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smilingformoney · 1 year ago

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Rickmas 2023: Day 16. Keep Warm | Turpin/Reader

AN: You know the drill by now: based on Sins of the Flesh, lots of manipulation going on here. This is during their marriage so she’s deep in Stockholm Syndrome. Don’t eat dead inside and all that.

Read now on Ao3 or below the cut:

You lay in bed, shivering, wrapped up in as much of the duvet as you could pull around yourself. It was winter, almost Christmas in fact, and you were pregnant with your first child, who was so small inside you the bump was hardly there, but you could feel him move sometimes, reminding you he was there, still growing.

The bedroom door flung open and your husband almost filled the doorframe with his large stature and the thick coat he was wearing.

“What is this I hear about you being cold?” he snapped.

“It’s freezing!” you complained, holding the duvet around you tighter.

“Well, you’ve only got one blanket, of course you’re cold!”

Turpin shook the snow from his coat and began unbuttoning it, slightly clumsily with his hands still gloved. As soon as he was free from the shackles of the coat, he tossed it aside along with his jacket, then pulled off his gloves.

“If you were cold, you should have asked the staff for more blankets. That’s what they’re there for. I don’t want you freezing to death before our child is even born.”

“Sorry, sir,” you said, shrinking into the blankets even more than you already were. “Maybe you could keep me warm?” you suggested meekly.

With the way you were peering out at him from underneath the duvet, which was now pulled up to cover your nose, you were far too adorable for him to stay angry at.

“Silly girl,” he sighed. You unwrapped yourself slightly from the duvet, just enough to give him room to join you. He slipped under the duvet, still fully dressed, and you eagerly scooted over to him, sighing with relief as body heat radiated from him.

“You just came in, how are you so warm?”

“I am a hot-blooded man. It takes more than a little snow to freeze me over, especially when I have my little bunny waiting for me at home.”

You smiled bashfully when he called you his nickname.

“Bunny’s too cold to do much bouncing right now,” you replied. “But maybe teddy bear can warm her up?”

You looked up at him, eyes wide, and he smirked, a familiar flame sparking in his eyes.

“What are you asking for, darling?”

You tucked your chin slightly, still embarrassed to ask for what you wanted, but Turpin pushed your chin up to force you to look at him.

“Tell me,” he said softly.

“Well - maybe - maybe you could just lie on top of me? You can fuck me if you want, but I really just want your weight on me.”

“Mmm, how could I resist such a request from my darling wife?” Turpin purred. He manoeuvred himself to take his waistcoat and cravat off, leaving only the undershirt, and rolled on top of you, being careful not to put too much weight on your stomach. You felt the fabric of his trousers against your legs and giggled.

“Sir, I think this is the longest you’ve been in bed with your trousers on.”

“Mind yourself, slut,” he growled, gently rolling his hips to push his cock against your cunt, and even through both of your clothes you could feel how large it was, even only half-erect. “I need only unbutton these trousers and lift that skirt, and I can be inside you in seconds. You’re not so cold you put knickers on, I hope.”

“Of course not, sir.”

“Good girl.”

You bit your lip, and he smirked, knowing how much you loved it when he praised you.

“Do you know how fucking perfect you are, darling?” Turpin said in hushed tones with something of reverence in his voice. “I’ll keep you warm all winter if you wish me to. We’ll spend Christmas and New Year in this bed, just you and me, fucking and cuddling and sleeping. The servants will bring us food and drink so we don’t have to get out of bed. You’ll never be cold again, my love.”

You let out a small whine, wondering how you could have ever been cold before, as every nerve in your body was on fire, desperate for your husband’s warmth, his love, his desire. His adoration filled you up, warming your very soul from within. He was all you and your unborn baby needed.

You reached between your sandwiched bodies to tug at the fabric on his hips, and he chuckled.

“Are you trying to make me cold, bunny?”

“Want to warm your cock,” you mumbled. “Please, sir, please - need you…”

“Ah, and who am I to deny my pregnant wife her desires? Skirt up, darling.”

He separated his body from yours briefly, causing you to feel a great loss as his weight left you, but as soon as he unbuttoned his trousers and pulled them down to release his cock from within, he was on top of you again, guiding himself inside you.

“Ohh, yes, that’s it - such a warm cunt. Such a good wife, keeping your husband’s cock warm on these cold winter evenings. Let us stay here for this evening, darling. Let the servants serve dinner to us in bed. I have no obligations tonight, do you?”

“Yes, sir.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Oh? And what obligation is that?”

“To serve you, of course, sir.”

“Oh, very clever answer, darling,” Turpin grinned, and you whined when he thrusted inside you suddenly. “Yes, yes, you’ll serve me… that’s your duty as my wife, of course. One you perform so well, so eagerly. I am so very fortunate to have the most dutiful wife in all of London.”

Another thrust, and another whine from you, accompanied by a grunt from him.

“Ohh, yes… my darling wife is so very dutiful to her lord husband, giving me an heir and keeping me warm. Loving me so… very… keenly.” He thrust again, you whined again, and he grunted again. You had asked only for him to keep you warm, but of course he couldn’t resist making love to you once he was inside you, his libido and his desire for you being so very strong. His thrusts were slow, languid, nothing of the usual fast pace he liked to employ. It drove you insane when he was slow, drawing out your pleasure as he dragged his cock along your channel, and he knew perfectly well what he was doing to you.

“Is this what you wanted, bunny? Am I keeping you sufficiently warm?”

“Yes,” you said with a breathy sigh, your arms wrapped around his torso to hold him close. “You’re so good to me, sir, such a loving husband…”

“Mmm… yes, I am such a good husband to you, bunny. I’m so glad you appreciate what I do for you.”

“I do appreciate it, sir… thank you…”

“You’re most welcome, darling. Now, I’m going to use my fingers and I want you to cum all over my cock. You can do that for me, can’t you, darling?”

“Yes!” you begged, the desperation clear in your voice. “Yes, sir, I can cum for you… please, please touch me…”

“As you wish.”

He reached between your bodies, his thumb pressing up against your sweet spot, and you were so aroused by his gentle yet intense lovemaking that you came in less than a minute, your walls squeezing tightly around him just as he wanted. Turpin watched, entranced, as pleasure spread across your face, and as your moans melted away, he began to fuck you harder, faster, desperately chasing his own high, and the sudden change of pace caused another orgasm to crash over you just as he came inside you, warming you up from the inside as his seed coated your core.

“Thank you, sir,” you panted, breathless. “Thank you for keeping me warm.”

Turpin chuckled with satisfaction, his body still pressed against yours, making no move to extract himself from the warm sleeve he was nestled in.

“Any time, darling. Any time.”

#rickmas2023 #alan rickman #judge turpin #Turpin x reader #sweeney todd

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yeehawpurgatory · 2 years ago

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Knots & Peculiarity

Apologies for the late post! Posted earlier to AO3--But I finally got to my desktop so Tumblr it is! @rdrevents

Here is my 2023 RDR Valentine Fanfic Exchange for the awesome @southernlynxx once again I hope you enjoy, I loved all of your prompts; especially John using Arthur’s lap as a pillow :’)))

Title: Knots & Peculiarity

Pairing: John x Arthur

Summary:

“Arthur…you really there?” This time it’s louder than a whisper, ghosting over his lips. ”Right here Marston, lie back now.” Arthur mutters quietly, he hoped they hadn’t garnered any attention. His eyes widen when Marston raises a trembling hand; Arthur holds his breath. The younger man’s palm pressed against Arthur’s chest for too many seconds. Just a solid, seeking touch is all it is.

The silence in the cabin nearly made him forget about all the other occupants. Only the occasional sniffle and shuffling, the sound of a cigarette’s light hissing as it burns, reminds Arthur he’s in the main cabin with the women and the others.

The past few days he’d made himself sparse, not on purpose though, between hunting most days and planning that train robbery with Dutch, he hadn’t much time to check on folks the way he liked. People hadn’t seen much of him for a few days. That’s probably what made him a jarring sight now, standing with mist-clouded eyes in front of another good man they’d nearly lost.

Arthur takes his gloves off as he hovers closely to the cot.

There’s another sound, quiet, nearly missable. The laboured, ragged breaths of his longest friend, injured and shaking, barely conscious through it all. They’d found Marston just days ago, bleeding, starving, nearly dead up in the mountains. Laying on the cot, chewed up and spat out, the younger man looked pitiful with half his face bandaged; the showing skin was painfully raised and colourfully splotched. A gory sight before, but little Johnny Marston looked downright bad now.

Worse than Jenny’s corpse had looked when he’d helped Lenny and Karen bury her, the youngest hands shaking the entire time. He looked worse than Davy too, and he’d all but held his own guts inside his body, the poor bastard.

Arthur bit his chapped lips and brushed a few greasy, tangled locks of black hair away from Marston’s mouth. The younger man’s unwrapped eye flickered beneath his closed lid, otherwise he didn’t react to the touch. Swanson must’ve seen to him earlier.

Arthur’s compelled to this spot in this cramped cabin for reasons he can’t quite explain, like an unseen force dragged him here and kept him staring stupidly. Waiting for something or another.

His bare hand rests just above Marston’s head.

It’s Susan that snaps him out of his stupor. The older woman had just been sitting on the stool, picking at Marston’s stitches with Strauss; pained sounds leaving the injured man’s lips the entire time.

“Mr Morgan.” Her tone is firm, but her eyes were softer with him than with most others. He grunts his acknowledgement to her.

Arthur feels Grimshaw’s eyes burning a hole through him, as though his leisurely presence was unacceptable to her. He half expects her to tell him to git. To go make himself useful. To go find some food or firewood.

She doesn’t.

Instead Susan stoops low, rummaging through a meagre box of the camp's belongings. She pushes aside a sewing kit and spools of thread, some scraps of fabric, a bottle of medicine; she pulls out a simple black comb with a few teeth missing.

Susan glances at him again, a different look in her eyes this time, and Arthur is brave enough to look her in the face with his own clouded pair of eyes.

“Might as well do some work if you’re set on standing around.” Her tone conveys no nonsense, a harsh barking command. She presses the comb into his hand. “Been tempted to cut that mangled mop from his head—I would’ve if I didn’t think he’d wake up kicking and screaming like last time.”

Like last time. Arthur huffs, his lips twinge upward in amusement, thinking of the last time someone had tried to cut Johnny’s hair without expressed permission.

When he doesn’t move Susan’s face falls slightly. He can’t look at her suddenly, throat too constricted and stomach churning. “He don’t like many folk handling him.”

Unless it’s you. She didn’t say that—but she didn’t need to. It weren’t no kind of secret between the folks who’d been with them since the beginning. The boys are— were inseparable, would still be if not for Marston’s big mistake.

The big mean bastard he is, Arthur thinks there ought to be a nasty part of him which takes satisfaction in seeing the fool broken and pathetic and needing someone for the littlest task, but there isn’t. That’s the thing that confuses him the most. He’s not enjoying watching John fight for his life while he thinks on the past, not one bit, never mind how much he thought he would. All he feels is loneliness somehow, a need to stay by Marston’s side for reasons beyond him.

Arthur sits on the stool. He breathes long and deep, clearing his throat. He blinks away mist to see Marston clearly. The hand atop the greasy mop just sits there for a few seconds.

This is intimate. In spite of the crowd, of the audience , brushing Marston’s hair feels like something he should be doing behind closed doors. He can’t understand why. Even when his heart starts to flutter.

Still, Arthur’s fingers card through the cold greasy locks. True to Susan’s word it’s a tangled mess better suited for a pair of shears; but then they’d have to deal with Marston’s peculiar anger. Arthur didn’t get it, why grow your hair if you hate washing and brushing it?

Still, Arthur picked at a tangled chunk of hair with the comb, careful of the brittle teeth. He pauses when Marston moaned quietly, as Arthur moved to his scalp. The vulnerability in this moment makes his stomach uneasy. This is a man he’s felt nothing but animosity towards for a few years now, and here Arthur was, carefully brushing his hair, while he lingers in the precarious spot between life and death.

He couldn’t get all of it with the bumps and bandages covering Marston, but Arthur carefully worked the comb through as best he could till his fingers could card through Marston’s hair without getting snagged on too many knots.

---

Arthur lessens the gap between them, hunching over Marston when a particularly nasty gust of air enters the cabin and makes him shiver. Damn cold…Damn drafty cabin…Damn soft wet wood…

Another heavy gust finally wakes the other man. One dazed dark, blood filled eye looks up at Arthur without an ounce of recognition; he knows what a man looks like when he’s dazed from drugs or fever. This is it. The look of his eye makes Arthur shiver. John shifts around, muttering nonsensical ramblings.

“Careful now Marston.” If he doesn’t sit still he’ll hurt himself—already seems to be in pain by the sounds he makes. The younger man grimaced, teeth clenching together as he willed himself upright.

“What'do you need?” Arthur mutters and slips an arm around his back to hold him upright. Marston’s real close to him now, but that pesky fool won’t stop wriggling around.

“Morgan?…”

John’s voice stills him. His name is said in a cracked whisper, far too quiet for others to hear, but loud enough for Arthur to hear the peculiarity in his tone. Like Marston was surprised to see him here. That hurt.

“Morgan…” he trails off again, this time squinting up at the older man. Unseeing eye tracing over Arthur’s worn features, peering inside him, yet seeing nothing though he still searches. Cold as it were, Arthur feels himself heat up under the scrutiny. It makes him want to shove off and leave, to chastise himself for seeking company, from Marston of all folk. Then he speaks again.

“Arthur…you really there?” This time it’s louder than a whisper, ghosting over his lips.

“Right here Marston, lie back now.” Arthur mutters quietly, he hoped they hadn’t garnered any attention. His eyes widen when Marston raises a trembling hand; Arthur holds his breath. The younger man’s palm pressed against Arthur’s chest for too many seconds. Just a solid, seeking touch is all it is.

He huffs just then, making little frustrated noises as he eases his way back down, clearly deciding whatever he attempted rising for weren’t nothing important. His hand leaves Arthur’s chest, and the older man can finally breathe.

“Stop movin’ around…M-Marston!?”

A weight fell across his lap. Arthur blinked.

Half asleep, half drugged, half whatever—Marston had dragged himself across Arthur’s lap. If folk weren’t looking before, they sure as hell were looking now.

Arthur’s hand hovered just over John’s head. Marston laid awkwardly, with his lower body stretched out onto the cot, his upper body resting on Arthur. He suddenly didn’t know what to do with his hands; he let one rest gently atop John’s. Arthur swore then. Marston’s hands were icey. He slips his discarded gloves over them without thinking.

Arthur fixes the blanket over Marston’s form when the younger man turns his head in his lap again. He sighs and Goddamn nuzzles his nose against Arthur’s leg.

The display heats up his cheeks—makes his heart race. John hasn’t accepted any semblance of closeness with anyone these last few years, much less Arthur. Gone were the days where they slept back to back, where they embraced each other with bear hugs and delightful shouts and pats on the backs.

He’s got half a mind to shove the other man off him and walk right out. Damn him. Instead, Arthur resumes his task with a pounding heart when Marston’s breathing evens out. Methodically, he brushes the rest of Marston’s hair until it falls straight and loose. Oily beyond belief, but cleaner looking than it had been in weeks.

Then he sits there and pockets the comb, his silly little task is done. He should get up. Do some actual work, not just sit here pondering.

Marston shivers again. Arthur stays seated. He’s stuck in place, unless he wants to dump Marston back onto the uncomfortable looking cot to shiver with his threadbare blanket. His head tells him as much, but his body won’t do it.

Goddamnit! He can’t do it, Arthur’s rooted to the spot as though Marston weighs a tonne, with his head pillowed in his lap. It’d be downright cruel to shove him away, as sorry as his state is.

Arthur tries his best to ignore the familiar warmth and conflicting fondness which filled him the longer he sat there, watching John sleep soundly in his care.

Behind him, folks start talking softly.

---

“It’s awful kind of you, letting him do that again.”

Arthur nearly jumps at the voice which caught him off guard. It’s Hosea. Of course it is. Who else could sneak up on him like that? His old friend has a glimmer in his eye, one Arthur stopped trying to guess the reason behind a long time ago. A special type of fondness he reserved for only a select few; Arthur, John, Bessie long ago, Tilly, Lenny, little Jack Marston…

“Sure, I’m real kind when I have to be.”

Hosea ignored his retort. He looked off to the side wearing an expression Arthur can’t read, an expression he shares with Susan, who stood by the fireplace. He catches her face however; it’s soft. Understanding. Knowing. When her gaze shifts from Hosea to him, Arthur drops his head. He looks only at Marston. At his sleeping form pillowed on Arthur’s thighs.

As precarious as his injuries are, the man curls up in a way that can’t be comfortable, never mind the relaxed expression on his face; he looks a lot like Jack in Abigail’s lap, or like how Copper used to curl up in his. Arthur chuckles and thinks to himself. Marston ain’t a cute kid like Jack, his company isn’t as enjoyable as a dogs neither.

The thing is…Marston is annoying and lazy, and stupid and entitled. They’ve been competing with each other for too damn long. But…he’s dear to Arthur. Oh so dear. Oh so dumb and useless too …but he’ll always have an incredible, inexplicable love for John. For the boy he was and the man he is today. One he doesn’t quite understand the depth of. A love he knows he’ll carry with him until the day he dies. He’d do anything for the other man, no matter how much he wants to deny it. Anything he was asked.

Arthur runs a hand through Marston’s hair, humming in satisfaction when his fingers card through without resistance. The younger man made a soft noise at that, tilting his head up, searching for the gentle hand once again. Arthur hesitates for a few seconds, fingers frozen but not from the cold. Then, like he always seems to do when it comes to the other man; Arthur relents. He strokes Marston’s greasy locks, paying special mind to repeat the actions which draw soft content sighs from the younger man.

Be it traversing through a shit snow storm, brushing his damn hair, or allowing the younger man to use him as a pillow with basically the entire gang bearing witness; there wasn’t anything Arthur wouldn’t do for John.

Even now, with his legs long asleep, and back screaming at him, Arthur stays in place and lets John rest in his lap. He’ll stay there as long as he can, for as long as he’s needed.

#john marston x arthur morgan #Morston #RDR Valentine fanfic exchange 2023 #rdrvalentineexchange #arthur morgan x john marston

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canarias-stuff · 1 year ago

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A STORY FOR 🎃🕸TDDK HALLOWEEK 2023!🕸🎃

Based on Day 2 Prompts: Mirrors / Haunted / "Ghosts never speak till spoken to."

SUMMARY:

“You came back?” Was the first thing that the mirror said, a curious expression on his face. “I thought that you were done here?”

“What are you?” Todoroki asked, ignoring the mirror’s question.

“I already told you, I am a ghost.”

“I spent my whole weekend researching supernatural stuff, my google looks like I am ready to be a ghost hunter, but things still don't make sense! Your existence still doesn’t make sense!” Shouto spilled, his frustration at the topic leaking with every word. “I can see you, but I can’t prove your existence with numbers or logic! And this is so weird, because, what the hell am I doing?! Talking with a mirror?! The only logical explanation here is that I am finally crazy!”

Woah!, Shouto thought, surprised by his own outburst. Last time that he got to say so much in just one breath was at Asui’s 18th birthday party when he got really drunk, and was explaining why people should eat soba instead of ramen.

Or, a TodoDeku story where Todoroki talks with a ghost trapped inside a mirror.

Ao3 link:

“Did you hear?”

“Hear what?”

“What?! You didn’t hear about it?!”

“About what?!”

“It appeared!”

“What appeared?!”

“The ghost!”

…

Medical student Todoroki Shouto was a science type of person. Math, biology, physics and chemistry make a lot of sense, you can prove stuff using logic, numbers, chemical experiments, and you can show people that a bacteria exists using a microscope.

As long as you can give concrete proofs about something, that exists. It's not a rumor or gossip. Numbers and logic don’t lie. It shows you a fact, and even if you don’t understand why you should use that formula, as long as you use that, anyone will have the same result.

It is a fact. It is rational.

But that is his opinion, as a logical person. People are free to believe in whatever they want, but Shouto just didn’t understand why other people were so adamant on believing in…ghosts.

For some reason, since he arrived at his class that morning, the students from all departments were gossiping about the oldest building in the campus - the one that right now was under renovation. From what Shouto heard so far, something, a ghost of all things, showed up there.

He didn’t care about it, zombies and vampires could be spotted around the old building and he still wouldn't care, so he ignored the rumors and continued his day. Or so he did until lunchtime.

“So, Tsuyu-chan told me that Toga-chan told her that someone from the art department went to the oldest building in the campus because of a bet.” Uraraka said as soon as she sat at their regular table in the gardens.

“Oh, is that about the rumors that I’ve been hearing since morning?” Yaoyorozu asked, unwrapping a big sized (and really expensive looking) bento. “About the ghost?”

Todoroki had to control himself, or he would roll his mismatched eyes over this ridiculous gossip.

“I also heard about it.” Jirou commented, pointing her chopsticks at no one in particular. “And the students are also posting a lot of comments and stories about the rumors on the official students page on twitter.”

“Even the teachers had their own opinions about it.” Iida added, fixing the position of his glasses on his face. “Hizashi-sensei was yelli- I mean, sharing his ideas for 10 minutes.”

“This is ridiculous.”

Four pairs of eyes turned to look at the white and red haired boy, who was munching his soba undisturbed by the stories.

“A ghost. Really?”

“Come on Todoroki! You don’t have to sound so annoyed. It’s just for fun.”

“I just can’t understand what is so fun, Jirou.” He admitted, expression serious. “Why do people insist on telling stories about ghosts? It doesn't even exist, it’s so obvious it is a lie, and everyone still gossip and speculate about it.”

“Woah! Sometimes I forget that you are the ‘it doesn't exist until it’s proved the opposite’ type of person!” The short haired brunette girl whistled amused by her friend's comment. “But anyway, it’s not a lie.”

“And how do you know?” He arched a perfect red eyebrow. “Where is the proof?”

“It’s not a lie, but I also didn't say it’s true. It’s a rumor.”

“...It’s a lie.”

“Todoroki-san, just because you don’t believe it, doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist.” Yaoyorozu interrupted, her voice soft and understanding. “I know that you are skeptical about this kind of stuff, but some people believe and you have to respect it, okay?”

“Sorry…I didn’t mean to be rude.”

“I know.”

“But.” He added. “I just don’t…understand.”

“I know what you mean.” Iida seconded. “I am a math and physics student, so I understand that logically speaking, ghosts and the supernatural in general are something that challenges everything that we learn.”

“Oh guys, come on!” Ochako grunted. “You don’t have to believe! Just think that this kind of story appears once in a while for the college student’s fun experiences! I mean, remember back in our school days when people were always gossiping about the School Seven Mysteries? Here at college it is not so different!”

“Uraraka is right, you don't have to believe." Kyouka nodded. "I don't believe it either because I never saw a ghost or whatever, but still, it is fun when people do courage tests and other events."

Well, Todoroki could agree with it. It was fun to see Kaminari and Ashido, two of their high school friends, run around the forest after being hit with a piece of konjaku during a courage test during their senior year.

"By the way, what are the rumors saying?" The tallest girl in the group asked. "I didn't hear about the specifics about the rumors…I was too worried about the mock test…"

"Well, Tsuyu-chan said that this art student went to the storage in the old building because they lost a bet."

"You already said it." Todoroki commented.

She didn't mind Todoroki and continued.

"The thing is, there is a story about a mirror in the storage room."

"A mirror?" Iida sais retorically.

"There's a rumor…"

"Again a rumor…"

"Be quiet, Todoroki!" Jirou snapped.

"...that says that the spirit of a student is locked inside the mirror, and if you call it, it will answer any question. Some people say that it can even tell you about your future."

"And what do we need to say to call it?" Momo asked, genuinely curious about the story.

"Mirror mirror of mine."

They stared at Uraraka.

"What?" Jirou asked dumbfound.

"Yeah, I know, kind of a Snow White punchline, but that's what the rumors say!"

"Seems like Snow White will show up in the mirror." Shouto lips curved up, amused. "Or the seven dwarfs."

"As long as it is not the Evil Queen, anyone is okay." Ochako giggled. "But anyway, the thing is, the student said these words, and something really showed up in the mirror!"

"His reflection. It's a mirror." Came Todoroki dry comment, but his friends ignored him as Ochako continued the story.

"Unfortunately, the student freaked out and left, so we don't really know if the ghost in the mirror can tell you about the future or something like that." She sighed disappointed.

"That's a shame." The ponytail girl said, a hand on her cheek. "If this is true, I would like to know what I am doing in the future so I can prepare better."

"You already do good enough, Yaomomo." The short black haired girl tried to cheer her best friend, patting her on the back. “But it does sound like the kind of story that people would gossip around the campus.”

“Don’t you think so?!” The brunette exclaimed. “If I wasn’t already scared of the old building alone, I would like to take a peek at the mirror and ask the ghost how I can become rich!”

“It’s a mirror.” Todoroki repeated. “It will show your image, and that’s already an answer for your question. Only you can make yourself rich.”

Uraraka rolled her eyes.

“So why don’t you go there and tell me if it’s real or not?”

“Why should I?”

Their friends looked back and forth from those two, clearly, something interesting would come now.

“You want proof that ghosts don’t exist, so go to the old building and call the ghost.”

“This is ridiculous.”

“No, this is science.” Ochako grinned. “You prove theories by trying them, right? So say ‘mirror mirror of mine’ and see what happens. You will prove a point, and entertain your curious friends! It’s a win-win situation!”

Mismatched eyes stared at the brown ones for a moment.

Todoroki sighed.

“Fine.”

…

The sky was already a dark shade of orange and purple when Shouto’s classes ended that day. His friends were probably gone by now, fridays were the days that his classes last longer than the other majors, and no matter how much his friends love him, they definitely love their early freedom on fridays more.

He was tired, and had a lot of homework and a new project to start, but when he was passing by near the old building, the conversation with Uraraka came to his mind.

Proof.

If he goes inside now, he can show Uraraka that rumors are rumors and that ghosts don’t exist, and the earlier he does it the better, or Uraraka would definitely say something like he is afraid of entering the building or whatever.

He approached the building and pushed the door open, a loud crack sound echoed in the empty hallways, and for a split second Todoroki thought that this scenario looked like one from a horror movie that his friends forced him to watch years ago.

There were a lot of paint cans, wood and other tools like hammers and saws scattered around, after all, the college was indeed renovating the building, but no one was there, probably all the workers left early. Well, it’s friday.

“By the way.” Todoroki abruptly stopped walking, mismatched eyes looking around. “Which room has the mirror?”

Of all things to forget, he forgot to ask Uraraka where he was supposed to find the mirror.

…

The sun was long gone when he finally found a storage room for the theater and arts department. The room was filled with costumes, boxes with makeup, brushes and paint, there was some cardbords and signs stacked in one of the corners of the room, but the flashlight of his phone wasn’t good enough to distinguish what was written or draw on them, and Shouto didn’t want to turn on the lights of the building, the last thing he wanted was the security coming by and ask what he was doing there.

Going deep inside the storage, something reflected the light of his flashlight.

A mirror. A full length mirror hanging on the wall.

“Must be this one.”

A rectangular mirror with a golden frame. There was a crack from the top right corner to the bottom left corner, slightly distorting his reflection. Shouto put his phone on the floor and grabbed the mirror, taking it from the wall and turning it around to take a look behind it. It was heavy, but then again, the mirror was glued at a wood surface.

He inspected the object for a full minute, but nothing was wrong with it. It was a normal old mirror that the arts department probably dropped, but was too lazy to throw in the trash.

There’s just one thing left to do. Todoroki thought, putting the mirror back at the wall.

He stared at his reflection, his mouth opened.

“Mirror mirror of mine…” What was he supposed to say now? A question? What should he ask? He didn’t have anything in particular to ask anyway. “...Is there anyone more beautiful than me?”

Okay. What the hell just came out of his mouth? He joked about Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs, but his brain must have had a really bad short circuit, because what the hell he just said?! Thank God no one was there to hear that…

A giggled.

…or so he thought.

“Who is there?” Shouto called, eyes looking around the room, because he heard someone giggled.

“Well, so far, you are the prettiest person I have ever seen." Someone said, voice muffled. "But this is just my opinion."

The college student turned his head, once more looking at his reflection in the mirror, this time though, his reflection was not alone.

Big emerald eyes, curly and fluffy green hair, cheeks painted on freckles that looked like stars, and an amused but sincere smile.

"Hello!" The boy in the mirror said when their eyes met, the smile still playing on his lips.

Todoroki flinched. WHAT.THE.HELL?

"Oh, you are the first one that doesn't run away on the spot!"

There must be a logical explanation for this, Todoroki told himself, because how is it possible that...that...an image(?) was talking with him?

"Hum...? Hey?" The mirror waved a hand. "Are you okay? Oh, please, just don't pass out here!"

"I..." He cleared his throat. "I won't." Shouto found his voice again, mismatched eyes never leaving the mirror.

"Thanks god! I was really worried for a second!" And the mirror sighed like he was really relieved.

Shouto studied the mirror again. Was it really a mirror? Maybe it was a screen and someone made a really good job programming an A.I?

"I am not a TV, app or A.I." The green haired boy said amused, and Shouto flinched again, surprised that he was muttering.

"So..." He couldn't believe what he was about to ask. "...what are you?"

"Not 'Who are you' but 'What are you' ..." The boy paused. "I would like to say that I am a person, but people call me a ghost."

A ghost.

Hah. Great.

"Ghosts don't exist." Shouto denied, not wanting to believe in what he was looking at right now.

The boy in the mirror blinked a few times, pointed a finger at his own face, and arched an eyebrow.

"But I am right here...?"

"You're not a ghost."

"If I am not one, then what exactly am I?"

"...I don't know... yet ."

"Oh! I see!" The mirror snapped a finger, face suddenly lighting up. "You are shocked! Or just in denial!"

"I am not!" Todoroki grunted. What was happening? He was arguing with a mirror? He must be dreaming or gone insane! Where was the logic that he liked so much?

"Sure~"

Was the boy in the mirror sassing him?

"Anyway, did you just come here to ask me that?"

"What?"

"I mean, did you really ask me the same question that the Evil Queen used to ask her mirror?"

"I didn't know what to ask." Todoroki replied dryly, and then added. "And I didn't believe or expect that something would answer me at all."

"Well, I answered, so what do you want to do now?"

Shouto stared at the boy, analyzing him. Now that he calmed down and was trying to better assess the situation, he could see that the boy was wearing some kind of costume, like a jumpsuit, and black ironed shoes. The green haired boy was probably shorter than him and around his age. If this was some kind of prank, the mirror boy sure was doing a good job.

"I am leaving." Shouto said suddenly, grabbing his phone that was still on the floor, and turning his back to the mirror.

"Oh." He heard, and it sounded really sad. "Bye bye."

The red and white haired college student closed the door behind his back and quickly left the building.

...

Todoroki didn't tell his friends about the mirror. He spent all weekend searching for logical explanations for what happened at the old building, because as a scientific person, how could he accept that whatever he saw that day was a…ghost?

No. No way.

There must be a logical answer for that. So he researched, and researched and researched. The algorithms for his google showing now, articles about ghosts and other supernatural figures, people trying to hunt said ghosts or communicate with them.

When monday arrived, Todoroki did his best to avoid his friends, because right now he was a man on a mission to prove that whatever was that person he saw in the mirror, was not a ghost.

…

Shouto lied to Iida, saying that he would go to the college library to study for a mock test, and being a serious student, Iida nodded and walked away, proud of his best friend.

Now, the half white and half red haired student was standing in front of the mirror, on a late monday afternoon, glaring at his own reflection and waiting for the green haired boy to show up.

“Hey, where are you?” Shouto said, but the mirror was still only showing his reflection. He pondered for a second. Was the ‘mirror mirror of mine’ a condition for the other boy to show up? He should try. “Mirror mirror of mine, where are you?”

He blinked, and on the next instant, green eyes were staring back at his own mismatched ones.

“You came back?” Was the first thing that the mirror said, a curious expression on his face. “I thought that you were done here?”

“What are you?” Todoroki asked, ignoring the mirror’s question.

“I already told you, I am a ghost.”

Woah! , Shouto thought, surprised by his own outburst. Last time that he got to say so much in just one breath was at Asui’s 18th birthday party when he got really drunk, and was explaining why people should eat soba instead of ramen.

“...Are you done?” The mirror asked.

“...Yes.” The student answered, sitting in front of the mirror.

“What is your name?”

“Todoroki Shouto.” There was a pause. “And you?”

“Well…I am not really sure.” The boy said sincerely. “But I remember someone calling me Midoriya something. Well, something that sounds like Deku.”

“Deku?” Shouto parroted. “That…sounds mean.”

“Yeah, I know. But if this is my name…well, that’s fine.” The mirror, Midoriya, shrugged. “Why…did you come back? People usually leave here crying and shouting and never come back, but you…are here.”

“I am trying to understand your…existence.” And Shouto was trying really hard. “People die, and that’s it. The end. There’s no life after you die.”

“Some things can't be explained. And I am some kind of proof, right? After all, you can’t really pinpoint why I exist, and I don’t think any scientist would understand either, I don’t understand, and I’ve been here for a while.” Deku commented, but there was no arrogance in his voice, he was just saying what he really believed.

“How long? I mean, how long have you been trapped?”

“Hum…that’s a difficult question.” Midoriya looked pensive. “After a while you kind of lose track of the time, since I can only appear if someone says those Evil Queen’s speech. So, yeah, it could be days, months or years, but I bet that I’ve been here for a couple of years.”

“That…sounds…”

“Sad? Lonely?”

“I was about to say boring, but it fits too.”

This time Midoriya laughed, and Shouto couldn't control the small smile that appeared on his own lips.

“Yes, it is boring, but most of the time I feel like I am asleep, dreaming about a world and people that I can’t remember after waking up…so yeah, but I can manage something. It’s not like I’m gonna die…again.”

“Don’t you…want to be free from the mirror?” Shouto asked, taking a look at the golden frame. “Find the light or something like that?”

“Of course I want to, but I don’t even know why I am here!” The mirror boy replied, biting the inside of his cheek. “Maybe I died in front of a mirror and my soul got trapped, people say that mirrors have this power. Or maybe I am cursed? Or I am the real Evil Queen’s mirror!”

“...Don’t be ridiculous.” Todoroki deadpanned. “And how do you know this kind of stuff? I had to do plenty of research to find some legends about mirrors and their power.”

“I am amnesiac, not dumb.” Came the reply, and then the laughter. “I don’t know either, I like to think that I was curious about a lot of stuff when I was alive, and even if I forgot my name, I still have the knowledge that I got during my life.”

“Remembering your name would be better.”

“Maybe yes, maybe no. There’s no way to know.”

They went silent, Deku humming a soft melody that Shouto never heard, but it was nice.

“Do you…want to know your name?”

Emerald eyes stared at him.

“What?”

“I said, do you want to know your name?”

“Well, of course I want to, but how…”

“I will do some research, try to find a clue about you, and with luck, we can get a name.”

“Would you…do something like this…for me?” Shouto didn’t know that a ghost or mirror could cry, but the small droplets at the corner of Midoriya’s green eyes were tears. No mistake.

“If I can’t explain rationally stuff like ghosts, I would like to at least prove that someone by the name ‘Midoriya something like Deku’ one day was a living person.”

“Thank you.” Midoriya said between sobs, hands trying to stop the tears that keep falling. “Thank you.”

And for the first time since all that crazy experience started, Shouto felt like something was right.

...

The days passed by, and Shouto would visit Midoriya every day. It was fun, Midoriya was a good listener and was really intelligent, he would always give Shouto his opinions on the papers that a teacher would score, and mutter over small things.

Shouto didn't even notice when he stopped caring about the logic behind Midoriya's existence.

...

“Another test?!” Uraraka exclaimed, clearly indignant. “How many mock tests have your teachers passed you in the last two weeks?!”

“I lost track after the third one.” Jirou commented, not really giving a shit about Todoroki’s possible suffering. “That’s medical students for you.”

“Ugh! This way you will never have enough time to check the old building!” The brunette complained, and Shouto had to control his usual stoic expression. “The rumors are already dying, and I still don’t have an answer about the mirror!”

“Rumors are rumors anyway.” Todoroki said, not letting a single amused tone of voice escape his lips. “And if you are so curious, just go there by yourself and check it out.”

“No way! I am scared!” She cried, arms around her shoulders, trying to protect herself from an invisible threat. “What if something really shows up?”

“Then scream and run away.” He answered. Shouto wondered what Midoriya would say to whatever Uraraka asked about.

Yaoyorozu placed her chopsticks down, and stared at Todoroki for a moment, but it was long enough for Shouto to realize that the ponytail girl was looking at him.

“Something is wrong, Yaoyorozu?”

“No, not really.” The tall girl said, but her eyes still had a curious light in them. “I just feel like usually you would answer a little bit different that kind of question.”

“What do you mean?”

“You said ‘Then scream and run away’ , when usually you would say ‘Nothing's gonna show up’ .”

“Ah. That’s true.” Iida agreed. “That would sound more like Todoroki-kun.”

“Heh~” Ochako hummed, amused. “Have you finally accepted that a ghost may exist, Todoroki-kun?”

“I never said that.” He stated, trying his best to keep his cool. “I just gave you a logical solution for a hypothetical situation. Or would you stay put and wait for something to jump on you like those stupid people from horror movies?"

“Of course I would run away! No way that I am dying like that!”

“I thought so.”

“Yaomomo, that is a totally Todoroki kind of answer.” Kyouka nudged her taller friend.

“I guess so.” Momo sighed and went back to her lunch.

Crisis averted.

…

“Why do you wear a jumpsuit?” Todoroki asked one day.

“Hum…I wonder why…” Deku answered. “But they are pretty comfy.”

“It’s weird.”

“No, it’s cool! Makes me look like a superhero!”

“Are you a kid?”

“I look around your age though?”

…

“Why do we need to say ‘Mirror mirror of mine’ to call you?”

“I don’t know. But it’s kind of fun!”

“For you.”

“Of course! Or maybe there’s a rule like ‘Ghosts never speak till spoken to’.”

…

“Someone came here today.” Deku said.

“What did they ask?” Todoroki asked, eyes never leaving his anatomy book.

“They asked about you.”

“About me?” He got his coffee, taking a sip of the drink.

“Well, the exact words were, ‘Mirror mirror of mine, how many children me and Todoroki Shouto will be blessed with? ’.”

Shouto spatted the coffee and coughed, Deku laughed the whole afternoon after that.

…

“You are popular.”

Shouto arched his eyebrow.

“Why do you say it?”

“I mean, people keep coming here, and your name appears a lot on their questions.” Midoriya smirked. “Do you want to know what they asked?”

The red an white haired student glared at the mirror.

“Let me get a coffee, and this time I can spat all my coffee in the mirror.”

“That’s gross!” The green haired boy laughed, and Shouto's expression softened seeing the mirror so relaxed.

“It would be your fault.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

…

“Todoroki-kun…do you have a girlfriend?” Deku asked one day, freckled cheeks slightly pink, and for some reason, Shouto felt his own getting hot. “Or a boyfriend?”

“No.”

“Hum…and do you…like someone…?”

That question was really tricky. Shouto should lie, but just one look at Deku’s face was enough for the college student to spill everything.

“Yes, I do.”

“Oh…I see.”

After that, Midoriya changed topics, and didn’t comment about it anymore, and neither did Shouto.

…

“Mirror mirror of mine, why can't I find anything about you?”

That was the first thing that he told the mirror that afternoon.

“I don’t know.” Deku said as soon as his image appeared in the mirror, a small smile on his lips.

“...I am sorry, Midoriya.” Shouto apologized, sitting in front of the mirror, a defeated expression on his face.

“Don’t make this face, it’s not your fault that apparently, I am a difficult person to find.” Midoriya joked, trying to lighten up the mood. “You’ve been researching for almost two months, you are using your precious time on stuff that you didn’t even need to.”

“But!”

“It’s okay. Really.”

“I thought…that I could prove that you existed.” Todoroki frowned, eyes looking at the floor and hands closing around the fabrics of his pants. “I thought that I could help you…”

“Todoroki-kun, look at me.”

“I can’t…”

“Yes, you can.”

Slowly, mismatched eyes looked up to find gentle green ones.

“You don’t have to wear such a painful expression.” The boy in the mirror commented, a gentle and soft smile on his lips. “It’s not your fault that there’s no information about me. Maybe I died so long ago that there is no data at all. Don’t blame yourself for stuff that you don't have control over.”

“I just wanted to find your name.” He muttered.

“I have one. Midoriya Deku.”

“You are not sure.

“I am, because is the name that you call me, right?”

“Midoriya…”

“Yes, that’s my name.” Deku smiled.

…

Something changed by the end of the second month since Shouto met the boy in the mirror.

“I hear someone calling my name when I am sleeping.” Midoriya said during one of their conversations.

“Your real name?!”

Deku shakes his head.

“No, they call me ‘Midoriya’.”

Shouto stared at the boy in a jumpsuit, Midoriya looked like he wasn’t telling him everything, but demanding answers was never a good option, he should be patient and wait until the grenette was ready to talk.

“Maybe it is a piece of your memory.” Todoroki tried, and green eyes stared at him. “And soon you will get an answer.”

“Yes, maybe.”

…

Three months after he met Deku, something felt off.

Shouto woke up that morning feeling like something was wrong. His alarm didn’t go off, he woke up 30 minutes before the alarm, and occurrences like that were rare since he wasn’t a morning person.

It was raining outside, the sky was gray, and once in a while he could hear the sound of cars running over water puddles. Usually he didn’t mind rainy days, but that morning, that kind of weather wasn’t helping him get rid of the wrongness inside his chest.

Midoriya.

The name of the boy in the mirror was the first thing that came to mind.

He wanted to see Midoriya no matter what.

…

“Midoriya!” He exclaimed, pushing the storage room open and going straight to the mirror, forgetting for a second that calling his name like that didn’t work. “Mirror mirror of mine, where is Midoriya?”

The clock ticked.

One, two, three, four, five…a full minute.

But Midoriya didn’t appear,and that made Shouto panic.

“Mirror mirror of mine, where is Midoriya?!” He tried again, however nothing but his reflection was there. “Midoriya! Hey! Midoriya!”

“...Todoroki-kun.”

The voice, that familiar and sweet voice came from behind him. Slowly Shouto turned his body, and behind him, was a shorter green haired boy, with emerald like eyes, and freckles that looked like the stars, wearing a green jumpsuit and black ironed shoes.

“Midoriya…”

“Hi.” The boy waved.

“You…” Shouto said dumbfounded, approaching Deku carefully, as if a single hasty gesture would scare him away. “...are free.”

“Yes…looks like that.” Deku agreed, not moving from his place.

“How…?”

“I had a dream last night, or more like I retrieved my memories.” He said, and when Shouto stayed silent, he continued. “I remembered why I was stuck inside the mirror.”

“Did you…” But Todoroki didn’t have the courage to finish that sentence, because right now, everything was too real.

“No, I am alive.” Deku said, and Shouto felt his heartbeat skyrocket. “And I’ve been alive for a really long time, when something called quirks were still going around the world.”

“Quirks?”

“Something like superpowers, I would say. Can you imagine a society where we had heroes and heroines running around the city saving people’ lives?” Deku explained, a little bit more excited. “That kind of explains why I am wearing a jumpsuit that looks like a Halloween costume.”

“Midoriya,” Shouto called, trying to make the boy come back to track.

“The thing is, there was a villain…her quirk allowed her to trap people inside a mirror, and I think she died before someone could figure out where I went. Time passed, and I was probably sleeping all these years, no one found me, and the first time I woke up, people were scared of me.”

“What was the condition to get you out of the mirror?” Shouto asked, stopping in front of Midoriya that didn’t back off.

“I had to remember my name.” Midoriya replied, a nervous look on his face. “For a few weeks, I felt like someone was calling me in my dreams…or memories, and last night…they finally said my real name.”

“...can you finally introduce yourself?” Shouto asked, lips quivering.

A few tears fell from Deku’s green eyes, but he smiled.

“Yes, I can.”

“So, mirror mirror of mine, can you tell me your name?”

“Nice to meet you, I am Midoriya Izuku.”

“Izuku…” Todoroki tried the name. “Izuku.”

It was perfect.

“Do you want to know who was calling me?”

Shouto nodded.

“Ask the question.”

“Mirror mirror of mine, tell me, who was it?”

“Someone that I loved so much, and fell in love once again.” Izuku said, loving eyes staring at mismatched ones. “Do you know someone that goes by the name, Todoroki Shouto?”

…

“Did you hear?”

“Hear what?”

“What?! You didn’t hear about it?!”

“About what?!”

“It appeared!”

“What appeared?!”

“The ghost!”

“Oh, is that about the rumor about the ghost trapped inside the mirror hanging on the wall of the storage room in the old building?”

“Yes!”

“No way, there is no ghost there.”

“And how do you know?”

“Because I heard it from a student whose grandfather used to study here. Did you know that is not a horror story? It’s actually a romance?”

“What? A romance?”

“Yep! They said that once upon a time there was a hero who was imprisoned within a mirror, waiting for his soulmate to appear, because that was the only way he could recover his memories and break free from his glassy confinement, so one day he could get together once again with his loved one.”

#boku no hero academia #my hero academia #fanfiction #ao3 #fluffy #friends #angst #romance #mirror #haunted #story prompts #drama #fanfic #midoriya izuku #todoroki shouto #tododeku #tddk #tddkhalloweek2023 #halloween

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azurefishnets · 2 years ago

Text

Testing the Waters

For dearest @siverwrites, on the occasion of @fyeahghosttrick's Ghost Swap 2023. I had to write about a most particular "odd gift" tailor-made for Jowd!

The story can be found at the link above, or you can read below.

AO3 Profile Fandom: Ghost Trick: Phantom Detective Words: 3492

Summary: On a holy night 6 years before Ghost Trick begins, Jowd and Cabanela test their friendly rivalry in a high-stakes game of chicken. One of Cabanela's ever-weird but ever-useful gifts may save the day… or it may end their friendship forever.

The living room had become a place of glorious chaos: wrapping paper, garland, and bright ribbons were strewn haphazardly across the sofa, the coffee table, under the couch, around the banisters, and any other place a little girl too busy shrieking in glee over her presents to pay attention to the mundane matters of mess could be relied upon to have discarded it. The space under the tree was bare, save the place where the last mound of wrapped presents lay, and Kamila had just finished unwrapping her last gift, a fabulously glittery silver recorder which promptly went into her mouth. Something approximating music began to fill the air.

“I’ll kill him,” Alma whispered in mock despair, glaring at Jowd by way of proxy for the absent Cabanela’s gift to their daughter, then producing a dismayed smile for Kamila’s efforts. “Absolutely kill him. He’s not allowed to be the loud-gift uncle, you hear me?”

Jowd, who sat on the floor and had expertly navigated himself into being thoroughly covered in gift wrap and paper detritus, wore a smile that only barely escaped being more a rictus as Kamila hit a particularly shrill note. “Sorry,” he said in response to Alma’s protest. “Got a mango in my ear. What was that?”

“Jowd.” Alma widened her eyes at him in that special way of beleaguered spouses everywhere. “Don’t make me kill you too.”

Jowd laughed as Kamila played on with the indefatigable vigor of six-year-old lungs and enthusiasm. “Don’t worry, we’ll have her give him a concert. Soon! He’ll love it.”

“I’m certain he will.” Alma’s smile turned a little villainous. “I’ll give her some special tutelage.”

“Tutelage! Ha!” Jowd grinned at her. “A holy night miracle if he’s even got you making terrible puns now.”

“Please. Don’t start.” Alma rolled her eyes in faux-dismay, then sat straight. “Oh! I almost forgot!” She dove under the tree, reaching for the back corner which had gone undisturbed until that moment, and pulled out a midsize box wrapped in white with an ornate scarlet bow. It was labeled For Jowd. “Speaking of Cabanela, he made me promise to give you this last.”

“Hmm.” Jowd stroked a hand down his beard and accepted the box, meticulously untying the ribbon and folding the paper into a neat packet which he placed in the conveniently placed and nearly empty trash bag next to him. Alma glanced at this evidence of Jowd’s inconvenient sense of tidiness, around the room which displayed anything but, and sighed.

“Hmmmm,” Jowd said again, slitting the tape that held the box closed with a fingernail, and opening it to reveal a rubber chicken with a pulley in the middle. “This is…” He stopped. “What is it?”

“Ask your good friend,” Alma said with a shrug, unfolding herself from the floor and dusting herself free of scraps of gift wrap. “All he told me was that there was ‘nothin’ like it,’ and it was extremely important you knew that.”

“Hmm!” Jowd gave it one more interested look, then levered himself up, shedding debris as he deftly removed the recorder from his daughter’s hands and swooped a giggling Kamila into his arms. “If there’s nothing like it, I suppose that means I’ll find out soon enough.”

“I hope he comes back soon to explain it,” Alma said with a worried look at the phone. “I always worry about him when he goes on these…” she cast an eye at Kamila and finished somewhat uncomfortably, “trips.”

Jowd put an arm around her and drew her into a hug. “He’ll be fine. Spotless as always and I’m sure he’ll enjoy the gift you and Kamila are preparing for him when he gets back.”

Alma’s eyes went narrow as she glared one more time at the recorder, now hidden away from Kamila’s distracted eyes in the pouch of Jowd’s hoodie along with the chicken pulley. “Oh, he will. He’d better.”

Together, they surveyed the living room and the mess therein. Alma cast a glance at the clock. “Oh. I need to finish my appetizer platter and the cookies before we head to your mother’s—how did it get so late already?”

“Time flies,” Jowd said with an irony he wouldn’t recognize until much, much later. “I’ll get Kamila dressed, shall I?”

“And yourself,” Alma said with a pointed glance at his comfortable pajama pants and old hoodie. “You have a nice new outfit. Wear. It.”

“Fine, fine,” Jowd said, heading for the stairs, only to be stopped by the phone as it began to ring. “You go on,” he said to Alma as she looked back and forth from the kitchen to the phone with a harried expression. “I’ve got this.”

Still holding Kamila, he answered the phone. “Hello?”

“Jowd—” Cabanela’s familiar voice, then a buzzing silence. A burst of static, then something that sounded like the lapping of water. “I thought—beee here by— did you—the chicke—” There was a shout, then a very final sounding click as the phone on the other side dropped the call.

Jowd put Kamila down. “Why don’t you go on upstairs,” he told her. “Your new dress is all laid out on the bed if I know your Mama. Be back soon, OK?”

She looked at him with big, solemn eyes. “Where are you going, Papa? Grandma made pie. She promised there’d be chicken in it and everything.”

“Well, it looks like I might have to give Uncle Cabanela his present now,” Jowd said. “Hurry on upstairs while I talk to Mama.”

After a quick and quiet discussion with Alma in the kitchen wherein she wrung from him a promise to be careful, a secondary promise to get back home without undue delay so they could get to his mother’s for dinner, and a goodbye kiss with an extra one for good luck to all concerned, he went outside. As soon as he was out the door, his steps quickened and by the time he got to the car, he was all but running; he flung himself into the driver’s seat and fumbled for the thing still in his hoodie pocket.

Pulling out the rubber chicken with the pulley in the middle, he examined it thoroughly, all of his detective’s senses ringing every alarm in his head. The chicken’s open mouth drew his attention, and feeling gingerly down its throat led him to a small, rolled piece of paper. Unrolling it dropped a key on his lap, while the paper itself said only “Key to my heart, baby. I’ll B waiting for U in R spot but wait too long and I’ll be in hot water.” Examining the rest of the chicken yielded no other clues.

Jowd raised his eyebrows and sighed as he put the car in drive, heading for the underground reservoir and treatment plant on the far edge of town. Zone B was out of his usual beat; he trusted Cabanela knew what he was doing, but… he grinned and put on speed. Par for the course with his rival and old friend. Explanations would wait, but dinner was also waiting.

At the reservoir station, the parking lot seemed unusually full for a holiday and Jowd parked with corresponding caution in a spot out of the way; his unmarked car was unobtrusive enougamongst the rest. He peered at the visible entrances and let out a satisfied huff as he spotted Cabanela’s bicycle parked next to the one that most obviously led to the tank below. As he got out, he kept an eye out for anyone who might prove an issue, but the whole place was eerily quiet as he sidled to the door. The key slid into the lock and turned easily. Just inside was a pay phone. The receiver was on the hook but as Jowd lifted it, he realized the wire connecting it had been neatly removed.

Inside, metal stairs led down several flights which Jowd walked down as quietly as possible, testing each step for creaks. He peeked through the door at the bottom while crouching as low as he could. The door opened to a small, raised area with a railing and an exposed stair down to the next level and a maintenance walkway to the center of the reservoir; Cabanela stood there in the center, cornered, up against a chain link fence and alone against a small group of five figures standing around him. Dark water lapped at the concrete columns surrounding the raised platform upon which they stood with only the fence separating the group and a quick dunk.

“We’ve got you now,” one of the men said roughly, voice carrying and echoing through the cavernous room. “This hide and seek game’s been real fun but it’s time to finish it up. Give us the key or you’re going in the water.”

“Come now, baby,” Cabanela said in his most provocative tones. “I’ve given you aaall the clues. Don’t know why you’re bein’ so slow at this. I obviously don’t have it on me.” He flapped the short jacket he wore outward to show the lining. “See? Nothin’ up my sleeve.”

“Shut up!” One of the other figures slapped a fist against his other hand. “Don’t make us beat it out of you!”

Cabanela laughed outright at that. “Please, baby, threats? That’s beneath you.” He glanced up at Jowd, registered his presence, but gave no sign as he turned his attention back to those around him. “Let’s hurry it along, kiddoes. I’ve got somewhere to be.”

“Somewhere to be?” one of the figures said angrily, “We could have been done with this days ago if you’d just—!” She took a swipe at Cabanela, but couldn’t touch him as he danced out of the way, feet graceful as he circumnavigated a bucket sitting on the concrete floor next to him. She hissed with frustration, and shoved the bucket aside with her foot, the better to try a lunge.

“Oh, I thiiink you’re missin’ the point,” Cabanela said, tripping her and dancing out of the way of someone else’s attempt to grab him. “But you’re close, baby, real close! All you have to do is use those brains of yours, instead of your fists. Or your feet!”

“Rather use my fists at this point,” the last figure grunted. “I’ve had enough of you to last a lifetime.”

Jowd nodded to himself, then looked up. As he’d half expected, he found a long, sturdy cable that connected to some point in the roof above him and went over the platform and down to some control area on another level. Hoisting himself up to the long narrow maintenance path that led above him was child’s play. He pulled out the rubber chicken with the pulley in the middle and placed it over the wire but took a beat while ignoring the shouts and Cabanela’s ducking and dodging down below. He’d almost forgotten it was there, but there was something else still in his hoodie pocket, and he fished it out one-handed.

Kamila’s recorder sparkled there in the dim light, and Jowd’s face crinkled in delighted and slightly evil glee. He took a deep breath and put the mouthpiece to his lips, giving it a mighty blast as he grabbed both handles of the pulley and kicked off down his makeshift zipline. The little group down below had just enough time to take in the shrill sound of the whistle before Jowd burst through the chain link fence and was upon them, bowling them over like so many pins. They staggered and went down, leaving Cabanela to stand alone and laughing, a lanky and loose man of the law triumphant over them as Jowd dropped off the cable and landed next to him. Cabanela reached out and caught the rubber chicken with the pulley in the middle as it fell from the cable.

“Toook you long enough, baby,” he said, and shook the thing at Jowd. “You’re gettin’ slow in your old age. Suppose I shouldn’t have been expectin’ you to dress the part, Detective... but at least you had a theme song for your grand entrance. We’ll be teachin’ you showmanship yet!”

Jowd spat out the recorder, looked down at his maligned pajama pants and hoodie, and laughed softly. “Well, I was enjoying the holy night with my family, you know.”

“Justice never rests,” Cabanela retorted loftily, and looked around at the groaning group around him. “Ain’t that right, kids?”

“Detective Jowd?” One of the group sat up, disentangling himself from the man next to him. “Err… we weren’t expecting you, sir!” He put a hand to his head in uncertain salute, and Jowd gave him a lazy, two-fingered wave in the vicinity of his hair in lieu of a more formal return gesture.

Cabanela struck a pose and said, “Attention!” The five people around him scrambled upright and stood straight, saluting. Cabanela strolled down the short line.

“Uniforms… a mess. Suppose I can’t dock you too much for that given your ‘rescuer’ heeere. Even so, not a good look in any case.” He shot Jowd an ironic look. “Fooorm… all over the place.” He showed himself off with an ostentatious twirl. “Not a one of you landed a hit.”

“Untouched and spotless as usual,” Jowd muttered.

Cabanela ignored him as he reached out and knocked a knuckle against one of the men’s heads. “Demonstration of skills… not pretty, baby, not pretty at all. All in all, I’d have to call this a fail, kids. Better luck next time.”

“That’s not fair!” The lone woman in the group protested angrily. “We’ve been here for days trying to catch you; just because we didn’t expect some jerk in pajamas with a rubber chicken on a zipline to zoom in at the last minute…!”

“Baby, you fundamentally misunderstand the point of the exercise.” Cabanela shot her a disappointed look. “You have to be able to respond to unexpected situations and think on the fly as a detective. Might even have salvaged this yet if you’d worked together when an unexpected event happened.”

“But! You’re known for working alone!” the woman said. “You and Detective Jowd are famous for it!”

Cabanela shrugged. “That’s us, baby; we have our own ways of handlin’ things. You five, on the other hand, didn’t have a plan. That’s the wooorst failure of all.”

“Aw, man...” one of the other men said, then looked abashed and went silent.

“Think of it this way,” Jowd said with a genial smirk. “At least you get to go home for the rest of holy night. And next time, it’ll be me running the exercise. Won’t that be fun?”

“But we can’t go home yet,” one of the men burst out, as the rest looked dismayed and murmured amongst themselves. “We’re locked in until we find the key!”

“Now that’s just cruel,” Jowd murmured, for Cabanela’s ears alone. Aloud, he said, “And where do you think I came from? Cabanela’s right, you five are a little too green yet to pass the detective’s exam. Go on, get out of here. Up the stairs, door’s unlocked.”

“Yes, sir,” came the dispirited chorus, and the five of them began trudging up the stairs, leaving Jowd and Cabanela alone on the platform. Jowd looked around at the broken chain link fence.

“Well, that’s coming out of your budget,” he said. “What were you planning to do if Alma hadn’t given me your gift?”

“Oh, I trust her mooore than I trust you to remember these things, baby,” Cabanela returned, his voice abstracted. “Besides, I knew that phone call would get you here if nothin’ else worked.”

“Hmm.” Jowd looked down at the bucket of water, standing unobtrusively to the side, which had served double duty as a clue to the reservoir over the phone. “None of them thought that a standing bucket of water was an odd thing to find in an empty platform in the middle of plenty of water?” He bent down and sloshed in it, coming up with a rubber fish with a pulley in the middle, and dumped a key out of the fish’s mouth, tossing the key to Cabanela. “Better give that and the one you gave me back to the caretaker before we leave.”

“Don’t throw it if you’re that worried about it,” Cabanela retorted.

Jowd laughed and tossed the fish over his shoulder, and it flew through the hole in the chain link fence and down into the water underneath, sinking out of sight. “Fish go in the water. It’s just tidy. By the way, this gift was a weird one even for you.” He stared at the rubber chicken, still in Cabanela’s hand. “Where’d you get the idea?”

“Well, it had to be a chicken. That was a given. The rest of it? Eh, I asked one of the lab monkeys to design it for me.” Cabanela gave the recorder a pointed look. “Thaaat was for Kamila.”

“This is why your plan almost failed,” Jowd said, shaking it at Cabanela. “I’m pretty sure Alma is planning dire revenge for this thing. You’ve got a Kamila-concert to sit through in the near future.”

“Nooot happenin’!” Cabanela dropped the rubber chicken and made a swipe for the recorder; Jowd’s lightning quick fists took it out of his way just in time and Jowd shoved it back into his hoodie pocket. In a display of unusual clumsiness, Cabanela stumbled over the chicken, kicking it so it followed the fish into the water. Cabanela gave it the satisfied look of a gambit accomplished as Jowd caught him by the waist and set him upright before he followed it in.

“Oh, you’re definitely in for it now. Throwing away my favorite gift? Pretty sure that’s a crime on the books somewhere.” Jowd chuckled and turned away from the water, gesturing to the stairs. “Speaking of crimes, not too nice of you to keep the rooks working on a holiday, is it? I thought that one with the green lanyard would keel over when he saw me. And why the dramatics over the phone? What happened to just asking?”

“Really, baby. That little puzzle was juuust a little challenge to my rival. Ask? Whooo do you take me for?” Cabanela shot him an insulted look. Jowd shrugged; drama was an essential part of a Cabanela experience. There was no real point in asking why.

“Anyhoot, I was expecting this to be done daaays ago,” Cabanela continued. “Not my fault they didn’t have the brains of a rubber chicken with a pulley in it. Besides, I didn’t haaave anywhere to be. Holy night’s just another day when you’re a man of the law.” Cabanela said, walking past him.

“Of course you have a place to be,” Jowd retorted. “We both do. Dinner, my mother’s. She made pie! I’m told there’s noodles in it.”

“Unlikely,” Cabanela snorted. “Chicken, more likely.”

“Yeah, well,” Jowd said, not denying it, “Alma would probably kill me if I didn’t bring you back after all this. Come on with us to dinner.”

“Only if you go dressed in those spiffy new clothes laid out for you, if I know Alma,” Cabanela said lightly, as they walked up the stairs.

“Sure, sure,” Jowd said. “I’m pretty sure there’s some ‘spiffy’ new clothes for you too in some of those packages still under our tree.”

Cabanela stopped, his back to Jowd. “You had giiifts under the tree? For me?” he said, and scrubbed a hand through his slicked-back hair, absent-mindedly leaving it in a haphazard scruffle that he’d be horrified by later. “Can’t say I was expectin’ that from you, baby. You didn’t even know if I would be there.”

“Didn’t I?” Jowd said, and laughed. “Pretty sure I won my bet with Alma about the hour and minute I got your call. Anyway. I’m hungry and now you’re the slow one. Let’s get out of here and eat before it gets cold… enjoy some of that after-dinner music Alma was promising.” He scooped Cabanela up and slung him over his shoulder, jogging up the stairs two at a time while ignoring his lanky old friend’s protests. As they made their way back to a place of cacophany and chaos, Jowd didn’t spare a thought for the rubber chicken with a pulley in it, still sinking to the bottom of the deep water of the Zone B reservoir. It was gone, and it wasn’t coming back; the light and music of home called him more than those dark depths.

Cabanela slung an arm around Jowd’s shoulder as they walked into the house. Alma drew them into a hug despite not yet forgiving Cabanela the recorder, and they retreated together into the light. For just a little longer yet, they stood together as a bulwark against destiny, their stalwart presence a gift to each other that would fend off the ocean at the heart of the year’s longest night.

#ghost trick #ghost trick spoilers #pre-canon though #ghost swap 2023 #writing af

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svu-barisi · 1 year ago

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Sonny's Gift Wrapping Fiasco 2023

Compliant with my fanfic novel. The final version will appear on AO3 soon. This is an excerpt from an upcoming chapter that is a dream Rafael is having...enjoy some absurd craziness and an ending of smut.

Summary:

Rafael and Sonny are spending the day before Christmas (their first Christmas as parents of triplets [Raúl, Peter, and Emilina]) at their respective office parties at the DA's office and the precinct. Whether it's the Christmas Party at the precinct or at the DA's office, out shopping, or at Barisi's apartment, Sonny creates gift wrapping mayhem everywhere they go. Rafael seems to be the most frequent victim.

Despite Sonny Carisi being from a huge family and being the very domesticated type, Rafael learns his husband's dark secret concerning the holidays.

Will they get their kids' gifts wrapped before Christmas morning?

Will there be anyway to salvage the holidays?

Did Casey spike the eggnog with more than just alcohol?

Duh

---

At the Christmas Party at the SVU DA's Office, Novak had slipped some of her boss's Scotch into the eggnog (which she did well aware that Barba had been watching her pour it in the punch bowl). Normally, Barba would have been furious, but it was Christmas. Plus, he knew that someone was bound to gift him a new bottle today or tomorrow, so it wouldn't be an issue. After exchanging smirks, he approached Novak and ladled them both a shot glass of eggnog. Barba and Novak clinked their glasses 🥂 together and toasted to a slower holiday period (which never would happen, but they could wish, right?).

A few minutes later, Barba noticed that the gift exchange had started. He really didn't know what he and his husband got anyone, he was just relying on Carisi's expert knowledge of people hoping that they had got their assigned people something nice. Otherwise, he'd have to make it up to them later.

Barba had been standing next to Carmen as she unwrapped a gift, and that's when it happened. Before he knew it, he was staring at red and he heard his husband's voice apologizing.

"Sorry Rafi!"

Must have had too much eggnog already, Barba thought to himself.

After fumbling through the tangle of a ribbon, Carisi notified everyone that he, "Found Barba!"

Barba put his shot glass of eggnog down on Carmen's desk. He had no idea how he missed getting wrapped up a ribbon like a gift.

---

The holiday party at the DA's office was immediately followed by the one at the precinct. Barba was feeling slightly unnerved and a little off his game being caught up in the ribbon fiasco at the DA's office. On the way to the precinct, Barba had given a lot of consideration as to how he had missed the events leading up to be tangled up in gift ribbon. He had decided that Novak may have put too much alcohol in the eggnog. He was considering laying off of the alcohol, but he didn't want to be a downer, so he opted to only have one shot of something that he was accustomed to; the Scotch Benson kept in her office just for him and their after hours chats.

Carisi's attempt at gift exchanging with some fellow squad members, Amaro and Rollins, somehow resulted in more mayhem that somehow sucked his husband in, too.

Again? Barba thought in astonishment.

Carisi apologized, "Sorry, Sweetheart!"

I am not this drunk. How does this keep happening? He was just giving Amanda gifts for her girls. How? What the...? Barba thought as he stepped out of the ribbon. He was now committed to not consuming any more alcohol today. He laid his shot glass down on Fin's desk.

Now Carisi had Amaro and Huang cornered. At least he'll be giving them their gifts at home, Barba thought in a sense of both sarcasm and relief.

Then mayhem happened yet again.

I didn't even see any fuckin' gifts this time! Where is all this ribbon coming from? Barba wondered as he found himself fighting his festive red restraints. It doesn't even match my tie! The indignity...the injustice! After dropping the ribbon to the floor, he thought, maybe Casey spiked the eggnog at the office with more than just my Scotch. He felt so horribly confused.

Carisi apologized, "Sorry again, Rafi."

Minutes later, it happened yet again. Amaro, Rollins, and he had fallen victim to the festive ribbon again. At least Barba was not gagged by the ribbon this time, but Rollins was.

"Sorry 'Manda!" Carisi apologized.

The party at the precinct didn't last much longer. Before everyone started parting ways for the evening, lots of photos were taken. While posing for a group photo with some of the squad, Barba heard his husband's voice again.

"Sorry Captain!" Carisi apologized.

Muffled by the ribbon, Benson replied, "It's okay, Carisi. It's...uh...festive."

Fin groaned despite the smile on his face.

What the fuck? There were no gifts! Where did the fuckin' ribbon come from this time? Barba wondered.

---

On the way home, Barba and Carisi had stopped off at a store to pick up the last few gifts that they had on layaway. They were walking to the subway when Barba felt himself being pulled close to his husband.

"Sorry, Rafi."

"Eh, at least you're keeping me warm." Barba thought that Carisi was just trying to be romantic in a holiday way while prolonging the joke of however he kept managing to be captured in gift ribbon alive.

Barba laughed it off and they continued home.

---

At Barisi's Apartment:

The other couple were already at home. Huang and Amaro volunteered to help Carisi wrap Barisi's triplet's presents. Barba was sipping at a mug of hot cocoa when heard, "Sorry George."

Barba looked up and sure enough, Amaro and Huang were both tangled up in gift ribbon with Huang being the gagged one this time. What the fuck?

Amaro and Huang ditched Carisi's Gift Wrapping Armageddon in favor of making dinner. When they went into the kitchen to prepare dinner, Rafael took over trying to help Carisi, who was absolutely adamant about wrapping his own children's gifts. Barba wasn't going to take away such a cherished task from his husband, but he was going to help or this would not be done before their children outgrew Santa.

Again, Barba was blindsighted despite knowing it was bound to happen.

"Sorry, Rafi!"

"Por favor, por el amor de dios (Please, for the love god), tell me that your parents helped you wrap your siblings gifts."

"Nah. They sort of saw it as free childcare as long as no one else got tangled up in the ribbons with me."

"I was talking about even as an adult."

"So was I. Until we started dating, it was still free child care for them."

"Bless your parents."

Another gift wrap attempt later, it happened again and again Barba had gotten gagged by the ribbon.

"Sorry, Rafi, but I think I'm starting to get the hang of this," Carisi said.

"Don't fall for it Rafael!" Amaro called from the kitchen.

Carisi was about to lower his husband's festive gag when he asked, "How about I just apologize now before we wrap all of these? Think a hundred times will be enough?"

"How many more fuckin' gifts can there be?"

"Well, technically, we haven't wrapped a single one yet and we do have triplets, so a lot."

Screw not drinking. I don't have the patience for this. Barba sighed and then said, "At least let me get a shot of Scotch before the next attempt."

"Like you could do any better!"

"Watch me!"

Carisi huffed playfully and walked away.

Barba had nearly wrapped the first gift when suddenly Carisi appeared and it happened yet again!

Intertwined tightly with his husband, Carisi gazed into Barba's eyes with the I told you so expression on his face.

"It would have worked if you would have stayed in the kitchen. Mi amor, you're just cursed by the holiday spirit."

"Fuck you!" Carisi said in a somewhat seductive whisper making Barba smirk at the implication. "At least we can grind."

"Just get us to the bedroom and then you can unwrap all of me," Barba said, his words going straight to Carisi's dick.

Carisi got so excited by the sexual invitation that he fumbled and knocked them both over.

*Thud*

*Curses from two entangled grown men on the floor*

*Sounds of three babies crying a few rooms away*

"Nick and I got them!" Huang called from the kitchen.

"Thanks!" Carisi called back.

Still on the floor, Carisi frantically freed his arms and unraveled the ribbon and bows from him and his husband. He immediately tugged Barba's sweatpants and boxer briefs off and then removed his own sweatpants and boxers.

"Not in the living room," Barba complained despite instinctively spreading his legs for his husband. Just as the ribbon had kept surprising him all day, Carisi's fingers were suddenly inside of him. "Fuck!"

"Don't worry. When we hear the crying die down, we'll wrap things up."

"Ha ha, very funny. Sonny, we haven't even got a single one of their presents wrapped yet!" Barba protested as he felt Carisi's tip at his hole.

"Don't worry, Sweetheart. We've still got eight hours," Carisi said as he plunged forward causing Barba to gasp.

They could be caught by the other couple. They could be caught by ANY of the three other couples living with them. Where are they anyhow? Barba wondered, but Carisi delivering a jolt to his prostate short-circuited what was left of Barba's brain and he no longer cared. For all he cared, all the couples could walk in on them having sex and he wouldn't mind. Barba wrapped his legs around Carisi pulling him closer and urging him to keep going despite his once rational brain's protest, but much to his throbbing dick's approval.

Carisi set a grueling pace as he took custody of his partner's hot cock. The couple got lost in each others' eyes as they made passionate love. Carisi still managed to get themselves wrapped in a tangle of ribbons laying on the floor, but nothing even remotely neat or bow-like. They rolled over the wrapping paper swapping positions for only a minute before Carisi rolled Barba back to the floor. Ten minutes later they were both covered in cum and are recovering on the floor nestled against each other.

"You just had to trip us and prevent us from making it to our comfortable king-sized bed, didn't you? This is going to hurt like hell in the morning," Barba complained.

"I love you, too, Rafi."

"Te amo, tambien." After a quick kiss, Barba added, "Despite the fact that you can't wrap gifts." Carisi playfully smacked Barba in retaliation. "Lucky for me, you are a much more competent lover than a gift wrapper."

Carisi smiled, but then he suddenly realized, "Fuck! They aren't crying anymore!"

Barba and Carisi scrambled to their feet collecting their underwear and sweatpants from the floor. Carisi managed to get tangled up in the ribbon yet again, but Barba somehow managed to keep the detective from falling.

"Let's get a quick shower!" Barba suggested as he fled the room.

Carisi, who was quick to follow, said, "We'll have hot cocoa afterwards!"

Huang and Amaro were standing at the corner of the living room staring in disbelief at what they had just caught a glimpse of. It was more than a glimpse, though. They had actually seen the couple laying and recovering from their orgasms before they had fled the living room.

Amaro finally managed, "We should wrap their kids' gifts while they're in the shower."

"Yeah. Although, we probably should use the gift wrap from our closet," Huang advised.

"Good call," Amaro agreed looking at the soiled and crinkled gift wrap on the floor. Then the detective added, "You know, we could have thrown some glitter on them, too."

Huang laughed and remarked, "The ultimate gift."

---

Thirty minutes later, Barba and Carisi had returned to the living room wearing matching fleece pajama pants and t-shirts. Huang and Amaro were patiently sitting on one of the loveseats, each holding a mug of eggnog in their hands. There were two more mugs waiting on the coffee table near the other loveseat.

Barba and Carisi slowly took their seat on the next loveseat and began sipping at their mugs. They both slowly surveyed the living room which was now lit by only the lights on the Christmas tree. There were nearly thirty now-wrapped gifts under the tree. The mess of soiled and crinkled gift wrap paper and the tangled ribbons had been disposed of.

Finally, Huang said, "Rafael, for being such an intelligent man, Harvard-educated at that, you are so stupid."

Barba looked up from his mug and asked in a tone of indignation, "What?"

"No one is that hopeless of a holiday wrapper. He was trying to lure you into sex," Amaro contributes.

Barba looked to Carisi. "What? You did that on purpose? All of that? All day?"

Carisi shrugged. "It worked."

Barba put his hand to his forehead, but then he panicked as he realized, "Wait! What? You saw us?" he asked the other couple.

"Every last detail," Huang answered calmly, quietly, matter of factly, as he struggled to take a very controlled-seeming sip.

"Well, just from the waist down," Amaro quips.

"Nick suggested covering your dicks in glitter," Huang added.

"I didn't say those exact words," Amaro refuted.

Carisi was amused and wearing a grin, but Barba's cheeks are ablaze with embarrassment.

"So, are you two interested in a threesome or foursome?" Carisi joked.

Amaro and Huang playfully look at each other as if they were actually considering the invitation causing all four of them to start laughing, even the embarrassed DA.

"Why don't we go somewhere more comfortable," Carisi suggested in a seductive tone continuing the joke, but when he looked at his husband, Barba was already on his feet and extending his hand to Carisi.

"Is this really happening?" Amaro asked as he and Huang stood up.

"Suppose there is nothing wrong with experimenting. I was too busy at Harvard studying to find the time to...experiment," Barba said casually.

"He's fuckin' with you," Huang told Amaro.

"It's the holidays and there is eggnog," Barba refuted.

"Raf?" Carisi asked now looking at Barba in perplexed astonishment. Carisi had had his fill of sexual experimentation in his college days (and they were fun), but he was madly in love with his husband who didn't seem like the type to experiment. He had only been kidding when he mentioned the idea to the other couple.

"I'd like to try it. We're all adults and if we all consent--" Barba began.

"I consent!" Amaro and Huang exclaimed in unison.

"Wow, uh sure," Carisi said sounding completely and utterly unsure.

"And since they wrapped the gifts, we do owe them a thank you," Barba tried to convince Carisi.

"Ah, you're not fuckin' with 'em. You're fuckin' with me, aren't you?" Carisi asked suspiciously.

Barba shook his head. "It's cute that you would think that, but I'm serious." Barba turned to the other couple, "But it has to stay about consent. Anyone doesn't like something, it stops. No questions. Got it?"

Amaro and Huang agreed.

As the couples began walking towards Barisi's bedroom (because they all knew they had the bigger bed), Carisi asked, "Rafi?"

Barba pressed a kiss to Carisi's cheek. "I'm absolutely sure."

#raul esparza #rafael barba #sonny carisi #peter scanavino #rauleesparza #dominick carisi #barisi svu #barisi #svubarisi #barisisvu #bd wong #george huang #nick amaro #danny pino

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hollowistheworld · 1 year ago

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New Experiences

Final day of IBWeek 2023! Thanks to @the-bureaucracts-are-everything for hosting, I had a lot of fun with these.

Also on AO3

It starts with a question.

“What is a roller coaster?”

“Hmm?” Beelzebub looks up at him. The two of them are walking down the street from their favorite cafe, Gabriel sipping at a hot chocolate and Beelzebub opening a bag of coffee beans and dishing out a spoonful of them.

“Going faster than a roller coaster…” Gabriel sings. “What’s a roller coaster? Besides something that goes fast.”

Beelzebub frowns. “I… don’t know.” They mentally flip through Hell’s most common terms - constantly being so busy meant Beelzebub had needed to help in Admissions from time to time, and had seen plenty of strange human concepts, but if ‘roller coasters’ had ever been one of them they can’t remember it.

Gabriel frowns, then unwraps his arm from Beelzebub’s waist and jogs ahead a few paces.

A human is sitting along the sidewalk, back pressed to the brick wall of a bakery, holding an overstuffed bag and looking unhappy. Gabriel skids to a stop in front of it and hands it a piece of human money as he asks, “What’s a roller coaster?”

The human stares at him a moment, then gets slowly to its feet as it takes the money and Beelzebub catches up. Gabriel immediately puts his arm back around their waist.

“It’s… A ride? A cart goes on a track and it goes-“ The human makes a dramatic swooping motion with one arm.

“It’s fast?” Gabriel asks.

The human nods. “Oh yeah. Crazy fast.”

“It’s a ride?” Beelzebub asks. “As in, hum- people get in the cart and go that fast?”

It nods again.

Gabriel and Beelzebub exchange a look, then look back at the human. Gabriel hands it another piece of human money. “Where can we find one?”

It stares at the money for a moment, presumably deciding if it’s worth telling them, then pockets it and says, “Hang on a second.” It takes out a phone - one of the ridiculous, sleek ones that look like what they carry around in Heaven - and pokes at it for a minute or two, not even speaking to it. Then, the human looks up and says, “There’s a carnival a few blocks from here. I can walk you there.”

Gabriel beams, his million-watt Supreme Archangel Gabriel smile that isn’t quite genuine, but isn’t exactly a lie either. “Perfect!”

So the human leads them to a carnival. It’s shockingly loud, even to Beelzebub, who’s used to loud. Full of smells Beelzebub can’t recognize, some of them pleasant, some of them less so. There are screams in the air they can’t pinpoint the cause of, along with metallic sounds like a stronger version of the noises the pipes would make moments before they burst.

Gabriel’s smile freezes on his face as they approach, overwhelmed by so much new stimulation. Beelzebub tucks their bag of coffee into a pocket and gives him a squeeze, earning themself a grateful glance.

Strange as it is, they’ve come this far, and they don’t need to speak to know that neither of them are willing to back down now. If humans can do it, so can they. Whatever ‘it’ is.

The human hands some of the money Gabriel had given to it to another human, who gives it more money in return, and ties a piece of paper around its wrist. It then steps back and nods them forward. Gabriel makes a face when he gets a paper bracelet of his own, but then they’re inside the gates and the human points up and ahead. “That’s a roller coaster.”

Beelzebub’s hand squeezes Gabriel’s of its own accord. “Humans ride that?”

“Isn’t that awful… high?” Gabriel asks. “Because of gravity?”

The human shrugs. “That’s half the fun? Did you want to try it?”

Human shrieking is coming from the ride. Beelzebub is no stranger to human screaming, but they’re not sure what to make of the humans apparently doing it on purpose.

Gabriel looks down at them. They meet his gaze.

“We’ve come this far,” Gabriel says.

So the human directs Beelzebub to put their hat somewhere secure and leads them into a line, stopping briefly along the way to buy some sort of food that is, for some reason, presented on a stick that it has to throw away when it’s finished with it.

Once they’re done with this little excursion, Beelzebub is going to insist they not leave home for a few days. It’s a lot to take in. They’re suddenly realizing why humans never seemed to be all that alarmed by Hell. At least Hell hadn’t had this much music and shouting going on all at once, and their terrifying features were just their faces, not costumes and paint they’d inexplicably put on.

They wait in a line that puts Admissions to shame, and then the human grins at them. “Hey, lucky for you two - best seats in the house.” It points at the first cart in a long line of them and the two of them step into it, their tour guide hopping in one row behind.

Gabriel and Beelzebub both jump as another human lowers a big metal bar over them, pinning them into the seats. They exchange a look, then look back at their human, who grins again. “To keep you from falling out. You might want to hold hands, if this is your first time.”

Gabriel takes Beelzebub's hand with an uneasy look.

It would be inaccurate to say either of them are scared. Anything a human can survive can be survived by an angel and a demon, and even if something goes horribly wrong, they can always miracle themselves to safety. But Beelzebub can’t remember the last time they went into something with so little idea of what the something was, and they know Gabriel has been no more adventurous.

It’s a new kind of excitement, and Beelzebub hasn’t yet made up their mind if they like it when the cart they’re in lurches and shoots ahead.

Once, Crowley had gone on a long and aimless tangent about how fast humans like to go. It had been about their invention of planes, or maybe rockets, Beelzebub can’t remember. They hadn’t really been paying attention. Crowley had been deeply approving, complaining about horses and how much better cars were, how this being in the air thing was bound to be even better.

Beelzebub should have given him more credit. He had, apparently, been absolutely right - humans liked to go fast. Fast like Beelzebub wouldn’t have thought their corporeal body could handle. Fast like the humans should be terrified, and maybe they are because they’re still screaming, but they’re doing it on purpose. Beelzebub has seen a lot of humans - or at least a lot of human souls - get dragged into things they don’t want to do. There had been none of that in the line down below them, and as the cart shoots around a corner and tips on its side their human guide whoops from behind them as Gabriel's fingers tighten around Beelzebub’s.

It goes on for what feels like a very long time. It slows down a few times, making Beelzebub think for a moment that it’s over, and then they would speed backwards or drop down like the humans had forgotten to keep building the road.

They stumble a little against Gabriel when they get off, and he looks dizzy, one hand fisted into the back of Beelzebub’s coat.

“Well?” the human asks. “What’d you think?”

Beelzebub and Gabriel exchange another look.

“I-“ Gabriel begins grandly, “-am not sure.”

The human laughs. “Sounds about right for a first time. Give it an hour or so.”

So they do. Their guide flops down on a bale of hay and tells them to come over if they have any more questions, munching on a bag of something Beelzebub doesn’t want to ask questions about.

They don’t try the food. It smells very strong and some of it is dripping, and they’re still making their way slowly through the options at their cafe. They aren't ready for whatever this is. They explore something called a House of Mirrors, which Beelzebub finds far funnier than Gabriel does, and they have to produce one of his little mirrors afterwards to assure him that it was just some bizarre human trick and not cause for concern. Beelzebub finds themself surrounded by flies without any effort at all, because the place is, for some reason, thick with them. They watch humans play at games that are most definitely rigged but either no one is noticing or no one cares. And, after an hour, they do cautiously try another roller coaster, which is a little more pleasant with the extra warning about what they’re in for.

Still, Beelzebub is glad when they return home and collapse into bed, Gabriel not even protesting about showers or casual clothes for once. He’d handed their human some more cash and promised it good luck - something he definitely isn’t supposed to be doing anymore, but even if Heaven noticed, who would be willing to do something about it? - and now looked like he was really considering a proper night’s sleep for once. Beelzebub agrees.

“They really do come up with the strangest things, don’t they?” Beelzebub says.

Gabriel nods. “And for… no reason? Did you see a reason?”

Beelzebub shakes their head. “None whatsoever. Crowley used to say that humans didn’t need reasons to do things. I never really believed him before.”

“Same with Aziraphale.” Gabriel lets out a tired but happy sigh and pulls Beelzebub close. “I guess they were right about more than just angels and demons being able to be friends.”

Beelzebub is exhausted in a way that’s new for them, but isn’t actually unpleasant. They think they might want to try out some more of the strange human inventions, eventually.

Once they’ve spent a month or so recovering from this one, that is.

#good omens #ibweek2023 #ineffable bureaucracy #beelzebub #good omens gabriel #gabriel x beelzebub #my writing

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