his shoulders. “What name shall I make the dentist send the bill to?” “Gruber, Süße. Hans Gruber.” “Hans…” You tasted the name, liking it instantly as it suited him somehow perfectly.

Hans purred a chuckle. “Who will the bill be from?” His eyes flitted down to your parted lips. “I shall make you visit the dentist often to keep those pretty teeth." “That is the weirdest declaration… erh, compliment, I’ve ever heard.” You laughed and felt a strange sort of liberation unfurl within your gut. “But it’s Y/n Y/l/n. But I prefer whatever it is you’re calling me already.” “Süße?” he asked, arching a brow while smirking. “It means cutie. For you are. Quite the cutie.” “Cutie? Hm, alright, handsome.” “Oh? Handsome, hm?” You nodded, grabbing the lapels of his coat. “Handsome as hell,” you declared.

The cold wind of December swept by your legs. “I might really be under some winter wizard’s spell, because I just robbed a bank for you and am now on the run from the law. I’ve doomed myself forever, and it’s all your fault, Mr Handsome-German-Robber.” “Not your average day, I presume?” “Ha! Definitely not.” “Could it become it?” “An average day to rob a bank?” Your eyes bulged for a second before you blinked rapidly at Hans — who seemed absolutely serious. “Why not? Everything is possible.” “True, Christmas is the time of miracles, and it would truly be one if the one who arrested me so instantly, is now arrested by me as harshly.” “Arrested? Pun intended or..?” He smirked as you chuckled at him. “I think I hit my head— HEY! Who hit me over the head?!” you barked while drawing your brows together as the memory surged.

Snow crunched, and you both turned to find a tall, broad-shouldered, huge blonde man standing by the front of the van. Hans chuckled dryly, holding out his hand openly toward the man. “That would be Karl. He’s not the smartest, but he’s strong and usually follows instructions well.” “Why’d he hit me over the head?” “Precaution. Knocking people out is the standard when transporting. He meant no offence, Süße.” Hans stepped closer, Karl glared without really glaring at all at you — he seemed a bit off, really. “I’d like to hit him over the head, smash a gingerbread house over that blonde hair,” you grumbled, still feeling the pulsing in your temple.

You sighed after a moment, Karl didn’t appear to understand what you were saying. “But I bet it wouldn’t phase him.” “Probably not, Süße. You are free to do it, though. If it makes you feel better.” “Nah, he looks like he doesn’t know any better.” How rude of me! The bloody people at the bank have infected me with rudeness. Oh— “Is that an automatic?” You pointed toward the large weapon hanging off the man’s shoulder, visible as the wind picked up and flapped his long coat out of the way. “Semi. Not afraid?” Hans asked, his accent thickening as he looked down at you with a certain sparkle in his grey eyes.

You tilted your head, pondering for a moment as you’d never seen any weapon up close until that very day. “I might have a concussion,” you declared with a laugh — but that wasn’t it at all. It just felt like you were free and living all of a sudden, as if robbing the bank and crashing out so irrefutably had you forced to just go with whatever was happening. Kinda freeing, kinda insane, I might have completely lost my senses but by the spirit of Christmas, I feel so bloody free.

Hans grabbed your waist anew, pushing a candy cane into your mouth so it hung out like an unlit smoke. “We’ll eat candy canes on our way to Switzerland, perhaps rob a bank or two?” “Sw-its-aland?” you asked with the candy cane in your mouth. He smiled, leaning you backwards while getting so close his breath fanned over your face. “Süße, you’ll come with me around the whole world.” Your eyes widened at that, a warmth tingled within you, and his thin lips planted the smallest of teasing kisses atop the tip of your cold nose.

“The whole world, tapfere kleine Süße.” You yanked out the candy cane with one hand while the other grabbed at his neck, holding on to keep your weight up as he nearly dipped you. “Meaning?” “Brave little cutie, more or less,” he said gently, a smile so charmingly disarming sent in your direction. “I might be going insane, but perhaps I can be that…” you whispered, leaning up slightly. “And if I can’t—” “There’s no can’t’s,” Hans interrupted quietly, his face a mere finger’s width from yours. “Everything is possible, Süße.” “Like taking a trip down Candy Cane Lane with a thief who might fall in love with a bank clerk turned robber?” Your eyes fluttered between his and those thin lips framed by such a lush beard; you swore to yourself you'd drag your fingers through it sooner rather than later. “Präzise,” he purred deeply, and then his lips were pressed against yours. A flurry of warmth and sparkles shot through your limbs, and the cold wind of December, prancing like a proud reindeer all around you, didn’t stand a chance at chilling you when he made you burst with warmth as he deepened the kiss with a groaned hum of want.

TO BE CONTINUED

LINKTREE // AO3 // MASTERLIST

A/N: IIIIIH! They're so stinkin' cuuuute! We gotta have one more part to this - feels like we can't let them go here? Like, we need a little more, right? 👀👉👈

NEXT PART>

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[Dec:2025]

[that-sudsy]

 Pairing: Hans Gruber x Reader | Die Hard Genre: Fluff Author: Tori Inkwyn Word Count: 2k Warning: use of Y/n, and Possbile wrong translations (i apologize 😶) Summary: You offered to go undercover for the mission. This is set before the Robbery.

As Planned

Abandoned Camp 

West Germany

1700

Night settles over the camp cold, quiet, broken only by the distant hum of generators. Hans stands near the table where blueprints were spread earlier, now rolled tight in his hands. His coat is off, sleeves loosened, tension still coiled in his posture.

He turns when he senses you behind him.

“…You shouldn’t have said that in there.”

His voice is calm, controlled but lower now, intimate. He sets the plans aside and steps closer, searching your face as if weighing every risk written on it.

“You offered yourself like a chess piece,” he continued softly. “As if I would so easily place you on the board.”

He paused, His thumb brushes your wrist, grounding, protective despite everything he is.

“I do not want you anywhere near Nakatomi once this begins. Inside men are disposable. You are not.”

His eyes sharpen not angry, but afraid in the way only a man like Hans ever allows himself to be.

“Tell me why you are so willing to stand in the line of fire for me, Y/n.”

Hans stepped closer, boots crunching softly against the gravel, until the cold between them was no longer empty space but something charged and fragile. She still didn’t turn. The night sky held her attention, stars sharp and indifferent, breath blooming pale in the air with every word she released.

“I know you want this to succeed, Hans,” she said quietly. “And it’s the least risk.” For a moment, he said nothing.

Then his hand came up measured, deliberate. Two fingers slid beneath her chin, firm but careful, tilting her face toward him whether she wished it or not. His touch was warm against the cold, a contrast he seemed acutely aware of.

Hans studied her expression the way he studied blueprints: searching for weak points, miscalculations, lies. He found none. Only resolve. That unsettled him far more than fear ever could.

“Du wirst mich nicht verlieren,” she said, her voice steady despite the chill. You won’t lose me.

Something flickered behind his eyes brief, dangerous, human.

Hans leaned closer, his forehead nearly touching hers, his voice dropping into something meant only for her. “You speak as if loss is not a variable,” he murmured. “As if probability bends because you believe hard enough.”

His thumb shifted, resting just beneath her jaw now, grounding her there. Not possession protection.

“I do not plan operations with my heart,” he continued, quieter still. “But you…” A pause. Controlled. “…you make that discipline inconvenient.”

The camp noise faded around them. In this small circle of cold air and shared breath, Hans made a decision he would never voice to the others.

“You will not step inside that building,” he said finally not a request, not raised, but absolute. “If Nakatomi falls, it will fall without asking you to bleed for it.”

His gaze softened just a fraction. “And if I lose anything in this plan,” he added, “it will not be you.”

She finally turned fully toward him, the scoff sharp, defensive too quick. The kind that hid a wound rather than pride. Her breath fogged between them as she spoke, eyes bright with challenge.

“And why’s that? Am I not strong enough?” she said. “You underestimate me.”

Hans didn’t answer at once. His hand fell from her chin, not in dismissal but restraint, fingers curling slowly at his side as if he were locking something dangerous away. He took half a step back enough to look at her properly, to see the steel in her posture, the way fear never quite found a place to land on her.

“It is not your strength I doubt,” he said at last.

She pressed on before he could finish, voice firm now, practical. “It’s not like I’m going to do the robbery alone, Hans. I’ll just work there until you get there.”

A thin smile touched his mouth, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

“You speak as if time itself is harmless,” he replied. “As if proximity to a target does not change the target.”

He stepped forward again, reclaiming the space he’d given, lowering his voice. “Every day you are inside that building, you become part of its pattern. Faces are remembered. Names are written down. Cameras watch when people think they are alone.”

His gaze locked onto hers, intense but not unkind. “And when we arrive, chaos does not ask who was supposed to be safe.”

Hans exhaled slowly, a controlled breath, then added more quietly, “You are not expendable to me. That is the flaw in your logic.”

A pause lingered between them, heavy.

“If something goes wrong,” he said, “I can adapt to police, to hostages, to McClane-types playing hero.” His eyes narrowed slightly. “But I cannot adapt to you being caught in the middle.”

He searched her face again, this time not as a strategist but as a man who already knew he was losing this argument.

“You call that underestimating you,” he finished softly. “I call it refusing to sacrifice the one thing I did not plan to lose.”

The cold crept in closer, needling at their skin, sharpening the silence between them. She held his gaze, unflinching, the question hanging there like a dare rather than a plea.

“Then tell me…” she said quietly. “What’s the difference when I go with you on this mission.”

Hans didn’t answer immediately.

He turned away a fraction, breath slow, visible, one hand coming up to drag along his jaw, fingers brushing through his facial hair a habit he reserved for problems that refused clean solutions. The camp lights reflected faintly in his glasses as he stared at nothing in particular, already seeing corridors, elevators, timers ticking down.

“The difference,” he said at last, measured, “is control.”

He looked back at her then.

“When you are with me, I know where you are,” Hans continued. “I decide the moment we move, the moment we disappear. You are not alone in a room with cameras and polite smiles and men who ask too many questions.”

He stepped closer again, voice lowering, more dangerous now for how honest it was. “Inside that building, before we arrive, you answer to them. Schedules. Supervisors. Security checks. One wrong glance, one curious guard, and you are exposed without protection.”

His hand lifted not to touch this time, but it hovered near her arm, restrained by will alone. “With me,” he said, “you answer to no one. You move when I move. If something fractures, I am there to correct it.”

A pause. His jaw tightened.

“And there is another difference,” he added, quieter, stripped of calculation. “If you are with me, I can pull you out the second the equation changes. If you are already inside…”

He didn’t finish the sentence. He didn’t need to.

Hans exhaled slowly, eyes steady on hers. “This is not about whether you are capable,” he said. “It is about where I can keep you alive.”

The wind passed between them, carrying the distant sound of metal clinking somewhere in the camp.

“I do not bring civilians into a war zone,” he concluded. “And I do not send the woman I love ahead of me into one.”

Her nod came stiffly, jaw set in stubborn defeat.

“Fine… have it your way, Gruber.”

The name sharp, distant, formal cut deeper than any refusal.

Something in Hans snapped.

In two strides he was on her, the space between them erased. She backed up on instinct until the cold wall met her spine. His hand came down hard beside her head, palm striking stone with a crack that echoed through the night. Not touching her but close enough that she felt the force of him everywhere.

“Are you an idiot?” he snapped, the calm veneer gone at last.

His breath was close now, voice tight with restraint barely holding. “Warum verstehst du es nicht?” he demanded, German breaking through. (Why don’t you understand?)

“Ich versuche, dich zu schützen.” (I’m trying to protect you.)

He dragged a hand back through his hair, pacing a single step away and then back again, caged by his own anger. “This is not about you proving anything,” he said in English now, sharp and precise. “This is not some heroic fantasy.”

His eyes locked onto hers, furious and afraid all at once. “The plan stays the same,” he said. “And I need your head in the game, not running ahead of it.”

A pause then lower, more dangerous. “You do not get points for bravery if you’re dead. You don’t win by standing in front of bullets meant for me.”

He leaned in again, forearm braced against the wall now, his voice dropping but no less intense. “Ich kann mit Chaos umgehen,” he said quietly. (I can handle chaos.) “I can handle police, hostages, surprises.”

His gaze softened just a fraction, enough to hurt.

“But I cannot operate if I am constantly calculating whether you are about to get yourself killed trying to be noble.”

Hans exhaled slowly, forcing control back into his posture, though the wall still trapped her there.

“So listen to me,” he said firmly. “No heroes. No martyrdom. You stay sharp, you stay invisible, and you trust me to do what I do best.”

His eyes searched hers, demanding more than agreement understanding.

“Can you do that,” he asked, voice low, “or do I need to spell it out again?”

She looked at him, the stubborn fire finally tempered. No defiance, no edge just quiet resolve.

“Understood,” she said, her voice steady, precise, like the soldier he had always known she could be.

Hans studied her for a long moment. He knew she could handle it. She was clever, unflinching, sharp but she was his. His girl. And that alone made the thought of her in danger unbearable.

Without a word, he stepped closer, the cold night doing nothing to cool the heat radiating from him. Rough, deliberate, his hands cupped her face, thumbs brushing her cheeks as he pressed a lingering kiss to her brow. It was possessive, protective, tender all at once a silent promise.

As his lips left her skin, he whispered softly, in German, words meant only for her:

“Du bist alles, was ich habe.” (You are all I have.)

The wind carried away the words, but the weight remained, heavy and intimate, pressing between them as the night stretched on. Hans held her gaze, his hands lingering at her jaw, grounding them both in the fragile certainty that whatever came next, she would stay safe… because he would not allow otherwise.

The door creaked open suddenly, breaking the tension like glass.

Theo’s grin appeared first, then the rest of him. “You might wanna finish that up, Hans,” he said lightly, wiggling his brows with theatrical exaggeration. “I figured something out. Maybe you’d like it.”

Hans didn’t move at once. His hands were still on her face, thumbs resting at her jaw as if reluctant to let go of the moment. His eyes flicked to Theo sharp, warning before he released her and straightened his coat, composure sliding back into place like armor.

Y/n only nodded once, already switching gears. She brushed past Theo, shoving him lightly with her shoulder as she crossed the room. “Out of the way,” she muttered, more fond than annoyed.

She stopped at the table where the blueprints lay spread, fingers hovering over the lines and measurements. Her mind was already racing ahead timers, exits, leverage.

Just when we get the bonds, we’ll disappear, she thought. That’s it. That’s the key.

Hans moved to her side, eyes following where hers traced the paper. “All right,” he said coolly, all traces of intimacy sealed away. “Show me.”

Theo leaned in, tapping a specific section of the blueprint. “Security reroutes here,” he said. “They think it’s redundancy but it’s actually a blind spot. Temporary. Small window.”

Hans’s mouth curved slightly. Not a smile an acknowledgment. “A window is all we need.”

His gaze flicked briefly to Y/n, just long enough to confirm she was focused, steady, exactly where she needed to be.

“When the bonds are secured,” Hans continued, voice precise, “we vanish. No loose ends. No hesitation.”

Thanks a bunch for reading. I hope you loved the fic! 💕 Want to support me? buy me a Tomato 🍅

[in-the-endstone]

merry rickmas friends

[snowblossomreads]

Day 4: Sharing

Pairing: Severus Snape x Fem!Reader

Summary: In where Severus is reminded that it's almost the first Christmas he and [Y/n] will be sharing and he goes to try and make it special

Tag(s)/Warning(s): fluff fluff and more fluff

Word Count: 1.3K

A/N: And in something totally different once again! Here is a short little fluffy fluff about Snape and his almost first Christmas with his beloved [Y/n]. (See @deepperplexity i do know how to use the prompts in non unhinged ways are u proud of me 🤣🤣?)

The streets of Hogsmeade was filled with the bustling crowds of witches and wizards doing their holiday shopping as Christmas rapidly approached meaning that people were in a tizzy trying to purchase gifts for their loved ones.

And of course a treat for themselves.

Cheer and glee were on the faces of almost all of those who were bustling about spreading warmth in the cold air with just their attitude. All except one person named Severus Snape, who seemed to have had enough of people bumping into him as he tried to maneuver his way as swiftly as possible away from the crowd.

He should have known when he went out looking for a present for [Y/n] that he would face the tiring challenge of people. Yet he had been so caught up with preparing for the coming semester and his own experimentations that he had lost tracked of time.

And when she had brightly told him that she was excited that they would be sharing their first Christmas together in only a few days he realized he had proverbially dropped the ball.

On the outside he was his calm and collected self, agreeing with her as he was truly looking forward to sharing the holiday with someone other than himself. There was a small part of him that hated to admit that it in the past it was a bit lonely seeing all the people merrily celebrating.

Even when the Hogwarts staff tried to romp him in to their holiday shenanigans he was quick to get away not at all wanting to be invested in whatever they were up to. It was a way of punishing himself, as someone like him didn't deserve to have fun. Didn't deserve to have happy things because of what he had done and what he had caused.

[Y/n] though was having none of it when she came into his life. And he was grateful for it.

But he digressed.

That was on the outside, calm and collected as he usually seemed now and days. On the inside though he was quickly listing the things that he knew she adored and began to make a plan.

Oh yes, he would do his best to make sure the first Christmas they spent together was as lovely as his [Y/n].

First was to her favorite bakery where he was unsurprisingly met with a large line of people queuing up and waiting for their turn as it seemed that everyone had the idea to come at the same time.

An annoyance absolutely, but at least no one dared to talk to him while they were in line as he glared at anyone who seemed to want to make conversation. 20 minutes had passed and he had secured her favourite treats which included some pumpkin pasties that had extra holiday flavour in them as he had been told.

He had no idea what that meant.

A few cinnamon rolls that were topped with an abundance of sweet cream and a few more savory mini pastries that he knew she fancied.

Next was a trinket store, that she always gazed at when they walked passed though she never went in, only saying she didn't need more knick nacks laying around.

Well it was Christmas and what was wrong with a few more especially if the were useful and brought her joy.

So he went in expecting to find nothing yet he ended up coming out with a set of colour changing ink and quill, a trinket box for her little collection of rings and earrings in that played music while opened and also could sort the items for her. That aspect he found interesting thinking about what charm was placed on it to get it to do so.

And also he may have bought some dusty looking spellbook that he had never seen before which intrigued him along with self labeling potion bottle that showed what ingredients were in it.

Huh who knew that shop had so many things.

Pleased with his purchases he barreled his way through the crowd ready to finally be at home exhausted from all the pushy witches and wizard. Walking quickly to an alley way off the beaten streets of the village he took inventory of what he had making sure nothing was crushed or missing. Once he made sure everything was where he wanted, he apparated silently back home where [Y/n] was sitting in his wingback chair reading.

Well, that was until he suddenly apparated into the middle of the sitting room.

"Severus Snape! Merlin's beard!" she shrieked almost tumbling out of the chair being startled half to death by him. "I thought you told me no one can apparate in and out of the house? You nearly gave me a heart attack!"

His lips turned upward in a smirk at her words as he watched her get up from her seat and stalk up to him with a small pout.

"Hm yes I do remember telling you that," he answered matter of factly, leaning down and brushing his lips against her forehead causing her to grumble, "though I may have left off that I'm the exception. I did live here for years after all."

Pressing his lips against her forehead in a chaste kiss, he moved down and kissed her nose, before hovering over her lips waiting for her to move.

"You're the worse you know that," she mumbled shaking her head before closing the distance and kissing him showing him that she wasn't angry just startled.

"Mhm."

He kissed her softly before moving to her cheek and kissing her there making her giggle as he pulled away.

"Your lips are so cold darling here go put all those bags away," she started pausing only when she saw the amount of bags and being yet again surprised. He said he was going out potion ingredient shopping and from the looks of it he had bought the whole stock of them. "And I'm sure it'll take you a while Severus did you go on a shopping spree without me?! Oh never mind I'll make us some tea it should be done by the time you've sorted it all out!"

Without another word she was off leaving Severus with a pile of bags not even suspecting that most of the things were for her.

When she had come back out of the kitchen tea floating behind her she was surprised once more when she found a plate full of her favorite snacks sitting on the little table in between her chair and Severus'.

He had paid her no mind when she had come back, acting as if he was reading the new book her had purchased yet he was keenly aware of her presences. It was only when she had sat the tea down did she take a look at all the snacks that were waiting for them.

"Severus?" His name came out shyly as she wandered to his side making him put his book down and turn to look at her.

"Did you buy all of those for me?"

Her eyes twinkled in the warmly lit room and he nodded.

"Mhm I passed by the bakery you always go to and decided to stop by," he answered coolly as if he hadn't been squished in the shop when he got in. "Hopefully this is a good festive start to our almost first Christmas together?"

Grinning at him, [Y/n] leaned over the arm of his chair to plant a kiss on his cheek overwhelmed with excitement as she skipped over to her own seat. Plopping down she poured them both some tea and happily partook in one of the pasties groaning happily at spiced pumpkin filling.

"It's an excellent start darling," she beamed. "Thank you!"

A rare smile, well not so rare for her, appeared on Severus' lips at how happy she looked as she bit into the treat and he felt as happy as she looked at the thought of the cheer to come. It was nice to share such a time with her thought before going back to his book and relaxing in the ambience of the warm room and his warm love.

A/N: see i am capable of using the prompts normally! see you guys on day 7 prompts! (she's taking a little break to avoid writing angst 😌)

[putting-rick-in-places]

rick under the christmas tree (preferably but not necessarily wrapped like a gift)

Come open your present (shoot me)