#maybe i should listen to more sinatra he was her favorite and i do like his songs | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

stitch1830 · 3 years

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Joy keeps yelling at me to update this story, so here I am. Updating.

Here is the original plus add ons, and Here is where you can read it on ao3 (eventually, still uploading chapters lmao). This is a long chapter, my apologies.

......

First Date

“All right, ready to go?”

Toph muttered and grumbled obscenities under her breath in the passenger seat, and Aang just chuckled as he started the car up and drove off to their first date destination.

After sitting in silence for a few minutes, Toph finally spoke. “Where are we going?”

“A special breakfast awaits us.”

“You sure you’re not just gonna kidnap and kill me, Twinkles?”

“I mean, let’s see where the day takes us, don’t you think?”

Despite her sleep-deprived state, Toph couldn’t help but laugh. Aang seemed to have that effect on her.

When they arrived at their destination, Aang quickly hopped out of the car to meet Toph outside her door because he was giddy with excitement. Toph raised an eyebrow at her potential kidnapper. “You’re awfully excited for some breakfast food.”

“What, are you telling me that you’re not a fan of,” he paused for dramatic effect, “breakfast food??”

“I am, but unless I’ve stayed up all night, I’d rather not get up at seven to eat,” she groaned.

“Not to worry, date buddy,” Aang began as he wrapped an arm around Toph’s shoulder. “This food will not only wake up your taste buds, but it will fill you with all the love and happiness you’ll need to continue on with the day!”

Toph sighed, “You really are a morning person, aren’t ya.”

“Oh, yeah. If that wasn’t clear earlier, I am most definitely a morning person.”

“Charming.”

Aang continued to grin like a 3rd grade schoolboy and led Toph inside the establishment.

When they settled in their seats, Toph leaned across the table and asked, “Alright Twinkletoes, how are their eggs and bacon here?”

Aang hummed, “Eggs are good, can’t say I know what the bacon is like. I’m a vegetarian.”

Toph’s mouth was agape. “What?”

The man chuckled. “Is that a problem?”

“I mean I’m on a date with a fuckin’ plant eater!” She practically yelled at him, but her tone was facetious and the smile that played across her lips told Aang that she only pretended to care.

“Don’t worry about food though, Toph. I’ve got it all planned out.”

And he did. At the crack of dawn, Aang called the restaurant owner to relay his brilliant breakfast sampler idea.

He also made a few other calls, but those date activities were for later.

An amused but skeptical look graced Toph’s face, and it didn’t leave until the food was presented in front of them.

“Okay,” Aang began to explain. “We’ve got lots of options to sample in front of us, all meat free sad to say for you, but all food items are absolutely delicious and have the owner’s honor on them.”

Toph laughed. “What does that even mean, Twinkletoes?”

“Uh, just that he vouches for the food!”

She let out a sigh. “All right. What should I try first?”

And so they sampled everything on the table, smelling and tasting every item with precision and order. Aang somehow planned out every bite to be better than the last, culminating to the pièce de résistance: Belgian waffles.

Now, that wasn’t to say that the other food was subpar. Far from it. But as far as Toph was concerned, the owner of the establishment knew his way around Belgian waffles and it was the absolute best breakfast food she ever had.

As Toph leaned back in her chair, stuffed, she wondered what else could be on the ‘date list,’ considering they just spent almost 2 hours over indulging themselves with breakfast food. Not to mention the pair had spent the entire day yesterday talking to one another. There wasn’t much else to talk about, and Toph was worried they might lose their momentum for the remainder of the date.

She was wrong.

Their second stop on the date was a music museum. One that carried a collection of songs and instruments from around the world.

“Okay, date spot number two, let’s go!”

“And what’s the plan here?”

“We are gonna be traveling all over the world, Toph!” he exclaimed. “And we’re gonna do it in style.”

All of a sudden, a popular trumpet melody and lick blared around the entire museum (empty museum. Apparently it was closed to all except Toph and Aang).

Because of the oh so mushy and romantic gesture, Toph had to scoff at the song selection. “'Come Fly With Me' by Frank Sinatra?” she teased. “What are you, 80, Twinkletoes?”

“Hey! I’ll have you know that this is a classic and it was my foster father’s favorite song!” he defended. “And, it is the perfect song for this, because we are going to fly.”

“What??”

“Well, not really, but use your imagination will, you?”

So she did.

They walked around the museum, listening to different types of music around the world. Aang made her pay special attention to the different rhythms of the world, and they went back and forth listening attentively for special sounds in the songs. The museum curator, Chong, apparently gave Aang a list of facts and interesting tidbits about the music as well. It certainly added to the experience, even if Aang was just reading what was on the cards. And while they ‘travelled’ to different parts of the building, Aang put on his cheesy Sinatra song and even skipped around the museum to the beat of it.

It was absolutely ridiculous hearing him dance around the museum, but also absolutely endearing.

When they completed their trip around the world, Toph and Aang drove twenty minutes off campus to a small vineyard. Toph raised a skeptical eyebrow toward her date, then asked, “What’s all this about, Twinkletoes?”

She could practically feel his grin from where she stood. “We’ll find out soon! Come on, I think you’ll really like this one.”

“Well if we’re at a vineyard, you’re damn right I’m gonna like it.”

Aang clicked his tongue at her. “Not like that, Toph. Just wait.” He grabbed her hand and led her into the building. Aang led her through the building and suddenly stopped the two of them. His hand squeezed hers, motioning her to reach out in front of her. What Toph found was something that felt like a large, metal tub. She wrinkled her eyebrows and turned the corners of her lips down. “What is this?”

“It’s a tub filled with grapes. We’re gonna crush them.”

“Crush them?” she questioned. “Like, with a grape stomper—”

“—With our feet!”

The woman maintained her skeptical look. “Don’t they have machines for this?”

“Yes, but stomping grapes with your feet gives the winery more control on the seed separating process. They can control the amount of tannins—”

“—Okay too many fancy words, Twinkles.” Toph playfully put a hand up to stop his ramblings and smiled at him. “What are we waiting for? Let’s stomp some grapes!”

So they did.

They stomped, smashed, and crushed grapes with their bare feet as Toph and Aang held onto each other for support. The grapes poked and tickled at their feet, but it was such a fun experience. Toph even challenged Aang to goof around and jump in the vat of grapes to crush them. A silly dare that ended in near failure (Aang almost landed in the crushed grapes and juice on his ass), but all was well and no clothes were stained during the dare. Toph even promised she wouldn’t hold it over his head… Well, not for long at least.

Once they finished their stomping session, they cleaned off their feet and ventured into the restaurant part of the winery for dinner. This time, Aang promised Toph that she could choose her own meal, and she was adamant on getting a plate that served some sort of meat.

“You deprived me of meat all day, Twinkletoes,” she began. “If this was an all-you-can-eat buffet, my plate would be stacked this high with meat.” Her hand went above her head for her meat tower reference, and Aang laughed at the visual aid.

“Hey, you have to admit, those waffles were good though!”

Toph smiled genuinely. “They were.”

They spent the next five minutes going over the menu and choosing their respective meals and drinks.

“Hey, do we get to taste the grapes we just stomped?” she teased. “Hmm,” Aang jokingly pondered. “Maybe in a couple years, but we can buy a bottle right now to remember the experience,” he offered.

“Make it two.”

Dinner was a delight, and so was the company. It seemed that conversation topics were in abundance for the couple, and the only time they were silent was when they ate their meals (which were delicious). Then, it was time to go home.

As they were driving back to Toph’s apartment, Toph’s mind simply wandered back to all the activities and things they accomplished in the last few hours. It was a sensory overload kind of date. Every activity focused on a different sense, and Toph loved every second of it. So much thought and care went into this day, and she only gave the man 6 hours at most to prepare it all. Needless to say, Toph was impressed with Aang.

When the night came to a close and they were preparing to say their goodbyes at Toph’s door, it was only fitting a bit of banter was thrown around.

“Thanks for not kidnapping me.” She grinned.

“I was close near the middle when we went to Peru, but by the time we were in Acapulco Bay, I decided against it.”

“Hey, at least I didn’t nearly stain my entire outfit by taking a swim in freshly squeezed grapes!”

“I take no blame for that you egged me on! And I didn’t fall in, so it’s not as funny.”

“Still, the thought is funny enough.”

Aang chuckled and smiled at Toph. “I suppose.”

A comfortable silence fell between them, and now was the time for sincerity. For the first time in a long time, Toph didn’t want the day to end. She didn’t want the date to end. Toph broke the silence and began by saying, “Aang.”

Aang looked at her. Even though she only made up a nickname for him yesterday, it was weird for her to use his actual name. He stopped talking and looked at her. “This was…” Toph paused to form the right words, and a great big smile grew across her face. “This was the most amazing day ever. Thank you.”

“I’m so glad you liked it, Toph. It was the best day ever for me, too,” he grinned.

“How did you even reserve some of these activities? I mean, the stomping grape shit? C’mon.”

Aang shrugged. “I’ve volunteered at a lot of places around campus. I guess you can say I’ve got the connections.”

“Wow, who would’ve thought being a good samaritan would pay off?”

“Pretty sure Jesus did, Toph,” he teased.

And for that, he received a good punch to the arm.

“Whatever, Twinkles,” she jabbed. “But if that was the first date, can’t imagine what the second date will be like. High expectations, my fancy dancer.”

“Oh, so there will be a second date?”

It was Toph’s turn to shrug. “Well, you said there was more to me, and there seems to be more to you that I would like to find out.”

Aang couldn’t help but smile at Toph. Goodness, she was something else.

“Date number two can be arranged,” he began. “Although it sounds like maybe this is your date to manage.”

“Absolutely not, I already challenged you to outdo yourself,” she smirked.

Aang playfully groaned. “Fine! But… There is one last thing we have to do before date night is considered over.”

Toph raised a skeptical eyebrow at her date. “What else could you possibly have planned for—”

Her sentence was interrupted by his lips. It was just a light peck on her lips, and when he pulled away, Toph immediately dragged him back to her to kiss him. This time, it was longer and harder, and she pulled him just a little too hard, because they stumbled into the apartment door. But they didn’t break apart for a second. The most exhilarating first date culminated into the best first—er—makeout session?

Their little stumble into the door must’ve been interpreted as a knock, though, because suddenly Katara opened the door and the couple nearly fell into her arms.

“What the fuck?! You guys!” Katara exclaimed. She was rather surprised by the scene in front of her, but not completely taken aback. She playfully chastised her friend and yelled, “Quit defiling my roommate, Aang!”

Aang turned beet red, but Toph just cackled at the inconvenience. She straightened herself and called back to Aang as Katara pulled her into their place. “Night night, Twinkles! Bring your A game next week, will ya?”

The door was shut in his face before he could reply.

But Aang was pretty sure he floated back to his car. He was on cloud nine after that kiss, after the most perfect day.

#taang #toph #aang #toph and aang #continuation #writing #aang pulls out all the stops for this date #it's kind of ridiculous that's on me #but I thought it was kinda cute #katara interrupts their makeout session #lmao #ope she don't feel that bad

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say-the-name-sebongie · 3 years

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Stereo Hearts

Synopsis: Silence can drive a person mad which makes radio like some sort of hero. It just takes a while to find the right station to listen to. Pairing: Jihoon x fem!reader Genre: fluff, collegeAU!Jihoon Warnings: noneeee Word Count: 1.6k words a/n: pls pretend spotify doesn't exist yet and yes this was kinda inspired by radio rebel

_____ silently thanked whoever created the radio. She thought that she would go crazy from the silence of the room she was in. The fact that her roommate was always grouchy and complained that she couldn't do anything if there were any "annoying" sounds made it hard for her to study in their shared room. She couldn't complain about it because the free dorm room that came with the scholarship was more than she could as for. So that left her to study in the dorm common room, earphones plugged into her phone and its radio tuned on some old radio station nobody listened to anymore.

Unfortunately for her, the songs that played on the radio these days didn't have any essence. They were either about having sex or were just pure electronic noise if they weren't memes. None of which helped her study. Sure there were some good songs but that only came on the radio every few weeks. So she had no choice but to go back to her routine of ever maddening silence.

On her way to class one day, she saw a poster on the notification board at the school entrance about the launch of the university's first radio station.

"I didn't know the university had its own radio station," she mumbled to herself. The bell rang and she left the poster behind, taking note of the station numbers and promising herself that she would check out the newfound radio station after class. Station 5.26.

That night she calibrated her phone radio until she heard a voice crackling in her earphones.

" -again guys to Station 5.26, University Radio. I have to get out of here to give my shift over to DJ Woozi so here's Fly Me To The Moon by good old Frank Sinatra. Good night!"

Old-timey music wafted into her ears as Frank Sinatra sang. The girl smiled. Now there was some good music. She took her books out of her bag and started going through what she had learned that day.

Studying became a joy more than a job when she listened to University Radio. Her favorite segment was the one hosted by DJ Woozi, who she heard was a student in the university. She had fallen in love with his impeccable taste in music, ranging from hard rock and hip hop to orchestral music and old classics. But that wasn't the only thing she had fallen in love with.

Hearing his voice over the crackly speakers of her phone made her feel better. A day hadn't gone since discovering that radio station that she didn't listen to his segment, Simple Radio, all night. Even if it ended at 3am, she couldn't finish her day without hearing him sign off with his signature "Goodbye guys, and may the simplest things make you smile today."

He was her vitamin. And though she had never even seen him yet, one could say that she had fallen for him.

Which is why she was devastated to hear that the station would be offline for the duration of the coming school break.

Over spring break she could think of nothing but going back to school. Most students wouldn't want their days of vacation to end but _____ was itching for the new term to arrive.

After an eternity, the day classes resumed came. As she sat in the back of her father's car, she could barely hear him talk about how he had gotten an email from the university about new dorm arrangements. Her mind was off in another place, some specific radio booth to be exact. As soon as they stopped at the school gate she hurried out of the car, not even bothering to give her bewildered father a second look.

A bunch of students were crowding the notification board, blocking the entrance. When she got to the front of the crowd she saw that the dorm rooms offered by the university were shuffled, including her dorm room.

To: The Students

Re: Dorm Room Assignments

Dear Beloved Students,

The faculty has come to a decision to rearrange the existing dorm rooms from being separated by gender to a co-ed arrangement. This is to ensure that we make the most of the space that is allotted for the dormitory rooms. Posted below are the said room assignments.

Thank you for your cooperation.

_____ scanned the list until she found her name. Room 17, Building B. Under that was another name equating to the same dorm. Lee Jihoon. From an annoyingly sensitive girl to some strange guy she had never met, her dorm life was never boring.

She dragged her luggage to Building B, hurrying so she could turn on her radio again. Heaving a sigh in front of room number 17, she opened the door to reveal a room with two beds and a boy in front of his laptop on one of the desks that were pushed against the wall. He had brightly colored hair buried under a big pair of headphones, his fingers tapping on the desk as he listened to something on his laptop.

As quietly as she could, _____ snuck into the room. She must have been noisier than she thought because he turned around to face her. His surprisingly handsome features gathering in confusion before they softened into understanding.

"You're _____, right?" he said, his hand slightly hesitating whether it should hold itself out for her to shake or not. The girl smiled and nodded before shaking his hand which he finally decided to stretch out. He smiled, his starry eyes disappearing into half-moons. Maybe this guy was better than her last dormmate.

Over the next few weeks, she and Jihoon became friends. Meeting up outside of class and talking about absolutely anything. _____ was glad to not be in the company of someone who hated listening to music. Blasting music in their dorm room was something they both enjoyed. She and Jihoon even shared the same favorite artists so picking which songs to play was never an issue.

There was something about the boy that felt so familiar as if she had met him before. She couldn't deny the fact that she liked being with him. Not even to herself. Being with him almost made her forget about her favorite radio station.

Almost.

On one early Saturday morning, she was alone in the dorm listening to Station 5.26 yet again when Jihoon came through the door from his part-time job. "Hey." she greeted him, not bothering to remove her earphones or even look up at her roommate.

"What are you listening to?" he asked, walking to her side and peeking at her phone screen. _____ turned her phone slightly to show the boy. He turned to look at her, a surprised look on his face.

"You listen to University Radio too?" Jihoon asked her incredulously. Enthusiastic about finding another common thing between them she started gushing about how she found the radio stations and how much she loved it over all the more mainstream stations.

Her roommate just smiled as she talked, silently taking in everything she said as he put his bag down and sat on his bed. The boy stared at her smiling face and blushing cheeks, hands that moved with every word she said, dainty fingers that pointed to nowhere in particular as she spoke, eyes that shone and sparkled and luscious pink lips that he just wanted to-

The boy pinched himself out of his daydream. He couldn't be crushing on his roommate right now.

It didn't take long for her to start talking about Simple Radio and DJ Woozi. Jihoon's eyes lit up when she mentioned it. _____ spilled everything she had kept to herself, from her love for his taste in music to her embarrassing crush on him. It all came spilling out. She felt as if she could trust Jihoon with them. As her secrets came to the light, the boy's eyes became wider and wider.

"Hey, you know I work for the university radio station, you wanna come along to my shift tonight?" he offered her. His roommate immediately agreed, wrapping her arms around his neck and thanking him again and again. His cheeks burned, a reddish tint left on them when she let go.

That night they got ready to go out. _____ could hardly believe her luck. It was almost 9pm, the time for Simple Radio to come on. That meant that when she got to the studio, her idol would be there. And she could finally meet him!

The studio was a dimly lit but cozy place. It was filled to the brim with CDs and records. Several speakers hung from the ceiling and stood at every corner. An empty booth stood in the middle of the floor. Jihoon put down his bag and walked to it, fiddling with some buttons and levers. _____ walked around to inspect the shelves. She found old CDs of famous singers and unknown rock bands. It fascinated her that so much music could be contained in one place.

A crackling came from the speakers, then a voice.

"Hey guys welcome back to Station 5.26 University Radio, I'm your nighttime companion DJ Woozi and this is Simple Radio."

_____'s eyes widened. She looked at her watch. 9:00pm, it said. The girl hurried back towards the booth, expecting to see DJ Woozi. But when she got there it was only Jihoon, headphones on his ears. She watched him, confused as to why he was inside. His gaze met hers through the glass.

"I'm here today in the booth with a person that's very special to me standing outside, watching me. She doesn't know that I'm the DJ Woozi she wanted to meet so bad,"

_____'s mouth gaped open.

"Nor does she know that I like her."

Jihoon smiled at her through the glass, mouth still near the microphone.

"And I hope that my confession today will blossom into something more."

#seventeen #caratwritersclub #svt #seventeen scenarios #seventeen oneshots #seventeen imagines #lee jihoon #jihoon #woozi #woozi imagines #woozi oneshots #woozi scenarios #i dont think i've watched radio rebel?#but i saw those memes and got curious what it was about #then boom this fic was born

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terrm9 · 3 years

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Cieli di Toscana

Words count: 1 600

Author’s note: I love Italy and Italian language, I miss hearing it, I miss eating gelato and the sea and I like Bocelli. That’s it, that’s all you need to know to understand this fluffy useless piece. Also, I tried to translate that one line the best I can, but my Italian is mediocre at best, so if someone from Italy sees it - please, feel free to correct my translation and don’t hate me if I got it absolutely wrong.

Takes place some weeks after the OHSY Finale.

It was raining heavily as Chiara stepped into Ethan’s car, making her sigh.

“This is absolutely terrible weather for a road trip,” she rolled her eyes dramatically, earning an honest chuckle from Ethan.

They weren’t going on a road trip. They were invited to attend a conference in New York and as much as Ethan hated those, the vision of three whole days with Chiara, out of reach of the chaos that’s been erupting in Boston ever since Edenbrook’s closing and its subsequent grand re-opening, was enough for him to make a decision to go.

The excruciating rate of their lives in those past few months has also been reason why Ethan decided to drive for four hours to New York. Four hours on their way back and another four on their way back, eight full hours of the two of them being next to each other without anyone else’s presence, with nothing better to do than to simply be together. Hell, even if Chiara decided to just sleep the whole time, those eight hours of her peaceful sleep would be worth the time spent in a car.

“Okay, if you don’t want to start with my playlist,” Chiara waved indefinitely with her phone in the hand, “you better have something else than an audio book to listen to.”

To be absolutely honest, Ethan wouldn’t mind listening to her playlist if that would serve her best, however he gestured towards the dashboard on Chiara’s side of a car.

“There should be some old CD’s in there.”

Opening a storage space of the dashboard, Chiara raised her eyebrow at him and exclaimed: “Some old what? Have you ever heard of the possibility of connecting your phone to the radio?”

Ethan resisted his urge to pinch the bridge of his nose as he was in the middle of overtaking a truck. He knew what was coming and that he didn’t dispose of any power that could stop it.

“I remember the times when the only way to listen to something of your choice in a car was to use a CD. I said they were old.”

Chiara rolled her eyes, not even trying to hide the smirk that found its way onto her face. Of course he would remember that.

“Remind me again, which dinosaur was your favorite? You know, since you were lucky enough to live among them.”

“This joke is getting old.”

He regretted the words the moment they left his mouth, knowing that they would backfire terribly.

“Yes, and so are you,” Chiara replied without missing a beat, her triumphant grin so wide Ethan was sure her cheeks hurt.

She grabbed the first CD, disapprovingly muttering under her breath.

“Vivaldi, Sinatra, Schoenberg, another Sinatra, Bocelli? I know this one,” she turned to him with Italian tenor’s album in her hand.

Ethan glanced at her quickly and nodded, encouraging her to develop her statement.

“My mom loves Bocelli, like really loves, loves. I remember when this particular album came out, I was maybe eight or nine at the time and my mom would listen to it on repeat, all day for two solid weeks,” she chuckled to herself at the memory and decided to put the CD into the radio, letting herself get lost in the memories of her childhood. “My dad was going crazy, always shutting himself in his study to listen to Queen or David Bowie. I would usually follow him and when I asked him why he didn’t tell her to turn it off, he’d just smile, shrug and say something about the music making my mom happy.”

Chiara listened to the first track, the melody all too familiar despite not hearing it for at least fifteen years. It sounded like her parents and home and love. The unconditional love her father always held for her mother, the one that grossed her out when she was a kid and caused her to have unfulfillable expectations from boys when she was a teenager.

She always dreamt of meeting a man that would love her that way, the man that would listen to the music he hated and she loved just because it would make her happy.

Shaking her head slightly to get herself out of the dangerous waters of her mind, the waters of nostalgy, the waters of infinite sadness she felt when thinking about her dad and her brother and how they would never get to decide if Ethan deserved their precious Chia, their light, she cleared her throat and read the title written on the plastic cover of the CD.

“Cieli di Toscana. Do you know what that means?” she turned to Ethan, thankful that the traffic kept him from noticing how lost she’s been for the last few minutes.

"Skies of Tuscany," Ethan replied, not tearing his gaze of the road.

Chiara smiled to herself, her mind taking her back to all those documentaries she's seen about that part of Italy.

"They must be bewitching. Skies of Tuscany, I mean," she leaned further into her seat, the soft melody of second song making it easier to just imagine being there, far away from struggles Boston had in store for her. "Have you ever been to Tuscany?"

Ethan nodded, his sharp gaze melting slightly as his focus has been divided between driving and reminiscing his time in Europe.

"Once. I've been attending a conference with Naveen in Florence. I hardly had any spare time for sightseeing and yet the city managed to render me speechless as I walked its narrow streets."

Despite his efforts to find a better word for the city, all he could think about, back then in Florence, was how romantic its streets were. He could still remember how his whole body both loved and hated the atmosphere and how, when he surly muttered that it was city made for couples, Naveen would laugh and say: „If you are clever enough not to repeat my mistakes, you will come back with a woman of your life one day and belong to those scandalous couples.“

Another memory flashed in his mind, too bright and fresh for his liking. The one where, laying on the thick fabric of hazmat suit that protected his chest, tears streaming down her cheeks slowly, Chiara admitted that she regretted not travelling more while she could.

„I’ll take you there, when this chaos settles down and we’re allowed to take some time off. I’ll take you to Tuscany then,“ he said softly, quietly, pretending to concentrate on the road, which must have looked absolutely ridiculous as the highway was currently deserted. He hoped Chiara didn’t notice how flushed the back of his neck suddenly became.

She didn’t.

Chiara was biting her cheek, staring back and forth at Ethan and the road. Her own cheeks were colored in a bright pink color, the sincerity of Ethan’s words making her weak.

It wasn’t only the fact that he remembered about her dream of visiting Italy. It wasn’t even about the way he told her, that he would take her. It was the fact that planning his future with her came so naturally to him at this point, he didn’t even need to think about it.

Lost in her thoughts once again, Chiara didn’t notice how Ethan’s eyes widened few seconds into fourth song when the recognition hit him.

It was the song he liked the most, the song that he would listen quite often to back in the days when this album kept him company on the roads.

It was the song that, just like the city of Florence, used to make that small, almost negligible part of him wish that he had someone to share it with.

With the rain falling heavily on the windshield, Chiara couldn’t hear Ethan’s almost unaudible singing. She could’ve easily miss it, if she didn’t notice his lips moving.

„Are you singing?“ she asked, absoltutely shocked. She caught him humming various melodies sometimes, but never in her whole life would she believe to see Ethan Ramsey sing.

‚Scusi se mi innamorai in un istante di lei per

l'aria serena che ha.‘

„Absolutely not,“ he shook his head, the wave of heat on his neck becoming almost unbearable. „I am reciting the lyrics, at best.“

How cute, Chiara thought.

However, she didn’t want to ruin the moment and so instead of teasing him mercilessly, she asked: „What does it say? The part that you absolutely weren‘t singing.“

„Excuse me if I, in an instant, fall in love with her for the air of serenity she has. Very freely translated.“

„How do you know the lyrics so well?“

„I like the song.“

„Sure, liking the song is one thing, but knowing – and singing – the lyrics is another. Especially when the lyrics is as soft as this one. Is the song special to you?“

She tried to ask it as casually as she could, as if she was simply curious, when really, there was a hint of jealousy blooming in her chest.

Was the song special to him? Did he use to recite it to his first girlfriend trying to impress her?

The car stopped at the red light, giving Ethan a chance to finally look at the woman next to him fully.

„It is now,“ he nodded, smiling softly as he caressed her cheek with his thumb.

The expecting and so vulnerable green eyes staring back at him made his heart flutter. At this point, it was useless to pretened that he wasn’t utterly and terribly sappy when it came to her. Taking a deep breath, just before the red light turned to green, he whispered.

„The name of the song is Chiara.“

#open heart #open heart choices #open heart fanfiction #ethan ramsey #ethan ramsey x mc #ohsy

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imgoingtocrash · 3 years

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Made of Iron, Born of Fire: The Fanmix

by @imgoingtocrash

Listen on Spotify and 8tracks

Read the series on Ao3

AKA: A labor of love for @savvysass’s birthday!!!!

What can I say that hasn’t already been said because we’re both incredibly sappy people in our Author’s Notes? Writing this series with you has brought me so much joy in the last two years, and I never could have hit over 100k words without you. Here’s to whatever we write next in the series...and all of the WIPs we’re working on right now...and only god knows what’s next for us personally and professionally...and most importantly, to you on your Birthday. Thank you for being such a good friend, in both fandom and outside of it. I’m so, so thankful to know you and love you. 🥰

Director’s Cut Below, because we all know I love talking about this series, and yes, that does extend to why I picked these songs. (And also maybe because these song choices only make sense in my brain and hopefully Savannah’s?? Who knows! Feel free to ask questions if you want but let’s be honest this series and fanmix are most importantly for us, because we love the series so dang much.)

My Wildest Dreams by Ron Pope

I spoke in riddles and in rhymes, but my time with you has taught me to simplify, you’re not quite what I pictured you would be, you’re better than my wildest dreams.

We’ve talked about this one before, and I’LL TALK ABOUT IT AGAIN!!!! Ron Pope is so good imo, and this song wowowow the father-child feels, but especially with Tony and newborn Peter a la A Foreign Feeling and A First Time For Everything.

Big & Scared by Raleigh Ritchie

I want to be better for you, let me do that now, you’re my favorite human, so you should be prepared, I’ll help you get through it, when you’re big and scared

We’ve mentioned Tony’s thoughts about legacy multiple times by now, and I think this song really represents Tony looking forward to the person Peter could be become and that “breaking the cycle” mentality of supporting Peter even when he’s not a perfect father.

Legacy of Sadness by Ron Pope

irrational as it may seem I guess I’m sorry, even though I know that none of it’s my fault, it is easier for me to count my blessings, than to cry for every single thing we’ve lost

I have 0 shame putting these two songs by Ron Pope almost back to back because they’re the opening and closing of an album dedicated to his child like...it’s so perfect for Tony and this theme of reflection on who he is and who Peter will become/is becoming and all that entails.

this is me trying by Taylor Swift

They told me all of my cages were mental, so I got wasted like all my potential, and my words shoot to kill when I'm mad, I have a lot of regrets about that

I wrote something...very sad but also soft recently??? and this is for That it’s about pre-CW Pepperony being separated and the road to them trying to come back together including Tony working on himself and I love it!!! It hurts really good!!! This whole song is perfect for it and I can’t wait until people get to read it.

Be Good When I’m Gone by Four Year Strong

I'm sorry I can't stop to listen, but I've got so much to do and I've got some place to be, the house looks like the aftermath of a hurricane, I hope it stays that way

Tony being a busy parent but doing his best to make time for Peter in his life and making that time count has been something super important to illustrate to us, especially the transition from being a CEO to being a superhero and how that changes how Peter sees Tony’s absence over time.

I Won’t Back Down by Johnnyswim, Drew Holcomb & The Neighbors, and Penny and Sparrow

Tony puts on the original version by Tom Petty in Home Is Where The Heart Is, but I think this cover has a very slow, emotional undertone that’s really great too. The interludes, if you didn’t catch it, have all been featured in a fic previously.

Let It Matter by Johnnyswim

So if it matters let it matter, if your heart's breaking let it ache, catch those pieces as they scatter, know your hurt is not in vain

Pepper in Never Tell Me The Odds ALL DAYYYYY. She’s the emotional rock of that fic (and of our Ironfam TBH) and it’s all because she allows herself to feel her feelings and encourages the Stark boys to do so as well.

Simmer - Acoustic by Hayley Williams

And if my child, needed protection, from a fucker like that man, I’d sooner gut him, cause nothing cuts like a mother

Post-Home Is Where The Heart Is...y’all know Pepper’s not that mad about what happened to Obie. Also just Pepper when someone hurts her family?? I always write it as her sort of putting all of her emotion into something she can control and doing it well, so, this song is all about that.

Tightrope by Nia Hendricks

one step after another, keep holding on to each other, don’t look back, move on and let go, that’s how you walk on a tightrope

Pepperony trying to navigate their relationship and the insanity of superhero stuff and also co-parenting. It’s all excellent, I love them so much, I enjoy writing it so much!!!!

Dancing With Your Ghost by Sasha Sloan

Never got the chance, to say a last goodbye, I gotta move on, but it hurts to try, how do I love, how do I love again?

This song is tilted towards romance, but if you’ll remember, we’re a Pro-Tony Survives Endgame AU series, so it’s not about THAT...but well...Infinity War sure will hit something fierce for certain non-romantic relationships in this series, huh?

The Bones by Maren Morris

Call it dumb luck, but baby, you and I, can't even mess it up, although we both try, no, it don't always go the way we planned it, but the wolves came and went and we're still standing

Post-Endgame Ironfam!!! Tony and Pepper married with their kids, their family and HAPPY...THIS IS WHY WE DO ALL OF THE ANGST...FOR A FAMILY...WE LOVE THEM

Carry on Wayward Son by Kansas

Considered Pepper and Peter’s ‘song’, as it’s referenced multiple times in the series, and was one of the bigger solidifying moments of their mother-son relationship as a whole.

Mundane by Hardcastle

And I’ve been sinking into silence, dwelling on my thoughts, and in these months, I haven’t felt that most conversations have left me anything but blue

Peter’s selective mutism was something very special to us when we originally had the idea, and making sure we talk about it and utilize it in the right way is something we’re still working on, particularly with the Therapy Fic we’re brainstorming atm.

survivin’ (One Eyed Jack’s Session) by Bastille

What can I say? I'm survivin', crawling out these sheets to see another day, what can I say? I'm survivin', and I'm gonna be fine, I'm gonna be fine, I think I'll be fine

Spoiler Alert: Peter’s not fine, like, a decent amount of the time. But he’s sure trying, and we love him for that.

Jacob from the Bible by Jake Wesley Rogers

Mama, don't worry, it took me years, to say I'm sorry, to see your tears, Mama, forgive me, I grew up too fast, but it's not on you, it's in the past

Mostly part of Peter growing up to become a hero and realizing what his parents--particularly Pepper--have gone through for him to become the person he is today, but that sometimes he still doesn’t feel like he’s making them proud enough.

Compassion Is a German Word by To Kill A King

Don't be so arrogant, you ain't no different to anyone I've met, we're all the heroes in our own film, or maybe the villain in someone else's

Spider-Man being an excellent superhero boi!!! Being kind and good!!! We love it!! Also, I put a TKAK song on...a LOT of my playlists, because I think they’re great.

brutal by Olivia Rodrigo

And I'm so sick of seventeen, where's my fucking teenage dream?, if someone tells me one more time, "Enjoy your youth", I'm gonna cry

I mean...this song is such a Teenage Mood...I had to do it...

In The Wee Small Hours Of The Morning by Frank Sinatra

So, I had this cute little scene in my head that went with this song for SO LONG but there wasn’t really anything for it to fit into so...yeah that’s part 2 of Savannah’s Birthday Gift, a little soft Baby Peter drabble. Fluffy Goop from top to bottom. That can be read here.

Home by Phillip Phillips

Just know you're not alone, 'Cause I'm gonna make this place your home

...I know it’s not original, okay? It’s found family, it’s great, I don’t care!

Comes and Goes (In Waves) by Greg Laswell

And this part was for her, and this part was for her, this part was for her, does she remember?

This song is good family angst in general BUT these specific lyrics made me think of Mary and that they never forget her in their lives despite the other stuff going on (because we refuse to let them).

I Have Made Mistakes by The Oh Hellos

I have made mistakes, I continue to make them, the promises I've made, I continue to break them, and all the doubts I've faced, I continue to face them, but nothing is a waste if you learn from it

No one in the Ironfam is perfect, but they all do their best to try and grow even when they’re scared they’ll never be able to. The ups and downs are all par for the course of this series to us.

Easy Days - Demo by Bastille

Cause I don’t wanna fall back again, back into the easy days, everything was so simple then, little fires burned away

Strife is a part of life, and the family in this fic growing through their loss and struggles and moving ahead as a unit to get to a better place is super central to making the fic what it is...but it’s easy for them to remember the old days before being superheroes and wishing it was simple again.

North by Sleeping At Last

Let the years we’re here be kind, be kind, let our hearts like doors open wide, open wide, settle our bones like wood over time, over time, give us bread, give us salt, give us wine

The way Tony went from feeling so alone to having an entire built family that’s so full of love and everything he never dreamed of...*screams into my pillow* I love this series so much thank you and good night!!!

#made of iron born of fire #irondad #ironfam #fanmix #savvysass #this series just makes me burst with content i can't describe it #also doing the graphics was a fun experiment!!!#mine #mine: marvel

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papermoonloveslucy · 3 years

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TOO MANY HUSBANDS

April 21, 1947

The Gulf Screen Guild Theater present Wesley Ruggles’ Too Many Husbands, which was a 1940 Columbia Pictures release.

Produced and Directed by: Bill Lawrence

Music by: Wibur Hatch

Synopsis ~ Vicky Lowndes (Lucille Ball) loses her first husband, Bill Cardew (Bob Hope), in a boating accident in which he is presumed drowned. The lonely widow is comforted by Bill's best friend and publishing business partner Henry Lowndes (Frank Sinatra). Six months later, she marries him. Six months after that, Bill shows up, after having been stranded on a uninhabited island and then rescued. Vicky has a tough choice to make.

The Screen Guild Theater (aka The Screen Guild Players), was one of the most popular drama anthology series during the Golden Age of Radio. At this point it is being sponsored by Gulf Oil. From its first broadcast in 1939, up to its farewell in 1952, it showcased radio adaptations of popular Hollywood films. Many Hollywood names became part of the show, including Bette Davis, Bing Crosby, Clark Gable, Judy Garland, Frank Sinatra, and many more. The actors’ fees were all donated to the Motion Picture Relief Fund, an organization that provides aid to retired actors. Screen Guild Theater was heard on different radio networks, beginning with CBS from 1939 to 1948, NBC from 1948 to 1950, ABC from 1950 to 1951, and back to CBS until its last episode on June 29, 1952. Throughout its run, a total of 527 episodes were produced.

The radio show brought movies to radio for thirty minutes each Monday evening on CBS. The show aired for 242 programs beginning with “Yankee Doodle Dandy” starring James Cagney and ending with “My Reputation.” In between were all time classics such as “Casablanca” with Humphrey Bogart and Ingrid Bergman, “Sergeant York” with Gary Cooper and “Holiday Inn” with Bing Crosby, Fred Astaire, and Dinah Shore.

The Screen Guild Players previously broadcast an adaptation of “Too Many Husbands” on March 8, 1942 starring Hedy Lamar, Bob Hope, and Bing Crosby. On September 4, 1944 yet another version was aired by the Players, starring Donna Reed, Frank Sinatra, and Bill Goodwin.

Too Many Husbands (1940) was produced and directed by Wesley Ruggles, with a screenplay by Claude Binyon. The film stars Jean Arthur, Fred MacMurray and Melvyn Douglas, and is based on the 1919 play Home and Beauty by W. Somerset Maugham, which was retitled Too Many Husbands when it came to New York. The story is a variation on the 1864 poem Enoch Arden by Alfred, Lord Tennyson. In the UK, the film was released as My Two Husbands. The film was nominated for an Oscar for Sound Recording. Too Many Husbands was remade as a musical, Three for the Show (1955), with Jack Lemmon and Betty Grable.

Two of the film’s background players, Bert Stevens and James Conaty, were later seen in as extras on “I Love Lucy.” Sam McDaniel (brother of Oscar-winner Hattie McDaniel of Gone With the Wind), plays a porter, just as he will do on “I Love Lucy,” becoming the first black actor to have lines on the series. Star Fred MacMurray will appear with Lucille Ball in “Lucy Hunts Uranium” in 1958.

RADIO CAST

Lucille Ball (Vickie) plays the role originated in the film by Jean Arthur. In April 1947, Ball was awaiting the release of two films: Lured and Her Husband’s Affairs.

Bob Hope (Bill) plays the role originated in the film by Fred MacMurray. Hope had just released the film My Favorite Brunette. Hope and Ball would do four films together, staring in 1949 with Sorrowful Jones.

Frank Sinatra (Henry) plays the role originated in the film by Melvyn Douglas. Sinatra had just released the film It Happened in Brooklyn on April 7, 1947. Primarily a singer, this is the only time he acts opposite Lucille Ball.

Truman Bradley (Announcer) was selected by Henry Ford to be the announcer for the “Ford Sunday Evening Hour”. With his distinctive, authoritative voice, he soon became a radio actor as well as a narrator in numerous movies. Bradley was the radio announcer for shows by Red Skelton, Burns and Allen, and Frank Sinatra.

Peter, the Butler is played by an uncredited performer.

‘TOO MANY’ TRIVIA!

The title is easily confused with the title of Lucille Ball’s radio series “My Favorite Husband,” and her films Too Many Girls, and Her Husband’s Affairs.

Lucille Ball also appeared with Screen Guild Players in “Tight Shoes” (April 12, 1942), “Nothing But the Truth” (May 3, 1943), and “A Night To Remember” (May 1, 1944).

From late 1942 to July 1947 Lady Esther Cosmetics sponsored the show which had been previously sponsored by Gulf Oil. It was first known as the “Lady Esther Presents the Screen Guild Players” and then became "The Lady Esther Screen Guild Theater.”

As is his penchant, Hope ad libs during the script. While hugging Vickie upon his return from the ‘dead’, he says “Let’s just stay like this till ‘Take it or Leave It’ comes on the air!” “Take It or Leave It” was a radio quiz show, which ran from April 1940 to July 1947 on CBS. It switched to NBC in 1947, and in September 1950, the name of the program was changed to “The $64 Question.” Hope often flubs his dialogue, but covers with comedy.

Bill (or maybe it is Bob ad libbing) mentions Dorothy Dix. Author Elizabeth Meriwether Gilmer (1861-1951) was widely known by the pen name Dorothy Dix. As the forerunner of today’s popular advice columnists, Dix was America’s highest paid and most widely read female journalist at the time of her death. Her advice on marriage was syndicated in newspapers around the world with an estimated audience of 60 million readers.

Bill (or maybe it is Bob ad libbing) wonders why Vickie married Henry: “Did you lose a question on “Truth or Consequences?” “Truth or Consequences” was a game show originally hosted on NBC radio by Ralph Edwards (1940–1957), although it also was later seen on television.

Bill (or maybe it is Bob ad libbing) says that the mattress on the bed that he and Henry have to share feels like it has been stuffed with Grape-Nuts. Grape-Nuts is a breakfast cereal developed in 1897 by C. W. Post. Post originally developed the product as a batter that came from the oven as a rigid sheet, which was then broken into pieces and run through a coffee grinder to produce the "nut"-sized kernels.

The first commercial break advertises Lady Esther’s four-purpose face cream. In these live commercials, the spokeswoman in known as Lady Esther, although she was not the actual Esther Cohen that the cosmetics line was named for.

Bob Hope ad-libs about his “Pepsodent contract”. Hope hosted “The Pepsodent Show” from September 1938 to June 1948. The program also featured Jerry Colonna along with Blanche Stewart and Elvia Allman as well as a continuously rotating supporting cast and musicians which included Desi Arnaz and his orchestra.

Henry tells Bill he should leave and join the Foreign Legion. Bill replies that he’ll meet him halfway by going to the library and reading Beau Geste. Beau Geste is an adventure novel by P. C. Wren, which details the adventures of three English brothers who enlist separately in the French Foreign Legion following the theft of a valuable jewel from the country house of a relative. Published in 1924, the novel has been adapted for the screen several times: 1926, 1939, and 1966.

Henry asks Bill (Bob) if he can spell “pithecanthropus" and defines it a the missing link between man and ape. Bob (Bill) replies “C.R.O.S.B.Y”! Bing Crosby was a singer that partnered with Hope on dozens of films, particularly their “road” films. In April 1947, Crosby had just appeared in a cameo role in Hope’s newest film, My Favorite Brunette. By the end of 1947, The Road to Rio will be released. Coincidentally, in the 1942 Screen Guild production, Crosby played Henry, the role taken here by Sinatra.

Just before Vickie breaks it to Henry that she’d rather be married to Bill, Henry (or maybe it is Crosby) sings “Time After Time” (1946), a romantic ballad by Sammy Cahn and Jule Styne, written for Sinatra to introduce in the 1947 film It Happened in Brooklyn, which had premiered two weeks earlier. In return, in the very next scene, Bob Hope warbles a few notes of “Thanks for the Memory”, his signature song.

At the end, Lucille Ball thanks the Motion Picture Relief Fund and it’s country house. In 1940, Jean Hersholt, then-president of the Motion Picture Relief Fund, found 48 acres of walnut and orange groves in the southwest end of the San Fernando Valley to build the Motion Picture Country House. The dedication was on September 27, 1942. The Motion Picture Hospital was dedicated on the grounds of the Country House in 1948.

The final commercial, once again delivered by ‘Lady Esther’ is for Lady Esther Bridal Pink Face Powder.

‘TOO MANY’ CLOSING CREDITS

The announcer (Truman Bradley) promotes next week’s program, Stork Bites Man, starring Jackie Cooper, Anita Louise, and Gus Schilling.

Stork Bites Man was a United Artists film that would not be released until June 1947. It also starred Cooper and Schilling.

Columbia Pictures is credited as the producer of The Guilt of Janet Ames, starring Rosalind Russell and Melvyn Douglas. Coincidentally, Douglas starred in the film version of Too Many Husbands.

The music was arranged and conducted by Wilbur Hatch, who also did the same for “My Favorite Husband” and “I Love Lucy.”

Lucille Ball appeared courtesy of Metro Goldwyn Mayer, producers of The Sea of Grass starring Spencer Tracy, Katharine Hepburn, and Robert Walker.

Bob Hope appears through the courtesy of Pepsodent, and can currently be seen in the Paramount picture, My Favorite Brunette.

Frank Sinatra appears through the courtesy of Old Gold cigarettes, and can currently be seen in the MGM musical It Happened in Brooklyn, also starring Katharyn Grayson, Peter Walker, and Jimmy Durante.

The announcer reminds listeners that part of the country goes on Daylight Saving Time, and that the show will be heard one hour earlier.

#Too Many Husbands #Lucille Ball #Bob Hope #Frank Sinatra #Radio #Screen Guild Players #1947 #Lady Esther #Wilbur Hatch #Dorothy Dix #Truth or Consequences #Pepsodent #Time After Time #Bing Crosby #Beau Geste #Grape-Nuts #Take It Or Leave It

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birdy-bat-writes · 4 years

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What kind of music do you think the batboys listen to?

Oooh!

Bruce: Oldies, Jazz, Classic Rock, and the Beatles. I feel like depending on the day he'd listen to one of those. He likes hearing old records play on his dad's record player. Some days when he misses one of his kids, he'll play some music he listened to with them. Can you imagine him missing Dick and playing Abba? And Alfred just knows its one of those days and he calls Dick over to visit. Bruce also heard Alfred play "Help" by the Beatles in the kitchen and decided to play it whenever Alfred was around just because he knew Alfred liked it. And then he started to love the Beatles.

Dick: 80's, Pop, Classic Rock, alternative, Dubstep. And on the occasion Kpop. Why can I just see him learning the dance to an Itzy song??? Dick would sing along to the music playing in the kitchen when Alfred would cook and he noticed that Abba was Dick's favorite. Imagine Dick picking Tim or Damian up from school in his convertible, he rolls the window down and its just “You can danceeeee, You can jiii-iiiiveeeee!”

Jason: Hard rock, some swing music, classic rock, so much Frank Sinatra. The music he listens to on a day-to-day basis is The Eagles, Bon Jovi, I feel like he’d ever listen to some alternative. Arctic Monkeys and The 1975. I can picture after a long day he’d flop on his bed and play some quiet swing music because it reminds him of the kind lady who would be nice to him when he was on the streets, and she always had swing music playing from her windows. Maybe even Jazz from the days where he would read in the living room of Wayne Manor and Bruce would sit there with his records playing. it calms him.

Tim: So much alternative, Michael Jackson, Soft rock, classic oldies like Whitney Houston and Stevie Wonder. Probably a bit of Lo-fi as well. He and Jason would be Motown nerds. Bruce would just be proud. He listens to soft 80′s radio in the Batcave while working on cases and anyone who walks in wants to question, but they don't because its really a jam. Tim’s just bobbing his head to “I Just Called to Say I Love You” and everyone else is just tapping their feet and swaying wordlessly.

Damian: He would listen to a bit of everything. He’d like classical music but get bored of it and find more interest in violin or orchestral covers of pop songs. That makes him transition into acoustic pop and Lo-fi. He likes a bit of everything since his music taste were unintentionally influenced by his brothers, father and Alfred. I can also see Damian picking up on the different song that his family listen to when they are sad or happy and using that to figure out if he should extend a kind gesture or not. Because at times he can be emotionally mute, he mirrors his family’s behavior and plays the same songs when he’s feeling sad or happy. He finds that its an effective coping mechanism and it tells his family what hes feeling when he cant verbally say it.

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sinceileftyoublog · 3 years

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Gretchen Lieberum Interview: Eerie Nostalgia

BY JORDAN MAINZER

Singer-songwriter Gretchen Lieberum wanted to make an album of standards while totally subverting your preconception of what that sounded like. With This May Only Be A Dream, which came out Friday, she succeeds, in both capturing the magic of old recordings and performance styles while talking full advantage of the time-bending quality of modern production. In BAFTA-winning composer Keefus Ciancia, Lieberum picked the perfect partner. After singing over piano, she sent what were basically demos to Ciancia, who removed the piano, deconstructing and reconstructing the songs to then be rerecorded with session musicians. The result shares the ambition of something like Julia Holter’s version of “Hello Stranger” but over a whole album. Album opener “Come Rain or Come Shine”, which has been recorded by Ray Charles, Billie Holliday, and Chet Baker, combines lurking, fluttering woodwinds with reverb-laden vocals and chaotic orchestration. On “Blue Skies”, a song that you expect to build up with drums, strings, and chorus, like in a climax scene in a Hollywood epic, the strings cut in and out, toying with your perception. While there are some songs that sound familiar, like the Fiona Apple-esque percussive clatter of “Angel Eyes” or the solemn, quiet closer “While We’re Young”, the back-and-forth between subtlety and Technicolor orchestration keeps you on your toes.

A couple months ago, I spoke with Lieberum from her home in L.A. and Ciancia from his in France about how the album was constructed, their approach to recording, and how they would describe the music. Read our conversation below, edited for length and clarity.

Since I Left You: So this seriously just started with you singing over piano, Gretchen?

Gretchen Lieberum: I have a friend who has a studio in his house. I wanted to do an album of standards for years and years. It’s just an idea I’ve had I couldn’t let go of. I wanted to do an album of these songs but interpreted in an unusual way, not acoustic bass, drums, piano, and that’s it. I’ve known Keefus for years, and he was the only guy I wanted for the job. So I waited years and years, and finally, the timing was right to start working on it. I’d just record vocals with my friend Peter at his studio playing piano, which is great because I do much better in low pressure situations. If I’m in a big fancy studio, I’m like, “Oh god, how much is this costing?” It’s hard for me to be emotional and in the moment. I was just able to go to my friend’s house and record any song that popped into my head or I was feeling. I would send them to Keefus, and he would pick his faves. I think I recorded maybe 25 songs in all, and we ended up with 10.

Keefus Ciancia: The most important part is what Gretchen said--the comfort zone that Gretchen was in where she could get to the feel and heart of the song, comfortably with Peter. He’s an amazing piano player, and they had such a good rhythm that everything I was getting made it so that it was just real. It felt right. That was always fun to be able to open these and also have total separation, pick out Peter’s stuff and start reimagining things, erasing the chords. Gretchen was on fire! She was knocking them out. A lot of great pieces I’ve never heard, too, which I really enjoyed. Maybe that was good for me, too, to not know those standards as well so I wasn’t trapped in the chords. Maybe my lameness of being a hack--I wanted to be a jazz player but I couldn’t do it! [laughs]

GL: That’s what’s so great. I didn’t want a jazz guy to produce it. That’s what ended up happening--he would choose his own chords underneath the melodies that were really interesting and cool.

SILY: Did you know he was gonna remove the piano?

GL: Oh yeah. I know Keefus’s aesthetic and how he works, so I was like, “I’m gonna send you this, have fun, go to town.” I sent him literally zero notes and never knew what I was gonna get back. There’d be a song that’s a stark ballad that would come back with a full orchestra, some of the tempo sped up, some of it slowed down. Different lines chopped up into different places. Quite a few times, I’d take the song and rerecord the vocal to go with what Keefus did, to emotionally match what he created. Sometimes not--the song “Come Rain or Come Shine” was one take I did at Peter’s house and didn’t change at all.

SILY: How did you whittle down from the initial list of 25 songs for this record?

GL: This project was so much about emotion and love and love of these songs. What songs I loved singing and what was inspiring me. I grew up in a house where jazz was constantly playing. My father wasn’t a musician but a huge fan. It was a big part of my life growing up. I was in the jazz band as a singer in high school. These are songs I’ve known my whole life. There were some that I tried that I didn’t feel that I didn’t send to Keefus.

There are a few that aren’t jazz standards, too. We do a Beach Boys song, which is also a song that I love.

SILY: They’re standards nonetheless, independent of genre.

GL: Yes.

SILY: What made you want to release “Come Rain or Come Shine” as the first single and open with it?

GL: It’s just one of my favorites. One of the ones I’m most proud of. It’s indicative of the project as a whole. It’s a standard I approach traditionally from how I’m singing it, but there are these surreal flourishes around it. Also, I mean, what an intro, that [screams] “Ahhh!”

KC: I agree.

SILY: What was the process of getting the session musicians in after Keefus worked on the songs?

KC: Basically, it was kind of known all the way through that once we got these bodies we’d get some more breath and air on it to get more of the quality Gretchen and I love from old 50′s recordings but also taking it somewhere new. That studio is now closed--Vox Studios--such an amazing place that was perfect for that record. It was the first commercial studio in Hollywood through Paramount.

GL: It was the longest continuously running studio in the world, I read.

KC: Someone will move in, I’m sure. Woody [Jackson], who owns it, there was no rebuilding the rooms because they sounded so good from how they were built in the 40′s. The room is amazing, and his engineer Michael Harris is incredible. He was the first one to get his ears on this stuff besides Gretchen and I. To be able to put it in a room, listen through a different system, warm things up for his outboard gear. We had some of our favorite musicians. It wasn’t a ton of folks, but the dream scenario where we had 5 days and a rolling, “Get moving”. The next day, Gretchen sings, then some more people come in.

GL: Jay Bellerose is so damn good. So tasty. He just goes in and does his thing.

KC: His heart breathes all the old jazz but he’s also someone who likes to keep pushing things. I think that was the trick with us--we always want to hear something new. Of course, there are some things that sound great that you should do again, but we all listen to music so much you just want something new. Sometimes, you have to make it yourself.

SILY: The album does sound new even though it has older reference points, both the songs themselves and aesthetically. A lot of older jazz tunes with woodwinds and fluttery strings have something eerie and disorienting about them. Thinking about a track like “Blue Skies”, when the sound cuts in and out. That’s not something you hear on traditional “standards” records. To what extent were you trying to achieve that eerie nostalgia?

GL: I think “eerie nostalgia”’s just our M.O., you know? [laughs]

KC: I like that, eerie nostalgia.

GL: I don’t even think we try.

SILY: “For All We Know” starts out with quiet plucks of string but ends up a swinging jazz tune, the moment on here that’s the most “traditional.”

GL: Even on that one, it’s funny because our friend David Ralicke, who plays the horns on everything--he’s incredible and has such great taste. But this one, I was like “Keefus, I don’t know.” Keefus was like, “It’s gotta get big. It’s gotta be a party at the end, an explosion!” Ralicke, he sent a bunch of horns. When he sent them in, they were very bright and intense, and I was like, “Oh god, this is a little weird!” Keefus was like, “Don’t worry, I’m gonna make it weird and demented.” It is traditional, but something about the way it’s mixed or the added affects give it that eeriness, which I love.

One thing Keefus often did that was really surprising to me was there were songs I sent as straight ballads, like this one. If you listen to the lyrics, the first half is like, “Who knows what’s gonna happen? Life is so uncertain.” But then it’s like, “Who cares? Tomorrow may never come.” And it’s a celebration. It’s one of my favorite songs now after being most uncertain about it at first. Keefus, you sent me Frank Sinatra, Jr. singing “Black Knight” [as a reference]. It starts as a ballad and explodes, an emotional outburst.

SILY: Is there any other specific track on here you think is a standout?

KC: Each one is such a little episode, that even that was tricky to put in order for the record. It almost would have been interesting to go old school and release 45s, make each one of them a single and B-side. When you hear “Wild Is The Wind”, on my radio, I would make that a single. It’s totally different than the others. It’s not this powerhouse. But if I bought it as a single, I would think it’s a really beautiful single. Same with “Who Knows Where The Time Goes”. That’s on Keefus & Gretchen radio. [laughs]

GL: “Who Knows Where The Time Goes” was the very first song Keefus did. It was the only vocal recorded at my house, with a different friend in my dining room, with a little laptop mic set up. We used that vocal. It’s a pretty special one, and genre-defying. “Wild Is The Wind” fits comfortably in the jazz section. Or not--I don’t know. It’s a weird question. One of the things I hate more than anything is when I’m uploading my music and it asks you to pick a category. I don’t know. I hate picking a category. Nothing feels quite right, and it feels like a mixture of all of these things.

KC: Gretchen is a huge jazz fan listening for a long time, but jazz records strayed from her and my tastes as it went along. Jazz records went on a different road and started getting not such a punk rock vibe. It was a classy thing, not so underground. That was one thing we were talking about when finishing the record. We think it should be heard by all age groups and invite them to learn these pieces because they might not have the chance to learn them as often. To pick a genre can really be dangerous for all artists because there are a ton of artists that like a ton of different music and can make a ton of different music and change their records as they go. That was big, too: approaching this apart from being a jazz record and bringing in new listeners. Gretchen and I don’t know exaxctly how this works with the tagging on Spotify, but if you put “jazz” on it, does that mean other people will never listen to it?

GL: I don’t think it is a jazz album. It’s an album of standards, but I wouldn’t call it a jazz album.

KC: I like to call it torched songs instead of torch songs.

SILY: What was the overall approach to the sequencing?

GL: I really pulled my hair out. I was crying myself to sleep at night. It was hard. One thing we ended up doing, which was Keefus’s idea, was he felt like the A-side of the record leaned themselves more to samples and surreal electronic elements. Keefus was like, “Once you get sucked into the album, the vibe is very complementary, and you can take people anywhere.” So after the first 4-5 songs, “Wild is the Wind” comes, which is a stripped down ballad. From then, you’re just on the ride.

SILY: What was the inspiration behind the album title?

GL: I had this idea of taking a line from one of the songs as the album title. I went through all the songs and went through some of my favorite lines. At one point, I thought I was gonna call it “How Blue The Sky” which is from the last song, “While We’re Young.” But then I thought “This May Only Be A Dream” felt really good with the dreaminess of this music and the somewhat surreal journey it takes you on. One thing I’m really proud of about the record is it takes you on an emotional journey from start to finish. I know the kids don’t listen to albums anymore. Peter was one of the people I sent it to, and he said, “I feel like I watched a film listening to this album.” That felt right.

SILY: What’s the story behind the cover art?

GL: Keefus’s daughter Raven [Violet Ciancia-Vincent] is a really talented visual video artist. She’s the one that directed the video for “Come Rain or Come Shine.” We made a video for the song “Don’t Explain”, and that’s just a still from the video. She layers things like a collage, so there’s a video of me with fireworks on top of it. When I was trying to come up with something to make the cover, I took a bunch of stills from the video, and that one jumped out at me, especially with the title, This May Only Be A Dream. I just thought it really worked beautifully together. The font, to me, is a throwback to the Blue Note covers. I know a lot of people do Blue Note covers, so I wanted to do a little nod to it without fully going there.

SILY: Are you planning on doing any shows?

GL: When we do end up playing live again--Keefus, I should probably talk to you about what the hell you think I should do--but some of it would be laptop-tracked songs with live bass or drums on top of it. That’s possible, right, Keefus?

KC: I would dream of a full-on 10-to-12 piece orchestra. For a special show in Los Angeles, and when everything explodes, a special show in New York and Paris. I think you could get the right band, and it’s all completely playable.

GL: Maybe a keyboard player adding samples.

KC: Do you play, Jordan? Gretchen’s looking for band members.

SILY: I don’t.

GL: Show me ya stuff, kid! [laughs]

SILY: What else is next for you?

GL: My husband [filmmaker Jacob Aaron Estes] ended up doing an alternate video for “Don’t Explain” that we’re gonna release that I’m pretty excited about. The other thing that I do--which is a totally other universe--is my Prince cover band with Maya Rudolph. I hope we start playing again. That would be great. I am glad, though, that I had so much time to focus on my own music. As much as I love doing Princess, it’s not totally me. I want to really focus on this for a while.

KC: I’m doing Pringles commericals. [laughs] I’ve been working on a bunch of shows and some records and a new soundtrack for a show [Made For Love]. I’ve made a lot of music during the last year and a half. There’s some fun stuff coming up. I’ll start a new Unloved record when our band is allowed to fly over here.

SILY: Anything you’ve been listening to, watching, or reading that’s caught your attention?

GL: My mind just went utterly blank. [laughs] Utterly. I’ve been reading a lot of weird dystopian future stuff to distract my anxiety about the dystopian future stuff we’re dealing with in real life. Reading it calms my nerves.

KC: I watched the Bee Gees documentary [How Can You Mend a Broken Heart] the other night on HBO. I thought it was beautiful. They just touch those places, when you hear those voices.

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justkindaoverhereobsessing · 4 years

Text

For Once in My Life

Cooking together with wine, music, and only half dressed... life in Paris, reunited at last, isn't half bad.

Friend drabble series part four, for @saraluvstiva!

___________________

“We should do something on Friday night, Ziva,” Tony suggests out of the blue one day.

“Why this Friday specifically? Do we have an anniversary that I have forgotten?” Ziva wants to know. They have a lot of them, because they don’t take anything for granted these days. They like to memorialize the day they met, the day Ziva came home for good, the day Ziva was liberated from Somalia, the day they moved from their old flat to a bigger one. Then, of course, there are the usual excuses to celebrate: birthdays, their wedding anniversary, any and all major holidays—French, American, and Israeli.

Basically, they find it absolutely necessary to honor this second (third, fourth) chance at happiness whenever they can.

“Not that I can think of. It’s just that Tali’s going to be sleeping over at Violette’s house then, and we so rarely get to do things just the two of us.”

“What did you have in mind?”

Their eyes meet, and they share feral grins that make it very clear just what they’re both thinking. They are who they are

What they’re both thinking is sex somewhere other than behind the closed door of their bedroom. Somewhere exciting. Somewhere they can spice it up.

Somewhere like the living room sofa.

___________________

They do exactly as they planned, and it’s glorious.

Afterwards, they lounge lazily on the sofa, tangled comfortably together to avoid falling off, and they talk about nothing important. The pull to have real adult conversation—which honestly just means swearing—is entirely too strong, and for once, they don’t even turn on a movie. They just chat, and hold onto one another, and salute these happy days.

Eventually, Tony’s stomach growls loudly enough that Ziva can feel its vibrations, though, and she laughs. “There is a bear inside of you and he is not happy,” she says in amusement. “Perhaps we should feed him.”

She carefully sits up, thinking idly that they really need a larger sofa. They’re not quite as young or quite as nimble as they used to be.

“I think the bear wants your famous spaghetti,” Tony agrees, trying as always to coax her into cooking his favorite things.

He usually succeeds.

“The bear may have it, if the bear helps. Up you get, Tony.”

“Alright, alright.” With a groan, Tony sits up, but he’s less successful than Ziva at balancing, and he falls to the floor with a yelp.

Ziva, giggling, leaves him there, grabbing an item or two of clothing to put on as she heads for the kitchen.

___________________

By the time they start cooking, they have almost an entire outfit on between them. Tony ends up in his own pants, bare-chested and ready to wield a pasta strainer when necessary. Ziva ends up in Tony’s misbuttoned shirt, bare-legged and with too-long sleeves rolled up to her elbows.

Ziva starts to delegate tasks; Tony is decent at following directions but is, at best, an unimaginative chef with a tendency to spend so much time sampling his projects that he gets distracted and burns them. She sets him chopping up vegetables to begin with. “You’re like a drill sergeant,” he complains teasingly. “All work and no play.”

“I am not certain we should play when you have a knife in hand, Tony,” she replies, smirking. “You are not as proficient as I am.” It’s little more than a taunt, a challenge—she knows exactly how to motivate him.

“We’ll see about that.”

Of course, it hasn’t been five minutes before he gets distracted by the way her breasts look in his shirt and he narrowly avoids cutting his own finger.

Then, snorting, Ziva decides to downgrade his status from sous chef to… waiter. “You cannot be trusted,” she informs him, but she pats his chest in consolation after confiscating the knife. “Maybe you can open some wine for us and put on music while I finish the carrots.”

Tony mutters something under his breath about how he’s not quite as much of a clown as she thinks he is, but he’s hiding a smile, and he kisses her temple before ambling off to choose a bottle. By the time he’s back, Ziva is nearly done with the chopping.

“Ever thought about being a chef?” Tony asks curiously, pulling two wine glasses from the top shelf of a cabinet and opening the wine to be poured. “You’re really good at it.”

“Ah, well, not every hobby is well-suited to be a career, but thank you.” The smile she sends his way is easy, brilliant, relaxed—like all her smiles are these days.

Tony thinks all the time about how dazzlingly Ziva’s sun shines now that the clouds are gone; she’s a brighter light than perhaps anyone else he knows except Tali, who certainly inherited it from Ziva anyway.

He hands her a glass of wine and holds up his own. “Cheers,” he begins, “to wine, and your spaghetti, and jazz, and all the dancing we’re about to do, and most importantly… cheers to you, my brilliant but terrifying wife.” She is, after all, still holding a potential murder weapon.

Ziva laughs and clinks his glass. “Cheers,” she agrees, and after she takes a sip, she sets down the knife and leans in to kiss him.

The kiss tastes like pinot noir and kid-free Friday nights and all the bliss of a normal life.

___________________

By the time the sauce is simmering and the noodles are boiling, Tony and Ziva have had two and a half glasses of wine each, and they’re both in distinctly pleasant moods.

They’ve been listening to Frank Sinatra’s greatest hits, getting increasingly into dancing around the kitchen with each song and each sip of red. Tony sends Ziva into a fit of hysterical laughter when he steals the sauce spoon and uses it as a microphone, not caring at all that he’s splattering bits of tomato all around as he spins and sings.

(They can clean the kitchen later, and besides, they’re very used to messes, raising an enthusiastic six-year-old as they are.)

Tony puts the spoon back in the sauce and snatches Ziva’s hand, spinning her into his chest and initiating a dance that she just can’t say no to. He’s in such a good mood—if she wasn’t already feeling so nice herself, it would be infectious anyway. As it is, she laughs helplessly, feeling hopelessly smitten as they swing dance.

“For once I can say,” Tony sings, “this is mine, you can't take it!” He dips Ziva backwards and her hair almost ends up in the spaghetti. (They might need a bigger kitchen but that couldn’t be of less consequence now.)

“As long as I know I have love we can make it,” Ziva sings back, kissing her husband between lines to distract him so she can tickle his sides and make his dance moves falter with laughter.

He bounces back quickly, though, spinning them faster as they chuckle together. “For once in my life, I’ve got someone,” he sings, louder. “Yeah, for once in my life, I found someone…”

“For once in my life, I’ve got someone who needs me!” They finish together at a forte, ending with a kiss that’s mostly just giggling into each other’s lips.

The neighbors will complain tomorrow about the mildly obnoxious noise, but with bellies full of spaghetti and hearts full of music and love, Tony and Ziva won’t care a bit.

#ncis #ncis fanfiction #tiva #tony dinozzo #ziva david #cynthia writes stuff too #this one's for sara #thank you for your constant support and enthusiasm friend! <3 #enjoy the domestic fluff!#the prompt came from sof #thanks for always throwing ideas at me sof lol #love my friiiiiiends <3 #friend drabble series

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writersmacchiato · 4 years

Text

Reconnected | Todd Anderson

Prompt: Reconnected (we knew each other a long time ago, friends, but things ended badly and now you’re apologizing) + jacket (you’re always taking my jacket but this year I give you one of mine as a present)

Warnings: none but bad writing ;’(

———

The fluorescent lights shined on your face, casting a warm, twinkling glow over your features. It felt as if time was suspended. Snow fell in gentle sweeps, landing in your hair, and edging you closer to Todd. His arm was wrapped around yours, attention diverted as he talked to his friends. You folded your arms, burrowing your cold nose into his neck. He shivered, stopping mid-sentence as he smiled down at you.

"Cold?"

"Shut up." The words are muffled against his coat.

"I told you to bring a jacket." Todd said. "I literally gave you a jacket last week."

"But, it's different."

"How?"

"It's not yours."

Todd missed the days when you were just there, every moment of his life you were present. At school, you almost never left his side. It was odd to see him without you.

It was odd to be without you.

Things had ended so badly, so swiftly that it left his head spinning. Even now, it hurt to think about. Instead of remembering all the days filled with your smiles and laughs, he remembered the tears in your eyes as you slammed the door behind you. Pictures rattled on the wall from the force. He hadn't seen you since.

He had heard from Meeks and Pitts that you had gone to the same college as them. Little bits of news about you reached him and he clung to each one, despite how pathetic he felt.

. . .

He was the boy next door.

The boy you had fallen in love with so easily. So naturally it was something as simple as riding a bike or tying a shoelace. It made sense.

You would have given everything to hear that laugh of his, the laugh that sounded like sunshine.

So perhaps, when he met Marge, that is why you smiled and pushed down the feelings that ate away at you every night.

He was the boy who had been your companion since the age of three. Life for you was separated into two columns;

Life with Todd and life without Todd.

It was odd to be without him.

He was your constant, your best friend who knew everything about you. Well, everything but one small secret that would be the ruin of your relationship.

It was easy to pretend like you were only his friend and that you weren't in love with him. You had been pretending for years.

The jacket was frayed at the hem of the sleeves, white thread sticking out against the dark denim. It was rough and patchy. No longer having that soft and buttery feel. The inside lining of fleece was still warm, less cushioned, but familiar.

Next to it, was another jacket. A simple jacket that had been worn once. It hasn’t been touched since you left. Todd had given it to you, the Christmas before things changed, so you would stop taking his favorite one. But it wasn’t the same, you still took his denim jacket.

Until tonight, you didn’t know that it was still in your possession. Forgotten and left behind. Despite how much you wanted to pull away, ignore it, there was no denying how many memories it brought back.

A sharp knock on your door shakes you back to focus, fingers brushing away the tears that had gathered.

"You look perfect." You mother beamed, pinning a brooch to your collar before stepping away. "I'm so glad you came down for Christmas. It's been too long without you."

The annual party your parents hosted every year was something dreaded, but the dizzying sparkles and the flowing champagne was enough to lure you home. You missed your family and your old friends.

It was in full swing when you ventured down, keeping to the outskirts of the affairs to avoid unwanted attention. You had been present to greet guests as they came in, answering prying questions about your whereabouts. Everything is a whirl of sparkling necklaces and quiet, empty laughter. Twinkling lights that grow more and more fuzzy with every flute you grab. The music is a backdrop of smooth piano as you drift to the balcony, thankful for the cold air on your flushed skin.

The balcony is quiet, muffling the chatter of inside. It soothes you, the frigid stone beneath your fingers as you overlook the garden in its emptiness. But, it's too cold. The initial relief is quickly fading along with your body heat, and still you can't bring yourself to go back inside and face the frivolities.

You see him.

Todd.

He's walking across the room with hurried steps, trying to look discreet as he makes toward the balcony doors. You feel a rush of panic, feeling foolish as you think of a way to escape.

It didn't occur to you that he would be here. You had seen his brother on a number of occasions, playing the perfect son, but never Todd. Not after...

The balcony is two stories high with only a hedge surrounding the wall. Would you be seriously hurt if you jumped?

The door creaks open, a gust of hot air and a tumble of laughter, before it's quieted once more.

No words are passed. You can't look at him without feeling sick to your stomach.

The silence becomes unbearable, stretching and stretching until it snaps.

"You're wearing glasses again." You said and it’s dumb but that’s all you can think about when you finally peek a glance at him.

It had been a long time since Todd had worn them, his insecurity had him adorning contacts despite your reassurances that he looked great with them on. A voice in the back of your head said that Todd didn't care what you thought of him, he didn't seek your approval.

"I'm sorry."

You wish then you hadn't drank so much champagne, head spinning at his words. Never did you expect to hear that from him.

"For what?"

It's then you look at him, the pink in his cheeks as he avoids your gaze.

He looks like the Todd you remember.

"I don't...For letting you walk away, not saying anything to you after...I'm sorry for how things ended."

And, you dreamt of this. Of Todd coming back to you. Apologizing. So, why do you feel worse? An empty, sinking feeling as you think about what happened.

"It doesn't matter." You're being too aggressive. The bite in your voice is too harsh. Todd looks like you slapped him.

"Then why are you upset?"

"I'm upset because you didn't tell me!"

Todd leans against the couch, fingers clasped together. "I was going to tell you..."

"Were you? I didn't even know you had gone on a date. Charlie told me." You feel tears form, thinking back to what Charlie had nonchalantly said.

-He's on a date with that one girl...Eleanor? He hasn't shut up about her, right?

You remember how Charlie looked at you, as if you would know better than anyone else. You should've. Todd told you everything.

"Did you not trust me?"

"No!" Todd feels oddly panicked, his throat closing as he tries to keep calm but it's hard when you look so devastated. "It felt weird talking about it with you."

"What?"

"It's just you're you..." Todd pauses, cringing after he starts and you fill in the silence.

"Oh."

Really what were you expecting? This hurt more than anything.

"Okay." You're crying. You don't realize until the crack in your voice and Todd moves to sit beside you. "Don't. Okay, I get it."

You get up, wiping your cheeks with the denim of your sleeve. Before you can change your mind, you leave, slamming the door harder than you meant to.

“I’m sorry too.”

And, then it’s all out there. What more can you say? He may look like your Todd from before, but he’s not. Things aren’t the same. Words don’t flow easily anymore, there is no way to overcome this distance that has separated you for so long.

“Did you ever go on another date with her?”

It was a thought you had often afterwards, plagued with the thought of him falling hopelessly in love with this girl while you were stuck in your room writing messy poetry and listening to Frank Sinatra.

“No.” He takes slow steps, leaning against the railing. You could lean over and touch him if you wanted. “She wasn’t...”

His voice drops to a whisper and he looks away, clearing his throat. “It doesn’t matter.”

“She wasn’t what?” You feel lightheaded, heart beating rapidly, feeling a tingling in your fingers.

Todd looks at you, inhaling deeply. “She wasn’t you.”

“Oh.”

He avoids your searching gaze, growing tense in your stunned silence.

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

How could you be so stupid!?

“We’re idiots.” You say breathlessly.

Todd cracks a smile, nodding.

“I’m sorry.”

“No, I am. I should’ve-“

“Todd, I was literally the dumbest idiot in the world. I should have told you how I felt instead of hiding it all those years.”

“Years?” He looks confused, like it isn’t plausible to him.

“Todd, I’ve been in love with you since I was 15.”

“Oh.”

Now you’re the one fidgeting in place as something flashes across Todd’s face, a look you can’t decipher.

“Maybe, we could go to our old spot tomorrow? If you’re not busy?” He proposes, looking at his shoes with a shy smile before glancing at you.

“I’d love to.”

. . .

The fluorescent streetlights cast a warm, twinkling glow over the fallen snow. It felt as if time was suspended. Snow fell in gentle sweeps, landing in your hair, and making you walk faster to the coffee shop where Todd was waiting outside. His hands were clasped, rubbing for warmth

You folded your arms, burrowing your cold nose into the furrow of your jacket. He shivered, his greeting halting mid-sentence as his eyes sweep over you.

“Is that?”

“Yeah. I remembered to bring a jacket this time.”

Todd’s fingers lace with yours as he leads you inside.

Perhaps all you needed to be reconnected with him was a miracle. . .

. . .and a worn-out jacket that had seen better days.

#todd anderson x reader #todd anderson imagine #todd anderson #dead poets society #dead poets society x reader #dead poets society imagine #dps x reader #dps imagine #cam’s 1k celebration #pls help me i dont know if i love or hate this #ok im posting this before i delete everything in a haze of self doubt

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immortalbarnes · 4 years

Text

A Cabin For Two | Chapter 1: Here Comes the Sun

Bucky Barnes x Reader

summary: you and Bucky live another day in paradise and visit an old friend

warnings: just a little angst... and some internalized anger towards Steve Rogers

A/N: mainly a setup chapter, also this is my way of letting out pent out emotions towards the writers of endgame’s decision of sending Steve back in time

prologue

A normal day in the cabin consisted of semi-early mornings with something sizzling on the stove and the strong fragrance of coffee wafting through the dewy morning air. To the normal person, life in the middle-of-nowhere-New-York seems isolating and boring, but for two ex-hydra elite super soldiers, there is nothing better.

As Bucky brews a fresh batch of dark roasted perfection, you flip the finale of the stack of pancakes he suggested to make in bed some time earlier, and there is comfortable silence between the two of you, as you hear the coffee maker sing and feel your pristine white cat, Alpine, rub against your ankles.

Bucky comes up behind you and wraps his built arms around your waist, humming a Sinatra song you both originally missed out on in the 50’s. You smile, tossing the final silver dollar pancakes onto the tray to your right. He slips back away from you in time to turn off the stove and turn to see him now reaching out for you to dance with him as he begins to sing the words of a totally different song, probably from an entirely different era. (70 years of music is hard to catch up on)

“Here comes the sun…” He quietly sings to you as you step into his embrace, “And I say… It’s all right.” He serenades you, off key as his voice is still sleepy and gravelly, as you slow dance in the kitchen, Alpine circling you two.

“That’s not what you were humming earlier.” You contentedly point out.

“Forgot the words to that one,” He replies and continues singing The Beatles song.

“Doo-dun-doo-doo”

After he slowly closes out the tune, you gather your pancakes, syrup, coffee (of course), and some assorted fruits, and go out to the front porch. Out there, a small picnic table on your porch basks in the rising morning sun. You splay out your food and utensils, sit, and merrily eat, listening to birds chirp and watching bunnies scurry back to their homes. Bucky’s eyes are shining as he watches the sun slowly rise. Neither of you know what time it is, your best guess is 7 or 8, but it doesn’t matter. There’s no missions to be sent out on, no reports to file, and no one ordering you where to be. It’s you, Bucky, and mother nature, and you couldn’t ask for anything more.

“Y/N?” Bucky asks after a while, snapping you out of your content haze. His voice is quiet and soft, as if he intended to not startle you.

“Yes?”

“What should we do today?” You knew he was going to ask this question, for he asks it everyday. Somedays you go fishing or hunting, others you curl up by the fireplace and read to each other, and others you go on hikes, but no matter what the answer turns out to be, it’s the perfect answer.

“I don’t know, my love, is there anything you want to do today?”

“Can we visit Steve today? It’s been a while since…” He begins to attempt to justify, but you don’t need to hear it. Nothing broke your heart more than when Bucky found out Steve went back to the 40’s. You loved Steve, for he was everything to Bucky, and you do your best to be everything for him.

“Of course. Do you want to pick wildflowers to bring him? I want some for a centerpiece in our dining room too.” You offer, knowing that bringing Steve small gifts, like pies or paintings, helps Bucky know he’s doing everything he can for his best pal. Part of it hurts to see it, for it angers you that he would leave you two, that he would leave Bucky helpless and alone in a new world far from the one you knew.

…

It’s a short walk to a hill behind your cabin that’s draped in flowers. Having a lot of time on your hands, you began studying the natural floral of the state. Your personal favorite was the Trientalis borealis, or starflower, for it reminds you of the star on Bucky’s old arm, the one you used as a symbol for hope in your days with hydra. Waking up from cryo, you always searched for that deep red star, so you could know your soldier was there with you. Bucky loves Claytonia caroliniana, the spring beauties, only because he loved putting them in your hair. He claimed that the pale pink complimented your y/h/c strands perfectly.

Bucky picked some trout lilies, their petals a vibrant yellow, and you added some white wood aster to go with them. After adding some other plants you’re yet to learn about, you march back to your cabin and tie off the bouquet with some twine before getting into Bucky’s silver Jeep and heading to the city.

…

Steve’s eyes light up when he sees you and Bucky walk through the door, just like how Bucky’s light looking at the morning sun. Supposedly, there’s not much for America’s Golden Boy at Sunny Acres Nursing Home, so maybe Bucky is his sun.

“Bucky! Y/N!” Steve weakly greets the two of you as you walk in. Bucky is like a child, smiling at his wrinkled best friend, holding the small bouquet behind his back. He happily skips to the right side of the bed Steve is currently in, grinning ear to ear.

“We brought you these,” Bucky says as he presents Steve with the twine bound wildflowers you had picked this morning, “I hope you like them, we picked trout lilies this time to brighten up your room.”

“Geez, punk, don’t go soft on me now,” Steve jokes, “I love them.” With those simple words, Bucky beams. He can’t bear to think about how he was no longer there for Steve during his years on ice, so he tries everything to make it up to him during his final years.

“Jerk.” Bucky mumbles.

“Hey, Buck, y’all catch up. I’ll put the flowers in a vase.” You pitch in, taking the flowers to the small kitchenette on the other side of the room. Replacing the last bouquet you brought him now dried out and wilting, you find a nurse there preparing a meal. “Oh, sorry, I didn’t see you there!” You politely greet her, “My names Y/N.”

“Oh, I know, if it wasn’t for the news stories, it would be from Steve constantly talking about you and Mr. Barnes,” she says, “My name is Helen. I’m Mr. Roger’s primary caregiver.”

“Thank you for all you do for our friend. You said he talks about us a lot?” You inquire.

“Oh, all the time. He’s told me so many stories of the Avengers, and of course of him and Mr. Barnes from before World War II. His stories are incredible!” Her smile is genuine as he continues the soup for Steve, “You know, as much as some of the other heroes try to come and visit him, nothing compares to how happy he is after Bucky visits. It’s really incredible how close they are.”

“Yes… It is.” You can’t help but feel a ting in your stomach when she said that. A small part of you will never forgive Steve for leaving Bucky, but you gotta get over it at some point.

Suddenly, you hear Steve erupt in a wheezy laughter at something Bucky says. Interested, you lean against the frame of the kitchen’s entrance to get a better ear to what they’re saying.

“...and Sam couldn’t stop laughing! It was one of the craziest things Alpine has ever done. Maybe I should bring him here! He’s quite the cuddler.” Bucky finished a story about your beloved cat, and you smile at the two super soldiers talking as if nothing ever happened.

“‘Scuse me,” Helen squeezes past you through the door, soup in hand, “Here’s your lunch, Mr. Rogers.”

“Helen, dear, please call me Steve.” Steve chuckles, “So how is Sam? He was here a couple of weeks ago. Is he still working with the shield?”

“He is. Sometimes he comes over, so I can help him get used to it. I guess it’s not as easy for someone without the serum.” Sam resided in a cabin not too far from yours, and he came over a good amount. If there was anyone who came close to filling the whole Steve left in Bucky, it was The Falcon himself.

“That’s good. The three of you should come up together sometime… with Alpine too!” Steve says, his attention then shifts to you across the room, “How are you, Y/N? Keeping Bucky busy I hope.”

“Oh definitely!” You laugh, striding to his bed, “‘few days ago, we shot a buck early in the morning. My guess was a good 160 pounds. We cooked it and invited Sam over for ribs that night! Had enough leftovers for two days.”

“Didn’t know deer-pot-pie was a thing until she figured out how to make it!” Bucky added, pulling you in by the waist and kissing the top of your forehead. You can’t help but glance down at the portrait of Peggy on his bedside table; right next to a picture of him and Bucky from the war.

The three of you converse for hours, and before you know it, Helen is bringing Steve his dinner. She politely points out that visiting hours are almost over, but that you’re welcome back anytime. You bid farewell to Steve and return to your vehicle for the drive back home.

“Buck?” You timidly say in the car, “Do you ever wish you went back to the 40’s with him?”

He thinks for a while, until he finally speaks, “I don’t think there was anything for me… besides Steve of course. Now, I have you. As long as I have you, I’m happy in any century.”

You bathe once again the happy silence for the rest of the car ride. How did you get so lucky? You did terrible, unimaginable things during your time under Hydra control, so why did the universe let you have someone so magnificent as James Buchanan Barnes?

…

You’re greeted by Alpine as soon as you step over the threshold of your front door. By the time you got back, the sun had begun to set, so you began to start on dinner. Bucky marinated fish you had gotten at a local farmers market the other day, while you washed vegetables from the garden you had out back for a salad.

The two of you sat together at your mahogany dining table, centered with a bouquet of wildflowers similar to the one you gifted Steve. The two of you made small talk, nothing but plans for the next day and compliments to each other on dinner… Until Bucky suddenly says:

“Y/N?” He began, “You know I love you, right?”

“And I love you.”

“You’re everything I’ll ever need, doll, you’re the hope I had in Hydra, and you’re the life I had after it. Ever since I first laid eyes on you at that war camp, I knew you were the gal for me. You’re my world. Never forget that.”

A tear begins to slide down your face, but you didn’t notice it until Bucky wiped it from your cheek, “Thank you, Bucky, I love you so much.”

The sun leaves you and your lover, ending another perfect day in the middle-of-nowhere-New-York.

#Bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #the winter solider fanfiction #the winter soldier #the winter soldier x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fanfiction #a cabin for two

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caitofcaithall · 5 years

Text

Something Stupid

So I was listening to Something Stupid by Frank and Nancy Sinatra the other day and well... this came out. :)

The workshop is Peter’s favorite place. It’s usually him and Tony down there, just the two of them. Sure, others come in from time to time. Tony’s an important man, and it isn’t just their shared superhero-ing that interrupts the time they spend tossing ideas back and forth like they’re playing basketball.

Peter gets that. He really does.

Tony Stark. Savior of Earth. Power personified.

And with great power… great responsibility. Tony has a lot on his shoulders, and Peter would never want to add to his burden. Not since he’s grown up, realized things about the world that he never would have understood when he was still just that kid in sweatpants swinging through Queens.

It doesn’t stop him from being resentful when Pepper overrides Tony’s lock on the door and demands Tony’s attention.

Peter lets her have it. What else can he do? Tony’s… well, Tony, and Pepper isn’t just his CEO. The problem, Peter thinks, is that he doesn’t know what he is to Tony. He used to think that Tony just thought about him as some kid - maybe himself as a bit of a parent figure. But then things happened, and shit went down, and Peter thought that they might be… friends.

Tony certainly treats him like an equal.

Maybe better, honestly, considering how Tony treats some of the other powerful men he knows.

And all of that would be great, really it would! It’s just that… Peter wants… more.

He wants soft goodnight kisses in bed and quick and dirty handjobs in the shower. He wants to feel stubble burn from Tony’s face against his hole, wants to see Tony’s eyes go dark when he’s balls deep inside Peter. He wants FRIDAY to sync their schedules and he wants to be the man going with Tony to all of those boring functions, not because he wants to be there, but because he wants to be with Tony, anywhere Tony has to go. He wants all of it - the good, the bad, and the downright ugly, but none of that bad stuff would really matter because -

Because Peter loves him. He’s in love with Tony, and it crushes him that Tony doesn’t love him back.

“Earth to Peter!” Tony’s voice interrupts his thoughts, and Peter flushes when he realizes that they’re alone in the lab once more.

“Sorry,” he mutters. “Just thinking about something.”

The second time that Peter zones out is when Rhodey makes an unexpected appearance, citing difficulties with his suit that he wants Tony to take a look at. Tony and Peter are right in the middle of a discussion about clean energy - it’s nothing important, really, so Peter doesn’t mind when Tony excuses himself to go speak to his best friend.

Besides, Peter has something he should be working on, anyway.

Not that he’s able to concentrate right away. He’s wondering if Tony is going to come back to him or if he should pack it up for the night when the right solutions click in his mind, and before he knows it, it's three hours later and Tony comes around the corner, clearly not expecting Peter to still be sitting there with his work spilled all around him, half out of it from the late hour and -

“Jesus, kid,” Tony says. “You startled me. Figured you’d have left for home by now. I told Friday to tell you that -”

But Peter frowns and wrinkles his nose, cutting in. “‘m really not a kid, Tony.”

Tony gives him this look, inscrutable, and Peter starts to tidy up his workstation.

“It’s fine, Tony,” Peter said. “I got a little carried away, too. Solved that problem I was working on with Dr. Banner.”

Another late night, but this time they’ve stopped in a quiet little twenty-four hour cafe. Peter’s sweaty and flushed from web slinging, his hair messy from the mask, and the look that Tony gives him would be positively scandalous if Tony hadn’t fixed his attention on the meagre pastry display directly afterward.

Maybe he really did just have an indecent longing for that bear claw?

Peter picks over his cream horn, licking out the cream but tearing the puff pastry to shreds between his fingers.

“Is something wrong, kid?” Tony asks, and his voice is surprisingly gentle. They’ve been here before - nightmares. Daymares, too, when Peter’s come on a particularly gruesome scene of humanity’s intolerance for humanity.

That’s not what it is tonight. Peter shoves the plate away. Looks up from its remains and blurts it out. “I love you.”

Tony blinks. There’s something in his face - but it’s gone, fastened behind a mask. “I love you too, kid,” Tony says, his voice light, but Peter is frustrated.

He shakes his head. “You don’t understand, Tony. I’m not talking about giving you a bro-hug here. I’m in love with you.” And then his mind catches up to his mouth and he sucks in a breath. “Don’t worry about it,” he mutters. “It’s stupid. Forget I said anything.”

The chair makes a scraping sound across the floor as he struggles to his feet. Tony’s rising after him, but Peter isn’t about to wait around. He doesn’t want to see Tony’s pity - or disgust.

He disappears into the night.

The light flicks on, startling Peter, who’s half out of his suit, one hand holding the carton of orange juice he’s about to chug.

“Mr. Stark!” Peter gapes, and Tony’s eyebrows lift in a challenge.

“Back to that, are we?” he says.

Peter sets the carton down on the counter, pressing the activation for the suit to mold around him again. “What are you doing here?” he asks, and he’s hoping for blasé, but he knows that he’s not pulling it off.

Tony moves forward. “You know it’s only polite to let the other person respond when you make a declaration like that one,” he chides.

Peter swallows.

Tony’s eyes never leave his face.

“Mr. Stark?” Peter clears his throat. “Tony?”

Tony leans in closer, close enough for Peter to feel his body heat radiating out, Tony’s breath warm against Peter’s ear. “First of all, Pete, nothing you have to say is stupid.”

“And second of all?” Peter feels like he’s dying.

“And second of all -”

Tony’s lips find his own.

#starker #tony stark x peter parker #ironspider #my writing

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writingwithadinosaur · 4 years

Text

“From Something to Nothing to Something” - Part 5

My Masterlist - Here

My Tag List - Here

Alfred Pennyworth x Reader

Word Count: 1,837

Key: Y/N = Your Name, H/C = Your Hair Color, E/C = Your Eye Color

Warnings: Nothing that I can see! Let me know if I missed anything!

Summary: After an apartment robbery changes your life, you find out how lucky you are.

Author’s Note: I know Alfred isn’t a high demand character, but I loved his arch and how they portrayed him in the show. I hope you enjoy it!

This is not beta-read, so let me know if there are any huge mistakes.

If you would like to be tagged in any of my future pieces, check out my tag list above and let me know! And as always, feedback is greatly appreciated!

- DreaSaurusREX

~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Thank you for lunch, Alfred. It was delicious.” Bruce gently put down his fork and placed his napkin on the table. Alfred had gotten up to grab himself a glass of water.

“Glad you enjoyed it, Master B,” he said over his shoulder.

“I think I’m going to go work in the study for a bit.” Bruce stood up to leave. You gave a gentle wave as you chewed the last bite of your lunch. Alfred walked Bruce to the threshold of the kitchen.

“Alright, let me know if you need help.” Bruce smiled in return.

Alfred watched to make sure Bruce was safe until he was out of sight. He turned around to start to gather the dishes from the table, but then saw you had already swooped in and started to clean them all at the sink. You felt his eyes on you as you scrubbed one of the pans.

“Isn’t the old rule: ‘You cook, I clean?’ Or are you going to be you and help in some way even though I can handle some dishes by myself?”

You glanced at Alfred to see him let out a tiny huff, muttering a small “you cheeky little..” just loud enough for you to hear, before grabbing the towel that was on your shoulder and settling at the counter next to you. He began drying one of the plates that you had already cleaned, putting it away in its proper place before reaching for the next one that you hand him.

There was a comfortable air around the two of you. No words were needed. A calming few minutes of cleaning and listening to the music in the background, the occasional humming along coming from the both of you.

While you were more okay than earlier, there was still a sadness in you when you started to think about your situation again. You want to do something. Even just being able to sketch, organize, or do something creative while waiting to hear back from potential employers would be a gold star in your book.

But it was getting more and more difficult to do basics without help from Bruce or Alfred. It took Alfred checking in on you to get out of bed today. What if it keeps getting worse?

As Alfred put away the last of the dishes and you dried your hands, Frank Sinatra’s “I’ve Got You Under my Skin” started playing through the speakers. Alfred could see by the hint of a frown on your face and your slightly vacant eyes that didn’t seem to be focusing on anything in particular, that something was bothering you.

He wasn’t sure what came over him, but he turned to you and simply held out his hand, determined that he could help make you smile, even for a little bit.

“What’s up, Alfie?”

You look him up and down, trying to figure out what he was asking for. He just held out his hand a little closer to you. You warily gave him one of your hands. As soon as he had a solid and warm hold of you, he gently pulled you close and started to lead you into a simple dance around the kitchen.

The two of you giggling like teenagers as you swayed and followed his lead throughout the entire song. When the song came to its close, Alfred lightly twirled you around and pulled you close, your hands ending on his chest and his on your waist. You both stood there for a moment, taking it all in before you spoke. A small but true smile was on your face, and it lit up Alfred’s heart more than he thought possible after the last few minutes of dancing.

“Who knew that Alfie had some moves in him?” You chuckled out earning a light laugh and good smile from Alfred.

“Guess I never had anyone to dance with before.” You could see the truth and something else in his eyes as they quickly flicked to your lips, then back to your eyes. You felt your heart pounding out of your chest, aching to just lean in and kiss him; let all of your feelings out, unsure if he felt the same.

Before either of you could make any sort of move, Bruce’s voice rang through the hall.

“Alfred, could you come here? I need your opinion on something.”

You couldn’t help but jump a bit at Bruce’s unexpected voice. Alfred instinctually grabbed you a bit tighter and gave you a very quick look over to make sure that you were okay before closing his eyes and letting out a small exhale in slight annoyance.

“Yeah, alright. I’ll be there in a moment.” He called back. He then looked at you and slowly took his hands from your waist. “Well, I better.. Um…”

“Yeah, you..” You gently pat his vest in an attempt to smooth it out and break the palpable tension in the air between you. “You go help him. I think I uh… I’m gonna maybe make some more tea and try to get some writing done.” You step back and start to put another kettle on, even though your heart wanted you to step forward and not let go of him. Alfred gave you a small smile and started to walk towards the study, but then stopped at the threshold.

“You could bring your notepad into the study.” You turn to face him, he was looking down slightly before his gaze found yours. “A change in scenery might be helpful for clearing your head some.” He stopped, thinking he had said something wrong. “But if you would rather not, then that is fine.”

“I actually think that would be lovely. Thank you, Alfie.” You smile and his heart jumps. You both turn to tend to your respective actions, unknowing that the other is smiling big and true smiles.

After letting your tea steep, you gathered your notebook and a couple of your favorite pens and made your way to the study. You could hear Bruce and Alfred talking. The words “enterprises,” “arts,” and “plans” caught your ears as you got closer.

You knocked on the door before entering, not knowing if you should be in the room when they are talking business. Bruce and Alfred look up from the large desk that was covered with stacks of folders with the Wayne Enterprises logo on the cover.

“Hey. Alfred had the idea that maybe I could try to work here with you guys. But if you’re working on stuff that is hush hush then I can set up somewhere else.”

“You can work in here. The couch is all yours!” Bruce smiled, happy that you were trying to be productive and not isolate yourself. You quietly thanked him and settled on one of the couches that sat perpendicular to the fireplace. There was no fire going since it was too warm, but the aesthetic of the piece was comforting.

You had been there scribbling out your thoughts and ideas for the last 30 minutes, overhearing some of what Bruce and Alfred were talking about. It was mostly stuff relating to Thomas and Martha’s foundations. Thomas’s was focused on medicine while Martha’s was on the arts. You knew a lot about each of them thanks to growing up with the Waynes.

“The new clinic on the east side is set to open on schedule. So we don’t have to worry about that.” Bruce moved a folder from one side of the desk to the other, then looking at the next folder in their dwindling stack. “This is one that I’m not sure what to do.”

Alfred opened the file and quickly skimmed the contents, a slight furrow in his brow forming as he was trying to come up with ideas for whatever problem was in that folder.

“Well, we could see if a district-wide renovation is feasible. Theatres like the Geniol, Atlin, and the Ipeta have already been requesting donations from their patrons for repairs throughout their respective spaces.”

“The Atlin is still standing?” You spoke aloud and then instantly felt bad for interrupting. Looking up at the two, you began to apologize. “Sorry! I didn’t mean to--”

“No! It’s alright, (Y/N).” Bruce tried to smile and reassure you. “Yes, pretty much all of the theatre district is still standing. Granted, they’re barely standing, but they’re still there.” Bruce spoke while Alfred still read through the notes.

“Really? When I moved back here and applied for jobs in that area, everything looked deserted. It was like a creepy abandoned carnival.”

Bruce just nodded in acknowledgment as Alfred passed him the folder, still looking over Bruce’s shoulder to try to figure out a solution to whatever problem they were on. Seeing that your end of the conversation was over, you went back to getting your ideas out.

The boys were nearing the end of their pile about 45 minutes later. Your writing ended up turning into a journaling session, which actually made you feel good. Getting everything out with no judgment was nice.

Alfred looked over and saw you deep in thought, but not in a bad way. Watching you, an idea popped into his head and slowly started snowballing until he finally spoke up. You were so into your journaling that you didn’t hear the conversation near you.

“What do you think about Mr. Jeffin’s request?” Alfred asked Bruce, pointing to that bullet point in Bruce’s notes even though the boy didn’t look up from the folder he was reading into.

“For an assistant?”

“Yes.”

“I’ve considered it. With the arts foundation growing as much as we think it will, it could be a smart move.”

“I agree. Having another mind on the management team could help avoid any future problems.”

“I’ll ask Mrs. Shans if she could set up an ad to put in the papers soon.” Bruce closed his folder, picked up a pen, and started writing this new task in his notebook. Alfred put a hand on the notebook to get Bruce to look up at him.

“You know, Miss (Y/N) does have a background in the arts. You know her work ethic, how adaptable, and how loyal she is. Why not set up a meeting with her and Mr. Jeffins?”

You were trying to think of a word to describe what you were thinking when you realized that it had gotten quiet. You peek your head up, worried that you had zoned out so much that you didn’t hear Alfred or Bruce leave. Instead, you find them looking at you, something indiscernible in Alfred’s eye. Your head tilted just slightly as you sat up and faced them more.

“You guys okay?” Bruce walked over and sat down next to you on the couch as you closed your notepad. You couldn’t help the slight fear that crept into your heart while thinking of the worst-case scenarios.

“How would you feel about a job with Wayne Enterprises?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tags - @luciebell-writes @welcome-to-cobblepothell @gothamimagines @theeactress @aya-fay @xxxeatyourh3artoutxxx @the-world-has-buttery-smiles @sj-thefan @cutesnakemum @sharknadoslut @superwholockgeekgirl4life @writings-of-a-girl @melconnor2007 @ashenfallsof @geeksareunique @all-by-myself98 @sj-thefan

#alfred x reader #alfred pennyworth imagine #alfred pennyworth x reader #gotham fic #gotham fandom #gotham imagine #gotham fanfiction

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harryandmolly · 5 years

Text

Complicit // 5

summary: Shawn is under more pressure than he’s ever known. He craves release and comfort, the simplicity of sex. He gets more than he bargained for.

warnings: language, NSFW (my permanent tag for this series), fraying at the edges

WC: 7.3k

---------

The dialing sound Niall’s phone makes is the British one. He tries to feel comforted by it. It reminds him of calling his nan. He could use some comfort, that’s why he’s calling Niall.

It rings twice more. Shawn’s very sure he’s about to get his voicemail which he doesn’t even think Niall checks and he doesn’t blame him because Shawn mostly texts him anyway, but he really wanted to kind of talk this out and--

“Hey, mate,” Niall greets. It sounds like he’s outside, probably in London. He hears traffic and distant car horns.

“Heyyyy,” Shawn begins casually, pressing his fingers through his hair and striding out to the balcony of his house even though he’s completely alone, “What’s up, man?”

“I’m over in London for a couple meetings and a friend’s wedding. Headin’ out to me local. What’s up?”

Shawn sighs. He squints one eye at the horizon, then the other. “I just did something… really stupid.”

Niall chuckles. His favorite start to any story. “How stupid?”

“Pretty… fucking stupid,” Shawn groans, closing both his eyes, “I just got back from Vegas.”

“I know! Everyone’s buzzin’ about iHeart Summer. Heard you killed it, mate, congratulations! Good craic?”

“Yeah, yeah, it was great,” Shawn mumbles distractedly, “But I brought Penny.”

“Oh,” Niall chirps, clearly expecting him to admit something much worse, “That’s fine, lad, I’ve flown Karina’r out places before. ‘S not a big deal.”

Shawn nods impatiently, “No, no, I know, it’s not that. We just… god, we had the most amazing night. It was… honestly, I really think it was the best sex I’ve ever had. And then I did something completely insane.”

Niall’s brow furrows. He keeps one eye up on the crosswalk signal. “Don’t tell me ya fookin’ married ‘er.”

“I… I bought her a necklace. A really, really expensive, insane necklace. Frank Sinatra gave it to Ava Gardner in like the 1950s. I had it delivered to her.”

Niall guffaws. His cornflower blue eyes dance as he cackles, stepping into the street, unbothered by the eyes he draws. “You’re kidding me.”

“I’m not,” Shawn croaks, slumping a shoulder against the sliding door, angling his eyes down, “I don’t know what the fuck I was thinking. I got carried away. We just… that night… and then the festival, I mean, shit, I’ve never played a show like that before. I’ve never had a night like that onstage. I thought I had and then I played that show and it’s like… god, Ni, she got me somewhere. I don’t even know where.

“So I got back after the show like, buzzing. We were out all night celebrating after. I got back at like 5 AM and I called the guy that helped me pick out those earrings for my mom for Christmas and he said he had this necklace and Sinatra fucking designed it and, dude, she loves Sinatra, like loves him, and I just snapped and bought it. Put the fucking deposit on my Amex and called La Splendeur to arrange the delivery.”

Niall’s still laughing. “Wow.”

“I’m such an asshole,” Shawn mumbles, letting a short chuckle break through, “I mean, what the hell is she going to think? She’s going to think I’m fucking obsessed with her.”

“It kinda sounds like you are,” Niall prods, shoving his free hand in his pocket as he strides down the busy street.

“I know I am, but I don’t need her knowing that!” Shawn gripes.

“Listen, girls like her get fancy gifts all the time. She’s used to it, mate. It probably won’t faze her.”

That definitely doesn’t make Shawn feel better. If he’s going to be an obsessed asshole, he at least wants to be the only one in her life.

“Or worse, she’ll think I’m just throwing money at her because that’s all she’s worth to me.”

Shawn realizes with a swoop of his gut that that’s his true fear. The idea that Penny thinks he just wants to buy her makes him want to lose his lunch over the railing. He winces and rubs a hand over his eyes.

“Mate, you’re overreacting. When you’re with her, do you treat her like a hooker?”

Shawn blinks. “No, of course not.”

“No. Because you’re a good lad. She’s spent enough time around you to know that. She’s not going to think you’re trying to reduce her to a piece of jewelry. She’s probably flattered. I’m sure she loves it. It’s a thoughtful gift, too, if she loves Sinatra. Hey, I love Sinatra and you’ve never bought me a priceless necklace that he designed.”

Shawn snorts. “When you fuck me like she can, I’ll get you his whole collection of pinky rings.”

Niall beams. “That’s the spirit.”

“I haven’t even touched it yet,” Penny hisses into the phone, circling the red box sitting dead center on her bed like a snake charmer eyeing a viper.

“Well, you should. It’s been in a box since the 90s. It deserves a little skin,” Silver replies.

Penny purses her lips. “I… cannot believe he did this.”

“Well, not to sound… anyway, it’s hardly the most expensive gift you’ve ever received.”

Penny’s mind jumps to the Aston Martin in her garage and she bites her lip. “No, I know… but… I mean, it’s so soon.”

Silver bobs her head and runs her finger along the strand of pearls at her throat, they themselves a gift from a client long ago.

“It’s the buzz, baby. Everyone’s saying his name after that performance of his. He probably just wanted to show you some gratitude. Several thousand dollars worth.”

Penny perches beside the open Cartier box, still a safe distance. She reaches out with a fingertip, timidly stroking the largest stone at the center, where it would hang beautifully between her collarbones if she weren’t too chicken to try it on.

She swallows. “He can’t… know how much this means to me. He can’t possibly, I’ve only mentioned it in passing.”

She’s referring to her lifelong love affair with Frank Sinatra. The people who know her well, and there are few, know Old Blue Eyes has been the apple of Penny’s eye since she was a kid. So to own something that was once his, that he helped to design, something he made for someone so important to him…

“I don’t know if I can keep this,” Penny breathes.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Silver nearly snaps, “This isn’t a sweater you can return. This is practically a historical treasure. And it’s yours, he wanted you to have it. And… Pen, it was Frank’s.”

“That’s the other thing!” Penny squeaks, springing up from the bed to launch into another pacing session, “I’m sure he has no idea of the implications of this necklace. He doesn’t know the story. Ava Gardner was the love of Frank’s life. He loved her madly until the day he died. Everything they went through together, everything they put each other through… it’s the stuff of Hollywood legend. It’s the kind of love you wish on your worst enemy.”

Silver quiets. Penny is flying off the handle. The only way to calm her down is to keep head head low.

“You’re right, I’m sure he doesn’t know. Please don’t panic, Penny m’love, it’s a nice gift. Take it as that. And for the love of god, insure it.”

Penny slumps into the vintage 40s armchair in the corner of her sun-strewn bedroom, eyeing the necklace again.

“Peter’s going to die when I tell him.”

Silver smiles. “I’ve got to dash, petal, give me a call tomorrow when you have time to run through our corporation paperwork.”

Penny signs off and drops her phone into the seat beside her. Slowly, she stands, heading for the full length mirror. She focuses on her neck, her unblemished throat, her stately collarbones. She runs her fingertips against her skin. She reaches down and lifts her tank top, tossing it aside. Her breasts are soft and full, more than a generous handful crowned by perky brown nipples. She cups them, massaging her warm skin, enjoying the weight of them in her hands. Then she goes for her pajama shorts, the little blue ones with the fluffy white clouds on them. She pushes them down until they drop around her ankles.

She stands naked as the day she was born in her bedroom. She turns, admiring the swell of her ass in her reflection, the glorious mapping of stretchmarks around her hips and thighs, brushing a hand over the birthmark on her lower back. She takes a deep breath and steps to the bed, reaching for the red box.

The necklace is so heavy. She knew it would be heavy, studded by 159 diamonds (she counted), but it’s even heavier than she imagined. Maybe it’s heavier to her because of its significance.

The clasp is fiddly. She very gently eases it open, lifts her gaze to the mirror and guides it around her throat, only releasing her hold when she’s very sure the clasp is secure. Her eyes are closed. She adjusts its position until she can feel with her fingers that the largest diamond is dead center in the little valley between her collarbones. She can’t look until it’s perfect.

And oh god, it’s so perfect.

One of Penny’s hands covers her mouth, the other rests against her stomach as she sucks in a gasping breath. Her eyes well. Her bronzed cheeks flush. Slowly, she pries her fingers away from her mouth and takes a closer look.

It’s magnificent. It’s the most beautiful thing she’s ever seen. And it’s hers.

He got it for her.

Penny wets her lips and closes her eyes, overwhelmed again. He can’t possibly know it, but he just gave her her most prized possession. How does she thank him? More importantly, how do they proceed from here?

The latter question seems too much to answer so soon. So she focuses on the former.

Chewing on her lip, staring at the largest center stone like it will show her the secrets of the universe, Penny thinks. After a few moments, her eyes flit to a shelf holding a bulky black DSLR camera with a folded tripod stashed underneath.

An hour later, she’s loading a set of photos onto a thumb drive and planting a pouty berry red kiss onto a piece of cardstock. Both get folded into a padded envelope addressed to a Mr. Shawn Mendes with no return address.

Standing over his suitcase with a hand on one hip, Shawn scrolls down to “Orthodontist” in his contacts and hits “new message,” feeling heat rise in his cheeks.

He hasn’t been home from Vegas for 48 hours yet. He’s unpacking his suitcase only to repack for the next festival, Wet & Wild Summer Fest in Atlanta. He’s calmed down a bit about the necklace fiasco. Niall helped assuage his concerns, as did a little time and space. Not much, but a little. He finds he starts to get twitchy after the 24 hour mark away from her when he doesn’t have another booking lined up.

It should be concerning. It should have him stepping back to reevaluate his priorities. It should mean his dick is fucking exhausted.

But it doesn’t.

Hey Penny, it’s Shawn. Idk if Colette gave you my number. I wanted to see if you’re around before I leave for Atlanta on Wednesday. So… tomorrow I guess lol

He hits send before he can think too hard about it. Thinking too hard is always his downfall. He hopes the message comes off as charming and casual. He shoves his phone in his pocket, on vibrate of course, so he doesn’t stare at it and pick it apart.

After-overthinking. Also one of his downfalls.

Five minutes later, the buzz in his back pocket feels like it gives him a mini heart attack.

Orthodontist: Hi! I wish I could. I’m not available tomorrow.

Orthodontist: P.S. Received your gift. It took my breath away. I’m sending you a little something to show my gratitude.

Shawn drops the phone on top of the pyramid of sock rolls he’s loading into the suitcase and presses his face into his hands with a groan.

So much to overanalyze.

Admittedly, he had half deluded himself into imagining he was her only client now, that she’d cleared the bench for him. But that was naive. Of course he’s not her only client. Not only is she likely one of if not the most sought after women at La Splendeur, she has an established career with probably plenty of regulars. He’s just been lucky so far that she’s been so available to him.

He shouldn’t be reading into this as a “stay away from me you expensive necklace-buying freak” thing. Right?

Right.

Plus, she’s sending him something. What the fuck could she be sending him? His mind floods with possibilities, from the filthy to the ridiculous.

But, really, the biggest thing is the pang he feels at the idea of going at least another week without seeing her. He would like to imagine their last encounter, as… un-fucking-believable as it was, would keep him on a high long enough to get him through it, but he’s too hooked on her already. He seems to need a fix more frequently than even last week, and even more desperately.

He really should think about slowing this down. Maybe stopping altogether.

… but god, what is she sending him?

She’s got Frank’s Come Fly with Me album spinning on the record player and her favorite Fleur du Mal skin-toned slip on as she brushes some Guerlain highlight on her cheeks, her eyes straying to the stunning necklace against her throat so often that she’s almost running late from the distraction.

Penny is never late.

She huffs at herself and stands back to assess. She catches Pamela’s big brown eyes in the mirror and grins, her shimmery nude-painted lips spreading.

“Stop looking at mommy like that,” she teasingly begs. At the sound of Penny’s voice, Pamela’s tail thumps against the ground. Penny laughs and shakes her head, her flossy curls bobbing around her upper arms as she reaches for her dress, a floaty sand-colored number by Alice + Olivia. In the right light, she looks almost bare. It doesn’t matter. Everyone’s going to be looking at the necklace.

With a final intoxicating spritz of Tom Ford Costa Azzurra, Penny steps outside to greet Gus.

Jamie got asked to a community center dance by a boy. Ty is beside himself, Gus likes to think he’s handling it well. Penny lives for the details.

Christian Becker is already waiting for her under the overhang of the Beverly Hilton. He doesn’t have to -- she wouldn’t have a problem following a young intern in to find him. He’s entirely too famous and important to be standing outside an event like this waiting for her. But he always likes to, so she lets him.

Christian is a thrice-divorced father of four. He’s the editor-in-chief of Vertigo Magazine, a once upstart music blog turned highly respected online publication (Lady Gaga was last month’s cover feature.) He’s also one of Penny’s oldest clients.

Gus rolls down the window as Penny gathers her clutch to step out.

“Evening, Gus,” croons Christian, smooth as ever as he leans into the passenger side with his wire transfer confirmation on his phone. Gus barely checks it. Christian is “good people,” as Gus likes to say.

“Mr. Becker, you’re looking well. How are the kids?”

“Getting bigger every day. How’re Jamie and Ty?” He holds open the door and takes Penny’s hand. Gus doesn’t bother to answer, smiling warmly as he watches Penny emerge from the back of the car. Christian releases a low whistle, looking her up and down as she steps out into the evening.

“Miss Penny, you’ve done it again.”

She tilts her chin coyly, narrowing her eyes. “And what is it I’ve done this time, Mr. Becker?”

“You got more beautiful. We’ve talked about this, Penny. You gotta stop that.”

She laughs, a laugh close to her very own. She shakes her head. “You sound like a grandpa.”

Christian mimes a dagger being driven into his chest, wincing. “I’m only 54.”

Penny nods placatingly, “And your Winnie is almost 16.”

“God, don’t remind me. C’mon, honey, let’s head in. Have a good night, Gus. Don’t worry. I’ll have her home by 10!”

Gus chuckles and pulls away back into the line of exotic cars leaving the event. Christian, head to toe in Dior, holds his flawlessly-tailored arm out for Penny to hold. She takes it and strides forward, matching his springy steps.

They look well together. Christian doesn’t look any older than 45, save for the salt and pepper hair. He’s extremely tall, fit and built, rugged, the kind of man who you can’t quite imagine without his facial hair.

Christian’s smart. He’d have to be, obviously, to turn a blog screaming amongst the din of millions into a revered and oft-referenced bible of music. But he’s smart about the industry, too. He knows how it looks to walk into an event with a 21-year-old in a mini dress whose only contribution to a conversation is extolling the virtues of Ed Sheeran’s last album.

So instead, Christian brings Penny along as a friend. Truly, that’s all it is, all it has been since after their first night together. He said he liked her too much to continue sleeping with her, muttering something about how “everything my dick touches turns to shit.” Their dates are not sexual, they’re business. Penny can work a room. She can charm anyone into an exclusive interview, into drinks to discuss a potential venture. She’s his most powerful secret weapon and one of his favorite conversationalists.

Tonight is Vertigo Magazine’s annual “Summer Lovin’” party where guests, exclusively musicians and industry types, gather to mix and mingle. Christian likes to brag that for the last eight years, a hit collab has come out of initial conversations had at “Summer Lovin’.” The bragging works -- it’s one of the hottest tickets in town.

The ballroom is packed. Real palm trees surround them, along with bamboo and waiters serving cocktails in exotic fruit. The theme is Blue Hawaii. Under the Dior, Christian’s in a custom designed Hawaiian shirt printed with Vertigo Magazine’s logo. The DJ is playing Iz.

Penny fixes him with a look. Christian barks a laugh.

“Too much?”

“I just got back from Vegas and I can confidently say, yes. This is too much.”

Christian grins in that boyish, easily forgivable way. “Just like I like it, then.”

He loops an arm around her waist as he surveys the garish decorations proudly, planting his lips on her temple as she swipes a frothy coconut beverage off a passing waiter’s tray.

Christian glances down at her and hums. “Speaking of too much, you’re the one dripping in diamonds.”

Penny only barely tries to hide her bashful smile. She lifts a delicate hand to press against the heavy stones. “Oh, you noticed?”

“Hard not to. A client gift?” he guesses, narrowing his eyes.

“Nobody you know,” Penny lies smoothly.

Christian laughs again, squeezing her hip. He ducks his head to speak into her ear when he gets distracted, waylaid by a passing VIP that Penny doesn’t recognize but probably should. Christian releases her temporarily to schmooze with a crooked smile and she turns to glance around the room.

She bobs her head to an oddly chosen Hawaiian folk song and twiddles the biodegradable straw in her drink. There are famous faces everywhere -- the Little Mix girls, Luke Bryan, Pitbull, Dave Grohl. Penny chuckles to herself. Only Christian could get away with throwing a party like this and still having the who’s who of the industry at his beck and call.

She sweeps a curl off her shoulder, unwilling to let anything get in the way of her necklace’s glimmer. As she does, she feels a gaze. It’s not exactly unusual for her. But there’s heat in it, enough to make her look back.

Head to toe in deep blue, shirt unbuttoned to mid chest, a perfectly placed curl hanging over his forehead is Shawn bloody Mendes staring straight at her, watching Christian Becker’s fingers absently trace over the ridges of the necklace against her collarbone.

Penny swings her head back around so fast her long hair swirls, catching in the scruff of Christian’s beard. She plays it off, giggling and swiping at it as she rests a hand against his upper back and tries not to feel like she’s on fucking fire.

This has happened before, she reminds her rioting body, You have been in this position.

Of course she has. LA is a small, small town. There are only so many people that can afford her. Of course she’s been at public events and seen former or even current clients. It does not have to be an international incident.

But it fucking feels like one. Her heart is sprinting. Her head feels light enough to pop off her body to float around with the paper lanterns on the ceiling. Her hand on her chest is the only thing steadying her until Christian’s bulky, muscled arm pulls her back in gently by her waist.

Like the professional she is, she snaps in. Her smile is dazzling. Her quippy comment is light but witty, charming. The hand she places on Christian’s upper abdomen when they all laugh is soft but firm. She’s in control.

Shawn flies into a possessive, unadulterated rage for about 15 seconds before cold reality hits hard.

Somehow even before she turned around, he knew she’d be wearing it. She’s wearing his fucking necklace while another man’s hands are all fucking over her. His stomach is in knots. His neck burns hot, he bets even his exposed chest is flushed. He wants to scream, maybe even go full caveman and drag her away from Christian Becker, of all fucking people. He even likes Christian Becker. But Penny, he…

So not the path to go down right now.

Thankfully, the red mist doesn’t last long. He’s immediately disgusted with himself for even letting his mind start to go there. But he still can’t stop staring at her.

She didn’t take the Blue Hawaii theme as literally as he did. She’s radiant in a floaty dress that looks like a beach and he looks like a dopey extra on a movie set. He wasn’t even planning on coming to this party -- he’d much rather have spent the night with her in some hotel he doesn’t care about the name of getting his stupid mind blown. But Andrew convinced him, told him Tiffany had a suit ready, even had blue suede boots.

So Shawn decided to play dress up and be friendly with industry types even if the only thing he cares about right now, other than Penny screwing his brains out, is the album he’s already written that’s being released in the fall. He’s not in the headspace to think about a collab right now. But that’s what he pays Andrew for.

It didn’t even cross his mind that she could be here. It did not even occur to him. But he knew it was her when he saw her even between throngs of people in dim lighting. It’s her bare shoulder blades. He adores them. He’d know them anywhere.

Once she’s turned back around, her poker face back on, letting Becker pet her and show her off, he slugs back a sip of his rum cocktail. He forces himself to turn around because he will certainly blow their cover if he keeps staring at the call girl he’s obsessed with from across the room.

Now that the rage is gone, it’s replaced by a hollow, whiny feeling. Turns out despite Niall’s sage advice and what Shawn thought were enough self reminders that this is something he could simply walk away from, he aches.

He’s being ridiculous. The truth is, he barely knows Penny. He doesn’t even know her last name. And it’s not like he thought he was her only client. He’s not insane. But… he feels a little lame beside Christian Becker. The man is a legend. He’s done blow with at least 75% of Shawn’s heroes. The stories he can probably tell make Shawn want to pout.

But he can’t pout. He can’t even talk to her. He has to just deal with this and try to find a way to be a man about it. The best way is probably to ignore her as much as he can. It’s hard when she feels like a magnet in the center of a room, sparkling brighter than the disco ball even without the necklace.

God, the necklace. He had finally gotten to a place of feeling kind of ok about that outrageous gesture and now he can worry about it all over again, he can feel like a desperate young fool trying to get the attention of a sophisticated woman in a garish and heavy-handed way. He frustrates himself nearly to tears.

And then he sees her, in front of him this time, tooling with Christian around the bar. Before he can steel himself, he realizes she’s already watching him. He’s… stunned. He almost picks his hand up and, like, waves like an idiot but then she’s leaning into Christian as he says something.

He looks down. His glass is empty. He’ll wait to go to the bar.

It’s all she can do to keep from planting her feet, locking her knees and screaming “NO!” like an impassioned toddler when Christian suggests a trip to the bar. Shawn has been stationed there for 45 minutes with a couple members of his team and, inexplicably, Brad Paisley. She hopes there isn’t anything fruitful coming from that conversation. But soon she’ll be close enough to listen for herself.

She doesn’t usually drink so much on the job, for obvious reasons. But how she could be expected to get through this fiasco without booze is beyond her, so she keeps the pina coladas coming. Christian doesn’t seem to mind. Her strong desire to focus on anything other than Shawn and his sad, but somehow searingly hot eyes, his bare chest, his fucking blue suede shoes is compelling enough to have her at the top of her game. She’s wheeling and dealing beside him better than even he’s ever seen.

She talks a little louder, a little faster until she has slowly managed to get Christian far enough from the bar that she can breathe again. She still feels Shawn’s eyes every few moments, like he’s checking to make sure she’s still there, she’s still with her date, she’s still wearing the necklace.

As the night wears on, the eye contact grows… reckless. They’re both drinking. They’re both loosening up. They’re both curious. So they’ve made it a sport. They lock eyes occasionally, but never for very long, just long enough to get their pulses racing. Shawn will glance at her, she’ll tuck hair behind her neck, exposing the spot below her ear that gets her gasping his name. She’ll spare him a glance, and he’ll wet his lips before he takes a sip of his drink through a smirk.

It’s childish and irresponsible and it has Penny a little wet.

Finally, Christian takes the stage to thank his guests. Penny stands in the crowd, a beacon of grace despite the gallon of fucking Malibu rum in her system. She’s literally shoulder to shoulder with people like Questlove and Demi Lovato, but the only thing she can think about is where he might be.

And then, without knowing, she knows. She can feel him. He’s standing right behind her. She can smell his fucking cologne. She can feel the testosterone-fueled heat tumbling off him. She can even feel the smirk on his face -- it’s enough to make her want to turn around and force him to his knees.

The worst part for Penny is knowing he’d go willingly.

She huffs an aggravated sigh and senses him chuckle, unable to hear it over Christian’s corny speech. She folds her hands over her front, nudging at her Cartier ring with her fingers. She tries not to imagine Shawn slowly looking her up and down but her goddamn skin is crawling with it like it’s ready to drag her back into his arms without her permission.

She grits her teeth and fights fire with fire.

Penny reaches back and drags her curls over one shoulder, exposing the shoulder blades he likes to teethe at, the clasp of the necklace he bought her, and the sensual nape of her neck all at once. She turns her face, lips parted, profile backlit by the stage lights. She doesn’t have to see him to feel him go stiff all over.

Checkmate.

The night is winding down. Shawn can already feel his hangover starting in his fucking teeth. He didn’t watch Penny leave with Christian. The game they were playing seemed a lot less fun when he realized it had to end without them in the same hotel room. He stayed behind after his team left to catch up with a couple producer friends he hasn’t seen, and to prolong heading home alone to wonder if Penny touches Christian the way she touches him.

He shakes his big, heavy head and reaches for his phone. He wants to text her. What the fuck he would say is of no consequence -- he’s not actually going to do it. He just wants to think about the option.

He doesn’t have to think about it, though. Because she’s there, standing by the pickup line, slouched against a column, probably waiting for Christian.

He’s a fucking masochist, but she already knows that. He strides up casually and stands on the other side of the column.

“Nice night?” he grunts, just hoping his voice doesn’t break.

Penny doesn’t look terribly surprised to see him. Shawn bristles at his own predictability.

“Lovely.”

“You look… really beautiful,” he murmurs, his eyes holding on hers instead of scraping over her heavenly body, “The necklace looks amazing on you.”

Her eyes show a flash of guilt. She purses her lips and ducks her head. “Thank you. It’s…” She trails off, wetting her lips, “This means more than you know, Shawn.”

The same tingle he got when the jeweler sent him the photo sparks up again from his toes, the one that told him the necklace belongs to Penny. He lets it overwhelm him enough to look over at her, his smile tipping into goofy territory.

“I’m glad you like it.”

Penny runs a finger along the side of her neck. Shawn follows it, swallows roughly. He looks back down.

“Where’s… um…” He can’t bring himself to say his name.

“He left. His kids were waiting up for him.”

Shawn’s head lifts so fast his neck cracks a little. “He’s… you’re not…”

Penny’s nose twitches. She keeps her eyes forward on the cars. “Christian hires me to attend events with him. He enjoys my company. I act as a good buffer. We don’t fuck.”

She spares him one glance. His jaw has dropped.

“You’re… going home?” Shawn chokes.

“I’m going home.” Penny’s voice is smooth and warm like her naked skin.

Shawn takes a deep breath. He reaches behind the column and gently wraps his fingers around her wrist.

“Don’t.”

The air in Penny’s lungs leaves in a rush. She takes a moment to gather herself before glancing at him. She swallows and lifts her chin, ready to give him his marching orders.

“Stay here. Do the wire transfer. Gus will be here any minute. Show it to him. I’m getting a room. I’ll text you the number.”

He doesn’t have time to comment or argue (not that he would) before she turns on a heel and walks inside. If Shawn’s not totally delusional, she’s hurrying a little.

Gus is comfortable enough around Shawn to openly chuckle at his eagerness now. Another on the long list of indicators that Shawn spends too much time with Penny. Instead of bristling, he grins crookedly.

“Does she drive everyone this crazy?” Shawn asks, tucking his phone back into his pocket after Gus nods at the wire transfer confirmation.

Gus, behind the wheel, bobs his head with a mysterious twinkle in his eye.

“Yeah. But maybe you more than others.”

Shawn licks his lips and nods as Gus pulls away, still laughing. After two seconds of staring at his shoes, Shawn bolts for the elevator.

The party has cleared out, mostly. The only people left to see him bouncing on his toes waiting for the lift are the ones busy breaking down the event. When the elevator doors slide open, Shawn lurches inside.

As it rises, Shawn grips either end of the mirrored doors, unwilling to look his reflection in the eye. He hears his own breathing, feels the way his heart riots in his aching chest. He closes his eyes. He has to calm down. He’s too riled up for her already, has been all night. The way she couldn’t stop looking at him, the way he couldn’t stop thinking about her -- about how she feels and tastes and sounds when she’s so close to coming that he doesn’t need the verbal warning she sometimes gives, he knows it like he knows his own name.

The elevator dings and he’s burrowed far enough into the thought of her that it actually takes him a second to scramble upright and get himself out before the doors shut.

He knocks quietly, like he’s aware that the walls of this hotel held a lot of influential people only hours earlier. Tonight, he has to trust those walls with his secrets the way he trusts Penny. He fights not to scrape a hand through his hair -- Anna did it just so, so that the curl dropping over his forehead lands just right.

She opens the door barefoot, dressed but looking and feeling naked. In better light he can see the way the color of the dress nearly matches her skin tone beneath it. He grunts gently, letting his head fall back.

“Jesus, sometimes I just…” His voice wanders. He shakes his head and lifts it back upright to look at her.

“You fucking overwhelm me,” he mutters. His eyes land on the necklace again.

Still standing in the doorway, he wets his lips and shifts on his feet.

“Touch me,” she rasps, her chest filling as she inhales, tilting her chin up slightly as she invites him to her neck.

Shawn pulls himself into the room, letting the door shut behind them. He cups the side of her neck with one hand and explores with the calloused fingertips of the other, enjoying the way it sits on her, the way the largest stone in the center fits perfectly between the notches of her collarbone in the spot he likes to bite when she lets him.

“It’s perfect,” he whispers, his hand falling away. His smile is wistful.

You’re perfect.

His jaw clamps shut. He looks at her, waiting. Her eyes are hot with anticipation, but she’s not anticipating him -- it’s like she herself doesn’t know what she’s going to do to him, with him when she lets herself move. He revels in her electric indecision, willing and ready.

She throws herself into his body with a weak whine, one kind of like the sounds he’s prone to making around her. He catches her easily, holding her up so her toes skim the ground as she plunders his mouth. She’s still not quiet once she pins herself to him. She moans and whimpers and sighs like she’s never had him before. He’s too stunned to react beyond letting her do whatever the fuck she wants while he holds her.

Soon, she grows restless, unsatisfied by the limitations of standing in the center of the room, wrapping around him like a python. She needs more. Whatever it is, he’ll make sure she has it.

Penny nudges him backwards and wriggles until the tips of her toes meet the ground. She steers him to the bed, shoving him when they get close enough. He collapses into it with a yelping groan, but she swallows it so fast he’s gasping for breath in her mouth like he needs the oxygen in her lungs.

Does he know? Can he possibly know her so deeply already? The panic has been static in her mind for a couple of days since the necklace arrived.

Logically, she understands it -- she’s mentioned Sinatra, has played him a few times in Shawn’s presence. He probably just saw Frank’s name attached to the piece and thought she’d like it. He’s thoughtful. That’s all.

It doesn’t have to be deeper, but it feels so much fucking deeper. Everything did tonight. She’s never been so distracted on a date, even in similar circumstances where she was dodging one client while on the arm of another.

She’s deluded, she’s drunk on the night and his suit and his lips and his eyes and her fucking necklace but it felt… so big. Frank and Ava big.

It’s just a necklace, it’s just a necklace, she chants in her head, squeezing her eyes shut as she shamelessly ruts against his pelvis, her dress riding up to her waist, the silk of her panties soaked through already. It’s no wonder why -- as she’s been tangling with her own mind, she’s been riding him hard.

She breaks off from his swollen mouth away to his jaw and he gasps an inhale so loud she thinks she was suffocating him. But he doesn’t let her go. He only locks his heavy arms around her tighter, one anchored to her ass, the other stretched between her shoulder blades that he loves so much.

“Fuck, Penny, I’m--”

She knows what he’s going to say. He’s beyond hard. He might even be as close as she is. He walked in the door under five minutes ago and she’s already heading for an orgasm like a train off its tracks.

She doesn’t fucking care. She’s not stopping now.

“No,” she hisses, “Just like this. Keep fucking me just like this.”

His breath stops in his throat. His eyes, glazed and dark, snap up to hers.

It’s just a necklace, it’sjustanecklace--

God, she’s going to fucking come. His cock is so hard against her clit even through their clothes. Her whole body pulses with it. She comes so much better, harder with something inside to clench down on but her body doesn’t care now.

“Penny.”

It’s not a whisper or a murmur, it’s just a breath and he says it like it’s his last one.

It’s not just a necklace. It wasn’t just a necklace to Ava. It wasn’t just a necklace to Frank.

Penny comes jerking, hips spasming, thighs clenched around him. It’s short and sizzling hot and she chants his name right through it until she sinks her teeth into his shoulder and he comes too, silent like she’s never seen him, his face going bright red as his voice fails him and his wet mouth drops open in a scream without sound.

It takes him longer to come down than her. As he trembles beneath her, she noses at his earring, the little hoop in his left lobe, peppering it with kisses, tasting and licking the salt from his sweat dripping down from his sideburns.

He’s quiet beneath her like he’s not sure what to say. She has no issue with this -- she doesn’t have much to say either. His hand, the one on her back, traces the distance between her shoulder blades with his fingers like he’s trying to measure without looking.

Slowly, like it’s difficult to physically separate from him, she lifts her head. Despite the circumstances, his hair is still pretty intact. It makes her smile and tug at the forehead curl with a smirk.

“You like it?” Shawn whispers, his voice fucked and broken.

Was he loud while she was on him? She doesn’t know. She couldn’t hear anything over her own frantic thoughts, until he said her name. She’s not even sure he said it. Maybe she just watched his lips form around it and her vivid imagination did the rest.

“Yeah,” she coos, “It’s got me all shook up.”

Shawn snorts appreciatively and lets his hand wander up her back, under her hair to play with the clasp of her necklace.

Penny closes her eyes. She doesn’t want to keep thinking about it right now. About what it means, about what it could mean, about what it meant for the lovers for whom it was made 70 years ago.

She lets him cradle her in his arms and tip her off him, rolling her onto her back. He ducks his face into her neck, fluttering kisses, a varying pattern of barely-there brushes and firm, wet smacks along her necklace, like he plans to kiss her once for each one of the 159 diamonds in the settings.

Penny relaxes into the bed, closing her eyes and massaging his scalp with both hands like she knows he likes. She’s got him purring like a kitten for her in under 20 seconds.

Through her welcome haze, she feels his hand trail up her arm, reaching for the strap of her dress, then the other. She wriggles free of the sticky, clingy material as he drags it off her, the clinking of the zipper teeth loud in a room only soundtracked by their breathing, which is picking up pace again. He kisses each of her puckered nipples through her satin slip, then pushes that away too, followed by her drenched panties.

He sits back on his knees to stare down at her. She can see his cock starting to twitch under the fabric again. She lifts her arms over her head and sighs loud.

Shawn shivers. He shakes his head and wets his lips to speak.

“Fuck Ava Gardner. Sinatra designed that necklace for you.”

Before he can see the shocked tears in her eyes, Shawn spreads her legs, ducks his head and buries his face between them.

Shawn is awoken in the afternoon the next day by his doorbell. He rolls out of bed and checks the app on his phone to peek at the doorbell camera. He quietly prays to whatever’s listening that it’s not a teenage girl. He doesn’t have the energy.

It appears to be a delivery. He pulls a shirt over his head and stumbles to the door, signing and accepting the padded envelope.

On a piece of off-white cardstock is a red lip print that makes his pulse pound in his ears. He dumps the envelope onto the coffee table. Only a thumbdrive falls out.

He races to his laptop, throwing himself onto the bed as it boots up. He tries to jam the thumbdrive in upside down, winces and flips it over.

The drive has encryption software installed and asks him to create a password. After a few flutters of his tired eyes and a heaved sigh, he types: Sinatra.

The folder opens to tiny thumbnails, about 30 of them, and Shawn’s chest shudders hard before he can even get a close look.

She’s bare except for the necklace. She’s perched at the end of her bed, lying on top of it, on her side, sitting up, standing by the window, facing him, turned away. He gets so overwhelmed by all the images he stops himself and focuses on the first one, lets himself digest it.

She’s sitting on the end of the bed (and his heart skips a beat just looking at it, knowing it’s where she puts herself to sleep at night) with her legs crossed delicately at the ankle like the first time he met her. Her posture is perfect and elegant but not at all forced -- it’s just how she sits. She has a hand lifted to her chest, acknowledging the necklace, and her face is turned, her eyes down. He stares at the photo for minutes on end and can’t remember why he ever regretted buying the necklace, not for a second.

----------

The link to buy me a Ko-fi is in my bio, pals and gals!

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#shawn mendes #Shawn Mendes Imagine #shawn mendes blurb #shawn mendes fan fic #shawn mendes fic #shawn mendes fan fiction #shawn mendes fluff #shawn mendes fanfic #shawn mendes fanfiction #shawn mendes fiction #shawn peter raul mendes #shawn mendes series #shawn mendes smut #shawn mendes drabble #shawn mendes one shot

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