#halloween reblog

[bam-monsterhospital]

just a headsup. INCOMING HORROR REBLOGS.

in the spirit of halloween, I'm going through my blog's various capricious horror tags and queueing a bunch of horror-themed posts. I'm going to put them at the top of my queue so this blog spits them out for the rest of the month (hopefully).

the tag I'm going to be using is "halloween reblog", just in case you want to avoid it. the horror contained will not be jumpscare-inclusive (i hate them too), but will contain other common possible deal-breakers like possible scopophobia, hidden-in-plain-sight creepy imagery, and uncanny valley designs.

If you need/want anything tagged please tell me and I'll get it done.

[look-at-the-soul]

I know Halloween is over, but this is one of those stories you’ll remember for an eternity after reading it, it’s so so good! You don’t wanna miss it!

The Swimming Lesson

Finn Shelby x Adeline (OC)

Summary: Adeline makes a terrible mistake when she underestimates the vengeful nature of the youngest Shelby brother.

Author's Note: A lovely anon requested a dark!Finn fic. I included the John love triangle bc it added motivation. I hope you enjoy it!

Warnings: dark fic 💀, drinking, misogyny, murder

“Finn, say something,” Adeline urged her friend, the confession of a budding relationship with his brother John still hanging in the air between them.

Attempting to forget the refusal of his kiss, Finn stopped pacing along the bank of the pond as an irresistible notion came to him. “Will you go for a swim with me?” he asked.

Adeline paused, “So, you’re not upset about John?”

Finn shook his head as he proclaimed, “I don’t want to talk about that anymore. I’d like to have some fun with you instead.”

Adeline held her breath as she felt him take her hand in his, wanting to believe he was happy for her. However, something cried out within her at the rough grasp of Finn’s touch, the distant look in his eyes which had turned dark as obsidian glass. “You want to go in there?” she asked carefully, raising one eyebrow in a look of uncertainty.

“Why not? Are you afraid?” Finn taunted with a mischievous grin.

She peered down into the cold, murky water and gulped. “You know I can’t swim."

“You going to let that stop you when you have me with you?” he urged. Placing a hand to her lower back, he pushed her closer to the uninviting water.

“I suppose a quick dip couldn’t hurt,” she conceded as she removed her shoes.

“That’s my girl,” Finn praised, relishing the sound of it on his tongue. He watched with lecherous delight as she stripped her stockings down her legs, discarding them beside her hat and shawl before tentatively slipping her toes beneath the water. Modestly gathering the hem of her white dress in one hand, she tip toed forward, a pathetic squeal escaping her lips as she felt a fish skim against her calf beneath the thick green algae.

Finn went first with his back to the pond, holding her hand as she ventured into his waiting arms. He was captivated by every intake of breath and needy squeeze of her fingers against his. She was at his mercy and he relished every second of it. When her foot faltered along the slimy bottom where it sloped downward into greater depths, she cried out “Finn, I’m slipping!”

“S’alright, I’ve got you,” he replied confidently, flexing the muscles in his arms for her benefit.

“Can’t go much further,” she warned, biting her lip. The look in her eye begged for understanding, a sliver of mercy, but Finn only tugged at her wrists more insistently.

“Let’s try a lesson, shall we?” he said with a look of amusement.

“No, no, please!” her voice trilled anxiously.

“C’mon, you’re a big girl, you can do it,” he insisted, hands moving to clutch her waist and pull her into the center of the pond with him. She released a frightened cry as he did so, grappling onto his shoulders as she felt herself become weightless. 

“Finn! Finn, this isn’t funny!” she wailed, realizing she could neither see nor feel the bottom to ease her fears.

“Relax,” he commanded firmly as he pried her hands from around his neck. He chuckled inwardly at the way her nails clawed at his bare back and forearms, thinking of the suggestive tales he could tell.

Without warning, he turned her onto her back in one swift movement, hushing her whimpers as her hair dipped and swirled in the water. “I taught all my nieces and nephews this way,” he informed her, patting her dampened locks down gently. His fingers slowly crept along her arms, unfurling them from her chest so they reached out from her body like a crucifix. She couldn’t say if it was the chill from the water or his hands dipping perilously close to the curve of her breasts, but she shivered beneath his touch.

To her surprise she found herself floating easily, ears submerged below the water line listening to the muffled sound of her heartbeat thumping in her chest. Finn’s face hovered above her imposingly and a nervous twitch pulled at her cheeks. She watched Finn’s mouth moving out of synch with his words she could barely hear through cotton stuffed ears. Her brow furrowed as she tried to connect the words she thought he'd said, “I loved you." They made her chest rise and fall quickly with uneven breath, disturbing her balance. Something about the slight sneer of his lip and the intensity of his gaze made her tense suddenly, muscles clenching until her middle began sinking downward precariously.

Then Finn reached a large hand beneath her lower back to support her. With his opposite hand grasping under her chin, he elevated her face toward the heavens so she might breathe evenly again and she sighed in grateful relief. Eyes fluttering against the breeze, Finn swore she batted her lashes at him in that moment. “You’re so beautiful,” he couldn’t help mumbling, his Adam’s apple bobbing in desire. Despite their proximity, he wondered if he had actually said it aloud. The moment of perfect silence stretched on as he cradled her into him adoringly, not a ripple to be seen all around them. 

The peace soon shattered with the force of Adeline’s impish laughter which forced her chin from his hold. Finn’s jaw clenched as he suffered the indignity of her rejection for the second time that day. The shred of affection for her dissipated with the faint echo of her voice as it skipped over the water. His resolve returned as he became more certain than ever of his decision.

Adeline bit her lip as she noted the look of displeasure cross his face and wiggled beneath Finn’s grasp.  Attempting to right herself in the water was a useless endeavor, however, as Finn kept her prostrated before him. Recapturing her cheeks with his long fingers, he pressed into her flesh slightly as he scolded, “Wait, we’re not finished." Then he queried softly, "Do you trust me?” 

“I-I do,” she affirmed, not knowing how else to respond. She screwed her eyes shut in concentration before exhaling shakily, “What are you going to teach me?”

Finn smirked at her obedience, knowing she’d sink like a stone without his aid, her fate literally in his hands. Leaning over to brush his nose against the shell of her ear, he whispered, “Oh, this is a lesson you won’t forget.” He allowed himself a moment to savor the feeling of his lips pressed firmly to her temple the way he imagined he might after making love to her. He swallowed harshly as he realized that could never be. Adeline did not want him. The hours spent in her company had been a lie and he felt like a fool. With that thought, he released her to the murky depths where she belonged.

Her eyes shot open in abject fear as she felt herself falling, mouth gaping in shock as she felt his strong hands shove her toward a watery grave. The air from her lungs escaped to the surface in massive bubbles as she attempted to cry out. Arms and legs fumbling in uncoordinated panic, she resurfaced momentarily. Her hands desperately grasped for a hold, fingertips brushing Finn's ever so slightly. "Now you want me?" he taunted.

Swimming an arm's length away to watch the look of betrayal and horror on her face, he felt righteously vindicated. Closing his eyes, he listened to her jagged screams pierce the air, sending the birds from the trees in alert. Then he paddled back to the shore, barely registering her torturous fight, thrashing in the dark waters until exhaustion overtook her weakened body.

Sitting upon the muddy bank, he witnessed her final struggle as she silently slipped beneath the algea, white dress billowing above her like a cloud. The ripples left behind by her futile attempt at survival, beating against the shore in one last, quiet protest. Finn’s breathing came calmly and evenly as he thought of walking home to sit by the fire. His sopping wet clothes clung to his body in the way her perfume still hovered in cloying sweetness and he longed to be rid of the sensation. 

The late sun had gone, dipping below the horizon in tranquil undulations of pink and orange. As Finn looked over the hazy water with a blank stare, a surge of pride swept through him. The powerlessness he’d felt earlier, washed away with the mocking sounds of Adeline’s laughter. As he gathered his shirt and cap, he closed his eyes to relive the sounds of the splashing and screams, trying not to forget their satisfying melody.

---------------

Tag list:

@evita-shelby

@shelbydelrey

@alanadetigy

@severewobblerlightdragon

@lovemissyhoneybee

@theshelbyslimited

@kittycatcait219

@notyour-valentine

@areyenotfondofmelobster

@polishcrazyone

@elenavampire21

@little-diable

@lyarr24

@jomarch-wannabe

@helen06dreamer

@raincoffeeandfandoms

@dearshelby

@cillmequick

@call-sign-shark

@peakyltd

@brummiereader

@runnning-outof-time

@emotionalcadaver

@thegreatdragonfruta

@noforkingclue

@look-at-the-soul

@thomashelbyswife

@babayaga67

@kmhappybunny240

@moral-terpitude

@kmc1989

@chaosinkest1996

[beebeedibapbeediboop]

Spooky season is almost there...who you gonna call?

[the-golden-comet]

✨🌈Reblog if it is okay to spam you with spooky boops!🌈✨

[airprime7]

Not to be a killjoy during the boopage, but just reminding people that Matt Mullenweg, tumblr's CEO is being sued for abusive employment conditions, wage theft, and harassment.

I love that boops are back, but fuck the racist, transphobic shithead in charge of this place.

[drabbles-mc]

it's that time of hear! spooky season reblog 😂

You Can’t Wear That

Angel Reyes x F!Reader

Warnings: language, Angel not being in the Halloween spirit

Word Count: 1.4k

A/N: I definitely got the idea for this when I told my boyfriend that I was going to be Angel Reyes for Halloween but that’s not the point lmao. Happy Spooky Szn y’all!

Angel Taglist: @mayans-sauce​ @helli4nthus​ @angelreyesgirl​ @starrynite7114​ @queenbeered​ (If you want to be added just let me know!)

Keep reading

[gomzdrawfr]

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆Happy Halloween⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺

[daily-spooky]

[teh-ches-noddle]

Fish again

Don't steal or repost or whatever.

[lipstickitty]

🎃👻🎃👻

Success & Sacrifice

A Josh Kiszka fic for Spooky Season 🎃

A gracev0609/ @lipstickitty collaboration.

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI, rituals, blood, fictional ancient scripture, dark magic, a hint of possessiveness, mentions of sex, mentions of periods

WC: 5k+

The things we do for love...

🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️

It wasn’t always like this- the screaming crowds, flashing lights, elaborate stage set up. In the beginning it was just four young boys scared out of their minds, playing in their parents’ garage or for a crowd of less than 20 people in a local bar or similar scene. All the glamour came later, and Josh could say that it didn’t happen overnight, but that would sort of be a lie.

Josh, Jake, Sam, and Danny knew they had something special between the four of them from the time they first started playing music together. Even just jamming, they could feel it in their bones that it was meant to be the four of them. The hard part was going to be convincing everyone else of that, paying their dues to get to where they wanted to be. But it was Jake’s dream, a dream he shared with the younger two, so Josh was determined to play his big brother role wholeheartedly and make it happen.

Jake had been so overwhelmingly excited coming to the other three boys and telling them that they’d booked a few nights at a local bar, sort of a trial period to see how they did. These local spots only held 50 people or so maximum without cramming them in and breaking fire codes, but they had booked them. They knew if they could take these first few crowds by storm, no matter the size of the audience, sooner or later word would travel and more people would come and see them play. With enough packed shows, they could book bigger venues, and just keep growing onward from there.

The boys were so anxious before those first few shows, the excitement and nerves swirling in their stomachs and building up the anticipation. Sam and Danny weren’t even old enough to be in the bar they were playing at, big black X’s on the backs of their hands making it glaringly obvious. They all wished one another good luck before they took their places, knowing all they could do now was play the way they had been and pray that people liked them.

The first night went as well as they could’ve hoped- no one booed, a few of the more intoxicated patrons were loudly singing along to a few of the covers they played. At the end of their set there was some scattered applause, one of the most beautiful sounds they’d ever heard. They thanked the crowd and made their way off of the little makeshift stage back towards the front of the bar. Buzzing with excitement, they thanked the manager for giving them the opportunity and loaded back up in Josh’s car to head back home.

The second night, the boys were expecting a similar response to the first, expecting it to go relatively smoothly once again. Unfortunately, it was the middle of the week so there were less people in the building to begin with and the ones that were there weren’t very enthusiastic. A few people were loudly having conversations over their instruments, a couple people exited the bar altogether and there was no singing along or movement from the remaining crowd. Trying not to be discouraged, they continued to play their hearts out, determined to give them the best show they possibly could. Once again they thanked the crowd, spoke briefly with the manager, and then headed back home, this time with much less excited chatter and banter.

The next morning Josh woke to find his twin already sitting up in his bed, blankly staring out the window, the Michigan foliage just beginning to change hues. His expression was blank, veering on the side solemn.

Pushing his hair back from his face, tangled from sleep,” Are you okay Jake?’

Jake's head turned, his naturally sleepy eyes finding Josh's,” ‘mfine. Jus didn't sleep well.”

Josh stared at the blue checkered flannel comforter still bunched in his lap,”Okay…”

Jake turned his body, facing Josh,” Do you think we can do this? Like really do this? Maybe I should just focus on school instead, try to go to a university like you want to.”

“No! This is your dream Jake! A few shit shows doesn't mean you should give it all up to go be an accountant.”

“I could never be an accountant. Im shit at math.” Jake chuckles.

“You want this right? You want to play music?”

“It's everything I've ever dreamed of, Josh. I want to share my talent with the world, create music that speaks to people.”

“Then it'll happen! No one can deny your passion. This is your destiny, you were meant to be a rockstar.”

A shy smile crept onto Jake's face,” I hope so. I want this more than I've ever wanted anything.”

“I know it'll happen.”

🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️

Ever since Jake confided in him that he was unsure about his music an icky feeling settled in his stomach. Jake couldn't give up on his dream so easily, he won't let him. The road to being a successful film director won't be easy, but drive and determination will get you anywhere. Josh decided to drive two towns over to the venue they played at last, ask for another slot, another chance to bring people in the door. He'd beg if he had to. Forty five minutes later he was back in his car feeling smaller than he ever had. The manager said there wasn't enough draw, not enough interest, and not enough liquor sales to bring them back. The rain picked up on the drive back, his car's shoddy heat not enough to warm his bones. He decided to stop at the cafe in town to get a hot beverage, maybe it'll provide the comfort he's searching for. As Josh sat at his table he kept thinking about how defeated his twin looked. He didn't want Jake to go to school and get wrapped up in something that would make him miserable. He had to try, something. Anything. Jake's dream was on the line. Grabbing his to-go cup he sauntered to the bookstore down the street, maybe there was something there that would help him. Perhaps a book on the music business, or music marketing, or hell Booking Gigs for Dummies. Once inside, he shook his shoulders, trying to shake off the cool autumn rain. He could feel his denim jacket soaking the sweater he wore underneath. Gripping his cup tighter he made his way to the business section, he was grasping at straws here. Frowning under the dim lighting in the small town bookstore he didn't see anything that particularly stood out to him as exactly what he was looking for. But to be honest, he wasn't exactly sure what he was looking for. Pulling a few titles that looked like they could hold some useful information, he scanned and scanned.

His tea had since gone cold and frustration was starting to overtake him. He pulled one more book out, something about running a small business, when something else fell out with it. The book was small, but old. Ornate gold symbols decorated the red leather cover. Picking it up he studied the book, the title in a foreign language he didn't understand. His brows furrowed as he felt that uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach, something was compelling him to open the book. Flipping through, there were words he didn't understand. Until they suddenly moved and morphed into ones he could understand. Words on the page stuck out to him like bright neon signs. Magic. Devotion. Sacrifice. Success.

Gasping Josh dropped the book, this red leather bound book could contain all of the answers he was looking for. Quickly he shoved it in his jacket pocket, before exiting the store. His feet started to run, carrying him to his car as fast as he could. He needed to study the passages now. Maybe this could help Jake.

Sitting in his car, still in the parking lot, Josh flipped through the pages of the worn leather bound book scanning for anything useful. Finally, midway through the book his gaze landed on the word success in large bold lettering. It looked far more promising than anything else he’d seen so far so he went to the top of the page and began reading. “In order to reap the success that rightfully belongs to you, you must bind your blood to the spell. Through this sacrifice you will find what you desire.”

There wasn’t much else on the page in the way of words but there was a simple illustration below the passage, depicting a man standing at an altar, hand bleeding into the chalice on the altar before him. There were a few different herbs scattered around the altar also, most of which Josh thought he could identify. Though part of him was skeptical, the blind devotion to his brother far outweighed that part and he thought, if it doesn’t work, no harm really done. But if it does… well, he didn’t want to get his hopes up just yet. But he’d come this far after all, he’d be damned if he didn’t try.

Josh gathered all the supplies he’d need for the ritual- the altar, the chalice, a blade to get the blood flowing, the various herbs, the candles, and the red wine. He found a secluded place in the woods where he wouldn’t be disturbed, he needed to complete the ritual without being interrupted or held back. He felt almost desperate in his need to do this.

With the black tablecloth spread out on the ground, Josh placed the altar overtop of it and lit candles all around it, the flickering flames dancing and creating shadows all around him. He carefully placed the herbs where they needed to go then rubbed his sweaty palms on his jeans. He poured the red wine in the chalice, a little over half way full, then replaced the cork and set the bottle aside. The book sat next to him, his gaze flicking back and forth between the illustration on the page and the altar cloth before him, making sure he had everything in place.

Once he was certain that everything was perfect, Josh took a deep breath to center himself before reaching for the small switchblade. Holding his breath for a moment he made a small slit in the pad of his thumb with the edge of the blade, hissing at the sight of the red beads rolling down its surface. He flipped the knife closed and let it drop to the cloth below him, holding his bleeding hand over the chalice and making a fist, letting his essence flow into it, swirling with the dark red liquid already in the cup. He wasn’t sure just how much blood was necessary so he squeezed as much as he could from the small cut, hoping that was enough to do the trick.

The book didn’t say anything about it, but he figured saying something couldn’t hurt, manifestation and all that. “I want- no, I need- to make this band work for my brother. It’s his dream and I have to make it happen. If I can’t…” he let himself trail off, not sure how to end the thought anyway even if he knew someone was listening.

🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️

Josh stood from the dinner table, grabbing his plate and putting it in the sink. Family dinner was wrapping up and they were planning on going out to the garage to rehearse their newest material. As Josh turned off the faucet Jake's phone rang in his pocket. He watched as Jake furrowed his brow and fished his cell phone out,” Hello? Yes, this is Jacob Kiszka.”

He watched as his twin chatted with the person on the other end, as the minutes passed Jake's smile grew.

“Yes! Oh my god,yes. Thank you so much for this opportunity. Yup, yup. We'll see you Friday at ten.Yup. Bye!”

Jake snapped his cell phone closed, ending the call, “HEY BOYS!”

Sam and Danny emerged from the living room asking Jake what was wrong.

“Nothing's wrong. Guys… That was Rich. Rich from Lava Records. We just got offered a record deal!”

The two younger men erupted in cheers and a smile spread on Josh's face at the realization. The spell had worked! Jake was getting his dream, if Josh had anything to do with it.

“Josh! We're getting a record deal!!” Jake cheered, wrapping his arms around his twin squeezing him tightly.

In the time between Jake getting the call about the record deal and the day they were supposed to go sign, the call started to feel a little like a dream. Like at any moment they could wake up and it never happened. Despite the boys’ anxieties, Friday rolled around and everyone was getting dressed in their best clothes to go meet with the label. They were all feeling the familiar sensation of nerves swirling through them, but they knew this could be the beginning of something big.

Their parents insisted on going along, wanting to make sure the boys weren’t getting screwed over. When both families’ cars had parked outside the office, everyone piled out and made sure they had everything they needed, nervous good luck wishes exchanged between them all.

The meeting went better than any of them could’ve imagined- the deal they were offered was excellent, especially for four young men just starting out in their careers. Their parents combed through the contracts thoroughly, searching for anything they may need to object to, but came up blank- everything looked good. After they got the go ahead from their families, the boys signed the contract, their grins stretched across their faces so wide it almost hurt.

Once all the paperwork was squared away, the only thing left to do there was discuss next steps. Recording, booking more shows, getting more exposure, interviews, all the basics of what they needed to know and do in order to be successful. They absorbed everything they were hearing like sponges, wanting to ensure they were doing everything right.

Finally, every order of business had been attended to and they were shaking hands and exchanging goodbyes, still riding the high of their excitement all the way back home to Frankenmuth. They had their next few shows and events scheduled and somehow they knew things would be different. These would be their best shows so far, they could feel it.

The boys’ intuition had been spot on, those were in fact the best shows they’d played thus far. Packed shows, the crowd engaging with them, people being excited to hear them play. They couldn’t believe the difference between their first few shows and now, it was like a complete twist of events and they were overjoyed about it. They were just enjoying the moment and hoping their good luck would continue.

After their first show playing under the record label, they were booked for an interview for a local radio station before the following show. They were terrified, never having really spoken in public to that extent before, but it was about the music. They knew they could talk all day long about the music.

That interview got amazing reviews, tons of listeners tuned in to hear and the band was getting some buzz online. They started feeling even more confident that things would work out.

The next show was incredible, possibly even better than the first and they were feeling on top of the world. The next one went pretty well, and the one after that was just okay. Their playing was still where it always was, but the crowd wasn’t as interested as they were before. Josh felt dread in the pit of his stomach, maybe his little ritual wasn’t working anymore.

Josh’s worst fears were confirmed when the next couple interviews they were scheduled for got canceled unexpectedly. Low ratings was the only reason they were given. This definitely wasn’t what he was expecting when he’d performed the ritual. Was this the book’s idea of success? He scoffed at the thought, deciding he was going to get to the bottom of why the hell the spell suddenly wasn’t working. He’d given the blood, damn it, why wasn’t it working?

Later that night Josh found himself back in the same place where he’d performed the ritual, with the altar set up the exact same way. The old leather bound book sat in front of him, splayed open to a random page. Clearing his throat, he began to speak, “What the hell, why isn’t it working? I bound my blood to the spell, that’s what you told me to do!” His voice growing in volume until he was nearly shouting. In any other situation he might feel silly for yelling at a book, but he had a sense that this particular book might in some way hear him and his desperation to save his brother’s band was consuming him.

A sudden gust of wind blowing the trees startled Josh from his speech, a few orange tinged leaves falling to the ground with the force. “Fuck!” He gasped, looking down at the ground and seeing the pages of the book flipping wildly, too fast for human hands to be turning them. Finally it stopped, coming to rest on its intended page.

“You must continue giving the blood for the spell to continue to work. It’s power weakens with time- only more blood will strengthen it.” Josh read the bold print from the page out loud, groaning softly when he realized this wasn’t just a one and done situation.

Knowing this was pretty much going to be his only option if he wanted to save the band right now, Josh decided to accept the fact that he’d have to give more of his blood. What other choice did he have? Begrudgingly he picked up the blade once more, making a bigger cut this time right across his palm, and let his blood flow into the chalice, setting up the offering for whatever beings or spirits were behind making this kind of magic work.

‘Blood magic’, flitted through his brain, allowing himself to briefly ponder the kind of power such a being might possess while he let his blood flow into the wine filled chalice. He thought maybe he didn’t give enough last time, figured that maybe if he gave more each time, he could go longer between rituals and that may be his best bet unless he wanted to do this every few weeks.

When he started to feel a little dizzy, whether from the blood loss or all in his head, Josh made a tight fist and let the blood clot figuring that had to be enough. Closing his eyes he let his chin drop to his chest, trying to center himself but ultimately ended up angry again.

“So I just have to keep doing this forever?!” He shouted, whether it was to no one or someone, something, he didn’t care anymore. This was his shot to make his brother’s dream come true and he’d basically have to exsanguinate himself to do it. His irritation was finally bubbling over, burning hot as he screamed his frustrations to the sky and trees around him. “There’s only so much blood in my body. What the hell am I supposed to do?” By the end of his tirade, he’d run out of steam, still feeling a little weak from losing blood, and let his voice fade out to a mere whisper. A couple frustrated tears slipped down his cheeks and he wiped them away, if this was what was required of him then he’d just have to suck it up and do it, he could make that sacrifice for his twin. He’d already done it once before, what was a few more times?

Another strong gust of wind whipped the trees around, autumn leaves falling all around him.

Lifting his head he saw the pages in the book turning like they had before, finally coming to rest on its desired page in just the same way it had done before.

Rolling his eyes Josh decided to read this page as well. Something obviously wanted him to, even going so far as to physically point it out to him. This page however made a grin stretch wide across his mouth, hope bubbling up inside of him. This could work, this could help him- a spell that would allow him to harness the power of the divine feminine energy, the fertility of a woman, and turn it into his sacrifice.

Letters morphed on the page, swirling and changing until the word Hathor appears on the page. Josh furrows his brow, speaking the name out loud.

Hathor, goddess of music, joy, love, sexuality and femininity. As soon as Josh's eyes reached the word femininity more words appeared on the ancient paper. Instructions on how to celebrate her, to channel her power Josh must reach an altered state of mind on the twentieth day of the month, gather an offering and perform the spell. Double tapping on his phone he checked the date, the Twentieth of October. He needed to do the spell now if he wanted it to work! Pushing himself to his feet he runs down to his parents liquor cabinet, grabbing the bottle of Captain Morgan he makes his way back into his room back to sit in front of his altar. Flicking the screw cap off he took a pull of the spiced amber liquid. A grimace spread on his features, a face of disgust before taking another gulp. One more to power through before he figured his mind was altered enough. His eyes scanned the page to find instructions for the offering, words flashing across the paper, Paint your face with three marks across your skin. One for the father, one for the mother, and one for the child. Josh thought quickly before rifling through their bag of cosmetics they used for shows, grabbing a silver creme eyeshadow stick he marks three dots across his cheek bones. Looking back at the page more words appear, Flow the burgundy wine into the chalice, meld it with your blood. Reaching forward Josh grabs his switchblade placing another open wound onto his palm letting the scarlet drips flow into the chalice. Once the blood stops flowing he looks back to the page, Place chains of silver and gold into the chalice and wear them proudly around your neck as a sign of devotion. Josh's eyes light up as he remembers the silver moon necklace and the gold sun necklace he and his twin received recently. Quickly he grabs them and places them into the dark red liquid. Once more he looks at the page, a spell to speak aloud formed on the page. Josh breathes deeply before speaking, his voice growing more confident word by word,” I offer this sacrifice to the mighty goddess Hathor. I welcome and accept her, I pledge my devotion and humbly ask her to do my bidding. Harness your godly powers to help us succeed and we will worship you with every song and melody we create.”

Josh held his breath for a moment while nothing changed, his anxiety increasing by the second. Finally the page in the book went blank, soon after being replaced with new ones, “I accept your offering, child. I can sense the strength of your devotion. What is it that you desire?”

He gasped, sputtering for his words for a few seconds before recovering, “Oh! Oh my- thank you, Hathor, for the honor of your time and your assistance. I-I need a way to harness the blood of the women around us as well as those who attend our shows to replenish the success spell- but only the blood they would already lose each month, I can’t hurt anyone.” He stumbled over his words just slightly, knowing he was speaking with an actual goddess.

Once again the page was wiped clean before fresh print appeared, “Continue outwardly showing your devotion to me, child, and it is done. Proudly bathe yourselves in the colors of silver and gold and I will know.”

Tears rolled down his cheeks once more, this time happy tears as he knelt before the altar. “Thank you, Hathor. Thank you.” He picked the book up and pressed a kiss to the old, tattered page of the book that had become his saving grace. He watched for a moment to make sure the goddess had nothing more to say before gently closing the book, lovingly clutching it to his chest.

He couldn’t wipe the grin from his face as he cleaned up his mess, knowing things were going to change.

🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️

Jake pulled his phone from his pocket, a few texts from friends and family wishing him well for the show that was about to start, his eyes flicking to the corner of his screen, in forty minutes. Wandering through the halls behind the stage he made his way to Josh's private dressing room. Without knocking he twists the metal door knob, stepping inside he notices the room bathed in candlelight. Josh's back was to the door, there he was sitting in front of candles, an old bronze chalice and a leather book in his lap. Josh turned at the waist,”Jake? What are you doing in here?”

Gazing at the altar his twin had set up in front of him, the flickering candles, the herbs and crystals and the ancient tattered looking book in his lap and the chalice filled with dark liquid, there was one thing that was glaringly obvious. He was performing a ritual.

"W-what are you doing?" Jake stammered watching Josh's hands move in practiced repetition.

"A ritual obviously, my dear brother." He smiled as the tip of the switchblade poked his thumb.

"W-why? What for?"

Josh's eyebrows furrowed," You wanted success correct? I made it happen. Just needed a little blood sacrifice, the ethical way of course."

Now Jake's eyebrows dipped," What does that mean Josh? You didn't ki-"

"No of course not! I'm not a psychopath," he runs his bloodied thumb around the rim of the chalice on the table," You've surely heard the rumors about the women who come to our show, and their periods."

Josh lifts his eyes from the chalice," That's how I get our blood sacrifice Jake."

“Their periods? How Josh that doesn't make sense!” Jake deadpanned, he barely believed his eyes.

Josh dips his golden sun necklace into the chalice, deep red dripping from the metal,” The ancient text in my lap, and Hathor.”

Josh secures his necklace against his chest, red liquid slowly running down his sternum before absorbing into the black velvet of his jumpsuit.

“Please Josh you've gotta give me more than that.” Jake pleads, a wave of something unnerving washes over him as he watches Josh, so practiced and repetitive. This was something he's done many many times.

“You wanted success so badly, I couldn't let it slip through our fingers! So I sought out otherworldly help. The spell for success needs blood, and after awhile I couldn't supply it all myself. So, I channeled Hathor , a goddess, and she er, manipulates, the women's periods that come to see us. To give us the blood sacrifice you see. I wouldn't hurt anyone.” His smile bright trying to calm Jake's uneasiness.

Just then Josh's door bursts open Sam and Danny barging in, an unlit pre roll in Sam's hand,” Do you guys… wanna .. smoke this. What the fuck is all of this?”

Josh rolls his eyes, thankful that he was able to finish his ritual,” It's a ritual, worship.. an offering all of that stuff.”

Jake furrows his brow his brain fully catching up to the information he was given,” Wait, so how does Hathor do all of this? Hey - is this the reason why you got really into yoni worship and tantric shit that you would not shut up about?”

Josh laughs, a loud gleeful sound,” Too many questions Jake, but I don't really know how she does it, she just does. It's all apart of the spell and the worship- it's why I never take off my jewelry and our tours have been so themed in silver and gold.”

Josh looks around, Jake seems to be absorbing all that he told him and Sam and Danny look confused. Josh opens his mouth to start explaining but Sam cuts him off,” Hey, would I be able to light this off of the candles or would that piss Hathor off?”

Josh motions him to go ahead when Danny speaks up,” So… I don't know about Sam here but I want a recap. Why are you performing a ritual Josh?”

As they pass the joint around the room Josh recounts years past, how he was determined to make Jake's dream come true. How he sacrificed his own dreams to make sure that Jake would succeed. Josh tells him that he is bound to the band, the book, and the spell. It's his deal that he made so he's the one who has to uphold it.

Josh exhales with a cough,” So, that's what you all walked in on. I was finishing my ritual, to keep our success.”

Jake speaks first,” So, you needed a blood sacrifice,”

“The ethical way!” Josh interjects.

“Ethically, so you use their period blood for the sacrifice.”

“Exactly, I mean they bleed every month anyway.”

Danny smirks, choking back a giggle,” What's the harm in making some of them a little early, they ruin their panties at our shows regardless.”

Sam cackles, his loud stoner laugh echoing in the small space, Josh giggles,” Why did you think most of our audience is women?”

Sam scoffs,” I thought it was because they think we're hot!”

Jake runs his hand down his face, still grappling with the new information,” Josh… When you said you had a pre show ritual I thought you meant like meditation not an actual pre show ritual.” Smiling he continues,” You know that the rumors think that it has something to do with me and ‘the way I fuck my guitar’. But it's been you the whole time! Damn, you were really helping my ‘sex god’ image.”

A knock at the door broke them from their game of twenty questions, a muffled “Five minutes boys!” Coming through the door. Tamping our their lit substance they then file out the door when Danny puts his hand on Josh's shoulder,” Wait, you're the reason why it seems like every woman I hook up with after these fucking shows has their period?”

Josh giggles, a bit bashful,” Caught me!”

Danny rolls his eyes,” I'm sending you all of my ‘cleaning fees’ from now on. I've had to pay for a lot of replacement sheets because of you.”

The show was drawing to a close, the first few notes of Farewell for Now ringing out into the stadium. Josh looked out to the crowd, every face with sparkling eyes and a smile a mile wide. Turning his head to the left he found Jake, red sweaty and tired, but the look on his face was priceless, the content smile on his face from completing another incredible show was something else. Deep down Josh knew that everything he had done was worth every bit of the success and sacrifice.

🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️

Taglist 🎃 @joshsindigostreak @losfacedevil @josh-iamyour-mama @vanfleeter @myownparadise96 @emeraldvanfleet @sanguinebats @lilbitx @kissthesun-gvf @musicislove3389 @kultavalo @iluvjoshkiszka @grassmowersstuff @jazzyfigz @fleetingjake @cheersdannyx2 @lightsofthe-living-gvf @peaceloveunitygvf

I also want to thank you guys! This is our biggest tag list yet and we are so excited! 🧡

[coutureicons]

[evahousewife]

Do you think my neighbors would like me to wear this ?

[cnsrbox]

Demon and angel 👿❤️👼

(Used one of my old designs!)

[604to647]

You are right!! Grumpy Tim *is* the hottest Tim <sigh>.

It is Shutterbug's mission to make fun for all the things Tim hates (and there are A LOT 🤣), even if just temporarily. Spoiler alert: she's going to succeed EVERY. SINGLE.TIME. And he loves her for it 🥹🥹

Thank you as always for reading and supporting these bbs (and me!!) 🥰🥰😘😘

Red Herring

3.3K / Detective Tim Rockford x fem!reader

Summary: You make Detective Rockford a Halloween costume.

Warnings: 18+ Content (MDNI please).  Established relationship, nicknames as usual (Shutterbug, baby, gorgeous), lingerie, semi-public sex, desk sex, oral (f receiving), unprotected PiV, bad puns, half-assed costumes.

A/N: Since The Rockford Portfolio was born from @mermaidgirl30’s Ocean Challenge this summer, I thought it was only fitting to write the same couple for Jamie's Halloween Writing Challenge (as always though, the stories in the collection can be read standalone ☺️)! Tim's hatred of Halloween is heavily influenced by Amy Santiago from Brooklyn 99 🤭🤭 Happy Halloween and spooky season everyone!

Dividers by @saradika-graphics 😘 / Series Masterlist

Tim was right.  Halloween at a police precinct is a mess.

The streets outside are absolute mayhem, crawling with costumed Halloween revelers stumbling and celebrating in various states of undress and inebriation.  No one seems to care that they’re causing a ruckus right outside of a building full of cops.  Even walking up the stairs to the main doors, you had found yourself side stepping at least two incidents of vomit, and you still feel a little worried about leaving the trio of drunk Power Puff girls on the bench outside even though they had giggled that they were fine when you asked.  There’s no safer place for them to be, you suppose.

The inside of the precinct is no less chaotic than it is outside.  It’s exactly as Tim had described.  You chuckle to yourself as you pass a couple of patrolmen headed out as Jedi Knights and think back to your conversation earlier this month when Tim told you he would be working on Halloween.

Curled up in Tim’s lap, you’re scrolling through TikTok as he watches some police procedural on the TV that he keeps grumbling at when you come across a few spoopy videos, “Do you think you might want to do a couples costume for Halloween, Detective?”

Tim actually grimaces.  He hates Halloween with a passion, “Oh Shutterbug, I’m so sorry – I have to work Halloween.  I work every Halloween.”

“Every Halloween?”

“Yeah - ugh. Halloween is honestly such a gong show.  People think costumes make them invincible for some reason,” he closes his eyes and scowls at the memory of Halloweens past.  “Every patrolman works overtime and is out on the streets breaking up fights, putting people in the drunk tank, getting drunk drivers off the streets.”

He’s not done; Tim brings his paw of a hand to his face and massages it in irritation, “The entire detective squad comes in to help process every idiot that’s brought in: DWI.  Underage Drinking.  Disorderly Conduct.  Assault.  Vandalism.  Trespassing.  Theft.  You name it, gorgeous.  Halloween is a fucking mess.”

You chuckle a little, you’re not used to seeing your normally unflappable detective so out of sorts, nevermind at the mere thought of a children’s celebration.

“Does everyone hate Halloween like you?”

Tim cracks a smile at this, “No one hates things the way I hate things.”  This has you giggling – Tim can be terribly grumpy.  “I guess not everyone.  The precinct gets decorated and there is a costume contest.”

“Oh!” You perk up at this, “And they arrest people in costume?”

“Might as well,” Tim’s face screws up in annoyance again, “It’s not like anyone respects the uniform on Halloween.  You have better luck getting compliance as Godzilla.”

For a second, you imagine Tim sulking behind his desk, filling out public intoxication reports dressed as Batman and you have to stifle a snort of laughter, “But not you though?  You don’t dress up?”

“Nope.”

“What’s the costume contest prize?” your eyes twinkle.

“No, nope,” Tim kisses the nose that you’ve scrunched up in mischief, “What do you plan on doing for Halloween, Shutterbug?”

You look thoughtful, the truth is you’re not really up for anything too exciting this year, “I’m probably going to volunteer at the library to give out candy, then I told the girls I’d meet up with them at a pub for some food and drinks.  Then they’ll head over to a bar or club or something that’s hosting a Halloween party and I don’t really want to do that.  Maybe I could come hang out with you?”

“Of course you can, baby.  But just be prepared, it’s going to be messy.”

The bullpen is loud – every desk is occupied by a dog tired, costumed detective taking down statements, yelling into their phone, or typing aggressively away on their computer – some of them doing all three.  The holding cell is overflowing, and the occupants are either wildly indignant about their detainment or completely unphased and appear to be continuing whatever reveries that had brought them in from behind bars.  There is no in between.

The commotion is so much more unruly than it usually is; it might be unsettling, except for how comical it is to see Tim’s colleagues in various costumes doing their very serious jobs. At a quick glance you see: a bumblebee, a Pikachu, two pirates, an Aquaman, and three Howls from Howl’s Moving Castle.

The juxtaposition of these outfits to the cacophony in the room is hilarious.  You spot and wave to Tim’s partner, Detective Arnold Calloway, who’s dressed as Elvis on your way to Tim’s office.

Tim’s door is open but before you announce yourself, you take a moment to ogle your handsome boyfriend as he types, brows furrowed in concentration at his computer.  He’s not in costume but you can’t complain – Tim's usual crisp white dress shirt stretches taut across his broad frame, his hunched shoulders restrained slightly by the unforgiving leather of his gun holster. His tie is loose but it’s the only thing that’s loose - Tim’s rolled up shirt sleeves strain to contain his beefy arms, and from where you stand, you can see his exposed forearms flex tightly with every furious punch to the keys on his keyboard.  Even without a costume, Tim Rockford looks like a superhero.

“Happy Halloween, Detective.”

The smile that breaks across Tim’s face when he looks up and sees you is nothing short of breathtaking, it sends a blooming warmth through your chest that quickly winds its way down between your legs.

“Happy Halloween, Shutterbug.  How’s your night going so far?”

“Pretty fun!  The library had so many kids coming in – I gave out so much candy!  And dinner was good – the girls say hi.  What about you, baby?”  You walk around Tim’s desk and lean down to place a sweet kiss to his lips before massaging his weary shoulders.

Tim sighs, “As good as can be expected for this godforsaken holiday.  I’ve been to the hospital for interviews twice, and now I’m processing a mountain of misdemeanors.���

You ghost your lips behind Tim’s ear and smile when the little puff of air you blow makes him groan.  Planting chaste kisses to the back of his neck as you continue kneading the hard muscles of his back, you chirp mischievously, “I have something that could make your evening more fun, Detective.”

Tim leans back and spins his chair around to face you, smirking, “Oh yeah?  What’s that, Shutterbug?”

Chuckling, you reach into your purse and take out a headband with two springs coming out the top like antennae and hold it out to Tim.

“What’s this?”

You point to the tops of the springs: on one you’ve glued an empty packet of Trident gum, and to the other is affixed a small dog toy in the shape of a shoe that you had found at the dollar store.  Giggling, you place the headband over Tim’s head and tuck the ends behind his ears, “It’s your costume, Tim.  You’re a gumshoe.”

Tim groans and drops his face into his palm.  The resulting bounce of the little objects over his head makes you giggle even harder, “See?  You were already dressed up and you didn’t even know it.”  You wave you hand over Tim’s body.

Detective Rockford peeks through his fingers and when he sees your impish grin and how much joy your mischief is bringing you, he can’t help but grin himself, “Alright, gorgeous.  Where’s your costume, then?”

Delighted at how easily Tim’s given in to your silliness, you reach back into your purse and pull out your own headband – a red one with similar antennae to match his black, but at the end of each of your springs is a little plastic fish, swaying and jiggling erratically as you slip the band onto you head and jovially announce, “A red herring for my dashing gumshoe to chase!"

Tim lets out a low gruff of a laugh, one that crinkles the eyes that are already always soft for you, his smile as relaxed as his shoulders now are, “Where’s the rest of your costume?  Shouldn’t you be wearing red?”  He teasingly does the same waving motion you did to him earlier over your closed trench coat jacket.

If possible, your smile gets even wider when you reply, “I am!  You want me to show you?”

“Sure, baby.”  To Tim’s surprise, instead of opening your jacket, you coyly saunter over to his office door, closing then locking it.  On your way back to him, you start to undo the knot of your jacket belt, letting the lapels of your jacket fall open to reveal the sexist red lace lingerie set Tim’s ever seen in his life.  As you slide between Tim and his desk, perching gingerly on the edge, you snicker at your boyfriend’s drooling expression. 

“Trick or Treat, Detective Rockford?” you flirt, fingers hooked under the warm leather straps of Tim’s gun holster, lightly tugging to beckon him closer.  He obeys.

Hypnotized, Tim slowly brushes his fingers over the frill of the delicate fabric that lays tantalizingly over your delicious curves – leaving goosebumps on your supple skin everywhere his hands graze, and even places they don’t.  He unwittingly licks his lips at your pert nipples, already at attention and tenting the crimson red floral lace that hug your tits so prettily – Tim can’t help himself; leaning forward in his chair, he takes one in his mouth.

The soft gasp that you let escape exhales to a throaty groan as you feel Tim’s hands travel down your body; they come to a momentary rest at your hips - tugging teasingly at the ruffled skirt of the garter belt before trailing down the straps.  As he rubs the bands that loop around your mid thighs between his thick fingers, Tim chuckles into your chest, “Is that what you wore at the library, baby?”

You giggle uncontrollably and shake your head, little fish above your head dancing wildly on their springs as you push back a little to show Tim how you’re still wearing your modest, library appropriate red dress, but that it’s been unbuttoned and left open under your trench coat.  Eyebrow cocked in amusement, Tim hooks his fingers into and pulls down the cups of your bra before diving back in, and you think you hear him mumble something like Dirty girl, through his mouthful of your breasts.

“You never answered my question – trick or treat, Detective Rockford?”

With some reluctance, Tim parts from the softness of your tits to lean back in his chair, ogling your near naked form shamelessly while he pretends to contemplate his response.  Finally, he scootches his chair forward and cups one of his powerful hands beneath your boobs and presses so that you lean back – his other pries open your legs so you can accommodate the expansive width of his shoulders.

“I think you already chose ‘treat’ for me, Shutterbug.”

Your girlish squeal as Tim lays a sweet kiss to your clit through the thin fabric of your panties is louder than you’d like and you quickly cover your mouth with a hand in order to muffle it.  As Detective Rockford open mouth kisses your panty clad cunt, your eyes roll to the back of your head and the flatness of your palm becomes insufficient to contain your escalating moans – when Tim pulls the gusset of your underwear to the side, the snap of cool air hitting the wetness of your exposed core pulls a cry from your throat that can only be stifled by biting down on the heel of your thumb.

The sting from your teeth causes you to buck into Tim’s face and from that moment forth, there’s no holding back his animalistic lust.  Tim licks fat stripe after fat stripe through your folds to the tip of your hardened nub – every new path made by his tongue dug deep and true.  Your pooled arousal is collected and swirled over your sweetest dips and waves, then sucked and savoured in his mouth like his favourite whiskey.  It might actually be.  Tim’s own groans and growls at the sweetness of your taste vibrate right into your cunt and straight to the tightening band beneath your belly.

Eyes taking in the lascivious sight above him, Tim’s dick strains painfully in his pants: his pretty girl is laid near bare and gorgeous, tits bouncing while her face screws up in pleasure, mouth stuffed with her own fist. You're a true heaven that contrasts starkly to the hell of mundane paperwork that Tim thought would make up the bulk of his Halloween shift, still sitting next to you on the very same desk you’re currently writhing on.

With a feral grunt, Tim tongue fucks your slit while his nose and the elastic hem of your pulled back panties work your slippery clit in tandem.  He builds and builds until he knows you can’t take anymore, then pushes you over the edge with the tenor of his baritone command to come.

You crest with a wild cry that’s barely contained by your now aching and wet hand, drool running down your wrist as your body shudders with wave after wave of indescribable pleasure.   

Only when he feels your lithe body settle does Tim rise to his feet and undo his belt.  Lips and facial scruff still shiny with your release, he grins a wolfish grin, “Now it’s time for 'trick', gorgeous.”

Kissing you roughly, Tim busies himself with pulling out his leaking cock as you return his affections just as fiercely, spurned on by the taste of you in your own mouth.  He pulls back to clean his face with the back of his arm, and you whimper when you unsuccessfully chase after his lips.

“No need to be greedy, Shutterbug. Your Detective is going to fuck you now,” smirks Tim, notching himself at your entrance and sliding in with ease.

The heft of him still leaves you breathless every time.  When you look up at Tim, you find his face relaxed in a look of reverence that tells you he feels the same about the welcome of your warm walls.

“Going to fuck you hard and fast, 'kay baby?  Don’t have much time.  Can’t have anyone coming in and seeing my pretty girl split on my cock” Tim’s mouth slots over yours and he drinks in your moans at his dirty promise.  One of Tim’s meaty hands grips your hip so hard you know he’ll leave a bruising imprint of his desire for you to find tomorrow, the other grabs your lacy garter belt like a cowboy would the reins of his horse; as he starts to ride you, every punishing drive of Tim’s cock leaves you marveling that the delicate fabric doesn’t rip to shreds under his efforts.

“Fuck me, Detective,” you breath, nipping and sucking along Tim’s strong jaw to behind his earlobe where he’s most sensitive.  Sticking out your tongue to lick down the column of Tim’s throat, your mouth jolts against Tim’s bobbing Adam’s apple as he continues to thrust into you like a man possessed.  The scrape of your teeth and the soothing lave of you tongue over the responsive skin at the base of his neck, cause Tim to groan, low and throaty.  When your fingers thread through his soft curls and yank down so to expose more of his neck to your sinful mouth, he retaliates by reaching for your breasts, roughly kneading and worshiping before directing his attention to your nipples.

Without letting up on your sopping hole, Tim rolls and pinches, pulls and tweaks your pert peaks, all while gritting out dirty words of praise:

Pretty thing came to a police precinct tonight to get fucked, didn’t she?

So fucking hot in your little outfit, gorgeous just for me.

This pussy's made my whole fucking night, baby.

You can only hope that your near pornographic wails are adequately buffered by the thickness of Tim’s chest, as you bury your face against the wall of him.  The combination of your tight and slick cunt and the added friction of your panties, now soaked with your cream and pressed taut against his cock, has Tim on the expressway; when his pace starts to grow frantic, he leaves your perfect tits to press his thumb down on your clit.

“Oh fuck, Tim!  Fuck, I’m going to c-” Tim’s solid and comforting circles on your crying nub are enough to send you over the edge again.  Your heaving breaths against his neck and the fluttering of your walls as they clamp down on his length send Tim barreling to join you soon after.

Hands still in Tim’s hair, you card through his dampened waves as the two of you rest forehead-to-forehead, exchanging tender butterfly kisses and soft words of devotion during the comedown from your twin highs.

Knock, knock.

“Rockford.”  It’s Arnie.

Tim slips out of you and tucks himself back in before walking to his door, waiting with his hand on the handle to make sure you’ve had time to right and button up your dress before he opens the door to see what his partner wants.

“Rockford, do you have that repor- What’s that?” Detective Arnold Calloway’s eyes widen and he points to the still bobbling springs on the headband that Tim never took off his head.

Tim has no words.

Your hand flies to your mouth and you barely contain the hysterical giggle that threatens to escape.  Arnie looks past Tim right at you, and his face breaks out in the biggest shit-eating grin you’ve ever seen.  His eyes dance with mirth and you can’t help but blurt out the answer to his unspoken question, “He’s a gumshoe!!!”  The two of you shriek in laughter as Tim stands stiffly, eyes closed in disbelief, willing himself to disappear. 

You bound up to the door and loop one arm around Tim’s waist, the other you arch to point to your own headband, beaming, “I’m the red herring in his case!”

Arnie nearly drops the files in his arms to hold his stomach as he cackles, “Perfect costumes!  Never thought I’d see the day when Rockford dressed up for Halloween!  Forget the report – I need a picture.”

“No pictures,” Tim practically bellows as he storms back to his desk in a huff, headband adornments swinging wildly.

Winking at Detective Calloway, you whisper, “I’ll get a picture,” before you walk back into Tim’s office and settle in on the couch.  Tucking your legs under your bum, you pull out the book you checked out of the library earlier before looking up to your sweet boyfriend who's gone back to typing his reports as if he wasn't just ravaging you on that same desk minutes earlier, “Love you, Detective Rockford.”

Tim glances up at the sweet angel who willingly keeps him company on this horrid night and makes it decidedly less horrid; giving you a soft smile, he winks, “Love you more, Shutterbug.”

The Monday following Halloween, you’re putting the finishing touches on dinner when Tim comes home, carrying a large box that he deposits on the kitchen counter with a look of pride and amusement.

“What’s this?” you ask with curiosity, giving Tim a deep welcome home kiss before opening the package to discover a case of wine.

To your gleeful howl of laughter, Tim tells you that he won the precinct Halloween costume contest this year. 

You’re looking through the box, picking up the bottles and reading the labels.  Malbec.  Gamay. Beaujolais.  Barbarossa.  You take out a bottle of Nebbiolo that you think might work with dinner and exclaim in delight, “Congratulations, Detective!  This is a great prize!”

Tim sweeps you into his arms and presses his lips to your pretty pout for a searing kiss, murmuring, “I got a better one right here.”

Visual aids for this instalment:

[paintinganangel]

Sabrina Carpenter as a bunny for her Halloween show on the Short N’ Sweet Tour