#thank you for putting the image of Ann locking Anne out of her study as punishment for being a dumbass in my head btw

[winteringinrome]

i like to think abt comparing ann walker's diaries (if we had them) to anne's like "recieved a letter from M- today, A- read it, but i swiftly convinced her she is merely an old friend. A- none the wiser, i am such a smooth operator" and "asked about anne's letter from mariana lawton. tried telling me she is /just/ a friend. i locked her out of her study"

Ahaha yesss. It’s one of my favourite things to think about too. Anne ALWAYS reckons she is being so sneaky and I bet half the time everyone sees right through her.

I was reading through the entries about her stay in Langton Hall with the Norcliffes and when she’s getting with Miss Vallance behind Isabella Norcliffe’s back, Tib keeps on bursting into their bedrooms unannounced. Anne is always like “Luckily we were under the covers and I had just about stopped panting so Isabella is none the wiser!” and it’s just… why do you think she was bursting in there in the first place, Anne??

[simplyfandomish]

Sister, Sister (3/_)

Older! Gilbert Blythe x Older Shirley! Reader

|| Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3 ||

Anne and Diana took the usual route to school as they did every morning. Both girls were conversing about the basic math assignment they were given as homework the night before. Ruby ran up to the pair from the pathway that led from her newly built home and joined the two girls in their discussion.

“The both of you got 25?” Ruby’s eyes widened slightly, then ducked to the ground in embarrassment, “I got 16...” She had a feeling she had gotten the answer wrong last night, but a piece of her felt confident in her ability in Maths, but seeing Diana and Anne - the two smartest girls in class share the same answer, its was written in stone that she had gotten the problem wrong.

“Oh, the both of you are just so smart! Like Gilbert Blythe…” Ruby sighed with heart eyes. Diana and Anne shared a look with one another, the redhead crossed her eyes in annoyance. Diana snickered.

“Don’t laugh!” Ruby defended. “He is the smartest out of all the boys! He wants to become a doctor, remember?” She stated proudly, now with a skip in her step. 

How her mood could shift so quickly from just the sound of Gilbert’s name amazed Anne. 

“Maybe he could help me with my homework! Oh, it’ll be a date!” Ruby cupped her cheeks, surely her mind wandering to what would occur during their study date. Anne and Diana watched as the blonde haired girl’s cheeks turned a blaring red and she hid her face within her pink knitted scarf, suddenly bashful. 

Diana sighed and changed the conversation, “How is your sister, Anne?”

Anne’s blue eyes sparkled, “She’s spectacular! We write to each other almost everyday - or whenever she has a chance. She’s been increasingly occupied with work, lately. But that’s just like my big sister, always been busy, busy!”

“Sister?!” Ruby gasped, “You have a sister?”

Anne nodded enthusiastically, “Yes! Have I not told you about her?” Her brows furrowed as she tried to rake her head if she ever mentioned her eldest sister.

“No! Oh, how exciting!” Ruby clapped her hands. “Why haven’t you ever mentioned her before?”

Anne played with one of her braids, suddenly bashful.

Diana piped up, “There was an incident with their letters and addresses, but we ran into (Y/n) in Charlottetown while we were visiting my aunt Josephine.” Short and simple. Anne nodded in gratitude. Diana nodded back.

Ruby suddenly sprung in front of the pair, blocking their path momentarily. “What’s she like?!”

Anne smiled, and her eyes grew distant, “Amazing. She’s really tough and knows how to throw a punch! She actually discombobulated a rude customer where she works. She works as a barmaid, but she always jokes about being security.”

“A-a barmaid?” Ruby stuttered. Her imagination drifted off to the cliche images of a barmaid. Tight corsets that supported large...ahem - bosoms, dark red lipstick that accentuated plump lips, hair teased high and tight with dirty curls, and a dark skirt that would be too tight around the bottom.

Could the man she had knocked out trying to be grabbing with her large bosom?? Ruby’s head nearly exploded.

Anne nodded. 

“Anne, you should invite her to Green Gables for tea!” Diana smiled widely. 

Ruby whipped her head to the ravenette with wide eyes, but she went ignored. 

Anne nearly lit up like a firework. “That sounds like a scrumptious idea, Diana! Let’s hurry to class so I can get some paper!” Diana nodded and both girls locked arms and began to scurry to the school house. 

“Come on, Ruby! We’ll be late!” Anne gripped the small girl’s elbow and began to drag her. 

Ruby was quite literally dragged as she felt numb like a wet rag doll as she still tried to grasp the concept that her dear, imaginative friend, Anne, was related to a busty barmaid!

A pair of dirty, brown leather boots stepped onto the wooden platform of Avonlea Station, the passenger took in a breath of the fresh country air, much different than that of musty Charlottetown. They nodded towards the train conductor as their luggage was placed by their feet.

The passenger pulled out a cigarette and lit the end of the paper stick. The tobacco ignited and a puff of smoke drifted from the smoker’s mouth. “So this is Avonlea.” They muttered with a nod of satisfaction. 

The visit to this small town better be worth it. A large hand slammed on the smoker’s shoulder. “Avonlea...the pictures and descriptions do no justice.” The large man sighed with a smile. 

The smoker jerked his shoulder away, “We’re not supposed to be seen together, you moron. You want our plan to fail?”

“Right, sorry.” The large man stepped away from the smoker and put on his bowler hat. He tugged on the front of his jacket and picked up his suitcase. “Meet you at Green Gables then.” He nodded in farewell and walked towards the stables to rent a cab.

The smoked rolled his eyes and drew out another breath of nicotine. Then he dropped the cigarette onto the ground and stubbed it out. He ran a hand through his gelled hair and carried his luggage sack over his shoulder as he walked off. “So you’re here to surprise your sister?” A dark skinned conductor asked as he handled the redhead’s luggage. 

(Y/n) nodded enthusiastically, “Yes, sir!” She saw him bend over to place her luggage down, but she insisted she just take the case from his hands. He accepted and placed the heavy luggage into her hands. “Been working extra hard to save up some money to come to Avonlea. Speaking of, if you ever need a good place for good ale go to Emilio’s! Just say your a friend of mine and you’ll be treated like a king!” She was bouncing on her feet in excitement. (Emilio’s tavern was welcome to all genders of all races - after all, Emilio himself was a natural born Spaniard that happened to fall in love with Canadian woman and the country itself!) 

The conductor laughed and nodded. Never had he met such a white skinned individual who conversed with him like an equal. It was refreshing. “I wish you and your sister the best of luck, miss (Y/n).”

“Thank you, Maxwell!” She smiled at him and practically sprinted towards the stables to catch a ride. 

The conductor snickered and shook his head at the exuberant girl and hopped back onto the steps of a scarlet train cabin. He waved his hand towards the engine, giving the engineer the signal to depart. 

The train whistled cried and then the scarlet train chugged back to Charlottetown.

“Anne, you have a sister!”

“That’s marvelous!”

“When can we meet her, Anne?” Cole asked with a small smile. 

Anne smiled widely at the small crowd that surrounded her and Diana’s table. 

“An older sister, yes! And she’s amazing! We just recently found each other again due to a mishap with our addresses, but we haven’t stopped talking to each other since!”

“I bet she was actively ignoring you.” Billy snickered from the other side of the schoolhouse. “Tell us about your sister, orphan. Is she just as ugly as you?” His band of boys snickered as well and began to throw in their own two cents.

“Dotted with freckles!”

“Same pumpkin hair.”

“A motormouth know-it-all?” 

At each insult Anne grew more sour, and then anger filled her being. Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. Hell runs in terror when its a redheaded woman scoured.

“You take all that back, Billy Andrews!” She jumped to her feet and slammed her palms on the desktop. “I may not be the prettiest one here, but my sister is absolutely breathtaking. And you better watch your mouth or she’ll knock you to the ground!”

Diana nodded in all seriousness. But a part of her would happily pay to see (Y/n) put Billy Andrews in his place.  

The blonde boy stood from his desk and squared his shoulders. “Is that a threat, mutt?”

“Let us just say that when she does come to visit, you better watch yourself.” She crossed her arms in defiance. If her dear, older sister can knock out a drunk with one kick, then perhaps it was high time Anne learned how to step up for herself! (Plus the fact, that Anne now had an older sister to hide behind, made her a little more reckless - but she would never admit that.)

Billy scoffed, “Whatever, orphan. Bet she’s as scrawny as you.” He cracked his knuckles as he sat back down in his chair.

The girls couldn’t help but gawk at Anne. As common as it was for the redhead to lose her temper, never before had she seemed so...confident in her argument? Yes, confident sounded like a good word. 

“Sooo, when can we meet her?” Tillie asked. Bringing the conversation bacl to Anne’s current favorite topic.

Anne tapped her chin, “I’m not too sure. Soon hopefully! She’s just been really busy with her job in Charlottetown.”

“Oh? What does she do?” Josie Pye asked. 

“Tailor dresses?”

“A nanny?”

“A waitress?”

“Close,” Anne answered to the last suggestion. “She’s-

“A barmaid!” Ruby squeaked out in sheer embarrassment. Her cheeks pink like her dress and hair ribbon.

All conversations halted in the schoolhouse as all the students stared at Anne with unreadable expressions. Some of the girls’ eyes widened and some of the boy’s cheeks heated up. Even Billy was silent. Guess everyone in Avonlea had the same image of a barmaid as Ruby had...

Anne picked up on the silence and rose a brow, “Yes, and?”

Tagged List: [Open]: angel-in-the-roses 

[lisinfleur]

Mishaps - Chapter 01: It’s my life

Author’s notes: a little bit late (it was supposed to be posted yesterday hahaha) but here it is! And happy birthday to our sweet @bluearchersstuff once again! Thanks to @honestsycrets for the help with the elaboration!

Warnings: cursing. A LOT.

Words: 3001

 "Sunshine? What the fuck..."

"Well fuck you, Sigurd! Don't put it on me if you can't fucking find anyone to call you sweet nicknames ok? I was pretty happy being her sunshine and it would be great if you were doing your fucking job instead of throwing every single mess Ivar does on my fucking back because of this childish shit in between the two of you. So, go fucking screw yourself and stop messing with her stuff!" Hvitserk said, annoyedly pulling your phone from his brother's hand, causing Sigurd to giggle at his anger.

"Fucking chill, Hvitserk," he said, sighing. "I think more than anyone I'm the one who understands how fucking full you are of cleaning someone else's bullshit. I'm the damn dumpster, remember? I clean up Ubbe's, Björn's, Ivar's, even your bullshit. I'm the fucking market guy, keeping our stupid family clean when you guys are fucking throwing shit on the damn windows!" Sigurd shouted, pointing his index towards Hvitserk "How many times I fucking cleaned up your ass, uh? What's the matter about doing me a damn favor and release me from wiping Ivar's lame butt once?"

"Shut up!" Ubbe shouted louder, causing both of them to get silent; Sigurd lighting a cigarette, Hvitserk with your cellphone in his hands.

That "Sunshine (Hvitserk)" in the shining screen, hitting his head like a hammer.

Things were going so great with you... That moment in your coffee store was becoming his favorite of the day. Now, everything was destroyed thanks to his damn life and his fucking brothers' fight, of course.

"Instead of fighting each other and arguing, we should be thinking on how to get the fuck out of this. It all started on a fight, so let us fucking chill and stop shooting each other or we gonna get ourselves killed before the cops can do it for us!" Ubbe completed and Hvitserk sighed while Sigurd was pulling the smoke into his lungs, expelling it in a long trail that vanished in the air.

"Kill her. I'll get rid of the two bodies. Problem solved, as always. She gonna get into the missing per..." Sigurd started, but Hvitserk didn't even let him finish that stupid idea, cutting his voice with an angry shout.

"Are you fucking crazy? Hell no! No one will kill my Ann, ok?" he said, putting your phone into his pocket after silencing the device to avoid any incoming calls.

Sigurd giggled again, this time, debauched; and Ubbe lifted his face up, looking surprised to his little brother's actions while Sigurd was taking the words out of his mouth, asking from them both: "And what do you suggest, genius? To let her live, for you two to live a beautiful love story in which she'll forgive you for fucking kidnapping her, accept the fact you're the biggest drug dealer in town, and keep serving you breakfast and calling you sunshine with her sweet little mouth shut by day and full of your dick by night?"

Ok. Sigurd was a little bit saltier than Ubbe was thinking, but the essence of the questions was the same.

Even then, Hvitserk never was the more patient of the brothers...

"You fucking son of a bitch!"

"Hey! Hey, stop... Fucking stop!" Ubbe yelled, holding Hvitserk's physical attempt to advance against Sigurd, stopping his brother against his chest and standing in the middle of the two of them. "Enough! Fuck! Why can't I have brothers like Harald and Halfdan, uh? They fucking love each other! Why my damn brothers have to hate themselves so much? Shit!" he cursed, pushing Hvitserk back to his seat and pointing Sigurd, angrily, forcing him to go back to his place near the window. "Fine..." he started, sighing and pointing Hvitserk, "You don't want us to kill the girl. And want us or not, our father's grandsons will have to come from some pussy around, Sigurd, and not every girl in the world automatically dreams about finishing her life married to a Gods damn gangster."

Sigurd sighed. Ubbe was right, after all. "So what?" he said, expelling one more cloud of white smoke.

"You gonna do your fucking job and clean Ivar's mess and do not fucking roll your eyes to me, Sigurd! It is your damn job and Hvitserk is right. If I had called you and not him, he would be doing things slow with his girl and nothing would be going like this." Sigurd growled, angrily, but Ubbe continued "You gonna fucking clean up the mess with the police officer and stop this shitty fight with Ivar. My responsibility is to keep Ivar in line to avoid new stupidities like that and I will solve it with him. However..." his blues landed on Hvitserk "Ann's mess is yours, Hvitserk. You did this shit, you fucked things up, and this is past the time for you and Ivar to learn Sigurd will clean up our messes to keep the family's name and stuff working clean. But it doesn't mean he will have to act like a mom walking around the house, picking up wet towels and changing our diapers. We aren't kids anymore. Sigurd's job is to keep things clean: he's not our fucking maid. You find a way to deal with your girl's situation by yourself and don't fuck us up. If she opens her mouth, you gonna go to jail by yourself and I'll put a bullet into her head. Deal?"

Hvitserk sighed annoyedly. But at least that way he could warrant Ann's life for long enough for him to explain himself and try to keep things right for her.

He still didn't have any idea of how would he do it, but yet, he sighed.

"Deal. Deal... Just leave her alone. The last thing I need is my girl afraid of any of you."

"Great. Take care of this." Ubbe settled, starting to walk towards the door as Sigurd was finishing his cigarette before following him.

"Tell me one thing, Hvitserk," Sigurd asked, stopping his walk in the middle of the way to look at his older brother "Why her? Why a random chick? I mean, why not that one you like to fuck... Dora... Lora..." he said, trying to remember the name Hvitserk spat with no problems.

"Thora. She's with the cops. Girl is sending information about Ivar's brothel and fucking him up. Ivar will burn her soon." Hvitserk said, sighing.

The reason why he started to think about having his own life was exactly this one: discovering the girl he had fallen for was marked to die made him start to search for new things...

And then, you.

He was the one supposed to be calling you a ray of sunshine: you sprouted in his life like dawn after a dark night.

However, there you were, his ray of sunshine, shrunk against his bed's headboard, looking at him with all the fear of the universe in your face, hands tied, face covered in tears you must have cried silently listening to his damn brothers talking shit in his living room.

You surely heard Ubbe saying he would put a bullet into your head and if things weren't fucked for him before, now what chances did he have?

"Shit..." he cursed, coming into the room slowly, closing the door and locking it so you couldn't flee. "Will anything go right in this fucking day?"

He wasn't talking to you, for sure, but even then, you were listening to every single word he said. Especially after what you heard him talking outside of that door...

"Kill her..."

You were disposable shit for guys like him.

Guys like your father...

"Kill the bitch!"

That conversation brought your "best" memories back. Oh, you would remember to thank him for the little gift. Sunshine, your ass! That son of a bitch was a motherfucker drug dealer and you could bet he had the key to that damn door because you had the misfortune of working near one of his spots!

Fucking fate...

He came near, sitting on the edge of the bed, not so close, but also not as far as you wanted him to be.

"Hey, princess... I'm so sorry," Hvitserk started, really seeming genuinely sorry for what he was having to do to you.

But how could you believe in him now?

"Things went up completely different from what I was planning." he continued, sighing bothered "It's not that I would hide it forever, but I was expecting to get you near me, close enough for this shitty life I have not to be a problem for you. Shit... I can't talk to you like this!" he growled, causing you to shrink even more on the bed when he came closer, squeaking when he touched you.

However, all he did was untying you, releasing you from the painful knots that were hurting your arms and your ankles. Then, he came back to the same edge: the place of the bed opposite to the one you were sitting in. A fair distance.

"Better now..." he sighed looking at you, still looking like the same sweet guy from the coffee shop "I was trying to take things slow... You're a nice girl and I was really interested in starting something with you. Fuck, this was supposed to be my best morning!" he complained "After days I finally got your phone number and you were calling me sunshine... This day was supposed to be painted in a fucking rainbow! Not like this..."

Hvitserk stopped talking when he noticed your eyes looking around, surely studying the room for ways to get the hell outta that place. Again, he sighed, surprising you not only with his discovery - so accurate - but also, with a meek reaction about this.

"Please don't try to run away," he asked, looking at you with sad greens.

Damn heart!

You were so melted by him that something in your brain was desperately trying to defend him, justify his actions, find any reason to protect your mental image of him from what he was for real.

A drug dealer. A criminal. Just like your father.

"I really want to make things up... So, let us start again, ok?" Hvitserk tried, sighing and talking to himself for a moment "As if it was easy to start from somewhere..." he rolled his eyes.

And for a single moment, there it was, again, that part of you trying desperately to identify with him. To see the same frustration in his eyes that you had in yours.

It wasn't easy to start from anywhere...

"You're a drug dealer. Let us start there," you gave him a point and his eyes became even sadder.

But he smiled, small, disappointed.

"It wasn't my idea of a restart," he chuckled, lightly, but seemed to be resigned "But you have a point. I am what I am. And I can't deny it. I'm Hvitserk Ragnarsson, son of Ragnar Lothbrok. And well, the shit about us is true. We aren't just the heirs of one of the biggest trading company in the world. Me and my brothers... We are the heirs of an empire my father built upon drugs, whore houses, smuggling, guns and all this shitty stuff we shouldn't be messing around." he confessed.

Giving you two conclusions of all that speech: first, that you were fated to end up sunk in this world until your neck; and second, but not less important, that you wouldn't be leaving that place so soon...

The shitty stuff he was confessing could give the police a HUGE North to start beheading all his brothers and fuck his father's entire "empire", as he was calling.

He would never let you go with this.

"Each one of us has a place in this shit and yes, I'm the drug dealer of my brothers, because, despite Ubbe's fear I would end up consuming our entire stock, I'm the one who knows this shit enough to warrant we aren't selling trash to our clients." Hvitserk continued, almost not looking at you.

To be honest, he was looking like someone nervous. Scared of your reaction...

"My father was the biggest fish in this town. We have some big deals to take care off and we still have to crawl out of his shadow to place our names over everything and get the respect we need to keep the stuff together, working straight." he sighed "But I'm still a man, you know?" his eyes came to yours and then, you saw...

That same shadow you used to carry into your eyes.

The shadow of a life you didn't want to live...

"I still have my own dreams, my own desires. I like the money and stuff, but I don't want my children involved in this. I don't want my family mourning me as we did when our father got himself killed. I want to settle down, have children, see my grandchildren... I'm not like Ivar... So yeah, I was trying to get some distance. And..." his voice failed for a moment and he smiled.

That smile you were so in love with...

How much of himself he was showing you since the beginning?

Was he being himself by your side?

"You were my distance," he smiled sadly again "The stuff I was trying to start with you... It was making me feel free, you know? Just a normal guy, flirting with a beautiful girl behind her balcony every morning. It was making me happy, relaxing me. I don't even like those muffins for real - I mean, not from that store - but they were becoming the best muffins in town just because of the smile I was getting from you every day before the first bite. And now... Shit..."

You kept your eyes on his. Your heart recognizing his emotions so bad... That lowered head, that smile disgusted of his own life...

How many times did you lay down in your pillow thinking how unfair it was not to be able to tell him your true name or be yourself?

Your body relaxed from tension and fear. It wasn't like you weren't afraid anymore. But you couldn't be afraid of someone like him.

Someone like you...

"I never wanted to get you involved in this shit. I mean, I know you would get involved in my life anyway but... It wasn't what I wanted or planned, I..." he got wrapped in his own arguments, stepping in the same dead end you stepped so many times in your mind, laughing disgusted of himself.

The same way you did for so long...

"What the fuck was I thinking, right? I fucking ruined your life. I'm sorry," Hvitserk said, getting up, clearly walking towards the door.

And so, your voice sounded again, meekly.

"Stay..."

He stopped his steps, looking over his shoulder, finding the same sweet girl for who he fell so helplessly, looking at him without all that fear in your eyes you had at the beginning of this conversation.

And you saw hope in his eyes...

He didn't change a single bit: it was still the same man you saw in the coffee store every day, shyly smiling at you in the beginning, charmingly laughing, being sweet. And now, so hurt by the same thing that had hurt you so bad in your entire life.

He wasn't really planning anything that happened. Somehow fate decided to screw things up for him like it had screwed things up for you more than once.

It wasn't your first identity. Probably, it wouldn't be your last.

He wasn't the person to who you would say "Hey, that's fine, I'm Y/N, Horik's bastard daughter by the way!". You knew exactly how his father ascended in life by killing yours and how your father died - news are like gunpowder wicks, especially when you're in touch with the police.

It was poetic justice, for you. Yet, you couldn't tell him the truth about yourself. But he was telling the truth about himself and you could sense this. The smell of truth in his words...

"I don't wanna be alone here... I won't tell anything. Just... Just don't hurt me, ok?" you asked, feeling tears starting to form in your eyes. "I don't wanna talk about this but I had enough for a lifetime, so please, Hvitserk, just don't hurt me."

He came closer, sitting by your side. His hand touched your face, softly wiping your first tears from your cheek. All that sweetness in his eyes breaking your heart.

It would be so damn good if your lives weren't an enormous mess! He could be a suit guy as everyone thought he and his brothers were. You could have been born Mary Ann Watson. Your father could have been an HQ enthusiast. You could have been his escape from a business life... He could have been having lunch at your house and visiting an old grandma named Ann to spend the Christmas day...

But life wasn't good to none of you.

At least, you could find comfort in each other.

"I won't hurt you. Neither will my brothers. Don't mind about Ubbe's words or Sigurd's saltiness, I won't let them hurt you, princess. I promise." Hvitserk said, his thumb still sliding softly in your face when you slowly leaned yourself forward, laying your head against his chest and hiding into his arms.

He took a moment to hold you back, surprised...

The last thing Hvitserk was waiting was to have you in between his arms at the end of that day. Maybe something in your life was broken as his entire life was broken, after all.

He couldn't understand your reaction, but he didn't say a word, surrounding you with his arms and breathing deeply the scent of your hair.

And you could hear his heartbeat becoming slower.

He was relieved.

After all, he didn't lose you.

After all, you were safe.

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[hazkiwislutt]

chapter one: singles, one night stands, and a baby shower

{ hey friends, it’s athena! here is chapter one of the chasing love series! if you haven’t read the prologue, it’s linked on my master list :) i hope you enjoy this series, and i’ve never written anything this long on this blog so if my writing gets a bit tired at the end, i apologize. i would like to improve on that to make the whole piece good! thank you for reading, it means the world, i loaf u! }

The night at Niall’s had come to a smooth close. The alcohol had hit Y/N harder than a freight train. She had been gently transported up the stairs to Niall’s guest room by Harry, who had left the party shortly after, and who decided that although he genuinely would have loved to stay behind and take care of her, he did have an early morning meeting with management that just couldn’t be postponed any longer. He’d laid her down on the bed and peeled back the covers to allow her to crawl under them, but to his amusement, she wrapped the covers on only one side of her body, and left the other half in the open air.

“Gotta make sure there’s not… a… uh… shit, what do they call it?” She slurred heavily as her eyes fluttered open and shut before she finished her sentence promptly, punctuating it with a burp. “Temperature imbalance.”

Harry had laughed at that, and she smiled lazily before patting his hand softly.

“You’re not going to be here when I wake up, huh?” Her voice was soft, and he was taken aback by her question. His face must’ve given away his surprise because she simply giggled sadly, and patted his hand once more, before shutting her eyes and dozing off.

Harry hadn’t seen her in over a month and a half since that night (not that he was counting), and while there was no terribly passionate burning to see her again, he couldn’t deny that she’d been on his mind more times than was socially acceptable. After his meeting, he’d gone home and immediately followed her on Instagram, and added every single one of her songs to his playlist. He was both irked and amazed at the talent she possessed and the music she produced, wondering how “she could be tha’ talented, an’ lovely, an’ captivating. S’a bit unfair, innit, Evie,” as his feline friend purred in response. He found himself picking up his phone to ask Niall if he had her number, but then he realized she was preparing to release a new single (it was the only thing she’d been posting about on her social media), which Harry knew meant that she’d be swamped in the studio. How many times had he been in that same position?

However, that didn’t stop him from watching every interview she’d ever done, and looking up trivial facts about her. He thought of her smile every time the sun flitted in through the airy curtains he had that covered his balcony window, and her laugh when the summer breeze rustled the trees that lined his driveway, and the way she’d looked at him with such adoration when the moon rose and he stood on his back patio to gaze at the stars.

Maybe there was a little bit of terribly passionate burning.

He supposed he just adored the energy she gave off– something he always looked for when making new friends, and he craved the witty conversation she’d carried with him that night, even if she were hammered.

Harry was threatening to crack under the weight of not wanting to disturb her musical process, and desperately wanting to meet her again, and it seemed that the universe had finally had enough of his sullen moping as he went to pick up his mail at the end of his driveway. He had opened his mailbox, a simple ivory one with pastel pink and purple handprints covering the expanse (courtesy of Anne and Gemma), and pulled out its contents, shuffling through the various envelopes as he sauntered back to his front door. Bills, no problem. Fuckin’ advertisements. Oh, coupons!

Harry had stopped dead in his tracks, right outside his own front door, as he held a small envelope that had been sent from Y/N. He smiled with endearment as he turned it over in his hands; sending a letter rather than asking for his number was exactly like something she’d do, even though Harry had only met her once. It’s hardly fair, Harry thought as he fumbled to open his door, that her handwriting is pretty, too. Her clunky scrawl wasn’t displeasing or difficult to read, but it was so characteristically her that it nearly made Harry’s head spin. He gently tore the envelope open to reveal a thick ivory card that had the words “you’re invited” printed nicely in the middle, before unfolding the card to read its contents.

Harry,

My newest single is dropping in three days! I’m holding a gathering with a few close friends and my team if you’d like to drop by for a bit… I never did get to thank you for being so lovely to me at Niall’s party. People will start coming by around 8:00 PM, but you’re welcome whenever it suits you… I don’t do much, anyhow. I hope this isn’t too last minute!  

Fondly,

Y/N

Her number was written under her signature, and Harry’s heart lurched happily in his chest as he skipped giddily to the pantry, since this was a victory that deserved a bit of sparkling water and quinoa chips. Thank God, thank the universe, and thank the aliens nine galaxies over for this miracle! As Harry tore open a bag of his chips, crunching happily, he debated whether he should send her a text to acknowledge that he received her letter or not.

Before he could change his mind, he quickly punched her number into his phone and sent her a quick text.

It’s H. I’ll be there. Thank you for thinking of me. Xx

Her response came instantaneously, and Harry’s face broke into a grin, biting his lip as he read what she had to say.

Yay, I’m so glad you can come!

By the way… I didn’t know anyone even sent letters anymore. You’re old.

Heyyyyy :( You’re mean, Styles! I just think it’s nicer when someone sends you a letter. You can save letters… Can’t always save texts.

Her answer endeared Harry, but he soon began to think quickly, debating what to say in order to keep the conversation going, similar to the way he’d scrambled for words the night they met. However, his phone chimed with another message that brought him from his frenzied thoughts.

You know… I’ve released a lot of songs since all this happened to me, but I still get nerves before I release another one. That ever happen to you? Sorry if that’s weird to ask.

Harry stared at the screen, cheeks beginning to hurt from how much he’d smiled in the past few minutes, and began to type a response. He should’ve known, even after one meeting, that with Y/N, he’d never have to scramble to keep the conversation alive.

After a month of some terribly passionate burning and restless nights, Harry fell asleep soundly, head filled with floating images of a nice girl with a preference of letters to texts, a beautiful voice, the ability to chug Belvedere as if it were simply water, and CareBear pajamas.

...

Harry couldn’t resist coming earlier than eight o’clock. He wasn’t terribly early, just by fifteen minutes, but Y/N had given him the option! Was it so selfish of him to take the opportunity?

He’d deliberated his outfit for over an hour, scrutinizing which white t-shirt he should wear with his loafers and about five pairs of the same colored grey pants, before walking briskly to his car before he could change his mind. He couldn’t resist playing a couple of her songs as he drove up to her house, which was closer to his own than he realized.

Y/N’s house exterior was a pretty white and yellow scheme, and several accents, such as the door, were colored a warm mauve, and the setting LA sun cast a pretty glow upon it. It was very modern, just like Harry’s own house and most houses in this area tended to be, and seemed to be just as spacious as his own. There were windows nearly everywhere, and the house itself gave an air of fluidity and freedom of movement that put Harry at ease.

He stood at her door, shuffling his loafers quietly as he waited for her to answer his timid knock. The summer breeze ruffled his hair, and he swore to himself that he was only sweating because of the waning LA heat, not because he was about to see Y/N again. When he heard the lock click, Harry couldn’t help but break into a large grin as her eyes brightened and her smile reflected his own.

“Harry,” she cheered, before reaching out to hug him, and Harry tried his hardest not to squeeze her too tightly. She pulled away too quickly, if you asked him, but the way she grabbed his hand and led him into her home was enough to make up for it.

“Hello, love.” Y/N couldn’t help but swoon at his deep voice and the incredibly cute pet name that dripped from his lips thickly but sweetly. Harry noticed her eyes downcast, and smiled a bit smugly. She looked him over, thinking he looked lovely, before she realized he caught her eye and she averted her gaze shyly.

“Sorry… But do you mind if you take your shoes off? I just cleaned the floors.” She smiled sheepishly as Harry replied, “Course, love. S’yeh house, innit? Don’t mind it at all.”

After Harry removed his loafers, Y/N tugged him quickly towards the kitchen, as he studied her outfit: colorful striped pants that flowed loosely (and hugged her nicely, but he tried not to dwell on that) and a hanging gold necklace that lay atop her white t-shirt. Her hair was put up and her feet were bare. It was all very simplistic, but Harry could not stop looking at her.

“I’m so glad you could come! I’ll be honest, I would’ve wanted to see you earlier than today but I didn’t want to ask Niall for your number and be a creep, so-”

“So yeh asked for m’address?” Y/N turned around quickly, mouth open in an O-shape before she dropped his hand in mock offense.

“You are mean! And to think, I invited you into my home, to be here for the release of my new single!” She fisted her hands on her hips and scoffed, unable to deny the warm feeling in her cheeks as Harry stifled his boyish laughter with a fist, his eyes crinkling beautifully.

“M’only joking, love. I appreciate yeh thinking of me. Need any help setting anything up?” Y/N had led him into her kitchen, which was painted a soft mauve similar to her front door with white trim, and had light grey appliances. It was both very modern and cozy, and Harry adored it. The countertop of the island was littered with various trays, as well as a large bouquet of flowers that tied it all together.

“I think everything’s set, but if you don’t mind, I have to FaceTime my best friend. He left for San Diego this morning to visit his family, and I just want to make sure he made it okay.” Her phone was sitting on the island as well, nestled between some sort of casserole and the plates.

“Sure, should I just go out to the patio?” Harry began to walk toward the floor-to-ceiling glass sliding door, but Y/N reached for his bicep and pulled him back a bit.

“Oh, no! Please, it’ll only take two minutes. I don’t want to send you out there for so little time, plus it’s hot. He’s probably about to conk out anyway, and he’d love to say hello.” Harry smiled and nodded in acknowledgement as Y/N quickly unlocked her phone and went into her phone history to call her friend. She hummed as she clicked the most recent call, before pressing the speaker button and letting it ring.

“Fuck, that hurts… shit, I’m on the phone now, go away…” A slow, but pleasant, voice floated through the speakers as the video tumbled around wildly, showing the phone falling from some height. “No, do your own damn work, stop being a beggar. I’m on the pho- Ow! Get out already, Christ…”

The person cleared their throat before the phone was picked up and repositioned, showing a man with unkempt, but not unclean, light brown hair that flopped over his forehead as if he hadn’t done it that day. His glasses were a bit skewed upon his face and his eyes were a bright hazel, a sharp contrast to his cheeks that were flushed. He was rubbing his bicep and wincing, as if someone had just hit him.  

“Sorry, Tony socked me ‘cause I won’t let him borrow my good swim trunks. I swear to God, one of these days I’m gonna suffocate him in his sleep… Anyways, how’s my girl?”

Harry’s eyes were raised in surprise at the quick events that had just unfolded, but Y/N seemed unfazed, gently drumming her fingers on the countertop. He admitted he was curious to see just how much of a best friend Y/N’s best friend was, since he’d called her “his girl” and it made Harry deflate a bit, but he didn’t show it visibly.

“One day, he’s going to shove you into the oven and cook you for dinner. But also, you ate the last of my iced oatmeal cookie granola bars yesterday, so you deserve it. As for me, I’m alright. I’m nervous, but excited.” Y/N spoke, her lips set in a pout that Harry thought was adorable as she positioned the phone so that it was standing upright against a bowl of fruit, showing both of them in the camera.

Harry watched as Andrew squinted at the screen of his phone before opening his mouth. “Hello, Harry. Thank you for taking care of Y/N. She’s annoying, and she sucks. Big fan of your music, and I’ve heard a lot about you ‘cause Y/N talks about you an insane amoun-”

“Andrew,” she shrieked, hands flying up to cover her face while she let out an exasperated groan. Harry chuckled and grinned as he absorbed the bond between the two of them; their energy was infectious, and after Andrew had revealed that Y/N talked about him, his spirits were lifted. .

“‘Lo, Andrew. I appreciate that, an’ I totally agree. She’s the worst, huh? Tell me about it, she got drunk at Niall’s party jus’ so I would carry her up t’bed. Then, she sends me a letter, to m’home address, as if tha’ isn’t weirder than sending a text.” Harry giggled and poked Y/N in the ribs, to which she responded by swiping at his hand and grunting. Andrew laughed as Harry assuaged her, “M’kidding, love,” and before he knew it, he’d slung an arm around her, pulling her into him and holding her close.

Y/N squeaked audibly, but Harry pretended not to notice as he rocked her back and forth. Internally, however, Y/N’s mind was screaming, because Harry was here, and Harry was holding her, and Harry was rocking her back and forth and she was so sure she would combust in the next few seconds.

“I swear to God,” she griped, her voice muffled from where her face pressed into Harry’s chest, “When I see you tomorrow, I’m going to kill you.”

“I love you, too. I’m tired, but I’ll see you tomorrow. I’m driving back up around 10:00 so I can make it by 12:00, but you have to make sure you’re on time. I’m serious, Y/N, you have to be there by 10:00… You don’t want Hannah to kill you. Be safe tonight, and call me if you need anything. I’m proud as hell, and I can’t wait to hear the single. I set an alarm to wake me up at 11:50 so I don’t miss it. Call me then so you can hear my reaction, okay?”

“You piss me off all the time but I guess I love you, too. Thank you, I’ll talk to you later.” Y/N’s voice was still muffled, but she pried herself away from Harry to end the call.

“I’m so sorry, I swear I didn’t tell him to say that, he just likes to piss me off but I-”

“Relax, love. S’okay, I don’ mind. Now, let’s fill tha’ vase up with a bit more water, yeah?”

Harry wanted to tell her that he thought about her just as much as she talked about him, but he decided against it. It was only the second time meeting her in person, and he didn’t want to frighten her. Hell, he didn’t want to frighten himself anymore than he already was, because everything with Y/N seemed to come so naturally, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to delve too deep into that dilemma yet.

...

As Y/N’s friends and team arrived, her and Harry became less attached so that she could greet everyone and play hostess. Harry talked with her management and some of her friends, because he was quite the social butterfly at times, but his eyes remained on her, and his mind couldn’t fathom the way she captivated him just by walking across the room. Harry was standing in the corner of her kitchen, finishing another capirihana and watching her lean against her counter, giggling prettily at one of her friends’ stories, and her eyes were glossy and blown out from the alcohol. Harry was buzzed, feeling more at ease and more free in his affectionate stares.

“Y/N! It’s 11:50, I’m going to get everyone together in the living room so we can start getting ready for the release!” Her manager, a spritely woman named Celeste, stood up excitedly from where she sat at the island, grabbing Y/N’s hand and twirling her around. “Oh, I’m so excited, I can’t wait for everyone to hear it! You really went all in for this one, and I’m so proud of you.” Y/N twirled and did a cute little dance that was a bit uncoordinated from the alcohol she’d consumed, but it was still painstakingly adorable to Harry. Everything about her made him starve, but he wouldn’t admit that yet.

They made eye contact as she looked around the room, and she smiled warmly at him, waving softly. Need you, she mouthed, and he nodded in acknowledgement.

“Okay, could you just give me a minute?” Y/N’s words were a bit slurred, but Celeste understood and nodded, ushering out the few people that were also in the kitchen. They casted glances at Harry, seeing that he didn’t move from where he stood rooted in the corner. Once they’d all left, Y/N had padded over softly, almost timidly, before coming to stand next to him and gently leaning her head upon his shoulder.

“I’m nervous, Harry. What if they don’t like it?” She inhaled deeply, shuddering on the exhale and turning her head to look up at him with large eyes that he could get lost in. He reached for her hand, stroking his thumb over hers gently.

“S’alright, love. I know wha’ it feels like to be scared tha’ no one’s going to care, tha’ they expected more, tha’ they wanted yeh to do this or summat else. But yeh made this from yeh heart, right? All the songs yeh make, the lyrics yeh write, an’ the melodies yeh sing are all from the heart, and f’they don’t like it, yeh shouldn’t give a damn… For the record, I know m’going to love it.” Y/N smiled up at him, bobbing her head and blinking rapidly, trying to stop tears that Harry hadn’t noticed were there.

“Oi, stop tha’, let’s go celebrate yeh.” He grabbed her by the hand, and led her down the hallway to the living room where everyone had gathered.

“Y/N! Andrew is on the phone,” Celeste shrieked, grabbing Y/N by the wrist and dragging her to the middle of the living room. Y/N’s phone was connected to the flatscreen at the front of the room, where Andrew was shovelling chips into his mouth sleepily. His nap was evident in the way his hair was tousled in every direction and the way his eyes drooped as he chewed.

“Andrew, you know those are bad for you!” Y/N, even in her inebriated state, was keen on keeping Andrew’s well-being at the forefront of her mind.

“I’m a struggling college student, I’ll eat chips at midnight if I damn well please.” Andrew’s eyebrows were knitted together as he shoveled chips with more vigor, causing Y/N to roll her eyes and mumble, “Drama queen.”

“Is everybody ready? It’s 11:58, I’m so nervous I could throw up,” Celeste moaned, covering her eyes with both hands before fanning her face rapidly. She grabbed the sound system control off of the coffee table and hovered her finger over the play button. “Anything you want to say before this one gets out?” Celeste began to hop from one foot to the other, jittering up and down as her eyes continued to flicker toward the clock on the wall. Y/N hummed thoughtfully, swaying back and forth before stating flatly, “I’ve released many singles since this all has happened to me, and each time, I feel like I need to shit.”

Everyone laughed, and Harry’s mouth dropped open before he began to giggle. He could never predict her train of thought.

“Holy fuck! It’s 12:00, Y/N, “Flower” is available on all streaming platforms!” Celeste jumped up and down wildly, pressing play on the remote, and the first seconds of Y/N’s song blared through.

It started off simply: a crackling noise reminiscent of records on vinyl layered on top of a soft guitar solo filled the room, before the last note wavered with a pretty vibrato. Suddenly, a lewd moan followed by a breathy “yes” permeated the sweet tension and a new melody, lilting, sultry, and passionate, floated in with a rocking beat on the drums.

Harry’s mouth dropped open as he processed the quick change of pace. He was no stranger to surprises; hadn’t he done the same thing to his fans on one of the tracks of his first solo album, all those years ago? The element of surprise was what gave Only Angel its edge.

But this was so much to absorb, he thought, as he listened to Y/N’s innocently sweet voice dance tantalizingly over the melody. The words were absolutely sinful, and as Harry listened on, he realized the song was about sex so good that it felt as if it were the first time she’d ever been touched. Harry began to sweat lightly, his face warming up as he listened to Y/N describe, in lyrics and guitar riffs, a fucking that was so good she felt it in her bones the next morning.

The song ended, and everyone in the room began to cheer, giving their accolades to a bashful Y/N.

“You’re sinful, Y/N, absolutely sinful! I’m calling the actual police! It’s a crime, it’s an absolute crime to write music that good, I can’t even believe...!” Andrew began to ramble, his sleep-heavy eyes were now blown wide, and his bag of chips discarded as he pressed his hands against his head and stared straight into the camera, dumbfounded.

Harry was still as stone, staring at Y/N as she moved around the room, sweetly shaking people’s hands and crushing them in tight hugs.

He would never think of flowers the same, ever.

...

Y/N’s guests had cleared out shortly after, but Harry had lingered. At first, he had gone into the bathroom to calm himself down, pacing back and forth in her guest bathroom and dabbing his face with cold water. He stared at himself in the mirror for a solid mirror, commanding himself to get it together.

Then, he’d walked out, right as Y/N was bidding goodbye to the last guest, and offered to “help clean the kitchen, love, ‘cause I made a right mess of tha’ casserole tha’ Celeste brought”. They’d giggled and talked about everything, from aliens to their favorite films, and their favorite snacks to Y/N’s old bus driver from when she was still in middle school. They were both still buzzed, but talking to her made Harry feel as if he were sobering up.

Now, the kitchen was nearly spotless, especially since Harry had been scrubbing the same corner of the counter for almost five minutes, prolonging the time he got to spend with Y/N, and he knew that he had to say something to at least convey a small part of his feelings.

“The song… Yeh song s’really fuckin’ great… Threw me for a loop, but in the best kind of way.” Harry decided to start there, divulging this information as he wrung out the towel he had been using to wipe the counter with in the sink. Y/N was sitting on the island counter, legs swinging back and forth aimlessly.

“You really liked it?” Y/N’s voice slurred in a hopeful manner, as if she could hardly believe him, and it made Harry’s heart ache. Harry turned around to look at her fully, before drying his hands and crossing the short space between them in one stride. He stood in front of her, reaching his hands out to grasp her shoulders and rub soothing circles on them with his thumbs. She responded by placing her hands on his waist, whimpering softly, eyes fluttering with the weight of the alcohol, and God, she was just so cute that Harry could just kiss her right now.

“F’course I did, love. Who knew someone so sweet could write something so tastefully naughty?” He felt Y/N shiver, and watched her eyelashes rest upon the tops of her cheeks as she shut her eyes. Harry felt the way she unintentionally squeezed him where her hands were positioned, and maybe Harry was a lot drunker than he thought because he probably wouldn’t have said that so blatantly while he was standing in such close proximity if he weren’t.

“Let me see yeh eyes, love. Don’t run from me.” Harry tutted and chucked under her chin with two fingers as Y/N’s eyes snapped open, her breathing beginning to shallow. Her caught her bottom lip in between her teeth and blinked slowly at him, and Harry wished that he could be the one doing that to her. The alcohol was doing all of the talking at this point, because Harry felt himself smugly enjoying the effect he was having on her, and the effect she was having on him, if the tightening in his pants was anything to go by.

“Such a pretty girl, hm? But yeh so naughty, aren’t yeh?” Harry’s voice was low, and without thinking, he ducked his head down to tuck into her neck, breathing heavily and skimming his lips along her skin.

“Harry,” she breathed, “You’re making me dizzy being so close.” Harry pulled back slowly, because that statement was ambiguous, and although the alcohol was talking, his brain wasn’t deaf to reality, and he would never overstep boundaries without checking if the person was more than sure of his, or their own, actions.

“M’sorry, love. Too much? I can stop. M’so sorry, don’t know wha’ came over-”

“No,” Y/N squeaked, her eyes wide and her skin radiating enough heat that Harry could feel it even from where he’d put space between them, “I like it. I like what you’re doing to me, please.. Please keep doing it.” She rushed out the last sentence quickly, before pulling him back in, diminishing the space between them, and Harry couldn’t help but chuckle darkly.

“Wha’ did I tell yeh? Absolutely filthy,” he hummed, leaning back in to graze his lips over her throat, “Tell me, love. Wha’ kind of experience did yeh have to have to write a song so nasty?” He sunk his teeth softly into her skin, revelling in the way she pulled him closer so that their bodies were flush against each other and whined as she felt Harry growing underneath her.

“I didn’t,” she gasped, her thoughts swirling as Harry continued to skim her skin, “It’s not about me. It’s… it’s about someone else describing their experience and me wanting to have something just like it.. Oh!” Harry bit down once again as she finished her sentence, groaning as she revealed this information in her inebriated state, before trailing kisses up her neck and placing one, hot and heavy, on her lips that were slicked with spit and puffy from being held between her teeth.

“Wha’ a shame, innit? Tha’ someone as beautiful as yeh has never had an experience like tha’? If I could, I’d treat yeh proper… I’d have yeh absolutely soaking for me, an’ I’d give yeh a good fucking all night long.” Y/N whimpered wetly, breath coming out in short puffs and thighs pressing against Harry’s hips as he stood in between them.

“Please, please do it.” Her voice was reedy and breathy, and Harry exhaled as if he’d been punched in the stomach. He pulled away momentarily to make sure he wasn’t reading anything wrong, before capturing her bottom lip between his fingers, pulling gently.

“Want me to give yeh the type of shag tha’ puts the description in yeh song to shame?”

Y/N’s nod was all he needed to grab her and cart her up the stairs, pressing sloppy kisses against every inch of her face as she leaned into him and groaned into his mouth. It was a bit funny, Harry thought, that he was carrying Y/N up the stairs to put her into bed again, but this time he’d be joining her.

He wasn’t complaining, he decided, as he set her on the bed and rucked his white t-shirt off quickly while Y/N’s eyes stared at him hungrily, before ducking down to kiss her with more fervor.

He wasn’t complaining at all.

...

Y/N was having a lovely dream. She was in a field, but the day was sunny and the brightness of the sky reminded her of Harry. The ground began to shake in a thrumming beat that reminded her eerily of her own song that she’d released the night before…

“Fuck,” Y/N whispered to herself, eyes blinking open and squinting shut again as the sunlight flickered in through her window. The thumping in her dream was actually the thumping headache she had from last night’s festivities: the party, the alcohol, the single, and…

“Holy shit.” Y/N whispered once more, biting her knuckle as she slowly turned around to take in the sight of a very beautiful, but very naked, Harry Styles. The comforter was covering his lower half, but his hair was spread out upon Y/N’s pillow and his arm was wrapped around her midsection, which was just as bare as he was. Fuck, shit, fuck, shit!

Y/N didn’t regret it; she fully understood what was happening last night, and the answer she’d given Harry to take her to bed was something she wanted wholeheartedly. However, as Y/N’s bleary eyes focused on the red numbers of her alarm clock, her heart dropped into her ass as she realized what she’d done. Y/N was almost certain she was going to die today.

Today was her other best friend’s baby shower, and Andrew had even specifically told her to not be late on FaceTime yesterday. Hannah was going to kill her. Y/N was supposed to pick up the cake, the centerpieces, the food, and some last minute decorations, and she was supposed to be there by 10:00, which was fifteen minutes ago, and Hannah lived about a half hour away, maybe more with LA traffic. The baby shower starts at 11:00, and Y/N had to be there because not only was she bringing the majority of the party, she was also going to be the godmother.

Y/N breathed in deeply, gathering herself and trying to find a way out of Harry’s hold on her waist. She didn’t want to wake him up, or disturb him, and she had to leave as fast as possible. She turned a bit to look at him once more, feeling guilty as she realized he’d wake up and she wouldn’t be there. She knew what that felt like, but maybe she could write him a nice note and tell him where she went, and that they could catch up soon.

She had two options: roll as quick as she could off the bed and break Harry’s hold, or simply unwind his arm from her. Both would probably result in him waking up, but Y/N decided she was wasting too much time thinking and not enough time getting ready, so she chose the first option, and rolled off of her bed, landing on the floor with a dull thump. She held her breath (although, falling on the ground surely knocked it all out of her) and waited a beat, waiting to see if Harry would wake up. He didn’t.

She sighed heavily, before scampering downstairs to retrieve her phone where she left it in the living room the night before. She picked it up from where it lay on the table, face down, and turned it over, to reveal she had twenty-three missed calls from Hannah, four from Andrew, and a flurry of texts from the both of them in their group chat. She was dead.

Groaning quietly, she unlocked her phone quickly and sat down on the couch, trying to decide who to call first, and ultimately deciding on Andrew, because at least he wouldn’t chew her head off as aggressively as Hannah was about to.

“Hello?” Y/N’s voice stuck in her throat, but before she could clear it and repeat herself, Andrew’s voice carried through the speaker shrilly.

“Holy shit, you’re dead, you’re dead, you are so dead! I told you it wasn’t a good idea to have the party, Y/N, I told you… Fuck your driving, grandpa, get out of the fast lane! You just woke up, you literally… Oh my god, Hannah’s going to rip you to shreds.” Y/N winced, holding the phone away from her ear as Andrew kept rambling, his voice making the pounding in her head louder.

“Jesus, Andrew, will you chill the fuck out? It was Celeste’s idea, for the record, to celebrate this, I didn’t know I was going to get carried away and have… Shit, I mean, anyways, where are you?” Andrew gasped on the other side of the phone.

“Have what, Y/N? What did you have?”

Y/N groaned, slamming her palm into her hand, “Nothing! Fuck, I didn’t have anything, we’ve got bigger things to worry about. Now, where the hell are you?”

“I don’t believe you. You did something, and I’m going to find out, but right now I’m about to get on the freeway back. I can’t come save your ass this time, I’m afraid.”

“Okay, okay. I’m just going to tell her sorry that I got drunk and didn’t listen to you guys, and that she’s welcome to punch me in the head after she gives birth… Listen, you think I’ll be able to make it to her house in under thirty at this time?” Andrew was silent, and Y/N already knew the answer.

“It’s a Saturday morning, Y/N, and the freeways are going to be packed… I don’t think you can do it. Just try to get there as fast as you can. Be safe, love you. Call Hannah!” The line went dead, and Y/N sucked her teeth and inhaled deeply as she dialed Hannah.

“Oh, my God, Y/N, you better have a damn good reason why you’re not here right now otherwise I’m revoking your godmother privileges and tearing your heart out to feed to my child!” Hannah’s voice came through the speaker as a growl.

“I’m really sorry I didn’t listen to you guys! I literally just woke up, and I know you’re going to be super angry but I’m going to get there as soon as I can, okay?” Hannah grunted in a displeased manner, and Y/N heard scuffling and a murmur in the background.

“What? Can’t you see I’m busy? Get out! Christ… Okay, fine. Just get here before 11:30 or your godmother position is being given to Julie.” Y/N gasped, ready to protest, but the line went dead.

“Damn it, damn it… Shit, okay… I’m going to get ready, and I’ll call Dan…” Y/N trailed off, her head beginning to hurt more as she realized she gave her driver the day off because she was supposed to be on schedule today. She groaned loudly, before leaning her head against the sofa and closing her eyes. She couldn’t drive like this, not when her head was pounding and she saw colored lights behind her eyes.

“A’right, love?” A deep voice croaked from behind her, and Y/N whipped around to see Harry standing in the doorway of the living room, boxers slung low on his hips, knuckling at his sleepy eyes.

“No, I don’t know, I just-”

“Yeh’re the godmother to yeh friend’s first baby an’ yeh were s’posed to be there already, huh?” Y/N eyed him, brows quirking up in question.

“Happened to me too, w’my first godchild. And, yeh had about a thousand Post-It notes reminding yeh of wha’ yeh needed to get done all over yeh bedside table. Tha’ gave it away.” Y/N bit her lip, worrying it as she thought about how to ask Harry if he could give her a ride. What if he had other things to do?

“Tell yeh wha’, love. Yeh look like yeh in worse shape than I am, so get ready, I’ll send my assistant to grab the stuff, an’ I’ll give yeh a ride down to yeh friend’s house. Tha’ okay?” He was a mindreader, apparently, because Y/N’s mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water. “Close it, love. Going t’catch bugs if yeh do tha’, an’ I’m not sure I’ll kiss yeh again with a mouthful of bugs.”

He turned around promptly and Y/N heard him climbing back up the stairs. That was one way to address what happened last night. Sighing, she stood back up from the couch and followed.

...

“So, tell me about yeh best friend, then.” Harry and Y/N were stuck in traffic, sunglasses adorning both of their faces and Y/N ducking down a bit in her seat. Both of them knew the risks of the lives they lead, and they knew that anyone could see anything at anytime.

“Her name’s Hannah, and she’s been my best friend since we were in middle school, just like Andrew. We all went to school together. Her and her husband have always wanted kids early. He lived on the east coast at the time, because they met online, and she’d always wanted to go to school there. They weren’t in the same state, but they were within three hours of each other, and they made it work. She flew back the summer after freshman year and told me they were getting married, which was like, a year and a half ago, and now they’re having a kid.” Harry nodded, pulling his lip between his thumb and pointer finger.

“I think s’nice,” Harry said, “tha’ yeh still friends with the friends yeh had before this all happened to yeh. Keeps yeh rooted, dunnit?”

“Always.” Y/N replied, staring out the window as the traffic started to move.

...

“Thank God, you’re finally here!” Hannah crushed Y/N in a hug as soon as she knocked, all anger forgotten. Hannah lived in the suburbs, about a half an hour away from Y/N’s Beverly Hills house. The gate was decorated with pastel yellow duck cutouts, and pastel pink balloons swayed in the wind from where they were tied to the gate posts.

“Hello to you, too. Careful, you might crush your child. Besides, I thought you were mad at me.” Y/N pulled back and smoothed her hand over her best friend’s bump, smiling as she felt a small kick.

“Shut it, you know I love you. Whose assistant dropped off the stuff, anyway?” Hannah placed her hands on her stomach, rubbing gently.

“S’mine. M’Harry, lovely to meet yeh.” Harry walked up the step, coming into view from behind Y/N, and Hannah’s mouth dropped.

“What the fuck? Harry Styles is at my doorstep? Why the fuck is Harry Styles on my doorstep?” Hannah’s eyes darted from Y/N’s to Harry’s as both let out a laugh. “Oh, my God, you should’ve told me Y/N, my house looks like hell!”

“It’s fine! Harry doesn’t care.” Y/N flashed a grin at him, which he returned, and suddenly the wheels in Hannah’s head began turning as she realized exactly why Y/N was late. Y/N and her had been best friends long enough to know what the other was thinking, and Y/N’s eyes widened as she realized Hannah had figured it out.

“I’m going to walk Harry back to his car,” Y/N screeched abruptly, grabbing Harry’s arm and flying down the steps.

“Isn’t he going to eat? Or did he already?” Hannah called out, snark and teasing lacing her tone, as Y/N quickened her pace.

“He’s got a meeting, so hard pass!” Y/N called back.

“Lovely to meet yeh, hope to see yeh soon! Congratulations!” Harry waved as Y/N dragged him along down the driveway and to his car. “Hey, slow down! What’s the matter?” Y/N was puffing hard, and she released Harry’s hand with an apologetic look.

“Nothing. Nothing’s wrong! I… Thank you. For taking care of me, again… Um… in more ways than one.” Y/N felt her face heat up as she mentally beat herself up for saying that out loud, but Harry simply chuckled and rubbed her arm with the back of his hand.

“Pleasure’s all mine, love. I had a really good time last night. No regrets or anything. Text me later?” Y/N nodded eagerly, giving Harry a tight squeeze after quickly scanning the area. That was another way to address what happened last night.

Harry hopped into his car, starting the engine and began driving away from the curb, watching Y/N’s figure get smaller as he picked up speed, before turning the volume up on his radio and plugging his phone into the aux cord.

He drove onto the highway, merging quickly onto the freeway as Y/N’s song blared from his speakers, drumming his fingers to the beat, which reminded him of last night. If he ran his tongue over his teeth, he could make out the faint taste of her. He let it flood his taste buds, smiling smugly to himself knowing that he gave her a shag that put her song to shame as he remembered the breathy whimpers of “yes, there” and the weepy cries of “Harry!” that left her mouth. He couldn’t wait to hear them again.

[royalcordelia]

If the Sea Should Part (4/5)

Summary: Anne finds herself caught up in whirl of romance and adventure after rescuing Dr. Gilbert Blythe from the sea during a storm. She should let him go, but when she finds out Billy Andrews is plotting to take Gilbert’s life and estate, she realizes there’s nothing that can keep her from protecting him.

AN - I changed the cover image to the beautiful painting that inspired a very beloved scene in this chapter. The painting is called “The Edge of the Woods” by the artist Charles Courtney Curran. Very Anne, isn’t it?

• Rated G • 8k words •  Read on ao3 • Read on ff.net •

It had happened sometime during her stay at the estate that Anne came to love the absence of silence. The heavy soundlessness only descended upon the house in the evening hours after all the servants and schoolboys were asleep. As soon as the sun shone its first hints of light on the east facing harbor, there came to be voices and laughter and singing and gossiping.

How she adored these Sunday afternoons, where she could delve into her favorite novel on the settee beside her window and let the gentle crashing of waves near the house hone her focus. In the foyer beneath her, one of the boys practiced a bumpy rendition of a Mozart work, but the melody drifted up to her like a song on the wind.

Above all the soft noise, Anne was broken out of her reading by a knock at the door.

“Come in, please!” she said, straightening up from her reclined position to one suitable for guests. She hoped it might be Gilbert, but couldn’t be disappointed when Mary poked in her friendly face.

“Hey there, Anne. Got free moment?” she said. Anne crossed the room to her radiant new friend, noticing the letter she was carrying.

“I was just doing a little light reading,” Anne assured. “Besides, I’ve always got time for you. Is something the matter?”  

Mary’s smile faltered then, and Anne could see in her eyes about a thousand things the woman wished to say. Some were good, she supposed, but there was a caution in Mary’s expression, as well. Certainly she wasn’t afraid to speak to Anne. Why, Anne had been under the impression that the two of them were kindred from the first!

“What do you know about the Stuart family?” Mary said carefully. The name wasn’t familiar at all to Anne. There wasn’t anyone in Avonlea with the name, and as far as she knew, none of the boys belong to the Stuarts.

“Nothing, I suppose. Why?” Mary hummed, seemingly displeased with this answer.

“No reason. Just curious,” she lied, but Anne wasn’t brave enough to question further. “This came for you in the mail today.”

Mary thrusted Anne the ivory colored envelope as if the diversion of it would be enough to distract her from the few seconds of conversation. Anne took the letter, nonetheless, noticing how light in her hands it was compared to the other correspondences she’d received before. She flipped it over so that she might see the return address, and gasped.

“M. Cuthbert,” she muttered. “It’s from my mother.”

“That’s good, isn’t it?” Anne wasn’t quick to respond, but if Mary noticed the change in her tone, she didn’t say it. Running a finger over the smooth parchment, Anne swallowed back a rock forming in her throat.

“I hope so. Thank you, Mary. I think I’ll go out by the trees and read for a while.”

She could feel Mary’s eyes on her as she left, a heavy apprehensive look that mothers give their daughters the first time she walks herself to school. Still, she said nothing as she slipped out of the house, the laughter and noise she’d reveled in just moments ago suddenly an unbearable cacophony.

Gilbert came to her sometime later, after she’d read the letter over and over and over until she had each heartbreaking word memorized and dry fingertips from grasping the paper. When he found her though, she was leaning completely still against the sturdy trunk of a tree, looking out as the late afternoon sun prepared to take its first descending steps. He wasn’t sure if she had heard him approach, and decided to simply settle down beside her to gaze off at the same lovely horizon. Anne didn’t turn to him. Instead, she handed him an open envelope and crossed her arms on her knees.

Gilbert saw the return address, understanding almost immediately the cause of her sudden quiet.

“May I read it?” he asked quietly.  Anne nodded, leaning her chin on her arms. Clearing his throat, he began to read in a low tone.

“Dear Anne, I would like to ask you to restrict your correspondence with Green Gables to matters of urgency or absolute importance. Rachel and I are very busy with the Ladies Aid and with church volunteer work, and thus are short on time to write letters. I know you will understand. Sincerely, Marilla?” Gilbert finished incredulously. “Anne, I...I cannot fathom she was in her right mind when she wrote that.”

“Marilla is always in her right mind, Gil. It was me. I hurt her more than I’ve ever hurt her before and now she certainly despises me.” He turned to face her, expression kind.

“I don’t think she could. You’re her daughter.”

“Only by choice. Certainly now I am merely an obligation because of prior commitment.”

“Anne, that’s not true and you know it.”

She wished she could believe it, but the scarred insecurities that she’d known as a child were beginning to show their nasty heads again and she feared if she opened her mouth, he’d hate what she’d say. Still, if the ease in their friendship had taught her anything in the past weeks, it was that being honest with Gilbert felt easy and beautiful. To feel his presence beside her was like reading a sonnet over and over and over, dwelling in the same warm sensations of the language every time. Maybe that was why she confessed,

“If Matthew were still alive, he would’ve known this was what I had to do. He would’ve seen how important this is to me. How important you are to me.”

Gilbert’s cheeks lifted into a red-hued smile, and he reached out and grabbed her hand.

“I know the feeling,” he replied quietly. “Anne, I’m sorry Marilla’s letter wasn’t what you hoped it would be, but she’ll come around. I know she will.”

Anne ran her hand through the strands of grass at her side, pausing as longer strands got tangled against her fingers.

“You’re right,” she said, looking up at the horizon with its first hints of pink and orange. Far below them, the ocean churned, content to be made beautiful by the dusk and the gentle breeze. “Thank you, Gilbert. For what it’s worth, I don’t regret the decision I made the night I left Green Gables. I’d choose it all over again if I had to.”

Gilbert sucked his lip under his teeth to bite back his grin, but it blossomed in his eyes before he could hide the full extent of its splendor from Anne.

“I have some things I’d like to discuss with you tonight after supper. Suppose you come by my study whenever is convenient for you?” he suggested carefully.

“Wouldn’t you rather discuss them now?” she laughed. It wasn’t often they got a moment like this alone together without any servants listening, schoolboys interrupting, or Bash teasing. In fact, the last time they’d been this close and breathing the same air was that night in Gilbert’s room when they’d bled out their truths together.

The memory of it brought Anne back to the present, but to a different reality than she’d been in moments ago. This was a reality where she ached to lean forward and press herself to him. She’d taste the hardened lines of his jaw, run her fingertips along the firmness of his chest, allow him to kiss all the sensitive parts of her throat.

Unaware of the onslaught of longing that had begun to drive Anne mad with yearning and fear, Gilbert wrapped an arm about her waist and pulled her so that she might lean her head upon his shoulder.

“It can wait. I think I am quite content to stay here for a while longer, here with you.”

* # * # *

Anne had never been to Gilbert’s study before. It was a space that was protected by the unspoken rule that no one should bother the doctor when he was in his office, and no one should enter when he wasn’t.

“I keep confidential documents on file in my study,” he had explained to her one day. “In a town this small, disclosed medical records have the power to devastate a person’s reputation or pride.”

But rarely did someone have an invitation from the doctor himself like she did.

“It’s because I trust you, Anne.”

A few servants sent her wary glances as they passed her in the hallway, peering over their shoulders as she shifted from foot to foot before his door. Her palms had developed a thin layer of sweat, and she wiped them across her dress. It was just Gilbert, she told herself. She spoken with him dozens of times before. Why should her heart beat nearly out of her chest at the prospect of seeing him now? Fortifying herself, Anne squared her shoulders and knocked on the door.

“Just a moment,” came Gilbert’s muffled voice from inside the office. Anne folded her hands behind her back and balanced her features. When the door drifted open, she was smiling up at him the same way she always did, but the sight of candlelit contours made her fight the instinct to melt to the floor. He had put back on his brown doctor’s jacket after dinner, but the solitude of his own thoughts had sent him rustling his hand through his hair, tossing his brown curls every which way.

“Hello, Anne,” he greeted warmly. “Come in, won’t you?”

Gilbert’s study look just like every other room in the house, with its walls lined with bookshelves  and ornate, coffered ceiling. He kept his large desk off to the left of the room near the marble fireplace, with a leather padded examination chair near the window looking over the sea. The only shelf in the room that was free of some sort of bound text was one which held several locked boxes and wooden cases which Anne could only assume contained medical utensils. Perhaps the highlight of the room was the view from the window of glistening moon hovering just over the horizon. The light shone onto the calm waves, oscillating with the sea like a heartbeat.

“You’re quiet,” he said.

“You told me not many people are permitted in here. I was just looking around to see how accurate the image I conjured up was.”

“Is it everything you imagined?” Gilbert asked, amused.

“No, it seems I am constantly and pleasantly surprised by the splendor of your home.”

“It’s your home too, Anne. You know you’re welcome here as long as you like. Forever if you wish it.”

There was something heavier in the question that Anne couldn’t quite name. Forever was certainly a long time. Would she be overstaying her welcome if she continued to live here after Gilbert found a wife and had children of his own? Unless, of course, by forever he meant…

Anne cleared her throat, stopping her derailing thoughts in their tracks.

“You said there something you wanted to discuss?” she asked politely. Gilbert led her to sit in the chair in front of his desk, pulling the upholstered seat for her before going round the other side of the table and taking his own place.

“It’s more something I wanted to ask your opinion on,” he stated, leaning back in his chair a little. Anne quirked a brow, urging him to continue. “It recently occurred to me that I am the only individual in my...circle that has taken an interest in investing in social matters.”

“The orphan asylum?”

“Yes. I’ve found it incredibly rewarding to watch these boys grow up and know that they’ve been re-enfranchised their right to a quality life and education. But I’m the only one making an effort and I know for certain that the rest of the harbor investors have the funds to make such impacts themselves. And -” He paused. “You don’t look nearly as surprised as I thought you might.”

“Gilbert, I lived in those asylums. I know how I was treated. We were certainly never the object of monetary pity, just unmitigated disgust.”

The doctor looked down at his desk and tightened his jaw.

“I hope you know I’m not helping those boys out of pity,” he swore solemnly.

Anne did know. She’d seen the way he was with the boys, the way he loved them as truly and mentored them as dedicated as he might if all forty-three of them were his own. What she doubted, in the truest depths of her heart, was whether or not Gilbert was helping her out of pity, out of obligation. She would’ve saved his life that day in the storm, whether he was the poorest man in Canada or the richest. But she’d leave right that instant if she was given any evidence that her position was given to her out of pity for her unmarried and unemployed poor situation.

“Anne?” Gilbert asked, a little uneasy. “You know I mean what I say.”

“Yes! Yes, sorry,” Anne sputtered out. “Thinking about such things has always been somewhat unpleasant for me and I get pulled into my own mind. But I think I may have an idea of how you may encourage your peers to find empathy in their hearts without making open judgments on how they spend their money.”

“I’m all ears,” Gilbert replied, leaning forward.

“Host a charity ball. They’re likely antiquated these days, but I’m willing to bet that crowd would do anything to dress to the nines and flaunt their own accomplishments. Request a small donation upon entry and forward the proceeds to the asylum directly.”

Folding his fingers underneath his chin, a mischievous glint flickered in his eye.

“That’s positively genius!” he agreed. “I’ve been to similar events in the past. People boast about their donations to such an extent that others have raised their own out of spite! It’s a dirty tactic, but I think it just might work.”

“It doesn’t have to be all dirty,” Anne supplied. “Gilbert, your appeal as a doctor and a businessman is how personable and genuine you are. If you confide in your wealthier friends about the fulfilling feeling of improving another human’s life, perhaps they will find themselves urged to become more involved themselves. You can appeal to their empathy and sensibility. Use me as an example. I’d gladly talk about my upbringing if it meant I could help the boys at the asylum.”

Gilbert’s eyes became soft as starlight.

“You’d do that?”

“For you, and for them, I would.”

“I’ll discuss the idea with Bash, but if he agrees, I imagine we could host the event before the end of autumn.” The excited sparkle in his eye dimmed as another thought crossed through his mind, his mouth parted as he searched for the right way to begin. “There is something else,” he said, breaking the pause.

Anne worried for a moment that she might have done something to displease him, but a new fear came over her entirely when he said,

“I’ve been in correspondence with William Andrews.”

Anne’s stomach fell the floor and she sucked in a sharp breath to keep from gasping.

“Are you angry?” he asked, fists clenched with his own nervousness.

“No! Gilbert, no, not even a little. I’m…” Her fingers found the folds of her skirts, tugging to release her building dread. At last she settled on, “Frightened. Your tone suggests it hasn’t been going well.”

“He wrote to ask about a potential arrangement to be made in the fulfillment of my father’s will.”

“Certainly your father’s will has already been fulfilled,” Anne replied.

“That was my initial response to him. Aside from the inheritance set aside for my children, or Bash’s children should I not have any myself, all the money has been distributed. I believe Billy meant to renegotiate the terms of the will.”

“You can’t renegotiate a will!” Anne cried, suddenly disgusted at the prospect. Of course Billy didn’t care a single thing about John Blythe or his dying wishes! All he cared about was his own gain.

“Not to mention my father already honored his friendship with Harmon. Billy received some inheritance five years ago, as per the will’s instructions, but Billy believes it wasn’t adequate.”

“That’s ridiculous! Who is he to say that an inheritance isn’t adequate?”

“I refused all of his requests to meet in person. My hands are full enough managing the Harbor with Bash and running out on medical calls to deal with a petulant man’s greedy intentions. Especially with my late father’s money.”

Anne crossed her arms, leaning back in her chair with an impressed chuckle.

“Why, Dr. Blythe, you have some gumption to speak of, after all.”

“You knew it was there,” he retorted, face flushing.

“I knew it was there when you called me a siren,” Anne agreed. “But why are you telling me this now? Did you want me to...talk to Billy?”

“No!” Gilbert rushed. “I want you to stay as far from him as you can. I don’t say that to try and control you, Anne, I’m just convinced now more than ever that Billy has ill intentions with my life in order to get what he wants. I’m telling you because even though I believed you before, I had my doubts, and for that I am sorry. I believe you completely, wholeheartedly now. I want you to know what I intend to do about it - starting with something I believe you may be able to help you with.”

“You want my help?”

“Of course! You know what Billy looks like. I’ve never met the man. I’d like you to describe him as best you can, like one of your book characters if you have to, so that I can inform the staff to be on the look. I fear it’s not just my own safety at stake, but Bash’s, yours, and the boys. I need to keep my family safe.”

So she did. Anne waited for Gilbert to open one of his leather notebooks, then began to describe the yellow undertone of his pale face, the almost triangular roundness of his head, and the straight gold hair he always kept slicked to the right. She told Gilbert things she had never noticed about Billy until she was forced to think about him, but just the image in her mind was enough to set her stomach churning.

“His eyes are slanted down just a little,” she explained. “And he walks with such an entitled air that you’d like to just kick his legs out from underneath him!”

“Is that all?” Gilbert said with a hint of playfulness.

“That’s all I ever cared to notice,” she said stately.

“If that’s all you ever cared to notice about someone you don’t like, I’d love to hear how you describe someone you do like.”

Then, perhaps because she was a bit impulsive and eager as Marilla always said she was, she responded in an even tone, “Then ask me about you sometime.”

Gilbert’s lips lifted in a crooked smile and his eyes lifted from his journal to stare at her straight on.

“I like you too,” he said quietly with that smile that Anne could have lived a happy, torment-free life without seeing. Feeling a swell in her chest that, if bubbled out, would have resulted in her flinging herself across the desk and kissing him square on his soft mouth, Anne stood up. Gilbert jumped at her abruptness, but rose to his feet.

“Yes, well, I’d best be off to prepare for bed. Class meets in the morning and it wouldn’t be fair to the boys if their schoolteacher is dead on her feet! I’ll see you tomorrow, I’m sure!”

Gilbert was not to be thus sidetracked.

“Anne,” he called out - not desperately, not quickly, but calmly as if he knew what he was doing.

“Yes?” She felt exposed in front of him, like his gaze was seeing through her skin and into most honest corners of herself that she never dared touch.

“Would you like to spend some time with me tomorrow? Just the two of us?”

A thousand questions were reeling in her head all at once, some curious ( Where will you take me?), some wary ( Won’t we be interrupted by your patients? Surely they are more important?), some positively alarmed ( Do you mean on a romantic tryst?) All she needed to do was look up at the hopeful smile and the matching adorative smile to for all her questions to be answered.

Gilbert Blythe cared about her, and it terrified her.

Suddenly, Anne realized that if she had given into the irrational urge to kiss him like she’d longed to only moments ago,  he probably would have let her. Maybe he would have taken her up in his arms and pressed as close as could be allowed with the separation of the desk. She finally get to touch his soft hair the way she yearned to, and be treated with reverence in return.

She cared about him, too, and more than that, she trusted him. She’d never trusted anyone before, not like this.

But she had to give him an answer because she if she waited any longer, he might just turn completely white and take it all back.

“Of course,” she said in a sure tone. “I think I’d like that.”

A grin erupted on Gilbert’s face, the kind Anne knew he wouldn’t be able to bite back with all his strength. He reached out like he might take her hands in his and press each of her smooth fingertips to his lips one by one. Just the thought of it made heat erupt beneath her neck and blaze up to the apples of her cheeks, but he caught himself and stuffed his hands in his pockets.

“Excellent, I’ll come collect you after your class dismisses tomorrow.”

Anne doubted her feet touched the floor as she walked back to her room, feeling that there were clouds beneath her toes that carried her on the early autumn breeze.

* # * # *

Looking back, Anne wished she could report not falling prey to the temptation of vanity for the sake a man’s presence. To report so would be a lie, one that she didn’t feel too ashamed about. It had been one of the only times that she allowed herself to dedicate a few extra minutes in front of her ornate vanity to style her hair into a pretty style she’d seen Diana wear once. In fact, it had been Diana’s idea in the first place.

“ Oh, I know what Marilla says about vanity, but there’s no harm in wanting to feel pretty in your own skin,” she’d written in one of her letters. “ Darling, it sounds like you really care for this man. I know that probably frightens you, so spend a few extra and dote on yourself like you dote on me! Tuck your hair in that elegant style you admire, whisper some encouraging words to yourself, and show that man the absolute treasure that you are! You’re a rare gift, Anne Shirley, and if Dr. Blythe can’t see it for himself, I will march up to the Glen and tell him myself!”

Now she was alone in the empty classroom, the chattering of the boys echoing in the hallway outside the door. Standing at the window outlooking the estate garden where the boys tended to play amongst the shaped bushes and patches of lilies and daisies, Anne stared at her own reflection. In books, it seemed so easy for the heroine to gain the attention of the her affection’s object. But the heroines in her stories tended to be wealthy, beautiful, and demure. She was none of those things, but wouldn’t Gilbert like a girl who was imaginative and kind better? Brave in her own vulnerable strength? She chanced another glance at her reflection, and when her gaze focused, she thought she looked a tiny bit lovelier than she had a moment ago.

Ever more lovely, she could make out the silhouette of a beloved man leaning against the doorframe, waiting and watching with easy patience. Anne spun around, flush warming her cheeks.

“Just how long have you been standing there, Gil?”

He gave a playful shrug, nodding toward the door.

“Not long. Do you have time for a small rendezvous with adventure?” he asked in a sort of purr-like sound that made Anne bite her lip.

“Whenever I’m with you, it seems like I’m going on some life-altering adventure.” Nevertheless, she took some small steps forward, allowing the friendly doctor to take her hand in his calloused one.

“ That ,” Gilbert emphasized, “hardly sounds like a complaint, Miss Shirley.”

“I suppose that depends on what you have planned today,” she teased back.

“Oh, but what is life without a little bit of surprise?” He sent an impish glance her way, then took down the hallway, running with boyish delight toward the woods. Anne let out a surprised gasp, pausing just long enough to let Gilbert put some distance between them, before picking up her skirts and setting off after him.

“I think I’ve had quite enough surprise in my life! I seem to recall being quite surprised when I found a young sailor bobbing like an apple in a seastorm! And then I was even more surprised to find he was not a sailor at all!” she called after him, gaining on him as his stamina waned. “Gilbert, I don’t think it’s very dignified for a schoolteacher to chase after a doctor in -” she tripped over the last step of the boys’ living building “-in such a chaotic fashion!”

“Who’s going to scold us?” Gilbert laughed, spinning around to meet her eyes. “This is my home!”

Just as Anne’s lungs felt that they might give out, Gilbert himself skidded to a halt and bent over. The afternoon heat from the yellowish sun produced a thick drop of sweat on his brow, which he wiped away unceremoniously and flicked into the grass. Anne’s chest heaved as she watched Gilbert throw his head back and let out a carefree guffaw.

“You’re looking at me as if you’ve seen a ghost, Anne!” he said, laughing so hard his eyes had sprung tears in the corners. She couldn’t help but reciprocate the mirth.

“You try running in a corset, Dr. Blythe. I’m merely - stop laughing at me! - I’m merely wondering what has suddenly possessed you!”

Gilbert released a long Ahhh sound with a happy sigh.

“I think I’ve been spending too much time around those boys! Oh, what I’d give to take back my stolen youth!” he said dramatically. Anne’s smile faltered - stolen youth? -  but Gilbert wasn’t about to let it fall completely off her face. “Come Queen Anne, I think I’m finally ready to show you your surprise.”

He extended a strong hand to her, which she accepted without question. As they moved beyond the border of the tended garden and into the thicket of the forest, Gilbert caressed her knuckles with his thumb.

“If there’s anything that these past weeks has taught me, it’s that you are indeed not a siren,” he murmured. The sunlight peeking through the trees turned the ground into a kaleidoscope of light and shadows.

“Oh, then what am I?” Anne said, half distracted by the first hints of burnt umber leaves trickling down onto the crisp soil and the age-old trees that stretched wise, old limbs up to the midday sky. Her gait had slowed as she took in the sights around her, and Gilbert leaned down beside her ear and whispered,

“A dryad.” Anne had enough bravery to turn part of the way toward Gilbert, finding their faces so close together she could smell the sweet smell of sea salt coming off of him. He chanced a single glance down at her lips, then continued walking, pulling Anne along with him.

“I suppose you’re right. I couldn’t live where there were no trees; something vital in me would starve,” she said leisurely, though her heart hadn’t stopped racing its marathon.

“I’m much the same way,” Gilbert agreed. “My family in Avonlea had this marvelous orchard that seemed to stretch on for miles and miles. Whenever I visited, I could occupy myself hours and hours, filling my lungs with air and my stomach with apples.”

“Oh, I know that orchard,” Anne said with a fond amount of wistfulness. The orchard in question always appeared to Anne like the Garden of Eden, though she was free to pluck as many apples as she was hungry for without fear of sin. She tightened her grip on his hand, feeling that being by his side was right, especially now that she’d known the little spot of paradise had been sacred for him too. But there was something else she wanted to know.

She didn’t have a chance to ask it, for they stumbled onto the first of Gilbert’s surprises.

“Are you taking me for boat ride?” she asked, cheeks lifting into a smile.

“Just down the stream and through the woods. There’s a spot that I’d like to show you. It’s easiest to get to by boat, but the view of the overhead trees on the way isn’t bad, either. Would you like to go?”

Anne’s eyes fell on the dory propped up against the tree, then shifted to the creek. It reminded her of the mythical river Acheron, the river that flowed to the gates of hades, but instead of death, Anne felt this river must flow into a mystical faery kingdom. Low hanging branches grazes their vines upon the surface of the water. The ambling stream flowed crisp and cool into an unknown she longed to see.

“Take me.”

  “How did you find such a place?” Anne asked some minutes later to Gilbert, who rowed in slow, steady strokes. Her eyes hadn’t known which beauty to settle on - that of the magical garden all around them in its balsamy fragrance, or that of the man before her, sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Gilbert’s eyes, however, hadn’t moved from the ethereal being before him, drinking in her radiant enjoyment and making it his own.

“When my father was ill, I needed somewhere to get away. Somewhere that didn’t smell like disease and medicine. Really, all I needed was some fresh air. Pretty quickly I found this place.”

“I did the same thing as a child,” Anne said in a light voice, as if the shared experience wasn’t sad, but instead made them even more kindred. “Many of the homes I stayed in weren’t welcoming to a strange girl with an imagination bigger than she was. But the trees!” She sighed and leaned her head back, pretending the ends of her hair were touching the water. “The trees loved me better than anyone ever did, that is, until I Matthew and Marilla took me in.”

“Was it hard to be an orphan?” he asked seriously. The question was one she had received dozens of times in her life, but for once she felt she didn’t need to answer. She peered up at him through golden lashes, grayish blue eyes bright against the green scenery, and said in a kind tone,

“You tell me, Gil.”

He stopped rowing for a moment and let the words sink in. Then, realizing they’d practically come to a halt, he gripped the oars again and carried on.

“You see, Gilbert, I think that no matter how many people you have around you, or how many things you have, loneliness is still loneliness.” She laughed. “But with trees like these ones, it’s a wonder anyone is lonely!”

“They’re lovely, but they’re a poor substitute for company like yours,” Gilbert replied. Anne’s cheeks turned a lovely sunset magenta, and he knew he was doing something right.

Dipping her hand in the water, Anne remembered what she’d wanted to ask him about, but waited until the chill had woven a tingling sensation into her fingertips.

“Your father being ill and you spending a lot of time alone out here...Is that what you meant earlier when you said your childhood had been stolen from you?”

“Yes, but it wasn’t just that. My father didn’t fall seriously  ill until the end of my college years,” Gilbert replied simply, if not a bit melancholy. “He happened upon his wealth the same way I happened upon mine. A generous man honored him in his will for the kindness he’d done, and in many ways, it’s been the biggest blessing my family has ever had. To have every single one of our needs met, to be warm and happy, content that tomorrow there will be food on the table and friends at the door - it’s more than my father had when he was a boy. Not to mention, Bash and Mary have a beautiful home to raise their family in, and I can care for the boys.”

“But…?”

Gilbert sighed and shook his head, a vulnerable smile on his lips.

“But the Harbor was so much responsibility for my father to take on and the stress of it certainly didn’t aid his declining health. Sometimes I wonder if he’d still be alive if we’d just lived with his family in Alberta or my mother’s family in Avonlea. I could’ve met you sooner!”

“Which probably would have been a catastrophe.”

“ Or, it would’ve been a beautiful, fulfilling friendship.”

Anne had waltzed with what-ifs enough to know that if Gilbert continued like this, he’d run around himself in circles until he was too dizzy to be sure what was real and what was make-believe. She placed a comforting hand over his hand and gave it a tender squeeze.

“Isn’t that what we have now?” she said.

“Yes, and I am grateful for it. So, so grateful. But Anne, I won’t ever get back the things I’ve lost. I lost growing up with a mother, living in a humble home where everyone knows each other’s thoughts, and learning in a schoolroom with other children.”

Alongside them, the flowing stream trickled on.

“In a way, it’s another thing you have to mourn, Gil. Will you let yourself? Can you let the past go so that you can enjoy the blessings of the present?”

The doctor continued the steady rhythm of his rowing, turning his cheeks up to the patch of sunlight that had fallen over them. He thought back on the life he lived - the things he would do all over again and the things he’d write in granite to keep them the same. This woman, with her apricot hair and cheeks of constellations, was one thing that he’d write into the story of his life and hold there. Forever, he hoped to tell the story of the siren queen who dove into the tempest to save his life. He’d speak of her strength, her resolution, the compassion in her smile, and the stretch of eternity in her eyes.

“What’s done is done,” quoted Gilbert with a new sense of ease. “You’re here right now, and that’s all that matters to me.”

Anne knew exactly how he felt.

Eventually the dory had journeyed as far as it could in the humble stream, and Gilbert rowed it to the landing laced with grass and wild lilies. They helped each other step out, chuckling at the boats unsteadiness as it swayed them side to side, before their feet touched the mossy ground. Gilbert moved so that Anne could gaze upon the small haven that he had brought them to.

Gaze she did. All the beauties of the Glen she’d seen before did not compare to this hallowed spot, which was so much like Avonlea forests that her heart gave a tender squeeze. The reason the rowboat had stopped where it did was because the stream had opened into a crescent shaped pond with a crown of water lilies and fallen leaves. Gilbert, having known the spot, had left a cream colored basket in the clearing beside the pond, a blanket a cozy resting place amongst the tall grass. Flowers lined the clearing beside the pond,  a wall of fragrant blossoms made of a dozen pinks and light blues.

Gilbert noticed the object of her adoring eyes and plucked a few blossoms, handing them to her without a single word. He moved to the blanket he’d laid out and stretched out it like a cat preparing for an afternoon rest. When he peered up at her, squinting through the sunlight, he saw her standing there - one hand on a paperwhite birch tree, the other holding her bouquet of rose-thrifts at her side. The ease of her grace took the breath from him, but he was content to breathe her in instead.

Anne was looking back at him with just as much barely contained rapture. There he was, her golden-hearted doctor, smiling upon her the way she never thought anyone would be able to.

“Come sit a while, Anne,” he offered, the sun turning his face into gold with its soft skin and thin layer of sweat. “I’ve got something for you.”

The skirts of her summer sky dress moved through the grass as she made her way to him, spreading like spilled ink when she sat beside him. Had she been alone, she’d have kicked off her shoes and spread out her legs to feel the tall grass between her toes.

But she was here with Gilbert. She could no less tear her gaze away from his than increase the short distance between them.

“Gilbert, you didn’t have to bring me anything. This sight is pleasure enough.”

“I believe you’ll like this small offering. You see, I wrote a letter and its recipient had it in her heart to send a response.” He pulled an envelope from his picnic basket, placing it in her outstretched hand as gentle as a feather hitting the ground. Anne bit her lip when she read the return address.

“It’s from Marilla,” she murmured. Closing her eyes, she placed the envelope back in his grasp, covering it with her other hand. “I can’t...I don’t want to ruin this moment with something that breaks my heart so.”

“Look at who it’s addressed to, you goose. I’ve already read it.”

Sure enough, the letter was addressed to a “Dr. Gilbert J. Blythe” and not “Prodigal, Redheaded harem scarem.”

“Oh,” Anne muttered, frightened at something she couldn’t name.

“Read it outloud, Anne, for the trees and the wind,” he said dramatically, laying back on the blanket and closing his eyes.

“Gilbert, are you su-”

“ Anne,” he drawled. “I’ve got the first few lines memorized if you won’t read it yourself. See? ‘Dear Dr. Blythe, I must say I was astonished to find your letter-”

“Okay, okay! I’ll read it, just leave the dramatic readings to me and Paul Irving.” Anne cried out, nudging him with her knee. Gilbert chuckled, sticking his elbow out and propping his head up so that he might watch her. Licking her lips, Anne began to read.

“Dear Dr. Blythe, I must say I was astonished to find your letter waiting for me when I returned home from Charlottetown just this afternoon. I cannot tell you how pleased I was to read your accounts of Anne, her successes as a teacher and how well she is fairing. As for your news on Billy Andrews, I fear I have made a dreadful mistake in not believing Anne when she needed my support most. I only wish that I could have seen that she was doing the right thing all along, even if cost her greatly. If you could, please tell Anne that I don’t intend to make her pay that cost anymore. If she can forgive me, I’d welcome a letter from her. As for your invitation to the charity ball you’re hosting in a fortnight, Rachel and I were humbled, but regret we must remain here to care for the farm. Please do write and tell us about its success. Thank you again. Send Anne our enduring love. Sincerely, Marilla Cuthbert.”

A tear had dropped on the page, and Anne brushed it aside before it run any of the ink. She sat quiet for a moment, rubbing the textured parchment in her fingers, almost as if she could feel the essence of Green Gables.

“You wrote her for me?” she whispered in a raspy voice. Gilbert’s eyes on her were tender, but he stayed where he was, allowing her the space to breathe and process.

“I know how much her last letter hurt you,” he said. “I saw the way you were together. You’re not meant to be apart like that. She’s your mother.”

Anne swallowed, biting back an onslaught of love. For Marilla, the rare mother she never expected but cared for with her whole soul. And for Gilbert, this gentle, compassionate man who seemed to speak the language of her soul.

“You did this for me?” she repeated - slower, quieter. Gilbert’s gaze was reverent and steady as he replied.

“Yes, my love. I did it for you.”

They had both ventured a step into each other’s world’s, vulnerable and bare. There was no going back now, but Anne was ready to leap forward. She placed her hand on his, willing him toward her. Gilbert gave into the gravitation, sighing in blissful surrender as she slid her arms around his waist and pressed her lips to his. His arms were about her, tugging her flush against his chest where their beating hearts were side by side. He kissed the breath from her, admiring how she tasted the way roses smelled and was the softest thing he’d ever held.

Anne all but evaporated into a euphoric autumn breeze, faintly wondering if she had ever felt this safe and loved. There was only the musky scent of this man -  her lover, she realized- and his tender caress. She was ready to be consumed by its delight, and love him even more in return.

He pulled away, only to lean back in for a few more short kisses, but found it difficult to grin with the full extent of his happiness and kiss her at the same time. Anne pressed her forehead to his, running her thumb over his cheek.

“My love,” she tasted on her tongue. Her lips found his cheek, rough with the first hints of a beard. “ Gilbert .”

A joyous laugh left his lips, and he looked into her eyes, dark and glittering as the night. All noise faded away, leaving Gilbert with his heart thumping in his ear, yearning to just stay in his embrace for the rest of his existence.

“I didn’t know! I certainly hoped , but I didn’t know,” he admitted with a choked up, little laugh. She heard the full admission - I didn’t know you cared. I didn’t know you loved me.  

“I’ll tell you all you’d like now,” she replied, an ardent quality taking over her entire being.

“Right now?” he wished. A breeze swept past them, and Anne allowed it to sway it back to his face. She wasn’t afraid or overwhelmed. She was too full of bliss to feel anything but.

“I’m in love with you,” she confessed. “I love you, Gil.”

This time he kissed her, swept her back up into his arms so quickly that a gasp escaped her, and showed her what the words did to him. Somehow she’d wound up partly in his lap, arms wrapped around his shoulders, and hands anchored in his hair. He only pulled back enough to whisper his own reverent confession to her. The words danced across her mouth, sweet and soft.

“I love you too,” he replied. “I’ve loved you since you pulled me out of that ocean, and I’ve loved you every second since. Maddeningly, Anne, you drive me crazy.”

Anne pulled herself to him that she might hide her face-splitting smile in the crook of his neck. Is this ecstasy what it it was like to be Gilbert Blythe’s, for him to be hers?

“Well, doctor, have you any remedy for that sort of madness?”

“Oh certainly,” he breathed huskily. “More kisses.”

The rest of their rendezvous had a light, relieved air to it - secrets lifted from both of their shoulders, their pasts confronted and conquered. They ate without rush, content to sit side by side facing each other. How wonderful it was, they delighted together, that they could kiss and speak the way lovers do instead of simply daydreaming about it.

When the day had stretched to its limits, Gilbert offered Anne a hand back into the rowboat and brought them back to their palace of a home. He followed each of his father’s rules of courting - walk the girl to her door, offer a compliment so she remembers you, kiss her, and say goodnight. Mostly, he thought he did his father proud, even if he did press his sunset haired Persephone to her door to kiss her enough that she was liquid gold from head to toe.

In a carefree world, he’d have gone to his bedroom, sat near the bay window, and thought about the magic of the day until dawnbreak, but instead, he went to Bash’s office.

His brother knew something had happened the second he’d walked in the door.

“Oh, I’d know the expression of a lovesick moke anyday,”  Bash teased, glancing up from his paperwork to the blushing man grinning in the doorway. “Did Anne smile at you pretty?”

“She did more than that,” Gilbert murmured, coming to sit on the arm of one of the office couches. “She kissed me and told me she loves me.”

He spoke almost soundlessly, but Bash had heard everything he needed to. The older man’s smile was tortured, realistic.

“You’ve been crazy about her since you met her, so I’m thrilled for you brother, I am.”

Gilbert fell back onto the couch in a dramatic heap, covering his face and sighing.

“You should’ve seen her, Bash, standing in the trees like she was mother nature herself. I thought I was going to perish. And the way she speaks! Have you ever heard anyone speak pure gold?”

“Blythe-”

“And you’ve seen her with the boys. They adore her! Crave her approval like they’ll starve without it.” Gilbert’s arms fell down beside him in surrender. “She’s it, Bash. You were right, I’m crazy about her. I’m sorry I ever said you were wrong.”

“Gilbert,” Bash said seriously. “Tell me you haven’t forgotten-”

“I haven’t!” Gilbert shot up on the couch, not wanting to hear the end of the sentence. “That’s what I came to talk to you about tonight. There’s got to be something you can do. You’ve always found a loophole before. What’s one more for your lovesick brother?”

Bash was a long time in answering.

“I can try, but your engagement to Christine was one of your father’s dying wishes. She’s wearing your ring. Mary told me Anne knows nothing about the Stuarts.”

“If Dad met Anne, he’d know why I can’t marry Christine. He made me promise to go through with the arranged engagement for business reasons, not because he wanted me to fall in love with her. And I won’t, I know I won’t.”

“The terms of your engagement are clear. If you break off with your engagement to Christine, the harbor will take a hit you know it won’t sustain.”

“That’s why I came to you,” Gilbert pleaded, coming up to the desk, pulling his chair up as far as it would go. “I’m asking you, as your brother and best friend, for your legal expertise to marry the woman I love, not the woman my father thought I should spend my life with. If anyone can help me, it’s you.”

What else could Bash say to the boy who befriended him, took him in, shared half his estate with, and loved him as if he were flesh and blood?

“I’ll do my best, but I’m telling you, Gil, you need to tell her.”

“I will, I will!” Gilbert swore. “Now, don’t you want to hear about it?”

Bash took off his readers, folded them onto the desk, and smiled wickedly.

“Tell me everything.”

[intoxicatingpimentel-blog]

ʀᴏꜱᴇꜱ (ᴊᴏᴇʟ ᴘɪᴍᴇɴᴛᴇʟ ᴀᴜ)

pairing: Joel x original character

genre: alternative universe

rating: not sure yet

summary: it all started with a dream about roses. Then came the man with the rose tattoo.

This is Part 2

Read Part 1 here 

“Ariana” “Ariana wake up!”

My eyes shoot open when I feel my body being shaken. “W-what’s going on?” I ask, looking into my roommates eyes. “You were screaming in your sleep.. kept saying something about saving children” Anne replies.

I close my eyes and let out a sigh, “sorry about that.” She let’s my shoulders go and I fall back onto the bed, “don’t worry about it. Are you sure you’re okay?” she asks. I open my eyes to look at her, “I’m fine thanks.”

She nods hesitantly before leaving me in silence. Seriously, what is going on with me?

The sound of chirping birds fill the silence in the room. I grab my phone and see the name “Joel” flash on the screen.

As I clear my throat I press the accept button. “Hi Ariana!” he says almost immediately. “Hey Joel” I reply. He hums, “what are you doing on this fine weekend?”

“Studying probably” I reply. “On a Saturday? Really?” he asks. “Studying gets you good grades” I reply. He laughs, “always such a stickler.”

Always? He doesn’t even know me.

“Well if you’re going to study we can maybe study together?” he says with a questioning tone. It’s weird how comfortable I feel with him. In this situation with anyone else I would’ve hung up the phone and had a full blown anxiety attack. But with him I smiled and said, “sounds like a plan. Meet you at the library in twenty?”

Just like that I was in the library searching for his face.

“Ariana” a whisper-yell catches my attention. I look to the left and there is his warm and welcoming smile. As I take in his figure an image flashes in my mind. It is of him dressed in a uniform walking over to me with the same warm smile. “Have a good day at work” he says before kissing me on the cheek.

The image fades leaving me in shock. It felt so real. I just met the guy and I’m already fantasizing about our life together? Great.

I shake my head and take a seat at the table. “Hey” he says before planting a kiss on my cheek. “O-oh I’m sorry. Just a habit” he mumbles.

A habit?

“As in I greet people by kissing them on the cheek” he quickly adds.

“Are you sure that’s the reason?” I ask. He freezes and visibly gulps, “why wouldn’t it be?”

“Listen I’m going to be honest. Ever since the moment right before I met you really weird stuff has been happening” I say. “Define weird” he replies.

“Weird as in I’ve had really creepy dreams and just now I.. I uh had a vision I guess you could say of you kissing me on the cheek” I say. He begins shaking his leg which indicates his feeling of nervousness.

“Joel” I say. He snaps out of his trance and looks at me, “sorry it’s uh I didn’t expect you to start remembering so soon.”

“Remembering what?” I ask, now confused. He ignores my question and starts packing his bag.

“Answer me” I demand. He pauses for a second, “we have to go.”

“I’m not going anywhere until you explain yourself!” I yell earning annoyed glances from everyone trying to do their work.

“Keep your voice down” he says harshly. He grabs my wrist and pulls me up with him. “What the hell do you think you’re doing dude?” I say while trying to release myself from his death grip.

He continues to ignore me and pull us out of the library. I soon notice him walking in the direction of a black van. “You’re starting to scare me” I say. He immediately stops his movements and lets go of my hand. He turns around and stares at me with soft eyes, “I’m sorry. The last thing I want to do is hurt you. J-just trust me, please.”

As I stare into his eyes my stomach feels like there are a million butterflies flying around. Something about his words and tender caresses on my cheek lets me know he is not putting me in harms way. “Okay let’s go wherever it is we are going” I reply.

I follow him to the black van and get in. He keeps looking around and staring suspiciously at everyone.

The sound of car keys jingling can be heard and soon enough a brief vibration is felt as the car starts. The drive to our destination is silent and short. We arrive at a construction sight in the middle of a field. There are few houses on the outskirts but it’s overall an isolated area.

“I am not sure how to tell you this without you freaking out” Joel suddenly says. “So there is something bigger going on here?” I ask.

He nods. “I already figured so you can tell me” I reply. He sighs, “just promise me you’ll try to keep an open mind.”

I reach my hand out and place it on top of his. He looks down at our hands and smiles, “I’ve missed you so much.”

“You keep saying things like that as if we know each other” I say. “The thing is w-we do. Just not in this time” he says. “Now I’m really confused” I reply with a soft laugh.

He bites down on his bottom lip, “can I do something first?” I flash a half smile, “depends on what it is.” He reaches his other hand up and pushes my hair out of my face, “if you decide I’m crazy after what I tell you and our lives together cease to exist grant me one last kiss.”

“W-what?” I ask with wide eyes. “Let me kiss you please” he begs. “I-I …”

Our eyes lock and so many feelings overwhelm my senses. “Please” he whispers. I nod, “kiss me.”

He wastes no time leaning closer and looking between my lips and eyes seeking further confirmation. “Go ahead” I whisper. He places one hand behind my head and pulls me closer. When his lips touch mine I begin to feel faint.

“You are absolutely intoxicating” he says in between kisses. His speech makes my heart flutter and skin warm up. I move to crawl onto his lap but he stops me. “I need to tell you the truth first” he says through heavy breaths.

“Go ahead then” I reply. “The thing is.. we are um we are from the future. We were banished here using the advanced technology of our time by an ex friend who turned out to be quite the evil jackass” he says all in one breath.

I sit there without feeling or without words. “Say something” he says.

There are no words that can truly express all the questions I have.

“L-let me see if this will help you remember” he says while reaching into his pocket. He pulls out two rings. One is a simple silver ring with no design. The other is a beautiful diamond ring.

He reaches for my hand and slowly slides the diamond ring on my finger.

My head begins to swirl as another image flashes through my mind. It is of him rising up from one knee with a huge smile on his face. I can feel tears rolling down my cheeks as he slides the same ring on my ring finger.

“I love you” he says. “You’ve just made me the happiest person on the planet. I love you” I reply.

The vision ends there. I feel hot tears streaming down my cheeks. “I-I remember you” I say.