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hidtired · 7 months ago

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Unfortunate Timing [Part 1]

(Daryl Dixon x Reader) Masterlist

Description: You found out your pregnant early into your relationship with Daryl Dixon. To make matters worse? The apocalypse happens a few days later! (not fully canon)

5.7k words

Warnings (Pregnancy, gore, smut, reference to abuse, violence, fluff, walking dead stuff, ect.)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 etc.

Pre Apocalypse

You had moved to a small town in Georgia to get away from your parents. Your Aunt Mary had a little boutique and offered a job. Your parents didn’t like you weren’t married yet, not even dating either. So they have been shoving men at you for the last few years. They thought by your age you should have been married with kids. They wanted grandkids. Your brother was married but him and his wife struggled with fertility. The final straw was trying to get you into an arranged marriage with one of your father’s business buddies kid. You had only just turned 30.

It had freaked you out how your parents made it seem like you didn’t have a choice. So you packed your bags, your mother pleaded for you to not go. You broke the lease to your apartment and left without telling them where.

You like the simple life you were leading now. Helping your Aunt's business. You lived with her because she was a widow with no kids and wanted the company. You had some interesting neighbors across the street. You had just driven into the driveway taking notice of a man fixing his truck. It was hot outside and his arms were covered in grease.

You walked into the kitchen where your Aunt was doing dishes. You decided to help making idle talk about how the shop was until you looked out the window to still see the sleeveless man. Your Aunt caught you looking, "Thought you came here to get away from boys?" You smile shyly at being caught, looking back down and handing her a wet plate to be dried. "Never said that... Just the one my parents choose. Didn't have time to look for a date when men were thrown at me randomly by them." Your Aunt was amused to say the least. "That's Daryl Dixon, him and his brother live there. You have to watch yourself with a Dixon. But Daryl has helped me with a few things that broke around the house. He replaced the battery's in the fire alarms for me a week before you came."

You gave her a sideways look, "You trying to set me up now to?" Mary laughs, "Fine fine, granted I do bake something for him every time he does something for me. Could just have a sweet tooth." You look back out the window, ‘Daryl huh?’

It was a week later that you got a call from your brother. You went on a walk to take the call. He was anger that your father was on him for a kid because you had disappeared. The pressure had turned to his wife who was already having a hard time with infertility. It was when you were walking back to the house did the conversation get heated.

"Grow a back bone and yell at them Mathew! Why are you coming at me for!?" He responded with his own venom, "Why couldn't you just do what they asked! But go ahead die alone for all I care!" He ended the call abruptly after. You clenched your teeth tight and closed your eyes trying to compose yourself. A voice called from across the street, "Ya doin alright over there?" You turned to see Daryl beer in hand with the hood of his car open. You sighed shoulders sagging, "Sorry for the yelling." Daryl pick up another beer showing it off to you, "Sounds like ya could use one of these." You put your hands to your hips before deciding to walk over. You grab the beer he handed you with a smile, "Thanks..."

You cracked the can open taking a sip. Daryl stare at you for a second before saying something, “Yer boyfriend causing you trouble?” You chuckled at the thought, making a small face of disgust at it even, “No, that was just my brother being an ass.” Daryl took mental note of that ‘single’. He huffed and looked back down into his trucks hood. “Oh trust me I know how that is.” You look at him as he refocused his attention to his car, ‘That’s right, that’s what your Aunt had said.’ You lean against the truck. “Your Daryl right? I’m Y/N” Daryl looked back up at the mention of you knowing his name, “Oh so ya heard bout us.” He sounded a bit disappointed at the thought. You lean to look inside the car, smiling over to him, “Only the things my Aunt said.” He perked a brow at that, “Who’s yer Aunt? What she say about us?”

“Mary.” You pointed over your shoulder to the house, “And she mentioned you might have a sweet tooth.” Daryl looked over to the house of the lady he often did things for, her niece chiming in again. “Always see you fixing this truck across the street.” He pulled a red rag from his back pocket wiping his hands, “Ya damn thing always seems to be breakin.” He took notice of the girl fully now. You took slow sips of the beer he gave you while starring into the hood. “Well if I have any trouble with my car I know who to ask.” You looked up to him with a shy smile. “I’m useless when it comes to knowing anything about cars.”

That’s how they both started talking. You watching him fix a couple spark plugs while talking about things. Getting to know each other a little. Like how you were helping Mary with her shop. “Ah, so you just moved here.” You nodded, “Mmm about a month. Have no clue where anything is and have no friends so…” you shrug. A breeze started as evening was setting in. Daryl hesitated before saying, “I could show you some local spots.” He bit the side of his thumb nail waiting for an answer. You had bit your bottom lip looking up at him and smiled, “Sounds like fun to me.”

He was worried for a second he messed up, “There’s a bar that everyone knows, real popular on Fridays.” You nodded while looking at him staring down at your watch seeing you had been talking for about a hour. It was getting late so you slowly started to walk backwards to your house. You smile with a glint in your eye, “Sounds like a Date… see you Friday!” You waved and all he could do was look on with wide eyes. Did you just- “Pick you up at 8!” He yelled. He was in slight disbelief at the out come. Had you been flirting with him the whole time?

You had handed him a tool before he could even ask. You had known how to do it all along and played stupid to talk with him. He smiled down as he closed his hood. ‘Oh you were trouble.’

When Friday came he was kicking himself. This was unlike him to go on dates. But he wouldn’t deny he liked you. You were also looking forward to a date for the first time in a while. Preferring it more than being tricked on to one with some guy your parents liked. Daryl probably didn’t fit that kind a guy they would. Oh but your kind definitely. Your Aunt watched you try on an outfit before deciding to go with a floral casual dress that went to your knees. She gave you a smug look and you only rolled your eyes. You had a long black jacket over you, knowing it was already cool outside.

Daryl knocked on the door and off you went in his truck to this bar. He was slightly nervous when he saw you dolled yourself up, and for him? He had lied to Merle where he was going and doing. He was desperately trying not to blow this, “Ya look pretty…” he had said it at a stop light looking over to you. It’s everything a girl wants to hear, and it sure made you smile.

When they got to the bar the bartender seemed confused to see Daryl with a girl. He was normally there with his brother. Mostly to make sure he didn’t do anything stupid he had noticed. “Well if it isn’t a Dixon, tell your brother he still owes me for the glass he broke.” Daryl cringed at the mention of his brother. You just simply took a seat on a stool. “What can I get you two.”

You had a few drinks you’ll admit. You tried a classic drink that the locals had. You were grossed out at the drink causing you and Daryl to laugh. He only had a drink with the need to drive you both home. You had tried to play pool but decided you were a little to inebriated at how many times you missed the ball entirely. You were standing in a corner of the bustling bar talking. You held a bow empty cup dying laughing at a story had told you about his childhood. Sometimes kids dumb actions, like jumping off a shed in a hero outfit, were just funny. You had lost a little balance at your laughing and place a hand onto Daryl’s chest. He only looked down to you putting a hand to your waist to steady you. You had tears of laughter in you eye, you fanning your face to no ruining your make up. He was definitely enjoying this more than he wanted to.

You had been at the bar for about 4 hours with Daryl. You now walked leaning into him in the parking lot. He had an arm around your shoulder leading you to the car door. He started the car and looked over to you, “Should have told me ya were a lightweight.” You gasped offendly, “Lightweight! I’ll have you know I’m just tipsy.” He looked at you questioningly humming. You relaxed into the car seat, “Ok, I’ll admit I haven’t done this in a while- might be a little rusty on the drinking game.”

You both continued to joke around until getting to the neighborhood. He back up in your drive way to later drive into his own. Him doing that thing with his arm as he back up. You bit your lip at the sight. When he parked and looked at you you spoke, “Thank you for this Daryl, I had fun.” He nodded, “Was my pleasure…” you had slowly moved closer crossing the middle seat. He looked down at your flushed face, mostly done by the alcohol. That liquid courage probably giving you the strength to grab him by the chin and slowly kiss him. He leaned into it grabbing your hip. You pulled back with a bashful smile,

“Same time next week?”

He had fully smiled at that, “Ya bet your sweet ass. Now get out of here miss ‘tipsy’.” You giggle wiggling your way out of the car. Waving goodbye with a stupid smile on your face. He felt his heart skip a beat, ‘oh he was real screwed…’

That night he even thought back to how you were looking at him on the way back. He had caught you leaned against the window with hooded eye. When he looked at you, you tried to fight a smile. Oh and how could he not think of the kiss. His hands dragged down his face at the thought.

This went on for a little over a month. You would see each other throughout the week but Fridays you would go out. Small touch’s and kisses here and there. It wasn’t until you ended up back at that bar that things changed. You were only 2 drinks in. You sat in a booth with Daryl. Head on his shoulder and hands intertwined under the table. You pulled away getting up, “I’m going to get another drink and you a beer. Then I’ll wipe your ass in a game of pool!” Daryl chuckled, “Let’s hope you can hit the ball with your cue this time.” You stuck out your tongue at him while walking to the bar. You had only been waiting for your drinks when a man slide up next to you.

“Whats a pretty thing like you doing with a Dixon? He blackmailing you?” The man held a sleazy smirk. You only look at him with disgust ignoring him. It was when he put his hand to your arm pulling you closer did you talk to him, “Hey back off!” The man’s grip tightened, “What you a hooker or something? Only way a Dixon could get some pipe is by paying for a slut.” You had yanked your arm from him, you falling back a little before landing against someone behind you. A arm rapping around you, you recognized it instantly, Daryl. His voice growling and rumbling against you, “Back off my girl.”

The man who was bothering you only rolled his eyes, “Maybe keep your slut on a leash-“ You had felt Daryl lean forward behind you before you even saw him sock the guy in the face. You had gasped and turned to push Daryl back from the guy. He stumbled and held his nose. You whispered to Daryl, “Ok it’s time to go…” You tried to push him closer to the door but the jackass decided to spit out another comment, “Ya let your bitch drag you away pussy!” You felt Daryl lean forward and resisted you leading him backwards but you spoke softly up to him, “Please…” His eyes briefly met yours. He looked back up to the guy who was probably drunk but, Daryl’s blood was boiling with rage. He relented at your plea and walked out the exit.

He was quiet as he walked back to the truck. Walking a little faster ahead of you. When he got into the drivers seat you had said his name but he wasn’t listening. He put the key in the ignition, turning it on but your hand rested onto his arm and you said his name again, “Daryl…”. He slumped a little and turned the car back off. He slowly turned to look at you. You scooted closer into him. You closed your hands around his face so he would look at you. You gave a small smile, “Thank you.” You gave him a quick peck before leaning back to look at him.

He signed and placed his forehead to yours talking a moment. He thought maybe he was gonna scary you off at the out burst. He whispered, “Hope I didn’t scare ya.” You chuckled shaking your head, “They opposite really. I was scared of that guy and then you came and I felt ok again.” He inhaled a breath before I closing his arms around you. He pulled you into him more and you rapped an arm around his back. You sat there for a moment before you spoke, “Soooo, Your girl huh?”

Daryl froze in place. Didn’t even register he said it in the moment. He pulled back from you, mouth agape, stuttering before he gave up at trying to say anything. You placed a hand into his hair playing with a strand of hair, “I’m your girl?” You had almost whispered it. Daryl cleared his throat, “Will you be?” You let out a breathy sigh,

“Yeah, thought you’d never ask.”

That is when you officially started dating. Sat in the truck, in the parking lot, making out for a good 10 minutes.

You were enjoying the new found established relationship. Over the next week was filled with your Aunt seeing you cuddle on the couch watching a movie. You had even managed to give him a small haircut in his bathroom, “Hmm, I think you would look good with long hair.” Sometime you would find yourself in Daryl’s room laying on his bed just talking when Merle was away.

Speaking of Merle he had later found out when at the bar that his baby brother started a fight over his girlfriend. He had thought nothing of it until he asked his brother if it was true. When it was confirmed he laid hurtful comments at him. ‘No one can love someone like us!’ ‘Like you really?’ It was a definite damage to his ego. But some of the things he said about you rubbed him the wrong way. It made him defensive, ‘She a good lay?’ ‘got you pussy whipped.’ They had yet to even cross that line.

You know understood why Daryl had not wanted you to met his brother at first. He made rude and sexually comments to you. Often either being sexist or racist any time near him. You mostly tried to say clear of him.

Then there came the drama that followed from your parents. Apparently your Aunt let it slip to your brother you were with her. He told your parents and now here you were getting a call from her shop. You picked up the business phone and before you could even spit out your prepared greeting you heard your father’s voice boom over the phone. “Now you listen to me little lady you’re coming back home!” You pause shocked. “Your little tantrum is done and you will do as you’re told!” You could hear your mother in the back telling him to calm down. You to in a breath and replied calmly, “Dad, I will do no such thing.”

He was yelling more. You had caught something about a wedding date and some name before your mother took the phone from him. “Honey, you need to come back home ok?” You really couldn’t understand why, “No Mama I like it here.” She went to go on, “We are just doing what we think is best for you. We just want you to be happy with a husband.” You had enough snapping at them for the first time, “You want what’s best for you. If you wanted me happy you would have listened to me! I’ll have you know with the time I’ve been gone I finally feel free. I even got a boyfriend!”

Your mother gasped, “In the town you’re in! What redneck white trash could you possibly find out there!” You were surprised at the way your mother spoke. But you were also mad at it. You angrily replied, “His name is Daryl Dixon! Fuck you! Never call me again!” You hung up seething. You had closed the shop a little early.

After the call from your parents you walked to the bar. The bartender seemed surprised seeing you without Daryl before asking, “Your usual?” You nodded with an appreciative smile. While waiting for the drink you noticed Daryl’s brother with a few other people. You ignored him deciding you would have the one drink and go home, not really in the mood to deal with Merle.

You had just finished your drink when you heard a commotion behind you. Merle and another were arguing. It was getting really heated. You had stood about ready to leave when the other guy threatened Merle, “I’ll kill you for this!” When you had turned Merle was smug looking and unaware of the knife being pulled from behind the man’s pants. You had yelled, “Merle!” In a panic you lobbed your glass at the man. It shattered over his head sending him to crumple to the side on a table. The knife slipping from his hand and landing in front of him. Merle looked down at the knife before looking up to where the glass came from, spotting you. You were shocked with your mouth open looking at the man holding his head in pain, before looking back to Merle. The few other men that were sitting with them getting up displeased.

Merle realizing he was out numbered started to run toward you. He had grabbed you by the arm and dragged you with him to the exit. The bartender yelled as you got dragged away. “Hey!” You had yelled back before the door closed, “Sorry Lawrence I’ll pay you back later!” Merle was still dragging you along to his motorcycle. The door had swung open and the angry men started to pursue you both. Merle had yelled at you when you pause to look at the door, “Get the fuck on!”

You had hopped over the seat and sat behind him. Not having a moment to hold on before he started to speed off. It wasn’t until he pulled into his driveway that you started telling him off.

Daryl had heard Merle’s motorcycle pull in but he wasn’t expecting to hear you yelling right after it. “Goddamn I’m already having a shit day!” When he walked out the front door to see you telling Merle off as he just sat there on his bike silently taking it. He had never seen his brother not throwing words back at someone. “Are you an idiot!” Not even that got a reaction from him. Daryl knew that would normally get replied by violence. It wasn’t until he spoke did you turn at his voice, “The hell is goin on?” Your anger soon crumpled into tears, you were overwhelmed and maybe a bit scared still body pumping with adrenaline. Daryl almost got whiplash at the sudden mood shift.

That didn’t stop him from hugging you as you started to cry. He shot a look to his brother who still sat on his bike. Merle looking weirded out at the sudden tears. "The hell you do ta her?!” Merle rubbed the back of his neck, "May have got into a bit of a fight at the bar with some folks. She kinda stopped me from being stabbed." He had felt you shaking in his grasp now. He knew you hated conflict, told him about the pit that would form in your stomach. But you stopping Merle from being stabbed? "How she do that?" Merle chuckled, "Threw her glass across the room! Knocked him clean on his sorry ass." He seemed almost impressed by you.

Daryl started leading you back toward your home. Daryl turning to yell back to his brother, "Whatever man piss off." He had gotten you into your house before you spoke, "My Aunt went on her Cabo trip with her book club friends. She'll be gone a week... stay?" He gulped, "If ya really want me to." You nodded, "I don't wanna be alone." He saw you were scared.

He lay next to you in your bed after you calmed down and ate dinner. "Want to talk bout it?" You moved closer to him leading him to put a arm over you. You sighed into him, "I was at the bar because I had a rough conversation with my parents. Somethings were said. Their the reason I moved here, to get away from. I saw Merle and then the knife- then all those men chased us." Your hand rose to pinch the bridge of your nose, "Just been a- a shit day." You move to look up to Daryl's blue eyes a smirk rising to your lips at the worried and tight look he was giving you. He relax a little at your attention. He dragged a hand up your arm to your face, "Merle seems to think your a badass now." He himself was a little proud to hear what you did. You grunted into his chest, "He'd better. Saved his dumbass."

You were talking for a while after that. Seeing the clock blinking 1am now. You were sleepy but enjoyed talking to him to much to fall asleep. Sleep was pulling at your eyes and a question that should have been a inside thought slipped out, "Why haven't we had sex yet?" Daryl was a little taken back but not to shocked at the question, he hummed, "Honestly not a clue, I like you to much to mess anything up." Maybe the tired feeling was making his lips a little loose to. He paused before continued, "I've only had meaningless sex. Nothing with feeling behind it." He smirked down to your hazy eyes, "Why? You tryin to get in my pants?" You chuckled adding a little shrug, "Perhaps. Take me out to dinner and we'll see how the night goes from there." That made Daryl's heart beat a little harder. Of course he has thought about it before just didn't know how to act on it with you. He held you a little tighter to him, goofy smile to his face, "Yes Ma'am."

Take you out to dinner he did. Nothing to fancy but by the end of that night you offered him to follow you inside. You were laughing while bumping backwards into things as you both kissed. You stripping buttons down his shirt when he paused face looking uncomfortable. You stopped at the look. He sighed squeezing his eyes tight. Reminding himself it was you. "Uh sorry, just forgot to mention- just look fer yourself..." You softly pulled the shirt down off of him. Revealing scars along his body.

You dragged a finger along one. You look up at him with round eyes. He looked away before saying, “M’ Daddy was a drunk.” You intake air and release it at the information. You leaned down and kissed the scar you touched. Everything turned slow from that point, more sensual. He rolled into you at a pace he never had before. He was used to chasing a feeling, getting it over with. But every time he would push into you he couldn’t help but love the groans you made. You sure loved the noises subconsciously coming out of him as well. You would move up into him. The slow motion had sent you crazy. Leading you to claw at him begging for more. He didn’t go faster but harder.

Your moans filled your bedroom. Daryl was sucking on your neck while rutting into you. He was huffing out air and grunting in exertion. The tight clench he felt around him damn near knocked the wind out of him. He had pulled out and rested his head on your chest while trying to catch his breath. You dug your hands into the back of his hair.

That night lead to many more like it. Which is what lead you to the current situation going on. You were in the bathroom staring at a positive pregnancy test. Not just one but three. You sat on the floor contemplating, 'How did this happen?' 'Do I keep it?' 'How do I tell Daryl?' You and Daryl had been only officially dating for 3 and a half months now. The first test had you in denial, the second had you begging. The third had you close to acceptance. At least you weren't ugly crying anymore. Before anything you needed to tell Daryl. So you called him over saying it was urgent.

He opened the front door and jogged to your room seeing you crisscross on the bed looking distraught. He kneeled down at the front of your bed looking up at you. You took in a nervous breath before talking, "If you need a moment after I tell you this, its okay, I wont be mad." Daryl's heart dropped to his ass, 'were you about to end stuff between them?'

"I'm pregnant."

His eyes slowly widened and he looked down to your stomach then back to you. He abruptly stood up then paused again. His mind moving a mile a minute but also not at all. The one thing to click was "A father? ME?' He slowly walked out the room. You sat there with tears burning in your eyes watching him leave the room. He paced back and forth hand running into his hair. The fight or flight in him was telling him to run, he was overwhelmed. Then he heard a small sniffle come from the room he had just come from. That stopped him in his tracks. He thinks he loves you. You both hadn't gotten to saying it out loud to each other. He didn't know what love felt like but this was what he imagined it to be. He hated to see you cry. Made him feel like maybe he would to if he didn't fix your tears. When he heard you he slowly made his way back into the room. Realizing you were most likely as terrifies as him, more so even.

You felt his arms around you making you cry harder. You had run the possibility of him leaving in your mind. Fully aware of his lack of a good father in his life. When you pulled away to look at him he also had tears going down his face. It was the first you have seen him cry. You had now put your arms around his middle and pulled him down to now lay on top of you. You had a tight hold on him and he you. You both calmed down and you knew he wasn't leaving, then he also whispered into you, "I've got ya. Both of ya."

It was rough that first day. It didn't feel real. You told Daryl how you were going to make a appointment in the morning. You asked if he was wanting to go with. He had slowly nodded deep in thought. You had said they could talk about everything in time.

You both had time.

You had an appointment in a week, the receptionist suggesting you go and buy prenatal vitamins before then. You also broke the news to your Aunt, she was supportive. Saying she would love to help with anything you needed. You and her walked a few blocks to a small store connected to a pharmacy. You looked to the shelves of pills. You held two big bottles, different brands, of prenatal vitamins. The sound of screaming alerting you to a disturbance in the store. You turn to your Aunt with a questioning look. You both peaked around the aisle spotting someone on top of the other, a fight perhaps?

Gun shots to your left making you jump. You turned seeing a man backing down the aisle beside you shooting rounds into a woman approaching him. You witnessed the women not even flinch to each shot. Your Aunt pulled you by the shoulder backwards down the lane. Another person who was pale with foggy eyes rounded the corner. It grabbed your Aunt and before you could blink took a bit out of her neck. You watch in horror as she dropped to the ground with that person on top of her. Blood from her throat being ripped out had splattered across your face. You screamed terrified. The lady the man had been shooting at now turned the corner from the aisle they were in. Now she was covered in blood though. You look down to your Aunt who had stopped moving. The thing taking notice of you. So you ran.

You had just seen your Aunt being brutally murdered. You ran out the door of the building pill bottle still in hand. You saw people running, cars crashing. Others getting hit by cars. It was a nightmare but you felt like you need to keep moving. You ran down the road back to your house. Dodging anyone covered in blood.

Daryl had kicked the door open to your house. Merle was packing stuff into the truck across the road. He screamed your name looking for you anywhere. When he couldn’t find you he ran back to the car, “I can’t find her!” Merle rolled his eyes, “Forget about her! She probably died someone where let’s get are asses out of here!” Daryl yelled back at him with rage. ��THE IS NO WAY IN HELL IM GOING ANYWHERE WITHOUT HER!” The yell had shocked Merle. Daryl had never talk to him like that. “We can find you a new lady we gotta go!” Then Daryl did something more unexpected. He shoved Merle back. He had hit the side door of the truck, Merle was about to hit him when he yelled, “She’s pregnant man!”

Daryl had a panicked and pained expression on his face. He started to stuttered out, “I-I gotta go look—“ The sound of his name being yelled from a distance made him turn in the direction. He was relieved to see you running full speed toward him. His relief flooded by panic at the sight of blood painted across your face and cloths. He ran the rest of the way to you. Crashing into each other in an embrace. You struggled to regain breath after how long you were running. Daryl had held your face seeing were the blood came from. Tears forming in your eyes, “It’s not mine…” Merle’s voice cutting in, “Come on love birds we gotta go now!”

Daryl lead you to the car opening the door and making you jump in, “Stay here I’m going to get some of your stuff.” He ran off back to your house and Merle started tightening the cables to the bike in the back. He sat down in the driver seat and looked over to you. You had two pill bottles on your lap and you stared at your hands shaking. He then noticed all the blood on you and decided to keep his mouth shut. Daryl ran back throwing a duffel bag in the back before going to the passenger side. You sat in the middle still a little stunned. Like a bird who flew into glass.

Daryl’s arm went behind your head resting on your shoulders. You leaned into him. Merle had started to peel out of the space driving off into a direction. You heard little of the talk between them. Choosing a quarry they know to get away from the towns and head into the woods.

All you knew was the world was changing.

Part 2

Feedback welcomed and requests open!

Sorry for mistakes I to eepy its 2 am. I'm dyslexic and struggle with it and normally reread 10 times to fix mistakes but this is so long I wanna go to bed.

#daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl x reader #daryl imagines #daryl x female reader #daryl fanfiction #twd daryl #norman reedus #angst #fluff #smut

596 notes · View notes

justjasper · 11 months ago

Note

do you have any domestic moreid headcanons?

Pre-Relationship

They become fast friends, they hang out a lot, they call each other at odd hours.

Reid gets Morgan into Star Trek by making him watch Deep Space Nine. Morgan would fight god for Captain Sisko.

They fall into bed sometime in season 1, and keep doing so on and off for years while their feelings brew.

Reid wakes up alive after the events of Amplification with Morgan by his bedside, and they have a conversation full off feelings. They become "official" here.

Newly Established

They can both cook; Reid looked after his mother and went to college young, Morgan's dad cooked, and Morgan followed his example.

Nobody proposes moving in together officially, Reid just spends less and less time at his apartment until the lease runs out. He mentions it to Morgan quite matter of factly, and Morgan shrugs, smiles, pulls his pretty boy in for a kiss. "Most of your books are here already."

A morning where they don't have to work goes like this: Morgan gets up early to go for a run with Clooney. By the time he's back, Reid is making is making them breakfast. They eat, and then shower together.

Morgan has a decent vinyl collection and likes to listen to them on chill evenings. Reid is a musical sponge, and if he gets a chance when they're on cases, will seek out record shops for something interesting or rare.

Their favourite takeout is Thai. Reid is one of those "white guy with spice tolerance" outliers.

Well Established

It takes some time for them to switch to using first names in private, Morgan takes significantly longer. It's not a problem, they've known and loved each other a long time with these names. Neither of them shorten each other's names.

Clooney is a K9 dropout, and highly trainable, and Reid teaches him a lot of silly tricks. He likes to show Clooney magic tricks.

One of the properties Morgan buys has a decrepid grand piano in it. He gets it restored for Reid, who's dabble with learning on and off. He plays the piano every day.

Morgan thinks Reid doesn't really believe in marriage as an institution, and is okay with that, they don't have to get married, even if they could. Reid proposes to Morgan one morning in shower.

Reid never gets an official autism dignosis, wanting the plausible deniability while working for the goverment. They talk about it. Morgan starts packing a weighted blanket in his go-bag for him (people often ask why his go back is so heavy).

The Future

They get married once it's legal, a simple ceremony but all their important people are there.

When they leave the BAU it's a joint decision. They're both ready for a new adventure, with less actual threat of bodily harm.

Morgan goes into property full time, flipping houses and rent-to-buying them to local people/families, instead of selling them to landlord who will end up pushing locals out of the area.

Reid goes into research/lecturing.

They move to Chicago to be closer to family. They move Diana to be close them them too.

As Reid gets older, he has to use a cane more. His migranes are mostly under control, but eventually he experiences migralepsy (migraine seizures). The dog they get after Clooney passes becomes Reid's service dog.

The Future (with kid)

Reid carries (he's trans). It's an unplanned pregnancy, but they go for it. Reid is terrible at being pregnant.

They have a daughter they name Sam after Morgan's dad (bc I chose this fanon name years before CM bothered to give Morgan's dad a canon name and I am sticking with it out of spite).

Morgan's sisters teach Reid to do Sam's hair.

Morgan is very involved when sam becomes a Girl Scout, and coaches her softball team.

Reid teaches her piano. They read together every day.

They struggle not to intefer when she's a teen and it becomes apparent the girl she keeps bringing home is her first crush.

They both try so hard to be present, devoted dads that they can can fall into helicopter parent tendencies.

#moreid #headcanon #derek morgan #spencer reid #my fic #not really but

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verdemoun · 3 months ago

Note

Wait in the au with black belle does kieran still die

You think the O'Driscolls have a chance of getting within 400ft of Kieran with the most hostile and affectionate of black cat coded girlfriends?? Not a chance in h e double l Hell.

he still gets drunk enough to wander off at shady belle and is cornered by O'Driscolls

despite being within sight of shady belle he was too terrified to even scream because being confronted by O'Driscolls is a throat closed mouth dry anxiety attack for Kieran

as the O'Driscolls move in to knock him out and take him back to their camp with threats like 'Colm misses you', 5 shots ring out and with a half second lag they all collapse to the ground with a single bullet hole clean in the center of their heads

shots wake up the gang and Black Belle obviously gets to her boyf first while others run forward to find out what happened

Kieran is so distraught he cries while she holds him and assures him he's safe

Kieran nearly getting abducted is treated as a non-issue like when Bill got caught by bounty hunters but the fact the O'Driscolls got so close was a massive issue and the gang decided to go take them out in a final VDL vs O'Driscolls showdown.

Oh no Micah gets shot rip Micah.

Instead of killing Colm, Sadie as the only VDL without a bounty gets to carry Colm hogtied on the back of her horse and claim his bounty (his face is almost unrecognisable with the number of times she hit him). Even after her cut it tips the gang into 'holy shit we have enough'.

Strauss does some information gathering because let my man actually have a purpose other than being a toad. The gang decide to set for Australia instead of Tahiti because surviving in Australia is actually plausible.

As 'new money' they get awarded a 100 hectares of crown land for agricultural purposes on a 100 year, $1 lease. and the gang are all just standing there dumbfounded because it was that easy the whole time?? They turn up at a property of rolling hills covered in grass without a city in sight and it was that easy the whole time.

House building episode where they all build little cabins under Sadie's instruction because there was none of this pre-cut houses from a catalogue. it looks like a self sustaining village with all the cabins build in a circle around a massive bonfire and they still have campfires every night before retiring to their little private cabins and having a home and peace.

Some of the gang drift apart Bill becomes a bushranger Pearson opens a little shop in town Strauss heads for the city to exploit people Grimshaw starts tailoring and selling clothes and becomes an urban legend in her own right about the cranky mysterious woman who looks and is capable of murder but dotes on children.

Black Belle is happy being the armed security who stops people trying to steal their fucking cattle and horses meanwhile Kieran is happy doting on the horses. Him and Arthur have a small horse breeding, breaking and selling operation and become besties. Sadie, Black Belle and John who learns how to herd handle the livestock. Dutch and Hosea retire and grow old but they are basically Jack's tutors they are both teaching him to read and write and giving him an education and everyone's sunshine and rainbows happy.

#blackduffy #black belle #kieran duffy #rdr2 fix it au

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shabbytigers · 28 days ago

Text

flathunting again

love the current place but it’s too much space for more money than makes sense, and now that i have my sea legs in berlin i can cast a wider net on location

attractive and reasonably priced apartments exist in berlin and the ones in good or wonderful locations aren’t much more expensive than those in barely acceptable locations, but they’re mobbed and go instantly

a good apartment in nyc may have a dozen or two people jostling to be chosen but berlin is on another level. you have to pass first-round triage to even get invited to a viewing. a current tenant who wants to leave often has to solicit and screen initial prospectives, run the viewings, and only then present their landlord with a pre-screened shortlist* — absolutely wild to me but supply:demand is so whackass low here that contracts get written like this

nyc, which is also housing-undersupplied, but with astronomical pricing differentials by location and more supply per price point, is much easier to shop imo

nyc flathunting: identify three or four neighborhoods with plausible pricing you could stand to live in; if you know nyc you probably can do this offhand. look at a hundred listings in those neighborhoods. query fifteen, go and see twelve of those, try for any that look good in real life, probably score within half a dozen tries. a dozen if it’s high boom times

berlin flathunting: look at a thousand listings over the course of a week, most of which will be short lets, furnished lets, and/or swaps, which you can’t filter out of your search easily because no one is incentivized to optimize search. send fifty queries. get eight responses, three are so-sorry form letters, five are live people, one ghosts, four ask questions and offer you a viewing but two of those cancel at the last minute because they’ve just found someone. repeat all of this next week and probably score by week ten or twelve?

interestingly, this makes it a terrible strategy to target preferred neighborhoods in berlin, the way you would in nyc! you can exclude a few firm noes, but if i were holding out for my top three fave areas it could easily take five years to find something. fun fact no one in bergmannkiez ever moves out, the only instance i’ve heard of of someone moving in somebody had literally died and left her their lease. afaic anywhere on real transit (not the sort of suburban bus that only runs once an hour at night) that isn’t a flagrant AfD stronghold is worth looking at

*thankfully, i ain’t doing this shit. i bullied my landlord into sweet exit terms by threatening to sue him for overcharging my newcomer ass via an arguably/marginally fraudulent rent cap loophole: low but nonzero success probability, high nuisance value, he was eager to sort things amicably and i got flexible/rolling six-week notice, don’t have to find him another tenant, don’t have to paint, and get about six weeks’ rent back in cash as a moving costs allowance. don’t fuck with the duck

#berlin #berlin flathunting

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cuttingpenisblackmetal · 11 months ago

Text

edit: on AO3

tw: canon-typical homophobia, medical gore (near the end). pre-dethklok magnus and murderface, just dudes bein roommates

They pay the security deposit with the last of Magnus' college fund and put Murderface's grandfather's name on the lease instead of their own. It's garbage day, so they spend their morning cruising around a neighborhood on the nice end of town, occasionally stopping to throw furniture into the back of Magnus' truck. They bribe Nathan with a case of beer to help them 'move in', and by the afternoon, it almost looks like a real home: tatty sofa, cracked TV screen, stack of amps along the wall, their own mattresses on the floors of their rooms. It's a two-bedroom, but they deserve a two-bedroom, because they're going to make it big, after all. Nathan almost has a drummer lined up, a big name supposedly, and the gigs are already being penciled in, and they know by instinct that Dethklok is going to be big. Really big. They should be living like kings.

So, on their first day in their new apartment, Murderface and Magnus sit on opposite sides of their freshly-scavenged couch and watch their cracked TV. Magnus has done some 'creative' wiring so that they can 'borrow' cable from the neighbouring apartment, but right now they're only getting one channel and it's the one where people try to sell you things. Deluxe vacuums, currently. Nathan's gone off to have some meeting with their potential new drummer, so it's just the two of them, in their new apartment, that they're now renting together, on their own personal couch. Just the two of them. Roommates. Sitting on a couch…

"Is thisch gay?" Murderface asks aloud.

Magnus glances over a him. "Excuse me?"

"Thisch is kinda gay, right? Two guys living together?"

Magnus blinks at him. "Oh, yeah, totally, man," he replies apathetically, directing his attention back to the television.

"Wait, fuck, scheriously?"

"Seriously. Says on the lease we have to suck each other off every night."

"Fuck. Thatsch not good."

"Trust me, you get used to it."

"Aw, man, this schucks! I don't wanna suck a dude off! Can't I jusch jerk you off or somethin'?"

"If you jerk me off, we don't get the security deposit back."

"Fuck the shecurity deposit. That's your money anyway."

Magnus gives Murderface one of his famous cutting glances from the corner of his eyes. Then he settles back into the couch, propping an ankle over his knee, jiggling his foot a little.

Murderface tries to mimic him, likewise sinking into the sofa, likewise crossing his legs. Super relaxed, super cool.

"I'm not suckin' nobody's pee-pee," Murderface grumbles. "My name's not even on the schtupid lease."

Magnus has already lost interest in the joke. "Oh. Sure. I guess legally, your grand-dad has to suck it."

"Dude, grossch--"

"Shut up," Magnus sits up, gestures to the TV. "Look at that."

The vacuum infomercial has ended. A man dressed as a cowboy now stands before a fake desert backdrop, delivering an inaudible monologue (the speakers on their TV are broken).

"Aw schit," says Murderface, "Now that jusch makes me homeschick."

"Keep watching, idiot," says Magnus.

Murderface keeps watching. He watches as the cowboy reaches into his hip-holster and draws a long, shiny samurai sword.

"Schit!" Murderface sits up. "That's fuckin' aweschome!"

"Right?"

"I want a fuckin' sword-holster! You know what? I'll suck you off if it means we get your money back and use it to buy a fuckin' cowboy ninja sword!"

Magnus looks thoughtful. "You know," he begins slowly, "I have some money left in my college fund."

They lock eyes. No further words need pass between them. They stand and go for the door.

Magnus and Murderface are standing before a kiosk in a shopping mall, admiring a dazzling array of knives.

They have big knives; knives with bad-ass triangular holes in them (aerodynamic!); knives with iridescent blades; knives with that fancy stripy folded-steel blades; They have hunting knives with camo-print handles, little pocket knives, Swiss army knives, pocket knives with bullets for handles, pocket knives with lighters for handles, pocket knives hidden in lipstick (for the ladies). They have knives with spikes on them and knives shaped like axes and knives with jagged serrated edges that look like shark's teeth. And, of course, they have swords.

"Schit," Murderface says, pointing, "I want that one."

"Bad quality steel," Magnus says, without looking.

"Fuck that schit, the blade is black. That means high carbon. Extra scharp."

"This is what you want," says Magnus, pointing to a plain steel hunting knife. "Utilitarian. Functional."

"Boooo-ring."

"Classy. That's a knife you can bring to a fancy dinner."

"Check out that knife," Murderface interrupts him. The knife he points to has a blade the length of his forearm, with spikes all around the base near where it connects to the handle, and several triangular holes in the centre.

"Shit," Magnus breathes. "That's a cool knife."

"So fucking cool."

"You want that one?"

"Well, yeah, but…"

"But?"

"I've been thinking, we schould get a lot of knives. An aschortment of knives."

"Oh, yeah, absolutely."

"We need the right knives for the right occasions. Every knife scherves its own purposch."

"And a sword, of course."

"Two schwords! One for you, one for me."

"Three swords. We'll have to keep one by the door, in case of intruders."

"Yeah! It's a bad neighborhood, who knows what could happen."

They lock eyes. They nod. Magnus signals for the clerk.

They've just pulled onto the highway and an awful staticky death metal band is blasting over the radio when Magnus turns the volume down and says, "We should have a special dinner. To celebrate the move."

"Dude, grosch," Murderface, whose lap is currently full of knives, replies. "That's gay."

"I'm gay? You're holding a rainbow knife."

"Uh, it'sch called an oil-spill butterfly knife? It'sch limited edition?"

"Whatever, man. It doesn't have to be anything fancy. We can get steak or something. Champagne."

"Gaaaay."

"The champagne makes the lease-required dick-sucking easier, William. You'll thank me later."

Viscerally disgusted, Murderface stabs Magnus' dashboard with his newly-acquired limited-edition oil-spill butterfly knife. "Eugh, just don't call me that while you're talking about dick-sucking! You're really grosching me out."

"Whatever you say, honey."

"Hammersmith--"

Magnus turns up the radio, rolls down the window to let the wind blow in. Murderface watches him tuck his long hair behind his ear, then stabs his dashboard once more, for good measure.

They are standing in a grocery store looking at the meat cabinet. It's all very red, and fleshy, and if you think about it, it should be brutal-- a cabinet of dismembered body parts, ruthlessly torn apart, laid out like inanimate objects to be purchased for money and consumed by strangers. Brutal. And yet…

"I don't like it," Murderface declares.

Magnus is frowning at an array of whole fish. "Hm."

"It's jusch lame or something." Murderface rams his fist against the glass. "Whatsch the point of eating meat if you don't even get to kill the animal first? It's fucking bullschit!"

"Hm," Magnus repeats himself. "What about that?"

He points towards a door leading to the back room. Through it they can see a large, steel table, and on top of it is a full half of a pig, skinned and ready for butchering.

"Yeah…" Murderface says slowly, "That's pretty schick."

"You," Magnus snaps at the clerk behind the counter, "We'll take that one. Yes, that one, in the room back there…"

… Ten minutes and a great deal of haggling later, they're pushing half a pig in a cart down the cheese aisle.

"My roommate in college was a law guy," Magnus is explaining. "He went to a lot of fancy events. Showed me the ropes."

"Did you suck his hog?"

"The secret is in the cheese. You have to get the right cheese, and… olives."

Murderface leers at the cheeses before them. "This one looksch fancy," he says, grabbing a package at random.

"Good, get a hard one as well."

"We're in a groschery store, Hammerschmith, that's not appropriate."

"You know," Magnus says quite calmly, "One of these days, I am going to stab you."

Murderface grabs another package at random and throws it on top of the pig carcass. "Oh I bet you'd like that. Schtickin' things in guys."

"William," Magnus lays a hand on Murderface's shoulder. "You're fixated on my sexuality because you're insecure about yours. I get that, and I just want you to know, as a friend, that I don't mind if you're gay."

Murderface smacks his hand away. "Ughh! Don't try your shrink-school bullschit on me!"

"I fully support you and your rainbow knives."

"Shut up! What elsch do we need, olives?"

They're stopped at a gas station while Magnus fills up his truck. Murderface is standing in the wine section selecting only the finest gas station champagnes for their housewarming dinner. Which is some bullshit, now that he thinks about it. What the fuck even is champagne? Bubbly wine, right? Maybe they can just drop an alka-seltzer into a carton of Franzia. That's probably easier than trying to read the French gibberish on the labels of all these bottles.

Murderface has a carton of Franzia on his shoulder and is heading for the medicinals section when he catches sight of something truly marvelous.

There, by the door, stands a glass display cabinet. And contained within that cabinet…

"What is that?" Magnus asks, when Murderface returns to the truck.

"Behold," says Murderface, with eminent pride, "A gnife!"

Like a modern bayonet, the 'knife' is, in fact, a very small pistol, with a knife's blade inexpertly welded to the barrel. He waves it in the air so that Magnus can get a proper look.

"Damn," Magnus breathes. "That's pretty cool."

"Right?"

"I don't care for guns myself, but even I can admit-- cool."

"It's scho fucking cool."

"Where's the champagne?"

"I figured we'll just throw a little alka-seltzer in thisch boxed wine. Trailer park champagne."

"Fine, fine. Get in, let's go."

"Hold on. I didn't pay for your gasch--"

"Get in the fucking truck, William!" Magnus yells.

William hurls himself into the passenger seat, landing uncomfortably atop their pile of newly-acquired knives, and Magnus peels out of the parking lot before the cops can show.

They're back in their apartment. They've laid the pig carcass out on the card table Nathan's parents have loaned them, and Magnus is holding a samurai sword.

"Come on!" Murderface urges, hitting his fists on the edge of the table. "Cut it already!"

"Give me time," Magnus growls. He's fixated on the carcass, his eyes are wide, pupils blown with excitement. "An artist's cuts must be… precise."

"Well, be preciser faster!" Murderface complains. "I wanna see a pig get fucked up!"

"Silence, grasshopper. Watch and learn… the way of the warrior!"

With one rapid stroke, Magnus brings the sword down, fast and hard, across the pig's torso. There's a loud meaty thwack. The sword is embedded a couple of inches into jiggly pig flesh.

"Shit!" Magnus yells. "The fucking sword isn't sharp!"

"Magnus, Magnus," Murderface says soothingly, sidling over to Magnus, gently nudging him aside. "Go get yourself some wine, let the blade-maschter handle this one." He eases Magnus' hands off of the sword's handle, takes it in his own firm grasp.

Grumbling, Magnus lets himself be pushed aside. "It's a problem with the blade," he complains. "My technique was perfect. Perfect!"

"It's not a problem with your technique, it's brute schtrength that matters the most." Murderface wrenches the sword out of the pig and raises it high above his head. "Watch and learn, Hammersmith!"

He rams the sword as hard as he possibly can into the pig carcass' neck.

The entire card table buckles and collapses.

"Brute strength," Magnus echoes, observing the pile of plastic and pig meat before them. He's already poured himself another solo-cup of shitty white wine.

Murderface stares at the wreckage for a few seconds. "Schwords not sharp!" he yells. "The fucking schword's not sharp!"

"Want some cheese?"

"Fuck yes, fuck this schtupid pig! Where's my butterfly knife? I'm cuttin' some bacon…"

Magnus and Murderface sit on opposite sides of their freshly-scavenged sofa in their brand new apartment and watch infomercials on their cracked TV. There is a pile of knives and swords in-between them.

"Pasch me some cheese," Murderface says.

Magnus drives the point of the knife in his hand through a block of cheese and holds it out to Murderface. Murderface skewers it on his own knife.

A man on the TV is talking about the virtues of humidifiers. Magnus has used his technical wizardry to plug one of their amps into the TV, so they have sound now.

"This guysch a fuckin' idiot," Murderface announces through a mouthful of cheese. "Who needs a humidifier in fuckin' Florida?"

"As if my hair isn't ruined enough," Magnus agrees, idly stabbing the arm of the sofa.

"I thought gay guys liked big hair."

"You're thinking of glam rockers. Also, William, I'm getting pretty tired of the gay jokes."

"Hittin' a nerve, am I?"

"If you have feelings for me, sort that shit out yourself. Or at least get a new joke. You're boring the hell out of me."

Murderface bites the tip of his cheese-knife and watches Magnus through narrowed eyes.

Magnus is staring boredly at the infomercial, ramming his knife into the sofa's arm with precise rhythm. When he's not having his notorious violent outbursts, he's actually quite cool and aloof, taking every affront with casual nonchalance. It's only those who have known him for a long time, such as Murderface, who know that below the artificial calmness lies a simmering rage liable to explode at any moment. Murderface has depended on Magnus since he left his grandparents' home; Murderface has seen Magnus flip out at waitresses without warning and throw chairs through diner windows. He is Murderface's idol. He's a ticking time-bomb.

And now they've moved to Florida together, and they're renting an apartment together, and no matter what Magnus says, it really does feel kind of gay.

Murderface picks up a random knife from their pile and starts ramming it into the sofa's arm, matching the timing of it with Magnus' stabbing.

They sit there for a while, each stabbing their respective sofa arms in peaceful synchronicity.

Murderface feels Magnus glance over at him. He stabs the sofa with a little more force.

"Hey," Magnus says in a low voice. Suddenly a piece of paper lands on his lap, with 'LEASE' written at the top. No instruction needed, Murderface stabs it.

A few minutes later, Murderface pulls off his vest and throws it to Magnus' side of the couch. Magnus balls it up and stabs it.

On Magnus' turn, he throws a whole block of cheese onto Murderface's lap. Murderface puts it on the sofa's arm and proceeds to stab the absolute shit out of it. By the time he's done he's practically reduced it to paste.

Magnus has been watching him all the while, ramming his hunting knife idly again and again into the sofa cushion beside his leg. Murderface can't think of anything else to throw at him, so--

"Schtab me," Murderface says.

Magnus looks mildly surprised. And he waits only a moment before leaning over and stabbing Murderface firmly in the top of the thigh.

"Holy schit!" Murderface shouts. "Fuck! Shit! Goddammit!" He clamps his hands over the wound-- blood wells out from them immediately-- he presses down hard, hissing with pain. "Fuckin' schit, Magnus!"

"Oh, grow up," says Magnus dismissively.

"You fuckin' schtabbed me!"

"There's a first aid kit in the truck. Here are my keys."

"Fuck. You aschole."

The sofa is covered in knives and blood. Murderface is drunk off of his ass on cheap wine and alka-seltzer, pantsless, sitting on a camp chair in the kitchen of his brand new apartment. Magnus is on the ground between Murderface's knees, holding a lighter in one hand and a sewing needle in the other.

"You schure you know how to do this?" Murderface slurs.

"Of course I do," Magnus says. His elbow is resting on Murderface's un-stabbed thigh, his gaze is focused on the needle he's currently heating with the lighter.

"Yeah? Schince when?"

"I dated an EMT for three months."

"What was his name?"

Magnus puts down the lighter and picks up a packet of dental floss from the floor. Brow wrinkled with concentration, he bites off a long length of it, then threads it through the eye of the needle. Then he drops the dental floss and picks up a handle of vodka. "William?"

"What."

"Don't be a little bitch."

The pain is excruciating. It's like his entire thigh has been set on fire and is being ripped apart from the inside by a thousand hell rats from hell (fuck, good song idea.) Murderface bites down on one of his own wrists, and then buries his other hand in Magnus' hair, clutching a handful of thick curly locks. His eyes water and the tears shatter the world into kaleidoscope-colours until he squeezes them shut; when he opens them again he sees the top of Magnus' head between his own bare and bloody thighs and he's wracked with pain and the sight is delusionally sublime.

Fuck.

Maybe there is something to that shrink-school bullcrap. Murderface just let a man stab him. Is that gay? Is he gay for letting his roommate stab him and then stitch him back up? When this is done he's going to have to do some real self-inspection, or whatever it's called.

Whatever, he's getting stitched back together in his own brand new apartment. Way more metal than having some doctor do it, and Murderface is no stranger to stabbings or their aftermath. He lets himself moan in pain, leaning back in the chair. He tilts his head back, whimpers, readjusts his grip on Magnus' hair. Fucking brutal. It's like a war movie. Like one of those civil war soldiers before they invented medicine. Every stroke of the needle vibrates through his core like heavy bass.

And suddenly-- it's over, too soon it's over. Did he black out? Magnus is standing in front of him, his bare chest covered in blood, wiping his hands on his trousers. Murderface glances down and sees his bare, pudgy thigh, likewise blood-stained, with a small stab-wound in one criss-crossed by uneven stitches.

"You're alright," Magnus says reassuringly.

Murderface struggles to sit upright. "Yeah…" he chokes out. "… Schit, that's a good knife. That's fucking scharp."

"I told you. Classic hunting knife. Can't go wrong." Magnus takes a swig of the vodka, then thoughtlessly wipes his mouth. A diluted streak of pinkish blood is left across his cheek. "Can you stand?"

"Uh, give me a schecond." Murderface feels woozy. He feels very warm. He wants Magnus to stab him again. He needs another cup of wine.

"Just hurry up," says Magnus, turning away. "That samurai cowboy guy is on and I need to write down the number."

"Yeah…" Murderface sighs, slumping back in his chair. "Yeah, sure, write it down for me, too…"

It is their first night in their new apartment. Everything is covered and blood, there is a pig carcass in the centre of their kitchen, and they just know they're going to make it big.

#my fic #william murderface #magnus hammersmith #metalocalypse #don't even ask tbh

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bideex · 17 days ago

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doubleunion · 5 months ago

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Double Union Clothing Swap

Members and prospective members are invited to join us for a fabulous evening of fashion and sustainability at our Used Clothes Swap on Wednesday, June 26th at 7 PM. Bring your gently worn clothing items that you no longer wear or need, and exchange them for some stylish new-to-you pieces. It's a fantastic opportunity to refresh your wardrobe without spending a dime and to give your pre-loved clothes a new lease on life. Whether you're looking for casual wear, professional attire, or unique accessories, there's something for everyone at our swap. Plus, it's a chance to connect with fellow fashion enthusiasts, share style tips, and promote eco-friendly practices. Let's swap, shop, and support sustainable fashion together.

Please bring the clothes back with you that no one picks up at the swap. Double Union is not responsible for leftover clothes.

#publicevent #san francisco #sf #double union #events

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masterwords · 2 years ago

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I've got a fluff request! Jack asking Hotch if Derek's going to live with them. So he isn't alone in bed, cause Haley and him are separated.

Two stories in one day? Must be the end of the year push to get to a nice even word count! My goal was 475k and I'm inching toward it little by little...so here, have about 2.3k words of SHOPPING. Pure fluff with a dash of angst, some Hotch & Dave best buddies time because it's been a while since I've written Dave. This story was inspired by how very confused Hotch's apartment decor is and how there is no other explanation outside of depression and allowing a toddler to take charge. Set in a vague post-divorce but pre-Foyet time when he still has some dim hope that his life will get better.

****** you worry too much******

Hotch's apartment was new. It smelled like fresh paint and chemical carpet cleaners. More than just professionally cleaned, the place had been torn out down to the studs and remodeled along with half of the building. Even some of the pipes were new, a treat the landlord impressed upon him many times when he'd toured the place. The cabinets came sealed with tape, proving that they'd been installed brand new, and the stacked washer/dryer combo still had the user manual taped to the front. Everything in the place was muted, Earth tones, beige and brown and cream and other shades of boring. He'd toured a number of places, including every single apartment recommended to him by his team. One was down the street from Penelope, but it was only a one bedroom, and if he had any hope of having Jack come and stay with him, he would need two. There was an opening in Emily's building but no one else there had children, most of the tenants were young and hip, not the type of place he saw himself living at this state of his life. Finally, he found this place, a building filled primarily with tenants at least as old as his parents, very few younger than retirement age, and just two blocks down was a quaint little park that he could walk to with Jack. It was a far cry from his beautiful home in Alexandria, but it suited his needs and it fit easily into the budget he'd set for himself. The muted walls were calm and boring, they made him feel nothing.

He liked that part. He'd never been fond of Haley's painted walls, the whims on which she'd acted in turning their dining room red or their bedroom blue. He preferred neutrals. But this felt almost clinical and it only served to bolster his already uncontrolled depression.

The first night in his new place, he'd cried. Not for any reason he could pinpoint either, just the finality of it. The lease signed with only his name, the quiet absence of life outside of his own barely beating heart, the noise of the neighbors next door talking quietly. The walls were thin, though his landlord assured him that once he had furniture inside it would cease to be quite so easy to hear his neighbors and they him. He rarely made noise, though. Quiet as a mouse, save for the crying he was doing as he sat on the couch with his grocery store pre-made salad and his plastic fork. He hadn't done much of it since he'd moved out of Haley's. A night or two with Dave at his place, a few nights in a hotel, and then there was Derek there to catch him when he fell and hold onto him until he found a place to call his own.

Now he'd had it for a couple of months but had done nothing with it. He'd been spending so many nights at Derek's that he'd almost forgotten he had a place of his own. But Haley insisted that as nice as Derek's house was and as kind as it was that Derek set up the spare room for Jack, the kid needed his father to be stable and that included having a place of his own.

“You wanna go do some shopping?” He needed plates, cups, bowls, pots, pans...really, he needed everything. Bedding, pictures, an entire bedroom set for Jack. He needed to buy a new life, because he'd left the old one in Haley's care. She'd insisted he take the couch and mattress from storage, and for now that was all he had in his entire place. One queen sized mattress on the floor of his bedroom and one rumpled old gray couch that made the trek with them back from Seattle because Haley insisted they might want it someday. He wondered if this was what she'd envisioned when she talked him into keeping it.

“YEAH!” Shopping was always an easy request. Hotch didn't care for it, but as he stood and looked around his apartment and thought about the way Haley had been hesitant to even leave Jack there, he knew it was high time. The couch and the frozen dinners were fine for him, but she was right. Jack needed to see that he was doing alright, and that would start with where he lived. Not where Derek lived.

The mall was busy. Too busy for his taste and he held a little too tight to his son's hand to keep him close. “Why the mall?” Dave asked, approaching the two of them with coffees in hand. Hotch hadn't exactly asked for Dave's help, but he hadn't turned it down either. The coffee was a nice bonus.

“I figured we could get it all done in one stop.”

“Ahh...smart.”

Hotch could feel the sarcasm from where he stood, and as he looked around at the sheer number of people traveling from store to store he wasn't feeling great about his decision. Their first stop was a home goods store that had plenty of trendy decorating schemes to choose from, whole entire display rooms he could purchase and not have to think even a little.

Jack hated all of it. “BOATS!” he squealed, pointing at a display wall of paintings. There were several different types of boats in thick ornate frames, and Jack stared at them with adoring eyes.

“What about them?” Hotch asked, crouching to speak with his son. He wasn't sure he had an aesthetic, necessarily, but of all things he thought boats would come low on the list.

“Like the ones at the beach!” Ah, yes. The boats at his family's beach home, of course. Jack had spent as many holidays there as time had allowed in his short life, and he'd developed quite a love for sitting on the end of the dock watching boats sail by. Hotch sighed.

“You think I need boat paintings?” Jack nodded, and that was it. He couldn't say no, even when Dave wondered aloud about the more abstract paintings, something a little more subtle.

“BOATS!” And Jack pointed at each painting he wanted, and that was it. Settled. Later he would add some knights, a key, some beautiful polished rocks for bookends...his car was filled with a scattered mix of random items and Dave was absolutely beside himself.

“Aaron,” Dave said quietly as he helped load the last of the paintings into the car. “I don't mean to be rude here, but you're a very eligible bachelor now. What kind of message does this décor scheme send to your dates? You bring a lady home, she walks inside and she sees...” he indicated the absurd spread in the back of the car with more than a little of that typical sarcasm. Hotch chuckled.

“I believe the message it sends is that I'm a sad, recent divorcee who doesn't know the first thing about decorating a home and let his toddler do it.”

“Going for the honest route, huh?”

“It's all I've got, Dave.”

“We can make it work. I say we go to Pottery Barn for Jack's bedding, but for you...you'll need to splurge. I insist. And I know just the place.”

Try as Dave might to get Jack to settle on one theme for his bedroom, the kid was predictably all over the place. Knights in shining armor, dinosaurs, sports motifs, a little of everything. Hotch didn't try to sway him, this divorce had been hard enough on all of them, the last thing he wanted to do was create a bedroom that Jack wouldn't want to sleep in. If the kid wanted it to be a wild mixture then so be it. Thinking back to his own childhood bedroom with its sparse white walls and dark wood trim, his neatly made bed, he thought this couldn't be anything but an upgrade. A bedroom that felt comfortable, that let him express who he was and how he felt, a bedroom that could get a little messy during play...it was one small thing he could do to ensure that Jack had it better than he ever did, in spite of his many shortcomings.

Their final stop was an upscale boutique, Dave's just the place. Hotch would never have even looked twice at the shop and here he was walking right into it with the intent to buy something he'd rather forget entirely. “Dave,” he pleaded when his friend held up a gaudy duvet in a pattern he could barely bring himself to look at for long. “That isn't me.”

“Okay, okay, here how about this one...” he pulled up a simple navy blue, rich and dark, luxurious. He ran his hand over the too soft fabric, the delicate way it almost felt like velvet but not quite. “Yeah. You like this one.”

“I do,” he said a little reverently before snapping out of it. “But Dave, I almost never sleep in my bed. This feels a little frivolous for something I would rarely use.”

“It's bedding, Aaron.” The implication that it was a necessity, that it wasn't a new toy, struck Hotch as a little off the mark. He hardly slept in his apartment, and even less did he sleep in his bed. More often he fell asleep at his desk or on the couch, somewhere that wasn't so wide open, somewhere that didn't quite showcase exactly how lonely he was.

And when he shared a bed, he did that at Derek's house. A place that was far and away more comfortable, better decorated, more livable than his own. Dave didn't know that, though.

He leveled his glare at Dave and ultimately gave in. “Fine.”

The sheets Dave pulled to go with it, bright white, had a higher thread count than Hotch knew what to do with. This was the stuff he would expect from a high end hotel, not for his home. But he allowed it because arguing with Dave was a lost cause, and it was either that or explain to Dave his very precarious situation with Derek. A situation they were both very keen on keeping under wraps, at least for a while longer. His divorce was barely final, and sure he'd been separated from Haley for a long time and things were more than settled, but it still felt like they were walking through a minefield. Haley had a boyfriend, too, it wasn't out of the question, and they were both doing their best to ease Jack into this new thing slowly.

He liked Derek, though. Liked him a lot. The transition was going about as smoothly as it could. “Daddy!” Jack chirped, tugging on his jacket. “Is Derek gonna move in with you?!” He was eyeing the fancy sheets with some wild thought twirling around in his little mind. Hotch could see the gears shifting and turning over ideas for how great things would be if. Always if. Wouldn't it be fun if Derek lived with you daddy? Then we could go to the park all the time cos Derek loves to play! Chalk that up to Derek being more or less an overgrown child, he'd figured, and at that time the answer was a pretty solid no. And it still was, mostly, but this bedding he was paying a heavy price for felt like the kind of thing you wanted to share with someone special. He could picture lying there staring at the luxurious royal blue against Derek's skin, diving beneath it, curling around each other inside of it.

“DADDY!”

“Yes, Jack?” he asked, as if he hadn't heard the question. He avoided Dave's look entirely though he knew if he did glance his direction, the man's eyebrows would be meeting his hairline.

“Derek could move in with you and then you wouldn't be lonely in your bed anymore!”

“Derek has his own house,” Hotch reminded his son casually, still avoiding Dave's piercing glare. He could feel a flush rising hot beneath his collar as he reached out for the receipt. “Thank you.”

The drive back to the mall, to drop Dave off at his car, was silent and awkward until about halfway when Dave could no longer stand it. “Why would Derek move in with you?”

“You know children,” Hotch attempted around his parched tongue. His vision was going spotty and he gripped the wheel tighter, glad for a red light.

“I do. And I know your child, he's not one to fabricate elaborate stories. Shall I ask him?”

“He's asleep.”

That much was true, Jack had almost instantly fallen asleep the minute the car began moving. Shopping had worn him out. Hotch couldn't blame him, he wanted a nap too...he hadn't slept a wink the night before.

“Aaron. Are you and Derek fraternizing?”

The way Dave said that word made him laugh, he simply couldn't help it, and that relaxed the coiled muscles in his shoulders, it released the tension in his jaw. “I suppose you could say that.”

“How long?”

“A while. It's complicated, Dave.”

“Well, that I believe. Does Haley know?”

“Yes, she's aware. We're moving slowly, both of us, for Jack. He doesn't seem to mind any of it though. In many ways, Jack is better at all of this than we are.”

“Aaron, why didn't you say something? I called you an eligible bachelor earlier and you didn't even react. Did you think I wouldn't approve?”

Hotch licked his dry lips and pulled into a parking spot, letting the engine idle. “Nothing like that. We simply weren't ready to make anything known. We're taking things slowly. This situation comes with many challenges, with my family and our jobs. Contrary to what Jack seems to think, Derek will not be moving in with us anytime soon.”

“Are you happy?” Dave asked, finally, turning toward Hotch.

“Yes,” he answered quickly and with a soft smile. “Very.”

“Well, then. Mazel tov. He's going to love that new bedding of yours...”

“Dave.”

#aaron hotchner #david rossi #jack hotchner #hotchgan #derek morgan isn't actually in the story but he's talked about a lot #criminal minds #haley is also talked about often #aaron hotchner x derek morgan #hotch x morgan

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