#rehab property

[theseancekid]

YEEEAAAAAAHHHHH i won my bid on Klaus' rehab props from the TUA pilot episode!!! Out of all the props from s1, I'm so so excited to get the original sobriety chip that he's given. I feel like these props represent the core of his character arc that first season and I'm so excited to get everything framed on my wall next to all my autographs from the s4 premiere :)

[deaventures]

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[fixandflippers]

Fix And Flippers

Fix and Flippers are always looking for investors for trust deed investments.They work with individuals, corporations, pension plans, or IRAs. They are experts at matching private investor funds with low risk, high yield, secured by a hard asset and solid loan opportunities. They have solid systems in place that allow investors to earn between 8%-13% per annum, compared to the low-interest rates currently being offered by banks. Fix and Flippers has developed a relationship with many such brokers, mortgage companies, and lenders worthy of a referral.These lenders and mortgage companies have many years in the business and have vetted for their reputations as closers and being a preferred lender among the industries elite. Their referral sources are loyal and provide steady repeat business that affords them an overflow of business.

[thebuyeragency]

Fix and Flip with Advance Draw

Fix and Flip with Advance Draw Fix and Flip is a rehab purchase loan, that is based on the approvement of a investment property based on the appraisal value after repairs are complete. 620+ mid credit score 1/3 of the rehab value paid up to $30k within 5 days of closing and no inspection required. We can lend up to 90% of total cost (purchase price + rehab)  We can close on average in 5-7 days…

[redrockcapital]

How Do Non Recourse Real Estate Lenders Work?

Real estate investment is the safest bet because it gives assured returns. If you ever get an opportunity to invest in a property, you shouldn’t miss the opportunity. Non recourse real estate lenders are here to help and they can provide real help as and when required. The real estate market has many players and lenders are one of the key players.

[metropolitanmultifamilygroup]

Property management service providers, including our property management services in Owings Mills, Maryland, can offer expert advice for real estate property rehabbing. They often have extensive knowledge of local market trends and can provide insights into effective property rehabilitation techniques.

[dixiedingo]

Drunk me asking the questions sober me could not fathom

[lexoliving]

Property Rehab and Repair Services Orlando | Property Preservation Services Orlando - Lexo Living

Lexo Living has extensive experience in Property project management, Property rehab & repair services Orlando , and Property inspection services, and Property preservation services Orlando with over 10 years of experience.

Visit:- https://www.lexoliving.com

Email:- orlando@lexoliving.com

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[conventionalrehabloan]

Conventional Rehab Loan Calculator, Guidelines, Requirements, Limits, Down Payment

Inroduction

With a Conventional Rehab Loan, a homeowner can use a single mortgage to pay for both the purchase of a home and the cost of renovations or repairs. Because it enables borrowers to buy a property that may require significant repairs or improvements and transform it into a livable and desirable home, this loan is also referred to as a "fixer-upper" loan.

Conventional Rehab Loan is not supported by the government and is instead provided by private lenders.

The following is a list of the upcoming events:

Most lenders demand an LTV of 80% or less.

The LTV is calculated as the loan amount divided by the appraised worth of the property.

The borrower may use the loan to refinance an existing mortgage and borrow additional funds for home improvements, or to buy a property in need of repairs or renovations. The loan amount is determined by the property's after-repair value (ARV), which is its estimated worth following any renovations or repairs.

For homeowners looking to buy a home that requires major repairs or upgrades, Conventional Rehab Loan can be a good choice. In contrast to conventional mortgages, however, borrowers should be ready for a more involved application procedure as well as possibly higher interest rates and fees.

Conventional Rehab Loan Definition

A Conventional Rehab Loan is a kind of mortgage that offers funding for both the purchase price and the expenses of house renovation. Based on the expected value of the house following renovations, the loan amount is determined. Homebuyers who want to acquire a property that needs work and make significant renovations or repairs frequently use this type of loan. The borrower usually has up to 12 months to finish the renovations. The money is disbursed in stages as the work advances. Conventional rehab loans are provided by private lenders and backed by Fannie Mae or Freddie Mac.

Conventional Rehab Loan Calculator

You can calculate your monthly mortgage payments for a home renovation job using a Conventional Rehab Loan Calculator.

Here is a straightforward tool you can use:

Establish the overall loan amount required for the renovation project, taking into account both the cost of the property's purchase and the renovations. 

Enter the calculator with the loan amount, interest rate, and duration. 

A projected monthly mortgage payment for the repair loan will then be produced by the calculator.

Here's an illustration:

Amount borrowed: $200 000

4% interest rate 30

year loan period $954.83 per month is the mortgage payment

Remember that this is only an estimate and that your actual monthly payments may differ based on your credit score, down payment, and the location of the property. To get a more precise estimate of your monthly payments, it is always a good idea to talk with a mortgage expert.

[chartergroupusa]

Are you in the market for rehab properties? Look no further than Charter Group USA. Charter’s team works with a variety of clients, including asset management firms, real estate brokerages, property management companies, private investors, non-profit organizations, and financial institutions across the nation to identify and acquire REO (Real Estate Owned) properties. To learn more visit their website: https://chartergroupusa.com/residential/real-estate-owned-properties/ .

[doberbutts]

Curious about something you mentioned in your post last week, you said that in your opinion all drugs should be legal and I’m curious about how that would be a positive at all? Like I get weed bc it’s pretty harmless but when I think of drugs I think of cocaine and heroin, which have destroyed so many lives. If it was widely available wouldn’t that end up hurting more people than helping? That’s just my opinion but I’m curious on the other side

I do think all drugs should be legal. This is said knowing that addiction runs in my family and that the only reason my older sister is my *sister* is due to drug use and addiction. Otherwise she'd be my cousin.

Making drugs illegal does not stop people from getting high. It does not stop drug related crime. And it certainly does not stop drugs from tearing families apart.

Addiction is a symptom of a larger problem. Solve the problem and the addict problem goes away. Solve the addict problem and drugs stop ruining lives and destroying families and creating massive amounts of drug related violence. Places that have roled out decriminalization strategies effectively have seen an overall reduction in crime rates across the board, a reduction in recreational drug use, and a reduction in bloodborne illness like HIV. Creating safe needle exchanges as well as safe places to get high with medical staff onhand has also created a locale where very few people die from overdose.

Most people hear "decriminalize all drugs" and think I mean a free-for-all. I don't. I think the drug market should be regulated. I don't think you should be able to get ketamine or heroin over the counter at a walmart like you can get asprin. But I think it's time to stop putting people in jail for getting high.

My aunt tore her life and her family and her health apart for years while she was addicted to heroin. My sister, her daughter, needed to be removed from her care due to the amazingly bad choices she made as a mother due to her addiction and her prioritizing drugs over the health and safety of her daughter. My aunt has had multiple heart attacks from the damage the constant drug use did to her body.

My aunt is more than a decade sober and do you know why? It's not because she got a wakeup call when her daughter was taken away, because at the time she willingly and freely signed her over to my parents because that got her "out of [her] hair". It's not because she had a heart attack, because she went right back to it the moment she was out of the hospital. It's not even because she spent time in rehab and prison, because the moment she was out she was using again.

No, my aunt got sober because her life changed. She was put on a better pain management plan. She got out of her shitty marriage to her shitty husband. She completed some education to make her more hireable so she didn't have to rely on less than safe means of paying her bills. She reconnected with my sister and reforged their relationship once she was 18. She bought her own house. She found love with someone who didn't give a shit about her past and brought out the best in her.

My aunt was a deeply unhappy person. Heroin made life more tolerable for her. Until she couldn't tolerate life without it. Until she'd do anything, anything, to get her next high.

A lot of addicts are addicts because they are self-medicating for something else and their drug of choice has chemical properties that makes their brains crave it more. If you fix the "deeply unhappy" part, you create a healthier environment for that addict to take control over their life again. Without it, they are far more likely to continue to relapse.

Knowing this, why would I then want to add the threat of prison and jailtime- life-ruining things themselves- to an addict's list of concerns?

Look up rat park sometime. In the rat paradise, drugged water was freely offered, and occasional a rat here or there would take a hit or two, but rarely enough to even get high and almost never habitually. Addiction literally didn't exist even though the rats were taking addictive substances. But the rats in cages, seperated from each other, with no enrichment, crammed into small spaces and stressed to hell? Those rats took hit after hit after hit until they overdosed and died. The addict rats were deeply unhappy. The drugs were their only escape. The paradise rats had to be lured in with sweetened drugs to even consider and even then they rejected them. The caged rats did not need sweetner, even though the drugs made the water bitter.

If we can see such a stark difference in rats having their needs met vs rats experiencing isolation and stress, what would happen if we showed human addicts the same consideration?

I think a lot better results than continuing to jail deeply unhappy and desperate people for doing the only thing they can think of to cope.

[peachesofteal]

The House

The Crypt anthology Simon Riley / female reader

The House was a gamble.

Tucked away in a thicket of forest, boxed in on the side of a hill, it stands alone at the mouth of an uneven gravel road. The porch tips to one side, the front door to another, like the wood is weeping. White, stained paint contrasts with faded black trim, all of it peeling away.

“Not sure how old it is, to be honest. It’s been back there for years, owner let it fall into disrepair.” The realtor hesitantly dropped the keys in your hand with a grumble under his breath. “Good luck.”

The living room is habitable, barely, along with a single bedroom that has managed to fend off the rot and decay. After the floor is swept, cobwebs cleared, you rub your hands together trying to spark some heat between your palms. You didn’t think it’d get this cold, this fast, but the weather has turned in the last few days, and the furnace in the basement patiently waits for you.

Best to get it over with.

This isn’t the first house you’ve rehabbed. You’re familiar with weeping trusses, creaking stairs, raccoons curled up in kitchen cabinets, dirt floor basements and cellars. You’ve battled a furnace or two, cleaned a fireplace, nearly fallen through a rotten floorboard. It should all be old hat.

Should be.

Something about this house is different. Shadows dance in the corner of your eye, gone when you turn to look. Windows whistle without wind, and at night, you swear you can hear breathing.

It’s all in your head, of course. A house stuck out here in the woods is bound to have some quirks, some unexplainable moments, passing as quickly as they came. Pipes, foundations, doorframes, they’re all shifting things, never truly solid. There are always growing pains, even in something old.

Besides, old houses always have stories. They have bones.

So, it should be old hat, but a wisp of a feeling so unnatural gives you pause at the top of the stairs, and a shudder rockets down your spine.

Suck it up, you chastise. You’re an adult for fucks sake.

The furnace is a monster. It’s big, and ancient, and rusted, and to your delight, still operational. Old furnaces, old washers and dryers, all the things made in the seventies and before, last forever. No LED displays, no excessive electrical hookups, no songs to announce the end of a cycle. Lack of extensive wiring leads to a longer lifespan.

It kicks back on with a loud groan, hissing and rattling, and you roll back on your heels, satisfied. Easy enough, you think, tugging your tools up and turning to leave.

Something catches your eye. A black scrap of cloth, haphazardly ditched in a corner of the basement. The light casts it in shadow, and the room goes cold as your knuckles graze the fabric, turning it to reveal faded white teeth and bone.

It’s a skull mask.

You chalk it up to being something left over from the last owners, a Halloween costume, or prop as you carry it up the stairs. Just another thing left behind, like the house itself. You toss it on one of the tables, making a note to throw it away later, distracted by the thud of a fist.

Someone is knocking on the door.

“Can I help you?” He’s too big. Too tall. Shoulders too wide. Chest too broad. There’s a curve of fat around his belly under the unbuttoned jacket, and you try to look away at how hips give way to too thick thighs. You’re not a small girl, by any means but this man… this man is a monster.

“Just wanted to come by, meet my neighbor.” Your heart pounds, so loud it rattles your eardrums, and your mouth dries. “I’m Simon.” You manage to spit your name out in response.

“Your neighbor?” You squeak in disbelief, and he nods.

“I live on the next property over. Over the hill.” Over the hill? The realtor said no one lived around here, and he must read the confusion on your face, because he chuckles. “I don’t live too close, it’s still about ten miles. You’ve got a lot of land here.”

“Oh. Right.” He takes you in from head to toe. There's a tenebrific flicker in his eyes that you barely catch, gone when the front porch creaks under your feet, a sharp whine forcing you to step off the board, lest you fall right through.

“How’s it treatin’ you?” You think you’re supposed to step off the porch. Be friendly. Extend a hand, but you can’t. Something roots you to the spot you’ve chosen.

“Good. Fine. It’s uh… not my first rehab.” He nods thoughtfully.

“Well, just wanted to drop by.” He gives you a smile. It’s not warm, or welcoming, but grim. Haunted.

You watch him disappear down the road, still stuck to the porch. Wondering.

Your dreams are caked in mud.

Held down by the earth, dirt wet between your teeth, grit and gravel clogging your throat.

You scratch and claw and scream but it only grows heavier, quicksand turning to cement, burying you deeper and deeper until you’re six feet under. Listless. Resigned.

Dying.

Dreams are always the same. Just when you get to the point where you think you might die, when you’re past the point of no return, the last sliver of life slipping away-

is when you wake up.

This dream is no different. You come to screaming, gasping for air, tangled in your blankets, heart racing in a gallop. You need the sky. The sun. The moon. Anything to prove you’re not buried alive.

The window suffices.

It groans as you throw it open and shove your face outside, cool breeze soothing your stomach, the roar of panic pounding between your ears. You breathe deep again and again, the trembling in your hands tapering off, feeling of impending doom, of collapse, leeching away.

You get yourself settled when the stairs creak.

Growing pains. The house is old.

It’s a manageable explanation, until a boot steps on the landing outside your room, just beyond the door. You fumble with the flashlight on your phone. “Hello?”

Nothing.

And then-

The steps move away. Down the hall. It’s certainly a person now, walking, and you fly out of bed, fumbling with your slippers, your sweater, throwing the bedroom door open and squinting the down the hallway.

There’s nothing there.

No one.

You’re losing it.

Days pass, and the nights tick by the same.

Same dream. Same footsteps. Same nothingness at the end of the pitch-dark hallway.

You start to stay up, drinking coffee late at night, sitting up at the head of the bed. Waiting.

The steps never cease. But you never see where they come from.

The neighbor, Simon, comes around again. He takes stock of you and comments on how you look exhausted, sickly.

You snap back with some smart-ass comment and a suggestion, mind his own business. The sleep deprivation builds into agitation, and then into tears. It’s embarrassing.

“Is something wrong?” He asks gently, stepping close, close enough you can smell him. Cedar. Flame. Charred wood in the bottom of a firepit, the leftover remains of a once loved campfire.

“I’m sorry, I… I haven’t been sleeping.”

“Why’s that?”

“You wouldn’t believe me. It sounds pretty crazy.”

“Try me.” He’s at your shoulder now, tilted down, trying to meet your eyes. When you refuse, he tips your chin backwards, baring your face to him. It’s too intimate. You can’t pull yourself away. “Go on.” The birch trees sway in the wind.

“It’s the house. I keep… I keep hearing things.”

“Things?”

“Footsteps, but no one is there. And I’ve been having the same dream, every single night since I got here.”

“What do you dream about?”

“Being buried alive.” His brows crease, framing fleeting caliginous shadows in his irises, mouth turning downward.

“I’m sure it’s just an animal in the house,” he glances up at it with a scolding, resolute glare, before returning his attention back to you. “As far as the dream, it’s probably just your subconscious telling you this house was probably more than you bargained for.” His mouth quirks to the side and you’re struck by it, confused. You didn’t notice earlier how handsome he is in a scarred, rough edged sort of way.

“Sure, yeah. You’re probably right.” He fishes out his phone and passes it to you.

“Put your number in there, I’ll text you. That way if you ever need anything, you can give me call.”

“Okay.”

A hand holds yours in the night. It’s warm, and heavy, and you squeeze it, curling your chin over it, a soft blanket of solace in a turbulent dream.

Old houses have bones.

When the nightmare wakes you later and you rocket out of bed, sweating and startled, you don’t hear the footsteps.

Instead, you hear your name being called. You stumble from your bedroom, frantic. The floor tilts between your feet, hallways contracting, crowding around your shoulders, ceiling weeping from the pressure.

You’re still asleep. You must be.

They breathe around you, expanding, narrowing, a dry rasp echoing from the bowels of the house.

Someone-

Something-

Calls your name.

It groans from the basement, floorboards singing under your heels as you trip down the stairs, turning the corner to crash through the door.

The light is on.

Did you leave it on?

You can’t stop yourself. Fear wraps a rope around your neck, but there’s nothing to tether you to the world above, nothing to prevent you from going down there.

But nothing prepares you for what you find.

In the dirt floor of the basement, a rectangular hole is dug. Long enough, wide enough for a body.

A grave.

Beside it, sits the skull mask you found when you fixed the furnace. The one you left upstairs.

You retch, skin prickling from a howling cry, ice cracking up your back, and turn to run. To flee, to fly back up the stairs like you did when you were a child, running from invisible monsters, trying to make it to the top before something snatches you around the ankle and drags you down into the abyss.

Instead, you collide with a wall of muscle.

You scream, pull away, only to be tugged forward.

Simon.

When he looks at you, he almost seems sad. “I told him not to do this.” He sighs, and you blink. He grips your upper arms, strength unnatural, fingers burning against frozen skin. “Told him it was too fast, y’know? You just got here.”

“Wh-what?” He’s walking you backwards, step by step, and no matter how hard you struggle, you can’t break free. It’s hard to breathe. “Simon, stop. Let go of me.”

“When I let ‘im go, freed him, I never thought he’d turn into… this. But it all worked out for the best, I think.” His mouth is moving, and you hear him, but the words string together into mush, and you can’t hold on, trying and failing to make any of it make sense. The only thing that registers is the horror blooming in your heart, the sweat slicking down your spine.

“L-let me go.”

“Can’t.” You teeter on the edge, heels suspended over the dirt pit. Simon is still holding you by your arms, balancing you above, and you cling to him.

“Stop- stop-“ He ignores you, grabbing your wrists, widening the gap between his chest and yours. His thumb finds your cheek and strokes away the tears there, the touch gentle, sympathetic.

“It won’t be too bad. You’ll be with him, and I’ll have you both.” The house groans again, and the lights flicker. You’re still suspended over the hole in the ground, flying, stomach turning over and over again, motion sick.

“With who?”

“Ghost.” He looks around, gesturing to the basement like it’s obvious. “This is where I buried him. Scratched him out of my soul and gave him peace.” Your head spins, and he holds you close for a second, cheek on your head.

“Simon-“ The protest is cut off by his lips on yours, impassioned, aggressive. He draws back, cradles your face with his free hand and then-

let’s go.

You land on your back with a scream, trying to scramble to your feet only to find yourself weighed down by some invisible force, the same cold clinging to you again, holding you like a lover. “G-get me out, get me out this isn’t funny.” He ignores you, stepping out of sight. Your chest explodes with agony, terror spilling from your eyes in rivers of salt, vision going so blurry it’s impossible to see.

Someone-

Something-

Holds your hand.

A shovel clangs, damp dirt crumbling into a blade. Simon looms with a heaping pile of earth. When he throws it down into the grave, onto your legs, you thrash. Scream. Beg.

No one can hear you.

No one can save you.

He goes about his work in silence, ignoring every plea, every bargain, every cry. The cold never leaves, only tightens its embrace. The weight of the dirt crushes you, compacts your diaphragms, your breaths growing more and more shallow with each passing second.

“Please,” you croak when it meets your chin. “Please.” The shovel pauses, shadowed over your face, small clumps and rocks falling over the edge onto your cheeks. It’s the next to be dumped, the next layer, the one that will finally hide you from view, from the world. Bury you. Alive.

Before it drops, you peer up through dusty cobwebbed lashes. There’s another man beside Simon. He wears the mask, the skull one, eyes glistening above the hem. They’re haunted, heavy with desiderium, but shining with something else, starvation, desperation. Lunacy.

Love.

He disappears in the next moment, and Simon looks down at you one last time. “This is the only way we can keep you, ‘m afraid. Have to make you a part of it, just like him.” You choke.

“A part of what?”

“The House.”

[deadmotelsusa]

Pocono Palace has been sold. The property will close and change hands on May 2nd, 2024.

I’ve spent so much time exploring and researching the dead resorts in this area and in the midst of all those visits, Pocono Palace has been my saving grace. It’s one of the few places I feel is still so authentically old-school-honeymoon-era-Poconos and still has its champagne glass tubs, round beds and heart shaped pools. It has also been one of the places we have continuously stayed at while doing Pocono research for this account.

So seeing it join the long list of dead Pocono hotels breaks my heart. I’d like to think the new owners will continue to run it exactly as it is but I’ve heard that it will be turned into a rehab center or wellness facility. Time will tell.

Enjoy some vintage photos + a few unedited snapshots from our last visit. 💘

[avalon-of-babylon]

I fucking love genuinely out of touch rich guy Bruce Wayne. Like realistically, yeah, he knows the value of a dollar and how far it gets you but just off the people around him it would be fucking hilarious.

Dick who's lived his entire life in the circus asks for some lunch money.

Rich guy™️ Bruce hands him a thousand because he doesn't have anything smaller.

Reporter Clark Kent casually venting about his 2 mortgages.

Rich guy™️ Bruce tries to relate by talking about how hard it is to juggle his 27 private properties across the world hidden in various shell companies full of millions of dollars worth of batman gear.

Meanwhile Oliver Queen who just has the 1 house, shoves everything into a gym bag and flies his own ass places is sitting there like what the fuck.

Jason certified street kid and son of a drug addict currently splitting rent 5 ways "Yeah it's been hard to keep the lights on with Roy in rehab"

Rich guy™️ Bruce "why don't you dip into your trust fund?"

Jason certified problem child perpetually on the edge of getting disowned. "My what now?"

Commissioner Gordon, father of two, fully aware his daughter is batgirl, spends half his paycheck on his son's indefinite psychiatric treatment, cant afford to leave the rent controlled apartment he's had half his damn life, with a literal nightmare job in the worst city in the world, paranoid because of the stupid amount of corruption around him constantly, and is always on the edge of a mental breakdown.

Rich guy™️ Bruce "You need a vacation. There's this amazing place in the Bahamas you should try-"

Commissioner Gordon, whose idea of a vacation is faking his death for a week in a sting operation, already sobbing.

[redrockcapital]

Red Rock Capital Red Rock Capital’s founder and President Joshua Manier has been involved in multiple facets of real estate investing for the past 20+ years. Red Rock Capital and its affiliated companies provide: marketing, loan processing, underwriting, loan servicing, and active fund management for private mortgage funds. He also serves as an Adjunct Instructor at Kaplan Professional Schools lecturing on Federal Mortgage Laws, Real Estate, and Finance and authored the curriculum for their continuing education program on real estate investing within self-directed IRA’s.

Visit us: https://www.fundwithredrock.com/

[lexirosewrites]

Happy Slick Sunday to all those who celebrate!

I've been trying to think about how I would write a modern day au and this idea has been floating a round for a while now.

So basically I'm thinking of Omega Steve who, feeling a little abandoned and aimless after his friends and the kids to off to college, agrees to marry his parents chosen Alpha. He wants kids! And a partner! And since he never got out of Hawkins he thinks that this is the best way to do it since no one else in town is interested in washed up Omega Steve anymore.

So they get married and bonded in the same night and things go alright for a little while. Alex (the Alpha) is fine if a little boring and mostly let's Steve do his own thing. Steve brings up the topic of kids, the one thing he really married Alex for, and he's wishy washy about it. Always with an excuse about timing and work and preparedness and eventually it becomes a Thing. Steve isn't going to let it go and Alex isn't giving him what he wants so they start fighting. And then Alex starts coming home later. And then he starts getting angry and pushy until he finally comes home and they have a blow out and he pushes Steve into the wall, at which point both Steve and his Omega are finally in agreement that it is no longer safe here with his mate.

Omega or not Steve isn't going to get pushed around by his Alpha, so after Alex goes to bed, Steve packs a small bag and loads up his car. He's pissed and scared and has no plan but knows if Alex wakes up and tracks him down he's going to be in a world of hurt so on his last pass through the house he picks up his old baseball bat from the hall storage closet and a handful of nails from the junk drawer. As quietly as he can Steve smashes the headlights on Alex's car and shoves nails in all four tires and then he's running to his car and driving.

He drives until his tank is near empty and then he fills up and drives again for almost 24 hours and on a stretch of road in the middle of nowhere he realizes his front tire has slowly been loosing air for miles. He gets out to check it out and, of course, there's a nail lodged in there.

The road is empty and he's going to have to drag everything out from his trunk to get to the spare and the idea is so exhausting after not sleeping for almost two days on top of the distress his Omega is feeling about their abandoned bond and he just starts crying right there on the side of the road.

Then up comes Alpha Eddie Munson, operator of the rehab ranch two miles East if where Steve's car broke down, on horseback of all things. He was just checking the perimeter of the property and happened to spot the broken down car, not uncommon in these parts and it's always been the facilities protocol to help travelers in a pinch. He calls out, startling the man hunched over by his car, and is met with the most stunningly beautiful man he's ever seen. Hopping off his horse he gets closer and smalls the acrid sent of Omega in distress, causing all his instincts to go haywire.

Without meaning to he let's out a couple little cuffs and crowns as he approaches the sniffling Omega and Steve, who would usually be incensed at this strange Alpha's familiarity chirps back, his Omega desperately needing the care.

Eddie takes him back to the ranch, insisting he rest since it's obvious Steve hasn't slept in a while, and they'll come back tomorrow morning when the light is better to fix the car.

Of course Steve never ends up leaving. Instead, once Eddie learned about why Steve is on the run, he offers Steve sanctuary and work on the ranch for however long he wants it. Eddie runs the rehap facility with Wayne and his mate Benny, but he can always use extra hands taking care of the animals and fields. Steve starts to feel a sense of identity and peace taking car of the animals and feels himself falling in love with the Alpha that brought him here and is always so kind and patient when teaching Steve a new skill. They spend their nights on the porch of the main house talking and watching the stars.

Of course there's the matter of his mating bite still at hand. As Steve gets closer and closer to Eddie he begins to notice his mating glad looking infected. Hot and red and swollen and he begins to feel light headed on the job. When Eddie asks permission to court Steve just two months after his arrival it feels too good to be true, but of course he accepts.

Unfortunately, his condition rapidly worsens until he is forced to confess exactly what's going on to a very concerned Eddie. Steve's body is rejecting his bond, a process that is extremely rare and painful. Wayne has seen this once before, and regrets to tell them that once the rejection reaches its peak it will feel like the worst detox imaginable and will likely last several days. Luckily, Steve couldn't be in a better place to ride it out.

Eddie takes care of Steve throughout his detox. Helpless as Steve writhes and vomits and cries for the Alpha his body is rejecting just to get some relief. All he can do is whisper sweet things in his Omega's ear, make sure he eats and drinks, and help him change out of his sweetly clothes.

Steve, of course, makes it through his detox and after a few days of rest feels lighter than he has in years. Eddie ramps up his courting efforts immediately, instincts on high after so many days of Steve being unwell. He sents Steve obsessively and brings him whatever small babbles he can afford on his meager salary and plays his acoustic for Steve every night on the porch.

After four months of courting, just long enough for Steve's gland to heal completely and his hormones to return to a neutral state, they bond under the start sky.

After that they're insatiable. Messing round in the hayloft, against the side of the barn, behind the old silo no one uses anymore. Eddie is always whispering in Steve's ear about breading him and giving him all the pups his Omega can handle with gets Steve keaning and begging in no time. Not even two months after their bonding Steve realizes he's pupped, and he couldn't be happier.

agahsgdve i think divorce/bond-breaking in omegaverse is so cool! what’s a more fun way to symbolize the end of a relationship than a whole process where your body entirely rejects your mating?🥰