#and hopefully he did appreciate the break from the limelight

[jjongslight]

I know we are happy we survived the Tae drought, but I think we should mostly be celebrating the fact that he survived through this despite the shock it gave to his system. It's so admirable and I hope he eventually is proud of himself for getting through it.

[goldenraeofsun]

A/b/o + celebrities and/or coffee shop 👀

Thanks so much for the prompt, Julesy, and I'm so sorry for the long wait! Part II should be up in the next few days, but hopefully this beginning 7k will satisfy for the time being 😘

Castiel is elbow-deep in suds when Jo plunks a medium to-go cup on the edge of the sink. “Thank you?” he says, bemused.

“It’s not for you, doofus,” Jo says, rolling her eyes. “There’s a customer out back,” she jerks her head towards the service exit that leads to the alley where they dump their trash and Ruby takes her furtive smoke breaks. “I need you to take this to him.”

“Out back?” Castiel repeats dubiously, craning his neck to catch sight of their on-site baker, Benny, who is busy kneading focaccia dough for tomorrow’s sandwiches. Benny, full of southern politeness, doesn’t give any indication he’s eavesdropping.

Jo gives Castiel a short nod, her alpha scent flaring with irritation. “I’d take it out there myself, but he always talks my ear off, and Kevin still can’t draw a latte art that doesn’t look like a dick, so…”

Castiel frowns but nods, and Jo’s expression eases once she doesn't hear a challenge to her request. Still, he has to ask, “But why doesn’t he order at the counter like a normal customer?”

Jo takes a step back towards the door. “You’ll see. Just… don’t make a big deal of it.”

“A big deal of what?” Castiel calls to her, but she’s already disappeared out to the front of the cafe.

Castiel sighs and wipes his hands on a dish towel. He picks up the drink, sniffing curiously.

He nearly gags at the strong aroma of brown sugar, cinnamon, nutmeg, and apples all on top of espresso and milk. They definitely don’t serve that on the menu. Admittedly, Castiel hasn’t memorized the list of hot drinks they serve at Hunter’s Cafe, but this is an assault on anyone with a nose. He’s been their busboy and dishwasher for six months since his second year as a graduate student began, and Jo has only let him mind the counter three times, all as far from peak time as she could get.

But a job is a job. Holding the drink, he shoulders open the back door.

“Hey - oh, you’re not Jo,” a familiar voice says.

Castiel stops dead in his tracks because, despite the sunglasses, the baseball hat, and hunched shoulders, Dean Winchester is unmistakable.

Away from the limelight, Dean apparently favors soft-looking flannels over worn tee shirts and jeans. In one hand, he holds a half depleted sheaf of french fries. Stunned, Castiel doesn't immediately hand over the reason for his appearance.

“Whatever, is that mine?” Dean demands, zeroing in on Castiel’s cup.

Still beyond speech, Castiel dumbly hands the affront to coffee over.

After a muttered thanks, Dean takes a long drink. “Christ, this tastes even better than normal.”

Castiel inhales a surreptitious breath. It’s not every day one gets to catch the scent of Hollywood’s omega darling.

Not that anyone would know Dean's secondary gender just by looking at him. Dean stands a few inches taller than the average male omega - he has nearly an inch of height on Castiel, and Castiel is the dictionary definition of standard alpha physique.

While Castiel might not be Dean’s most knowledgeable fan, he hasn’t been living under a rock for the past five years. It was all over the papers when Dean was cast in his first alpha role. Dean wasn’t the first omega actor to do so, but he was certainly the most prominent. Castiel’s sister, Anna, an actual fan, spent a memorable dinner ranting about how all the prejudiced reporters on the press tour. Apparently they only asked Dean about the diet and exercise routine that transform into a “real” alpha, while, in the next round, his alpha castmates fielded questions about their characters’ moral code and complex development.

But, in the alley behind Hunter’s Café, Castiel’s nose is completely overwhelmed by the fryers of the fast food restaurant next door, the set of dumpsters directly to his right, and the almost offensively apple coffee Dean is currently drinking like his life depends on it. Dean could smell like old gym socks for all Castiel can tell.

“Where’s Jo?” Dean asks once he resurfaces. He jams a few fries in his mouth. Before he's finished chewing, he sucks down some more latte in an unholy taste combination.

“Busy,” Castiel replies. “We have a new hire, and so far Kevin can only draw genitalia on lattes instead of flowers.”

Dean guffaws, nearly inhaling his drink. Swearing unrepentantly, he takes his sunglasses off and rubs at his temple with his free hand. “Christ, I’m too hungover to laugh like that.” He squints over at Castiek before sliding the sunglasses back on his face.

Castiel stares. “If you’re hungover, why are you here at -” he checks his watch “-seven in the morning?”

Dean slurps at his fruity latte before he answers. “Got a meeting at nine. This,” he says, brandishing his mostly empty cup, “and a large fries are the cure.” His hands occupied, Dean ducks his head to fish a single fry out and holds it like a cigarette between his lips.

“That sounds disgusting,” Castiel says, aghast.

Dean inches the rest of the fry into his mouth. “Don't knock it ‘til you try it,” he says with a wink.

Cas blushes.

“Hey,” Dean says, a new thought coming to him, “What’s your name?”

Taken aback by the question, he answers, “Castiel.”

Dean mouths his name once, his brow furrowing at the new syllables. With a small shrug of capitulation he says, “Well, Cas, thanks for the drink.” He toasts him one before tipping the cup all the way back, draining it.

“You’re welcome, Dean.”

Dean grins. “I couldn't tell if you recognized me or not.”

“I did,” Castiel says, clearly unnecessarily.

Amused, Dean throws him a long, considering look. “You’ve got one hell of a poker face.” He unceremoniously shovels the rest of the fries in his mouth and balls up the wrapper. He tosses it with practiced ease into the waiting dumpster.

“Thank you?” Cas says, nonplussed.

“Thank you,” Dean says, pushing his sunglasses up his nose. “You’re the one who saved my hide.” He sidles forward and shoves a bill into Castiel’s slack hand. Without another word, he takes off out of the alley and onto the street.

Once he’s out of sight, Castiel unclenches his hand. Dean tipped him ten dollars.

* * *

“How is this even more pungent than last time?” Castiel demands, nose wrinkling as he sets a now clean muffin tin back on the shelf. It’s been a week since he met Dean Winchester, and hadn’t gotten so much as a whiff of apple pie since then.

He is alone with Jo in the kitchen, since Benny’s early morning shift ends at eleven.

“I added a caramel drizzle,” Jo says, her scent rising with her self-satisfaction.

Castiel stares at her in horror. “Why on earth would you do that?”

“’Cause I’m trying to see what his limit is, and so far - nothing,” Jo says, shrugging. “Get to it. He’s real grouchy if you make him wait too long.”

“And why aren’t you taking it to him?” Castiel says, eyebrows rising. “Kevin’s moved onto multiple hearts now. Admittedly, his first one looked like a labia, but he’s gotten much better.”

“But Ruby didn’t show up, so we’re short staffed,” Jo says shortly. Outside, Kevin yells something indistinguishable though the kitchen door, and Jo winces.

Castiel takes the latte.

Just like last time, Dean is waiting, wearing a different flannel but the same jeans with the hole above the left knee. He abandoned the sunglasses, since the clouds overhead cast the whole alley in shade. They’re hanging from the vee of his shirt collar, pulling the fabric down a tempting extra inch.

Unfortunately, the fast food restaurant next door must have just taken out the trash last night, since the alley reeks of stale bread and rotting fish patties.

Castiel lets the door slam behind him, unable to hold back his corresponding smile as Dean lights up as he sees him.

“Thank god,” Dean says as he reaches for the latte. “I was starting to think Jo was gonna stiff me.”

“We’re short staffed at the moment,” Castiel says apologetically, “so you got me again.”

Dean eyes him over the lid of his cup. “Not a downside from where I’m standin’,” he drawls.

Castiel has no idea how to respond to that, so he doesn’t. Dean can’t mean it like Castiel thinks he does. He’s an actor, feeding people lines is the dictionary definition of his job. Instead Castiel asks, “No french fries this time?” because he’s not nearly ready to leave yet.

“Already ate ’em, while I was waiting,” Dean says dismissively.

Castiel shoves his hands in his pockets. “I’m sorry.”

“No harm, no foul,” Dean says with a little grin. “I got my caffeine fix eventually, and that’s what I really care about.”

“You look remarkably more put together than last time,” Castiel says as he leans against the doorway, watching Dean sip at his drink.

“Didn’t drink as much,” Dean says with a grin. He tips back his cup and takes a long pull. “Fries can only get you halfway there. Christ, that’s the stuff.”

Castiel can’t help but make a face. The latte smells horrendous; it can’t taste that much better.

“What?” Dean asks, eyes narrowing.

Castiel probably shouldn’t tell Dean what is exactly on his mind. Castiel has found very few people appreciate his default brand of honesty - Hunter’s Café customers, especially. But Dean isn’t technically his customer - he’s Jo’s - and Castiel has reached the point in his life where he doesn’t need to hang onto people who don’t like him and vice versa. Dean isn’t even providing extra publicity for the establishment, since he’s getting serviced in the alley behind the kitchen.

Technically, Castiel needs a celebrity acquaintance as much as he needs a free bag of cat food (he doesn’t have a cat).

But he does like having one.

A celebrity acquaintance, that is. Cats are inherently suspicious.

Reluctantly, Castiel says, “I can’t imagine that latte tastes very good.”

To his surprise, instead of demanding Jo bring him his coffee from now on, Dean laughs. “Not a fan of apple pie?”

“Not in my coffee.”

Dean takes an obnoxiously loud slurp. “I think it’s delicious.”

“I think your taste buds must be severely incapacitated.”

Dean waggles the near empty cup in front of Castiel’s face in what must be an enticing manner to someone with no sense of smell or taste. “Wanna try?”

Castiel valiantly holds back his recoil. “No, thank you.”

But Dean’s genial expression doesn’t waver. “‘M feeling pretty much human again, so it’s up for grabs.”

“I’d sooner lick the dumpster,” Castiel blurts before he can filter himself.

Dean whistles, rocking back on his heels. “Harsh.”

Castiel sighs. Honesty was a mistake. He mutters, embarrassed, “I’m just not a very big fan of sweets.”

“No?”

“I’ve been living with my cousin while in graduate school at Columbia,” he explains, his tone apologetic for his earlier comment, “and he has a horrendous sweet tooth. I don’t think he’s ever seen a carrot that wasn’t in a cake first.”

A wide grin splits Dean’s face. He laughs.

What Castiel wouldn’t give to scent Dean’s joy for himself. “He would probably love that latte,” Castiel continues wryly.

“Probably,” Dean agrees. He taps his fingers against the sides of the cup as he asks, “So you’re in school? For what?”

“Do you really want to know?” Castiel asks seriously. He’s had too many conversations with strangers and casual friends who have asked the exact same question and regretted asking it almost immediately.

Dean ducks his head. “I don’t know any graduate students, and I,” he breaks off, his cheeks going pink, “I never went to college, so I have no idea what it means.” He sucks on the dregs of his latte, gaze dropping to the vicinity of Castiel’s knees.

“Oh,” Castiel says, feeling lighter. “In that case, I’m studying ethnomusicology.”

Dean’s eyes narrow in suspicion. “Are you fucking with me? That doesn’t sound real.”

“It’s a legitimate area of study,” Castiel assures him. “I research music as it pertains to culture and diverse elements of social life. Ethnomusicology focuses not only on the music itself, but music as a social process, as a medium for humans to relate to each other. In short, it examines how music functions in a particular society.”

To Castiel’s surprise, Dean doesn’t get the glazed-over look most people do when he explains his field of study. “So what kind of music are you talking about?”

Now it’s Castiel’s turn to flush. His colleagues, while they respect his academic reputation, have nearly all looked down on his chosen object of study. “One of the main tenets of ethnomusicology is a global perspective on music-”

“What, like Tibetan throat-singing?” Dean interrupts. At Castiels’ stare, he explains quickly, “Sammy had a phase.”

Castiel chuckles. “Yes, I do know a professor at Cornell who is studying just that. But my focus is much closer to home. I study,” he inhales a small breath, “tribute bands.”

Dean’s mouth twitches. “What.”

“Tribute bands offer a fascinating definition of the nature of performance, the difference between authenticity and identity,” Castiel says, already on the defensive. He can already hear his voice trying to fall into his usual academic patterns, and tries to rein himself in, “and historical consciousness in popular music. Here -” He pulls out his phone.

Dean listens in complete silence to Yellow Dubmarine’s cover of I Want You.

“Anyway,” Castiel coughs, embarrassed he made Dean sit through all that, “I also teach Rock and Roll from the 1950s to 1980s. There is a great deal of crossover with my specialty since most tribute bands recreate acts from the 60s to the 80s.”

“Dude,” Dean says in a rush, “if you think that makes you less interesting, you’ve got another thing coming.”

Castiel blinks.

“What bands are we talkin’ about?” he asks eagerly. “More Beatles? The Stones? The Who?”

Castiel nods. “I’m hoping to go to a Lez Zeppelin concert next month.”

“Led Zeppelin?”

“Lez,” Castiel says, emphasizing the ‘z’, “an all-female Led Zeppelin tribute band.”

Dean frowns. “They have a gimmick?”

Castiel shakes his head. “They’re completely sincere, I assure you.” He smiles wryly. “I interviewed Misstallica for a paper I’m writing on diverse, for lack of a better word, musicians in the tribute world, and they felt right at home with the long hair and tight pants. I’ve never met people who more adore the songs they perform.”

“Huh,” Dean says, rubbing his chin.

“Except maybe Air-O-Smith,” Castiel adds, “an American all-omega tribute band of Aerosmith.”

Dean’s eyes widen to the size of dinner plates.

“My favorite all-omega tribute band, though, is Omega You Eight One Two,” Castiel muses, “a Van Halen cover band.”

“Yeah, I got that,” Dean says faintly.

“Their lead guitarist, as you can imagine, is phenomenal.”

Dean shakes his head, his expression going slack. “Wait, seriously? That’s a thing? All omega acts?”

“Of course,” Castiel says. “That’s one of the most compelling aspects of tribute bands, when they flip the traditional male-alpha dynamic of the original, and how they translate that into their own act while keeping the whole performance authentic to the creators. It’s a fascinating process to watch and study.”

“I bet,” Dean says fervently. “Hey, d���you think-”

The back door opens before Dean can finish his sentence.

Jo pokes her head out, looking askance at the pair of them. “Are you still out here?” She glares at Dean. “Stop complaining about your diet, and let Castiel come back to work.”

Castiel’s mouth purses. “You’re on a diet?”

“Not on cheat day,” Dean tells him, lifting his empty cup. He turns to Jo. “And I wasn’t complaining at all. Cas was actually telling me about tribute bands.”

“Really?” Jo asks, her nose wrinkling.

Dean tosses his trash in the dumpsters. “They sound awesome.”

“I like them,” Castiel says lamely, off-footed now the conversation is clearly wrapping up.

Jo rolls her eyes, alpha irritation practically radiating off her. “Good for you.”

“Alright, well, I’ll let you deal with Joanna Beth on your own,” Dean says as he pulls out his wallet and hands Castiel a folded bill. He gives a mocking salute as he takes a step back, “Good luck, dude.”

“Thank you?”

“Come on, fanboy,” Jo growls once Dean’s disappeared from view, “back to work.”

* * *

“Can’t you take it?” Castiel asks, his tone verging on pleading, as Jo follows him back into the kitchen. It’s too early in the morning for another meeting, closer to first time Castiel met Dean at seven am compared to their last meeting at a little before eleven.

This past weekend, Castiel went down a spiral of Dean Winchester content. He read up on all of Dean’s recent projects, scanned headlines about rumors of his next film - some action thriller that Castiel presumes is the reason for Dean’s diet, and watched interview after interview. Dean on Stephen Colbert. Dean on Good Morning America. Dean on some very confusing show where they forced him to eat spicy chicken wings, which just seemed like an exercise in pepper-based sadism.

Castiel didn’t really understand the Saturday Night Live skit where Dean played one half of a demon-hunting brother duo, but the live studio audience laughed uproariously at multiple points.

Jo all but slams Dean’s latte on the ledge above the sink. “You know the health inspector is here. I can’t let Ruby near the guy, and you know how Kevin gets around figures of authority.”

Castiel sets down his tub of dirty dishes. “He nearly peed himself when he had to tell you he dropped a tray of scones over the floor last week,” he says flatly.

“Exactly,” Jo says. “Benny is busy,” she says, tipping her head to where Benny is adding more flour to a huge bowl.

“Cheers, darlin’.”

She turns back to Castiel. “So, you’re it today, champ.”

“Great,” Castiel grumbles.

“What?” Jo asks, her hands on her hips. “You seemed to get along with Dean. I actually didn’t know you could talk that much before I sent you back there.”

Castiel carefully transfers the dirty plates to the sink. “Getting along with him isn’t the problem,” he says darkly.

“Getting along with him too well is the issue?” Jo asks, her eyebrows rising.

Castiel scowls at her observation. Her emotional intuition is what makes her an excellent café manager, so he can hardly fault her for that. He doesn’t respond to her question.

“Take it to him,” Jo says, her tone softening. “He likes you.”

Castiel raises his head to stare at her. “How do you know that?”

Jo pulls her phone from her back pocket and waves it in his face. “We talk,” she says. “How do you think he orders every time? He’s not getting those lattes for free, not after I spent so much time getting them exactly right.”

Castiel can’t hold back his grimace. The latte still smells awful, like a vat of boiled candied apples.

“Look,” Jo says, lowering her voice, “Dean’s famous, sure, but he’s actually a very private person. He runs his mouth to anyone who’ll listen, but he never really says anything important. So he doesn’t really connect with a lot of people. If he says he likes you, I’m gonna say that’s a good thing - if you tell him I said this, I’ll kick your ass - and make you his designated errand boy.”

Castiel bites his lip. “But I don’t -”

“Dude, don’t make me pull the boss card,” Jo says, just the barest hint of threat in her words.

“Fine.” Castiel snatches the latte off the counter. “But I want a raise.”

“You can get a free sandwich.”

Castiel glares daggers as he shoulders open the back door.

But the alley is empty.

Castiel breathes through his mouth as he steps out. The overflowing dumpsters carry the odor of moldering cheese and more rancid fish, and the fryers next door are still going strong. He doesn’t find Dean lurking behind the trash for some strange reason, and he’s about to head back in and dump Dean’s latte down the sink when a shout makes him turn around.

“Hey, Cas!” Dean calls, jogging in from the brightly lit street.

“Hello, Dean.” He hands over the latte.

“Thanks - sorry.” Dean rubs the back of his neck with his other hand. “Some fans caught me sneaking in here, and wanted a selfie.”

“Oh,” Castiel says for lack of anything better to say.

Dean tips back his cup, his expression falling into pure bliss. “Christ, that’s so much better when I’m not hungover.”

Castiel stares. “You’re drinking that with all your capacities intact?”

“Ain’t no better way to enjoy pie,” Dean says, grinning widely.

Castiel rolls his eyes. “That’s not pie.”

“It’s as close as I’m gonna get at eight in the morning on a Thursday,” Dean says with a shrug.

Silence falls between them, and Castiel can’t help glancing over Dean’s shoulder, tentatively scanning for the people who caught his attention earlier. Plenty more would have approached Dean if he didn’t have Jo’s latte waiting for him; Castiel would bet his job on it.

Dean is a celebrity.

Castiel is a grad student who can’t even afford to support a guinea pig on his stipend and café salary.

After a long beat, Dean asks, a touch hesitantly, “So, what’ve you been up to?”

Stalking you on the internet.

“Nothing,” Castiel lies. At the slight fall in Dean’s expression, he adds, “I cleaned my kitchen over the weekend.”

Dean chuckles. “You’re a weird dude, you know that?”

Hurt, Castiel takes a step back. Jo probably needs him for… something.

“Not in a bad way!” Dean says quickly. “Shit,” he swears under his breath, “please don’t stop giving me coffee.”

Castiel hesitates. “Why is it weird that I cleaned my kitchen?” He frowns. “I suppose you employ someone to do that for you.”

Dean seesaws his free hand back and forth as he sips at his latte. “Not always,” he lowers his voice, “I actually like cleaning - it helps me relax and shit. There’s nothing like blasting some tunes and scrubbing out that stain on the counter that’s been annoying you forever.”

Castiel lowers his voice too. “Is this a secret?”

Dean grimaces. “Not really. But, you know, it’s one of those omega things.”

Castiel doesn’t know. Well, he knows it is a stereotypical omega trait to like housework, but he has no idea why Dean would whisper it in a back alley like he’s confessing to defrauding an elderly relative. “And that is bad because…?”

Dean takes a long pull from his cup. “I don’t want to hammer the omega thing home too hard, alright?”

“But you are an omega,” Castiel says, feeling a little stupid for saying it out loud.

“Yeah,” Dean sighs, “but if I lean into it, I’ll stop getting alpha roles.”

“You only want to play alphas?” Castiel asks curiously.

Dean’s mouth twists. “They’re the better parts. Omegas are always the damsels in distress or get killed off first for the plot.”

“I’m sure not all films are like that,” Castiel says. God knows, Anna made him sit through enough films with an omega protagonist that did not fit the typical romantic comedy restrictions.

“Most.”

“The last movie I saw,” Castiel says, hesitant because Dean must know more about this than him, “my sister recommended it, it had an omega lead who led a team of paranormal investigators. A sort of horror-comedy.”

Dean’s face loses some of its hostility. Almost intrigued, he asks gruffly, “D’you know who wrote it?”

“Not off the top of my head.” Castiel pulls out his phone to look it up. He reads aloud, “Ghostfacers, directed by Ed Zeddmore, written by Harry Spangler. Starred Maggie Zeddmore and Alan Corbett.” He pauses, trying to remember the details. “I think they both were omegas. I’m sure there are more films like Ghostfacers out there for you to make.”

Dean sips at his latte. “A few. None with big enough names attached to really get on my radar.”

“Well, if you signed on, wouldn’t there be a big name attached?”

“Yeah,” Dean says in a tone that clearly conveys he’s thought of this possibility before. He runs a hand through his hair. “It’s just - what if I take one of these roles, and it gets all this attention just ’cause I’m in it, and it flops?”

Castiel tilts his head. “That would hardly be your fault. Most failed films are hardly the work of one person. Usually, it’s a combination of a bad story, bad production, and bad acting.” He levels Dean an appraising look. “Right off the bat, you control two of those elements - pick a good script and act as well as you always have.”

Dean blinks. “You’ve seen my stuff?”

Castiel’s brow furrows. “I thought I already said I knew who you were?”

“Yeah, but,” Dean says, his voice petering off with embarrassment, “that didn’t mean you liked my movies.”

“The majority of America liked your last movie, Dean,” Castiel says dryly. “Either that, or you have a very hardworking and wealthy mother who poured a hundred million dollars into ticket sales.”

“I mean, Mom’s a fan, but not that big of a fan,” Dean says, chuckling. “I’m pretty sure she’d rather get a twenty-minute call from yours truly than sit through a two-hour flick with my name on the poster.”

Castiel hands over his phone. “Here,” he says, tilting it so Dean can see the summary of Ghostfacers.

Dean brightens as he reads through it. “The Alpha dies first?”

“He thought he could deal with the ghost on his own.”

“Typical alpha macho,” Dean snorts. His head snaps up as he gives the phone back. “No offense.”

“No offense taken,” Castiel says easily. “With my lifestyle, posturing is a waste of time. I’ve long ago resigned myself to not being the primary breadwinner in any future household.”

“Really?”

Castiel throws him a look. “I’m in academia, Dean. Tenure is hardly a guarantee. Even so, there isn’t a wealth of money out there for ethnomusicology grants.”

Dean tips his head in acknowledgement. “It’s awful big of you.”

“Just logical,” Castiel says evenly. “It shrinks my dating pool considerably, but I’d rather do what I love than compromise that much for any potential partner.”

Dean inhales a deep breath, his eyes unfathomable. “I get that.”

“If it means I can’t afford to mate a house-omega, I’ll just have to keep cleaning my kitchen myself,” Castiel finishes with a shrug.

Dean grins. “I mean, if you spot me a six pack and don’t tell my trainer about it, I’ll clean your kitchen.”

Castiel turns bright red. He can’t bring himself to respond to that offer, so he changes the subject.

* * *

Castiel doesn’t even bother pretending to protest as Jo barges into the kitchen, the telltale scent of sugary apples wafting around her like a palpable shield. Castiel already set himself for heartbreak where Dean Winchester is concerned. He might as well take advantage of every interaction he has left.

He went to sleep late last night, watching one of Dean’s earlier movies. He was slimmer and younger, but he still shone with his signature charisma and talent. For the first time since Castiel started the morning shift at Hunter’s Café, he snoozed his alarm.

Hurrying through his morning routine, Castiel couldn’t help resenting Dean just a little. If only Dean hadn’t chosen a profession where his literal job is to be whatever his audience wants him to be.

As Castiel pushes open the door, Dean is waiting outside. Dark sunglasses shield his green eyes, and a violet bruise blooms over his left eyebrow. As the door slams shut behind Castiel, Dean winces. His left hand holds a half-empty paper container of french fries.

“Hello, Dean,” Castiel says. “You don’t look good.”

“Tell me about it,” Dean says darkly. “Gimme.”

Castiel pauses. “Did your hangover eliminate your manners?”

Dean flushes bright red. “No,” he mutters. “Sorry, Cas. I just feel like shit.”

“You look like shit,” Castiel says frankly as he hands it over.

“Thanks,” Deans says, his voice sour as old lemons. “I told Charlie tequila shots before Monopoly was a bad idea, but did anyone listen to me?” He gestures to his face. “Next thing I know, Jo’s throwing Charlie’s bag of DnD dice at my head.”

“You got that playing Monopoly? Wait, Jo did this to you?” he demands, gesturing to the cafe behind him. “Jo Harvelle?”

Dean just glares over the rim of his coffee cup. “Yeah, Katniss got me good.”

“God, why?”

One corner of Dean’s mouth lifts in a distinctly smug smirk. “’Cause she was going bankrupt, and she had to sell her last property to me.”

“So this was because of Monopoly,” Castiel says dubiously. In his experience, a board game has never led to actual violence.

Dean shrugs. “Game nights get intense. Why do you think I’m always bangin’ down your door the morning after?”

Castiel can’t believe it. “You’ve been getting this drunk at a game night? Every time?”

“So what?” Dean shoves four french fries in his mouth. “Whaddya think I was doin’?”

“Partying?” he suggests.

Dean snorts. “Maybe six years ago when I was doing B-level flicks and trying to meet as many people as I could. Now I have a back-to-back shooting schedule and hangovers if I don’t pace myself.”

Castiel watches Dean polish off his fries at a truly impressive and horrifying speed. He can’t help asking, “Why was Jo at your game night?”

“’Cause she’s a menace who knows how to pick locks?” Dean heaves a weighty sigh. “I’ve known Jo since we were kids. She and her mom - who started Hunter’s Café - were my neighbors.”

“I had no idea.”

Dean gestures to the alley with a wry hand. “Jo likes to keep it under wraps.”

“I see why Jo keeps making those drinks for you,” Castiel says, nodding at the half-finished latte in Dean’s hand.

“You didn’t make it?” Dean says, and does he sound almost disappointed?

Castiel shakes his head. “Jo is keeping the recipe close to the chest.”

“Probably worried everyone’ll want one if they get the taste.” Dean tips the cup back.

Castiel can’t help his noise of disgust. At Dean’s sharp look, he says aloud, “She’s probably worried everyone will never come back if they try it.”

Dean’s laugh cuts off with a wince. He raises a hand to his head. “Christ, last night was a mistake.”

Castiel surreptitiously scents the air for a better gauge of how discomfited Dean really is, but, as always, all he gets is trash and fryer oil. “How are you doing? Apart from the injury, headache, and general hangover-related malaise.”

“Oh, apart from that?” Dean echoes mockingly, but his words lack any heat. He crams a few fries into his mouth. “I asked my agent to send me a few more scripts with omega roles,” he mutters.

Castiel smiles. “That’s great.”

Dean hums his agreement. “Hopefully, she’ll pick out a decent one, and I can get something set up for after Two for the Show wraps.”

“Is Two for the Show the reason for your diet?”

Dean huffs. “Yeah. I have a bunch of shirtless scenes, so that means three months with the diet coach from hell.”

Castiel makes a noise of sympathy. After a moment, he asks, “Is it worth it?”

Dean chews a fry, scowling between bites. “Not really,” he says in a low voice. “Sammy’s the farmers market maniac in the family.” Wistfully, he continues, “Give me a good cheeseburger deluxe every day for the rest of my life with a side of pie, and I’ll die a happy man.”

“I didn’t think apple pie came as a side.”

“Not for you, maybe,” Dean says with an obnoxiously loud slurp of his latte.

Castiel doesn’t bother holding back his smile.

Dean sighs, rubbing his temple with the heel of his hand. “It’s just like, I don’t look like a traditional omega, so I figured I might as well try for the alpha roles.” He swallows. “’S a win-win situation. I look the part and the characters are better - what’s the downside?”

Castiel cocks his head. “Other than your restricted diet and inadvisable levels of drinking?”

A humorless smile pulls at Dean's mouth. “Not pullin’ the punches this morning, huh?”

Castiel colors, his face heating with shame. “I’m sorry. I didn’t sleep well.” An inadequate excuse, but it’s not like he can tell Dean the real reason for his more uncharitable thoughts.

Castiel has never been one to lean into his alpha instincts. Possessiveness, aggression, arrogance - Castiel has had his (mostly regrettable) moments, but they hardly define his character. But over these past few weeks, he’s had to repeatedly tell himself that he can’t solve Dean’s problems. Dean is a wildly successful adult with millions of fans, while Castiel can’t even handle Hunter Cafe's front counter during the morning rush.

Dean would hardly welcome a nobody little alpha telling him to just… do what he wants and damn the consequences because he deserves to be happy with his life and his work.

Dean plucks out the rest of his fries and balls the wrapper against his hip. He lobs it in the dumpster. “No, I get it. I’m complaining about things that most people would kill to have.” He glances towards the mouth of the alley, his mouth set in a thin line.

But before Dean can leave, Castiel says quickly, “That’s not the way I see it. Your specific frustrations aren’t universal, but hardly anyone’s are. Society is inherently unfair, and it’s understandable to be angry about it.”

God knows Castiel railed enough about the unfairness of Dean Winchester to Gabriel enough over the past few weeks.

Even now, hungover and bruised, Dean is beautiful.

Castiel steels himself. “And, for what it’s worth, I don’t think not looking like a typical omega is a bad thing.”

Dean turns to him in surprise, and Castiel would give up that free sandwich Jo offered him to be able to scent what exactly Dean is feeling. But, after a second that stretches into an eternity, all Dean gives him is a quiet, “Thanks, Cas.”

Castiel nods, chastised by Dean’s reaction. “I should get back to work,” he says awkwardly.

Dean mutters something that might be a swear underneath his breath. Raising his voice, he says, his tone apologetic, “’Course. Sorry for keeping you.”

Castiel shakes his head. “It’s alright. I,” he pauses, “always enjoy talking to you.”

Dean’s mouth lifts into a small smile, and it’s like the sun rising through the early morning fog. “You too, man.”

* * *

After his next shift, Castiel asks Jo to show him how to make Dean’s apple pie latte.

Castiel’s first attempt is a disaster. He burns the espresso and adds too much nutmeg. Jo makes him try it anyway, as a non-monetary payment for her time. As Castiel gags, a smirking Jo dumps the bitter, weirdly savory mess down the sink.

“Passable,” Jo declares at Castiel’s second try. “You need more of the apple concentrate, though.”

“It’ll be too strong,” Castiel protests even as he shakes more powder in and gives it a stir. He hands it back to Jo for evaluation.

“You could barely taste it!” Jo says. She raises it to her lips. “Mm, that’s the stuff.”

“It is?” Castiel asks hopefully.

Jo nods and pushes the cup towards him. “That’s what it’s supposed to taste like.”

Castiel frowns as the overly sweet apples hit his tongue. He can barely taste the coffee underneath all the other layers.

“Trust me,” Jo says, flipping her hair behind her shoulder as she sets Castiel up for a third cup. “Your scent’s getting in the way, but it tastes exactly like an apple pie.”

“My scent?” Castiel echoes, baffled.

Jo throws him a look as she pushes a clean coffee cup into his hands. “Yeah, you already smell, I dunno, crisp but sweet? A little like apples. Makes you think the latte dials it up to eleven when it’s more like a nine for everyone else.”

Castiel hadn’t thought to put those pieces together, but it makes an astonishing amount of sense.

He brings his last apple pie latte home to Gabriel, and his cousin makes him write down, step by step, how to make it. In between actual licks into the cup to get the dregs, Gabriel swears to visit him at Hunter’s Café more often.

When Jo next ducks her head into the kitchen to tell Castiel that Dean will swing by in fifteen minutes, Castiel gets to work. He awkwardly sidles behind the front counter and maneuvers around Ruby and Kevin, nearly knocking Kevin’s elbow as Kevin attempts some elaborate leaf pattern.

Castiel draws a rudimentary apple on top of Dean’s latte, and if it looks more like a misshapen mango, nobody will see it but Dean.

For the first time, Castiel heads out to wait for Dean at the mouth of the alley.

Dean doesn’t keep him in suspense for long. He makes his way down the street, shoulders hunched, and head bowed. Gaze fixed on the dirty sidewalk, Dean doesn’t make eye contact with anyone as he turns the corner.

Dean isn’t even wearing sunglasses or a hat to hide his face, but everyone walks straight past him.

It’s the most riveting performance Castiel has ever seen.

A few steps away, Dean catches sight of him, and it’s like some magic switch is flipped on, and he is Dean Winchester again.

Smiling brightly, he jogs the rest of the distance and follows Castiel as he slinks further back into the alley. Dean wrinkles his nose as they get closer to the dumpsters and the smell of an entire rancid fast food menu hits him. “Hey, Cas,” he says as he takes his latte. “Thanks.”

“Of course,” Castiel says, tipping his head.

Dean stares down oddly at the demented pear and takes a sip. Face going slack with a bliss Castiel doesn’t even need to smell, Dean groans.

Castiel freezes and sends up a silent prayer of thanks for the apron covering his lower half over his pants. “It’s good?” he tries futilely because Dean is clearly beyond speech.

Dean just gives him a thumbs up as he lowers the cup. He licks his lips, chasing the taste, and Castiel has seen pornography less graphic.

“I might have to tip Jo this time too,” Dean says, staring at the latte in his hand in wonder.

Castiel coughs. “I - I made this one, actually.”

Dean chokes on his next mouthful. “Are you serious?”

Castiel nods because if he opens his mouth he’s not sure what exactly will come out. Probably something highly embarrassing.

“This is the best one I’ve ever had,” Dean swears.

Castiel’s whole body heats with the force of his blush. “Thank you. I asked Jo how to make it, since it seems like I’ve taken over your delivery duties.”

Dean grins. “You’re a lot more fun than Jo,” he says lightly, “so I’m not complainin’.”

Castiel didn’t think he could get any redder, but here he is.

After an awkward beat, Dean says, “I think I found my next movie.”

“Really?”

Dean shrugs, but his eyes glimmer with anticipation. “It’s a World War II biopic about an omega who sneaks into the army, disguises himself as an alpha, and rescues a unit trapped behind enemy lines.” He taps his fingers against the side of his half-empty cup. “A little on the nose, but the script is good.”

“It sounds very promising,” Castiel agrees.

“Their biggest problem was the budget - historical pics aren’t cheap. But they think if I sign on early, they can leverage my name with the studio.” He smiles shyly. “Get the movie done right.”

“That’s fantastic,” Castiel says, a delightful warmth filling his chest - still a pale reflection of Dean’s excitement.

“Thanks to you.”

Castiel’s eyes widen in surprise. “Me?”

Dean throws him a funny look. “Yeah, you. You told me to get my head outta my ass and movies I actually like doing-”

“Not in so many words-” Castiel interjects, alarmed.

“’Cause the whole point of doing these stupid macho alpha flicks was so I could get the clout and money to do the stuff I actually liked,” Dean continues. “And I kept thinking, can’t do it yet, not there yet, until some rando tells me, fuck yeah you can.”

“I definitely didn’t say that-”

“It was implied,” Dean says blithely, waving off his protests. “So I figured, if this dude who doesn’t know me from Adam-”

“I’ve seen several of your films.”

“- tells me to go for it - it being something I’d thought of doing for years - is there any real reason why I shouldn’t?”

Castiel just stares at him, stunned.

Dean beams. “I’ve got a meeting with the director next week.”

“That’s wonderful,” Castiel says sincerely.

“Anyway, yeah, it’s partially thanks to you,” Dean says, tipping his latte in Castiel’s direction. “I also want to talk about romantic B-plot since I think it’s stupid.” He shakes his head, scoffing. “True mates, bullshit.”

“You think true mates are bullshit?”

As far as Castiel saw online, Dean’s never spoken on the record about true mates or any mates at all. Entertainment news sources reported rumors about him and a one-named alpha singer, Amara, early in his career, which he denounced thoroughly. A few months later, someone published revealing photos of him and an older alpha actor, Fergus Crowley. When asked about it, Dean refused to give details.

Dean makes a face. After a pause, he says, “My parents said they were true mates, but it wasn’t… pretty. No Hollywood romance between them.”

“I’m sorry.”

“’S fine,” Dean says in a tone that clearly says it isn’t. “Whenever Dad took off for a few days, I’d get to watch as many movies as I wanted, and - well, the rest is history.”

“I don’t know anyone who’s found their true mate,” Castiel says. His parents had a cold, distant marriage. A few times over the years, he wasn’t sure his mother even liked his father’s scent. Anna happily mated another omega last year, and Gabriel avoids all romantic entanglements like the black plague.

Castiel’s dating history can best be described as dismal. During his last visit to his pediatrician, his doctor called him a “late bloomer” which Castiel eventually realized just meant socially awkward. In the decade since, Castiel’s slept with a grand total of three people. And, to his supreme regret, none of them managed to bring his rusty people skills up to par.

But, in college, Castiel found music and his calling. And all his faults didn’t matter nearly as much.

In the crowd of a concert, people are so far outside the ordinary conditions of life, and so conscious of the fact, that they free themselves from individual concerns and devote themselves wholly to the collective. All their fury, their joy, their hunger for what they can’t have, is sublimated into the music.

Castiel has never felt more connected to humanity than in the middle of a crowd.

Truthfully, none of his past relationships ever measured up. None of his past partners ever managed to get Castiel out of his own head - not like the music.

Castiel shakes his head ruefully. “I wouldn’t know what to do with a true mate even if I had one.”

“Have a lot of super sappy sex with the lights on?” Dean offers, laughing.

Castiel frowns. “I wasn’t aware that kind of intercourse was restricted to true mates. I’ve done that in the past since I've always shared an emotional connection with the people I've slept with.”

“Oh,” Dean says, reddening. “Were you mated? Jo didn’t say.”

Inordinately pleased that Dean had asked Jo about him, Castiel shakes his head. “No, I’ve never been mated.”

Dean drains his latte. Swallowing, he says, “Me neither.” He throws the cup in the open dumpster and turns back to Castiel. “I haven’t dated in a while, actually,” he says in a low voice. “Couldn’t risk being seen with an alpha and remind everyone of what I’m not.”

Castiel narrows his eyes. “Surely people can’t be that close-minded.”

“’Course they can. Most are,” Dean says, his voice full of assurance.

Castiel’s mouth twists. “That sounds like a negativity bias to me.”

“Huh?”

“Negative information sticks with us longer and more strongly than any positive counterpart,” Castiel says with a shrug. “It’s something I always keep in mind when reading my course reviews after the semester is over.”

“So," Dean says, eyes dancing, "you can take the nerd out of the classroom, but you can’t take the classroom out of the nerd, huh?”

Castiel smiles wryly. “Trust me, I’ve tried.”

Dean laughs. “Look,” he starts, his expression turning a fraction more serious. “I might be fucking up a good thing here, but do you want to go to a Lez Zeppelin show next week?”

Castiel’s mouth falls open as Dean reaches out and pulls out his phone to show him a ticket confirmation email.

“It’s no big if you don’t want to,” Dean says awkwardly into the silence.

“I - I do,” Castiel says, stumbling over the words. “You do?”

“Uh,” Dean throws him a bemused look, “Yeah? I bought the tickets, dude.”

“I’m just surprised,” Castiel says honestly.

Dean stares at him. “This is seriously comin’ out of nowhere for you?”

“A little,” Castiel says defensively.

“Seriously?”

Castiel shrugs helplessly. “You’re … you. You’re famous. Why would you ask me?”

“Because I like you?” Dean says, nonplussed. “You’re nice in a way a lot of the alphas I know aren’t, and,” he breaks off, reddening, “you said you didn’t mind that I didn’t fit in with other omegas, looks-wise-”

“I don’t,” Castiel interrupts. “I think you’re the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen.”

Dean gapes. “Did you seriously -” he breaks off, apparently unable to voice the rest of his thought. His face turns an impressive shade of crimson.

Castiel shoves his hands in his pockets. “Should I not have said that?” he asks, brow furrowing. This can’t be the first time Dean has been complimented on his looks. As Castiel understands, good looks are one of the main precursors to acceptance in Hollywood.

“No - I mean, maybe - never mind,” Dean fumbles, more out of sorts than Castiel has ever seen him. “It’s that nobody just out and says that, even to me.”

“I just did.”

“Yeah, I got that,” Dean says, but he’s smiling. “You should look in the mirror sometime, though.” He winks, and Castiel’s brain nearly fritzes out. “So that’s a yes?”

Castiel nods, an all-encompassing warmth filling his chest and exploding out to the tips of his fingers and toes. “I’d love to.”

“It’s a date.”

Read Part II here!

[beauvibaby]

The Feeling When...

— • you meet Anthony Beauvillier at your job, and instantly click, but then he sets you up with his best friend, what could go wrong?

word count: 7.8k

a/n: I wrote this whole thing in less than 24 hours, I’m not sure how, but I really put my all into this and I’m proud of it, hopefully I can do it again sometime

The bell above the door chiming made you lift your head, smiling at the guy who just walked in. Basketball shorts and a tight fitting sports top covering his body, a small layer of sweat on his skin, one earbud in and the other hanging around his neck, his phone in his hand. He had yet to see you as you made your way to your spot behind the counter, politely excusing yourself from the lady you had been speaking with. You took in the way his blue eyes lit up when they landed on the muffin in the case, telling you he probably had yet to eat this morning, he ran a hand through his already tousled hair, finally stepping towards the counter as someone walked in behind him. “Good morning.” You spoke softly as he lifted his eyes to meet yours, you could swear his eyes widened slightly before settling into a warm smile. “Good morning.” He had the faintest bit of an accent, you made a mental note of that. You smiled in return, suddenly forgetting your words, “what can I get for you?” You inquired, watching his eyes dart between the muffin and you, he smiled when you laughed softly, grabbing a paper to put the muffin into a bag. “And a coffee, please.” He spoke, pulling his debit card out of his wallet while you whisked around to grab his coffee, a smile graced his face when you glanced back at him. He stepped aside so your coworker could help the next person in line, turning towards him, you took the few short steps, setting the to go cup down in front of him. You typed in his order, allowing the total to come up on the screen for him, “thank you,” he paused, picking up the bag, “Y/N.” He concluded, reading the name off your tag, lifting up the coffee cup. “You’re welcome.” You responded, trying not to seem like you were asking for his name, “Anthony.” He spoke, backing up slowly before turning on his heels, you watched with lingering eyes as he walked out the door.

***

Again, the familiar chime of the bells shook you from your head, except this time you weren’t working, you were huddled up in the corner laptop open in front of you. The internet in your apartment was out, and wouldn’t be fixed for a few days, so you had made the short walk to the cafe, you got an employee discount, and it was free wifi, so at least you had a couple of hours to ponder the internet, catching up on the latest facebook drama, reading gossip about celebrities, the usual. Your eyes landed on a much more put together version of Anthony, you had thought he looked good before, he looked even better now, the grey dress pants leading to the white button up shirt, it was a good look. You awkwardly shifted your gaze down when he started to look towards you. He moved up in the short line, you could feel his eyes landing on you every once in a while, you resisted the urge to look up and meet those blue eyes. When you no longer felt his eyes on you, you glanced up, hearing his voice over the small chatter in the building, he ordered the same as he had the other day. That warm smile on his face, a calm and cool demeanor radiating from him, welcoming even. The type that would have a girl head over heels for him. Surely, he had a girlfriend, the thought ran through your mind, which resulted in getting you caught staring.

The soft chuckle that fell from his lips made a flutter rush through your chest.

“Is this seat taken?” Anthony questioned, voice delicate as he glanced at where you not so gracefully had your feet propped up, you glanced around and saw many open seats, but who were you to turn down a perfectly attractive guy who wanted to sit with you. “Oh, no, go ahead.” You whispered, smiling up at him as you slid your feet off the chair, watching him rest his body against it. You pulled the sleeves of your sweater over your hands, silence overcoming the both of you as you stole glances at each other, completely oblivious to the other doing the same. You decided to bite the bullet and closed your laptop, making his eyes shoot up from the muffin he had been picking at, a closed lip smile on his face as you giggled under your breath. “So, Anthony was it?” You teased, feeling comfortable around him, despite him being a total stranger, because if we’re being honest, knowing his coffee order doesn’t make you acquaintances. “Last time I checked, that was my name.” He responded with a slightly raised eyebrow, eyes scanning over the sweater you had on, it was well worn, but looked nice with the v-neck cut into the front. “Mhm,” you hummed, hiding your smile with a sip of your own drink, “well, Anthony. What’s got you so dressed up?” You inquired, he glanced down at his clothes, like he had forgotten what he was even wearing. He shot a playful smile at you, breaking off a piece of the pastry in front of him. “What do you think?” He quipped, tossing the piece of food into his mouth, nearly missing and bouncing it off his chin, but he played it off.

“I would say a date, but I think you know better than to come talk to another girl when you have one waiting.” You mumbled, watching as he nearly choked on his food, a laugh tumbling from his lips. “No, there’s no girl, I just came from work.” The way he said there was no girl, it made your heart flip in your chest. Pushing it aside, you picked up your conversation, “work?” You hummed, looking to the ceiling in thought. “It’s the middle of the day, so if this was a lunch break, you’re clearly not working in the city.” You spoke, watching as he nodded in agreement, amusement dancing in his eyes. “You could be a manager somewhere, I guess.” You trailed off, peeking under the table at his shoes, they looked fairly expensive. “Not even close, Y/N.” He snickered, the ease of which he used your name, once again sending your heart into a skipping rhythm. You racked your brain for ideas, truly wanting to guess what it was that he did. For a brief moment, you wondered, could he possibly be in the limelight, but you pushed it aside, certainly you’d recognize someone as handsome as him.

“Well, this just isn’t fair, you know what I do,” you motioned to the room you were sat in, “but you’re just letting me humiliate myself with horrible guesses.” You laughed light heartedly, he shrugged his shoulders, sipping on his coffee, “hockey.” He mumbled, watching you cutely tilt your head to the side, confusion covering your features. God, what he would do to get to see you look at him like that all the time, a childlike quality in your demeanor that brought him peace. “Hockey, I play hockey.” He repeated, in a stronger voice this time. You nodded slowly, “oh.” You muttered, the realization hitting you, “oh, oh, you mean professionally?” You gasped, sitting up a little straighter at the sudden epiphany. Anthony nodded, eyes crinkling slightly when he laughed at how panicked you must have looked. “Long Island, oh my god, you play for the Islanders.” You spoke sheepishly, a pink hue rising to your cheeks. “Yeah, I do.” He responded, glancing at his phone as it lit up, he quickly shut the screen down again. “Have you ever been to a game?” He inquired, the way his voice raised slightly caught your attention. “No, I haven’t.” You tucked your hair behind your ear, fiddling with the sleeves of your sweater again.

“You should come, I can get you tickets-unless, uh you have a boyfriend.” He spoke awkwardly, shifting in his seat. “I don’t.” You answered, watching his eyes widen, his lips seeming to move before his brain could catch up with what he was saying. “Oh, great, I have a friend, Mat. I think you two would really hit it off.” He spoke, hiding the way he wanted to curse himself for spitting those words out. You hid the disappointment on your face, “oh, that’s really nice, Anthony-” “Tito, call me Tito, please.” He cut you off, before motioning to continue. “Ok, Tito. That’s sweet but I don’t think that’s a great idea, I hardly know you, let alone this Mat person.” You sighed softly, expecting him to just give in at your words, but you’d come to find out really quickly that he was stubborn. “Please, it’s the least I could do for taking up your time.” He assured you, looking away as you chewed your lip in thought. Worse comes to worse, you’re getting a free ticket to the game, what’s the worst that could happen? “If you insist.” You gave in, he had to hide his excitement, since he blew his chance by mentioning Mat. “Can I have your number?” He questioned, and you shot your eyebrows up, letting out a surprised, “what?” Before you could stop yourself. Tito smiled at your reaction, “so I can keep in touch about the ticket.” He assured you, he made an observation of the way you let out a soft “oh”, something you did quite often when you were caught off guard. “Right, yeah, of course.” You rattled off, holding your hand out for his phone, hating the way you could feel the heat rushing to your face. He handed you the device, open on a new contact, you typed in your name, and number quickly before handing it back to him. You watched him quickly add something before saving it. “I’ll text you? To find out when you can come.” He spoke, sliding out of the seat, only then did you realize how long you had been talking to each other. “Yeah, that works.” You murmured, “Bye, Tito.” You added as he headed towards the door, “bye, Y/N.”

A text from Tito came a lot sooner than you had expected, that same night he shot you a message.

“Hey, It’s Anthony”

You smiled at the screen, before reminding yourself he was setting you up with his friend and not with himself.

“I was told to call you Tito”

“Sorry, let me start again - Hey, it’s Tito. Is that better for you?”

“It’ll have to do, I guess, but I don’t appreciate the sarcasm.”

You watched the reaction pop up on your phone, him sending a haha to it before the dots came up showing he was typing.

“So, there’s a game coming up next weekend, Saturday, if you’re free…”

“That works!”

You thought maybe it came off too excited, when he read it but didn’t respond. Then your phone lit up with a text,

“Great, Mat is very excited.”

A sigh fell from your lips as you typed a robotic response,

“I am too!”

And that was that.

****

Saturday came before you knew it, the whole ride to the arena you were nervously chewing your lip, rubbing your sweaty palms on your jean clad legs. You had done some googling, and watching how they could get slammed into the boards had your skin crawling, how anyone could get enjoyment out of that was beyond you.

Once you arrived, you had hoped your nervousness would die down, but it only grew as you walked to your seat, close to the glass, and became surrounded by people in Islanders gear. You made it to your spot, and sighed in relief, at least you were there and you could try to enjoy the game, keyword being try.

The second the guys skated so effortlessly onto the ice, your nerves shot back up, searching for the only two jersey numbers you cared to memorize, eighteen and thirteen. Of course they skated alongside each other, stopping in front of your section, you waved sheepishly, watching them both grin. “Hi” you mouthed, unable to stop the blush rising to your face when Mat waved back. You couldn’t deny, he was attractive, but your mind kept bouncing back to Tito. The way he caught your attention so effortlessly, you watched as they spoke to each other as they turned to truly begin their warm ups, Tito glancing back at you with this look you couldn’t fully decipher, before shaking his head at his friend, your mind wandered with what it was they had spoken about. Surely it couldn’t be about you, what was there to say? Especially to cause Tito to look at you the way he did, almost in a concerning manner. There was a tap to the glass in front of you, Mat holding a puck for you, he motioned for you to stand and you did, easily catching it as he tossed it over to you. A smile on your face as you saw he had signed it with a silver marker,

“Hi - Mat Barzal”

You shook your head with a laugh as he grinned boyishly at you, the enthusiasm he showed encouraged you to be more open minded to this set up, it’s not very often that someone would end up in the situation you found yourself in. “Thank you” you mouthed, feeling the eyes of girls around you, suddenly realizing you’d need to develop thick skin to be around these boys.

The game flew by and before you knew it you were being pulled to the side by some big burly guy, with a security badge, and you began to panic. “Y/N Y/L/N?” He questioned trailing off, and you nodded, “Mr. Barzal asked me to catch you before you left, he wants to bring you down to see him.” He spoke lightly in contrast to his gruff looks. “Oh.” You whispered, “oh, yeah ok.” You came to your senses, awkwardly following the man, feeling eyes following you as he directed you down a hallway and out a large door. “I-uh-can I ask you something,” You paused waiting for his name, “Jeffrey.” He spoke, his voice still shocking you in comparison to his large build and thick beard. “Can I ask you something, Jeffrey?” You completed your earlier question. “Sure, why not.” He humored you, his face aging for a moment when he smiled and his skin crinkled together. “Does Mat do this often? Bring girls down here after games I mean.” You couldn’t help but ask, some minor worries overtaking your conscience. Jeffrey stayed quiet, giving you a sideways glance. “A lot is a stretch, I’d say sometimes.” He finally chose his words, carefully tiptoeing around the subject, not wanting to put himself in a compromising position. You nodded, deciding against saying anything as the elevator slowed to a stop, the doors opened and Jeffrey stepped out, pointing to a row of chairs down the hall. “Wait there, he should be out soon.” He spoke, walking off like he hadn’t just left a complete stranger outside of the locker room, where anyone could find them.

It felt like an eternity, but in actuality it was only ten minutes until Mat walked out, dressed in his pregame suit, hair combed back after his shower. “Y/N.” He smiled, and you shot to your feet, “Hi.” You smiled, allowing him to give you a short hug, but your mind slipped into thinking what it would feel like to be hugging Tito in this moment. “How’d you like the game?” He asked, the two of you slowly walking down the hall, your heeled ankle boots clicking on the cement. You didn’t know where you were walking to, but you followed him. “It was good! I’d never seen one before.” You answered cheerily, keeping pace with him, he smiled down at you. “Really?” He gasped, faking offence, a hand resting over his heart. “Yes, really.” You laughed softly, feeling his eyes scan you over. You didn’t want to admit that you could tell the sparks weren’t really there, for either of you, as far as you could tell. He was kind, definitely, and attractive, but he seemed more like a friend, or a brother if you will, and that isn’t how any girl wants to feel when they’re on a date. “Did you want to go grab something to eat?” He offered, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. You nodded, deciding to still humor the scenario, “sure.” You gave him your signature smile. He mirrored it, and you could tell you were both being polite, but it was still a nice night. He was a gentleman, of course, paying for your food despite your protests, offering to drive you home, but caving when you insisted on taking an Uber home was fine.

While you were waiting for your car, Mat stayed beside you, his phone chiming with a text from Tito, which he instantly showed you, and the two of you laughed softly.

“Double date, with me and Kylie?”

“Who’s Kylie?” You asked Mat, after hesitantly agreeing, it would be fun, at least, since you got along well with Mat. “Some girl, I don’t know why he even talks to her, she just wants to hook up but get the perks of nice dates.” Mat scoffed, and you had to hide a laugh. “It is pretty funny.” He commented, causing you both to start laughing hysterically on the side of the street. “I’m glad we agree on that.” You giggled, catching Mat smiling at you.

Maybe, had you not known his best friend, you would kiss him in that moment.

“I’ll text you, to set up this sure to be weird double date.” He spoke, as the Uber pulled up to the curb. “Alright, thanks for tonight, it was fun.” You told him, and he could tell in that moment that you both were on the same page, he thought you were beautiful, and kind, and funny, but he didn’t have that chemistry that he could see between you and Anthony. His mind wandered to the question he asked on the ice,

“Are you sure you aren’t interested in her, you look at her in that way.” Mat sighed, skating beside Tito in warmups, he watched his friend glance back at you in your seat, a pink tint on your cheeks from the earlier interaction. “No, I’m sure, you two would hit it off.” Tito sighed softly shaking his head, pushing his thoughts aside, he had royally screwed up, and there was no way he could fix it himself.

Mat came to his senses when you leaned up and gave him a quick kiss to his cheek, “goodnight, Mat.” You mumbled, slipping into the car, “goodnight.” He replied, shutting the door for you.

****

You smiled as you opened your apartment door, Anthony smiling widely from the other side, “I brought cheetos.” He sang teasingly, for a moment you truly wanted to wrap him in a hug, relieved to see him. “You’re the best.” You sighed, snatching the bag from him, it’s been a couple of weeks since your date with Mat, you’ve kept in touch, but haven’t really seen each other since then, he came into your job a couple times, but that's all. You and Tito have been spending a lot of time together, whenever your schedules allowed, and for a while you had thought maybe this double date wasn’t going to happen, but then of course as he stepped into your apartment—like he had grown accustomed too. “So, I don’t know if Mat asked you yet, but I was thinking Friday night for that double date.” He spoke casually, missing the way your whole body tensed at his words. “Uh, yeah that works.” You answered softly, disguising your sadness by offering him a cheeto from the bag he so graciously brought you. “I bought you a whole bag, and I only get one? Must have been a really bad day.” He teased, you nodded silently, “indeed it was, Beau.” You plopped yourself down on your couch, him following suit like the two of you had begun to do, him on the other end of your couch as you laid, feet beside him. He listened intently as you two catched up on things from the past few days, anyone looking in would assume the two of you were together, if not, close to it, but you two told yourselves that it was nothing. You were being friendly, that's all, friends do this all the time, right? Besides, he did set you up with his friend after all.

***

“You look beautiful.” Mat complimented as you opened the door, he was picking you up for the double date, you had your hair curled lightly, letting it fall behind your shoulders, it was early spring, so there was still a light chill in the air, especially at night. So you had opted for a red sweater dress, throwing a lightweight jean jacket over top. “Thank you.” You smiled, smoothing out the material, “let me just grab my bag.” You held up a finger, rushing quickly to grab it off the counter. “Ready?” He smiled when you came back. “Yeah, I think so.” You made sure you had your keys and phone in the bag before locking the door on your way out.

“This should be interesting.” Mat sighed as he pulled up to the valet, Anthony and this Kylie girl, standing on the curb, you shivered at the sight of her. A barely there dress covering her skin, pin straight bleached hair hanging over her shoulders, and way to dramatic makeup covering her face. “Oh.” You let out softly, laughing at the sight of them, Tito looked way to put together to be beside her, “I agree.” Mat sighed, putting the car in park, climbing out as you followed suit, once again smoothing out the material covering your skin. “Hey guys.” Anthony grinned, all but pulling Kylie along to greet you both. You gave him a quick hug, smiling and waving politely at Kylie, who barely repeated the actions, but you could tell her eyes lingered on Mat’s body a bit longer than it should have. Mat and Anthony made small talk as you were led to the table in the restaurant, leaving you and Kylie in awkward silence. She gave you an odd glance when Mat pulled out your chair, you brushed it off, telling yourself there is no way that this was Tito’s type. “How have you been?” You asked, trying to break the silence as you all looked over the menu. “Good.” Anthony spoke, Mat agreeing as he smiled softly at you.

It continued awkwardly, everyone loosened up after the food arrived, and the wine kept coming. You all quickly learned that Kylie was a lightweight, and a flirty drunk. You grimaced as she ran her hand up the back of Tito’s neck, he shifted slightly, almost as if her touch made him uncomfortable. “So, dessert?” Mat piped up, clearing his throat when he jumped in his spot slightly, “you ok?” You questioned sweetly, he leaned over and whispered in your ear. “She just slid her foot up my leg.” He stayed there for a moment as you processed his words, you stifled back a laugh, hand covering your mouth. Tito raised a brow as the two of you pulled away from each other laughing. “Nothing.” Mat brushed him off, “so Kylie, how long have you and Tito known each other?” You asked, glancing up from the dessert menu that you and Mat were looking over. “Who?” She questioned, looking away from Anthony, eyes hazed over, he held in a sigh. “Anthony.” You trailed off, looking between the two like they were insane. “Oh,” she laughed, hand running down his arm, “a couple months.” She spoke, as if he was the light of her world, where we all could tell she wanted to hook up and get on her way. You nodded, leaning closer to Mat as you let a tiny yawn slip, it was more of a reaction thing, after tonight, you and Mat had mutually decided you would stop trying to pursue anything romantic. He slipped an arm over your shoulder, Anthony’s jaw clenched at the sight for a moment, something Mat definitely noticed. You didn’t as you turned to mutter to Mat about the cheesecake, he nodded in agreement, you shut the menu and placed it by the edge of the table.

“OH! Alright,” Mat slid his chair back abruptly, glaring at Kylie, “that’s enough.” He demanded, and you had to hide your laugh by sipping on your wine, Anthony looked between the two with confused eyes. “What’s going on?” Anthony questioned, you all but choked on your wine as Mat shrunk into his seat. “Shall I?” You teased when Mat stayed silent, he nodded, running a hand over his face as he calmed his blush down. “Your date has been attempting to play footsie with him all night.” You spoke with a straight face, Tito just stared at you, like you were joking. He broke out into laughter, taking you both off guard, Kylie huffed dramatically, standing up, “I’m leaving.” She snapped, the three of you looked at each other and began laughing together. “Goodnight, Kylie.” You called, nearly snorting when she gave you a hair flip, you turned to Mat, hiding your red from laughter face in his neck, again making you miss the way Anthony’s face faltered, although, Mat noticed it and shot his friend and apologetic look. “I think I’m going to call it a night.” Anthony announced and you all but shot up in your seat. “Are you sure?” You questioned solemnly, the alcohol in your veins slowing your reflexes, letting the words slip from your mouth before you could stop it. “Yeah.” He muttered flagging down the waiter so he could pay his part of the check, you glanced at Mat who had an unreadable expression on his face. “Have a good night, Tito.” You spoke when he stood after paying his part. “You too.” He answered shortly, taking you off guard, you sunk into your seat, reaching for your wine glass as you watched him walk away. “And we’re not gonna do that.” Mat took the glass from you, shaking his head when you gave him a pleading look.

“Y/N, I don’t think I’ve ever seen two people in this much denial.” He sighed, running a hand through his hair, pulling his card out for dinner, you stopped him, putting your own down instead, he didn’t fight you, not wanting to push you tonight. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You scoffed, crossing your arms, feeling the heat rush to your cheeks. “Oh please.” Mat groaned, “I could tell from the second you came to the game, he kept looking for you every chance he got, and the way you light up around him.” He trailed off, and you felt guilty, “Mat, I didn’t mean to lead you on, I wasn’t–“ “it’s ok, I knew it from the beginning, but I figured I’d give it a shot anyways.” He cut you off, placing a reassuring hand on your shoulder, “you two have to figure it out, I’ve never seen him like this before.” Mat explained easily, standing once you got your card back and put it away. “Let’s just get you home.” He laughed under his breath when you shakily stood up, a mix of the alcohol and being seated for so long.

****

“Be right with you!” You called from around the wall, not bothering to look towards the front counter as you lugged the oversized bag of coffee grounds towards the front of the store. You huffed as you rounded the corner, nearly dropping the bag on your feet when you spotted Anthony and Mat standing there. “Oh.” You whispered, setting the bag on the counter, “hey.” You muttered, eyes bouncing between the two. “Hi.” Anthony mumbled, awkwardly shifting on his feet, Mat stayed silent watching the silent exchanges you were sharing. “I saw you moved on from Kylie.” You couldn’t help but speak, Mat nearly died trying to hide his shocked laughter, covering it up with a cough as he turned away. You held in a sigh when Tito only nodded, “yeah, I did.” He decided to speak, not sounding like a guy who was interested in her. You’d seen pictures online of him with this girl, not much better than Kylie, which quite honestly disgusted you. How a guy like him would go for a girl who clearly didn’t want anything real. Pushing those thoughts aside, you grabbed their usual orders, Anthony paid for both, and left a nice tip in the jar for you, which made you feel cheap, you knew he was simply apologizing in his own odd way. You pulled the money out of the jar and gave it back to him, he was astonished. He opened and closed his mouth looking for words, “Anthony, I really have to get back to work.” You sighed, looking to Mat for assistance, he shrugged, sipping on his coffee in amusement. “We’re going out to this bar tonight with some of the other guys, some of their wives will be there… if you want to come?” Mat offered.

Why you said yes was beyond your comprehension.

“I’ll be there.”

And there you were, owning your appearance, figuring, if you had to spend the night with the man you were so clearly falling for, and his best friend, you might as well get some attention from someone who wouldn’t deny their feelings.

The skinny jeans hugged your legs just right, giving your butt just a little boost, that paired with your white lace, off the shoulder top, made you look perfectly tan even this horrible bar lighting. You added a simple pair of strappy black heels, holding your clutch in one hand, hair laying curled behind your shoulders. And, of course, we can’t forget the bright red lipstick that—unknowing to you—was going to drive Anthony absolutely crazy all night.

“Y/N! You’re here!” Mat cheered, clearly a couple beers deep already, you laughed at his excitement, making your way over to him, you gave him a quick hug, his presence welcoming, you quickly came to learn that you could tell Mat anything and he would do his best to help you, he cared about you, even more so because his friend was falling for you, and falling hard. “Hi.” You waved to the two ladies, Sydney and Grace, you found out quickly, that they would also be shocked at Anthony and yours interesting connection. “Hey!” They greeted cheerily, all but whisking you off to their table, leaving the boys to be their slightly rowdy selves. “So, you and Tito.” Sydney wiggled her eyebrows, a smirk falling onto her face. You sighed, but you felt comfortable with them, so you started spilling everything.

From the moment you met, to the feeling when he walks into your apartment, the way your heart always skips a beat at the sight of him expertly making his way around. How his eyes still lit up every time you said you saved him a muffin from work, how he knew that after a long day, you didn’t want ice cream or chocolate, you wanted Cheetos. How you could feel him stealing glances at you right now, all the way up to how you’re beginning to think you’re falling in love with him after only two short months of knowing him.

“Oh my god!” Grace gasped, hands going to her heart, “that’s so sweet, Y/N.” She added, looking to Sydney who was sniffling, “hormones!” She defended, referring to her baby born a few months earlier. You chuckled at their reactions, suddenly searching the bar for Tito. You had been speaking for a while, and you knew how guys could be around each other, so when you saw Mat desperately searching for you, you couldn’t help but shoot to your feet. You excused yourself and weaved your way through the over crowded bar, appearing by his side in record time. “He’s hammered.” He whispered into your ear, chuckling when he himself almost tipped over. You caught Tito’s gaze, and instantly you could tell he was angry, about something, what it was, that you didn’t know. Or didn’t want to admit. “Wow there buddy.” You lightly pushed Mat into the barstool, “can he get a water, please?” You called to the bartender, he shot you a smile, you directed Mat to stay in the chair and drink the water when it came. “Yes mom.” He grumbled, lazily smiling, you sighed and made your way towards a spaced out, angry Anthony.

“Tito?” You spoke, placing a hand on his shoulder, he nearly jumped out of his skin, eyes focusing on you, he stepped out of your gentle hold, knuckles white on the handle of the beer glass. “What, Y/N?” He snapped, you hadn’t pegged him as an angry drunk, but maybe you were wrong. “Don’t give me an attitude!” You snapped right back, he was taken back by your force, nodding slowly. “I’m coming over here to check on you, what’s got you in a mood?” You asked, shocked when he ignored you and motioned for another beer, which the bartender hesitantly gave him, shooting you a look that said he was about to be cut off. You sighed, a little too loudly as Anthony picked up the glass and brought it to his lips, he shot you a look. “What is it now?” He retorted, completely ignoring your earlier question, again. “I think you’ve had enough to drink.” You crossed your arms, giving him a pointed look. He scoffed, rolling his eyes for effect, “as if you would know, you’ve stayed away from me all night!” He muttered with a venomous tone. You’d only had a couple of drinks, so your mind was still fairly clear, but your emotions bubbled to the surface before you could stop them. Your eyes burned, you could feel the water reaching the brim, “I stayed away from you because I was letting you have fun with your friends, you didn’t come to me either, Anthony.” His eyes trained on your cherry red lips as you spoke, but he shook himself from the thoughts of kissing you as you spoke his true name with force. He met your gaze, and his anger faltered, but he was too far gone in alcohol to realize what he should be doing, he should be apologizing, he should already be your boyfriend, he should be telling you he loves you, but of course—that’s not what he did.

He chose to be silent, again.

“Right, nothing to say.” You whispered, and he didn’t miss how your voice broke, you shook your head looking to the ceiling, silently cursing yourself for being so dumb, for thinking he would ever be more than just a friend to you. “I’m going home, Anthony,” this time his name was like a faint whisper falling from your lips, “do you need me to call you an Uber?” You had to ask, you’d hate yourself if he didn’t get home safely. He shook his head, to full of his own drunk ego to do anything else. He watched as you went to say goodbye to Mat, patting him on the shoulder, silently thanking him for inviting you, he watched you wave to the other guys of the group, who had all welcomed you with open arms—you fit right in. Lastly, he watched you say goodbye to the ladies, who kept glancing over at him, muttering words to you that he couldn’t decipher in his hazy vision. Then, just like that, you were gone.

You had to have only been home for an hour, nearly asleep in your bed when you heard a knock on your door, your eyes shot to the time, 1:14am flashing back at you. Hesitantly, you stood to your feet, pulling a sweater on over your pajamas, hugging it tightly to your chest as you walked. You flicked the lights on, holding your phone in your hand as well, just in case. The knocking came again, with a heavy hand, which if we’re being honest, made your heart rate pick up, unsure of who was on the other side. You made it to the door and your breathing stopped for a moment when you looked through the peephole, Anthony standing there with a red face and wobbling stance. “Y/N, I don’t know if you’re there.” He slurred, “I need to talk to you.” He continued, getting cut off by a hiccup, you couldn’t let him go on in this state. You swung the door open, watching as his eyes widened, bloodshot, making them look even more blue. “Tito.” You sighed, helping him inside, his legs shaky as he walked. “I thought you would’ve been home by now.” You added, gasping when he nearly fell over, you held onto him tighter, getting him to your couch just in time for him to fall down. You rushed over to the front door, shutting and locking it before returning to him, you squatted in front of him, to meet his eyes. “I’m an idiot.” He whispered, almost as if he forgot it was you he was talking to. “No you’re not.” You murmured, resting a hand on his knee, his eyes landed on it, before moving to your face, slightly puffy eyes, making his heart wrench in his chest, he made you cry. He flickered his gaze to your lips, they were swollen and pink from you scrubbing the lipstick off, the whole time you had been doing that, you thought what an idiot you were for thinking it would pull him in.

“I am.” He said again, nodding as he blinked slowly, the effects of the alcohol kicking in. He was about to speak but you stopped him. “Anthony,” there it was again, the disappointment in your voice as you spoke, you might as well have stabbed him in the heart, “whatever you want to say, I think it should wait until tomorrow when you’re sober.” You explained, carefully pushing his jacket off his body, he watched in awe of your warm nature as you slipped off his shoes. “You can stay here, I’ll go get a pillow.” You whispered, to which he didn’t respond, the second you were gone, he laid on his stomach, one arm hanging off the couch as the tiredness overcame him. His eyes burned with drunken emotion, but he hadn’t realized as he knocked out in your living room that a single drop fell, staying in a pool under his eye. You rounded the corner, stopping in your tracks at the sight of him spread out on your couch, his soft snores filling the otherwise silent space. You made your way over to him, setting the pillow down on the side table, taking the blanket from the corner and moving to drape it over his back lightly. You tiptoed into the kitchen, grabbing a bottle of water and a couple of Advil, placing them both on the coffee table in front of him, as you were placing them down you looked over and caught the single spot of wetness under his eye, now feeling like someone had stabbed you in the heart. You gently reach over, wiping it off with your thumb, sighing when he smiled softly in his sleep. Bending down, you left a light kiss to his cheek, “goodnight, Tito.”

***

Morning came much sooner than you’d like, after spending the whole night tossing and turning, crying once again, overwhelmed by the not knowing of what he wanted to tell you last night.

You woke when you heard a soft crash in the kitchen, “shit.” Tito whispered, you could tell he was trying to get a pan out, but you had them stacked in such a way that it was impossible to not make noise. You stayed silent in your bed, as if he could see through the wall. You listened as he muttered to himself, words you couldn’t quite decipher, the fridge opened and closed, the sound of your coffee pot being turned on. His feet made their way down the hall, you could tell he stopped outside your door, unsure of what to do, he decided against waking you, and you heard him step into the bathroom instead. A sigh fell from your lips as you climbed out of bed, you were still in your pajamas from last night, and the sweater still hanging over your frame, you decided that was good enough. You brushed out your hair and tied it up sloppily, a messy bun with your leftover curls. You caught a glance in your mirror, sighing for what felt like the hundredth time already, your eyes puffy, cheeks pink. Oh well, you thought as you stepped out into the hall, at the same time as Tito. “I didn’t wake you did I?” Was what he decided on, you shook your head staying silent, making your way into the bathroom, “oh.” He let out softly, a habit of yours he had picked up on, something he had started doing himself.

He was back in the kitchen when you came out, standing in front of the stove, flipping over the eggs in the pan, you slid past him to get to the coffee pot. “How’s your head?” You asked, the silence, for once with him, being awkward. “Not too bad.” He answered, smiling softly at you, you returned the gesture as you poured some creamer into your cup. The silence came back, neither of you speaking as he continued cooking, you pulled out some bread and made toast, trying to calm your mind as you thought of how you wanted to do this with him all the time. Something so domestic as cooking breakfast, but it was just the two of you, it was nice.

You placed two plates beside him, both with toast on them, he slid the eggs equally onto the dishes, staying silent as he slid the pan off the burner to cool off. “Thank you.” You mumbled, taking the plate and going to the small table you had, he only hummed in response, sitting adjacent to you. It stayed silent, the only noise being your forks hitting the plate, or coffee cups being set down.

When you finished, you stood, taking the plates, he didn’t protest as he looked lost in thought. Your mind raced as you turned the water on, squeezing dish soap onto the sponge. Was he ever going to say what he came here for? Could it possibly be what you thought it was? Certainly if it was that, he would’ve said it by now.

You hadn’t realized you had let the tears begin to fall until you heard him stand up from the chair abruptly, he was there, in three large steps. He stood beside you, keeping his eyes on you as he turned the water off, he silently pulled your hands from the dishes, letting them lightly fall into the sink, he grabbed the towel and dried your hands. You cried harder as he pulled you into his chest, one arm tightly around your back, his other hand cradling the back of your head. “Don’t cry, please don’t cry.” He whispered after a while, he had begun to rub shapes into your back, noticing how it made your breathing slow slightly. You shook your head, pulling away from his grip, despite his best efforts to keep you flush against him. “What is this?” You asked, keeping your eyes on his, “I can’t keep doing this, why did you come last night?” You asked in more detail, crossing your arms over your chest. Anthony looked at you, trying to find the right words to say, but deep down he knew none of them would make up for how he treated you last night, or for how he had dragged this on for months now. “I came to apologize.” He muttered.

You went stiff as a board, of course it wasn’t what you had hoped for. “That’s all?” You questioned, looking up at him with desperate eyes. He nodded, “I shouldn’t have been so rude last night, you didn’t deserve it–“ “No, I didn’t.” You cut him off, anger rising in your chest, “Anthony, if that’s all you had to say, I really think you should leave.” You whimpered, voice cracking as you pushed past him.

Idiot, he thought to himself, why couldn’t he just say it.

Finally, his brain came to its senses and directed him towards you, he grabbed your hand, tugging you towards him, grabbing your waist to steady you when you crashed into him. Eyes filled with tears once more, he stayed silent as you stared at you. You let your eyes flutter shut as he leaned forward, his lips ghosting over yours, silently asking if this is what you wanted, when you didn’t pull away, he took that as a yes. He fully connected your lips, sighing into you, relief filling him when you reciprocated the action, your arms going around his neck, desperate to keep him close. He took a few steps forward, pressing you against the wall, his body flush against yours. When he pulled back, a soft whine fell from your lips, you opened your eyes to find him already looking at you. Eyes slightly wide, a smile working its way onto his face, “you need to say it, Tito. Please.” You whispered, resisting the urge to pull him in again. “I love you.” His voice was soft, gentle as he looked down at you. “I have ever since I walked into that cafe.” He added, you tugged him back into you, kissing him again, this time pouring emotion into it. The two of you moved in sync, in perfect time with each other, like you already knew everything about one another. Which in a way, you did.

“I love you.” You repeated back to him, pulling away just enough to speak, he nearly whined at your words, not realizing how badly he had needed to hear them. “I’m so sorry, I was so dumb, I couldn’t admit that I fell for you so quick. It scared me.” He whispered, his breath fanning over your face. “It scared me too.” You sighed, hiding your face in his neck. “You’ll just have to tell me all the time now.” You teased, making the both of you relax.

The feeling when he told you he loved you, that was something you’d never forget.

The feeling when he showed you, in all the little things, in all the physical ways, in all the ways he would look at you… it made it all worth the wait.

taglist: @starkeysdunn​ @kempe​ @mtkachuk​ @wtfkie​ @literarycharleton​ @starkeyseguin​

[sassyduckqueen]

Can’t Help Falling In Love- Lukanette

This is based on the song 'Can't help falling in love with you' and a myth I read about the sun and the moon. In the story, the sun and the moon are a couple and the moon inspires the sun to make plants but she gets no thanks and the more the sun is thanked, the bright it gets but the brighter it gets, the harder it is to see the moon. She's hurt by this as she feels lonely and ignored. One day, she stays out on earth and the sun goes home. There she meets the darkness, falls instantly in love with her and wants to make her happy. He suggests humans should exist and on the first night of their existence, he scares them. The second night, he invites her to join him and the humans praise the moon for her light. She feels like she's just as important as the sun and realizes she's in love with the darkness. She breaks up with the sun and marries the darkness as he was the one willing to sacrifice himself so she could feel important.

So in this, Adrien is the sun and the plants are his fans, Marinette is the moon, the genius behind the sun but ignored and Luka is the darkness, who allows her to take his limelight so she can feel important and loved.

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"Look it's Adrien Agreste!" A few girls screamed as Adrien walked by them and waved. Holding onto his arm was his girlfriend, Marinette. As smart as she was beautiful, she was the genius behind his current look. She had designed his outfits and put all of her time and effort she could into them. She painstakingly hand-sown on the details of the little cat and pieced together the beads around his neck. He smiled as he waved as his fans screamed and cried before they walked over to the interviewer.

 "Wow, Adrien. I love the new outfit," Alec Cataldi stated as he held the microphone to Adrien. "Is it one of your father's pieces?"

 "My father and I are branching out and trying out next outfits by new designers," He stated.

 "Awesome and who is this lovely young lady on your arm tonight?" He asked and Marinette was sure he meant nothing by it but it bothered her that he said tonight. Adrien, however, laughed and flipped his hair.

 "Oh, this is just Marinette," He stated in a matter of a fact way. "She's a great friend and inspiration to me,"

 The words stung like someone had poured acid in a wound but she kept a brave face and walked with him as he waved to his fans, blowing them kisses. She frowned to herself. While everyone saw him, no one truly saw her but she said nothing for she knew that he had always been destined to shine. As the night went on, the party grew tiresome and the two of them leave. Adrien had his driver drop her off home and promised to be around tomorrow. She nodded to herself and made her way into her apartment above the Bakery. She put her coat down and stroked the ears of her cat, Tikki before freeing herself from her dress and changing into something more comfortable before she took out her moment recent project and began to sew to herself as she hummed softly. The feeling of the needle going through the material relaxed her but this time, she didn't feel her worries melt away. She loved Adrien. She loved him with all her being. She didn't doubt that. She had done since she'd first met him and even though it took him years to notice her, she remained loyal to him, never looking at another boy. He had finally asked her out a few months ago and she instantly said yes. And what bliss had it been. They were the talk of the town. The model and the designer. Their work together was killer and she was proud to call herself his girlfriend but recently, it had been going down hill. The more he wore her designs, the more he shined but the more he shined, the more she became invisible. She didn't mind that he wore her outfits but he never directly said they were hers and every time, she was with him, the same words came out of his mouth. 'This is just Marinette. She's a great friend'. There was never 'this is my girlfriend. She designs these clothes I'm wearing' or 'This beautiful lady is my queen'. Not that she expected something like that. She just wanted him to appreciate her. She sighed to herself and put her project away before going to bed.

 ~A Few Days Later~

 "Hey, Marinette. Can you get me a skinny latte pronto?" Adrien asked as he read the latest issue of Vogue Paris, which he had a photoshoot with a day ago. Marinette looked up from the dress she was scoring with an annoyed look. He was sat the dress with his feet up. "Anytime soon would be good,"

 "Get it yourself," She stated, a little snapper then she meant. He lowered the magazine and looked at her with surprise. "What?"

 "Why you been all bitchy? I just asked you to get me a latte," He gasped, frowning. She straightened up and gave him a look.

 "And all I said was get it yourself. You have two legs that work perfectly fine, don't you?" She replied, making him frown.

 "I'm busy," He stated, causing her to roll her eyes.

 "I'm also busy or have your eyes stopped working?" She asked, folding her arms. "Miss Bourgeois wants her dress finished tonight so I have to get it done, meaning I don't have time to go on an errant for you and I'm also not your PA so either get it yourself or get someone else to get it,"

 "Geez, I get it. No need to bite my head off," He rolled his eyes as he got up and headed out of the room. Marinette sighed and went back to pinning the dress. Hopefully, he'll be in a better mood when he comes back but he wasn't. He slammed down his coffee and consciously made passive aggressive remarks. She finally slams down her kit and face him. "What?"

 "What the hell is your problem?!" She asks, making him frown.

 "Nothing!" He gasped. 

 "Really? Cause you're acting like you have a problem!"

 "The only problem I have is that you're acting like a spoil brat!" He gasped, making her frown. "It's like since I got more famous and known, you've gotten more jealous,"

 "I'm not jealous!" She screamed. "I'm hurt that you act like I don't exist because since you've got famous, it's like I don't exist!"

 "That's what you're upset about?!" He gasped like she had said something trivial, making her frown. "I thought you were more mature then that, Marinette,"

 "Get out!" She screamed as tears filled her eyes. He grabbed his jacket and coffee then left the room, rolling her eyes. She finally let her tears fall as she fell to the floor. Her shoulders shook as she sobbed. It's like he didn't see her anymore and that she was completely invisible to him but not just him. Her friends are always paying him attention, her family are always singing his graces and the other designers ignore that the clothes he wears are hers. To her, it felt like the more people gave him attention, the less and less she saw. She felt lonely and useless but more then anything, she wondered if he loved her anymore. More tears fell as she wasn't sure what the answer was.

 (***)

 "Yes! I love it!" The photographer called out as Adrien posed and smiled. His fans screamed and cheered as they watched as he threw a charming grin at the camera, completely ignoring Marinette as usual. He smiled brightly and Marinette felt sorrow. The more his fans screamed, the more lonely she felt. She didn't understand how she could feel so lonely, given how many people were around but she felt close to been nothing and Adrien was completely ignoring it. He acted like their disagreement hadn't happened and when she bring it up, he made her feel like it was her fault. "Aah no! We're losing the sun!"

 "That's ok. We got some excellent photos today," Adrien replied as he looked at them on the photographer's computer. The photographer and his team packed up as Adrien turned to Marinette. "Time to go. I'll have you dropped off at home,"

 "No," She stated, not looking up from her notepad. He frowned deeply.

"What?"

 "I said no," She stated, finally looking up at him.

 "What do you mean no? How are you gonna get home?"

 "I'll do what I did before I met you and get the subway," She replied, going back to her drawing. He frowned deeply. 

 "Fine!" He growled a little before turning on his heel and leaving. Marinette let out a sigh of relief and continued to draw the street lights came on and the sun set. She hummed softly to herself as she drew, losing herself in the zone. When she next looked up, she realized the night had settled in completely now and that she should probably go home. She packed up her things and began to make her way to the subway but the sound of music caught her attention. She looked to her side and saw a man not much older then her stood in the street, playing a guitar and singing softly as a few people stood around, listening to his music. She slowly wondered over as he finished playing his song. The small crowd clapped as he grabbed his water and took a drink. Marinette couldn't really see him as he knelt down and changed the settings on his amp. A few people stepped away as he straightened up and started to play his guitar, re-tuning it. Marinette found herself intrigued by the mysterious guitarist. His hair was short and black with teal blue highlights. His hoodie matched and his black jeans were ripped. He finished tuning his guitar and looked up. Instantly, his eyes met hers. A soft but seductive smile came across his lips and a mysterious twinkle danced in his teal blue eyes. Marinette felt her cheeks burn a little as he looked at her before he started to play his guitar. The song sounded familiar but it wasn't until he started to sing that she recognized it. He stepped close to the microphone as he looked at her before his voice came through.

 "Wise men say only fools rush in," His voice sounded like it was from the heavens above. It was soft and gentle yet full of the mysteries of the night. It brought a shiver to Marinette's spine but one of pleasure and joy. "But I can't help falling in love with you,"

 He looked directly at her as he sung.

 "Shall I stay? Would it be a sin if I can't help falling in love with you?" A few more people joined them as he sang softly, playing his guitar skillfully. She honestly felt like she was the most important thing in the world right now. She didn't know how he did it but it felt like she was the only thing he could see. He paid no attention to the other people who were watching as he sang softly. "Like a river flows surely to the sea, Darling so it goes some things are meant to be,"

 He stopped singing as he played a bit of a solo, looking down at his guitar so he could focus on his music. Marinette closed her eyes as she listened to the notes.

"Take my hand, take my whole life too," The sound of his voice made her open her eyes again. Once again, those teal eyes connected with hers and she honestly felt like it was just him and her. Like there was no one else around. She felt all of her sorrow and pain wash away in a sea of music as he continued his song. "For I can't help falling in love with you,"

 He stopped playing his guitar before holding the mic as he leaned closer to it. 

 "Like a river flows surely to the sea," He sang without the music. "Darling so it goes some things are meant to be,"

 A few girls swooned as he sang softly before he started to play again. Marinette listened intensely.

 "Take my hand, take my whole life too for I can't help falling in love with you," He sang, moving his eyes across back to her. "For I can't help falling in love with you,"

 The song came to an end and everyone around clapped, bringing Marinette into reality. He smiled and thanked people as they put change and notes into his guitar case. Marinette took out a couple of spare coins and walked over. He nodded to a gentleman, who had given him €20. He looked up as she put the change into his guitar case and smiled softly at her before his eyes landed on her sketch pad.

 "Are you an artist?" He asked, nodding to it. Her face blushed as she realized what he meant.

 "Oh, not really," She mumbled, looking away shyly as she pushed a loose strand of hair behind her ear. He frowned softly to himself as he looked at her. "Um,"

 "You look really familiar to me," He mumbled, grinning before clicking his fingers. "Aren't you the sweetheart of that model Adrien Agreste?"

 Instantly, her face dropped as he said that, making him frown before holding up his hands.

 "Sorry. I didn't meant any offence by that," He mumbled, rubbing the back of his head. "I'm not very good with words,"

 "T-that's ok," She mumbled. "But yes, I am the girlfriend of Adrien Agreste,"

 She held out her hand to him.

 "My name is Marinette Dupain-Cheng," 

 "Luka Couffaine," He smiled, shaking it before pulling away as he began to clearing up his stuff as people walked by. "Did you like the song by the way?"

 "I did. It was by Elvis originally," She mumbled, making him smile. 

 "Didn't peg you for an Elvis girl," 

 "Who doesn't like Elvis? He's the king," She scoffed as he took the money out of his guitar case and put it into bags. "Do you want a hand?"

 "No, I'm good thank you," He smiled before placing the bags into his rucksack before packing away his microphone into a case. He placed his guitar in it's case and put the rucksack on. "I have to get going but if you're interested, I play this spot every night,"

 "Is that an invitation, Mr Couffaine?" She asked but he didn't answer. He just smiled in a mischievous way that made her heart skip a beat before he disappeared into the night. Marinette let out a soft sigh before she headed to the subway.

 (***)

 Marinette found herself coming back to that spot where Luka played under the night sky every night and his music relieved her off her sorrow but every time she left, her loneliness came back. After a particular bad argument with Adrien, Marinette came to Luka's spot a little bit late. He was just packing up and looked a little sad but as soon as he saw her, a smile came across his face and his eyes lit up but it didn't last long. He dropped his rucksack and rushed over to her when he saw the tears rolling down her face. 

 "Marinette, what's wrong?" He gasped but she didn't answer. Her lip trembled and more tears fell down her face. He brought her into his arms and rubbed her back. "It's ok,"

 She sniffed and wiped her eyes before looking up at him.

 "I'm s-sorry," She mumbled, looking down.

 "Don't be," He replied, looking at her with a soft look. Marinette felt a blush come over her face as she looked away shyly. "Look, I have to drop these back at home-"

 He nodded to his equipment.

 "But if you'd like to join me, we could go grab a coffee at mine and talk about whatever you want. Sound good?"

 "T-That sounds g-great," She sniffed, smiling a little. She went to grab one of his cases but he smiled, picking them up. She walked with him as he began to walk towards the Seine. 

 "I should warn you. I live on a boat," He states, looking at her seriously.

 "That doesn't surprise me if I'm honest," She smiled as he turned onto the boat. She looked and smiled at the name. "The Liberty huh?"

 "Ah, I didn't name her," He smiled, offering her his hand. She took it and he helped her onto the deck before they headed downstairs. Marinette looked around as Luka put his musical gear away. She smiled softly to herself as she looked around. It was a cosy place with a simple but homely feel. An brown sofa that had seen better day was opposite a TV and the kitchenette was small and yet it felt more alive then she had seen in a long time. It was the complete opposite of Adrien's apartment. Adrien's place was perfect. Not a single thing was out of place and it was in a minimalist design. It was black and white in it's color scheme and Adrien's OCD helped keep it tidy. Luka's boat on the other hand was what one might call a little messy. Music scores were scattered around, along with several musical instruments and a few drawings were pinned to the walls, along with a couple of photos. There was a couple of mugs on the coffee table. Marinette smiled a little before walking over to the photos. She recognized Luka instantly but the two women next to him didn't seem familiar. "That's my mum and sister,"

 She jumped at little as he came over. 

 "Juleka is currently in America with her fiance, Rose," He stated. "And Mum is on tour,"

 "Your mum's a musician too?"

 "Kind of. She has her own unique shows. She mixed music with comedy," He smiled. "The Liberty use to belong to her. She gave it to me when I turned 18 and she moved in with her husband,"

 "That must of been quite the scene changer. From a boat to a house," Marinette mumbled but he laughed softly. "What?"

 "I never said she moved into a house," He replied, taking out his phone and showing her a picture of a huge tour bus. "That's the Liberty mark 2,"

 Marinette stared in shock before looking at him.

 "She moved into a tour bus?"

 "Yep," He grin, looking fondly at the pictures. He pointed to a picture of him, his sister and two others. "That was my first band. I was the guitarist, Jules was the bassist, Rose was the leader singer... that's her... and that big guy was our drummer, Ivan,"

 "What were you called?"

 "Kitty Section," He smiled. "We use to sing songs about Unicorns and fluffy bunnies,"

 "Seriously?" She asked, looking at him.

 "Yeah," He grinned. "Rose was also the song writer and as you can tell, she loved the color pink,"

 Marinette couldn't help but laugh a little as Luka smiled down at her. Marinette moved around and noticed a cloth over a cuboid object. She looked over at him and raise an eyebrow.

 "That is Sass' tank," He replied.

 "Who or what is Sass?"

 "My snake," He smiled, lifting the cover off, revealing the beautiful snake. "I put them on while I go out so he doesn't realize I'm out. I worry that he'll get lonely if he realizes,"

 "That is adorable," She smiled. "Can I meet him?"

 "Hmm, once I've fed him," He replied, walking over to the kitchenette. He picked up the kettle and filled it up with water before putting it on to boil before going into his freezer and taking out a small sealed box. He walked over to the tank and took out a frozen mouse before opening it and put it into the cage. Marinette watched with fascination as the snake devours the dead mouse. Luka put the mice back and looked over at her. "You know most girls would be freaked out by that,"

 "I'm not like most girls," She smiled softly, looking over at him. 

 "I'll say," He replied. "So coffee, tea or hot chocolate?"

 "Hot chocolate please," 

 "One Luka Couffaine hot coco special coming up," He grinned, grabbing two mugs and making them one each. A few minutes later, he came over and placed one of the mugs in front of her. Cream covered the top and it had sprinkles onto top of it. He placed his down next to hers and sat down so he was facing her. "So what do you want to talk about?"

 "How you learnt to make an amazing looking hot chocolate?" She smiled, picking hers up and taking a sip. "Wow,"

 "I work part time as a barista during the day," He explained. "So I know how to make a mean latte and hot chocolate,"

 "This is really good," She mumbled, sipping it again. He picked up his and took a sip. "So how long you been playing guitar?"

 "Since I was a little kid," He replied, putting his cup down. "Look, can I ask you something?"

 "Well, you just did," She smiled cheekily, making him playfully roll his eyes. "But you can ask something else?"

 "Why were you crying?" He asked but instantly regretted as her eyes filled with sorrow. "Never mind. I shouldn't have asked,"

 "I feel invisible," She mumbled, making him frown as he looked over.

 "What do you mean?"

 "I probably sound jealous and petty but since Adrien has gotten more popular, it's like he's forgotten who I am," She mumbled, looking down. "He doesn't treat me like his girlfriend anymore. When we first got together, he was constantly acting like I was a queen. He was kind and sweet and he made me feel wanted and loved. We shared an common interest as we both loved fashion and we thought it would be amazing for me to design some clothes for him and for him to wear them to red carpet events but he stopped telling people they were made by me, he started to flirt with his fans and was more bothered about the media coverage then me. At the red carpet events, when the press asked who I was, he would say stuff like 'oh, that's just Marinette. She's a great friend'... it's like he's ashamed to be seen with me and he acts like such a child when he doesn't get his way. We had an argument a few days before I met you. I was busy making a new outfit and he demanded that I go get him a latte. His literal words were 'hey, get me a skinny latte pronto'. Honestly, I don't care that he wanted a latte. What hurt was that he talked to me like I was nothing and expected me to drop everything when he was sat there with his feet up, doing nothing while I was trying to make a dress for my client. He had a go at me for telling him to get it himself,"

 "He doesn't deserve you," Luka mumbled, making her look at him. He blushed and looked away. "I um... just ignore me,"

 "Luka, are you blushing?" She asked with a slight tease in her voice. He cleared his throat and sipped his drink. "Can I ask you something?"

 "Sure,"

 "Why did you play Elvis the night I met you?" She asked, causing him to blush again. 

 "Um... I p-play wh-what I feel," He mumbled, shyly. 

 "It was 'Can't help falling in Love'," She stated before looking forward. "I like spending time with you,"

 "You do?"

 "Yeah... maybe it's selfish but I don't feel invisible when I'm around you," She mumbles. "I feel important,"

 "You are important," He smiled. Marinette felt her heart skip a heart beat as he looked at her with a look that she could only describe as pure love. He looked away and finished his drink. "Do you want to hold Sass?"

 "Sure,"

 (***)

 Luka pushed open the door of the night club. He looked around and instantly spotted Marinette, who was dressed in a short black dress and leaning against the bar. A girl with red hair was with her. He walked over and Marinette instantly jumped up, grinning as she saw him. Her friend stood up as he walked closer.

 "Lu-Luka!" She slurred, stumbling forward. He caught her and helped her stand straight.

 "Wow, Marinette. You're wasted," He mumbled, worry covering his face. She giggled and wrapped her arms around his neck.

 "Hmm, you sme-smell really nice," She grinned. "You know I really like you, Luka! Like super like you,"

 "That's nice but you're really drunk," He frowned as she leaned to kiss him. He gently pushed her away enough to stop her from kissing him. He really liked her and he had been thinking about kissing her since he met her but not like this. He would never take advantage of her or anyone. She frowned a little before he turned to her friend. "Thanks for calling me,"

 "I figured you were the safe choice," She stated. "Giving that Adrien is the reason why she's pissed out of her skull,"

 He frowned softly as she giggled.

 "I'll get her home," He replied, gently putting his arm around her waist. "Come on, Marinette,"

 "Lukaaaa. Can you sing me a song?" She huffed as he led her out of the night club and hailed a cab. "I think your voice is really sexy,"

 "And I think you're very drunk and don't mean that," He states, getting her in. "What's your address, melody?"

 "The Tom and Sabina bakery!" She called to the taxi driver before giggling to Luka. "I secretly live in a bakery. Don't tell anyone,"

 "I won't," He smiled softly as she curled up to him as the taxi drove to the bakery. 

 "H-hey, why didn't you kiss me back?" She asked, looking up at him.

 "Because you're drunk and I'm not that kind of guy," He states, looking at her.

 "Awww! You're always so nice, Luka!" She grinned. "Such a gentleman!"

 "I do try," He smiled as she started to hum. His eyes went wide as she hummed Can't Help Falling In Love. Slowly, it came to a stop and he looked down, only to see her eyes closed and her breathing slow and soft. He ran his fingers through her hair as the taxi went through traffic. It pulled up outside the bakery and Luka paid him before gently waking up Marinette. "We're here,"

 "M'kay," She mumbled, sleepily. He helped her out of the car and the taxi drove off. She wondered to the side door and tried to find her keys in her back. Luka gently took it off and found them instantly before he unlocked the door. She grinned sleepily and went to head up the stairs but almost tripped. He caught her and closed the door behind them before helping her up the stairs.

 "Which one is your room?"

 "That one," She grinned. "You wanna join me?"

 "Not tonight," He replied, opening the door. He helped her onto the bed and took off her shoes before taking off her necklace.

 "But where are you gonna sleep?"

 "I'll just head back to the Liberty," He smiled but she grabbed his hand and sorrow filled her eyes.

 "Please stand," She mumbled, tears in her eyes. "I don't want to be alone,"

 "Alright but I'm gonna sleep on the sofa," He stated, gently getting her into bed. He moved the cover over her and gently kissed her hair. She pretty much felt asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow. He smiled softly and leave the room before settling on the sofa. 

 (***)

 Marinette woke up with a hang over from hell. She was tired, achy and she knew she had been really drunk last night. She got up and noticed she was still in her party dress so she headed into the bathroom and took a shower before getting dressed. She wondered into the living room and saw Luka asleep on her sofa. Memories of last night flashed back into her mind and she felt her face heat up at how she had tried to kiss him yet he had pushed her away and taken her home. She owed him thanks and an explanation. Looking over at him as he slept, her heart sang a beautiful song she hadn't heard in a long time and like that, her feelings for Adrien and her feelings for Luka had became quite clear to her. She was no longer in love with Adrien Agreste and had fallen in love with Luka Couffaine. She jumped a little as he stirred. Those beautiful teal eyes stared up at her and she was pretty sure she had died and gone to heaven.

 "Hey, you're up," He smiled softly, sitting up. She walked over and sat next to him.

 "I'm sorry about last night,"

 "That's ok but why were you so drunk?"

 "I found out Adrien had cheated on me," She replied, calmly. Luka frowned. "I got drunk because I thought it would hurt to face it. I should be hurt and angry but really.... I don't feel anything,"

 "Maybe you're just blocking it out?"

 "No. I think the reason why I don't feel is because I know the truth," She mumbled. "Me and Adrien stopped loving each other a long time ago. Our love is dead but I don't know if I can end it. I don't know who I am without him. All these years, I have loved him so much and now that love-"

 "Marinette," He stated, pressing his fingers to her lips. "Come to the Grand Paris Hotel tomorrow at 6pm ok?"

 "O-ok,"

 (***)

 Marinette walked around nervously as she looked for Luka. She spotted him talk to someone. He looked really nice, dressed in a suit. He looked over and waved. She walked over and smiled at him as a few people came over.

 "Luka, who is this charming young lady?" Marinette recognized the man as a famous musician. She half expected him to do exactly what Adrien did and introduce as 'just Marinette'.

 "This beautiful melody is my muse," He smiled softly at her. She blushed a little at his introduction.  "Without her, I would be lost in a world of darkness,"

 Another blush lit across her face as Luka gently kissed her hand.

 "In fact, I believe you're familiar with her clothing label, Miraculous," And like that, she was the center of attention. People were asking her where she got her wild ideas from and she felt important. She looked over and saw Luka, smiling softly at her like she was the most beautiful creature in the room and she realized to him, she was. A blush came across her features as he looked at her with pure admiration and love.

 "Marinette?" The familiar voice of Adrien knocked her out of her thoughts. She frowned softly. "I'm surprised to see you here. I thought you'd be slaving away on another dress,"

 "Well, I'm not," She frowned, looking at the young woman on Adrien's arm. She was younger, prettier and more refined then Marinette. "Replacing me already?"

 "Well, since you didn't answer your phone, I had to improvise," He rolled his eyes but Marinette sighed.

 "Adrien, I didn't answer my phone because I'm done," She states. "I'm done with your drama, with your father, with your expectations but mostly, I'm done with you. It's over, Adrien Agreste. Goodbye,"

 With that, she turned on her heel and walked over to Luka. Adrien frowned but made no attempt to win her back, confirming her theory but Luka had done something for her that Adrien never did. He let her be herself. 

 "You let me take the limelight..." She mumbled. "Why?"

 "You deserve to shine,"

 "Can I ask you something?"

 "Anything you want,"

 "How long have you been in love with me?"

 "Since the moment I saw you in the crowd," He replied, honestly before taking her hand in his. "I can't help falling in love with you,"

[thejilyship]

Red Curls and Black Tea

Jilytober prompt number one: Lily is famous, James is clueless, and his mates have to help him figure out who she is

I totally planned to have this out on day one or two of October, but you know what they say about plans. They all go to shit when you get a migraine. (Though I’m pretty sure that whatever I had yesterday was a cluster headache of sorts and I did not like it friends.)

After Lily Evans’ dad passed away and she and her mother and sister moved into her grandmother’s terraced house in London, the elderly woman encouraged Lily to go into acting. She had been a cute child, rosy, freckled, curly red hair, big almond-shaped green eyes- absolutely adorable. Though she wasn’t a child anymore, and although she loved acting, after she wrapped up her last movie, she decided that she wanted to take a break.

She’d recently moved back home with her mum and grandmother, deciding to use her time off from the limelight to go to university. She was also hoping to use this time off to mend things with her sister, who had tired of her grandmother, and the rest of the world, constantly praising Lily.

However, University was proving to be less of an adversary than Petunia Evans.

So for her first day of class, Lily tucked her hair into a baseball cap, put on a comfy, pullover hoodie and then went to class with the intention of blending in and not drawing attention to herself.

Her first class was in a lecture hall that could easily hold a couple hundred students, and she sat in the back corner, pulled out her notebook and started setting up her notes, taking her time so that no one coming in would get a clear view of her face. This was a habit she had formed after she turned thirteen and the paparazzi had taken to hiding outside of wherever she might be and asking her dozens of inappropriate questions.

People filled into the room, and as she suspected, no on sat next to her. There weren’t as many kids in this class as there were seats in the hall, and there were only thirty seconds until class would start, and the closest person to her was two seats down, and he looked as though he was too absorbed in his phone to take note of her.

The professor came in and introduced herself and Lily let herself look up, though she kept the bill of her hat low.

“You can turn to the person next to you and introduce yourself. You’ll be working with them throughout the rest of class today,” And Lily looked down at her paper, hoping that if she didn’t make eye contact with this bloke sitting nearest to her, he would ignore her. But the problem was that they were the only two in this row of seating.

“’Lo,” The bloke said, looking over at her. “Should I move down to you?”

Lily sighed and looked up at him, “Yeah, sure.” She nodded. All she wanted was a quiet first day. She knew that she wasn’t going to be able to make it through her entire first term without attracting attention, but she just wanted this one day. But when his eyes met hers, she didn’t see the usual flash of recognition.

He picked up his bag and slid down so that he was sitting in the seat next to her. “I’m James,” He grinned, reaching out his hand. Lily looked at it and then back at him before she reached out and took his hand. “What’s your name?”

“Jane.” She said, impulsively lying. She bit her tongue and took her hand back, hoping that her fake name didn’t sound too much like his to make him suspicious.

“That’s a pretty name.”

“No it’s not. It’s a name synonymous with anonymity.” She gave him a grin and then looked back at the board. The professor was setting up something on her computer and not calling for their attention yet.

“Well, it’s a pretty name on you. Though I’m guessing that anything would be.”

She looked back at him, suddenly very glad that she’d lied. Was he flirting with her? Did he know who she was and was just good at hiding it?

“Well aren’t you a flirt,” She laughed, deciding that she would just let this play out.

“When I’m in the presence of a pretty girl, I suppose I am.” He reached up and ran his hand through his hair.

Lily looked down at her sweatshirt and pulled at the brim of her hat again. She knew that she wasn’t looking her best today. She had no makeup on, her hair was all but invisible and her sweater hid all her curves. She knew that she was pretty, but he couldn’t even see her whole face. He was just being nice. “Nah, I think you’re just a flirt. It’s fine, I’m a flirt too.”

He laughed and shook his head. “Well, I think we’ve gotten to known each other, though not exactly as the professor might have intended.”

“You know anything about psychology?” She asked, as that was what class they were in.

“I know shit all about psychology. You?”

“This will be my first course, but my mum is a social worker, so I don’t know nothing about it.”

“A social worker? That’s pretty neat-“

“Alright class,” And then the professor was ready to start the class. Lily was starting to think that she had only had them introduce themselves because she hadn’t wanted to stand up there in silence while she set up her notes, because she had yet to have them do anything among themselves. And she didn’t for the remainder of class either. When she dismissed them, and everyone was either packing up or rushing toward the door, Lily slouched in her seat again.

“You know, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say that you’re hiding from someone.”

“And you do know better?” Lily quipped, chancing a glance at him before looking back down. Sitting in the back of the room had seemed like a good idea when everyone wasn’t walking past her to get out the doors. Perhaps she should have sat in the front, then the only person who would see her face was the professor.

He opened his mouth and then closed it. “Nah, I suppose I don’t. Are you hiding from someone?”

She chewed on the inside of her cheek and inspected him. He was grinning at her, his eyes dancing behind his specks. He looked like they were playing a game, but she couldn’t tell if he knew who she was or not.

“James,” She said, tilting her head to the side. “Do you know why I’m hiding?” She asked.

He narrowed his brow, and the brief look of confusion that came over his face was enough to let her know that he did not know who she was. She grinned at him as he thought over her question. “It’s all the secret admirers, isn’t it? They’ll just hound you if you don’t hide your face behind that hat and hunker down until they’re all out of the room, won’t they?”

“I mean, look at how you’re acting,” She laughed. “And I’ve only known you for an hour.” She felt more comfortable now, knowing that he didn’t know who she was. It was like going somewhere and wearing a mask. This Jane girl could be whoever Lily wanted her to be. She didn’t have to be a fatherless, media darling who couldn’t get two sentences out to her sister before she ended up blowing her lid.

“It’s true, I’ve hardly had a whole conversation with you and I might be preparing to purpose any moment now.”

“That’s exactly why I have to hide.”

James laughed, and Lily smiled, quite liking the sound. “Alright, but honestly though. Why do you look like you’re hiding?”

Lily bit her lip, wishing that he would have just let the joke go on. She shrugged a shoulder and started putting her things into her bag now that the classroom was almost empty. “I’m not hiding, I’m just not one for drawing attention to myself.” That wasn’t exactly the truth, but she was trying to keep the attention from her now, which made it a passable truth in the moment.

He tilted his head to the side, and she could tell that he was wondering what it was that she thought would draw attention of strangers to this women dressed like someone who didn’t want to be seen. But he was too polite to say anything and that made Lily smile. “Well, I promise not to tell anyone that you work for Interpol. Hopefully we’ll get to work together next class.”

“I appreciate the secrecy.” She stood up and pulled her bag up over her shoulder. “Till next time.” She nodded her head at him and then stepped around him to get to the door.

“Wait!” He called from behind her and Lily turned around and lifted her head so the brim of her hat wasn’t blocking her view, allowing him to see her whole face for the first time. Again, she waited for him to recognize her. She was starting to feel a bit vain, because every time he failed to recognize her it was a shot to her ego. A relief, but still a shot to her ego.

He narrowed his brow and tilted his head. “Have we met before?”

“I don’t think so, why?”

“Oh, I just… You look familiar.” He shook his head. “But never mind that, are you on your way to another class or do you have some free time?”

“I’ve got a couple hours before my next class actually. I was thinking about having a look around the library.”

“You think you might want to grab a cup of coffee instead?”

Lily bit her lip and pulled her bag up her shoulder. “You wanna go get coffee with me?”

“Yeah,” He shrugged.

“Why?”

“Well don’t make it weird.” He ran a hand through his hair and the tips of his ears started to turn red. Lily laughed and covered her mouth with the sleeve of her sweatshirt. “You’re cute and funny and-“

“I wasn’t fishing for compliments.” She interrupted him, feeling just a bit bad between his red ears and him thinking that her name was Jane. “And I’d love to get coffee. But before we go, I think you should know that my name is Lily, not Jane.”

He tilted his head, opened his mouth and then closed it and nodded before saying, “Lily seems like it fits you better.” She grinned.

“You’re not going to ask why I lied about my name?”

“You can tell me over coffee.” He leaned down and picked up his bag from the floor and then offered her his arm as though they were in a movie from the forties. She laughed again but accepted his arm and let him lead her out of the classroom.

“Where are we going?”

“You’re a first year, are you?” He raised his brow.

“Would I know where we were going if I weren’t?”

“Of course, there is only one good coffee place on campus. Hooper’s.”

“I learned where the library was, and then the buildings that house my classes, and I’m afraid that’s it.”

“Tragic,” And he sounded as though he genuinely believed that it was tragic. Lily found herself laughing again.

The corridor that they were walking down was starting to get rather crowded, and Lily, who tried her best not to be a paranoid person but quite often failed at it, lowered her head.

“Is it an eye contact thing? I’ve got a friend who can’t do big crowds because he gets uncomfortable with thinking he needs to look at everyone.”

“Nah, that’s not it.” She shook her head, wishing that she could lift up her head and walk normally so that he wouldn’t start thinking that she actually wanted to be part turtle or something similar.

“Is it related to crowds?”

She inhaled through her nose and then shrugged. “I mean, I suppose. Certain crowds do make me nervous.” She was comfortable with her fame, it had been a part of her life for a long time, but she also liked for it to be on her terms, which didn’t happen all that much. If she was seen at dinner with her mum and grandmum, she would be accosted for autographs and pictures, which she loved at meet and greets and the like, but she liked to have her public and private life separate. In a perfect world, she could pull off a wig at the end of the day and no one would recognize her, Hannah Montana style. The best of both worlds.

But it was a ridiculous notion, her and her childhood friend Mary had already tried wigs, and they didn’t work. Instead, the tabloids simply reported that she’d gotten a terrible hair cut and ruined her ‘beautiful red hair!’

“You’re very mysterious, Ms- Ms. Lily.” He tripped over his words. “I don’t know you full name.”

“No, you don’t.” She grinned up at him and then looked back down the corridor.

“Very mysterious.” He repeated.

Soon they had made it to the coffee shop, and it wasn’t nearly as crowded as Lily had feared. They made their way to the counter and Lily looked over the menu with a hand over her mouth.

“’Lo, James,” Someone behind the counter said. “See you already found someone to follow around this year.”

“Shut up, Pads,” James didn’t sound upset with him though. Lily looked down at the man behind the counter to make sure that his name wasn’t actually ‘Pads,’ that would be a horrific fate, and was surprised to see that this man (who’s name was actually Sirius, only slightly better than ‘Pads’) was looking at her quite intently. If anything more than just her eyes were showing, then she’d think he was trying to work out where he knew her from, but he was probably trying to work out what his mate was doing showing off the uni’s best coffee shop to a girl dressed like a hermit.

“Where is Remus?” James asked, leaning forward on the counter and trying to get a look in the back room.

“He’s back there. Chatting up Dorcas again,” Sirius rolled his eyes. “What can I get you, James’ new friend?”

“Her name is Lily,” James corrected. “Be nice.”

“I’ll just have a black tea please. And a cinnamon apple pastry.” She added, lowering her hand and reaching for her bag so that she could pay.

“I’ve got it,” James said, waving a hand and then giving Sirius his order. A second man walked from the back room, he had a smile on his face.

“Did she finally get sick of you and leave?” Sirius asked, looking amused. Lily guessed that this was Remus. She turned to James.

“Did you tell me that this is the best place on campus to get coffee because your friends work here?” She asked, raising her brow. James looked away from his mates, who had started bickering about whether or not Dorcas liked flirting with Remus all the time.

“Of course not,” He shook his head, “I told you that this was the best place to get coffee because I work here. I was hoping that we might run into each other here if I don’t work up the nerve to ask you out by the time we part ways today.“

Lily crossed her arms over her chest and tilted her chin up, fighting a smile at his forthright way of talking. “You are quite an interesting bloke, James.”

“Well, I have to be to get through your shroud of mystery.”

“I heard that you might be coming here this term.” Lily looked back to see Remus and Sirius looking at her, though it was Remus who had spoken. Sirius looked a bit gob smacked. She felt her stomach clench, though she knew that the charade wasn’t going to last forever.

“I remember hearing that too,” Sirius agreed, “But what in the seven hells are you doing with this twit?” He asked, jabbing a thumb in James’ direction.

“What are you two going on about?”

“You don’t know who she is?” Sirius asked.

“Can you two keep your voices down please?” Lily asked, looking around the shop only to find that there were exactly six people inside, including the four of them.

“I do know who she is,” James’ eyes were narrowed, and he was looking between Lily and Sirius. “She’s Lily. She’s in my psychology class. She’s an international spy. Or possibly in some sort of witness protection program. “

Lily laughed, and James smiled.

“Don’t laugh at him. When he realizes who you are, it’s only going to make him insufferable.”

“He’s funny,” Lily shrugged, still looking at James.

“He’s really not. If you’d known him for as long as I have, you wouldn’t think that he was funny.”

“He can be funny,” Remus allowed, causing Sirius to elbow him. “Sometimes. Mainly when he’s drunk.”

“I’ll give you that. He’s a riot when intoxicated. Otherwise, dead boring.”

“You are both horrible mates.” They shrugged. “Also, are we going to get our order any time soon?”

Sirius rolled his eyes and then went off with Remus to make up their drinks and fetch Lily’s pastry. He looked over at her and Lily took a deep breath.

“Should I know who you are?” He asked quietly, trying to make sure that Remus and Sirius couldn’t overhear. Lily thought it was a valiant effort, but they weren’t all that far away.

“I mean,” She sighed and reached up, pulling her hat off her head and letting her tell-tale red curls fall across her shoulders. “Unless you don’t watch many movies…” She trailed off and watched James get slack-jawed.

“You’re Lily… You’re Lily Evans?”

“International spy,” She joked. “It was kind of fun meeting someone who didn’t know who I was right away. That doesn’t happen too often anymore. Except with the elderly. They all tell me that I look like Judy Garland.” She shrugged.

James shook his head and then his hand was buried in his hair.

“I’m sorry I lied.”

“No, it’s fine.” He shook his head and looked around the store. “I mean, I understand why you were hiding your face now. You’d get swarmed.”

“It does happen sometimes, yes.”

“I can’t believe I didn’t recognize you,” He whispered, mostly to himself though. Lily smiled at him.

“You’re still going to ask me out though, right?” James laughed and let his hand fall out of his hair.

“I suppose,” He teased. “I mean, I’ll try not to hold this against you.”

“That’s all I ask,” She tucked her hair back behind her ear.

“I took a drink of your coffee,” Sirius said as he handed James his drink. “Also might have taken a bit of your pastry,” He said to Lily as Remus handed over her tea. “If you’re hanging out with James, then I refuse to treat you like your famous.”

“He really is a fan, despite the fact that he’s being an arse right now.” Remus said.

“This really is dreadful service,” She looked at James. “I can’t believe you’d subject me to this in an attempt to ask me out.”

“Oh, don’t worry. I’m most definitely regretting this plan. If I’d known who you were sooner, I would not have unleashed Sirius and Remus on you. Though I’m still expecting that you’ll say ‘yes.’”

“You are?” Sirius interrupted again, and Remus gave them an apologetic look before dragging him to the other end of the counter.

“I mean, unless Sirius ruins everything.” Lily smiled at him.

“I’m fairly sure that I’ll say yes.”

James’ ears turned red again and then he nodded toward a table and she followed after him.

She had wanted a quiet day, but she was starting to think that James Potter might just be even better.

[infinitemarilynmonroe]

THE VILLAIN AND THE SHOWGIRL: A CLOSER LOOK AT ARTHUR MILLER AND MARILYN MONROE

[Please note that all credit for this article goes to the wonderful team at Immortal Marilyn.] ------------------ Arthur Miller. In the Marilyn community his very name conjures up images of The Hooded Claw; a cartoon villain with very few likeable qualities, a man whose appearance in the life of the heroine provokes boos and hisses from the viewing public. When an Arthur Miller photo or article is posted online in a Marilyn community group you can almost guarantee that it will be followed a flurry of negative comments, polarised views and hot debate. One comment that crops up on a regular basis is this; he didn’t love her at all.

Joe versus Arthur? To the press and much of the American public, Joe DiMaggio and Marilyn Monroe were a dream couple; the legendary sportsman and the sexy movie star, happily married and planning a life together. By late 1954, less than a year after their wedding, their passionate relationship had broken down when it had become apparent to Marilyn that the couple had little in common. Joe had a jealous streak and wanted a wife but instead, he got a movie star. There were rumours of domestic violence and after just nine months, the couple divorced. For the remainder of her life, Joe worked hard to woo Marilyn back and change his ways, only maintaining his distance when she married Miller. In 1961 after her divorce, Joe was on hand to offer Marilyn his support and friendship when she needed it. At the time she said “I’ve always been able to reply on Joe after the first bitterness of our parting faded.”

Tragically less than a year later he was the one person that Bernice turned to when she needed someone to claim the body of her half-sister while she made the trip from Florida to the west coast. A heartbroken Joe maintained a promise he had made to Marilyn during their courtship when they had discussed the loving gesture made by William Powell after Jean Harlow’s early death. Joe kept that promise for twenty years; a weekly delivery of fresh roses to Marilyn’s crypt. In the eyes of many, how could any other man compete with Joe’s devotion?

Marilyn met Arthur Miller during the filming of ‘As Young As You Feel’ in 1951. He had made the trip west with friend and director, Elia Kazen, who was under contract with Fox and had some business with the studios. Over the course of several days, Marilyn, who knew Kazen through a casual affair, accompanied the duo to various meetings and had later run into them at a party. Marilyn’s acting coach, Natasha Lytess recalled Marilyn telling her “It was like running into a tree! You know, like a cool drink when you’ve got a fever. You see my toe, this toe? Well he sat and held my toe and we just looked into each other’s eyes almost all evening.” In his 1987 biography, Miller recalled a distressed Marilyn still grieving over the death of agent and lover Johnny Hyde “her face seemed puffed (with crying) and not especially beautiful but she could hardly move a finger without striking the heart with the beauty of its curving line.”

On his return to New York, the couple acknowledged that a spark had been ignited and over the course of the next four years exchanged a number of letters. Miller was racked with guilt as he was married with two children however; at this point he states their connection was purely an emotional one. In his journals he noted “I no longer knew what I wanted, certainly not the end of my marriage, but the thought of putting Marilyn out of my life was unbearable.”

After her marriage to Joe was over, Marilyn left the west coast and went into exile in New York where she headed for The Actors Studio and eventually to Arthur Miller, who later separated and divorced his first wife Mary. Marilyn and Arthur married in 1956 and sadly went through the heartache of unsuccessful pregnancies, infidelity and 1960, the breakdown of their marriage. Although Miller remarried within a year of their divorce, he was still struggling with aspects of his second marriage some 40 years later. His final play, ‘Finishing the Picture’, was a narrative about the filming of The Misfits, written just a few months before his own death in 2005.

So why is Arthur credited with Marilyn’s downfall and why do many believe he used her? He was aloof and didn’t show emotion; Miller wasn’t Joe. He was not conventionally attractive and was awkward in his dealings with the press. He did not enjoy being in the limelight and naively believed that once the news of their marriage had broken, that they would be left alone to get on with their lives. He was wrong. The couple were ridiculed by journalists (‘The Egghead and the Hourglass’) and Marilyn’s efforts to move into dramatic roles were often treated with contempt. Put bluntly, the tone was set and the press were going to run and run with it and to this day, they still do. 

Didn’t he need good publicity during the McCarthy Trials? Not really. Miller stood by his convictions when subpoenaed to appear before The House of Un-American Activities Committee. He had been called to testify and was offered a chance for this to ‘go away’ if he would arrange for a photo call between Marilyn and the Head of the Committee. He point blank refused. In 1957 he was found guilty of contempt of congress and was fined, blacklisted and disallowed a passport when he refused to ‘name names.’ In 1958 this verdict was overturned by the Court of Appeal after they found that the Head of the Committee had misled Miller. At the time Marilyn wrote “I am so concerned about protecting Arthur. I love him and he is the only person, the only human being I have ever known that I could love, not only as a man – to which I am attracted to practically out of my senses about – but he is the only person I trust as much as myself.”

He married her for her money. Not true. Financially Miller was comfortable, he had a successful career and his work was admired by the critics. Miller did have an ex-wife and two children to support and he honoured that commitment; Marilyn had a part to play in the breakdown of that marriage and she was adamant that his children were taken care of. Financially, she knew what she was getting into. In addition, Miller was incurring almost daily legal costs with the drawn out proceedings of the HUAC which dragged on for nearly two years. Marilyn supported her husband during this process 100% and was proud that he had fought for his principles. She knew what this meant to their finances and as the main breadwinner during this period, her work supported the couple and their lifestyle.

He didn’t love her. From their first meeting, Marilyn and Miller set out on a long distance friendship that evolved into a deep and meaningful love affair. Marilyn sought support for her aspirations to be a dramatic actress and Miller found a woman who was emotionally intelligent, treated badly by the Hollywood system and wanted to be appreciated for all that she was; a serious actress and pupil, a wife and hopefully in time, a mother.

By the time the couple’s relationship had gone public, they had been meeting in secret for nearly a year, and the excitement of this private affair had so inflated the expectations they had of one another that they were almost in trouble from the start. As in many new relationships, they presented the best version of themselves to the other and as the marriage came under pressure from external forces, it was tested to breaking point. Miller found himself in the role of confidante, mentor and for some periods, carer and every decision he made revolved around Marilyn’s career and needs. He wanted to support her fully and as her distrust for others around her grew, she expected 100% loyalty and more and more of his time. When Marilyn discovered critical notes that Miller had made in his journal about her, the threads of trust began to unravel.

The most significant strain on the couple is so often overlooked but yet is so obvious. Marilyn desperately wanted children with Arthur, her two confirmed pregnancies ended in heartbreak in 1957 (an ectopic pregnancy that had to be terminated to save Marilyn’s life) and 1958 when they lost a baby approximately four months into her pregnancy. These tragic events occurred in an era when there was little support or understanding of the impact of miscarriage on a couples mental health and Marilyn suffered greatly. Her insomnia was out of control, her dependency on prescribed medication increased and she had at least three hospital admissions for corrective surgeries. This was to try and alleviate the symptoms of the painful gynaecological condition endometriosis, which was affecting her chances of conceiving and carrying a child. Miller sought help for Marilyn and encouraged her to see her doctors but on at least two occasions, he found her unresponsive after she had taken too much medication. After four years of marriage and Marilyn’s extra marital affair with co-star Yves Montand, Miller was exasperated and drained. He believed that the woman he loved was now beyond help and that he had failed her, he had failed to save her from herself.

Arthur Miller was not a saint. His behaviour towards Marilyn at times was ill judged and cruel. His remarriage so soon after their divorce and the news he was expecting a child must have been incredibly difficult for Marilyn but the reality was they had both moved on. The publication of his play ‘After the Fall’ came too soon after Marilyn’s death and despite his protests that Maggie was not a portrayal of Marilyn, the critics were divided. One could argue that Arthur was a writer and this was his outlet, but should he have published it? If Marilyn had lived, there may not have been a play at all and there is a possibility that the two may have become friends again as she did with Joe, but we will never know.

There was no public romantic gesture after her death as there was with Joe. However towards the end of his life, Christopher Bigsby, who was writing a book on Miller, was given access to some of his papers and to the man himself at the home he had once shared with Marilyn. Bigsby noted that Miller had kept five letters Marilyn had written to him during their courtship. However, the most poignant reminder of their time together hung in the garage; Marilyn’s bicycle was in the same place she had left it, some forty years before.

Is it fair to bash Arthur because he wasn’t Joe or can we accept that Marilyn made her own choices and loved and was loved in return?

As for the big question, did Miller really love Marilyn?

The best person to ask is Miller himself. “She was a whirling light to me then, all paradox and enticing mystery, street tough one moment then lifted by a lyrical and poetic sensitivity that few retain past early adolescence. It was an ironical summer that I will never forget, my soul only half there (at work) and exhilarated with life and at the same time ridden with guilt. I loved her as though I had loved her all my life; her pain was mine” “First of all I took her at her own evaluation; I thought she was a very serious girl, because I loved her. Because I took that view, she thought the best of her was in my eyes” “I too was struggling because I could not smash her enemies with one magic stroke, our own relationship was wounded because she was beyond my reassurance, she had no means of preventing the complete unravelling of her belief in a person once a single thread was broken” “Her incredible resilience was almost heroic to me now. Without discussion we both knew we had effectively parted and I thought a pressure had been removed from her, and for that much I was glad” “I realised now, as I longed for a miracle, that I had come to believe no analysis could reach into her. I had no saving mystery to offer her; nor could her hand be taken if she would not hold it out. I had lost my faith in a lasting cure coming from me, and wondered if indeed it would come from any human agency at all.” “There was a lot of pain, certainly for her, and certainly for me. It was a defeat. She was a super sensitive instrument and that’s exciting to be around. Until it starts to self-destruct” “The great thing about her to me, was that the struggle was valiant, she was a very courageous human being and she didn’t give up till the end” Sources: Timebends – Bloomsbury Publishing 1987 60 Minutes Interview – Arthur Miller. 1987 Arena Interview with the BBC – Arthur Miller

[motivationsuccess]

Invisibles: The Power of Anonymous Work in an Age of Relentless Self-Promotion

Introduction Andy Johns is a name in music that is relatively unknown but Johns is responsible for engineering some of the greatest records by Led Zeppelin, The Rolling Stones, Eric Clapton, and Van Halen. Johns passed away in April 2013  without a story in any major news outlet and his work is still largely unnoticed but obviously extremely important to the success of these bands. This is not to say it’s a shame he wasn’t recognized or gloried earlier in his life or at the end, but to put a magnified glass on professionals similar to Johns who experience fulfillment from work that isn’t recognized. Which is odd in a society that screams “LOOK AT ME, LOOK AT WHAT IVE DONE!” Over the course of the book, David Zweig, the author, goes behind the scenes with exclusive access into the lives and professions of people like Johns, or Zweig’s own stint in fact checking, to see what they all have in common. Zweig claims there are three traits that organically came to light when he was interviewing potential Invisibles. The traits are Ambivalence toward recognition, meticulousness, and savoring of responsibility (Zweig 2014, p.6). The Invisibles interviewed for this book do not work in mundane jobs; they are highly skilled people who are very critical to whatever field or project they are a part of. They are highly respected by they’re co-workers and most of the time don’t even know it. Usually the Invisibles could have pursued other careers, maybe one with more recognition, but choose to stay in their current position or follow whatever it is they were passionate about. The individual Invisibles are not exclusive but just the opposite of current cultures idea on what a successful, satisfied person entails. Although they are not always recognized for their jobs and most of the time under appreciated, they all have lasting gratification in common. Perfection=Invisibility. Ambivalence to Recognition Jim Harding is in his fifties, has a Nashville accent, and is in the way finding business. This section starts off with Zweig and Harding meeting at the Atlanta Hartsfield-Jackson airport to tour the recently completed Maynard H. Jackson Jr. International Terminal. Harding works for the design firm Gresham, Smith, and Partners where he leads their environmental graphic design group. This group works on creating way finding systems for large complex environments, such as an airport terminal. Harding and his firm are responsible for creating the signs that get people where they need to go through the airports. Harding got into way finding when the field was relatively new, as it still is, when he was in college working for an architectural sign company that had only two partners and he was the only employee. Being the only employee allowed him to learn a little bit about everything when it comes to way finding. Once he graduate college he joined the firm he is still with today. Harding is quoted saying “ultimately” “ if we do our job well, way finding enhances the customer experience without them knowing why or how”(Zweig 2014, p.19). This is contrary to the popular idea of having our work seen. A measure of success is how much it is noticed and you’re credited for it, while in Harding’s case, he lives in the state of his work being seen by the masses but hopefully not pointed out. Harding gets genuine satisfaction out of this. Daniel Paisner, like Harding, rarely has his name on his work but that doesn’t take away from his satisfaction. Paisner is a ghostwriter and has done work for many top celebrities and politicians. Paisner loves writing for the sake of writing and is glad he can do it for a living, but doesn’t need the fame. His goal, he says, is to sit on a plane and see someone reading his book without him or her knowing whom he is and not say anything the entire flight. Ambivalence towards recognition is not something we see on a day-to-day basis, in fact quite the opposite. This type of attitude is not one of purposely wanting to stay in the shadows and never being noticed for whatever type of work they complete, rather it shows the person is not driven by recognition but the work itself. Devotion to Meticulousness Meticulousness is a trait that is directly tied to successful leadership. In the book, Zweig references a study done by Timothy Judge who is a Notre Dame business professor that concluded conscientiousness (defined as being cautious, deliberate is a core trait throughout successful business people).The study involved twenty-six independent studies and found that over all consciousness was the most consistent predictor of leadership effectiveness (Zweig 2014, p. 52). Dave Apel is the Invisible interviewed in this section. Apel is in the creative perfumery business. He studied environmental chemistry in college hoping to work for the EPA or DEP. He took a job with a company called Givaudan and was tasked with bulk-compounding fragrances in a lab instead. He then started crafting his own fragrances to take home. Apel gained a mentor while working with Givaudan and the tiny details of creating these fragrances. Apel's mentor moved on to become a creative perfumist and it was then the idea popped into Apel’s head that maybe that’s what he should do. Eventually he became a perfumist and was tasked with the job of creating Sean Combs (P.Diddy) personal branded cologne while competing with other firms to gain Diddys contract. Apel met with Combs to determine what the scent should be and Combs said Mediterranean. Apel then created a plethora of scents over and over again for Combs until he was satisfied. Finally after listening to Combs’ wants and going through his lab of raw materials, Apel nailed the smell. Escape for Men became the name of the cologne and was known to be the record breaking, number-one-selling fragrance in men’s stores. Apel then worked on five move fragrances for Combs. Although Sean Combs did not sit in a lab and actually create the fragrances, his name will be on the bottle and Apel’s name will not. His meticulousness in finding the right scent is what gained him success and fulfillment. Apel is completely charged by the creative process. Savoring Responsibility Responsibility can be either a blessing or a curse. For Daniel Poon, a chief engineer at a global engineering firm who creates sky-scrapers (by 2020 he will have had hand in 10 out of the 20 tallest buildings in the world), responsibility is an integral part, if not the most important part, of his job. Ultimately, Poon in accountable for anything that happens structurally with these buildings, which is a load of responsibility. Poon, out of all the Invisibles interviewed so far, has the greatest responsibility and it could be argued he holds the highest position out of the group. This is no coincidence. Cameron Anderson a professor from UC Burkley has researched this connection (Zweig 2014, p. 71). Flow and the Power of Expertise with Effort Being in the zone is something that most athletes can relate to. Experiencing a flow state and being in the zone are interchangeable terms to describe the same feeling. We don’t often think about flowing while working but it happens often to Invisibles. Mihaly Csikszentmihayli says flow is when” the ego falls away, time flies, and every action, movement, and thought follows inevitably from the previous one” (Zweig 2014,p.98). Giula Wilkins Ary is an interpreter for the UN. This is a very hard job to land and one needs to be fluent in three languages and go through a rigorous application, interview and exam process. Giula was offered the job immediately after passing her exam but declined. She was offered the job again in Nairobi but once again declined and finally accepted a job offer in New York in 2007. Not only do you have to interpret what the speaker is saying to the needed language, but also you have to do it in real-time. That mean these interpreters need to understand and process the speakers native tongue while simultaneously figuring out how to relay the message in another language. Obviously this can be extremely mentally tasking. Wilkins Ary says there are times she experiences the flow state and never wants to stop. The only way she can do this is by learning everything about the speakers at any given UN conference, the abbreviations and code words from different countries, what the countries policy is on a given topic, what might cause controversy, and the list goes on. The point is that yes, Wilkins Ary is a phenomenal interpreter, but to gain the flow state she must do all the work to be able to get there. Zweig states that in today’s society pretty good is becoming a shared value (Zweig 2014, p. 100). To gain access into the wonder mental experience of flow state, pretty good isn’t going to cut it. One must put in all the work involved like Wilkins Ary or any one of the other Invisibles to reach this state. As a society, we’ve become pretty good at a lot of things, but not exponentially great. We only see the short end of the stick when it comes to getting into a job field “what is the minimum I can do to get in”. The Invisibles have the opposite idea, “what all do I have to learn about the craft to become excellent at it”. Fame, Success, and the Myth of Self-Promotion For every 10 million videos on YouTube, one goes viral. Historian Warren Susman has a theory that we have shifted from a Culture of Character to a Culture of Personality. We live in an environment now where everyone feels they constantly need to perform because they are in some sort of limelight. Whether that limelight be Facebook, Instagram, or whatever social media outlet you pick, people are becoming entranced in their “profile.” This section of the book is dedicated to questioning the idea of self-branding and promotion. We are being told now that it is crucial to be seen in a positive light on social media and to sell ourselves to our potential employers, but is this always accurate advice? Let’s take a look at Neal Pollack, the up and coming author in the early 2000s. Pollack gains a ton of attention with his book, The Neal Pollack Anthology of American Literature, that he lands a huge publishing deal. He does a ton of interviews and getting a ton of attention, he lands a few more deals. Most of the deals didn’t sell very many books but that didn’t matter because Pollack was creating a buzz. Eventually his head got so big he tried to pitch Alternadad (one of his books that didn’t do so well) as a movie and then even a whole multimedia empire. What happened? The whole thing busted and Pollack was over selling himself and trying to cash in instead of doing what got him there in the first place, writing. Pollack said ”I spent a lot of years trying to turn myself into a brand because they told us self-branding is a way to success” “But that’s not true”(Zweig 2014 p.119). Zweig goes on to say he is not against self-promotion or branding, but the over promotion and constant need to create hype or buzz that our culture tells us to do. Don’t let self-promotion get in the way of creating substance. Mastery of Craft in Service to a “Front Man” Remember the name Plank I mentioned at the beginning? His actual name is Pete Clements and for the past 20 years he has been the guitar tech along with many other things for the globally known band Radiohead. Zweig follows Plank through a typical workday when they on tour. Plank is not only the guitar tech but maintains and manages all of the band equipment on and off tour, designs the cases for the guitar, conducts the set ups and break downs, and ultimately holds the most responsibility out of several dozen respected touring employees. Plank is the only salaried year-round off tour employee who assist the band in the studio, doing administrative work as well as maintain the storage of equipment, yet listening to Zweig describe his demeanor you wouldn’t think so. He doesn’t act as so bi shot yelling orders around to local crews and people under him, often he actively takes part in the entire process from setting up to breaking down and in the middle he’s changing out the guitars and settings for Thom Yorke, the bands front man. Plank embodies every trait described in this book that relates to Invisibles. He is meticulous, ambivalent to recognition, and savors responsibility. Plank is humble and collaborates extremely well with everyone around. He has been with a globally known band for 20 years yet no one knows his name. Plank likes to melt into the background with the crew and fans. Zweig asked him how he thought the crew viewed him obviously knowing his privileged position; his reply was “ I hadn’t thought about that, really”(Zweig 2014 p. 169). That is someone who works solely for satisfaction after knowing he did everything he could to make the concert run smoothly. Conclusion It’s hard to navigate in today’s world through constant distraction. Some people tell you to “SELF-PROMOTE!” that’s the way to success. Other people say find something that will make you rich, or famous. Invisibles has given us another a whole other concept to think about. That concept is doing the work because we enjoy it. It doesn’t matter if anyone knows you did or if they ever actually see it, what matters is at the end of the day did you go home satisfied and fulfilled with your work? Did you get into the flow state? Were you the real reason someone was able to entertain millions? Did you create a fragrance for the scent itself? At the end of the day we, as a society, need to stop a see what direction majority of us are going in. Sure its ok to dream about being a huge actor, athlete, or business man, but its also ok to dream of being a nuclear physicist who studies and creates theories all day. This book is great for everyone and anyone looking to find satisfaction in their life and career. Managers and employees can take away valuable lessons from what Zweig has to offer in Invisibles: The Power of Anonymous Work in the Age of Relentless Self-Promotion.

Biography of the writer

David Zweig is a writer, lecturer and musician based in New York. His latest book, Invisibles, is about the power of embracing anonymous work in a culture obsessed with praise and recognition. He has released two critically acclaimed albums, All Now With Wings and Keep Going. Both albums charted on college radio playlists and garnered accolades for Zweig, with the press calling him a "symphonic pop prodigy." Zweig's debut novel, Swimming Inside The Sun, a modernist bildungsroman about identity and self-consciousness, was released fall 2009. It quickly gained notice with a rave review from Kirkus calling it a "terrific debut from a talented writer." Zweig has been invited to lecture at universities, academic conferences, and corporations around the U.S. and the world. As a freelance journalist, his pieces have appeared in a variety of publications, including The Atlantic, The New York Times, and The Wall Street Journal.

you can buy his book here

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50 Audrey Hepburn Quotes On Life, Style and Children

Here is our latest collection of Audrey Hepburn quotes that will open your heart!

Audrey Hepburn was a Belgian-American actress known for her humble and charming personality and her humanitarian work towards needy children. Born on May 4, 1929, in Brussels, Belgium, she rose from being a victim of the Nazi occupation to become one of Hollywood’s most popular box-office attractions.

Besides starring in many Hollywood films, Audrey Hepburn also worked as a special ambassador to the United Nations Children’s Fund (UNICEF) where she dedicated her life to helping impoverished children in poor countries of the world. She visited various African and South Asian countries where she nursed sick children and raised awareness of the conditions in these nations.

Audrey attended school in England and the Netherlands. Her father abandoned the family when she was young, so she was raised by her strict mother.

She was living with her mother in the Netherlands when the German invasion and occupation occurred during World War 2. Life was hard during this time and she had to survive Nazi brutality and the Dutch famine over the winter of 1944. She dug up and ate tulip bulbs to survive the famine, danced ballet for groups of people to raise money, and stayed in bed and read to help her forget the hunger.

After the war, Audrey and her mother moved to London, where she began acting in films mainly to raise money to support her family. She became a star following her starring role in the Hollywood film, Roman Holiday, which won her the 1953 Academy Award for Best Actress.

Audrey went on to star in dozens of films with other major actors and was nominated for three other Academy Awards besides the one she won for Roman Holiday. Audrey died of cancer on 20 January 1993, at the age of 63.

Below you’ll find our collection of inspirational, wise, and thought-provoking, Audrey Hepburn quotes and sayings. Enjoy!

Amazing Audrey Hepburn Quotes On Life, Style and Children

1.) “Life is a party. Dress like it.” – Audrey Hepburn 

2.) “The most important thing is to enjoy your life – to be happy – it’s all that matters.” – Audrey Hepburn

3.) “Nothing is impossible, the word itself says ‘I’m possible’!”- Audrey Hepburn

4.) “For beautiful eyes, look for the good in others; for beautiful lips, speak only words of kindness; and for poise, walk with the knowledge that you are never alone.”- Audrey Hepburn

5.) “The beauty of a woman must be seen from in her eyes, because that is the doorway to her heart, the place where love resides.”- Audrey Hepburn

6.) “I believe in pink. I believe that laughing is the best calorie burner. I believe in kissing, kissing a lot. I believe in being strong when everything seems to be going wrong. I believe that happy girls are the prettiest girls. I believe that tomorrow is another day and I believe in miracles.”- Audrey Hepburn

7.) “You can tell more about a person by what he says about others than you can by what others say about him.”- Audrey Hepburn

8.) “There is more to feminine charm than just measurements. I don’t need a bedroom to prove my womanliness. I can convey just as much femininity, picking apples off a tree or standing in the rain.”- Audrey Hepburn

Audrey Hepburn quotes on style and humor

9.) “Why change? Everyone has his own style. When you have found it, you should stick to it.”- Audrey Hepburn

10.) “I love people who make me laugh. I honestly think it’s the thing I like most, to laugh. It cures a multitude of ills. It’s probably the most important thing in a person.”- Audrey Hepburn

11.) “Opportunities don’t often come along. So, when they do, you have to grab them.”- Audrey Hepburn

12.) “I decided, very early on, just to accept life unconditionally; I never expected it to do anything special for me, yet I seemed to accomplish far more than I had ever hoped. Most of the time it just happened to me without my ever seeking it.”- Audrey Hepburn

13.) “I never think of myself as an icon. What is in other people’s minds is not in my mind. I just do my thing.”- Audrey Hepburn

14.) “I may not always be offered work, but I’ll always have my family.”- Audrey Hepburn

15.) “Pick the day. Enjoy it – to the hilt. The day as it comes. People as they come… The past, I think, has helped me appreciate the present – and I don’t want to spoil any of it by fretting about the future.”- Audrey Hepburn

16.) “People, even more than things, have to be restored, renewed, revived, reclaimed, and redeemed; never throw out anyone.”- Audrey Hepburn

17.) “Your heart just breaks, that’s all. But you can’t judge or point fingers. You just have to be lucky enough to find someone who appreciates you.”- Audrey Hepburn

Audrey Hepburn quotes on life and love

18.) “The beauty of a woman is not in a facial mole, but true beauty in a Woman is reflected in her soul. It is the caring that she lovingly gives, the passion that she knows.”- Audrey Hepburn

19.) “When you have nobody you can make a cup of tea for, when nobody needs you, that’s when I think life is over.”- Audrey Hepburn

20.) “Living is like tearing through a museum. Not until later do you really start absorbing what you saw, thinking about it, looking it up in a book, and remembering – because you can’t take it in all at once.”- Audrey Hepburn

21.) “Make-up can only make you look pretty on the outside but it doesn’t help if you’re ugly on the inside. Unless you eat the make-up.”- Audrey Hepburn

22.) “You can always tell what kind of a person a man really thinks you are by the earrings he gives you.”- Audrey Hepburn

23.) “Remember, if you ever need a helping hand, it’s at the end of your arm, as you get older, remember you have another hand: The first is to help yourself, the second is to help others.”- Audrey Hepburn

24.) “The beauty of a woman is not in the clothes she wears, the figure that she carries or the way she combs her hair.”- Audrey Hepburn

Audrey Hepburn quotes to inspire and teach

25.) “Since the world has existed, there has been injustice. But it is one world, the more so as it becomes smaller, more accessible. There is just no question that there is more obligation that those who have should give to those who have nothing.” – Audrey Hepburn

26.) “Success is like reaching an important birthday and finding you’re exactly the same.”- Audrey Hepburn

27.) “There are certain shades of limelight that can wreck a girl’s complexion.” – Audrey Hepburn

28.) “It’s that wonderful old-fashioned idea that others come first and you come second. This was the whole ethic by which I was brought up. Others matter more than you do, so ‘don’t fuss, dear; get on with it.'” – Audrey Hepburn

29.) “I tried always to do better. Saw always a little further. I tried to stretch myself.” – Audrey Hepburn

30.) “A quality education has the power to transform societies in a single generation, provide children with the protection they need from the hazards of poverty, labor exploitation and disease, and given them the knowledge, skills, and confidence to reach their full potential.”- Audrey Hepburn

31.) “I heard a definition once: Happiness is health and a short memory! I wish I’d invented it, because it is very true. The best thing to hold onto in life is each other.” – Audrey Hepburn

32.) “If my world were to cave in tomorrow, I would look back on all the pleasures, excitements and worthwhilenesses I have been lucky enough to have had. Not the sadness, not my miscarriages or my father leaving home, but the joy of everything else. It will have been enough.The best thing to hold onto in life is each other.” – Audrey Hepburn

33.) “It is too much to hope that I shall keep up my success. I don’t ask for that. All I shall do is my best – and hope.” – Audrey Hepburn

34.) “My own life has been much more than a fairy tale. I’ve had my share of difficult moments, but whatever difficulties I’ve gone through, I’ve always gotten the prize at the end.” – Audrey Hepburn

35.) “Not to live for the day, that would be materialistic — but to treasure the day. I realize that most of us live on the skin — on the surface — without appreciating just how wonderful it is simply to be alive at all.” – Audrey Hepburn

36.) “My greatest ambition is to have a career without becoming a career woman.” –  – Audrey Hepburn

37.) “As you grow older, you will discover that you have two hands, one for helping yourself, the other for helping others.” – Audrey Hepburn

38.) “Water is life, and clean water means health.” – Audrey Hepburn

39.) “Forgive Quickly. Kiss slowly. Love truly. Laugh uncontrollably and never regret anything that made you smile.” – Audrey Hepburn

40.) “Elegance is the only beauty that never fades.” – Audrey Hepburn

Audrey Hepburn quotes that will inspire you

41.) “They say love is the best investment; the more you give, the more you get in return.” – Audrey Hepburn

42.) “I don’t take my life seriously, but I do take what I do – in my life – seriously.” – Audrey Hepburn

43.) “Anyone who does not believe in miracles is not a realist.” – Audrey Hepburn

44.) “The beauty of a woman is seen in her eyes, because that is the doorway to her heart, the place where love resides.” – Audrey Hepburn

45.) “For my whole life, my favorite activity was reading. It’s not the most social pastime.” – Audrey Hepburn

46.) “Some people dream of having a big swimming pool. With me, it’s closets.” – Audrey Hepburn

47.) “There is one difference between a long life & a great dinner; in the dinner, the sweet things come last.” – Audrey Hepburn

48.) “For me the only things of interests are those linked to the heart.” – Audrey Hepburn

49.) “A woman can be beautiful as well as intellectual.” – Audrey Hepburn

50.) “To plant a garden is to believe in tomorrow.” – Audrey Hepburn

Did you Enjoy these Audrey Hepburn Quotes?

As someone who overcame devastating times and accomplished so much in her life, Audrey Hepburn clearly tapped into her Everyday Power.

Hopefully, these Audrey Hepburn quotes have inspired you to tap into your full potential, face your challenges and impact other people’s lives positively. Despite her achievements, she was a humble and kind person who put other people before her.

Which Audrey Hepburn quotes were your favorite? Do you have any other inspirational quotes from Audrey Hepburn to share with us? Tell us in the comment section below. We would love to hear all about it.

The post 50 Audrey Hepburn Quotes On Life, Style and Children appeared first on Everyday Power.

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Latest story from https://movietvtechgeeks.com/kim-kardashian-admits-oversharing-plus-caitlyn-jenner-making-kris-jenner-nervous/

Kim Kardashian admits to oversharing plus Caitlyn Jenner making Kris Jenner nervous

Promptly after the whole robbery incident went down in Paris involving reality star Kim Kardashian, people began noting the dangers of excessive social media use. Prior to the robbery, Kim was known for her frequent – nearly constant - social media posts. Almost every hour, Kim would post something on one of her many social media pages, such as Snapchat, Instagram and Twitter. In the teaser for the upcoming episode of Keeping Up with the Kardashians, Kim opens up about how she thinks her former social media habits may have led to the scary Paris robbery that occurred in October 2016. In the short clip, a notably emotional Kim is seen discussing the terrifying ordeal with her sisters, Khloe and Kourtney. During their chat, Kim admits that she had been basically documenting her whole Paris trip on her Snapchat, which likely helped the robbers plan out their break-in. The 36-year-old also reflected back on her stay in Paris, noting that she had actually told her entire fan base (via Snapchat) that she “was home and that everyone [else she was with] was going out.” While talking with her 2 sisters, Kim is heard saying, “What I think happened now, after thinking about it so much, is that there was probably a group of guys that were following us the entire trip…I was Snapchatting that I was home and that everyone was going out…So I think they new [our body guard] Pascal was out with Kourtney and I was by myself.“ Post-robbery, Kim has made some changes to the way she uses social media. While she continues to have a strong presence on many of her online platforms, she has definitely taken a step back from sharing everything with her followers. While the robbery was undoubtedly a terrifying and undeserving event, hopefully other celebrities are able to learn from Kim’s experience (and just how dangerous social media can be). In other semi-Kardashian news, former Keeping Up star Caitlyn Jenner is gearing up for the release of her tell-all memoir. In the book, which is titled The Secrets of My Life, Caitlyn shares stories and details about her life – going from a male US Olympian to a female transgender reality star. With the impending release of The Secrets of My Life, insiders are telling various media outlets that fans can expect some pretty in-depth secrets from Caitlyn’s unique life journey. According to one source, Caitlyn discusses her marriage with Kris Jenner in the book and even accuses Kris of previously disapproving of her female identity. The insider went on to tell the press that Caitlyn felt Kris “made her suppress her true self” and even “pushed her into the closet” during their marriage. The palpable tension and underlying issues between Caitlyn and her ex Kris Jenner were very evident on both I Am Cait and Keeping Up with the Kardashians. However, after attempting to hash things out (on multiple occasions), it seemed as though Kris and Caitlyn agreed to let bygones be bygones, mainly for the sake of their 2 daughters, Kylie and Kendall. Nonetheless, if the speculative contents of Caitlyn’s soon-to-be-released book end up being [even somewhat] accurate, it is safe to say that Caitlyn and Kris’s relationship will once again be on very shaky ground. RuPaul is a newlywed. The host of "RuPaul's Drag Race" announced Wednesday that he married his longtime boyfriend earlier this year. The 56-year-old entertainer said he and Georges LeBar tied the knot on their 23rd anniversary in January. RuPaul revealed their recent nuptials during an appearance on TV's "Hollywood Today Live." He said he and LeBar met "on the dance floor at the Limelight" in 1994. RuPaul said LeBar owns a farm in Wyoming and "doesn't care about show business at all." Ivana Trump, the first wife of President Donald Trump, is writing a memoir that will focus on the couple's three children. "Raising Trump" will be published Sept. 12, Gallery Books told The Associated Press on Wednesday. According to Gallery, Ivana Trump is writing a story of "motherhood, strength and resilience" and also will reflect on her "childhood in communist Czechoslovakia, her escape from the regime and relocation to New York, her whirlwind romance, and her great success as a businesswoman." "As her former husband takes his place as the 45th president of the United States, his children have also been thrust into the media spotlight - but it is Ivana who raised them and proudly instilled in them what she believes to be the most important life lessons: loyalty, honesty, integrity and drive," the statement reads. Donald and Ivana Trump divorced in 1992 amid revelations that Donald Trump had been having an affair with Marla Maples, who became his second wife. (They divorced in 1999 and six years later Donald Trump married Melania Knauss.) Gallery is calling the book "non-political," and it's also unlikely to be critical of the president, whose candidacy Ivana Trump supported. Her divorce from him included a nondisclosure agreement, and her children with him - Donald Jr., Ivanka and Eric - are close to their father and are contributing memories to the book. The three younger Trumps said in a statement that they were "excited" about "Raising Trump" and called Ivana an "amazing mom, teacher and inspiration to all of us." Ivana Trump said in a statement that "Raising Trump" was in part a response to compliments she receives about her children. "I was a tough and loving mother who taught them the value of a dollar, not to lie, cheat or steal, respect for others, and other life lessons that I'll share now in 'Raising Trump,' along with unfiltered personal stories about Don, Eric, and Ivanka from their early childhood to becoming the 'first sons and daughter,'" she said. Ivana Trump has written books before, including "The Best Is Yet to Come: Coping with Divorce and Enjoying Life Again" and the novel "For Love Alone," which led to a legal battle with her ex-husband. In 1992, Donald Trump sued Ivana for $25 million, claiming the novel was based on their marriage and violated the nondisclosure portion of the divorce decree. Ivana Trump countersued over other parts of the divorce agreement and, in 1993, the two settled their differences. Gallery is part of Simon & Schuster, which under its Threshold Editions imprint published Donald Trump's campaign book "Crippled America," released in paperback as "Great Again." You can be sure there won't be any salacious parts in this book as Ivana redacted her long ago claim that Donald Trump raped her during their tumultuous divorce. MSNBC’s big “Trump tax return” scoop has caused friction between the cable news network and parent NBC, according to insiders. “[MSNBC] announced it on Twitter, and [NBC] found out when [the general public] did,” said a source. “[MSNBC president] Phil Griffin was trying to undermine [NBC News president] Noah Oppenheim. There was never a conversation. They overplayed their hand in a huge way.” Host Rachel Maddow teased the story on Twitter, then withheld the story till later in her program, revealing in a big ­anticlimax that Trump paid $38 million in taxes in 2005. “It’s their cable network, but it’s still NBC News. [NBC] did not appreciate being kept in the dark . . . To hype such a big story and not really deliver is a bit embarrassing. Airing a story you’ve hyped 20 minutes into your broadcast makes it a lot less of a ‘breaking news’ story.” A rep for NBC insisted there’s no tension between the execs. “They’ve been friends for 20 years — ever since Phil hired Noah straight out of college to work on ‘Hardball.’ They’re supertight.” A new war of words has broken out over Leah Remini‘s show, “Scientology and the Aftermath” after A&E renewed it for a second season on Wednesday. Remini — the “King of Queens” TV star who broke from the religion about four years ago — said in a statement of her show being picked up, “It became clear to us that although we were telling painful stories of former members of the Church of Scientology, this show was resonating strongly with people everywhere.” She added, “The show is really about standing up for what is right and not letting bullies have their way. I feel it is important for people to know that you can take action to bring about change, both for yourself and for others.” A&E’s prepping an Emmy campaign for the series’ first season, which has been pulling in solid ratings with an average of three million viewers, according to The Hollywood Reporter. But a rep for Scientology responded on Wednesday by alleging Remini’s “teamed with A&E to shamelessly turn religious hate into a commodity by treating it as entertainment” and accused the network of “compensating Remini’s sources” for the show. “Real transparency would be for A&E to detail all forms of compensation made to sources spreading religious hate and bigotry on Leah Remini’s show,” a Scientology rep said in a statement to media outlets. “When the network cancelled ‘Generation KKK,’ the network claimed that paying sources violated company policies. Yet at the same time it was hypocritically compensating Remini’s sources with money and significant in-kind payments. A&E can’t have it both [ways].” Last year, A&E canceled a series on KKK members before it aired, saying it learned that producers paid some participants. TMZ reported in December that a lawyer for Scientology wrote A&E alleging a double standard by canceling “Generation KKK” while keeping Remini’s on the air. But Variety reported an unnamed TV source saying of the situation, “We’re talking about payments made to hate group members versus payment to Leah, the [executive producer] of the show” and “It’s apples and oranges.” The religion’s rep further alleged to media outlets, “A&E has a duty to conduct a thorough investigation into the extent to which Leah Remini’s show violates its own internal policies,” and, “The Church has repeatedly asked A&E to investigate the production of the Remini series and financial payments, especially in the wake of numerous violent threats generated against the Church, its leaders and parishioners coinciding with the airing of the series. Those hate crimes include death threats and acts of vandalism, many of which have been and are now the subject of law enforcement investigations.” The church — which has created an entire Web site dedicated to Remini’s show, leahreminiaftermath.com — alleges that one person paid for the show is former member Mike Rinder. An A&E rep declined to comment. Meanwhile, the first season of Remini’s show has already sparked controversy. The LAPD is investigating actor Danny Masterson after three women — reportedly inspired by Remini — came forward with allegations of sexual abuse against the “The ’70s Show” star. Masterson has vigorously denied the allegations, and his rep turned the finger back on Remini for instigating them.

As the “blizzard” raged in New York on Tuesday morning, “T2 Trainspotting” star Ewan McGregor still showed up to his press day — but found no reporters there.

The actor Instagrammed an empty hotel hallway, saying, “Where are the press though?”

On Seth Meyers’ show, the Scottish actor commented on the weather, “It’s more of a sort of rainy day in Glasgow.”

He shoots “Fargo” in Canada, saying, “This is a walk in the park compared to what it’s like in Calgary.”

https://twitter.com/mcgregor_ewan/status/841676029479571464

Thankfully, plenty of people, including Helena Christensen, director Danny Boyle, Rosario Dawson, Gina Gershon and Lucy Liu, showed up to a Cinema Society screening later that night, and McGregor also took questions on Twitter, telling one fan who asked about drugs, “I got clean and sober when I was not that young of a person, 29 . . . It’s changed my life for the better for sure.”

Tori Spelling’s husband will avoid the slammer for now. Dean McDermott was held in contempt of court last week over unpaid child support — but the judge allowed him and ex-wife Mary Jo Eustace to make a deal that would spare him jail time. Per an arrangement they hashed out in a courthouse waiting area, McDermott coughed up a $2,500 installment of the cash. The next payment is due April 1. As previously reported, Eustace — who shares a son, Jack, with McDermott — will not hesitate to re-file paperwork that could land her ex in jail if he breaks the terms of their current arrangement. John Legend and Chrissy Teigen continue to define #relationshipgoals — even during tough times. “For me as a husband, it was my job to do the best I could to support her and understand what she was going through,” Legend, 38, told People magazine about Teigen’s battle with postpartum depression. “I feel like that’s the least I could do,” he said. Teigen, 31, revealed her struggles since having the couple’s first child, daughter Luna Simone, to Glamour magazine. “I think it was powerful for her to let a lot of women know they’re not alone, and no matter how much money you have or fame, anybody can feel that.” he said. And in her essay, the Sports Illustrated model described just how supportive Legend was. “John would sleep on the couch with me, sometimes four nights in a row,” she wrote. He was also present for her diagnosis during a physical. The “La La Land” musician also had some advice for other couples facing postpartum depression. “[As a man] you don’t know internally what it feels like. You should read about it and understand what it is and really just be there to help,” he said. While the Fifty Shades franchise has somehow managed to make fans out of thousands – if not, millions – of people around the world, there is one particular star who has avoided watching the racy movies altogether. In a new interview with fashion publication Elle, actor Charlie Hunnam spoke candidly about his opinion on the whole Fifty Shades frenzy. As you may recall, the Sons of Anarchy star was initially casted as Christian Grey, the male lead in the Fifty Shades franchise. However, he later dropped out of the role and was replaced by the franchise’s current star, actor Jamie Dornan. In his interview with Elle, Charlie admitted that he has not seen Fifty Shades of Grey, mainly because of his “traumatic experience” during casting. Charlie explained, “I developed a friendship with [director Sam Taylor-Johnson], but [the casting for the movie] was a somewhat traumatic experience for me. I didn’t want to open that wound.” While the actor did not offer any further details about what led him to drop out of the role of Christian Grey, previous reports claim that he was not comfortable with some of the film’s controversial and explicit intimate scenes. Later on in his Elle interview, Charlie also confessed to being “profoundly germophobic,” which inevitably didn’t mesh well with what his former Fifty Shades of Grey role entailed. On Tuesday, Batman star Ben Affleck posted a candid message to his fans via his Facebook page. Over the years, Ben has had several notable incidents involving evident substance abuse issues. However, he has continuously (for the most part) abstained from talking publicly about his substance-related issues. Subsequently, Ben’s post to his Facebook page on Tuesday caught followers by surprise, as he bravely confessed to having just completed a stint in rehab. In the post, Ben told his fans, “I have completed treatment for alcohol addiction; something I’ve dealt with in the past and will continue to confront. I want to live life to the fullest and be the best father I can be. I want my kids to know there is no shame in getting help when you need it, and to be a source of strength for anyone out there who needs help but is afraid to take the first step. I’m lucky to have the love of my family and friends, including my co-parent, Jen, who has supported me and cared for our kids as I’ve done the work I set out to do. This was the first of many steps being taken towards a positive recovery.” With Ben referring to his [possibly, ex] wife Jennifer Garner as a “co-parent,” it is unclear whether or not the 2 stars have reconciled (romantically). Back in June 2015, the duo announced that they were getting a divorce after over 10 years of marriage. However, just recently, media outlets reported that the couple retracted their divorce filing. One source told Hollywood Life, “Ben and Jennifer still have an undeniable chemistry, even after all these years. And that is part of the reason, along with their love for their children, why they are struggling with their divorce.” Nonetheless, it is good to see Ben getting the help he needs and hopefully this is the beginning of a fresh, new chapter for both him and his family. While we are less than 3 months into 2017, singer Ed Sheeran has already made his mark on the year. After stepping away from the spotlight for just over a year, Ed recently made his triumphant return with the release of his latest album ÷   (Divide). On Sunday, music publication Billboard revealed that Ed’s album has set a new record for 2017. Specifically, Divide debuted at No. 1 on the Billboard 200 Chart with the biggest album debut of 2017 so far. Evidently a big milestone for the UK-born crooner, many of his close famous friends took to social media to congratulate him on the accomplishment. Ed’s friend, and well-known DJ, Calvin Harris took to his Twitter page to playfully call out the singer for knocking him out of the top spot in the UK. Calvin posted on his page, “Ed Sheeran just beat my UK record top 10s from 1 album in ONE WEEK. Congrats Ed, but also f*** you I love you but also f*** you.” Calvin Harris, Twitter post: https://twitter.com/CalvinHarris/status/840362015864442880 Impressively, 9 of Ed’s songs off of his new album made the Top 10 on the UK Official Singles chart – including his hit tracks “Shape of You” and “Castle on the Hill.” Prior to the release of Divide, Calvin had held the record for most UK Top 10s from 1 album with his album 18 Months (which featured hit tracks like “Feel So Close,” “We Found Love”, and “I Need Your Love”). Fortunately, Ed still has a bit of time to soak in all of the accolades and records Divide is currently receiving, as he is not set to start his North American tour until June 29. Mere days after news of their blossoming romanced surfaced, superstar songstress Jennifer Lopez and former MLB player Alex Rodriguez are already taking things to a whole new level – or, at least, a whole new place. Last Friday, the new couple was spotted relaxing at the Bakers Bay Golf & Ocean Club, which is an exclusive owners-only resort, in the Bahamas. According to news outlet Page Six, Jennifer and Alex flew by private jet to the exclusive venue. Shortly after they touched down, Jennifer and Alex hopped on a speedboat and made their way to their weekend accommodations. Onlookers were able to get photos of the 2 lovebirds, snuggling up in the boat as they made their way to their final destination. While it has not been confirmed, insiders claim that the duo is planning to spend their time in the Bahamas at a friend’s private estate. While the public has only known about J-Rod (Jennifer and Alex’s couple name) for a couple of days, many outlets are reporting that they have been casually seeing each other for a few weeks now. It appears that both stars made quite the effort to keep their romance out of the spotlight, which was evidently successful. In addition, most fans and media outlets were too fixated on Jennifer’s short-lived fling with rapper Drake to realize that she had moved on to another beau. Nonetheless, with the news of their romance now public, jetting off to a private estate in the Bahamas was probably the only way for J-Rod to get some much-needed privacy. The SXSW (South by Southwest) Festival kicked off on Friday, March 10th. At this annual event, fans and stars come together to present and celebrate interactive media. While the 2017 Festival is still underway, guests at the event have already revealed some very exciting news about what is to come in music, movies and TV. On Sunday, the show runners of the HBO hit action-drama Game of Thrones, David Benioff and Dan Weiss, told fans that they could expect to see a very familiar face in the show’s 7th season. They went on to reveal that UK-born singer Ed Sheeran did a guest spot in the upcoming season. The show runners told the SXSW audience and press, “For years we were trying to get Ed Sheeran on the show to surprise Maisie, and this year we finally did it.” While you would think there would be no downsides to being invited to do a guest spot on a show like Game of Thrones, David and Dan told the crowd that it is sometimes an overwhelming experience for those coming from a non-acting background. Dan elaborated, “A lot of [music artists] say they would like to [be on the show], and then we tell them [shooting a scene] is so boring. You’re gonna hate this – you’re going to be sitting around 3 days for 12 hours a day.” Nonetheless, the HBO team was successful in convincing Ed to schedule some GOT set time into his super busy schedule. Game of Thrones season 7 is set to premiere later this year – keep an eye out for Ed! A few weeks back, TV personality Nick Cannon shocked fans when he announced he would no longer be hosting the hit reality competition America’s Got Talent. Nick’s sudden decision to end his hosting stint on AGT came after he was accused of breaching his contract with NBC when he made a joke about the network during one of his stand-up comedy shows. In a lengthy letter posted to his Facebook page, Nick explained, “I write this from a deeply saddened and dolorous mindset. After days of deliberating over some extremely disappointing news that I was being threatened with termination by Executives because of a comedy special that was only intended to bring communities closer together, I was to be punished for a joke.” Fortunately, NBC has found a celebrity to replace Nick, who had been hosting the series for 8 consecutive seasons. On Sunday, supermodel and business mogul Tyra Banks announced that she would be hosting the upcoming season of AGT. On her Twitter page, Tyra posted, “Surprise! Ty Ty is the new host of #AGT…” Tyra Banks, Twitter post: https://twitter.com/tyrabanks/status/841067045340950528?ref_src=twsrc%5Etfw With Tyra now on board, the cast now includes: Tyra Banks, Simon Cowell, Heidi Klum, Mel B and Howie Mandel.

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