#Spookweek

[sunlightmurdock]

omg you’re taking requests!!! you are one of my most favorite authors, this is so special, thank you!!

I am requesting ‘bear hug’ + Tyler Owens + cozy/sexy hahaha

Hope you’re doing good ♥️

ahh thank you so much, this is suchhhh a sweet ask 🫶

Homecoming | Tyler Owens

Synopsis: Tyler getting back from work trips almost always gets heated.

Warnings: reader is briefly lifted off of their feet, heavily implied sexual themes

…

There’s a special kind of way that Tyler likes to greet you. This has developed from the time that you met him, when he would wrap his arms around you with a gentle squeeze and release. Then, as friends, he would wrap both arms around your waist and hug you close, resting his head on top of yours, kind of burying your face against his chest.

Now that you’re much more than friends, the hugs are different too.

Especially with him being away for so long. Throwing himself into danger with you at the forefront of his mind, thinking solely of coming home to you.

He has been in southern Kansas for a week now, dealing with the sudden extreme weather. You’ve been worried sick, watching all the news broadcasts, searching for his face. Not even a text from him. Nothing on their channel, nothing from a single member of his crew.

And then, as the sky above your home is turning orange from blue, headed for a lilac sunset, you hear the familiar rumble of a RAM engine.

Just like always, you go rushing out onto the porch as he’s racing up the steps. Just as quickly as you get to see the smile on his face, you’re being wrapped up in his strong arms and lifted against him.

He buries his face into your neck and squeezes you so tightly that it’s a little hard to breathe, but you’re huffing out breathless laughter once he loosens up.

Once you’re back on your feet, that loose grip becomes firm once again as he drags you closer once more, groaning softly as he takes in your familiar smell. “God, I missed you.”

You’re usually the first one to kiss him, and this is no exception. Brushing the tip of your nose along the column of his neck, kissing at his jaw, humming in eager agreement. “So show me.”

He pretends not to know what drives you so crazy about these kinds of greetings. Acting like maybe it’s the distance that gets you so riled up. Knowing really, that just the feeling of being inescapably wrapped up in his arms is what gets your head spinning.

You’re kissing at his throat and shoulders, pushing at the fabric of his t-shirt as he walks you inside the farmhouse all of these work trips funded. Pinned against him once more right as you get through the front door.

Tyler’s brawny hands leave your hips for a moment, trusting you to behave for him. They slide up to the softness of your stomach, squeezing at your skin, tugging you closer against him, sandwiching you between him and the wall.

His weight anchors you there, his mouth wandering and his hands following that lead. They stretch across your ass and squeeze at your thighs, bundling as close to him as you can get.

Those greetings are almost always hot and heavy, clothes discarded in hallways and photo frames knocked off of walls.

There’s just something about the rush of the way he holds you tight that never gets old.

Even afterwards, once all the adrenaline dies down and you’re ready to just revel in the feeling of him being home, and all yours — you just can’t help but crawling close to him once again.

Laying yourself across his chest, your sigh is soft and contented as he wraps those big arms around you once more.

[heterophobicdaniel]

I love messy bitches

[counterbants-blog]

countdown to spooky week (week 1/3)

2 0 1 4

[cosmichwas]

Souls and Witches (Kingdom)

Pairing: Yunho + Seungbo, minor Sungho + Seungbo

Genre: One-Shot, Witch!AU

TWs: There are a couple mentions of death, but nothing graphic

WC: 1.9K+

A/N: This is my first time writing for Kingdom! After watching Black Crown they just seemed so fitting for this concept. Please go give them some love and stream Black Crown :]

Living among other witches had become commonplace for Seungbo, their household constantly buzzing with magic from any source thinkable. As the oldest of them all he saw it his job to care for the younger witches, with special care to the newest of their clan. He’d found the boy on his own, hardly understanding the power he possessed, abandoned on the very edge of town with nothing but his backpack from school and a half-eaten slice of pizza. It was a sight that absolutely shattered Seungbo’s heart, and with no hesitation, he offered him a place to stay in his home.

He wasn’t as easily accepted by the other four clan members when they walked in the door, a cat-like hiss even escaping Sungho’s lips when he saw the newcomer. They all tiptoed around him for the first week, and then the light switch flipped.

Though, at times, Seungbo truly wishes he knew what he’d been getting himself into.

Seungjun loved to cause chaos. Every witch had their niche and his seemed to revolve entirely around chaos, leaving Dongsik to begrudgingly clean his messes (though he’d never be able to deny the affection he had for their newest.) There was only one place that anyone, especially Seungbo, would be upset if he caused a ruckus: the eldest’s study. They had a millennia’s worth of spellbooks, journals, rations, and more stored in there, meaning it was off limits unless it was necessary to retrieve something.

“Guk Seungjun, if I find that you’ve made a mess of my study again I swear-” He started as he marched towards said room, the sound of shattering glass and a poor attempt at a withheld swear having caught his attention.

“Don’t swear hyung, you know you’d have to follow through with it.” Sungho said in passing, pressing the lightest of kisses upon his cheek. With a deep sigh Seungbo reconsidered his words, about to begin speaking when their youngest rushed out of the room, all but barrelling into him like a child trying to hide. This piqued the eldest witch’s concern and interest instantly, as Seungjun wasn’t one to be easily frightened. He would fight a grizzly bear bare-handed if he could, making smart-ass comebacks to anything the older witches said, mixing the most volatile of items to find something that caused enough chaos to soothe his soul. He hadn’t run to any of his elders in fear since the first year they’d brought him in.

“Hey now, you know I was just playing about the study right? I can always clean it up.” He said, trying to gently pry Seungjun away to face him proper. He could feel his heart pounding, blood rushing through his veins, and within moments Yunho was rushing down the stairs with the same panicked look. The two were linked in ways no human could imagine, having sworn their souls to each other nearly a millennia ago. Communication through their thoughts, emotions, there was nothing to hide and nothing could be hidden unless they explicitly wanted it to be. It was then that figurative alarm bells went off through his body, someone, no, something, having breached the outer line of their property. It hit him with such force he couldn’t help but gasp, shivers being sent down his spine, clutching Seungjun tighter.

“Soul walker.” Seungbo breathed, understanding flooding through him. “Yunho, call for Dongsik to take him. I’ll handle this.”

“Are you sure? The last time you got into anything with one of them you nearly got us both killed! You do understand that our immortality is tied to our souls, right? Right?!” Yunho said, only mildly defensive as he waved his hand towards the cat slinking between his feet, the black ball of fluff disappearing up the stairs and into the shadows to bring Dongsik into the common area. He tried to maintain a hard, unwavering look towards Seungbo but it dropped when they both felt the walker’s energy grow stronger, meaning one thing and one thing only.

It was feeding.

Seungbo pushed the younger witch from his arms towards Yunho and burst out the door into the chilly air, barely managing to snatch his sword from where it was hung in the doorway. They had a fairly large piece of property but he could see the soul walker’s ghostly form the moment he stepped off the deck, it’s long hands holding a teenage boy, talon-like claws sunken into his skin to keep him still.

“Not on my property, asshole. Come pick on someone your own size!” Seungbo yelled, watching as the walker dropped the boy and turned to face him, a terrifying scream of delight leaving it. The souls of witches would always be preferable over that of a human, but a witch who was as old as Seungbo? It would be a dream come true for something like a soul walker. It charged at him, barely giving him the time to side step and swing, cutting straight through it like a hot knife through butter. He winced at the sound it made, spinning on his heel and taking the chance to swing again before it could turn.

“Fooood, you are fooood! Give me!” It drawled, pulling a smirk on Seungbo’s face.

“Never in a million years. Either get off my property or face reincarnation in the hands of Hades.” He walked backwards, keeping himself poised and ready until he was standing mere inches from the teenagers on the leaf covered lawn. The wind swelled with the force of a storm gale before settling again, the walker now surrounded on four fronts.

“You do understand you don’t have to be so protective of us, don’t you? Let us help sometimes.” Sungho piped up, spinning his sword leisurely as he advanced on the walker.

“Agreed. I don’t get enough action, always tending to your wounds and Seungjun’s spells gone wrong.” Jihun mused, the leaves spiraling around his legs as he walked, head tilted slightly to the side as he timed his steps with Sungho.

“I’d like to be part of the decision making process as to what happens to us.” Yunho said, though his words held no weight. Wherever either of them went, the other would be there, even if he was late. If either objected, they’d pull out of the fight in an instant.

Seungbo looked around, chuckling at how the soul walked spun, as if trying to decide who to go after first. “You know, I’ve been thinking about the last time we did this and truth be told it reminds me of Ghostbusters. Y’know, don’t cross the streams?” He said, raising the point of his sword to the sky, sighing at the energy he felt flow through him, the other three mimicking his movement. The sky above them darkened with clouds, the wind whipping through their clothes.

“Oh shut up, now is not the time!”

“You take the fun out of everything Sungho!”

“I do not!”

“YOUUUU! Youuuu leave yoursssself defenselessss! Easy to taaake!”

There was a beat of silence, a snort of laughter, and nods from each of them before they brought their respective swords down, directing the blast upon the soul walker. There was no worry about injury or blast zone, Yunho having told Dongsik what they planned and allowing him time to form a barrier of sorts. The moment there was nothing but dust between them they all collapsed, exhaustion flooding through them.

“I hate those things, all this because they can’t feed somewhere else! It’s our property, we have a sign that says “no trespassing”-” Sungho mused, forcing himself from the ground as he used his sword for support. “And before anyone comments I do know they can’t read.”

Seungbo tuned the others out and crawled his way over to the two boys, finding one of them soulless, meaning he’d die in a day’s time. He’d gotten to the other in time, though he could feel how shaken up he was. The whole experience had left the boy nearly as pale as his white hair, cold as ice, dried blood covering the skin around the puncture wounds from the walker’s claws and fangs. If they didn’t get himself inside and under their care he’d likely not wake up, comatose until his internal organs failed.

“Jihun.” His voice was quiet but firm, the banter behind him dying down as their head healer crossed the small distance between them and crouched down across from the elder witch. “Can you...save him? We can’t save the other boy.” He couldn’t help the waver in his voice, such a scene hitting too close to home for him. Jihun easily picked up on this and gave a nod, choosing his words.

“I’ll do everything I can to make sure he wakes up.” He gently picked the white haired boy up from the ground, calling for the others to follow him inside. Sungho went with him, sparing one last glance at Seungbo before shutting the door behind him.

There was silence as Yunho settled next to Seungbo, allowing him to sink into his emotions for the first time in a while. He interlocked their fingers and pulled his clan mate, his lover, into his embrace, pressing a kiss to the crown of his head. “He reminds you of Seunghyun, doesn’t he?” He finally asked. Seungbo hesitantly nodded, brushing the boy’s hair from his face.

“He’s so young, why do they take them so young? They’ve hardly lived…” His tongue felt like a lead weight in his mouth, silent tears rolling down his cheeks. “Donsik will take care of him, right? We can’t save him but we can at least make sure he’s put to rest properly. I don’t…” He bit off the end of his sentence.

“He won’t end up like Seunghyun.” Yunho confirmed, pulling him away from the boy. “Come, let’s go inside. We need rest if we’re taking care of the other boy.”

With one final glance Seungbo followed him inside.

The snowy haired boy didn’t wake for three days, and for another three days after that he refused to speak, only taking food from them. It wasn’t until Sungho, in all his charms, made a joke about him selling his soul at such a young age.

“I did sell my soul.”

His words rang through the room as he sat on one of the three couches in the common room, nursing a mug of herbal tea in his hands. They’d come to learn through writing his name was Yoosung, though he’d been nicknamed Ivan through his childhood.

“I sold my soul without believing it was real. Minju and I did it as a joke and that...that thing chased us all the way out here.”

The six witches took time to process what he said before letting out hums or sighs, knowing it wasn’t uncommon for the kids these days to do that.

“But, in order to go through with something of that nature, you have to have a reason. Why, even jokingly, were you selling your soul off?”

Yoosung hesitated with his answer, pale cheeks tinging pink from embarrassment. “We...we both had dumb things about our body we didn’t like. He wanted bigger muscles, and, I, I said I wanted a bigger butt. It was the first thing to come to mind!”

“You sold your soul for a bigger ass?!” Sungho exclaimed, followed by Seungjun and Dongik breaking into fits of laughter. The other three shared an exasperated look, as if to say ‘we saved him for this?!’

Yeah, they were in for quite a ride.

[awrfhiphil]

I’m spending tomorrow with @spookweek and @hallowussy pls pray for my safety

[phandom99]

(excuse the shitty banner) here it is folks !!!

Julia, she/her ( @dapgos)

Zia, she/her ( @quiteagoodsystem)

Monique, she/her ( @spookweek)

Emily, she/her ( @phansterdam)

Tay, they/them ( @dandyphan)

Sara, she/her ( @lestys)

Laura, she/her ( @danyphil)

Amy, she/her ( @moondans)

Rachael, she/her ( @exotictragedy)

Ez, she/her ( @nonerdoverhere)

the gc will be on whatsapp !! imma slide into ur dms n send u a linkadodle !! if u hav any questions, just go over to @mygreatestfear ;)

[benswen2010]

Let's spook it up like it's 1996. #spookweek #tbt #gettingready4 #halloweekend

[uvanityslave]

Celebrating Halloween all Week long 🎃! Get ready for AVs Scavenger Hunt 👻starting at 8pm TONIGHT! Follow us on @ow_av_hallcouncil NOW & find out more plus win special and worthy prizes that will be giving out to the winner 👀 #AV #HallCouncil #RHC #OW #OldWestbury #Students #GetInvole #SpookWeek #SharingIsCaring #SomeoneWinThatChipotle #CatchMeIfYouCan (at SUNY College @ Oldwestbury)

[sunlightmurdock]

Trick or Treat! | Firefighter Bradley

spookweek masterlist | firefighter bradley masterlist

Prompt: handing out candy | joining firefighter!bradley at the station to hand out candy to the neighbourhood kids!

warnings: pet names babe / baby, no use of y/n. .word count: 0.7k

Your heels clack along the walkway, past the clumsily carved, flickering Jack-o’-Lanterns. Ghosts with jagged edges and wide smiling faces with wonky eyes, all courtesy of the gang at Station 86.

Your lips twist, almost a smile, finding the precise attempt at a mustache’d face along the left row. Just then, you hear your name from across the lot. The classic red doors of Station 86 are pulled wide open, and Bradley is hustling his way towards you from the back.

“Baby, you made it!” His arms are loaded up with those giant bags of Halloween candy, the largest you can get. As his mouth stretches into a grin, you can see that there’s something different about his usual smile.

He drops the Halloween candy, still bagged up, onto the large fold-out table where two of his buddies sit and continues his path toward you.

“Are those fangs?” You wrinkle your nose, taking in the usual things you find most enjoyable — those fitted pants and the blue of his tight t-shirt against his tanned skin, the red of his suspenders straining against his thick shoulders — and the oversized plastic fangs in his mouth.

He beams, nodding his head as he reaches for you. “What, you don’t like them?”

Next comes the dive forwards, his arms wrapping tightly around your waist and securing you to him as he gnashes the stupid silicone fangs against your neck playfully.

Just as his wandering hand creeps towards your ass, he catches a glance at his next round of trick-or-treaters rushing along the sidewalk toward the station.

“Thanks for coming, babe. Here,” He presses a soft kiss to your cheek and ushers you towards the fold-out table, acknowledging his colleagues. “We’ve got it from here, guys.”

He had told you it would be fine if you had wanted to head home after work. His shift finishes at nine, and then he’s all yours for four days — starting tonight with a scary movie marathon. But, for now you’re happy to share him with the rest of the neighborhood.

Superheroes, ghosts and witches bounce along the walkway with grins on their faces, calling out your boyfriend’s name. With the class field trips to the station, and the station’s regular trips to the school, Bradley has plenty of pint-sized admirers.

Up in front of the mob are two first graders, sprinting ahead while their mothers chat behind.

“Not you two again!” Bradley mocks disgust, wrinkling his face in abject disapproval as two girls, one wrapped in toilet paper and the other wearing a bedsheet with eye holes in, rush him, plastic buckets for candy in hand. They giggle through their costumes as they come to a halt in front of him, looking up at the towering man. Their class had visited the day before yesterday, and the siren had frightened the two of them so bad that Bradley had broken out the Halloween candy a little early. “What do we have here? — A ghost and a…?”

“I’m a mummy!” She declares excitedly, waving her bucket at him.

“You’re a what?” He paints on his best look of fear and takes a dramatic step backwards, earning himself another round of giggles from the two girls. “What brings you all the way out here, little Mummy?”

“Candy!” Her friend answers for her, which they both find equally hilarious.

Bradley settles to his knees, keeping up the dramatics as more children crowd around him. He’s a natural, having them bursting into fits of laughter as he hands out chocolates and lollipops and other small bags of sugar-coated goodies.

You’ve been down to the station plenty of times, and been involved in plenty of events with them. This has always been more than a job to him, and you know he’s proud of what he does — you’re proud too.

But, even after all this time, there’s something about the fact that all of the neighborhood kids not only know his name, but clearly adore him so much, has you grinning as you help him pass out treats.

He catches you, draping a heavy arm around your shoulders during a rare break between herds of kids. Turning his face towards yours, he kisses the top of your head softly.

“Really, thanks for coming — I love having you here.” He murmurs, squeezing softly at your shoulder. “We’re about finished. You have a movie in mind for us to start with once we’re home?”

Just something scary, you think, already looking forward to the comfort of hiding your face in his chest and pretending that you can’t hear his heart beating just as fast as yours.

…

[avideotv]

SpookWeek w/ Kylie: Cute Cat Makeup | BeautyByKylieTV

SpookWeek w/ Kylie: Cute Cat Makeup | BeautyByKylieTV

OPEN THIS FOR MORE BEAUTYBYKYLIETV ♡ | | | ♡ SpookWeek w/ Kylie: Cute Cat Makeup ♡ Hey guys! Today I have my first SpookWeek tutorial for you guys!! Yay! T…

[cosmichwas]

Spookweek 2021 Masterlist

Welcome to Spookweek 2021! This was originially meant to be Spooktober, lasting through all 31 days of October but alas, writer's block and college have shaved down the list of prompts to this final Spooky week. Each day is listed by title, not prompt, so the title isn't inherently what each one is about!

Day 1: Souls and Witches Day 2: Coming from Behind (Pt. 1) Day 3: Watch What You Drink Day 4: Fallen into Pieces Day 5: Coming from Behind (Pt. 2) Day 6: The Power in Your Hands Day 7: All Hallow's Eve Special!

[sunlightmurdock]

Cut them Loose | dilf!bradley x nanny reader

spookweek masterlist

prompt: carving pumpkins

warnings: flirting, hints of a relationship between employer and employee. Bradley being a worried dad. He has three children of varied ages in this universe. Wc: 0.89k

…

“Giving them weapons seems… counter-intuitive.” He mutters, almost to himself as he pops open the trunk of his relatively sensible truck. These days his vintage Bronco is barely practical and almost strictly recreational — and his weekends are filled with things like Halloween parties at 1pm and pumpkin carving.

“They’re safety knives!” You prod him, scooping up two pumpkins and turning on your heel to head for the house.

You’re the one who talked him into this; he’s half sure you could talk him into just about anything.

The kids really wanted to carve their own pumpkins this year, and Bradley’s new resolve is to let them be more independent and do things themselves — at your recommendation. It’s just… hard to start.

Especially when starting with knives, of any kind.

He’s got three larger than average pumpkins, fresh from the patch, bundled under his arms. His kids are filled with cotton candy and hot chocolate, practically vibrating with sugar-fuelled energy. But, as he walks into the kitchen, he finds them grinning ear to ear with you.

The tension headache ebbs away from his temples, a reminder of exactly why he hired you. It’s almost relaxing to watch you do your thing. Working your magic on not just the kids.

You’ve got the youngest hooked under one arm, your load of pumpkins now settled onto the kitchen island along with the other two kids, fiddling with the kitchen speaker. You’re cute when you’re concentrating.

As the music comes through the speakers, your hips start to sway like moved by the sound itself. The little girl in your arm breaks into amused giggles, beaming up at you with enthralled eyes.

“Daddy, daddy, what are you going to carve?” Bradley’s eldest daughter asks, pushing herself up onto her knees. Right as he’s about to worry about her falling from the countertop, there you are, standing behind her and putting one hand on her back to keep her steady.

“A scary face!” His son answers with equal enthusiasm, banging at the countertop with the cutting tool. Bradley winces, watching it flail dangerously close to his kid’s face.

Again, there you are, gently plucking the tool from his hand and ruffling his curls.

“I’m not sure your daddy has the skill to pull off a whole scary face all by himself.” You challenge, making the kids coo in awe. They giggle and eagerly look to their father for his comeback.

“It’s a competition then,” He answers, eyes on you. His lips twitch, almost a smile. “We’ve got our three impartial—“ He shoots the kids a playfully stern look. “Judges, and the loser does laundry for a week.”

Lips curling into a devious smile, you reach across the counter and present your hand. He shakes it, squeezing at your knuckles with a firm flex of his fingers. “Deal.”

Sometimes a man like Bradley needs a distraction. It’s just because he cares so much, and with such beautiful, wonderful children — he’s got a lot to lose, and he’d go to the ends of the earth to keep each one of them safe. But, so would you, so it’s okay for him to relax every now and again.

His toddler becomes a de facto member of his carving ‘team’, but that’s okay, you tell him that he’s gonna need all the help he can get. He likes the way you smile at him as you say it.

The other two kids get an even split of your attention, eager encouragement from you and gentle warnings from their dad.

Bradley peeks across to see you whispering something to his son moments before the grinning six-year old is wiping pumpkin guts all along his arm.

Two can play at that game.

It’s his eldest daughter who drops a big scoop of her pumpkin’s innards right back into yours, slowing your progress so that her father takes the lead in your little ‘competition’. Watching the two of them smile the same smile and bark out the same laugh is almost worth the set back.

He spends the afternoon with his family, which has come to include you, carving designs and listening to the radio over their laughter.

Bradley, at his son’s request, carves a menacing smile. His daughter carves a spooky cat. His son carves an attempt at matching his. And you carve a bright, big smiling face.

He takes a moment to sit out on his front porch and admire them all that night, while you’re putting the kids to bed. As he had hoped, it doesn’t take you long to join him.

Fuzzy socks on your feet and armed with a blanket, you settle down beside him on the porch swing and cover the two of you, then wordlessly settle your head against his broad shoulder.

“No incidents.” You say softly, with a smile, tracing your fingers along the length of his forearm.

There’s no hiding the way you feel for him, but he isn’t ready to take that leap. You don’t mind waiting.

He chuckles and nods, thinking of his wild children. “Sometimes I forget that they aren’t… babies anymore, I guess.”

You reach across and give his hand a gentle squeeze, “It’s okay to worry about them. I do too.”

He nods once more, quiet this time, enjoying the feeling of you curled close to his side — ignoring the thought in the back of his mind that he’s crossing too many boundaries with you.

“So, trick-or-treating,” You prompt him suddenly, and he can hear the shit-eating grin on your face. “I was thinking that we could all wear matching—“

“Nope—“

…

[sunlightmurdock]

May I please request a spooky story with Jake and the prompt "summoning a demon"? Whether or not Jake is said demon is completely up to you 😉

Vee!! Was so excited to write this for you and I hope it didn’t disappoint! 🧡

In the shadows | Jake Seresin

spookweek masterlist

synopsis: Jake’s crush on a friend from work gets him into trouble

warnings: spooky! Darkness, ghostly themes, old house and slight discrepancies in the way roofs work!

Jake rolls his shoulders back and exhales, straightening up his flashlight. This is why he doesn’t offer to help people. Pulling the handkerchief back up over his nose, he ventures further into the dusty attic.

Light pours in from the window at the far side, making the darkness that surrounds the rest

He had practically made a point of picking on his squadron’s newbie’s, just a little bit. Making sure that they could handle themselves, you know? But not you. You had seen right through him from day one, and you’d quickly become more than just a friend from work.

He has met your parents, for Christ’s sake. He doesn’t even meet the parents of girls that he dates half of the time. 

And, he has enough respect for you to keep his feelings for you to himself.

Even when you ask him to do things like check out the draught coming from the boarded up crawlspace in the creepy fucking house you had just inherited. 

“Everything okay?” You call from your spot in the master bedroom, arms folded over your chest and your neck craned to peer into the darkened space above your head.

When you had moved in three days ago, this panel right above the closet in what would become your bedroom had been boarded up; heavy, worn, ugly planks of wood right over a sealed hatch. You would have left it alone, but there was a terrible draught coming from up there. 

It wasn’t exactly a professional job. Your Aunt J had always been crazy according to your mother, and you know that she would have much rather just nailed the stupid thing shut rather than paying someone with experience to come and fix the problem.

Probably an issue with the insulation in the attic. This house is old and tall, sturdy and settled into the ground where it stands. Jake knows a thing or two about construction, given that he comes from a family of contractors, and he has always been more than willing to help with your latest whims.

He squints across the attic, trying to make out whether that’s a grandfather clock under a dust sheet in the corner or something tall and leering, right out of his childhood nightmares.

It’s too late to bother cursing you for making him do this, and there’s no real point either way — he’d be here whether you forced, bribed or wished it of him. 

“Yeah, come here for a sec — watch your step.” Jake calls back to you, heading for the glimpse of light streaming from the far wall, where light spills through boards in the roof. He hears you faintly ascending the ladder, shoes against metal rungs. 

He feels eyes on his back and doesn’t bother turning to look. He shines his flashlight towards the weathered ceiling, where insulation is gapped and missing. There’s a straight view up to the sky from where he’s standing, and it doesn’t take a genius to know that this whole roof is going to need replacing.

“This isn’t going to be cheap work,” He huffs softly, pulling the handkerchief down from his nose and letting it hang around his neck. This time he hears your footsteps crossing the rickety floorboards, the thick dust softening the sound, the old house groaning softly at the intrusion. “Careful, those boards are—“

He turns his head and the words fail, falling dead on his tongue. 

There’s no one up here. 

He’s all by himself, and the loft seems darker now that he’s standing in the light. The shadows make it impossible to find the covered up furnishings he had seen when he’d first come up. The space seems longer.

Had he really strayed so far from that ladder?

“Are you talking to yourself up here?” This time it’s you. Your shoes on the rungs, your hands on the floorboards as you hoist yourself through the loft hatch, your footfall making that same dullened sound on the dusty boards as you step towards him.

“I thoug—” He stops and shakes his head. “I thought I heard you come up. Look, I couldn’t know unless I took a look at the other side — but this looks rotted through. I think the whole thing’s gonna need replacing.”

You’re looking around the space, wandering away from Jake with wonder, skimming your fingers across discolored dust sheets. “Fuck, really?”

He continues his amateur survey, reaching up to touch at the beams above his head. The wood is damp, and cold. It’s going to be a nightmare if the entire place is like this. A few minutes pass, maybe more. He can hear you screwing around behind him, becoming acquainted with this new space. 

Finally, he turns around with furrowed brows. “What are you messing with back there?”

You’re kneeling on the floor, facing that chilling, covered-up grandfather clock. With your back to him, Jake can’t make out what you’ve got in your hands, and you don’t make an effort to show him. “A book.”

His lips twitch, the flashlight falling to his side as he turns towards you. Feeling more himself, a slyness creeps up on him as he, in turn, creeps up on you. “Is it a scary kind of book?”

He’s just teasing. 

There’s a tremble to your voice as you answer him, you spine straight and your forearms prickling with a stiff chill. “Jake…”

He slows, cautious as he comes to stand beside you. One hand settles on your shoulder, his features creasing with concern. You turn your head, slow, like the hand of a ticking clock, and look up at him. Eyes stricken with fear, your face gaunt.

“I think something really bad happened in this house.” Your words are almost a whimper, barely audible.

Behind him, there’s a soft rustle and quiet flutter, like the sound of fabric falling. The sound of a dust-sheet falling. The old house’s terrifying quiet is shattered with a sudden tick. 

Your eyes are stuck on him. Darkness sits in your peripherals. 

Tick, tick, tick. The hands creep around with resounding rumbles. The book in your hands feels warm, and then hot and then scalding — burning at your skin. 

That’s when Jake hears it again, the sound of dullened footsteps across the thick, dust-coated floorboards. Heavier this time, thudding. Coming from those pitch-black shadows in the far side of the attic.

[sunlightmurdock]

Bonfire | MFIY (Frat Boy) Bradley

Spookweek masterlist | My Future in You masterlist

*This is set within the universe of my fic My Future in You, but can be read as a standalone (and should be tbh as it doesn’t fit the canon of that fic).

Synopsis: Keeping your pregnancy and your hookups a secret proves to be a little difficult when a tipsy Bradley finds you at his frat house’s annual autumn bonfire.

Warnings: fratboy!bradley, accidental pregnancy, pregnant!reader, seresin!reader, alcohol/bradley being drunk and affectionate, no use of y/n, flirting. WC: 0.8k

“Hey, you made it!” Red cup in hand, equally red cheeks to match, he starts toward you with mud and leaves under his Nikes and a beaming smile on his face. He smiles like that when he’s inebriated.

That’s what you’re allowed to call it — since he ‘doesn’t get drunk’.

Just as quickly as he lifts his arms, they’re thrown around you, heavy in his fleece lined denim jacket. His cold cheek bristles yours as he pushes his one hand under your unzipped coat, his fingers skirting your waist, his lips grazing your neck.

Peering around the verge of his thick, denim-padded shoulder, you catch a glimpse of your big brother deep in conversation with a few of his buddies, talking wildly with his hands, the glow of the bonfire casting amber shadows across his face.

As he pulls back, Bradley’s free hand skims across the developing roundness of your stomach. Under the thick covers of your thermal layer and college branded hoodie, he can’t really feel anything, but his fingers linger there anyway. Sprawled across your belly, protective and affectionate in one touch.

“I missed you.” He murmurs, flickering shadows casting flecks of gold across the brown in his eyes. His lips twitch, boyish and sweet as he almost smiles, flexing his fingers where they sit. “Both of you.”

As much as the smile does its best to take over your face, you wrinkle your mouth and try to twist away from him. “Don’t be stupid.”

His lips part in mock offence, dark eyes glinting with mischief as he lets you go.

“What? — I can’t be excited to see the mother of my child?”

“Weird time to start, is all.” You hit back, physically too, jabbing at his arm as you try to pass him by.

He almost sighs, hearing your boots crunch against the leaves below you and knowing that you’re about to ditch him for another night of hiding behind your friends. He wants to talk. He wants to hold you.

“Wait! — Do you… want a drink?”

You spin to face him as he does the same, glancing down at your stomach. Even he isn’t that dumb.

“No, like cocoa or something? I think we have some.”

It’s becoming a more frequent thing for your open palm to find its way to your stomach, sitting there protectively. You raise your brows at him as your fingers rests against your growing bump. “You’re going to make me a hot chocolate?”

He breaks into a smile, almost giddy as he lifts his cup and shrugs his shoulders, gulping back a quick sip. “If you want one.”

You almost tell him no; you almost do the sensible thing and turn around to find your friends, and start to enjoy this evening while ignoring him like you’re supposed to.

But, it’s a rare occasion for him to offer to make himself useful. Pressing your tongue to the inside of your cheek, you think on his offer while he swishes around the drops of beer left in his cup.

“Fine. Lead the way.”

The kitchen in this place is almost always a mess, and today is no exception. An island littered with drinks and mixers, counters filled with used red solo cups. You follow him cautiously, tugging your jacket closer to your body.

He searches through the cabinets, clumsily letting doors slam as he goes until he finds what he’s looking for. “Ah, here — do you want marshmallows?”

“I want the whole works.” As he peers back to find you leaning against the wall with your arms folded and a shit-eating grin on your face, a strange feeling plucks at his heartstrings, something like butterflies in his stomach.

He smiles back, almost sheepish now, as he thinks to the long future ahead. “Noted.”

There’s something different about tonight. You don’t know what it is, and really, neither does he. He doesn’t know why tonight specifically is the night that he feels so differently, but he does know that the smile on your face as he passes you a steaming mug makes his chest feel tight.

Your lips stretch into a smile, all surprise and amusement, staring down at the mix of marshmallows and whipped cream — and M&M’s, because he didn’t have chocolate powder to dust, but had insisted on adding.

“This looks…” You shake your head softly, at a loss for words as you glance up at him. He smiles, cheeks pink. “Thank you.”

“Anytime.”

Neither one of you is in any hurry to step back out into the cold, but you can’t hide in the kitchen all night. He follows behind you as you step out into the backyard, one hand on the small of your back as you go.

You’re not expecting for him to reach for your free hand, but he does. He guides you over to two camping chairs and all but demands that you sit with him. For the first time in a couple of months, he really talks to you.

He listens to you.

Amber flames casting flickering shadows over your face, your hands warm from the mug between them, your eyes solely on him.

He’s glad that he begged your friends to convince you to come.

[sunlightmurdock]

Afraid of the Dark | Jake x Apollo (18+)

spookweek masterlist | operation apollo masterlist

prompt: throwing a Halloween party | Apollo throws a Halloween party, and Jake’s a little grumpy about the whole thing.

warnings: set in the universe of the fic above. bodyguard!jake x president’s daughter!reader. no use of y/n. fears of home invasion / physical attack mentioned but nothing happens or goes too into detail. oral sex (m receiving). wc: 1.1k

“I think that this might literally be my worst nightmare.” 

Jake scrubs a hand over the stubble on his jaw and shakes his head as he scans over the packed living room. Sweaty bodies covered in paint or glitter, or who knows what else. Stupid costumes obstructing half of their faces, all the damn lights in the house off and replaced with string lights in the form of skulls or spotlights that shine red and purple.

“Loosen up. You’re not supposed to be working!” Manny prompts him, jabbing at Jake’s ribs with his elbow. The catch is, though, that they both survey the living room as he says this. 

Jake shakes his head. “Where is she anyway? — She’s missing her own party.”

Manny knows that this is just an excuse for Jake to set off in search of you, probably hoping to catch you alone. But, Jake’s energy has been stressing him out for twenty minutes now, so he watches him go with a smile.

Music blares, bass thudding through the house as he pushes through crowds of people he didn’t even know that you knew. Balloons filled with helium litter the ceiling and there’s a Rihanna song playing through the speakers in the next room. 

Jake twists his neck, glancing through the crowd, feeling his pulse start to thud. He doesn’t even know where you are, or where you’ve been, or who saw you last. 

He swallows, his throat thick. Warmth prickles at his skin, an uncomfortable kind of hot. With every body that he brushes past, he finds another face that isn’t yours.

This was a bad idea, and he never should have agreed. Not with everything that has happened. The break-ins and your bad dreams, and on a whim he agrees to let you fill this entire place with strangers—

And there you are. 

Standing on the patio, a giant grin on your face and a group of enthralled friends around you as you eagerly tell a story that Jake has gotten to hear in private. 

In the middle of the sentence, your eyes catch on him. Arms folded over his chest and one shoulder propped against the patio door, his eyes already on you. Your lips twitch and your smile grows as his gaze drops to take note of your costume. 

Immediately, he thinks back to one morning last week, when the two of your had been laying in bed together. Tracing your fingers across his chest, huffing exasperatedly as you had tried to get your answer from him. “Come on, you didn’t have any fictional crushes growing up? — None?”

“I dunno… Lara Croft maybe?”

He had spent so long worrying about this stupid party, he hadn’t once thought to ask you what your costume might be. 

Your eyes glint with mischief, watching him study the holsters secured to your thighs and the shorts that sit a couple inches above them. His tongue dips out to wet his lips, his eyes catching on yours once more.

It’s like everything goes quiet.

“Sorry, just excuse me for one second.” You’re still grinning as you excuse yourself, black combat boots soft on the ground as you head right for him. Your hand comes to rest on his stomach, a touch that’s a little too personal for a girl and her bodyguard. “Did you need me for something?”

Jake’s lips almost twitch, he isn’t quite as media trained as you are, and he likes feeling the way your fingers curl slightly into his fitted black tee.

Rather than smiling, there’s an almost sternness to the way a muscle in his jaw ticks. His gaze flickers down, and then back up. Those fucking holsters. 

“Yeah, I think we had better go talk.” He agrees, that look in his eye that ignites flames in your stomach. 

Now it’s your turn to try not to smile. It feels like you’re parading through the house with a neon sign above you about what you’re about to get up to, but Jake’s about as inconspicuous as a man can get while he leads you away.

It’s once he’s gotten you inside that he’s able to stop pretending. 

The door clicks shut, totally inaudible under the racket of the rest of the house, leaving the two of you inside the bedroom that you have been sharing for months now. His green eyes look vibrant as the lights from outside catch onto his wandering gaze.

“Lara Croft, huh?”

His voice is low and dry sounding. He’s totally unashamed, practically licking his lips. 

You reach for him, planting your palms on his chest, grinning as his back hits the closed bedroom door.

“I knew you were feeling a little nervous about this party,” One finger in front of the other, you walk your index and middle along the taught plain of his stomach. His eyes trail your journey toward his belt. “And I wanted to make sure you’d enjoy it as much as I will.”

He huffs out, his chuckle breathy as you unthread the leather through his belt loop. 

“Is that right?” There’s just something about watching you sink to your knees in your new costume that has him straining against his jeans.  “And it’s got nothing to do with the fact that you just love to push my buttons?”

Opening wide your tongue skims his navel while your hand shoves his t-shirt up his stomach. He swallows, his mouth dry. The smile that creeps across your mouth has his heartbeat thudding in his chest. The tip of your tongue flicks across the gold button on his jeans.

“These buttons?” 

This earns a grin. His eyes roll shut and his head rolls back against the door as you push forwards on your knees. Now, this is exactly why he’ll always find it so hard to say no to you.

Not just because of the way your mouth makes his stomach tighten and his breathing grow fast, either. It’s that look in your eye, watching him through your lashes, that really gets him. He just can’t say no to that look. 

Lips parted, his broad shoulders rising and falling heavily. He nudges at your knee with his foot, “Spread your legs. Let me see.”

Your mouth stretched around him, eyes glassy as you strain to take more of him, you spread your knees apart. He can see right down that fitted tank from this angle. The way your chest heaves when you swallow around him. The way your thighs flex around those fucking holsters.

His hand curls around the nape of your neck, his voice hoarse as he pants out, “Honey, you’re keeping this fucking costume.”