[PLAY THE SONG]

Walking down the street tonight
I got my share of bad intentions

Anne Shirley-Cuthbert can't concentrate for her first round of exams right before Christmas. Not with a head full of dark curls belonging to Gilbert Blythe planting feather-like kisses over the inner part of her thighs. The only thing she's wearing apart from her underwear is one of his T-shirts that she believes to be way too big for her.

Gilbert, however, is delighted at the sight of her bare legs and his clothes reaching way above her knee. It builds up the perfect atmosphere of intimacy.

"Fucking hell, Shirley" the boy hums against her now over-sensitive skin, making her body tense up. "Would you stop with all those whimpering and moaning noises?" She can perfectly feel his smile against her skin and his eyelashes brushing against the freckles that cover the pale skin of her legs. "Do I have to remind you that you live in a dorm building?"

Anne bites her bottom lip — he's right. She should keep it quiet. Although her roommate (whose name she seems to have forgotten) is not there right now, anyone walking by the hallway could hear them.

These walls are thin as fuck, she thinks.

As she lies down — a mess of red curls splattered over the duvet Marilla bought for her before she came to Nee York — she looks down to him.

What if I told you just how much I need you?

Gilbert Blythe, supporting his weight on his elbows and with his lips still dangerously close to the proximity of her thighs, looks back at her.

You got me staring like a fool
I know you want me too

"Shut up and continue what you were doing" she hisses.

"Your wish is my command, m'lady"

My eyes, and your eyes

Gilbert continues his kissing, trailing now a path of little kisses from her thighs to her belly as he caresses her skin with his nose, lifting her (or his) The Smiths t-shirt a little.

His body towers now over hers as he buries his face on the crook of her neck once he gets there — his final destination. As he bites on her earlobe, Anne hears him chuckle under his breath.

"You just moaned again"

He shifts from his position, lying now on his side and resting the weight of his body on one shoulder as he stares at her with his classic amused look of mischief.

The girl flips him off and rolls her eyes at him — a habit that will never die.

"Do you have an opinion for everything?" she asks, clearly irritated.

"Pretty much, yeah"

It's right when he leans in to close the short distance between them when her eyes open abruptly.

It's December 1st and Anne can't understand why sweat is rolling down her neck considering it'a freezing today, especially in New York.

It was a dream.

Fuck. My. Life.

Another dream.

She misses the days when she could count with a single hand the times she'd dreamt of Gilbert Blythe. Now she can't even remember a time in which he hasn't starred in her dreams.

With a sigh of frustration, she comes to the realization that she fell asleep with Gilbert's Walkman on again.

She's been playing the same mixtape over and over again for weeks — as if she was trying to decipher it. The last track was playing when she suddenly woke up.

Yeah how could I look right past you
You got me staring at you

Ugh. She rubs her temple with both of her hands before removing the headphones off her ears. Looking out of the small window, she realizes it's starting to get dark outside.

After mumbling a "I need a smoke" to herself, Anne gets her phone, keys and cigars from her night table and leaves.

Right after she closes the door after her, she types a text on her phone.

Just to make sure he's doing okay, considering she hasn't seen him in six months.

Just to check if he's getting used to the life in Philadelphia.

Just an excuse to text him, as per usual.

AnnE
good luck for finals, gil :)