#garage built-ins

[zyroxan]

Philadelphia Large Garage Idea for a spacious, conventional attached two-car garage

[wearetekkenrp]

Medium - Garage Example of a mid-sized classic attached two-car garage design

[bitidragon]

Large - Garage Large elegant attached garage photo

[bettafinds]

Kitchen New York Inspiration for a mid-sized timeless u-shaped medium tone wood floor eat-in kitchen remodel with a farmhouse sink, raised-panel cabinets, white cabinets, marble countertops, multicolored backsplash, ceramic backsplash, stainless steel appliances and a peninsula

[seventracks]

Traditional Closet - Walk-In An illustration of a medium-sized, traditional, carpeted walk-in closet with medium-toned wood cabinets.

[shelleyhennigg]

Traditional Garage Ideas for a significant, classic garage renovation

[emeraldgalleryco]

FOR SALE: Lovely modern home on the border of Houston and Katy, Texas. #katyrealestate #2bathrooms #vendercasa #3recamaras #EnVentaCasa

[chordati]

Houston Large Garage Large, conventional three-car garage design

[hometoursandotherstuff]

Bear with me with this one, b/c it has a surprise in the attic. The 19th century Scottish Georgian townhome in Halifax, Nova Scotia, has been completely renovated. The 5bds, 4ba, 3,448 sq ft home is listed for C$1,499,999.

There's a small entrance foyer with elegant wainscoting and original floor tile.

Then, enter a wide side hall with original stair railings and architectural details.

In the large, newly brightened sitting room, the pocket doors, moldings, and fireplace remain. The floors are the original 19th century wood and on all levels have been refurbished.

Check out the eat-in kitchen with the wonderful fireplace.

They kept the fireplace, antique radiator, and wide moldings, but I'm not feeling the Mediterranean tile and ultra modern cabinetry combination.

There's quite a huge laundry room.

The bedrooms are very large. This one was given a skylight and has a fireplace. They painted the original floors up here.

This room has a lovely fireplace wall with built-ins. The floor has an oddly uneven green finish. At first I thought it was green stain, but it's not.

Marble bath with skylight looks like it may have the original sink. I can't believe how gold swan faucets have made such a comeback.

I love the basement b/c it's very original.

Look at those brick walls.

And, this is where 2 of the 5 bedrooms are. These 2 have fabulous brick walls.

The rec room is all new and has a complete kitchen.

But, look at the bath down here. Isn't this cool? It looks like they may have used the original tub and sink from the upstairs bath.

Okay, you waited long enough. Up to the attic to the "tomb room." Artist Michael Lewis painted this Ancient Egyptian-themed room. You'll notice that there's a sink on the right.

There's a sink b/c there's a bath up here. Need to use the shower or toilet?

Just open the Sarcophagus.

The yard isn't very large and it's paved with old bricks, but there's a deck.

I think that's a shed, it's a little small to be a garage.

The semi-detached townhouse is on a 2,295 sq ft lot.

https://www.zillow.com/homedetails/5642-Morris-St-Halifax-NS-B3J-1C5/305681805_zpid/

[outerbankies]

“it’s late, come back to bed.”

PROMPT CELLY GO BRRRRRRRRR. thank u for requesting this one (forever ago) bestie!!!! 💓🤩👯‍♀️

—

new light: space and time

rafe x reader, part of the 2k prompt celly for new light (masterlist if ur not up on NL). we’re back in the present!

A stubborn knot about the size of a fist had settled into place at the top of Rafe’s spine slowly over the last few weeks, right in between his often-taught shoulder blades.

He guesses it was during the late nights like these that it began to form, when he’s hunched over his sketching table in the garage lit only by the warm lightbulb in the work lamp over his head—drawing and erasing and scrapping to start over again and again. Or when he’s on his laptop tinkering with his website or any of the platforms he uses for invoicing and processing orders, easily his least favorite part of all of this, until his eyes are irritated and red.

Though it’s certainly not made better by the other half of his day, where he’s hunched over or crouching under his projects as he brings them to life, doubting himself the entire time, twisting himself into weird angles just to make sure everything holds and looks how he pictured it. But at least he likes that part.

A hand, holding a warmth that Rafe can feel through the cotton of his long-sleeve t-shirt, settles directly into place over that knot at the top of his spine, and he feels himself take a deep, steadying breath as he leans back into your touch.

“What’s this, baby, the built-ins?” you ask, your voice softer in these midnight hours.

“Yeah,” Rafe sighs, immediately rubbing his hands into his eyes, his knuckles turning his vision bleary momentarily. “For Beau’s friend.”

“Mmm,” you hum, slightly digging the heel of your palm into his back. Rafe lets out a groan. “There?”

“Right there,” he confirms, letting his head drop back gratefully, accepting a few sleepy kisses once he goes.

You place your other hand on his shoulder for some leverage, leaning over him to peer at his catastrophe of a workstation. “I thought you’d already gone over the sketches with them?”

“I did,” he says. “But they go in tomorrow.”

“Right,” you nod, scrutinizing them again, looking to see if they’d changed at all. “I remember.”

“So I’m just making sure—” Rafe stops momentarily, letting out a hiss. “Careful, baby.”

The pressure on his back eases immediately, and you take to rubbing your hand across the span of his shoulders instead. “Sorry. What were you saying?”

“I’m just making sure I have everything down,” he continues, leaning forward again. “I wanna know my stuff before I head in.”

“What if I quiz you? On measurements and colors and finishes and—”

“I appreciate the enthusiasm,” he interjects, his smile rivaling yours when you finally settle into his lap like he’d been angling for you to since he heard the garage door open and knew he’d be getting that reprieve from the mess inside his head. “But it doesn’t really work like that, sweetheart.”

You roll your eyes, snaking your arms around his neck anyway, the pads of your fingers rubbing circular motions into his trouble spot again. “Then how else can I get you to come back to bed?”

Guilt settles into Rafe’s stomach like a rock, the soreness in his back momentarily forgotten as he sees the plea in your eyes. “I swear I’ll be up soon.”

“Rafe, it’s late.”

“Coming from you,” he retorts, virtually no bite behind his words. Because as Rafe had left Beau’s company months ago and only since then become more entrenched in his new job, in starting his own business, you’d seamlessly settled in at your job at the publishing house, not overworking yourself nearly as much as the two of you used to argue about. Still more than Rafe would ever prefer, naturally, but he’s not sure he has room to talk anymore.

“We’re turning into perfect little Figure 8 capitalists right on schedule, aren’t we?” you say, wiggling around in his lap in a way he isn’t convinced isn’t a punishment for abandoning his side of the bed a few hours ago.

You lean forward, grabbing one of the pencils Rafe had discarded and tapping it on your chin while he checks his watch, feeling his eyes widen.

“God, I’m turning into my dad.”

“No you’re not,” you laugh, still leaning out of his reach as you seem to start writing something in one the margins. You pause, pointing the pencil at the long-cold cup of coffee next to his pencil cup. “Unless there’s secretly liquor in your decaf over there. You know decaf still has caffeine in it, right?”

At Rafe’s silence, you turn to him with your eyebrows raised, the pencil dropping out of your hand and clattering onto the table.

“Like… trace amounts, right?” he asks sheepishly.

“My sweet, sweet boy,” you sigh, running your fingers through the hair on top of Rafe’s head that’s really beginning to need a cut.

“Probably need it,” he shrugs. “I’ll only be up a little while longer though. Promise.”

“You’re really worried about this one, aren’t you?” you ask him softly, some of the mirth fading in your eyes as you trace a finger around the shell of his ear.

“It’s Beau’s friend, baby, I… these guys could have anyone working on their houses. And Beau was really good to me about quitting. I just wanna nail this one and be done with it,” Rafe admits.

He doesn’t tack on the bit about how this feels like one of his first big tests; his first custom, built-in piece period, outside of the ones he’s made for his most forgiving audience, his sisters and you. Because it’s one thing to make a piece for a friend of a friend of a friend, or even to sell one in a store where someone can see it and touch it and decide that they hate it before they have to commit. But it’s another to have someone counting on him to deliver exactly what they envision, let alone someone who could be Rafe’s foot in the door to a wealth of opportunities. He wants to be done with it at this point, sure, but he doesn’t want it to be the end of this road.

“Exactly,” you say, shrugging. “They could have anyone. And I love you, Rafe, but I mean literally anyone else. But your designs are good. Really good. And your craftsmanship is impeccable. They want you.”

He feels his cheeks heating up, and knows it’s showing based on the twinkle in your eye. “You’re an expert in furniture and carpentry now, are you?”

“I am, because I’ve now lived in two Pinterest-level apartments without ever having to hire a contractor. And I’m a picky bitch,” you say, laughing around the last bit.

“You are not,” Rafe laughs. “And half of that is your decorating. Maybe 70, 75%.”

“Your modestly will never not exhaust me,” you declare, smacking one last kiss onto his lips before standing up. “You’re gonna be fine tomorrow, alright? But you’ve got to get some sleep.”

“Ten minutes?” he pleads.

“I will generously give you ten seconds instead. It’s your lucky day,” you say, shuffling toward the doorway back into the house, where two curious dogs await your return.

“Thanks,” he answers sarcastically, before standing to check everything over one last time. These guys could have anyone, he tells himself. They chose him.

He’s gathering his pencils to deposit back into the cup, just about to reach over his head and turn off his work lamp for the night when he sees it, what you’d been scribbling into the margin on one of his designs: you got this RC. hurry home!

At just the same moment that he’s he’s tracing over your loopy “y” and the heart you’d finished your note off with, you call out his name from the doorway, his family waiting for him.

You give him a saccharine-sweet smile, your arms crossed over your chest. “I wasn’t asking.”

[frances-baby-houseman]

We went to look at the 1.2 million dollar immaculate untouched but well maintained mid-century ranch that our real estate agent showed us. It is the most insane house I've ever seen

it has a pink marble bathroom (above)

all the floors are terrazzo

the primary bathroom has a bathtub inside the shower enclosure with a little step to get out of it (I do not know how to describe this feature)

there is a drive-through garage (a thing I have never seen before IN MY LIFE)

the backyard is a japanese garden

adam was like where will the children play sports, the entire yard is a japanese garden and then we kept walking around the back and discovered a FULL HALF BASKETBALL COURT

there is a boiler (??)

it is on a slab so no basement

there is no actual family room and all the walls are stone

the walls that aren't stone are covered in fabric wall paper

I am not describing this well bc it is PERFECT

every room is full of built ins, you would not need a single dresser

the walls are covered in actual art work, if we don't buy the house I'm at least going to the estate sale (I know there will be one bc many things are tagged "don't sell")

there is an enormous pass through from the kitchen to the dining room

there is an explicable structure made of steel and mesh screens enclosing the patio

it has a circle driveway in addition to the drive through garage

again, a DRIVE THROUGH GARAGE

there is a tiny office all the way on the other side of the house

every room has a door

the bedroom half of the house can be fully closed off from the rest of the house

listen i'm obsessed with this place but we cannot spend 1..2 million dollars

[cedarsmoke4]

Doing more thinking about modern/mechanic au Heisenberg: so I’ve discovered that re8 takes place in 2021, which is wild imo, so for my au it’s gonna have taken place in like 2010-15 ish, and then Heisenberg gets like ~5-10 years to have outside world experiences before meeting this reader.

His first run-ins with modern tech had to have been HILARIOUSLY awful. Ethan isn’t part of my fic but let’s say for this au he survived and hung out w Heisenberg in an attempt to acclimatize him to modern living. First try at getting Heisenberg a phone goes spectacularly badly-he absolutely bricks the first smartphone he touches. Then the second. Then the third. Finally Ethan does a little research and gifts him the oldest toughest Nokia phone he can find. This phone is as mundane as they come, but it’s sorta half cursed in my brain so Heisenberg literally can’t get rid of it no matter how hard he tries.

Cue shenanigans of him trying to throw it in a lake but a fish tail slaps it back as he turns away and it hits him in the back of the knee so he almost eats shit. He tries to crush it but it slips out from between the crushing objects and bounces off the wall and lands squarely on his toe (the one time he’s not in steel-toed boots). He ships it away, then the next afternoon the post man tosses him the same package but he fumbles it and the corner hits him straight in the mouth, etc.

Eventually he submits and reluctantly carries it around, hating it the entire time. He rarely gives out his number, and trying to reach him on it without a prior arrangement is like pulling teeth. He often just half-heartedly throws it around hoping it’ll finally break, but it always comes back.

The first time he actually makes a call, he discovers that Ethan somehow managed to find the only phone left in the modern age that still requires you to buy minutes on it specifically, and he only bought a single minute on it as a joke—so Heisenberg is halfway through an important phone call and it cuts off and tells him he needs to buy more minutes. He of course yells at it and throws it across the room, where it ricochets off something and ends up flying back to hit him square in the face.

He promptly magically jailbreaks it and then still only uses it incredibly rarely. Since he’s got like built-in Bluetooth, he doesn’t need to hold it to his ear while he’s calling someone, so he talks out loud to it while it just whizzes around his head, going faster and faster as he gets angrier. Cue finding him in his garage shouting at nobody as a blur of plastic and metal zooms around his face.

[jedifarmerr]

Javi's Having a Baby

Pairing: Javier Peña x F!Reader/OFC (no y/n or physical description)

Rating: E (18+)

Word Count: 2kish

Warnings: pregnancy!, mentions of sex, some language.

A/N: I'm so sorry about the wait on this, but here it is and I promise the next part will be coming very soon!

Series Masterlist

Chapter 5

“Large fry and a large Hi-C. $2.17 at the next window.” 

She danced in the passenger seat, rubbing her belly. “Our hero,” she sang at him. All he’d done was stop at McDonald's to get her a snack before the appointment, but hey - he would take the praise. 

When that outstretched hand passed him the glorious paper bag, he seriously could’ve sworn it was God’s gift from above by how she gazed upon it. Tearing it wide open, digging out a handful of fries, she popped them in her mouth and gave a drunken, “So gooood.” 

Sure as hell smelled like it. Cooking oil and salt. The crunch. Each tiny little moan leaving him salivating for a bite of his own. Man, he’d really fucked up by not getting anything for himself. 

Luckily, he could just wiggle his finger at the bag and she was willing to share. 

She fed him while he drove. It was about as coordinated as catching shrimp at a Hibachi restaurant. Each time it would miss his mouth and bump into his nose she would give the cutest giggle, but the fun had to stop when one actually went straight up his nostril. He was sneezing out salt for a whole block. 

“So,” she said, taking a small sip of her drink. “I was just thinking, since we have about 15 minutes to kill, why don’t we do a little drive by? Just for fun.” 

Javier treated her with a knowing glance. No way she didn’t plan on this. It was all falling a little too perfectly to be just chance. But she could flutter her eyes with feign innocence and give him that please-please-please smile that she knew he couldn’t resist. She was too well-versed with his weak spots. Probably because she was all of them. 

Fuck, he really hoped the kids didn’t inherit that as he was taking a wrong turn at the next light.

Some would say he’s whipped, and while he would never deny that, she was carrying his children, and honestly, driving a few blocks out of the way seemed like the least he could do. 

When he turned onto the street, slowing the car so it was a creeping roll. 

She tapped on the glass and squealed, “Look! Baby! It finally has the sold sign!” 

“There we go.” He gazed at her, then at the house. 

Their house. 

An older Georgian colonial that was basically the embodiment of an American wet dream. Just an iron-rod fence instead of a classic white picket. He preferred it like that – she would say it gave the place some charm, which the interior had loads of. 

While there were a number of modern touches, the house maintained a certain level of character with its various built-ins, wooden archways, and despite two of the fireplaces being non-working, the one in the living room still ran perfectly. 

Upstairs were three bedrooms. An office downstairs. At the back of the lot was a garage that the previous owners had converted into a studio space, and with a few tweaks would be perfect for his dad. 

Sure, it was slightly over the set-budget. Nothing crazy.  A couple bucks extra a month – one less coffee a week. Besides, he had the money. He’d saved up his paychecks while in Colombia. After all, he’d only bought himself whiskey and bread during that time – the rest was usually comped by the government. 

Then, there were those two years he’d lived with Chucho, and despite his protests, his dad insisted on paying him for all the work he’d done. 

So, they bought it and the way she lit up made it all so worth it. 

She sighed, watching the home disappear behind her. He reached over, giving her thigh a reassuring squeeze. 

“Think - in less than three weeks, it’ll be ours.” 

She smiled at that, leaning over the console and giving the quirk corner of his lips a tiny peck, then one to his cheek, and another on his jaw

A happy sound rumbled from his chest, and the smirk she flashed at him drove him absolutely insane. He wanted to steal it from her lips – pull this car over and kiss her salt-stained lips and taste the Hi-C on her tongue. 

She could basically sit there and do nothing, and he would still be raring to go. God – he wanted her. Constantly.

Not once did he expect to be the kind of guy who lost his mind seeing his wife pregnant, but fuck - did he crave her. He would eat her pussy in the parking lot if she let him. Or if time allowed. 

Her confidence had grown along with her bump. She’d become equally as insatiable. All those hormones were making her unforgivingly horny. Some days she would get home from work, strip bare at the door and take him right there on the couch.

She was so sensitive now, and he was utterly addicted. Delirium. A small tweak to her nipple - a perfectly placed kiss to her neck - brushing his thumb across her clit. Any and all of it would have her crying out and squeezing him –

Javier felt his pants begin to stir, and his grip instinctively tightened on the wheel. Holy shit. He needed to calm down.

This was really not the time. 

He focused all his attention on the road, working math problems in his head. He’d learned that trick in high school, and it worked like a charm every time. His boner was gone by the time he trailed behind her into the doctor’s office, but he did have to avoid looking at her ass. 

After flipping through magazines, Adam propped open the door, signaling them back. 

It went on in the usual routine. A weigh-in. Vitals. A few questions before leaving her to change. Once in her gown, she laid back onto the bed, and Javier dragged a chair over. 

“Okay. Before the moment of truth, best and final. Go.” 

Javier hummed, tapping on the table paper. Of course, he’d wondered about it, mostly when someone else brought it up. It was a typical curiosity. He wasn’t really hung up on what they were. Girl or boy or whatever, it didn’t matter to him; so long as they were healthy, he was good. 

And no – he didn’t care how cliche or corny that sounded. 

As expected, Joe and Steve had taken their bets, and even Ruby had joined in on the fun, but her old wives tale tricks had come up inconclusive. Big ole shocker there. 

Javier went with a good shot, “Boy and girl.” 

Her head thumped against the pillow with a big pucker pout. “That was my guess.” 

“It can still be your guess,” he chuckled, making her eyes roll as if she was actually annoyed. 

In a swift knock, Dr. Kelly walked in with Adam on her coattails. It was straight to business. How’re you feeling? Any pain? Any cramping? Any spotting? 

She was officially at the half-way point. 20 weeks. In just five short months, they would be here. Like physically - out in the world. The thought made his stomach do a little roller coaster swoop. 

The gel hit her belly and even though she was mentally prepared, she still gasped. 

Dr. Kelly moved the wand around, until there was a flash of something, and with a few clicks - they were on the screen. It was incredible, and also so strange to think they were inside her belly. Just chilling. Growing. Weird. 

They were real wiggly today. Probably a sugar rush from the Hi-C. They currently weighed around the size of two oranges. Baby A was just a little bigger, by a single ounce, but they were right on track with all their fingers and toes accounted for. 

Then, came the question: “Are you wanting to learn the sex?” 

Javier gave her the lead, and within seconds she was eagerly bobbing her head. She clutched tightly to his hand. 

Girls. 

Two girls. 

Her jaw dropped, and she gazed up at him with sparkly eyes brimming with so much love. Javier almost lost it, right then and there. 

He placed a long kiss on her forehead, squeezing his eyes shut, and for a split-second, he didn’t know where it came from, but he thought about his mom. How happy she would’ve been with two granddaughters to spoil. Even after all the years, it still stung, especially in moments such as these. 

He pulled back, just enough to look into her eyes, and she cradled his cheek. God. What did he do to deserve her? 

“Looks like Joe’s gonna have to pay up,” he teased, making her giggle. Steve had been right.

“Congrats, man,” Adam said, “must have some pretty slow swimmers there, huh?” Dr. Kelly promptly swatted him. 

As compensation for Adam’s lack of filter, Dr. Kelly printed them an extra set of photos. Worth it. Those were going in his office. After a few more minutes of drawing lines on the screen, she was able to wipe the gunk off her belly. Adam flicked on the lights. 

Dr. Kelly snapped off her gloves. 

“Well, I think it’s time we start talking about your birth plan. So far, everything looks good and if that continues to be the case, I think we can definitely plan on a vaginal delivery. I’ll always suggest it, when possible, simply due to the recovery time. However, especially with twins, I highly - highly suggest an epidural, just in case any complications do arise.” 

“Complications?” Javier gripped her hand a little tighter. The smile wiped from his face. 

Dr. Kelly hummed, “Yes, this is considered a high-risk pregnancy, however that doesn’t mean her or the fetuses will experience any problems. I’ve had many high-risk patients who have zero complications, but I like to prepare if the need does arise.” 

Yes - he was well aware there would be risks involved. He wasn’t stupid. But the possibility of anything happening to her was just too much. 

He’d experienced fear and terror. He’d lived in a place of it for years. But this was different. Maybe because he knew grief and loss so intimately. Nothing could compare to the fear of living without her. It was all-encompassing. Overwhelming. It robbed him of air. Choked him. Strangled him. 

It could send him to his knees. God. Please anyone, but her. 

Dr. Kelly must’ve noticed his state as she spoke directly to him. “Mr. Peña, let me just assure you that when the time does come, I will do whatever I can to try and ensure both her safety, as well as the babies.” 

Javier looked at his wife for reassurance, which he found in her soft smile, and equally tender gaze. It’ll all be okay. He swallowed down the foreboding lump because if she could believe that everything would be fine, then he could too. 

He had too. 

[beardedmrbean]

OMAHA, Neb. (AP) — Moments after a Nebraska priest called 911 to report that a man was standing in his kitchen with a knife, a dispatcher on the line heard screaming and a struggle. A deputy arriving a few minutes later heard the priest shout, “Help me,” before he found the man lying near the kitchen, bleeding profusely, according to murder charges filed Tuesday.

Nebraska prosecutors charged Kierre L. Williams, 43, with first-degree murder, burglary and two weapons counts in the stabbing of the Rev. Stephen Gutgsell, a priest at St. John the Baptist Catholic Church in Fort Calhoun. Authorities said Gutgsell was attacked during a break-in at the church rectory, a crime that rocked the small town just north of Omaha.

An affidavit filed along with the charges details what deputies found when they arrived at the rectory, which is a home next to the church.

The documents did not detail any motive for the attack except to say the killing happened during a burglary. There is no mention of any prior connection between Williams and the 65-year-old priest.

After Gutgsell called 911 around 5 a.m. Sunday to report that a man was standing in his kitchen with a knife, the operator heard a struggle and screaming over the phone, according to the affidavit.

Washington County Deputy Brady Tucker said in the affidavit that the front door had been forced open when he arrived at the house. After he identified himself, he heard a man call out, “I’m here” from the direction of the kitchen and “Help me.” When the deputy asked who else was in the home the voice said “an intruder.”

Court documents say Gutgsell was bleeding profusely from wounds on his face, hands and back when he was found lying in his kitchen with Williams sprawled on top of him. Williams was perpendicular to Gutgsell, with his back on top of the priest's chest.

The bloody knife used in the attack was found later in a bedroom next to a large pool of blood. Court documents did not explain how the struggle unfolded.

The rectory where Gutsgell lived is a one-story home with a two-car garage. It is newer but smaller than most of the homes in the neighborhood surrounding the church, which bears a cornerstone saying it was built in 1982.

The Washington County Sheriff's Office said Williams is from Sioux City, Iowa, which is about 75 miles (120 kilometers) north of Fort Calhoun, a town of about 1,000 residents.

Tucker said in his affidavit that he learned Williams was a felon with multiple warrants. Public records show Williams has been convicted of crimes in multiple states, including a drug possession case in Texas and more than a dozen cases in Florida dating back to his teens. He was recently charged with misdemeanor assault in a July soup kitchen fight in Sioux City, Iowa. He was homeless at the time of the fight, court records show.

Williams does not have a lawyer yet in Nebraska and will make his initial court appearance Thursday. His public defender in the Iowa assault case said he did not know anything about the Nebraska case and hung up on an Associated Press reporter Tuesday.

Gutgsell's stabbing is the second killing in Fort Calhoun this year, unnerving residents of the normally tranquil town. Both killings happened during break-ins where there was no clear connection between the intruders and the victims, making them all the more troubling.

“It shouldn’t happen in a small town like this,” bar owner Andy Faucher said Monday as people gathered a few blocks from where Gutgsell was stabbed. Faucher said the fact that this latest killing involved a priest only “intensifies the scariness of the situation.”

[jaxteller87]

Big papa 6

Month 2

Two months had passed since the boys of SAMCRO had gotten locked up, leaving Charming and your’s truly behind. As the days stretched on, it became increasingly difficult for me to cope with the void their absence created.

During the first month, I found myself just trying to keep busy, lending a hand wherever I could. I’d spend my days helping at Donna’s place, and I even balanced the books at Cara Cara twice. Donna’s place had a small playground set for the kids; for some reason, it reminded me of the clubhouse. His radiant smile warmed my heart as I pushed Kenny on the swing. “Thank you, Aunt Amber, for coming over to play with us,” he beamed, and I couldn’t help but grin in return.

Having Juice around definitely helped ease the blow a little bit as well. Maybe it was just the smell of motorcycle exhaust and sweat on his vest that reminded me of Jax or that he went out of his way to try and keep my mind off the elephant in the room.

Though I focused on helping Donna and Gemma, I couldn’t help but miss Jax terribly. His presence in my life was a rollercoaster of emotions, but it was a ride I wouldn’t trade for anything.

As the days went by, uncertainty lingered like a dark cloud, and Mary’s occasional check-ins would serve as a ray of sunshine cutting through the blackness of depression.

Around TM, life continued as normal, but it lacked that usual spark. It was a hollow echo without the heart of the club around. As I helped Gemma with various chores around the clubhouse, each room held memories of the boys – from the chapel, where they made all the club decisions, to the garage, where they worked on their bikes.

As the days turned into weeks, and the weeks into months, I kept myself busy, hoping for the day they’d return. I knew this life was dangerous and unpredictable, but as a part of the SAMCRO family, this was us. The bonds we forged were unbreakable, and no matter the distance, the love for the club and its members would always endure. So, until the day they came back home to Charming, we would hold onto hope and continue to be the support system they needed. We might not be patched club members, but I like to think we’re the heart and soul of SAMCRO.

Jax’s POV

I stepped into the house with my duffle bag slung over my shoulder, eager to finally be back home.

“Hey, Juice, I just threw something in the slow cooker today. I hope that’s okay,” Amber said, her voice trailing off as she registered that it was me, not Juice, standing there. I put my bag down and walked toward her, and before I knew it, she was in my arms, holding me tight, tears streaming down her cheeks. “You’re home,” she sobbed.

“You’re never allowed to leave again,” she mumbled into my waist, and I couldn’t help but smile as I gently stroked her hair. “You’re home, big papa, you’re finally home,” she whispered. I scooped her up and carried her to the sofa; words couldn’t explain how much I missed her.

As we sat together, she showered my face with kisses. She reminded me of a puppy eager to see their favorite kid after waiting all day for them to get home from school.

“Adulting is too hard without you,” she said between kisses, and I couldn’t agree more. She was my rock, my anchor in this tumultuous world we lived in.

I gently held her face in my hands and kissed her, savoring the taste of her lips. “I missed you, Amber,” I said. I had longed for this moment every day I was away.

She then noticed my shorter hair, and I explained how I had to cut it during my time at Stockton. The desire to get back home to everyone, especially her, had driven me to make the decision. I wanted to be with my family, my club, and the life we had built together. The new haircut signified a fresh start, a new day.

I explained that we got out early due to good behavior, which was funny because Opie and I had beaten the living shit out of Clay while we were on the inside. Let’s just say that the old prick had it coming, and he more or less let it happen. Not that he had much say in the matter.

We sat there, wrapped in each other’s arms for a few more minutes, basking in the comfort of being reunited. And then, Amber whispered the words I’d wanted to hear her say for months, “Love me, big poppa.”

Without hesitation, I whispered, “Always and forever, darlin’.”

[terrigalaustralia]

Relaxed Family Living with Comfort & Style