#best movers in chicago

[verifiedmovingreviews]

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[extramilemovers]

Professional Movers in Chicago - Extra Mile Movers

Seeking dependable Chicago movers? Count on Extra Mile Movers, your Illinois-based choice for stress-free moves. We offer local and long-distance moving, packing, storage, and auto shipping services. Enjoy complimentary estimates, competitive rates, and a stellar industry reputation. Serving Chicago, Naperville, and nearby areas. Reach us at 877-342-4275 or explore xtramilemovers.com for a seamless, worry-free relocation.

[wollymovers]

Residential Relocation Service

[venus-haze]

Watch Honey Drip, Can't Keep Away (Soldier Boy x Reader)

Summary: America’s golden son can't keep his eyes off of you, almost like he wants to devour you whole...or something like that.

Note: Female reader, but no descriptors are used. This is kind of in the same universe as She’s Out To Please, She Pouts Her Best. I know generally men in the ‘40s, let alone Soldier Boy of all people, wouldn’t really consider going down on a woman, but it’s my fic and I get to decide he eats out. Do not interact if you’re under 18 or post thinspo/ED content.

Word count: 2k

Warnings: Period typical misogyny, power imbalance. Explicit sexual content involving masturbation and oral sex (f. receiving). Do not interact if you’re under 18.

“Which city are we going to next?” you asked, finally comfortable in the swanky hotel room in Chicago you were roomed in with three other girls from the troupe. Soldier Boy’s Sparkling Sweethearts. People came from miles around to show their patriotism–and get a look-see at the acts. If it weren’t Soldier Boy, it was you and the other Sweethearts. Something for everyone, really. Even in places like–

“Wichita.”

A collective groan filled the space, littered with makeup and dresses that’d inevitably shoved into suitcases in a hurry the moment of checkout. There were more important things to worry about than being organized.

“Better than wherever the hell we were last week. Couldn’t get enough of us on Saturday, and then nearly ran us out with pitchforks after the preacher was through with them Sunday morning.”

“I’m going down to the bar while we’re still in a hotel that has one,” you said. “I’ll be back later.”

“Not if Soldier Boy’s there.” A giggle tore through the room. “Did you see him earlier? He looked like he could eat you alive.”

You weren’t even supposed to have been up there with Soldier Boy during his act, a routine that showed off his powers and preceded his usual rousing speech to get the American public to open their hearts and wallets to the war bonds drive. But Darla had broken her leg while ice skating on a day off in Milwaukee, and Soldier Boy had specifically asked for you to fill her spot.

Your role involved memorizing a few lines from a script and looking pretty while Soldier Boy understandably took the lead, but your “rehearsal” just hours before was little more than going through your lines once before Soldier Boy poured you a shot to “calm your nerves” and spent the following fifteen minutes fucking your mouth before sending you off to get ready for the show. 

Walking up on that stage again after your usual routine with the Sparkling Sweethearts was nerve-wracking. Though you knew what to expect, you still felt like your heart was going to pop out of your chest every time he lifted you above his head or tossed you up in the air and caught you, to the raucous applause and cheers of the Chicagoans and celebrities who’d packed the theater to see him.

“Betty Grable’s in town, so I think she’s the main course,” you said as you left, closing the door behind you and leaving your coworkers to tease you in private.

Among the various hobbies you’d taken up since becoming a Sparkling Sweetheart, people-watching in hotel bars was one of your favorites. He would almost always be there too, an otherworldly presence with an abundance of movers and shakers rotating in his orbit, unable to resist the pull of America’s golden son.

Some of the girls in the troupe didn’t care for him, found him too brash and handsy. You could think of at least one who’d been unceremoniously replaced after loudly complaining one too many times. No one really knew what the extent of his powers were, but after that incident, you suspected enhanced hearing might be among them. Or someone was just a snitch. 

When you stepped into the bar, a quick scan of the room revealed Betty Grable to be nowhere in sight. You didn’t see Soldier Boy either, until a deep voice wrapped around you like velvet.

“There’s my girl.”

“Who, me?” you asked teasingly.

“‘Course you are, honey.”

“Because I heard Betty Grable’s in town—“

He scoffed. “That broad? Who needs her?”

Your chest filled with pride at his statement. She was the pin-up girl of choice for every GI in Europe and the Pacific. Well, almost all of them. His arm settled around your waist as he told the bartender to give you whatever you wanted. The overhead lights in the bar were nice and low, you felt warm beneath Soldier Boy’s gaze. Being the object of his attention always carried weight. He was the world’s first superhero, after all. A living legend. Plenty of other women he could be spending his time with besides you.

Pressing your lips to his cheek, you whispered a ‘thank you’ for the drink, taking in the way he licked his lips, his handsome face so close to yours, still under the slight cover of the shadows. Whoever decided a helmet that covered half of his face would be part of his costume needed serious help. 

“Y’know, if you hadn’t come down here, I might’ve gone up to your room and dragged you out,” he said, lowering his voice so only you could hear. “It’s like you were shakin’ your ass just for me on that stage.”

“It’s called shimmying, and I’m glad you liked it.”

“I was thinking, how about you replace Darla for my act?”

“Permanently?”

“Sure, we’ve got great chemistry,” he said, squeezing your hip, “on and off stage.”

As the night progressed, your conversations with Soldier Boy were interrupted by the slew of people who recognized him, excitedly introducing themselves and asking for a few minutes of his time. He graciously accepted with a ‘You don’t mind, right honey?’ And you shook your head, watching him humor politicians, business moguls, and socialites.

You smiled when the latest one had made their departure, tilting your head the slightest bit. “Do you even remember what my name is?”

“Honey suits you better,” he said, his tongue darting out between his lips. “Bet you taste like it too.”

“You sure?”

“Only one way to find out.”

“I guess so.”

He pressed a kiss to your temple, passing you his room key. “You go make yourself comfortable while I close out my tab.” 

As if he’d even be paying for the drinks himself. It’d probably be billed to the Department of Defense, or that strange company that sponsored the tour. You didn’t pay much attention to who was signing your checks, just that they cashed out when you brought them to the bank.

You balked at his hotel room, far more space than a single man could possibly need. Then again, he rarely spent his nights alone. 

Comfortable. Ridding yourself of your clothes, you climbed into the giant bed, pulling the covers just over your breasts. As you laid back on the plush pillows, you recalled earlier that day when he had swatted your ass as you walked off stage after your act with him was finished, playing it off as a joke to the crowd who cheered and whistled. The simple yet slightly painful gesture had gone straight through you, however, and you worried that there’d be a noticeable wet spot on your satin panties when you and the other Sparkling Sweethearts returned for one last routine to close out the show, your high kicks telling on you.

Biting your lip, you glanced at the door and slipped a hand between your legs. He had only said to make yourself comfortable, nothing specifically about waiting. Gently prodding two fingers against your pussy, you weren’t surprised to find that you were wet already. Your eyes fluttered shut as you pushed your fingers inside, thinking about how his hands felt on you earlier. Strong and steady, big hands that could break you so easily but didn’t.

“Couldn’t wait?” He stood at the end of the bed, fully clothed with his arms folded over his broad chest as he pinned you in place with his disapproving glare.

You gasped, pulling your hand from between your legs. “I was just–”

He clicked his tongue at you, though his eyes betrayed his amusement. “My fault for keeping you waiting too long, doll.”

Soldier Boy joined you on the bed, pulling back the covers you’d pulled over your bare body. He pressed his lips against yours, kissing you with an overwhelming fireceness as he groped your breasts, squeezing down your stomach to your hips and finally your thighs. His lips followed that same path, kissing and biting along your skin that suddenly felt feverish beneath his touch. Still, your pussy ached for him, especially since he had walked in while you were pleasuring yourself, but he wasn’t paying any mind to it.

Until he dipped his head down, licking your wet cunt. In your shock, you pushed your thighs together, as if his intrusion were unwelcome. 

His strong hands held your legs apart, gently squeezing the tender flesh. “I jerked off thinking about this earlier, but nothin' like the real thing, huh?”

You let out a shaky breath, eyes focused on the ornate ceiling. Gold leafing, a Renaissance-esque painting, surely Soldier Boy didn’t care much about that. 

“Eyes on me, honey. You got that?”

Immediately, you looked at him, his blazing green stare burning through you until you nodded. He wasted no time in burying his face between your legs, his tongue flicking against your clit with such force that you realized you had no idea what getting eaten out by a superhero would actually entail. 

He lapped at your pussy with an insatiable fervor that made your legs shake beneath his steady grip. Your moan caught in your throat when he plunged his tongue deeper into you, his nose brushing that sensitive bundle of nerves he’d already teased. 

A whine tore from your throat when he pulled away for a moment, smugly admiring your glistening sex. His lips appeared coated in your juices, and you nearly came at that sight alone.

“Fuck you’re soaked,” he growled appreciatively. “This all for me?”

Who else? As if any other man could make you feel pleasure so intensely, as if that were yet another superpower of his. For a moment you bemoaned a possible future of unsatisfying sex with some regular old Joe–not America’s hero, its fucking sex symbol. But all you could manage was a weak, “Yes.”

Satisfied with your response, he closed his plush lips over your clit, sucking on it like he was pulling from a cigarette, your arousal burning deep in his lungs. You grabbed at the sheets, digging your hands into them as you grind your pussy against his face. Your eyes fluttered shut for a split second, shooting open when he smacked your thigh. Eyes on me.

“Fuck—Soldier Boy,” you moaned. “‘m close.”

He growled against you, the vibrations from his throat edging you closer to orgasm. His inhuman stamina meant he hadn’t given you much of a break since he lowered his face between your thighs. He’d been content to tease you for a while, but he seemed more focused, intentional with the way he ate you out, his attention especially focused on your clit. 

You could feel it, that tightness in your abdomen that was about to snap. Involuntarily, your eyes fluttered shut, and you were on that stage again, in his big arms, bright lights blaring as you stared dreamily at him. Then he threw you in the air, higher and higher until you came back down and–

“Soldier Boy, oh my god–don’t fucking stop,” you pleaded, riding out your orgasm on his face.

His hands held down your bucking hips, your ecstasy overpowered by his determination to bring you over the edge until you were an incoherent mess, muscles aching at the exertion of each orgasm despite him doing all of the work. Light-headed, seeing stars, you reached down, tugging at his hair. That was it. You were tapping out. Mercy.

He granted such, though he pressed sloppy kisses to your inner thighs, nipping at the tender skin. All you could give him was weak moans in return. If you expected to be able to go anywhere else the rest of the night, he’d made damn well sure you couldn’t so much as move from his bed. Maybe that was the idea.  

Your breath caught in your throat when he lifted his head, wiping his glistening lips with the back of his hand, though the evidence of your orgasms was still all over the rest of his face. He kissed you, the foreign taste of yourself filling your mouth, sending a deliciously obscene rush through you. His mouth broke from yours, just for a moment, as he whispered your name against your lips. You realized you didn’t actually know his.

[carmybears]

Assembly Required

or - The Inherent Eroticism of Swedish Furniture

This started as a joke and quickly spiraled out of hand

pairing: carmy berzatto X female!reader

summary: What's a new apartment without a trip to Ikea? Building Ikea furniture with Carmy and christening a new apartment

word count: 3.8K

warnings: explicit content, 18+; oral sex (f receiving), unprotected p in v sex (wrap it before you tap it), praise kink, hair pulling, dirty talk, mentions of carmy's gold chain, established relationship

There’s nothing quite as humbling as assembling Ikea furniture.

For such a young man, Carmy had already accomplished a lot more in his life than he ever really expected he would – not just graduating culinary school but excelling in it, working in some of the finest dining establishments in the world, winning a James Beard award, and reopening the family restaurant essentially from the ground up. But god help him if the assembly instructions for this Ingolf dining chair weren’t just going to get the best of him.

Over the course of the past several months, you and Carmy had been in the whirlwind process of moving in together. Deciding to get a place together was one of the easiest decisions he had made since returning to Chicago – he already essentially lived in your apartment, so it only made sense to find a place for the both of you when his lease was up. Apartment hunting had been something of a chore, and he shuddered to think of some of the places you’d seen in listings before stumbling across a shockingly spacious 1 bedroom with a decently renovated kitchen, a surprising amount of natural light, and a relatively easy commute to both the restaurant and your office.

House Hunters, eat your heart out.

As your move-in date came ever closer, every spare moment of your time together had become dedicated to preparing for the move. Many nights, the two of you had shared stories about your own respective days at work over piles of clothes to donate or cardboard boxes lined with packing paper and bubble wrap. Not exactly the sexiest of dates, but he knew that he’d have you all to himself before long.

The day of the actual move went surprisingly well, despite the long hours you’d spent moving boxes from one apartment to the other. Carmy already had very little stuff to actually move, and you’d talked him into hiring professional movers to take the furniture and heavier items to the new place. It left the two of you with plenty of time to methodically move from room to room, unpacking as many boxes as you could before absolutely running out of energy at the end of the day, collapsing on a hastily made bed. It was only at sunrise, when the light began to stream directly into Carmy’s eyes, that you realized you needed to buy curtains.

Well, you needed more than just curtains. In fact, you needed several pieces of furniture and had planned to use Carmy’s second consecutive day off as an opportunity to drive out to the Ikea in Shaumburg and check several items off of your shopping list.

You arrived shortly after opening, and Carmy sipped a gas station coffee lazily from a paper mug as the two of you wandered side by side through the store, occasionally sidetracked by a display featuring items you most certainly did not need. If he hadn’t been with you, he wouldn’t have necessarily enjoyed the shopping process – He had always chosen his furnishings based more on function than form, which he supposed was how he had ended up with a tattered, striped couch that you deemed “fit for a frat basement” and insisted was not allowed in your shared apartment. Still, seeing your eyes light up as you strayed away from his side to pinch the fabric of a throw blanket between your fingers or inspect a set of glassware was surprisingly endearing to him as you leisurely meandered your way through the labyrinthine showroom.

You returned home that afternoon with a bounty of flat packed treasures – four ingolf dining chairs, a Fjallbo coffee table, Hemnes dresser, plus whatever other odds and ends you had thrown into the bright blue and yellow canvas bag. The rest of the day had been spent assembling furniture, a growing mountain of cardboard and Styrofoam amassing along the outskirts of the living room with each item you constructed. The coffee table and dresser had come together with little difficulty, although now Carmy was suspecting that he had met his match as he struggled to comprehend just where exactly he was supposed to be placing a screw in the first of four dining chairs that remained to be assembled.

“You look stumped. Lemme take a look,” you offer, crawling across the new area rug to him.

“Take it,” he relinquishes the instruction sheet to you readily. “I think it’s scrambling my brain just lookin’ at this too long.”

You study the instructions for a moment before pulling the miscellaneous pieces closer to you, brow furrowed in concentration as you pick up the allen wrench and begin the assembly process

He watches in admiration as you work, the chair starting to take form before his very eyes as you hum along to the song playing on the Bluetooth speaker you had set on your newly assembled coffee table. You’re dressed in an Original Beef of Chicagoland t-shirt that you’d stolen from the back office at the restaurant shortly after the grand opening of The Bear, and your crossed legs were bare, save for a black pair of athletic shorts that left very little to the imagination. For a moment, he’s entranced by your thighs, the thought flitting across his mind how he wouldn’t mind being in between them right about now, when he notices a garish mark near your inner thigh.

“Hey, what’s this?” he asks, fingers automatically reaching out to brush across your skin where an angry looking bruise has formed.

“Hmm?” you glance away from your work, down to your lap. “Must just be from moving around all these boxes. It’s no big deal.”

“Sure it doesn’t hurt?” His hand rests on your bare thigh a moment longer and it’s practically Pavlovian the way his mind starts to wander, thinking of all the ways you still have yet to christen the new apartment.

“Yeah, it’s fine.” You’re hardly paying attention to him, your eyes glued once more to the page. “Do you see a screw laying around somewhere?”

His mind is lost in thoughts of you – your skin against his, your breathy moans in his ear – when he sees you looking at him expectantly. “I’m sorry, what?”

“A screw, Carm. Do you see one laying around here somewhere?”

Without waiting for an answer, you rock forward onto your knees, crawling all around the half assembled chair. He starts to look halfheartedly, idly picking up random pages and pieces of cardboard in search of the missing screw, but mostly he’s just eyeing your ass as you crawl around.

A part of him thinks that maybe he should feel just a little bad that he’s not being more helpful in your search – it had been a long weekend after all, and you still had a long way to go before you were fully unpacked and settled in. But on the other hand, he could easily count on one hand how many times the two of you had been intimate in the past two months – busy work schedules, packing lists, and the occasional bickering about what furniture to keep or sell always seemed to get in the way whenever you two had time alone. Or plain exhaustion – can’t forget about that.

Eventually, you give up, sitting back up with your palms pressed to your knees as you let out a groan of frustration. “I can’t believe we’re missing a fucking screw.”

“I think I know where you can get a fucking screw,” Carmy mumbles, not quite sure what devil on his shoulder has clouded his better judgement.

You look at him incredulously, immediately clocking the innuendo. It’s not like you two don’t talk dirty when the occasion calls for it, but damn Carmy can’t help the blush that creeps up his neck as he realizes how crude his thoughts sound when spoken aloud.

 “Sorry, I’m as surprised by that as you are,” he apologizes quickly. With fidgeting hands, he starts to rifle through the debris on the floor again, struggling to meet your eye.

When he hears you start to laugh, he steals a look back over at you, noticing that the tension has left your shoulders as you melt into his side, squeezing his bicep reassuringly. He looks down at you and allows an uncertain smile to cross his face as he admires the way your eyes crinkle in laughter as you try to catch your breath.

“That has got to be the most ridiculous thing you’ve ever said me,” you wheeze. “Please say more.”

You don’t give him the opportunity to say another word because you place your hands on his cheeks and pull him into a kiss, still giggling when your lips first make contact. As he wraps an arm around your waist to draw you closer, you melt against him, kissing him in earnest now. Something stirs in the pit of his stomach and he wants more – especially when he feels your fingers twist and tangle into the curls at the nape of his neck. He pulls you flush against him and you groan into his mouth, planting your knees on either side of his hips. You’re all warmth and softness in his lap, and he swears the very blood in his veins turns molten as he realizes how badly he wants you underneath him.

With a swift arc of his arm, he clears the miscellaneous debris from the rug before easing your back down to the floor. His lips are working their way along the line of your jaw when you hear the clatter of something small and metallic skittering across the hardwoods. And just like that, the spell is broken.

“Do you think that was the missing screw?”

“Hmm could be,” he mumbles into your skin, pressing his lips into that spot at the base of your neck that usually makes you squirm. Instead, you’re craning your head to the side, trying to catch a glimpse of the screw among the small mountain of trash, saying something under your breath about how you should check it out.

He inches away from you as you begin to prop yourself up on your elbows underneath him.

“The chair’s really that important right now?” he asks, just barely leveling the twinge of annoyance in his voice.

“We need someplace to sit, Carmy,” you counter.

He snorts just a little at your reasoning. “I can think of someplace better for you to sit right now.”

His remark earns him an eye roll from you, but you pause for a moment in hesitation. He takes that moment as leverage, gripping your hips tight in his hands and drawing them up to meet his, groaning in the back of his throat as your bodies make contact.

“You feel what you do to me right?” he asks, shamelessly incapable of stopping himself from rocking his hips against yours in a desperate search for friction. A small whine escapes the back of your throat and his gaze softens as he looks down on you. “I’ve been missing you like crazy.”

He strokes your cheek, fingers grazing down your cheekbone and along your neck, where he can feel your pulse fluttering rapidly. He knows you well enough that he swears he can see your thoughts happening in real time as realization washes over your features.

“We’ve just been so busy,” you offer weakly. “It’s been hard to make the time.”

“I know, I know,” he presses his lips to yours briefly. “Just be here with me right now, baby. I’ll build you all the chairs you want after.”

You nod furiously, balling his shirt up into your first as you pull him back down to you in a searing kiss. He slips an arm underneath you, pressing you ever closer as his fingers slip underneath your shirt, gliding against soft skin until you’re breathless underneath him. He feels you clawing at his t-shirt and together you both move in a flurry to discard your clothing onto the ground beside you. He’s planting open mouthed kisses onto every accessible inch of feverish skin until he has you bare underneath him.

Your fingers are fiddling impatiently with the zipper on his jeans, pushing them lower down his hips until he kneels back on his heels to finish the job for you. You sit up too, pulling his shirt over his head in a hurried motion before grabbing his arm and coaxing him over to the couch with you.

“Floor not good enough for you?” he asks, leaving a trail of kisses over your collar bones as he presses you down into the cushions.

“I’m just already sore,” you protest, your fingers tracing idly across his shoulder blades.

“But I haven’t even done anything yet,” he croons into your ear, bringing a hand up to knead at your breast.

“Shut up, you know what I mean.”

And he does know – the subtle aches in the back of his legs and in between his shoulders have been present all day after the grueling hours of moving in the day beforehand. That’s not going to stop him now though, not as your legs fall open under his hands. His dick twitches at the sight of your pussy, evidence of your arousal glistening at the apex of your thighs and he’s like a man enchanted.

“This all for me, baby?” he asks you softly, reaching out to stroke your folds, wetness gathering on his calloused fingers as you squirm into his touch.

“Yes,” you gasp, pleading with him as you grasp his wrist in a feeble attempt to guide his fingers where you so desperately want him. “Carmy, please.”

You don’t have to ask him twice as he sinks two fingers into your snug walls. He studies your face as he touches you – the way you bite back a groan as his fingers stretch you out, admiring the way you tilt your head back, baring your neck to him as the pad of his thumb brushes roughly against your clit.

“Fuck,” you groan. “Carmy.”

“You look so fuckin’ pretty like this for me, baby.” It’s true, you do. He thinks you’ve never looked prettier than you do in this apartment, with your proudly thrifted couch, half-built Ikea furniture and granite countertops that he could fuck you on every night if you wanted. With his free hand, he palms heavily over the front of his Calvin Kleins and makes a mental note that the kitchen is next in line for christening. But he has something he wants to do first.

You whine when he removes his hand from between your legs, but before you can protest, he’s maneuvering your thighs closer to the edge of the couch and angling your hips toward himself as he sinks to his knees in front of you.

He can feel your thighs trembling already in anticipation around him and you’re swearing under your breath before he’s even had his first taste of you. He starts with a few furtive licks, allowing the smell and taste of you to invade his senses before delving in deeper, lapping at your drenched pussy with languid strokes of his tongue. Wrapping one arm around your thigh, he pulls your leg over his shoulder, causing a shift of your hips that has the tip of his nose nudging against your clit. He steals a look back up at you just in time for you to cry out in pleasure, hands reaching down to tangle in his hair. Increasingly frantic, you tug at the roots, guiding his mouth where you want him, hips grinding senselessly into his nose and wanting mouth.

“Oh my fucking god,” you groan above him as his lips close around your clit, humming softly. He glides two fingers back into you, thrusting them in and out of you in time with the tight circles he’s making around your clit with his tongue.

“Carmen,” you sob his full first name – not Carmy, not baby, not Chef – Carmen. “Don’t fucking stop. JesusfuckingChrist don’t stop.”

He doesn’t stop – wouldn’t dream of it. Even as your thighs clamp together around his head, he’s dizzy with the taste of you, groaning into your pussy as he pushes his tongue into you, big nose pressed into your clit in just the precise way that has you falling apart for him. You’re babbling incoherently as you cum on his face, and he doesn’t hesitate to lap up every wave of pleasure that rolls over you until you’re squirming, oversensitive under his lips.

“Too much, Carm,” you beg. “Please.”

 He nuzzles a kiss into your inner thigh, lips pressed right above the bruise he noticed earlier, before crawling back up to you. Your chest is heaving against his as you limply wrap your arms around the back of his neck and he drags his lips along your throat.

“Absolutely insane that we haven’t done this in so long,” you pant, curling your fingers tightly in his hair to angle his mouth back toward yours. He swallows the groan you make when you taste yourself on his tongue and his dick twitches in his underwear at the sensation of your fingernails scratching at his scalp, raking down his back.

“C’mere,” you mumble against his lips, and in an awkward tumble of limbs, you both maneuver so that he’s laying prone on the coach with you sitting at his hips. He can feel the heat of your core so easily through his briefs that he thinks he may go insane. You drive a merciful hand under the waistband of his underwear and grab his aching cock so firmly in your hand that it makes his head spin just a bit as your thumb grazes over the tip. You pump the shaft expertly once, twice and he’s not even quite sure that he’s speaking English anymore.

“Wanna be inside you so bad, baby.”

“Sure you don’t want me to return the favor?” You’re easing his underwear down his thighs, all the while looking him directly in the eyes, your gaze heated. He knows right then and there that he wouldn’t last 5 seconds in your mouth.

“Another time,” he rasps, reaching toward you in a desperate attempt to feel your delicate fingers or the soft curve of your hips – he’ll take any little bit you have to give him. “Just want you now.”

You rock your hips against him, coating the length of him in your wet heat; a low groan in the shape of your name escapes his throat. He wants to chastise you for teasing him, but before he can find the words, you sink down onto him with a soft “Oh.”

There’s a moment of stillness and he drinks in the sight of you, eyes fluttering shut and lips thoroughly kissed and swollen. He can’t help the way the words tumble out of his mouth – “I love you.”

“But I haven’t even done anything yet,” you grin cheekily.

And that’s when you move.

You’re hot and wet around him and he’s absolutely mesmerized by the sight of his cock disappearing into you repeatedly as you move above him.

 “Fuck, you ride my dick so well, baby,” he praises, cupping one breast in his hand, kneading the soft flesh there in time to the rhythm of your hips rocking against his.

There’s a slight tug at the base of his neck as the hand you’ve leveraged against his chest catches on his golden chain, your fingers curling around the glistening metal as if to tether yourself to him. Something flips like a switch then and he needs more of you.

He grabs your hips roughly on the next thrust, pulling you back down onto him so that he’s buried to the hilt. You cry out and grasp at the back of the couch for balance but let him continue to guide your hips, doing everything you can to keep up with the rougher pace he’s setting for you.

“You good?” He checks in, praying the answer is yes.

“Fuck, Carm,” you groan, digging your fingers into his arm and he can feel the stinging sensation of little crescent moons pressing into the skin. “s’good.”

He can feel how badly your legs are shaking as you match his every move. Heat pools in the bottom of his stomach and he knows he won’t be long now. Maintaining the pace as best as he can, he slides a hand between your bodies, swirling his fingertips around the swollen bud of your clit in a way that makes you swear out loud.

Your thighs clench hard on either side of him and it’s all he can do not to fall apart immediately. You’ve all but collapsed onto his chest and your breath is hot on his neck as you whine to him that you’re close.

“I gotchu,” he promises, fingertips still working in time with his hips. “Come for me.”

And you do.

The sensation of your pulsing walls around him is all at once too much and not enough as he digs his heels into the couch, thrusting erratically into you several more times, chasing his high. With a throaty groan, he screws his eyes shut as a wave of euphoria washes over him. For just a few brief seconds, it’s as if there’s nothing in his world but you.

Limbs heavy and bodies absolutely spent, you lay facing each other, just barely able to fit laying side by side on the couch. If he had the foggiest idea which box a throw blanket had been packed into, he would have pulled one up and around your shoulders. Instead, he settles for curling himself around you, skin still flushed and heated from moments before as you tangle your fingers idly in his hair, gazing at him through heavily lidded eyes. He kisses the tip of your nose and runs the pad of his thumb across your cheekbone as your eyes flutter shut.

“Don’t fall asleep,” he jostles your shoulder lightly.

“Mmmh,” you harrumph. “I know, I know. We should get cleaned up.”

“No, I was gonna say we have some chairs to build.”

The smack he receives to the chest is well deserved. Nevertheless, you allow him to coax you from the couch to a warm shower. Afterward, as you finish dressing and preparing for bed, he pads back out to the living room, sifting once again through the pile of cardboard until the glimmer of something silver catches his eye.

You step into the room just in time to see him setting the lost screw atop the coffee table.

“A project for tomorrow,” you promise.

“Tomorrow,” he agrees, pressing his lips to your forehead.

He thinks of all the tomorrows you have ahead of you – together in your shared apartment, in your shared lives. And he can’t help but be excited for every single one.

[huuuuughes]

Be My Forever - Laurent Brossoit

Pairing: Laurent Brossoit x Fem!Reader

Word count: 3k

Warnings: none, just fluff

A/N: lightly inspired by the song Ask You Tonight by Big Time Rush, linked here to give you the vibes <3

I'm gonna tell you tonight Everything you wanna hear And for the rest of my life Plus like a million more years You're the only one I wanna love The only one, this I promise ya If that sounds alright I might just ask you tonight

The way you had met Laurent was always one of those things that made you think. Both of you had just happened to be in the right place at the right time. You were a sports journalist, traveling wherever your station sent you at any given moment. But then your flight had been delayed and then canceled. Your only options of getting to where you needed to go were to sleep on the airport floor or rent a car and drive through the middle of nowhere central California, to Bakersfield. Sometimes you loved covering minor leagues, but at times like this, getting to the middle of nowhere was a huge pain in the ass.

It was late, almost midnight, and you were exhausted. Then Laurent appeared, apparently also from the flight that got canceled. He was coming back from a holiday break with his family during All-Star weekend, and needed to get back to his team. There was one car left at that hour that was ready to go, and he told you to throw your things in the trunk. He didn’t leave room for argument, and you had no idea if you were getting into a car with a serial killer never to be heard from again. Luckily he wasn’t, and that car ride was the best choice you could have ever made.

He liked to say that the universe was looking out for the two of you, putting you where you needed to be. Ever since then, you went through everything together. Sometimes your career took you away for long periods of time, and every year you seemed to be living somewhere different. You had decided early on that the two of you were in it for the long haul, you were there for all of the ups and downs that the sports world decided to throw at you. At the end of this last season, his one year contract had expired and he signed with another team. Which meant you’d be packing up all of your belongings and moving, again.

After ten years together, you knew the drill by now. You knew how to pack your things and in what order, even having a mover on speed dial. A lot of teams gave you assistance with that kind of thing if they could, and you’d always take it. The off season at least gave you a bit of time to rest, and gave you the opportunity to celebrate your ten year anniversary. You didn’t want to get your hopes up, hoping maybe that this would be the year a ring would finally appear on your finger. You always said the ring didn’t matter, because at the end of the day you loved each other and that was all that mattered. That’s what you told yourself anyway, but that didn’t stop everyone and their mom from asking when the two of you were going to get engaged or get married or have a baby. Soon, you’d always say, soon. It had been just the two of you for so long, you almost didn’t know how to adjust to something different.

Half of your apartment was in boxes, getting ready for the move to Chicago. But you’d saved a couple of choice outfits for this night, as he had been dropping some not so subtle hints of having big plans for it. Winnipeg had become kind of home, after being welcomed back to the team with open arms. It was a return to some kind of stability, and you would miss looking out the city lights of Downtown Winnipeg whenever you wanted.

“Are you almost ready to go love?” You heard Laurent yell from the living room area.

“Just a second babe!” You yelled back. You had on your favorite outfit, the one you wore that made him have googly eyes like a teen boy in a cartoon movie. The look that told you he couldn’t wait to rip it off of you later. Complete with the necklace he had gotten you on your first anniversary, and a few other pieces you had that you loved, you were just about ready to go.

The way time stops when I'm with you You fix me up like I'm brand-new Now I'm no longer waiting on forever love

“I’m ready!” You yelled, hearing him turn off the tv and jump off the couch.

Walking out into the living room you saw him turn around and bring his hand up to cover his jaw that was most likely hanging wide open. He studies you, walking towards you slowly. He never failed to make you feel like the most beautiful person in the world.

“You look stunning, as always. There are not enough words in the English language to describe the way you look right now, love.”

“Flattery will only get you so far, sir. Are you going to tell me where you’re taking us?” He took your hand, grabbing his keys off the counter, and not even letting go of your hand so you could walk through the door.

“Nope.”

“Please?” You had a love hate relationship with surprises, and you usually had some idea of what he was planning but not this time. The man was bad at keeping secrets from you, knowing each other inside and out.

“You can try gorgeous, but you will not succeed in getting me to crack.” You watched him pat his pockets before getting on the elevator, he was making sure he didn’t forget something.

“UGH. Fine. You aren’t going to make me wear a blind fold in the car again are you?” He had blind folded you almost every year for a surprise. You hated not having any control over the situation, but he sensed that and took your hand again. Before you stepped into the underground parking garage, he stopped and pulled the eye mask out of his pants pocket.

“Before the car this time? I’m gonna trip and fall!” You even had heels on, which was a rarity, but also made you a higher risk for falling flat on your face.

“I’m not going to let that happen I promise. I’m going to lead you right to the car, and I’ll even buckle your seatbelt for you okay? Safety first pookie.” You tried not to laugh, he was trying to distract you.

“Don’t you pookie me, you’re lucky I love you.”

“I love you too, now please just trust me!” You nodded, letting him place the eye mask on you. You could feel the anxiety boiling in you as he led you to the car. He turned on your couples playlist, the one you started all those years ago when you first started dating. You had just been adding to it over the years, and it was the default on each anniversary or special occasion. The car ride was quiet, only adding to the anticipation you were feeling. You couldn’t sense a direction or any kind of pattern with his driving.

“We’re almost there, just a few more minutes.” He squeezed your hand before you heard him turn on his turn signal.

A few minutes later you felt him put the car into park. Getting out himself, he came around to open your door for you. He helped unbuckle your seatbelt, and guided you out. Once you were standing upright again, he kissed both of your cheeks.

“Are you ready?”

“Yes, the anticipation is killing me!”

“I’m going to take off the blindfold now, but close your eyes at first and only open them once I tell you okay?” You nodded, and felt him take it off. You took a deep breath, steadying yourself.

“Okay, you can open them now. Happy anniversary my dear.” Once you opened your eyes you couldn’t help but gasp at the scene before you. This year was different.

There was a path lined with candles, illuminating your way inside a large building you recognized as the Manitoba Museum Planetarium. Every couple feet there were dozens of your favorite flowers lining the path as well, taking your breath away. You used to come here when he was first traded to Winnipeg, you’d come together when you had the time and would sit in the planetarium for hours looking at the stars. You used to make up names for them even though you knew they already had them, but it was one of your favorite things that you used to do together. Laurent offers his arm to you and you take it, allowing him to lead you down the path and inside the building.

Once inside, you realized there was no one else in the room besides the two of you and one museum employee. There were more candles inside, wickless thank god or else you would have slapped his arm a little, but it still made the scene beautiful. In the middle of the room there was an arrangement of blankets, pillows, a bucket filled with one of your favorite champagnes, and what looked to be a full take-out spread from your favorite local restaurant.

“Laurent.. You didn’t..Are we the only one’s here?” It wasn’t often that you were rendered speechless, but somehow this man still managed to surprise you every now and then.

“I might have rented out the whole place for the night, just the two of us. I wanted tonight to be special.”

“I know, ten years is a long time.” You smiled.

“And no one is going to pop out from the shadows and yell surprise?” You had to ask.

“No, you’ll see.” He pointed toward the beautiful set up on the floor, and gestured to lead you there. You couldn’t stop looking at him, reminding yourself of the amazing life you created together. You knew how lucky you were, you would never take a single thing you had for granted, especially Laurent. Your mom used to say there was someone out there for everyone, and once you found them you should never let go. You tried taking in more of your surroundings, taking in the moment and feeling grateful to be where you were standing.

Once you sat down, the planetarium lit up above you. You were looking at the night sky in all of its beauty, taking the scene before you in. The museum employee had now disappeared, leaving just the two of you alone. Laurent poured two glasses of champagne and handed one to you. Your eyes returned to Laurent, he was looking at you like you were the one holding up the moon you now saw in the sky.

“A toast, to us. Thank you for loving me the way that you do. I am forever thankful for the bad weather that one night ten years ago.” The sound of your glasses clinking together rang out in the room. He set down his glass, and kissed you.

“What was that for?” You asked. “I just wanted one last kiss before I do this.”

“Laurent, what are you talking about?” This couldn’t be it. Was this it? You’d never tell anyone, but you had dreamed of this moment your whole life. He brought his hand up to his breast pocket, pulling out a little box. You knew exactly what that box had inside it.

I'm gonna tell you tonight Everything you wanna hear And for the rest of my life Plus like a million more years You'rе the only one I wanna love Thе only one, this I promise you If that sounds alright I might just ask you tonight

He shifted his position to that of being on one knee. In shock you brought your hands up to cover your mouth, somehow not ready for the moment you’d thought about for so long.

“Laurent I-” He hadn’t even said anything yet and you couldn’t seem to find any words now.

“My love. I knew the moment that I saw you in that airport ten years ago that you were the one for me. It feels like just yesterday, two strangers caught in a whirlwind of delayed flights and unexpected detours. But that was exactly where we were supposed to be. Little did I know that this chance encounter would lead me to my forever home—you. Everything was going wrong that day, until I met you.”

You could feel tears creeping into your eyes, hearing how much he loves you.

“Through every move, every game, and every new city, you have been my anchor and my rock. I know this life isn’t easy, and it isn’t always the one you wanted. You are my safe space, my unwavering support, and the person I can always count on. Your laughter and warmth light up even the coldest days, and I can honestly say that you make every place we go feel like home. You are everything I never knew I needed, and I can’t imagine my life without you in it.”

He brought up the box and opened it, revealing the ring he had been hiding all along. It was everything you had ever imagined it to be and more. You could tell he had been taking notes over the years, and had added in elements you mentioned so long ago.

“I know I’ve waited way too long to do this, and I will regret it for the rest of my days for not asking you the day we met but I didn’t want you to think I was some crazy person. You inspire me to get out of bed each morning, to accomplish amazing things for you, and the reason I’ll never stop working to be a better person. Every time I look up into the stands and see you, I know you’re there just for me. I have seen your kindness and your strength and the way that you share those qualities with others. I have seen the best and worst parts of you, and I understand with everything I am that you are the most incredible person I have ever known or will know. I promise to be everything you need me to be, I promise to be the home you can always count on. I can’t wait to see what we do in the future. I could kneel here for hours and tell you how much I love you over and over again, but I don’t think it would ever be enough so I’ll ask you this; Would you please do me the great honor of marrying me and making me the happiest man in the world?”

He takes the ring out of the box and holds it up for you to see. Finally the shock begins to wear off, the weight of his heartfelt words sinking in. You knew he loved you but had never fully grasped how much until now.

“YES! Yes!” You couldn’t find any other words to say, but it was enough. He slipped the ring on your finger, admiring his work and you at the same time.

“Now get up here and kiss me you big goon.” You told him.

“My love, goalies are not known for their stellar knees later in life so you might need to help me a little…!” A laugh escaped your lips just a little, causing him to laugh as well. Instead of trying to get up, he switches positions and brings you down into his lap. Placing his hands on either side of your head, he kisses you the way that you had been hoping for all evening. You didn’t want to move from that spot for a very long time, wanting to freeze this exact moment in time for as long as possible.

“How long can we stay here?” You asked, the museum employee did have to go home at some point in time.

“As long as you want. It’s ours for the next several hours, and we are completely alone until I make a call for them to close up…” He raised his eyebrows at you, attempting to drop a hint.

“Sir, we are NOT doing that here!” You tried not to let him see that you were smiling.

“Why not?” His tone tried to sound innocent but it wasn’t working well.

“Because then all of this food is going to get cold, and that would be a crime wouldn’t it?” You definitely were not going to let your favorite food go to waste. He could take you home later and have his way with you, but you were going to torture him for just a little while longer.

“A crime against who?” He asks as he helps you start to unpackage the food.

“Me and my stomach that’s who.” You couldn’t think of a better evening, eating amazing food and being cuddled up next to your favorite person.

“Now we couldn’t have that now could we?”

“Absolutely not. But the quicker you eat, the faster you can take me home and have your way with me…” His eyes lit up at that moment, “But I think I’m going to take my time you know? You made me wait ten years for this..” A groan escaped from him but he was still smiling.

“I know I’ve said it a lot tonight, but I love you. I love you so much.” Laurent rests his forehead against yours as if you could feel everything he was feeling in that moment. There was something about how his actions told you of his love, like getting closer to you was the only way that he could accurately give all of himself to you. He was telling you without telling you, that you were the one. The two of you were in it for the long haul, wherever life would take you.

“I love you too. Happy anniversary my love.”

[romanarose]

Cleaning out my Closet (Passover)

Marc Spector

Summary: Years ahead of the events of Moon Knight, Marc Spector is happy. He's happily married, has three children he adores, has a good relationship with his dad, Steven, Jake, Layla, and his brother-in-law. Still, none of it erases what happened to him, and in entering his childhood home again, he must grapple with feelings he still has. As he packs up his childhood home, he unpacks his past.

A/N: This fic serves as a epilogue to Seattle (linking to the AO3 bc tumblr messed up my links, and everything on my masterlist is under construction. If you like it, please consider leaving a kudos!) but is specifically written to stand alone. Seattle has an OC, Rebecca, not a reader, however, this fic is meant to serve as a one shot, but id dint want to do reader, the OC is just referred to as her/she, but I capitalized the pronounce to differentiate for simplicities sake.

HOPE YOU ENJOY!!! Pesach Sameach!!!!!

Warnings: References to child abuse and death of a child (the usual stuff for Randall's death and Marc's abuse), mentions of ableism on Wendy's part talking about Marc being autistic (vague). I think that's it? This is Jewish as fuck. Seattle has had episodes with Rosh Hashanah, Purim, and Hannukah so I thought it was fitting to write for Passover too. Maybe we'll have something for Yom Kippur, who knows. Any antisemitism will simply be blocked.

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I'm sorry, Mama I never meant to hurt you I never meant to make you cry But tonight I'm cleanin' out my closet

Marc Specter hung in the doorway of his childhood bedroom, taking deep breaths as he worked up the courage to enter. She had offered to come with him, but Marc told her he needed to do this himself. Together, with the kids, Marc and Her had come to the home he grew up in to help his dad move. In recent years, Marc had come back into contact with Elias, frequent phone calls and occasional visits, although usually with Elias visiting him and his little family, as traveling with kids is a struggle. There was, also, the fact Marc didn't really enjoy coming to Chicago. He had been, here and there, but She went more than him to visit Her brother who had moved back to the city.

Things had been much better, great, even. Marc was married and in love with his childhood best friend. Her brother, Asa, and him had reconnected again, becoming once more the little brother that Marc always thought of him as, and a name on the list of several close friends he had; a life he never expected for himself. Him, Steven and Jake were as close as brothers and fought alongside Matty, Peter, and Frank, keeping New York safe on a small scale the avengers couldn’t be bothered with. Marc had forgiven his dad, and had a life now where he could really call himself happy.

Going to Chicago again, however, was still a struggle. He hadn’t been in this house for years now, and hadn’t really planned to ever again, but he had a duty as a son to help his dad. Elias had mentioned hiring movers when it was decided that he needed to downsize after a minor fall attempting to get upstairs. Her and Marc decided this was an undertaking they couldn’t just leave him to, and made the 800 mile car trip with two five year olds and a baby in the car to help move. Entering the place him and Randel grew up in, a place that once was happy and loving, and turned into his own personal hell… it was difficult, but he did it. 

It was soon to be passover weekend, they had driven a few days before and planned to get some packing done before celebrations, and they got a good chunk of the first floor packed up, Marc not daring to enter upstairs, not yet. Frequently, he had to take breathers. Sometimes he’d go for a walk alone, sometimes She would come outside to talk or sit with him, or Steven or Jake might take over for a while. Marc’s son, AJ, always seemed to have a sense for when his dad needed him. Marc hated the idea that he couldn’t always be strong for his kids, he never wanted them to feel like his emotions were their responsibility, but She said it just meant AJ was empathetic, which was a good thing.

Marc kept working as She and Elias got going on the Passover Seder, but Marc was too in his thoughts, damn near obsessive as he packed things, almost a cleanse of sorts. A set of fancy wine glasses, one missing that Wendy threw at him and shattered; pack it away, it's over, it’s done. Pictures of their family before Randell’s death; pack it away, it’s over, it’s done. The knife set Marc was washing as his mom screamed at him, wondering if he used them for self defense, if he’d go away to prison forever… pack it away, it’s over, it’s done. Piece by piece, Marc sorted through parts of his life he had always thought better left alone. Marc tried not to react heavily around his dad; they made amends and he loved Elias, he didn’t want to hurt him more, not again… She, his dad, Steven and Jake seemed to recognize this fact, and allowed him the space he needed to get through this daunting task, taking care of the heavy lifting while Marc went through the smaller things, sometimes sitting in silence for several minutes just staring at an item or two.

That’s how he ended up here. He had to get to his bedroom at some point, it may as well be now. Him and Randell shared a bedroom growing up, so when he drowned, his stuff had been packed away. That would be a task to go through for another day, for now, Marc was just focusing on not throwing up. Everything looked the same as the day he left, no doubt the room had been shut away after he ran away, Wendy attempting to pretend he had never existed most days. She had her moments, moments she was a good mom... Even in before she always favored Randell, but how could you not? He was an easy kid. Randell didn’t melt down when is clothing was a bad texture or things were too loud, Randell didn’t refuse to eat for days until something was made he could stand to taste, Randell didn’t need to stim or fidget, Randell acted exactly as Elias and Wendy expected for a child, eye contact and hugs and normal ways of playing… Marc wasn’t that. 

But none of that is to say things were bad in the first 8 years, things were good, actually. Elias was a patient man and Wendy tried her best, she showered Marc in affection and praise… but that almost made it worse, didn’t it? Marc often wondered how his psyche would have been if he hadn’t been given a happy family at the start, if he didn’t know a mothers love, if he didn’t have to wonder which version of his mom he’d come home to after school. Marc learned early on that love was conditional, and that had very much played into his relationship with Her. He struggled to believe She could love him in all his flaws when his own mother couldn't? But that wasn't entirely fair… Wendy had moments, she tried. A few days in a row she might sober up and there would be a bit of hope, no matter how much Marc had been played, for years when she’d suddenly act nice, taking him to the zoo or to a movie… he’d always think ‘maybe this is it, maybe she’s changed…’ but she never did, and a few days later he’d be trying to sooth lash marks from a belt.

Looking around, Marc saw a room that was so incredible… normal. There was a Star Wars poster with a very sexy princess leia in a dress she absolutely did not wear in A New Hope and very muscular Luke Skywalker despite the fact Marc knew damn well Mark Hamil did not have a 6 pack in that movie. There was a Cubs poster and a signed bat hanging on the wall (the bat was Randell from a game they went to for his birthday.). Finally taking a step in, Marc slowly wandered around the place he spent most of his time in the house, hoping to stay out of her way.

Wendy violated the sanctuary of his room, however, so this was far from a safe place. It was here that Steven first appeared, necessary to his survival, during a particularly vicious attack, Steven protecting him like his father never could.

There was a thin layer of dust on the surfaces, but light enough to know that Elias apparently learned in there, took care of it. Looking over to his book of baseball cards, he saw clearly it had been touched recently. How often, over the last 20 years, had Elias come in here and reminisced? Marc knew he had regrets, he knew Elias wished he had done something… but there's no use thinking on that now. Still, the idea of his dad missing him so much he’d come to his room just to feel a semblance of him was comforting.

Packing all this would have to wait for another day, it was taking a heavy toll just being here, refamiliarizing himself with his room again. He wanted to be able to celebrate Passover properly, She loves this holiday, and he wanted to pass on the importance of it to their children. It wasn’t lost on him, the irony of serving under an egyptian god, but a deal had been made; no killing. He did things the way Matty did, and felt damn good about it; the bad people were punished and his conscience rested clean. What Jake did… that was his own business.

Marc wandered over to his closet, looking over the clothing he left behind years ago, clothes that wouldn’t fit anymore but would be in good donating condition. On the shelf on top, Marc grabbed a poster and unrolled it. ‘When danger is near, Steven Grant has no fear’ the poster read, and Marc smiled, just a bit. All the bad that happened, he always had Steven, and Jake, although he didn’t know it at the time. Kneeling down, Marc began to look through the boxes on the floor, old toys he grew out of, many of which he played with Randell; the wooden train set, his lite bright, long dead tamagotchi, and the Mouse Trap that was never touched after Randell died.

It wasn’t fair, really, it wasn’t. He didn’t care how long it had been, how his mom had been dead for years now, he was angry. Not the all consuming anger he used to feel, not to ever present over-boiling rage, but the anger that was usually at a simmer, a low simmer, that only came out when prompted… He was good at keeping it at bay, he refused to raise his kids like that. The twins had seen him vulnerable, to be sure, and he tried to remind himself mistakes happened, but if he ever thought for a moment that they feared him, he wouldn’t know how to react, and it would take everything in him not to run away.

As he kept sorting through his old things, thinking about just having a huge bonfire and burning it all, when he heard footsteps in the hallway.

She stopped at the doorway. “Hi, sweetheart, can I come in?” 

Marc’s sweater was on the floor, he had clearly been crying a bit and it had been… fuck, had it been an hour? “Yeah”

Slow, She walked over to him, sitting on the floor where he was “Do you want to talk about anything in here?”

Marc shook his head. “No. I think this room is gonna be hard to pack up.”

Nodding, She pulled Marc into a side hug. “It’s okay, we can take it slow.” She patted his head softly. “Layla’s here, Asa said he’ll be here in ten”

Pulling himself off her, he wiped his eyes. “Right, sorry, I’ll get it together”

“No, no” She assured him. “I was just telling you, there's no hurry, baby.”

“Where are the kids?” Marc said with a soft sniffle.

“Layla’s in the backyard with AJ and Ester, Rachel fell asleep in your dads arms, it’s pretty sweet.”

Marc nodded, taking a breather for asking. “Is the food ready?” 

Bursting into a laugh, She leaned into Marc who smiled and wrapped an arm around her. “Would some food and wine make you feel better, sweetheart?”

“Yeah” Marc chuckled. “Yeah I think that would cure me.”

She kissed his forehead. “Remember the story behind Pesach, my love. It’s about hope, faith, community…”

“I know” Marc sighed. “I didn’t have a lot of hope growing up… but I do now” For a long time, his faith in Her was what kept him going, but in recent years he found his faith in God again. Growing up and for years after, Marc regarded Passover with disdain. A holiday that commemorates the Passing over of Jewish first born sons struck him with anger. He was saved from the floods in the cave, but he would have traded all that in a moment to have Randell alive. Randell wouldn’t have been beaten for Marc’s death… Marc shook his head. It was done, there was no going back. 

Gently, She touched his back. “I’ll be downstairs, honey. We’ll all sit down when you’re ready. Oh, and Elias found that book he wanted to give Steven, make sure he doesn’t forget it, or the cookbook for Jake.” She stood up to go.

“Honey?” He asked, staring into the closet still.

“When we get back to New York… I think I’d like to go to a Mikvah bath.”

She paused at that. “Really? You know you… you have to be-”

“Fully submerged, yeah, I know. I want to.”

“Are you… are you doing alright, Marc?”

He nodded. “I’ll be okay. Just… after all this is over, I want to be… cleansed. I’m packing this all away, and when it’s done… I want it washed out”

Smiling softly, She nodded. “That sounds like a good idea, sweetie pie.” She bent down and kissed his forehead. “You are doing so good, you are so strong, and I am so proud of you.”

Marc smiled up at the love of his life. “Thank you, baby. I’ll be down in a minute.”

With loving eyes, She smiled back at him before heading down stairs, and Marc heard the sound of her greeting her brother at the door.

Staring into the abyss of his closet, a place he used to hide in that was now piled high with boxes of broken memories, he spoke to someone he didn’t know could hear him or not.

“It didn’t work, ma. You didn’t win. I know you wanted me to hurt, to hurt the way you were…” His voice wavered. “But I already was! I was a kid! A kid whose brother died and I was left to deal with it alone! You left!” Marc took a steadying breath, composing himself. “And for a long time, it worked, you made me as angry and miserable as you were, I let myself become what you always said I was. Angry, jealous, a killer.” Marc shook his head, closing his eyes. Could she hear him? Wherever she was, would she know? He wasn’t sure. Not a lot of emphasis on the afterlife in Judaism, and the whole run-in with Taweret complicated matters on what Marc believed happened, but that wasn’t really the point. 

“I got out, I got better. I’m married and got three beautiful, perfect kids. Esther looks a lot like you, if I’m being honest.” He sighed a quick laugh to himself. “You’d love her, she’s incredibly bright, always dragging AJ around everywhere, always getting into things… AJ is her anchor though, always making sure she doesn’t get hurt, he’s always thinking of others… Takes after his mom like that. AJ's real name is Asa, I don't know if you know that or not. I don't know what you know, honestly. We named him after his uncle, Her brother. Esther is probably obvious, She always loved Purim, t was her favorite holiday, the first one we celebrated together once She and I were reunited...Rachel’s just a baby right now, but she’s got her mom’s hair, looking like she got my height right now” A genuine smile appeared on Marc’s face as he talked about his family, relaxing. "She's named after Randell. Maybe it's a bit of a stretch, Rachel, Randell, but it sounds similar, and She and I planned to stop at three kids... we might still have another, I don't know, but I wanted to name one of them after Randell, but I just... I wasn't ready when the twins were born." A loud, deep sigh.

"I guess I don’t know what you wanted for my life. You tried, sometimes, even if it wasn’t a lot, even if it wasn’t for long, you tried… but it wasn’t fair to me, it wasn’t fair to dad, and it wasn’t fair to you, holding on to all that anger… I hope…” Marc’s body shook with anxiety as he desperately tried to speak his piece. “I hope you found some kind of peace in the end, mom. I do. I hope you found peace wherever you are now. Because I did. I’m happy, I have friends, I have a family, I have a life I’m proud of… I hope we were that for you, in the beginning… there were good years, weren’t there? Yeah. There were. The Four of us, a happy family… Then everything changed in an instant…” He shook his head. “What’s done is done, I’ve moved on. It still hurts, and I think it will always hurt, but I’ve moved on. Shalom, ma, Baruch Dayan Ha’emet”

Marc Spector stood in the stairwell of his childhood home. Decades ago, this is where his mom first screamed at him, but now, things were so, so different.  Layla was putting Rachel in her high chair, Asa was getting Esther down from precarious surface she had climbed up on, AJ helped Her and Elias set up the table… Things were so different now, so, so much better. He was cleansed, he was happy, he was hopeful...

Free.

I guess we are who we are Headlights shining in the dark night I drive on Maybe we took this too far

I want a new life, one without a cause So I'm coming home tonight, well, no matter what the cost And if the plane goes down, or if the crew can't wake me up Well, just know that I'm alright, I was not afraid to die Oh, even if there's songs to sing, well my children will carry me Just know that I'm alright, I was not afraid to die Because I put my faith in my little Girls, so I never say goodbye cruel world Just know that I'm alright, I am not afraid to die

************************

Thank you for reading!!!! I love any content that highlights that the boys are Jewish so if you got anything like that for passover send it my way!!

Wish me luck bc I got a paper due tonight I havn't started and I still got serivices tonight lol

Anyway Im excited this is my first passover and my temple is having a community seder so im super excited!!!!

For those who aren't familiar with eminem lore, (im so sorry but i love his music) the title and first lyric in this fic are from his song, cleaning out my closet, which is a very angry song about Eminem's moms abuse. It was so bad she actually tried to sue him over it. The second set of lyrics comes from an album about 11 years later, a reflection of their relationship after Eminem got sober. It a great song detailing the complexities of a relationship with an abusive parent who you still love. I like it because it doesnt make excuses, but understands the external factors that lead to how he was treated.

None of this fic is meant to tell anyone how to fell about thier abusive parent, it's simply how I think marc might feel years on when he is in a better place, and somewhat my feelings too.

@welcometostayingawake @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @ninebluehearts @sofi786 @myfandomlikesandstories @tippycakes26 @ahookedheroespureheart @arsonfrogger @milkymoon2483 @0bsessedwithfictionalcharacters @miraclesabound

[ashandkatiewrite]

CHAPTER 11

FIC SYNOPSIS: Maggie Hastings meets her dream man after a flight into New York City— Bucky Barnes, a pilot who seems to be everything she’s looking for. Except that she already has a boyfriend who never has time for her. After a near-tryst with her dream pilot, Maggie runs, only to find out he later meets her best friend and they’re now crazy about each other. Among their group of best friends, between Chicago and New York, and four weddings and a funeral, Maggie and Bucky struggle to keep their fiery chemistry a secret so they don’t hurt the ones they love.

WRITTEN BY: @if-you-onlyknew & @katiekinswrites

Pairing: Bucky Barnes/OFC

Rating: M (Mature) & E (Explicit)

READ FROM THE BEGINNING

chapter preview...

Bucky pulled the door open, ready to tell whoever the next well-meaning friend was to go away when he saw it was Maggie standing at his door. And when he saw the expression on her face, his irritation melted away in an instant.

Shit.

He did this to her. He had Darcy send that feed to her. And look how broken she was. What awful timing. He had it sent to her the day she was going to the Hamptons with Natasha and Maria. But it couldn’t have waited. They had the proof Russo was cheating and had to act on it right away. 

“Mags?” he whispered. 

Maggie’s eyes were red and puffy and there were broken blood vessels scattered on her face, making it look as though she had been sobbing hard. But the truth was, Maggie only looked that way from how badly she had thrown up once she got back to Billy’s place.

She rage packed all of her shit and called the movers who had been set to deliver her things to Billy’s place this weekend and told them not to come — and then gave them her brother's address to drop her things off. 

Maggie called her parents, telling them what had just happened and that she needed their help finding a place for her to live. 

Daniel and Caroline Hastings had wanted to get in their car and come to Maggie right away, but she assured them she would be fine — and reminded them that they would be coming next week for Natasha’s wedding. 

And then Maggie threw up again, right there in the kitchen sink as she was hit with the realization that she would have to walk down the aisle and give Natasha away to Bucky in a few short days. 

TAGLIST: @ocappreciationtag • @julieelliewrites • @arrthurpendragon • @darkwolf76 • @cas-verse • @victoriapedrcttis • @cjand10 • @acabecca • @seb-soph • @eddysocs  • @darylandbethfanforever9 • @scarletwidoww

[aussie-wbb]

From the court to the sidelines, there will be a strong Australian flavour when the WNBA play-offs begin on Thursday September 14th Australian time. 

The top eight finishers in the WNBA regular season split into four best-of-three first-round series with the winners advancing to best-of-five semi-final fixtures. The final two will then do battle over five games for WNBA championship glory. 

The Seven Consulting Opals are well represented across playing and coaches ranks.

Cayla George’s Las Vegas Aces finished the regular season top of the ladder with a 34-6 record and now take on eight-seed Chicago featuring Alanna Smith and former Perth Lynx star Marina Mabrey.  

Opals head coach Sandy Brondello guided the New York Liberty (32-8) to second seed and they now play the Washington Mystics. Reigning Rachael Sporn medallist and Townsville Fire championship player Tianna Hawkins, who will return to the WNBL this season, is a prime mover for the Mystics. 

Opals assistant Paul Goriss is part of the coaching group at Atlanta Dream. The Dream, featuring new Perth WNBL import Aari McDonald and former Townsville player Monique Billings, face the Dallas Wings in a showdown between fourth and fifth-placed teams. New Southside Flyers import Jasmine Dickey is on the Wings roster. 

Tokyo Olympian Bec Allen will make her play-offs debut with Connecticut Sun, after crossing from the Liberty in the off-season, who play Minnesota Lynx. 

There’s a quartet of familiar faces in the Lynx line-up with Tiffany Mitchell, Lindsay Allen, Bridget Carleton and Rachel Banham all former WNBL imports. 

Seattle Storm (Sami Whitcomb, Ezi Magbegor, Jade Melbourne) and Indiana Fever (Kristy Wallace) didn’t reach the play-offs and Whitcomb, Melbourne and Wallace will now return to Australia ahead of WNBL pre-season with their respective teams Townsville, Canberra and Melbourne, while Magbegor will again play in Europe.  

Tipping off this Thursday morning AEST, all games are streamed on the WNBA app with selected fixtures on ESPN as below. 

ESPN2 Australia 

Thursday 10am AEST, Sun vs Lynx (Bec Allen) 

Thursday 12pm AEST, Aces vs Sky (Cayla George, Alanna Smith) 

[writexwithxme]

It's Complicated - Chapter 1

(Hank Voight x Desiree Miller)

Desiree was moving back to Chicago after giving birth to her son and hiding the pregnancy from nearly everyone. Except her own father of course. He could always tell when something was off. She'd explained the situation to him and he understood. She was young and she was the one child that always learned from her mistakes.

"Look baby girl, that man got a right to know he's got a son out here in these streets. You do what you gotta do to find him and let him know. I still love you and support you shawty. You're my baby girl. And that's my grandson. I'll make sure you're straight until you handle your business. When you find this guy bring him by and let me size him up."

"Daddy he's a police officer. He works for the city of Chicago. He's old school. This is an older guy. He's probably in his 50s. I was drunk and partying. But I had a real connection with that guy. We talked all the way up until it was time for me to leave for the summer. We did fool around and I'm sure that he's the father. He was my first and my only." Desiree says quietly.

"Go find him and make things right Des. Handle your business." Percy says giving her a hug and kissing her forehead. "I love you and be careful. You need anything don't hesitate to call on me."

"I will daddy. Thank you." Desiree says getting the last of her things into the truck and heading to start this new and unpredictable life with her son.

Arriving in Chicago, Desiree headed to the precinct where she remembered the guy said he worked at. She approached the desk with the sleeping boy in her arms and asked for him. "Hi, I'm looking for Sergeant Henry Voight?"

Trudy glances at the woman and tells her to take a seat in the empty office across the hall. She closes the door and goes upstairs. "Hank, someone's downstairs asking for you. Black female, probably in her 30s with a little boy."

"Thanks Trudy." Hank says heading downstairs. Trudy points him towards the office and he makes his way over. "I'm Sergeant Voight, you were looking for me?"

Desiree turns towards that familiar voice and she feels those butterflies in her stomach that he had always made her get. "Henry..."

"Holy shit...no way. Des?" He says stepping closer and getting a good look at her.

"Henry, it's good to see you again. I didn't think I would see you again."

"Des, I'm glad to see you. Who's this little guy?"

Desiree looks up at him with a shy look. "He's the reason why I came back here to find you. His name's Mason. He's um...he's our son." She says looking down at her feet.

"Our son?" Hank questions, closing the door behind him. "I had no idea you had gotten pregnant. You never reached out to me."

"I'm sorry Henry. Things got really complicated and I got scared. I hid it from my own family. But my father figured it out and he's been helping me. He pushed me to come and make things right. You have a right to know him. I found out I was pregnant when I got back from that summer I spent here with you when I was staying with my girlfriends in town. You were my first and my only. I never slept with anyone else. I had actually considered coming back here to be with you but so much time had passed and then I had Mason to take care of."

"He's really my son." Hank looks down at the infant curled up in her lap.

"Yes. I'm willing to do paternity testing if you need to know for sure. But I have no reason to lie. I fell in love with you that summer and it was the best time I've ever had." Desiree says.

"Are you back in town fo a while?" Hank asks. "I've got a case I'm working but here's what I can do. I want you to get settled in over at my place. You remember where it's at?"

"Yes I remember." Desiree says.

"Take this key and let yourself in. Have the movers put all your stuff in the garage and I'll help you get settled in when I'm off work. Okay. We'll talk more then." Hank says.

Desiree looked overwhelmed and scared out of her mind. Hank approaches her and hugs her. She missed that warm hug from him.

"Don't worry. Everything is going to be alright. We'll figure this out. You're not alone. Well make this right. I want to get to know this little guy more." Hank kisses her cheek. "I'm glad you came back. I've missed you."

Desiree smiles a little and takes the key from him. "I guess we'll see you when you get home." She nods and let's him get back to work.

[delsmoversblog]

Moving Company Chicago: Your Guide to a Seamless Move in the Windy City

Moving in Chicago? The thought alone might send shivers down your spine. With the traffic, unpredictable weather, and the sheer size of the city, it’s no wonder people dread moving here. But what if I told you that with the right Moving Company Chicago  you could breeze through the process like a walk along Lake Michigan on a sunny day?

Finding a reliable moving company in a bustling metropolis like Chicago can feel a bit like searching for a needle in a haystack. You want a company that knows the city inside and out, one that can navigate the unique challenges that come with moving in the Windy City. Whether you're relocating to a cozy apartment in Lincoln Park or a spacious loft in the West Loop, a local mover who understands Chicago's intricacies can make all the difference.

Why You Need a Moving Company in Chicago

Imagine this: You’re moving from one side of Chicago to the other. You've got to deal with narrow streets, towering buildings, and, of course, the infamous Chicago traffic. Without experienced movers, that "simple" move could quickly turn into a logistical nightmare.

Hiring a moving company in Chicago is like hiring a guide for an expedition—they know the terrain, the obstacles, and the best ways to avoid pitfalls. You get the benefits of local expertise, professional handling of your items, and a much less stressful moving day.

What to Look for in a Chicago Moving Company

There’s no shortage of moving companies in Chicago, but how do you pick the right one? Before you make a decision, consider these key factors:

1. Local Knowledge

Chicago isn’t just any city. It’s a sprawling urban jungle with neighborhoods as diverse as its weather. When choosing a mover, you want someone who knows the ins and outs of Chicago—from the tight parking restrictions in Lakeview to the intricacies of navigating downtown’s skyscrapers. A local company familiar with the city’s quirks can save you time and headaches.

2. Licensed and Insured

You wouldn’t get on a plane with an unlicensed pilot, right? The same logic applies to movers. Make sure the company you choose is fully licensed and insured. The Illinois Commerce Commission (ICC) regulates moving companies in the state, so any reputable mover should be registered with them. This ensures they adhere to industry standards and your belongings are protected in case of accidents.

3. Customer Reviews

You know how we all rely on Yelp for restaurant recommendations? The same goes for movers. Check out reviews from previous customers to get a sense of the company’s reliability, professionalism, and customer service. Look for movers who have a strong reputation in Chicago—because in a city this big, word of mouth speaks volumes.

Types of Moving Services in Chicago

Every move is different. Whether you’re moving a small apartment or an entire house, there’s a Chicago moving company that can cater to your specific needs. Here are some common services they offer:

1. Local Moves

Moving within Chicago? Local movers specialize in short-distance relocations, whether it’s from Wicker Park to Bucktown or Uptown to the South Loop. They understand the traffic patterns, know the best times to move, and can even help you secure parking permits (which, let’s face it, is a huge deal in Chicago!).

2. Long-Distance Moves

If you’re moving out of state or even cross-country, some Chicago moving companies offer long-distance moving services. These companies are equipped to handle the logistics of a larger move, ensuring that your belongings arrive safely and on time at your new home, even if that home is miles away.

3. Packing Services

Don’t want to deal with the hassle of packing up your entire life? Many Chicago moving companies offer packing services. They’ll supply all the materials—boxes, tape, packing paper—and their team of pros will carefully pack up everything, from your dishes to your electronics. It’s the ultimate time-saver!

4. Specialty Moves

Got a grand piano or valuable artwork that needs extra TLC? Specialty movers in Chicago have the tools and expertise to handle delicate, oversized, or valuable items. They know how to pack, transport, and unload these items with care, ensuring that everything arrives in perfect condition.

The Chicago Moving Experience: What to Expect

So, what can you expect when you hire a moving company in Chicago? Here’s a breakdown of the typical moving process:

1. In-Home Estimate

Once you contact a mover, they’ll likely schedule an in-home estimate. This allows them to assess the volume of items you need to move and provide a more accurate quote. Trust me, this is way better than a vague ballpark estimate over the phone!

2. Packing and Prep

If you’ve opted for packing services, the moving team will come to your home a day or two before the move to pack everything up. If you’re packing on your own, make sure everything is ready to go when the movers arrive.

3. Moving Day

The big day is here! Your movers will arrive, load everything onto the truck, and transport it to your new home. Thanks to their expertise, they’ll know how to navigate Chicago’s streets, traffic, and parking restrictions like pros. Once at your new place, they’ll unload and help place everything where it belongs.

4. Final Walkthrough

After the move is complete, do a final walkthrough to ensure everything is in place and undamaged. This is also the time to tip your movers (yes, tipping is customary, especially if they’ve done an excellent job!).

Conclusion: Make Your Move in Chicago Stress-Free

Moving in Chicago doesn’t have to be a nightmare. With the right moving company in Chicago, you can relax, knowing that your move is in capable hands. From local expertise to professional handling of your belongings, these movers are equipped to make your relocation as smooth as possible.

So, whether you’re moving to a new apartment in Logan Square or a townhouse in River North, remember: finding the right mover can turn your stressful moving day into a breeze. Now, who’s ready to tackle the Windy City with confidence?

[franchiseavscompany]

HOW TO INVEST IN THE “CHICAGO PIZZA” FRANCHISE?

INTRODUCTION

In 1979 “CHICAGO PIZZA” was founded by Ron Epple & Bob McDonald. CHICAGO PIZZA has become a mainstay in cities & across central & southern Indiana. Everywhere they go, they dedicate themselves to serving well-crafted pizza & community support. After a long struggle, Vishal Kapoor founded CHICAGO PIZZA in India. CHICAGO PIZZA quickly became popular in India. They opened their outlets in India’s most popular states. Now CHICAGO PIZZA is one of the best pizza restaurants in India. Now they are trying to grow their business through franchising. So, let’s introduce CHICAGO PIZZA:

ABOUT “CHICAGO PIZZA”

Their recipe & taste is designed to cater to the masses.

They keep it simple: A new type of presentation offering great choices.

Great for families with divergent topping tastes: Choose as many slices of whatever topping type anyone want.

Offer some more wholesome & economical meals than other quick-service retailers like sandwiches, hotdogs & corn.

Convenient to carry around & for people short on time.

Successfully running retail outlets in 100+ location across India.

Fresh ingredients, great taste: All ingredients are sourced from quality suppliers, and assembled together to provide consistent quality & rich, great-tasting pizzas.

COMPANY’S HIGHLIGHTS

CHICAGO PIZZA is a registered brand of the food & hospitality division of Neo Plates Pvt. Ltd.; company & initiated operations in India in 2007

Successfully running retail outlets in 100+ location across India.

Winner of BEST PIZZA AWARD- HT City owing to standardization of taste, utilization of premium raw materials & US recipe adapted to Indian palate over the years.

Chefs & mid-management hired from well-renowned multinational chains.

Franchise for Delhi, Mumbai, Bangalore, Punjab, Chennai, Guwahati, Srinagar, MP, AP, Bihar, UP finalized & in final talks for other cities.

Beer and Wine Lounges of Chicago Pizza being opened in GKII, Laxmi Nagar, Hudson Lane, Nagpur, Ludhiana etc…

Successfully running retail outlets in 100+ location across India.

Patented recipes, unique taste factor & goodwill of CHICAGO PIZZA has opened the doors to the vast make it at home segment.

BENEFITS:

Scalable Business model wherein systems easy to incorporate over expansion & clear demarcation central vs. site operations. Standardized supply chain & internal process, making the concept highly scalable. Multiple sites can be quickly launched with a consistent quality of product, service & internal checks from day 1

First Mover Advantage as the concept is truly unique & path-braking combining the single slice concept with the freedom of choice.

ABOUT THEIR PIZZA

Huge slice freshly assembled & cooked; thereafter put on display in controlled conditions.

Flexibility: Build your own slice; choose any combination of toppings for any number of different slices.

Minimal wait time: Instantly serve, hot & fresh.

Economical: Much cheaper by the square inch than any competitor.

Convenience: Easy to carry around & offers flexibility to the customer regarding exactly how much they want to buy.

Fresh ingredients, great taste: All ingredients are sourced from quality suppliers, and assembled together to provide consistent quality & rich, great-tasting pizzas.

INVESTMENT IN FRANCHISE:

Investment: 12 lacs (21” conveyor oven Inc all kitchen equipment’s)

Free of cost (Interior design & training complimentary)

Civil & branding on actual

Franchise fee: 7 lacs

ROI: 28–30% FOOD COST, 6% ROYALITY, 15% ELECTRICITY & SALARY, 20% RENT, 30% NET PROFIT.

Contact Information

If you are interested in investing in the CHICAGO PIZZA franchise, you can contact FRANCHISE AVS through their official website www.franchiseavs.com, or email franchiseavs@gmail.com. you can also reach them by phone at 9205434226 and grab this golden opportunity in all over India .

Conclusion

Partnering with CHICAGO PIZZA is a profitable opportunity for investors looking to be a part of a well-established brand in India, With a secure investment, attractive profit margins, & support of the Franchise.

[kingdavidmoving]

Moving your office in Chicago can be daunting, but with experienced office movers in Chicago, it becomes efficient. Selecting the best office moving services requires asking crucial questions to ensure a smooth relocation. Key inquiries include their Chicago office moving experience, client references, licensing, included services, equipment handling procedures, estimated timelines, and potential additional costs. Ensure transparency and clarity on all aspects before proceeding. Choose King David Movers for reliable office moving services in Chicago, ensuring a stress-free transition. For more insights, read our comprehensive guide on office moving.

[waterremovalmorton]

Reasons To Use Pros For Fire Damage Clean Up in Chicago and Arlington Heights, IL

Experiencing a fire breakout inside the home or workplace can be scary and exhausting. Sure, one needs to alert the firefighting team and connect with the law enforcement authorities to understand the reason behind the fire. The residents and/or employees can be exhausted after the fire has been extinguished, and the authorities leave the premises. Trying to clean the space can be a thankless job that will surely be done incorrectly. The best solution in such circumstances is to call for professional service that perfectly deals with fire damage cleanup in Chicago and Arlington Heights, IL. ​ The service comes for a fee, but the expense will be justified with the belongings back to their original space and the floor plus adjoining walls free of the remnants. The most pleasing fact about having the professional team handle such an arduous task is the speed and efficiency of the members. Individuals who had experienced the fire devastate their home and belongings would be excited to find the following:-

· Thorough Inspection- A home with its rooms and storage area may not reveal any damage at first sight. The team will inspect the entire property meticulously to uncover tell-tale signs of ash, smoke, and soot damage. Once the extent of damage is assessed ideally, the team will devise a practical plan to clean the pollutants and debris from the space, repair the damages, and restore the property to its former glory.

· Equipment- Ordinary cleaning implements such as a brush/broom, dust cloth, and vacuum cleaner will not suffice for cleaning the space. Fortunately, the team will carry the right tools and be clothed and protected to handle the thorough cleaning process. Most cleanup professionals will employ air movers, strong scrubbers, and dehumidifiers to remove the soot, smoke, debris, and charred materials from the surface. Water removal and drying of the floors and walls and odor abatement will leave the property fresh and fit to be occupied once again.

· Prevention of Lasting Damage- A fire is sure to be extinguished by competent firefighters. The adverse effects continue to linger even after the fire is completely out. The fire's soot, smoke, and ash can seep into the structure and cause permanent damage, thus substantially weakening the structure. Thankfully, experienced professionals can remove the badly damaged areas and arrange repetitive repairs on behalf of the property owner. Moreover, the smoke will be cleaned and treated perfectly so that there is no evidence of it persisting in the future.

Spending money for professional fire damage cleanup in Chicago and Arlington Heights, IL, can be highly effective for all concerned. Trying to save money by taking on the responsibility singlehandedly will only become a hugely expensive project besides being time-consuming. The objective of having the damage restored and the space cleaned up speedily necessitates professional intervention. Furthermore, one does not have to buy specialized equipment for one-time use. The pro team will carry the required tools and ensure completion of the task. 

[stiofficemovers]

Elevate your business relocation experience with STI Movers, renowned for delivering the best commercial moving services in Chicago. Our expert team understands the unique demands of office moves, offering comprehensive solutions designed to streamline the process. From packing sensitive equipment to orchestrating seamless transitions, we prioritize efficiency and precision. With our commitment to minimizing downtime and ensuring the safety of your assets, STI Movers stands as your trusted partner for successful commercial relocations. Experience unparalleled service and professionalism with Chicago's top-rated commercial moving specialists.