#we've got an only one bed trope coming up soon

[vaya-writes]

Serving the Serpent - 7

Briar owes Lord Isen her life. She works off her debt by serving in his castle. Dealing with the rapidly changing circumstances of her life, she’s not used to anyone paying her much attention. It’s hard when Isen seems set on interacting with her. 

Cis female human with selective mutism x male naga (slow burn, co-workers to lovers, power imbalances, eventual smut). 2700 words. Content warnings for this chapter include allusions to Briar's cult-like upbringing, it's implied that Isen did not have a great childhood, and some unwanted romantic advances (though not taken far). Divider from firefly-graphics

Briar is still adjusting to her new position. Cue some world building, and some backstory tidbits from Isen regarding his family.

Previous - Masterlist

Briar’s stress starts to pick up the first time Isen uses the speaking tube. She hadn’t slept late. Not really. But Isen had to be up early for a meeting, and had woken before Briar in a rare instance. 

There’d been a shrill whistle from the tube beside her bed, and Briar had been awake immediately, heart pounding, panicking as she tried to kick her legs free of the blankets. It had taken her several moments to place herself, to identify the source of the noise, and to calm her breathing before opening the valve of the speaking tube and tapping on the metal mouthpiece, nails clacking to signify she was ready for Isen’s message. 

Things grow hectic from there. With Winter's arrival, Isen is busier, attending meetings with the locals at least twice a week. Much of Isen’s time is spent with Dinah Vulsinger, his financier, finalising the budget for the upcoming year. The rest is spent with Arol, Isen’s right hand. The lizard is from the area, and has a large part in organising last minute supplies for the winter, and preparing for the thaw. 

Briar dutifully follows Isen in this time, keeping her ears open, learning as much as she can about how he governs the Lowlands. 

She learns to write with ease. It’s still slow going, and her vocabulary is miniscule compared to those around her. But gradually she learns new words and their spellings. Numbers come less easily to her, but Lockwood has her practicing different sums each day.  

Isen makes Briar read the documents Dinah sends him. He makes her read everything, for that matter, until the words swim before her eyes, and she no longer parses meaning from the papers. Sure, reading budgets and stock counts help her understand applied mathematics. But there’s only so much she can absorb each day. 

She comes to relish her work as a cleaner and servant. It’s a chance to let her mind wander. To work without being in a state of intense concentration. But the tasks dwindle as she becomes more efficient. With the floors cleaned each day, it hardly takes her half an hour to do them. She could probably change Isen’s linens with her eyes closed. It leaves her with far too much time on her hands – time that Isen easily monopolises. 

Because when she’s not cleaning, or reading, or following him around from meeting to meeting, duty to duty, he’s speaking to her. Chattering about his work, even if half the information goes over her head. Asking how to sign certain things. Gently prodding now and then, about Briar herself. About New Haven. About her aunt. About her life before. 

She’s grateful he doesn’t ask certain questions. Not what happened to her parents. Nor why she is mute. Or how she ended up a sacrifice to the beastly creature of Eastern Highwood. She’s not sure if she’s ready to share those aspects of herself. It’s hard enough talking about herself. She’d been taught from a young age: she was to be seen and not heard. Speaking only when spoken to. Her worth was less than those around her. 

Isen must have been raised differently, she thinks. Despite being a Lord. Despite owning land. Something must have happened to make him different. Why else would he treat all his servants with kindness and smiles? Greet the peasants among them with familiarity, and good humour? Why else would he keep asking her opinion? Touching her hand as he passed? Bumping shoulders when she forgets her guard? 

It confuses her. Flusters her. Unsettles her. But she grows... not quite used to it. But to expect it. The casualness, and the disregard for etiquette. His freedom with touch, and his continuous quips. She’s not sure she’ll ever be completely okay with them, but it gets easier to mask her surprise. Easier to relax her shoulders, and not freeze up completely if he lingers in her personal space a moment too long. He’s proven himself safe to be around. Backing off when she ices him out, or apologising if he notices her discomfort.  

“You look tired,” he comments over one dinner. 

She straightens, suddenly aware of her slouch. Then shrugs. ‘I’m fine.’ 

A smile flickers at his mouth, before he covers it with his hand. “You’re allowed to be tired, you know.” 

Is she? She’d woken up to the speaking tube again, letting her know that Isen would be taking his breakfast elsewhere. Hastily she’d dressed and stepped into Isen’s chambers to ask if he wished she accompany him, but he’d waved her off.  

It takes a mental toll, being switched on all the time. Being on standby, even when Isen doesn’t have her working. She’s loath to disappoint, or to keep Isen waiting. He doesn’t interrupt her during her down time often, but when he does, she can’t help but scramble into action, an unwelcome anxiety growing in her, that if she makes him wait too long, he’ll be unhappy. He’ll punish her. 

“Are you following the new lessons Lockwood gave you?” 

She stills her features, masking her displeasure. She’d started learning multiplication and division. It’s a lot to get her head around, but she is picking it up. ‘They’re not easy, but I can do them.’ 

Isen lets the smile show this time. “They’ll get easier with practice.” 

There’s a beat of silence while they both eat. Isen breaks it again. “And the meetings. We haven’t been debriefing as frequently. Did you have any questions?” 

Endless questions. She lets her next frown show. ‘Yes, but...’ she struggles with her phrasing, ‘...I don’t know where to start.’ She also hadn’t wanted to bother Isen. She knows he’s open to teaching her, answering her questions. He does so with patience every time. But she also only asks the most pertinent of questions, not wanting to take hours just to fill in the gaps of her knowledge.  

That and there are questions she literally can't ask. She doesn’t know the signs, or the spelling for several of the concepts that are mentioned in front of her. It’s frustrating. 

“Start at the beginning?” 

It’s not very helpful advice. Still. She leans back to consider a topic. Decides on something of current relevance. 

‘What happens during the thaw?’ (Thaw. Melt. Ice change to water.) 

“Oh, the thaw. Well, it floods, of course. You probably haven’t seen the worst of it in Highwood, but depending on the length of the winter, some of the usual settlements become uninhabitable. It doesn't last long, but it can be quite destructive.” 

Briar frowns. ‘Why build there?’ 

Isen shrugs. “Where else? The woods are narrow, populated with humans and beasts. You can live in the marsh if you build on stilts. The only things we can farm in this area practically grow in the water. And there are no main roads, so all imports have to come by river.” 

Briar almost doesn’t ask her next question. ‘Is it worth it?’ 

Isen raises his brows. “What? Living here?” 

‘Ruling here.’ (Ruling. Owning. Working.) 

Isen smiles at that, the expression unusually contrite. “It’s... not a glamourous area, no. But my father bestowed stewardship to me. And people would live here regardless of rule. So, I take it upon myself to do a good job.” 

It’s strange having such a casual conversation with Isen. Learning details about him that don’t come up when he’s on the clock.  

‘Who is your father?’ 

Isen’s expression hardens, if minutely. Still, Briar braces at the change in his exterior. “My father. Lucien Kovit. One of the Collective. He rules over nearly half of the Isles, if you include my and my sister’s territories.” 

Briar blinks. She’d had no idea that Isen had come from such an influential family. 

He winces at her expression. “Don’t. It doesn’t change anything. My father is an arrogant, controlling, unkind male, and I’d rather not be grouped in with him.” 

Still, curiosity eats at her. Her family situation was vastly different from many of the ones she saw growing up; she can’t help but wonder at how Isen was raised. 

‘What about your mother?’ 

Isen relaxes, but not by much. “One of father’s many wives. Their partnership was less political, and more about offspring. A boa and a sea serpent were considered an unstable match, but father wanted a clutch of venomous children. Regardless, I barely knew the female. We were all my father’s creatures.” 

Something about his phrasing makes Briar reexamine Isen. Sympathy creeps through her. Enough so that part of her is tempted to share her own fraught history. A part she staunchly ignores, in favour of more interesting information. 

She hopes it’s a lighter topic. ‘And are you?’ 

“Am I...?” 

‘Venomous?’ She has to mime the meaning, pointing at her teeth when no synonyms come to mind. 

“Oh, no. Well, I’ve no venom I can use in combat anyway.”  

There’s a grey tinge to Isen’s cheeks. Is he... blushing? 

A growing part of her is dying to know what he means, politeness be damned. ‘Not in combat?’ (Combat. Fight.) 

“No,” he says, more firmly. “My sister Zyla, and my brother Starlen inherited deadlier venoms. Zyla possesses an uncommon neurotoxic venom which paralyses her opponents, whereas Starlen has a more traditional hemotoxin.” 

Briar has no idea what several of those words mean, but she knows a deflection when she hears one. Clearly Isen doesn’t want to talk about his own abilities.  

She respects the move, begrudgingly, and shrugs. ‘You have siblings?’ (Brother. Sister. Both. Siblings.) 

He grimaces. “Too many half siblings to count. Literally scores of them. But of my clutch there are three. Zyla, Starlen, and Kylet.” 

‘What are they like?’ 

Isen finishes his food and slouches over his desk. “Zyla is the golden child. She has a whole island under her stewardship. Starlen... has a posting in the Isle military. Kylet is a bit of an entrepreneur. A bad one. Regardless, father still funds their businesses. Encourages them when they fail.” Isen frowns. “That one could get away with murder if they tried.”  

Briar tries reading between the lines. She’s not sure why but it seems like, ‘you’re not favoured?’ 

Isen’s nose crinkles. “Not in the least. Father doesn’t like my style of business.” 

‘Why?’ 

Isen shrugs. “I’m not trying to conquer the neighbours. Or build a monopoly. My name won’t be in history books or written on statues and plaques. He’s obsessed with legacy. Always on my case about making a name for myself. Or how I run the place.” He rolls his eyes. “Just thinking about it irritates me. Can we talk about something else?” 

Brian offers Isen a rare smile. It’s small, and strained, and her next signs are hesitant, but she offers as much solidarity as she can. ‘I wasn’t favoured either.’ 

Isen’s next smile matches her own. It’s more of a grimace. “Based on how we met, I’d gathered.” He doesn’t meet her eyes when he next speaks, staring instead at one of the reports on his desk. She gets the feeling that he’s paying close attention, however. “Did you want to talk about it?”  

She lets out a noise of displeasure.  

Isen looks back to her, surprised at the vocalisation.  

‘No thank you.’ 

He gives a begrudging smile. “If you ever change your mind, I’ll listen.” 

She shrugs, and stands, ready to tidy up. She’s collecting dishes and clearing the desk when she notices Isen’s stare. He looks contemplative, biting his lip absent mindedly. 

It’s an effort not to fidget under his gaze, and she wonders if he even realises he’s staring. Until he breaks the silence. 

“I’ve a trip planned later this week. It’s not far, just touring the villages in the Lowlands. Would you like to come with me?” 

Briar blinks. It’s hard to parse an expected reaction when Isen’s face is carefully composed into neutrality. She evades the question, asking instead, ‘Should I come?’ 

Her boss shrugs. “It would be a good opportunity to see the Lowlands. Learn about the villages. See me at work.” 

She imagines he might let her stay behind if she truly wished. But he makes a fair point. Apprehension still fills her. ‘I’ve never travelled before.’ 

He breaks into a gentle smile. “It’s a longer trip from Highwood to here than it is to the villages.” 

She contains a wince. Keeps the sentiment to herself – that she doesn’t remember much of that trip to Riversreach. That she’d been drugged into insensibility and numb with terror. 

But he waits patiently for her answer. Perhaps he’d be amenable towards a few questions... 

‘How long?’ 

He relaxes fractionally at her interest. “A day at the shortest. It’s usually an overnight trip.  

‘Why?’ 

“Why is it an overnight trip?” 

‘Why do you go?’ 

His eyes unfocus as he considers. “This trip is to inspect preparations for winter and the thaw. Arol could do it for me, but I try to visit the locals once each season. Remind them I exist.” 

‘They would otherwise forget?’ (Else. If you did not.) 

Isen smiles, though not at her. “It’s easier to build trust and connections with a person when you know their face, don’t you think? When you can speak with them from time to time. I could delegate the work, but I like to hear the local problems for myself on occasion, too. It certainly makes them more tangible than if I just read about it.” 

She’s surprised at his reasoning. The Pilgrims had taught her that authority (except from their own leaders, or course) was always out of touch. That they did not care for the peasants or their problems. She’d wondered why he’d been so busy with meetings lately. The stream of locals visiting twice weekly had perplexed her. 

“So, will you join me?” 

She’s still apprehensive. But now she can’t help but feel curious. And that curiosity outweighs the fear. Barely. 

She gives Isen a measured nod.  

He smiles. “I’ll let Arol know. He'll sort our transport and accommodation. Do let Lockwood know that you’ll be absent from your lessons, yes?” 

Briar finishes her tidying. Typically, she’d rejoin Isen at the table, reading over his reports, but tonight he waves her off. 

“You’ve done enough today, Legs. Unless you want to keep working.” 

She conceals a grimace at the nickname. Then shrugs. ‘What else would I do?’ 

Isen stills, before frowning at Briar. “I don’t know if anyone has told you this, but you are welcome to leave Riversreach on your days off. Or visit your old quarters to socialise during the evenings. There are shops in the villages too. You might see something you’d like to purchase.” 

She had not been told. She hadn’t even been aware that she had days off. Perhaps Lockwood had informed her, on that first day here. But she’d been too sick with anxiety, too grief stricken over the loss of her home to take in any of the details. She hadn’t even left the castle in her weeks here, nor spent any of her wages. It’s little wonder she has no source of leisure. 

She doesn’t let any of that show on her face, though. Instead, she gives Isen a gracious nod. ‘I’ll bear it in mind.’ 

He tilts his head, a playful lilt entering his words. “Unless, of course, you’re lingering because you enjoy my company.” 

She gives Isen a flat stare, but it’s not enough to dissuade him from continuing.  

“I’m actually going to bed now, Legs. So, unless you wanted to join me...” 

She can’t help but stiffen; her lips pursing with the effort it takes to bite back her scowl. She decides right then that she’d rather spend the next few hours doing nothing in her room, than deal with Isen’s casual advances.  

‘Goodnight, my lord,’ she signs, before promptly leaving.  

It’s a shame of course, she reflects upon entering her room. She’s confident by now that Isen won’t fire her for leaving so suddenly. That he won’t hold it against her if she denies his advances, or shirks his humour.  

She just wishes he wouldn’t make such attempts. If it weren’t for them, she could almost allow herself to agree with him. To admit that she really does enjoy his company.  

If only a little. 

Next

[minilpark]

I've seen this trope in a couple of fics but I can't stop thinking about this prompt. How would Jake react if he was friends with this female pilot (that he befriended around the same time he befriended Coyote aka way before the mission takes place AND that he's very close) and she listed him as her emergency contact without telling him because she didn't have anyone else to put there (I'm a sucker for an angst background) and he only finds out when something happens to her? This could be either platonic or romantic, I don't what would work best, I'm just curious to know how you think he'd react to it.

in case of an emergency

ship: hangman x reader (platonic)

warnings: canon related injuries

genre: literal hurt/comfort, fluff

author notes: aAAAAAAAAAA *screaming into the void* i love this trope it hurts my heart in a good way- once again, imma make this into a tiny blurb to practice writing :D

as soon as jake hung up the phone, he rushed to his car and made the five hour and thirty minute drive to the hospital. so many things occupied his thoughts during the whole trip, but the two things that kept swimming around in his mind were what condition you were in and why him?

when he finally put the car in park, made his way into the er, and asked the front desk for your room number, he found himself anxiously pressing the elevator button a number of times in hopes that it would come down faster.

upon making it to your floor he began putting more haste in his steps until stopping just before your room. looking into the window, what he saw nearly broke his heart. the image of you laying in that hospital bed and the gown made everything even more real.

gently knocking on your door, he saw you stir and mumble a soft, "come in."

gingerly taking steps toward your bed, he noticed the way your eyes lit up at the sight of your best friend.

"jake? you're a long way from lemoore-" you said with a slight smirk, half shocked to see him come all this way.

"yeah well, i came as soon as i got a call that you were in here..." he chuckled while anxiously rubbing the back of his neck awaiting an explanation.

despite the relief you feel seeing that he came, it does bloom an air of guilt seeing him so worried for you which prompts an explanation

"first off, i'm not sure what they told you on the phone, but i'm alright now, i swear! it was just a little heat stroke-" you said, seeing him shake his head in disappointment, but you knew it wasn't directed towards you, "you know how california gets- i was out for a bit, but i'm feeling better now. they're just keeping me here for observation."

once he hears that your condition is improving, he lets out a breath of relief and sits down beside you.

"i'm glad you're alright now, but honestly it doesn't stop the fact that i wanna have a word or two with whatever idiot decided it was fine to send you all up in this heat, but that's besides the point." he sighed while leaning his elbows on his knees

"you're wondering why they called you, huh?" you continued before he could respond, "i know we've only been best friends for 4 years..."

he interrupted with an eye roll and quip, "yeah like that's such a short time, y/n-"

trying to hide a smile, you glared while continuing, "anyways- i didn't have anyone i could really trust to list as an emergency contact, so i put you down. i'm sorry, i know i should've at least told you about it, but i never really thought i'd ever have to use it which was kinda stupid of-"

cutting you off, jake grabbed your hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze

"you don't have to apologise. sure, it did throw me for a loop getting that call, but i'm glad you trust me enough as your friend to list me as your contact. it doesn't matter how far away we are, i'll always be here for you, you're family."

hearing that bit of reassurance come from him, you felt a weight off your shoulders and broke down.

jake swiftly pulled you into one of his tight, but comforting hugs and teased, "how about the next time you wanna see me, we make plans to hang out at the bar instead of here?"

you chuckled while wiping what remains of your tears, "sure, so i can beat your ass in pool again"

without even looking at his face, you could feel him rolling his eyes and in a sarcastic tone he said, "yeah sure, we'll see 'bout that."

[robincantfunction]

Mean humorous remarks ✰ F.W

a/n: this is day one of @theweasleyslut's writing challenge tropes (thank you again for letting me join a little late) the others are in the works, i should be posting one or two more today but tbh i didn't publish this one as soon as it was finished. i'm not sure why 😭

i'll be honest this isn't my favourite bit of writing i've ever done... but i've got some better stuff coming soon <3

requested: yes/no

trope: weddings

prompt: "did you need something?" and i also added "you look like you need a hug" cause it just fit tbh

summary: the wedding was beautiful, until a certain announcement. what happens when y/n's life is in danger? fred. fred weasley.

warnings: language, mentions of violence, purposely lowercase, fluff

𓆏𓃗𓃱𓃒𓃠𓃰𓃟

today was the wedding and yet i was still in bed... i just needed to give myself a minute, things were happening so fast. it seemed silly to have a wedding whilst everything with you know who was happening, but i guess it was good to have a distraction, a celebration of how far we've come. and then i felt an arm around my waste, fred. "what's wrong love" he whispered, we'd been dating since our 6th year at hogwarts, it was nice that even after everything that happened over the past couple of years, i could always rely on fred. he was always there when i needed him. "nothing, i'm just thinking. are you ok? how's george holding up?" he smiled softly at me "he's ok, he keeps sticking things in his ear hole" he chucked "and so am i, i'm alright" i turned to face him and pulled him into an embrace "you need to get ready though" he lifted up my chin "so do you fred... unless you plan on going to the wedding shirtless and in your boxers" i laughed and pecked his lips "come on" i sat up "i also told fleur i'd help her get ready, god i'm so behind" he just sat there laughing softly "classic y/n, waiting till the last possible minute" i smiled at him cheekily "it's a good way to live your life" he just kissed me again "stop stalling and get ready!" we couldn't stop laughing, and for the first time in a while i felt safe, happy... ok. i felt like the world had hope, a chance to go back to normal.

i got up and into my dress, it wasn't my favourite thing in the world, but fleur asked me to wear it, said it would look nice on me. i wanted today to be special for her, we're weirdly close, as annoying as she can be she gets it. she understands me, and it's good to have a friend like that you know. after i helped fleur i walked into fred and george's rooms, only to see fred somehow fucking up tieing his tie. "how do you go to a school where you have to wear a tie nearly everyday, only to now forget how to tie it" i laughed, he just kept looking at his tie, still messing it up "i'm not to sure... did you need something?" i chuckled to myself "i don't, but it looks like you do" he looked up as i walked over to him "you look beautiful by the way" he said just before he kissed me "you don't look to bad yourself" i started to tie his tie for him but i couldn't stop laughing "what are you giggling about love?" i just gave him that look. i knew exactly what he was doing. "you didn't actually need help did you?" i asked whilst raising an eyebrow at him. "i have absolutely no idea what you mean love..." before we burst out into laughter. honesty he was such an idiot. but as cheesy as it sounded- he was my idiot.

the wedding was lovely honestly. that was until death eaters tried to blow are fucking heads off. when the message came that the minister of magic was dead, i could tell nothing was going to be the same, everything from that moment on was gonna be chaos- and evidently i was right.

☆fred's pov☆

"the ministry has fallen. the minister of magic is dead" it didn't surprise me but i had hoped we had more time, to plan... or to just live our fucking lives! i zoned out from all the noise, but unfortunately not from reality. i knew things were going to shit when i felt y/n remove her hand from mine, just as she did i quickly turned to her "i love you, please don't die" she softly chuckled, even in a situation like this she could make me smile "like wise. i love you" and then she ran off to help ginny and bill fight off a death eater. just as i was about to go help her too, i noticed mum. she needed help more... i just hope y/n's ok.

now i knew mum was safe- well as safe as you can be when there's a bunch of bloody maniacs trying to kill ya, i tried to find y/n. she can handle herself, for sure, but that doesn't mean i wanna take any chances. "avada-" and as if it were a reflex i pointed my wand and shouted "expelliarmus!" turns out, you learn a thing or two from harry. who would have known. and to be honest, i didn't even know who i had just saved. and i didn't care. that was until i looked down "thanks freddie" she smiled. "holy shit y/n"

☆y/n's pov☆

fred fucking weasley saved my life "this better not get in your head" i chuckled. "glad to know you're ok, still have your mean humorous remarks" i just smiled at him again as he gave me his hand to help me up. finally everything was calming down, all the death eaters were gone "you look like you need a hug" i looked at him "yeah do you think you're mums about? i could really do with a hug" he chuckled and pulled into a tight hug "don't do that again" he whispered, i looked up at him "what? have an epic sense of humour?" he just sighed in relief "no... close though. i meant don't nearly die again. please" i kissed him "i'll try my best."

[harmonizingsunsets]

It might be foolish, but you got me all soft

Read on Archive here.

Kate's nose crinkles as she watches Penelope and Colin. Their feet dance with one another underneath the table. He leans over, whispering something in her ear that makes her giggle. Their smiles are brighter than the fluorescent lights of the coffee shop. Watching them is almost blinding.

"You guys are so cute," Kate observes with puckered lips. "I hate that."

Penelope turns to Kate with a bemused expression. "No, you don't. You love us."

"Love isn't the word coming to mind. Nauseated is more like it."

"Kate, everyone finds us adorable," Colin insists, wrapping an arm around Penelope. "It's not a matter of opinion. It's just a fact."

"I'm happy for you two. Honestly, I am. But you're acting so lovey-dovey and sweet that it makes my teeth ache," Kate jokes, picking up her coffee for a sip.

"If we make your teeth ache, then you and Anthony cause cavities," Colin mutters.

Kate chokes a little on her mocha, causing a few patrons to give her odd looks.

"Excuse me?"

"Colin, we talked about this," Penelope says through gritted teeth, shooting him a disapproving look.

"No, you talked about how we weren't supposed to say anything because they're both so jumpy about it, but I disagreed," Colin protests. "Someone needs to open their eyes."

"Hello, I'm still right in front of you," Kate says, waving her hands at them. "Open my eyes to what?"

Colin and Penelope argue with their eyes for a few moments before Penelope cracks, nodding. Colin turns to Kate with a sly grin.

"That you're in love with my brother."

It was a good thing she wasn't drinking that time, or she'd have to spit her coffee all over them. Although, perhaps a spritz of hot coffee would wipe the amusement off of Colin's face.

Kate feels her cheeks heat. She opens her mouth, but only incomprehensible protesting sounds come out.

"It's nothing to be embarrassed about," Colin says, his smile turning softer. "He loves you too."

"That is not true," Kate insists, standing up straighter in her chair. "I don't love him, and he certainly doesn't love me. Right, Penelope?"

When Kate turns to Penelope, the friend she usually can rely on for back-up is instead chewing her lower lip.

"Well...."

"Pen!"

"I'm sorry, but Kate, Colin's right," Penelope says, the words rushing out guiltily. "I write romance books for a living. I know the enemies to lovers trope very well, and you two embody it."

"That's ridiculous!" Kate exclaims, her heart beginning to hammer in her chest. "We drive each other crazy. I mean, we've become better friends over the past few months—but it's not like that."

Penelope tilts her head. "Would it be so bad if it was?"

"Yes!"

"Why?"

A hundred reasons that Kate could never utter go through her mind. She wants to say, "Anthony dates pop singers and models, and I can't live up to that." Or she could confess, "When he looks at me a beat too long, I feel like I could combust from the weight of it." Most of all, Kate wants to say, "If I let myself love him, I know that I'll never be able to stop."

But she can't tell them any of that. Kate had been just fine about the prospect of being alone. She's satisfied with her career, family, and friends. But if she admits that she loves him, then she'll never be content with any life that doesn't include him in it.

No matter what Colin and Penelope think, Anthony doesn't love her. He can't. Letting herself hope that he does is too dangerous. It scares her more than any thunderstorm she's ever endured.

"I have to go," Kate murmurs, standing up numbly from the table.

"Kate, wait," Colin says, grabbing onto her arm. He looks apologetic, and it's impossible to be upset when looking into his puppy dog eyes. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have brought it up."

"It's fine," Kate insists with a thin smile, tugging her arm away from his grasp. "I got to go. Have a nice evening."

As she walks out of the coffee shop, she hears a cheesy pop tune about love play on their radio.

The lyrics inspire Anthony's face to surface in her mind.

Kate groans, knowing she's in deep trouble.

That night, she couldn't sleep. She tossed and turned in her bed but couldn't stop hearing Anthony's teasing voice in her head.

In a huff, Kate gets out of bed and quickly puts on her clothes. She debates whether to reapply makeup but decides against it. No one else will see her where she was going.

Luckily, she's friends with the security guard, who let her inside the building that turned off the lights twenty minutes prior. She thanks him and hastily goes to her office, turning on the light and booting up the computer at her desk.

If she wasn't going to sleep, she might as well get some work done.

For a while, all that she hears is the sound of her keys as she typed and the soft hum of music she'd put on to work.

She thought she'd be safe listening to music without lyrics. But Anthony creeps into every note, every chord, and every song.

Just as Kate lowers her head to beat it against the table in frustration, a knock on her door causes her body to jolt upright.

She stands from her chair slowly, walking to the door with caution. No one else would be here this late, so she fears what was on the other side of the door. But if someone was there to hurt her, why would they bother knocking on an unlocked door?

When Kate turns the knob, she sees the face of the man who's been haunting her thoughts for the past few hours (longer than that, if she was honest with herself).

"Hey, what are you doing here so late?" Anthony asks.

"Um, working."

Anthony scans her with curiosity. "On a Sunday?"

"So are you," she points out, crossing her arms.

He holds up a black leather journal. "Actually, I just came by the office for my phone book."

"You have a phone book? Anthony, there's a reason for that contact list on your phone."

"I like writing it down," he defends, looking affronted.

"But you can't add emojis, which adds personality to someone's contact." Kate pulls out her phone and holds out the contacts for him to see. "Edwina has two pink hearts, Penelope has a book, Benedict has an easel, and you have a fire emoji."

"Why do I have a fire emoji?"

"Because you make me want to set things on fire, of course."

Anthony smirks. "Well, next time we play that 'who's most likely to' game in the office, I'll be sure to put you down for becoming an arsonist."

Kate smiles at him, and they fall into one of those moments that's becoming more frequent between them—ones where his body seems to close, and his eyes gleam with something she can't name but feels a kindred sensation within her heart.

Kate takes a step back from him. "Why did you need your phone book so late, anyway?"

Anthony itches behind his ear. Kate frowns, as it's a nervous tick she's never seen from him before. Anthony, like fire, was all-consuming. His feelings were as hot as flames and easy to detect. But now, he looks more guarded, his eyebrows scrunched and his posture squirmish.

"Anthony?" she asks again.

Anthony takes a deep breath. "Well, I actually needed it to call you."

"Me?"

"Yeah. My phone hasn't been working since I went out on the boat with Simon. The bloody idiot knocked it onto the water," he grumbles. "I got a new phone and need to add my contacts back on, which is why I'm lucky I have this phone book which you mocked me for having."

Kate rolls her eyes. "What did you need to call me about?"

"Well, I know we had a rocky start to our relationship—."

"Because you hit on my sister?" she asks, arching her brow.

"I did not hit on her. I merely danced with her at the Christmas party," Anthony corrects with an exasperated sigh. "How many times are we going to argue about this?"

"Until you admit I'm right."

"It'll take a long time for that to happen."

"I've got plenty of time to spend with you."

As soon as those words are out, that heat radiating from Anthony's fire feels warmer. It's as if more time with her is exactly what he wants.

But Kate doesn't let those thoughts get far. She squashes them before they can take root in her mind.

"Continue," Kate tells him.

"Yes, well, as I was saying, we didn't start on the right foot. But, over these past few months, I feel like we've become friends." He looks at her with a hesitant kind of hope. "We have, haven't we?"

Kate smiles. "Yes, we have."

"So, I thought as my friend. You'd like to come with me to this."

Anthony draws two tickets from his pocket and holds one out to her. Kate takes it from in, and her eyes widen as she reads what's on the paper.

"The Vitamin String Quartet?"

"I know you listen to them to relax. I saw that they were touring and coming to London, so I thought that—." His words suddenly halt, tilting his head at her curiously. "What?"

Kate blinks in confusion. "What do you mean 'what?'"

Anthony points at her face. "You were looking at me all funny."

"I was not!"

"Yes, you were! You were looking at me like this."

Anthony imitates a soft-looking expression, gazing at her with an affectionate smile. Kate, in horror, realizes she had been looking at him like that.

"Shut up," Kate scoffs, nudging his arm and hoping it distracts from the blush on her face. "Like I'd ever look at you like that."

"If you're going to be mean, I won't give you the ticket."

He reaches over, but she pulls her hand back.

"Fine, I'm sorry," Kate says, looking down at the ticket in awe. "This is really nice of you."

"So, you'll go with me?"

"Of course I will," she nods, beaming in excitement.

Anthony releases a breath. "Good."

He begins to back out of her office, but she steps forward from her desk, grabbing his arm.

"Anthony?"

He turns. "Yes?"

Before she can second guess herself, she leans up, pressing a kiss to his cheek. When she pulls back, it takes a few seconds for his eyes to open, as if he thinks she's a figment of his imagination that will disappear.

"Thank you," Kate whispers.

Anthony nods, giving her a kind smile before leaving her office.

The music on her computer is still playing. Kate hears the gentle notes of a piano, cautious and optimistic-sounding.

The night had been amazing.

The quartet performed beautifully. They played orchestrational versions of pop songs, which makes Kate feel less guilty about listening to them.

She worried when Anthony said he'd never heard any of their music himself, that he wouldn't enjoy it. But when the concert started, she kept stealing glances out of the corner of her eyes. She saw him watching the players with a content expression.

However, the music didn't help her much with her newfound Anthony problem. When she closed her eyes, the violins sang his name. When his hand grazed hers on the armrest of the chair, the music swelled in tandem with her heart.

He was a song she couldn't get out of her head.

And the worst part was, it was a tune she didn't think she'd ever tire of hearing.

They bantered a bit about the weather while waiting for their Uber. Kate claimed the night was perfectly brisk, not enough to warrant a coat. Anthony, however, disagreed. He poked at the goosebumps on her arm as proof and insisted she take his jacket. She eventually relented, letting him drape his jacket over her shoulders.

When he looked away to wave at the car they'd been waiting for, Kate turned her nose to the jacket. She smelt the scent of amber, sandalwood, and something that was discernibly Anthony.

When they get into the back seat of the car, Anthony turns to her. "Can you believe that couple who sat in front of us?"

"I know! They were all over each other the whole night."

"Music is the food of love, but couldn't they have got the meal before the concert?"

"You'd think," Kate huffs, curling her fists further into his sleeves for warmth. She looks back at him, offering a smile. "I had a really nice time."

"I'm glad," Anthony nods. He swallows nervously, forcing himself to meet her eyes. When he does, Kate sees a raw vulnerability glistening in them. "I just wanted to make you happy."

She bumps her shoulder against his. "You do that by just being you."

Kate's words skim a cello string, creating a deep note that lingers in the air. Something flickers in Anthony's expression, his gaze steadying on her. Suddenly, it's harder for Kate to breathe.

"Look at us, acting like that couple," Kate jokes, trying to ease the tension. "The music must be getting to us too."

"Yeah, that's probably it," Anthony hums, moving a fraction closer to her. "Because right now, I feel this urge to put my arm around you."

Anthony gives in to the feeling, putting an arm around her back. Kate's breath hitches as his thumb rubs circles on her arm. Even through the material of Anthony's jacket, his fingertips send electric shocks to her skin.

"And I want to lean my head right here," she finds herself saying, resting her head on top of his shoulder.

"I want to tuck this strand of hair behind your ear.”

Kate feels his fingers skim against his cheek, gently moving a curl that had fallen into her face behind her ear. Her breath quickens, slowly turning her eyes up at him, and the look he's giving her is overwhelming.

"This is all so ridiculously stereotypical. You make me feel so—so..." Kate's words drift, unable to finish her sentence. Her tongue goes out to wet her lips that suddenly feel dry. "I hate it."

Anthony's index finger goes to her chin, tilting it up and off of his shoulder. "Do you hate this?"

He leans forward, kissing her so sweet and tenderly that she knows if she were standing, her foot would pop up like all of those delusionally romantic heroines in movies do when they kiss.

She gets lost in him. Her hands go up to cup his cheek as she deepens the kiss. Anthony's arm moves from her shoulders to her waist, pulling her flush against him. He swallows her gasp, and Kate hears a cacophony of melodies in her mind.

Kate doesn't know how long they stay wrapped in another's arms. It's only when the driver clears his throat that she realizes the car had come to a stop.

They jump apart, and Anthony gives the driver an uncomfortable nod. "Sorry, sir."

"It's alright," he says gruffly and mutters something about "just wait till you have kids, it won't be like this" as they get out of the car.

They stand awkwardly on the street for a few seconds. Kate looks around them. The vivid leaves of the trees stand out amongst the darkness of the night.

Kate remembers when she first met Anthony. It'd been fall, and the trees were bare with leaves littering the ground. It had felt fitting. Back then, her publishing company announced that they were joining one of their competitors. She had to work with Anthony, as they were both the top production editors of the separate companies. Like the leaves, it felt like everything was falling apart. Every smirk or retort of Anthony's felt like the leaves blowing chaotically in the wind.

But now, the trees were alive again, flooding with color. Kate's at the dawn of a new season with Anthony. It's something as inevitable as the change of weather but as everlasting as the stars above them.

No—stars eventually burn out. Kate thinks that whatever is between her and Anthony will continue to burn when all other flames dim.

"So, that happened," Kate says, breaking the silence.

Anthony takes a cautious step towards her. "Yeah, it did."

"I didn't hate it," she shrugs with a teasing tilt of her lips.

"Wow, what great appraisal. Can I list you as a reference for giving me such a raving review?"

"Excuse me, who else are you planning to apply with?"

"No one, I'm quite satisfied with my employment with you," he assures smugly, his hand going up to her cheek. "But, I'd like to have a slight promotion in my position."

Kate leans into his touch. "Oh really, what position do you want to fill?"

"Well, I think I've done everything that I can in the enemy job. I've enjoyed the friend's position. But, if the boyfriend position is available, I'd like to submit my candidacy."

Kate loops her arms around his neck. "Well, how about we check over your application one more time?"

"Where do you want me to start?" Anthony asks, pressing his lips to her temple. "My education?" he murmurs as he kisses her forehead. "My goals?" Kate sighs as his lips move to the corner of her mouth, and his hand curls around her waist. "My experience?" He kisses her again, and Kate feels his smirk against her lips. "Or, my skills?"

Kate pulls back with a smirk of her own. "How about what drew you to this position?"

His eyes gleam roguishly, looking at the lack of space between them. "This particular position?"

Kate tries her best to give him a stern look. "Anthony."

"You," he answers simply, resting his forehead against hers. "Everything about you."

Kate's unable to stop herself, chuckling softly. "Wow, that's incredibly sappy."

"But it's true."

She takes a deep breath, feeling content and peaceful in his arms. "Maybe being sappy isn't such a bad thing."

"No," Anthony agrees, the corner of his lips tilting up as he studies her intently. "I'm starting to think that it's not."

This time when Kate kisses him, she does it without a single reservation about cliches or stereotypes, or how she would roll her eyes if she saw the two of them on the street.

Kate's foot pops, and the song that's been stuck in her head gets set on an infinite loop.