#House Buyers Kitchener

[sadgirlautumn]

“i want an all white kitchen” and the kitchen is so white when the sun shines in that you can’t tell the kitchen island from the floor… an injury waiting to happen.

[hometoursandotherstuff]

Ok, this house is weird. Firstly, I was wondering what was up w/the garage door.

Turns out it's a mirror. Built in 1955 in Palm Springs, CA, it's been remodeled and you must see the choices. 3bds, 3ba, 2,319 sq ft, $1,499,999.

Check out the floor, like a mass murder scene.

Conversation pit decorated with a sofa and tables. Was this once a hot tub?

The stains continue throughout the kitchen.

Two lone side chairs in a corner.

Gray cement walls in the kitchen.

Snacks for the buyers?

Looking out toward the pool from the pit.

Cement dining table. I think it's built-in. It also appears to have a convenient electrical outlet.

It's such a huge space to fill. The sun is casting shadows, but it looks like there are steps here.

The glass wall opens to the pool.

There's a shower room here, but it's open. At least the shower & toilet are behind a wall.

The bedrooms and baths have floors that look watercolor stained. Interesting how they put the bed partly under the arch.

The bed from behind. Is that a fridge?

The ensuite is big, but so sparse and spread out. I would've expected a sink under the neon mirror. This is so ugly.

The secondary bedroom is plain and has floating nightstands installed.

The primary bedroom has folding doors to the patio.

Out by the pool, it looks like they repainted the statues pink and black, themselves. The lamp is broken.

Matching statues.

Nice fruit tree.

Fancy ceiling lights in the garage.

.28 acre lot.

https://www.zillow.com/homedetails/2275-E-Belding-Dr-Palm-Springs-CA-92262/18019319_zpid/

[wildgeese98]

We should lean more into the fact that Helen was a real estate agent before she got Distortioned. After Helen takes over, the Distortion hallways should start looking like a really sterile, beige, house set up to be shown to potential buyers.

Endless hallways in various different muted pastel colors. The same three generic paintings repeated over and over.

A maze of open plan kitchens that all lead into each other endlessly. Each identical in layout but with portions and angles slightly off in different ways.

Hallways lined with doors that all lead to the same immaculately neat child's bedroom stretching on and on, seemingly forever.

A living room that seems normal at first but slowly fills with more and more bowls of fake fruit and tasteful flower arrangements.

A house where every room is a lie. Everything set up carefully in a facsimile of a welcoming home but if you scratch the surface you'll find it to be cold and artificial.

That would have been a cool thing to do with her domain in season 5 too. You would easily do something with it about being forced to perform the heteronormative ideals of domestic life or something like that.

[fellulahh]

Diavolo helps MC house hunt in the human world

Hello old friends! Are you still here?😂

I have a routine of coming back on Tumblr once or twice a year to read Obey!Me content for the memories and this time round I delved too deep and it made me want to write something again. I’m still a sucker for Diavolo lol

Anyway I’ll see you in another 4/5 years time! I hope you’re all doing well xx

—

“This one looks nice.” Diavolo commented as his eyes studied the house in front of him and MC.

The Prince of Devildom was visiting MC in the human realm for a few days and had agreed to help her view properties while she sought out a new home.

“It does, doesn’t it? I feel like I could do something nice with the garden.” MC studied while the estate agent was grabbing something from their car. “Perhaps Barbatos can give me some recommendations of bulbs I can plant.” The human joked.

“Don’t, MC.” Diavolo warned, “you don’t understand how passionate he is about gardening.” He quipped with an amused grin, “I made the mistake of asking what one of the trees were in the palace gardens once and then had to listen to the entire history of Devildom’s horticulture.”

“Hm, best not then.” MC smiled at him.

They shared an amused expression toward each other before being interrupted by the estate agent.

“Right!” They spoke up from behind them, “I’m ready when you are.”

After being lead into the small bungalow, MC and Diavolo began taking in their surroundings. They lingered behind the estate agent while they were being introduced to each room.

The pair would steal glances at each other every so often; mostly ending in Diavolo raising his eyebrow at MC with a small grin on his face.

“What?” The human would ask quietly with an amused smile, being completely distracted from the realtor’s words.

“Nothing!” He’d say innocently.

As time went on, MC got to see each room one by one.

“I wanted to save this room until last as this is the real statement piece of the house.” The estate agent informed the human with some excitement in their tone. “I think you’ll both like this.”

“Oh?” MC raised an eyebrow as she followed the woman through an archway: Diavolo close behind.

Entering the final room, MC was surprised when she was met with a beautiful open plan kitchen which lead out into a conservatory with a dining area.

“Oh wow!” She breathed, “This wasn’t on any of the photos?”

“No,” the estate agent shook their head, “the owners decided to renovate this area recently as it was in dire need of some new life; they thought the old kitchen would put off potential buyers.” She informed them, “I think you both would enjoy sitting in the conservatory in the Summer months.” She encouraged, putting on her best sales smile. “Perhaps you could make MC breakfast while she lounges over there in the sun?”

Before MC could correct the estate agent and inform her that the pair were not in fact a couple or moving in together, Diavolo took a step forward.

“Well anything to get into MC’s good books.” He joked with the realtor, earning a look from the human.

As the estate agent turned her back, Diavolo quickly shot MC a cheeky grin.

Amused, the human returned the same expression and mouthed “what are you doing?” With a toothy smile.

“Well,” the estate agent spoke up, “I’ll leave you both for a minute to think. I’ll just be in the entranceway if you need me.” She smiled before leaving the room.

“Thank you.” MC nodded.

Left alone to their own devices, Diavolo and MC began scanning their surroundings.

“Well I have to say, this is a pretty nice place. Seems pretty large for just yourself though?” Diavolo questioned casually, turning to MC with his hands in his pockets.

“Diavolo, it’s a bungalow.” MC laughed, “I’m not exactly going to get lost. Anyway - more to the point - what’s with you playing happy families just then?”

“Can a demon not pretend?” He grinned, “I rather enjoy the fantasy of the two of us living together.”

MC shook her head at the demon, a small warm flush filling her cheeks.

“And what would Lucifer say if he knew you just said that?” She asked, folding her arms as she tilted her head.

“Oh I’m sure he’d just do his usual scowl,” Diavolo chuckled, “I’m sure they all would.” He continued, referring to the brothers.

MC smiled at the thought of them.

“You should come back, MC.” Diavolo suddenly insisted, “We all miss you, me particularly,” he admitted.

MC smiled sweetly at Diavolo, taking a step closer to him. “I have a life here too.” She reminded him, “I can’t just disappear again.”

He looked at her longingly with his big, amber eyes.

Letting out a sigh, he eventually copied her warm gaze; accepting the reality of it all.

Lifting up a hand, MC gently rubbed Diavolo’s large arm. He glanced down at her touch, with a ghost of a smile appearing on his lips.

“How many bedrooms has this place got?” He asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Just the one.” She smiled knowingly, waiting for his next remark. “As you’ve seen.”

“Hm.” He pulled a face, “I suppose we’ll have to share the bed when I come to visit you next.”

“I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that.” MC grinned at him.

[kisssukuna33]

𝙅𝙅𝙆 𝙈𝙀𝙉 𝘼𝙉𝘿 𝙃𝙊𝙒 𝙏𝙃𝙀𝙔 𝘾𝙀𝙇𝙀𝘽𝙍𝘼𝙏𝙀 𝙑𝘼𝙇𝙀𝙉𝙏𝙄𝙉𝙀!!

Satoru Gojo

-Gives the most expensive gifts-

Satoru is the type to go all out for special occasions. So obviously he's no less in his game when it comes to valentine either. He's the type to give everyone he knows well valentine gifts including his partner, colleagues and even the students but he knows better to prioritize his partner above everyone else. He would be the type to keep track on your wishlist so he won't end up giving you useless gifts you won't be using. If your wishlist looks too poor for his taste he's generous enough to sneak in more extra gifts until it feels satisfying enough.

Nanami Kento

- loves to take care of you during the day-

Nanami is more of an action guy than a gift giver when it comes to Valentine. He would be the type to wake up at 3 am without you knowing so he can surprise you with a freshly baked cake and a delicious breakfast. Nanami always loves spending quality time with you on special occasions so the valentine day would be no different. You two will partake in activities Nanami has planned for both of you and he would end the day with a delicious homemade dinner worth a 5 star rating.

Choso kamo

-The chocolate disaster-

What's a valentine day without chocolate? That's Choso's motto during valentine. He's the type to buy a lot of ingredients he won't even be using and get started on the chocolate making atleast a week prior. No amount of preparing can prevent the complete disaster incoming though. You see Choso wanted to give you the BEST so he tried his best but maybe overdoing it too much can leads to you fucking up the whole thing, that's how Choso ended up with chocolate that barely tasted like chocolate and a kitchen covered in chocolate syrup and bits. But that doesn't demotivate your boyfriend at all because he wants his girl smiling on valentine, so he starts again and finally made them somewhat edible. No matter the taste the dedication your boyfriend put to the chocolates warms your heart anyway.

Atleast It is until you come over to his apartment and sees the complete disaster waiting for u in the kitchen.

Toji Fushiguro

- last minute gift buyer-

Toji is a man with a lot of responsibilities. Working through missions daily and still coming over to his house like a normal family man while keeping his job as an Assassin a secret from his wife indeed requires a lot of work. So you really can't blame Toji if he misses one thing or two. Maybe that's why he's confused as to why his wife is suddenly giving him the silent treatment. He follows around you like a lost puppy that evening trying to figure out what's wrong with you. And when you two finally settle into bed that's when it clicks to him as he remembers way too much pink shit being everywhere in the town today. He mentally curses as he excused himself from the bed to "go on a walk". Toji uses that opportunity to finally go into the town and find a gift that you would actually enjoy. Your anger washes over the moment you see your husband approach you with a small gift box in hands. He doesn't forget to apologize again and again for fucking up the day for you.

Ryomen Sukuna

- the mean tease-

Sukuna would be the type to buy you a gift even before you mention to him about Valentine. He would play it safe by saying "Useless stuff" "Good day for money grabbing corporate overlords". He enjoys teasing you throughout the day while you are waiting impatiently for his gift. But his teasing drops the moment he sees the pout and the gloomy expression taking over your face as you accept defeat. Sukuna's ass is so down bad for you that he absolutely HATES seeing you in that expression. Not even a minute after he tosses a gift box to your lap.

"Aw Kuna you bought a valentine gift for me?"

"No I just bought you a "gift" like I always do"

"No but you gave it to me during Valentine so of course it's a valentine gift!"

"Don't be stupid brat"

He says in his usual annoyed tone but you weren't able to miss the slight blush appearing in his face after you thank him with a kiss to his cheek.

Ugh I just love Sukuna so much, Hope y'all enjoy this Valentine drabble!<33

[whore4mattsturniolo]

If Looks Could Kill - Dealer!Chris x Stoner!Reader

In which...chris and angel meet for the first time

Your heels clicked against the wooden floor as you walk through the crowd of people in the living room, tripping over trash, cups, and whatever else was spilled on the floor, whispering "hi's" and "sorry"s to those you bumped into as you tried to find your best friend in the sea of bodies.

As you walked into the kitchen, pouring yourself shot of the nearest liquor you could find, your best friend comes from upstairs.

"Dinah!" You shout, your voice barely audible over the noise of the party. "Dinah!" You repeat, taking the shot of Crown Royal and walking over to her, the familiar burning down your throat sending a shiver down your spine.

Your best friend looks up, trying to find the source if the familiar voice, before making eye contact with you, stumbling towards the kitchen.

The two of you share an embrace, the smell of alcohol on Dinah's breath overwhelming your senses.

You laugh at your friend, watching her drunkenly lean on the kitchen island for support. " You're already drunk?"

"We pre-gamed a lil' too hard," she giggled.

"I can see that," you say, eyeing the bottle of Pink Whitney resting near the stove. "Guess I need to catch up."

You reach for the heavy bottle, pouring the pink drink into cups for Dinah and yourself, "Cheers."

"Cheers," she smiles, still slurring as the two of you clink your red cups together. The fruity drink is somehow sweet and bitter, the taste making you scrunch your face in disgust as it moves down your throat.

As you and Dinah share laughs and drinks, sharing updates on your respective lives, you spot a figure walking through the house, smiling and high-fiving the people he ran into. He seemed well liked, guys laughing whenever he talked to them, girls swirling their hair and giggling trying to keep his attention.

You feel the alcohol infecting your blood, your head starting to feel fuzzy and your stance becoming off-balanced. You were unable to look away from the man across the house, now on the couch in the living room. He was rolling up a joint with a drunken girl sitting close next to him, their thighs touching while she caressed his arm, talking about God knows what.

The sound of loud music and chattering of the party starts to muffle, the world going quiet besides the sight across from you. He lifts his head up, analyzing his surroundings, before making contact with you.

Even far away, covered by the darkness of the house, barely luminated by the purple LED lights strung along the walls, he was gorgeous. The way he meticulously rolled the joint, his hands working like an artist painting, his eyes slightly covered by rim of his fitted hat, made you drool. You look away, pretending to be incredibly interested in the now-empty cup in your hand as he smirks at you, focusing his attention back on the task front of him.

"What're you eye-fucking Chris for?" Your friend's voice shakes you out of your thoughts, the sounds of the party coming back all at once.

"Hm?" You shake your head, trying to focus back on your surroundings, watching him hold the joint up to the girl's tongue, sealing it shut.

"You were staring at him for like...forever, " Dinah says, raising her eyebrow as she pours the two of you more drinks.

Chris. Of course it was Chris. Chris who somehow knew everyone and everyone knew him. Chris who sold the best shit in Massachusetts. Chris who was always at every party, sitting on the end of a couch with a joint in one hand and the other feeling up his girl of the night. Chris who drove in his black Audi with the bass up so high you could hear him from three blocks away.

If you didn't sleep with him, you bought from him...and then probably slept with him afterwards.

He did whatever he wanted, however he wanted, whenever he wanted. He could sleep with a girl, have her leave in the morning, and never talk her again. He could laugh in his buyer's face while ripping them off and everyone treated him like he was the Second Coming of Christ.

Even though you went to the same parties, shared some of the same friends, and even followed each other on Instagram, you had never had the pleasure of meeting the man himself. You'd caught glimpses of him at parties, but never more than that. You were more focused on getting the next drink or sleeping with the next guy.

Your usual plug, James, a childhood friend of yours, had gotten locked up for an undetermined amount of time a few weeks ago. Of course you were upset over losing your friend of a decade, but you were more upset at the fact that he left you with half a gram and a dead cart.

"Is he selling?" You ask, biting your lip as you watch the girl stumble away from Chris.

Dinah laughs and nods, watching you subtly fix your appearance, staring at Chris from the kitchen, "Thirsty much?" She giggles.

You scoff, rolling your eyes at your friend, "No dummy," you glare, though your smile betrays you, "I just need to re-up. Haven't smoked in days."

She nods, not fully believing you. Her own eyes trail over to the boy on the couch, before looking back at you.

"Liar," she snickers.

"Oh shut up!" You slap her arm playfully, fixing your hair in the camera of your phone. "How do I look though?" You ask, giggling.

"You look good," Dinah says, as a tall man appears from behind you, walking over to her. "Now if you'll excuse me..." She smirks, looking from him to you before winking, wrapping her arms over his shoulders and you get the hint, before walking out of the kitchen.

As you make your way to the couch, you're met with the familiar smell of weed, the scent intoxicating. Your head is still fuzzy from the alcohol soaring through your veins, time slowing down as you walk through the crowd. The loud blared throughout the living room, making your entire body vibrate.

Locking eyes with Chris, you smile, entranced by the dull light of the joint in his hands, the smoke clouding his face.

"'Bout time you made your way over here," he smirks, leaning back against the couch, spreading his legs and adjusting the fitted hat resting over his messy brown hair. "You buyin'? Or you just got a staring problem?"

His cocky demeanor breaks you out of your trance, remembering what you came went for. "Buying. How much for an eighth?" You ask, almost standing over him.

He pats the seat next to him, looking up at you with half-lidded eyes, taking another long hit from his joint and blowing it teasingly in your face.

You begrudgingly sit next to him, sinking into the soft leather cushion. Chris pulls out a small, clear baggie, holding it between the fingers of his free hand. Your eyes soften at the sight of the green, reaching over to grab it, but he snatches it away.

"Normally I charge 40...but for you..." He smirks, caressing your thigh with his thumb. "...I'll take 30."

Your eyebrows raise, looking at him with confusion. "You this nice to all the girls you sell to?"

Chris shrugs, "Nah. Just the pretty ones," he finishes off his joint, setting it on the ashtray on the coffee table in front of him.

"How sweet," you say sarcastically, handing the cash to him, as he passes you the bag of weed.

"What can I say," he stuffs the money in his pocket. "S'not every day you see an angel on Earth." He chuckles, slouching further into the couch. You laugh at his comment dryly, more focused on small bag in your hand as if it was gold.

"You got a name?" He asks, not looking away from you, his eyes bloodshot red.

You look back at him, telling him your name softly.

He nods, repeating the name over and over under his breath, "yeah, I'm just gonna call you angel. Fits you better."

"Then what was the point of asking?" You say, moving closer to him,

He shrugs, ignoring your question, "you got something to roll up with? Or you just gonna keep staring at the bag?"

"Uh..." You laugh at his words awkwardly, completely unaware of your zoning out. "No...Not on me. I was planning on going home after I got this, actually." Your voice trails off, tucking the bag into your purse.

Chris shakes his head, not wanting you to leave, not when he had just barely gotten to talk to you. "C'mon angel, you just got here." He smirks, his hand moving up your leg, tracing circles along your inner thigh.

You'd be lying if you said the mere sound of his voice didn't make you obscenely wet, his gentle touch only added to the heat growing between your thighs. Just the way he carried himself so confidently turned you on more than you'd care to admit.

"You got some papers on you?" You ask, biting your lip, meeting Chris' piercing blue eyes with your own, and he can't help the groan that escapes his throat as he watches you.

He swallows thickly, grabbing your thigh, his eyes glued to your plump lips. He started to imagine how they would feel on his own. How soft they'd feel kissing his skin, or wrapped around around his cock. Your eyes, glossed over from the alcohol, how similar they'd look after making you throat his dick.

His mind was fuzzy, and the feeling of his jeans tightening was suffocating, but he was sure about one thing: he wanted—no—he needed you.

"Yeah, I do..." he inches closer to you, his hand moving up to toy with the hem of your shirt. "But it's gonna cost you extra."

You were never one to get nervous. Especially with a man. But Chris was different. Different than any other guy you'd ever been with. His cockiness was both aggravating and alluring, and he had you hanging off every word that fell off his tongue.

You had heard stories of him, how amazing he was in bed. At first, you were repulsed by just how many of your friends had told you the same tale: he'd sell to them, sweet talk them for a few hours (if that), then take them back to his apartment to have his way with them. Now, you were practically begging to see if the rumors were true.

"How much?" You ask, your breathing starting to quicken. Just being near him made your cheeks hot, eye contact getting harder and harder to maintain, your eyes looking down at his soft, pink lips. The ache between your thighs grew as Chris slowly closed the gap of space between the two of you, the smell of alcohol, weed, and his cologne overwhelming your senses. His own breath starts to quicken as his hands move up to hold your face, pulling you into a heated kiss.

The sounds of the party, the blaring of the music, the fact that you were on someone's couch at a party, it all faded. Your intoxicated brain could only focus on Chris' lips on yours.

A wave of need and desire washes over Chris as he pulls you against his body, holding on his lap. He bites your lower lip, begging for entrance as he slips his tongue into your mouth. The kiss was electrifying, growing sloppier as you continued.

You didn't know if it had been seconds, minutes, or even hours. You were desperate for him, all of him.

His hands make their way down to your hips, grabbing pulling you against him tightly, his fingers pressing into your skin. The feeling of his hardening cock poking your thigh only turned you on further, and you were sure you had soaked through your underwear by now.

Suddenly, he breaks the kiss, a trail of saliva connecting your two mouths, as you try to catch your breath, a whine escaping your lips at the loss of contact.

You needed more, the feeling of his lips so addicting, you would've gladly spent your last moments alive with your mouths intertwined.

Chris breaths heavily, his eyes hazed and lustful, his mind swimming with need as he's reminded of his surroundings. He wipes his mouth with his thumb and index finger, smirking at you trying to catch your breath, "Paper's are in the car, angel," he says, tapping your thigh, signaling for you to get off and follow him.

The moments in between were a blur, your mind in a haze and your memory foggy. All you knew was, somehow, you had ended up in the backseat of Chris' Audi in a random park, holding onto the car door as he pounded into you from behind.

"Shit ma—takin' my dick so good," he grunts, watching your ass ripple with each thrust. One hand was on your lower back, guiding your movements, while the other brought the blunt held between his fingers to his lips.

The slow R&B playing from the car speakers was drowned out by the vulgar moans coming from the two of you. The sound of skin slapping together echoed, the car shaking from sheer intensity of your love-making. The windows were fogged, the air thick with the smell of weed and sex.

His breath grows ragged, his hands moving to your hair, wrapping around the locks and pulling gently. He tugs at your head, pulling your body against him as he leans down to speak in your ear, "Y'feel so good, angel. So damn perfect f'me."

"F-fuck!" You moan, his words spurring you on more than the feeling of his cock ramming inside you. "Feels—mmm—feels so good," you stutter out, still holding onto the car door for support, feeling your legs start to turn to jelly.

His body shudders, a low moan escaping from his throat. He slowly pulls out of you, rubbing the head of his cock up and down your slick folds teasingly, your arousal dripping onto the leather seats of the car. "Fuckk...Look at that...Fuckin' droolin' f'me," he laughs softly.

Both of you letting out breathy moans as he pushes himself back into you. "Thaat's it...There you go..." Each bump and vein of his cock added to the burning sensation of being stretched out by his thickness, earning a loud, drawn out moan from you.

"Pussy's so tight…Squeezin' me so good...fuckkk..." Chris moans. He was undoubtably bigger than anyone you'd ever had, but with him making you wet with just the sound of his voice, paired with the weed hazing your mind, he was an easy fit.

His thrusts are slow and deep, wanting you to feel every inch of him. He takes another hit from the blunt, before setting it on the center console, its effects to the feeling of you clenching around him, making his body grow more and more sensitive.

"Mhm...There you go...Nice and slow f'me...Want you to feel every inch of me...Wanna fill you up with this big dick," he groans, fingers digging into your hips.

Your moans grow high pitched as his hand comes down to slap your ass, the sound loud and clear in the confined space of the car. He runs his fingers over the red, stinging skin, squeezing your ass as he starts to move his hips faster. "Let me hear you, angel...Let me hear how much you love it," he grins.

You try to speak, but no words could express the euphoria you feel at this moment, your eyes rolling to the back of your head. Drool starts to pool in the corners of your lips from the amount of time you've held your mouth open, letting moans and curses stumble out. All you can think of is him.

Chris smirks at the sight, seeing you fucked dumb on his cock only drawing him closer to finishing, "Look at you. Can't even think of anything but me, huh?" He laughs, watching your body go numb. He pushes you down, arching your back even more, the change in angle allowing him to reach a deeper spot of pleasure.

"Give it to me, baby—mmm...fuck...I love it..." You moan as his hips increase in speed, his balls slapping against your clit deliciously, leaving you a whimpering mess.

His breathing grows heavier, the loud sound of his dick pumping in and out of your wet cunt making you moan in sync. He feels himself getting closer and closer. "Fuckin' love this pussy..." he sighs, his cold metal bracelet hitting your skin. "S'like it was made f'me. So fuckin' tight."

That simple phrase is enough to send you over the edge, your orgasm washing over you with the force of a thousand waves. Your legs shake, sinking into the leather seats, chanting Chris' name like a mantra.

"There you go...Cum all over that dick...That's a good girl," Chris moans, his thrusts quickening as he chases his own high. The feeling of your tight walls clenching around him, the sight of you panting in front of him, and the sweet sound of you moaning his name was too much for him.

A shuddering moan left his lips, ribbons of cum shooting into the thin condom. "Fuck baby—mmph—so good," he sighs, his cock twitching inside you, his body shaking as he comes down from his own orgasm. "So good to me."

He slowly pulls out of you, breathing heavily as he rubs his tip over your wet folds, trying to commit the image to memory, his head spinning. He runs his fingers through his messy brown curls, his hat discarded somewhere on the floor of the car, beads of sweat moving down his forehead.

He slips the condom off, tying it up, and throwing it out of the window. After putting his clothes back on, he climbs to the front seat, grabbing a towel out of his glove box and throwing it towards you.

Your breath and heart rate is finally back to normal, looking out of the foggy window, before sitting up, taking the towel and cleaning yourself off, your body hot and sweaty. The coolness of the air conditioning makes you sigh in relief, putting your own clothes back on.

"You gonna get back up here or what?" Chris asks from the front seat, his blue eyes watching you from the rearview mirror and you nod, crawling back into the passenger side.

The two of you sit in awkward silence, waiting for the car to get back to an acceptable temperature, the only noise being the hum of the air conditioning and the sound of Chris' playlist, SDP Interlude by Travis Scott playing at a low volume.

"You goin' back to the party?" Chris breaks the silence, looking over at you. You nod, looking back at him as you start to sober up.

He pulls out of the parking lot, driving back to the house, the breeze of the air rushing through the open windows hitting your face, messing up your hair even more, if that was even possible. He turns the music up, smirking at you before turning his attention back to the road.

As he stops in front of the house, he grabs your hand, pulling you close. His lips connect with yours with intensity, his tongue slipping into your mouth. His body still aches for you, and he's sure he could've done a hundred rounds with you if given the chance. You moan into his mouth softly, before he reluctantly pulls away, wiping his mouth off.

He moves a stray curl out of your face, his touch gentle as he stares at you through half-lidded eyes, "Hit me if you need a re-up, yeah?" He says, his voice almost a hum.

You nod, getting out of the car, the cold breeze leaving goosebumps on your skin. "Bye, Chris," you smile.

"See ya, angel."

dealer!chris and stoner!reader fic for 500 milli !! tysm for all the support on my blog <3 ygs are so amazing

tags: @yourmother29 @bowsandsturniolos @sweetshuga @sturns-mermaid @leah-sturniolo @spideylana @dykes4chris @sophsturns @mattsbunnyxx @slut4christopherr @trevorsgodmother @sosasturns @emely9274 @courta13 @mattsbrowser @oldermenwh0re @birkinbratsworld

[arcaneauthor]

would u be able to do han jisung cute things he does as your bf?

Cute things Han does as your bf

Pairing: Han Jisung x Reader

Tags: established relationship, fluff, just Han being a lovable dork basically, I’m so bad at tags idk

Warnings: mentioned anxiety, mentioned kissing ig?? Apparently I’m bad at warnings too

Author’s note: As someone who fully believes there is not near enough Han fics on this app I’m so glad you requested this. Hope you like it!

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

He’s tried on multiple occasions to cook these extravagant meals to surprise you with when you get home but they almost always end up with you coming through the door to the smell of something burning as Han panickedly scrambles around the kitchen. And the times it’s not immediately went up in flames, it’s mostly inedible.

His face always turns beat red the moment you both take that first bite and he watches as you struggle to try to act like it’s good in order to save his feelings before you both just in the long run decide take-out is the best option.

As we all know Han himself has pretty bad social anxiety which means he knows the signs very well. So he’ll be the first to notice when you’re feeling anxious or your social battery drains. He’ll start rubbing your back or put a hand on your thigh to try to comfort you without drawing too much unwanted attention to your current condition knowing that will just make it worse, or if it gets really bad he’ll excuse y’all and make up some kind of excuse as to why you have to leave.

This of course makes you feel bad and start apologizing to which he immediately assures you it’s completely fine and laugh it off about how it was a boring party anyway. (It wasn’t. He was actually planning on staying another hour or two but he would never tell you that)

Always so adorably clumsy. Like there’s been multiple instances where he’s leaned in for a kiss too enthusiastically and you’ve bumped foreheads. His boba eyes turn so round as he immediately starts spewing apologizes, frantically checking your forehead for a mark at which you just start chuckling at the absurdity and cuteness of your boyfriend. Which in turn makes him laugh and then it’s just so contagious that y’all both start cackling.

As Han himself has stated, he is a very bad impulsive buyer. Which means he will literally buy you presents like every other day. It’s to the point where you have to very kindly tell him that even though you loved his gifts, if he kept buying them so frequently he would end up broke lol

Makes it Tea time all the time. Girl I’m telling you spill the tea to this man at every possible moment, he 👏eats 👏it 👏up👏. Literally the best to gossip with.

He sets up little date nights at the house for you since you’d both rather stay in together most of the time anyway. Though these “date nights” usually end up looking like what people would normally picture as a “girls night” lol. Face masks, cups of tea, kdrama playing, etc. but you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Neck kisses. Just-yeah

Constantly cracking cheesy jokes around you just cause he loves making you laugh.

Play wrestles with you which then somehow turns into a tickle fight as you both are giggling like children. Grabs you up by the waist when you try to escape him. “Oh no I’m not done with you yet.” You’re kicking your legs trying to get free while still laughing so hard tears are coming out your eyes.

Loves to take you on little one day trips when he has time. Not to some busy tourist spot but just some isolated scenic routes or something. Just you and him, windows down with music playing softly in the background as he locks his hand with yours. Just enjoying each other’s company as you gaze at the beautiful world around you

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

End notes: so this one kind of got out of hand lol but it’s not my fault this man has been bias wrecking me so hard lately😖

[sturn777]

how would fb!chris react if someone roofied dealer!r's drink???

fb!chris' reaction to somebody lacing dealer!r's drink . | ( female reader ) wc ?? ( masterlist ) + ( request )

꒰ა " some things you just can't explain, like the way you're stuck in my brain . " ໒꒱

the music is too loud, bass shaking the walls of the frat house like it’s trying to knock the place down. red solo cups litter the floor, a mix of spilled beer and sticky jungle juice making the place reek. you're leaned up against the kitchen counter, your usual spot for scoping the scene, your eyes scanning the crowd. a few familiar faces nod your way, a silent acknowledgment of what you're there for.

chris is on the other side of the kitchen, nursing a beer and cracking jokes with nate and tyler, two of his closest boys. he’s got that lazy smirk on, the one that makes girls linger a little too long, leaning in for a brush of his arm or a laugh at something he said that wasn’t even funny. but his eyes keep darting back to you, watching the way you keep your head on a swivel, how you don't smile at anyone unless it’s to close a deal.

you've got your cup in hand, the bright red plastic clashing against your dark nails. you aren't drinking much, just taking a sip here and there, yiur other hand in your pocket like you're waiting for the right buyer to make their move.

"yo," tyler nudges chris, pointing toward the living room where a group of freshmen are trying and failing to get a keg stand going. "you think we should step in before someone breaks their neck, or nah?"

"let 'em," chris mutters, but he’s only half paying attention. his eyes flick to you again, narrowing when he notices some guy standing too close. it’s luke, one of the guys from the frat. he’s leaning in, saying something to you, but you're not laughing or smiling. your face is blank, uninterested. typical.

“you know her or something?” nate asks, following chris’ line of sight. “nah,” chris lies, taking a swig of his beer. “just watchin’.”

watching turns into glaring when luke reaches out, his hand brushing against your arm as he hands you a fresh cup. you hesitate before taking it, your eyes narrowing just slightly. chris catches the shift in yiur expression, the way you sniff the drink before taking a sip.

something feels off. he doesn’t know what it is, but his gut is screaming at him. he pushes off the counter, walking toward you just as you sway slightly, your hand gripping the edge of the counter for balance.

"yo, you good?" he asks, his voice low but sharp, cutting through the haze of the party. you blink up at him, your eyes glassy, and shake your head like you're trying to clear it. "i— i’m fine," you mutter, but your words slur, and that’s when he knows.

his jaw tightens, his eyes snapping to luke, who’s standing there with that smug, lazy grin like he didn’t just cross a line. “what the fuck did you put in her drink?” chris growls, stepping in front of you like a shield. luke’s grin falters, but he shrugs, trying to play it off. “man, chill. it’s not a big deal.”

"not a big deal?" chris barks, and then he’s swinging before anyone can stop him. his fist connects with luke’s jaw, the crack echoing even over the music. luke stumbles back, clutching his face, and then it’s chaos. the other frat boys rush in, trying to separate them as chris lunges again, his eyes wild with fury.

“chill, bro! he’s not worth it!” nate shouts, grabbing chris by the shoulders and dragging him back as luke scrambles to his feet, his lip bleeding. “get the fuck out,” chris spits, pointing at luke, his chest heaving. “now.”

luke hesitates, but the look in chris’ eyes makes him backpedal, shoving his way through the crowd and out the front door. the room’s still buzzing, everyone whispering and watching as chris turns back to you. you're sitting on the counter now, your head in your hands, trying to steady yourself.

“hey,” he says, softer this time, stepping closer. “you good?” you look up at him, your eyes clearing just a little. “i’m fine. just... dizzy.”

“yeah, no shit,” he mutters, running a hand through his hair. “c’mon. you’re not staying here.”

he doesn’t give you a chance to argue, just grabs your hand and leads you out of the house, ignoring the stares and whispers. when you get to his car, he opens the door for you, watching as you sink into the passenger seat.

“you didn’t have to do all that,” you say quietly, your voice still shaky. he glances at you through low eyes. “yeah, i did. and if that asshole shows his face again, he’s done.”

you don’t respond, just lean your head against the window, your eyes fluttering shut. and for once, you don't argue or push back. you just let him take care of you.

taglist : ( @emely9274 ; @bluestriips ; @loveparqdise ; @flouqissss ; @st4rcs ; @starwebber9 ; @conspiracy-ash ; @sweetrelieef ; @chris-hallelujah ; @leoslaboratory )

[muwapsturniolo]

✯𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐈𝐭✯

Matt sturniolo x black fem!reader

IN WHICH…Y/n has to put in work to get what she wants.

WARNINGS: NSFW CONTENT AHEAD!!! drugs (weed), guns are mentioned but not used, oral (m receiving), lil bit of thigh riding. that's really it.

Matt watches as the car full of high schoolers pulls off, scoffing and shaking his head in annoyance. This was their first time buying from him and they tried to screw him over, saying that someone told them a cheaper price than what Matt originally charged.

It took roughing one of them up for him to get his full payment.

He sighs as he climb in the car, his once good mood now dampened.

He should go home, possibly take a shower, and smoke himself into oblivion so he can relax and be ready for the next day of dealing, but he has an even better drug.

Y/n

A cute little thing.

It was something about her that always pulled Matt in. Maybe it was the way her eyes lit up when she saw him, or the way she would hug and kiss his cheek after dropping off. Maybe it was the way her pink glossed lips wrapped around the blunt when they would smoke at parties, making him imagine how they would look around his dick.

He doesn’t know, but he loves it.

He grabs his phone and clicks on the pinned messages with his favorite buyer.

Matt: in your neighborhood princess, you want your usual?

Y/n: yes plz! I just ran out this morning😔

Matt smiled to himself, instantly feeling a bit better about tonight.

she was always his favorite buyer

He makes the short drive to her house and parks the car, grabbing his bag and running up the front steps. He rings the doorbell and waits for her to answer.

The door creaks open and his eyes are instantly looking her up and down. She’s dressed in a baby pink cropped cami with lace trimmings, and a pair of light grey shorts that hug the mound between her legs perfectly.

He could see the outline of her lips along with the small damp patch.

“Matt?” Her soft voice brings him out of his trance. “Hey princess, you going to let me in?” She giggles softly at the pet name and lets the dealer inside.

He’s been in her house before, having been to the parties she’s thrown, or simply coming over to smoke with her.

“Shoes o-off, I know I know. Wouldn’t want to mess up your pink carpet.” He cuts her off, sliding his shoes off in the process. She smiles and skips past him, completely missing the way Matt watches her ass jiggle.

He sucks in a sharp breath and follows her into the living room. As he sits down on the couch, he notices a wine glass and a small charcuterie board on the coffee table. “Enjoying yourself tonight?” He questions as he opens up his bag, starting to pull out the paraphernalia. “Hm? Oh yes! It’s Saturday so I figured I’d just relax!”

He hums and grabs her weed jar off the table. As he fills the pink jar, Y/n goes to grab her wallet. She walks over to the stand her purse is on and looks for the small compact. Her brows furrow when she doesn’t see it.

“Where the hell is it?” She asks herself. She walks into the kitchen and looks across the counters, thinking maybe she placed it there.

She was wrong.

She goes to her bedroom and looks for it there, but once again she shows up empty-handed.

She bites her lip and begins to panic.

She’s not dumb, she knows how Matt is. He’s about his money and doesn’t appreciate people coming in the way of that. She’s heard the stories of Matt beating people an inch away from death for not giving him his payment.

He wouldn’t hurt her…right?

She begins to frantically run around her room, checking every crevice possible. She gets on her knees and checks under her bed, not noticing Matt walking in.

“Everything ok Princess?” She squeals in shock and quickly sits up, turning around with wide eyes.

“Hm?” She asks nervously.

He squints, noticing her timid posture. “I asked if everything was ok, you seem nervous.” She bites her lip and looks down, scared to tell him about the situation.

“Princes- I can’t find my wallet!” She spits out.

The silence between them is deafening, you could hear a pin drop.

“Matt I’m so-Shut up.” She quickly shuts her mouth hearing his tone. He’s never spoken to her like that, always making sure he spoke to her softly.

“You know, I had a very rough night. First, I had a bunch of high schoolers blowing up my phone because Chris was a dumbass who gave out my number, then the same high schoolers tried to fuck me over-“Her heart beats faster as he walks closer to her kneeling frame.

“I handled it though, but you want to know what?” Her hand shakes as Matt’s hand disappears behind his back and reappears with a gun.

She knew Matt carried, he was a dealer for Christ's sake, He would be dumb not to, however, she didn’t expect to have it possibly used on her.

The thought makes the dampness in her shorts worse.

Her eyes stay trained on the weapon as Matt stops in front of her, her whole body shaking. “I’m sick and tired of people messing with me and my money.”

She looks up at him with glossy eyes, her bottom lip wobbling slightly. “I-I don’t know where my wallet is! M-Matt I’m sorry I’m not trying to m-mess with your money!”

He coos sees the tears run down her face, raising the hand with the gun to wipe her tears. She flinches away making Matt take hold of her face, keeping her in place.

“A-are you going to hurt me!”

“Hurt you? Oh I’d never do that to you princess, you’re my favorite.” He whiles more of her tears away, enjoying the way her eyes glimmer in submission.

“And because you’re my favorite, I’m giving you a chance to make it up to me.”

“Make it up to you?” She sniffles. Matt places the gun on her nightstand, taking a seat on the edge of her bed.

“You have two options. I can leave with the weed I gave you and you no longer are my favorite buyer or, you blow me. Because you and I both know there was always tension between us and I can see the wetness seeping through those grey shorts of yours.”

She moves around a bit knowing he was right. Her Saturday nights were always spent drinking wine and masturbating to the thought of her dealer.

She never got the chance to masturbate due to Matt coming over. Now she has the opportunity for something even better.

Matt could see the cogs turning in her head, an internal battle to determine if she’s scared or turned on going on in her mind.

Matt would never actually hurt the girl, she’s too precious. He’s always had a soft spot for her, giving her more weed for a cheaper price, setting everything aside for her. Hell, he even came over to kill a spider for her one night despite having to do a drop-off.

He watches as her hands reach for his belt, “if you don’t want to, you don’t have to. I may be irritated but I’m not forcing you into anything. Say the word and I’ll leave princess.”

“I don’t want you to leave…”

He smirks down at her and lets go of wrists,

“Then work for it princess.”

The sexual tension is bursting at the seams, begging to be released. It’s been a long time coming, the two finally addressing the sexual tension between the two.

She pulls down his jeans and boxers, allowing his cock to spring free. She instantly clenches her legs together seeing the aching phallus. It was long and had the perfect girth, a vein running up the side stopping at his mushroom tip that was a blushing red.

She wraps her manicured hand around the base and slowly begins jerk. Matt lets out a shakey exhale and closes his eyes.

“Come on princess you have to work harder than this,” she parts her lips and allows her tongue to dart out, kitten licking his tip before swirling her tongue around it.

She eventually wraps her lips around the tip, starting to bob her head, her hand working whatever else she couldn’t fit.

“Fuck- just like that princess.” Matt bites his lip watching her plump ones wrap around him. He’s been waiting for this moment, waiting for the day he gets to have his favorite girl the way his twisted mind desires.

His moans go straight to her core, the ache becoming bigger and bigger. She reaches into her shorts and begins to toy with her own clit.

Matt takes notice and chuckles, “Such a fucking whore,” she moans around him making him buck his hips in return. She gags, spit immediately pooling out the sides of her mouth.

“Shit-“ He removes the hand wrapped around him and demands for her to open her mouth. She does as told and instantly closes her eyes as Matt begins to fuck her throat.

Her gagging and choking noises bounce off the walls, driving Matt’s need for release.

She pulls her hand away from her clit, holding on to his thighs as he stalls in her throat. She looks up at him through salty tears as her body lurches, the salty liquid in her throat.

He groans loudly and bites his lip feeling her throat close around him as she swallows his seed.

He pulls away leaving Y/n to take a big breath, coughing slightly.

He should have stopped there, he should have told her that her payment had been taken, but he couldn’t.

Before he could even make his move, Y/n darts up and smashes her lips against his. She straddles his knee and grinds down, jerking her hips like a dog in heat. Matt helps her, grasping her hips tightly and moving her. He swallows her moans and whimpers, shoving his tongue in her mouth.

She pulls away panting, her eyes filled with lust and admiration.

“P-please Matt?”

“What do you want princess? My fingers? I always noticed you looking at them as I roll up. What about my mouth? Or do you want me to fuck you?”

“I-I don’t know- Do you think you deserve any of that?” He holds her hips in place, preventing her from grinding against his thigh.

“You think you deserve any of that considering you don’t have my money.”

She whines and tries to rutt against him, “Please! I’ll have it next time!” He finds her pleas pathetic but arousing at the same time.

He hums and flips them over, getting closer to her face.

“You’ll have it next time?” He begins to grind against her center.

She vigorously nods her head, more pleas and promises tumbling out of her mouth as he grinds against her.

"Good girl."

It takes everything in Matt to pull away and yank his pants and boxers back up. "M-Matt? What are you doing?"

"Your hard work paid off princess," He winks before walking out of the bedroom and trotting down the stairs, attempting to ignore the bulge in his pants

He hears a soft thud before fast footsteps follow him. "Where are you going?!" She follows him to the living room, watching as he packs up his bag.

"Leaving." He answers nonchalantly. Y/n stands there perplexed, the ache in between her legs sadly fading. "But you said you would- I never said anything princess. I never said I would fuck you, I said you need to work for it since you couldn't pay me with money." He finds it cute the way her face scrunched up, her brows furrowing as she opens and closes her mouth like a fish out of water.

He slings the bag over his shoulder and stands in front of her, "Don't be sad princess, there's always next time-" She follows him to the door where he slips on his shoes.

"That's not fair!" She stomps her foot like a child, except she's not a child, she's a grown woman.

Matt stares at her with a stone face, taking a step closer. Y/n takes a small step back seeing his usual bright blue eyes darken, his posture becoming firm.

"What's not fair is the fact you didn't pay me princess, but I'm not going to hold it against you after all I finally got head from my favorite buyer," he smirks and turns back to the door. He puts one foot outside before turning back to her.

"Oh and Y/n?"

"What Matt?"

"Your wallet was on the couch this whole time."

"Wha-" Matt cuts her off by turning around and closing the door.

She rushes into the living room and looks at the couch.

Sure enough, the wallet was there the whole time.

TAGLIST 🍑

@bernardsgf @bernardsleftbootycheek @blahbel668 @mattfrfr @gdsvhtwa @sturniolo-aali @lily-loves-struniolos @kynda-avery @causeidontlikeagoldrush

@st7rnioioss @carolinalikesthings @mattslolita @suyqa @xxloveralways14 @pepsiimaxx @judespoision

@ivonchetooo1239 @imaslut4kehlani @that-general-simp @m4stermindd @itzdarling @gigisworldsstuff @adoreindie @braindead4l @pettydollie @chrissgirlsstuff @alexis007 @ratatioulle @yamamasjumpercables @luv4kozume @sturnioloslurps @kqyslyho3 @j3tblackt3ars @ilovestarz @lustfulslxt @soimightlikeoldmen69 @tastesousweet @slut4sebastiansallow @whicked-hazlatwhore @stasiesturn @loljackwasfat @nicksmainbitch @ninacutebee16 @mayhem-72 @sturniolosmind @breeloveschris @mattslolita @mattsivy @guccifrog @hysteria-things @mrssturnioloo @koris_009 @patscorner @mayhem-72 @worldlxvlys @nickuniversity @luverboychris @thenickgirl @riasturns @imwetforyourmom @junnniiieee07 @realuvrrr @milasturniolo @fwskullz @hearts4tatemcrae @mattandchrismakemewett @chrissystur @canthelpit0 @strnilo @demistyles @junovrsmp4 @heartsforchrisandmatt @maryx2xx @vecnasnose0 @freshsturns @xxsturnxx @pettydollie @crimsoncorpse @sturnssmuts @sturniolovoid @m0r94n

[storiesbyrhi]

Part One: A building gets torched

Eddie Munson x Reader Series Masterlist 1710 Words

If the people we love are stolen from us, the way to have them live on is to never stop loving them. Buildings burn, people die, but real love is forever.

Warnings: canon typical violence, references to sexual assault, swearing, drug and alcohol use, sexual references, child neglect, death/grief, references to organised crime

Note: A majority of the characters from The Crow have been replaced with Stranger Things counterparts. However, a few remain in their original form (e.g. Gideon, Grange). Some major characters have been written out, as they don’t work within the context of this story (e.g. Myca – who is one of my favourite characters). I have taken material, including direct quotes, from the film and comics/graphic novel.

After Sunset, October 30, 1994

Jim Hopper stood next to the broken window. He’d been there before. He recalled how he felt when he first saw that window. How its grand scale and clean glasswork made the rest of the ratty apartment seem worth it. The window framed the city in a way that made it seem almost beautiful. Almost.

That had been a couple months before Devil’s Night. There had been whispers that the building was going to be sold off. Hopper hoped it was true. Maybe a new developer would demolish the place. He didn’t want to think about how many ghosts haunted those walls. Between the overdoses and the organised crime related violence, a lot of trips to the morgue began there.

Unfortunately, the buyer was not the up and up real estate type. Hopper heard it was more of the top of the bad guy hierarchy type. Martin Brenner owned half the city and not by any legal or ethical means. In the police files, intel on him was filed under the codename Top Dollar, like even the cops were too scared to put their name to anything that could be used against him.

 When Hopper caught wind of that, he’d paid the apartment a visit – paid you a visit.

“You gotta cool it with this stuff,” he’d warned, gesturing to where you’d been working on a new petition for everyone to sign.

“You’ve never told me to cool it before. Never shown up at my home before,”

“Before when you were feeding the homeless? Helping little old ladies cross the road? This is different. Come on, kid. Don’t play dumb.”

You sighed, but it sounded more like a huff. It hadn’t been feeding the homeless. You’d fundraised to keep the local community kitchen from shutting its doors. And, there had never been little old ladies. Maybe little old raccoons and opossums you’d built little wooden houses for…

Hopper shifted on the spot. “Look… I know you’re tryin’ to the right thing… I know you don’t want to have to move-”

“It’s not about moving. It’s about-”

“The principle, I know,” Hopper interrupted you right back. “I know. But the guy who’s eyeing the place, you don’t wanna mess around with him.”

Even then, you knew Hopper was right. You knew what you were doing was potentially dangerous. Brenner’s name had been mentioned to you before Hopper came knocking. But you were stubborn.

“How’s he even doing this? It can’t be legal. Probably paid off Kline, right?”

Hopper cringed at the name Kline. Larry Kline was the elected official who should have been fighting for the city. Instead, he was lining his pockets with Brenner-shaped coins.

“Eddie know you’re doing this?” Hopper changed tactics. There were three giveaways that Eddie was probably on tour. The first was how quiet the apartment was. The second was the lack of guitars on the wall hooks. The third was that Gabriel, a fluffy white cat, was asleep on the couch. Gabriel only sought the company of others when Eddie wasn’t an option, even though he was technically a birthday present for you.

You bit down on your tongue. “I don’t keep secrets from Eddie,”

“Right, but… Might you have conveniently forgotten to mention who wants to buy the building? Who you’re starting a fight with?”

The conversation had ended with a vague promise that you’d maybe consider ‘cooling it.’ Hopper had left that night uneasy. He never got around to tracking a phone number for Eddie out on the road. Knowing Eddie, which he only kind of did anyway, he’d never tell you to stop doing anything. That man worshipped the ground you walked on.

Hopper stood at the broken window and held a cigarette between his teeth. He looked down to the street below, Eddie’s body being covered with a crime scene sheet while onlookers scrambled to see the carnage.

Behind him, crime scene techs and cops buzzed about the apartment. He turned to survey the scene. The photos on the wall told a story of love. His brain tried to reconcile how you looked in them, compared to how you looked lying on the apartment floor covered in blood. The paramedics were still working on stabilising you, you clinging to life by your fingernails.

Hopper gave the okay to move you while he picked up a thick piece of card off the floor. A wedding invitation for the following day – a sunset event.

“Who the fuck gets married on Halloween anyhow?” one of the cops asked, staring at the mannequin keeping your wedding dress company.

Hopper didn’t answer. He listened to their commentary.

“What’s the count so far?” a rookie questioned.

“143 fires so far… They’re slacking off from last year,”

“Three hours to go; maybe they’re just slow starters.”

Hopper followed the paramedics as they took you downstairs and out to the ambulance. Another detective was there. Detective being a very generous title, as most of the work Phil Callahan was capable of was not of the sleuthing variety.

“This the victim?” he asked.

 “No, it’s Amelia Earhart. We found her, Detective, and you missed it,” Hopper deadpanned.

Before Callahan could come up with something witty to say, Hopper was back at your side. A girl on a skateboard had appeared, pulling at your sleeve.

“Stand back, kid,” he said.

It was Max’s voice that dragged you somewhere close to Earth. “Where’s Eddie?” you croaked.

“Ah… Don’t worry about him,” Hopper told you.

“Tell him to take care of Max.”

Paramedics had you loaded up, closing the back of the ambulance. Hopper stood next to Max for a moment before putting a hand on her shoulder.

“You Max?”

“Yeah,”

“Okay, look… Your sister… She’s gonna be okay,”

“She’s not my sister. She just takes care of me… She’s my friend. Her and Eddie… You lied to her about Eddie.” Max sounded more sad than accusatory.

“I had to,”

“And you’re lying to me about her. She’s gonna die, isn’t she?”

Hopper could deal with a lot of things. A grief-stricken teenage girl was not one of them. He clasped both of her shoulders and held her, looking around the scene with a growing understanding that the misery had only just begun.  

One Year Later After Sunset, October 29, 1995

Max visited the cemetery often. She’d walk along the rows, taking one flower from each bouquet she passed. By the time she was standing in front of the matching graves, she had an offering. One white rose for Eddie, the rest for you.

Losing you and Eddie was bad, but the months since had been worse. Her mother had all but resigned from that role, spending more and more time wherever Neil and Billy Hargrove went. Max hardly saw Susan anymore. The Hargroves, and the people like them, were terrifying.

Max sat down facing the headstones. “I found another one,” she said. “It says that people used to believe that when someone dies, a crow carries their soul to the land of the dead.”

In the weeks after that Halloween, Max obsessed over the science of death. She wanted to know how you and Eddie had felt. What would happen to your bodies, buried under all that dirt? Then, once she knew everything there was to know, she moved on to folklore. What stories had been told about dying? What existed beyond the veil?

“The thing though, is that if the person dies unfairly, if something so bad happens, then that is carried with the soul. The sadness. And the soul can’t rest.”

Max had contemplated magic. She saw a Ouija board put out by the trash cans outside her apartment building and seriously considered taking it inside. Her research had slowly veered into the direction of revenge-driven resurrection, for which many cultures had legends and fables of.

“Sometimes the crow can bring that soul back, to put the wrong things right.”  She paused, looking down and pushing the dirt around with a stick. Max shrugged to herself. “I know it’s a fairytale… But it would be nice…”

Thunder rumbled above Max. After gathering her things, she began to walk away. A crow swooped down, landing on Eddie’s headstone. She was sure it was the same one that always hung around the cemetery; she’d named him The Night Watchman.

“Keep an eye on them for me,” she told him, dropping her skateboard and riding off into the drizzling rain.

It was fear first. Terror. Darkness.

He tried to draw a breath in but it didn’t provide any relief. Something told him to get up. Get out. A voice. A voice in his head. Get up. Get out. But get up and get out of what? He thrashed but all his limbs hit solid wall.

Punching, punching, punching. When he finally broke through the coffin’s lid, his knuckles were raw and bleeding. He dug, splitting nails and swallowing dirt. He reached the surface, pulling himself from his grave.

His body couldn’t decide between curling up or being splayed out on his back. It couldn’t decide between screaming or sobbing. He was twitchy and achy. His knuckles had scabbed and scarred. He’d healed but the healing hurt.

At first, he didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know where he was. He didn’t know who he was.

A crow landed on an overhead branch. It called to the man, a deep and piercing caw. It was there to guide him. It was there to bear witness. It was there to share the burden of the second life of Eddie Munson.

Eddie knew to follow the crow. He knew the crow would take him to where he wanted to go. It would take him to you.

He stumbled, pulling himself through the cemetery and out into the city. Nobody noticed him weaving through alleyways and stalking shadows. He pulled at his burial clothes, hands running over the bullet hole scars on his body.

Eddie’s bare feet walked through filthy puddles and over crumbling asphalt. He only stopped when the crow landed on a dumpster, squawking.  Something dark was sitting on top of the trash. Old worker’s boots, too small for Eddie, but he put them on anyway. He stomped onwards.

End Note:

Thank you to the love of my life @jo-harrington for brainstorming and editing help, and for general support and hype girl shit.

The process of writing this series has been a bit of an isolated one, compared to past work. So, I don't know how it will be received. I am more unsure about it than I have been about my other stuff too. Any feedback would be immensely appreciated.

Happy New Year, xo Rhi

Fic Taglist (open): @mrsjellymunson @princesssunderworld @qweencrimson @b-irock @writinginthetwilight @bornslippys @ali-r3n @lexr86

All Eddie Taglist (open):solomons-finest-rum @ruinedbythehobbit @sweetpeapod @thorfemmes  @corrodedhawkins @grungegrrrl @lilzabob  @averagemisfit03 @ches-86 @ilovecupcakesandtea @onehotgreasymechanic @hazydespair @mel-the-fangirl @eddies-hid3out @siren-lungs @aheadfullofsteverogers @hiscrimsonangel @dashingdeb16 @cultish-corner @em0220

[slight-gaming-addict]

Hello! Can I please request for prompt 6 one shot with Idia x reader please? Idk if I’m doing this right so please ignore this if I am

~ you're unaware of the past inhabitant still living in your newly bought house ~

pairing: idia shroud x gn!reader

warnings: mentions of a dead body and blood, supernatural elements, gunshot wound, possible grammar errors, probably more warnings

word count: 1.4k

event masterlist | main masterlist | ko-fi

ʜᴀᴜɴᴛᴇᴅ

Everyone you know called you crazy for even thinking of getting a house like this. The cursed house that hasn't had a single owner keep the house for more than a month before it was back on the market again. The real estate agent was ecstatic as she led you through the house after your interest in it, showing you each and every thing that's been done to it over the last year that it's been on the market to try and attract new buyers.

With all the new modern renovations that have been done, you would've thought that it would be at least double the price than it was, and you soon learned why it was so cheap on the market.

Some years ago there was apparently a gruesome murder of a young man that happened in the house, and it's never been the same ever since. Every single person that's stayed in this house has left as quickly as they arrived, claiming that they'd awake to things being thrown around the house and voices echoing throughout making it known that they were not wanted there.

You've never really had a paranormal experience before, but you'd be lying if you weren't the slightest bit curious if the stories about the house are true. You don't have another option anyway, the house being the only place in the neighborhood that's in your budget, and you don't really see the appeal of sleeping in your car.

The real estate agent is practically bouncing on her feet as you officially sign the deed to the house as well as the check for the down payment that you still feel should have been higher, but you're not going to complain.

A couple of weeks later, you have practically everything unpacked—not that you had much—and are settling into the house nicely. You haven't had anything that they said has happened in the house happen to you, so you figured the rumors were just that, rumors.

It isn't until late one night that something happens. You're rinsing off a dish in the sink when a mug that sits next to you on the counter suddenly falls off and shatters to the ground.

You jump, dropping the dish you had in your hand into the sink. You look down at the smashed pieces on the floor next to your feet and take a step away from the glass. Looking around the room, you see nothing out of place that would cause it to happen, and you didn't think it was that close to the edge of the counter, but after a couple minutes of contemplating how it happened, the only reason you come up with is you accidentally bumping it, even though you don't remember doing it.

The next day, you're back in the kitchen making breakfast when the blender suddenly starts from across the room. You jump once again at the sudden noise, turning around from what you're doing. You walk up to the blender with confusion, not even remembering plugging it in. Trying to turn it off, you hit the power button, but the blender continues to whirl. You hit all the buttons, but nothing seems to turn it off. Eventually, you reach behind it and yank the power cord out of the wall, letting the blender finally come to a stop to plunge the room into a sudden silence.

You shake your head, trying to rationalize it, but not knowing how. You guess faulty wiring could come into play, though it's not that likely it's the only excuse you have. Your mind wanders to the rumors of the house and the reasoning why countless other people have left previously, but you don't have a choice right now, needing somewhere to live. You just hope you don't regret the decision to stay later down the line.

A week passes and small things keep happening around the house, things being knocked off counters, lights turning off as soon as you flip them on, and furniture being shifted from its position. The thought of leaving crosses your mind a couple of times, but all the things that happen seem so minor that you don't feel like you're in any real danger.

It isn't until one night that it changes. You're walking into your bedroom from the bathroom, getting ready to go to bed when you hear a low voice emitting from the corner of the room.

"Why won't you just leave?" Your heart jumps into your throat as you turn to face the noise, letting out a small scream as you see a figure in the corner.

Idia lets out a small scream similar to yours when he realizes that you can actually see him in the room. "You can see me?" He asks in disbelief as you push yourself against the opposite wall with wide eyes.

"How did you get in here?" You say, his questions not even registering in your mind that's completely scrambled at the moment. You would have probably recognized him from the images online from all of the articles about the house if you weren't too busy thinking someone broke into your house.

"Hey, wait-" He tries to speak, but you're preoccupied with grabbing the first thing you can and swinging it directly at him. You watch the object phase right through him and hit the wall behind him before dropping to the ground. Your eyes widen as a puff of light smoke covers the area where he just was before dissipating completely.

"What the-" Your eyebrows crease in confusion, looking at the now empty spot where the person just was.

"I'd appreciate if you didn't throw things at me." His voice sounds from next to you this time causing your body to jump and spin around, finding him standing next to your bathroom door this time.

"How did you-" You look back at the spot he just was in wonder as to how he got across the room without you seeing him. Looking towards the person once again is when his appearance finally clicks into your brain. "You're Idia..." As soon as the words leave your mouth, he's groaning out in annoyance.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm the poor guy who was murdered in his own home because he couldn't hear the intruder walking into his room from his stupid noise-canceling headphones." You just stare at him, trying to process the information of you physically speaking to someone who's not alive.

"But, how are you here?" You ask, your voice quiet as if you're scared of scaring him off.

"I wish I knew." He sighs out folding his arms over his chest in almost a defensive position. The last thing Idia remembers was sitting in front of his computer, ready to drown out the world around him and finally use his noise-canceling headphones when suddenly everything went dark.

He didn't hear the person breaking in through the headphones and the next thing he knew, he was staring down at the scene in front of him. His body was lying face down on the keyboard, blood dripping down onto the floor from the gunshot wound in his head, and even from seeing all that, he was the most upset about his brand new headphones getting blood all over them, and the very expensive keyboard getting completely ruined.

He's been wandering around the house ever since, watching the police come in and do their investigation, and the first people to move in since the incident. He didn't even mean to do it at first, but he knocked a painting off the wall when he saw them get settled in what was once his room. He saw their reaction and figured he could continue to move and knock things over, trying, and succeeding to run them out of the house.

He'd do it for every single person that would move into the house, working flawlessly, until you that is. He's not even sure how you're able to see him, no one else could.

"You're the reason why no one's been able to stay in the house." You say, everything starting to come together in your mind, like seeing a ghost, or spirit, or whatever you'd call it, standing right in front of you is an everyday occurrence.

"Yeah, well they were loud. Especially the ones with a newborn, it was like a screaming fest in here, I couldn't even hear myself think." Idia speaks out in a small huff.

"You realize every time you scare someone off you're just going to have to deal with more people coming in to check out the place." You say, looking at him expectedly.

Idia opens his mouth like he wants to say something, but then closes it again.

"Fine," he says after a few seconds.

"So I can stay?" You ask with a small smile. Idia just sighs out before disappearing through another light mist. You're taking that as a yes.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

buy me a coffee ♡

[immortalbutterflycos]

Girldad Rosekiller vs. Girldad Wolfstar: Selling Girl Scout Cookies

(Yes I'm aware the Girl Scouts are an American thing. Indulge me.)

Rosekiller:

They aren't so much "selling" the cookies, as they are threatening people to buy them in support of their daughter "Or else".

Some Dude: "Nah, sorry man, but I gotta sell my own kid's cookies." Barty, pulling a knife out of fucking nowhere: "You'll buy the damn cookies or the only thing you'll be selling is your own severed hands."

Short, Sweet, and highly effective.

Wolfstar:

They have a whole plan. They used to just go to James first because this man will just buy every single one of those fucking cookies with no buyer's remorse, but Regulus has a firm ban on allowing any more than 3 boxes in the house at any given moment because they just had palets of the damned things sitting in their cupboard and now he gets physically ill at the very thought of anything other than thin mints.

So instead, Remus has a sale plan that he and Sirius created. It lays out the best locations, and with their encouragement, their daughter is very easily one of the best salespeople in the business.

Sounds normal right?

Wrong.

Because even a well-thought-out plan can be somewhat derailed based on Sirius's influence alone.

Let me set the scene:

[[On a sale day, Sirius and their daughter are sitting at the breakfast table before Remus wakes up. Sirius drinks some bougie iced espresso drink he made, and she has a plate of smiley-face pancakes out in front of her.]] Sirius: "So what do you say when someone starts to walk close to the table?" Their daughter, smiling up at him: "Hello, would you like to buy some cookies?" Sirius, nodding: "Good. Now, what do you say when they say no?" Their daughter: "Please sir, my mum just died of cancer." Sirius, grinning proudly: "That's my girl." Remus, having just walked into the kitchen, his hair a mess, and his jumper hiked up due to the hand scratching an itch on his stomach: "Please tell me that you did not teach our daughter to use Cancer as a sales tactic..." Sirius: "Of course I did! It's brilliant!" *She raises her hand from her seat* Remus, with a soft sigh: "Yes, Angel?" Her: "But I have two dads. I never knew my mom." Sirius: "Ah, but that's the trick, Darling." *He pokes her nose.* "Sales is all about the blatant exploitation of other people's emotions in order to make a profit." *looking to Remus* "Tell me I'm wrong." *Remus breathes out a resigned laugh and shakes his head incredulously* Remus: "It's the fact that I genuinely can't that upsets me the most..."

[garbinge]

Maybe One Day

Chibs Telford x F!Teller!Reader

Summary: You go back to Charming 10 years after… everything.

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: Angsty. Mentions of death, murder, emotional distress, emotionally heavy.

SOA Taglist: @drabbles-mc @justreblogginfics

A/N: I wrote this on my phone so don’t mind any odd formatting or editing mistakes!

Part 2

The moment you crossed into the town line you felt the heaviness overcome you. It was like there was this smog that only existed within the miles of town, one foot outside that sign that held the town founding year and population and it was like fresh air. But currently you were being suffocated as the odometer added mile after mile as you drove deeper into Charming.

It was like looking at an old photograph, not much had changed in most parts. There was still the main street strip, some of the stores definitely were new, but the street felt the same. You noticed the lack of loud, rumbling motors, lack of two wheeled engines parked along the curb. But early on that had been how it was before Scoops turned into the new head quarters for the Sons of Anarchy. It had been 10 years since you’d been back here, so it was likely the original club stomping grounds were back in commission.

You had told yourself you weren’t going to find out if that were true but you currently were parked just outside the automotive shop to see a new black warehouse like space where the old blue one used to be. The paint didn’t look too fresh where SOA was stencilled on but it looked new enough to you as you leaned against the black cutlass.

One thing and one thing only. It was the sentence you repeated in your head over and over as you drove hours back home. Back home, that felt like a heavy statement. Charming might have been where you grew up, but it wasn’t home. Despite it being where you’ve lived most in your life, it wasn’t home. One thing and one thing only. You knew that wasn’t true every time the thought ran in your head. It was inevitable that you’d come here, that you’d stop at the rocky mounted highway where JT’s memorial was. Where the helmet and sunglasses of the other Teller still lay abandoned.

You were just supposed to grab the last few things at the house before the closing date. The realtor handled everything else, the listing pictures, the calls with interested buyers, you had hired people to straighten up and you had put mostly everything else in storage 10 years ago, but there was one thing that was still in that house that no one else could get but you.

You didn’t put the house on the market until a month ago. It was an assumption but you figured the club was going to use the house for whatever shady business or reasons, it’s why you were happy you had a confirmed buyer that first week of putting the blue house on the market. All it took was one day and one tour by your realtor before the offer came in. But that sped up your timeline. It was likely that was why you pushed this out so far, dreading the thought of coming out here and going to the kitchen drawer and grabbing that pocket notebook that you hid in the false bottom of it.

Now that notebook was weighing heavy in your back pocket but it was fitting considering the weight of the air. You saw people in TM work shirts moving around, the weight of the word Teller staring down at you even from the street. That was all Charming ever did, weigh heavy on you.

You thought of the words you repeated over and over again. One thing and one thing only. What a lie. You scoffed slightly as if the conversation you were having in your head was actually happening outloud.

A few more thoughts popped into your head, each from someone this town had an effect on. Both statements weighing heavy on you because what else would thoughts about Charming be.

The one Hale spoke to Jax when you were younger. “It wont be long before SAMCRO is just an ugly memory in the history of charming.” Something felt unsettling there, unfortunately Hale died before he could see that come to light and as you stared at the new SAMCRO compound you had to think you probably would too.

Then Wendy’s voice came to your head, “The MC, this town, it kills all the shit you love.” She was right before shit even hit the fan. Although, shit was always hitting the fan so she was just on the pulse of Charming before any one else even bothered to look. You had lost everyone to Charming—to the club. Yes, you had Abel and Thomas still, but it was different, everyone you had in your family during your young life was gone. Tara, Jax, Gemma, Opie. The list went on.

But before you could continue the list you heard a familiar voice. The voice of the one person you hadn’t technically lost to the reaper but you most certainly lost to Charming and SAMCRO.

You hated how the voice made your heart happy. You hated how it managed to make every ounce of heaviness disappear and flee to the deep depths of the town and would only surface when you were left alone. But as you heard his voice again it made you wish you never would be alone again. It made you think for the briefest of seconds that maybe you could back out of the offer, move into the house that was now in your name and create a life here. Charming was home after all.

No. No. Charming was not home. The quick rational part of your brain quickly jolted you back to reality. That weight quickly rising from the ground and pulling at your ankles as a reminder that the town’s grip would suffocate you. But there it was again, the interruption that pulled the weight off your ankles and had you feeling as light as a feather.

“Love?”

The name he called you for years, whether it was in public or when you were tangled up in the sheets felt like a breath of fresh air in this smothering town. It wasn’t a nickname solely for you, you heard him say it to many women in your years of knowing him, and he probably had a fair share of women now he used the name on.

But that didn’t stop your knees from wanting to buckle. You turned and saw him, it was ironic that in your years of hanging in this club house, at TM, you had never seen Chibs on the street in front of the club HQ. Most guys parked inside, the street parking was reserved for excess cars who were there for service and for on lookers like yourself, although they usually tended to be wearing badges.

“Mother of Christ.” His accent was thick as he lifted his sunglasses up and off his face. His feet were moving towards you.

He didn’t think twice before engulfing you in a hug. You had thought about this moment a lot, going over all the different ways it could go. In one of the scenarios you thought he’d pause immediately front of you, stare at you like a stranger. There was something so relieving that he was hugging you like the past 10 years hadn’t existed, that no matter what happened he still cared about you, was happy to see you.

“Chibs!” A voice interrupted your embrace and you wanted to murder them. Funny how being in Charming made homicide an instant thought.

Chibs pulled away and that’s when the Scottish cologne hit you, a smile filling your face as he looked back to the person in the TM lot.

“Church in 10!”

You looked at the patch on his kutte immediately at those words and saw the president patch. It sent bile to your throat, it was the patch Jax wore for years. Not figuratively, but literally. It was the exact patch he wore, some of the stains on it were likely from his time wearing it. You didn’t stay here long enough to see it sit on Chibbs’ kutte but seeing it now was transporting you back 10 years.

“Why don’t y’come int’the clubhouse darlin’, have a drink, we can talk.” He looked older, the bags under his eyes were dark and puffy. You could tell the club life was affecting him, his hair was graying way more and it made him even more attractive.

“I shouldn’t.” You shook your head and doubled down, “I can’t.”

The second two worded statement you spoke is what made Chibs understand, a nod escaping from his head.

“It’s good t’see ye’.” He was trying to keep it light, he knew how hard this was.

“I’m selling the house.” You said it so business like, it was a way to give him the heads up to let the club know. You saw some traces of them being there, not frequently but enough. Cigarette buds in the ashtrays around the furniture that was left, empty beer bottles in the recycling bin. You knew Chibs made sure whoever came by knew to clean up after.

Chibs just nodded and looked down. “Y’happy?”

How were you supposed to be happy after Charming took every last thing that you loved. You thought for a minute and the faces of your nephews flashed in your mind and you smiled.

“The boys are teenagers. I don’t know if you can be happy with teenagers.” You joked.

Chibs grinned at the mention of Thomas and Abel.

You wanted to ask him if he was happy but you were afraid of the answer. You saw what the club presidency did to the person in the role before him. You saw what it had done to the other Teller in the same position just a decade before. It made you think about JT and his legacy for a moment. You always wondered if JT was just exemplified as this great person because he wasnt alive to be rememebered for his flaws. But then you remembered Gemma and Clay and how they only remembered JT for his flaws. Your mind instantly went to Jax who had killed both Clay and Gemma, and what his legacy was. If he’d be exemplified just because he was gone and his flaws would be forgotten. Your eyes moved to the newer clubhouse and saw the small memorial that was on the roof. There was white air forces perched on the edge where Jax would very often sit and reflect. That solidified it for you, he’d be seen as Jax Teller, son of JT, president of SOA, an honor to have known and loved him for the guys who were in the club when he reigned as VP and president. But then your eyes fell back on Chibs, the hope that since he knew the flaws that essentially led to the death of your brother, he’d lead differently while still respecting his legacy in the eyes of the club.

“You rebuilt.” You pointed to the building trying to erase that long heavy thought from your mind.

“Ice cream and hookers were too distracting for the guys.” He teased in reference to Scoops and Red Woody. “You sure you don’t want to come in, love? Church won’t take long, I’ll give y’my dorm while y’wait.”

It was a convincing offer. You wanted to see what Chibs’ dorm looked like, what life was like for him. But deep down you knew you already knew what it looked like because you lived it. You lived it and you hated it. You loved him but hated the life.

“No just came to get this.” You pulled the pocket notebook out and flapped it in the air.

Chibs knew exactly what that was and nodded in understanding.

“Chibs!” The same voice called out again.

“He’ll be in in a second!” You called out, eyes still glued on the Scot in front of you.

The prospect shut up quickly and moved back inside. You wondered how he’d describe you to the members inside, there was only a handful that could potentially recognize you from description, and an even smaller handful that would come out to see for themselves.

“I wanted to give it to Abel. I think he deserves to know Jax the way Jax wanted him to.” You explained the notebook that Chibbs knew all about between the time when Jax was writing it and when you had told him where you’d put it.

“It was really good ta see y’love.”

Despite everything shitty about being back, it was true for you too. It was great seeing him. You wished you could ask him to leave, come stay with you on your humble farm, sell fresh eggs with you at the farmers market and ride dirt bikes with the boys. But it was the same reason he never asked you to stay here. Sure he might’ve asked you to come in for a drink but the words “stay in Charming” would never come from his mouth. He knew it was too painful.

He pulled you in for another hug and you didn’t want to let go. The drink wasn’t sounding half bad, you wanted to catch up, hear about what he’s up to, how he’s been, but the answers you’d want to hear would never come and the one’s you dreaded to hear would be the only one’s that filled your ears.

As you pulled out of the embrace you squeezed his arm in a way to tell him the same about seeing him without actually saying it and then you quickly turned back to your car. Chibs was walking away now, his hand reaching up to wipe the couple stray tears he’d never admit to shedding and dropping his sunglasses back down.

You called out one last time to him, an impulsive decision and impulsive thought meeting together at the tip of your tongue.

“If Abel comes here, push him out. Don’t welcome him in.”

Chibs was frozen at the request and then he nodded in understanding.

“I’ll send ‘em right back to th’farm so his auntie can talk some sense into ‘em.” It was a humorous statement but it gave you relief because Chibs wouldn’t lie to you.

“You can tell him about Jax. The Jax you knew. The Jax we wanted him to be.”

It was just like you to have the most mundane small talk conversation at close range where whispers could be exchanged and this important one where voices carried.

“I won’t.” At first you thought he misheard you and you were going to correct him when he spoke up. “If he’s anything like his ol’ man, he’ll want to become the man we wanted him to be, and we’ve already seen how that plays out.”

You thought it was impossible to feel seen in Charming. To feel heard. You thought it was impossible for someone in the club to speak this way about it. About past members. It was probably one of the many things about Chibs that made you love him, his honesty, his care for the Teller family. It gave you a little hope.

“There’s always room for you at the farm.” You said as Chibs was walking backwards. Getting closer to the club but still staring in your direction. You saw the curly haired man appear from the clubhouse building, about to call Chibs’ name when he spotted you. You knew he’d hear the prospect talk and be outside to see for himself, using Chibs as the excuse.

Your hand raised and waved at Tig like you had just seen him yesterday. He immediately raised his hand waved and you heard his laugh crystal clear from where you were and stared back at Chibs for a response to your invitation.

“Maybe one day, love. Maybe one day.”

Part 2

[1-800-munson]

𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐜𝐲'𝐬 𝐌𝐨𝐦 || E.M

- - - - - - - - - - - -

Eddie quietly hummed a beat to himself as he sat in the living room, his foot tapping along as well.

After a few moments he groans in frustration, throwing himself back onto the couch.

"Is everything ok in there?" You called out from the kitchen.

A moment of silence went by before footsteps of Eddie's boot came closer towards your location. "I have the perfect beat but I just can't find the lyrics to fit!" He explained, leaning on the counter, watching you move around the kitchen.

"I'm sure it'll hit you at a random point when you're not so stressed!" You reassured, pressing your hand on his chest, leaning into kiss eddie but a noise from the baby monitor.

You both sighed, you chuckled and tapped his chest.

"Go get our baby will you?" You asked, moving back to the stove to start prepping lunch.

"She always knows when her parents are about to have a moment.." Eddie chuckled before walking back to your guys room.

"There's the monster!" Eddie joked as he spotted your baby laying in the middle of the bed, she looked as if she had just popped out of the blanket, her baby hairs sticking up in different directions, just a diaper on, skin imprints on her tummy from laying on the blanket for the first hour of her nap.

"The pillow getcha?" Stacy, your daughter looked around the room before lifting her hands up towards eddie.

"It beats me up too, even gets your mama!" Eddie tickles her belly to get a laugh out.

"Does not!" You yelled from the kitchen. Eddie turned towards the baby monitor.

"She listens in, you believe that?" He jokes with the baby.

- - - - - - - - - - - -

You peaked out the window blinds you and Eddie had in your bedroom, you watched as he mowed the grass in front of your house to fit the little pool the wheeler’s had bought for Stacy to use during the summer heat. 

You grasped the towel on your chest, bathtime with a water baby was something else.

You glanced over towards your daughter where she sat on a bean bag chair, watching cartoons. She had her fist in her mouth, gnawing peacefully.

After getting a bottle of water for your boyfriend, you walked out of the small trailer and walked over to Eddie, who was filling the pool with the hose.

“Need water?” You asked as you walked closer. “I need something that’s not water.” He said, eyeing you up and down.

“Calm down, it’s mostly from the baby deciding to splash around today in the tub.” You both smiled.

“Either way, you’re a hot ass mom!” He kissed the hand that was handing over the water. “Oh yes, get back to doing the pool for your daughter!” You laughed and playfully shoved him away.

- - - - - - - - - - - -

Summer’s in Indiana weren’t a fun game when you didn’t have consistent  AC going or a large pool. 

You watched from a towel as your daughter splashed around in the baby pool.

“You enjoying the water S?” You giggled as she nodded, making her sunhat flop around.

Eddie sighed as he walked out from the trailer and into the heat, he walked past your yard and near the street, you assumed a buyer would be stopping by. 

A little bit went by and you were right, a car filled with high school seniors pulled up.

You got up from the towel and walked over to Stacy, she had started to show signs of being in need of a nap, you bent over and picked her up, before grabbing the towel and dried your baby off before going inside to settle her down.

- - - - - - - - - - - -

While waiting for the buyer to grab the money from the glovebox of the car, he couldn’t help but listen to the boys in the back talking.

“It might be fucked up but i think im in love y/n, my god!”

“I knew y/n was always gonna be a milf!” 

“Stacy’s mom got it going on, holy shit!”

Eddie’s head popped up, as the buyer handed him the money. Eddie handed the baggie of pills before walking away, the last comment about his comment stuck in his head.

“Stacy’s mom..?” He whispered, he sat down at the small dining table and picked up the paper he had laying around and scrambled to find a pen as the lyrics started to flow out.

You watched from the kitchen as Eddie scrambled around the living room for his guitar before playing a beat and muttering things to himself as he played.

After a few hours, he had jumped up from the table and walked over towards you, on the couch.

He leaned down and kissed you. “I love you.” You stared at him for a second. “What did you do?” You questioned, suspiciously.

“Nothing bad, I just wrote a song about you.” You raised an eyebrow, his answer peeked your interest. 

“And what is this song about exactly?” You twirled one of his stray curls between your fingers. “Let me get my guitar and you’ll be my first listener.” You nodded and watched as he ran once again for his guitar.

“Stacy’s mom has got it going on, she’s all I want and I've waited for so long!” He sang to the beat.

“Stacy can’t you see, you’re just not the girl for me. I know it might be wrong but I'm in love with Stacy's mom.” He paused and watched your face for a reaction. 

You smiled and clapped for him. “I love it! You’re basically saying I'm a hot mom!” You squealed, Eddie chuckled and kissed your shoulder and you wrapped your arms to give him a hug.

“She’s so gonna hate you for this song when she’s older ya’ know?” You said, still hugging. 

“Oh I bet, especially since everyone knows who Stacy's mom is..” You both laughed. 

“We’re so mean.” Eddie chuckled and kissed you. 

“I know, now kiss me Stacy's mom!” 

- - - - - - - - - - - -

[staticspaces]

Totem Pole House

You can find the video here!!

Let's begin this spectacular location by taking a look at the kitchen, the unique front foyey as well as the spacious living room!!

This unique mansion dates back to the late 1960s when the property was purchased and developed for the first time. Due to the unique design, the house feels much like a cottage while at the same time, being as grand as a mansion.

Because of it's location on a very large body of water, the property is highly sought after. It last sold over five years ago for almost $5 million and yet the buyer was only interested in it for the land.

The house has now been sitting abandoned for a few years and will be demolished in the near future. The property owner is planning to build a much larger mansion in its place, that will look very similar to the other new homes that have been built over the last few years in the neighbourhood.

The unique aspect to this property, is the totem pole that sits near the corner of the lot overlooking the lake. There was no information available about the history of the pole, so the city has recommended that it be allowed to deteriorate, fall and return to the earth as per indigenous traditional practices.