#wedding decorations Chicago

[indianweddingphotographerchicago]

From flowers to lighting to fabric rentals, this guide will aid you in finding the best services for Indian wedding decorations in Chicago.

[forureventsus]

Here Are Some Of The Ideal Flowers For Wedding Decor That Are Auspiciously Used In Weddings: https://www.forurevents.com/wedding-colors-that-are-more-than-just-beautiful/

[mistydeyes]

the butterfly effect: you die because of their actions

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summary: The butterfly effect "the idea that small things can have non-linear impacts on a complex system. The concept is imagined with a butterfly flapping its wings and causing a typhoon." Everyone never believed the saying, that was until you died at the hands of your love.

pairing: 141 x fem!Reader

warnings: SWEARING, character death (previously established relationship)

a/n: my first angst piece for the rest of the 141!

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price

Price's mind raced as he shoved the doors open to the post-operation recovery wing. If he had known you would end up on the end of a gun, he would have never put you in this position. He never would have introduced you to General Shepherd.

When you met John, still known as a Lieutenant at the time, you were a First Lieutenant in the US Marine Corps. You were an expert at planning travel and assault routes and the SAS used your skills to their advantage. You worked together in a joint-op in Canada, one that required you both to find refuge in a snowed-out cabin. No one was surprised when you both emerged as a couple. Now after 13 years of dating and a happy marriage, you lived a comfortable life together. You had two daughters, both away in college, and lived close to Price's home in England. You made sacrifices, dividing your time in the English countryside with an apartment in DC.

Price was away on a mission as you sat in your countryside home. Last you heard, he was in Amsterdam with Sergeant Garrick. He was unreachable but you knew there was a fair share of times when you had the same status. Laswell had informed you that something had gone on with his unit and after reassuring you John was safe, she encouraged you to stay low in your home. You informed your daughters and they would soon be escorted to your house. Laswell had arranged a security detail for you and you sat at your living room table with a concealed firearm for protection.

As you tried to drink some tea, a series of knocks were heard from the door. You recognized it and holstered your gun as you answered. You opened the door to reveal General Shepherd, an old friend that John had introduced you to at a military ball. "General Shepherd, what a pleasant surprise," you said as you ushered him in, "can I get you anything?" "Just some water if you don't mind, Captain," he said and followed you into the kitchen. As you turned your back to him, he made polite conversation. "Captain, you didn't tell John about the op in the Middle East, right?" he asked and you remembered providing input on a cargo route earlier last year. "Of course not, General," you answered as you finished pouring the glass." "Then no harsh feelings, Captain," was the last thing you heard before you fell against the counter, a bullet lodged in the back of your head.

Back to the present time, Price shoved past the queue and slammed his fists on the receptionist's table. Laswell informed him that he was needed at the hospital immediately as you were in critical condition. He had taken the first flight home from Chicago and was now helplessly begging to see you. "Where is my wife?" he roared as the nurse sheepishly asked him for the name of the patient. "Captain Y/N Price," he said and she quickly typed it in for him. "She's not here, sir," she said quietly as he shook with rage, "she's in the morgue."

Your funeral came with all the proper traditions for a Captain. As the decorated Marines played Taps and folded a US flag, Price held onto your daughters' hands tightly. As a soldier presented him with the flag and your dog tags, he broke down in tears as your daughters joined. The last Price saw of you was your casket being lowered into the Arlington dirt.

As Price prepared to finally kill General Shepherd, he clutched your dog tags and wedding ring close to his neck. He pulled out a picture of you and your wedding day and kissed it before heading to finally end the bastard.

soap

After months of waiting the day was finally here. You and Johnny were expecting your first child after trying for so long. As you rested in a recliner, he had decorated the nursery with all the preparations for a newborn. You decided on a space theme for their room and Johnny would call the baby "our little astronaut." For the last month before you were due, Price let Johnny head home to be with you as he had known this is when you needed him most. When your water broke that morning, Johnny quickly rushed you to the hospital. The baby was two weeks early and you could feel the painful contractions as you entered the delivery room. You were in agonizing pain as the doctors delivered an epidural. Johnny could only watch helplessly as you were in labor for 10 hours.

He held your hand tightly as you screamed. "I see a head!" the doctor exclaimed and the nurses encouraged you to continue pushing. Even with the epidural, you felt dizzy and your eyes watered from the torment of childbirth. The room smelled of iron and blood as it pooled around your body. The doctor's hands were coated in the red liquid as you continued to push. "Almost there, love," Johnny reassured you as his hands turned white from your grip. "She's coming out beautifully, Mrs. Mactavish," the doctor reassured. "You hear that, it's a girl," Johnny exclaimed, "she's going to have my charm and your looks." You gave him a weak smile as the doctor updated him on how far out the baby was.

Finally, as the child exited into the doctor's arms, you released Johnny's hand. You slumped back into the bed as a nurse tended to your sweating face with a washcloth. The doctor delicately wiped the baby and swaddled her in a fresh blanket. "You can cut the umbilical cord, Dad," another nurse said as your baby girl cried. "Hi little one" he whispered as he cut the umbilical cord. He held her small hands with his and went to give her to you. But as soon as he turned, he saw your face was ghostly white. The monitor loudly beeped as the nurses and doctor began to panic. "She's losing a lot of blood," the doctor said as the room was thrown into chaos. Your vitals were beginning to drop and a nurse screamed for a crash cart. The delivery unit's PA system informed other attending nurses of a Code Blue and a variety of new staff rushed into the room. "Sir, you need to leave," a nurse demanded as he saw someone perform chest compressions. "She's not breathing," someone else yelled and Johnny tried to fight his way to the front. Everything was happening in slow motion as he held the baby close and saw you convulse under the shocks of a defibrillator.

"What's happening to her?" he demanded before he was shoved into the hallway. The nurses quickly closed the curtains as Johnny pounded on the glass. His hand grew numb as he fell defeated with your daughter in his arms. After 5 minutes, the doctor emerged. "You better tell me right fucking now what's going on," Johnny screamed at her. "I'm sorry sir, she's gone," she said and he could barely hear her say that you flatlined after a tremendous loss of blood. When she finished, he broke down and let the entire hospital hear his cries and screams.

As he cradled your daughter's head, the baby wailed and Soap joined his heartbroken song. A new life in exchange for one lost.

gaz

"Kyle, I don't know about this," you said as you boarded the plane. "C'mon love, teenage recruits do this," he encouraged as you both strapped in. Kyle had heard about a skydiving experience and convinced you to go. He used the fact that it was his birthday and you swallowed your doubts about flying. As the plane ascended, you gripped his hand tightly. You always had a fear of flying and even had a psychic tell you that flying would be involved with your death. Kyle comfortingly drew circles on your hands as you approached the descent level.

“Alright, flyers! It’s almost time!” you heard the pilot announce through the cabin. Kyle helped you unbuckle and guided you to the tandem diver. He introduced you both and the tandem diver promised a safe descent. “This is my 1000th flight, doll, you’ll be fine,” he reassured and helped to strap you in. You smiled nervously as Kyle similarly strapped into his flyer. He insisted you take a picture together as you shakily gave a thumbs up.

“Here we go!” Kyle’s tandem flyer shouted and they leapt out of the airplane. You tried not to look down as you swallowed your fear. You then felt your legs leave the plane as you and your flyer jumped into the sky. As you felt the rush of air on your face, you kept your eyes shut closed. “Look at me baby!” you heard Kyle shout and you peeked through your fluttering eyelids to see him smiling widely and holding his arms out. You tried to emulate his actions but as you looked up at your flyer, you could see him panic.

Something was wrong as Gaz also saw that your parachute had not yet deployed. He saw the tandem diver struggle to deploy the reserve but that too seemed to fail. He screamed at you as you both flew closer and closer to the ground. You looked up at him in fear and tried to reach out before gravity and the lack of a chute pulled you forcefully to the Earth's surface.

Gaz could only watch helplessly as you and your guide plummeted to the ground. He let out a flood of tears and screams but they too fell and followed along with your deadly descent.

ghost

Ghost watched in horror as two people sat next to one another on a platform. From what he could see, one of the people was a clear head taller than the other and they squirmed in their bindings. Their heads were covered in burlap and they both were sporting matching jackets that hit their figure. "Make the choice, Simon," Makarov said as his voice crackled through the comms, "your wife or best friend." Ghost's eyes dilated in horror as he realized Makarov's implications. "Before you try to be the hero, just know that I'm watching you," he taunted and Ghost knew there was no way out.

His mind flooded with any possible solution but he could not find any. This was supposed to be an easy fucking recon mission that only he and Johnny had to handle. Now he was without allies, without options, and an alternative plan. He shakily put his hand on the sniper's trigger as he fluctuated between looking at you and Soap. Beads of sweat pooled at his neck as he tried to think of any way to get you both out of this alive.

"Time is ticking, Simon," Makarov spoke again, "If you don't choose, they'll both die." That moment, two fluorescent dots appeared on your heads and he knew that somewhere two snipers were ready to take you both out if he didn't decide. Ghost's mind was clouded, he wondered if there was any way to save both of you but came up empty. The deadline and the thrashing of the two figures under their restraints made him finally decide. He made the most difficult decision of his life, he would save you instead of Soap. He couldn't live without you.

He said a silent prayer for his friend as he lined his sights. "Just stay still, Johnny," he painfully whispered as you both fought against your bindings. He knew a bullet straight through the heart would result in a quick and painless death. He held his breath as the gun fired, making a direct target with the body. It fell back in with a sickening thump and Ghost dropped the gun before rushing towards you.

Makarov was always one step ahead of the team. Ghost ran to the scene to see that the chair's size had deceived his eyes. One of the people who Ghost had assumed was taller than the other, was sitting on an elevated crate. The other figure thrashed about but Ghost was more focused on the one in front of him. As he went to pull the bag over what he believed was Soap's body, he was horrified to discover it was you, a single gunshot through the heart. A bullet he had sent into you. You died choking on your blood because of his actions.

As Ghost clutched your body in agony, his tears and screams echoed in the empty lot. In his haste, he had killed you and was now alone again in the world.

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[mired-in-halloween]

This “Jinx” decorates a wedding party announcement for June 13, 1913 in which the number 13 will be celebrated as an organized effort to laugh off bad luck. Jinx meant a curse or bad luck, but in early 20th century newspapers in the United States, the Friday the 13th jinx was often depicted as a demonic-looking, but often comical, spirit. In The Day Book, June 13, 1913, Chicago, IL. Found in Chronicling America.

Who’s Afraid of Friday the Thirteenth? from Library of Congress Blogs

[steviewashere]

Everything and More

Rating: General CW: None Apply! Tags: Domestic Fluff, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Established Relationship, Wedding, Married Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson, Set in the '90s, Future Fic, Steve Harrington is a Sweetheart, Eddie Munson is a Sweetheart, Steve Harrington Loves Eddie Munson, Eddie Munson Loves Steve Harrington, Vows, Dialogue Heavy, Happy Ending

For the @steddielovemonth prompt: "Love is going out of your way to do something you know will make them happy."

💕—————💕

They laid in the quiet dark stillness of their Chicago bedroom. For once, it seemed like the bustling neighborhoods of the city were silent. As if the world slowed just for the two of them.

Eddie’s laying on his back. Steve’s wrapped around his right side, cheek squished to his shoulder, arm thrown over his waist, legs tangled, breathing slow and easy between them. He traces his right index finger down Steve’s spine, loving the way goosebumps mingle with his moles. He’s never been more in love in his life.

There’s a brand new silver band on Steve’s left finger. Purchased a week after his impromptu proposal. And he’s never been more sated in his life. He wakes up in the early morning, craving a hot cup of coffee, wandering into the kitchen. He comes around the corner to see Steve at their dining table, orange peeled and slices laid out, his hands wrapped around his mug. That ring shiny, so beautiful on his hand. Belonging. Not permanent, Eddie knows that, but it signifies the permeance he’s willing to share with Steve—and he doesn’t have to put up much of a fight to be loved and desired. Which is apparent in the way he sits across from Steve every morning, a freshly peeled orange set out for him and his own steaming mug of coffee waiting for him.

He splays his palm over Steve’s back, squeezing him in closer with his arm, dropping a chaste kiss to his head of unstyled and silky hair. Adoration surges through him at the realization that he’s the only one who gets to see Steve this way. Soft and sleepy and syrupy slow.

“I can’t wait to marry you,” Eddie whispers, gently tapping on the glass of their silence.

Steve hums on his shoulder, turning his head, kissing the bare skin there. He sighs into the hold. “Me too,” he murmurs, “I just wish we could have a whole wedding. Have it be real.”

“Weddings don’t make a marriage real,” he says in turn. “They just mark an anniversary, sweet thing. Our love is real. That’s enough for me.”

“Yeah, but—“ He sighs again, something a little sad. “Don’t you ever think about having a wedding? About wearing a nice tuxedo? Like…I could imagine you wearing a maroon one and I’d have a black one or something.” Steve nuzzles Eddie’s bare shoulder, squeezing his waist, bringing his hand up to trace at the edge of one of his nastier scars. When Eddie looks down, Steve is peering at his hand.

Eddie drags his hand up to Steve’s scalp, dully scratching the way he knows he likes. “Okay, I’ll indulge,” he mutters. “If we could have a wedding, what would you want it to look like?”

The smile to his bare shoulder is enough to know that it was a good question.

“The tuxedos would be the same, I think,” Steve starts. “And we’d have all of our friends and family from Hawkins. Nobody from Chicago. They don’t know us as deep, as intimately.” He hums, thinking. “The chairs would be classy wedding white, decorated with fluffy pink roses on the back. And it would all be outside. So that we could get married under the sun and dance under the moon.

“It doesn’t matter to me what kind of food we have. Or how big the cake is. Or who walks down the aisle. Just that my best man is Robin and Dustin officiates.”

“Why would Dustin officiate? I feel like Hopper would be the best person for the job,” Eddie states.

“Because he like—“ Steve’s hand leaves Eddie’s torso, instead fluttering up in the air. Landing down softly on his skin when the words come to him. “Dustin is really good at remembering things! He’d be able to remember the whole ‘do you take so and so to be your lawfully…’ Whatever it is, I can’t even remember.” He sighs and relaxes. Almost boneless in their embrace, definitely getting sleepy enough to fall asleep. “The words don’t even have to be the same. I just want to say ‘I do’ and kiss you and then slow dance with you. That’s really all I want,” Steve breathes.

“One day we’ll have that wedding, Steve,” Eddie promises. “We will and you’ll be so happy.” He squeezes at Steve’s own bare shoulders, dragging his hand down his spine again, lulling him closer to sleep. “One question I have is, what would our wedding song be?”

“I think,” Steve whispers. “Think I like ‘Just the Way You Are’ by Billy Joel. Doesn’t it match us?”

Eddie nods against his pillow. “Wayne has that record somewhere,” he mutters. “You think Robin works tomorrow?”

“No, why?”

“Just remembered something that I need to ask her. Has to do with Vickie, but she won’t be home tomorrow. Go to sleep, baby. I’ll call her tomorrow.”

Steve’s snores against his skin is like white noise to his ear.

This wedding is going to happen, whether it be legal or not.

——— “So, we have tuxedos to wear…for a simple dinner at the local Mexican place?” Steve asks, a confused scrunch to his eyebrows, holding up a black suit in the mirror. “I don’t see why—“

“Steve, just put it on, you goofball.” Eddie saunters out from their bathroom. Chest to Steve’s back. Hands on his hips. He presses a kiss to his cheek. “Just do this silly thing with me, it’ll be worth it.” Steve hums, giving in. “Oh, no margaritas while we’re there. I’ve got plans with you afterwards and you can’t be tipsy for them,” he whispers.

“Oh come on,” Steve whines. “But that’s like my favorite part of that place. You can’t get them that cheap like anywhere!” He eyes Eddie in the mirror, but sinks further into the hold. “Fine,” he grumbles. “I’ll put on the suit and we’ll get orange soda with our nachos. And I’ll see it through.”

“Thank you,” Eddie sings into his ear. “Gotta do my hair, meet me in the car when you’re done jazzing yourself up.”

Operation Steve in Suit is successful. Eddie sees himself to their bathroom once more, tying up his hair, curling his bangs slightly with Steve’s flat iron. Sprays on some cologne and rushes down to the car. Just in time to put in the new tape he picked up. The Stranger by Billy Joel. He is hoping with everything inside of him that Steve is oblivious today. That he doesn’t catch on immediately.

The plan is that Robin and Vickie are coming over to their apartment. They’re going to cut up some roses, take all their supplies, sneak back out to their place, and wait for everybody else. Eddie paid for chairs, the arch. Got Joyce and Hopper and Claudia from out of town, they’ll be there with Argyle to cater some of the food; barbecue and pizza. Dustin will be there with Suzy to practice officiating. Max and Lucas have the rings. Erica and El will throw some flower petals. Will’s painting them saying I do. And Mike is getting all the music equipment set up.

Wayne’s going to walk Steve down the aisle, give him away. Because Steve’s parents won’t be there, but good riddance. And of course, Robin is Steve’s best man. In her own matching black suit. Nancy is Eddie’s best man, also in a beautiful maroon get up.

It may not all go according to plan, but the vague outline and steps are there. And if he can just get Steve to not go detective mode on him, then Eddie’s going to get away with this dream. He’s gonna make this come true, determined to in fact.

——— The other night, Eddie asked Steve to draft up vows.

“Why?” Steve asked skeptically. 

Eddie had shrugged. “Well, gives us practice? I don’t know. I began writing mine.”

“You—What?!” Steve shouted. “You started writing vows? But we can’t even—“

“Doesn’t matter,” Eddie said simply. “It’ll be something we could share later.”

And he had watched as Steve sat at their dining table. Five different sheets of paper scattered about the surface. His tongue poking out between his lips in concentration. Scratching and scribbling and furiously writing things down. Some lines earned a lovesick grin on his face, others brought tears to his eyes.

When he was finished, he slipped the final draft between the pages of his intro to education textbook. He wasn’t very sneaky about it. Almost like he wanted Eddie to find them, but he held off.

Until today.

——— Nachos were exceptional. And Steve half-heartedly grumbled at not having his usual meal. But he was satisfied with a Fanta and his greasy chips. Turns out he can still pack it away without the alcohol. And he’ll offer up the last chip if there isn’t a slice of jalapeño on it. Eddie takes the chip from Steve’s fingers, lets it be fed to him, and gazes at his soon-to-be husband as his eyes go soft and endearing with the swallow.

“I feel like it’s always better coming from your hands rather than mine,” Eddie lowly whispered. “Lots of things are better with your hands, come to think of it.” He reached across the table and tangled his hand with Steve’s left. His mood ring clinking with Steve’s silver band. God, he can’t wait to replace that thing. “Like my hand is better with your hand in it.”

Steve’s face flushed pink. “You’re a sap,” he murmured. “What’s gotten into you today?”

Eddie shrugged. “Something must be changing, sweetheart. Maybe I’ve gone Grinch on you. Maybe your heart made mine three times bigger.”

“Maybe,” Steve whispered. “But I think you’re up to something.”

“Who said I was up to something?”

“Aha!” Steve exclaimed, before quickly covering his mouth with his hand. A few sets of eyes turned to him, but went back to their food almost immediately. He snickered. “Aha,” he whispered, “Knew you were doing something. Come on, what’s your plan? Why are we wearing suits? How come your hair is up and sleek? What are we doing, babe?”

“Not saying a word,” Eddie dragged. He pulled back and slipped his hand away, stuffing them into his pocket to pay for their check. With the card in his hand, keys in the other, he stood. “Come on, baby doll, we’ve got somewhere to be.”

And with his excitement levels through the roof, Steve bounced up onto his feet, wiggling in place, following like a happy dog on Eddie’s heels.

——— “Keep your eyes closed,” Eddie whispered in Steve’s ear. His hands were already pressed into his eyes, but he couldn’t risk a goddamn thing. They already struggled getting him up the few steps leading to Robin’s front door. All they need to do now is finish walking through her house, through the back door, and wait for Wayne to hook his arm with Steve’s.

That’s all they need to do.

“Smells like Robin in here,” Steve murmurs. “Like…Lavender and chamomile and…Saffron? Is that the other spice she uses in her tea? I can’t—Are we at Robin’s, Eds?”

Eddie chuckled. “Stop asking so many questions. Just focus on moving your feet.”

They took three more small steps before he spoke up again. “Your hands are sweaty,” Steve whispered. “Why are you so sweaty?”

“Baby,” Eddie sighed. “Just move your feet. It’s warm, I’m warm, so I’m sweating.”

Steve hummed, a little unsatisfied. His voice shook, a little nervous, “Nothing is going to jump out at me, right? You know how I get about stuff like that.”

He pressed a kiss to Steve’s temple. “I promise I wouldn’t do that to you, sweetheart. What we’re doing is completely safe, you’re completely safe. I wouldn’t do this if it put you or I in danger, sweet thing.”

Finally, they moved in silence. Steve moving sluggishly, but efficiently enough. And eventually, Eddie’s hand drifted to the back door, sliding it open, stepping out onto the porch. He nodded towards Wayne, his arm slowly wrapping with Steve’s as Eddie’s hands fell away. Quickly, Eddie sidestepped the both of them, walked by all their friends in their cute little seats, and stood at the makeshift archway. He cupped his palms over his mouth and shouted, “Open your eyes, sweetheart!”

In real time, Steve’s cheeks lit up bright pink, his eyes going misty and shiny and stunning. His lips wobbled minutely before stretching into the most glistening, brightest, sunshine like smile Eddie’s ever seen. He mentally pats himself on the back. Good job, Ed, Wayne’s voice echoes in his brain, Made a damn good choice.

Steve giggles. “What is all this? When did—How did—Everybody’s here!”

Beside Eddie, a little radio began to play. The cheesy, classic “Bridal Chorus”. He can’t stop the smile that plasters itself to his face. The pride surging through him. His warmth, his hard beating heart, the satisfaction washing over him in waves. “Come over here, baby, Wayne’ll guide you.”

The first few steps Steve takes are slow and curious and hesitant. But as he strides past the smiling faces of all the people who love him, the people who matter, he grows confident. Goes excited and wonderful. And with no time lost, he’s standing in front of Eddie. A dry kiss pressed to his cheek, pressed to Eddie’s from Wayne. And then they take each other’s hands.

“Said you wanted a wedding,” Eddie says, “So here’s Dustin to officiate it.”

It’s a lot of Dustin stuttering over his words, parsing through pages in his hands, confusion muddling part of his sentences. But the content gaze on Steve’s face is all that matters. Dustin could be reading pig latin and Steve would still be smiling.

Though, when it comes to their vows, Steve’s smile falters. “But I don’t have mine,” he murmurs, a bit sad and a lot defeated.

“Don’t worry, I got you,” Eddie whispers. He stuffs his hand inside his blazer, pulling out two folded, loose leaf notebook pages. He hands one off to Steve. A confused glance thrown at him. “You don’t hide things very well. Practically begging for me to read them. Which, I didn’t! That’s your job.” He unfolds his own and then gazes back. “You wanna read yours first?”

Steve grips his paper tighter. Hesitantly nodding, flushing darker on his cheeks. “Uh—I, they aren’t very good. Probably inadequate, honestly.” Though, he brings them closer to his face to read:

“Eddie Munson, you have been and continue to be the reason I believe in things like love and desire. Which, that sounds cheesy, I know. But you know me better than I seem to know myself most days. Every morning, you de-pulp my orange. And you press a sticky kiss to my cheek and tell me how proud you are of me.

“You’ve believed in me even when I thought I was doomed. You have been the reason I refuse to give up on myself. Because you show me, everyday, that I am worth the time. That I am worth the cause. And that I am worthy to follow what my heart needs, desires. 

“I can say, confidently, that you are what my heart desires. Everything I do has a little bit of you in it. In fact, on the morning I’m writing this, I listened to a Black Sabbath tape in my car on my way to school. And headbanged the entire time—It hurt my neck, but I understood why you do it. There’s something satisfying about it all. About the way you express your emotions, how you soften your hands when you touch me, how you fill a space both with energy and language.

“It’s funny, I think, that some almost ten years ago, I was jealous of you. Because you were encroaching on my friendships and being braver than I could ever be. But everyday, I realize that all I can do is envy you. Respect you. For being yourself, for teaching me how to be myself. For showing me what it’s like to truly be alive.

“And I cannot wait to spend the rest of my life, alive in your space and your memories and your words. Filled to the brim with your love and then some. I love you more than I thought I could every single day. You are a reason to keep moving, Eddie Munson, and I am dancing.”

When Steve pries his eyes away from his paper, he’s glistening like a diamond in the rough. One in a million. The beacon of light in Eddie’s shadows. They’re crying, but they’re smiling. And it’s all so wonderful, so darling. He didn’t think he’d get this.

“Shit, Steve,” Eddie wetly chuckles. “You’re a poet, ain’t you? No wonder your going to school for literature.” He giggles again. Lets Steve cup his cheek to wipe his tears. Snorts back a disgusting bubble of snot that threatens to leave him. Takes a few grounding breaths and brings his own paper up. “I don’t know if mine will be good, but here we go.” He clears his throat and reads:

“Steve Harrington, where do I even begin with the likes of you?

“You are sunshine. Golden, warm, beautiful. You bring life to things around you. I find myself in your orbit even when your body isn’t there. My clothes often smell like your cologne. And my hair is soft from your haircare skills. My head is filled with pop lyrics and a new sports statistic that I may hear in passing. Sometimes, when you aren’t home, I find myself reading each and every single one of your baseball cards. Just to know you impossibly more.

“Despite some of those silly things, the mundane in it all, I am so glad to be living the simple life with you. To even be alive because of you. Because we haven’t talked about it, I know, but that’s the case. Your hands started my heart, quite literally. You breathed air back into my lungs, also quite literally. But my heart beats the syllables of your name, my lungs inhale your words like oxygen. Every moment with you makes me feel more alive than ever. In every slow morning, waking up to your snores muffled in my shoulder, hair tickling my jaw, your limbs tight around my torso. I am reminded in every morning, having you by my side, that I am alive.

“Because of you. Your determination. Your strength and fortitude. I have you to thank for my life and liveliness. I have you to thank for showing me that there is more than prejudice and bias. I have you to thank for every aspect of who I am as a person.

“Where I would be without you, I don’t even want to know. I am so elated to live the rest of our long, long lives with you by my side. With your warmth in every corner. And your laugh like music to my ears. Your touch like honey on my hands, sticky and somehow always there, but for that I will be thankful.

“In my darkest hours, you are my light. In my brightest hours, you are the shade that protects my skin. And in every hour of every morning, you are the love that surges through my soul.

“I love you, Steve Harrington, and I am determined to show you in all the moments of forever what that means to me.”

Enamored is one way to describe Steve’s face when he looks up. Absolutely lost in the space between them. His hand is on his cheek once more, wiping away tears. His lips pursed to coo. Eyes soft, so damn soft, every ache in Eddie’s body dissipates.

The kiss they share to seal it all, it may not be any different from every single one they’ve shared. But the way their breaths mingle, they breathe forever between pulls of lip.

Eddie’s never been one to think of himself as a married man, but the beginnings of this wedded life—not much different than how he’s already been living—tastes good. He gets to brag about a spouse, that’s something new. Oh, the bragging rights he’s privy to now. What a wonderful, wonderful thing.

——— Steve’s not a good dancer still, Eddie realizes. He steps in time to their song. But he more so just sways in place while Eddie leads. His eyes are soft still like a glowing candle’s flame. Eddie’s chest is lit by a passionate fire.

“Stevie, baby,” he whispers. “Is this basically everything you hoped it would be?” He nuzzles his nose into Steve’s, kisses his cheek, and pulls back to gaze.

“This is everything I wanted and more,” he murmurs. “I can’t even tell you how happy I am. Like all I want to do is just jump in place or something. There’s no words to say.” He drops his forehead to Eddie’s shoulder, his hair silky against his neck. “You even got the pink roses for the backs of every chair, how’d you do that?”

Eddie shrugs. “Talk to Robin and Vickie about that one. They’re the creative geniuses here.”

“I still can’t believe you got everybody to come out here for us,” he whispers.

“Are you kidding, Stevie? When I called Robin to say that I wanted to have a backyard wedding, she screeched her excitement into my ear. She could’a blown up my eardrum,” he chuckles. “Everybody else was easy. Just called them and said we were having a wedding, that it was a surprise, and they were on board.”

A barely there kiss is pressed into his neck, Steve’s breath ghosting. “I love you so much, Eds. Thank you.”

“I love you, too.” He pulls Steve back a little as their song dies down. The last of Billy Joel serenading between them. “How about we go slice some cake? Hear some stories. We’ve got a honeymoon to go on.”

The way Steve bounds away from him, jumping on the balls of his feet, hands fluttering at his sides by the cake stand fills Eddie with glee.

Good job, his own voice echoes inside him, you made your husband really happy.

He didn’t think he’d ever get this. But by the side of the person who saved him, quite literally and metaphorically, he realizes he has the chance to have everything. Steve is everything.

Every word in the language of the universe and that still wouldn’t be enough to describe the love he carries. Love was a fleeting thing before. Before somebody like Steve Harrington.

💕—————💕 I had so much fun writing for nearly every prompt, sans the very first day. I hope this is a satisfying last fic to round off my writings for steddielovemonth. Thank you for all the support on every fic. Sorry if I made you cry, but I hope this soothes. Eventually, I'll have a whole folder where my fics are in chronological order. But for all of my steddielovemonth fics, you can them on Ao3: steviewashere

Love you all <3

[hometoursandotherstuff]

Fans Confused After Alison Victoria Lists ‘Dream Home’ For Sale. Wait. Her GA loft didn't sell, and she was supposed to be selling that to finance a new place in the Cabbagetown section of Chicago. Now, I'm confused, too. Anyway, this is an ugly ass building. The 4bd, 3.5ba, property is listed for $3.5M. Let's have a look (if you recall, Alison is the designer who did the "Ugliest House" I posted yesterday.)

Victoria worked to transform her office space into a residential home, which she envisioned as “the biggest, the baddest, the sexiest live-work dream home I could ever imagine.”

Although she’s called it her “Dream Home” home for several months now, fans online noticed that Victoria is quietly planning to part ways with her live-work space. What is going on?

She has posted photos from her dream home as recently as April 9, just before the building hit the real estate market. Well, I like the muted green chairs and planters. The floor is reminiscent of Alice in Wonderland.

One fan brought the home’s listing to an HGTV fan community on Reddit, where other users chimed in with their thoughts about the sale. (I'm an avid Redditor.)

“I thought she was building this to be her dream home/workspace? Or was this always to sell right away?” one fan wondered, with another guessing in response, “In reality it was always just content for her show.”

So, that's just a mantel with candles, then.

“I don’t think many people would be interested in buying this but it might work for someone who has a business and can live on the premises like what she claimed it was intended for," said another fan.

"I think more than likely it would be an event space esp for a wedding w/the option to stay overnight," said a 3rd fan.

Interesting wall with the big niche for decor, oven and 2 wine fridges.

One user pointed out in the comments, “There are no windows! I’d go crazy ! No, the sky lights not enough." Yeah, it's like an underground house.

Shoot, no matter how nice it is, I like the lighted shelving, no windows is a deal breaker. I'd feel imprisoned.

Interesting en-suite.

“The closets are full of clothes and shoes. Not staged stuff, real stuff," said a fan.

Nice little home theater lobby with a snack counter.

This is it? I was expecting a home theater, not a TV room.

Interesting light strand in the powder room.

Long hall to the wide industrial stairs.

One of the other bedrooms. I can't deal with just skylights, I gotta see what the weather's like and all.

One of the other baths. My love of floating sinks is kind of leery of something this big. I feel like it would break loose eventually.

"The mudroom looks like it has a little kid's jackets or maybe they’re just tiny women’s jackets. regardless, it looks like Alison or a family is living there. Interesting,” another fan pointed out.

Exercise depresses me enough, let alone doing it in this room.

I'm gonna say that this is the work area, where the team gathers to discuss design. Interesting that this is the area that has the windows.

The garages in the back of the building.

I'm no designer, but this building wouldn't have appealed to me as a home/work space. I would look for an end unit with more windows.

https://heavy.com/entertainment/hgtv/alison-victoria-lists-dream-home-sale/

https://www.coldwellbankerhomes.com/il/chicago/2733-n-pulaski-rd/pid_58881660/

[dragonflylady77]

i know how i feel about you now

This fic is my present for @spaceofentropy for the Harringrove Corner discord server's valentine exchange (you can find the whole collection right here).

Find the fic on Ao3

Thank you @whenyouwishuponastar7 and @discodeviant for the chance, it was so much fun. <3

Without further ado, I present to you... LIMO DRIVER STEVE!!

Billy is back in Hawkins for Max and Lucas's wedding. He might have expected a limo to take them to the church. He wasn't prepared for the limo driver to be Steve Harrington...

“Billy, can you get the door? That should be the limo driver.”

Billy rolled his eyes. A fucking limo?! Was Susan for real?

As he made his way to the front door, Billy decided that he was surprised that a bumfuck town like Hawkins, Indiana, actually had a limo service.

He pulled on the stupid bowtie his sister was making him wear and straightened the jacket of his tuxedo, muttering about Max being lucky he loved her so much he let her use his hard-earned money to pay for the most ridiculous things for her wedding as he opened the door and froze.

Billy simultaneously thanked his lucky stars and wished for the ground to open and swallow him, for, on the front porch of the house he’s helped Susan buy after his dad had fucked off into the sunset, stood his high school crush and former kinda nemesis.

“Well, well, well, Harrington. Long time no see.” Billy couldn’t help the teasing lilt in his voice, dragging his eyes down the length of the man’s body then back up. The black suit and tie he was wearing looked on the cheap side but fit him rather well. His hair was a bit longer than it had been in high school and fuck, he looked good.

“H-Hargove. Hi.” Steve sounded as shocked as he looked, his hands visibly tightening over the driver’s cap he was holding.

Billy forced himself to move his eyes away from Steve’s fingers, instead dragging them to the beauty spots on his neck and hollered, “Maxine, your fancy ride is here!”. He ignored the chattering coming from the living room at his words, knowing Max had been ready to go for some time, despite Susan’s need to find something else that needed doing or fixing.

“Coming!” Max called out, and a moment later she appeared in the doorway, her long red hair plaited in an intricate way and decorated with little sparkling threads.

The ivory dress she was wearing was the one she had picked when she’d come visit Billy in Chicago for the weekend a few months back, and Billy knew it had sparked a long drawn out fight with Susan. Max had won, of course. There was no way she wanted to wear the dress her mother had worn for her wedding to Neil Hargrove and Billy would never fault her for that, traditions be damned.

Billy now knew way more about capped sleeves, sweetheart necklines and the appropriate amount of beading on a bodice that he ever expected or needed to know—wasn’t like he would ever need that knowledge for anything, being extremely gay as he was, but the resulting bonding with Max had been well worth the shopping expedition.

“I, um, I didn’t know you were back in town,” Steve said, bringing Billy’s attention back to him.

The smile stretching his mouth felt easy and he enjoyed the way Steve’s eyes widened. Billy resolved to find a moment to apologize to Steve for what had transpired between them in high school before the day was over. He had changed so much in the past decade, since getting free from under his father’s grip, and he needed to make amends.

“Oh, I’m here for the wedding. I live in Chicago.” Before he could say much more, Billy had to step out of the way so Max could walk out of the house, Susan close behind her. With a sigh, he locked the house while Steve followed the two women to the limo.

***

Steve drove them to Hawkins Presbyterian Church on autopilot, his mind still reeling and going through his interaction with Billy Hargrove.

He didn’t know what he’d expected when he’d got the booking for the Mayfield-Sinclair wedding but it certainly wasn’t to come face-to-face with the guy responsible for his bi awakening wearing a fucking tuxedo, looking like a fucking five-course meal.

As far as Steve or anyone else knew, Billy had high-tailed it back to California the second he’d graduated from high school. One day, Hargrove was walking across the stage in front of Steve, the next his Camaro had vanished in a cloud of dust. No one knew for sure where he’d gone, there had even been rumors his father may have put him in the ground but Sheriff Hopper had squashed those right quick.

Steve delivered his passengers to the church on time, then he parked the limo off to the side, dumped the stupid cap on the passenger seat, and fixed his hair as quickly as he could before following the last of the guests into the church. Lucas had made sure he had an invite but Steve didn’t feel overly comfortable joining the kids (who weren't really kids anymore) at the front of the church, behind family.

He was glad the Party were still friends, even with the Byers moving to California for a few years. He’d been there when Mrs Byers had become Mrs Hopper, right after Will and the other kids had graduated, but he didn’t feel like he was part of their group.

He found an empty row in the back and sat down. Times like these, he missed Robin. They always had the best time people-watching and making up stories about them. He was glad she’d got out, first a scholarship to college in Indianapolis then an internship in New York. She was living her best life, doing something important for some non-profit agency while he languished in Hawkins, driving a ridiculous car for people to make an entrance at events with. At least, he hadn’t ended up working that dead-end job for his father.

Steve’s introspections were cut short by the starting notes of a piano cover of All of Me by John Legend and he turned around. The doors opened and Jane walked in first, wearing a lavender colored dress, followed by Erica, in a similar outfit. Behind them stood Max and Billy, Max looking wonderful in her gown and Billy. Well…

Steve let himself stare. People would assume he was staring at the beautiful bride but his eyes never left her handsome brother. The tuxedo looked like it was made for him, the black pants hugging his thighs in a sinful way that made Steve’s pants feel a bit tighter. His hair was shorter now, darker too, and slicked back, his face with that three-day stubble that Steve was unexpectedly dying to feel against his skin.

Fuck. He willed his eyes shut but it didn’t work. The duo walked past Steve and he could have sworn Billy glanced at him as they did. The siblings finished their walk up the church aisle and Steve decided the back view was as enticing as the front.

If Billy was only there for the wedding, Steve would discreetly stare as much as he could and fill his spank bank.

***

Billy kept an eye on Steve during the reception to make sure he wasn’t leaving before they could have a little chat. He was sitting at a table towards the back of the church hall, with some people Billy didn’t recognize. Probably some of Susan’s workmates or something. He wondered why Steve wasn’t sitting at the same table as the Weird Kids Brigade.

The speeches had taken forever—Billy had kept his on the short side, but then each member of the Dork Squad had wanted to add anecdotes and fun stories about the happy couple. The food was nicer than Billy had expected and Max had punched him in the shoulder when he’d said as much, telling him to quit bitching about Hawkins.

The bridal couple had done the first dance, then he’d waltzed with Max while Lucas took a turn with Susan and now the dancing portion of the evening had finally started and Billy was free from any more obligations.

Time to find that pretty boy and get his groveling shoes on.

Billy slowly made his way to the table he’d seen Steve at but when he got there, there was no sign of him. The old biddy with the bad perm and too tight gold dress told him Steve had ducked out to check on the limo. Billy smiled as he thanked her and headed for the closest exit.

The car was easy to find, and Billy spotted Steve leaning against the side of it. Steve brought something up to his mouth and took a drag out of it. The cloud from the vape billowed around Steve and Billy had never felt jealous of an inanimate object before—it was a weird feeling.

“Those things can kill you, you know, pretty boy” he called out as he walked closer, feeling Steve’s eyes on him again and liking it. A lot.

Steve chuckled and Billy wanted to kiss him on his stupid mouth and eat the chuckle from his lips.

“About as much as those Marlboro Reds you were always sucking on in high school,” Steve said, shaking his head as Billy came to a stop a foot away from him.

“Well, yanno,” Billy started, leaning against the car next to Steve, and bumping shoulders with him.

Steve offered him the vape and when Billy shook his head, Steve shrugged and took another inhale.

“Sucking on Reds was always less likely to get me beaten to death by my old man than sucking on dick was,” Billy said, stifling a laugh when Steve choked on his mouthful of air. He patted Steve’s back a couple of times until the coughing died down.

“Jesus, Hargrove, warn a guy.”

“Sorry, man, I thought you knew.”

“That you were gay or that your dad was an asshole?”

Billy shrugged. It wasn’t like it mattered anymore. “Either. Both.”

He turned his head to look at Steve and found him staring. “What?”

“Nothing. I…” Steve shook his head and stopped talking.

Billy took it as his cue. “Anyway, I wanted to apologize to you. For how I was in high school. My home life was shit and I took it out on you and I’m sorry.”

“Thanks, Billy.” Steve put his vape back in his jacket pocket and looked down at his shoes. “Max, um, Max told the kids about how bad things were for you back then.”

“Yeah?” Billy was surprised Max had been willing to open up that much with so many people, but he guessed she’d probably told Jane and Lucas and it had spread from there.

“It was, um, once your dad had left. Once they figured he wasn’t coming back, I mean.”

It had taken a few years and a lot of therapy for Billy to get over being abandoned by another parent, even if Neil barely deserved the title. Then a lot of coaxing by Max for Billy to try and build some kind of a relationship with Susan. It had worked and they were family now. But he wasn’t about to tell Steve that. He’d come to apologize and he’d done that.

Billy rubbed a hand over his face then looked up at the sky, wondering how different life could have been if he had stayed. He wouldn’t be earning as much as he was currently as a sports agent in Chicago, that was for sure, but maybe he wouldn’t feel so lonely all the time.

“Billy?” Steve’s voice was soft and Billy felt a warm shoulder press against his. It felt nice.

“Yeah?” he whispered, keeping his eyes on the stars above them, leaning against the limo.

“Was that the only reason?” Steve moved closer and now they were touching from shoulder to hip. Billy dug his nails into the palm of his hands to stop himself from reaching out.

“What?” Billy stopped looking at the stars to look at Steve instead, confused.

“Was your dad being an asshole the only reason you were constantly riding my ass in high school?” Steve asked, that soft tone threatening to undo Billy’s composure faster than his choice of words.

Maybe it was time to tell the truth…

“No…”

“About that…” Steve reached out and slid his fingers between Billy’s and just like that, they were holding hands. Billy’s brain blue screened then rebooted when Steve moved to stand in front of him, Billy’s legs spreading without conscious thought on his part to accommodate Steve.

There was something in Steve’s brown eyes that kept Billy captive. Billy started to wonder if maybe it had always been there. He heard the words fall out of his mouth before he could stop them.

“I had a massive crush on you and I knew my dad would kill me if he found out. He moved us here from Cali after he figured out I liked guys and I couldn’t risk it, even if you hadn’t been straight.”

Steve moved his hands, fingers trailing up Billy’s arms until he could wrap them around Billy’s neck. “Meeting you made me realize I wasn’t as straight as I thought. It took me a while to work it out, and by then, you’d left Hawkins.”

“Pretty boy…” Billy’s brain was playing catch up but his body didn’t have the same problem as his hands gripped Steve’s hips and pulled him closer.

“Turns out you weren’t the only one with a massive crush…” Steve said, moving his left thigh between Billy’s legs and leaning forward.

Billy groaned at the sudden pressure on his crotch, his fingers tightening on Steve’s sides, eyelids fluttering when Steve’s mouth found his neck. “Fuck, Steve…”

“Such a mouth on you, still,” Steve said, his lips a mere inch away from Billy’s, then Billy’s brain whited out because Steve was kissing him.

It took Billy a few seconds to get with the program and start kissing Steve back, but then he was all in—hands roaming, thighs pressing, tongues tangling. Years of pining and yearning came crashing down on him and Billy was two seconds from shooting his load in his tuxedo pants when Steve ended the kiss.

Panting like they’d gone for a full quarter on the court, they stayed leaning on each other, the music from the party reaching them faintly. Billy started laughing when he recognized the song.

“Listen,” he said when Steve looked at him, a question in his eyes. Steve’s eyes crinkled when he heard the lyrics.

“Fitting…”

Can we bring yesterday back around?

'Cause I know how I feel about you now

I was dumb, I was wrong, I let you down

But I know how I feel about you now

“I’d say. Wanna get out of here, pretty boy?” Billy asked, one arm around Steve’s waist, his free hand sliding down to grab Steve’s ass. The moan that came out of Steve’s mouth was worth it.

“Yes. God. Fuck, yes, please.” Steve rested his forehead against Billy’s collarbone. His words were a bit muffled after that. “Take me away from this place, this town, this state.”

Billy laughed at how eager Steve was, then his words registered and he looked down. “Steve?”

“I’m sorry.” Steve sighed and lifted his head, avoiding eye contact. He looked dejected and lost, and it made something in Billy’s chest break. “Too much, too soon, sorry. Forget I said that. I’ll just… go home.” He attempted to take a step back but Billy moved both hands to cup Steve’s face and stop him in his tracks.

“Steven Middlename Harrington, I’ve been in love with you for literal years and now that I know you want me back, you really think I’m not gonna do everything in my power to make this work?”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, oh.” Billy dropped a kiss on Steve’s mouth but didn't linger. He dropped his hands to Steve’s waist again, fingers tracing along the waistband of Steve’s pants. “Do you have to drive anyone home tonight or are you free to go?”

“I’ve been done since we got here. That was my only booking today. The bridal party has arranged taxis to get home or wherever they’re headed so I could, and I quote, ‘party like it’s 1999’.”

Billy laughed at the look on Steve’s face when he used air quotes, and wondered which one of Max’s friends told him that. His money was on Henderson.

“So I have you all to myself?” he asked, feeling something warm unfurl inside his chest at the happy smile on Steve’s face.

“For as long as you want.” Steve toyed with the edges of Billy’s bowtie, his eyes dipping to Billy’s mouth then back up.

“What if I want forever?” He had to ask, okay?

Steve grinned, pulling on the ends of the bowtie and dragging it off Billy’s neck before shoving it in his pocket. “Please refer to my previous statement regarding taking me away from here.”

“Do you mean it?” Billy undid the top two buttons of his shirt, finally feeling like he could breathe properly and tangled a hand in Steve’s tie.

“Yes, Billy. I do. I love you. There’s nothing for me in Hawkins except memories and I’d rather make new ones with you.”

“Well, then, pretty boy…” Billy pulled Steve by his tie, his breath fanning on Steve’s plump bottom lip he couldn’t wait to nibble on. “Ever had sex in a limo?”

[the-hinky-panda]

The Gin Blossom: Part III

Warning: Mention of PTSD, survivor guilt, and suicide.

The night had been going so well. 

You had stuck around Santo Padre for the last week. There were no festivals during that week that you had signed up for and the idea of catching up with Songbird and Riz sounded like a nice break. However, you found your time spent helping Jo and Songbird decorate the outside bar space for a wedding reception that was happening Saturday. Coco and Stitches had apparently eloped and this was their punishment: an evening of elegance and celebration with their closest friends. 

If this was how their esteemed friends were treated, well…it was a good sign of a healthy community. You have to admit, meeting the variety of people in the MC and their significant others, you understand why Songbird has settled here, has made friends with these people. And they seem to have fully accepted you into their ranks. No one stands on ceremony. If you’re going to be part of the group, you’ll stick around. If not, you’re free to go. The honest and direct acceptance is something you only ever came across in the Marines. 

This is a true brotherhood. 

Your days are spent stringing lights, arranging flowers and candles for centerpieces and the evenings are spent with Gilly. He comes to Jo’s bar since you’re staying in your airstream that’s still parked behind the venue. You have a few beers, swap war stories, and subtly flirt. You like him, much more than you thought you would. He’s resilient, funny, and kind. You like his sarcastic sense of humor, and the ease of conversation. You could fall for him, seriously fall for him, and you haven’t felt that way since Dylan. It gives you hope for a second chance of happiness, for finding a true home.

When he asked you to accompany him to the reception on Saturday, you didn’t even have to think about it. You had enlisted Songbird’s help in choosing a dress for the occasion. Normally you wouldn’t care. Fashion was never something important to you. But you felt like this mattered, this was important. And you didn’t want to throw away a chance at finding your second chance. 

The dress was a simple, over the head shift that was a blend of greens, blues, and golds, that brushes right above your knees. Songbird dug out a pair of gold sandals that lace up your calves. She must get the same feeling that you do, that this is some kind of turning point. She fixes your hair, a mix of twists and braids. On the short walk from your trailer to the bar, Songbird picks one of the papery-thin cactus blossoms, a vivid magenta bloom, and tucks it into one of the twists by your ear. 

You can’t help but feel a twinge of guilt as you greet Gilly by the entrance of the reception area. It feels selfish, wanting this second chance. You were adopted by a power couple when you were three. Pulled out of a meth house in Chicago, hiding under a kitchen table clutching a bag of McDonald’s fries and chicken nuggets and handed to a four star Army general and a corporate lawyer. You went right into the Marines after high school graduation, married a Gunnery Sergeant, and thought you had your happily ever after. 

That is until everything went completely off the rails. 

And brings you back to your current situation. 

You had a lovely time at the wedding reception. Eating, drinking, and dancing with Gilly. You enjoyed being close to him, held by him, and when he leaned in close during the slow dance and asked if you wanted to get out of here, you didn’t hesitate to answer yes. But now he’s holding the passenger door of his truck open for you and terror roots you to the spot. 

Shit. 

This is not how you saw this situation going. 

***

Gilly knows a PTSD episode when he sees one, and the look on your face tells him something terrible has happened in a vehicle’s passenger seat. He automatically switches into rescue mode and shuts the truck door. The sound is enough to snap you back from whatever traumatic experience you were reliving. 

“I’m sorry-” 

“No,” he interrupts you. “Don’t be sorry.” 

He can see you’re trembling so he takes your elbow and guides you towards the back of the truck, dropping the tailgate. Your eyes land on all the things that he and Riz had collected for this evening: blankets, pillows, a cooler. So much for it being a surprise now. He grabs a blanket and spreads it out on the tailgate before helping you up on the makeshift seat. A few deep breaths later, you give him a shaky smile. 

“Were you trying to seduce me this evening, Mr. Lopez?” Your voice is still trembling but you’re regaining your footing. 

“Who says I’m giving up on the seduction?” 

You laugh shortly and your shoulders start to relax. It’s a good start. But he sees you’re still struggling to find your words. You’re brave. You’re a marine. And you do end up capturing those elusive words. 

“Remember I told you about my husband, Dylan?” 

Gilly nods. “Yeah. You said he died a couple years ago.” But you never said how and pieces are starting to fall into place. “Car accident?” 

You nod your head. 

He’s heard a lot of stories, far too many of them, of vets coming home and within six months, slamming their cars into trees or motorcycles into ditches. The thought had crossed his mind a time or two if he was being honest. But something always stopped him. The hope that something was going to come along and make it all worth it. “He did it on purpose?” 

“Yeah.” You rub a thumb over your Marine tattoo. “Except I was in the car with him.” 

“Fuck.” The word is out of his mouth before he can stop it. “God, I’m so sorry.” 

“There were warning signs. Events that lead up to that night but…” you trail off, a whole other story behind that revelation. “I tried to pull the wheel so the car would stay on the road but…he punched me in the face. Knocked me out. The doctors say that’s what saved my life.” 

“Being limp at impact.” 

“I was in a coma for a month. They weren’t sure I was going to come out of it. But I did. And then found out Dylan didn’t make it. By the time I was released from the hospital, and could face getting back into a car, grass had already grown over his grave.” 

PTSD. Survivor’s guilt. Grief at not being able to do enough. Gilly knows these feelings all too well. He rests his hand over yours and you immediately slide your fingers between his. “You know, even if you did recognize all the signs, that wouldn’t have stopped him.” 

“I know.” You squeeze his hand. “I know that now.” 

They sit in silence together, hands entwined, and listening to the music from the reception drift over to them. It’s soothing and after a few moments of sitting together like this, he decides on how to move forward. Gilly takes out the keys to his truck and holds them out to you. 

“Whatever you want to do this evening, you’re in the driver’s seat. You’ll always have the driver’s seat when you’re with me.” 

You look at the keys with wide-eyed surprise and then your gaze shifts to the supplies in the back of the truck. “Well, it seems a shame to let such a lovely seduction go to waste. And it has been a while for me. But,” you sigh dramatically. “I’m afraid I don’t know where a good location for such an event would be.” 

“Lucky for you, I happen to know how to get there and will be more than happy to provide directions.” 

You take the keys from him, leaning forward and kissing him briefly. “Well then, let’s not waste any more time.”

[keelt9]

Chapter 3

Masterlist

Christmas was a magical day, like every year our parents built the perfect day for us. I realized I started to forget how magical it is. Last 3 years I just came home for Christmas dinner and the day after I flew back to Chicago, it didn't bother me if I came back or not, because I knew my parents or Peter’s family would be in Chicago for New Year.

On Christmas morning, Archie's footsteps were the first thing we heard, and his screaming for illusion and happiness when he saw the Christmas tree surrender by presents was memorable; the present that my parents were so worried to keep hiding was his new keyboard, which he felt over the moon. 

We spent the day in pjs eating and relaxing, watching movies all day, enjoying the time with family.

“Yeah, let's do that.” Peter claps his hands.

Mom and dad put on the table the plan to make a small New Year party, just friends and usual customers, like a small expression of gratitude.

“I'm in! Sounds fun.” Nora and I entered with plates and spoons for the cake Peter prepared.

“I can help! I'm a big boy now, grandma.” Archie turns around in my mom's legs.

“I guess I'm in too.” I lift my shoulders. “It will be bad if I refuse it right?” 

Dad pulls me by my shoulder and kisses my head. “Well, we have a party!” 

And no, no one warned me what it would mean.

“9? Isn't it too much?” Leah offered to help me with the shopping of supplies.

I shake my hands. “I stopped talking since I saw the amount of things we’re buying for a few people.” 

Leah giggles but puts the 9 bags of balloons in the basket. It's our last shopping day. Tomorrow we all spend the day cooking and decorating the coffee shop.

“Thank you so much darling.” Mom grabs Leah's face after she leaves the bags. “Don't forget to bring your parents all right?”

Leah chuckles but her parents, right now, are taking a cruise. “I'm afraid you have to deal just with me, Mrs. Stratton.”

“Enjoying life, huh?” Leah's parents spent all her childhood, teens and early 20 focused only on her and what she could need. After turning 25, the story changes and they start to enjoy themselves.

“Like teenagers.” We laughed as we kept putting our bags and packages in the living room.

The next morning, we were just finishing our breakfast when we saw the most hilarious thing of the day. Archie is wearing his small apron and huge gloves, ready to work.

“Seems you have all the cover here.” I joke as I put my plates on the washing machine. “I'll better go and start to decorate the coffee.” 

“Leah will be there?” Dad asked but Leah said she will be there in the afternoon, a wedding crisis-photo of last minute.

“Don't worry, I have everything under control.” Nora and Pete will help mom with the food and drinks, meanwhile dad, well he has a little boy to keep busy.

“See you later.” I wave my hand, taking my coat and leaving home.

I knew it! 9 bags of balloons were too much. I was here for 1 hour blowing up gold, white, black and silver balloons and I barely empty 3 bags.

“Agh, if I just…” I pretend pinching all the balloons in the bag, one more time talking alone. I take a deep breath and I stand walking to the piano.

I start touching the keys when slowly a few notes of one of my favorite songs start to be heard in an empty coffee shop, Träumerei.

“Lovely.” The voice of Peter made me jump, removing my hands from the piano. When I look at the door, I notice he wasn’t alone, Leah and Joe are with him carrying a couple of trays and boxes.

Leah smiles and leaves the boxes in one of the tables. “I found them in the street, I guess we need backups.” She put her hand at her waist looking at all the balloon mess. Joe kept in silence looking at the huge amount of balloons, but when I turned around to see him I found him with a cute smile on his face, making me smile.

Slowly the time passes as we decorate all the coffee shop, follow Leah’s orders and be helpful as much as we can.

“I'm amazing.” Leah coordinates all the decorations and without a doubt she’s amazing, still I pushed her. The gold, silver, black and white stop being a mess of colors all over the coffee now looks with balance making the perfect mix.

“You should go, to getting ready. We waited for mom and dad to go too.” Peter said to us. “Joe thank you so much, you know you're welcome if you want.”

Joe keeps all day helping us, but if I remember well, he prefers avoiding big crowds on special days

“I’ll think about it, thanks anyway.” He said putting the last balloon next to the door.

Leah, fighting for her life, can't avoid expressing what's in her mind. “Mr. I Stop Talk…” I cover Leah's mouth. My family just knows we stop being closer as we were, however they didn't know we just stop talking at all.

I pulled her to the door. “We're leaving!”

“I have things to say.” Leah musters as we get into her car. “A lot actually.”

By 11 pm, in the coffee shop all our guests were there eating, drinking, chatting and some dancing. Archie is stealing everyone's heart, a lot of the people there know him since he was a little baby.

The small fruit tarts that mom made are the sensation of the night; Peter and I remember stealing a few of them everytime she made it at home. “We have more, let me bring it.”

I put my glass of wine on the table. “It's ok, I'll go.” I said after walking to the kitchen for more.

The sound of gasps and the sudden silence made me intrigued as I walked back with a new tray of tarts; my answer came across the room, Joe talking with my parents and one of their closest friends. 

“And now he comes, I still have a lot of things to say.” Leah claimed as she took the tray to put it on the table. 

During the night I practically avoid any unnecessary talk with him, still something calls for my attention; the fact that a few friends of my dad already seem to know him for the way Joe talked to them in a relaxed mood, even from time to time I heard him laughing so freely and joking back with them.

As the countdown started, all gathered next to their special one, Leah and I stuck together as the clock mark 00:00 and everyone started to hug and kiss; Leah and I hugged each other when we split, Archie came running to jump and gave me his big bear hug.

“I feel left aside.” Leah jokes with him, making Archie extend his arms and go right to her. “Yeah, I feel love now.” Archie laughs and runs to my parents.

“Go. I’ll be fine for a couple of minutes.” She points to a goodlooking guy with whom she’s been talking all night.

My favorite place from the coffee shop is the terrace. You find the perfect spot between the big buildings where you can see the sky and right now the fireworks. The view is spectacular but the cold breeze makes me shiver, closing my coat tighter around my body.

I close my eyes making my New Year wish, when I open it again, I see a small cupcake with a candle in front of me, and hands at the side of it avoiding the flame go out. 

“You can’t miss this.” Joe said at my side looking at me, the light of the fireworks making his blue eyes shine with different colors.

Every time I make a wish I blow out a candle, since I was a kid I believe if you do it, dreams have more possibility to come true.

I shutter but in Joe's eyes I can see that softness which he used to see me years ago, so I blow the candle.

“Any special wish?” I took the candle of the cupcake, catching him by surprise from my question.

“Mmm…” He clears his throat and pretends thinking. “Be better, fix mistakes and reconnect with important people in my life.” The last three words he said looked at me.

He’s honest, I know because the way he speaks clearly and confidently, reminds his eyes of mine.

“I appreciate your words Joe, but some wounds don't heal easily, I prefer to keep things the way they are right now.” He deserves an honest answer too, I press my lips together forming a smile, before going to the stairs.

“Hey, go for that ring, all right?” I said to him before I tried to cross the door.

“Y/N” I turn around, and he has a strange expression, a one I think I have never seen before. “I understand, I really do, still, I’ll be here, at any moment, any time, and any place… For you.”

His words still linger in my mind for days. Three days after our New Year, it’s time for Archie and family to go home.

“Drive safe, honey.” Mom hugs Peter and Nore before giving Archie a big kiss.

“Call when you’re home.” Dad told them as they said goodbye.

I lift Archie. “I already miss you!” He gives me a peck on my cheek. “I’ll stay a couple of days in your home before going back to work, all right?”

Archie raises his pinky finger. “Promise?” I tingle our fingers and kiss his forehead.

I carry him to his car and say goodbye to Nora and Peter, who always hugs me softly.

“Whatever you and Joe are getting through, take your time, all right?” I hold my breath but he splits from seeing me to my eyes. “Joe can be a little…mmm confused from time to time.” 

He saw my confused expression. “Oh come on, we notice that you practically ran away from the guy.” He chuckles. “I admire you, it’s hard to resist his puppy eyes and you do it like they were what? Just two blue circles.” 

I laugh and open the door for him. “I'll call when I go there all right?” Peter nods and closes the door to set all and start their way home.

Late at night dad knocks on my door like he actually didn’t want to, although he opened the door. “Are you busy?”

I was drowning in papers and my computer; I was so immersed in the manuscript that it was like something forced myself to print some drawings for some corrections and watch them live.

“Not, not that much.” I take my glass off and stand so we can sit at the window, the most clear space in my room.

Dad is searching for something with his eyes. “I wonder if you have the small <book> that I made you years ago? With the paper of the composition you like.” 

“What?” The memories of the strange visits from Joe and my dad giving him file's came. “What is happening between you and the mystery delivery of papers to Joe?”

Dad was surprised by my direct question. “Mysteriously? I won't call like that. After his wrist surgery Joe found playing piano helpful and asked me for help, so from time to time I gave him some lessons and he keeps playing as much as he can.”

I don't believe it at all. “The sheet music is for him?” 

“Of course.” Dad innocently answered but just opened the conversation for another talk.

“Why that one?” 

My mind is repeating his answer over and over making it impossible to close my eyes and rest.

“Promise me you won't say anything, but he wants to play something you like, before you go, you know like a small Christmas present.”

I swear I could be arrested for keep knocking the door of a fucking mansion in the middle of the night.

“What the…?” Joe opens the door, his eyes held close and his hair messy.

“What do you want?” I enter, raising the sheet music . “A Christmas present? What the hell?”  Angry, that's what I'm feeling right now. 

“Years ago, you stopped talking to me, looking at me, even avoiding me and now out of blue you decide you can erase everything and that's fine?” He tried to talk but I didn't let him, I felt each one of my muscles start to get tense.

“Well no, that is not happening! You can’t open or create wounds like you want. You left clear you don't want anything to have with me, FINE!” I put the papers on his chest. “Stuck with that, don't be around me trying to be my friend again!”

In vain try to leave his house but he grabs my wrist on his chest.

“Stuck?” His eyes darkened and his jaw tense. “Want to know what 's been stuck in my mind for years?”

He slowly let go of my wrist but held my hand and pulled me to him. His face was just a few centimeters from mine.

“Your kiss.”  He whispers and I raise my eyes from his mouth to his eyes.

“What are you talking about?” I observed him in detail trying to find a small sign of a lie.

“See, you talk about unfairness, but how unfair is it that you keep lingering all those years in my head, in my heart?” He raises his hand at the level of my face not touching me. “There were days where I dream of kissing you one more time but…” He closes his eyes, breathing in.

“But you didn't even remember…” I saw how slowly his eyes turned into those comforting eyes that looked at me years ago. Joe let me go but tingled his fingers on mine to avoid me going.

“Years ago, you and Leah went to a party, you're parents were so worried because you didn't pick your phone, and your dad was about to leave and picked you, but I…I didn't know, still I don't know what happened, when I noticed where I was, I'm parking in front of a house where people stumbled really drunk.” I fight for remembering but nothing comes to my mind.

“Thankfully you and Leah were sitting on the sidewalk leaning on each other; when you saw me, ran and hugged me, sober enough to recognise me. Together we leave Leah at his house but when I tried to take you home, you asked me to please stop for a while as you try to calm down.” I panic when I finally see his hand on mine, making me unable to move.

“We walked around a small park, and you slowly calmed down, after 1 hour you said you felt tipsy.” He laughs. “You sit in the grass sighing, so I sat in front of you, you talked about the college, how sacred you were of the future but at the same time exciting.”  

I have small flashbacks but at any moment a kiss appears in my mind.

“Suddenly you stopped talking and saw me right to my eyes with that…sparkle and shining eyes.” A wide open smile appears on his face. “You didn't give me time to think, you took air and you leaned with a soft peck on my lips.”

I let go of his hand shaking. I remember having a dream about this but that's what I thought it was, a dream.

“Why didn't you tell me?” I cover my face. “I'm sorry, I can't remember but I'm sorry if that…”

“I was selfish.” He whispered. “I thought those feelings, at that moment, were stupid, I was still a rookie who was injured in his first seasons, and you were in your last semesters. I won't ruin our future.”

I'm so confused, trying to figure out something about this. “You keep me away.” He nods, biting his lip.

“I knew that was the only way you keep focus on your stuff and I keep on mine… Works however look at us now.” I blink as I find support in the wall, trying to remember something about those moments.

“I’m confessing to you in the most awkward and awful way.” I slip stick to the wall, my legs definitely stop working and I sit on the floor.

“Yo…you…You what?” He turned around and breathed slowly before sitting in front of me, his eyes moving all over my face.

“I like you.” I scoff. “I mean, how could I not? A girl who drove to the other side of the city just for make me eat something sweet, the girl who spends all his free time in vacations making me company in a random talks at the coffee, the girl who was the first one in be at the hospital as soon as she arrived when I get injured, the girl who I found myself  looking for in the crowd every game.”

[indianweddingphotographerchicago]

Memories are the reason why people do different things to preserve moments. Even if you hire an Indian wedding planner for Indian wedding decoration Chicago your wedding, the planner is going to do the job according to the ideas based on their experience and professionalism.

[forureventsus]

In a desi wedding, flowers are often used. The bride and groom give each other the thick flower wreaths. The flowers are put on the mandap to make it look nice. No matter the religion or community, flowers are a big part of every Indian wedding.  https://www.forurevents.com/what-is-the-meaning-of-flowers-in-wedding-their-significance/

[alittlextrathatway]

Line: "And the saddest fear comes creeping in." Location: HGTV taping.

Alright time for a brand new AU universe.

You guys don't know it but I have an AU idea in my head for HGTV Brettsey for YEARS.

I am not throwing away my shot.

***

Sometimes Sylvie feels guilty about the lie she and Matt are perpetrating for the world, but then she remembers what it felt like to essentially be blacklisted from working and decides a lie is better than being homeless and starving.

Besides, this lie hurts no one but themselves. They're the ones who have to forego love lives in order to pretend to be an engaged home renovation power couple.

Their friends Severide and Stella introduced them years ago. Matt's business-partner-slash-ex had left him in the lurch. She sold him her half of the business, which was great, but she left him without an interior designer. Sylvie's ex and former best friend had taken all of her clients and run her out of town so she was an interior designer without any work.

She met Stella on her first night in Chicago while the latter was bartending at a firefighter bar named Molly's. Sylvie literally cried into her beer about her misfortunes and Stella was quick to help.

"You know, you're an interior designer with no clients and my husband's best friend is a contractor with clients but no interior designer. Maybe the two of you could help each other out?"

It was the suggestion that changed her life.

Kelly and Stella hosted a dinner to introduce her to Matt and they got along like a house on fire. Matt is funny, genuine, and thoughtful. The opposite of her ex. They also had similar visions for a few of his current clients. His design ideas for construction reflected her favorite interior spaces to decorate. Professionally speaking, they were a match made in heaven.

And their clients' feedback reflected that. As business grew so did their friendship. But since things went horribly wrong with Harrison and Hope, Sylvie promised herself never to mix business and pleasure. Matt felt similarly, considering his history with his own ex. Which meant, no matter how close they became or how her feelings evolved, they would always only be friends.

Even when the world and HGTV thought otherwise.

They hadn't meant to perpetrate a fraud but they got the offer for the tv show, signed the contracts, and then found out about a terrible misunderstanding.

HGTV thought they were married.

That was the real reason they wanted to offer them the show. They wanted half reality television and half home renovation. If they weren't married then the show would have been cancelled.

It was a shot in the dark that they would be picked up for a full season anyway. So, after a lengthy discussion, they went along with the story and decided not to fully correct their misunderstanding. As a compromise and an attempt to assuage their guilt, they told HGTV they were engaged instead of married.

By some miracle, they bought it.

And now, three years later, their show is still going strong and the American public thinks they're happily engaged and on their way to wedded bliss.

Only in Sylvie's wildest dreams.

Of course over the last three years, her pretend love for Matt Casey has become full blown, head over heels, unconditional love. Not that he knows that. She's pretty certain he's none the wiser.

"Cut!"

Sylvie's jarred from her thoughts by the sudden yell and shakes herself back to the present, taking in Matt's concerned face.

"Hey, guys," he requests, smiling politely. "Can you give us a second?"

The director nods and sighs tiredly. "Yeah, sure thing. Take five, everyone! When we come back we'll pick back up with the initial property walk through."

Once the crew has dispersed, Matt gently pulls her aside with a guiding hand on the small of her back. "Are you okay?"

She bites her bottom lip and idly spins her engagement ring, a habit she's developed when she's anxious. "That meeting we had with the network this morning..."

"I thought we said we weren't going to worry about that today?" He asks her, with a soft scolding stare.

"We say a lot of things, Matt, but that doesn't mean they're all true."

He snorts and chuckles at her, taking her left hand in his to stop her from twirling her ring. "We'll work something out."

"Work something out?" She says in a harsh whisper. "They want us to set a wedding date. A wedding date for our extremely fake engagement. A wedding date that will be used to market the renovation deadline of our future home that we're going to take on in the midst of all of our other clients and responsibilities."

"They'll compensate us appropriately so we can scale back our clients and focus only on our house. The workload will be fine," he assures her.

Okay, but that's not even the biggest part of her concerns! How is he so calm? How is he okay with marrying her, a woman he doesn't love? "Great, I'm glad to hear about the workload," she replies dryly. "Nevermind the huge wedding they want us to have, film, and then promote as a tv special. That's not a big deal at all."

He sighs and the sound comes off as hopeless and wistful all at once. His callused fingers grip her chin and lift her face until they’re eye to eye. Once he has her full attention, he brushes a loose tendril of hair out of her eyes and tucks it behind her ear. The gesture makes her stomach swoop in the most delightfully nauseating way.

Ugh, why does she have to be in love with her best friend and business partner? Why is nothing in her life ever straight forward?

"Look, I get it, no one wants you to marry a guy you're not in love with, least of all me. But we'll find a way to stall them. We've gotten pretty good at it over the last few years. We'll think of something. For now, though, let the network think they're gonna finally get that wedding special they've always wanted. It'll keep them off our backs for a little while at least."

She doesn't like his tone. He doesn't sound like himself. Not the flirtatiously playful version of himself he usually is when they're filming anyway. This is solemn Matt Casey. The one she sees most often when he’s stressed or anxious or in some sort of emotional turmoil.

He was fine until she let her fears get the better of her and got distracted during a heavy filming day. For his sake, she needs to get it together. She can sort out how to bury her feelings for Matt and get them out of this mess later.

"You're right," she says, taking a slow and soothing breath. "We'll figure out. We always do. I mean, whatever else our fans think we are, we've always been a great team." She smiles warmly at him, hoping the expression leaves her faith in the two of them on full display. From the day they met, he's been nothing but exceptionally good to her. Even if his feelings have never gone beyond platonic. "I don't see that changing anytime soon."

He squeezes her hand with an earnestly devoted look on his face that's too beautiful to be misread. "Not if I can help it. There's no one else I'd rather be partners with than you."

He means business partners. She knows he does, but is it terrible of her to internally swoon anyway? God, she's so screwed. How did she let this happen and how can she get out of it unscathed?

Matt Casey's going to break her heart and he'll never even know it.

[nice-bright-colors]

What's your favorite job that you've had?

What place was your favorite to live?

Thanks @heatherannchristie for these questions. Once again, I had to turn back in time to recall those memories. I’ll try to be brief in my answers.

Favorite job: In the last 35 years, I’ve held 10 positions at 5 different companies (not including starting my own business in late 2020). My favorite job was working in the Grocery Dept at Jewel Foods in the burbs of Chicago. We screwed around all the time, sometimes worked overnights, and always found the “damaged” whipped cream cans. Meaning, we would suck out all the nitrous oxide in a few cases of whipped cream, and report the product as damaged. Then hang out inside the dairy cooler until our heads were clear again.

A very close 2nd, was the job as a laborer at UPS (back when it was privately owned). My starting pay as a Teamster was $8.50/hr (1991-93)…and basically got to work out for 4 hours a day. I lost around 65 pounds in the first 3 months, it did wonders for my self-esteem. Although some people thought I was seriously sick, and my own mother thought I was addicted to crack cocaine. My diet included 2 pots of coffee and 2 packs of cigarettes a day, and I was the healthiest of my entire life.

Favorite place to live: in the last 50 years I’ve lived in (2) states, and approximately (8) different locations. Hands down, the favorite place is out here in Colorado. I’m about 13-15 miles away from the Flatirons (small mountains in front of the big 14ers). All of which I can see from where I live. This was the best decision of my life to move here, and only took 23 years after we Honeymooned here.

The runner up was the apartment we had just outside Chicago. The building had 12 units on 3 floors. 5 out of the 6 units on the front half were occupied by people who were already friends, stood up in each other’s weddings, became lifelong friends, or were related to each other. Imagine living the life of the TV show Friends, with (6) different couples. (One couple moved out, but were replaced with others that fit right in).

We would open all the doors and have huge parties with a few hundred people. We constantly sat in the hallway drinking beers after work. Kidnapped home decor from each other. I even stole the food off my friends grill by climbing over the balcony when he wasn’t looking. Ahhhh to live your fullest life in your early/mid 20’s again.

30 years, 7 kids total, countless pets, 1 divorce, and only 1 death…and we still call each other “neighbor”.

Please note, this was a time before advanced cell phones, let alone cameras on phones.

…and I had considerably more hair.

[televisionpromos]

Chicago Fire 12x06 "Port in the Storm" Promo (Brett Farewell and Wedding) - Firehouse 51 welcomes back some familiar faces and says goodbye to Brett. Violet scrambles to decorate Brett's wedding venue. A call at the expo center takes a shocking turn.

[tropes-and-tales]

The Past is Never Past

December 19:  Lights/Holly - Childhood sweetheart (Benny Magalon x F!reader)

(From the winter prompts found here)

CW:  Angst; childhood sweethearts; elitism, I guess?

Word Count:  2207

AN:  Requested by @bport76​!

The Magalon family Christmas party is already in full swing by the time Benny rolls up.  He’s late because of work, which is nothing new, but his childhood home is packed by the time he gets there.

His mom does it up big every year.  Invites friends and family and neighbors.  Has it partially catered, but spends a psychotic amount of time beforehand cooking and baking too.  Decorates the place from top to bottom, inside and out:  there are lights draped outside in the oleander, two trees inside laden with ornaments, and swags of holly in every doorway.

It’s like Christmas puked on his childhood home, and Benny chuckles to see it when he walks into the house.

-----

He finds you exactly where he thought he would.  

When his mom casually (not so casually) mentioned that you would be in town and would be at the party with your mom, Benny could have guessed where he’d find you.  Years since he’s seen you, and some things never change.

He finds you in the hallway where framed family pictures march in haphazard rows on each wall.  There’s a certain picture of him as a kid.  He’s six or seven in it.  He’s got a goofy grin on his face, revealing giant gaps where he had knocked out his teeth a few days earlier.

It was your favorite picture when the two of you dated.  You were unable to walk past it back then without studying it and bursting into gales of laughter.  He used to get so mad, embarrassed enough to ask his mom to take the picture down, but you always just poked him in his sides and said he used to be adorable and what in the hell happened to him?

It’s exactly where he finds you now.

He gets a split second to study you before you turn at the sound of his footsteps.  He tries to think…when was the last time he saw you?  Probably for his younger sister’s wedding.  So ten years.

And before that, the last time he saw you was the summer when you left for college out east.  That was night he broke up with you.  Ancient history.  You had been gracious at his sister’s wedding.  No hard feelings for how he’d broken your heart.  

Hell, you’d even saved a dance for him at the reception, a slow dance with your hands light on his shoulders, the scent of you under his nose.  That had been a tough night, letting you go after the final notes of the song faded away.

You hear him approaching now, and you turn to face him.  When you see it’s him, you grin—a brilliant smile.

“Knew you’d be here,” he grumbles good-naturedly.

“Of course.  Gotta visit the Shrine of the Toothless Boy.”

He’s beside you now, and you turn and offer him a hug in greeting.  Warm as always.  Open, inviting.  It’s been years but it’s so familiar to have you in his arms for even a moment.  You smell different—a new shampoo, new perfume—but you feel just the same.

“It’s good to see you, Ben,” you say as you pat his back gently before releasing him.

He says it’s good to see you too, and it’s the truth.

-----

You end up in his childhood bedroom.  It’s nothing scandalous, just the two of you sitting on the floor, your backs against his bed.  A stack of yearbooks between you as you page through one, snickering or sighing at the memories the pictures raise.

It’s not scandalous, but Benny shuts the door with a quiet click anyway.  It’s greedy.  He wants you to himself.  He doesn’t want his mother or his sisters to come and find you, lure you away with gossip and laughter.  He doesn’t want  your own mother to find you, give him that tight smile that holds no warmth, as she pulls you away under some flimsy pretense.  

He wants to monopolize this time and keep the moment quiet.  Just the two of you sitting together, remembering together.

You tap one page, pointing to a mutual friend.  “What ever happened to Mark?” you ask.  

Benny leans closer—an excuse to bridge the gap between you for a second.  “Moved to Chicago, I think.  Married some girl out there.”

“Hmm.  What about Miguelina?”

“Pretty sure she moved back to the D.R.”

One by one, you go through your friend list from high school.  Benny has a handle on most of them, since he never left:  the ones who did leave, like you; those that stayed and made something of themselves; the unlucky few in prison or the grave.

“What about this guy?” you ask, and he can hear the smile in your voice as you tap his senior photo.  He grimaces at it, the awful haircut, the valiant attempt at a goatee.  The non-smile, which he had thought made him look tough at the time—now with the wisdom of age, he can see that he just looked like a juvenile delinquent.

“Him?  Complete asshole.  Never did anything worth mentioning,” he replies.

“Stop it.”  You lean towards him with the same smile, elbow him in the side.  

But the moment must trigger something in you because he watches as you turn back to the yearbook and your smile fades bit by bit.

“Hey, Ben,” you start to say, and he can tell by your tone what you’re going to say.  Or what you’re going to ask.  You asked the exact same question ten years ago as the two of you danced at his sister’s wedding, and his stomach clenches to answer it again…

“Why did you break up with me?”  You don’t look at him.  You keep paging through the yearbook, reading the captions, but he can feel your body go subtly tense beside him.

He sighs.  “We don’t have to relive that—”

“No, I know.  I just never knew what I did wrong, and it still….I guess it still goads at me, a little.  Even after all this time.  Like I never got closure.”

He shrugs, tells a truth and then a lie.

“We were going to college on opposite ends of the country,” he tells you.  “It couldn’t have worked.”

“I disagree.”  You turn and give him a small smile, but he can see the old pain underneath it.  “I think it could have worked.”

“Maybe.  But I was young and stupid.”  Not a lie.

“I think you were smarter than you realized.”  Always too generous, too willing to see the good in him.

“What kind of life could I have made for you, though?  You, an Ivy Leaguer and me a state school future cop.”

You hum at that, shake your head in disappointment.  You let the moment of silence stretch as Benny settles back into that moment.  All those years ago, that single night when he dumped you.  As long as he lives, he’ll never forget the way you looked:  stunned, incredulous…then so wounded it was like you couldn’t breathe.

“I’m sorry,” you finally say.  “I do hold onto the past too much.”  You laugh, a little bitter.  “My therapist is tired of it.  ‘Let’s talk about something more recent,’ he’s always saying.”

“You go to therapy?”

You glance at him, shrug.  “Sure.  Work is stressful, life is stressful.  I can never seem to be satisfied or content with things, let alone happy.”

Benny Magalon isn’t a shrink, but he bets he could school your therapist on the reason behind your dissatisfaction with life.  It’s your awful mother driving all of it.  An only child to a single woman, nothing has ever been good enough—including yourself.  You’re held to an impossible standard, the ideal perfect daughter your mother had in mind when she decided to have a kid on her own.  She and Benny’s mother weren’t quite friends, and much of the coolness between them came from how Benny’s mother thought you were treated.  How you were mistreated, in her eyes.  

Benny, like everything and everyone else, had not been good enough for you.

It’s not like he was a bad kid or especially bad at school—he got mostly B’s, he ran cross-country and finished in the middle of the pack most of the time.  He was average, perfectly mediocre in his high school scholastics, but your mother saw him as a possible stumbling block to your future.

He figures it out years later, but at the time (when he was young and stupid), it had seemed a coincidence.  Him at his summer job working with the parks department, and your mother running into him.  Accidentally.

Accidentally, on purpose.

He remembers the sick feeling in his stomach.  Your mother (“Oh, since I’m here, I thought we could talk…) pulled him aside, not-so-gently and not-so-subtly laid out Benny’s situation with her daughter.  She laid out the obvious—different colleges, time zones apart, too young to make serious decisions.

And she laid out the less obvious.  How you had a full ride to Brown.  How you could set the world on fire with your talents, with your brains.  How all you needed was focus, but how it was wavering that summer.  Because of him.

“She tells me you want to go into law enforcement,” your mother had told him that day.  “It’s a noble pursuit, but can you really see her as a policeman’s wife?  Can you give her the sort of life she really deserves?”

Benny Magalon, young and stupid.  He believe it then, as he believes it now.  But it hurt then, just as it hurts now.

You jostle him out of the memory by snapping the yearbook shut, stacking it on top of the rest.  “I promise I’ll work through it in time for the next time I see you,” you try to joke.  “So in ten years, look out, Benny.  I’ll be ready to talk about the present instead of the past.”

You stand up and he follows.  Maybe that hurts the most now, how you never screamed at him or cut him off or burned his pictures.  Any anger you felt—feel—towards him…you keep it inside.  Ever since that night, after a period of silence, you’ve been nothing but kind to him.  Gracious to him.  Familiar with an air of sadness, the past never quite past enough.

“I’m sorry it hurt you,” he says, his voice low as the two of you stand in his childhood bedroom.  “I’m sorry I hurt you.”

“Oh, don’t even worry about it.  It’s ancient history.”  You wave him off, give him a rueful smile.  “I just get sappy and homesick this time of the year.”

He smiles back at you.  He loved—loves—how sappy you get over things.  You’re sentimental and always have been.  

“I hope those assholes in New York know they stole a good one from us,” he jokes.

You tilt your head, your smile widening.  “I thought the west coast, east coast beef was dead and buried.”

“Nah.  Not ‘til we get you back.”

You roll your eyes playfully, open your mouth to say something, but there’s a knock at the door, then his sister peeking her head in.

“Hey you two,” she said, her voice taking on a sly, insinuating tone.  “Thought I might find you together.”

You gesture at the yearbook pile.  “Just reliving our glory days.”

“Sure.”  His sister says it like she doesn’t believe it (he catches her eyes drifting to the bed, but the comforter is neat and smooth), but then she looks at you and says, “your mom is looking for you.  Says she’s not feeling well and wants you to take her home.”

“Oh, okay.”  You turn to Ben.  He holds out his arms and you step into them:  a light hug, just for a moment, but it’s heavy as lead.  It’ll sit heavy as a stone in his chest later on.

“I fly out on the third,” you tell him once you release him.  “Maybe we could meet up?”

“Yeah, maybe.  Work is busy this time of year though.”  A lie.

Sappy, homesick, trapped in the past:  he watches as your face falls at his noncommittal, his nonchalance at spending time with you.  Then he watches you compose yourself, plaster that smile on your face.

“Well, you know where to find me if you have time,” you tell him, and the false cheer in your voice makes him want to throw up.  

Tell me I’m a piece of shit, he wants to say.  Drop the act and tell me I hurt you so badly that you never want to even think of me again.  Never say my name again.  Burn all my pictures and move on.  Because I can’t move on until you do.

Because he’s never moved on either.  All these years, and not a single girlfriend ever came close.

Your mother, that day in the park when he was young and stupid:  “You’ll forget about her soon enough, and you’ll meet a nice girl.  You’ll get married to her and have kids with her, and my daughter will meet someone else…”

Only he hadn’t, and you hadn’t.  Years and years later, neither of you have moved on.

[expatesque]

Saturday morning sleepover vibe! Because I was super tired last night - it’s been a very full on week with work, I met a friend after work weds so got back late and then proceeded to stay up very late finishing my book; and then Thursday I went to the royal opera house to see Don Quixote which is now my favourite ballet!

Have you got any plans coming up? Anything for Halloween? Any plans for Christmas decorating and activities? Oh and any London brunch recommendations?

Sending many hugs ♥️

Sounds like a good week! Ooh I've not seen Don Quixote, I'm going to check if there's still tickets, that sounds fabulous.

I'm dreading Halloween this year - I have a friend whose bday is right around Halloween and she always throws a party that I hate every year. But this year I have to go because it's her 30th and the boy is likely to be there, so I'm hoping to go early, leave early, and avoid him and embarrassing myself.

But then I'm off on holiday (Grand Canaria, not my usual type of place but my friend planned it and I could use 5 days on a beach) and then my birthday in early December! Not going to lie, I was dreading it this year (waking up alone) but my law girls have all taken the day off work and we're going to shop and drink and watch bad Christmas movies.

And then Christmas should be fabulous! My parents have finally bought a new place in Chicago (it's been a whole saga) and it's gorgeous, a two story flat in a building from 1924 with only 60 units. My best friend is coming out and it'll be so nice to enjoy all the festivities. My parents are also going to host their famous black tie NYE party again and I'm now good friends with a lot of their friends' kids so it'll be multigenerational and great fun.

As for brunch: if you're willing to queue, Sunday in Barnsbury is genuinely the best. Jolene is also great, as is Towpath. Honey & Co is worth getting up early for (they only do their shakshuka until 11) and of course, the breakfast naans at Dishoom are iconic for a reason.