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you don't own me

Summary:

Clapping surrounded the area, and Ed saw the curtains close.
Billy walked off stage, and moved to Ed. Billy was a lovely old man, greying hair, and could barely walk straight from age, but was sweet and put so much umph into his music you loved the guy. He was the only one who approached Ed without a shiver of fear, "your up, son. Don't worry, they'll love you."
"Sure they will." Ed said, letting out a nervous breath of air, and walked on stage, as the other players set up. He wrapped his hand around the microphone, and the stand.
"And, now! For The Iceberg Lounge's new lounge singer! Give a cold welcome to Mr. Edward Nygma!"

Or;

Edward's fist time singing at the Iceberg Lounge. (Prequel to 'why don't you do right?')

Notes:

Someone wanted Ed singing You Don't Own Me, and I enjoyed writing Ed as a lounge singer, so here we are!

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Work Text:

"I want to make sure you can actually sing." Had smiled Oswald, all condescendingly, as he sat on a chair, looking up at the stage as he sipped his drink.

Ed had stood on the stage, in a black suit, and black bow ties, as requested (more demanded). He tapped his foot, and flicked the microphone, "you know I can sing. I sang that lullaby when I met you." He had reminded.

The workers were setting up for tonight, throwing wary glanced up at Ed, as if they were waiting for him to attack.

"Well... we'll see." Oswald had smirked, "you're on after Billy's piano performance."

Ed had scowled, "whatever you say." From Edward Nygma, to The Riddler, to some lounge singer without an identity.

 

Ed paced back and forth back stage. As the Riddler, he was always very showy, as Edward Nygma he was a snivelling shy mess, and now as whoever the fuck he is, he is a worried mess wondering if he can sing. If he fails, he won't have a job anymore, and he'll be thrown out, after everyone's laughed at him for his terrible singing skills that is.

He peaked out from the wings to see a sea of people, sat watching Billy perform. He's a good pianist, Ed can't lie. There was a pit of anxiety in his stomach, and his eyes landed on two familiar faces; Oswald and Zsasz, the two were good buddies now, and... some woman, with dark hair. Ed's mind swam with thoughts, wondering if he knew her, but came up blank. Has Oswald said anything? Well... he told Zsasz about a woman, Sofia Falcone, so is that her? Falcone's daughter? Ed has no idea.

He swallowed and checked in the mirror, and made sure his hair was slicked back and his glasses were straight. He needed a thing while on stage.

Mike and The Brains were wild rockers, who shook their hair about and everyone loved it. Stand up comedian Joel Mansy told rather strage jokes, that were relatable, but his thing was he sweats a lot from all the acting. Angelica Dawson was an opera singer, her thing was he red lips and constantly moving hands. Billy Johnson's thing is his flourished movements on his hands as he plays piano.

What will Ed's thing be?

The song he chose was 'You Don't Own Me', rather fitting and ironic given the state of things, and he thought. Really thought... he could flirt?

Clapping surrounded the area, and Ed saw the curtains close.

Billy walked off stage, and moved to Ed. Billy was a lovely old man, greying hair, and could barely walk straight from age, but was sweet and put so much umph into his music you loved the guy. He was the only one who approached Ed without a shiver of fear, "your up, son. Don't worry, they'll love you."

"Sure they will." Ed said, letting out a nervous breath of air, and walked on stage, as the other players set up. He wrapped his hand around the microphone, and the stand.

"And, now! For The Iceberg Lounge's new lounge singer! Give a cold welcome to Mr. Edward Nygma!"

People clapped, muttering, because Ed was once frozen in a block of ice, and now he's singing? That's unusual.

The music started, and slowly the curtains opened.

"You don't own me," Ed sang in a deep voice, shoulders slightly tense, as he looked at everyone. "I'm not just one of your many toys. You don't own me," he sang, and looked down at a woman nearing the stage. He saw her eyes soft, and he smirked, "don't say I can't go with other girls." He changed the lyrics suddenly, and winked at her.

She giggled, and flushed.

Ed loosened his stance, and found himself taking the microphone off the stand and strutting forward. "And don't tell me what to do, don't tell me what to say!" He sang, swaying his hips, moving to the middle of the room, where he once stood as ice sculpture. "And please, when I go out with you," he pointed to a man and flashed his a smirk, and the man swallowed, tugging his collar. "Don't put me on display!" He sang, pointedly looking at Oswald, taking back any form of embarrassment being stuck in ice might have given him. This little display is his.

"'Cause," he smirked at Oswald, and saw the Penguin tense up. "You don't own me, don't try to change me in any way," he sang and bent over, taking a bowler hat from a man nearby, and placed it on top of his head. He caressed the mans cheek as he did, "you don't own me. Don't freeze me here 'cause I'd never stay." He sang, smirking as he looked at Oswald, and tipped the hat back slightly, flashing Oswald the filthiest look he could muster, and Oswald flushed a pink.

"I don't tell you what to say," sang Ed, and turned to a woman, curling her long hair with his index finger. "I don't tell you what to do! So just let me be myself," he tipped his hat to her, and she blushed, eyes wide. He turned to Oswald, and looked to a man in front of his former stand, and he held his hand out, expectantly. "That's all I ask of you," the man took Ed's hand, and helped Ed down.

Ed moved over to Oswald's table, but paid no attention to the man. Instead he turned his attention to Zsasz, "I'm young and I love to be young," he caressed Zsasz's pink tinted cheek. He turned to the woman at the table, Sofia was it?  "I'm free and I love to be free," he leaned forward, and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, "to live my life the way I want," he dragged a hand over her soft jaw, and down her neck, and her mouth opened groaning, "to say and do whatever I please." He pulled his hand away, and flashed a final smirk to Zsasz, who had straightened up considerably.

"And don't tell me what to do," he sand and stalked back to the stage, taking his time. "Oh, don't tell me what to say," he pulled loose his tie, and unbuttoned a few buttons, and some women sighed dreamily. "And please, when I go out with you," he picked up a flower from a table secretly, and gave it to one woman, "don't put me on display." The woman gasped, taking it.

Ed moved and sat on the catwalk, "I don't tell you what to say!" He kicked a long leg up, and pulled his tie off. "Oh, don't tell you what to do!" He spun on his hips and stood on the catwalk, walking back up to the stage, swaying his hips. "So just let me be myself!" He threw the black ribbon into the sea of people, and he smirked, seeing men and women dive for the tie. "That's all I ask of you."

"I'm young," his pulled his shirt open more, showing off his small, but prominent abs, "and I love to be young!" Everyone cheered, and howled, whistling. He looked over, and smirked seeing how red Oswald was, all flustered, with lust in his eyes, "I'm free and I love to be free!" He spread out one hand, "to live my life the way I want! To say and do whatever I please..." He sang, standing at the microphone stand again, the microphone back in place.

Ed smirked, and let out a moaned, "you don't own me..."

The curtains closed.

Everyone cheered, clapping, and groaned, moaning, as if they were getting off on Ed's actions and voice alone.

Ed moved away, and smiled, walking off stage, and saw Billy, "well?"

Billy smirked, and patted Ed's back, "I think boss man might be a little hot and bothered." And Ed, just laughed.

 

Sofia looked to Oswald nervously, "so... th-that's your new lounge singer?" She asked with a deep blush on her cheeks.

"Yes," Oswald said, voice squeaked, and swallowing back saliva. He hadn't expected that when he hired Ed, but he wasn't complaining.

Zsasz looked to Oswald, his white cheeks a bright red, "safe to say, people won't be seeing him as the frozen statue anymore."

Oswald nodded, "yes." He couldn't say more. He looked around, and noticed a man had Ed's ribbon, and was sniffing it and all sorts, which would be creepy, if not the fact Ed had given his first show, and it was a show stopper.

Nobody even cared when Tommy Jones came on to sing, still to enchanted with Ed, and Oswald was not ashamed to secretly admit, he too was still focused on Ed.

Notes:

Song: You Don't Own Me - Lesley Gore (Or, Saygrace)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8SeRU_ZPDkE
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cTpvirQ-hPA

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