#i wanted it to be 5 times you interrupt skwisgaar and the last one was gonna end in a kiss but i'm slow

[tokisguitarpick]

interruption part.1

characters: Skwisgaar Skwigelf x Reader 

doods, I really tried to make this one giant piece but I said that on friday, it’s fuckin wednesday, work has been kicking my ass, here’s what I got so far

The first time you met Skwisgaar Skwigelf was unfortunately also the first time you pissed off Skwisgaar Skwigelf. 

In your defense, you thought it would be prudent to bond with the support staff- your boss Charles, the music producer Abigail and her assistant Dick, the Klokateers, the people around the band- as soon as you could to cement your place at work first. After that, then you would really worry about Dethklok liking you. It's not that you were rude to them, hell your whole job was making sure their needs were met and they were secure and happy on a day to day basis. But if Charles asked you for a report at the same time Murderface told you to go get his dethphone from his bedroom, Charles took first priority. Which was why when you were sent to deliver a fax from Crystal Mountain Records to Abigail, you went diligently down the 4 floors it took to reach the studio and entered quietly, recognizing the red recording light on over the door. A brightly melodious guitar solo rang through the gothic studio rooms, sounding as exquisite as a Beethoven composition when unaccompanied by the rest of the death metal band, and you hovered by the door for a moment. You were nervous to disturb now that you heard exactly what they were recording. But your rationale won out and you decided to simply slip the fax to Abigail and leave.

Approaching her desk, you got a clear look at the source of the music and it caused your step to falter. Skwisgaar, tall and imposing, shredded his guitar with deft hands inside the recording booth, his fingers moving faster on the Gibson neck than your eyes could follow.

Instead, they moved to his face, taking in his closed eyes, his full lips parted, and a light sheen of sweat covering his skin as he worked. His long, cornsilk hair was uncharacteristically swept up in a messy bun at the nape of his neck, short tendrils made loose from exertion clinging to the edges of his face or else flowing around him. A bead of sweat caught your eye as it rolled down his Adams apple and your gaze trailed to his thin, defined arms and the muscles working under his skin, his long fingers showing off every ounce of skill he had. He looked nothing like the guitarist that took the stage with Dethklok, giving a heavy and thrashing performance. He looked at peace, a man entirely in his element. He looked heavenly.

Suddenly, every headline calling him a rock and roll god over a photo of him covered in ghoulish makeup felt entirely false. If only they could see what was in front of you now.

Sadly, all good things come to an end. Your faltered step caused you to squeak as you caught your balance. Abigail jumped and turned in her chair. The music ended with an abrupt squeal and Skwisgaar's icy blue eyes snapped open.

"Oh, who the fucks is this?!" he spat into the mic and you blushed, embarrassment finding a home in the pit of your stomach. Abigail sighed, looking you over with a crooked eyebrow.

"So sorry, I was just bringing this to you." You handed Abigail the fax and she unfolded the paper to read it over. Skwisgaar, who seemed to find your interruption bothersome enough, bristled as your eyes flickered between him and the music producer. He yanked the guitar strap off his shoulder and snarled, "Not evens anythings important! Get the fucks out of heres!" He held the guitar by the neck and gestured aggressively with it.

You jumped, turning tail and hurrying away as fast as you could without running. The only reasoning for his behavior came at the end of an email from Abigail, a throwaway line about it being crunch time with the production of the newest album. But sadly, that was the start of your professional relationship with the Dethklok member and it was a shame, that one instance coloring the way he treated your presence in Mordhaus. He didn't reply when you asked the band questions, he turned his nose up when you had to contain some of the band's more brutal ideas, he only ever referred to you as a servant, the list went on.

It was taxing and honestly, a little upsetting. You had managed to piss off Nathan your first week here as well but by the next morning, he greeted you with a joke about it and asked you to make a pot of coffee. You spent many afternoons wondering if there was any way to make it up to the haughty guitarist. And wondering what exactly you needed to make up in the first place.

The next climactic moment in your relationship came around the four month mark of your employment.

The acrid smell of burning plastic reached you as you walked past the hallway leading to the kitchen, making you sigh. You put a jump in your step, something at odds with the very exasperated expression you could feel on your face, and hurried to the source of the smell, the armful of dirty laundry you'd picked up in the living room discarded as you jogged. Entering the kitchen, it took no time to zero in on the small fire slowly growing on the stovetop. 

Toki and Skwisgaar stood over it, the former blowing frantically at the quickly blackening frying pan while the former flapped at the fire with a hand towel. The mere sight of Toki's long hair billowing around the open flame made your chest seize. "Guys, guys," you will be the first to admit, your voice came out in a shriek, "stop! Move!"

Toki jumped away from the stove with a welp, his eyes wild when he saw you. You snatched the fire extinguisher off the wall by the door and ran up to the stove. Skwisgaar still hadn't moved. If anything, he seemed to step in your way, blocking you from the fire. "I has it under controls, leave." His voice was hard and cold, almost jarring in contrast to the scene playing out.

 And in your bewilderment, you snapped. Months of irritation compounding itself into a rage that bubbled past your lips, you growled, "Skwisgaar Skwigelf. If you think-", you grabbed a fistful of his shirt and wrenched him back, "-for a goddamn SECOND-" Skwisgaar stumbled and you caught his slim waist in the crook of your arm, "-I'm going to explain to Charles-", you threw him behind you and lined up the extinguisher, "-his most arrogant guitarist got third degree burns because he was too fucking STUBBORN-" aim, "-to MOVE!" fire. You pulled the trigger on the fire extinguisher and doused the stove in a thick, chemical scented foam, holding it there until the fire was smothered. Breathing heavily, you spun around and shoved the extinguisher into the blonde's arms. "Then you're stupid, too," you murmured with venom.

Skwisgaar was a tall man so even face to face as you were, he still towered over you, his eyes icy and his hands overlapping yours on the safety equipment. His eyes traced your face and you could the heat coming off your cheeks but using all your strength, you softened your expression. "Stop freezing me out. I'm just here to help." Your voice was still low but much gentler, which seemed to throw him off. Skwisgaar's haughty face mellowed and his eyes dropped to your mouth, his bottom lip finding a place between his teeth unconsciously.

"Ja," Skwisgaar finally replied, a terse acceptance as he took the fire extinguisher from you. His eyes hadn't left your face for a moment and he just rocked back on his heels, keeping the equipment awkwardly held in front of him. "I suppose Charles woulds finds dat upsettings."

Breathing a sigh of relief, you finally looked back at the stove and frowned at the charred frying pan. "Can I ask what you guys were doing?"

Toki finally piped up, seeming relieved that you weren’t yelling at them. "We's were tryings to makes a grilleds cheese."

Eyebrows furrowed, you studied the charcoal in the pan until you recognized it as a whole block of cheese. The mental image of a new, freshly purchased block of cheese, still wrapped in the plastic, being placed by these adult idiots into the frying pan made your blood pressure rise and you immediately put it to the side, deciding against any other questions.

"Okay. Well. I'll order us some pizza."

That cheered Toki up immediately but Skwisgaar simply nodded once, his cheeks turning a very light pink.

From that point on, Skwisgaar seemed to slowly accept your place as a member of the support staff. Between riffing on your jokes and agreeing with you on occasion, you would've said that your relationship with Skwisgaar was the best it had ever been.

Unfortunately, this came with an unforeseen consequence. 

Now, you had a massive crush on Skwisgaar.

Okay, sure. Technically, you'd had a crush on him for a few years. Everyone in the world knew Dethklok and regardless if they liked the music or not, everyone had a favorite. Yours had always been the Swed. And sure, he looked hot as fuck in the recording booth all those momths ago. But all the following cold shoulder encounters had turned you off of the rock star, the withering look he shot you whenever you had tried to reign in the band members kicking any thoughts of fancy to the curb.

But that was before. This was after. The shock you felt later that day when he addressed you by name for the first time was electrifying. Instead of jestful barbs at your expense on the off chance he acknowledged you, Skwisgaar joked that you took no shit so Murderface better stop riling you up. No longer barking "Moves!" if you were in his way, he simply slipped past you, his hand warm against your upper- though once or twice, lower- back. Now you preened yourself when you knew you would see him, not wishing you could hide. It was driving you crazy.

You felt like a groupie or a schoolgirl, constantly fixated on your crush. Wishing and scheming to get closer when he was around you, his presence obscuring your thoughts when he was away. You had read all the print interviews available in the Mordhaus archives, watched the video interviews online, and had even followed a Dethklok fan Instagram to get a smattering of band photos on your timeline every day. You justified it all as being diligent at your job. But that only went so far, even with yourself. You stayed there, living in limbo for months as you wrestled with your feelings and professionalism. Skwisgaar, however, seemed oblivious to the effect he was having on you. You caught him staring at you sometimes but it was so few and far between that you simply chalked it up to him zoning out.

Or that's how you lived until Christmas.

You celebrated your winter holiday early so you could be on call for the band during actual Christmastime, which turned out to be a good idea. The mothers of Dethklok decided to visit the week leading up to the 25th, having skipped the year before on Charles' recommendation and they seemed exceedingly cranky due to that. The week itself was brutal - Nathan was broody and even quicker to anger than normal, Pickles hadn't been seen sober since they learned about the impending arrival, Murderface was essentially a walking scab from the anxious picking he'd subjected his arms to, and Toki was catatonic.

Of course, your focus was caught most by Skwisgaar. Sulky with a sour stomach, he kept his head down all week. He had his guitar glued to his hands and was second only to Toki in using avoidance as a defense mechanism.

It was incredibly stressful juggling between the bristled band members and their neurotic mothers. Charles himself said it would be at least a month before they could schedule any public appearances so the boys could decompress, and ideally avoid a PR nightmare. So to say you were glad to see their mothers finally leave, only Nathan's thanking you for attending to her, was an understatement.

After a long day of taking everyone to eat then to the airport, you had retired to your small Mordhaus apartment as soon as you could - which was pretty soon as the band seemed just as exhausted and had disappeared once you had gotten home.

You didn't reemerge until after midnight, sneaking out and down the hall to find something to eat at a quarter past twelve. The house was quiet on your walk to the kitchen but after grabbing your snack - a cold cut sandwich you had wrapped in a paper towel to avoid leaving a trail of crumbs - you heard soft, twinkling music coming from the living room as you passed it on your way to the elevators. Pausing to listen, you recognized it as guitar and wondered which of the guitarists were playing, given that Nathan was the only band member who couldn't. You wondered if Murderface had seen you head down and was trying to get your attention, a ploy he had used before, ending with your curiosity getting the best of you. You crept to the living room entrance to peek.

Skwisgaar sat on the sofa facing you, pale and glowing in the dim light coming from the arcade games. His eyes were closed as his fingers glided over the neck of his Gibson, his silky hair draping down his neck and naked shoulders. Seemingly dressed for bed, he was shirtless - though his guitar hid his midriff, to your disappointment - with a pair of black sweatpants on. He seemed lost in his music, strumming out a low melody with mastery.

Your breath caught as you took in the sight and you stood there silently, trying to photograph the moment in your mind, until you registered his expression.

Devastation.

His eyes were closed but tears were streaming down his gaunt cheeks, his quivering eyebrows were furrowed, and he was mouthing a song to himself, his full lips pale. He looked like a man at war with himself, lost and broken. The music was no longer soft and twinkling, it hung in the air like a funeral dirge.

As the past few days ran through your mind, every mention of Skwisgaar's childhood came back to you and all the pieces suddenly clicked into place. This wasn't a man lost, this was a man, once again, in his element. The grief and sickness he had been feeling all week was flowing out of his guitar like the tears from his eyes.

Feeling your own eyes prickling, you felt like this was too much, too personal, for you to see. But despite that, your heart ached and you were stepping forward before you registered the motion. "Skwisgaar?"

#metalocalypse #metalocalypse fanfic #skwisgaar skwigelf #skwisgaar skwielf x reader #dethklok #i wanted it to be 5 times you interrupt skwisgaar and the last one was gonna end in a kiss but i'm slow #i got stubby slow fingers donts fuckin looks at me #if you have ever seen hozier live i tried to capture that in the recording booth #timeline is weird because i wrote this before debating if my fics take place between s3 and s4 still dont know!!!! enjoy!!!