underratedmurder

[underratedmurder]

Was it something I said? Remmick/Reader

Reader and Remmick dance together... and get acquainted.

female/femme presenting reader

*Remmick can enter people's minds without turning them* <- I love this idea, and I think it makes sense for him since he was so in touch with Mary's emotions in the movie.

*Smut warning* PIV intercourse, Fingering, Blood, Biting, Drool, Messy make outs

~~~

There's a strange new man in town, and hell if he aint a good dancer!

"What kinda dancin'?" You asked, polishing a tall glass by the kitchen sink.

"Oh, like nothing I've seen before, you gotta see him Lucky," the warm voice of the woman reminded you of childhood wonder and excitement, the kind you two shared together in youth.

She was your best friend, Nelly. 'Lucky' was just a nickname, given to you when you were just a child.

Lucky, you felt it every now and then, lucky to have friends and a home, but you weren't sure luck would give your life much meaning.

Now, after growing up, you struggled for joy and fulfillment.

Your friends were bubbling about the kitchen, exclaiming about some new feller who frequented the local club, electrifying a previously dim and dismal joint.

"He shuffles his feet so fast Luck, like bubbles pricklin' in a tea pot,"

"It's called Irish dancin', he's Irish," your other friend, Maggie, finally chimed in. Nelly looked at her, confused.

"How you know?" Nelly leaned toward her, and a string of curiosity was plucked in your mind.

"Cause he told me, we talked for a bit last night," Maggie looked particularly proud of herself, and you grew suspicious.

"So, you did," Nelly's face twisted in disappointment, something was telling you this man might be a little pretty...maybe.

"Don't be jealous Nel, I don't mind sharin'," Maggie smirked, playful and teasing.

"Oh, don't you start that, Maggie!" Nelly was swatting Maggie and hitting her arm.

Now you just had to see this guy, after all, there wasn't much anything else to do around town. You liked dancing, and you certainly liked the sound of a handsome Irishman who could hop to a beat. And you were secretly hoping the night would start you on a new and exciting adventure, the kind of opportunity you'd been desperate to find for a while now.

~~~

That night at the club was packed, more than you'd ever seen it. The summer heat seeped into the place, moisture was already collecting on your forehead, like you could feel the sweat and exhaustion from the folks who were dancing their heads off.

There was a rowdy dance circle on the large wooden dance floor, rumbling the building with heavy steps and in sync clapping.

The band was playing a bouncy folk tune, more upbeat than their usual jam.

You felt a buzz under your skin unlike anything you'd felt before, like the air was charged with so much energy the place could burst.

Sliding past people chatting and taking swigs from their drinks, you finally stood before the circle, and in the middle there he was.

He was glowing, and not like a light, like a vibration, sending waves of energy out into a sea of bodies. He looked softer than you expected, features defined but not sharp. He bobbed up and down, his dark brown hair barely moving as it stuck to his forehead, shuffling his feet and swinging his legs. His eyes were closed, his chin up. He was focused, but blissful, and all you wanted to do was join him.

You merged with the circle like a drop to a stream, feet stumbling for a moment before you caught the rhythm and bounced along. The music and the people carrying you round and round until you weren't sure which way was left or right. The man was still in the center; a wide smile now plastered on his drunken face. You caught glimpse of his crooked teeth, sharp on all sides, like a dog prancing in the sun, he radiated joy. It was intoxicating to watch, and without meaning to, you found yourself staring for a bit too long.

The only thing that pulled you out of your trance was the sudden sensation of his eyes locking with your own. Light blue and intense, they barely looked human, and that scared you. But before fear could push you away, he was pulling you in.

Strong hands grasped your wrist and forearm firmly, tugging you into the middle. You crashed into him for a moment, puzzled at the coolness of his frame against the heat of the air. But as he grinned at you, eyeing you up and down, you began to move your feet again.

Up close, he was shorter than you thought, but large and muscular, his forearms bare of his rolled-up sleeves and flexing as he reached to grab your hand. You took his, surprised at his cold touch, but gladly holding on as he wrapped an arm around your waist and began to spin you both around.

As he picked up the pace, your feet starting to synchronize in motion, you couldn't help but smile widely, feeling the woosh of air across your face as he spun you around in place. When he pulled you back you collided into his chest, noses barely brushing past each other.

He gazed at you, an almost crazed look in his eye, joy and frenzy and fun. His grip tightened on your hand, and you felt the urge to go a bit further, after all this was a dance, a show for the whole club to see. You couldn't let him out do you.

You leaned back and rolled your head in a circle, flaring out your chest and letting your neck flex. People wooed and continued their rhythmic clapping, as you popped back up to meet him.

But when you returned to his eyes something had changed, they no longer shone that sky blue like before. His pupils were blown, and there was something shiny and slick seeping out the corner of his mouth.

Suddenly he was darker, less soft, and hell if he didn't look even more delicious than before.

His breath was heavy against your face, still somehow cooler than the air, and your heart was undoubtably racing for reasons other than the dancing.

His hand snaked down your back, slowly and carefully, finding purchase at the bottom of your hip. Shamefully, your felt heat pool between your legs, as your face began to run hotter than before.

As if he could read your mind, he slid his leg between your own, propping himself between them like a puzzle piece, still rocking you round the circle at impossible speeds. The pressure between your legs was unbearable, and you couldn't believe you found yourself so wound up in the arms of a total stranger.

His head snuck closer to your neck, nose just centimeters away from the fast and hot beat of your pulse.

"You Lucky?" he hummed.

"How'd you-"

"Your lovely friend Maggie and I had an interesting conversation the other night," suddenly you felt a guilty pit of jealousy hit your stomach, accompanied by unwavering anxiety. What had they possibly talked about, and why did you feel like a fish on a hook.

You weren't sure if you were imagining it, but within moments, he drew a great long sniff from your neck, rolling his head back like he'd finally taken a breath after emerging from water. As he exhaled, his mouth hung open, his teeth were longer, sharper, unnatural fangs that protruded like knives. And when his eyes fluttered open, they were red like blood and piercing. You gazed upon a man, now a monster, his arm wrapped around your waist and his leg pressed against you, and you finally startled.

"What's wrong sweetheart? Scared I might bite?" his voice was so low and smooth, you felt sedated, like it would send you to sleep.

Every instinct in your mind should have told you to fight, to run. Your feet were slowing but still shuffling around the circle, afraid to break the spell of the dancers that surrounded you. They hardly took notice to the creature that grasped you, like blind pigeons flocking to a vulture.

He pulled you close, chest to chest, his mouth and fangs at the edge of your ear. The proximity was too much to bear, you could feel the tickle of his stubble on your cheek, sharp pricks which you realized were his nails coming to stroke your neck.

"I promise I'm much gentler than I appear," the hum of his voice made your skin prickle, like a paper about to burst into flame. You felt the heat in your body radiating, a call to supper he was ready to head.

You fought to shake away from him, eyes unable to tear away from his every feature. He let you go, though a pout appeared on his face, mocking you, and as you stumbled backwards that pout turned to a terrifying grin.

"Was it something I said?" He held up his hands in feigned ignorance, looking around at the many who slowed their stride, grinning along with him.

Through hurried blinks, the reflective red of dozens of eyes revealed themselves.

Skirting backwards out of the circle, your mind began to race, griping the spiders web in which you were trapped.

Nelly and Maggie were gone, and all eyes watched as you scrambled for a broom closet nearby. Scattered laughter filled the club as you tripped and nearly toppled over before slamming and locking the door.

Heart racing, you laid there on the floor, ears penetrated by hundreds of whispers of your name. Over and over, each voice sounded incredibly loud and impossibly close, like the lips were pressed right to your ear. Covering them, you hunched over, begging, waiting for the silence.

The voices began to crescendo, piling on top of your chest and weighing you down, until one triumphant voice called out. Smooth and clear, it was him.

A polite knock at the door, and your eyes darted up, wide and bloodshot and brimmed with tears.

"Knock knock little dove, there's a dance floor out there waitin' for you," he chimed, cheery and almost affectionate.

His voice seeped like honey through the cracks of the door frame, you fought the impeding thoughts of licking that honey straight from his mouth.

You shivered.

"I didn't mean to scare you darlin', honest," he sounded sincere.

"Whatever it was I did, I promise I can make up for it," you could hear the grin tugging at his lips. A flash of the image of his fangs peeking over his lips made your heart pound.

"Got plenty more moves I haven't shown you yet," the drawl of his voice was past the cracks of the door and reaching for you across the wood floor. So tangible you could try to kick it away, but you didn't.

You didn't scream for him to leave you alone, the words would be caught in your throat, feeble attempts to keep the monster at bay.

You closed your eyes, covering your ears again, but when his voice rang again it wasn't from behind the door, it was from within you.

I can make you feel better honey, I can take allllll that fear away. Just... open the door.

The tears were falling down your cheeks now, heart thumping like a rabbits'. You bit your lip and crumpled, the pressure of his presence in your mind was so warm and deep, slowly you accepted what you knew you wanted to do. What you needed to do. What was itching at you since he laid his eyes on you. Since he looked at you like you were his perfect meal.

Slowly you rose, shaking and dripping with adrenaline. Your hand crept to the lock, fingers moving in painstaking slow motion. You held your breath for fear that he'd suck it all out from the other side of the door.

One finger lightly taps the lock

You see his eyes again

Another positioned to turn it

His fangs baring like a dogs

Your palm presses against the mechanism

Sharp claws scraping your side

The lock flips and you finally breathe out, weight of your fear lifting for just a moment, but he fills the gaps.

The door slowly swings open, his body appears like an apparition, a ghost you summoned through subconscious fear and unbearable desire.

"See now that wasn't so bad," drool is pooling from his mouth, like a rabid dog he stares a hole into you, licking his lips.

Your legs are weak, giving out as soon as he takes a step forward, quickly closing the space between you in the small closet.

You were on your knees, hands clasped together, and eyes shut again.

This was sin, this was the Devil finally finding you, and you asked so desperately to be found.

You began to pray, mumbling words to a lord you didn't seek to find, but to be received by the creature before you. A declaration, a promise, an admittance, that you were under his spell, his to take.

"Oh, sweet baby. There's no God who can take you from me now," the hunger in his voice traveled down his neck through his arm all the way to the fingers that grasped your chin and forced you to look up.

You continued your prayer, but directly to him now, "Is there a Devil who can?" the tears left your eyes red and strained, looking up at him stung in the loveliest way possible.

He smiled, lips together, dark hair framing his beautiful face. You could die looking at him this way, you didn't even know his name...

"It's Remmick. There is no Devil here tonight,"

He pulled you up with one swift motion.

"And he couldn't take you either,"

His hand grasped the back of your neck, other hand lightly toying with your face, wiping tears from your cheeks and brushing hair from your sweaty temples.

"Look at you,"

Your lips parted, so close to his own, you yearned to press them together.

"So beautiful, little dove," his thumb grazed your lips.

His face came closer, aiming for your neck again, his hands' grasp tightening on your hair.

"If I could just... taste you,"

You breathed in, tense, anticipating his every move.

"Shh sh sh, it's okay. There aint' no need to be afraid. I'm gonna take real good care of you,"

Instinctually, words blurted out of your mouth once again.

"Lord please forgive me, I have given in to sin, I have fallen in the hands of evil," you sniffled and sobbed.

"Look at me," his voice was darker now.

Your eyes darted to his, widening in a trance.

"Will you give yourself to me?" his gaze was dark and possessive.

A thin drop of sweat ran down his temple, the sticky stuffiness of the closet made you want to rip yourself and him from your clothes.

You nodded, not daring to break contact with his crimson stare.

He grinned widely, revealing his monstrous teeth and making your stomach twirl. You needed to feel them grazing your skin.

"I'll need you to say it out loud sugar. S'only so much I can read from that little mind o' yours," he cooed. He was prying the words out, tugging you down to a level of humility only a creature that wished to eat you could push you towards.

"I- I'm yours," you blurted, almost pleading.

"Mmmm," he hummed loudly, the sound vibrating through his hand to your chin.

Suddenly he wrapped his hand around your jaw, nose taking a long sniff from your hot neck.

"S' so good, for me,"

He dragged his tongue all the way up your neck as an ungodly moan finally escaped your throat, your hands reached to grab his sides.

"M' you like that?" he said through up turned lips.

You began to nod, arms pulling him closer. You felt him hard against your hips, his length through his pants grinding so painfully good against you.

Another, looong lick up your neck which ended with his mouth around your ear, teeth teasingly nipping at the sensitive skin.

"How'd you like to dance forever, Lucky?"

He didn't even meet your eyes, only listened to the increased speed of your heart rate and made his own conclusion.

Before you knew it, a white-hot flash of pain was puncturing your neck and seizing your whole body. Teeth tore flesh and blood spilled into Remmick's wanting mouth. He began to shake fervently, groaning loudly and gripping you so hard you felt dizzy.

You barely had a few seconds of awareness before he was finished with you, full and drunk on your blood, needy for every last drop he could lap up.

You collapsed to the floor, and he followed you, propped up on his haunches, still grasping you.

The way he drank from you sent waves of mixed pain and pleasure through your body, a body quickly changing from mortal to monster, blood drained and soul transformed.

"You taste so fuckin' good," he panted.

He turned your head to face his own, both hands cradling your features, eyes taking in the rapidly changing color of your eyes.

"Said I'd take care of you, didn't I?"

His stubble was dripping with red, and you stared as his tongue slipped out to lick excess from his lips.

Rapidly, energy returned to your body, skin and bones tingling and brain ablaze with activity. Your vision was clearer now, like your senses had been turned up to 200%.

Without thinking, you leapt forward, pressing your lips to his, starving. You let your tongue explore his mouth, tasting your own blood and his every memory.

Images, emotions and hundreds of years of experiences were flooding your brain. Every moment, every want and need he'd ever had now became yours.

You ate everything, every bit you could take, lips smashing together ever more aggressively.

"Havin' your fill now, little dove?" he smiled, amused expression on his face.

Your eyes fell to the hard length under his pants, only for a moment. Without you even realizing it, a thick line of drool was streaming from the corner of your lips, almost trickling off your chin and onto his trousers.

You blinked up to look at him again, his eyes almost black and glazed with desire. His thumb came to quickly wipe the spit from your lips, before he stuffed the finger in his mouth and sucked.

"No, not yet you haven't," his lips collided with yours again, this time more like he was eating than giving a kiss.

You heard the clinking of his belt has his hands quickly but carefully undid the buckle, your sign to do the same.

His hands met you first though, fingers raking up your legs and pulling your underwear down past your stockings.

He placed them gently to the floor, slowing down as he raked his tongue over every inch of your mouth, letting out low and breathy moans.

You couldn’t take it anymore, the heat of your cunt felt so exposed against the cool air, you wanted him closer, to fill the void and relieve that ache that had been building ever since he grabbed hold of you on the dance floor.

You pulled the suspenders down from his shoulders and his pants down with them, reaching for his cock which strained against his underwear.

The fabric was smooth yet worn, and you could feel the heat of him as he twitched under your touch.

“M’ gonna fill you so nicely,” he whispered, mouth nipping at your ear.

He pulled you toward him with a firm hand at the bottom of your back, his cock pitching a tent. You felt him graze your stomach, chills ran up your body.

He felt you grow tense, and began lightly kissing your neck, top to bottom.

His fingers wasted no time in finding your slick folds and inserting them quickly, but not all the way. Just half his digits were in you as you gasped.

“Mmm,” he hummed as he listened to your quiet whimper, slowly dragging his two fingers in and out of you while his thumb circled your clit.

“That good? Mm?”

Your mouth lay agape as he kept his steady rhythm, building up the knot inside you. You nodded, eyes threatening to role back in their sockets.

He laughed quietly, grinning so widely like you’d just given him the best news of his life.

You reached out to grab him, shoving your hand in his underwear to grip his hard length and stroke him.

He let out a surprised guttural moan.

“You want something little dove?” His hips started to pump into your hand, clearly he wanted something too.

“Mhm,” you nodded more confidently this time, the knot in your cunt tightening with each stroke of his hand.

“Fuck,” he grunted as you quickened your pace around him, and so his fingers moved faster.

His grip at the bottom of your back tightened, eyes glowing red again as he locked his with your own. Faster, he moved his fingers, and you beckoned his cock closer to your core with each stroke of your hand.

You thought for a moment of the devilish kind of scene someone would see if they opened that closet door. Before you could feel too dirty though, his pressure on your clit increased and his fingers pumped far inside of you, that knot snapped like a twig, and sent you cumming on his hand.

You moaned loudly before his hand came to cover your mouth, his mouth dripping with drool again.

He held your face in place as he lifted his slick covered hand to his lips and stuffed the fingers in his mouth. You watched helplessly, moaning quietly beneath his palm.

“What do you want Lucky?” He released your mouth.

Your eyes darted to his hard cock and your cheeks flushed.

“I want you to fuck me so badly,” breathlessly the words escaped you.

“Careful what you wish for sugar,” the words were playful, but they came out dripping with intense hunger.

He shifted forward, hand gripping himself, slowly bringing his length to where you were most sensitive.

You gasped as his tip grazed you lightly, warmth inexplicable, his eyes glowing red and sweat rolling down his temples.

He lined himself up with you so that when he bucked his hips forward, he dragged his cock up and down your cunt. Slowly, tip pressing on your clit and length becoming slicker with each roll of his hips.

He continued on like that, watching you intently as you let out light gasps.

You couldn't take it any longer, you reached out and guided him inside you, letting out a low moan as he stretched you.

"Mhmfgh-" his eyes rolled back as he let himself sink into you.

"So good, God," he muttered, thick accent and low voice like music to your ears.

He began to pump faster, hands gripping your hip and side, his linen shirt stained with sweat.

You noticed the chain that hung from his neck, peeping out of his unbuttoned shirt. It swung, faster and faster as he pumped in and out of you.

Drool was seeping from his lips and tickling your own, somehow, he was still hungry, and he didn't waste a second kissing you again.

He was grinding up against that sweet spot inside you, never relenting in his rhythm. The two of you exchanged low moans, winding each other up, no more fun quips or clever words.

"F-fuck, mm. Remmick," it was the first time you'd said his name, and that seemed to be what pushed him over the edge.

He bucked his hips even faster, quiet desperate whimpers leaving his lips as he chased his release.

He came, hips still rolling and hands gripping you like you could slip away so easily. His tongue found the last bit of blood that seeped from your neck, building up his ecstasy in a mix of pleasure and taste.

He breathed hard into your neck, hands running down your body as he pulled out of you.

He quietly began to button himself up again, pulling his suspenders over his strong shoulders, and gently guiding your underwear back up your legs.

His eyes looked human again, round and blue, his fangs had retracted. His hair was a mess, but the way his locks stuck to his face made him look charming.

He lowered himself back on top of you, "You're perfect, little dove,".

You let the smallest of smiles flash upon your lips, a little bashful.

He grinned, "And cute,".

You felt the heat return to your cheeks again, he made you feel like a schoolgirl. Ridiculous, you thought.

His hand found your hair, fingers gently playing with it.

His eyes met yours.

"So, you wanna come dance with me, or what?"

~~~

Author's note: Please please please! Let me know if you liked this and/or if you are interested in me writing for Remmick more. This was lots of fun, I love reading Remmick fics and hope my addition is worthy of being part of the collection.

Thanks for reading!

[underratedmurder]

Update

Back!

And I'm writing Remmick/Reader !!

Baby's first smut on Tumblr, get excited XD

[underratedmurder]

The Road to Hallowskun (Fred Weasley x Reader) Part. 1

Takes place during Deathly Hallows part 1, where reader is an Auror in training. After death eaters attack the wedding at the burrow, reader and Fred escape together, on their own, they are on the run, trying to reach their destination, the Hallowskun safehouse.

Reader has a crush on Fred, unmentioned feelings and tension.

Warning for blood!

Edit: I’m sorry I know now that these are pics of George, I just wasn’t paying attention enough while scrolling on Pinterest 😭

_________________

Flash, bright blue and green light shone blindingly in your eyes. A crash sent shards of glass flying towards your face, piercing your skin and shredding it like paper. The tent was a blaze, there was absolute chaos all around you, and the burrow was under attack.

You wish you could say it was the first time you'd been at the Weasley's home as it was set on fire. But the dark lord didn't wait to strike again, you and the order found it wasn't in his nature. Not since he had sunk his fangs into the ministry, not since he had started hunting down Aurors.

You were winded, ears ringing and head banging from the pounding noise. The glass hit you fast, you hardly felt it cut you, and it sent your head sharply to the right. Your vision blurred, and you scrambled to find something, anything in front of you to hold onto. Your hands found a table, your wand still grasped in your hand, knuckles scraped and bleeding. After a breath, you could finally see again, a broken plate and rustled flowers lay before you. Your eyes followed a drop of blood as it fell onto the white tablecloth, red spindling throughout its weaving threads. You wiped your nose, suddenly aware that the skin was splayed open, cartilage exposed.

You removed your hand, red filled your palm, but there wasn't any more time to linger. A scream rang in your ear, and you spun around.

It was Luna, fighting in the arms of a death eater, head locking her, his wand pressed harshly to her temple. They both were staggering backward, as she struggled and writhed to free herself. He was about to apparate.

You couldn't let him, that would ensure her fate, and instantly your wand was in the air, swinging quickly, pointing sharply ahead. You shouted,

"Expelliarmus!"

His wand flew from his hand and shot straight towards you. You caught it just above your head, bringing it down to your foot, where you brought your heel down to snap it in half.

He scowled, almost letting Luna go as his grasp let up trying to reach for his wand. But then he stopped, tightening his grip around her as she almost wriggled free. He locked eyes with you, as his mouth quirked into a smile.

No

You leaped between the two tables in front of you to get to her, but it was too late, he had apparated, and they were both gone.

"Luna," you shuddered.

You began to look around frantically, for Luna, for anyone, she was misted into thin air and you weren't sure who else was gone.

The twins caught your eye immediately, they were by the entrance to the tent, dueling with two death eaters. They were holding their own, but a third was starting to approach, flanking them from behind.

Without rhyme or reason, you were bolting towards them. You pushed a table out of your way, striding past explosive spells that nearly knocked you off your feat. And one almost did, before you deflected it just centimeters from your already gushing bleeding face, you began to feel lightheaded again, but kept steady, reaching the Weasley boys in seconds.

"Fred, George!" waving your wand with vigor, you shot a sharp ray of red light towards the black smokey figure perusing them.

The death eater was instantly shooting through the side of the tent, ripping open a hole in the canvas. Your head was on a swivel, looking around like a jittery animal, teeth gritted, and brow furrowed furiously. You scanned your surroundings, the boys were still slashing their wands at the two death eaters, barely catching their offensive spells. Though, George had looked back to watch you, his eyes wide and panicked. You noticed his ear had started to bleed again, blood running down his neck onto the collar of his shirt.

Fred's wand flourished particularly spectacularly, bright orange sparks spiraled out of his wand and exploded into a yellow light that spun one of the death eaters in the air.

He smiled, and gasped.

"Well done, Freddie," George exclaimed, shouting to push and break through the static crowded noise.

George followed his brothers lead, and flourished his wand even more wildly, sending a bright blue light straight to the heart of the other death eater. At once, she seized up and fell to the ground.

"Better done, Georgie," the boys beamed at each other, and a part of you was inclined to smile.

You almost relaxed, until a hand abruptly came down on your shoulder from behind.

You whisked around, raising your wand, but found it was Remus, sweaty and cut up. He looked worse than you probably did, which you didn't want to think about right now. But he was a pleasant surprise. He was gasping, and in a hurry.

Before he could get to it though, his mouth fell into a horrified frown.

"God, y/n," His eyes drooped, concerned. "You need to get out of here, now,"

"I can't just leave. The others-"

"Will be fine. Take Fred with you," he exhaled.

"But George-"

"Tonks will be with him," he assured.

You relaxed a bit, feeling the calm his presence provided. You nodded at him, looking around, attempting to grasp what was about to happen.

"What about you?" you asked, horribly worried that he'd end up helping people to death if he could.

He smiled, "I'm going to the same place you are, in time," his smile faltered.

Alone, he was going alone.

He pushed you back towards the boys, "Go, now," he snapped, you locked eyes before walking back and into Fred.

You weren't sure you'd see Remus alive again.

Fred grabbed your arm, and you turned to face him, ready to grab his hand and apparate as soon as you could, but he stopped, his face turning white as he looked at you.

He was staring right at your nose and your left cheek, his eyes unwavering.

"What?" you blurted, raising your hand to touch the spot again, and you felt the blood, still wet. You understood, but said nothing, he swallowed.

"Take my hand," you shouted. But he hesitated, looking over at his brother.

"Tonks is coming, George will go with her," he looked back at you, frowning slightly, then back at his twin.

"Georgie," he called, and they nodded at one another, a glimmer in both their eyes, they were afraid of the same thing.

"Freddie," his gaze snapped to yours, "My hand," and he immediately intertwined his digits with yours, you felt the frayed ends of his suit jacket tickle your wrist.

Now, time was bending, and space flipped inside out, your skin strained under the pressure of fourth dimension defying magic. You could practically feel the muscle in your face tearing, already exposed from the attack. Freds other hand came to grasp you, fingers melding into the fabric of your clothing as he tried to pull you in tighter. You knew where to go, but also knew the death eaters would expect you all immediately, so you had to think of a starting point. Panic overtook you as the two of you spun around faster and faster, gravity pulling you together into a hot and frenzied mess. Then came the busiest, crowded, most confusing place you could think of. The London Underground.

In a second, you appeared in a station, feet stumbling backward on the tile floor as a train zoomed pass your noses, or what was left of yours.

Fred didn't let go of your hand and pulled you toward him so he could see your face.

His hands went to gently cup your cheeks, he scowled, flinching when you winced at the touch of his fingertips.

"You're still bleeding," he stammered.

"Yes, we need to keep moving," you grabbed his hand and started dragging him onto the train car.

"But, your nose," he came closer to you as you sat down in the corner, inspecting the area of your cheek.

"I'll be fine,"

"I know a charm," he blurted, his grip on his wand tightened, his knuckles white and fingers scarlet.

"There isn't enough time,"

"You're joking, you'll bleed out before we get to the safehouse," he sat next to you, bringing his wand up and focusing on your wound.

"Fred, the muggles," You whispered, noticing the few people at the other end of the car. The train was moving quickly, screeching as it turned a corner.

"They won't notice. Hardly observant, muggles," he smirked, but your vision started to blur again, and you decided to give in.

You didn't protest, letting him cup your jaw, slowly pointing his wand at your cheek, he began.

"Ferula," the word sounded like a cooling bandage, warm light radiated from his wand and onto your cheek. Your pain quickly soothed, and you could start to see clearly again.

Freds face was more defined now, his nose pointed and flaring as he watched a white bandage appear over your cheek and nose.

"Better?" his voice filled your ears, as the screeching of the train diminished.

You nodded, feeling the bandage with your fingers, the blood had stopped gushing, dried bits of it rested on your chin.

"That was risky, we're not safe yet," you readjusted in your seat, gripping your wand and surveyed the train again. There was no telling if death eaters had followed you here, but there was no sign of them yet.

"You looked horrible darling, couldn't handle looking at another gaping hole in someone's face after George," he joked, though the statement still rang true. You didn't need a mirror to know it was bad, you just couldn't stop to heal yourself yet, not if this wasn't the last of your wounds. And George, he was just attacked weeks ago, Freds eyes were glossy, his hands fidgeting with his jacket. He was worried about him.

"But I look better now, right?" you teased him a bit, trying to lift the weight of everything. He smiled at you.

"Good as new,"

You smiled back.

"George is gonna be okay,"

"I know, he always is," he sighed. You weren't sure if it was just some magical superstition, but it seemed the twins were connected, like that 'twin telepathy' people always talk about. Whenever Fred was upset about something, George was in the dumps too. You hoped whatever connection they had, was reassuring Fred that George was alive.

"Where are we love?" Fred asked, looking around and loosening his collar and tie, sweat dribbled down the side of his face.

"Muggle train system in London, I think we’ve just left Piccadilly Circus,”

He stared at you, puzzled.

“It’s a… really busy area in the city,” 

“Any idea where we’re headed? I don’t suppose you’ve got a wonderfully planned set of directions for us to get to hallowskun. Or are you just so brilliant and responsible that you do?” 

Hallowskun was the spooky name of the safe house, tucked away in the Scottish countryside. What made you laugh was it really wasn’t spooky at all. Quite cute actually.

You chuckled, “Very sweet, but no. I don’t,” you frowned, a bit disappointed in yourself. 

“Then we’re on our own,”

“Yeah,” you sighed, but Fred's hand reached for yours, and you felt a bit better, squeezing his digits.

“The bandage makes you look pretty wicked you know,” he chimes, “More badass than any of those lousy spell eating death eaters could ever hope to look,”  he beamed at you, eyes crinkled into a smile. They were brown and soft, kind. There was a cut just above his brow, red and deep. He was such a beautiful boy, you wanted to protect him. Didn’t matter if he was six feet tall, or exceptional at magic...

“Really?” you feigned surprise, he nodded.

But then, quite loudly, the train car doors slid open, and two men in all black boarded. Their boots thumped, booming as they stepped further into the cart. They were hooded, eyes barely visible but surrounded by black.

They may have very well been London punks, but the second man turning his head towards you on a swivel allerted you immediately. It was Walden Macnair, a devout follower of the Dark Lord, you remembered him from the battle at the Ministry. And it seemed he remembered you as well.

His eyes widened, and he grimaced. You squeezed Fred's hand, and he flinched, quickly looking ahead and noticing Macnair striding towards you.

“Legit?” Fred gasped, tugging on your hand.

“Yeah,” you nodded, and before Macnair threw his first spell, you were both dashing out of the cart.

_____________

Let me know if anyone is interested in a part two to this, I really enjoy the endless possibilities of the Harry Potter universe and would love to write some sweet sweet "there's only one bed" fanfiction goodness lol.

Thanks for reading!

[underratedmurder]

There's a nice feeling to it (Fred Weasley x Reader fluff)

Hello again!

I'm back and also, I hope you like this, whoever you are, reading this right now, I'm typing this right now, and RIGHT NOW you're reading it. Crazy.

TW: Nothing at all! (#sfw)

Enjoy

_______________

Wind is sliding between the cracks in the window and pooling into your room, tickling your skin and making your feet cold. It smells sweet and ripe, crisp, like a freshly picked apple, or recently washed hair. The smells fill the room like an intoxicating candle, and you watch as leaves drift by outside, gliding down and glittering in the setting sun. The tangy smell of lemon is just penetrating your nose, making your mouth water a bit.

There's a light knock on the door, and you whisk your wand to unlock it, a tiny spark illuminating the keyhole.

The nob turns, and Fred Weasley, pokes his head through, red hair radiating as the sun hits.

"Locking the door again, are we? What are you so afraid of?" he prods, smiling and walking towards your bed by the window.

"You and George's jacklepoppers aren't bursting in here again," you smile back, scooching over as he climbs onto the covers next to you.

He had never done that before; you felt all tingly as the mattress dipped slightly to his weight.

"But I thought you loved them?" he whines, looking up at you as he tilts his head down, eyes all glittery.

You twist your mouth and shake your head disapprovingly. He huffs and laughs a bit, and you can feel the air on your face.

You look at him, quirking a brow. He came up here for a reason, and you would never admit that it was just to see you.

"Mum made lemon loaf,"

"I know,"

"It's good, though she never adds enough sugar, I think she's too afraid since George and I got dust mites in it last month,"

He's wearing a sweater with red, blue, and orange stripes, each detailed with intricate flowers and pretty designs. You aren't sure what the style is called, but you know it's pretty.

"Nice jumper," it felt good to compliment him, even if it was inadvertent and directed at his clothes.

He smirks, looking up and reaching you pinch your arm

"Ye?,"

"Mhm, your mum made it right?"

"Course she did, she reckons I should take up knitting myself soon. Not always gonna have her around to do it for me."

You shake your head, "There's a charm for that isn't there?"

"There's a charm for everything,"

"And I guess you already know it?"

"Of course I do, I'm a genius," he says smugly, holding onto his own arms.

The chill in the air was blowing harsher now, and you shivered.

"Are you cold?" he relaxes a bit and shifts forward.

"I'm fine, it feels nice,"

He pokes your arm, his fingertip warm like a match stick.

"You've got goosepimples everywhere," he mumbles, studying your skin.

He inches closer, and you open your mouth to say something, then stop as you feel his palm flatten on the side of your arm.

You become still, watching his fingers graze you to grasp your arm. His palm is like the sun.

He looks at you, waiting for you to let him, let him, let him what?

You didn't know, but you looked back at him. You said yes, relaxing your arm into his hand.

He sits there, feeling your skin, rubbing his thumb slowly up and down.

He silently reaches behind him, and grabs a soft blanket from your headboard.

"Come closer," he says softly, and you're not sure you hear him correctly.

You just stare at him, until you see he's spreading his legs a bit to make room for you. You can't believe it, and yet you prop yourself up to move towards him.

You come to face him, his face tilted away so your noses aren't literally right up against each other. His cheeks almost look a little red, but that's just because of the sun, you convince yourself.

You turn around, and sit in front of him, hesitant to lay back. He's never been this close to you, other than from a hug. And he's sat back on your bed, and you're in between his legs, and his hands feel soft, and everything happening all at once is making your whole face hot.

He brings his arms in front of you to place the blanket, you instantly feel cozy, the fuzz of the blanket on your arms tickles.

The sun is shining just above your head, and you imagine what his hair looks like, bright, and his eyes, kind and brown. You want to turn around and look at him, but you're frozen again.

Suddenly, his hands are on your shoulders, lightly pulling you down onto his chest.

Your heart skips a beat until, there, you feel it. It's his heartbeat, racing so quickly, you could swear he was a rabbit under attack. Now you're warm all over. The back of your neck itching a bit from the wool of his sweater. But there's a nice feeling to it.

Your heartbeat is picking up to the speed of his, and you feel an immense rush of adrenaline. He's tensing up, hands still, and he's nearly silent except for his shuddered exhales.

You've never seen him so careful, save for when he's pulling off some trick, silent as a mouse and careful on his feet despite being so large. He's deliberate, calculative, and still, excited, like he's trying to reach the ultimate finish line. And you wonder if he feels the same way now. You wonder if you can get him to breath like normal again, even though there is this guilty giddiness you have, feeling just how different he is in this position.

You lay back more, tilting your head back to rest on his shoulder, even daring to move and adjust yourself to get comfortable. And just like that, it stops. His heart is slow, and his arms come to rest around you.

"This is..." you start.

"Bloody perfect? Yeah, I agree," he scoffs, he sounds perfectly content and also in utter disbelief.

Your face turns hot again, and you smile like an idiot.

[underratedmurder]

Current October mood

[underratedmurder]

Oh you can’t tempt me like this

Ebon Moss Bachrach No Hard Feelings (2023)

[underratedmurder]

I HAVE, I wanted to see the movie but I haven’t had the time 😭

Ebon Moss Bachrach No Hard Feelings (2023)

[underratedmurder]

Somehow, both of the Christoph Waltz movies I watched this week traced back to Edward Norton

[underratedmurder]

So I went to a place…

Also I had the beef sandwich and it was amazing

Truly a surreal experience, everyone there was so excited simply to be there, the mix of locals and fans of the show was interesting to see

Also the dining room has such nice air conditioning omg

[underratedmurder]

Richie Jerimovich/Reader "I Would Like a Blanket Please" Part 2/2

Reader and Richie are at his apartment, sweet stuff ensues...

_________

(genuinely don't know who the other man in this photo is but yess they ate)

Here it is! Five days late and good as hell, I promise.

Sorry though, that it's late, but trust I believe you will not be disappointed.

I hope ya'll like it, and thank you for the support on part one, you guys are sick! <3

Stuff in this: Chicken nuggets, the movie Rounders, Pull out couches, Cuddling, blankets, human blankets???, kissing/making out :3, no smut, sweet people being sweet

Please like/leave a comment/reblog if you like this! Thank you :)

_____________

Richie opened the door to his apartment, 

“Sorry for the mess, I didn’t expect to see Eva for a couple more days,”

“It’s okay,” you smiled, and you slid through the door by his side.

“It’s good you’re here though, gives me an excuse to clean,” he sighed, placing his keys on the kitchen island.

“Right,”

“Go ahead and make yourself at home, bathroom is down the hall,” he gestured vaguely in the direction of a very small hallway, beside its entrance, a book shelf toppling over with dvd’s and an assortment of random house items.

It caught your eye, and you dropped your bag by his kitchen island, walking over to get a closer look. Behind you, Richie threw his leather jacket over a stool.

Sitting on the shelf was a pile of old bills, receipts, crayons, and peaking out from beneath an imaginative illustration of what you assumed was a dinosaur, was a picture of a distinct young Richie.

Your fingers found it immediately, ignoring the guilt of touching his things, overwhelmed with curiosity and disbelief. 

Young Richie had long hair, light brown curls that sprawled out every which way, and a beard that covered the soft line of his chin. Young Richie, most wondrously, wore baggy ripped jeans, a Smashing Pumpkins T-shirt and converse. You smiled, imagining Richie in the past was always a fun thought exercise, but the reality was even more amusing.

Shuffling footsteps stopped beside you, “Oh, you uh, found little Richard,” Richie placed a hand on his hip, and scratched his eyebrow.

“That’s you?” you barely asked the question, simply wanting to know more.

“Oh yeah, sophomore year of college. I was kind of into that grunge stuff,”

“I can see that,” you smiled, eyeing him, but he kept his gaze on the photo.

“I didn’t cut my hair very often, it was a hot mes-”

“It’s nice,” you note, and his hand finds his chin.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah, it’s kinda cute. You look good,”

He hummed, as he looked longer at the image, then his gaze shifted to you, his lips kind of pouting.

“Why’d you cut it all off?” you teased, honest and almost mournful of the haircut you never had the pleasure of knowing.

“Uh, hah, well. Mickey definitely convinced me to, but I think I just wanted something different,”

You nodded, eyes scanning his face and hair, you wondered how it would feel to run your hands over it now, if you could coax him into letting it grow out again.

“Makes me look more intimidating right?” he bit the inside of his lip, eyes softer than they should have been. He was not intimidating, not in that moment at least.

“Oh yeah, very scary,” you barely let the corner of your mouth curl into a smile. 

But he wasn’t, not scary at all. It took all your strength and fear to not reach out and hold his face and touch his hair and kiss his lips. All that fear amounted into an uncomfortable sigh and a shake of your shoulders, as he let his hands fall from his hips and he swung around to move into the kitchen.

“You hungry?”

“Oh- I mean you don’t have to-” the words came out haphazardly, and you quickly realized how ridiculous the refusal sounded.

“What? No of course I do, you seriously thought I was gonna invite you into my home and not feed you a delicious homemade Jerimovich dinner?” Richie eyed you from behind the fridge door, his arm extended to prop it open.

“Right, yeah. That’s… silly. Food is important,”

“Turns out,” his brows raised and he gave you an amused smirk.

“I am hungry,”

“What da’ you want?”

You paused, as you lost your answer in Richies gaze. His eyes were droopy, and somewhat apprehensive, as if hanging on your next words. 

You blinked, and breathed in, “Something savory,” then exhaled. The tension in your body desperate to escape, inching its way out with “Something savory,”.

He smiled, then twisted his mouth, lips closed as his tongue pushed the inside of his cheek.

“Ya know, whenever I ask that question, the answer is usually chicken nuggets, so…”

You smiled wide, eyes brightened at the sight of Richies red cheeks.

“Is that the usual delicious homemade Jerimovich dinner?”

“Would it be bad if it was?”

You shook your head, “No, I’ll eat some chicken nuggets,”

“Aright,” 

_________

You swiped at the ketchup on your plate, dipping the nugget and taking a quick bite.

“These didn’t disappoint,”

“Of course not, they're chicken nuggets,” Richie remarked with a mouth full of food, he quickly took a drink from his water, swallowing and gesturing towards the living room.

“You wanna watch a movie? I got one hell of a collection,” he smiled proudly, and you clasped your hands in your lap.

“Sure, whatcha got?”

Richie smiles and leaves the kitchen, going over to the tv stand. He crouches, eyes scanning the dvds, before he looks back and calls you over.

“Come here,” he gestures with his fingers, you hop down off the island stool, and meet him on the living room carpet.

“I got… Casino, The Sting, Ocean’s Eleven. Rounders,” he lets the last one hang open like a question, as if it was the only one he wanted to watch and he was trying to pique your interest.

“What’s that?” you ask, indulging him but also curious.

“You’ve never seen Rounders before?” he asks, incredulous.

“Can’t say I have,”

“Oh babe… it’s amazing. It’s a casino drama starring mother fucking Matt Damon, and the G.O.A.T. Edward Norton, we gotta watch it,”

“That definitely sounds…”

“Perfect?”

“Yeah, yeah. Lets watch it,”

“Aright, sick,” he lets his fingers graze the rows of films, and plucks the dvd from the shelf.

While he pops the case open, you make yourself comfortable on the couch.

“Did you eat enough?”

“Yeah,”

“Good,”

He slides the dvd into the player, and plops himself on the couch next to you, enough room that if you were to adjust, your arms may touch. Though, it wouldn’t be a new sensation.

_______

The movie goes by fast, and you're pleasantly surprised. It’s actually pretty good, and Richie surely seems to enjoy it. You caught him mouthing some of the lines every once in a while.

Eventually, the topic of sleeping comes up.

“I was uh, thinking I could pull the couch out, get some pillows, a blanket, and you could sleep on there,” he sighs, hand rubbing the back of his neck.

“Oh,” you were surprised he didn’t offer his bed.

“I know, it doesn’t look like much. But, trust me you don’t want my bed, it’s small… and old,” he remarked, embarrassed but sincere. 

You took his word for it, and took his offer, as well.

You quickly got ready in his bathroom, changing and doing your nighttime routine, constantly checking to see if he was walking by. You were somewhat curious what the man looked like in pajamas anyways.

Leaning back into the couch on your elbow, you lifted your chin to get a glimpse of Richie through his bedroom door. It was dark, save for the dim light that radiated out from a lamp in the corner. You saw a clear view of his silhouette, as he pulled the t-shirt off his back, his tank top pulling up slightly with the fabric. He faced the doorway, pulling the tank top over his stomach, and you shot down from his sight.

Clutching your blanket, you settled down into the plush sofa, legs sprawling out on its pull out function. Cool air from the vent just feet away blew over your body, and you were quickly aware just how thin the blanket that barely covered your ankles was.

“Richie?” you called out in a hushed yell. 

“I would like another blanket please” 

“Yeah, sure hun,” he calls back, and the sound of shuffling blankets and feet on cold tile follows.

He lays a blanket over you, tucking it lightly at your side, and you smile lightly.

“Thank you,”

He smiled back, and nodded, clearly groggy.

Maybe a minute passed, as you tried to settle in again, and it was still cold.

You call out again.

“Rich, hey,”

“Hm?”

“I think I, I think I need another blanket, it’s just a little cold,” you mumble, gritting your teeth.

“Yeah, yeah, okay,” 

He brings the blanket, he stops.

“You know, I can turn the heat up, might solve some of our problems,”

“No, no, don’t worry about that. I don’t want you to change that it’s fine, I just needed another blanket is all,” words spilled out like water from a swirling bucket.

“Whatever you say,” he hummed, amused but still exhausted.

“Thanks,”

Maybe five minutes pass, and It’s still cold, chilly even. And you want another blanket.

Against all reason and courtesy, you call out again, daring to bring him back.

“Richard…”

“Yeah babe?”

“It’s freezing in here, can I have another blanket?”

He sighs very loudly, and makes his way over, slower this time.

He stops in front of you, no blanket in hand, and looks down.

His fingers graze the side of the three blankets that wrap around you.

“Move over,”

You look at him, apprehensive and face blank, but then tentatively start to roll over, scooching your body closer to the front cushions of the couch.

You feel the weight of Richies knees dip down on the cushions, your back feeling a cool breeze as the blankets around you pull free for a moment. 

But the moment passes quickly, as the heat from Richie's body fills the cold and warms you from the outside in. He inches closer, and wraps an arm around you, clutching his fist at the blankets that already covered you.

“This warm enough?” he mumbled in your ear, and you would shiver at the sound if it weren’t for how hot you were.

“Mm, mhm,” you sighed, and curled further into yourself, closing the space between your back and Richie’s chest.

He let out a breathy chuckle, and squeezed you tighter.

You breathed in deeply, reveling in the proximity. As you breathed out, you felt the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

You wiggled around a little and hummed, his heartbeat picking up a little. You wanted to push him further, you wanted to see his face.

In an instant, you nudged his hand away, and rolled back over to face him. 

You kept your eyes closed, feigning being tired (which you mostly were) but also just a little nervous to see his face… at what you imagined was just an inch away.

You felt his heart pick up even more, and you could barely hide your smile. 

He huffed, cool air hitting your forehead.

“You tired?”

“So tired,”

You nuzzled in closer, a little shameless at this point.

“You’re smiling,”

“Am I?”

“I bet I could get you to stop,”

“Oh I don’t know about tha-”

A light and ticklish sensation shocked your skin, as Richie thumbed his hands up the back of your shirt, fingers tracing your back. Your body arched instinctively, and your chest was flesh against his.

Your eyes opened wide, and by all means your smile was gone. You were shivering now.

Richie smiled at you cheekily, and let his hands move up your spine and to the place between your shoulder blades.

“Hmmm, you smiling now?”

“Fuck off,”

His hands moved back down, gliding over the skin above your pant line. You breathed in sharply, eyes closing again.

He let his hands sprawl out on your lower back, pulling you closer. 

You willed your eyes open, gaze meeting his. His eyes were dark and sultry, the look was immediately beguiling, and you found your eyes softening.

His gaze shifted downwards, fixed on your lips. You looked down at his chest, bashful, and closed your eyes again as you felt one of his hands leave your back and reach up towards your face.

His fingers found your chin, tilting your head back up, encouraging you to look.

Your eyes opened and your mouth parted, he inched closer slowly, head dipping down. And before you knew it, his lips were pressed chastly against yours.

You melted against his touch, breathing in the kiss, slowly, quietly, until you were so held together you had to part in order to breathe.

When you parted, you got a quick look at his face, lips red and cheeks even redder, before the fog clouded your mind and sight, and your lips were back against his. 

As his hand cupped your cheek, you went to hold his face, fingers grazing the stubble on his jaw. Digits raced up and went to run through his short hair. It was rough on his face, but soft and coily by the nape of his neck.

He felt better than you imagined, his kiss felt better than you imagined. Warm and needy, you wanted to swallow him whole, he decided to take the liberty.

His tongue grazed over your teeth, and moved further, you couldn’t hold the low moan that grew and escaped from your throat.

At that, his fingers wrapped around the nape of where your scalp met your neck, perfectly squeezing the right sensitive spot.

Your hands reached out to clutch his tank top, pulling him even closer to you, where there wasn’t space to move anymore.

Richie decided to move, sliding you from your side to your back. You kept your fists held onto his shirt, pulling him on top of you in your adjusted position, he smiled into the kiss.

His hand found your side, riding up the fabric of your shirt so that half of it was off your body. You slowed, breathing in one last time, before you pulled away.

“Richie,” you sighed, and he opened his eyes, a look of increasing concern spread across his face.

“I do kind of… want to sleep,”

He stuck his tongue into the side of his cheek, and closed his eyes, lowering over to his side beside you.

“Come here, again,” he hummed, and you smiled a bit, before rolling back over to face him.

His arms wrapped around you instantly, pulling you in tight.

“I’m like yur… human blanket,” he sighed, and you chuckled a bit.

“Yeah, a really good one too,” you pushed your forehead into his chest, and he pressed his lips to the top of your skull.

Your eyes drifted shut.

[underratedmurder]

Richie Jerimovich/Reader "I Would Like a Blanket Please" (Part 1/2)

Reader works at The Beef and is having some housing/financial troubles, Richie offers his apartment as a place to stay! <3

Stuff in this: Soft Richie, Reader is kind of awkward, Soooo many hands on shoulders, They are so sweet and tender with each other, They both know how much the other one is hurting, They are each others comfort person!!! They have some sexual tension, Carmy is totally onto them

Stuff that will be in part two (if you don't want spoilers then just skip past this): Chicken nuggets (hell yeah), Richie when he was in college <3, Reader sleeps on his sofa which is much nicer than his twin bed?, Sharing blankets, Intense cuddling, The softest kisses

I know its been more than a week since my last update I am sorry dear friends, but trust I will deliver !!! Second part should be up tomorrow night or Monday.

Please enjoy, and leave a comment or like if you want to see more/have any requests !

____________

You were sitting on the ground of the walk-in, fingers getting colder, digging into the sleeves of your thick knit sweater. The one Richie called you crazy for wearing in the kitchen, but also one of the last pieces of physical comfort you had left.

Life was… rough, and you were currently struggling to find housing. You just spent your last bit of money on last night's stay in a motel room downtown. You were hoping you could pull through and figure something out by the end of the day… but that time was now, and you had nothing. 

You tried to collect your thoughts, breathing hard and freaking out a little bit. Your nerves were getting the better of you, and you had been nothing but filled with tension the whole day. 

You breathed in and out, slowly letting your body relax, and your fingers loosen their grip. You looked at the ground intensely, almost studying it, to remind yourself where you were. And to remember that the world wasn’t actually ending, it was just your life! Just yours! 

Don’t worry! At least the restaurant is okay!

Even that was an overstatement.

You felt yourself finally come back to the moment.

“Alright well just don’t put it on the stove again Fak! It’s not fuckin rocket science- Oh,” Richie's voice was booming even before he opened the door.

He had snapped you out of your tranquil state immediately, and you could already feel yourself tensing up again. Being around people and trying to act like everything was normal and okay all day was very hard. Especially around Rich. The guy you almost desperately wished to be close to. 

The fear was pungent though, you didn’t want to be a burden on anyone, especially on him. You feared getting tangled up with him in any way would only make life more painfully complicated.

These thoughts and feelings did not cross your mind though when you were actually around him in the kitchen, and you got to talk to him and watch him ‘work’, as you fought back the carnal urge to violently makeout with him.

It was far too easy to be comfortable around him, it was only after your shift everyday that you reminded yourself you were not in the position for a relationship.

If he even liked you-

“Hey, uh, what are ya doin' on the floor?” you were back to reality again, and Richie was looking down at you, one arm on the door and the other at his side. 

You looked up at him with the most honest and unintended look of pure dread on your face, eyes sad and fearful. His own expression dropped.

“What’s wrong sweetheart?” he lowered his voice and knelt down to look you in the eyes, face to face.

You furrowed your brows and smiled in adoration. His words were somehow instantly comforting.

You shook your head, “It’s nothing. I’m just tired,”

He didn’t look convinced, instead he went to place a hand on your shoulder, his palm was warm in the chill.

“You sure you're ‘aright? You can tell me, ya know? Promise I won’t tell Mr. Crazy Chef,” he joked, referring to Carmy, and you let out a huff. 

“Did you spill a giant jar of pickles or somethin?” 

“Ha ha,” you said sarcastically, a half smile escaping your somber expression. Though, it didn’t last long.

Richie dropped to your level on the floor, sitting next to you.

You shook your head again, looking down.

“Its just been a long day,” you hesitated, but Richie just waited.

“Things have been… hard,” you let your words out with an exhale, your arms and legs becoming a bit less stiff.

“Home troubles?”

“Yeah,” you half whispered, fiddling with your fingers as that last bit of tension escaped you.

“Yeah… I get it,” he said with a sigh, and he let his head lean on the wall.

You sat there in silence for a second, the humming of the freezer accompanying your barely audible breaths.

“I take it you don’t wanna go back huh?” he asked you, turning his head to look at you.

You furrowed your brows and looked at him puzzled.

“Back home, I mean,” he clarified.

Oh

You put it together he assumed your home life wasn’t very good. Which technically it wasn’t, just not in the way he expected.

Obviously, you hadn’t alluded to anything else.

You nodded, barely mumbling another yeah, as to not embarrass yourself, though you could feel yourself getting there.

You leaned back against the metal shelf, tilting your head back and running your fingers by your scalp. 

You half smiled at him, afraid to look into his eyes for too long or you might get lost in them.

“You know you can stay with me if you want?”

“What?” you blurted.

“If yur really not feelin like… goin back tonight, you can crash at mine. I got plenty o’ room,” 

“Are you serious?”

“Course I am, I’m not an asshole,”

“Well…” you grinned and looked at him cheekily.

“Shush, I aint no fuckin asshole aright? I can be nice,” he expressed with his hands, signature of a pointed Richie opinion. 

“Yeah like now?” you joked, your arms hooked around your knees as you leaned forward again.

“You don’t have to come over if you don't wanna-”

“I do,”

Richie stopped and looked at you, surprised and… relieved by your answer?

“I do, want to,”

He opened his mouth to say something, but the longer he looked at you it seemed he couldn’t come up with anything. He smiled a little bit instead, a pleasant sight. His cheeks just a bit pink.

“Well, then we better get goin’, it’s ‘bouta be closing and I don’t recommend staying overtime,”

He popped up from the floor, lending his hand for you to grab and propel you up. 

“I already work overtime, Richie,” you reminded him as he brought you to your feet.

“Right uh, I really should get Carm to pay you more for that,”

“You should,” you said, nodding a bit and just barely smiling, it seemed to be something neither of you could stop doing.

“Consider it out of my paycheck. A little catch up in your check for this week. I’ll get Carm to fix it tomorrow, promise,”

You nodded, then looked down, grateful but also a bit guilty. Anything out of Richie's pocket could basically be considered right out of the restaurant. Richie seemed to catch your worried look.

“You ‘aright?” he let a hand rest on your shoulder, leaning over to get a look at you. 

You nodded, sheepishly, but Richie just held onto your other shoulder.

“You sure?” you made eye contact, and willed yourself to reassure him.

“Yeah,” you nodded, and he let go.

“Kay, let’s get outta here,” he sighed, opening the door to the giant fridge.

“I promise you won’t regret this. I've got a nice 50 inch flatscreen, the most shining bathroom you’ve ever seen, and a pretty damn good bed,” He said, his eyes bright still but his face smug, until he caught your expression and dropped his own.

“That’s not what I uh…,”

“What’s goin on here cuz?” Carmy rounded the corner,

“Nothin, we’re just headin out,”

“We?” He looked at Richie, incredulous.

“Y/n was uh-”

“I’m staying at Richie's tonight. Just a temporary thing, my parents are having some friends and relatives over right now and I’m not really into opening the can o’ worms that is my life and career at the family function,” you chuckled nervously. You thought of the lie quicker than you were proud of, but knew it might resonate with Carm.

“Yeah no, that's… fine. Yeah, I uh, I understand,” he paused, ”I get it,”

He looked you both up and down, and it was only then that you noticed you were standing so close together your arms were touching. In the time the conversation started, neither of you made an effort to move away from the other. 

His brows raised, “Have fun you two,” he smirked and turned to leave.

“Very funny, Carm. Fuck you too!” Richie called after him, 

“Hope your playdate goes well!” he called back, just barely audible.

“What a dick,” Richie mumbled.

Remove the word ‘play’ from that sentence and the prospect of your staying over completely changed. Though you wondered, if the word 'play' really insinuated anything else, if not… other activities that could happen at a potential hangout. Was the word ‘play’ in ‘playdate’ in the context of two adults being around one another really any more appropriate than just simply saying date?

“Don’t listen to him,” Richie assured you, blue eyes wide and totally in your face.

You snapped out of zoning out, eyes flitting from the spot on Richie's neck where they rested.

“Sure,” you said half mindlessly, nodding your head and scrunching your nose.

“We are just two coworkers, who are going to one person's apartment, where we will do regular coworker things,” Richie stressed, as you two made your way to the back door, expressing it all with his hands and arms.

“Mhm mhm,” you nodded your head again, walking quickly, but not forgetting to swipe your bag of stuff from off the floor by the lockers.

“Like… sleeping,” he exclaimed a little too loudly, and you both paused in the doorway as soon as he said it.

“That keeps coming out wrong, doesn’t it?” he looked down, and then up at you, smiling a little bit.

He needed to stop doing that, it was starting to become addicting to watch.

“Yeah, it does,” you said with a sympathetic look of worry and also amusement.

“Yeah,” he flattened his mouth, his hands landing on his hips.

“I think maybe you should just stop talking about it for a bit,” you suggested.

“Yeah you're right, you're right. It’s a little weird huh?” he looked side to side, then down at the ground again, scratching his neck.

“I mean, not weird. Just a little, odd,”

“Just a little?” he looked up, smile growing on his face and cheeks still very pink.

“Just a little!” you chimed, and it looked like his eyes were smiling before his lips could.

“Yeah… good on ya babe. I should keep my mouth shut more often”

“Maybe not, completely shut?”

“Ah,”

“But just… mostly, shut,” you let your mouth curl into a smile.

“Right. Like a ventriloquist,” he offered, smiling back, a bit bashful.

“Yes, like a ventriloquist. Exactly,” you grinned and rubbed the space between your brows, he laughed a little.

You laughed as well, just barely, air escaping your nose and mouth. You exhaled, and let your smile fade with his. You both paused, eyes meeting in the comforting silence. Richie's mouth parted, before he clicked his tongue.

“My uh, my car is just at the end of the lot,” he grinned, 

“Right yes, lets go to that,”

“As you wish,” he swayed his hand out in front of him.

You simply smiled, and walked past him down the step to outside. He stopped before he could even walk forward.

“Wait, hold up. I gotta get my jacket… I’ll be right back,”

“Yeah, sure,”

He turned towards the lockers but promptly turned right back around.

“Do you need anything? You got all your stuff?”

“Yep! It’s just my bag,”

“Okay, alright, cool,”

He disappeared down the hall, and you turned to face the cold, all too familiar with the chill on your skin. You watched your breath in the air, as you exhaled, trying to slow the rising tempo of your heart. You hoped Richie's place was warm. You hoped he was warm.

“Alright!” you jumped a bit, but met him with kind eyes.

“Let's get this show on the road,”

[underratedmurder]

I WRITE THINGS I PROMISE

why does nobody write for richie do you guys hate fun be honest

[underratedmurder]

Can’t remember if I’ve already shared these on here but… yeah, here you go. As a little intermission while I finish up that fic 🫶

I think he should be in a Wild West film, that would be lovely

[underratedmurder]

To those of you who liked “Tastes Like Stew”, I’m working on another Richie fic and it’s gonna rock. There may or may not be intense cuddling/making out involved 🙏

Soft Richie you will prevail!!!!

Also*** Christmas fit was severely underrated I love his sweater

[underratedmurder]

“He’s literally ugly”

You do not understand.

[underratedmurder]

It’s up!

Noticed there are literally zero Arvel Skeen/Reader fics ANYWHERE… so I decided to write one. I’ll probably post it later today so stay tuned for that 🙏

Blurry ass picture

They gave him a small waist it’s not my fault

[underratedmurder]

“Daydreaming” Arvel Skeen/Reader

Reader gets caught with their eyes closed during watch at the camp, Skeen confronts them.

Stuff in this: Daydreaming, Skeen being a dick, Reader being too coy for their own good, Skeen wants Reader tremendously, making out on the ground, no smut but they get pretty close lmao, tattoo bonding, soft Skeen, pining over Ebon Moss-Bachrach's beautiful eyes, cursing, they have a lot of tension, it is somewhat resolved

WOOOOOOOO okay I'm finally finished, and I can move on to the next one cause yes I'm doing another with him and probably another Richie fic too cause why not.

Enjoy this, I hope it's good. Idk if I like it but I am just being critical of myself I think.

__________________

Cool air rolled over your face from the morning breeze, the sky grey and bright, you could see the light through your closed eyes. You daydreamt of water, pools of it, oceans, rolling waves that carried you to a sun. Warm, and dry. All around you though, you felt the wet chill of last nights rain, moss beneath you and a hard rock by your head. 

Still, you dreamed. Until the light was suddenly dark and you heard the low growl of the man's voice above you.

“Looks like… you're dead,” his voice drones on,”No chance to fight back, no time to warn the others, just dead. And so’s the entire camp,” Skeen grumbled into your ear, his matter of fact tone as present as ever. 

He held his blaster to your temple, hand on your shoulder as you held your hands behind your head.

“This may work on Nemik, but it’s not gonna work on me,” you smiled, eyes still closed as the heat from his face radiated onto yours.

He shifted the blaster, and squeezed your shoulder a bit tighter.

“Oh yeah? And you not hearing me coming, that's not a problem? Sleeping on watch is a dangerous gamble,” you could hear the judgment on his lips, and you finally opened your eyes.

He was dangerously close, closer than he knew you would have normally allowed. 

“I wasn’t sleeping, and I knew you were coming. Just needed my last bit of beauty sleep, before you deprived me of it,”. 

“Beauty sleep, huh?” he questioned, amused.

“Mhm, you could use some. You look fucked up,” you uttered, looking him up and down, though he really didn’t give you much room to do so. 

His chest hovered over yours, his fist still firmly on your shoulder. Surprisingly, he didn’t tire from the position.

He hummed, then titled his head,“I actually work around here,” he sneered pointedly, his eyes staring deeply into yours. 

He looked like pure shadow, surrounded by the light of the sky, his features dark with something that looked like a mix of anger and lust.

“Indeed you do. You… clean my hammock, serve me food, and clean my clothes,” you chimed, barely twitching a smile.

His face looked red, and his mouth twisted.

“You’re such a fuckin bitch,” he let a downturned smile spread across his face.

Something hinted to you that he might have enjoyed this.

Your eyes darted and scanned his face. You tried to remain calm, opting to ignore the convenient placement of his hips and waist by your propped up knee.

“You can get off me now,” you sighed, almost wishing you hadn’t said it. But you were too open right now, in view of the camp. You liked privacy, you hoped he did too.

He sighed, then removed the blaster from your head, shaking it in front of you.

“You’re lucky I don’t pull this trigger,” he held your gaze, still propped on top of you, too comfortable than he should have been.

You sniffed and scrunched your nose, watching his face and waiting for him to get off.

Finally, he rose, grunting as he removed his hand from your shoulder. 

You got up after him, brushing off your legs and right shoulder. You looked over to Skeen, whose face only read irritation.

“Oh come on, it's just rest, Skeen. We all need it. You might as well let me enjoy my time on this beautiful planet,” you mused. It was pretty, but not really what you wanted.

He didn’t look so convinced, “We've been here for months,” he placed a hand on his hip, blaster still in the other, you wondered if he’d ever put it away around you.

“And still you’ve done nothing to make that time any more enjoyable,” you sighed, arms crossed to shield you from the cool wind that blew past you. 

“For you or for me?” he titled his head again, taking a single step forward. The wind whipped the collar of his vest, and you caught sight of his neck. 

You accidentally let your eyes flit down to his waist. He was tall and lean and pretty. Pretty, like this planet, but not light. He was dark, and rough, and not nearly the ocean wave you dreamed of. Maybe he could see that, in your eyes. Or maybe he just saw pure dumb desire.

You didn’t answer. For once, his proximity was hard to talk around.

“You’re awfully leisurely all of the sudden,” he noted, and you could feel his eyes piercing you.

“I was bored,” you forced your eyes to only look at his face.

“How bored?” he tilted his head down, eyeing you like prey, and you couldn’t help but look at his lips.

“Bored,” you stated, stiff but wary to pretend to be comfortable around him, as he seemed to sway in your direction.

He looked at you and smiled. And for a second, you were terrified.

You heard nothing but the beating of your own heart and the wind, until suddenly, his blaster clicked, the safety turned off.

“Turn around,” he grimaced, his tone gritty and angry.

Your heart grew loud in your chest. You swore by every star you might faint from the blood that filled your head.

You turned, slowly but calmly, your eyes locked with his until he was out of view. What kind of sick joke was this? Arvel had his games but this was different, it was aggressive, personal.

The blaster pushed hard into your spine, and a chill ran down your back, warmth leaving your face.

“Move,” he commanded, mouth close to your ear.

You walked. Away from the camp and past the pile of rocks and moss, as his gun guided you.

You were maybe one hundred feet away now, far from the view of the others. A convenient place to die. 

“Here,” he said in almost a whisper, you barely heard it over the sound of your own footsteps.

You halted, face stricken with fear and utter confusion, Shoulders tense and body cold. You missed your place on the rocks.

“Get on your knees y/n,” he sounded like stone, unmoved and emotionless. He said your name for the first time in months. For a time, all you heard was a mumbled “fuckin cunt” or your last name like it was curse.

You lowered, and the blaster followed. Knees on the wet dirt, your hands resting on your lower thighs, you breathed in deep, keeping your head up. 

You prayed to the stars he was just going to teach you a lesson, hold the blaster to your head and scold you for the lazy piece of dirt you assumed he considered you to be. You feared your teasing had gone too far.

Maybe he just really wanted to stay on top of you.

You looked at the sky for a moment, still grey and light. You imagined that place again, but all you could see was a wave that swallowed you, and Skeen, dragging you to the bottom. His arms wrapped around you, fingers pulling your hair. And his eyes, like the clearest parts of the sea.

You couldn’t see him, you couldn’t hear him, and you could no longer feel him around you. His blaster left your neck, and you heard the safety click off.

Your heart picked up again, as you forced yourself to stare forward. Skeens' footsteps rounded on the grass, and before you knew it he stood in front of you.

The shadow was all around you, light abandoned and stolen, you expected death, but met a grey confusion.

You furrowed your brows, as he lowered to his knees just inches from you.

His bright blue eyes were like fire, and the darkness around you was relinquished by an inhuman heat. He looked at you like you were the drink of water in a desert he couldn’t escape, and by stars he actually bit his lip. You by no means saw his teeth, but it was like the opposite of frustrated concentration.

You blinked, “This is an odd way to kill someone,” you heard your own voice shake. You thought about hearing him again, and you wondered what he would sound like, as he was so close, looking at you like that.

“Quiet,” it was barely a whisper, and soothing, something you could dream of. You noticed he was staring at your lips.

“I am quiet,” you replied, your voice even lower, eyes searching his face for an answer to your doubt. 

You saw the last bit of thought leave his face, his mouth agape. You wondered just how he tasted, and it made your mouth water. 

Skeen brought a hand to hold your neck, his blaster lying on the ground. His fingers were warmer than you imagined, but still moist from the air.

In an instant, he brought his lips to yours, breathing in to kiss you. His chest pressed against yours as he wrapped an arm around your waist. You wrangled up your arms to push him, your fingers gripping his vest.

You held him out a few inches, staring at his mouth, red, darker than the pink that filled his face. You jolted him forward, your hand on his neck now, clawing at his face and kissing him with an eager fervor. You slowed at his mouth, and breathed against his cheek when he went to hold your sides, fingers sliding up your jacket and skimming under your shirt. 

You wanted to taste him for real, so you let your tongue reach out to meet his, devouring the kiss like the light and heat that escaped you in the cold. 

His lips were salt and dirt, but his tongue was like bloody coal and steaming rocks. You finally found that warmth.

You reached to hold his lower back, and pulled his pelvis into yours, a low moan escaped his lips, but was muffled by your mouth on his.

You held him tighter, fingers reaching for under his jacket and shirt. When you met his skin he seemed to shiver, and you let your hands crawl up his sides, mimicking the way he had reached for you.

“Ha- shit,” he huffed, a smile spreading across his face. He tilted his head back to breath, and with a single glance of his neck you attacked it, kissing and nipping at his veins.

“Think I’m late for watch,” he breathed, holding onto your neck and shoulder.

“Mhm,” you hummed on the warm skin under his jaw.

“Is this payback for making you think I was gonna kill you?”

"Mhm,” you hummed, more than pleased to take control for a moment. You looked him in the eyes as you let your mouth leave his collarbone. Your lips were wet and hot, his eyes widened.

“Fuck,” he sighed.

“You made me get in the dirt, I’m fuckin’ keeping you here,” you sneered, turning him towards the incline of the hill behind you, still on your knees.

You pushed him down, and he lay there with his vest open and shirt loose. You almost missed the feeling of the pressure of his hand on your shoulder, his body looming over yours, but this was better. Him on his back and sensitive to your touch. 

You straddled his waist, your hands feeling around the rim of his pants, poking under to touch the skin just below his stomach and above his crotch. It was warm beneath his layers, a little bit hairy and soft. You stared at his tan skin for a moment, and saw something beyond the darkness of his tired face. His eyes were dilated and sparkling all the same.

You lowered yourself onto him, pressure on his hips and a hand still playing at his side. He hummed, holding back what you expected might be a whimper.

You sank down on top of him, holding his face, his neck, his arms, holding every part of him and indulging in it all the same as you made his lips pliable beneath yours.

He was breathing out his words, and at once he whispered your name, as your lips parted for a moment.

“Quiet,” you murmured, teasing but your face entirely serious. It seemed to make him dazed, the way you held him down and looked into his eyes when you said it.

You settled into him, letting his hands hold your hips as you grinded slowly on top of him.

“I want you,” he uttered. 

Without a second thought you were pulling at his shirt, lifting it to reveal his heaving chest, and the tattoo that marked it. You were reminded of the one on your forearm, and the memories attached to it. You weren’t even sure if he’d seen yours yet. As your mind wandered, so did your fingers over his tattoo, the marking of the pain and suffering he had endured. You traced it lightly, as his eyes met sheepishly with your own.

“You’ve seen me,” he rasped, watching your hands move across his skin.

“Feels different,” you said absently, and a puzzled look filled his face.

He helped to remove your tunic, and sure enough, there was a tattoo similar to his, on your right bicep. He reached to hold your arm, drawing it, and you, closer to him. Your bare chest on his, you began to feel feverish in the heat between the two of you. 

Skeen held your gaze as he lowered his lips to kiss your arm, tenderly and slow. He kissed again, and again, slowly moving upwards and past your shoulder, holding your back as he went along your collarbone, and fervently upon your neck.

He held himself under your jaw, marking the skin with pulled blood. That wouldn’t be going away anytime soon.

You dipped down to let your lips rest on the tattoo on his chest, kissing just as slowly, and as tenderly as he had. You engaged in the strange ritual, but found it familiar. The tentativeness between you, you had felt it before. When he checked up on you at watch, when he gave you extra food at supper, when he threatened you so sweetly with the prospect of death by his own hands. And when he saw you for the first time, that recognition. Every conversation since then, he’d wanted something. More.

“Skeen!?” A voice cried out, from beyond the hill and where you imagined the rocks to be. It was Vel. 

The two of you scrambled, pulling shirts over each other's bodies, and buttoning garments. Not much faster than you’ve needed to before, being in the presence of enemies, but with far more fear.

You were on the last button of your jacket when Skeen grabbed you by the collar and pulled you to his lips, kissing you hungrily, but quickly. He let you go, and you pulled away puzzled, but unapologetically pleased. 

You smiled slightly, until he grabbed your collar again, and shot up from the ground, dragging you with him.

Vel was just coming into view when you finally got to your feet, leaning forward by the hand that pulled you along. Skeen sauntered towards her, his blaster at his side again. The disguise was up. 

“Found this one playing in the dirt,” he called out, and flung you forward, letting go of your jacket and sending you tripping over your own feet.

You stayed a foot, straightening yourself up and looking back at him, a disgruntled scowl upon your face. You hoped he enjoyed that.

“DId you?” Vel questioned, a look of disappointment complimented her words.

“Looks like they’re more of a dreamer than we anticipated,” Skeen commented, 

Vel just looked at you, as you breathed in and sighed, you didn’t argue. This was punishment for earlier, the real daydreaming, and you knew that.

“You know the rules,” Vel commanded, and you nodded your head.

A pile of laundry and chores awaited you.

You rubbed your neck, and for a moment, Vel caught a glance of you, she really looked for the first time. Your hair, your skin, you saw her eyes flit across your face, and you felt pale. 

“New shirt?” she blurted.

You looked down, noticing the bagginess of the sleeves, and the low cut of the neck. Your eyes flitted back up immediately.

You were wearing his.

You hesitated, eyes wide and mouth agape, what was there to say? Vel gave you a lifted brow and you threw out a “No,” instantly feeling stupid.

You knew if you had said yes, she would ask where you got it and then you’d be in an even bigger hole. So, you resorted to the vague truth.

She locked eyes with you, your anxiety and embarrassment apparent, and she shook her head.

You looked back at Skeen, he was shaking his head as well, covering the smile that creased his eyes.

So much for the disguise.

“Come on,” she ordered, and you followed. Trailing behind in a defeated slump.

She suddenly stopped and turned around, looking past you. You followed her gaze to rest on Skeen, already on his way towards the rocks.

“And Skeen, keep watch,”.

“My pleasure,” he tilted his chin up, his voice calling back like it was an echo from your dream. And for a moment, his eyes left Vel and landed on you.

Silly guy ^

Gifs by @gayvillains