#it’s sunday so it’ll be crazy busy and I’ll be running around | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

psychovigilantewrites · 4 years

Text

Don’t Call Me That Pt. 2

Wordcount: 10,129

A/N: I thought this part 2 would total up to 10k words, but when it hit 10k, I realised that I was only about 65 percent done. So based on the responses I got from tumblr, I decided to publish this first and then conclude the story later on!

TW: mentions of r*pe, mentions of torture, mentions of drugging someone (??) , mental breakdowns, vulnerability, descriptions of anxiety

Also, HERE’S MY FAV MEMES!! I’m so sorry that I can’t tag respective meme creators, because I saved them on my phone and some of them I forgot to include your usernames!! I’M SO SORRY!!! And honest to god is wear there were more but i must have lost them im so sorry im so incompetent lmao

memeesss

You glanced at your phone.

It had already been a week in Hawaii with your friends, and Jason still hadn’t texted you.

Well, you should have expected it, really. Jason was a traumatised, mentally ill man who had been locked away for two years.

Of course he wouldn’t text you first.

You had contemplated texting him over the past few days, typing in an array of messages ranging from a simple “hey” to a whole paragraph, and deleting all of it without hitting send. Did he even switch the phone on? Was he surfing the internet? Or was the phone still there on the shelf where you had left it.

It was driving you crazy.

“Do you have a boyfriend we don’t know about?” a voice called.

You looked up and squinted at the man who was standing up, looking down at you. You were sitting on the beach, a little further away from the ocean where your friends were.

“What are you talking about?” you asked as Alex plopped down next to you.

“You’ve been fidgety the whole time,” he pointed out, combing back his dark shoulder length hair with his fingers, getting sand in them. “We’re on a private beach, and you’ve been fussing over your phone. Who are you talking to?”

“No one,” you grumbled truthfully.

“The girls have been gossiping,” he gestured to the two other girls playing in the water. Your closest friends. It was four of you in that inseparable group.

“Of course they have,” you groaned, “Tell them to SAY IT TO MY FACE, COWARDS!”

You shouted at them, earning you grins and middle fingers from the distance.

“They’re saying you’re in love with someone,” he chuckled, “But they always say stupid shit like that without any evidence. But sometimes, a girl’s intuition is just right, ya know?”

“Stop beating around the bush, Alex,” you rolled your eyes at him despite knowing he couldn’t see past your sunglasses. “No, I’m not in love. I’m just waiting for a text that might never come.”

“Why don’t you text him first?”

“Because it’s not as simple as that!” you flailed your arms, “He’s… complicated. I can’t just text him anything.”

“Girl, unless he’s Mr. Nottingham, or related to you, then it really isn’t that complicated,” he joked.

“Ugh,” you groaned again, falling back onto the cloth you spread out. “Fine. I’ll text him.”

“Atta girl,” Alex grinned, “I’m gonna head back in the water. Join us after. Please?”

“Yeah, yeah,” you waved.

Opening the text window for what had to be the thirtieth time, you finally decided to text him.

You: Miss me yet?

Staring intently at the small ‘sent’ below your message bubble, you waited for it to turn to ‘delivered’.

“Yes!” you hissed. It meant that Jason had indeed switched on the phone.

But after twenty minutes you realised that it didn’t matter if Jason switched on the phone if he didn’t want to talk to you. Cursing to yourself, you decided to join your friends in the water, hoping it’ll distract you from checking your phone every five minutes for a text message that might never come.

After an hour of actually spending time with your friends, all four of you returned to the villa, your mood elevated. Checking your phone, you could have jumped for joy when you saw not one, but four consecutive texts in a row.

Jason: Duck off. Jason: What the duck Jason: WHY CANT I SAY DUCK Jason: I DUCKING HATE THIS

You couldn’t let out a string of giggles.

“Oooh, lover boy texted you back, huh?” Alex peeked over your shoulder. “Gimme, I wanna mess with him.”

He snatched your phone from your hands, surprisingly swift and smooth for a civilian, raising it way above his head so you couldn’t reach it and opened the camera.

“Alex-!”

He threw his other arm over your shoulder and pulled you into his bare chest, crushing you before you could tackle him down. He snapped a picture and sent it.

You froze in horror.

“Why the hell did you do that?!” you yelled.

“Relax, I was just messing around,” he gave your phone back to you.

“You don’t- you don’t understand, you fucking asshole!” you screamed.

“I- I’m sorry,” Alex stuttered, surprised by your reaction. “I was just-”

“Fuck off!” you snapped.

Panicking, you saw the little notification below the picture turning from Received to Read.

No. No, no, no, no.

This was bad.

You didn’t want to overwhelm Jason by sending him photos of your activities, thinking that he might react badly to the sudden surplus of familiarity and sense of being close to someone. Now you were worried that he might start to push you away in fear, reverting back to how he was before, and months of progress would have been all for nothing.

He would probably start swearing at you, or worse- switch off the phone and reject any form of communication completely. You hurriedly texted a reply.

You: I’m so sorry! I didn’t send that, my friend was just messing around.

Expecting the worst, you braced yourself for the inevitable. Instead, he sent you:

Jason: Who the hell is that guy?? Jason: Why are you in your underwear??

Your mouth hung open as you stared in shock at the screen. Because you took so long to recover from the shock, he sent you another message.

Jason: ???

Snapping out of it, you texted back.

You: That’s just my friend. Sorry about that! And I’m not in my underwear, it’s a bikini! I’m in Hawaii.

You waited for him to reply, but ten minutes of you sitting anxiously on the turquoise sofa in the middle of the villa listening to the waves of the beach outside from the open doors passed by, and he still hadn’t.

Perhaps he’s busy- wait. There’s no way Jason would be busy. You tried to coax him into a conversation.

You: You can turn off your autocorrect if you want to swear without hassle. Go to your Keyboard settings.

You plopped your phone on the empty seat next to you and dried your hair.

“Ugh, come on!” complained Natalie, fully clothed and washed, walking towards the open concept kitchen from her room. “You’re getting sand everywhere!”

“Woops, my bad,” you grinned.

“There’s a shower outside on the porch for a reason you know,” she flipped her blond beach waves at you, looking through the fridge.

Alex stood quietly at the kitchen island, now scared to say anything.

You rolled your eyes. “Just don’t do it again.”

“Okay, I promise!” he grinned.

Ding.

Jason: fuck. fuck. fucking fuck. Jason: found it. You: Proud of you, man.

You went to your room and showered, then dried off and put on fresh clothes while waiting for Jason to reply.

Of course, he never did.

Groaning, you had to remind yourself that he was not used to human interaction, and texting would come unnaturally to him. Which meant that you had to be the one to keep the conversation going.

You: Do anything interesting since I left?

You saw him typing almost immediately this time.

Jason: no.

Of course not.

You: Have you been eating properly? Jason: yeah.

God, it was so difficult. You were in the middle of typing something when he replied again.

Jason: yoire not my mom Jason: yoire Jason: YOIRE Jason: FUCK WHY CANR I TYPE

You felt guilty for laughing, but you did anyway.

You: Now that you switched off autocorrect, it won’t correct your typos and misspells anymore. Jason: i fucking knw that. Ive been gone for two yeard not twenty. You: Then why do you sound like a grandpa? Jason: BECAISE YOU GAVE ME A FUCKINF IPHONE!! I USED AN ANDROID!!

Now you were really laughing out loud, so you sent him a GIF of a woman rolling her eyes.

Jason: wtf you can send gifs throug text now?? You: Welcome to 2020, my dude. Jason: im not your fucking dude

Typing a reply, Jason interrupted you once again.

Jason: teach me how to do that

Smiling widely, you found that you couldn’t wait for the next week to pass by so you could go back and see him.

***

“How’s Jason?” you asked the minute you reached the Cave computers, panting from the run down.

“Wow, hello to you, too,” Dick chuckled, spinning towards you on the wheeled chair.

It was a Sunday afternoon, and Bruce and Dick were in front of the computers, discussing a case that had connections to Bludhaven Police Department.

Gone for two weeks, you had a lot to catch up on.

“According to Alfred, he’s doing well,” Bruce answered, “Even started to ask for seconds last week. Now Alfred has been making portions for two.”

“He asked? For seconds?” you gasped. “How?”

“He left a note on the tray two days after you left. He’s been making meal requests, too. Texts Alfred in the morning to let him know.”

“Texted?!”

“Alfred slipped his number on the tray in case Jason wanted anything specific.”

“I slipped mine as well, but he hasn’t texted me yet,” Dick pouted.

“When did he start texting?” you ignored Dick.

“Last Sunday.”

So the same day you started texting him, then.

“He hasn’t texted me,” Dick sighed, looking dejected like a kid who was told Disneyland blew up.

“He’ll come around, Dick,” you offered him a smile, “I mean- he’s already texting Alfred!”

“Yeah,” he lamented.

“Okaaay, nice talk. I’m gonna go see him now, bye.”

You ran to the box, but stopped right before you opened the internal door. After checking your hair with your phone camera, you tried to stifle the butterflies in your stomach.

Ugh, you were so fucked.

Taking a deep breath, you knocked on the door.

“Yeah,” Jason’s muffled grunt answered you.

Pushing it open, your eyes immediately went to the bed only to find that he wasn’t lounging around reading a book like you expected. Instead, your mouth dropped open when you saw him on the floor, doing push ups.

Shirtless.

Jason had changed drastically during the two weeks you were gone. You noticed that he had definitely gained weight, as well as muscle mass.

“Uh, wh-what are you..?”

He stood up, and you swore your heart skipped a beat.

His muscles were much more prominent and defined now, and he looked like he was going to achieve Dick’s physique if he kept it up for another month or two.

“Welcome back,” he simply said before taking gulps from a water bottle you definitely had not seen before.

“Thanks,” you walked over and sat on his bed, “I’m glad to see that you decided to start taking care of yourself again.”

“What, this? This isn’t for me.”

“Huh?” you cocked your head in curiosity.

“I… I lost a lot of muscle mass. My body- it isn’t how it used to be,” he frowned, “And I can’t have you lusting over it when it’s not at its peak.”

“What- what do you-?” you stammered, suddenly getting hot.

Jason merely smirked and then continued his push ups.

You watched as his developing muscles rippled, a thin layer of sweat making his skin glisten in the light. It was amazing how he had progressed so much in such a short period of time. You guessed that he must have just been occupying his days by working out.

No wonder he’s been asking for seconds.

“Enjoying the view?” Jason breathed, pausing with his arms straightened, his head angled upwards towards you.

“No, shut up,” you looked away.

“Here, be useful,” he started, “Sit on my back.”

“What?”

“I’ve gotten used to my own body weight, I need extra resistance,” he elaborated, “Come on, sit on my back.”

“But it’s all sweaty,” you whined, pretending to protest. Definitely pretending- for the sake of your own dignity.

You got up and went over towards him anyway.

Carefully, awkwardly, you sat on his back as you would a park bench. You rested your palms flat against his sticky skin to stabilise yourself. Suddenly, he dipped down without warning, earning a soft squeal from you.

“Fuck, you’re heavy,” he strained, but continued to do the push ups. He was shakier, struggling with the weight, and after twenty-five, he paused. “Okay, I think I’m done.”

But before you had the chance to get off him, he suddenly stood up, throwing you off his back to have you fall on the floor on your ass.

“Jason, you assho-” you clapped your hand over your mouth, realising what you had just said.

Oh, no. Oh, fuck.

He stood towering over you, his jaw clenching as he stared you down with his cold, blue eyes.

“I’m so sorry! I forgot! It was a reflex and-”

“Whatever. I don’t care anymore,” he rolled his eyes, reaching for his bottle.

You blinked. Then scrambled to your feet.

“You don’t care anymore?” you repeated slowly.

“I don’t care if you call me that,” he huffed.

That made your heart swell and melt at the same time.

“I got used to your voice,” he mumbled, expression changing as he looked away. He frowned, as if he was angrily staring at a distant object.

You had just guessed that he didn’t like to be called his name because of a sense of familiarity, but now you were thinking that there was much more to that than what you had originally thought.

“So, I can call you… Jason?” you tested.

“Yeah, call me whatever you want,” he sat on his bed, looking up at you.

You smiled, thankful that you had finally crossed that bridge. “You know, I could get some workout stuff for you? Weights, bands, that bar thing that you can put at your door frame for pull ups…”

“You’d like to see that, huh?” he smirked.

“You flatter yourself too much,” you scoffed.

“How was Hawaii?” he changed the subject all of a sudden.

“It was fun. Beach was great, locals were great, loved the vibe- what are you doing?”

Jason had stood back up and started to walk closer and closer to you, getting all up in your space like a predator finally cornering its prey. You kept on taking steps back until your ass hit the edge of the desk.

Nowhere else to run, your heart started hammering. He leaned in, his hands resting on the desk on either side of your body, trapping you against the table and himself. You looked up and gulped. You could almost feel the heat radiating from his bare skin.

“Are you afraid of me?” he muttered lowly.

“Why would I be afraid of you?” you whispered.

“You tell me,” he said.

“Well, I’m not afraid of you,” you stated.

“Oh really?” he raised an eyebrow. Then, you felt his hand grip your wrist tightly, pressing down on your skin with his fingers. “Your pulse is very fast for someone who’s not afraid of me.”

“It’s because you’re all up in my space!” you argued.

“Didn’t look like you mind when your friend,” he snarled the word, “was all up in your space.”

“My friend? What- oh,” you widen your eyes in realisation, “You mean Alex.”

“Is that his name?”

“Alex is just a friend, nothing more. He’s just someone I’m close to,” you reassured him.

Which then made you think about why you were reassuring him.

“Oh, you were definitely close to him,” Jason growled.

“Wait- are you… jealous?” a smile creeped your lips.

He scowled at you for a few moments, and you could see the little tics in his expression that said he was annoyed. The flared nostrils, the muscles of his jaw clenching and unclenching, the very slight twitches at the corner of his left eye.

“No,” he finally said, taking a step back from you. “I’m going to shower. Since you couldn’t stop staring at me, the invitation is still open for you to join.”

“You know, I’m starting to think that maybe I prefer it when you were broody instead of this. Please go back to your depressive mental state,” you sarcastically replied.

Jason barked out an actual laugh. Though his laugh was odd, like someone who’s only now discovering that humans were indeed capable of laughter, you found comfort in it. It was no longer hysterical and devoid of humor. He was getting better, learning to embrace a connection with someone, and it made you extremely happy.

“Maybe I should,” he answered with a cheeky glint in his eye, “Then that way you can give me more sponge baths.”

He left you alone in his room, flushed and at a loss for words.

***

“I find it very odd that people would yell ‘Batman!’ when they realise you’re there,” you rambled while climbing out of the Batmobile.

You were absolutely drenched from the downpour that had been going on all night. It was 4 am on a friday night and you had just returned from patrol.

Bruce took off his cowl immediately, revealing tired eyes despite the relatively slow night.

“It’s like they’re saying ‘Look at me! I’m here! Please knock me out or hang me upside down from the-’ Bruce?”

Bruce had stiffen, staring at something behind you. You turned around and was shocked to see Jason in the mid-distance, sitting on the ground outside the black box that was his room, leaning against the cool metal.

He himself was staring intently at Bruce, not even sparing you a glance.

You looked back and forth between the two men, sensing a high tension silent conversation.

Then, Bruce’s eyes relaxed and the corners of his mouth twitched upwards ever so slightly in that hardly-there-Bruce-smile.

He gave Jason one stiff nod of understanding, then walked away to the computers at the other end of the cave, leaving you alone with his son.

Jason relaxed as you walked over to him, wringing your hair to squeeze out all the excess water.

“Aw, you waited up for me,” you teased, standing in front of him with your hands on your hips, grinning away.

“Fuck off,” he snorted, “I was bored.”

You noticed him clenching his jaw as he looked at you from top to bottom, eyes lingering longer on the ‘R’ on your left breast.

Ah, it was his first time seeing you in your uniform.

His uniform.

Suddenly, you felt like an imposter in those colors and had the strong urge to rip the uniform off.

You wanted to say something, but Jason beat you to it.

“There were times in that shit hole where I wanted to burn that uniform off my skin,” he grit, “Kept on thinking to myself. I wish I never became Robin. I wish I never met Bruce Wayne.”

Your heart shattered at his confession. It was extremely rare for him to bring up anything related to his two year torture, and the previous times were never in such detail.

Realising you needed to say something, you opened your mouth. “I’m so-”

“Don’t,” he cut you off, “You don’t have to say anything.”

Yes, sometimes you knew that he just wanted you to listen.

You nodded silently and went to sit next to him on the floor.

“It… suits you,” he forced out.

“Hmm?”

“The uniform. It suits you. More than it ever suited me,” he grumbled.

“Oh, I don’t know about that. I think your ass would look quite nice in green,” you joked, nudging his shoulder with your own.

He chuckled deeply, nudging you back even harder- hard enough for you to lose your balance and topple sideways, earning another breathy laugh from Jason.

***

Another month passed by, and you found yourself falling deeply for Jason- much to your dismay. You knew Jason wasn’t ready for any kind of intense emotions, and that it would take a very long time before he was.

So you swallowed your emotions down, stifling them and hoping it would go away.

The two of you had developed a pleasant friendship, often bickering and joking around, with Jason teasing you about your obvious physical attraction to him.

He also now occasionally waited outside his cube for you to come back after patrol, never really venturing too far from it, and still avoiding contact with both Bruce and Dick. Only you and Alfred had the privilege to speak to him.

Even then, sometimes you would visit his room but only getting a “I’m not feeling it today. Please leave.”

Understandingly, you would nod silently and leave him alone. You knew he still had his bad days, sometimes not eating his meals.

But mostly, he was getting better, both mentally and physically.

With nothing much to do the whole day, Jason was now obsessed with working out and bulking up. He now had a few simple equipment in his room- mostly weights.

You figured that it was a coping mechanism for him, a healthy outlet to channel all his rage and negative emotions into.

But come on. He was getting even hotter and it was making it extremely difficult for you to stop yourself from checking him out, fantasizing about him when he wasn’t around. Still, you couldn’t complain. Even though he hadn’t reached Dick’s size yet, he was very near to it, and his naturally bigger body frame and build made up for the still developing muscles.

Hell, he was now sporting a six pack.

But you knew that he was still not as well as you hoped he would be. The bloodshot eyes he had was proof that he doesn’t sleep well- and you soon found out why.

It was a little past midnight on your night off from patrol, and you were using your break in the best way you could think of- by sleeping. Something woke you up that night.

A soft knock on your door.

You frowned, eyes still closed, wondering who it was.

Bruce would usually knock twice. Strong, clear, and with purpose. Dick would start pounding rapidly on your door, annoying you intentionally. Alfred would give three soft knocks followed by a ‘Miss?’

Your eyes flew open. There was only one other person in the manor.

Throwing your covers aside, you jumped out of bed and rushed to the door to open it.

Jason stood outside your door in the dim lights of the hallway, frowning and running his fingers nervously through his messy dark hair. He was wearing a t-shirt with boxers, standing awkwardly.

“Jason?” you hated how your voice sounded so sleepy. You cleared your throat. “Are you okay? Would you like to come in?”

He nodded silently, and you made way for him to enter before closing the door behind you.

“Sit on the bed,” you told him while jumping back into yours, sitting up cross legged.

The bed dipped when he sat on it, copying your motion and crossed his legs.

You waited for him to say something, your eyes straining to catch his in the dark. But he just remained silent, staring into space and avoiding your eyes.

“How did you know this was my room?” you asked, starting with a light topic.

“Only one that was locked. I already know where everyone else sleeps,” he explained.

“That’s right,” you realised, “I tend to forget that you’re probably even more familiar with the manor than I am.”

“Did you know there’s an old dumbwaiter in Bruce’s room?” you saw him smirk from the shadows that was casted on his face, “I used to hide in there, waiting to catch him off guard.”

“What? Why?”

“Dick and I, we had a bet,” he recalled the memory, “Whoever gets to surprise Bruce first would owe the other a special favor. Only rule was that we had to have it on video as proof.”

You appreciated that moment, the first time he ever spoke about both Dick and Bruce as a fond memory.

“I won, by the way,” he continued, “But- I forgot to press record on my phone.”

“Oh, no,” you groaned for him.

“Yeah, and Dick refused to believe me,” he chuckled, “That old man didn’t want to admit it either. But I swear- the look on his face when I jumped out while he and some model were going at it- priceless.”

Your jaw dropped, and then you burst into a fit of laughter, tears filling your eyes.

“You- you- you jumped out on him while he was having sex?!” you squealed.

“Yeah,” he grinned, “I didn’t even care that it sort of scarred me, because I managed to catch Batman off guard.”

The both of you laughed, his deep voice mingling with your own on that quiet night.

“I’m glad you’re here, Jason,” you smiled warmly at him.

But then, his smile fell.

“I hate my name now.”

“I’m sorry,” you began, “You said it was okay to call you that, so I-”

“No, it’s fine,” he started running his fingers through his hair again, “It’s just- I don’t know.”

“You can tell me anything,” you reassured, “It won’t leave this room. I promise.”

He looked at you, worry in his eyes. “Okay. Fine. Yeah.”

You waited for him to begin.

He took a deep breath. “I’ve been having nightmares. Almost every night. It’s always the same one.”

“You want to tell me about it?” you prompted him after waiting for him to continue.

“I hate my name because he said it a lot. Joker,” he scowled, “After repeatedly burning my skin for my name, it’s like that’s all he said. In that annoying, high pitched, sing-song voice of his. Jason, Jason, Jason. It made me hate my name. It made me hate hearing it.”

“I- I didn’t know how much time passed when I was in there,” he continued, “But, fuck. It was- it was hell. And the worst part was that I kept on waiting for Bruce. Waiting and hoping for him to find me and save me. I was so desperate. You- I-”

He choked on his words. His eyes were squeezed shut and his lips tight.

You wanted to reach out to him, hug him, tell him that everything was okay now. But you didn’t. You waited for him to collect himself so he could finish telling you his story, just like how he wanted to.

“Anyway, I- despite all that,” he sighed, “That was the only thing that kept me sane. I kept on clinging onto the hope that he was out there, searching. And that helped for a while. Until- until that happened.”

He was breathing heavily now, fidgeting more. Jason was definitely getting increasingly agitated the deeper he went.

“Fuck,” he breathed, “Fuck.”

The moment you realised he was crying was when he let out a sniffle. You automatically took his hand in yours, squeezing it as a form of comfort.

“It’s okay,” you told him, “You don’t have to tell me if you’re not ready.”

“No,” he shook his head, “I need to. I have to. I can’t take this anymore. Keeping everything in, I feel like I’m about to fucking explode.”

“Okay, then take it slow,” you said, “No rush. Anytime you’re ready.”

He nodded, eyes still closed, as if he was afraid of letting you see him cry.

“One night,” he began, “I think- I don’t know what was different- but I think something went wrong for him. Or right? That’s how it was. Tormenting me was fun, but it was also an outlet for him. But at the same time when he was happy, he also tortured me. He came to me, and- injected me with some sort of drug. That never happened before. He made sure that my head was clear whenever he hurt me so that I could feel everything he did.”

“But- he did- and- immediately, I felt weak,” he continued, “I mean, I was already weak. But my head. It was cloudy. I remember everything clearly, but it was like my brain couldn’t process it, couldn’t communicate with my body. I felt like I was looking out through a window that was my eyes- like I was in someone else’s body, experiencing someone else’s moments.”

“He released me,” Jason’s voice was now barely a whisper. “He released me from the ropes, and I fell to the floor. And then he- he- fuck.”

He let go of your hand and started pulling at his hair, rocking back and forth on your bed. He was sobbing now, his shoulders jerking up in sharp intakes of breaths. The only thing you could do was to stay silent and hold back your own tears.

You rested your hand on his knee, giving him a textile connection with reality so he doesn’t fall into his own thoughts.

“You- he- he- ruh- ruhp-”

Your heart sank to your stomach in horror as you realised what Jason was trying to say. It was as if you were plunged into icy water, chills running down your spine at the true revelation of what he had gone through in that cursed cell.

“Oh, no,” you breathed.

“He pushed me down,” he choked, “Pushed me down and climbed on top. I- I couldn’t even fight him. I was- I was conscious the whole time and I knew what was happening, but I couldn’t fucking do anything.”

Your tears were falling down now, both at the sight of Jason looking so vulnerable and fragile, and at his confession. Not being able to help yourself, you threw your arms over his neck and crashed into his hard body, burying your face in the crook of his shoulder.

His arms immediately wrapped around you, clutching you so hard it was painful as he buried his own face into your shoulder.

“And he kept on saying my name,” he said in muffled cries, “Jason, Jason, Jason. The whole fucking time. And- and I knew. He didn’t do it for pleasure. He did it to torment me. He- he didn’t even- he didn’t even finish.”

Jason sobbed into your skin for the next few minutes, his tears soaking through your night shirt. “But I did. Even though it was painful. Fuck, the pain was worse than anything he had ever done to me before. But- he- I- I fucking came.”

The both of you were sobbing now, his ragged breaths mingling together with your own on that quiet night.

His grip on you was tight, as if he thought that if he let go, you would disappear. So he clung onto you with all his might to keep you there with him as he recalled the horrific events.

“That's what broke me. I was so disgusted with myself. I hated myself. And he- he saw everything and- and laughed. He laughed so hard, I thought he was going to choke and die. I’ve never seen him laugh like that. And I remember every single fucking moment of being helpless on that fucking floor while he- fuck. Fuck.”

“And then he left. He left me on the floor bleeding and I never saw him again. And I went fucking insane. I tried to kill myself so many fucking times. So many times, I lost count. That’s what I dream about every night. His laughs, and his ‘Jason, Jason, Jason’.”

And that was that. That was the story.

The end of Jason Todd.

The both of you cried long and hard that night in each other’s arms. Eventually, you both lied down on the pillows together, underneath the covers.

“Please don’t tell Bruce,” he whispered to you.

Your head was on his chest, his big arms wrapped around your waist, your legs tangled with his.

You smiled at that. Even with the trauma, even with the sense of abandonment he felt, he still wanted to protect Bruce from knowing the truth.

Because the both of you knew that the truth would kill him.

“I promise,” you whispered back.

And then the both of you fell asleep together.

***

“Has Jason been sleeping in your room with you?” Bruce asked you on one fine Saturday morning at breakfast.

It had been about a week and a half since the first time Jason knocked on your door and poured out his feelings to you.

“He gets nightmares,” you tried to explain.

He thought that if he told you everything, the nightmares would stop. But it didn’t. But he then realised that the only thing that made it better was sleeping by your side, having someone there to wake him up from living his own hell in a loop.

“And do the two of you… Just sleep?” Bruce frowned.

“Yes!” you widen your eyes in horror at the insinuation. “Bruce! Come on!”

“I know you have feelings for him, and I’m sure he does for you as well. But I don’t think something like that is what Jason needs right now,” he stated.

“Yes, I know!” you groaned at the thought having that kind of conversation with him, “Jesus, Bruce. I know. I’m just there to wake him up or help him fall back asleep. Nothing more.”

Bruce nodded, deep in thought. “Has he… told you? About what happened?”

You pursed your lips. “Yes.”

“You’re not going to tell me?”

“No.”

“Hmm,” his frown went deeper. “I understand. He will tell me when he is ready.”

“Exactly,” you smiled, hiding the fact that Jason may never tell Bruce what happened. Never the full story.

“He still hasn’t left the manor?”

“No,” you sighed, “I asked him if he wanted some fresh air. Just outside the main door, not even going down the steps. But he refused. Told me to, and I quote, ‘Fuck off’.”

“Well, he’s only just left the cave, and it’s just to your room,” Bruce thought out loud, “It’s still progress. Especially since he’s been talking to you about the past.”

“He only spoke about it one time,” you said, “And then never again.”

“I see,” he hummed, “And you’re okay with him sleeping with you?”

“Next to me, Bruce, sleeping next to me,” you corrected.

“Yes, and you’re okay with that?”

“Yeah, it’s all good,” you assured him, “I can kick him out any time I want- but I don’t want to. He looks like a lost puppy sometimes.”

“An angry lost puppy.”

You chuckled at that and couldn’t agree more.

*** While Jason got the sleep he needed when he was next to you, it was counterproductive on your end. You had never been with anyone before, and definitely had not slept on the same bed with another man.

So to feel his body heat and breaths against your skin, his occasional light snores, it made your mind go on hyperdrive.

Most of the time, the two of you would just lie down, your back against his front, or your backs against each other, or both on your backs just staring at the ceiling- and talked. You would be the one talking the most, of course, about anything you could think of. You would tell him about your day, your patrols, something you read about online, or the current news.

But that one particular night during week three of him sleeping next to you, the two of you were silent. It wasn’t an awkward or uncomfortable silence, but the kind of silence that was pleasant and was better described as a peaceful quiet.

You had your back pressed against his front and his arm was lazily draped over your waist. It was a cold night, and you were wearing just a tank top and pyjama shorts, snuggling under the covers that went up all the way to your nose.

Shifting a bit while snuggling comfortably, you pressed yourself against Jason’s body to get more of his heat. But then, you were met with something poking against your lower back.

“Ngh, please ignore that,” Jason huffed.

Oh.

For some reason, you forgot that Jason was a physically healthy male who was capable of having sexual thoughts and feelings. All this while, you thought you were the only one.

“Are you- uh- is that- uh-” you stuttered, feeling your face flush with heat.

Feeling your body suddenly alert with excitement.

“Yes, it’s my fucking penis,” he grit almost angrily, “What, never heard of an erection before?”

“Of course I have!” you argued rather defensively, “It’s just- I’m surprised, that’s all.”

“Why?” he demanded, “You didn’t think I could get it up or something?”

“No, of course not!” you denied, “It just didn’t cross my mind, that’s all.”

A pause. Then-

“Well,” he sighed, “You wouldn’t have been wrong.”

Your mind blanked for a second.

“What do you mean?” you asked softly.

“It’s my- fuck- it’s my first time,” he confessed.

“Your first time getting an erection?” you gasped.

“No, you idiot,” he snapped, “It’s my first time getting hard since… since… then.”

Oh. Oh, you were an idiot.

“It’s just- after that- even when I was downstairs, alone and safe, I- I couldn’t,” he told you, “I kept on thinking back to that time and- and I couldn’t. I found it disgusting.”

And immediately, like someone doused you in cold water, any feeling of horniness you had when you first felt his erection against you disappeared. You just felt so sad for him, but also angry. Angry that he had to go through all of that, and angrier that there was nothing you could do about it.

“So, why do you think you’re getting it now?” you asked. Perhaps talking about it in an objective manner would help guide him through his thought process.

“Are you kidding me?” he scoffed, “You’re fucking pressing your ass against my dick, what did you think would happen?”

“Wait, what?” your eyes widen, “You’re hard because of me?”

“No shit,” he said, “You’re hardly wearing any clothes, too.”

You shouldn’t feel happy due to the circumstance and context, but there you were ecstatic that he found you attractive enough to pop a boner after so long.

“Fuck,” he sighed, suddenly pressing himself closer to you.

His hand that draped over your waist when to actually grip it. Then, then, he grinded his hard on against your ass.

“Mmm,” he rumbled deeply, “Feels good.”

There. That was it. You were once again flooded with the feeling of heat that pooled at your stomach, a tingling sensation started at your core. Feeling hot despite the low temperature of the night, you clenched your thighs together, needing the slight pressure.

“Yeah?” you whispered.

“Yeah,” he grinded on you again, and then unexpectedly let out a chuckle.

“What is it?” you smiled, loving it whenever you heard him laugh.

“I thought… For the longest time, I thought I was broken. That he broke me,” he revealed, “I thought I needed to get all Wingardium Leviosa on this little fucker.”

“Oh my God,” you laughed and groaned at the same time, “You’re so fucking embarassing.”

He laughed along with you and continued. “But now I’m hard and- and horny. You made me feel like I’m normal again. Like I’m sixteen again, and getting horny over everything.”

Sometimes, we take the normal things for granted. Food, shelter, clothes. In this case, it was a goddamned boner. In a way, Jason’s erection was symbolic- however funny it sounded. Getting your sexual appetite and need back after being so traumatised was a massive leap for many people who had experienced the same thing.

It meant that Jason was healing well.

“Does that make you happy?” you asked.

“Not particularly,” he admitted, “But I’m definitely not sad either.”

“That’s good enough for now, then,” you beamed.

“Yeah,” he breathed.

Another few moments of silence. You could feel it, his cock pushing into you. However tempted you were to push back and grind, you held yourself still.

“Uh, Jason?” you voiced.

“Yeah.”

“Do you want to like, take care of it?” you asked, “I mean. My bathroom is available. Or- there are many empty rooms.”

“No,” he simply stated.

“No?”

“No.”

“It’s kinda poking into me.”

“Just ignore it.”

“Ignore it?” you gaped, “How can I ignore it? You’re literally pressing it into my ass.”

“Well, then do you want to take care of it?” he teased.

You couldn’t argue back. “Fine, I’ll ignore it.”

He chuckled. “I’ll turn around.”

When he made the movement, you suddenly grabbed him by the wrist. “No, it’s fine. Stay here.”

You expected him to tease you like he usually would, make a crass comment, or even a ‘fuck off’.

Instead, he wrapped his arms around you again in silence, and the both of you drifted to sleep.

***

“Do you think this color suits me?” Natalie asked, holding up a floral red dress.

The four of you were at the mall in Diamond District. Now that high school was over, and everyone would be going off to separate colleges in a few months, you tried to spend time with each other as much as you could.

“Any color suits you, Nat,” you rolled your eyes, “You’re hot stuff.”

“Jesus, it’s like you’re shoving it in our faces at this point,” Sarah added, flipping her brunette hair to the side, tight curls flowing down.

“Aw, you guys,” Nat pretended to tear up, “I’m gonna miss you guys so much!”

“Not again,” Alex groaned, “We’ve been through this so many times.”

“I’m gonna be so miserable without you guys,” Natalie continued on, ignoring Alex’s interruption.

“I don’t know,” Sarah shrugged, “I think I’d enjoy New York. I can have pizza parties with the rats in my overpriced apartment.”

You chuckled at Sarah’s joke. Everyone was leaving Gotham except you. Deciding to continue with Robin, you opted for Gotham University- prestigious, old, and most importantly, close to home.

Your phone dinged in your pocket. You opened it to find texts from Dick.

Dick: OH MY GOD. Dick: I’m at the Manor. Dick: Was going to the Cave gym to work out. Dick: AND Dick: JASON IS HERE!!! WHAT DO I DO?!?!

That was new. Jason would usually just use whatever basic equipment he had in his room to work out. The fact that he was at the Cave’s sparring area where all the other fancier work out equipment were was out of the ordinary.

You: Just go. See if he reacts. If he suddenly stiffens and just stay there not doing anything, then leave. If he continues on, then it’s okay to stay- but don’t initiate anything! Dick: OKOKOK

You waited anxiously for Dick’s update. All four of you were now walking towards the food court, but you hardly listened to their bickering. Forty-five minutes passed before Dick texted you again.

Dick: OMG HE TALKED TO ME You: What did he say? Dick: He asked me to pass him his towel. You: That’s all he said? Dick: IT’S PROGRESS OKAY!!

Dick was right. It meant that Dick was now the third person Jason had spoken to. Adding another person to his list of contacts was definitely progress.

You were happy for him.

You:Is he still there? Dick: Nah he left Dick: But WOW he’s looking good. He must have been really going at it. I think he might get bigger than me soon You: All he does now is work out. He’s obsessed. Dick: Yeah I can tell

You decided to leave it at that for now and try to concentrate on your friends, but Dick sent another message.

Dick: ARE YOU TWO HAVING SEX?!?!

You spat out your drink, earning weird looks from everyone.

You: DICK!!!! WTF NO!!

Dick never replied.

***

“Can I ask you for a favor?” Jason asked, his voice breaking the silence of your dark room. The two of you were on your bed, lying down and staring at the ceiling.

“Of course,” you said. It didn’t matter to you what Jason asks for. He hardly ever asked for anything.

“Could you… Take me out tomorrow?” he requested, “If you’re not doing anything else, that is.”

“Uh, sure!” you nodded, surprised. “Where do you want to go?”

“Anywhere,” he shrugged, “It doesn’t matter.”

“Yeah, okay,” you hesitated, “But- are you sure? I mean, you don’t have to go so far so quickly. Maybe you should start with just going to the backyard?”

“No, I’ll be fine,” he insisted. “I’m not a kid.”

“Okay then,” you agreed. “Tomorrow.”

You kept on glancing anxiously at him the next day as he climbed into the passenger seat of your car. He was quiet, but looked perfectly fine.

Switching the engine on, you drove out of the garage and out the large automatic gates. Trees soon surrounded the lonely road on both sides as you descended downhill into town.

“So where are we going?” he asked.

“I thought Robinson Park would be nice,” you said. It was around three in the afternoon, yet Gotham was dark as though the day was ending. It was cloudy, skies grey and wind blowing.

“You’re taking me to a park?” he scoffed.

“It’s more quiet than anywhere else,” you reasoned with him, “Less people. Spacious. Lots of greenery.”

“Whatever.”

Reaching the parking space of the park, you noticed that there were a few cars. Mothers and nannies liked to bring children out to the park around that time. Joggers and teens, college students and retired elderly seeking a little escape from the high rise buildings of concrete and glass.

You turned the engine off and proceeded to open the door, only then noticing Jason stiffening. Looking over to him, you saw that his eyebrows were pulled down in a deep frown, his jaw clenched, his hands in fists on his knees.

You didn’t say anything or make any comment. Leaning back into your seat, you waited until Jason was ready.

About five minutes passed before he took a deep breath, gave you a nod, and then opened his door.

The two of you walked along a path at the park, going deeper inside and further away from your car. There were a few joggers around, some tourists, and some teens taking photos. You saw a group of kids in the distance playing frisbee, and the others were walking their dogs.

An empty bench stood in the middle of the park, overlooking a clearing. You headed there, Jason following closely behind.

“It’s a bit gloomy today,” you pouted, “As if Gotham could be anything other than that, of course.”

You looked at Jason.

He looked like a scared dog being brought out for the first time.

His jittery knees were bouncing rapidly, his wide eyes were darting at every movement, his forehead was covered with a thin layer of sweat, and his breathing was heavy.

“Woah, woah,” you reached out to him, putting an arm on his back. “It’s okay. I’m here. Just listen to me talk, yeah?”

“Yeah,” he gulped.

“Try to calm your breathing,” you instructed, “Deep breaths, Jason. In… out… In… Out… Yeah, see that’s great.”

“Yeah,” he breathed, now calmer. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you smiled warmly, “You’re doing just fine.”

“No, I’m not,” he strained, “I feel like everything is too big. Too vast. The fucking sky looks like it’s going to crash down on me and at the same time suck me up into a void.”

“And despite all you’re feeling right now, you’re not breaking down or anything, are you?” you tried, “You’re okay, Jason. This is progress.”

“I guess,” he sighed, “I’m just- I’m so used to having four walls and a ceiling. Now everything feels too big.”

“I understand,” you empathized, “Whenever you want to go back, just say the word. Or we can even just go and sit in the car. No problem.”

“Yeah, okay, let’s do that,” he stood up.

The walk back to the car was faster.

“Fuck, I’m so fucking pathetic,” he said, running his fingers through his hair.

“No, you’re not,” you reassured him, “That was great, Jason. Come on, it was your first time outside in two years and a half. Cut yourself some slack.”

“I’m so fucking broken,” he choked.

“Don’t say that,” you scolded, “You’re not broken. And you know what, even if you think you are, we can always fix it. Baby steps. Maybe we can do this once a week. We were out for like, ten minutes? Next week we’ll try fifteen. How’s that sound?”

“Twice a week,” he stated, “I just want to be normal again.”

“Okay, twice a week, then,” you agreed, “We’ll try again in a couple of days, okay?”

“Okay,” he paused, “Thank you.”

“No problemo,” you grinned, “Would you like to stay here a bit longer or shall we go back?”

“Let’s go back.”

“Wanna stop by the diner? You can wait in the car while I ask for a take-away?”

“...okay.”

***

Jason and you had gone out twice more. Once three days after the first time, and the other a week later. The second time he went out, he lasted twenty minutes, though you were sure he was being stubborn on his part. He looked like he was having a heart attack, but he insisted on staying until he hit the twenty minute mark.

The third time, he was much much better. Surprisingly so. The two of you sat down on that bench for half an hour, with you even leaving him alone for a few minutes to get two ice cream cones.

After that, you took him for a drive around the city. He seemed to be more comfortable in the car, so you went all the way from Robinson Park to Diamond District, and back to the manor.

Bruce seemed very pleased with your update, and you swore you could see him actually smile.

“Thank you,” he had told you. “You’ve done more than I could have ever asked of you.”

“It’s no problem, Bruce. Really,” you reassured him.

“I’m his father. He is my responsibility. It’s my fault he’s even in that state. I wish I could do more for him,” he said solemnly.

“The fact that you understand what he needs is more than helpful, Bruce,” you smiled, “Not many parents can do that. You understand and respect him. That’s enough for now.”

He simply nodded.

Ever since your scheduled outings, Jason had become more and more relaxed whenever he was in the manor. He now walked to the kitchen on occasion to mess with Alfred while he cooked meals for him, sometimes sitting in the living room lounging on the couch while reading. Most of the time, though, he was down at the sparring zone of the Cave, working out.

But at night, he would never fail to knock on your door.

And at that particular night, you found yourself in the same situation again while lying down on your side with your back to his front, for the fifth time.

“You officially have to stop calling yourself broken,” you grumbled, “Because that thing poking into my ass is definitely not broken.”

He chuckled lowly. “You complaining, sweetheart?”

Oh, and yes. Jason now had started calling you ‘sweetheart’. Why? You had no clue. It was just a thing that happened. The look on your face when he first slipped it in was probably a sight to behold.

“No shit, I’m complaining, Jason,” you groaned, “You haven’t jerked off, yet? Not even once?”

“Nope,” he popped the P, “I just… I don’t want to… I don’t want to come.”

You sighed, understanding the situation. He had been disgusted with himself because he had ejaculated when Joker… Well, that. You hated to even think about it, so you always shoved the thought away.

“But unfortunately for me, I still get super horny,” he rumbled deeply, pushing his hips into you even more, “So fucking horny.”

“And then I have to suffer,” you complained.

“I can assure you, blue balls are more painful than something poking into you,” he bickered.

“It’s not that…”

“Then?”

“I get horny too, come on man,” you whined, “I’m a hormonal teenage girl. What did you expect?”

“You get horny too?” he whispered after a pause.

“Uh, yeah,” you admitted nervously. Somehow, the mood shifted, and your heart started drumming against your chest.

“Because of me?” he asked.

“Not you specifically, I mean,” you tried to back track, “You’re… Your dick pressing up against me like that, I mean, come on, Jason.”

“Simple question sweetheart,” he told you, “You get horny because of me, yes or no?”

You gulped. “Yes.”

Fuck, why did you say yes? You could have lied. You could have not answered.

“Yeah?” he breathed. You noticed that his hand was now on your hip, right above the waistband of your sleeping shorts, drawing circles onto your skin with his thumb.

You were nervous. The butterflies in your tummy was not helping you calm down.

“Yeah,” you squeezed your eyes shut, as if to protect yourself from anything he had to say.

“Fuck,” he groaned, gripping your hips and grinding his hard on against your ass even more. And did it… Fuck, did it get even harder?

Afraid of saying the wrong thing, and also out of nervousness, you remained silent. Jason’s chest rose and fall against your back, his respiratory rate increasing. His pinky finger slid underneath the waistband, testing the waters before slowly slipping his hand into your pants.

He went in so slowly, as if waiting for you to tell him no, to rip his hand away, to wrench yourself away from him. But you never did, so he went in deeper, caressing the skin beneath your pelvic bone, his heat just burning into you.

“You’re not wearing any underwear,” he commented, voice suddenly husky.

“I don’t wear them to bed,” you informed him.

“You mean to tell me,” he growled, “That all this while I’ve been sleeping next to you and you never had your panties on?”

“It’s more comfortable that way,” you mumbled.

“Jesus Christ,” he cursed. “Thank God I never knew. Would have been torture, and trust me, I know what I’m talking about.”

“Jason,” you gasped.

“It’s true,” he said, “Damn, sweetheart.”

He went lower, closer to your center.

Your core was tingly, small pulses of electricity buzzed through your body as Jason came closer and closer and closer and-

He slipped his hands between your closed thighs and cupped you.

“Mmm,” he moaned softly, “Warm. Fuzzy.”

“Fuzzy?” you laughed, even though you felt like screaming on the inside. Screaming for more.

“Yeah,” he mumbled, burying his face into your nape, taking a deep breath. “You smell nice.”

Oh, shit. You totally forgot about Jason’s aversion to strong smells.

“I’m sorry!” you quickly apologised, “I can switch to an unscented shampoo as well so it wouldn’t be too strong for you.”

“It’s fine,” he said, “I like it on you.”

He ground his hand into your center harder.

“Mmpf, Jay,” you breathed, “What are you doing?”

“I don’t know,” he confessed, “I’ve never touched a girl like this before.”

“Really?” you widen your eyes in surprise.

“I was kept in a cell for two years, I couldn’t exactly talk, let alone touch, anyone can I?” he quipped.

“Right.”

“Teach me,” he said.

“What?” you whispered despite knowing what he meant.

A pause of silence. A deep intake of breath, a slow exhale.

“Teach me how to touch you,” he purred.

Fuck, you felt like exploding.

“Are you sure?” you asked.

“Yes. If you… If you want to.”

Your mind quickly tried to analyse the situation. Bruce had specifically said that Jason didn’t need any complicated matters in the relationship. It made sense. You didn’t want to overwhelm Jason with any confusion or uncertainty.

But at the same time, you’ve been figuring out how Jason thought, bit by bit. He’s told you many times that he just wanted to be normal again, to feel normal, to do normal things. And this was something that was normal, that he should do, that he wanted to do.

And you knew that he probably would take the rejection even worse.

“O-Okay,” you agreed.

Slowly, you separated your thighs, raising the one on top and hooking it over his legs behind you. Due to your shift in position, you felt the minute Jason’s fingers dip slightly into your folds.

“So, uh, this is my first time with a guy as well,” you squeaked, “But I’ll try to guide you.”

You licked your lips.

“Uhm, well, I guess you can start by running a finger up and down between my- oh! Yes, just like that.”

His middle finger slid down to your opening, and then up again slowly. His movements were uncertain, brushing only slightly against your clit unintentionally.

It was different, having someone else touch you. Somehow, despite the inexperience, it just felt better.

“Holy fuck,” he gasped, “You’re so fucking wet. Do you usually get this wet?”

You felt your cheeks heat up. “No? Yes? I don’t know! I can’t feel it.”

“Shit.”

You let him play with you some more, his fingers sliding up and down, sometimes pressing against your fleshy parts, sometimes circling and gathering your wetness, sometimes just parting your lips. Hell, he even tapped the tips of his fingers on you randomly or brushed into your delicate fuzz. You knew he was just exploring, feeling you for the first time.

And that thought made you smile and sigh.

“Teach me how to make you feel good,” he rasped.

“Uh, so your fingers are wet, right?”

“Yeah. Because you’re leaking all over them.”

“Okay, good. Now find my clit. It’s slightly above your finger, okay, to the left a bit. More. Okay, there! Yeah, right there,” you sighed, finally feeling that delicious pressure.

“Here?”

He tapped your clit.

“Ah!” you moaned, “Yes- but don’t just- nevermind, just gently circle it. Clockwise.”

He obeyed, and hell since when did Jason just obey?

He circled you gently, like you said. But he also went so, so slow.

“Faster, Jay,” you panted.

He went faster, making you groan in pleasure.

“Like this, sweetheart?” he muttered, his voice low and cracking, and sexy, and husky. You’ve never heard him sound like that before, and it drove you wild.

“Yeah,” you breathed, “Yeah, just like that. Fuck.”

“Feel good?”

“So good, Jay. Press a little harder now- fuck. Fuck. Yes, perfect. Just like that.”

The pressure built as his fingers did their magic.

“You- you’re surprisingly good at that,” you stuttered, “You sure- mmm- you sure you’ve never done this before?”

“Despite what you think,” he husked in your ear, warm breath tickling you. “I’m very good at following instructions.”

“I can see that.”

“But I’m also good at improvising.”

“Wha- oh. Oh. Fuck! Jason! Oh my fucking god!”

He started pressing even harder, and going even faster, throwing away the slow build you were going for and instead pushing you towards orgasm fast and hard, as if he was determined to prove something to you.

“Feel good, sweetheart?” he purred, “You gonna come soon?”

“Oh my- fuck, yes! Fuck, don’t stop!”

“You want to come for me?” his deep voice rumbled.

“Yes!”

What the hell? When did he learn how to talk like that?

Because with the mix of his heavy pants, his low voice coaxing you, his barrage of pleasure at your clit, you felt the familiar tightening of your core. You threw one hand back and found his hair. Running your fingers through them, you gripped them tight and pulled.

You pulled on his hair as he forced the orgasm onto you.

“Oh my God. Jason, I’m gonna- fuck- I’m- fuck- ah!”

You moaned loudly as you felt your walls flutter, clenching over nothing as you reached your high.

“O-okay, stop, fuck,” your hand went from his hair to his wrist, stilling him. He withdrew his hands from your pants, and went to grip you tight again by the waist.

“Fucking hell, sweetheart,” he groaned, grinding into you. You pushed your ass back, feeling his hardened length against your flesh in your post-orgasm bliss. “Jesus, that was so hot.”

“That was- yeah,” you giggled, “Fuck.”

His face was still buried in your neck. You could feel his lips on your skin.

“Uhm, I can, you know,” you sputtered, “Try to help you out?”

“It’s fine,” he breathed, body still tight against yours, “Just go to sleep.”

“Are you sure?” you asked again, feeling guilty that he didn’t get off. “I don’t mind.”

“I do,” he said, “It’s okay, sweetheart. That was great. I enjoyed that. I told you, I don’t want to come.”

“Okay,” you sighed.

“Go to bed.”

“Thank you, Jason.”

“Fuck, I’m so horny.”

“Jason,” you whined, “Really, I can help-”

“I’m kidding,” he chuckled, “Goodnight.”

You pursed your lips.

“Goodnight.”

#jason todd x reader #jason todd #red hood #robin #jason todd imagine #dont call me that

1K notes · View notes

kikis-writing-world · 3 years

Text

Whiskey Straight - The Briefcase (Prologue)

Jack Daniels x F!Reader

You don’t know when it happened, but your life had grown dull. Your husband, Jack Daniels, was often busy with work: as a high ranking executive at Statesman Distillery, he needed to put in long hours at the office and travel across the globe to represent the business. Your own boring office job and empty house had you yearning for something. When a strange man barges into your life claiming to be a spy, you’re thrust into the world of secret agents and international terrorism… a world you soon learn your husband is very familiar with as Special Agent Whiskey.

Word Count: 2.7k

A/N: Bit of a slow start, but every story has to start somewhere. This part hurt to write. Establishing a less than stellar relationship with Jack? No thanks. but it’s all for the service of the story. Plus like... that’s life. That’s marriage, right? Things get stale, shit happens.

Series Masterlist - Prologue - One - Two - Three - Four - Five - Six - Seven

gif not mine. Lost the source, sorry! If it’s yours, let me know.

You were pushing your food around your plate absentmindedly, trying not to listen to Jack’s phone call in the other room. It was an absolute pet peeve of yours when he took calls during dinner but you knew your husband was an important man. Running the entire North East division of Statesman Distilleries came with more responsibilities than you could even list off. On top of managing the actual business, there were appearances to be made, meetings and expos to attend, schmoozing to be done. He didn’t just work 9 to 5, he worked all the time.

Even without listening, you knew that your weekend plans were likely about to be cancelled. Before the phone rang, you had been excitedly sharing ideas about things to do this weekend. The two of you were going to leave the city behind for some much needed alone time. No phones, no work, just the two of you reconnecting. It was planned spontaneity. You had planned the time, but nothing else. No rooms were booked, no route planned. The two of you were going to hit the road and have an adventure. When the two of you had started dating your relationship was full of adventures, planned and otherwise. Taking off to Niagara Falls for a weekend. A full day of driving just to see the changing autumn leaves. Lately he’d been too busy with work for anything like that.

You heard the conversation winding down, Jack bidding farewell to the person on the line before the phone was hung-up. You took a bit of the food in front of you, ignoring how it had grown cold while he was out of the room.

Jack’s hand grazed along your shoulders as he passed you before lowering himself into his seat with a sigh. You knew that sigh. After 6 years of marriage, you were able to read Jack like an open book. That was the sigh he made when he was about to break some bad news. You had a feeling you knew what the bad news would be, but you played along regardless.

“What was that?” You asked as he picked up his cutlery.

“Ambrose. You remember Ambrose from the Kentucky office, right?” Jack asked, cutting into his steak like the piece of meat hadn’t just sat there forgotten for the past minutes.

You nodded, taking a sip of water. You had met the man a few times, most notably at your wedding. If you hadn’t been properly introduced, you might have thought Ambrose was an older uncle of Jack’s. The charming older man reminded you a lot of Jack and you remember thinking that Ambrose was probably a decent representation of what your new husband might be like as he aged. Despite the years that Ambrose had over Jack, the older man still had a mischievous sparkle present in his eye. The sparkle was never more present when his patented lopsided grin came out.

“Of course. Is everything okay?”

“There’s a big to-do happenin’ in Georgia this weekend and their rep got sick. Food poisonin’ or something. He was askin’ if I could come down to replace him.”

You didn’t have to ask if he had agreed to go. That damned sigh had already given him away. You took another sip of your water, pushing back the sting of dejection. He hadn’t even asked you if you minded cancelling your plans. You wondered if he’d even put up any fight on the phone or if he’d asked if there was anyone else available to take over instead. You tried not to take it personally. Of course they wanted Jack there.

“When are you leaving?”

He was silent for a moment as he chewed his food, his Southern manners barring him from talking with a mouth full of food. “Tomorrow mornin’. Gotta meet with the team to get up to speed before meetin’ with any investors.”

You nodded, staring down at your half-eaten plate that no longer held your interest. “I’ll pack your bag for you tonight before bed.”

“You don’t have to do that, darlin’. I can pack my own bag.”

“I don’t mind.” You shrugged. That was true. You wished you didn’t have to do it quite so often, but packing for him made you feel more connected to him while he was gone. It also felt like you were helping him juggle the responsibilities of his job, taking something off his already over-full plate.

“Thank you, darlin’.” He dropped his knife so he could take your hand in his, giving it a squeeze. “You’re too good to me.”

“Yeah, don’t you forget it.” You teased.

“Never.” He winked, sliding his hand back so he could finish his meal.

That wink used to make your heart flutter. The first time he’d ever winked at you, it sent your stomach in knots for days afterwards whenever you thought about it. Lately, it barely stirred anything within you. You hated that your marriage had become this. You still loved the man to pieces, but the spark of your relationship had faded. The excitement of your relationship was long gone. This weekend was supposed to be an attempt to rekindle a bit of the excitement. Now though, you were thankful that you weren’t going to have to spend time on the phone trying to get any deposits back.

You packed his bag for him that night, making sure his jackets were neatly pressed and hung in their garment bags to stay wrinkle free. You packed a few options for ties, including two of his bolo ties, as well as his jeans and a pair of slacks in case he really wanted to go all out. His toiletries, socks, underwear and his spare pair of glasses. The glasses were added to the packing list after he had broken his while in Switzerland, leaving him with a headache for a week after returning from all the eye-strain.

“Thank you.” He hummed, pressing a kiss to your cheek as he picked up the bag, carrying it to the front door for the morning. Pecks to the cheek, chaste kisses to your lips, a squeeze of your hand. That’s what the marriage had become. Aside from during sex, you couldn’t think of the last time Jack had really kissed you. Swept you off your feet and kissed your breathless as you clung to him, the way he would when you two had first started dating and could barely keep your hands off each other.

You knew the blame didn’t sit solely on his shoulders. You weren’t sure what was stopping you from grabbing him and kissing him senseless instead of waiting for him to initiate. Maybe the fear of being rejected. The fear that this was more than a rough patch bred from familiarity, and that it meant something worse had taken root in your relationship.

“Do you want me to drive you to the airport in the morning?” You offered when he returned to the bedroom, the two of you getting ready for bed.

“Colt is pickin’ me up.” He told you as he shucked his clothes from the day.

Colt was Jack’s business partner. His second in command. Wherever Jack went, Colt went, so it was not surprising that he would be joining him in Kentucky. The young man was sweet, but definitely wasn’t the sharpest tool in the shed. You wondered sometimes how he climbed the corporate ladder to where he was now, let alone the possibility that sometime in the future he would take over for Jack - assuming your husband ever retired.

“At least wake me to say goodbye.” You instructed.

“You sure, darlin’? It’ll be early.” He warned.

“I’m sure.” You pressed a kiss to his cheek as he laid out his clothes for the morning. “And call me when you land.”

“Always do.” He grins at you over his shoulder.

You climbed into bed, curling on your side as you waited for Jack to finish with his own nightly routine. He turned off the light before you felt the bed dip behind you. Silence passed in the darkness for a moment before Jack’s arm was wrapped around your waist, pulling you tightly against him.

“I’m sorry ‘bout this weekend, sugar.” He whispered in the darkness. “I promise I’ll make it up to you.”

You felt something akin to relief as he nuzzled into your hair. There were definitely issues the two of you needed to tackle, but the love was still there. You wrapped your arm around his, hugging it to your chest.

“I know.” You whispered back.

“Love you.” He murmured.

“Love you too.”

Jack woke you the next morning, a few moments to cuddle and a groggy kiss goodbye before you fell back asleep. As promised, the call came in a few hours later that he had landed safely in Kentucky. Colt shouted his own greeting, and a promise to keep Jack out of trouble. You chuckled, knowing it was more likely to be Jack keeping Colt out of trouble. Before he hung up, Jack promised to keep in touch if he could, but he would be busy most of the weekend. You were used to that.

He did try to call when he was gone, you knew that, but often he just couldn’t make it to a phone. When he wasn’t in formal meetings, he still had to make appearances and schmooze. The moments he wasn’t working, he was preparing for whatever was to come next or getting some much needed rest. It was the song and dance of business.

You knew he was busy but it reinforced the loneliness that had creeped into your marriage, so slowly it wasn’t noticeable until it felt like it was drowning you. The house was quiet all weekend and by Sunday it was driving you crazy. You grabbed a book and decided to go out for lunch. You hoped being around people, the sounds of chattering, of cutlery and dinnerware around you would ease the loneliness from your mind, not make it worse.

You ordered before opening up your book, letting the noises of the other diners fade into the background as you let yourself become immersed in the story of the dashing knight and his attempts to woo the beautiful princess. Jack would tease you for reading romance novels, but with the lack of wooing going on lately in your real life, it was a welcome reprieve.

“Excuse me, do you mind if I sit with you?” An anxious voice right above you startled you out of the book. The man was sitting across from you before you had a chance to answer.

You blinked at him, staring blankly in shock. He had wavy, dirty blond hair that ended just above his chin. He was wearing a light brown suit, the cream coloured button-up underneath had the top few buttons undone, showing his collarbone and chest. His wide, blue eyes were glancing nervously around the restaurant. Your brow quirked in confusion before you too glanced around, looking for whatever he was worried about. When you didn’t see anything, you turned back to him.

“Uh, I’m flattered, but I’m mar-”

He pushed something under the table until it bumped into your leg. You looked down, seeing a black briefcase resting against your leg.

“This is a matter of national security.” He whispered, leaning in over the table to avoid being heard.

“Excuse me?” You scoffed. Was this some kind of pick-up line? You’d been out of the dating game for years but you couldn’t imagine this was working.

“I can’t have them catch me with this.” He nodded downward towards the table. You assumed he meant the briefcase. “I need you to hang onto it for me.”

“What?”

“Shh!” He shushed you, looking around nervously once more. He barely held back a gasp as two men in suits walked past your table. You glanced between him and the men, staying quiet. You were too in shock of what was happening to do much else.

He watched until the men were out of sight before reaching across the table and taking your hand in his own. He gave it a squeeze before letting go, a moment before you were poised to pull it out of his grip.

“Thank you. I’ll be in touch.” He vowed before standing.

“Wait, what do you mean?” You asked, but he ignored you as he sped towards the exit. You watched in disbelief, mouth agape as he disappeared as quickly as he’d appeared. The briefcase still leaning against your leg was the only evidence that you hadn’t imagined him.

By the time your food came, you weren’t even hungry. Your stomach was in knots as you tried to process what happened. You asked for the food to go, barely having the wherewithal to mumble that something had come up.

You eyed the briefcase under the table as you waited for your doggy bag. What the hell were you supposed to do with it? He told you to keep it and he’d be in touch. Did he even know how to get in touch with you?

Before you could talk yourself out of it, you paid your bill and left with the briefcase.

It made you nervous as it sat in the passenger seat next to you for the drive home. You knew it was ridiculous but you almost felt like it was watching you. The latch was locked so you had no idea what was inside of it. You almost wanted to shake it, like a child trying to figure out what was inside a wrapped present, but had no idea if that would harm anything inside… or if anything inside would in turn harm you.

Your food was dropped on the counter, a complete afterthought as you set the briefcase down on the kitchen table. You crossed your arms, staring at it as you tried to figure out what to do. It felt like you were waiting for it to come alive and give you the answer. Hesitantly, you took it in both hands and gave it a slight shake. If anything, it was like a forceful glide across the tabletop. Nothing made any kind of noticeable noise, but you could feel the heft of it’s contents shifting as it moved.

No, you thought to yourself. You were going to leave it alone.

You marched into the living room, turning the TV on and flipping the channels for something interesting to watch. Being a Sunday afternoon, there wasn’t much to hold your attention and you caught yourself looking back towards the kitchen every few minutes.

One of the movie channels was airing the original Jurassic Park, and you figured it was good enough. You went into the kitchen with the full intention of grabbing the food you had yet to eat for lunch, but that damn briefcase…

You opened the junk drawer, digging through the mess of odds and ends until you found a paperclip. You sat at the table, unwinding the paperclip until it was as straight as you could manage. You pressed the wire into the keyhole of the latch, pushing and prodding. It clicked open after a moment, making you jump. Despite being home alone, you stopped and looked around to make sure you weren't being caught.

You took a deep breath, scooting backwards just in case, and opened the lid. Nothing happened. No alarm, no puff of smoke, no weird security measure of any kind. You weren’t sure what you were expecting, but nothing wasn’t it.

The briefcase was filled with various papers. Maps of European countries. Foreign money. Paperwork in a language you didn’t know. A passport, the picture matching the man who had dropped the briefcase with you. John Smith. That was just about the vaguest name you could imagine.

Under all of the paperwork was a gun. You jumped when you saw the shining metal, dropping all the papers back in the briefcase and closing it. Once again, you found yourself looking around to make sure you were alone. You’d never seen a gun in real life, let alone been in possession of one.

You knew you couldn’t keep this in the house. How were you supposed to explain this to Jack? You ran back out to your car, placing it in your trunk under some blankets you kept for emergencies. You closed the trunk and leaned against it, breathing deeply to calm yourself.

Now what?

Tagging: @wickedfrsgrl @insideafictionaluniverse @driedgreentomatoes @phoenixhalliwell @sheerfreesia007 @and-claudia @weirdowithnobeardo

#Agent Whiskey #Agent Whiskey x Reader #Agent Whiksey x F!Reader #Agent Whiskey Fanfic #Agent Whiskey Imagine #Agent Jack Daniels #Pedro Pascal Character Fanfiction #WookieTales #AU: Whiskey Straight #my first intentional multichapter!

128 notes · View notes

cullen-collective · 3 years

Note

(teamjacobthot) fic prompt: it’s quil and embry’s turn to cook sunday dinner for the pack and they still don’t know what to make

Thanks for this @teamjacobthot! It was a fun one! <3

They were ready. Side by side in the borrowed car, they broke nearly every traffic law as they hurtled toward their destination. Their mission was of the utmost importance, and it required that they stay focused, alert, and above all, fast. The car skidded to a stop, tires squealing on the pavement, and Embry turned to Quil, hands shaking on the wheel.

“Are you ready?” he asked, swallowing hard.

Quil nodded, looking a little pale. “As I’ll ever be.”

They thrust the doors open, and Embry got caught on the seatbelt as he tried to exit the vehicle, nearly falling out onto the asphalt, which caused Quil to burst out into hysterics. He hastily undid the buckle and stormed out of the car, flipping Quil the bird as he marched toward the Safeway.

“It’s not going to be nearly as funny when the guys tear us limb from limb for coming home empty-handed,” he said when Quil caught up to him. The other boy’s leftover giggles went silent. Time to focus on the mission: dinner.

The pack got together, rain, shine, or other, every Sunday night for dinner. Emily and Sam used to host every week, until Jared and Kim moved in together and wanted to do it occasionally. And then Paul had gotten his own place, and then Embry and Quil got their tiny apartment, and then Collin and his boyfriend, and Seth and Jacob shared a house with Leah, and everyone had scattered all over the rez. So they rotated, and tonight’s meal was up to Embry and Quil.

Usually they were much more prepared for this, what with Quil being the culinary genius he was, and Embry limping along beside him with his high school level hospitality class. But Quil had spent all week in Arizona on Tribal Council business, and hadn’t prepared anything; and Embry pretty much relied on him to know how many calories and food groups and whatever else they all needed. Embry was mostly good at appetizers.

They wandered through the grocery store, with Embry occasionally pointing to random ingredients and Quil waving him off.

“No, we don’t have enough time for me to make lasagna,” he said, sighing deeply.

Embry shrugged. “The frozen one only takes forty minutes.”

Quil looked like he’d been slapped across the face with a white glove. “The fact that you could suggest that to me at all is rank, dude.”

Embry held up his hands in surrender. “I’m just saying, if we needed more time, we should have come earlier.”

“Yeah, well, you needed a swift kick in the ass and Mortal Kombat wasn’t going to play itself.”

“But I won most rounds,” Embry pointed out.

“Irrelevant,” Quil said, still strolling through the aisles.

They meandered around, growing more and more panicked as the time everyone was supposed to arrive loomed closer and closer, and the frozen lasagna started looking incredibly appealing. It came to a point where Embry was putting things in the cart and Quil was removing them. They got into a shouting match in the vegetable aisle, Embry insisting that no one wanted to eat a cauliflower pizza, and Quil gathering bunches of the stuff anyway. A store employee had to come and tell them to be quiet.

“Dude, we have to find something. They’re coming in like, an hour.”

“I know! You don’t think I know?”

“You’ve rejected any viable option and tried to feed a bunch of hungry wolves cauliflower as an entrée.”

“I just haven’t seen the right thing. It’ll come to me.”

Embry seriously doubted that.

Until they came upon the seafood counter. Quil walked up to it reverently. “Embry, Embry, Embry, come here. Do you see that?”

He was pointing at a little sign on the glass.

Crab Legs, 2 for 1!

“Do you know what this means?” Quil asked, his voice filled with joy.

Embry’s brows knitted. “Bad shellfish?”

Quil punched him in the arm, which made Embry growl and tenderly run the sore spot.

“It means we’re having a freaking boil, dude.”

Half an hour, forty bucks, and several missed stop signs later, Quil unlocked the door to their apartment and immediately began bustling around the kitchen, demanding that Embry bring him things from the grocery bags and directing him to make crudite that people could dip in the sauce. Embry, to his credit, just got busy doing as he was asked, instead of calling Quil a crazy Gordon Ramsey wannabe, like he wanted to.

There was oil, lemon, thyme, parsley, paprika, cumin, allspice, cayenne, salt, onion, garlic, and dismembered shellfish everywhere. It was an absolute nightmare in the cramped kitchen, as Embry scooted behind Quil to put the toast points (his own personal addition) in the oven to toast. The crudite was all cut and lightly brushed with olive oil, and he decided to start cleaning up the mess Quil was making as he cooked.

There was a knock on the door as he threw away the last of the shrimp shells and veins.

“Hey, man,” Seth said, not waiting for an invite in when Embry opened the door, opting instead to head straight for the living room. “It smells great in here.”

Jake and Leah trailed in behind him, Jake bearing the traditional two-buck chuck, and Leah with a tequila bottle. Oh, so it was going to be one of those nights.

“What’s cooking?” she asked, setting the bottle on the table and leaning onto the kitchen counter.

“A cajun seafood boil with crab legs, scallops, shrimp, potatoes, sausage, and corn on the cob.” Quil didn’t even look up from where he was stirring as he spoke. He took a spoon and dipped it in the sauce, coating the back of it. He took a quick taste, and then started adjusting spices.

Jacob’s eyes raised. “How does he always make the best stuff?” he asked.

Embry thought back to their panicked run through the store, the potential cauliflower disaster, and the heavily discounted crab legs.

“Divine intervention.”

#wolf pack #embry call #Quil Ateara #jacob black #leah clearwater #seth clearwater #sunday dinner hell yeah they're gonna be a FAMILY #asks #answered #prompts #teamjacobthot #the dish was fully inspired by A. the pnw probably having good seafood and B. my obsession with the boiling crab in dt ontario

76 notes · View notes

uncomfortable-writers · 4 years

Text

-𝐰𝐡𝐲 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞?- (𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐧 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫)

(Gif credit to owner)

Fandom: Supernatural

Character: Dean Winchester

Persona: Female

Word Count: 1,331

A/N - Hey everyone, long time no see! Life has just been really crazy for me and I didn’t have the motivation or time to update. I hope you’re all staying safe and well //

Not sure how many parts this will have or if I’ll even keep updating (let me know if you’re interested in reading more pls) //

will loosely follow the newer seasons but mostly this will take place in an AU <3

♡　♥　♡　♥　♡　♥　♡　♥　♡　♥　♡　♥　♡　♥　♡　♥　♡　♥　♡

You had to admit even you were surprised when you saw the younger Winchester’s name flash across your iPhone on a peaceful Sunday afternoon, it had been too long. You were even more surprised as you lumped your few belongings into your beaten up truck that the Winchesters would even call upon you for help. Gripping the steering wheel tightly you let your head flop onto it with a sigh, were you even ready for this?

It was a few hours later when you finally pulled up outside the bunker, you sent Sam a simple text to let him know you’d arrived safely.Taking a look at the big doors which would take you to the brothers, you looked at your steering wheel once more. The reasonable, sensible part of you argued it wasn’t too late for you to turn with your tail tucked between your legs. The Winchesters had other friends, (if you could even call yourself that), they could find someone else to help them. It didn’t have to be you. But the other part fought back, it has to be you because who else if not? So with a heavy heart beating faster from anxiety, you got out of your truck and waited for Sam to let you in.

The long-haired man greeted you with a warm hug leading you inside, you exchanged polite pleasantries almost as if you weren’t there to work a case. The bunker was still the same, everything in the same position as you remembered it to be. After descending down the last step you coughed to get Sam’s attention, he stopped to look at you, a brow raised. “Umm--”, you awkwardly adjusted one of the bags on your shoulder which Sam instantly reached out to grab, taking it out of your hand you let him carry it, “Does...does he know?”. Sam’s smile fell slightly, naturally his face took on a pitiful expression, “No”, he said softly, he would’ve said more but the sad nod you gave him changed his mind, “C’mon I’ve set up your old room”.

Sam opened the door to the room you once occupied; the double bed was still draped in its tan sheet, the fur blanket neatly folded across the bottom. You walked in recognising the faint smell of the vanilla incense you used to burn was still somewhat lingering lightly in the air. Dumping the bag you still carried onto the floor you reached out to take the other from Sam, “I’ll talk to him”, the younger brother stated, “It’ll be okay (Y/N). You nodded wordlessly. The expression on your face said it all, Dean would not be happy with this. The light clicking of the door closing made you exhale the breath you’d been holding, now that you were alone your let your eyes dance around the room noticing that the few trinkets you’d left where still in the original place you’d put them. There were a few photos you had left behind, unable to grab them in your mad dash away from the bunker. The frames held a thick layer of dust. Using the back of your sleeve you wiped it away to reveal the smiling faces of you and Dean, your head resting on his shoulder as his arms were wrapped around you. The memory replayed clearly in your head as if it happened yesterday:

“Hey Sammy, take one of us!”, Dean chirped happily as he forced the camera into his brother’s hands quickly running back over to you, he grabbed you tightly by the waist and forced you into his side. You giggled out his name, a wacky grin plastered on both of your faces as you snuggled even closer, “Say cheese!”, Sam shouted, enjoying the scene before him. With a flash, the picture had been taken and without wasting a moments time Dean detached from you to snatch the camera back.

He turned it around in his hands to examine the shot, “We look adorable”, he declared. “Lemme see”, you reached out but he moved it from your grasp, “I promise. Sam c’mere it’s group photo time!”.

Meanwhile as you were reminiscing on the joys of the past Sam went off to find his older brother and drop the bombshell.

Dean was none the wiser as he sat alone in the kitchen sipping from his beer and skimming his laptop screen for any new leads about Micheal. The footsteps approaching pulled Dean out of his stupor, letting his eyes refocus he looked over to the door. He nodded his head at before looking back to the bright screen. Sam slowly skulked into the room trying to figure out how to break the news to his brother, “Any news?”. “Nothing, it’s like he’s gone ghost”, Dean closed the lid to his laptop and took an extra long gulp from his beer. Sam took a deep breath, “Yeah, he’s gonna turn up sooner or later...uh I called in some help”.

“Help? Ain’t we got enough hunters around the place?”, he chuckled taking note of the solemn expression on Sam’s face. Sam cleared his throat, “Um an old friend actually”. Dean placed his now empty beer bottle down with more force than he meant, “Old friend?”, his lips formed a frown as Sam nodded, “Yeah, I called in (Y/N), thought we could use the help”.

Dean’s eyebrows knitted together. He puffed out the air in his lungs, “Old friend?”, he repeated sarcastically, “That’s a funny joke Sam”. The older Winchester was finding it hard to control the anger and hurt he could feel bubbling inside him. The chair scrapped loudly across the kitchen floor letting Dean stand up to his full height, when Sam didn’t say anything other than cross his arms awkwardly Dean growled out lowly, “Sam you didn’t”. “Look we needed--”, he started but his brother cut him off, “You can’t be serious! I thought we said no more secrets and (Y/N)? Of all people? We don’t even need the help”, he thumped his palm onto the kitchen counter and started to walk towards the door. Dean stopped a few inches away from Sam, “Tell her to leave. Now.”, his boots pounded on the titled floor, “She’s not welcome here”. As Dean’s footsteps faded down the corridor Sam snarked, “Well that went better than expected”.

The older Winchester was trying not to see red as he mindlessly walked through the bunker, his heart was threatening to burst with feelings that he thought he’d repressed. Dean was hurt mostly; you being back here was a can of worms that he did not want to open, yet when his footsteps stopped he found himself outside your bedroom door. The number 32 glared back at him as he mindlessly stared at it, it was almost taunting him to knock. He raised his fist. It hovered over the dark brown oak.

What would he even say to you? There were a million and one things he could say, that he should say but how would he even phrase them? Should he get angry, would he cry?

Your fingers danced on the edge of the photo frame you couldn’t convince yourself to put back down yet, too caught up in the way the feelings of the past spoke to you. A creak sounded outside your door. It was so soft that if it weren’t for your trained ears you wouldn’t of heard it. You quickly returned the photo to the original spot like it had scolded you. Jumping onto your bed you rapidly yanked your laptop out of your bag and pretended to look like you were busy. You waited for the knock on the door, but it never came.

His hand flopped back down to his side, with a final glance at the door he turned on his heel and stalked off back down the corridor intent on making his way to the Impala. He needed a place to be alone preferably with music and lots of cheap booze.

160 notes · View notes

pan-fangirl-345 · 3 years

Text

Purple Heliotropes and Red Salvias

Summary: Tadashi didn’t think that loving his best friend would lead anywhere, and yet there he is, puking up flowers in a school bathroom. Where will he end up?

TW: Mentions of blood, vomit, and death. No one actually dies, but there are mentions of character deaths.

A/N: I’ve been going through a Hanahaki Disease AU phase, and now I’m subjecting you guys to it too. Good luck. I promise that it has a happy ending.

Tadashi knew something was wrong during practice.

He was slower than usual, and his breathing was becoming hell of a lot harder than he thought was normal, but he hadn't been feeling very good lately, so he didn't think much of it until Suga said something.

"I promise, I'm okay," Tadashi assured his former vice-captain. The former third years had stopped by to see how the new team was doing, which meant that they were all much more preceptive than usual.

"You don't have a fever. Are you sure that you're feeling okay?"

"I'm fine, I just don't feel the greatest, I think it might be allergies," Tadashi explained, attempting to wave away his former vice-captain.

"If it gets any worse-"

"I'll let you know," Tadashi promised.

It didn't get worse, but it didn't get better either, and by the end of practice Tadashi was panting.

"Tadashi," Tsukishima murmured, laying a hand on Tadashi's back. Concern was lacing his facial features as they locked eyes.

"I'm fine," he gasped, hands on his knees as he tried to breath.

Suddenly, there was something coming up, clogging his throat.

"I-" He paused. "I'll be right back. I have to use the bathroom," he muttered, trying to walk as calmly as he could to the bathroom.

As soon as the door shut behind him, Tadashi was on his knees in front of the toilet, coughing and hacking as he tried to get it out of his throat.

When he was finally able to clear his throat, he stared in horror at the small purple petals that were floating on the surface of the water.

"No, no, no, no, no," he whispered, shaking his head.

This couldn't be happening. He was not doing this. Not now. Not when they were so close to their tournament.

He couldn't do this, he wasn't going to go through the hassle of trying to figure out who it was, what he was going to do about it, and why this was happening to him now.

"Tadashi?" Hinata asked, rubbing his back as he appeared. "Oh no."

"You can't tell anyone," he croaked, voice and throat raw. "Not until I figure this out."

"Yamaguchi, I need to tell Suga, or Daichi! Or Tsukishima so he can-"

"Tsukki can't know," Tadashi ordered. "He doesn't need this, and I can't burden him with this," he rasped.

"But . . . isn't he the reason that you-"

"Probably, but I've been expecting this, probably more than anything," Tadashi whispered, voice still hoarse.

Hanahaki wasn't rare, and he was likely to get it, he had been in love with he friend every day since they were kids, and it was about as unrequited as it could've gotten in their scenario.

There was a kind of beauty to the flowers, Tadashi supposed, having gone through a small botany phase when he was younger.

Heliotropes represented eternal love and devotion, and Tadashi supposed that it made sense.

There was a kind of sadness to the flowers too, with how small the petals were.

"Tadashi, you know that you'll have to confess right?" Hinata asked, crouching down beside Tadashi as he rubbed the pinch server's back.

"No." It slipped out before Tadashi even had time to think the answer through.

"No? But Tadashi! If you don't then . . . ." Hinata trailed off, looking close to tears.

"I'll die, I know," Tadashi whispered. "I know, but . . . have you ever been in love Hinata?" Tadashi asked.

"Yes."

The answer was so firm that Tadashi turned to look at the small red-head. There was nothing but a small, fond smile on the red-head's face.

"Would you want to get the surgery? If it was you in my position?" Tadashi asked. "Would you want to get rid of something that made you smile like that whenever you thought about the person? Would you want to forget the little things that they do to make you smile? The little things that only you know about? Would you want to forget the things they did to make you fall in love?"

"No."

"Then you can't tell me that I need the surgery," Tadashi told him.

"There's a difference between want and need," Hinata said, getting a sad look on his face.

"Maybe, but I've made my choice," Tadashi murmured.

"Sometimes I envy you Tadashi," Hinata admitted, sinking to the floor with him. "I envy the way that Tsukishima looks at you. The way you look at each other. I envy what you have. My person . . . they'll never look at me like you look at each other. They'll never care for me like that."

Coughing wracked Hinata's body, and Tadashi realized that they were in the same boat, just in different stages.

A full flower was sitting peacefully on top of the water, dying it pink with Hinata's blood.

The black sunflower looked menacing to Tadashi, but there was something about it.

"Kageyama," Tadashi whispered.

"Ding, ding, ding," Hinata rasped, leaning against the wall heavily.

It was concerning, how big the flower was, and how small Hinata was in comparison.

"How long?"

"A couple of months. It'll start taking something out of me soon, and my mom has already scheduled the surgery," Hinata said.

"Do you want the surgery?"

"No," Hinata admitted.

Tadashi tucked Hinata into his side, a small comfort, from someone who understood.

"I'll keep your secret if you keep mine," Tadashi murmured.

"Deal," Hinata agreed.

~~~~~~~~~~

Things were okay for a few weeks, Tadashi decided. He wasn't coughing flowers very much yet, and Hinata was still fighting, still flying high.

Then Hinata pulled Tadashi aside and said, "I need your help. My surgery, it's this weekend, and I want to let Kageyama know how I feel now, before that feeling leaves, and I need your help."

"Okay, what do you plan on doing?"

"I was thinking about writing a letter."

"That's a good idea. I'll come by after practice to help, okay?" Tadashi asked.

Hinata nodded then gave Tadashi a teary-eyed smile.

"I'm sorry, Tadashi," he murmured, before he went wide eyed and dashed down the hallway again.

Tadashi was wondering what he was sorry for, but then there was someone spinning him around and he was faced with the rage of Kageyama.

"What was he talking to you about?" Kageyama snarled.

"Hey, King, can you get your hands off my friend?" Tsukishima said, not really asking.

"Oh, right, sorry," Kageyama murmured, letting Tadashi go. "But he's been avoiding me like the plague. What was he talking to you about?"

"Homework. He wanted some help with his homework, and Yachi was busy," Tadashi murmured, giving Kageyama a small smile.

"Homework. Right."

Kageyama clearly didn't believe him, but he didn't press, probably because Tsukishima was standing at Tadashi's back, an intimidating presence.

"Are you okay?" Tsukishima asked.

"Yeah, thanks Tsukki," Tadashi said, giving him a wide smile, holding back the flowers that were crawling up his throat quickly.

"So what was the Shorty actually talking to you about?"

"He's . . . confessing to someone, and wanted my help."

"What would you know about confessions?" Tsukishima drawled.

Tadashi didn't say anything, he couldn't there were flowers clogging his throat, but the words hurt.

Tadashi's eyes watered as he held it in.

He squinted at the clock, decided he had enough time, and headed for the bathroom coughing into his handkerchief, trying to collect all the petals.

Once he was sure he was alone, he fell to his knees, kneecaps groaning in protest as he hit hard, cold tile, but he had more important things to worry about as he gagged, throwing up whatever was in his stomach into the toilet, small flowers floating on the surface peacefully.

Full flowers. That wasn't a good sign.

Next there would be stems, then leaves, the roots, until they started to puncture his lungs and squeeze his heart until he choked to death trying to cough up something that shouldn't have been in his lungs in the first place.

Tadashi sucked in a quick breath, flushed the toilet and rinsed out his mouth.

He needed to act normally, even though he was dying. He had a mission, and he would fight to see it accomplished.

Hinata had been fighting for a long time, and if he could do it, Tadashi could too.

It took more out of him than he thought it would. He hadn't realized how much time he spent with Tsukki until he got Hanahaki.

He'd coughed up seven more flowers by lunch, and had almost thrown up three times.

The excuse of helping Hinata write his letter made it easier to leave Tsukki when they parted ways, but there was still the ache in his chest.

It was either suffer through the pain of Hanahaki, or the pain of not having the love of his life by his side.

"Your flowers are growing a lot faster now, aren't they?" Hinata asked when Tadashi coughed them into a bucket Hinata had hidden under his bed.

Tadashi nodded, letting Hinata inspect the contents.

"Yours are growing faster than mine did."

"I've been in love with Tsukki for a long time Hinata, for longer than you've even known about Kageyama," Tadashi explained.

"Have you decided what you're going to do?"

"I'm not confessing, and the surgery isn't an option, so I guess I'm dying," Tadashi admitted.

Hinata sighed.

"This sucks ass," Hinata muttered. "Would you confess, if you knew he loved you back?"

"Maybe, but that's the thing. He doesn't return my feelings, and I've known that for a while. He doesn't return my feelings and I can't say that I blame him."

"What does it feeling like for you Tadashi? Being in love I mean?"

"I know he'll always be by my side. I know that no matter what batshit crazy things come out of my mouth he'll understand, in some way. It's a reassuring feeling of belonging. It's lazy Sundays filled with sleeping in and comfy clothes and home."

"It's so different from mine," Hinata confessed. "For me, it's like running through a field and it's all 'fwaaahh' and 'haha!'."

"Because your heart isn't meant to be tamed, it meant to be ran with. You're an very free spirit, Hinata, kind of like a horse. To you, Kageyama is the wolf friend that runs with you."

"We're crows that fly together," Hinata mumbled.

"Exactly," Tadashi told him.

"I should write that down," Hinata murmured.

"Are you gonna sign it? Or are you going to let him brew on it?" Tadashi asked.

Hinata took a few minutes to respond since he was coughing up flowers, making Tadashi wince at the flowers that resided in the now-shared bucket.

"No. It won't make a difference if he knows it's me or not. It won't change how he feels. It might just inflate his ego a little bit," Hinata rasped, spitting into the bucket after washing his mouth out.

"That doesn't answer my question Hinata," Tadashi told him.

"I don't think I will," Hinata admitted. "I won't remember him after this weekend. The feelings won't ever come back."

"He'll want to know who it's from. He might go looking. Start asking question," Tadashi informed Hinata, who shrugged.

"Hinata, he has a right to know."

"Maybe, but . . . I think it'll hurt him more than help him," Hinata confessed.

"Hinata, put your name on that letter. Kageyama is a lot of things, subtle isn't one of them. He loves you, Hinata, but he's just not very good at proving it."

"He's in love with someone," Hinata agrees. "It just isn't me."

"What are you talking about?"

"I was going to confess, when this whole thing first started, but . . . when I asked him if he had ever been in love, he said yes, and he wouldn't tell me who it was. He doesn't love me back Tadashi, and I'm okay with that."

"How? How can you be okay with that?" Tadashi asked quietly.

"You didn't see the smile on his face when he talked about them Tadashi. He got this really fond smile, and it softened his entire face like 'awwww', and he looked so . . . happy, Tadashi. He never looks at me like that. I don't care if he doesn't love me back. As long as he's happy, then I can be okay with it."

Hinata had tears streaking down his face and when the hacking started Tadashi felt like crying himself.

"I'm so sorry, Hinata, I'm so sorry," Tadashi whispered, wrapping his arms around his friend as the tears started to leak from his own eyes and his voice cracked with emotions.

________________

The next day, Hinata looked drained, he wasn't exuding his normal excitement.

"Hinata?" Tadashi asked.

"There was a stem this morning, when we raced each other to the school. It's getting worse. At this rate, I'll be dead before the surgery even happens," he whispered, voice hoarse.

"Did he see it?"

"Kinda hard to miss," Hinata said, looking close to tears. "He had no clue what was wrong. Tadashi . . . the way he looked at me, the panic in his face . . . ." Hinata really did start crying then, big tears, like the ones they had shed the night before.

"I know, I know," Tadashi murmured, wrapping Hinata in a hug, moving them to a bathroom.

"I added something to the letter this morning. I told him it was me and explained everything that was going on. I slipped it into his bag while we were racing. He's probably found it by now, and I don't know what to expect. Tadashi, I'm terrified," Hinata admitted, once he got his composure back.

"I know, I know," Tadashi repeated slowly, curling his hands through Hinata's hair, trying to soothe the small middle blocker.

"Tadashi, what do I do?" Hinata asked.

"I don't know Hinata, hope for the best?"

Hinata sobbed and Tadashi wondered what would happen to him if he confessed to Tsukishima and he got rejected. He wasn't getting the surgery, he would never willingly give this up, but . . . what if he had no choice? What if someone found out and told his moms?

The pain in his throat crawled up and he let Hinata go to cough into the toilet.

Tears pricked his eyes and he could practically feel the plant ripping his throat on the way up.

He gagged, feeling his stomach roil around as the flowers flowed from his mouth like a river.

"Yours is almost as bad as mine," Hinata remarked sadly.

Tadashi nodded.

"At least we aren't going through this alone," Hinata murmured, giving Tadashi a hand up after he flushed the toilet.

"True, but it would be better if we weren't going through it at all," Tadashi grumbled, making Hinata laugh sadly.

"Ain't that the truth," he murmured, following Tadashi back to his classroom.

Hinata's eyes went wide, and he bolted, so Tadashi assumed he had spotted Kageyama.

"You and the Shrimp are spending a lot of time together lately 'Dashi," Tsukishima mused, hard look on his face. "Anything I should know about?"

For a nanosecond, for a fraction of the smallest slice of time, Tadashi considered telling Tsukishima everything, about Hinata, about himself, about he had been feeling since middle school, and then it was all wiped away by the worst case scenario. By the thought of Tsukishima throwing it all back in his face and laughing. Of Tsukishima walking away and leaving him behind again.

"It's nothing Tsukki, don't worry about it. You might want to take your seat, the teacher warned us about what would happen-"

"Fuck the teacher Tadashi," Tsukishima snapped, nearly slamming his hands down on his friend's desk. "There's something wrong, and I want to know what it is. For god's sake Tadashi, when did you start hiding things from me?"

"When I started to have something to lose," Tadashi replied, letting the mask fall for a moment. "You don't need to know about this Kei, not right now. I can't risk-"

Tadashi shut his mouth so quickly that his teeth clacked together audibly.

"Fine, talk to me when you're ready to stop lying to my face," Tsukishima snapped.

Tadashi blinked back tears, tearing a hand through his hair.

He and Tsukishima had fought before, but never like this, they had usually made up by the end of it, having forgotten what they were even arguing about.

Tadashi suddenly realized how tired he was, how deep the ache in his bones really was, how heavy his body was, how much effort it took to keep his eyes open.

Just one more day, just one more week, you can do this Tadashi, he thought to himself as he forced himself to pay attention in class, to not let into the ache.

It all came to a head at practice that night.

He'd been feeling worse and worse throughout the day, and Hinata had reported the same thing.

"I . . . will . . . reach . . . the . . . summit," Hinata panted, wiping sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand.

Kageyama nodded beside him, giving Hinata a fond look.

Tsukishima had never looked at Tadashi like that, and he doubted that he would now.

The ache throbbed and so did Tadsahi's lungs.

Or maybe Tadashi's lungs were causing the ache and his body was responding to it.

Tadashi's vision blurred in front of him as the whistle blew and Kageyama whispered something to Hinata.

Tadashi's serve went up, and so did he, but, as the ball hit the other side of the court, Tadashi hit the floor heavily, coughs wracked his body, flowers ripping out of him with a vengeance as he tried to keep them hidden in his hands.

Not now, not here, Tadashi begged whatever higher being and deity was listening. Not in front of Kei, not in front of my team.

"-Dashi! Tadashi!"

Tadashi tried to open his eyes to look up at Tsukishima, but he couldn't. He was tired, and he just wanted to sleep.

"S-Sorry Tsukki," he gasped, coughing up more flowers in between words, trying and failing to get enough oxygen into his lungs.

His vision was blurry, getting darker around the edges.

"I'm s-sorry," he whispered.

____________________

(Tsukishima's POV)

The incessant beeping of the heart monitor was annoying, but it was the only thing convincing Kei that his best friend was even alive.

The rise and fall of his chest was so shallow, and the drip of the IV was concerning.

Kei had been holding Tadashi's hand since he had gotten to his side.

He also hadn't stopped crying since he had gotten to Tadashi.

Kei should've known, he should've known that something was wrong. Tadashi had been his best friend since they were kids, he should've known that Tadashi was sick.

He should've noticed the flowers sooner, he should've seen the signs. He was suffering from them too after all.

Daichi was standing by the door, as were Nishinoya and Narita. Asahi was there too, and the others were with Hinata, who had collapsed after blocking a spike from Tanaka, couching up blood and big black sunflowers.

Tadashi had been coughing up purple heliotropes, and Kei had automatically known who Tadashi was in love with.

They'd gone through a botany phase together as children, before Tsukishima had gotten into dinosaurs and Tadashi had become interested in art.

Kei had been coughing up red salvias for about two weeks, right after Tadashi had started acting different.

He knew what was happening, but Tadashi had been pulling away, talking with Hinata more often than not, touching him constantly, and Kei had assumed that they were getting closer.

He hadn't expected this.

Tadashi hadn't told him, hadn't wanted to lose what they had, so he had been killing himself.

"You idiot," Kei snapped, his first words in hours.

"Tsukishima, take it easy," Nishinoya murmured.

Kei ignored him.

"You honestly thought I would reject you? You thought I would throw away the only friend I've ever had? That I didn't care about you like this? 'Dashi, how could you be so blind?" Kei asked, kissing Tadashi's knuckles lightly.

He had never thought Tadashi would got his far. Kei had thought that Tadashi had known how he felt. It wasn't like he put up with anyone else, except maybe Yachi, and that was purely platonic.

"Please, just wake up," Kei pleaded, laying his head on the bed.

"I'm going to call Yamaguchi's moms again," Daichi murmured, slipping out.

Narita convinced Noya to go check on Hinata before slipping out himself, laying a comforting hand on Kei's shoulder.

"Tadashi please," Kei begged. "I need you. I need you to be okay. I need you to be by my side. I need you. I'm in love with you Tadashi, and you can't leave before I tell you to your face, okay? I need to tell you, to apologize for earlier, for every time I-"

Kei stopped as he choked on a sob.

"You're my best friend, idiot, I love you!"

The tears returned full force, landing in wet splotched on Tadashi's arm, splattering over the covers, landing in Kei's hands where they were clutching Tadashi's tightly.

"Ts-Tsukki?"

Kei's head popped up as Tadashi blinked blearily at him.

"Tadashi," he whispered, throwing his arms around his friend.

"Where am I?"

"The hospital. You had a flower fit, remember?"

"Where are the others?"

"Either with Hinata or waiting in the lobby for parents," Kei explained.

"Hinata? Did they take him in for surgery?" Tadashi tried for sit up but ended up coughing up a bunch of bloody flowers instead.

"Don't try to sit up, moron," Kei hissed, pushing him back down by his shoulders. "The King already spilled his guts about everything to the Shrimp. Hinata's fine now, tired and in need of some serious training to get back where he was, but fine."

"Thank goodness," Tadashi murmured, relaxing under Kei's hands. "Listen, I'm sorr-"

"Don't apologize to me Tadashi," Kei murmured, stroking Tadashi's face with his thumb lightly, running it over the freckles he loved so much. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have gotten jealous and mad at you, it was stupid and I just want you to be-"

A coughing fit over took Kei, who grimaced, releasing Tadashi's hands.

"Tsukki?" Tadashi reached out to him. "Tsukki, what's-"

His question stopped when he glanced at the little red petals in Kei's hands, glaringly obvious against Kei's paler complextion, and Tadashi's hands went to his mouth.

"Oh, Tsukki, I'm so sorry," Tadashi whispered. "Who are they for? I bet it's that girl from Class 5, right? The one with the-"

"They aren't for some . . . girl, Tadashi," Kei snapped, snatching Tadashi's hands up from where they were resting against his stomach. "They're for you."

"That's not funny Kei," Tadashi said, angrily.

"I know it's not," Kei replied, just as serious as Tadashi was. "I've been coughing them up for two weeks. I knew who they were for as soon as I coughed up the first petal. They're red salvias, Tadashi. Do you remember what they mean?"

"Forever mine," Tadashi whispered. "They mean forever mine," he said, a little bit louder.

"How did you not notice Tadashi?" Kei asked, giving his best friend a small smile, rubbing soothing circles on Tadashi's skin.

"You just never . . . I mean, we never . . . I never thought that . . . ." Tadashi trailed off and stared at their joined hands for a moment before he said, "I just never thought that you would ever think about me like that."

"Tadashi," Kei murmured, leaning their foreheads together. "I'm sorry for the way I acted earlier, I didn't mean to upset you."

"It's okay," Tadashi murmured, pulling one hand away from Kei's so that he could tangle it in Kei's hair.

"I'm in love with you, and I have been for a while," Kei admitted, and he could feel the heat rise to his cheeks.

"Me too," Tadashi said, the teasing lilt in his voice apparent. "I love you, Tsukishima Kei."

Kei smiled at him, real, and wide, and Tadashi smiled back at him.

"Why did you wait so long to tell me?" Tsukishima asked.

"Like I said, I just never though that you were interested in me," Tadashi muttered, glancing everywhere but his friend.

Kei frowned.

Looking back, he had never really shown any romantic interest towards Tadashi, he had been so worried about letting it show that he had been kind of an asshole.

"I'm sorry," Kei mumbled. "I should've-"

"I know now," Tadashi said, cutting him off, moving his hand deeper into Kei's hair.

Kei nodded, nudging Tadashi's nose with his own.

The sounds of crying made them both pull away, and they saw Tadashi's mother hurtling around the corner.

Kei moved so she could sit beside her son. She was rightly upset, since she didn't seem to have known that her son was sick.

His mom was there in the next five minutes, trying to comfort her wife and her son at the same time and looking more than a little panicked.

Kei slipped out, heading down to the cafeteria.

He hadn't been eating much, and as much as hospital food didn't sound appealing, he was willing to eat pretty much anything.

He got something for Tadashi too, and then, ten minutes later, left it on a spare chair in his room, before starting to slip out.

"Tsukki? Where are you going?"

"I . . . I wasn't sure you wanted me around, so I was going to go home."

"Kei, come here," Tadashi ordered, opening his arms. "The IV itches and pinches and I am this close to just yanking it out."

Deciding that Tadashi really couldn't do that, Kei moved to sit in the chair, but Tadashi made a small noise of protest, tugging on Kei's sleeve.

"Come here," Tadashi demanded, pulling his friend into the bed with him.

"I'm not sure this is-"

"Kei," Tadashi grumbled, more of a whine than anything. "I want cuddles!"

Kei . . . couldn't argue with that. They hadn't been touching as much and he missed the solid warmth of his friend tucked into his side.

"What about your moms? And the team?"

"Fuck 'em," Tadashi muttered, burying his face in Kei's shirt, tangling their legs together.

Kei snorted, then regretted it when his throat protested.

"Kei, I'm really sorry," Tadashi murmured.

"If I can't apologize then neither can you," Kei countered, burying his face in Tadashi's hair.

Tadashi opened his mouth again, then shut it.

"I really missed you," Tadashi whispered.

"I missed you too," Kei murmured, burying his face in Tadashi's hair.

"Hey, Yamaguchi-" Suga stopped in the doorway, giving them a soft smile. "I'm glad things worked out."

He disappeared down the hallway again and Kei couldn't help the blush that crept up his cheeks.

"We do this all the time at home, why does this embarrass you?" Tadashi asked, touching Kei's face lightly.

"It doesn't," Kei said.

"Then why is your face a strawberry?"

"It's not!"

"Yes it is!"

"Sh-Shut up Dashi!"

"You love me and you know it."

"I do."

He really did.

#tsukkiyama #tsukishima x yamaguchi #hanahaki #hanahaki au #tsukkiyama hanahaki #tsukishima kei #yamaguchi tadashi #haikyuu!!#haikyuu #tsukkiyama fluff

44 notes · View notes

let-it-raines · 4 years

Text

There is something inexplicable about thunderstorms that calm him.

Maybe it is the sound of heavy raindrops hitting against the metal roof on the house or against the window panes. Maybe it is the flashes of lightning that brighten the darkened sky or the rolls of thunder that echo and create a natural symphony that is felt down in his very soul. When nestled at home and when the storm isn’t frighteningly bad, he enjoys sitting in his bedroom with the curtains pulled back and the blinds raised, simply watching and enjoying how still everything else seems while nature erupts in anger and sadness and all of the emotions in between.

Beyond that, the rain is often perfect napping weather, and really, what more can a man ask for than a Saturday afternoon storm that will ease him into a much-needed sleep?

The kitchen light above him flickers ever so slightly, and Killian stands from his stool where he was reading a novel to walk to the other side of the granite countertop to turn on the coffee maker. He can feel sleep dragging at the corner of his eyes, and while he would like the nap he was just thinking of, coffee is calling his name more right now. As it percolates, he thumbs through his phone, checking his emails. It’s a bloody Saturday. Why the hell is he being forwarded emails for a client that is not his? William has got to stop doing this. His clients are not Killian’s, and Killian doesn’t work on weekends unless absolutely necessary.

“If you pinch those brows any tighter, you’re going to get wrinkles, Jones.”

“You say that like I don’t already have wrinkles, love.”

Emma shrugs and walks further into the kitchen, moving around him to open the fridge. She’s in a pair of her small, black running shorts and a t-shirt he believes they got from a concert they went to on their first anniversary. It’s faded and stretched out, and it could not be more well-loved. Her own brows pinch as she looks inside the fridge, but he dares not make a quip about her getting wrinkles. “Do we not have cheese?”

“If you didn’t buy it, we don’t have it.”

“Well, damn.” She slams the door closed, and he sees that even without the cheese she was looking for, she’s come out with a yogurt. “I swear I put it on the shopping list. Did you not see that?”

“It’s was your week to do the grocery run.”

“It was not.”

“It most definitely was.”

Emma groans and rips open the yogurt before grabbing a spoon out of the drawer to eat it with. “I may be remembering something about it being my week, but I’ve obviously screwed the pooch on that. I’ll go tomorrow…wait, tomorrow is Sunday, which means it’s your week so – ”

The coffee maker beeps behind him, and he turns to pour himself some into a mug. “We could always try something revolutionary like going together.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, don’t be getting all crazy like that.”

“I’ll try to hold it in. You want a cup?”

“That’s like asking if I want my lungs to still be able to get air. Of course I want some.”

Killian nods and grabs another mug out of the cabinet for Emma’s coffee. He walks toward the fridge for her creamer, pouring it in until the coffee is nearly white itself, and then he hands it to her as she sits on the edge of the counter. She nods her head in thanks, and all he can really think about is how her coffee is not going to mix well with her yogurt.

Emma has never cared about things like that, though.

“Remind me that I need to get tampons when we go to the store tomorrow.”

“Why do you always say for me to remind you instead of putting a reminder on your phone?”

“Because you’re more efficient than a reminder on my phone.”

Another roll of thunder cracks outside, the house shaking the slightest bit, and Killian decides to take his cup and walk into the living room, settling down on the couch with the curtains open so he can watch the storm while Netflix plays on the television. He’s got absolutely no clue what it’s on. Emma must have started some new show, and he’s sure he will somehow get sucked into it the more she watches it. That’s what always happens, even if he misses a few episodes and Emma has to give him a verbal run-through because she can’t be arsed to go back to the episodes he hasn’t seen.

Emma follows him into the living room, her coffee cup in hand, and she settles down on the other side of the couch, pulling the soft knit blanket from the corner to wrap it around herself as she watches the TV.

The afternoon passes slowly, neither of them bothering to do much of anything. At one point, Liam calls, and Killian chats with him for awhile, Emma adding in her own few words, but other than that, the two of them do nothing but watch television – he now knows that it is Poldark and Emma fancies the actor in the show – and eat the leftover Chinese food they ordered for dinner Thursday night.

“This is not going to go well,” Killian points out as Poldark lies to his business partner, a string of lies that are obviously adding up to a dramatic season finale.

“Hush. Don’t ruin it.”

“How am I ruining it? I feel like anybody with eyes would bloody know that it’s not going to go well.”

“Yeah, but – ”

And then there’s an elongated beep as the power gets out and the room goes nearly black with the overhead lights going out and the television glow no longer illuminating the room.

“Well shit.”

“Maybe it’ll come back on soon. Sometimes it flickers.”

“Yeah,” Emma mumbles, tossing the blanket off of her, “maybe. But maybe – ” there’s another crash of thunder and lightning, and Emma jumps – “maybe it’s a bad thunderstorm, and I’m about to get sweaty as hell because we don’t have air-conditioning. Plus, I really need to see what happens in my show.”

“Do you want me to call the power company and see if it’s a neighborhood shortage?”

“No, no. I’ll just wait it out.”

When the waiting ends up being an hour, Killian ends up calling. It is indeed a neighborhood power shortage, and they’re sending a truck as soon as they can. The storm is apparently bad enough that they’re backed up all across the city, so Killian takes that as them not having any power until the morning at the earliest. So he goes to the storage closet and pulls out a myriad of tea candles and the lighter before illuminating the kitchen and the living room with candles and a few battery-powered lanterns. There’s nothing he can do about the heat, however, since he cannot open any windows without letting the storm inside, so he strips off his t-shirt, folding it and putting it over the back of the couch until he goes upstairs to put it in the hamper.

He sees Emma eyeing him now. She’s not very subtle about it with the way she’s biting her bottom lip, and he has to swallow down the sudden lump in his throat.

“You’re totally using the lack of air-conditioning as a reason to go shirtless,” she laughs.

“This is my home. I theoretically pay half the bills. I can walk around whenever I want without a shirt.”

“Eh, I feel like there are definitely some exceptions to that.”

Killian smiles and shrugs before reaching into the pocket of his joggers for his phone. He thumbs through the apps until he gets to his Spotify, hits one of his playlists, and the soothing sound of Bing Crosby plays through the speakers. Emma always groans when he plays older, softer music, but deep down, he knows that she likes it.

Holding out his hand, Killian stretches his lips into a wide smile while Emma eyes him from the couch.

“What are you doing?” she laughs.

“We have to pass the time. I’m asking you to dance with me.”

“You’re being ridiculous,” she says, even as she leans forward.

“You like dancing, Swan,” he insists, “especially when you have a partner who knows what he’s doing.”

With a shake of her head, Emma reaches her hand out until it’s firmly grasped in his and he’s pulling her off the couch. It’s easy to fall into a rhythm, her arms wrapped around his neck and his hands on her waist. Occasionally, he’ll take her hand in his and twirl her out and then bring her back in, making her tilt her head back with laughter until he can capture that laughter with his mouth, kissing her until both of them are left wanting for breath.

“We should do this when the kids are home,” Emma murmurs into his shoulder where her head is now resting, cheek soft as ever against his skin. “I think it would really gross them out.”

“What? Their father without a shirt and their mum in nothing but her knickers? I don’t know why that would scar them at all? They seem to always love any public displays of affection that we show.”

“I’m not in my knickers,” she teases.

“But you could be,” Killian automatically bites back, and he can feel Emma’s smile in his skin.

“Last week Liam asked me if I could stop kissing you at his games.”

“Did he really?”

“Mhm. He said some of his teammates were, and I’m just quoting him here ‘obsessing over how hot is mom is.’ I swear he nearly threw up when he had to say it.”

Killian chuckles and runs his hand up the smooth skin of Emma’s back before moving his fingers in soothing circles, the ones he knows that she likes. “I mean, I personally think that you are the most attractive woman on the planet, but if my teammates were talking about my mum, I’d be disgusted too. For a myriad of reasons.”

“You have teammates?”

“I’m hypothetically pretending I’m fourteen and in Liam’s position.”

“Ah,” Emma sighs. “Well, yeah, it’s really kind of creepy, but we apparently have to make ourselves unattractive and stand six feet away from each other at his baseball games.”

“I don’t think that’s possible.”

“Shut up.” She pulls back from his shoulder so he can see the bright, beautiful green eyes that he fell in love with eighteen years ago. “I say that we sneak behind the bleachers and make out. You know, embarrass him even more.”

“That’s evil, love.”

“Yeah, well, one day he’ll be in the same position of embarrassing his kids. I think it’s a right of passage. He and Amelia will understand one day.”

“I hope so.” Emma presses up on her toes a glides her lips over his, soft and sweet, a contrast to the heat that is beginning to burn in his belly. “But for now, maybe we give them a pass some days and keep to embarrassing them at home.”

“I like that idea.”

Killian kisses Emma until he knows that she’s dizzy, heat burning in both of their bellies and gooseflesh rising on his skin, and while earlier, he was exhausted and all he wanted to do was take a nap, now all he can do is think about laying his wife down on the sofa and kissing every inch of her skin with rain pounding down around them and sweat slicking against his back. The house is sweltering, the summer heat and humidity seeping through its very bones, but he and Emma have no issue with it as Killian’s tongue runs along her inner thigh and then closer to the center still.

When they were younger, this was a constant, insatiable thing. Their nights and mornings and weekends would be filled with this, with not being able to get enough of each other in between living life, and while there are times when Killian misses that, he knows that his life is so much more full now. And, really, he can never get enough of Emma, even if that means something a little different now.

He has been with her for nearly twenty years, and he has seen several different versions of her. From closed off and hurting to open and loving, from a fearless woman who would do anything she wanted to a fearful mother who wasn’t sure if she could be a mother at the same time that he wasn’t sure that he could be a father, hurts and scars terrifying them and holding them still in the moment of life when two lines showed up. And the fear has never really changed, but much like Emma, it’s developed and twisted and become adaptable to their lives now. Growing with her has been his greatest honor, and Killian would not change it for the world.

Emma is who she was always meant to be, and it’s a beauty of a sight to behold.

Emma gasps as her hips buck up, and he presses his arm down across her stomach to hold her still against the cushions. She curses like a sailor then, and he smiles into her before continuing to give her the pleasure she so deserves. It goes on like that for what feels both like ages and not enough time, the heat continuing to accumulate and the thunder consistently rolling, and when Killian slides into Emma in warm stretch of heat, he doesn’t focus on any of the world around them.

He only focuses on her and the smile on her face and the way that she makes a joke that has his stomach aching in a whole new way.

It’s slow and lazy, and they could spend the rest of the evening like this if they wanted to, but there are such things as aching backs and tired bodies, so eventually they do find themselves curled on the couch, breaths heavy and bodies exhausted, and the two of them really should shower. This lack of air-conditioning is a killer.

“If I melt into the couch right now, can you clean me up before the kids get home from my parents’ tomorrow?”

Killian chuckles into Emma’s back and presses his lips there. “Of course. Though, I think if we wanted to scar them, this would be the ultimate way.”

Emma snickers and rolls away from him, standing from the couch and reaching down to grab her t-shirt to pull it back on. It immediately clings to her skin with sweat, and she groans, her lips downturned before they tick up into a smirk. “Do you want to go take a shower and then go to bed? I think if we hurry, we can fall asleep before ten.”

“Sounds like the dream, love.”

Everything with her is.

#cs prompts #cs fic #cs ff #cs fanfic #captain swan fic #captain swan ff #captain swan fanfic #captain swan

125 notes · View notes

lyssismagical · 4 years

Text

you drive me crazy, crazy for you

Parkner Week Day Two: “And I said ‘no’, you know, like a liar”/ identity shenanigans / iron lad

Peter had been talking to Harley Keener online. They’d met through Twitter, being two of the five people Tony followed, and the casual liking and commenting turned into texting and calling and skyping every chance they got.

They hadn’t told Tony, worried how he’d react to finding out they’d become friends behind his back, and Peter had decided early on that he’d wait to tell Harley about being Spider-Man. He didn’t want secrets to get in the way of their close friendship, but he needed to put his family first and if Harley ever turned on him, not that Peter thought he would, he didn’t want Harley to have that kind of knowledge.

And then, six months into their friendship, Harley admits to having a crush on Peter. They were talking on the phone, quiet and sleepy, late at night, when Harley had murmured how he needed Peter to know. That he couldn’t keep pretending he didn’t want them to be something more.

It was hard for their relationship to change from the way it was. Harley lived in Tennessee, Peter in New York, neither of them capable of taking time off to see each other, nor were they able to afford plane tickets. But it felt real anyways.

And then Iron Lad shows up in Manhattan.

“I know you’re here to help, but this is my city,” Peter says, Karen filtering his voice to sound lower. “I don’t team up with just anybody.”

“I know!” Iron Lad exclaims, sounding surprised more than anything. “I don’t want to get in your way or be a problem, but if you need backup, I’m always available.”

Peter frowns, rolling his eyes when Karen sends him another alert of crime. He loves being Spider-Man, he loves patrolling, he loves helping people, but his window of time to call Harley is shrinking every time he goes to stop another crime. It’s been three days since he’s gotten the chance to talk to his boyfriend.

But Iron Lad is standing across from him, suit built strong and colored the same reds and golds as Iron Man’s, and Peter knows it would take half as much time if he let the new hero help him.

“Fine,” he says, trying his best to come off as nonchalant and flippant. “Let’s go then. Prove yourself, and then we’ll see about a team-up, okay?”

Iron Lad nods quickly, muttering a few things to himself and his own AI, and then his comms are linked to Peter’s.

“Perfect. Lead the way, Spider-Man.”

He was right, it does go a lot quicker to have Iron Lad at his side, they manage to detain the criminals, call the police, and save everybody from the robbery within ten minutes. And even when Karen alerts him to another crime on the other side of the city, he doesn’t feel too guilty passing it off to Iron Lad.

“You’ll let me know if you need back-up?” Peter asks before he lets Iron Lad go.

“I’ve got it, Spidey. Have some faith in me.”

Peter smiles behind the mask. He’s never had somebody look out for Queens, he’s never been given the option to go home early, he’s never had the opportunity to choose himself over the city.

When he gets home, tugging off the suit and grabbing his phone, immediately hitting Harley’s contact and preparing to ramble about the school day he had, it’s still before midnight. He rarely ever makes it home before midnight despite it being his curfew.

He’s disappointed though when Harley doesn’t pick up.

He tries again, hoping maybe he just didn’t get to his phone in time, but again, nothing.

“Hey, sorry I couldn’t call earlier, I got caught up at the Lab with Tony,” Peter starts when the phone dings to signal his voicemail. “I hope you’re okay… I’m sorry we keep missing each other lately. It’s like we’re just a little out of sync. Only another year, right? And then Boston together? Just like we promised?”

He takes a deep breath, suddenly finding himself choked up. Long-distance relationships are hard. They always are. Online, long-distance, wanting nothing more than to be with him in the flesh, but not being able. It’s hard. There’s so much longing, so much desire, so much he wants to say and do.

“I’m waiting for that hug, you hear me? Next year, when we get to Boston, you better give me one of those dramatic, running hugs in the airport. Anyways, yeah, call me when you can, okay? I miss you.”

Out the window, he can hear the sound of Iron Lad’s repulsors, going after the sound of echoing gunshots. And next door, May’s sleeping soundly. But Peter’s chest feels carved open, missing so desperately and longing for his boyfriend to just be here. He wants to be held, wants to feel whole, wants to feel loved, but he wants all of that from somebody who lives a thousand miles away.

He curls up on his side, phone still clutched in one of his hands like Harley will call him at any second, and cries into his pillow, wishing so badly for something he knows can’t happen.

* “Peter! I’m so sorry I didn’t answer your calls. I was busy last night and I forgot to text you. I’m so sorry. Text me and let me know when you’ve got a chance to call though, I probably can’t talk late tonight either. I’ve got news coming in a little bit, but I don’t know how soon I can tell you… I know what you mean about being out of sync lately, but it’ll be okay. Text me? I miss you.”

The voicemail ends, the third time Peter’s listened to it without replying or trying to call Harley. He knows Harley would be on his way to school by now, without data, so there’s no point in trying.

Harley’s voice helps soothe the ache in Peter’s chest just a little bit, but it doesn’t help knowing that the end to this lapse of communication might take weeks, months to sort out. With exams coming up, junior prom, the need to get a summer job, and whatever Harley’s doing in Tennessee, they’re just going to get busier.

“You okay?” May peeks her head into the room, somehow able to sense his misery as quick as if he were still crying.

“Me and Harley haven’t spoken in four days,” Peter admits, staring down at the seemingly harmless text message. Morning darling! Sorry I missed your call. We still on for the Skype session on Sunday?

May’s face softens, slipping into the room to sit next to him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. “That happens. Things happen. It’ll get easier.”

“I want it to be easier now.” He sounds pathetic, whiny, desperate. “I don’t want to wait another year for him, for us.”

Boston feels like a lifetime away, like an untouchable dream. MIT, the two of them together. He’s scared it won’t work out, that going from this long-distance relationship to living together in Boston, going to University together, won’t work out and they’ll have to kiss their relationship goodbye.

“Oh I know you do, honey. I know this is hard, but I know how much you care about Harley and how much he cares about you. You’ll figure this out, I promise.”

The way that she says it makes it sound like letting go is still an option. She says it likes it’s possible for Peter to say goodbye to Harley and move on, take a different path. She says it like Peter could ever break up with Harley.

“I just really wish he were here.”

May kisses the top of his head comfortingly, and Peter loves her, he does, but he wishes nothing more that it was Harley instead.

* MJ and Ned both comment on how strange he’s acting. Daydreaming the time away because his relationship feels like it’s on thin ice, like one wrong move will make the Jenga tower crumble, so he thinks about Boston, about a future, and nothing else. He stares at his phone, at the text messages he doesn’t bother answering, at the voicemails that he knows by heart. It’s been two weeks since he last properly spoke to Harley.

Tony notices it too. “What’s up, kid? Tough day at school? Iron Lad giving you trouble?”

“I’m okay, not a big deal,” he says. Tony doesn’t know and Peter doesn’t want to tell him, not before he talks to Harley first, not that he really thinks telling Tony about a crumbling relationship is a good idea.

His phone rings before Tony can argue with him.

It’s Harley. His silly picture, one he got from his sister, appearing on the screen.

He wants to talk to Harley, he wants nothing more than to ask him to please come to New York, drop everything because Peter’s never wanted to see him more than he does now. But he knows Harley can’t. That’s just the way it is.

So he lets it go to voicemail. He tries not to let the pit in his chest grow anymore than it already has, but it does, longing and cold. It’s hard for him to feel much beyond the longing these days. Harley’s the only thing on his mind, the only one that could help him.

“I think I’m going to go out if that’s okay,” Peter says, voice breaking. He turns his phone on Do Not Disturb and pockets it. “I’ll text you if I need any help.”

Tony doesn’t bother trying to stop him, quickly telling him to be home by curfew and to be safe, before Peter disappears out the door.

He changes in his bedroom, slips out his window, and scales the side of the building to get to the roof.

Iron Lad lands beside him only moments later.

“Hiya, Spidey!” he chirps. “You want backup today?”

“I’m good, thanks.” Peter knows he’s missing the enthusiasm he normally has whenever he talks to Iron Lad. They’ve teamed up frequently over the past couple weeks, and Peter’s been enjoying the nights of solitude when he can leave the safety of Queens up to Iron Lad.

Iron Lad’s tone immediately changes to one of worry and confusion. “Everything okay, Spidey?”

“I miss my boyfriend,” he admits quietly. He hates that he can barely function when he isn’t talking to Harley, that he relies so deeply on their relationship. He sits down on the edge of the roof, feet kicking absentmindedly, and Iron Lad joins him a second later.

The superhero laughs, not unkindly, and nods. “Yeah, I know how you feel. Hey, I know this might be a longshot, but have you ever helped a Peter Parker? He lives around here, works with Tony, goes to Midtown.”

“No!” Peter blurts quickly. How Iron Lad knows him, Peter doesn’t know. He doesn’t recognize the voice, not that he really puts it past him to use a voice modulator, Peter does too. “Why? You know him?”

“He’s my boyfriend.”

It feels like the floor falls out from under him, heart hammering in his chest. His fingers hook under the edge of his mask, prepared to throw everything on the line.

“Harley?” His voice is shaking and high, wanting so desperately for it to be him. He doesn’t care about logic or hidden identities or the possibility of Iron Lad being a liar, he doesn’t care because he wants it to be true so badly.

Iron Lad’s faceplate pops open, revealing-

“Oh my god, Harley!”

Peter doesn’t wait another moment, yanking his mask off, curls bouncing around his ears, smile widening until it almost hurts, and tosses his arms around Harley’s shoulders. They nearly fall off the edge of the roof at Peter’s excitement, but Harley rights them, arms winding around Peter’s waist tightly and mouth pressing against his temple.

“Holy fuck, oh my god, I can’t believe this is real,” Harley breathes, mouth brushing against Peter’s skin as he speaks. “You’re real and oh god you smell so good, so much better than I imagined, and I can’t believe you never told me you’re Spider-Man, oh my god.”

The longing, the cold gaping hole in his chest, the pure misery that had settled when the insecurities had crept into his head, it all soothes. Harley’s here, in New York, in Queens, in Peter’s arms. He’s here and he’s real and he’s murmuring his excitement against Peter’s forehead, arms tight and chest warm.

“I’m sorry I didn’t call you back. I’m sorry we were so out of sync. I’m so sorry-”

“I’m sorry,” Harley says, pulling away enough to look at Peter. The younger boy nearly starts crying at just how real Harley is, freckles splashed out across his tanned skin, eyes wide and so blue in a way that Peter could never really see over Skype. “I wanted to surprise you. Mom got transferred to the New York branch of her job. I was going to tell you, but between moving here, taking over as the new Iron Man, enrolling in school, and babysitting my sister, I didn’t have the time to surprise you how I wanted to. The dramatic airport scene you wanted. I’m sorry.”

Peter shakes his head, vision blurry with tears and hands trembling as he cups Harley’s face gently. “You’re staying? Like forever?”

“Forever,” Harley promises, smiling through his own tears. “And I know this is soon and crazy and out of euphoria and shock, but I love you, Peter. I love you so much and I couldn’t survive another year without you, you mean too much to me to lose.”

“I love you too. God, I’ve missed you, I’ve been craving this since we got together. I’ve never wanted anything more.”

He finally lets himself kiss Harley, slow and sweet, letting himself memorize everything, soothing the last of the ache in his chest. This is all he’s ever wanted.

Peter refuses to let go of Harley, linking their fingers together and sticking without meaning to.

“This is real,” he says, voice thick with emotion, staring unashamedly at Harley and his blue eyes and his freckles and his jawline and his fluffy hair, unable to stop crying no matter how hard he tries.

Harley’s real and here.

Harley grins, boyish and so unbelievably happy, and kisses his breath away.

“It’s real, darlin’.”

Taglist: @littlemissagrafina @spideygirl2003 @romeoandjulietyouwish @c-artara @shadedrose01 @likeaphoenix13 @pj-hermes-tonystark-obsessed @you-get-killed-walk-it-off @kitkatwinchester @emo-girl10 @justme--emily @hold-our-destiny @imalivebecauseirondad @spiderman-peterman @dykeragee @maryserrao @heeeyitskay {Let me know if you wanna be added or removed}

#lyss writes #parkner week 2020 #parkner #peter parker #harley keener #iron lad #spiderman #I wrote most of this after an 8hr shift w no sleep so don't judge this lmao #Me?? Writing more online dating AU's?? Pffft

73 notes · View notes

internallyinarticulate · 4 years

Text

Frustration

(Yandere Cop!Abbacchio x Female Reader)

Alright this is my second attempt at a jojo fanfic, I hope you all enjoy! This is the first chapter of this series! (I don’t know exactly how many chapters there will be, but there will be quite a few! I’ll make sure to link them all together on each post I make for this series!)

Also this chapter is long, so buckle up!

Chapter One: The Call

(3rd Person Pov)

The gently setting sun cascading a plethora of warm colors put (y/n)’s mind at ease, letting her know that the busy day she had earlier was finally over. Being a manager in a decently sized book store near the heart of Naples was not something to scoff at, especially considering the fact it was Saturday. The busiest day of each week, which always drove (y/n) to a point where she wanted to slam her head onto a table due to the volume of annoyances she had to deal with.

From people complaining about prices, children ‘playing’ too roughly with the books, to just dealing with the rush of people in general. Now that isn’t to say that (y/n) hated her job, in fact she loved it, most of the time she was greeted with a quiet bookstore filled with people who understood what a bookstore was and how to treat it decently. And the people that she met during these times were almost always polite, save for the few people that would come back from Saturday's and Sunday's excursion with some type of complaint. These things would frustrate (y/n) but it was nothing that she couldn’t handle. The pay for the job was not bad at all, it allowed her to own a nice maisonette with two floors to decorate to her heart’s content, and even splurge on trips around Italy. All in all, her life was tranquil at the moment, and that was exactly what she strived for.

(Y/n) entered her home and quickly took her shoes off, throwing them down in triumph as she quickly made her way to the couch positioned in front of the t.v.

“Finally, some peace and quiet.” she said as she sprawled out on the couch, letting out a content sigh as her mind raced through the events of the day. From the moment she woke up at 6:30am to the time she got home at 8:04pm, she had been running around non-stop. Even her break was spent running down to a bakery to grab food for her co-worker and herself! She let out a groan as the sound of a phone ringing was heard in the distance. She begrudgingly sat up and went to retrieve her purse from the coffee table in front of her. She looks at her phone and sees it’s a message from her boyfriend (B/n).

‘Hey sweetie, I just wanted to check in on you. How was work today?’ she lays back down as she messages him back,

‘It was crazy busy like every damn Saturday, how was work for you?’

‘Could have been better, but hey, at least we're both out of it now!’ she chuckled at how excited she imagined him sounding, he also enjoyed relaxing after a hellish day of work. Just as she was about to message back she heard a knock at her door; she stood up confused, who the hell could that be at this hour? She set her phone down on the coffee table and headed over to the door, concern filling her head.

“Hello?’ she called out as she approached the door, hesitantly looking into the peephole. No one was there, however a piece of paper on her doormat caught her attention. She opened the door and half expected to be ambushed by someone, but was met with nothing but a light breeze and a starry night sky.

“It got that dark already? How long have I been home?” she asked herself as she bent down to grab the paper. It was folded up, a bright red check mark greeted her as she unfolded the page.

“What the hell?” she said out loud, she quickly looked around her surroundings and proceeded to head back inside. She looked back at the paper in her hands, flipping it around, trying to find something else besides a giant red check mark. She sighs as she sets the paper down on her kitchen counter, it was probably some kids trying to freak her out with some stupid prank. She wonders whether to get some food or go back to her couch and fall asleep to some late night shows.

An ear piercing shatter sounds off by her head as she lets out a scream, the sound of broken glass falling from her kitchen window makes her look up and freeze in horror. Someone’s arm was working on pushing the glass shards that were left behind from the shattered window. (y/n) snaps out of her trance and bolts upstairs, just as a man places his hands on the window frame and lifts himself inside. A man with shaggy dark brown hair, a black tank-top with the words ‘Freedom is anarchy’ crudely written in white paint, an open black hoodie, and ripped up black jeans stands up slowly; almost comically, and scans the room for his target.

“Now where did you run off to little lamb?!~” he yells out as he walks through her kitchen into her living room. He glances around and makes his way through all possible hiding places while (y/n) hides in her closet upstairs.

Meanwhile in the maisonette next door, the sound of the broken window alerted a young man by the name of Alessandro Romano. He knew that his neighbor, (y/n) (l/n), was not a rambunctious person; well at least rambunctious enough to break a damn window. The loud feminine scream which followed immediately after solidified to him that she was not the cause of the window breaking, which prompted him to grab his phone and called the police.

“311 what’s your emergency?”

“Hello, I believe my neighbor’s house is being broken into. I heard a window break and I heard her scream, you have to help her quickly!”

“May I have your name, and the name of your neighbor; Along with your addresses?”

As Alessandro worked with the 311 operator the man in (y’n)’s apartment had begun to grow irritated as he looked around for his victim. He brought out a large knife and began to drag it along the wall as he started to slowly walk upstairs, calling out to her.

“I know you’re upstairs little lamb, let me in. I promise your death will be quick, though I can’t promise it will be painless!”

His footsteps were almost comically slow as he pressed the knife harder into the wall as the smile he held grew wider at the aspect of cornering his victim. Though he had to admit, he would be thrilled if when he opened the door she attempted to run, he loved it when they tried to run. He started to slam his footsteps down onto the steps leading to her room, each one louder than the last, until he was practically bashing his foot against each stair. He wanted, no, needed to scare his victim. It’s what made this all so pleasurable; Not the aspect of ending a life, but the thrill of the hunt and the case that would ensue. Sometimes from him, sometimes from them, it didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered was that he caught his prey in the end, and rewarded their exhilarating tears and screams with a painful death.

(Y’n) heard the dramatic footsteps and cursed at herself for forgetting her cellphone. She cursed herself once more as she remembered the conversation she had with her boyfriend and how insistent he was to have her put a home phone in her bedroom.

‘Honey I have my cell phone on me 24/7, why would I need a home phone in my room? Besides it will be loud as hell when people call!”

‘That’s kind of the point (y/n), also you can set the tones of the calls received to be softer rather than louder.’

‘Well i think it’ll be a waste of time and money to set it up, i’ll be fine with just the home phone downstairs and my cellphone!’

‘*sigh* Alright, but when we move in I'm putting in a home phone.’

‘Fiiine!’

‘Dammit (B/n) I hate when you’re right about shit like that’ (Y/n) thought to herself as she clenched the tiny pocket knife that she had managed to grab from her dresser before she hid in her closet. She opened the door slightly and looked at the door that separated her from a grisly demise. She didn’t have a lot of furniture in her room but what she could easily move, she used. Her desk chair had been propped up against the door along with a wooden chest that she had received from her father as a nice parting gift when she moved out. She had managed to position the chest next to the chair in a way that would prevent the killer from being able to open the door too widely; It was an extra precaution just in case this mad man was able to break down the lock on the door and shove down the chair that was propped up against the door handle. She closed the door and took a deep breath; She was attempting to bottle up her emotions so she wouldn’t give this bastard any satisfaction from hearing her cry or scream in fear and frustration. All of this just had to happen to her, out of everyone in Naples it just had to be her! She would laugh if she wasn’t so scared at the moment, clenching the knife even harder as she heard the man finally make his way to her door.

“Officer Abbacchio, Come in Abbacchio do you hear me? Over.” a radio sounded off in a police vehicle which was slowly cursing down a busy street in Naples. A young officer quickly picks up his radio and confidently answers back,

“I hear you, what is it? Over.”

“We have a 10-16, break in at a residential area. Suspect is suspected to still be inside the residence, the only occupant of said residence is a young female named (y/n) (l/n), I’ll have the rest of the information relayed onto your screen. Over.”

“10-04, heading over to the address right now. Over and out.”

Officer Abbacchio turns on his sirens and presses down on the pedal, speeding along with the rest of traffic, his mind focusing on the possible situation he might be stumbling into.

‘There’s a high possibility that the perp will have a weapon, scratch that, he definitely has one considering he broke into the home through a window.’ He thought as he quickly read what popped up on his screen. He presses down on the pedal harder as he sees people moving to the side to let him through, a determined look crosses his face when he sees from his gps that he is no more than 5 minutes away from the address given to him.

‘I’ll make it there in three minutes with how quick people are letting me through, this is perfect!’

He arrived in the exact time frame he predicted and quickly got out of the vehicle, his hand gun drawn immediately. He approached the front door of the residence with extreme caution, following his training perfectly, he scoped the area and when he knew it was clear, he kicked down the door.

“This is the Naples police! Come out with your hands raised!”

A deep voice yelled out after the door was broken, the sound of two firm kicks alerted the mad man inside that he was no longer alone with his victim, an officer has interrupted his game. The man got to work and slowly opened the door, only to find it locked. He smirked as he put his blade down and quickly pulled out a multi-tool, getting to quick work on the outer casing of the door knob as the officer below started to sweep the area.

“This is the police! I am aware that you’re in here, come out with your hands up now!”

The officer yelled louder than before, worry evident in his demanding tone. The man had finished with the door knob and carefully removed the handle, undid the mechanism which locked the door, and attempted to open the door. The handle on the other side popped off and the chair that had been pressed up against the door knob fell, alerting both the man and the officer. The man tried to open the door again, only for it to open roughly halfway before having it stop yet again, the rushing footsteps of the officer downstairs gave the man an adrenaline rush as he forced his body through the door. He was greeted with a dark room, he quickly flipped on the switch as the officer made it to the bottom of the stairs.

“Come out! Hands where I can see them!” the officer yelled out again, hoping to get some kind of response. The man snickered and scanned the room, his eyes landing on the closet, that had to be where his little victim was.

(Y/n) held her hand to her mouth tightly, pressing her fingers against her lips in an effort to not scream as she heard the killer barge into her room. She had heard another voice yell out but it was muffled by the distance and doors between her and said voice; She thought it was her killer, becoming enraged at her attempts to keep him out of her room. The sound of the closet door knob moving both startled her from her thoughts and filled her with fear. She grasped onto the doorknob tightly as she felt the man desperately trying to break in.

“Come on little lamb, let me in so I can rid you of your suffering!”

The man screamed out as the doorknob stopped moving. The sound of a sharp thud alerted her as she held the knob tighter, unsure of what he was doing. The deranged man’s smile widened to a sickening degree as the knife made one final thrust into the door before the blade went through it, showering (y/n) with splinters of wood as it pierced through. A loud scream ripped from (y/n) as she saw how close the blade came to her face, just one more inch and she would be done for! She could not let go of the knob, or that would let the killer in; So she quickly tried to readjust herself before he had the chance to attack her through the hole he had just made. Loud footsteps caught her attention as a new voice shouted out

“Put your hands where i can see them!”

(Y/N) dared to look through the hole that the killer made and saw a very welcoming sight. An officer with white buzz cut hair and piercing dawn eyes glared at the man who stood in front of the closet door. (Y/n) took a deep breath before she called out,

“Officer, I'm in here! Please help me!”

Officer Abbacchio looked over at the closet door, noticing a (e/c) eye looking back at him through the knife hole the man made. He noticed the scared look in the young woman’s eye and grew more determined then before to help her.

“Don’t worry, the situation is under control.” He called out to her as he went back to glaring at the man before him who had begun to snicker. The young officer felt a chill go down his spine as he got a close look at the man, The blade he held in his hand was covered in a dark red substance, which officer abbacchio assumed was blood given the current circumstance.

“Drop the weapon now, and put your hands up.”

“Now why would I do that officer? Can’t you see i'm a little busy here?”

The psycho rammed the knife into the closet again, eliciting a scream from (y/n). Officer Abbacchio gripped his gun tighter, giving the woman in the closet a quick glance through the hole, he saw tears start to fall from her (e/c) which only added fuel to his urge to protect her.

“Do it now or I will shoot you! This is your final warning!”

The man’s smirk grew as he turned to the officer, and lunged at him. Officer Abbacchio took aim and let out a single round, the bullet casing clattering onto the hardwood floor as the sound of the shot resonated within the room.

-CHAPTER 1 END-

(Thanks for reading!)

#yandere leone abbacchio x reader #leone abbacchio x reader #yandere leone abbacchio #leone abbacchio #abbacchio #jojo part 5 x reader #golden wind #jojo's bizzare adventure #jojo x reader #jojo yandere

92 notes · View notes

rainbowglittr · 3 years

Text

Love and Marriage - Chapter 9 (Mature- Minors DNI)

Description:

After a loss in the family uncovers a family secret, Jaleia and her husband Jesse are forced to balance one family crisis after another along with their budding careers and their plans to expand their family. Will the pressure to keep everyone else together ruin their own relationship? Can ruined relationships be fixed before it’s too late?

Chapter 9:

"Jessekins!" I called out as I walked thorugh the front door. It had been a long and busy day at work and I was tired. I put my keys down in the key rack.

"Do you have to call me that?" Jesse called out from the kitchen.

"Yes I do, my love!" I walked into the kitchen. Jesse was assembling tacos he leaned over so I could give him a peck on the lips.

"I hate this kitchen, it's too damn small. How was your day, Love?"

"Too long. Some dumbass mislabeled one of our test runs so we had to do the three hour test all over again. And guess who the dumbass was? Me! I was the dumbass who wasn't paying attention and had to stay an extra two hours to rerun the test. I could've slapped myself. I'm tired. How was your day babe?" I leaned against the counter, facing Jesse.

"You're not a dumbass. I got some interesting news today from the studio. I don't think you're going to like it though."

"Okay, great start. What's up?" Jesse snuck a glance at me and then started to talk.

"So the studio is sending me to L.A for a couple weeks to work with some new artists they signed." He started.

"That's great isn't it?" I asked as I washed my hands.

"Yeah except one of the artists I'll be working with is my ex, Imani."

"Imani is a singer."

"You've heard of Imani Redd?"

"Wait, wait, wait. Hold the phone, stop the presses, rewind the tape. Imani Redd is your ex? The ex that cheated on you and then dumped you? Imani Redd is that ex?" Imani Redd was a rising R&B singer. She was always in and out of the gossip blogs and always in some social media beef.

"Thanks for that and yeah, Imani Redd is my ex. I never told you? My mom never told you?"

"No, negro! No, you never told me that Imani Redd was your ex! You guys always went by her first name so I just assumed it was some girl named Imani, I didn't think it was the singer! How could you not tell me?" I said as I slapped his arm.

"I thought you knew. She's one of the artists I have to work with while I'm there."

"You're right, I don't like that. Why do you have to work with her?" I asked as I stole a piece of meat from one of the tacos he was making .

"Because if I don't, I won't be working with anyone good anytime soon. They'll stick me with crap projects." He said finally turning around to face me.

"How do you feel about it?" I asked.

"I'm not thrilled but I gotta do what I gotta do." I rolled my eyes at him.

"Don't be like that. I don't want to work with her, it's strictly professional."

"It always is until you get to talking and working together and then all of a sudden you're reminiscing, and old feelings start to reappear, and then someone catches feelings and I end up going to jail because I stabbed you after catching you with your ex."

"Why do you jump to violence so quickly?"

"Don't push me and you'll never have to find out."

"Baby I promise, nothing's going to happen. We'll work on a few songs and that's it. No catching feelings, and more importantly no stabbing."

"The most important part is the catching feelings part because if that doesn't happen I don't have to stab you."

Jesse held my waist. "Seriously Jay, nothing's going to happen. You trust me, right?"

"I do trust you, but realize that nine times out of ten, when a guys says do you trust me and the girl says yes, that guy does something completely untrustworthy, right? " Jesse looked me straight in my eyes.

"I promise you nothing is going to happen between us. I love you. You know I know what it's like to be cheated on, I would never do that to you. You know that. "

"I know. It's just hard. It's going to drive me crazy though, you almost married that girl, Jess. You guys have history. You guys have a lot of things in common. Does this not seem like a giant red flag to you?"

"I love you, I only have eyes for you. I'm not going to do you dirty. If you trust me, you won't have to worry about a thing. If you don't you're going to be worried for nothing cause I ain't sleeping with her, I don't want her in any way. It's just work and strictly professional." He said.

"Look I trust you, you've never given me a reason not to. But, there are two conditions, one, You better answer ALL my calls. I don't care if you're in the middle of writing or recording the best song you ever wrote, you better answer. I don't care if you're in the middle of dying, you better pick up. And two, you should NEVER ever be alone with her at any time in any place no matter what. Understand?" I said, looking into his eyes.

"Yes, love. I promise." He said pulling me close and kissing me. I unraveled myself from Jesse.

"I'm also taking Di with me, I think she deserves a little vacation, she's made a huge turn around. "

"I agree. Wait, you're leaving me alone? No fair."

"I'm sorry. But unless you can take off..."

"Which you know I can't."

"Then you have the whole house to yourself and my mom."

"Screw you." I said, pouting. I crossed my arms and glared at him.

"I thought we agreed you're too old to pout." I stopped pouting and continued glaring at him. He was now getting a salad out the fridge.

"I'll make it up to you. I promise."

"One, I don't want your sex. Two, you're making a lot of promises tonight. "

"One, Ouch, my ego. And two, I keep my word."

"Don't spoil her while you're there. I know how you are."

"I'm her big brother, that's my job. You're spoiled too."

"Yeah, but my dad did that, not my older sisters." I scoffed.

"That makes a lot of sense. I'm going to call Di down. She's probably talking to that boy." He said. Diana was still interested in the intern she was caught making out with and was alway texting him.

"I thought you said 'that boy' was nice?" I said raising an eyebrow at him.

"Not nice enough."

>>>>>>>>>>

"So I have good news for you Di." Jesse said as we ate dinner.

"Yeah?"

"I'll be going to L.A for three weeks and you're going to come with me."

"I get to go to Cali?" She yelled.

"Yeah, you gotta hang with me the whole time though but yeah."

"Yeeessss!!!" She screamed. She practically jumped into to his arms to give him a hug, almost knocking him out of his chair.

"Okay, okay, okay. Chill. You gotta hang with me the whole time. Mom said not to take my eyes off of you for a second, so well be in the studio for most of our time there, but we can still do cool stuff, like go to the beach, and I know you'll want to go shopping." He said. I groaned.

"Why rub it in?" I said. I let my head smack the table.

"I'm sorry baby, we'll talk about later Di."

"I'm so excited!" She said as she sat down.

"I hope you guys have a good time. When do you leave? You never told me." I said. I was already dreading it.

"Sunday night. Well get into L.A in the middle of the night our time but over there it'll still be evenings since they're behind us and well still be able to sleep." He said.

"Send me pictures, you know I love pictures."

"We will!" Di said.

>>>>>>>>>>>>

I thought really hard about Jesse going to write with his ex. I know he had no feelings for her. I know he loves me, and I completely trusted him, but I couldn't help but to feel uneasy about it. That's his ex. But at the end of the day I trusted him and I knew he would do right by me, so I had to stop stressing about it. Plus, would he really fall in love with another woman and cheat on me with his sister there? No. That would set a terrible example.

I sat on the couch and watched Jesse bring his and Di's bags down the stairs. They were just about to leave for the airport. I waited until Jesse got to the bottom stair to say "Do you need help?" He gave me a sarcastic laugh look and put the bags by the door. I was scrolling through Instagram when all of a sudden I felt a giant weight land on my lap. Jesse adjusted himself on my lap.

"So I told you I would make it up to you. So I hid somewhere in the house two presents for you. Good luck." He smiled.

"What if I don't find them?" I asked.

"Oh, I know you, you'll find them. And if you don't there's some diamond jewelry that's just gonna collect dust somewhere in the house. "

"You got me diamonds?"

"I told you I'd get you something sparkly. " he said. I pulled him on top of me, our lips naturally moving together. I put my hand on the side of his face as our tongues danced around each other. He shifted on top of me so he could grind our crotches together. My hands moved to his shoulders. He started leaving a trail of kisses down my neck, sucking extra hard where it was sensitive.

"You're going to leave a mark." I breathed out.

"I know." He said. After giving my neck one last kiss, he returned to my lips, moving his hips against mine at the same time, the friction of our jeans rubbing against each other turning me on more.

"Didn't you get enough last night? Don't start something we can't finish." I said into Jesse's ear.

"We better stop before-"

"Jesse, I'm ready- Ew! There's no door, how am I supposed to knock? And unsee that?" Diana's voice rang out from the stairs.

Jesse gave me one last kiss, whispering in my ear "we were about 4 seconds away from me having a big problem."

"Just get up." I laughed. We sat up and faced Di.

"Sorry, we'll be away from each other for a few weeks so we won't be having our usual nightly hot and nasty, banging against the wall sex-" Jesse started to say.

"Shut up!" Me and Diana said. Diana was covering her ears. He laughed as I slapped his arm.

"Don't torture her, behave." I said.

"I will. Di," he said, throwing her the car keys from his pocket. "While we make sure I have everything and say goodbye, you can sit in the car, get the air started and play the trash music you like."

She caught the keys. "Yess! We have to get to the airport in like thirty minutes. " she said as she walked out the door.

"Just enough time." He said, climbing on top of me.

>>>>>>>>>>>

We got to the airport in just enough time. I spent the ride to the airport using foundation to cover the marks he left on my neck. Diana laughed when she saw us all disheveled and marked up. (It got a little competitive between us and considering our skin was brown I didn't think love bites would show up as vividly as they did.)

When it was time to board the plane, I gave Diana a hug.

"Be good, and watch out for your brother."

"I will, I'll miss you." She said.

"I'll miss you too. Love you." I said, waving to her as she walked to the boarding door. Jesse hugged me tight amd kissed the side of my head.

"I'll miss you, Lovebug." He said, smirking. I hate that stupid pet name.

"I'll miss you too, Jessekins." I said matching his smirk.

"I love you, Jay."

"I love you too." I said, kissing him slowly.

"Make sure you call as soon as you land so I don't freak out, take pictures, ANSWER ALL my calls, and don't fuck up with your ex." I reminded him. He picked me up, my arms went around his neck and my legs automatically wrapped around him.

"You got it, my Queen. If you need help adjusting let me know." With one last kiss, he put me down and boarded the plane with Diana. I sighed and started walking back to the car.

I hope they have fun in L.A.

Cause I sure as hell missed them already.

#love and marriage #original story #original writing #writers on tumblr #black writers #black characters

1 note · View note

opera-simplified · 4 years

Text

Opera Simplified #3: Benvenuto Cellini

Benvenuto Cellini

Opera Simplified #3

The Basics:

Music: Hector Berlioz

Libretto: Henri Auguste Barbier and Léon de Wailly

Premiere: September 10, 1838; Salle le Peletier, Paris, France

Based on [very loosely]: Vita (Life), Benvenuto Cellini’s autobiography

Setting: Rome, the final days of Carnival, 1532

Characters:

Benvenuto Cellini, a goldsmith and sculptor—tenor

Teresa Balducci, his girlfriend—soprano

Fieramosca, her fiancé and the Pope’s official sculptor—baritone**

Giacomo Balducci, her father and the Pope’s treasurer—bass-baritone

Ascanio, Cellini’s apprentice—mezzo-soprano

Pope Clément VII, duh, the boss of the Roman Catholic Church—bass*

Francesco, one of Cellini’s assistants—tenor

Bernardino, another of Cellini’s assistants—bass

Pompeo, a swordsman and Fieramosca’s friend—baritone**

A Tavern Owner—tenor

A player in Cassandro’s troupe acting as Colombine—spoken

Requested by: @monotonous-minutia (once again, thank you both for enthusiastically reading this over and for making some of the videos featured in this Opera Simplified!)

*The Paris Opéra would not allow the Pope to be portrayed onstage for the premiere, so the character became Cardinal Salvati, although his music and function in the story remained identical. However, as it should be, virtually all available performances and recordings revert to the Pope, so as such (and according to Berlioz’s intentions), I will revert as well.

**Fieramosca and Pompeo were both originally intended to be played by tenors (according to the cast list given in the Bärenreiter critical edition), but they are universally played by baritones.

Additional Notes Before We Go: There are three versions of this opera: the first version (which I will call 1838 Original version) was the version that Berlioz initially presented to the Paris Opéra; the second (which I will call 1838 Premiere version) was the score actually performed in the initial run (which flopped) after cuts and censorship; the third version, which premiered in 1852 in the city of Weimar (thus it being called the Weimar version), had other cuts and more rearranging of sections in Act II.

In an attempt to follow both Berlioz’s intentions and modern performance/recording practice, this Opera Simplified will mostly follow the 1838 Original version, albeit with some elements from other versions. Those elements will be discussed by scene in the notes.

Also: Berlioz did envision the opera with spoken dialogue; recordings are split on the issue, although only one of the five productions I have watched uses spoken dialogue.

Finally, thanks to my university’s Fine Arts Library for having a very diverse collection of opera scores, including a Bärenreiter critical edition vocal-piano score of Benvenuto Cellini, which I consulted while researching and writing this Opera Simplified.

The Opera:

Benvenuto Cellini overture

Roman Carnival Overture (not to be confused with the opera’s actual overture (given above), although this uses two very lovely tunes from Act I of the opera)

Act I:

Scene 1:

Sunset on Shrove Monday, inside the Balducci house. At left is a table with two chairs. There are two doors, one on the left and one at the back. There is also a window at the right, where Teresa is standing and watching the Carnival revellers. Balducci enters, having just gotten dressed.

Balducci: Teresa!

*Crickets.*

Teresa! Where is she?

*Ditto.*

TERESA!

*Ditto.*

TERESA I’M NOT CALLING YOU AGAIN GET DOWN HERE RIGHT NOW WHERE ARE YOU

*Ditto, but this time he sees her.*

TERESA I SPECIFICALLY TOLD YOU THAT YOU WEREN’T ALLOWED TO BE BY THE WINDOW ARE YOU DEAF

*Teresa reluctantly leaves the window.*

Fine time for daydreaming; I’ve been calling you for FOREVER! Look, the Pope’s waiting for me, could you be a nice daughter and get me my stuff? My walking stick, my gloves, my dagger, that collection of papers…?

*She hands him each in turn.*

Ugh, I can’t BELIEVE that the Pope is making me come in all the time, especially this late, every morning, every night it’s always “BALDUCCI WE NEED TO TALK ABOUT THE SCULPTURE COMMISSION WITH CELLINI BLAH BLAH BLAH” and it’s EXHAUSTING. I mean, not to question the Pope or anything because that would be bad and sacrilegious and all, but the Pope has Fieramosca, who is not only a perfectly good sculptor and future son-in-law but also the official papal sculptor anyway, so why is he getting some lazy libertine metalworker from Florence, of all places, to make this sculpture? **

*He leaves, grumbling.*

Teresa: FINALLY HE’S LEAVING

*Balducci immediately returns.*

YOU HAVE GOT TO BE KIDDING ME

Balducci: Just to make sure that nothing happens while I’m gone, lemme give you a Quick Fatherly Lecture™ because of course that will be effective! Come here and listen closely. ***

WELL, YA GOT TROUBLE, MY CHILD, RIGHT HERE I SAY YA GOT TROUBLE RIGHT HERE IN THE ETERNAL CITY—shoot where was I going with this okay start over

NEVER LOOK AT THE MOON EVER BECAUSE LOOKING AT THE MOON IS THE LITTLE SEEMINGLY INNOCENT STEP THAT LEADS TO LIVES BEING RUINED AND YOU’LL NEVER BE ABLE TO SLEEP AGAIN BECAUSE YOU’LL BE TOO BUSY HAVING CATHOLIC GUILT AND REGRETTING ALL YOUR LIFE CHOICES YOU COQUETTISH GIRLS NEED TO WATCH YOUR HEARTS AND KEEP THEM PURE AND ALL THE OTHER STUFF YOU SHOULD’VE LEARNED AT SUNDAY SCHOOL AND THE WORLD IS A CRAZY, BAD PLACE ALSO YOU SHOULD ALWAYS WEAR A MASK (not just because masks help save lives during pandemics although that’s not the kind of mask I’m talking about at this moment) ALSO MEN ARE HIDEOUS AND APPEARANCES ARE DECEIVING AND UH THERE ARE A LOT OF DEMONS OUT THERE I GUESS SO WATCH OUT

*He leaves again. Teresa watches to make sure he is absolutely gone.*

Teresa: OKAY HE’S LEAVING FOR REAL THIS TIME

First off, that lecture made no sense whatsoever; second off, that was, like, literally torture or martyrdom or something; third off, I’m so relieved! I can breathe and relax and not worry again!

Cellini, Francesco, Bernardino, and Their Fellow Revellers: *outside, in the street* TRALALALALALA DE PROFUNDIS SOMETHING SOMETHING CARNIVAL WILL BURY SOMEONE TONIGHT TRALALALA ALL YOU FELLOW YOUNG ONES LIVE WELL AND NO MATTER WHO YOU ARE STOP CRYING AND ENJOY LIFE AND DRINK TO LUNDI GRAS AND TO CARNIVAL VIVA CARNIVAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAL

*Yet again, Balducci returns.*

Balducci: WHERE’S ALL THIS RACKET COMING FROM

Teresa: uggggggggggggggggggh not again hey Dad aren’t you supposed to be going to a meeting with the Pope

Balducci: I KNOW oh great all this noise is right outside I need to speak to whoever the noise control manager is I’M PRETTY SURE CELLINI AND HIS WILD CROWD IS MAKING ALL THIS NOISE TERESA AVOID ALL OF THEM AT ALL COSTS

*Cellini and his buddies throw what appears to be white confetti up through the window; they are actually white plaster pellets, which leave white dust all over Balducci.*

ARE YOU KIDDING ME I JUST GOT THIS NICE NEW OUTFIT AND THEY HAVE TO GO AND RUIN IT RIGHT BEFORE I’M SUPPOSED TO MEET WITH THE POPE IT’S TOO LATE TO CHANGE NOW SO I GUESS I’LL JUST HAVE TO GO LOOKING LIKE THIS YOU DAMN TUSCAN BOY I’LL HAVE MY REVENGE ON YOU SOMEDAY

Cellini, Francesco, Bernardino, and Their Fellow Revellers: LONG LIVE JOY LET’S BE HAPPY BECAUSE GOD GAVE US HAPPINESS AND LIFE SO LET’S NOT CRY AND INSTEAD JUST BE HAPPY

Teresa: BAHAHAHAHAHAHA DAD YOU LOOK LIKE A LEOPARD OR SOMETHING

Balducci: YOU THINK THIS IS FUNNY DON’T YOU WELL IT ISN’T AND IN ANY CASE I DO LOOK LIKE A LEOPARD AND I HATE IT

*Teresa approaches the window and is immediately showered with flowers.*

TO THINK THAT OAF COULD EVER BE MY SON-IN-LAW I MEAN SERIOUSLY I WOULD RATHER BE HANGED THAN LET CELLINI MARRY YOU A CURSE ON THIS LAZY LIBERTINE FLORENTINE

Teresa: WELL DAD GET USED TO IT BECAUSE SOMEDAY HE’S GONNA BE YOUR SON-IN-LAW BECAUSE I’M GONNA MARRY HIM BECAUSE I’M COLOMBINE AND HE’S LÉANDRE AND WE’RE IN LOVE AND MEANT TO BE

I mean, me the wife of Cassandro? Could you imagine? A CURSE ON THE GUY YOU WANT ME TO MARRY ****

Cellini, Francesco, Bernardino, and Their Fellow Revellers: TRALALALALALA DE PROFUNDIS SOMETHING SOMETHING CARNIVAL WILL BURY SOMEONE TONIGHT TRALALALA ALL YOU FELLOW YOUNG ONES LIVE WELL AND NO MATTER WHO YOU ARE STOP CRYING AND ENJOY LIFE AND DRINK TO LUNDI GRAS AND TO CARNIVAL VIVA CARNIVAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAL

*Balducci leaves again.*

Teresa: Third time’s the charm...third time’s the charm...third time’s the charm…

*Balducci has truly left.*

FINALLY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Oh, these are all such pretty flowers, I can’t believe they threw all of these up here just for me...

*She sees a bouquet among all the flowers scattered around.*

Ooh, this is a lovely bouquet!

*She picks it up and a note falls out.*

A note? From Cellini! Oh goodness, bold as always like that, but honestly I kinda like it.

*She opens it.*

What?! He’s coming here, tonight, for a date?! My God! Well, my dad isn’t here and he’ll be busy for a while, so this is the perfect time! What to do now…?

When you’re torn between love and duty, you have a lot of problems and angst you just want to complain about to everyone but you can’t because no one will listen to you and everyone will judge you and it really sucks. It especially sucks because you have to fear what you desire and you can’t even hope for anything good in this world. I mean, how are you supposed to pretend that you don’t feel what your heart feels and that you’re not looking at what your eyes see? Life sometimes...well, you know what? I’m not having it!

Dad, I love you, and maybe when I’m as old as you I’ll be smarter and sadder and wiser and all that, but I’m young! I’ve got my whole life ahead of me, just waiting for me to live it to the fullest! It would be such a waste to be dull and unhappy!

Someday I’ll be old, and I don’t know, be a grandma maybe, and then it’ll be fine! Love won’t matter then! But I’m young now, and I’ve got my whole life ahead of me, and I want to live it while it’s still there! *****

*Cellini enters.*

CELLINI!

*She moves a little away.*

Cellini: Teresa, it’s alright! Don’t run away!

Teresa: Cellini, I love you but I’m not sure this is gonna work.

Cellini: You’re killin’ me here!

*Noise from outside.*

Teresa: WHAT WAS THAT

Cellini: It’s fine, I promise—

Teresa: NO I’M DONE FOR AND YOU NEED TO LEAVE BECAUSE MY DAD’S PROBABLY BACK AGAIN

Cellini: No, it’s just my friends celebrating Carnival outside. I promise. It’ll be okay, don’t worry.

Oh, Teresa, you are my happiness and I love you more than life itself! I’ve learned that if I’m far away from you, I lose all hope and happiness!

*Fieramosca, who has somehow gotten into the house unnoticed, tiptoes in while holding an enormous bouquet.*

Fieramosca: You don’t win girls by breaking locks and being all macho and stuff like that; you simply sneak in on tiptoe and that’s how you steal their hearts! I mean, I guess that’s how it works.

Teresa: I love you but this is crazy! Part of me just wants to abandon all of this but a part of me deep down knows we can never see each other again…

Fieramosca: She’s not alone! I thought her dad was leaving but maybe he’s actually here? No, wait, that can’t be him—oh, I can’t believe she’s alone with another guy!

Cellini: NO I SWEAR BY ALL THE SAINTS AND THE VIRGIN THAT LOVE WILL NEVER ABANDON YOU TO FIERAMOSCA

Fieramosca: OH MY GOD IT’S CELLINI I NEED TO HIDE

Cellini: I’M NEVER GONNA GIVE YOU UP NEVER GONNA LET YOU DOWN NEVER GONNA RUN AROUND AND DESERT YOU NEVER GONNA MAKE YOU CRY NEVER GONNA SAY GOODBYE NEVER GONNA TELL A LIE AND HURT YOU

Fieramosca: *who is now hiding...somewhere* at least pick a good song, dammit ******

Teresa: MAY MY PATRON SAINT SAVE ME FROM THE DISASTER AND SHAME OF HAVING TO MARRY FIERAMOSCA ALSO IF I HAVE TO MARRY HIM I’LL DIE

Fieramosca: ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh if only I could speak aloud or even whisper a word so they could hear me

Cellini: If I have to leave you, my life, my love, I’ll lose all hope…

Teresa: I really don’t know if this’ll work out...I want it to, but I’ll probably never be able to see you again…

Cellini: You marry FIERAMOSCA?! They want you to marry that stupid little such-and-such?!

Teresa: Me?! His WIFE?! I’D RATHER DIE THE CRUELLEST POSSIBLE DEATH A HUNDRED TIMES THAN MARRY HIM

Fieramosca: ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh if only I had my sword instead of this stupid bouquet because obviously I didn’t bring both because obviously you can’t bring both

Cellini: CHILL honey don’t go straight to dying seriously why is that every young soprano’s go-to instead let’s plan to find a way to happiness!

Teresa: And your idea is…?

Fieramosca: if only I had my sword

Cellini: ALRIGHT THEN LISTEN UP

Teresa: shhhhhhh speak more softly what if someone hears us

Cellini: well there’s no one else here but I’ll speak more softly for you

Teresa: good point about no one else being here but thanks

Cellini: So tomorrow evening, Mardi Gras celebrations—

Teresa: Tomorrow evening, at Mardi Gras—

Fieramosca: Mardi Gras?

Cellini: Don’t miss the celebration; be there at the Piazza Colonna—

Fieramosca: what are they saying I can’t hear them well

Teresa: Piazza Colonna—

Fieramosca: ohhhhhhhhhh I think they said Piazza Colonna—

Cellini: where Cassandro—

Teresa: Cassandro—

Fieramosca: Cassandro?

Cellini: Is presenting a new show—

Fieramosca: wait what I didn’t hear about that I didn’t know they were doing a new show

Cellini: While your dad is watching the show, you’ll take the arm of a monk in brown—

Teresa: the arm of a monk in brown—

Fieramosca: I didn’t catch like any of that

Cellini: and one in white—

Teresa: one in white—

Fieramosca: white?

Cellini: One will be your lover—

Teresa: You!

Fieramosca: Him?

Cellini: And the other, my apprentice—

Teresa: Your apprentice—

Fieramosca: His apprentice?

Cellini: I’ll take you away—

Teresa: You’ll take me away—

Fieramosca: wait what

Cellini: to Florence—

Teresa: To Florence!

Fieramosca: Florence?

Cellini and Teresa: We’ll go to Florence together and get married and be happy for the rest of our lives!

Fieramosca: wait WHAT

Teresa: Wait, but what about my dad? I can’t just leave him—and also isn’t this kinda an offense against God?

Cellini: What? Teresa, that’s just your Intense Catholic Guilt™ again. If anyone’s offending God around here, it’s your father because he wants to rob you of all your life and love by putting you in a convent or even worse, marrying you off to Fieramosca!

Teresa: NOT FIERAMOSCA NO I’M NOT MARRYING HIM

Fieramosca: ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh if only Balducci were here to see this

Teresa: WHO AM I KIDDING I CAN’T BEAR THE THOUGHT OF MARRYING HIM ALRIGHT I’LL DO THIS TAKE HEART WE’LL BE HAPPY TOMORROW EVENING

Cellini: Should we go over all the details of the plan again?

Teresa: YES!

Cellini: More softly, remember, Teresa, more softly like you said…

*Fieramosca moves closer in order to hear better.*

Tomorrow evening, at the Mardi Gras celebrations—

Teresa: Tomorrow evening, at Mardi Gras—

Cellini: Don’t miss the celebration—

Teresa: I won’t miss it—

Fieramosca: I most certainly won’t miss it—

Cellini: be there at the Piazza Colonna—

Teresa: Piazza Colonna—

Fieramosca: Piazza Colonna—

Cellini: where Cassandro—

Teresa: Cassandro—

Fieramosca: Cassandro—

Cellini: Is presenting a new show—

Teresa: A new show—

Fieramosca: A new show—

Cellini: While your dad is watching the show, you’ll take the arm of a monk in brown—

Teresa: the arm of a monk in brown—

Fieramosca: the arm of a monk in brown—

Cellini: and one in white—

Teresa: one in white—

Fieramosca: and one in white—

Cellini: One will be your lover—

Teresa: You!

Fieramosca: Him?

Teresa: Got it.

Cellini: And the other, my apprentice—

Teresa: Your apprentice—

Fieramosca: His apprentice!

Cellini: I’ll take you away—

Teresa: You’ll take me away—

Fieramosca: He’ll take her away! Well!

Cellini: to Florence—

Teresa: To Florence!

Fieramosca: To Florence!

Cellini and Teresa: We’ll go to Florence together and get married and be happy for the rest of our lives!

Fieramosca: THEY’LL GO TO FLORENCE TOGETHER AND GET MARRIED AND BE HAPPY FOR THE REST OF THEIR LIVES?!

Cellini: A beautiful promise! Teresa, I adore you! Love, protect her and let her make it tomorrow…

Fieramosca: YOU’RE BETRAYING ME BEWARE

Teresa: Holy Virgin, forgive me and calm my father and his anger!

Cellini and Teresa: WE’RE BOTH YOUNG AND HAPPY AND FULL OF LOVE SO WE SHOULDN’T BE RESORTING TO DEATH TO SOLVE OUR PROBLEMS ESPECIALLY NOT WHEN WE HAVE A HAPPY FUTURE ALREADY WITHIN REACH SO LET’S LEAVE THIS CITY AND FIND HAPPINESS UNDER OTHER SKIES AND HAVE HOPE AND GO TO FLORENCE

Fieramosca: YOU TRAITORS BEWARE BECAUSE I HAVE STANDARD BARITONE HATRED AND RAGE AND I WILL USE IT TO RUIN YOUR PRECIOUS LITTLE PLANS SO BEWARE

Cellini, Teresa, and Fieramosca: Tomorrow evening!

Cellini: Piazza Colonna—

Teresa: Shh!

Cellini: Near Cassandro’s theater—

Teresa: Shh!

Cellini: A monk in white—

Teresa: Yes, I’ll be there!

Fieramosca: Well then, I’ll be there too!

Cellini and Teresa: Take heart and have hope!

Cellini, Teresa, and Fieramosca: Tomorrow evening!

*Teresa hears footsteps and looks outside.*

Teresa: OH SHOOT OH SHOOT IT’S MY DAD WE’RE DONE FOR

Cellini: Are you sure?

Teresa: HE’S RIGHT OUTSIDE

Fieramosca: obviously the best solution to this problem is to hide in my fiancée’s bedroom

*Which he does.*

Cellini: Where should I go? Your bedroom?...

Teresa: NO THERE’S NOT ENOUGH TIME FOR YOU TO MAKE IT IN THERE

Cellini: He’s coming...

Teresa: GOD HELP US

*Cellini quickly flattens himself against the wall by the door. Balducci opens the door; he is shocked to see Teresa and forgets to close it, allowing Cellini to hide between the door and the wall.*

Balducci: You’re still up? It’s really late; I thought you would be in bed by now!

Teresa: *trying to improv and pointing to her bedroom* Dad...there’s a man in there…

Balducci: A MAN?!?!

Teresa: Uh, yeah...when I went to go to bed...I heard a strange noise in there...it sounded like a man…

Balducci: A MAN?!?! I’M GONNA GO BEAT THE LIVING CRAP OUT OF WHATEVER HORRIBLE MAN DARES COME HERE AND ENTER MY DAUGHTER’S BEDROOM

*He runs into Teresa’s bedroom. Cellini comes out from his hiding place.*

Teresa: Go while I’ve bought you some time!

Cellini: Thank you, my love! See you tomorrow evening!

Teresa: See you then!

*Cellini leaves.*

Teresa: Oh, boy, I’m afraid this won’t go well.

Balducci: *from Teresa’s room* YOU BASTARD I’VE FOUND YOU

Teresa: Wait, there’s actually a man in my bedroom? Well, that’s convenient.

*Balducci drags Fieramosca, who is still holding his bouquet, out of the bedroom.*

Balducci: COME WITH ME OR ELSE I’LL KILL YOU

*He recognizes Fieramosca.*

What? You, Fieramosca?

Teresa: BAHAHAHAHA WHAT AN UNEXPECTED DEVELOPMENT

Fieramosca: First off, I wasn’t trying to rob you—

Balducci: THIS IS MUCH WORSE THAN THAT ALSO WHAT WERE YOU DOING IN MY DAUGHTER’S BEDROOM

Teresa: YEAH WHAT WERE YOU DOING IN MY BEDROOM

Fieramosca: Uh, well, it’s very simple, really...I came…

Balducci: YEAH I KNOW THAT

Fieramosca: I...I was coming just to visit.

Balducci: ‘I was coming just to visit!’ A visit, late at night, when I’m not here, HIDING IN MY DAUGHTER’S BEDROOM YOU HORRIBLE PERSON

Teresa: EXCUSE ME IT COULD HAVE LOOKED SO BAD THAT I WOULD HAVE BEEN EXCOMMUNICATED

Fieramosca: ...I’m pretty sure that that’s not how excommunication works.

Teresa: WHAT AUDACITY

Fieramosca: I swear, it’s not what it looks like—

Balducci: THAT’S WHAT THEY ALL SAY

Fieramosca: But Mr. Balducci, sir, I swear—

Balducci: THE FACTS SPEAK FOR THEMSELVES

Fieramosca: My God, you think I would be the one to do such a thing?

Balducci: Well, who else, you horrible person?

Teresa: (You traitor!)

Fieramosca: IT’S CELLINI

Teresa: CELLINI???

Balducci: CELLINI?!?!

Fieramosca: CELLINI!!!

Balducci: You call yourself Cellini! Have you lost your mind?

Fieramosca: No, no, WAIT!!!

Balducci: ENOUGH OF THIS

*He opens the window and starts yelling. Teresa also sticks her head outside and starts yelling.*

Teresa and Balducci: HEY EVERYONE GAETANA CATARINA FORNARINA PETRONILLA SCHOLASTICA AND EVERY OTHER NAME IN THE BABY BOOK COME HERE

Fieramosca: PLEASE STOP MAKING SUCH A HUGE RACKET

*Teresa runs out the back door to call for help.*

Neighbors: *offstage* UGGGGGGGGH WHY ARE YOU NEIGHBORS FIGHTING AND MAKING SO MUCH NOISE

Balducci: A LIBERTINE IS IN MY HOUSE HE WAS HIDING IN MY DAUGHTER’S BEDROOM HELP US TEACH HIM A LESSON AND GET HIM OUT OF HERE

Neighbors: OH THAT’S A DIFFERENT STORY

Fieramosca: I’M NOT A LIBERTINE I’M A GOOD UPSTANDING PERSON PLEASE LISTEN TO ME THIS IS HIGHLY EMBARRASSING

*Balducci goes away from the window and Teresa returns.*

Teresa and Balducci: Fieramosca, you’re in good hands.

Fieramosca: THIS ISN’T AN ALLSTATE COMMERCIAL AND THIS ISN’T FUNNY

Teresa and Balducci: What’s Allstate? Oh, never mind.

Balducci: ONLY WOMEN CAN SHOW THE RIGHT WAY TO EXTRAVAGANT MEN LIKE YOURSELF

Fieramosca: Left to the mercy of women!...NO THIS IS HORRIBLE I FEEL LIKE I’M ORPHEUS BEING TORN APART BY THE BACCHANATES *******

*He tries to escape in one direction but is blocked by a large crowd of women armed with household objects.*

Neighbors: WE’RE GONNA TEACH YOU LIBERTINE A LESSON BECAUSE YOU’RE MESSING WITH A WOMAN’S HONOR SO YOU’RE GONNA TAKE A VERY UNPLEASANT BATH

*Fieramosca tries to escape in another direction but the same thing happens with a different crowd of women.*

Fieramosca: I just came here to have a good time and I honestly am feeling so attacked right now :(

Neighbors: LET’S TAKE HIM INTO THE GARDEN AND DUNK HIM IN THE HUGE FOUNTAIN YOU COWARD YOU’RE GONNA TAKE A BATH

*The same thing happens with a third crowd.*

YOU WRETCHED HONORLESS COWARD YOU’RE GONNA TAKE A BIG BATH IN THAT FOUNTAIN AND THE POND AND WE’RE GONNA LEAVE YOU THERE UNTIL MORNING YES YOU’RE GONNA BE IN THERE ALL NIGHT AND THERE’S NOTHING THAT YOU CAN DO ABOUT IT NO MATTER HOW MUCH YOU CRY LIKE THE LITTLE BABY YOU ARE

Teresa and Balducci: YEAH BEAT HIM UP AND DUNK HIM IN THE FOUNTAIN SO HE CAN LEARN A LESSON THAT HE WILL NEVER FORGET

Fieramosca: YOU SHREWS WHAT ARE YOU DOING TO ME I REALLY DON’T WANT TO BE STRIPPED NAKED AND DUNKED INTO THE WATER AND LEFT THERE ALL NIGHT I REALLY NEED TO GET OUT OF THIS SITUATION

*He starts running around trying to find a means of escape.*

I’M ORPHEUS AND I’M BEING TORN APART BY THE BACCHANTES HOW DARE THEY TREAT ME LIKE I’M A LIBERTINE I SWEAR I’M A MAN OF HONOR AND I REALLY JUST NEED TO RUN AWAY

*Exit, hurriedly, pursued by the neighbors. Not quite as terrifying as a bear, but close. [We later find out that they successfully caught him and dunked him in the fountain anyway.]*

Notes

Scene 2:

Evening, Mardi Gras. A tavern on the corner of the Piazza Colonna and the Via del Corso, with a view of Cassandro’s theater. Cellini is alone.

Cellini: Teresa will be here, at the Piazza Colonna, in only one more hour! Love, on this joyous day of Mardi Gras, let my heart be the happiest of them all! And if you don’t, ah, you are ungrateful!

I used to only care about glory, the kind of crazy noble hope that only artists have, but that’s all changed now and I reject it all; Teresa alone rules my heart! Love, see what I’ve done and how I’ve changed for you: protect her and protect me!

Teresa once lived so peacefully—like a stream flowing by far from the sea, her days and years passed by, one after the other, all the same, as they were supposed to. But she loves me enough that she’s willing to give that security up, and not only that, she wants to take up my life of wandering and misery instead, just because she loves me! Love, see what she does for you: protect her and protect me! **

*Francesco, Bernardino, and a bunch of Cellini’s friends and fellow goldsmiths enter, fully ready to party.*

Everyone: ALRIGHT EVERYONE LET’S GET WASTED (or not but whatevs we just want to drink)

Bernardino: TRALALALALALALALALA I AM AN EXCELLENT SINGER TRALALALALALALA LET’S ALL SING TRALALALALALALALALA

Cellini: Very well, but for the love of everything holy, please don’t sing any of those lowbrow drinking songs or ballads about sweethearts that EVERYONE sings in taverns. Let’s sing about how awesome metalworking is—a toast to our glory!

Everyone: THE EARTH MAY GROW AWESOME STUFF ON THE SURFACE WHEN THE WEATHER IS GOOD BUT PEOPLE CAN GET METAL FROM THE BOWELS OF THE EARTH AT ANY TIME

HONOR TO THE MASTER METALWORKERS!!!! WE CAN CREATE TREASURE FROM WHAT’S BENEATH THE EARTH ANYTIME AND ANYWHERE

WHEN THE MASTER METALWORKER WORKS, GOLD SHINES LIKE THE SUN AND RUBIES LIKE FIRE IN THE NIGHT AND EVEN THE DIAMONDS AND TOPAZES SPARKLE AT NIGHT WITH THE STARS

When the world was created, artistic genius was given to four kinds of artists, each with their own tools: the architects have stone, the painters have color, the sculptors have marble, and those are cool and all, BUT WE THE METALWORKERS HAVE GOLD

METALS, THE UNDERGROUND NEVER-FADING FLOWERS, SHINE BRIGHTEST ON THE BROWS OF ALL THE GREATEST PEOPLE—THE KINGS AND QUEENS AND DUKES AND EMPERORS AND EVEN POPES—SO HONOR TO THE MASTER METALWORKERS

Bernardino: HEY everyone let’s have a moment of silence

Cellini: For what?

Bernardino: BEFORE WE START SINGING AGAIN LET’S ALL GET SOME MORE DRINKS

Everyone Else: YEAH WE NEED MORE WINE BECAUSE WE ALREADY DRANK WHAT WE GOT HEY TAVERN OWNER COME HERE

*The tavern owner, who is (probably) super-annoyed with everyone and definitely needs a nice vacay, comes in.*

Tavern Owner: uggggggggggggh whaddya want?

Everyone Else: WE WANT WINE

Tavern Owner: WE’RE OUT THANK YOU

Cellini: THIS IS LITERALLY A TAVERN HOW COULD YOU BE OUT OF WINE

Tavern Owner: Well, actually, we’re technically not out of wine but you’ve already had too much and if you want to drink more…

Everyone Else: Then...?

Tavern Owner: ...you need to pay up for the wine you’ve already had.

Everyone Else: Well, what do we owe you?

*The tavern owner gets out an exceedingly long list.*

Tavern Owner: Well, you asked for it, so here’s the whole long list of everything you bought:

First, white wines: Orvieto and Aleatico and Maraschino—that’s thirty.

Everyone Else: Thirty already?

Tavern Owner: Next up, reds: Ischia and Procida and Nisita—that makes sixty.

Everyone Else: wait SIXTY BOTTLES

Tavern Owner: And that’s not the half. There’s also Asti sparkling wine, Lipari wine, Lacryma-Christi (Jesus, you people drink a lot of the dude’s tears)—which brings the total to exactly one hundred and thirty bottles of wine.

Everyone Else: ONE HUNDRED AND THIRTY BOTTLES SWEET JESUS WHO THE HELL BOUGHT THAT MANY

Tavern Owner: ...You people did. Not my problem.

Cellini: EVEN THE TRUMPETS OF THE LAST JUDGMENT WOULD BE LESS SCARY THAN THE VOICE AND THE LIST OF THE TAVERN OWNER

Francesco, Bernardino, and Cellini’s Friends and Workers: YEAH THIS IS HORRIBLE

Cellini: Hmm, how do we get out of this sticky situation?

Francesco, Bernardino, and Cellini’s Friends and Workers: LET’S BEAT UP THE TAVERN OWNER

Cellini: Nah. Let’s think about this.

Francesco, Bernardino, and Cellini’s Friends and Workers: awwwwwwww but we wanted to beat him up

*The tavern owner runs off.*

Cellini: Maybe Ascanio will save us!

*Ascanio, who is apparently well-versed in reality shows, comes in at that exact moment with a bag of money.*

Everyone: HURRAY THERE HE IS HE’S COME TO SAVE US LONG LIVE ASCANIO

*Cellini runs over to greet him.*

Cellini: THERE YOU ARE I’M SO GLAD TO SEE YOU LET’S CHAT AND LET ME HAVE THE MONEY IT LOOKS LIKE THE POPE GAVE YOU FOR THE STATUE

Ascanio: Hold on, wait a sec! I’m ready to drink as much as any of you, but first I need to tell you something very important.

This is indeed from the Pope: it’s advance money for the casting of the Perseus statue, which everyone on the Italian peninsula is waiting for with baited breath! There’s one condition attached, though: you must have the statue done tomorrow. I need your oath. ***

Cellini: Tomorrow? Very well, nothing I can’t handle. I swear it.

Francesco, Bernardino, and Cellini’s Friends and Workers: AND WE SWEAR IT TOO SINCE WE’RE GONNA HELP CAST IT

Everyone: WE GIVE OUR WORD THAT THE STATUE WILL BE CAST TOMORROW WITHOUT ANY DELAY

Ascanio: Alright, now I can feel good about giving you this money since you’ve all promised. I hear you have to pay off a bill; here you go.

*Cellini empties the bag and examines the contents, visibly disappointed.*

Cellini: That’s IT???

Francesco and Bernardino: That’s practically nothing!

Ascanio: Hey, not my fault that Balducci is an old, grouchy fool.

Cellini: Well, he doesn’t like me anyway, and at least this is definitely enough to pay the bill. Waiter!

*The tavern owner comes back. Cellini mimics his nasal voice.*

Here’s your precious money to pay off your precious bill!

*The tavern owner, trembling, accepts the money.*

Tavern Owner: FINALLY THANK YOU do you want to drink?

Everyone Else: YEAH GET US SOME MORE WINE

*He goes off.*

Cellini: HEY EVERYONE I HAVE THE BEST IDEA TO GET REVENGE ON BALDUCCI FOR PAYING ME SO BADLY so I know that Balducci is coming to see Cassandro’s show at the Carnival celebrations tonight so since we’re buddies with Cassandro and his troupe whaddya say to paying the troupe to make fun of Balducci in the show tonight and even maybe getting in on shaming and humiliating him ourselves???

Everyone Else: YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY THAT SOUNDS AWESOME

Cellini: ANATHEMA ON GIACOMO BALDUCCI

Everyone Else: YEAH HE CAN GO SUCK IT MEANWHILE WE’RE GONNA MAKE ALL OF ROME LAUGH AT HIM SO LET’S GO TO CASSANDRO’S

Everyone: GLORY TO US LET’S SING THE SONG ABOUT HOW AWESOME METALWORKERS ARE AGAIN

Cellini: Just the last part—that’s the best verse!

Everyone: METALS, THE UNDERGROUND NEVER-FADING FLOWERS, SHINE BRIGHTEST ON THE BROWS OF ALL THE GREATEST PEOPLE—THE KINGS AND QUEENS AND DUKES AND EMPERORS AND EVEN POPES—SO HONOR TO THE MASTER METALWORKERS

*Fieramosca, who has been spying on all this, comes out of his hiding place.*

Fieramosca: IT’S TOO MUCH ALL THIS SHAMELESS PLOTTING AND I WON’T LET HIM GET AWAY WITH THIS ****

*Pompeo casually strolls in.*

Pompeo: Hey, what’s up with you?

Fieramosca: WHAT’S UP WITH ME??? MY LIFE IS FALLING APART AND I’M FILLED WITH RAGE BECAUSE CELLINI—

Pompeo: oh what did he do NOW

*Fieramosca runs over to Pompeo and embraces him.*

Fieramosca: POMPEO MY DEAR FRIEND MY SAVIOR

Pompeo: oh wait I heard what happened to you yesterday.

Fieramosca: You know? I haven’t even told you yet!

Pompeo: Everyone knows. You got beaten up and dunked into a fountain.

Fieramosca: PLEASE DON’T TALK ABOUT IT DEAR POMPEO ANYWAY THE WHOLE SITUATION GETS MUCH WORSE

Pompeo: How so?

Fieramosca: TERESA AND HER DAD ARE GONNA SEE CASSANDRO’S SHOW AT CARNIVAL TONIGHT

Pompeo: ...I fail to see the problem.

Fieramosca: THE PROBLEM IS THAT WHILE THE SHOW’S GOING ON AND BALDUCCI’S DISTRACTED A WHITE FRIAR AND A CAPUCHIN ARE GOING TO CARRY OFF MY FIANCÉE

Pompeo: Bravo!

Fieramosca: YOU’RE MISSING THE POINT THE WHITE FRIAR IS CELLINI AND THE CAPUCHIN IS HIS APPRENTICE ASCANIO

Pompeo: Bravo!

Fieramosca: ...Excuse me?

Pompeo: Long live boldness!

Fieramosca: I don’t care what happens to me but I’m going to tell Mr. Balducci about this plan and we’ll see if he cries ‘Bravo!’

Pompeo: oh my goodness you IDIOT do you not get it

Fieramosca: What?

Pompeo: I love you, but since you’re obviously not the sharpest tool in the shed, let me explain it to you in small words so you can understand: since you know his plan, use the plan yourself.

Fieramosca: but HOW

Pompeo: omg this is so frustrating you dress up as a White Friar and I dress up as a Capuchin and we get there before Cellini and Ascanio

Fieramosca: good idea BUT WHAT IF CELLINI SEES ME HE’S GONNA KILL ME

Pompeo: DON’T WORRY ABOUT IT YOU HAVE ME AND I’M A PRO AT THIS

Fieramosca: Very well.

WHO CAN STAND UP TO ME WAS I NOT BORN TO FIGHT WOE TO THE MAN WHO DARES CROSS ME AND EVEN MORE WOE TO THE MAN WHO DARES MOCK ME BECAUSE I’M AS QUICK TO A SWORD AS TO ANGER HERE’S A QUARTE HERE’S A TIERCE LONG LIVE FENCING WHICH (aside from sculpting and getting humiliated by my fiancée and the guy she likes I guess) IS MY BEST SKILL *****

TERESA MY HEART IS BURNING FOR YOU LIKE MOUNT VESUVIUS BECAUSE I LOVE YOU SO MUCH AND I LOVE YOU SO MUCH THAT IF YOU WANTED ME TO I’D MAKE WAR ON HELL AND EVERYONE IN IT AND I’D EVEN FIGHT CELLINI AND NOT EVEN A HUNDRED CELLINIS COULD KNOCK ME DOWN

NO! NO ONE CAN STAND UP TO ME WAS I NOT BORN TO FIGHT WOE TO THE MAN WHO DARES CROSS ME AND EVEN MORE WOE TO THE MAN WHO DARES MOCK ME BECAUSE I’M AS QUICK TO A SWORD AS TO ANGER HERE’S A QUARTE HERE’S A TIERCE LONG LIVE FENCING WHICH IS MY BEST SKILL

*He grabs his sword or some other random object and starts mock-swordfighting. Popping random balloons is optional but strongly encouraged.*

ONE TWO THREE ONE TWO THREE THRUST PARRY ONE TWO ONE...DEAD! I MERCILESSLY STAB HIM THROUGH THE HEART AND I AM VICTORIOUS

Pompeo: Bravo! Now let’s go. The party’s almost starting.

Fieramosca: Dear Pompeo, let me embrace you!

*They hug.*

Pompeo: Now let’s get a couple habits from...somewhere. Don’t be afraid. Everything will go just fine.

*They leave together.*

Notes

Scene 3:

The Piazza Colonna a short time later, with Cassandro’s theater and everything decked out for Carnival.

Balducci: I really hope you appreciate that I’m taking you to the theater at your request, even though you know that all I do at the theater is complain about the actors and you know that I don’t like theater anyway. Anyway, let’s see what weird new show all the kids these days are talking about.

*He goes to read the advertisement for the show, leaving Teresa alone.*

Teresa: What should I do? Could I really leave my old father alone and break his heart?

*She goes over to her father. Cellini, dressed in a white habit, and Ascanio, dressed in a brown habit, enter.* **

Cellini and Ascanio: let’s keep our project on the down-low and let the troupers distract Balducci and then work together and get Teresa and then go to the notary!

Teresa: Could I really leave my father behind? Then again, maybe, when we get married, he’ll learn to accept it!

Balducci: I REALLY HOPE YOU ENJOY THIS BECAUSE I KNOW I WON’T

Cellini and Ascanio: let’s let this plan play out!

*The four of them get lost in the crowd.*

Revellers: HEY EVERYONE CASSANDRO IS PRESENTING A NEW SHOW SO STICK AROUND AND SEE IF IT’S FUNNY BECAUSE IF IT’S NOT WE’LL BOO OUR HEADS OFF

*A group of dancers with tambourines enters, along with Francesco, Bernardino, and the members of Cassandro’s troupe. Teresa and even Balducci get mixed in with the dancers. People mingle in the square and start to join in with the dancing.*

Francesco, Bernardino, and Troupers: HEY EVERYONE COME HERE COME SEE THIS AWESOME NEW SHOW

Revellers: BRAVO BRAVO

Francesco, Bernardino, and Troupers: HEY EVERYONE COME SEE CASSANDRO AND HIS AWESOME NEW SHOW

Revellers: YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY BRAVO BRAVO

IT’S DARK BUT WE’RE ALL SO HAPPY AND THE CITY IS SO NOISY AND WE’RE ALL IN LOVE AND A LITTLE BIT DRUNK HOW COULD YOU BE SAD

Francesco, Bernardino, and Troupers: C’MON COME SEE THE SHOW

Revellers: HEY MUSICIANS PLAY ON WE LOVE YOUR MOOD

Francesco, Bernardino, and Troupers: HEY EVERYONE WE DON’T CARE IF YOU’RE A DOCTOR OR A JOKER COME SEE OUR AWESOME SHOW

Revellers: LONG LIVE JOY LET’S DROWN IN JOY LET’S DRINK AND SING AND DANCE

Francesco, Bernardino, and Troupers: ALL YOU MASQUERADERS COME SEE THE SHOW TOO

Teresa and Revellers: CARNIVAL IS A HUGE PARTY WHERE EVERYONE IS HAPPY AND THE WORLD TURNS UPSIDE DOWN

Francesco, Bernardino, and Troupers: HEY EVERYONE WE’RE GONNA KEEP SAYING IT COME SEE OUR AWESOME NEW SHOW

Revellers: WHO ELSE IS EXCITED ABOUT THIS NEW SHOW

Francesco, Bernardino, and Troupers: DON’T GO AWAY BECAUSE CARNIVAL AIN’T COMPLETE WITHOUT US AND OUR AWESOME SHOWS

Some of the Revellers: KEEP YELLING AT US IF YOU WANT BUT WE THINK DANCING’S MORE FUN SORRY NOT SORRY

Francesco, Bernardino, and Troupers: WE DON’T CARE ABOUT WHAT YOU STUPID DANCERS THINK EVERYONE COME SEE THE SHOW

Teresa and Revellers: WE LOVE TO DANCE AND ALL THE WORLD IS A BALL SO LET’S DANCE WHILE WE CAN

Francesco, Bernardino, and Troupers: EVERYONE COME SEE OUR NEW SHOW CASSANDRO’S AWESOME AND YOUR DANCING IS STUPID

Revellers: WHAT A BEAUTIFUL NIGHT CARNIVAL IS A HUGE PARTY THAT MAKES THE CITY BURN WITH DELIGHT AND THE WORLD TURN UPSIDE DOWN

*The trumpeters signal the beginning of the show. Most of the people take seats near the stage, including Teresa and Balducci. Cellini and Ascanio grab seats on the left. Fieramosca (dressed in white) and Pompeo (dressed in brown) find seats on the right.*

Men: HEY EVERYONE STOP DANCING THE SHOW’S ABOUT TO START

Women: YEAH EVERYONE BE QUIET THE SHOW’S STARTING

*The curtain of the theater rises to reveal four actors onstage: a man dressed like the Pope, a man dressed like Balducci sitting on a throne, and two men dressed like Swiss Guards and holding money and laurels.*

People: LOOK THERE’S THE POPE AND HIS TREASURER BALDUCCI

Balducci: OH SO THIS IS HOW IT IS THEY’RE GONNA MOCK ME ONSTAGE HUH

Teresa: oh no oh no let’s go, Dad!

Balducci: Well, I paid to see this stupid show so I might as well stay here and see the whole thing and see myself get completely and utterly humiliated. After this, though, I'm going to go speak to the Pope about how the people are making fun of us and about the utter blasphemy they’re committing!

People: HEY YOU OVER THERE SHUT UP WE CAN’T HEAR THE SHOW

Cellini: Hey, Ascanio, do you see Teresa?

Ascanio: She’s over there.

Fieramosca: Hey, Pompeo, do you see Teresa?

Pompeo: She’s over there.

Teresa: this is the most embarrassing thing ever

People: HEY EVERYONE SHUT UP

Balducci: BUT I DON’T WANNA SHUT UP

People: CAN IT

*Colombine enters.*

Colombine: HEY EVERYONE OUR SHOW’S STARTING AND WE HAVE A TREAT FOR YOU BECAUSE HARLEQUIN AND PIERROT ARE GONNA COMPETE IN THE ITALIAN PENINSULA’S GOT TALENT TO SEE WHO’S THE BETTER SINGER ***

People: YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY

*The actors playing Harlequin and Pierrot enter.*

Some People: HARLEQUIN IS BEING PLAYED BY THE BEST TENOR IN ROME

Other People: PIERROT IS BEING PLAYED BY A SINGER FROM TUSCANY BUT IS HE ACTUALLY A MAN OR JUST AN ASS

Women: PLEASE BE QUIET HARLEQUIN IS ABOUT TO SING

Men: YOU BE QUIET

*Harlequin (in pantomime) sings and accompanies himself on the lyre. Some people continue talking; the fake Balducci falls asleep.*

Men: Well done! Bravo! You damn chatterboxes need to shut up!

Women: YOU HAVE TO WATCH HARLEQUIN HE’S BEING PLAYED BY ROME’S FINEST TENOR

Everyone: HE’S SUCH A GOOD SINGER AND HE’S DOING SO WELL EVEN THOUGH TECHNICALLY HE’S NOT ACTUALLY SINGING

*Harlequin’s section comes to an end. Pierrot (again, in pantomime) sings and accompanies himself on the bass drum. The people all listen attentively; the fake Balducci wakes up and, delighted, beats to the time of the music.*

Some People: LOOK HOW MUCH THE OLD TREASURER IS ENJOYING THIS

Balducci: THIS HAS GONE TOO FAR I NEED TO SPEAK TO THE MANAGER OF THIS

Some People: STOP BEING SUCH A KAREN

Balducci: WHAT’S A KAREN

Some People: NEVER MIND YOU’RE TOO FOOLISH TO UNDERSTAND

Other People: HAHAHAHAHA THE OLD MAN IS SO HAPPY HAHAHAHAHAHA

*When the song is over, Harlequin and Pierrot both wait, expecting the prize. The fake Balducci gives a small coin to Harlequin, who is visibly disappointed, and then gives the rest of the money to Pierrot.*

People: Well, when the judge has an ass’s ears…

Balducci: SCREW YOU ALL I DEMAND TO SEE THE MANAGER OF THIS OPERATION

Teresa: please be quiet you’re only making them laugh louder

*The fake Balducci gives the laurel wreath to Pierrot. Harlequin then hits both of the other actors with a wooden sword. Colombine unsuccessfully attempts to intervene.*

People: YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY BRAVI THIS IS THE BEST SHOW EVER

Balducci: FINE SINCE I CAN’T SPEAK TO THE MANAGER I’M GONNA TAKE THIS INTO MY OWN HANDS

*He jumps up from his seat, runs onstage, and begins attacking the comedians with his cane.*

Teresa: oh my GOD DAD STOP BEING SUCH A KAREN

People: LONG LIVE CARNIVAL BRAVI THE ORIGINAL AND THE ACTOR ARE FACE TO FACE SO NOW WE GET TO SEE WHICH IS UGLIER

*Some of the people stay to watch the fight between Balducci and the comedians, while others go back to dancing and mingling. Several people carrying moccoli (little candles often carried at Carnival) mix with the crowd. People keep blowing out and relighting the moccoli. Several coaches are bearing torches; these are blown out from apartment windows above by people bearing large bellows. Cellini, Ascanio, Fieramosca, and Pompeo make their way through the crowd, trying to find Teresa. In general, it’s absolute pandemonium; what else would you expect?* ****

Cellini and Fieramosca: *to their respective assistants* Come on, let’s push our way through this huge crowd and get Teresa!

*Teresa has made her way downstage and is looking for Cellini and Ascanio when she sees, but does not definitively recognize, them.*

Teresa: OH HEY I THINK THAT’S CELLINI WITH ASCANIO

*She sees Fieramosca and Pompeo in their disguises but does not recognize them.*

WAIT WHAT WHY IS THERE ANOTHER WHITE FRIAR AND CAPUCHIN MONK DUO WHAT ON EARTH IS THIS

Fieramosca: HI IT’S ME

Cellini: HI IT’S ME

Teresa: WHICH ONE IS THE ORIGINAL

Revellers: MOCCOLI MOCCOLI MOCCOLI

Cellini and Fieramosca: IT’S ME COME WITH ME

Revellers: MOCCOLI MOCCOLI MOCCOLI

Other Revellers: YOU MOCCOLI PEOPLE ARE SO ANNOYING

Revellers: MOCCOLI MOCCOLI IT KINDA RHYMES WITH BROCCOLI MOCCOLI MOCCOLI

Cellini: THERE’S ANOTHER MONK HERE THERE’S SOME TREACHERY AFOOT GOD DAMN IT

Pompeo: C’MON FIERAMOSCA WE CAN DO THIS DON’T WORRY ABOUT IT

Fieramosca: this is the worst plan EVER

Pompeo: KEEP GOING ANYWAY

Ascanio: WE NEED TO AVENGE THIS TREACHERY

Pompeo: SERIOUSLY FIERAMOSCA I LOVE YOU BUT PLEASE STOP WORRYING ABOUT THIS

*Cellini draws his sword.*

Cellini: I DON’T CARE WHO YOU ARE YOU ASKED FOR IT BECAUSE IT SEEMS LIKE YOU’RE TRYING TO KIDNAP MY GIRLFRIEND

Fieramosca: POMPEO PLEASE COME OVER HERE AND HELP ME OUT BECAUSE I’M GETTING SCARED

Ascanio: *running after Fieramosca* I WILL GET YOU

*Ascanio, Fieramosca, and Pompeo all draw their swords. Cellini fights Pompeo; Ascanio fights Fieramosca.*

Teresa: FOR HEAVEN’S SAKE SOMEONE STOP THIS

*Some of the revellers unsuccessfully attempt to restrain the four fighters.*

Revellers: HAVE YOU LOST YOUR MIND IT’S CARNIVAL THIS ISN’T A TIME FOR FIGHTING

Cellini: NO I HAVEN’T LOST MY MIND

Teresa: EVERYONE STOP IT

Fieramosca: *running away from Ascanio* SOMEONE HELP ME

Pompeo: KEEP GOING

Cellini: YOU ARE NOT GETTING AWAY WITH THIS

Fieramosca: SERIOUSLY SOMEONE HELP ME

Cellini: NO YOU’RE NOT GETTING AWAY WITH THIS NO

*He runs Pompeo through with his sword. Everyone immediately stops what they’re doing and screams.*

Pompeo: I WOULD LIKE TO ANNOUNCE THAT I AM DEAD

*He dies.*

People: OH SHIT A DUDE JUST GOT MURDERED FIRE POLICE AMBULANCE

*Balducci, in a state of disarray from the fight, returns.*

Balducci: GOOD LORD THERE’S A DEAD MAN WHERE’S MY DAUGHTER

*Guards arrive. Fieramosca runs over to Pompeo’s body, checking behind him because he believes that Ascanio is still following him.*

Fieramosca: HELP ME....OH MY GOD POMPEO’S DEAD NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

People: *pointing to Cellini* ARREST THAT FRIAR HE DID IT AND HIS SWORD STILL HAS THAT DUDE’S BLOOD ALL OVER IT

*Cellini is arrested. Everyone gathers around him.*

Cellini: I’M DONE FOR

Fieramosca: I’m saved…

Francesco and Bernardino: THEY CAUGHT OUR MASTER

Ascanio: MY POOR MASTER DOESN’T DESERVE THIS

Fieramosca: WE GOT ‘IM

Teresa: WHY IS FATE SO CRUEL

Teresa, Balducci, Francesco, and the Troupers: THIS IS THE WORST NIGHT EVER

Women: Such a good man killed…

Men: A KNAVE DID THIS

*Cellini’s friends and assistants pretend not to recognize him in order to more effectively set up their plan.*

Fieramosca, Balducci, Francesco, Bernardino, and People: HOW COULD THIS MAN MURDER A CAPUCHIN THAT’S LIKE THE WORST THING EVER HE’S PROBABLY A BANDIT FROM THE COUNTRYSIDE OR A SPURNED LOVER OR SOMETHING KEEP A GOOD GRIP ON HIM

Teresa: HE RUINED HIMSELF FOR MY SAKE I FEEL AWFUL I DIDN’T KNOW THIS WAS GONNA HAPPEN BUT I STILL FEEL AWFUL ALSO HOW DARE YOU PEOPLE TREAT HIM LIKE A MONSTER

Cellini: THIS IS THE WORST NIGHT EVER HOW DARE YOU PEOPLE TREAT ME LIKE A MONSTER

Ascanio: MY DEAR MASTER I CAN’T BELIEVE THEY’RE DOING THIS TO YOU AND TREATING YOU LIKE A MONSTER

*Suddenly, the cannon of the Castel di Sant’Angelo booms three times. As presumably per end-of-Carnival tradition, everyone blows out their candles and torches, plunging the square into darkness.* *****

Cellini: MY FRIENDS HELP ME I’VE BEEN CAUGHT

*Francesco, Bernardino, and others create a large commotion. In the general confusion caused by that, the darkness, and the booming of the cannon, Cellini pushes his way through the crowd and escapes.*

People: WE CAN’T SEE ANYTHING

Fieramosca, Balducci, and Chorus: HEY GUARDS DO YOU STILL HAVE HIM

Guards: NO WE DON’T HELP US

People: BUT YOU’RE THE ONES WHO WERE SUPPOSED TO HAVE HIM

Teresa, Ascanio, Francesco, Bernardino, and Cellini’s Other Friends and Workers: THANK GOODNESS HE ESCAPED

Fieramosca and Balducci: WHAT THE H-E-DOUBLE-HOCKEYSTICKS WE JUST HAD HIM

Teresa, Ascanio, Francesco, Bernardino, and Cellini’s Other Friends and Workers: THANK YOU CANNON FOR SOUNDING AT JUST THE RIGHT TIME SO HE COULD ESCAPE

Fieramosca, Balducci, and People: CURSE YOU STUPID CANNON WE JUST HAD HIM WHY DID YOU HAVE TO GO OFF NOW

Balducci: TERESA COME HERE

Teresa: DAD—

Ascanio: *grabbing Teresa’s arm* HEY TERESA IT’S ME ASCANIO COME WITH ME

*The two of them make their way through the crowd, trying to avoid Fieramosca and Balducci.*

People: OH GOD THE MURDERER ESCAPED WE JUST HAD HIM AND NOW WE CAN’T SEE A THING AND HE’S GOTTEN AWAY WITH IT

Balducci: TERESA WHERE ARE YOU IT’S SO DARK AND NOISY OUT AND I CAN’T SEE A THING

Fieramosca: CURSE THIS STUPID CANNON WE JUST HAD HIM BUT NOW THERE’S A MURDERER ON THE RUN AND IT’S SO DARK AND NOISY OUT SO I CAN’T SEE A THING

Teresa and Ascanio: IT’S SO NOISY OUT BUT HE’S GOTTEN AWAY SO THAT’S GOOD

People: THIS IS GETTING WAY TOO CRAZY AND IT’S JUST PLAIN CHAOS

*In the midst of the chaos, Balducci bumps into Fieramosca.*

Balducci: IT’S HIM IT’S THE MONK IN WHITE

Fieramosca: wait WHAT

Balducci: I GOT HIM

Fieramosca: EXCUSE ME WHAT THE HELL IS THIS

Guards: WE’RE COMING

*They arrest Fieramosca.*

Balducci: KEEP A GOOD GRIP ON HIM

People: THEY GOT HIM

Balducci: TERESA WHERE ARE YOU

Teresa, Ascanio, Francesco, Bernardino, and Cellini’s Other Friends and Workers: HAHAHAHA THEY GOT FIERAMOSCA THAT’S EXCELLENT

Fieramosca: BUT I’M NOT—

People: TAKE HIM AWAY

Fieramosca: YOU’RE MISTAKING ME FOR SOMEONE ELSE

Guards and People: LET’S TAKE CARE OF THIS MURDERER

Fieramosca: BUT MY NAME IS FIERAMOSCA

Guards: LET’S GO OFF TO PRISON

Balducci: SERIOUSLY TERESA WHERE ARE YOU

Several People, One At A Time, Around the Square: THEY CAUGHT HIM

Fieramosca: I SWEAR TO GOD I’M FIERAMOSCA

Teresa, Ascanio, Francesco, and Some People: YOU MURDERER WE’LL HAVE YOU HANGED RIGHT AWAY YOU’RE NOT GETTING AWAY WITH THIS

Balducci, Bernardino, and Other People: WHY WOULD YOU MURDER A CAPUCHIN ON THE EVE OF ASH WEDNESDAY WE’LL HAVE YOU HANGED RIGHT AWAY YOU’RE NOT GETTING AWAY WITH THIS

Fieramosca: I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU ALL WANT TO THROW ME IN PRISON AND HANG ME LISTEN TO ME I DIDN’T MURDER ANYONE I AM A GOOD CITIZEN OF ROME AND MY NAME IS FIERAMOSCA

Everyone: OH GOD I’M SUFFOCATING GIVE ME SOME ROOM LET ME OUT OF HERE WE’LL NEVER MAKE IT OUT OF HERE

Balducci: I CAN’T FIND MY DAUGHTER TERESA

Teresa and Ascanio: C’MON LET’S GO WE NEED TO STICK TOGETHER

Fieramosca: OH GOD I’M SUFFOCATING DON’T STRANGLE ME

Everyone: OH GOD YOU’RE CRUSHING ME THIS IS A LIVING HELL ON EARTH AND ALSO COMPLETE AND UTTER CHAOS AND WE’LL NEVER BE ABLE TO GET OUT

*Teresa and Ascanio run off. Fieramosca is led off by the guards. In a panic, everyone else tries to push their way out of the square.*

Notes

Also, a collection of several artistic portrayals of the Piazza Colonna and Carnival in Rome!

Act II:

Scene 1:

Early morning, Ash Wednesday. Cellini’s workshop. Various creations of Cellini’s are scattered around. On the right is a plaster model of the Perseus statue. At the back is a door, with one window on each side. The windows look out onto the street.

*Teresa and Ascanio run in. Teresa starts looking out one of the windows while Ascanio closes the door.*

Teresa: Oh God, what’s happened to Cellini? Where could he be?

Ascanio: He’ll be here soon, Teresa. Don’t worry about it.

Teresa: NO I SWEAR HE’S BEEN CAUGHT OR HE’S DEAD

Ascanio: No, he’s alright, listen to me; he’s not the kind of guy who could get caught by the Pope’s men or the law.

Teresa: But why hasn’t he made it here yet?

*A group of White Friars (a Carmelite order of monks) starts to pass by.*

White Friars: Vas spirituale, Maria, sancta mater, ora pro nobis…

*For the sake of concision, the White Friars continue chanting intermittently in much the same vein for the next few minutes.* **

Ascanio: Listen!

*He runs over to a window and looks out.*

Teresa: Is it him?

*Ascanio comes back.*

Ascanio: Unfortunately, no. That song is just a group of monks passing by and chanting prayers as they go off to their holy works.

Teresa: This hurts too much!

Ascanio: Take heart.

Teresa: We must pray!

Teresa and Ascanio: Alright, then.

*They kneel.*

Holy Virgin, star of the morning, smile and shed some light on us...

*The White Friars pass by the door at this point; their voices gradually fade as they move away.*

Holy Virgin, star of the morning, have mercy and bring Cellini safely back to us!

*Cellini, still dressed in his white habit (which is now covered in blood) runs in.*

Cellini: HEY I’M HERE

Teresa and Ascanio: CELLINI THANK GOODNESS YOU’RE HERE

*They run over to him.*

Teresa: You aren’t wounded, are you?

Cellini: No, thank God, but I did get a bit frazzled along the way.

Ascanio: You? Frazzled?

Cellini: It took all my luck to get out of all that craziness and certain arrest.

Teresa and Ascanio: What happened?

Cellini: Okay, here goes, I bet you’ve never heard anything like this:

SO it was really dark and I had my dagger and I was running through this huge crowd and I got out and I kept running because there was this huge mob chasing after me and yelling for my blood because yeah of course they were and I was still wearing this habit—

Ascanio: Couldn’t you have just taken it off?

Cellini: DON’T INTERRUPT MY STORY anyway just in the nick of time I saw a building with the door open and I hid behind the door and they still kept running because they didn’t see me so I closed the door and then I thought about Teresa and blessed my patron saint and then I felt really weak and the ground started shaking under me and then I fainted

Teresa: OOH WHAT HAPPENED NEXT I’M REALLY SCARED BUT ALSO VERY INTRIGUED

Ascanio: ...I’m not buying it also how come SHE gets to interrupt your story

Cellini: Ascanio, I think very highly of you but you’re not my girlfriend ANYWAY I woke up a while later and it was dawn and the rooftops were covered in beautiful light and the roosters were crowing and people were walking around everywhere and I had no idea how I was going to get home but a bunch of friars dressed like me happened to pass by so I slipped in and they happened to pass by here so I slipped out AND NOW I’M HERE AND SO ARE YOU ***

Teresa: And may God never separate us again!

Ascanio: Uh, guys, I hate to break it to you but one of you is still wanted for murder and the other’s dad is probably looking for us as we speak so we’re not out of danger yet.

Cellini: You’re right. We have to go NOW.

Teresa: We have to go? We should just try hiding out—

Cellini: No, we have to go NOW.

Ascanio: BUT YOU STILL HAVE A STATUE TO FINISH

Cellini: TO HELL WITH MY STATUE AND THE POPE AND THE LAW WE JUST NEED TO RUN AWAY TO FLORENCE ASCANIO GO GET US A HORSE

Ascanio: Very well. You can count on me and I’ll be back here as soon as I can.

*He leaves.*

Teresa: My love, God is on our side! After everything, we’re here together, which is the proof that God has blessed us...

Cellini: Yes! Let’s enjoy this moment, our love, the brief moment of peace we have now before we have to flee…

Teresa: YESTERDAY WAS PLAIN AWFUL

Cellini: You can say that again.

Teresa: YESTERDAY WAS PLAIN AWFUL

Cellini: BUT THAT’S NOT NOW THAT’S THEN

Teresa: You’re right; it’s a new day that’ll dry our tears…

Cellini: Even though the future may be dark…

Teresa: ...we have peace and love and happiness!

Cellini: Let’s live and let death come when it will!

Teresa: But first take off the habit. You can’t be seen in it.

*Cellini takes off his habit and puts it on a chair.*

Cellini: There we go. Time is running out, but first...how about a mock swordfight?

Teresa: I AM SO DOWN CHOOSE YOUR WEAPON

*They start mock-swordfighting.*

Cellini: Ah, brava! What bravery, my squire!

Teresa: Put on your breastplate!

*The fight comes to an end.*

Cellini and Teresa: GOD HAS BLESSED US SO WE’LL BE OKAY NO MATTER WHAT BECAUSE HE HAS BLESSED ALL OUR WISHES ****

You know, when eagles in the mountains hear their friends being captured, what do they do? They stick together and help each other out and yell their war cries and help each other escape! And they fly far away despite everything, even being shot at! LET’S DO THE SAME THING AND RUN AWAY TO FLORENCE WE’LL BRAVE EVERYTHING AND EVERYONE EVEN THE VATICAN LET’S GO

*Ascanio runs in, in a state of panic.*

Ascanio: HEY SIR DEAR SIR WE HAVE A BIT OF A PROBLEM

Cellini: What is it?

Ascanio: BALDUCCI AND FIERAMOSCA ARE HERE I JUST SAW THEM THROUGH THE WINDOW

Teresa: OH SHOOT IT’S MY DAD

Cellini: Don’t be afraid. I’ll take care of this.

*He helps Teresa hide behind the model of Perseus.*

Ascanio: THERE THEY ARE

*Balducci and Fieramosca enter. Fieramosca sees Cellini and immediately starts backing towards the door, but Balducci goes to confront Cellini with his cane.*

Balducci: AT LAST I HAVE FOUND YOU, YOU MURDERER AND SEDUCER AND BRIGAND AND AT THIS POINT I’M JUST GOING TO CALL YOU EVERY NOT-NICE THING IN THE BOOK BECAUSE I’M JUST FED UP WITH AND SEVERELY PO’D AT YOU

Cellini: Oh excuse me, Mr. Giacomo, I didn’t realize that you could just show up at my house and start making such a ruckus. What’s gotten into you?

Balducci: YOU KNOW WHAT THIS IS ABOUT GIVE ME BACK MY DAUGHTER I KNOW SHE’S HERE SO GIVE HER BACK OR ELSE I WILL BEAT YOU UP WITH THI—

Cellini: DON’T EVEN THI—

*Teresa runs out and falls on her knees before her father.*

Teresa: DAD I’M SORRY NOW I’M KNEELING BEFORE YOU

Balducci: ahhhhhhhhhhh THERE you are so let me get this straight: you honor your beloved mother by running away from me and planning to escape with, of all things, A KNOWN MURDERER wow who would’ve thought that you, of all people, could be such a horrible person?

Teresa: DAD JUST LISTEN TO ME

Cellini: Your daughter would NEVER—

Teresa: YEAH DAD I WOULD NEVER

Cellini: I’ll say it: I’m the only guilty party here.

Balducci: That’s a load of BS coming from you; I know what I know about you…

Cellini: Which is…?

Balducci: uh...NEVER MIND ANYWAY TERESA GO HOME

*Cellini steps in between Balducci and Teresa.*

Cellini: STOP I LOVE YOUR DAUGHTER

Balducci: WHAT DOES THAT MATTER

Cellini: AND SHE LOVES ME

Balducci: WELL TOO BAD SO SAD

Cellini: THIS IS THE FASTEST WAY TO RUIN YOUR FAMILY’S HONOR

Balducci: THAT DOESN’T EVEN MAKE SENSE ALSO YOU TWO ARE BREAKING UP EFFECTIVE IMMEDIATELY

Cellini: THAT’S NOT HOW THIS WORKS

Teresa: DAD STOP IT

Balducci: TERESA WE ARE LEAVING

Teresa: CELLINI HELP ME OUT HERE

Cellini: DON’T WORRY TERESA I GOT YOU

Balducci: Fieramosca, come claim your wife!

Everyone Else [yes, including Fieramosca]: wait WHAT

*Fieramosca timidly goes over to Teresa.*

Fieramosca: uhhhhh so I guess this is a thing now so uhhhhhh let’s leave

Cellini: You thief, if you so much as TOUCH HER I WILL

Balducci: FIERAMOSCA TAKE HER OUT OF HERE

Fieramosca: *backing away* Me? But I don’t want to cause even more of a scene…

Cellini: IF YOU SO MUCH AS MOVE TOWARDS HER FIERAMOSCA I WILL SEND YOU TO HELL

Balducci: FIERAMOSCA DO SOMETHING

Fieramosca: BUT I DON’T WANNA CAUSE A SCENE

Ascanio: Some son-in-law!

Teresa: OH MY GOD CAN EVERYONE CALM DOWN FOR FIVE SECONDS

*A disturbance from outside causes everyone to stop arguing and look up, only to see an unexpected development.*

Everyone: OH SHOOT IT’S THE POPE hey everyone we need to stop fighting and shut up and show some respect omg the Pope is here

*They all promptly shut up and kneel as Pope Clément VII (who will hereafter be referred to as ‘The Pope’ on the understanding that he is not the current Pope in The Real World™), dressed in traveling costume, enters with his retinue.*

The Pope: My children, full indulgence for all your sins! Rise; I don’t want to feel so aloof because I feel like you are all my children, and mercy is the dearest value to our hearts! Rise, my children! A full indulgence for all your sins! Rise!

Balducci and Fieramosca: Uh, Your Holiness, we very humbly give you our request: avenge us!

The Pope: Avenge you? For what? Oh, and for crying out loud, I’ve already asked you like...six times to rise and you’re still down there on the floor.

*Everyone gets up.*

Balducci: A GUY ABDUCTED MY DAUGHTER AND DISHONORED MY GOOD NAME

Fieramosca: AND THE SAME GUY KILLED MY SIDEKICK BUDDY WITH WHOM I DEFINITELY DID NOT HAVE A HOMOEROTIC RELATIONSHIP

The Pope: Who did all this?

Balducci and Fieramosca: CELLINI

Balducci: *gesturing to Teresa* THERE’S MY DAUGHTER

Fieramosca: *holding Cellini’s discarded bloodstained habit* AND THERE’S THE BLOOD HE SHED

Cellini, Teresa, and Ascanio: NO CELLINI ISN’T GUILTY

Balducci: Cellini, one, you literally said you were the only guilty one here like five minutes ago; two, I absolutely hate it when people refer to themselves in the third person.

Cellini: THAT’S BECAUSE YOU’RE NO FUN BALDUCCI

The Pope: A murder and an abduction? Cellini, you did all that? Really? Are you kidding me right now? Are you always going to play the little devil?

Cellini: No. Please, just hear me out for a moment.

The Pope: First, how’s the statue coming?

Cellini: Oh, right. The statue. The statue for you. The statue especially made for you. Your statue. That statue?

The Pope: YES, that statue.

Cellini: Uh...I don’t got you covered. *****

The Pope: What?

Cellini: ...It’s not done yet.

The Pope: Wait a sec...after all this time I’ve given you, and after your promise to have it done today, IT’S STILL NOT FINISHED?!

Everyone: It still hasn’t been cast!

The Pope: So you used my advance money to break a father’s heart and murder a man in the middle of Carnival and then spent the rest drinking? Seriously?

Balducci and Fieramosca: YEAH HE DID

Cellini, Teresa, and Ascanio: NO HE DIDN’T

Balducci and Fieramosca: SHUT UP

Cellini, Teresa, and Ascanio: YOU SHUT UP

The Pope: EVERYONE SHUT UP

Very well, then, you leave me no choice: another will cast the statue.

Teresa, Ascanio, Fieramosca, and Balducci: ANOTHER?!

Cellini: Another cast my statue? EXCUSE ME WHAT DID YOU SAY OH WAIT I KNOW WHAT YOU SAID AND IT IS NOT HAPPENING ON MY WATCH

I WOULD SOONER DESTROY MY OWN MODEL THAN ALLOW SOMEONE ELSE TO—

Everyone Else: What is he DOING?!?!

Fieramosca and Balducci: HOW DARE YOU?!?! ARE YOU NOT IN THE PRESENCE OF THE POPE?!?!?!?!

Cellini: Yes! May the Virgin forgive me, and the Pope, and my patron saint, but NO ONE ELSE, NOT EVEN MICHELANGELO HIMSELF WILL CAST THIS STATUE BECAUSE I’D RATHER DIE THAN THAT HAPPEN

The Pope: Fine, let’s test that out. Guards! Arrest Cellini immediately.

*The guards come forward but at the same time, Cellini picks up a large hammer and runs over to the model of the statue.*

Cellini: I will whack this model into tiny, unrecognizable bits before a single one of your guards lays a hand on me.

*He raises the hammer to smash the model, but everyone screams.*

The Pope: STOP oh for holy God’s sake

Teresa, Ascanio, Fieramosca, and Balducci: He defied the Pope to his face! What has he done?

The Pope: FINE you demon, what do you need to calm down? Honestly, at this point, I mostly just want to see my future display piece not get hacked to bits.

*Cellini moves in front of the model, lowering his hammer but still holding it.*

Cellini: Full forgiveness for all my sins.

The Pope: Very well; you will have it without confession.

Teresa, Ascanio, Fieramosca, and Balducci: Without even confession!

The Pope: I have said it; it will be done.

Cellini: That’s not all. I want Teresa’s hand in marriage.

The Pope: Let me get this straight: you want forgiveness and Teresa?

Fieramosca and Balducci: HOLY FATHER STOP RIGHT THERE

Cellini: Oh, and one more thing: I want the time to cast my statue.

The Pope: You want forgiveness, Teresa, and the time to cast the statue? Please tell me there’s nothing else.

Cellini: That is all.

Everyone Else: That’s all!

The Pope: ah DANG IT the devil knows how much I love art and he’s laughing at me but next thing you know I’ll be laughing at him

Balducci and Fieramosca: he knows how much the Pope loves art but it’ll be our turn to laugh

Teresa: Dear God, have mercy on him!

Ascanio: HAHAHA THIS IS THE BEST TRICK EVER

Cellini: I’VE GOT HIM IN A CORNER BECAUSE I KNOW HIS LOVE FOR ART

The Pope: How much time do you need to cast the statue?

Cellini: The rest of the day, God willing.

The Pope: ...Are you sure that’ll be enough time?

Cellini: I think so: the furnace has been heating up the metal for a while now.

The Pope: *signaling to the guards to move away* Very well, I agree to your conditions.

*Cellini puts down the hammer and goes over to the Pope.*

But listen to me very carefully, you rogue: I myself will be at the workshop tonight to see if you are able to complete the statue. If not, by God, I will hand you over to the legal authorities and you will be hanged tonight.

Teresa, Ascanio, Fieramosca, and Balducci: Hanged!

The Pope: I think I’ve made myself clear.

Balducci: But...but Holy Father, he can finish the statue by the end of the day, and Teresa—

The Pope: To Hell with you and Teresa! He’ll be hanged if he doesn’t finish.

Fieramosca: But...but Holy Father, he can finish the statue by the end of the day, and Pompeo—

The Pope: ugh you people to Hell with you and Pompeo! He’ll be hanged if he doesn’t finish. Cellini, I trust I’ve made myself clear?

Cellini: ...Crystal.

Teresa, Ascanio, Fieramosca, and Balducci: Hanged! If he doesn’t finish today, he’ll be hanged!

Cellini: *ironically* Ah, Holy Father, how kind to offer such an indulgence for my sins—the threat of hanging!

The Pope: Yes, you will hang!

Now he’ll feel less proud because I myself will punish him because no saint or angel in all of Heaven will help him; he has sealed his own fate!

Cellini: GOD WILL HELP ME AND I WILL SUCCEED BECAUSE I FEEL THE POWER AND SOMEONE ONCE SAID SOMETHING ABOUT FORTUNE FAVORING THE BOLD WELL IT’S NOT JUST FORTUNE IT’S ALSO GOD SO NO ONE’S PETTY VENGEANCE CAN STOP ME

Teresa: NOOOOOOOOOOO HE’S GONNA DIE BECAUSE EVERYONE’S WORKING AGAINST HIM EVEN GOD AND THERE’S NO HOPE AND I FEEL LIKE MY ONLY OPTION IS DEATH

Ascanio: LET THEM INSULT HIM WHAT DOES HE CARE GOD WILL HELP HIM BECAUSE HE IS BOLD SO I HAVE HOPE AND NO ONE’S PETTY VENGEANCE CAN STOP HIM

Fieramosca and Balducci: AT LAST HE IS COMING TO HIS DESERVED RUIN AND WE WILL HAVE OUR VENGEANCE

*The Pope’s retinue moves towards the Pope as if to protect him, but he signals them to stop.*

The Pope’s Retinue: WHAT AN INDULGENCE HE SHOULD HAVE BEEN PUNISHED ALREADY AND HE DOESN’T DESERVE THIS CHANCE

*Everyone leaves.*

Notes

Scene 2: **

Cellini’s foundry. The furnace is at the back; there is one door each at right and left. Some of Cellini’s other works are there. A clock strikes 4 PM.

*Ascanio runs in.*

Ascanio: Tralalalalalalalalalala…

What’s the matter with me? I just feel so overwhelmed and weary with all this drama right now but TOO BAD because when I feel sad I just laugh and sing tralalala and then suddenly I feel dizzy and happy again!

So our bronze baby is getting its baptism of fire tonight: the Colosseum will be the church, the Pope will be the godfather, and all the people of Rome will be the witnesses! Tralalala honestly thinking about that overwhelms me even more but you know what? It’s okay; I’ll just laugh and sing tralalalala…

*Quick note: during this next part, Ascanio imitates both Cellini and the Pope.*

HAHAHA THAT WHOLE THING WITH CELLINI AND THE POPE WAS THE FUNNIEST THING EVER BECAUSE THE POPE WAS LIKE ‘Take the man away!’ and Cellini was like ‘NOT SO FAST I’LL DESTROY THIS MODEL FIRST’ and the Pope was like ‘fiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiine I give in because I guess I’m a total pushover’ and Cellini was like ‘I want forgiveness for all my sins’ and the Pope was like ‘sure whatever’ and then Cellini was like ‘I ALSO want Teresa’ and the Pope was like ‘yeah cool okay’ and THEN Cellini was like ‘and I want the rest of the day to cast the statue!’ and the Pope was like ‘sounds good’ and THEN SUDDENLY THE POPE GRABBED MY MASTER’S HEAD and he said he would HANG HIM if he didn’t finish the statue by the end of the day! Is that all? Oh, you’ll hang! You understand? Ah, Holy Father, what an indulgence!

great THAT overwhelmed me too and I feel sad again but I’ll just do what I always do and just laugh and sing tralalalala and everything will be okay! ***

*Cellini enters and signals Ascanio to leave, which he does.*

Cellini: Alone, just me, my courage, and my audacity, about to have the fight of my life—and all Rome is watching! Very well, then; let the winds bring the storm, let them rile up all the waves, and let me sail straight into it! This is the story of my life...what a life!

Why could I not be a simple shepherd, leading my sheep and wandering through the wildness of the mountains? Free, alone, at peace, with no need to do any useless work for anyone else...I would wander far from all these busy cities and I would sing to my heart’s content...and at night I would sleep on the ground in a little hut, but I would sleep so peacefully, it would be like sleeping in my mother’s arms as a baby! Ah, what a dream! What a life!

Metalworkers: *singing outside* How happy the sailors, those children of the waves, are…

Cellini: ugggggggggggggggh not that song AGAIN

Metalworkers: ...they happily follow the wind wherever it blows…

Cellini: something bad ALWAYS happens whenever they sing that stupid song

Metalworkers: ...and when the boat sinks, the ocean is their tomb…

*Ascanio comes back.*

Ascanio: That sad song is bad luck!

Cellini: If they lose heart, we’ll fail!

*calling out to the workers* We are sailors who sail on metal! To rule the waves is easy; the real triumph is to rule over fire as we do!

Cellini and Ascanio: TAKE HEART AND HAVE COURAGE IF WE CAN JUST HOLD ON FOR ONE MORE DAY WE’LL ALL CELEBRATE TOMORROW

Chorus: *even more sadly than before* How happy the sailors, those children of the waves, are…

Cellini: *putting on an apron* Alright, let’s go to work, no more dilly-dallying!

*Loud knocking on the door.*

WHO IS IT

*Ascanio runs to the door and opens it, then hurries back.*

Ascanio: IT’S FIERAMOSCA

*Fieramosca enters with two swordsmen.*

Cellini: uggggggggggh not him hi, what do you want?

Fieramosca: Cellini, I have come to send you to Hell.

Cellini: ‘nyah nyah nyah Cellini I have come to send you to Hell nyah nyah nyah’ what do you MEAN you BUFFOON

Fieramosca: okay fine, I’ll say it differently so your tiny little brain will understand: I demand satisfaction for your insults.

Cellini: You’re joking, right?

Fieramosca: Uh, no.

Ascanio: Oh, really?

Fieramosca: NO I’M NOT JOKING I DEMAND SATISFACTION NOW

Cellini: BUT I CAN’T LEAVE

Fieramosca: So you do not accept the challenge, you coward?

Cellini: Pot calling kettle black, I see.

Fieramosca: You don’t accept?

Cellini: FINE WE FIGHT HERE

Fieramosca: No! If I kill you in your house, even if we are legitimately dueling, I’m an assassin. That’s the law. We fight elsewhere.

Cellini: OH I SEE HOW IT IS YOU WANT ME TO NOT BE ABLE TO FINISH but, God willing, I’ll teach you a fine lesson about messing with the wrong guy, which you SHOULD HAVE LEARNED last night but I guess you did not. Your desired location?

Fieramosca: I will be waiting for you behind St. Andrew’s cloister.

Cellini: Very well. I will be there.

Fieramosca: And I’ll send you to Hell.

*He leaves with his swordsmen.*

Cellini: This couldn’t have been timed worse. Ascanio, go get my sword.

*He does so, and the door opens again.*

godDAMMIT Fieramosca why are you alrea—

*He realizes that the person who has come in is not Fieramosca but Teresa.*

Teresa! Good God! TERESA!!!

Teresa: MY DAD HAS BETRAYED US

Cellini: what NOW

Teresa: So you know how the Pope said that no one from either Tuscany or Rome could marry me until the end of the day? ****

Cellini: ...I somehow did not hear about that?

Teresa: well that’s a thing ANYWAY even though the Pope himself made that order, my dad was like ‘screw this’ and was packing to take me away from Rome, but I slipped out and ran here as fast as I could to see you!

*Ascanio returns and gives Cellini his sword.*

What are you doing with that?

Cellini: Honey, I’ll be back soon.

Teresa: NO STAY HERE YOU’RE GONNA GET INTO A FIGHT

Cellini: ...that’s kinda the point?

Teresa: I’M NOT LETTING YOU GO

Cellini: TERESA IT’S OKAY I’M GONNA SEND YOUR FIANCÉ TO HELL

Teresa: wait WHAT

Cellini: Fieramosca came here and insulted me and challenged me to a duel.

Teresa: IT’LL BE A TRAP (knowing him and also because this is how every duel in the history of French opera turns out)

Cellini: Calm down, it’ll be fine.

Teresa: NO IT WON’T

Cellini: Look: your fiancé isn’t anything near a Hercules; he’s a buffoon with an extremely inflated ego and I’m gonna teach him a lesson he will never forget.

*He leaves with Ascanio.*

Teresa: seriously NO ONE listens to me around here and now I’m here all alone

Metalworkers: *offstage* CELLINI WHERE ARE YOU WHY DID YOU LEAVE

Teresa: What’s going on?

Metalworkers: LET’S GO

Teresa: If he doesn’t come back, I’m done for…

*Francesco, Bernardino, and the other metalworkers leave their work behind and come onstage.*

Francesco, Bernardino, and Metalworkers: LET’S GO WE’VE HAD ENOUGH OF THIS

Teresa: What is happening???

Francesco, Bernardino, and Metalworkers: EVEN THOUGH WE AIN’T GOT HATS OR BADGES WE’RE A UNION JUST BY SAYING SO AND THE WORLD WILL KNOW

Teresa: WHAT ARE YOU DOING

Francesco, Bernardino, and Metalworkers: WE’RE ALL LEAVING

Teresa: BUT WHAT ABOUT CELLINI

Francesco, Bernardino, and Metalworkers: HE MAY OWN THE WORLD BUT HE DON’T OWN US WE’VE BEEN DOWN TOO LONG AND WE’VE PAID OUR DUES

Teresa: Look, he’ll be back soon—

Francesco, Bernardino, and Metalworkers: WE BEEN KEEPING SCORE EITHER HE GIVES US OUR RIGHTS OR WE GIVES HIM A WAR

Teresa: Please, go back to work, he’ll pay you tomorrow—

Francesco, Bernardino, and Metalworkers: SO HE GAVE HIS WORD? WELL IT AIN’T WORTH BEANS NOW HE’S GONNA SEE WHAT ‘STOP THE FURNACES’ REALLY MEANS

Teresa: He’ll pay you very well—

Francesco, Bernardino, and Metalworkers: BUT WE NEED MONEY TO LIVE

Teresa: (Holy Virgin, don’t abandon us now!) I’M NOT LEAVING YOU

Francesco, Bernardino, and Metalworkers: LET’S LEAVE

Teresa: PLEASE I’M BEGGING YOU

*Fieramosca enters and Teresa sees him.*

OH GOD CELLINI’S DEAD

*She faints. Francesco and Bernardino help her up and support her.*

Francesco, Bernardino, and Metalworkers: wait WHAT

Fieramosca: What...what is the meaning of this?!

Teresa: *reviving and pointing to Fieramosca* Good workers...that man has killed your master...avenge him!

Francesco, Bernardino, and Metalworkers: he WHAT OH HE KILLED CELLINI HE WILL PAY FOR THIS LET’S KILL HIM

*They start attacking Fieramosca.*

Fieramosca: NO NO STOP IT I AM YOUR FRIEND

*Gold coins fall out of his pockets; the workers see them.*

Francesco, Bernardino, and Metalworkers: Dude, why do you have so much money on you? Not that we care, but you could get robbed.

Fieramosca: I was just coming to give you a better salary than you get here…

Francesco, Bernardino, and Metalworkers: A BETTER SALARY WOULD BE NICE BUT NOT FROM YOU BECAUSE YOU KILLED CELLINI SO WHAT SHOULD WE DO ABOUT THIS OH WE KNOW LET’S THROW YOU INTO THE FURNACE

Fieramosca: WAIT NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO I’M YOUR FRIEND

Francesco, Bernardino, and Metalworkers: THROW HIM INTO THE FURNACE

*Chaos ensues. Suddenly, from nearby:*

Cellini: HEY WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON HERE

*Cellini and Ascanio enter.*

Teresa, Francesco, Bernardino, and Metalworkers: OMG YOU’RE ACTUALLY ALIVE

Cellini: Indeed I am! Why wouldn’t I be?

*Teresa rushes over to Cellini and embraces him.*

Teresa: THANK GOD YOU’RE OKAY

Francesco, Bernardino, and Metalworkers: WE ALL THOUGHT YOU WERE DEAD AND THAT FIERAMOSCA KILLED YOU

Cellini: Well then, rumors of my death have been greatly exaggerated.

*He goes over to Fieramosca, who is sweating and panting like an ox.*

What were you doing here while I was waiting for you behind St. Andrew’s cloister?

Fieramosca: I was coming...I’m coming…

Francesco, Bernardino, and Metalworkers: YEAH HE WAS COMING ALRIGHT HE WAS COMING TO TRY TO HIRE ALL OF US

Cellini: Let me get this straight: you were trying to bribe my entire workshop?

Francesco, Bernardino, and Metalworkers: YEAH HE WAS

Cellini: watch out because I’m about to get VERY ANGRY IF YOU DIDN’T ALREADY GET THE HINT

Fieramosca: I was coming...I’m coming…

Cellini: You’ve come—to work!

Everyone Else: wait WHAT

Cellini: YES HE WILL WORK GET AN APRON ON HIM AND MAKE SURE HE TAKES HIS PLACE IN THE WORKSHOP AND DOESN’T TRY TO SABOTAGE ANYTHING OR BY GOD—

Teresa, Ascanio, Francesco, Bernardino, and Metalworkers: THIS IS THE BEST IDEA EVER C’MON FIERAMOSCA GET TO WORK OR CELLINI WILL MAKE YOU TAKE A VERY UNPLEASANT BATH IN A BUNCH OF MELTED BRONZE

Fieramosca: ugh not this AGAIN very well I’ll go to work

*He puts on an apron.*

Cellini, Teresa, Ascanio, Francesco, Bernardino, and Metalworkers: Alright, everyone, it’s time to go back to work and finish everything up!

Fieramosca: I’ve already taken one very unpleasant bath this week and I don’t want another so let’s go to work

Ascanio: THIS IS THE BEST THING EVER

*Everyone goes to work except Teresa and Ascanio.*

*****Teresa: I feel much better about this now, but the sky is getting dark…

Ascanio: Have courage! Before long, we’ll be through the storm and into a safe port and everything will be okay.

*He goes to join Cellini and the others. The Pope enters with his retinue and Balducci.*

Balducci: TERESA WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE

The Pope: Be quiet!

*Teresa kneels before the Pope.*

Teresa: Holy Father, forgive me!

The Pope: Rise, my child. Tell me: how did you get here?

Balducci: EXCUSE ME—

The Pope: IN THE NAME OF GOD SHUT UP

Teresa: Well, my father wanted to take me away from Rome so I couldn’t marry Cellini, but I thought you would be forgiving, so I came here and joined Cellini in order to wait for you and the casting and hopefully my marriage to Cellini!

The Pope: oh Dio mio you really should honor your father, BUT your father failed entirely and very much dropped the ball in actively trying to go against my orders, so I forgive you.

Now, tell me, where is the man of the hour?

Teresa: There he is now!*****

*Cellini enters and acknowledges the Pope.*

The Pope: Well, have you finished?

Cellini: Not quite yet, Your Holiness, but everything is on track to be done soon, thank God; the metal is heating up right now and all that needs to happen is that the metal melt and flow into the mold, the very bowels of the earth, and become holy at your signal!

Balducci: The braggart!

The Pope: He’s faking his cheerfulness and honestly, it really annoys me, but we must wait and see how this goes. Very well: begin.

*Cellini signals the workers to begin. They work for a while to some of the slappiest orchestral music ever written in opera, until Fieramosca leaves his work and runs up to Cellini.* ******

Fieramosca: WE NEED MORE METAL OR ELSE WE’LL STOP WORKING

Cellini: What are you saying?

Fieramosca: WE NEED MORE METAL OR ELSE WE’LL STOP WORKING

Cellini: Let me check this out myself. If you’re lying, you’re in big trouble. If you’re telling the truth, I’m in big trouble…

*He runs to check on the work, leaving a very embarrassed Fieramosca behind.*

Balducci: Fieramosca?! Is that you?!

Fieramosca: ...Yeah.

Balducci: What are you wearing that for?

Fieramosca: Well, uh, it’s a long story…

Balducci: And your face is covered in soot! Really, I don’t understand you at all sometimes.

Fieramosca: Uh, well...shouldn’t even rival artists help one another every now and then?

*Cellini returns.*

Cellini: WE’RE DOING FINE FIERAMOSCA GET BACK TO WORK

*He gestures threateningly at Fieramosca, who immediately backs down and returns to the furnace, followed by Cellini.*

Teresa and Ascanio: He looks so pale! Dear God, don’t abandon him now!

Balducci and the Pope: He looks so pale! He’s getting nervous; he might be in trouble!

*Cellini returns, flustered.*

Cellini: Excuse me, but I really need to be back there supervising the casting. We’re getting pretty close now; we just added more metal to the furnace. Everything is being melted and it is all going very well.

*He goes back to supervise. Exactly fourteen seconds later, Francesco and Bernardino get his attention with a very unwelcome twist.*

Francesco and Bernardino: CELLINI THE METAL IS CONGEALING *******

Everyone Else: wait WHAT

Francesco and Bernardino: WE DON’T KNOW HOW IT’S HAPPENING BUT THE METAL IS CONGEALING

Everyone Else: THAT’S ACTUALLY REALLY BAD

Francesco and Bernardino: WE NEED MORE METAL

Cellini: But there should be more back there. Has it all been used?

Francesco and Bernardino: WE DON’T HAVE ANY MORE METAL WE NEED METAL NOW

Cellini: BUT I DON’T HAVE ANY MORE METAL

Everyone Else: you don’t have WHAT?!?!?!?!?!?!

Cellini: I’M DONE FOR

Everyone Else: HE’S DONE FOR

The Pope: Well, that’s the one thing that can make him dumbfounded.

Balducci: FINALLY HE’LL BE HANGED

Everyone: oh sh—oh shoot he’s done for

Balducci: *ironically* Oh, you, such a genius as you are, are tortured by just a simple little nothing? You know everything, your skill is infinite! Turn that little frown upside-down!

Cellini: you’re not helping and I would say some choice words to you but we’re both in the presence of the Pope and that is the only thing restraining me at the moment

Francesco, Bernardino, and The Workers: WE NEED METAL NOW

Francesco: WE’RE RUNNING OUT OF TIME THE FIRE’S GOING OUT

Cellini: Wait! What...what should I do?

Francesco, Bernardino, and The Workers: WE JUST NEED METAL MORE METAL MORE METAL

Cellini: DEAR GOD YOU’RE MY ONLY HOPE LEFT SO PLEASE HELP ME OUT HERE BECAUSE I’M SO CLOSE TO GIVING IN TO DESPAIR AND I’M REALLY TRYING MY BEST DOWN HERE

Balducci: Um, not to spoil the mood or anything, but perhaps you should wait to chat with God until after we find out what happens with this statue?

Cellini: that doesn’t even make sense

Balducci: I mean you can give thanks then on the extreme off-chance that you actually pull this off.

Cellini: I’M SAVED GOD IS HELPING ME BECAUSE I JUST GOT AN IDEA

WORKERS GRAB EVERYTHING METAL YOU CAN FIND TAKE EVERYTHING FROM THE WORKSHOP AND THROW IT IN THE FURNACE

Francesco and Bernardino: WHAT YOU WANT US TO GET YOUR OTHER ARTWORKS AND THROW THEM IN THERE?!?!?!?!

Cellini: I DON’T CARE JUST GRAB ANYTHING METAL YOU CAN FIND INCLUDING MY ARTWORKS AND THROW IT IN NO MATTER WHAT METAL IT’S MADE OF IF IT’S METAL GRAB IT

*Ascanio grabs a candelabra and throws it in. Cellini does the same with every metal object he can find. Ascanio, Francesco, Bernardino, and some of the other workers start bringing in some of Cellini’s metal sculptures and passing them to other workers so they can be thrown into the furnace.*

Teresa: IT’S ALMOST TOO MUCH TO BEAR I HOPE HE MAKES IT IN THE END

The Pope: HE HAS SUCH BOLDNESS WILL HE MAKE IT IN THE END

Balducci: HE’S GOING MAD AND HE’S RUINING HIMSELF FOR A HOPELESS CAUSE

*The metal collection continues. The workers keep melting the objects and sculptures in the furnace. Suddenly there is a large explosion and the lid of the crucible mold is blown off.*

Teresa, Balducci, and the Pope: WHAT WAS THAT NOISE WHAT’S GOING ON DID IT HAPPEN OR NO

*Cellini, not daring to look, runs to the front.*

Cellini: IT EXPLODED I’M DONE FOR

Workers: LONG LIVE CELLINI VIVAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

*Everyone turns to see the molten metal pour into the mold. The casting is successful.*

Everyone: VICTORY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

*Fieramosca pushes through the crowd to find Cellini.*

Fieramosca: HEY LEMME THROUGH I WANT TO FIND MY DEAR FRIEND CELLINI AND EMBRACE HIM

Balducci: I KNEW HE COULD DO IT ALL ALONG SO TERESA HERE’S YOUR FUTURE

Cellini: well well well which of these two is the more cowardly suck-up???

Holy Father, I have completed the casting.

The Pope: Well, since God has blessed both your work and your boldness, I will hold up my end of the deal: I officially pardon you, Benvenuto Cellini.

Cellini: Teresa!

Teresa: Cellini!

Francesco, Bernardino, Workers, and Spectators: VIVA CELLINI

Teresa, Fieramosca, and Ascanio: IMMORTAL GLORY TO CELLINI

The Workers: Gold shines like the sun and rubies like fire in the night…

Teresa, Fieramosca, Balducci, Ascanio, Francesco, and Bernardino: GLORY TO HIM

Cellini: ONE LAST ROUND OF OUR SONG

Ascanio, Francesco, and Bernardino: LIKE YOU SAID JUST THE LAST VERSE BECAUSE IT’S THE BEST

TRA LA LA LA LA LA LA LA LA LA LA LA LA LA LA LA LA LA LA LA LA LA—

HONOR TO THE MASTER METALWORKERS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

*General celebration.*

Notes

THE END

Up Next: Così fan tutte

#opera #opera tag #Benvenuto Cellini #Berlioz #Hector Berlioz #Henri Auguste Barbier #Léon de Wailly #Opera Simplified

8 notes · View notes