#palm reading in montreal

[psychicarjunganesh]

best psychic reader in montreal

Êtes-vous à la recherche d’un astrologue compétent et de confiance à Montréal? Ne cherchez pas plus loin que Psychic Arjun Ganesh, un expert renommé et très respecté dans le domaine de l’astrologie. Avec ses compétences exceptionnelles, ses perspicacités profondes et son approche compatissante, Arjun Ganesh s’est forgé une réputation stellaire comme l’un des meilleurs astrologues de la ville.

#astrology #montreal #black magic removal #palm reading in montreal #NEGATIVE ENERGY REMOVAL #SPIRITUAL HEALING

[masterarjundasji]

What Insights You Can Get from Palm Reading in Edmonton?

Are you fascinated by the art of palm reading? Wondering what insights this ancient practice can provide? Look no further than palm reading in Edmonton! With its deep roots in tradition and mysticism, palm reading offers a unique way to gain insights into your life, personality, and potential future. By studying the lines, shapes, and contours of your palms, an experienced palm reader can unlock hidden truths about your destiny, relationships, and career prospects.

Brief History of Palm Reading

Palm reading, also known as palmistry or chiromancy, has been practiced for thousands of years across various cultures and civilizations. Its origins can be traced back to ancient India where it was believed that the lines on one's palms held the secrets of their life and fortune. Over time, palm reading spread to different parts of the world, each region developing its unique interpretations and techniques.

What is Palm Reading in Edmonton?

Palm reading in Edmonton is a popular form of divination where a skilled palm reader analyzes the lines, shapes, and other features of an individual's hand to provide insights into their personality traits, strengths, weaknesses, and future prospects. Edmonton, with its vibrant spiritual community, boasts several knowledgeable and experienced palm readers who offer their services to those seeking guidance and self-discovery.

Benefits of Palm Reading

The practice of Palm Reading in Edmonton offers numerous benefits. Especially for individuals looking to gain self-awareness and insight into their lives. Firstly, palm reading can provide a deeper understanding of one's personality and character traits. By examining the size and shape of the hand, the palm reader can determine whether the individual is an introvert or an extrovert, analytical or intuitive, practical or creative. This self-awareness can be invaluable in personal and professional relationships, helping individuals play to their strengths and overcome their weaknesses.

Secondly, palm reading can offer guidance and clarity in decision-making. The lines on the palm can reveal important aspects of one's life, such as career paths, relationships, and health. By understanding these potential outcomes, individuals can make more informed choices and take steps towards a more fulfilling life. Palm reading can also provide reassurance during uncertain times, allowing individuals to trust in the path they are on and have faith in their own abilities.

Lastly, palm reading can serve as a form of therapy and self-reflection. The act of having one's palm read can be a cathartic experience, allowing individuals to open up and explore their deepest desires, fears, and aspirations. Through this process, individuals can gain a better understanding of their own emotions and motivations, leading to personal growth and a greater sense of fulfillment.

Palm Reading Techniques and Tools

Palm reading involves a combination of observation, intuition, and knowledge of palmistry techniques. A skilled palm reader carefully examines both the dominant and non-dominant hand, as they can reveal different aspects of an individual's life. The dominant hand represents the present and future, while the non-dominant hand represents the past and inherited traits.

During a palm reading session, the palm reader will analyze the various lines on the palm, such as the heart line, head line, life line, and fate line. Each line holds its own significance and can provide insights into different areas of one's life. Additionally, the palm reader will also consider the shape of the hand, the texture of the skin, and the presence of mounts or bumps, all of which contribute to the overall reading.

To enhance their readings, palm readers in Edmonton may also incorporate other tools such as tarot cards, crystals, or astrology. These additional tools can provide further depth and detail to the palm reading, offering a more comprehensive understanding of the individual's life and circumstances. If you need the assistance of a face reading expert in Montreal then connect with Arjun Das Ji.

Different Types of Palm Lines and Their Meanings

Palm lines are one of the key elements analyzed in palm reading. Each line represents a different aspect of an individual's life and can provide valuable insights into their personality, relationships, and future prospects. Here are some of the most common palm lines and their meanings:

Heart Line: The heart line represents emotions, love, and relationships. A long, curved heart line indicates a passionate and affectionate nature, while a short or straight heart line suggests a more reserved and practical approach to relationships.

Head Line: The headline represents intellect, communication, and mental abilities. A deep and straight headline indicates clear thinking and strong analytical skills, while a wavy or fragmented headline may suggest a more creative and intuitive mind.

Life Line: Contrary to popular belief, the lifeline does not predict the length of one's life but rather represents vitality, energy, and overall well-being. A long and well-defined lifeline indicates good health and stamina, while a faint or fragmented lifeline may suggest periods of low energy or health challenges.

Fate Line: The fate line, also known as the career line, reveals one's career path and success. A strong and unbroken fate line suggests a clear career trajectory and success in one's chosen field, while a weak or fragmented fate line may indicate a less defined career path or obstacles along the way.

These are just a few examples of the many lines that can be found on the palm. Each line is unique to the individual and requires a skilled palm reader to interpret accurately.

Insights You Can Gain from Palm Reading

Palm Reading in Edmonton can provide a wealth of insights about an individual's life, personality, and future. Here are some of the key insights you can gain from a palm reading session:

Personality Traits: By analyzing the shape of the hand and the lines on the palm, a palm reader can uncover personality traits such as leadership abilities, creativity, intuition, and emotional tendencies. This self-awareness can help individuals make better choices and understand their own strengths and weaknesses.

Relationships: Palm Reading in Edmonton can offer insights into one's romantic relationships, family dynamics, and friendships. By examining the lines and mounts on the palm, a palm reader can determine compatibility, communication styles, and potential challenges in relationships. This knowledge can help individuals foster healthier and more fulfilling connections with others.

Career and Success: The lines on the palm can reveal important information about one's career path, success, and potential obstacles. A palm reader can provide guidance on the most suitable career choices and offer advice on how to navigate challenges and maximize opportunities. This insight can be invaluable for individuals looking to make informed decisions about their professional lives.

Health and Well-being: Palm reading can also shed light on one's physical and mental well-being. By examining the health line and other indicators on the palm, a palm reader can provide insights into potential health issues, energy levels, and overall vitality. This knowledge can prompt individuals to take proactive steps towards maintaining their health and seeking appropriate medical advice when necessary.

Finding a Palm Reader in Edmonton

If you're ready to explore the ancient wisdom of palm reading in Edmonton, there are several reputable palm readers to choose from. Start by asking for recommendations from friends, family, or members of the local spiritual community. Online directories, forums, and reviews can also provide valuable insights into the reputation and expertise of different palm readers.

When selecting a palm reader, it's important to consider their experience, qualifications, and approach. Look for a palm reader who has a deep understanding of palmistry, as well as a compassionate and non-judgmental demeanor. A good palm reader will create a comfortable and safe environment for the session, allowing you to open up and receive the insights you seek.

The Power of Palm Reading in Gaining Self-Awareness and Guidance

Palm reading in Edmonton offers a fascinating and insightful journey into self-discovery. By exploring the lines, shapes, and contours of your palms, a skilled palm reader can unlock hidden truths about your destiny, relationships, and career prospects. The benefits of palm reading extend beyond mere entertainment, offering a deeper understanding of your personality, guidance in decision-making, and a sense of empowerment in navigating life's challenges.

So, if you're ready to tap into the ancient wisdom of palm reading and gain valuable insights that can shape your future, consider seeking the services of a reputable palm reader in Edmonton. Embark on a journey of self-discovery, unlock the secrets of your palm, and open yourself to a world of possibilities. Your palm holds the key to a deeper understanding of yourself and the path that lies ahead. Book your consultation with Arjun Das Ji now.

#Palm Reading in Edmonton #Face Reading Expert in Montreal

[f444keitflowers]

Yellowjackets characters as Boygenius songs !!

Taissa Turner - Souviner

Always managed to move in / right next to the cemeteries / and never far from hospitals / I don't know what that tells you about me / pulling thorns out of my palm / working midnight surgery / when I cut a hole into my skull / do you hate what you see? / like I do.

Vanessa Plamer - Emily i’m sorry

Headed straight for the concrete / in a nightmare / screaming / now i’m wide awake /spiralling / and you dont wanna talk / just take me back to montreal / i’ll get a real job / you’ll go back to school / we can burn out / in the freezing cold / and just get lost / Emily i’m sorry baby / you know how I get / when i’m wrong / and I can feel myself becoming somebody i’m not / I’m not sorry

Jackie taylor - Cool about it

I came prepared for absolution / if you’d only ask / so I take some offense when you say “no regrets” / […] / once I took your medication / to know what it’s like / and now I have to act like/ I cant read your mind / I ask you how you’re doing / and I let you lie / but we dont have to talk about it / I can walk you home / and practice method acting / i’ll pretend being with you doesn’t feel like drowning / telling you it’s nice to see / how good you’re doing / even though we know / it isn’t true.

Shauna Shipman - Letter to an old poet

I said "I think that you're special" / you told me once that I'm selfish / and I kissed you hard / in the dark / in the closet / […] / you don't know me / I wanna be happy / I'm ready / to walk into my room / without looking for you / I'll go up to the top of our building / and remember my dog / when I see the full moon / I can't feel it yet / but I am waiting

Lottie Matthews - Not strong enough

Always an angel / never a god / always an angel / never a god / I don't know why I am / the way I am / There's something in the static / I think I've been having / revelations / Coming to / in the front seat / nearly empty / Skip the exit / to our old street and go home / Go home alone

Laura Lee - Without you without them

give me everything you’ve got / i’ll take what I can get / I want to hear your story / and be a part of it / thank your father before you / his mother before him / who would I be without you without them? / speak to me / until your histories / no mystery to me.

Natalie Scatorccio - Revolution 0

If it isn't love / then what the fuck is it? / I guess just let me pretend / I don't want to die / That's a lie / But I'm afraid to get sick / I don't know what that is / You wanted a song / So it's gonna be a short one / Wish I wasn't so tired / But I'm tired / If you're not enough / Then I give up/ and then nothing is / I used to think if I just closed my eyes / I would disappear.

Misty Quigley - Stay Down

I wasn’t a fighter til somebody told me i’d better learn / to lean into the punch / so it don’t hurt as bad / when they leave / there you were / turning my cheek / i look at you / and you look at a screen / i’m in the backseat of my body / i’m just steering my life / in a video game / similar accent / a different name / it’s a slow down / so would you teach me im the villain / aren’t I / aren’t I the one / constantly repenting for a difficult mind

#yellowjackets moodboard #moodboard #yellowjackets #jackie taylor #shauna shipman #lesbian jackie taylor #yellowjackets ship #yellowjackets jackie #taissa yellowjackets #taissa turner #taivan #van palmer #van yellowjackets #laura lee #misty quigley #misty yellowjackets #boygenuis #songs as characters #yj #natalie scatorccio #lottie mathews #yellowjackets nat #nat yellowjackets #shauna yellowjackets #vanessa palmer #laura lee yellowjackets #yellowjackets laura lee #jackie yellowjackets #lottie yellowjackets #yellowjackets moodboards

[whatsnewalycat]

Psychomanteum / Chapter 4

Pairing: Dieter Bravo x F!Reader

Chapter 4: The Past Is A Grotesque Animal

Chapter Summary: You and Dieter use the psychomanteum.

Rating: Explicit (18+ only)

Word Count: 7.6k+

Content / Warnings: alternating POV, death, drug addiction, grief, dead parent, psychomanteum, PTSD, flashbacks, cocaine use & dependence & comedown, cannabis use, homophobic hate crime mention, suicide mention, angst, YEAAAARRRRNING, fluffy things, dirty talk, nipple play, fingering, cuddling

Notes: Chapter title from "The Past Is A Grotesque Animal" by of Montreal. Which is honestly one of my favorite songs ever. The lyrics are fucking beautiful and weird UGH. 10/10 recommend listening lol. Hey so, about this chapter... the top half is pretty heavy but there's some cute stuff in there. I read through research papers on psychomanteums to get reports of people's experiences, and these are things that were actually reported to fucking happen. Which I think is neat.

[ Tag List ] [ AO3 ] [ Spotify Playlist ] [ Series Masterlist ]

Psychomanteum Recipe

Ingredients: 

Mirror

Comfortable Chair

Lamp with 25-watt bulb

Room draped in black 

Directions:

Mount mirror on one side of the room

Place chair about 3’ in front of and facing mirror

Place lamp directly behind chair

Surround area floor-to-ceiling in black

Eliminate all light except the lamp

“What now?” Dieter asks, wiping beads of sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand, “Do we do some kind of a ritual or something?” 

He’s standing in your bedroom, hands on his hips, panting from the exertion of dragging an armchair from the living room into the closet. 

“Let’s see…” you hum to yourself, clicking your tongue against the roof of your mouth as you scroll down the webpage and nod along, “Ok. Yeah, ok, now you go in there and I murder you as my human sacrifice,” you keep your face neutral as you peak over the top of your laptop screen and watch his body relax into amusement. 

“Counter productive,” he states in an accusatory fashion, pointing at you, then adds with a scoff, “and rude.” 

He walks around the bed and sprawls out atop the terracotta comforter. The mattress shifts, jostling your body from side-to-side as he rolls onto his side, propped up on an elbow, cheek pressed to his palm. 

You smirk and return your attention to the computer screen, scrolling down the page as you skim the article, “I don’t think we have to do anything else. Just go in there and, I don’t know, try to talk to them? See what we see? I think it’s kind of up to you what you do. Pretty subjective.” 

He doesn’t say anything, but you feel his eyes on you. You turn your head and meet his gaze. Heat creeps up your neck, tinging your cheeks,  “What?”

His mouth gapes open like he’s holding words hostage on the tip of his tongue, then he shakes his head, “Nothing. Who’s going first?” 

“Do you want to?” your eyebrows press together, hope creasing your forehead. 

“I, um…” he glances at the closet, then back to you, Adam’s apple bobbing before he says, “Ok, yeah. I’ll go first.” 

“You sure?” you search his face, watching the way his jaw gnashes back and forth, the way he's staring at the closet door with dimly lit eyes. 

Dieter nods, then pushes himself off the bed with a grunt. He shakes out his wrists and rolls his shoulders as he approaches the closet, then turns back to you, “So I just go and think about him and ask him questions?” 

You close the laptop and slide it towards the foot of the bed, then sit up and cross your legs into a pretzel. Your guts are tangled in a similar knot. But you ignore it and confirm, “You got it, chief.” 

“Alright,” he strides towards the closet door, looking back to salute you before crossing the threshold, “See you on the other side."

Dieter sinks into the armchair. Black sheets hang on all four sides of the setup, which was a real pain in the fucking ass to hang up. It’s dimly lit and insulated by your clothing. His leg bounces on its own accord, and he stares down at his hands for a minute before gaining the courage to look up into the mirror you propped up on a tall chest of drawers. 

It reflects a black void. 

His hands find the tops of his thighs, thumb rubbing against the mound of coke contained inside his shorts pocket. Temptation hooks his insides. The barbs tug his skin tight and uncomfortable. It would be so easy to snort just a little before doing this. Just enough to make this bearable. Something, anything, to sheath the knife ripping his stomach into pieces. 

It would just take a second. Barely a second. He could have been done with it already if he didn’t start fucking arguing with himself. 

He shakes the devil from his head and slides his hands onto each armrest, feeling the grooves of the tangerine colored cotton upholstery on his palms. His voice is quiet and shaky when he asks the mirror, “James, are you there?” 

The blackness of the mirror stares back at him. 

Unease settles into his skin when he realizes that he may have to dig deeper than surface level into his memories. The painful things he’s been hiding from for decades. 

The thoughts of James have been locked away, buried beneath a growing pile of coping mechanisms and bad decisions. Every time James comes crawling out from his designated lockbox inside the depths of Dieter’s mind, he comes out swinging, seeking to collect the compounded interest for grief unfelt. 

Whenever he sees a man with straw blonde hair and an Appalachian accent, James peaks out and asks, "Would I look like that if I were still alive?" 

Each attempt to empty a screenplay from Dieter’s brain onto paper, James is there, reminding him, "You'll never be able to write without me." 

Once, Dieter met a flight attendant who asked him politely what he'd like to drink. When he looked up to meet her eyes, they were too fucking familiar. Brown irises bleeding into ocean blue like another BP oil rig spilling petroleum into the Pacific. As if they had been plucked from his dead body and squeezed into her eye sockets. 

He ordered a double shot of whiskey. 

And another. 

And another. 

Dieter’s brain is haunted by the ghost of him. Each brawl with James leaves Dieter broken and bruised, brittle and hollow. Alone. Guilty. He numbs himself, doing anything to get rid of the agony burning him alive from the inside out. Anything to get that beautiful voice out of his fucking head. Each and every time, right before the point of oblivion, he hears James whisper, "I feel like I don't even know you anymore," before disappearing into his lockbox again. 

When Dieter saw the way you were reeling from your drunken confession, wearing that tortured expression of self-loathing people only get when they're deeply ashamed of themselves, he knew he had to tell you about James. He needed you to know that you're not the only one who has wanted to go beyond the grave to get answers to the questions that keep you up at night. 

You’re not alone. 

He needs you to know that. 

Dieter stares into the black nothing of the mirror and opens the vault, willingly this time. 

As a kid, Dieter had seen best friends on TV shows and in movies, and his parents always talked about best friends, but he never saw them. These “best friends” seemed like a myth, only existing as pictures on screens and voices in telephones. But on the first day of school after the Bravos were stationed at Camp Lejeune, Dieter sat next to a kid that drew comics in the margins of his notebook. His name was James, and Dieter found out that best friends were real. 

They clicked immediately. Both boys were innately creative and rebellious, but not in a “cool” way, like the teenage heartthrob stereotype of a misunderstood bad boy. No, they were more like the stereotypical theater kids. Minus the theater, since, of course, Lejeune High School only offered sports as an extracurricular activity. 

Regardless, Dieter and James created new worlds, people to fill them, stories for them to live out. Dedicating whole school days dressing up and living as the characters they invented, bringing them to life. They made scripts and screenplays, then acted out scenes for the one person audience of Dieter’s mom. 

Then there were Saturdays at The VIP Lounge. 

Every Saturday morning, Dieter trailed behind James, eyes glued to the freckled, sunburned square of skin between his shimmering golden hair and sweat-drenched t-shirt collar. Tree branch shadow puppets danced on his shoulders as he breezed past the ferns and milkweed that littered the soft forest floor. 

And every Saturday morning, they stepped out from the treeline onto a secluded patch of sand that they had lovingly dubbed The VIP Lounge. A sanctuary for the boys to be themselves, carved from the New River’s bank with their awkward teenage hands. They packed blankets, snacks, sketchbooks, notepads, ditch weed, and stolen cigarettes. 

It’s all they needed to conjure half-baked schemes for fame and fortune, really. 

Over time, their close friendship had begun to take on a new dynamic. Touches and glances would linger longer, sending Dieter's heart racing. Soft, fluttering feelings crept around the edges and closed in on their relationship. Dieter, aware of the attraction he started to feel towards his friend, would test out these new waters occasionally. When sitting next to James, he'd inch closer, carefully studying his reaction for signs of disapproval as the proximity between them decreased. 

James didn't flinch away. In fact, he often would smile and blush, or sometimes even scoot even closer, until their legs were touching and their palms were sweaty. 

During one sleepover, James’s voice cut through the pitch black of his bedroom, asking Dieter, “You ever think ‘bout what it’d be like to kiss a boy?” 

Dieter remembers his heart thudding so loud it’s all he could hear in the silence. The wet squelch of his throat when he swallowed hard and whispered back, “Yeah.” The sigh of relief James exhaled through lips Dieter always felt drawn to. Dieter blinked his eyes open and rolled on his side to face James, trying to see his face through the darkness, "Do you?"

"Yeah," James confessed. 

“Do… Do you want to try?” Dieter heard himself asking, lowering his voice even quieter to make sure nobody else could hear, “With me?” 

James slowly rolled on his side to face Dieter. Adrenaline flooded their nervous systems and poured into their bloodstream. Teen hearts beating as fast as a hummingbird's. 

Dieter reached out with a shaky hand, finding James just inches away, fingers landing on his freckled cheek. His thumb brushed against the flushed skin. Their faces grew closer, until they could both feel the other's trembling breath, and they were certain they couldn't miss. 

It was awkward the way first kisses always are. A hesitant peck in the dark with stiff lips. They got better at it, though, over the next year. 

Until General Thompson found out about them. 

Dieter realizes the reflection shown by the mirror is no longer a featureless black void. He squints and sits up straight, leaning towards it. The image being displayed… isn’t really an image at all, because it’s in motion. A current of midnight blue with occasional sprays of white. 

A river running from the left side of the mirror to the right. 

Once he realizes what it is, he leans away, back pressing against the chair. His brain fires off smoke signals to the rest of his body, tapping into the ancient part of his brain that responds best to danger. He scrambles backwards out of the psychomanteum, trying to get the fuck away from the mirror as fast as possible. 

“Already?” 

Your voice faintly reaches Dieter's ears as he stumbles out of the closet. By the time the word has finished crossing your lips, he's no longer in your bedroom. All he can think is GET OUT GET OUT GET OUT. 

He hears you calling his name, but it’s just background noise that’s silenced when the apartment door closes behind him. 

You’re perched on the edge of your bed, staring after the sound of your apartment door slamming shut, face twisting in bewilderment. The quiet lingers with an edge that slices your ego. You get to your feet and pad into the kitchen, grabbing your phone from the counter to see if he sent you an explanation. 

Nothing. 

What the fuck happened to make him storm out like that? 

When you call him, the loud hum of vibration sounds from your living room. You follow the noise like a beacon and sigh as you push aside a few stagnant takeout containers, then pick his phone up off the side table. 

You set the phones down side-by-side on your kitchen counter and return to your bedroom, then poke your head into the walk-in closet, narrowing your eyes at the black bed sheet hanging across as a divider. Your teeth clamp down onto your tongue as you take a step forward, carefully pulling a corner back to inspect the psychomanteum’s contents. 

There’s nothing odd about the setup that isn’t overtly obvious. The small space encloses a dim standing lamp, your plush, orange armchair, and a mirror that holds your reflection. Your hand rests on the back of the chair and you take a deep breath, thrumming your fingers against the upholstery. 

A compulsion wills you forward. You settle your body into the chair's embrace and swallow hard as you look up into the mirror. This new angle shows you a black abyss. You stare into it and fill your brain with fond memories of Ethan. 

You think about the passenger seat of his car, how you carved out a home for yourself there, tagging along when he went to do drug deals. The two of you would get stoned and drive around the city streets, listening to music, telling stories, doing whatever the fuck you felt like. 

One night you confessed that you missed seeing stars in the night sky. He drove out to Jones Beach and the two of you laid on the hood of his car, staring up at the expansive galaxy for hours. Neither of you could identify a single constellation except for The Big Dipper, but it was fucking beautiful. The next day he bought two packs of those glow-in-the-dark plastic stars and stuck them to the ceiling above his bed. 

“So you can see the stars every night.” 

Tiny pinpricks of white light surface in the black reflection of the psychomanteum’s mirror. The shimmering lights vary in size and brightness. Stars in the nighttime sky. 

Your lips part, and you’re struck by the sensation that you’re no longer alone. The already small space feels even more crowded. Your hair stands on end. Icy cold air surrounds the chair and you shiver. Your left hand begins to feel like it's been dipped in frigid water. 

“Heya, sweet pea,” a familiar voice echoes through your head. 

You haven’t heard it in ages. His presence wraps around you, squeezing you tight like one of his bear hugs. Memories flood out in an unstoppable tide. Being taught to ride a bike. Road trips to papa’s cabin. Playing scrabble. Watching baseball. Stargazing. Making breakfast for mom on Sundays.

On your next breath in, you smell pancake batter and maple syrup. Despite the temperature drop that raises mountain ranges of goosebumps across your skin, a warmth radiates from your chest. You feel completely at ease. It’s just like that feeling you had when you died. An omnipresent sense of oneness and belonging. 

You blink. 

When your eyes open, you’re in an infinite white space. Your father, as you remembered him when you were a child, is in front of you. He's absolutely beaming at you, radiating light that heats your skin like sunshine. An otherworldly sense of love spreads across your consciousness. 

Your vision blurs with tears and when you respond, your mouth doesn’t open. Rather, the message is sent telepathically to him, “Hi Daddy.” 

The "place" you're in, although to call it that might suggest it abides by Earth's rules of time and space, feels like a room. There’s an indefinable quality of insulation to the area, but there are no walls or floors or ceilings. Just this endless, bright warmth that hosts the two of you in its clutches. 

A sea of love. 

Your dad steps forward, holding his arms open, and envelops you in a hug. His arms squeeze around you tight, tighter, as tight as he can. As always, you try with all your might to match his strength when you return the hug. 

Safety and comfort radiates from him to you, and you hear his voice in your head again, “I love you, Lou. I’m proud of you. You're right where you need to be.” 

“I love you too,” you tell him, still squeezing him, inhaling the familiar scent of citrus and musk. Then you open your eyes to look up at him… and you’re back in the cold psychomanteum, holding nothing. 

It’s long past sunset by the time Dieter returns. 

In that time, you cleaned your apartment from top to bottom, dismantled the psychomanteum, made a batch of cannabutter, prepped for the next day’s orders, and started to worry-bake. You're pulling a pan of chocolate chip cookies from the oven when the intercom buzzes. The aluminum pan clatters on the stovetop as you toss it down and nudge the oven door closed with a thunk. You yank your oven mitts off and walk over to the white box, then press TALK. 

"Yeah?"

"Hey, I left my phone, can I come up and grab it?" 

You hold down the DOOR button for a few seconds. A current of nervous energy starts flowing from your scalp to your toes. You wring your hands together and start pacing the floor in an attempt to calm yourself. When he knocks, you swing the door open, "Jesus Christ, Dee, I was so-" 

Thoughts flee your brain when you lay your eyes on his face. It's pallid and gleaming with sweat, eyes hidden behind a pair of rectangular tortoiseshell sunglasses. His jaw gnashes from one side to the other as he raises his eyebrows, "What?" 

"Are- are you ok?" you reach out and grab ahold of his clammy hand, pulling him through the doorway. 

"Of course I'm ok, why wouldn't I be ok? Totally fine, doll," he follows your guidance inside, then promptly shakes off your grasp as he peers around the apartment, "Do- do you have my phone? Did I leave it here?” 

His speech matches the erratic, jerky pace of his body movements. Dieter spots the device on the kitchen counter, picks it up, and starts texting someone, unbothered by your watchful eye. He rips off his sunglasses and tosses them on your counter, then resumes texting. A familiar kind of unease sets your hair on edge. 

You bite the inside of your cheek and cross your arms in front of you, "Where'd you go?"

His blown-out black eyes peek over the top of his phone and he shrugs, "Met some friends."

You nod and drop your gaze to your feet, "You left without saying anything. I- I was worried about you.”

"What is this, a guilt trip?" he scoffs, tossing his phone onto the counter with a thud that makes you jump, then tilts his head to the side and sneers, "Sorry I didn't want to do your little uhh... mirror trick thing. I had to get out of this creepy fucking apartment, Lua. I mean, you get that, right? How fucking creepy it is in here?"

Earlier today, before he left, it was impossible not to notice the way Dieter’s eyes would linger on the hallway or the spare bedroom door. You’d interrupt his teeth grinding, foot tapping, absent stare and ask what’s wrong, and he’d dismiss your question with a wane smile. 

But you feel it, too. The ever-present tingle at the back of your neck that tells you that you’re being watched. 

Your cheeks burn with embarrassment, and you nod again, trying to ignore the tears burning behind your eyes, "Yep."

"You know he's still here, right? Ethan, I mean. I see him in that fuckin' room. Saw him in there last night," he presses a knuckle to one of his nostrils and sniffs a postnasal drip back into his skull, "Just standing in the dark like a fuckin'- like a fuckin’ uhh…” 

He snaps his fingers a few times in rapidfire, trying to jog his own tenuous memory. Agitation spikes your blood pressure. 

“Fucking hell, Dee, go sit down,” you pinch the bridge of your nose and point to your couch, then breeze into your bedroom before Dieter can start running his mouth again. 

You pull open your bedside drawer, grabbing an ashtray and a joint out of its designated altoids tin. When you return to the living room, Dieter is pacing back and forth, running his fingers through his hair, muttering to himself. 

“Sit,” you command while raising a lighter flame to the joint, puffing away until its tip is glowing orange and spilling thick plumes of smoke. He ignores your request, but stops pacing and watches you. The THC blooms in your lungs and a haze begins to settle in your brain. You take another puff and hold the joint out to him, “Hit this. You’re crashing hard.” 

He accepts the offering and takes a hit while you go fill up the biggest cup you own with ice water. You drop cookies onto a plate, then return to the living room, “You wanna stay out here or go lay in my bed?” 

His brow furrows and he frowns, “I- I- I- no, I have to meet-”

“No,” you shake your head, “You’re gonna be out of commission for a while, love, so… living room or bedroom?”

He takes a hit off the joint and exhales, shifting his weight from one leg to the other, swinging his hands around in grand gestures as he talks, “I’m gonna be fine, Lua, look, I know what I’m doing, ok? I just need to call my guy-”

“The fuck you are, Bravo,” you interrupt, setting down the glass of water and plate of cookies on the side table, “When’s the last time you slept?”

“Doesn’t matter, I’m fine, I know what I’m about, babe,” he scoffs, puffs the joint, starts pacing again, “You- you- you can’t tell me what to do, you know. I’m my own person. Everyone always trying to tell me what I can and can’t do and I’m fucking sick of it,” he stops, sniffs away his coke drip, and narrows his eyes at you, “This is your fault, anyway. You know that, right, Lua? If I didn’t have to think of fucking James, and that- that- that fucking river,” his voice cracks and his shoulders sag, face falling into sadness as his eyes well up with tears. 

His accusations pierce sharp and precise into your heart. You remind yourself that this isn’t Dieter. It’s the obvious cocaine binge that has set his brain on fire, steering him towards self-destruction. Your lips remain sealed and your eyes drop to the black stain on your carpet. You remind yourself that this isn’t Ethan, either. Dieter can still be brought back to sanity. 

He takes a puff off the joint and exhales, staring up at the ceiling with watery, far-away eyes, “I loved him, you know. First love. But his dad-”

Abruptly, he plops down on the floor, crossing his legs as he buries his head in his hands. All is still for a moment before his body starts to heave with sobs. You crouch down next to him, plucking the loosely held joint from his fingers. As you stand up, you take another hit, then crush the glowing cherry in an ashtray. 

You return to the heap of a man crumbled on your floor and sit facing him, knees pressed against his shins, and remind him, “I’m here, Dee. Talk to me.”

“His d-dad saw us k-k-k-kissing, and he- he- beat the shit out of him, Lua. Almost fucking killed him. And I just stood there. I didn’t do anything. I- I let it happen,” he takes a deep, shattered breath, then continues, “He wasn’t the same after. It’s like he fucking died right there in front of me and I let it happen. Word got out, and we moved to a new base. And-” a high-pitched squeal of agony fades into more choked sobs, and he looks up at you, face sopping wet with tears and utterly fucking tortured, “He drowned himself.” 

“Oh, Dee-” tears blur your vision as secondhand sorrow aches your chest. Your hands find either side of his face, thumbs wiping away his tears in vain, “Can I hug you? Is that ok?”

He nods and you climb onto his lap, wrapping your arms and legs around his torso. You squeeze him tight. Your best attempt at a bear hug. He buries his face in your neck and continues to cry. You slide one arm around his head and cradle him against your chest, petting his sweaty, messy, hair, and you whisper to him the phrase you tell yourself every day, “It’s not your fault, ok? Not your fault, Dee, I promise. It’s not your fault.” 

His sobbing starts anew, and he pulls you close. Hot, wet tears drench your neck and shirt. Anguish rolls off of him in waves, and you wish you could absorb every ounce of pain from him like a sponge. He nuzzles in closer, and you allow yourself to sink into the comfort of his body wrapped up with yours. You trail your fingers through his messy locks with one hand while the other gently scratches his back. 

Something stirs inside you, soft and sweet. 

You think about the numerous phone calls with him throughout the past few months. FaceTime, text messages, Snapchat. How his name popping up in your notifications always makes your heart skip a beat. How seeing his handsome face, or hearing his voice, always seems to make your day better. How he flew across the country for the sole purpose of spending time with you for a few days between projects. 

Granted, this visit has been a complete and utter shitshow so far, but there have been moments that you find yourself staring at his lips, longing for his hands on your bare skin, imagining the heat of his body pressed against yours. 

In his absence today, you couldn’t stop from wondering whether or not he would return, thoughts always drifting to the worst. You typed his name into Google, searching for the latest headlines to make sure he wasn’t found dead somewhere. Nothing surfaced, of course, except for the latest exposition on his divorce, which you avoided reading even though it piqued your curiosity. 

The idea of losing him ate away at you more and more with every second. You’re grateful to be curled around his shattered breaths, knowing that even though he’s crashing and burning, he’s alive. 

It occurs to you… that you care about him deeply. 

He takes a deep, shaky breath, and it seems that the active flow of tears has slowed to a stop. You close your eyes and squeeze him hard. He pulls back to look at you, eyes all swollen, red, and glassy. His hands slide to your waist, and his thumbs smooth circles against your sides. The contact pools liquid hot in your belly. 

You search his puffy, tear-stained face, running a hand through his hair, “Wanna go lay down for a bit?” 

He nods and peers behind you, sniffling, “It smells good in here.”

The corners of your mouth upturn, and you bring your hands to meet at the nape of his neck, “I made chocolate chip cookies, do you want some? You must be hungry.” 

“Fucking starving,” he admits, but his grip on your waist tightens and he nuzzles back into your chest, “I don’t wanna move, though.” 

Warmth radiates across your chest and you hope he can’t hear the way your heart just started pounding. 

“We can cuddle in my bed. I’ll bring cookies and make a frozen pizza. Does that sound ok?” you rest your cheek on the crown of his head and stroke his hair.

He hums in the affirmative, pulling you closer, and mumbles against your drenched t-shirt, “Dibs on little spoon.” 

This pulls a chuckle from your belly, “Fine, but you have to drink at least two glasses of water and take a shower. Then you’re gonna stay here while your comedown passes. Deal?” 

“Deal.” 

After eating half a dozen cookies and two frozen pizzas that have to be at least 50% cardboard, guzzling down 2 quarts of water, and taking a hot shower, Dieter lays his head down on your bosom and promptly passes the fuck out for 12 hours. 

Withdrawal keeps him pinned down at its mercy for another two days, allowing him to only exist as a hollowed out zombie who shuffles from your bedroom, to the bathroom to use your toilet, then to the kitchen for food and water, then back into your bed to sleep. 

It’s a miserable kind of half-existence. Blanketed in a thick, web-like fatigue that anchors him to the bed. 

He catches glimpses of your day-to-day routine while cycling through this pattern. Sometimes you would be in bed next to him, watching tv or writing in a journal. Sometimes you were in the kitchen, dancing and singing along to music while baking. Sometimes you were in the living room, reading or fucking around on your phone. Once, you were talking to a client who spotted him and asked, “Is that Dieter Bravo?” 

You gaslit the shit out of her and shooed her from the apartment. 

Now when he wakes, blinking his eyes open to find the sky is still a dimly lit dark blue, casting a cool light onto the room, he is relieved to find that the fog in his brain has lifted. There’s a tranquil silence in the apartment that he inhales like his first breath. He rolls onto his side, relaxing into this unfamiliar feeling of peace, sinking even further into your mattress. 

This is when he notices that you’re in the bed, too. 

Your back is facing him, body completely still except for the gentle expansion and compression of your ribcage, quiet puffs of air escaping your nose. 

His stomach churns when he remembers how he treated you when he was strung out. The hurt he saw in your eyes when he mocked the psychomanteum. How he tried to pick a fight with you. He was angry, lashing out at you for making him confront James. 

You didn’t really make him, though. It was his choice. His anger was misdirected. 

It was like all his emotions were collapsing in on him at once. This crudely pasted together façade of a man crumbled into pieces on your living room floor. And what did you do? 

You looked at him, a sobbing trainwreck on the ground, and embraced him. Told him it wasn’t his fault. Let him empty his tears onto your shirt. Fed him, sheltered him, nursed him back to some semblance of a human. 

Without hesitation, you graced him with a kindness he’s never encountered. How could he ever repay you? 

Nothing he can think of is adequate enough to express his gratitude. 

You take a sharp inhale and start to stir. Dieter scoots closer, drawn to the notes of vanilla and macadamia nuts that waft from your hair. To the warmth of your body that he longs to feel against his skin. 

He reaches out and hesitantly presses the pads of his fingers to your shoulder. Testing the waters. You hum and lean into the touch, scooting back towards him. 

In one swift movement, he pulls you into an embrace, snaking an arm under your head, draping the other over the dip of your waist. Your back against his bare chest. The sections of skin peaking out from beneath your tank top stick to him like glue, both of you tacky with a gleaming coat of sleep sweat. He nuzzles into the crook of your neck, taking a deep breath of you, letting your presence consume him. 

Tears burn behind his eyes as it dawns on him: you mean more to him than he ever anticipated.  

When he met you and recalled his visions of your future together, he expected something, of course. Although a skeptical part of him always had reservations.  

But he never expected to feel safe with you. Never thought another person could see his ugly, broken pieces and beckon him closer instead of shoo him away. His heart thuds with humility and adoration. 

You hum again, wriggling further into his embrace with a sleepy sigh, “G’morning.” 

“Good morning,” he whispers back. A fat, salty tear breaks loose and rolls down his cheek, onto your shoulder. 

“Feelin’ better?”

 He nods, mumbles against your neck, “Much better,” then his voice cracks as he says, “Thank you, Lua.” 

You reach back, finding his cheek with your hand, and rub your thumb against his patchy beard. The motion sends tingles all the way down to the base of his spine. His hand at your side slides up to your belly and grips the fabric of your baggy tank top. 

“I’m sorry for being a fucking asshole to you,” he adds in a whisper, “I feel terrible.”

The gentle circles against his jawline continue to trickle down the center of him as you mumble, “I’m just glad you’re feeling better, love.” 

He hums and closes his eyes, concentrating on the tiny movements of your body against his. How you’re arching towards him ever-so-slightly. The soft little huff you let out when his grasp on your shirt tightens. He feels the muscles in your legs tense and shift, like you’re trying to create friction between your thighs. 

When he thinks about sliding his hand between them, his heart starts to thud in his chest. Blood laced with desire, spreading this aching, heavy-handed lust throughout his body like a virus. His fingers twitch at your belly, where they release your shirt and slip underneath, splaying across the heat of your skin. 

You hum in approval. He swears you try to move even closer. 

“Let me make it up to you,” he wets his lips, then presses them against your pulse. You gasp and grab ahold of the hair at the nape of his neck, and he starts to back away in a panic before realizing that you’re pulling him closer. 

He lays another kiss down on your neck, then mumbles against your skin, relishing the salty bite of sweat that transfers to his tongue, “No strings, right? That’s what you want?”

Beneath the covers, his fingertips slide across the soft skin of your belly, and you let out a soft gasp as you nod, “Can- can we still be friends, though?” 

His fingertips graze the elastic band of your underwear and he leans into your ear, “Nothing has to change if you don’t want it to.”

Dieter props himself up on his elbow and stares down at you, watching your eyes flutter and face flush in reaction to his wandering touch. The tip of your tongue darts out and licks your lips. He imagines what the soft muscle would feel like in his mouth. Against his neck. Along the length of him. 

The thought pools hot lava that urges him to touch you more, grip your skin harder, move this along faster. He wants to feel your arousal douse his fingers. He wants to taste you on his tongue. He wants to hear your moans when you're falling apart in his hands. 

His muscles burn as he tries to keep himself tethered, reigning in this mounting animalistic need to devour you. 

“I want to show you how grateful I am, Lua,” he lays a slow, gentle kiss on your shoulder, pressing his lips to a torn up, blackwork tattoo of a pomegranate. His fingertips trail along your abdomen, entranced by the way your whole body trembles under his touch, “Do you want that?”

You nod, peering up at him through your lashes, meeting his lust-blown black eyes. Desire rolls off of him in waves, washing over you, condensation collecting hot and damp at your center. 

He tugs at your underwear under the sheets, sliding them down your legs inch by inch, his whisper burning in your ear, " Say it , baby. Tell me what you want." 

A whimper escapes your lips and you arch your back up towards him, "Touch me, Dee, please."

Your underwear at your feet, he pulls the covers back and reveals you to the morning light. 

He hovers above you, licking his lips, drinking in the sight of your pussy as his hands ghost along the tender skin of your thighs. When his gaze falls on your tank top, he shakes his head and yanks on the thin fabric, "We gotta do something about this."

Without hesitation, you pull it off over your head and toss it on the ground, "Better?"

"Fucking perfect. You are-" he cuts himself off with a groan, biting down on his plush bottom lip. Dieter sits up and stuffs a few pillows behind your back. The heat of his palm presses against the base of your skull and his warmth drips down to your cunt. His other hand splays across your sternum, pushing you back until you're resting atop the pile of pillows, head cradled in his impossibly large hand. 

You follow his wordless guidance, watching him in awe, completely mesmerized, aching at the thought of what he'll do to you. 

The bridge of his nose presses against your cheek, his breath a furnace on your skin, and his fingertip traces the outline of your mouth, "Open."

You obey, parting your lips for his thumb. It scrapes against your teeth and draws circles into a pool of saliva on your tongue. He withdraws and brings his hand to grip the soft flesh of your breast, brushing his wet thumb across the bud. The contact is electric, sending a current of pleasure rippling across your skin, dripping down your spine. 

A whimper escapes your lips and he hums in approval when you puff out your chest against his hand, "That's it, doll, I wanna hear how good you fucking feel."

Your gaze drifts to his face, and you lift a hand to his chin, turning his head to meet your eyes. When they lock on, all the air whooshes from his lungs. You drag your thumb along his bottom lip, and he opens his mouth for you to enter. 

Mimicking him, you collect spit from the soft velvet of his tongue. When you pull away, a web of his saliva gaps the growing divide and falls across your chest as you grab your unoccupied breast, using his lubrication to tease your nipple. He groans, eyes drifting back to watch you squeeze and pinch yourself. 

"Do you like to be handled rough?" he asks, gaze returning to study your face when he rolls your nipple in his fingers, applying firm pressure.

You shudder, "S-sometimes."

"Is that how you want it now? Hmm?" he brings his lips to your shoulder and catches your skin in his teeth, making you gasp. His fingers clamp down on your nipple hard and he growls, "You want me to fucking wreck you?"

And- fucking hell - the way he talks to you like this, so direct, so eager to learn exactly what sets you on fire, it fills you with a heavy, aching need. With a breathy moan, you answer him, "Yes- yes , fucking destroy me, Dee."

His grip on your head tightens, balling your hair tight in his fist, tugging at your scalp. Your body shudders and you bite your bottom lip, closing your eyes to revel in the ecstasy. His lips press against your neck in a gentle kiss that makes way for his tongue to roll circles onto your thudding pulse. 

A trail of trembling nerves follow the pads of his fingers down your torso to your vulva. He stops here and tugs at your thicket of pubic hair, "You like having your hair pulled?"

You gasp in surprise and your eyes snap open to meet his hot gaze on your face. He has a mischievous grin plastered on his face as he pulls at your hair from both sides, watching the way your face contorts with bliss. In a half-chuckle, half-moan, you admit, "That's really fucking good, actually, holy shit -"

"Yeah?" his smile widens and he pulls harder, sending a jolt of electricity to your cunt that makes you moan. 

"That's what I want, sweetheart, want you to feel fucking amazing. You deserve that, you know?" He drags a finger along the seam of you and purrs, "You're a caretaker, aren't you? Always taking care of people?"

Your eyelids flutter and you nod with a moan as he spreads your lips and runs his fingers through your arousal. 

"Mmm, yeah you are," he finds your clit and traces the swollen bud with precision, "Well right now, I'm taking care of you, ok?" 

"Ok," you pant, swallowing hard as you look up at him and whimper, "Fuck , Dee, that's so good ."

His dark eyes meet yours with intensity, searching your face as he draws tight circles that echo pleasure throughout your body. Ecstasy rolls steady in your center. You buck your hips against his touch, hungry for more friction as your body starts to feel weightless. 

He takes your cue and applies pressure through his fingertips, rubbing you harder, faster.

You nod and gasp, "Yes, just like that, baby, yes."

His grip on your hair tightens and a moan rips from your throat. He growls, "Pussy is just fucking dripping wet for me. So fucking-"

His hand slides down your front as he sinks two digits deep into your cunt. A wrecked sob bubbles out your throat as the sensation electrifies you. His palm bears down on your clit, and he starts to rock his hand back and forth, fingers squelching in your arousal as they slide in and out. 

You are enveloped in a haze of lust, completely fucking lost in the feel of his hand stretching your walls. 

"So- fucking- wet, sweetheart, do you hear that?" he starts at a brutal pace, broadcasting the unmistakable sound throughout the quiet apartment. His jaw is slack and his eyes wild as he meets your gaze. 

You nod and whimper frantically, glancing down at his parted lips as his tongue darts along them.

The thought only crosses your mind for a moment before you're grabbing his face and pulling him towards you, pressing your lips against his. He responds with a moan against your mouth and returns the kiss with enthusiasm. 

It's just like you hoped it would be. 

Messy and passionate, painting his saliva on your tongue and lips, bodies bumping together as his fingers slide in and out of your cunt mercilessly. Your body finds a new plane of existence, twisting and turning into a thick static of pleasure that starts to overtake you.

"Dee , I'm-" you whimper against his lips, "I'm gonna fucking cum, don't stop-"

"Good , baby, that's good, cum for me, Lua," he pants, stealing pecks from your lips between breaths, "Cum all over my fucking hand, baby- wanna feel you squeeze my fingers-"

Bliss crashes down on your body in waves, hot and all-consuming, making every part of your body tremble with ecstacy. You cry out as Dieter works you through the orgasm, pressing kisses to your sweaty forehead, to your cheek, breath hot against your face as he groans, "Fuck, yes, oh that's so good, sweetheart, fucking amazing."

"Holy fuck, Dieter," you pant as your body starts to soften and relax. 

He grins down at you, chest heaving, and pulls his pussy-drenched hand to his mouth. His lips wrap around each digit, licking them all clean before he leans in to kiss you. 

The kiss is soft and slow, generous with an intimacy that tugs at something warm and cozy inside you. He pulls back and meets your eyes again, a new kind of hesitancy lingering in his gaze. 

"Will you cuddle me again?" you ask in a shy whisper, face heating with embarrassment. 

"C'mere, doll," Dieter grins wide and nods, beckoning you closer. 

You roll to face him and his arms wrap around your naked body, pulling you flush against his skin. His hard-on, still trapped within the confines of his boxers, presses against you. Your body flushes when you start trying to picture it in your head, imagining what he would feel like inside you, wondering if that will ever happen or if this is a one-time occurrence. 

"So, are you going to run away from me now?" he rumbles, cupping your cheek, running his thumb along your cheekbone affectionately. He reeks of you. And you like it. 

The question rolls around your head as you consider it. What does this mean for the two of you? Your friendship? He said it doesn't have to change anything. Unlike the variety of bar and tinder hookups you've had in the past, you don't immediately want to banish him from your life. 

This is actually… really fucking great. The warmth of his body against yours, his touch on your skin, the closeness that feels natural when you’re with him. You don’t want him to leave. 

Which is a good sign, right?

"We're still friends?" you ask in return, searching his face. Your palm rests against his chest, soaking up the heat from his pounding heart. 

He nods and cards his fingers through your hair gently, "Absolutely."

"Then, no, I think... I think I'll keep you around," you meet his warm eyes and shrug jokingly, "I guess. If you want. Or whatever.” 

"Wow! So nonchalant, Lua," he grins, then pulls you into a bear hug against his bare chest as you giggle. He mumbles into your hair, "I do, I do want that." 

With a content hum, you ask, “What now?”

[ Next Chapter ]

#dieter bravo x f!reader #dieter bravo x female reader #dieter bravo x reader #dieter bravo x you #dieter bravo #pedrostories #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal character fanfic #pedro pascal fandom #psychomanteum

[historia-vitae-magistras]

I think i asked this once but i don't know if you saw it, i would really LOVE to read this whole fic, but the link doesn't work, was it deleted? 🥺

Oh lord, so that one has the distinction of being the only fic I have ever written to get dogpiled hate on ao3 and it startled me so much I deleted it. God help me if the england stans find this one. It's also back on ao3. It's got a sequel here too, when Matt is older.

In late autumn—and sometimes in early spring—a rainy morning would press its wet nose against the glass storefront of papa's bakery. Outside, where the leaves were starting to turn, it was cool. And inside, where papa and his part-timers made pastry and bread, it was wonderfully warm.

Sometimes the ovens made the glass foggy. When they did, Mathieu drew squiggles and left his palm prints to make turkeys and even sometimes a little BONJOUR in crude toddler letters for the passersby, then hastily wiped away the evidence with his sleeve, so Papa couldn't scold him for using his fingers. He sometimes opened the door for customers just to look at the trees on the avenue. He wanted to climb them, but if ever he got the chance to wander near, Papa tugged him back onto the sidewalk and tugged his coat back into place.

He heard his name, insistent, and he paused for a second to let a rain-bedraggled man in a stinky wool coat through the door.

"Bonjour-hi!" He waved at the stranger, of which there were always many passing through his father's shop, and scrambled back to the table nearest the counter in an awkward little corner next to the display windows. There, and in the cushioned basket behind the counter where he'd nap after the lunch rush dwindled, he'd spent many a day with his stuffed bear, his blocks and his trains, and his books, nose to the paper as he coloured in big leafy forests of gold, amber, maple and green. The man had a sharp face under his damp, straw-colored fringe and gave a weak wave. Matthieu thought he looked very tired.

Arthur needed a fucking cup of tea. Soaked through and freezing, he stumbled into a cafe off the avenue thumbing his money clip. A small lad in a cheerful red jumper chirped the bilingual greetings so common to this part of Canada, and Arthur waved at him, staring at the menu written in beautiful calligraphy above the counter. There were a few loaves of bread, no doubt leftover from the morning rush.

The lad hopped up onto the counter, kicking his legs off the edge, as comfortable as a round little robin red breast who'd perched on the same branch thousands of times.

He said something to him in French, broad baby Quebecois that ended in a giggle. He thought he'd spoken French quite well before coming to this city, but Montreal was a city of a thousand languages, and about 900 of them were supposed to be French. He mouthed words and the child gave a shy smile and switched to clumsy but adequate English.

"You're not one of Papa's regulars,"

"No," Arthur said. "I suppose I'm new to the city."

The lad's eyes popped open wide.

"PAPA! C'est un Anglais!" The boy cupped his hands over his mouth to shout at a figure moving behind the doorway and hopped off the counter to stand on a stool. He peered over it shyly.

"Are you really… one of the… a les goddams!?"

Arthur gave a hearty snort, unoffended. He'd only read that term in books. He thought it came from how much English sailors cursed. And, well, he was an English sailor.

"Suppose I am, lad. But you can call me Arthur." He leaned over the counter, extending one gloved hand. The small boy took it and shook it, looking very serious and grown up.

"Like the king?"

"Indeed."

"And you are?"

"Mathieu!" Came a much deeper, lilting voice, full of the music of European French rather than the flat stubborn sounds of Canadien. "Get down from there; you'll snap your neck!"

The boy sighed, "Ouais, Papa," and leaped off the chair he'd been standing on.

"Apologies," The man said. "What can I get you?"

Later, he wouldn't remember ordering tea and a sandwich. He'd gone quite deaf. The bakery owner couldn't have been much older than 30—well-built, compact, and lean. His great arms showed off as he rolled short, flour-dusted short sleeves over his shoulders. Perky ass Arthur tried desperately not to look as the man bent double for a bagel from one of the display baskets behind the counter. Bloody fucking hell. He had beautiful hair, pulled neatly back except for spirals to frame his face. It would have been a womanly look on anyone else, but it only drew Arthur's eye to a beautiful pair of clavicles. No wedding ring, Arthur noticed, and not even the pale outline of where one might have been. He cleared his throat and raked his damp hair back, a bit embarrassed at his rumpled, rain-splattered state.

The tea was godawful. Probably bagged and a little burnt and left to seep too long. But the sandwich was fantastic. There'd never been that good of bagels in any port in the world. He was about to become, if luck gave him nothing else, a regular.

#hws canada #hws england #hws france #fruk #my writing || cacoethes scribendi #Ideas || i should write this someday

[nolanscheeks]

"Flu-Like Symptoms"

I wrote this right after Josh left the game due to illness in January 2021 and then completely forgot about it. Oh well, thought I'd post it now. This takes place in January 2021. Enjoy!

Warning: vomiting, talk of illness, talk of COVID

“Have a good nap, babe?” you ask your boyfriend, Josh, as he enters the living room fresh from his pregame nap. His cheeks still rosy from the warmth of the bed and his hair a mess. Josh walks over to where you’re busy catching up on the most recent season of This Is Us. He hums what sounds like a ‘yes’ as he lays down beside you, ready for his post-nap cuddle. Post-nap cuddles had become the new routine since Josh got traded to Montreal and you have been working from home. On game days he typically naps for an hour or so in the afternoon and then comes to find you for a snuggle before he gets in his suit and heads off to the rink. Without hesitation, you nestle yourself into his side, his arm around you.

“My stomach feels weird,” Josh mentions, after a few quiet minutes. 

“Like nauseous or does it hurt?” you prod him, a little concerned at his statement. Josh wasn’t one to complain about anything. Sure, he has the odd day where he’s banged up and a little whiny about it but he mostly keeps any discomfort to himself.

“I don’t know,” Josh sat up and placed a hand on his midsection, “both.” You sat up beside him and gave him a good once over. He looked fine, a little tired maybe, not pale or anything. 

“I’m sure you’re fine, nerves maybe?” you propose, “hunger?”. You said a silent mental prayer that he’s just nervous or hungry. You aren’t a germaphobe or anything, but there’s something about vomit that freaks you out. 

Josh shrugs, pecks your lips, and stands up to go get his game suit on. You follow him to the bedroom and watch him fondly, wishing you were getting dressed up as well to go watch him play with the other wives and girlfriends. You watch as he ties his tie and runs a hand through his hair before turning and facing you.

“Good?” he asks, knowing how much you love a man in a suit. You wrap your arms around his middle.

“Always” you kiss his cheek and then his lips. 

“I’ll see you after the game, don’t wait up” he gives you one last kiss and then he’s out the door on his way to the rink. 

You keep busy by making dinner for yourself, and for Josh when he gets home after the game, while you wait for 7pm to roll around. By game time you’ve eaten, folded some laundry, cleaned the kitchen, and changed into your new and improved gameday outfit which has been simplified from some overpriced blouse, jeans, and heels to legging, or sweats, and one of Josh’s Canadians sweatshirts. You pour a glass of rose and settle down on the couch just as the referees drop the puck at center ice. Josh looks good out there, you think to yourself as the TV camera pans over him. He looks dialed in, focussed, his long hair damp with sweat as he watches the ice. The Canadians play a solid period and when the buzzer goes to signal the end of the first, you get up to go to the bathroom and get distracted by your phone, missing the intermission commentary and commercials completely.

A few minutes into the second period your phone buzzes, revealing a text message from Josh, who should be on the ice.

I’m ok, be home in 10 the text reads.

Your stomach drops, why on Earth would he be leaving in the middle of a game? That’s when you remember the stomachache he had been complaining about earlier then concern enters your mind. You half watch the game and half watch the front door, until you hear Josh’s key turn the lock. The door opens, revealing a pale and disheveled looking Josh wearing his suit, now rumpled and unbuttoned.

“Babe, what the hell happened?” you ask, approaching him. You wrap him in a hug, which he just kind of melts into. 

“I puked,” he mumbles into your hair. You grimace a little bit and pull away, placing the palm of your hand across his forehead. He’s a little warm, nothing concerning, but the glassy look in his eyes tells you that something is wrong. A little bit of anxiety wells up inside you at the thought of vomit, but you push it away, this isn’t the time. 

“Awe” you coo, “I’m sorry.”

“I felt ok until after warm-up and then I started to feel nauseous” he swallows and takes a breath, “I thought I was going to be able to tough it out but then, then after the first, Coach was giving his speech and I felt so sick. I threw up in the garbage in front of everyone. Trainers pulled me.” 

You click your tongue in sympathy. Throwing up is awful, throwing up in front of people sucks on another level. 

“That must’ve been awful.”

“Yeah. And then in the training room I puked again” he adds. 

“Do you feel better now?” you ask. Josh shakes his head.

 “Come on, let’s go to bed.” You lead him into your bedroom. He takes his suit off and changes into a pair of PJ  pants and a worn t-shirt. When he goes into the bathroom to brush his teeth, you seek out an empty garbage can to put next to him, just in case, and fill up a glass of water. You re-enter the bedroom, expecting Josh to be settling into bed, but instead you are greeted with the sound of gagging coming from the bathroom. You sort of freeze, absolutely torn between how badly you want to run away and how badly you want to be there for him. You put down the water and garbage can, take a deep breath and venture into the ensuite. 

Josh is kneeling over the toilet, dragging in painful, ragged breaths, like he’s just been sick. 

“Oh Josh” you exhale, reaching down to place a reassuring hand on his back. He is shaking under your touch.

“Go away” he groans, “you hate puke and I’m not done.” 

“I’ll be fine, you’re more important right now” you tell him. In response, he heaves into the already soiled toilet water. When he finishes, he swats at the handle, flushing the toilet. He doesn’t move, arms still resting on the toilet seat as he holds himself upright. You sigh and sit down behind him on the tiled floor. After a minute or so of you rubbing circles on his back, he moves away from the toilet and looks at you. He’s ghostly pale now. Sweaty and teary-eyed. 

“Baby” you say in the most sympathetic way possible. He doesn’t reply to you and repositions himself so that he’s lying on the floor with his head in your lap. You pick up a section of his hair and twist it around your finger. Bed would definitely be better for Josh right now but after his eyes flutter shut you abandon any thoughts of moving him. He obviously feels awful and if being next to the toilet is what settles him right now, that’s the way it’s going to be. 

The night drags on for what seems like forever. Josh alternated between vomiting and trying to sleep, while you did your best to comfort him. At some point, when Josh wasn’t getting sick, you had grabbed a few pillows and a blanket off the couch to make a make-shift bed on the floor. 

It was now nearing 4am and Josh had gone an hour without throwing up, a personal best since this whole ordeal had started. You sit up from where you had been lying with your head on the throw pillow and nudge Josh a little bit. You weren’t sure if he was asleep or not, but with the speed that he opened his eyes you assumed not. 

“You want to try moving to the bed?” you asked him gently. 

“Can I bring the garbage can?” 

“It’s already by your side” you reassure him “but it’s not coming in bed with us.” Your last remark earns you a small smile. You help him into a sitting position and then place your hand on the small of his back to guide him until he is laying in the bed. 

“I don’t think I have ever puked that much in my life” he tells you once you had climbed in next to him.

“That was pretty brutal” you validate. “Any better now?”

“A lot. I’m so fucking tired though.”

“You’ll probably feel like that for a bit. Your body has to recover from that intense ab workout you just put it through.”

He breathes out a soft laugh and turns onto his side facing you. He prods you into flipping over so he can assume a big-spoon position. Your eyes fall shut as you focus on the sound and sensation of Josh’s breathing in your ear. It’s probably not smart to have someone who had just been extremely ill and is definitely contagious breathing on you. But, whatever he had you have definitely contracted by now, so you decided it didn’t matter. With the warmth of Josh behind you and exhaustion, you easily slipped off to sleep, praying that Josh was through the worst of it and that it wouldn’t hit you as hard. 

#josh anderson #nhl fanfiction #nhl writing #nhl x reader #josh Anderson x reader #nhl imagines #sickfic #sick fanfic #lylawritesthings

[lgcrp]

◔ ┈ LOADING … TRAINEE PROFILE INITIATED !

HAN BROOKE ( READ MORE HERE )

AGE 19 ( 8 DECEMBER 2003 )

TRAINED FOR 3 YEARS 1 MONTH ( SIGNED JULY 2020 )

              INTRODUCTION VIDEO FOUND … PRESS PLAY ?

the video blurred before focusing on the male before the camera, han brooke. he was wearing a light fit for the occasion, cozy cotton shorts and a teeshirt. he waved with a cute smile, making show of stretching his arms and legs, focusing a bit on his shoulders and then thighs before immediately laying down on his stomach, arching his back forward against the ground, arms reaching out behind him to grab his ankles, contorting his body effortless into a forward bow or rather a reverse bridge. he stayed in that position for a few seconds before slowly rocking forward, using his muscles to get onto his feet, turning his body around elegantly, moving into a bridge position, back facing the ground now, hands reaching to touch the floor as he raised his right leg, bending it ever so slightly, a perfect copy of a bridge stagged with a bent leg. he let his right foot fall down to rest beside his other one that was planted firmly onto the ground, easily transitioning into a bridge formation, gliding his hands that were against the cool wood so his fingertips could meet his heel. to finish it all off, he lets his chin rest against the cool flooring, palms pressed right next to where his breastbone meets the ground, tensing his core before exhaling softly to raise his hips and then thighs and legs up to the air, body steady in the air, a classic chinstand done effortlessly. once done, he carefully settled himself into a sitting position, cheeks pink from exertion, but smile never once leaving his lips, "hi, my name is brooke han, but you can call me brooke. i'm nineteen years old and i'm from canada! i used to study at the national circus school in montreal which is why i could do all those contortion poses so easily! i love to dance and rap, and i hope one day to become an idol who can make his own choreography and write his own verses. thank you!"

            INTERESTED ? REACH OUT TO THE TRAINEE !

#lgc:accepted #park sunghoon #enhypen

[jimothystu]

Nick Suzuki x Cole Caufield - "Please don't cry."

Word count: 700 Warnings/Notes: Angst. This wasn't requested, but it's missing Suzufield hours, and it's Tuesday which means angst fics, so here ya go lmao. Please excuse any errors or whatnot. I'm still half asleep. Tag list: @staal-eric, @zackcollins, @lam-ila, @calermakar08

Cole stared over the balcony, tired eyes watching life in the city below. The early morning air was crisp, despite it being the middle of the summer. He had his knees drawn to his chest with his chin leaning against them.

“Babe?”

Cole turned to the voice of his partner, who looked at him with confusion.

“What are you doing up?” Nick asked, rubbing sleep from his eyes. “It’s not even six.”

Cole shrugged. “Couldn’t sleep.”

Nick frowned and stepped out onto the deck. Milo joined him, coming over to rub his head against Cole’s foot sticking off the edge of the chair.

Nick took a seat next to Cole and gave him a look. “What’s wrong?”

“Who says anything’s wrong?” Cole asked, but his soft voice, his glossy eyes, they clearly gave it away. Besides which, Nick just knew him. He could read him like a book, and Cole was too tired to try and pretend otherwise.

Nick placed his hand lightly onto Cole’s shoulder. “Talk to me.”

Cole shrugged and looked down to Milo, who sat near the railing and stared out at Montreal.

“You love me, right?” Cole asked hesitantly, his voice so soft Nick barely made out what he’d said.

He stared at him, wide eyes filled with concern. “Of course, I do. What’s this about?”

Cole took one of Nick’s hands in his and he began playing with his fingers. “I… would you still love me if I have to go back down to Laval again?”

Nick tilted his head to try and meet Cole’s eyes. “You know I’ll love you wherever you are and whatever you’re doing. What prompted this, babe? You haven’t brought up Laval in months.”

Nick knew it still stung at times for Cole. It had been a hard season for everyone, but having to leave the team—leave Nick—had been hard on Cole, even if it had resulted in his game improving.

Cole turned Nick’s hand over and began tracing the lines on his palm. “When I couldn’t get back to sleep, I went onto my phone. I read an article about…” He licked his lips and sniffed. “About how the team would have been better off if I’d stayed in Laval.”

“That’s insane,” Nick said instantly. “You had a terrific second half of the season. And off the ice you helped us all stay positive and optimistic. You’re a huge part of the team, Cole. We couldn’t have done half as well the second half without you.”

Cole shrugged sheepishly. Tears welled in his eyes and he swallowed. “What if they’re right, though? What if I shouldn’t even be here on the team?”

Nick’s heart broke upon hearing this. He shifted and took Cole’s face in his hands, forcing him to look at him. “Cole. You listen to me. You are an amazing hockey player who deserves to be in the NHL. You deserve to play for the best team and the best organization in the league. Which is right here in Montreal. With me. You work so damn hard, you’re so freaking good, and you’re an amazing teammate.”

Cole sniffed. His chin trembled and he looked away.

“Please don’t cry,” Nick murmured. He kissed Cole’s forehead softly. “What can I do to help?”

Cole blinked and a tear rolled down his cheek. “I don’t know.”

Nick sighed and kissed his forehead again. “No one on the team thinks we’d be better off without you. Especially not me.”

“But what if I’m sent back to Laval?” Cole asked, voice breaking.

“Then I’ll still love you, and I’ll still come home to you every night I can,” Nick promised. “Because we always find each other, remember? If you’re sent back, I’ll miss you, and I’ll be sad, and the rest of the guys will anxiously await your return. But we will still love you. And being sent to Laval does not change who you are. It does not change your worth or your value, okay? I really don’t think you’re going to be leaving Montreal any time soon, but if you do, know that I will love you and be here for you in any way I can.”

Cole managed a small smile. He sniffed. “Thank you.”

Nick nodded and kissed his lips softly. “What do you need me to do?”

“Just sit here with me?” Cole asked quietly. “Hold me?”

Nick wasted no time in shifting and wrapping his arms around Cole’s small frame. He held him close to his body, and Cole nuzzled against him. He pressed his face against Cole’s hair as he leaned his head against Nick’s chest.

“Whatever happens, we’ll figure it out,” Nick murmured.

#suzufield #nick suzuki x cole caufield #suzufield fanfiction #hockey rpf #hockey fanfiction #montreal canadiens fanfiction #montreal canadiens #nick suzuki #cole caufield #nhl

[asrabxt]

You don’t know I’m writing this about you, but I’d like you to know that late at night when I was 15  I couldn’t stop thinking about you like a moth to a flame. Writing on the bathroom walls kept me from ruining an empire we so perfectly built. Maybe I should have told you when we were alone in the hotel pool, all responsibility stripped away where we could just... exist.

Maybe I should have told you over trading cosmic brownies for nutter butters on a plastic table made to look like wood. Have I missed my time?

I sat with my phone in my hands on that cold hard airport seat, fingers shaking as I read your name above a white screen, ellipsis back and forth like an inside joke neither of us knew.

But what do you do when you’re in love with somebody who can’t love you back? When you’re about to head east, and your fingers tremble.

Maybe I shouldn’t have let it go. The shadows sink over my heart like that one guy from Spiderman, or was that someone else covered in black goo?

My first love,  the one I thought I could never turn away, to my best friend, I never should have let you go.

Dragon’s breath lingers in front of each child as they exhale. Bundled in re purposed knit fleece, 18 boys huddle together to stay warm. They flood into the locker room to strip themselves of padding, jerseys flying every which way. Voices could be heard from down the hall from rowdy boys who just won the last game of the season. Everyone grabbed their bags and filtered out slowly to meet Alyona at the front door. Bodies bounced with excitement at the idea of not only pizza, but a winning pizza, as if it tasted any different. 

Sasha was left over to gather his things with just one other person. His co-captain Noah. Noah had been his best friend for what felt like forever. They lived across town from each other, and because of that, Alyona was willing to drag someone else’s child around into the city so they could play sports together. He had only known him for two years, but it was enough time. They knew all each other’s secrets, their fears, their hopes and dreams. The only thing Noah didn’t know was that Sasha was hopelessly in love with him. 

It was their last night in Montreal, and even though he frequently spoke another language other than English in the house, hearing people speak French was something else. Noah knows French. They had been joking around, but whatever it was that his best friend said had him feeling some sort of way. Codependency hadn’t meant much of two 15 year olds of matching sex. No one asked if they were dating. No one teased them about it other than the team. It was all in good fun...right?

Noah was all smiles, going on about something while he slung his duffle bag over his shoulder. Sasha didn’t think, he just acted. Moving in like he was going for a goal, his palms cupped caramel colored skin and his lips were touching a matching set. There was a second worth of shock before he felt something he never felt before. He was kissing back. Bags dropped to the floor as he put his hands on Sasha’s waist, not sure what else to do with them. 

This was the first time that he had ever kissed a boy. Orion had known how he felt, but he never gave names on who he had a crush on. Noah had known no different than that she was his “girlfriend”. When he pulled back his cheeks had been more red than the tundra had given him during the game. He looked down for a moment before looking back at his partner in crime. Noah chuckled a little, giving him a small peck on the lips before walking out. 

“Come on, Rabbit. We’ve got pizza to devour.”

That was the first, and last time Sasha had ever mentioned his feelings. They never spoke about it afterwards, but it didn’t change anything. Three years later they would have a falling out. Sasha would think about texting him from the airport on the way to Toronto for college. He’d open the box that never got deleted from his messages but every time his thumbs hovered over the letters he’d freeze. He’d think back to the night they sat in the hot tub to sooth aching muscles and the way his fingers brushed over Noah’s when he moved to get out and wondered if he ever felt the same way. 

He didn’t know that the feeling would haunt him twelve years later, but he wouldn’t regret it. Not when the sweet taste of a cherry jolly rancher stained his tongue. Not when every time he ate the candy he tasted electric that made his entire body feel aflame. Not even when he saw the man on his TV or posed on the red carpet. @vancityroleplay​

#about #task #vctask #vcdifferentage

[starpsychicastrologer]

Pandith Mari Muthu ji is a best astrologer in Montreal, who helps people to rid of their life issues and provides them the best Vedic solution, because Vedic astrology helped thousands of people's living. Vedic astrology is one of the best ways to make life problem-free. He is provides service for such as black magic removal, bad luck removal palm reading, face reading, and so more. For a better understanding, you can visit the website.

#best astrologer in Montreal #best astrologer in Toronto

[coghive]

The Kingdom Choir Return With New Single & US Tour Dates

Offering love, hope and inspiration, The Kingdom Choir today make a timely return with their brand-new single “Not Giving Up”. Founded in 1994 by Karen Gibson MBE (the Godmother of Gospel), The Kingdom Choir have continued to win hearts since their unforgettable performance at the 2018 Royal Wedding in front of a global televised audience of 2 billion people. Listen to “Not Giving Up” HERE. Offering a ray of hope amongst the darkness, “Not Giving Up” is instantly affecting as Wayne Ellington’s rich, baritone exalts the power that comes with believing that better times are waiting ahead of us. While his voice alone would make for a captivating, emotional experience, the harmonies from the rest of The Kingdom Choir take it to a whole new level with their grace, majesty and sheer expressiveness able to move anyone.  “Not Giving Up” was written by Alex Hart, Greg Dwight, Karen Gibson, Wilson Atie, Jonathan Owusu-Yianomah and produced by Alex Hart and Jonathan Owusu-Yianomah. The Kingdom Choir commented, “In our changing world, this is the song that rises from our hearts. It speaks of freedom and a determination to press on, a reminder that hope takes us through the broken moments of life onto a brighter day.” “Not Giving Up” is also a reflection of The Kingdom Choir’s own journey. Karen Gibson had led the choir for over two decades before their breakthrough moment in the spotlight, during which time the group – spread across London and from various Christian traditions – became renowned for their shared talents, collective spirit, and instantly uplifting performances. The Kingdom Choir’s performances have remained in global demand ever since their performance at the Royal Wedding, with highlights including the Invictus Games, ITV’s Concert for Ukraine, Prince Albert II of Monaco’s 2021 gala, Expo 2020 and a headline show at the Hollywood Bowl. They have been sought out as collaborators by artists such as Gladys Knight, Gregory Porter, Emelie Sandé, and Madness, as well as for brand collaborations which have included Cartier, Ralph Lauren, Coca-Cola, Burberry, British Airways, and Marks & Spencer. The Kingdom Choir ended 2022 by performing as special guests at Trevor Nelson’s Soul Christmas extravaganza at the Royal Albert Hall alongside the likes of Corinne Bailey-Rae and Andrew Roachford. THE KINGDOM CHOIR NORTH AMERICAN TOUR: - February 19 Montreal, Canada. Place des Arts – Salle Wilfrid-Pelletier - February 21 Erie, PA Mary D’Angelo Performing Arts Center - February 22 Athens, OH Templeton-Blackburn Alumni Memorial Auditorium - February 24 Galveston, TX The Grand 1984 - February 25 Spring, TX The Centrum - February 26 Irving, TX Irving Arts Center - February 28 Cedar Falls, IA Gallagher Bluedorn Performing Arts Center - March 2 Eau Claire, WI RCU Theatre - March 3 Chicago, IL Harris Theater - March 4 Chicago, IL Harris Theater - March 5 Goshen, IN Sauder Concert Hall - March 7 Madisonville, KY Glema Mahr Center for the Arts - March 9 Kutztown, PA Schaeffer Auditorium - March 10 Fairfield, CT Kelley Theatre - March 11 Union, NJ Enlow Recital Hall - March 12 Red Bank, NJ Hackensack Meridian Health Theatre at the Count Basie Center for the Arts - March 14 Thomasville, GA Thomasville Center for the Arts - March 16 Birmingham, AL The Library Theatre - March 17 Birmingham, AL The Library Theatre - March 18 Meridian, MS The Riley Center - March 20 Gainesville, FL Phillips Center - March 21 Belle Glade, FL Dolly Hand Cultural Arts Center - March 24 Palm Desert, CA McCallum Theatre - March 25 San Diego, CA Balboa Theatre Read the full article

#TheKingdomChoir

[designdekko]

Ways to create the ultimate home studio for your reels and selfies

Being a creative artist on social media or finding the perfect spot for pictures and selfies can be a daunting task. Surely you need one that doesn’t take up too much space but how does one make the most of a limited area? Your very own home studio is a sacred sanctuary where your creativity and ideas come to life. This territory can either be your balcony, a corner of your living room, bedroom or any space with ample sunlight. Don’t fret over a big room or small room. The inspiring decor elements by Krsnaa Mehta will add the design oomph anywhere to help you ace your pictures and videos!

Also Read | Arabic Resin art decor launches by Artist Madhavi Adalja

Adding definition to your walls

A concrete wall with a table, a couple of cushions and throws in a minimalistic way will look good but aren’t everyone’s backgrounds then looking the same? A striking wallpaper is sure to up the game and adds a touch of opulence to your space. The City Fever Vibrancy Wallpaper is the perfect match to add the quirk required. A retro-inspired cityscape with the bustling life of Mumbai is perfectly captured in a contemporary manner with vibrant and attractive designs. The signature motif of Krsnaa Mehta – the rickshaw and the dome-shaped Mughal arches are seen playing a pivotal role in this wallcovering. 

Also Read | Kareena Kapoor Khan’s new home in Bandra with European styled decor & wooden detailing

Not only wallpapers but assembling wall art in a uniform sequence or diagonally will add a pop of colour to your backgrounds. The Merriments in Palms Canvas, the Countryside Tusker Framed Wall Art, the Midnight Aesthetic Yield Canvas, etc are some signature art pieces that blend across any design theme.  

Shelves and cabinets can be used smartly to display artful figurines, wooden masks and wall plates. These elements will add a style of their own and stand out in your selfies and reels. The Neon Pink Owl Figurine Set will liven up the mood of your art station. These cute decor accents for your home make any backdrop pop and add the much-needed artsy touch.

Also Read: Easy Guide To Choose A Color Palette For Your Space

A mirror can parlay functionality and style easily. Opt for the Floral Delight Wall Mirror to add an element of surprise yet elegance The beauty of mirrors is that they can make spaces look more prominent. This Floret Delight Wall Mirror comprises a varied combination of different shapes and sizes of florals making for an interesting watch. Ensure that this piece from your favourite home decor brand makes it to your walls.

Keep it organised

Whether using a big space or a small one, your shoot set needs to be organized and well-kept. The shelves and bags can contain your tripods and ring lights with other essentials but what causes the main hassle is the things which crop up last minute. Having fancy organizers will add up to the style quotient of your space and will double up as storage. The Arches of Enigma Storage Boxes are to the rescue. The visual elements on the boxes like birds and flowers make for an aesthetic design and a great option to store your jewellery and other essentials.

Also Read | Montreal, Canada : New outdoor furniture section on degaspe.ca

The Magenta Biome Mystique Storage Box will turn your studio into a tidy haven while making it look appealing. Add your stationery or quick makeup fixes in these whimsical storage containers to declutter and organise. 

Make it comfortable

This place is going to be  “Your” place. It needs to reflect your style and personality. You will not only be shooting but spending time here editing and brainstorming for your next big idea. Adding an assortment of tables and seating options can help you recreate different looks. A big warm bean bag just like the Pine Twist Bean Bag along with the Robin Bird Park Pouffe will truly add to the multifunctionality of your existing decor. A couple of Bloom Chamber Square Side tables to each side will add a sense of uniqueness and elevate your studio a notch higher.  With its rustic wooden finish and a deep red design, the flower motifs and geometric patterns exhibit elegance and grace. 

Add your signature touch

Every artist embraces a unique style for which they are renowned. Similarly, you can add a touch of your magic to the existing spaces to make them look avant-garde.  Florals to contemporary or traditional to modern, the design will tell a tale on your behalf. Personalize your DIY studio space with a fun rug, planter, curtains, a cosy chair or play with lighting. The bottom line is that however tiny or humble your studio space is, you can customize it in a way that both expresses your creativity and doubles up as a creative arena.

Also Read | Shiro Kuramata’s Samba-M shines again with Ambientec at the supersalone in Milan

In the end, your home is your safe space and haven. A sanctuary where you can be yourself. All you need to do is create that exceptional place that reflects you. 

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#home design #home decor #home improvement

[brothercarlosoliveira]

CHIRO PRAYER Supernatural Body Adjustment by Brother Carlos Oliveira Prayers from Carlos Oliveira on Vimeo.

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[pandithvasudev]

Know What Your Stars Tell Through Astrology In Montreal

Astrologer Vasudev Ji knows your stars and knows about the formation of your stars. This helps in answering the questions you have about your life. Conduct astrology in Montreal services offered by Pandith Vasudev to figure out the cause of your life problems. With his palm reading in Montreal service, you can also know about your destiny and your forthcoming life situations. This can also be helpful in knowing any upcoming trouble that might affect your life. Call Pandith Vasudev at [phone] or you can also visit 609 Rue Jarry E, Montréal, QC H2P 1V7, Canada.

#astrology in Montreal #astrologer in Montreal

[theartofwholeliving]

Take the trip.

On a return flight from a recent family vacation to Quebec, Rob asserted it was his “favorite trip we’ve ever taken.” And while I agree we had a lovely time, we’ve been to more exotic locations – without the responsibility of our kids – so I was notably puzzled by his statement. Does Montreal really rank higher than Paris, Havana, Rome, Lisbon, Madrid, Marakesh? Was it the food? The weather? The company?

Admittedly, Rob said he’d had better experiences in our travels together – swimming with sharks in the Bahamas, kayaking through bioluminescence (aka: glitter) in Puerto Rico, hiking Mombacho Volcano in Granada, or visiting the jaw-dropping La Sagrada Familia in Barcelona – but as far as vacations go this one was tops. Maybe cruising the Saint Lawrence actually does surpass sailing the Seine. But it made sense. Seeing the world through your kids’ eyes brings a whole new perspective to travel and it’s pretty amazing to witness.

That’s not to say that traveling internationally with two small children is an easy task. On this latest rendezvous we had our ups and downs (and ups and downs, again). There’s also a new level of preparation and care that goes into a “family” vacation. Packing for instance, takes on a whole new meaning. My secret weapon, save a kids’ packing checklist on your phone and share it with your partner to reduce the stress of forgetting something. Works for us.

With a little planning, and a lot of patience, traveling with kids is possible. And so, so worth it.

I returned from our trip abroad as one should, but doesn’t always manage, after some much needed time away. Refreshed, energized, optimistic. So, with all these good vacation vibes still fresh, I thought what better time to document and share some traveling-with-kids tips (!!) in hopes that someone who reads this will heed my advice, even if the very thought gives you sweaty palms and a racing heart. Ready?

Tip 1. Pack light

This one might feel counterintuitive. I just told you packing for a family vacation is next-level. But hear me out. We know that kids, especially the babies, require a lot of … gear. Car seat, stroller, Pack n’ Play, bouncy seat, highchair, not to mention formula, diapers, sound machine, baby monitor – is your blood pressure rising just reading this? The good news is lots of families have figured out how to travel with kids long before us and there’s a whole industry dedicated to renting you this essential gear so you don’t have to lug it across the airport, across the country or across an ocean, if you don’t want to.

I also find that consolidation is key. For instance, on a 2-week trip, we would check two large bags with all of our items combined, mom, dad, kids, not to exceed 50 lbs. (that last part always my greatest challenge). If possible, make sure wherever you stay has washer / dryer access so you can further lighten your load by planning to wash and re-wear your favorite outfits on the trip. You already know with kids you’ll need to do laundry so go ahead and plan for it.

Tip 2. Live there

Something Rob and I share in our traveling styles is a desire to immerse ourselves wherever we are. No matter the length of stay, we like to feel like we live there, like a local. We prefer Airbnb to a hotel. We like to cook some of our food and generally appreciate the comforts of “home.” This is only amplified with kids. We’ve added criteria and amenities to our “places to stay” wish list – kid’s toys, bathtub, some sort of outdoor space, located close to a park or fun activity, easily walkable, do they have any of that essential gear we talked about leaving at home? All these things can help make everyone more comfortable and frankly, make things easier for you.

When the newness wears off – and with kids that’s what, like 20-minutes? – they’ll be more familiar with their surroundings and even get used to going to sleep and waking up in the same environment each day. You’ll likely spend more time “at home” than you would on an adults-only vacation, too. Pro Tip: If your place doesn’t have a Smart TV, pack your iPad and portable speaker to re-binge watch one of your favorite shows with a glass (or a bottle) of wine after the kids go to bed. Newsroom is a favorite of ours and has been viewed numerous times, all over the world.

Tip 3. Enjoy the ride

The definition of travel is literally to go from one place to another, typically over a distance of some length. So, it makes sense that while traveling, you’ll spend a fair amount of time in cars, on planes, riding buses, trains, maybe even biking or boating. These activities are not always enjoyable and usually seen as a necessary evil to deliver you to your destination. But what if you change your point of view? What if you make the “travel” an intentional part of your experience, not just a vehicle (literally) to get you from point A to point B?

No one was more excited than 4-year-old Hannah by our various modes of transportation in Montreal. I’m convinced her favorite day – the day she shared with her teacher and all her friends when we got home – was the day we rode not only in a car, but also on a bus and on a boat. What a thrill! Seeing her light up in the subway station as the train approached, or watching her as she watched planes take off and land during our layover. It was like magic to her. Some of the simplest, and even some of the more mundane or frustrating parts about traveling can create lasting memories if you allow yourself to sit back and enjoy the ride.

Tip 4. Help wanted

For us, one of the biggest differences of traveling with and without kids are the number of “nights in.” When your kid-less and on vacation, you might dine later in the evening, find some live music, grab a drink. There’s really no curfew and if you’re lucky, no alarm clock the next morning causing you to regret any decisions from your late night shenanigans. On the flip side, when your kids go to bed at 7:00 p.m. (and wake up at or before 7:00 a.m. – cue alarm clock), that tends to lead to either (a) early-bird-esque dinners with the whole family or (b) cooking or ordering in after the little people are asleep. No music venues. No bar hopping. Lots and lots of re-binge watching Netflix (see Tip 2). But there is an option (c).

I knew with kids in tow it was going to be an energetic vacation. Not as much relaxation and quiet time as I’m used to on our adults-only trips. It was important to me to still spend quality, one-on-one time with Rob, ideally enjoying the local flavors or a resident hotspot, and also ideally, at night. So I set out to hire a babysitter. Yep, in another country.

I did my research. I interviewed several nannies I found on a reputable in-region website (think care.com in the US). I checked references and did background checks, I made sure they were CPR certified, and we brought our Wi-Fi monitor so I could periodically check in (just like I do when I hire a babysitter at home). We were so pleased with the woman we hired, we booked her for a few nights on the trip. She kept great communication, sent us pics while we were out, the kids got to know and enjoy her, and mom & dad got a few hours to ourselves. Highly recommend.

Tip 5. No expectations

This is my favorite tip of all.

We all know kids can be a lot. They’re a lot of work, a lot of energy, a lot of emotion and there’s usually no in-between. They’re extreme and they can leave you feeling the highest highs or the lowest lows. When it comes to planning and then actually going on a family vacation, there can be a lot of mixed emotions and anxiety – and now I’m talking about me, the mommy. I think sometimes we set ourselves up to fail, or if not fail, we set expectations low because “kids will be kids” and there’s no way this particular trip will be “perfect.” We tell ourselves something is going to be hard, and then it is. So we were right, but what if we let ourselves be wrong?

Imagine removing all expectations of your kids, the trip, the sites, the weather forecast, everything and just being in the moment? I truly believe other people feed off your / our energy and the little ones are no exception. If you don’t expect them to misbehave, maybe they won’t. If you don’t expect they’ll cry the entire duration of the flight, or they’ll be unruly in a restaurant because their afternoon nap was cut short, maybe they won’t. Remove expectations and your kids may surprise you. I know mine did!

Exhibit A: Turns out Hannah has a serious oyster obsession and love for vaulted windows where she happily perched and greet every passerby in Quebec City, "Bonjour!" on a rainy morning we were stuck indoors.

Exhibit B: Henry became visually excited to be put in the baby carrier, I think because he started to recognize it meant we were going somewhere. Even just walking the treelined streets in our neighborhood. It was all new to him and he would smile, wave, coo. Never fussy, just content.

So there you have it. Take the trip. It’s not a novel idea, but my advice does come with a twist: Take the trip. With the kids. And who knows, it might become your new “favorite trip you’ve ever taken.”

Photo credit: Francis in Quebec City for @flytographer

[matbarzyy]

To Love Is To Let Go [A.B.]

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How can the heart and mind find a balance when love and yearning are mixed up with distance and responsibilities?

A/N: I’m so excited for you guys to finally read this! Another conversation about Tito with @itrocksmysocks​ made us create this story and I ended up writing it, so I hope you’ll like it!

Word count: 12219

Warning: A tiny bit of smut

.

“If you don’t go get that man I swear!” Adeline’s friend, Maya, exclaimed as she gave her shoulder a push.

They were out to celebrate together in Montreal because a month had now passed since Adaline moved there for her internship assisting a book editor, and it had to be memorable.

“Okay okay! I’m doing it!” The brunette adjusted her skirt, fixed a strand of her hair, and took a deep breath. “I’m going,” she said more for herself than anyone else.

            The man across the bar had finally gotten up from the table he was at with his friends to order a drink, and that was the perfect opportunity for Adeline to go up to him. She might not get another chance during the night, so with an extra push from her friend, she found herself walking over to where he was.

“Hi,” she greeted him shyly, making him turn his attention to her. Her voice felt a little weak and looking straight into his blue eyes was more destabilizing than she thought it would be.

“Hi,” he replied as he waited, his tone suggesting she had to continue quickly if she didn’t want to lose his attention.

“I, uh,” Adeline struggled before getting a hold of herself again. She wasn’t a fifteen years old high school girl admitting her crush to a boy, she was a confident woman in a bar, and she was going to act like one. “I saw you sitting with your friends earlier and I figured now was a good time to come ask if I could get you a drink.” She let the sentence out without a hitch, and a little sense of pride filled her until his lack of reaction made her deflate. “Or not, it’s fine if not.”

“No, no,” he reassured her as a smile spread on his face. “I mean, yeah, you can get me a drink, if I can get your name,”

“Adeline,” she told him without hesitation.

“Adeline,” he repeated before nodding. “That’s pretty, I’m Anthony, but most of my friends call me Tito.”

            With the introductions over, Adeline leaned against the bar beside him and the bartender came over to them. One drink soon turned into two, the alcohol was going down fast to erase the nervousness, but their conversation was flowing surprisingly easily. Nevertheless, three drinks were all it took for Adeline and Maya to be reunited in the bathroom.

“So?” She grilled her for the details while Adeline pressed her palms over her cheeks, trying to get herself to cool down.

“I really like him,” she admitted to Maya and shushed out her excitement immediately after. “But he could still be a weirdo, he’s too nice to be true.”

“Honey, he’s not a weirdo, he’s a professional hockey player,” Maya chuckled as she revealed everything she knew. “Why do you think he’s so hot?”

“How do you know?” A frown settled on the brunette’s face as she pieced everything together.

“He’s a NHL player, how do you not know?” Her friend countered and reached up to remove a small piece of fluff from her hair.

“Oh my god,” Adeline breathed out. “Why didn’t you tell me before?”

“It was sweet you didn’t know,” Maya shrugged. “Now go back out there and make him swoon.”

            When they returned, Anthony was sitting at a small table by himself, and she didn’t hesitate to join. Maya was friends with one of the bartenders there, so it wasn’t like she minded being left alone.

“I figured it’d be more comfortable,” he explained as she took a seat. “Especially if we keep on going at that pace,”

“You figured right,” Adeline, put her elbow on the table and rested her chin on her hand. “My friend told me something interesting about you,”

“Should I start worrying?” He exhaled a nervous chuckle, but she shook her head almost imperceptibly.

“You play hockey?” She looked into his eyes to gauge his reaction. Maybe the alcohol was hindering her perceptiveness, but if she was right it looked like the question made him sad.

“Ah,” Tito’s nervousness settled but a sense of disappointment replaced it. “I kinda suspected you knew already,”

“I had no clue until five minutes ago, figured it was only fair to tell you,” Adeline told him the truth because she knew instantly that the kind of attention he got from being a professional athlete wasn’t necessarily the kind of attention he wanted. “Was it better when I didn’t know?”

“Yes and no,” he replied honestly. “Yes, because it meant you just liked me and not for shitty reasons. No because I wasn’t going to hide it anyway, and you didn’t know for the past hour, so I feel like we’re good,”

“Good,” she smiled. “Feel like having another drink?”

            Tito wasn’t one to turn the offer down, and the two spilled things to each other that they would have never considered sharing with a stranger before. It was freeing to talk without boundaries, to be able to say anything on any subject and listen to someone else’s perspective of the world. Adeline thought he was interesting for someone so different. He was down to earth and witty, constantly making her laugh with the dumbest jokes, and maybe it was because she was drunk, but deep down she knew the butterflies and giddiness she felt weren’t from the alcohol.

“You’re so damn adorable,” Tito blurted out in the middle of one of her sentences, and silence fell onto their conversation.

            Adeline stared at him while a smile spread on her face, but the cuteness of the moment was cut off by both of them bursting out laughing for no apparent reason. It was a fit of uncontrolled giggles at first, followed by an outburst of deep laughs that they thought would never stop.

“We’re so fucking drunk,” Adeline managed to squeak out through shakes of her chest.

“Yeah, you might wanna let go of this,” Tito reached to gently push her drink a few inches away from her hand, but his inhibitions were low and he underestimated his strength, sending the glass sliding all the way to the edge of the table.

            Their eyes widened in shock when it stopped just before falling to the floor, and with that another fit of unstoppable laughter began.

            It was something neither of them ever experienced that strongly, that connection with a stranger that made them feel like they had known each other their own lives. In the middle of their busy, messy lives, they had found a bubble of happiness and oxygen within each other.

            It took several minutes for them to calm down, and when a relatively normal conversation resumed, Maya walked over to them to ask if she should leave on her own or wait for Adeline. Time had flown by and it was past one in the morning already.

“Five minutes?” The brunette barely looked away from Tito, and Maya took the hint.

“Well, before you go,” He waited until she had walked away to continue. “Can I ask for your number or do you have to be the one taking all the first steps?”

“You can have my number.”

.

            Getting into the uber with Maya was a blur, all that Adeline knew was that she was feeling like a kid on Christmas eve after her night with Tito. She wasn’t drunk enough that she couldn’t make a sentence or walk, but definitely drunk enough to zone out and say everything on her mind no matter how stupid or embarrassing.

“Oh my god, he’s already texting?” Maya took the phone from her inebriated friend’s hands after it buzzed multiple times. “Damn,” she looked over the few messages they had started to exchange.

            Adaline didn’t respond, only giggling drunkenly before getting her phone back and focusing on the screen to type another reply. Everything was a little bit blurry, especially in the moving car, but once it stopped in front of her building she sobered up a little.

“Drink some water before bed, yeah?” Her friend told her as she opened the door.

“Yep! Text when you’re home!” Adeline gave her friend a loud kiss on the cheek before getting out and somehow walking to the door without stumbling.

T: Fries would be sooooo good right now

            The text came just as she kicked her shoes off while the door fell shut behind her. She groaned out loud at the idea, heading to her bedroom with her phone in hand.

A: Don’t talk to me about food I’m starving now

T: Make food?

A: I can barely hold my phone

            Adeline struggled to take her clothes off and sighed in relief once she was finally naked.

T: What if I come over with fries?

A: Omg you would?

T: Address?

“Well shit,” she laughed to herself as she grabbed a pair of grey sweatpants, pairing them with a comfy t-shirt because she was too drunk and tired to put in an effort with sexy pajamas. She was pretty sure sex wasn’t an option for tonight anyway, they were both too drunk, it wouldn’t get anywhere.

            Adeline sat on her living room floor to stay awake as she waited, her head lolling from side to side as she scrolled through social media, laughing and snorting out loud in ways she’d never do sober. It only took ten minutes for Tito to text he was there, and she jumped back up with renewed energy at the idea of food.

“My savior!” She exclaimed as she opened the door for him and saw the paper bag in his hands.

“Shh, your neighbors!” Tito laughed at her, letting himself in and giving her the bag before following her to the living room.

“Fuck Tito,” Adeline took in the smell of the fries as she opened one of the boxes and handed it to him. “I owe you big time,”

“They’re just fries,” he sat on the carpet with her. “But I’d take some ketchup,”

“Oh, yeah!” She crawled over to the fridge that was easily accessible since she had an open kitchen. The apartment wasn’t huge, but since the kitchen and living room were merged the living space was big enough.

“Mph,” Tito groaned as he stuffed fries in his mouth. “Best decision ever,”

“And does this look like a good decision?” She said to catch his attention, a bottle of tequila in hand.

“It looks like a terrible decision and I’m so down for it.”

            Adeline sat on the floor with him, food, condiment, and bottle of tequila all within reach. She took the first gulp, big enough that it was worth more than a shot, and Tito followed her lead.

            The rest of the night was erased from both of their memories.

            When she woke up, Adeline felt her body ache in ways it rarely had before. She was still on the floor and there was a bad taste in her mouth as she opened her eyes. The paper bag that Tito brought over was on the floor along with two empty boxes that once held the fries. Tito himself was on the floor too, and his position looked more than uncomfortable, but his mouth was slightly parted, and his chest was rising and falling at a steady rhythm.

“Hey,” Adeline rasped out, nudging him with her foot. “You alive?” She asked as he stirred awake.

            An unconvinced grunt reached her in response, and Tito brought his hands up to rub his face.

“Time?” He groaned, counting on her to have her eyes open.

“Eleven,” she pushed herself up and grabbed the counter while a wave of nausea washed over her. “Advil?”

“Fuck yes,”

            Tito managed to get up too and downed two glasses of water with the pills Adeline handed him. They were both silent as they sat on the couch and took some time to really wake up. The apartment was on a low floor, and for the first time since she moved in, Adeline was glad for the lack of light that came from outside.

“I’m gonna make pancakes.” She eventually said, deciding breakfast was the only way her stomach would settle.

“Oh, so you’re going to beat me to every nice gesture?” Tito teased although he was glad he was about to eat. She gave him a look and he only smiled, leaning back more comfortably on the couch. “Jokes aside, this was the best night I’ve had in forever.”

“Me too,” Adeline hummed, already pouring milk into the rest of her ingredients and stirring. She cooked breakfast so often she could make pancakes with her eyes closed. “It was a lot more fun than any stupid party I’ve gone to lately,”

            The conversation shifted to small talk after that, something to keep themselves busy as they got lost in thoughts. There was some unspoken communication going on, they obviously had chemistry, but they had only known each other for one night and they were already being so domestic it was scary for both of them.

It was clear they could build something together if they gave it a try, but Tito didn’t live in Montreal, and why the hell was Adeline even thinking so far ahead already? She tried her best to focus on cooking to get all of the ideas out of her head and stacked the pancakes in plates before bringing them over to the table.

“I want to eat these every morning for the rest of my life,” Tito almost moaned when he took the first bite of his food.

            Adeline always kept maple syrup around, and this morning she even had some chocolate spread and strawberries left from this week’s grocery shopping. It made for an amazing breakfast.

“Thanks, I cook a lot,” she explained as she dug into her own food. “The cleaning up is the not fun part.”

“I hate dishes,” Tito nodded his agreement.

“A nice guest would offer to do them after I just cooked,” she pointed out to see what’d he’d say, and he put on his best angel face.

“Mmh, but a nice host would politely refuse that kind of offer,” he tried to serve his half ass excuse with a smile.

“Do you want more pancakes, or do you want to get kicked out?” Adeline gave him a murderous look in response, and Tito forgot to chew as he swallowed his next bite.

“Pancakes, definitely the pancakes. Promise I’ll do the dishes.”

.

            When the Sunday ended, Tito went home and Adeline spent hours in a bath trying to set her mind straight. She liked him a lot, there was no denying that, but would they ever be able to make anything work? He was an amazing person and they had a great night together, but it didn’t mean he’d let himself fall for her too, especially since he lived in New York most of the time.

            A sigh fell from her lips in the steam-filled bathroom, and she let her body slide down for her head to be submerged. The world turned silent and dark for a few seconds, it helped her empty her mind of all thoughts. When she pushed herself up with her feet and oxygen filled her lungs again, Adeline felt a little better.

            Little did she know that Tito was dealing with the same dilemma in his own shower. He had tried to work out to sweat the hangover off, but seeing that the twenty minutes of running only worsened his headache, he didn’t take it further than that. It wasn’t really the hangover that was bothering him, it was the feelings he was catching for a woman he had known for less than twenty-four hours.

            Was that what love at first sight was supposed to be like? Sure, it wasn’t exactly at first sight, Tito had only felt a connection with her the second she opened her mouth, not the second he saw her, but what even was the difference at this point? How could he even think of the word love? It was a crush at first sight at best.

            No matter what they told themselves, Tito and Adeline couldn’t stop thinking about each other. Their constant texting the following days didn’t help either. The conversation was never boring enough to die, and when one of them fell asleep they picked up where they left off as soon as they were up in the morning. Sometimes, Adeline found herself giggling out loud because he reminded her of something he just remembered they laughed about when drinking tequila on her living room floor.

            It was Wednesday when Adeline found herself in her bed wishing she could talk to him like they did a few nights prior. There weren’t many boundaries with Tito, they were obviously flirting and open about it, so she didn’t hesitate to tell him she missed seeing him. His name flashed on her screen a second later with a cute picture of his drunk face she didn’t remember taking Saturday night. He was smiling like an idiot, obviously still half laughing, and his blue eyes were sparkling with joy. Adeline hadn’t seen it, but she knew he had one of her too.

“Hello,” she said a little shyly when she saw her face on the screen. She looked like a bit of a mess.

“Hi beautiful,” Tito grinned from his bed, his short hair somehow messed up from the pillow.

“Shut up,” Adeline covered her face with her hand, but he only laughed on the other hand of the line.

“You know, it’s not fair if you get to see me and I don’t,” he reminded her to make her drop her hand. “I missed seeing you too.”

“Mmh, so when are we having a repeat of Saturday night?” She asked him because he had vaguely mentioned making plans during the day.

“Never,” he rolled his eyes. “That headache was killing me. We could do something else, maybe dinner?”

“Are you asking me out on a date, Beauvillier?” Adeline teased, hiding the way her heart jumped in her chest.

“Yeah, how do you feel about it?” His smile was as big as hers when he replied, confident she’d say yes based on the look on her face.

“I feel like I’m free tomorrow night and I’d love to go out.”

“I’ll pick you up at seven?” Tito thought of a restaurant to bring her to immediately, and he made a mental note to call for a reservation in the morning.

“It’s a date.”

.

            Hugging Tito when he came to pick her up felt natural to Adeline. Butterflies erupted in her stomach the second he knocked, and her heart was ready to beat out of her chest when his arms closed around her.

“Hi you,” he kissed her cheek and she just about melted against him.

“Hi,” Adeline greeted him and let go before she made things awkward. “You look nice.” She complimented as she took notice of the navy shirt he was wearing. It matched the blouse she wore tucked in her tweed skirt. August wasn’t too cold in Montreal and she knew she’d be okay with tights.

“Thank you,” he smiled. “You look great too, I like your hair like that.” Tito had to stop himself from reaching up and touching it “Are you ready to go?”

            Adeline murmured a quick thanks and nodded while her cheeks burned. She wasn’t easily intimidated but something about the prospect of a date with Tito was making her nervous. What if they didn’t click now that they were sober and seeing each other in person?

“Hey, everything okay?” Tito asked once they were both sitting in his car and Adeline still hadn’t said a word.

“Yeah, sorry, I’m just…” She coughed a little to clear her throat and he finished the sentence for her.

“Nervous?”

“Kind of.”

“Me too,” he admitted and glanced at her for a second, keeping his main focus on the road. “That night was great, I just want everything to live up to those expectations now,”

“I feel the same,” Adeline told him, her nerves settling now that she knew he could relate. “But if we can get along when we’re drunk and stupid we can handle a first date, right?”

“Right, as long as you don’t make me sleep on your living room floor tonight, we’re good,” Tito joked, he could still feel the ache in his back.

“First of all, you passed out on said floor, I didn’t make you. Second, bold of you to assume you’re getting invited in again.” She laughed at him. Thoughts of how the night would end had filled her mind all day long despite all the work she had to get done, but none of the scenarios involved him sleeping at her place yet. It wasn’t that she didn’t want it, but it was far too early for something like that. She didn’t want to risk ruining whatever was between them by rushing in.

“What if I bring fries?” He pushed his luck, but it was all playful, and Adeline shook her head again.

“Nice try, but you’re feeding me before we get home this time,”

“Mmh, I’m sure I’ll figure something out.” He rested his hand on her knee, and she moved a little closer to him until the end of the drive.

            Tito didn’t get invited in that night, and he was okay with it. He would have been okay with anything after the way she kissed him in front of her door. Maybe it was stupid, but he’d never gotten a kiss like that after a date that didn’t end up leading to something more too fast. There was something more between him and Adeline, and this was easily the best kiss of his life.

“Is that too soon?” She had hesitated, her hand on his cheeks and lips less than an inch away from his.

“No,” Tito replied, anything else he might have wanted to say cut off by her kiss. His body melted against hers, his hand pulling her waist closer as they moved their lips slowly, exchanging a passionate yet sweet kiss.

            He replayed the moment in his mind the whole ride home, grinning stupidly and humming along to songs on the radio with renewed cheerfulness. For a while he thought they’d keep kissing in front of her door forever, but noise from a door slamming upstairs reminded them they were still in a corridor. With a few nervous chuckles and one last kiss, Tito had left, and now nothing could ruin his good mood.

            That date was followed by another the next week, and another a few days later, until they were so attached to each other they spent every free second they had together. Tito sometimes showed up to her place in the morning with coffee and a bagel from her favorite café so that he could drive her to work. When it was time for her lunch break he’d pick her up and they’d eat out somewhere.

            Since it was the off season he didn’t have many obligations, and while Adeline insisted he didn’t have to drive her everywhere, Tito just really wanted to. He usually spent the morning in the gym to stay in shape, and he used the afternoon to see some friends and his family. Every other moment was reserved for Adeline only.

            Her internship kept her busy outside of working hours too, but she always managed to make him fit in her schedule and doubled her efforts on some nights to be free during others. It was tough but Adeline’s motivation had never been higher, there was so much happiness in her life that no task seemed too big to accomplish.

            Before meeting him, she’d spend all her free time outside or writing poems, which Tito often said she should still do without him. He didn’t want to take away from her personal space and habits, but she simply shook her head and shut him up with a kiss every time. She had never been more inspired than she was when he was around, and her poems gained in quality and length even with less time spent working on them. They weren’t the work of her brain, but of her heart.

“You got me flowers?” Adeline beamed one evening when he picked her up and she spotted the bouquet in the car.

“I should have hidden it in the back,” Tito sighed at the ruined surprise. “But yeah, I haven’t done that for you before. Do you like them?”

“I love pink gerberas,” she leaned over to kiss his cheek. “Thank you.”

            The rest of the drive was quiet, and when they reached her apartment, Tito got to come inside with her for the first time since they were drunk together. Adeline placed the flowers in a vase at the center of her dinner table and smiled to herself. They matched her coasters; it was her favorite color when it came to flowers. It was only a lucky guess, but Tito really had a way to make her swoon with every little gesture.

“It’s not very big, but let me show you around properly this time,” Adeline had cleaned the previous day and made sure to make her bed in the morning so that she could show him.

            They spent the end of the day together, Adeline cooking for both of them and Tito doing dishes as she cooked to help out. It was nice and comfortable, but they were both more than happy when they could finally crash on the couch together.

“Wanna watch something?” She asked, cuddled against his chest. She could have stayed like that forever, just listening to his heartbeat, but she didn’t want him to get bored.

“Mmh, what are you thinking?” Tito rested a hand in the middle of her back, relaxing into her warmth and the soft comforting smell of her place.

“You pick,” Adeline turned the TV on, picked Netflix and handed him the remote so that he could scroll through what was available.

“TV show or movie?” He took note of the things she was currently watching as he scrolled down, and she shrugged against him.

“Movie?” She decided randomly. Her only thought was that she didn’t want him to leave after just one episode of a TV show.

            It was clear they were attracted to each other, but everything had been so perfect in their relationship so far that neither pushed for dates to end with more than a kiss. Adeline’s work was a lot to handle on some days, and she was exhausted on most nights, so Tito never felt like insisting he should come in, even just to spend the night cuddling. He knew he’d keep her up forever because they could rarely stop talking once they started.

            He picked a movie that looked half decent with her approval, oblivious to the fact that neither of them was planning on watching it anyway. Adeline only wanted to enjoy the feeling of being in his arms like that, and he couldn’t care less about anything in the world as long as he could feel her against him.

“You ever think of how crazy it is that we started getting along so well so fast?” She eventually whispered, wondering if he was one to talk during movies or if he liked watching them without interruption.

            The usual answer would have been without interruption, but Tito was much more interested in Adeline than in the movie that night.

“I do, yeah,” he rubbed motions with his thumb on her back. “And it just makes me glad I found you,”

“I feel good around you,” Adeline lifted her head so that she could look at him for a second, she was met with a soft smile, followed by an even softer kiss.

“Should we…” He panted as she kissed back with a little more purpose. “Should we maybe ditch the movie?” Her lips moved to his cheek and down his jaw, making him bite back a groan until she was leaving kisses on his neck and he couldn’t hold it back anymore.

“Yes,” she didn’t hesitate in her answer, lifting herself off him.

            Tito got up after her and pulled her back to him for a passionate kiss, both of them stumbling as she tried to step back towards her bedroom. They chuckled against each other before parting long enough to make it there, and the heaviness of the moment settled on them when they finally sat on the bed.

            Adeline got a condom out of her bedside drawer and placed it on the bed so that they wouldn’t have to worry about it later, and as soon as that was done Tito’s lips were back on hers. Feeling him close to her helped her relax, so she followed his guiding hands until she was straddling him and sitting back on his thighs.

            There was no rush to their movements, they made out slowly and let their hands wander to begin exploring each other, over their clothes at first, and then slipping underneath the fabrics. Their shirts were first to go, and the sight of their bodies like that was enough for them both to need a moment to just breathe. When their lips joined and they found themselves chest to chest again, the desire and heat of the kiss grew stronger.

            Tito’s hands were on her waist, caressing softly before trailing up her back and finding the clasp of her bra. He murmured a question between kisses, and the breathy yes he got in response encouraged him to undo the clasp and remove the material from her body.

            His touches were gentle, pulling quiet gasps out of her as soon as he left her lips to kiss over her neck, looking for the tender spots that made her hips roll so close to his. Adeline’s hands were on his chest, discovering every muscle and the way they clenched when he moved to gently push her back on the mattress. She resisted the urge to hide herself from him, and Tito was nothing but loving as he found the spots that made her breathing hitch with the tips of his fingers.

            Her jeans were next to go, her underwear following a second after while she tugged at Tito’s clothes to get him to remove them too. She used the opportunity to get him on his back and kissed her way down his chest, earning a quiet moan that turned her on so much she almost moaned back just from the noise.

“Baby,” Tito breathed out when her lips pressed over the bulge in his boxers. “Not tonight, please,” his chest was rising and falling faster.

“Okay,” she listened and lifted her head to kiss his stomach again instead, but he could still see the silent question in her eyes.

“You’re going to kill me if you do this right now.” He explained as he reversed the position, adjusting her until she was comfortably resting on a pillow.

“That’s why it’s so fun,” Adeline grinned, and he laughed before their lips met again.

            The kiss was a little messier because of how hard it was for them to stop smiling, but everything intensified when Tito’s fingers found a spot high up on her inner thigh that made her whimper into his mouth.

“That okay?” He whispered close to her ear, kissing the spot just underneath it as she gasped her affirmation.

            He didn’t waste another second before slowly sliding two of his fingers against her and rubbing gentle circles over her clit. Adeline clutched his back in response, moaning softly and moving her hips up for more contact. She was overwhelmed by everything about him, from the light scratch of his beard against her skin when he nibbled at her jaw, the warmth of his almost-naked body close to hers, to the incredible feeling of his fingers rubbing against her perfectly.

            Tito held back moans that threatened to come out just from feeling her dripping for him. He kissed her deeply as he slowly slid his fingers further down and inside of her, his thumb replacing them over her clit. The noises she made into his mouth made him roll his hips against the mattress for some relief, and his chest swelled with pride every time he felt her body react to his touch.

            There had been so much anticipation between them, such a long build up and so many kisses that lingered as they both ached for more, that it didn’t take long for Adeline to feel herself get close to the edge. She clutched Tito’s back harder, holding onto him for dear life as she tried to keep her legs still to let him keep going.

            Her moans and gasps sped up when he let go of her lips and opted for kissing her neck instead to let her breathe, and it all encouraged him to pick up his pace, curling his fingers into her sweet spot until he could feel her body trembling. Adeline’s jaw dropped as she came, her legs closing over Tito’s hand, but it didn’t stop him from moving his fingers slowly to ride her through it.

            He was slow to pull his hand away when her body finally relaxed again, peppering kisses over her face. She wanted to bask in the feeling forever, but the second Tito pulled away from her to shuffle his boxers off, a new kind of hunger overtook her. She didn’t give him time to come back on top of her, pushing herself up and straddling him again instead.

            Tito made quick work of the condom before her lips could latch back onto his and they found themselves chest to chest with no barrier between them. Adeline’s legs wrapped around his waist as he grabbed her ass to pull her to him. They stared into each other’s eyes, resting their foreheads together and sometimes letting their noses brush before Tito reached between their bodies and finally placed his tip at her entrance.

            He didn’t break eye contact for a second as he filled her slowly, tightening his grip around her until they were as close as they could get to each other. The kiss they shared let them swallow each other’s moans and groans as they began rocking together, barely pulling away from each other before making their bodies meet again.

            The temperature rose fast in the room, and a thin layer of sweat covered their skin as they clung to each other. Adeline had never felt this close to someone before, and she had to bury her face in his neck to escape the overwhelming intensity of her feelings when she looked into his eyes.

            Tito pulled her even closer at that, grinding against her and softly moaning every time she clenched around him. He was right on the edge, trying to hold back to get her to come one last time, but everything about her felt like heaven to him. His lips found her shoulder, leaving a few kisses there as he felt himself lose control, his thighs clenching hard while his teeth lightly dug into her skin.

            His pleasured groan got Adeline to fall apart right after him, her body tightening beautifully in his arms as the noises leaving her lips echoed his. They breathed heavily against each other, remaining still for a few minutes and just letting themselves enjoy the afterglow close together.

            Tito pulled away first, carefully letting her down on the bed and kissing her one last time before heading to her bathroom to dispose of the condom. She took a turn in there to clean up right after him, and as soon as she was back in bed, she cuddled close to his chest again.

“Was that okay?” He kissed the top of her head, and her chest shook with a chuckle.

“That wasn’t okay,” Adeline shuffled up so that they could be face to face. “It was amazing,”

“Yeah?” He beamed and she nodded, angling her head to ask for another kiss.

            Tito gave in easily, humming against her lips while she guided him onto his back and rested her forearms on his torso to look at him.

“I’m falling in love with you,” she breathed out without hesitation, looking straight into his eyes and watching them widen as soon as he processed the words.

“I’m falling in love with you too,” he managed to answer even with the breath knocked out of his lungs. “I’m falling so hard.”

.

            Their honeymoon phase lasted as long as Tito’s time in Montreal did.

She even met his parents one weekend, and a few of his friends through the weeks. It was all too perfect until his last week before having to get back to New York came along.

“What’s going to happen when you’re in New York?” Adeline addressed it as they walked in a park together on his last Monday in Montreal, her hand in his. It was late and a little cold, but the darkness was calm.

“I’m not sure,” Tito swallowed heavily, looking straight ahead because there was no good solution. “I just… I want whatever’s best for you,”

“You’re what’s best for me, I don’t want to lose you.” Her hand slipped from his as they stopped walking and turned to face each other.

            Adeline searched his eyes for an answer, but her fears kept growing with every passing moment. The feelings she had for Tito were unlike anything she ever experienced before, and she was terrified of seeing their relationship end. It was the last thing she could ever want, but he had to make the best decision for his career.

“Then I’m yours,” he reached out and grasped both of her hands in his, bringing them up to kiss her knuckles. “I know not everyone can handle long distance but… but we can’t know until we try, right?”

“Right,” she exhaled her relief and squeezed his hands tighter.

“And New York isn’t the other side of the world, we can see each other on weekends,” Tito continued, trying to work things out in his head and reassure her as well as he could.

“Weekends work,” Adeline nodded, biting back a wave of tears, but her eyes watered anyway.

“Baby, please don’t,” he cupped her face with both hands and ran his thumbs over her cheeks while she wrapped her arms around him. “I know work will make it hard for you to travel, but I’ll come up as often as I can, okay?”

“Yeah,” she hid her face into his chest and took a deep breath to calm down. Nothing soothed her better than being close to him.

“We’ll make it work. I promise.” He rocked her gently from side to side in his arms. “I love you too much to ever let you go.”

“I really- I didn’t think it was possible for me to fall in love like that.” Adeline kissed over his heart, making him tighten his arms around her.

“Me neither, and I know it won’t be easy every day, but it’s all going to be worth it, yeah?” Tito tilted her face up so that their noses brushed.

“Loving you makes it all worth it.” She whispered, closing her eyes and falling for him harder with every press of his lips against hers.

.

            The first month was easy.

They had just spent so much time together that it didn’t feel like the distance would ever be an issue, Tito came up to Montreal for three days, and despite all her work Adeline managed to visit one weekend too.

            Sweet attentions helped them push through too, Adeline sent him letters with handwritten poems in them, things he inspired and she thought were worth sharing. Tito sent her flowers and so many loving good morning texts that there was no way she’d ever wake up and start her day without feeling like the luckiest woman in the world.

            Their time together was a little hectic, a mix of dates to spend quality time together and just staying in bed without letting go of each other unless it was for a few hours of sleep in between. The rhythm was tiring, no matter how close New York and Montreal were, travelling was exhausting. It meant waking up early to go to the airport and have enough time to get through security, and it also meant getting home late at the end of the trip with an early morning start right after.

            Still, they were in love and they made it work.

When Christmas came around they felt like they were pros at handling their relationship. Adeline took days off to come spend time in New York so that she could see more of Tito’s world and finally meet Mat, and he came back to Canada for Christmas with his family.

            They didn’t spend the holidays together per say, but they saw each other so often that it felt like they did anyway. Every important moment was spent together, Adeline came over to his house on Christmas morning to open gifts and have lunch with his parents, and Tito spent New Year’s Eve at a party her friends organized. They got to exchange a sickeningly sweet kiss just as the year started and whispered their promise to love each other forever.

            When hockey became a priority again and Tito had to leave, everything felt bittersweet. The moments they had together felt like they were stolen, something they had to work for because nothing fit in their lives unless they forced it to. There was never a weekend when they could both be free unless Adeline managed to figure out a way to get a break from work, and even when she had things to do, Tito still flew up to see her during the moments she had to spare over two days. His games were getting more important, and the team was already dealing with injuries, so he was having a hard time handling everything without letting anyone down.

            Their relationship was strong, but when March rolled around neither of them was truly happy.

“You’re exhausted,” Adeline pointed out something she had been noticing more and more every time he visited. Now, the dark circles under his eyes were visible even through the shitty quality of their call.

“I’m alright,” Tito lied again to stop her from worrying and gave her a weak smile. “You think you’ll be free next weekend?”

“There’s no way you’re travelling again next weekend,” she shook her head, refusing to ask him to put so much effort in again when he clearly needed the rest.

“Well can you come down?” He broke it down to what he thought was simple. If she could move, she’d come visit him. If she couldn’t, he’d come visit her.

“No, I’m stuck this month, I told you,” Adeline sighed and rubbed a hand over her face. Her internship was getting closer to its end and the prospect of a job was real, so she was being drowned in extra work so that she could prove she deserved to stay. As much as she wanted to see Tito to be able to relax in his arms, she knew his training was even more intense than what she had to do.

“Then I’m coming to you,” he insisted again, so Adeline sharpened her tone.

“The hell you are.” She gave him the glare he had received many times before. It was the one that told him ‘I love you but you’re being an idiot,’ and if things were normal, Tito would have laughed and agreed with whatever she wanted.

“So you don’t want to see me now?” He got offended instead, unable to understand why she wouldn’t want him to come. He was doing everything he could to make things work, no matter what.

“Not in that state!” She shot back, feeling tears brimming in her eyes. She was calmer as she spoke her next words. “Tito please, just get some rest… I miss you like hell all the time, but this… it’s not worth it. I’d rather see you a little less and in better shape, okay? We can facetime every night this week or something to make up for it if you want,”

“It’s not the same as holding you,” Tito’s emotions settled too, as defeated as he felt, she was right.

“I know champ, but you’ve got to take care of yourself. Get some rest, okay?”

She made him promise he’d slow down, but Tito didn’t last long. He figured that if he trained extra hard by going to the gym earlier and spent more time on the ice then he’d deserve to spend his days off with her.

Everything was going in the opposite direction of what she asked, but he couldn’t let himself rest if it meant he wouldn’t see her.

“Wake the fuck up!” Anders slammed into him on the ice and sent him stumbling a few feet away. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Nothing,” Tito gritted his teeth, anger clear in his features.

            The captain muttered something under his breath as he skated away, hoping this would be enough to get him to concentrate until the end of the practice at least. It was the third time in a row he missed a pass to Mat, something that almost never happened. The two best friends had chemistry even on the ice, they worked well together, but Anthony was fucking everything up lately and the team wouldn’t take it for much longer.

“Alright,” Anders stood in front of him in the locker room once everyone else was gone and crossed his arms over his chest. “What’s going on?”

“It’s nothing,”

“Beau,” His captain gave him a look. “You’re a good player, but you haven’t played right in two weeks at practice. Thank fuck you’re still alright when we have games, but how long is that gonna last, uh?”

“I’m not going to let the team down.” Anthony promised, and the other man sighed.

“I know you don’t want to, so get your shit together. It’d be a waste to have you sitting on a bench during every game, especially because of some girl,” Anders made his point and watched him get offended, his voice rising as he spoke again.

“Adeline is-”

“I don’t care what Adeline is.” Anders snapped to cut him off. “Adeline is not here, and she’s not worth ruining a career over. If you don’t start showing some proper skills you won’t be playing next time there’s an important game. I need to know I can count on you to be part of the team.”

“You can count on me.” Tito’s jaw was clenched, he was angry, but now was not a good time to lash out. He knew the threat was real, and Anders was probably doing him a favor having this talk with him now rather than letting him get ripped apart by coaches.

“Then start by getting some sleep. You look like shit.” His captain concluded, dropping his arms by his side and walking out of the room, leaving Anthony alone with his thoughts.

.

            Tito tried his best to fix himself over the next week. He got a smile from Anders when things finally went right at practice, and everyone on the team felt relief when they realized they were getting their player back. Everyone thought things were fine except Mat.

            He could see past the fake smiles; he could see the hurt in his friend’s eyes when he came to hang out with the team on Saturday nights instead of flying to Montreal to be with the woman he so desperately loved. It wasn’t healthy.

            Even when Mat tried to start a conversation he got shut out, Tito wasn’t sharing much with anyone anymore. He was the shell of the player and friend he used to be, so lost in his love for Adeline that he didn’t even realize he was forgetting parts of himself.

“Adeline?” Mat eventually ended up on the phone with her, half of his brain screaming this was the stupidest thing to do and the other half saying it was the only solution. He didn’t want to get in his best friend’s business, but he at least needed to know what was going on on her end.

“Yeah, what’s up Mat?” She took a break from the chapter of the novel she was editing and pushed her chair away from her desk.

“I’m just- I’m sorry I’m calling, I know it’s fucked, but Tito isn’t talking to me and I’m wondering if you’ve heard a lot from him the past few days?”

“Yeah, he’s always texting or calling. Did you guys have a fight or something?” Adeline frowned. Not talking to Mat wasn’t normal, ever since she met Tito she’d been hearing all about his best friend and how well they got along. She also would have expected Tito to mention it to her if something happened.

“No, I mean, yeah. Sort of. He’s been playing like shit at practice, so Anders tried to knock some sense into him, and not very kindly,” Mat explained with a sigh, which only made her worry more.

“Oh. What does that have to do with you?” She asked so that she could finally connect the dots, and the response she got was not what she had expected.

“Well Anders said something about how he shouldn’t let some girl fuck up a whole career, and, uh, it was a shitty thing to say, so I tried to put it more nicely, and he didn’t like it.”

“Right,” she looked down at her lap and fiddled with the hem of her skirt. Was that how the team felt about her? Like she was some girl messing with one of their best players? And if so, wasn’t it her responsibility to make sure she didn’t interfere with his career?

“You’re not fucking up anything, it’s not what I meant,” he quickly caught himself. “But Tito’s just… he’s not himself lately. He’s pretending he’s okay but the travelling back and forth is seriously getting to him, he’s not sleeping, he’s just a mess. It’s bad for the team, and he’s my best friend, I’m worried about him,” Mat was quiet as he spoke the end of his sentence, and she was glad he couldn’t see her.

“I just… I’m not sure what I can do about that Mat,” Adeline felt the tears brimming in her eyes, because she knew.

There was only one way to fix this, and she had been avoiding it for weeks already. The day Tito left Montreal they promised each other they’d do anything to make things work, that they’d never stop trying, but was this promise more important than his health?

“Can you try to talk to him, please? Just make him rest for one weekend,” Mat brought her back to earth as he asked, as if that was all Anthony needed. It would be a start, but it was far from enough. He was already staying in New York most of the time, and it was barely helping.

“I keep telling him to stay home,” she reminded him while pressing her palms over her eyes.

“So he’s not listening to you either?” Mat’s heart deflated at that. He knew his best friend was stubborn, but he didn’t think he’d turn away every attempt you all made to get him to take care of himself.

“No… I’d come if I could, but work doesn’t really allow it right now. I’ll try to get him to stay in New York for the next two weeks, hopefully I’ll get somewhere by talking to him,” Adeline promised herself to make more efforts, to give it one more try in case that was all they needed to make things work again.

“Okay,” he fiddled with the hem of his t-shirt, hoping that by the end of those two weeks things would look a bit better.

“Are you thinking of anything else?” She prompted him after he turned quiet, and Mat sighed.

“No, you’re… you were really good for him at the start, you know?” He delved into the part he probably shouldn’t be saying out loud, but he needed her to understand how bad things were. “It made him so happy, and I know you guys are still happy together, but with the way things are right now, he’s messing himself up. Badly. It’s not your fault, I just hope you guys can find a balance that works for you both again.”

“I’ll figure it out, have a nice day Mat,” Adeline put an end to the conversation, and he rubbed his hand over his face as he sighed.

“Yeah, you too.”

.

            When Tito called her less than twenty minutes later, he couldn’t understand why she didn’t want to talk. Adeline declined his call after the second ring and told him she’d call later even though they had planned on talking to each other at that time. Her lack of texts and explanations made him overthink everything, so when Mat and a few other guys showed up to his place an hour later, he wasn’t in the mood to hang out anymore.

“I’m sure she’s fine,” Mat told him when he expressed his concern. “Just have a beer and chill out,”

“You can’t be sure she’s fine,” Tito argued as he grabbed the beer and took three long gulps.

“I talked to her for a bit today, so she’s fine. She’ll probably call you tomorrow, yeah?” Mat let the information slip because he figured it wouldn’t be that big of a deal. Adeline was bound to tell him at some point anyway.

“You talked to her?” Tito frowned, the information not sitting well with him. Mat barely knew Adeline; they hadn’t gotten many chances to hang out because Tito always hogged her attention whenever she was around.

“Uh, yeah,” Mat was suddenly more than uncomfortable. He didn’t want to lie to his friend, but with the way he was reacting he felt like he would have been much better off keeping his mouth shut.

“And now she’s not picking up my calls.” Anthony grew suspicious, and the look on Mat’s face didn’t reassure him in the least. “What the fuck did you say to her?”

“I just told her I’m worried about you, you’re not yourself lately.” He admitted, feeling like being honest was the best option.

Tito didn’t lose his cool easily, but somehow this made him angry.

“Can’t you all stop with that? I’m fine.” He replied harshly, and Mat kept his mouth shut.

He thought for a second looking at the wall ahead of him and nodding. Mat was done fighting, he had offered his help, he was there to listen, but he wasn’t going to sit and let Anthony get mad at him when he was only trying to show he cared.

“Yeah, right.” Mat got up and headed out of the room, abandoning him to his thoughts.

            Tito sighed and checked his phone to distract himself, knowing he had to get out there and apologize in a minute or two. A text from Adeline caught his attention, and his mood lifted instantly.

I’ll be in New York tomorrow

            He almost screamed right there, but he bit his lip and contained his smile instead as he typed back.

For real?? What time am I picking you up?

            He had been feeling so off, he couldn’t wait to hold her. It had been too long since he got to see her and it was hard for him to hide his excitement.

I’ll just meet you at your place

            The response Tito received made his heart deflate. Something was wrong. He always picked her up from the airport, he’d done it every single time, so why shouldn’t he do it tomorrow? Between his conversation with Mat and that, the uneasiness he had felt since the declined call only increased.

“You okay?” Brassard asked as he walked out of the kitchen.

“Sorry, I’m just not in the mood tonight,” he walked past everyone and went straight for his bedroom, closing the door and locking it so no one could come bother him.

            It wasn’t fair to shut his friends out like that, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. Nothing mattered anymore, he was in a constant state of numbness when he was in New York. Playing hockey helped, the games put him in the right mindset, but as soon as he stepped off the ice his world fell apart all over again.

            Adeline was the only thing keeping him together, but she was also the reason he was being torn apart. She had watched it happen too, she saw the way it started, his sudden disinterest for anything that wasn’t hockey or her, the sadness she caused and tried to fix so hard. She thought that with more time together their time apart would be easier, but nothing she did helped Tito work it out. Their relationship had been rushed, they fell in love and their feelings for each other became an obsession, one Anthony couldn’t manage anymore.

            He was only happy when she was with him, but even then parts of himself were missing.

            Mat and the other guys left soon after he disappeared, giving up for the night and deciding they’d try to spend time with him another day. Anthony was too stubborn, there was no point in them staying. He didn’t care about what was going on that night, he couldn’t think of anything except Adeline.

            Just one night of sleep, one day of work and she’d be in his arms.

            Tito was in his head and time flew by, so when he made it home the next night he was constantly checking his phone to know where she was. She texted when she landed, so he was waiting close to the door when he knew she was about to arrive.

            The front door was open before she was even out of the elevator.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” Tito let her walk in and pulled her into a hug to take in the sweet scent of her perfume. His eyes fell shut as he finally felt his body relax. Adeline was the remedy to everything in his life, nothing felt better than having her close.

“Tito,” she pulled away a little as she spoke, trying to put some distance between them.

“Mmh?” He kept his hands on her waist, tugging her against him because he wasn’t ready to part from the hug just yet.

“Anthony, stop,” she pushed on his shoulders and took a step back. “I’m here because I need to talk to you.”

“What’s going on?” Tito frowned at the use of his full name. Deep down, he had known for days that something was coming, but now that he had to face it he didn’t feel prepared enough at all.

            A heaviness settled over the room, the usual playful and happy atmosphere of their reunions nowhere to be found.

“I don’t think we should be doing this anymore.” Adeline said, her hands linked together in front of her.

            The words hung in the air for several seconds. There was an apologetic look in her eyes as she waited for Tito to react, his expression going from shock, to panic, and to confusion all within a few seconds. He had expected her to want to talk, to ask for a break from things at worst.

This was something he had never considered.

“What?” He whispered, unable to form a word any louder than that.

“I know you don’t want to hear it, but you’re not happy like this,” she felt her heart break as he stammered to start a sentence. He looked exhausted, there were dark circles under his eyes, and now his features were twisted in pain.

“Adeline, don’t. You- you don’t know what you’re saying, I’m fine, and-” Tito struggled to say anything coherent, he spoke too fast, but he was scared that if he didn’t say anything she’d vanish.

“You’re not fine. You’re not in the right headspace to train because you’re always thinking of how to get away from New York, you’re not focusing on what should matter to you the most and you’re making yourself sick because you’re not sleeping,” Adeline shook her head, looking down to avoid crying. She couldn’t take the look in his eyes, they used to be so full of joy, but now the blue was dulled by tears that blurred his vision.

“I am sleeping,” he croaked weakly and reached for her.

“That’s not the point!” She stepped back to dodge his touch. She wasn’t strong enough to fight him on this for long, he held too much power over her, she’d cave in no time if she let him touch her. “This was never the point. You were right, not everyone can do long distance and we couldn’t know unless we tried. Now we know, it’s not working out.” She swallowed back her sob and took a shaky breath in to calm down.

“Adeline, please,” Tito shook his head, teardrops rolling down his cheeks already. “No, please,” he didn’t know what else to do but beg.

“I’m sorry,” she looked up. As hard as it was, he deserved at least that, but the broken look in his eyes made her fall apart.

“No! You’re the love of my life, I can’t just let you go,” he refused to go down without a fight, not when she was the only woman he had ever loved. He saw his entire life with her, they could have everything together, and he couldn’t let it go so easily.

“You have to. I’m asking you to.” Adeline wiped her thumbs underneath her eyes to catch her tears. She knew he’d respect her decision, no matter how much he hated it, because he always respected boundaries. She just had to tell him she didn’t want him anymore, and that was the hardest part, having to lie to protect him. “This isn’t healthy for you, and frankly, it’s not healthy for me either. I’m always on my phone, I can barely focus on work because I’m wondering when you’ll be free to call, I’m going to sleep so fucking late every time we call and I just… I just can’t keep doing this any longer knowing it’s hurting you.” She explained, and he used that time to settle his breathing.

“We can work through a rough patch,” his voice was a little raspy, but he pushed through. “I’ll… I’ll stay in New York for longer periods, and we can schedule calls so that it’s not as messy,” Tito brought up every solution he could think of, but she already knew they were pointless.

“You’re making this so hard,” Adeline sniffled quietly, glancing down at her feet again. “I’m sorry, but I’m not changing my mind.”

“So that’s just… it?” He felt like he’d just received a punch to the stomach. Adeline looked up as he took a step back, shaking his head a little and looking completely lost.

“I guess,” she whispered, her lower lip trembling.

“I’m in love with you, isn’t that worth trying a little bit harder?” Tito couldn’t believe the feelings settling inside his chest. He was slowly processing every word she had said, and there were so many things wrong with this conversation. What happened to their promise?

“You think I haven’t tried hard enough? You think I haven’t tried my fucking hardest?” Adeline let the tears flow down her cheeks, and her chest shook with a sob, but she fought to keep her voice steady.

“Well you’re the one giving up now!” He clenched his jaw, sniffling loudly and tugging at his hair in despair. The hurt had kicked in, and he was angry now.

“Because you’re not okay! And I had to find out from your best friend because you keep lying to me and you’re not taking care of yourself!” She raised her voice to his level, and he scoffed, pacing around his living room.

“Mat doesn’t fucking know what I’m doing, if I’m saying I can handle it, then I can handle it!” Tito was sick of everyone around him telling him how to feel and what to do. Focus, train harder, take a break, sleep, travel, don’t travel, call me, don’t call me, spend time with friends, call your family. It was all too much, and he just couldn’t take it anymore.

“Mat just asked me to check up on you, and he was right, you’re not fine, and I’m the reason you keep getting worse. I just can’t do this anymore,” Adeline’s voice softened to hide the way it cracked halfway through, but he caught it anyway.

“Fucking great.” He bit his cheek to stop himself from breaking down. Watching her like this, the woman he loved more than anything in the world, was destroying him. She felt the pain too, and he was causing it.

“You’re angry, and I get it,” Adeline took a deep breath in and dropped her hands by her sides, wondering when he’d snap. She was the one giving up, so she was ready to take it. “I’m so sorry, this isn’t how I pictured things going between us... I’ll just go… I’m really sorry.” She turned around, ready to walk out so that she could break down somewhere he wouldn’t see her.

            It was better if he was mad at her, his anger was much easier to handle than the look he first gave her.

“Adeline wait,” Tito crossed the room in two long strides and wrapped his hand around her arm before she could reach the door.

“What are you-” Adeline turned around to face him and he released her arm to hold her waist instead.

“Just one more.” He murmured with his lips so close to hers she could already feel how soft they were through a brush. “Please, just one last night,”

            He kissed her to stop her from replying, to stop her from thinking rationally, and to fucking beg her to give him this last thing. Adeline wasn’t strong enough to pull away. Instead, she melted into his touch and responded to the kiss with a passion fueled by her heart falling into pieces.

            Just one last time, she told herself as she kept on kissing him, blindly letting him walk back to his bedroom.

            They could taste the saltiness of their tears as they moved their lips together, tangled in each other with her straddling him and her legs around his waist, just like they had been the first night they were together like that. They didn’t exchange any words, kissing and hiding their faces whenever they had to so that they wouldn’t see the other breaking inside.

It was all too much and not enough, so when Tito kept her tight against his chest to lay in bed, Adeline didn’t fight him. She closed her eyes and bit back tears, pretending she wasn’t about to leave so that he would let himself fall asleep.

Tito was safe with her so close, his grip was tight, he wasn’t ever letting her go. It was what he told himself as he drifted off to sleep, telling himself they’d talk in the morning, that he’d find a way to convince her they could still fix things.

.

            Adeline felt like her heart was being torn apart when she crawled out of his arms in the early hours of the morning. She hadn’t slept for a second, but she couldn’t bring herself to get up. For a moment, she even thought she should stay. What if Tito was right? What if he could stay in New York for more time? They could schedule the calls like he said to make things easier.

The idea disappeared from her mind with every moment she spent looking at him, fast asleep in his bed when he used to always wake up whenever she moved. There were dark circles under his eyes, he was exhausted, and she was only making it worse. Leaving was the only way.

Adeline grabbed as much of her things as she could carry and got dressed in the living room as quietly as possible, but with how hard she was crying she was surprised none of her sobs had woken Tito up yet. A few of her things were still in his room, but it was nothing she desperately needed back, and if she woke him up she’d never be able to leave. Still, she couldn’t stop herself from going into his bedroom to look at him one more time.

He was so beautiful when he slept, so peaceful and relaxed. Adeline wished she could see him smile one more time, just to be able to admire the spark in his eyes whenever he did. She knew that if he woke up they’d only be filled with sadness and fear, all because of her, so she took a deep breath and scribbled one last thing on a post it note, placing it on her pillow before leaving his apartment silently.

.

            An hour later the sun was up, and Tito was shaking as he woke up. He sat up immediately to grab the cold bed sheets on her side of the bed. It all felt like a nightmare. The bedroom was silent apart from his heavy breathing, and he turned his light on before looking around for any sign she was still here.

            After they held each other so tightly during the night, the way they loved each other, how could she have left? Tears stung in his eyes as he took notice of everything in his room. Her clothes were gone from the floor, her notebook wasn’t on the nightstand, and he could see his closet cracked open with two empty shelves. Her shelves.

            Tito’s heart tightened in his chest as the reality of the situation hit him. His body was tense but he couldn’t move. His whole world was falling apart, he was completely lost, scrambling for something, anything he could hold onto.

He found it in a single blue post-it note on his pillow, her pretty cursive handwriting recognizable easily.

I’m sorry,

A

.

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