#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

[chordati]

Houston Large Garage Large, conventional three-car garage design

[hometoursandotherstuff]

This is confusing, b/c some realtors have this apt. house listed as separate apts., but is now off the the market, and Zillow has it sold, calling it a "cash cow," b/c it's easy to rent. The 1913 multi-apt. home in Toledo, OH, has 12 bds, 8ba, divided evenly among the 4 apts., 8,764 sq ft of living area, and sold for $385k. It's so unusual and in great condition. Look at the 2 Belvederes- I bet you can go up into them.

If you want to be a landlord, I think it's a steal. The entrance.

Look at the stairs.

But, check it out- it also has the original elevator. How would you move into the upper floors, though? You can't fit much in here. You'd have to take those stairs. Pivot! Pivot!

The apts. are in perfect condition and have built-ins.

New kitchens and pantries. This is cute.

Nice and clean, vintage looking kitchen.

The kitchen door opens to the lovely terrace in front of the house.

How cool is this? The original built-in ice box.

The primary bedroom is off the kitchen and has its own ensuite.

Nice wide halls to the bedrooms and baths. Looks like there's a linen closet.

Bedroom with a great vintage bath.

New tub.

These 2 bedrooms share the bath.

Big living room with fireplace and built-in shelving, plus doors to the terrace.

Out on the terrace.

Each unit gets a garage.

Each apt. has 2,100 square feet with 3 bedrooms and 2 bathrooms. 8,772 sq ft lot. I think it's a bargain.

https://www.zillow.com/homedetails/2308-Robinwood-Ave-Toledo-OH-43620/2065503122_zpid/?

[theonottsbxtch]

PREACHER’S DAUGHTER FINAL PART | MV1

an: i bet you guys thought i forgot about this, i didn't. i just didn't want to say goodbye to them just yet because this is officially the end of our favourite couple. i'm defo going to miss them a lot and i hope you enjoyed them as much as i did.

wc: 3.6k

previous part

THE HOUSE WAS QUIETER than it used to be. It wasn’t silent—there was no such thing in a house with three kids, even if they were teenagers now—but the chaos had mellowed into a rhythm.

Theo, now eighteen, had shot up like a weed and was nearly as tall as Max. He spent most of his time tinkering in the garage with his dad, learning the ins and outs of engines and dreaming about rebuilding the motorbike Max had never fully let go of.

Mary-Ann, sixteen and the spitting image of her mother, had inherited her sass and determination. She was perched at the kitchen table, headphones on, doing homework—or pretending to, judging by the way she was doodling flowers in the margins of her notebook.

And Daniel, their youngest, now twelve, was sprawled on the living room floor with a pile of Legos, determined to construct the "coolest car ever" and occasionally asking Max for design advice. 

Max leaned against the kitchen counter, sipping his coffee. The years had been kind to him, though there was a little more grey in his beard and a few more lines around his eyes. He wore them well, a testament to a life lived fully.

His gaze drifted to his wife, who was standing at the stove flipping pancakes. She hummed under her breath, her hair tied up in a loose bun, a familiar warmth radiating from her. The sight of her, even after all these years, still made his heart skip a beat.

“Need a hand, angel?” he asked, setting his mug down.

She glanced over her shoulder with a smile. “I’ve got it. You just make sure Daniel doesn’t eat the syrup straight out of the bottle again.”

Max chuckled, ruffling Daniel’s hair as he walked past. “You hear that, buddy? No syrup until the pancakes are on the plate.”

Daniel groaned but nodded, his focus back on his Legos.

Once the pancakes were ready, the family gathered around the table, the smell of maple syrup and butter filling the room. Theo and Mary-Ann bickered over who got the last pancake until their mum intervened, splitting it in half with a raised brow that said don’t push your luck.

Max leaned back in his chair, watching his family with quiet contentment. They weren’t perfect—there were still squabbles, slammed doors, and the occasional teenage attitude—but they were his. They were hers. And they’d built this life together, brick by brick, from nothing.

Later that day, Max and Theo were in the garage, going over the specs of a carburetor Theo had salvaged from the junkyard.

“Think we can make it work?” Theo asked, his voice filled with the kind of excitement only an eighteen year old with a dream to take over his dad’s garage could muster.

Max grinned, clapping him on the shoulder. “We can make anything work if we put in the effort.”

Mary-Ann wandered in, rolling her eyes, hands glued to her phone - something Max realised she was doing more often. “Mum said you two need to stop talking about car parts long enough to eat lunch. Also, Daniel wants to know if he can use the drill.”

But Max chose peace and never mentioned it as he snorted “Absolutely not.”

Mary-Ann smirked. “I told him you’d say that.”

When dinner rolled around, Max watched as her phone lit up and she smiled. All of this had started innocently enough. Mary-Ann had come home from school, cheeks pink and a slight bounce in her step, and casually mentioned during dinner that a boy had asked her out on a date.

She might as well have set off a grenade.

Theo, who had been lazily poking at his mashed potatoes, froze mid-bite. His eyes snapped up to his sister with the kind of intensity usually reserved for critical engine failures. “I’m sorry, what?”

Daniel, sitting next to him, dropped his fork entirely. At twelve, he wasn’t entirely sure what “dating” entailed, but he knew enough to side with his older brother. “Nope. Not happening.”

Even Max, who had been chewing a piece of chicken, paused. He set down his knife and fork, leaned back in his chair, and folded his arms. “Who’s this kid?”

Mary-Ann groaned, burying her face in her hands. “Oh my gosh, this is why I didn’t want to say anything!”

Her mum, sitting at the head of the table, was trying—and failing—not to laugh. She sipped her water to hide her grin, her eyes sparkling with amusement. “Let the poor girl live, you three.”

But the boys were relentless.

Theo, the self-appointed enforcer, turned to Mary-Ann with a raised brow. “What’s his name? Is he in your grade? What’s his deal?”

Daniel piped up, his brows furrowed in a stern expression that would have been intimidating if he weren’t still twelve. “Does he know we’ve got a garage full of tools? And Dad has a hammer?”

Max nodded sagely, playing along. “Big hammer.”

Mary-Ann threw up her hands. “You guys are ridiculous! It’s just one date!”

Theo leaned forward, fixing her with a deadpan stare. “And that’s how it starts. First it’s one date, and then he’s calling you all the time, and then—”

“—he’s asking you to marry him!” Daniel chimed in, clearly pleased with his contribution.

Max smirked, glancing at his wife. “We’re just looking out for her, angel. Can’t have some punk kid messing with our Mary-Ann.”

She shook her head, laughing softly. “She’s sixteen, Max. Let her figure it out.”

Mary-Ann crossed her arms, glaring at her family. “You’re all the worst. Mum, do something!”

But her mum just shrugged, biting back another laugh. “Sorry, sweetheart. You’re on your own. This is way too entertaining.”

Mary-Ann groaned, pushing back from the table. “I can’t believe you guys! I’m going to my room.”

As she stomped off, Theo called after her. “You’re not leaving this house until we meet him!”

Daniel added, “And I’m bringing the hammer!”

Max, unable to resist, cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted, “BIG hammer!”

Her mum finally burst out laughing, shaking her head as she looked at her husband and sons. “You three are unbelievable.”

Max grinned, leaning back in his chair. “What can I say? We’re a protective bunch.”

Daniel puffed out his chest. “Yeah, Mum! We’re protecting her honour.”

She rolled her eyes, still smiling. “I’m sure she’ll appreciate it one day. Maybe.”

Max winked at her. “Just doing our duty, angel.”

And that day did roll around.

The atmosphere in the head teacher’s office was tense—at least, it was supposed to be. Theo sat in the chair next to his parents, arms crossed, chin jutting out defiantly like a boxer after a victory. His knuckles were still a little red, and there was a faint smudge of what could only be described as "evidence" on his school blazer.

The head teacher, a middle-aged man with a thin mustache and a receding hairline, sighed heavily as he glanced over the disciplinary report in front of him. “Mr. and Mrs. Verstappen, I’ve called you here because your son, Theo, punched another student today. Quite hard, I might add.”

Mary-Ann, sitting to the side with her own chair, looked both embarrassed and secretly pleased as she avoided her brother's gaze.

Max sat back, trying—really trying—not to crack a smile. He’d been biting the inside of his cheek since they arrived, but the mental image of Theo landing the punch was too much. His lips twitched dangerously, and he coughed to cover the beginnings of a chuckle.

His wife shot him a sharp look. “Max.” Her voice was low, a warning in one word.

Theo, sensing the opportunity for backup, jumped in. “It wasn’t my fault! He called Mary-Ann a...a...” He hesitated, glancing nervously at his mother.

The head teacher cleared his throat uncomfortably. “A ‘church freak,’ I believe, was the term used. Followed by...other comments.”

Max’s lips pressed together tightly, his shoulders shaking as he fought the laugh bubbling up. He turned his head away, trying to disguise it as clearing his throat.

Theo, emboldened by his dad’s silent support, added, “Yeah, so I punched him! Right in the mouth.” He demonstrated with his fist, making a swooping motion like a dramatic action movie. “I didn’t even miss!”

Max lost it. A short laugh burst out before he could stop it, and he quickly turned it into a cough. His wife’s head snapped toward him. “Max Emilian!”

Her tone was scolding, but there was a flicker of amusement she couldn’t quite hide.

Max held up his hands in mock surrender. “What? The kid’s got good aim!”

The head teacher looked horrified. “Mr. Verstappen, this is hardly something to celebrate. Violence is unacceptable under any circumstances—”

“He started it!” Theo interrupted, glaring at the head teacher.

Max leaned forward, his voice mock-serious. “Way to go, buddy.” He reached out and fist-bumped Theo before his wife could stop him.

She groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Max, you’re not helping.”

Mary-Ann finally spoke up, her voice small. “He only did it because he was sticking up for me. It’s...kind of sweet.”

Her mum sighed, turning her attention back to Theo. “Theo, you can’t just go around punching people, no matter what they say.”

Theo blinked at her, his face scrunching up in confusion. “But Dad did. He punched your dad, and no one told him off.”

Max froze, wide-eyed. “Whoa, whoa, let’s not drag me into this.”

But his wife turned to him, arms crossed and eyebrows raised. “Oh no, you’re definitely getting dragged into this. Theo wouldn’t be punching anyone if you hadn’t decked my dad in front of him.”

Max rubbed the back of his neck, looking sheepish. “I mean...to be fair, your dad deserved it.”

“And that’s exactly what Theo thinks about this kid!” She gestured at their son, who looked increasingly smug.

The head teacher cleared his throat, trying to regain control of the conversation. “Mr. and Mrs. Verstappen, while I understand the context, the school has a zero-tolerance policy for violence. Theo will need to serve a two-day suspension.”

Max shrugged. “Two days? That’s not bad. Maybe we can—”

His wife slapped his arm lightly. “Stop encouraging him!”

Theo grinned, clearly unrepentant, and looked up at his dad. “Can we go home now?”

Max ruffled his hair. “Sure thing, champ. You earned a break.”

His wife threw her hands in the air, muttering something about boys and her fate of living with three of them. Despite her frustration, though, there was a small smile on her face as they walked out of the office.

As Max and Theo bolted out of the school building, laughter echoing in the hallway as they raced each other to the parking lot, she shook her head with a small, amused smile. Mary-Ann stayed by her side, clutching her school bag as they walked together at a slower pace.

Her daughter’s quietness didn’t go unnoticed. She looked down, noticing how Mary-Ann stared at the floor, her brows furrowed in thought. Gently, she placed a hand on her daughter’s shoulder.

“You okay, baby?” she asked softly.

Mary-Ann shrugged, hesitating for a moment. “I guess. Just...what that kid said about me at school.”

Her heart sank. She crouched down a little to meet Mary-Ann’s eyes, pausing in the hallway. “It’s okay if it upset you, you know. What he said was mean, and he was wrong.”

Mary-Ann chewed her lip, looking conflicted. “He called me a ‘church freak.’ I guess I don’t really know if I am one. Is it...bad?”

She felt her chest tighten at the vulnerability in her daughter’s voice. She took Mary-Ann’s hand and gave it a squeeze, guiding her to sit on a nearby bench where they could talk.

“I know how you feel,” she admitted after a moment. “When I was your age, I got called things like that too. Kids made fun of me for going to church, for praying, for all the little things I believed in. And it hurt.”

Mary-Ann blinked, her curiosity piqued. “Really? You got made fun of too?”

She nodded. “I did. A lot. But you know what? It doesn’t matter what they think. You don’t have to go to church just because I do. If you don’t like it, or if it makes you feel weird, you don’t have to keep going.”

Mary-Ann looked up at her in surprise. “You mean that?”

Her heart twisted as she nodded. Christianity was such a core part of her own life, something that had anchored her during her darkest moments. Letting go of the idea of her children growing up in the church wasn’t easy, but she also knew she couldn’t force it. Faith had to be their choice.

“I do, baby. What’s most important is that you feel comfortable. It’s not about what Dad or I want for you—it’s about what you want for yourself. Okay?”

For a moment, Mary-Ann said nothing, her little face thoughtful. Then she smiled, small but genuine. “I like going to church. I like Sunday school, and singing the songs. And I don’t care if kids at school think it’s weird.”

She felt a wave of relief and pride as she pulled her daughter into a hug. “That’s my girl. You’re so brave, you know that?”

Mary-Ann grinned against her shoulder. “Thanks, Mum.”

The sound of Max and Theo shouting in the distance broke the tender moment, and she shook her head as she helped Mary-Ann up.

“Come on. Let’s see if those two actually waited for us at the car or if they’re already halfway through that oil change.”

Mary-Ann giggled. “Dad’s definitely winning. Theo’s fast, but Dad’s faster.”

“Let’s go find out.” She smiled, holding Mary-Ann’s hand as they walked toward the parking lot.

Later that day, when the sun set and all of them had packed up the dinner table, Max found himself curled up on the sofa with his wife. His arm was draped around her shoulders, her head resting on his chest, their legs tangled as they relished a rare quiet moment. The kids had been unusually calm after dinner, and they’d taken full advantage of the lull.

But the calm didn’t last.

Suddenly, the sound of hurried footsteps broke through the peace, and all three kids came bounding into the room. Theo was leading the charge, with Mary-Ann and little Daniel trailing close behind, their faces lit up with excitement and mischief.

Max groaned, shifting slightly but keeping her close. “There goes the quiet.”

She smiled, sitting up just as Theo hopped onto the armrest of the couch. Mary-Ann plopped herself between her parents, while Daniel crawled up onto Max’s lap, nestling in without hesitation. At his age of 12, he just got away with it.

“What’s up, guys?” his wife asked, amused by their sudden energy.

Theo spoke first, his voice laced with curiosity. “How did you guys meet?”

She exchanged a look with Max, one eyebrow raised. “Where’s this coming from?”

Mary-Ann piped up, clearly eager to share. “We were looking in Dad’s office—”

Max’s eyes narrowed playfully. “Wait, wait. You were snooping in my garage? What were you doing in there?”

Daniel, ever the bold one, looked up at his dad with an innocent expression. “Pictures! We saw pictures!”

Theo nodded, practically bouncing now. “Yeah, pictures of you two when you were younger! You looked so different, Mum. And Dad didn’t have any grey hairs!”

Max snorted. “Gee, thanks, bud. Remind me who gave me these grey hairs.” He shot a mock glare at Theo, who grinned unrepentantly.

Their mother, who was laughing now, shook her head as she ruffled Mary-Ann’s hair. “You guys found the old photos, huh?”

Mary-Ann nodded, her eyes wide with wonder. “Mum, you looked so pretty in your dress, and Dad looked cool with his jacket and helmet.”

Max smirked, leaning back into the couch. “Cool, huh? You hear that, Angel? They think I’m cool.”

She rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide her smile. “You’re inflating his ego, guys. So, why do you want to know how we met?”

Daniel, still snuggled in Max’s lap, whispered conspiratorially, “Was it like a movie?”

Max chuckled, wrapping an arm around Daniel. “Sort of. It started with a Church and a bit of my chivalry. And maybe a little bad timing.”

She laughed softly, her eyes sparkling with fond memories. “He was as stubborn as he is today, kept offering to carry some boxes for me.”

“It worked, didn’t it?” Max teased, brushing a kiss against her temple.

Theo leaned forward, his curiosity insatiable. “So, you just saw Mum and were like, ‘She’s the one���?”

Max pretended to think for a moment. “Pretty much. Your mum was gorgeous. Still is. But it wasn’t just that. She had this thing about her—strong, determined, kind. She made me feel like maybe I could be a better man.”

She rolled her eyes but was clearly touched. “Oh, stop. You’re making me blush.”

Mary-Ann sighed dreamily. “That’s so cute. I want a love story like that one day.”

Max groaned dramatically, covering his face with a hand. “No. Absolutely not. You’re staying single forever.”

Mary-Ann smacked his arm lightly, laughing. “Dad!”

Daniel, trying to stay on topic, asked, “Then what happened? After the parking lot?”

She smiled, pulling her kids’ attention to her. “A lot happened. We fell in love. We got married. And then we had you guys. And that’s the best part of the whole story.”

As the laughter faded and the kids began settling down, she found herself staring at the curious, innocent faces of her children. Their questions had slowed, but the warmth of the moment lingered, leaving her with a quiet space to think.

The memories came rushing back—the hurried whispers in the dark, the rumble of Max’s motorbike as they fled the life she’d desperately wanted to escape. The fear, the uncertainty, and the overwhelming relief when she finally felt free.

They deserve to know, she thought, her gaze drifting to Theo, who was fiddling with the hem of his shirt, and Mary-Ann, who was resting her head against her shoulder. Even Daniel, with his sleepy eyes and little fingers clutching Max’s sleeve.

But how could she tell them? How could she explain the life she’d left behind without tainting their view of the world? Of family?

Her chest tightened at the thought. What if knowing changed how they saw her? Or worse, how they saw Max?

She bit her lip, glancing at him. He was leaning back on the couch, his arm resting along the backrest, his other hand absently ruffling Daniel’s hair. His eyes caught hers, and his brow quirked slightly, a silent question: You okay?

She nodded subtly, offering him a small smile.

No, she decided. Not now. Not yet.

They were still so young, their world so pure. If she told them the truth, it wouldn’t be to satisfy curiosity or ease her own conscience—it would have to be necessary, something they were ready to hear. And she would know when that moment came.

For now, she tucked the thoughts away, sealing them behind the same mental door she’d locked so many years ago.

And that’s how life was for the Verstappens.

Years passed, but the heart of their family never wavered. She and Max, once two young souls bound by circumstance and love, had built a life that was both imperfect and extraordinary.

The children grew, each carving their own paths in the world. Theo, ever protective and headstrong, went on to study engineering, inspired by the hours spent in the garage with his dad. He eventually took over the family’s repair shop, rebranding it with a sleek new sign that read “Verstappen & Son’s Auto.” He still teased Mary-Ann mercilessly but remained her fiercest defender.

Mary-Ann, with her gentle strength and quiet faith, became a teacher. She carried her mother’s warmth into the classroom, where she guided and inspired children from all walks of life. Her love for the church endured, but she carried it as her own, unpressured by anyone. She often joked with her parents that her students were easier to handle than her brothers.

And Daniel—sweet, clever Daniel—emerged as the family dreamer. With a heart as big as his father’s and a mind as sharp as his mother’s, he pursued a career in writing, crafting stories that captured the chaos and beauty of family life. His parents swore they recognised pieces of themselves in his characters, though he always denied it with a smirk.

She and Max grew older, their once fiery love mellowing into something deeper and even more unshakable. The garage was still Max’s domain, though he worked less and spent more time tinkering for fun. She often joined him, still the same girl who’d fallen for him in that tiny trailer all those years ago.

The white picket fence eventually aged, its paint chipping in places, but it stood strong—just like them. Sunday dinners became a cherished tradition, with laughter filling the house as their children and, later, their grandchildren gathered around the same worn dining table.

In the end, their lives weren’t perfect. They had their disagreements, their challenges, their moments of doubt. But they always had each other, and that made all the difference.

And as they sat together on the porch in their twilight years, Max’s hand in hers, the memories of their wild, beautiful journey were enough to fill a lifetime.

Because that’s how life was for the Verstappens—a story of love, resilience, and the kind of family you fight for, cherish, and hold onto forever.

the end.

taglist: @sinofwriting @le-le-lea @vanicogh @iamred-iamyellow @rayaskoalaland @spookyanamurdock @iimplicitt @hellowgoodbye @maximuminfluencerstarlight @lottalove4evelyn @piceous21 @ladscarlett @leclerc13 @linnygirl09 @labelledejourr @cmleitora @fortunapre @felicityforyou @isagrace22 @bookishnerd1132 @formulaal @mastermindbaby @daddyslittlevillain @inmynotes63 @litllefox @hollstopia @alexisquinnlee-bc @carlossainzapologist @oikarma @obxstiles @verstappenf1lecccc @hzstry8 @dying-inside-but-its-classy @anamiad00msday @linnygirl09 @mastermindbaby @iamred-iamyellow

[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