#Farrier's is a little bit shorter 😅 but it turned out nice

[angel-inked]

When they listen to music

Where words fail, music speaks 🎶

*This took longer to write than I expected 😅, but enjoy*

Taglist: @vvkingofgaybisciutsvv @thequeenofthewinter @thedevilshardy @mollybegger-blog @wandawiccan60 @cameleonhardyfan63 @inkwolvesandcoffee @potter-solomons @liliac-dreamer

3AM.

There's something therapeutic about the wee hours of the morning. It's like listening to music in a dark room at midnight. Feeling like you're the only person awake in the world, like everything is at a standstill. Tommy has been roaming the streets of Pittsburgh since 3AM, with his army green massager bag slung over his shoulder. The insomnia didn't help.

He figured the cause of it to probably be paranoia, whether it came from his time in Iraq or from Paddy's alcohol fueled mood swings was hard to say. That's how he got that split his eyebrow. Shortly after he turned sixteen, he was minding his own business when Paddy whipped around and punched him. He remembers waking up in a hospital bed to the sound of his mother's crying. That was the first and last time one of Paddy's beatings sent somebody to the emergency room. Tommy fled with his mom soon thereafter.

His dad's wedding ring was what cut into him, he figured, stitchs cause the bleeding wouldn't stop. He scratched at the scar, hell, just thinking about it, made it itch. Pressing the volume rocker on his phone to turn the music in his headphones up a notch, a vague attempt to take his mind off of his father. He had a vice of keeping his headphones in, even if he was being spoken to. Heh, mom always told him off for that...

It relaxed him.. to a degree. Sitting on a bench, staring out at the water of the Allegheny River, no one around, music in his ears. The sun was just barely on the horizon. People would be flooding the streets soon, and thus, his serenity would be ruined, but for now, he was peaceful.

Let's dance!!!

"So, what culinary delights will tickle the pickle tonight?" Eddie Brock asked into what looked like an empty apartment, and got no answer, except a dark snicker in the back of his head, in a voice that wasn't his own. "Not like that, you perverted para-" Venom forced Eddie's mouth shut, producing inky black tendrils from Eddie's back to help rifle through the kitchen cupboards.

Eddie sighed, realizing he'd have to go grocery shopping soon. "What is this?" The symbiote asked, holding a box in front of their host. "Mac and cheese," Eddie answered, "that'll do." He added, reaching over to turn on the radio before he began searching for a pot to boil water in. Not the end of the world by Katy Perry came on, and Eddie started to sing along to it.

"It's not the end of the world, no, not the end of the world. Throw on your fancy attire, fears in the fire. Don't lose hope"

Venom materialized their head, floating just behind Eddie, turning on the stove top with helpful tentacles.

"A fortune teller told me the power's in your mind. You might see a cliff, but I see a way to fly. Flipping off the flop, now I just enjoy the ride, just enjoy the world. Yeah, I just enjoy the ride"

Eddie continued his singing as he hauled himself up on the edge of the counter to wait for the water, swinging his legs back and forth to amuse himself. Venom bobbed their head to the beat and swayed their tentacles to the rhythm.

"You can make a wish even on a satellite, on a plastic lash or anything you like! You can tame a dragon if you're not afraid to fight, not afraid to fight, no, not afraid"

Eddie smiled, hopping off the counter and into a full body spin as he joined Venom's spur of the moment dance.

"It's no funeral we're attending, actually, just the beginning. Throw on your fancy attire, fears in the fire. Don't lose hope!"

As the song faded out, Eddie and Venom shared a laugh. Suddenly, the pair of unlikely partners heard a hissing sound, "Oh shit!" Eddie exclaimed, rushing over to the stove as the water boiled over. Immediately regretting his decision to grab the pot lid without a potholder. "Ow!" He yelped, thankful Vemon was in a good mood today as the burning sensation dissipated quickly. Vemon adjusted the lid before looking down at Eddie's crumpled position on the floor, leaning back against the floor level cupboards, "idiot." Vemon's voice rumbled.

Eddie scoffed, "Yeah, you could say that again!".

Opera debacle

"Yeah, but opera's not fuckin' singin' is it!" Alfie exclaimed. Your husband has been rattling on for.. You're not actually sure, a couple hours at least, and Tommy Shelby looks about done with him. Then again, when is he not?

"It's not singing. It is the sound that people make before words." Alfie sounds like he's arguing with someone, but he's the only one speaking. Lizzie Shelby looked at you from her chair, confusion etched into her features. You were surprised when Tommy showed up with his wife on his arm, him claiming that she wished to meet you in person, not that you had any qualms about her. It just wasn't often Tommy was accompanied by anyone other than his brothers.

Lizzie hadn't met Alfie until now, probably for good reason, if you asked Tommy. Judging by that look she was giving you over her cuppa, this was not what she expected. You leaned toward her, "Let him go," you whispered, "he'll run out of puff or get to whatever Tommy came for sooner or later." You smiled quietly. Tommy, on the other hand, quietly smoked his cigarette on the couch as he waited for Alfie to get to the actual point of the meeting.

"I always knew opera was just a bunch of fat people fucking shouting!" Alfie exclaimed, pulling the needle off the record and effectively silencing the gramophone. He moved to one side of the room, glaring at the floor. Finally, he went back to his seat.

Groaning as he sat down, resting his chin on a closed fist for a moment, "Bah!" He griped, waving off nobody. "Are you done, dear?" You asked, beginning to think maybe you should have let your spouse wake up naturally instead of waking him up yourself, considering how grumpy he's been since then. Alfie stared at you, scrunching up his face with a soft grumble.

"Am I done? Done with fuckin' what?" He questioned, throwing his hands up in confusion.

Songbird.

Garden trowel in hand, you covered the last of the seeds you had in hand with earth. You crossed your ankles for support as you straightened and popped your back, sighing with satisfaction at the feeling as tiredness set in. You and your fiancé had been planting all day, "you alright love?" Farrier asked, kissing the top of your head before kneeling next to you.

"Just tired," you smiled, "lot of work this, but it's worth it.". "Aye," Farrier agreed, finishing off his cigarette. A smirk appeared on his face, "I know how to make this more fun." He explained. "How?" You asked, slightly concerned about what he had in mind. "singing," he suggested. "Sing what?" You giggled. "Dunno." He smiled back at you.

Farrier stood, making his way over to the water tap, connecting the hose. You heard him start singing lowly to himself, something in french that you couldn't understand. "Is that a war song?" You questioned with a smile on your face. "In a way, more for ceremonies and the like." He explained. Farrier continued his song, like a songbird sat on the windowsill early in the morning, soaking in the golden rays of the sun and singing its juaty toon given way to dawn. You were more than content to lose yourself in the sound of the voice of your loved one.

Rock n' Roll

Forrest had always been the odd man out when it came to music taste. Howard and Jack just about always had bluegrass or country on the radio, Howard even listened to swing when the urge struck him. Sure, Forrest is not really a jazz man, and he liked bluegrass and country well enough. It's what he was raised on after all, but rock ballads are more his speed and occasionally some classical.

Slow and rhythmic, in a word, relaxing. Forrest didn't often give the old record player in his office the time of day, but when he did, like right now, it's probably best off you leave him alone. As this usually meant it had been a hard day, and he had no interest in being bothered, as Howard and Jack found out the hard way, as usual.

That was probably why Howard was currently standing in front of you in the small, dimly lit hallway. Giving you a very puzzled look with his somewhat brushy eyebrows looking like they were desperate to touch each other. "Where are you goin'?" He asked, eyeing the pair of iced glasses, bottle of bourbon, and the book you were holding. "Forrest' office." You replied simply, trying to sidestep past the eldest brother. Howard stepped in front of you, his tall 6'1" figure looming over you.

He glanced over his shoulder at the door his previously mentioned younger brother was behind, "I'm not so sure that's the best place to be headed right now." He explained, scratching the back of his neck. "He's expecting me, now move out of the way!" You grumbled, slightly annoyed with him. You were tired and It's been a long day for everyone, but luckily for Howard, you have a bit more patience than Forrest does.

Howard finally allowed you to pass and disappeared into the barroom. You pushed open the door, Forrest looked up at you as you shut the door behind you. You sat one of the icey glasses down in front of him, pouring the bourbon you knew to be a favorite of his. "Thank you." Forrest mumbled, turning back to his ledger. "You're welcome." You smiled, filling your own glass before sitting down across from Forrest and opening your book.

The slow rock and roll pumping out of the record player was the only source of sound in the room as Forrest continued his work, and you enjoyed your book and drink. The both of you quietly enjoying each other's company after a hard day's work, with some lovely music in the background that you both enjoy.