#i really wanted an excuse to draw anne with braids

[pawprinterfanfic]

Trouble is a Friend

Anne with an E | Shirbert

Rated G | One-shot (3k words) | Complete | Read on AO3 (link is in the first reblog)

When someone makes a post on the ‘take notice’ board, Anne and Gilbert are forced to have a difficult conversation.

or: someone calls Anne and Gilbert out on their very obvious heart-eyes during dance practice.

Anne was not avoiding Gilbert.

She wasn’t.

Truly.

It just so happened that, whenever they were in the same room, something urgent came up and she had to excuse herself. Like doubling checking her milk was fully submerged in the creek, or making sure that her coat hadn’t fallen to the ground, or seeing if Ms. Stacy could use an extra set of hands.

Really — she wasn’t avoiding Gilbert because, if she was, that meant there was a reason why. She refused to entertain that thought.

It was just a dance.

Between friends.

For class.

If she was avoiding Gilbert because of the dance, that meant she was acknowledging it wasn’t as simple as that. Two friends didn’t avoid each other because they practiced dancing for the fair — Diana wasn’t avoiding Charlie, after all.

(Then why was she avoiding Gilbert?)

(...)

(Not!)

(Not avoiding Gilbert.)

This was how she found herself at her desk long after school ended, a book about Scotland propped open in front of her. The not-Gilbert related confusion in her life was not going to draw her away from her search for her heritage.

She breezed through the next three chapters in hopes everyone (including a certain someone) would leave before she did. Reading had always been her escape and it seemed she mastered the skill to close off the rest of the world as she soaked in the words from the page. The world was seemingly insignificant compared to the marvellous pictures being painted in her mind, the words seemingly came to life in her mind, the pages—

“Anne!”

She startled when a hand brushed against her shoulder, jolting her back to reality. Diana leaned across the table in front of her, pushing the book out of the way and grabbing Anne’s hands. A laughed bubbled from her lips — Diana’s excitement was contagious.

“Diana, you’re—”

“No time. Someone made a posting about you.” Diana’s eyes were wide and, for the first time, Anne realized they were wide with surprise and... concern?

Her heart dropped into the pit of her stomach. What could someone have said that would make Diana react like this?

“I— What?” Anne stood up hastily, her seat scraping against the floor. Diana tugged on Anne’s hands, pulling her in the direction of the front door. She hesitated for a moment, a countless number of thoughts filling her head — and then they were off.

They rushed out of the school without another word, Diana pulling her all the way. They rounded the bend, and—

“Anne?”

She grew stiff, her feet rooting to the ground. Gilbert stood mere feet away from her, his eyes wide and eyebrows furrowed.

Something was wrong.

Anne had seen all sides of Gilbert over the years — the annoyed, the frustrated, the heart broken, the stressed, the terrified, the happy. She knew Gilbert, sometimes better than she knew herself.

And, right now, she knew he was upset. And panicked, maybe? It was unnerving.

Diana tugged on her arm, breaking her from her stupor. She pulled her the remaining distance to the ‘take notice’ board, and it took all of her strength to shift her gaze from Gilbert to the pieces of paper.

Her eyes danced across the weather-worn pieces of paper, searching for what Diana was talking about. Finally, she reached up and pointed to a paper dead centre. Unlike the other ones, this one was crisp and, unfortunately, clear.

Anne Shirley-Cuthbert and Gilbert Blythe shared intimate romantic gazes during dance practice.

The first thing Anne felt was shock, closely followed by dread. Dread — it felt like cold boney hands, reaching into her chest, pulling on her heart. A crushing weight settled on her shoulders, stealing her breath.

Oh no.

No, no, no, no, no—

Her heart was pounding in her chest and her hands grew sweaty. Anne swore her cheeks were flushing from spending too much time under the sun, but, really, she just got outside.

Anne didn’t know why this notice posting was so different from the others. Several notes were scattered across the board about her, but she never paid them much attention before. They were harmless! But this?

This was not harmless.

The other postings were fun because nothing was serious. The difference here was the fact this was serious.

So, very serious.

This was about her and Gilbert, and that was crossing the line from fun and playful to something real.

The truth of the matter was that, yes, maybe she had been avoiding Gilbert earlier that day.

And, yes, it was because things weren’t as simple as she hoped it would be. It wasn’t just a dance between two friends. It was a dance between her and Gilbert Blythe.

(Gilbert Blythe — the same person that managed to make her heart flutter when she looked at him — the same person that helped bring out the best pieces of herself — the same person that she very recently realized she had a massive, massive crush on.)

Anne was aware of two pairs of eyes on her face, and she fought to maintain composure. She tightened her jaw and lifted her chin, trying her best to conceal her true emotions.

(Because, if she was being honest, her true emotions scared her.)

“Anne,” Gilbert tried again, his voice hoarse. Her eyes flicked to his. Her throat tightened. He sounded so unsure, so hesitant. “Did you… Did you post this?”

If she wasn’t blushing before, she sure was after that.

Her mouth dropped open and she stumbled over her words. “I— I— What!? No. No, absolutely not!”

Anne felt like she was going to die of embarrassment right then and there. Gilbert was looking at her with an expression she didn’t recognize, Diana looked like she just witnessed a crime, and she her stupid face was not cooperating!!

Before things could get worse (and Anne knew they were going to get worse), she turned to Diana, her lips pressed thinly together. “Can we have a minute?”

She blinked. “You and I?”

Anne wanted to scream. “Uh, no. Sorry. I meant Gilbert. With me.” She could see the confusion on Gilbert’s expression intensify out of the corner of her eye. She refused to glance in his direction. “Please, Diana?”

She hesitated. “Are you sure?”

Anne tried to convey just how sure she was with a pointed stare. Diana’s eyebrows rose the slightest bit in understanding.

“I’m sure. I’ll see you tomorrow, alright?”

Diana was reluctant, but she bid farewell and began her journey home, leaving Anne alone with Gilbert.

Well, at least there wasn’t going to be an audience for this beastly conversation.

Silence.

One beat.

Two beats.

Three beats—

Anne spun to him, the momentum of her turn making her braid slap against her cheek. Her tongue felt twisted, and she felt like she would be unable to get any words out of it even if she wanted to.

It was all made worse when she finally looked at his face.

He looked horrified — truly horrified. She doubted he ever looked so frantic in front of her before. His eyes were wide and jaw locked. He shifted his weight from foot to foot, as if he was preparing to run.

(Maybe she should run.)

For the first time in her life, Gilbert looked at a loss for words.

Anne tried to pretend her heart wasn’t aching with this. It was harder than she thought. Hurt blossomed in her chest, squeezing her heart, constricting her throat.

Why did it hurt so bad to see exactly how uninterested he was in her? It wasn’t like this came as a surprise! He was Gilbert, and they were friends. Over the years, he made it very clear that he was happy with their friendship.

(Just their friendship.)

But seeing him look so horrified at the posting that brought up them sharing romantic gazes? That hurt. He thoroughly looked disgusted by the thought of being romantically interested in her.

She lifted her chin and forged ahead. This situation wasn’t going to get any better by staring at him.

“I didn’t post this,” she promised him, her voice strong. “We both know that isn’t my handwriting.”

Gilbert’s eyes flicked back to the note. His lips twitched as he read the words over again. Anne’s heart plummeted.

“It wasn’t you.” He turned back to her. “It wasn’t me either, let me assure you.”

Anne shifted uneasily. She wasn’t sure what to say to make this situation better. “It must’ve been written by someone who thought it was funny. Besides, half of the notices are also clearly false. This one just… fits right in.”

“Well, even so, everyone will this it’s true.”

Anne knew she shouldn’t have felt so hurt by his words, but she couldn’t ignore the pang of pain from her heart. She clenched her jaw so tight that she was worried for her teeth.

Finally, after a long moment of silence, she spoke.

“And what’s so bad about that?”

She regretted it as soon as she said it. She should’ve agreed with him. She should’ve told him how awful it was. She should’ve promised him that the posting wasn’t remotely true, and never would be.

But she didn’t.

This was getting too close to the feeling category. Panic descended on her.

Gilbert’s gaze snapped to hers, looking owlishly. “What?”

“Ugh. Never mind. Forget I said anything.” Her words came out like venom. She didn’t wait to see how he reacted to the sudden shift.

Anne promptly turned and began to stalk away. Her hands were curled into fists at her sides, her nails digging into her palms. Her face was flashed, her heart racing, her chest aching. She wished she never opened her big mouth because now Gilbert was going to think she wanted the posting to be true.

(Which was the truth.)

(She wanted this posting to be so very true.)

“Anne!”

Gilbert lunged after her, catching her hand before she could get too far away. His touch alone made her freeze up. She was reminded of the dance, when it felt like neither of them wanted to let go of the other. She was tempted to snatch her hand out of his just to prove everything was false.

“I don’t understand.” Gilbert didn’t drop her hand either. “What’s so bad about what?”

Anne wasn’t sure where the confidence came from — maybe it was because the hurt was desperate to get out — but she answered truthfully.

“I asked you what was so bad about everyone thinking we are together — that we are interested in each other like that?” The words were hard to get out of her mouth. She felt sick from fear. “I said forget it because it’s stupid.” She ripped her hand away from his. “Clearly I’m so unattractive that the thought of us disgusts you, even when it is false.”

Gilbert looked like he had been punched in the gut. His lips were parted and his eyes large.

The confidence she found earlier drained away quickly, leaving hurt to take its place. One thing Anne learned in her life was that when someone didn’t want to show hurt, they hid behind anger.

She lifted her chin and glared at him. “If that’s all?”

Without waiting for an answer, she turned and continued on the journey home.

(Her heart only hurt a little bit when she didn’t feel his hand pulling on hers again.)

Anne made it further than before. She was already starting down the path leading away from school when he called out for her again.

“Wait!” She didn’t wait. Gilbert had to jog to catch up to her brisk pace. “Wait, Anne, what—”

“I said forget it, okay? So… forget it!”

She was half tempted to turn around and say something that would make it clear she was not. interested. in. him. ‘I can’t stand you’ seemed to be the best thing her brain could come up with in that moment, but luckily, she never got a chance to speak.

“You, Anne Shirley-Cuthbert are not unattractive.”

She nearly fell face first into the ditch.

Anne turned to him, her mouth open and mind blank. He looked nervous — extremely so — but there was a determination in his eyes that she’d witnessed only a few times before.

“You... you think I’m attractive?”

Gilbert’s eyes widened, like he hadn’t expected her to question him. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, but no sound came out.

Anne was beginning to wonder why she asked him. Clearly, he only said those words earlier because implying otherwise would’ve been rude.

Besides, why did she care anyway? It was Gilbert Blythe, not her future husband.

Blood rushed to her face at that.

Just as she was about to turn away from him, he laughed. It wasn’t one filled with cruelty — a laugh that she heard so often before coming to Avonlea — rather, it was one that was filled with so much warmth that it made her heart melt.

“Of course, Anne. You’re... beautiful.” He was looking at her oddly, and it made her heart rate quicken even more. “Take your hair, for instance. It reminds me of the sun — so bright, and warm.”

“You called the colour ‘carrot’ before, if I remember correctly.”

“You still remember that?” he laughed. She couldn’t help but grin back at him. She did remember that — and she also remembered the resounding slap her slate made against his face. “Clearly, I hadn’t seen a carrot before making that comparison. Besides, I thought you were pretty back then, too.”

Her eyes widened. “What?”

“Ask anyone — it wasn’t a secret. I told everyone the first day we met that you were pretty.”

(She tried to ignore the butterflies in her stomach and the giddiness bubbling up inside of her.)

(It was a failing project.)

For a long moment, they stared at each other, unsure of what to say. During the silence, she worked up enough courage to speak what was on her mind.

“And still, the idea of… of the notice being true — or even people thinking it is true — disgusts you,” she pointed out. The rush of joy she felt moments earlier dropped off quickly when she remembered his horror at the notice board.

She couldn’t read Gilbert’s expression again. His gaze danced along her face, drinking in the details. Anne got caught up in the way the sun caught his eyes and the way the wind blew a single curl against his forehead.

He looked away for a moment. His jaw tightened.

“The idea of courting you — of being with you — doesn’t disgust me.” His words were slow, like he was evaluating each one before he spoke. His expression was soft, and it took her breath away. “What disgusts me is people’s ability to lie and make up false stories about other people. It’s horrible. One day, it’s about two people that are interested in each other; the next, it’s something malicious. Once the gossip starts, it’s hard to get it to stop.”

Anne picked up on his earlier words. “Interested in each other?” she echoed, her heart banging against her rib cage.

Gilbert must’ve realized his choice of words. His eyebrows flew up and he pursed his lips. “Well... yes. That’s what the notice says, is it not?”

Her heart fell. For a moment, she thought he was admitting something to her — admitting that her feelings for him weren’t one-sided.

“Oh. Right.” Anne chewed on her lip. “That is what it says.”

Silence consumed them.

It was awkward.

Anne wanted to sink into the ground, or maybe disappear into the darkness, or — even better — just vanish right there.

Gilbert smiled. “So… we’re good, right?”

It was hard not to smile with him looking at her like that. “We’re good.”

And that was the truth.

Whoever posted the notice on the board about them must’ve thought they were being clever, but that impacted him as much as it impacted her. With Gilbert clarifying he was horrified by people spreading rumours about them — and not horrified by the idea of being romantically involved with her — she felt a weight lift off her shoulders. The hurt in her heart eased.

Yeah. They were going to be okay.

She glanced at the horizon, where the sun was already starting to hang low in the sky. Marilla was going to kill her for coming home so late.

They locked eyes. “I need to get home,” she said after a moment. “Uh. Thank you, though, for… you know.”

The corners of his lips quirked up. “You know.”

Anne wasn’t sure why she couldn’t say goodbye to him like a normal human being, but there she was, standing inches away from him, her eyes refusing to leave his. It felt like they were sharing something special in that moment — something more precious than simple words or ‘intimate romantic gazes,’ as the notice so eloquently put it.

She really did need to go though.

Anne took a step backwards, ending the moment. She could feel Gilbert’s eyes on her as she turned and continued back down the path.

Ten seconds passed before he spoke again.

“And Anne?” She turned back to face him. “You know… It wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world if the take notice posting was true.” He lifted his eyebrows. “I think I’d be okay with, uh, ‘intimate romantic gazes’ — as long as it was with you.”

Anne laughed brightly. Her smile was so wide it hurt her cheeks.

“You know, I think I’d be okay with that, too.”

It was a lie.

Anne knew she’d definitely be okay with that.

#shirbert #anne with an e #awae #awae fanfiction #shirbert fanfiction #anne x gilbert #anne shirly cuthbert #gilbert blythe #awae fanfic #awae fic #anne of green gables #pawfic #pawmood #mine

[themaevethcometh]

Green Gables Coffee & Tea

Diana brings Anne to the most enchanting coffee shop she's ever seen. The barista behind the counter could be almost as enchanting if Anne could pull her focus away from the shop long enough to really notice him.

Written for Writer's Month day 3: Coffee Shop AU

I am two days late but I figured it’s time to start writing for Anne, so here we go!

Read on AO3

When Diana drags her into the coffee shop, Anne has to stop in the doorway and stare for a moment.  Green Gables Coffee & Tea has massive windows to let in the sunlight, and every table has a vase with fresh flowers: splashes of yellows and pinks and greens erupting from each brown surface.  The floor is made of blue tiles with a shine on them, and Anne feels like she’s walking on water with every step. The pale green walls are covered with artwork and small painted flowers, vines curving around the frames in a way that wallpaper never would.

“Oh Diana,” she breathes, “it’s beautiful!”

“I thought you’d like it,” Diana says, pleased.  They haven’t known each other very long, but Anne loves that Diana already knows her so well to see this coffee shop and think of her.

“You know,” Diana says as Anne slowly twirls to take in the whole shop another time, “this place is hiring.  I’m sure Gilbert would give you an application if you asked.”

“Gilbert?” Anne asks, still distracted by the fireplace with a shelf full of books and two armchairs by it.

“Hello, Miss,” a boy’s voice says, and Anne finally turns her attention to the person behind the counter.  He has dark tousled hair and a small smile playing on his lips, and Anne finds it almost as distracting as the absolutely scrumptious-looking tart he’s placing in the display case.

“You must be new in town.  I haven’t seen you around before, and I tend to know most of Diana’s friends,” he continues, drawing Anne’s attention back to him.

“Anne just moved here,” Diana says.  She places a gentle hand on Anne’s arm.  “Gilbert and I went to the same school. We’ve known each other for years.”

“That’s nice,” Anne says, but she’s just noticed horses and sheep carved into the counter and won’t be able to tear her eyes away until they’ve traced every crevice.

“Not very talkative, are you?” she distantly hears Gilbert say.  Diana laughs and Anne lets her respond, running her fingers over the wood to feel the indentations.  It’s so intricate, and must have taken someone a very long time to create. There is no way that something like this was factory made.  Near the bottom of the counter, her fingers trace over the initials “MC”.

“Matthew Cuthbert,” Gilbert says.

“Excuse me?” Anne asks, looking up at him again.  He’s watching her with intelligent eyes, and she hopes that the attention doesn’t make her blush but knows that she is never that lucky.  While her freckles have lessened slightly with the years, her complection’s ability to make her face as red as a tomato has not.

“MC stands for Matthew Cuthbert.  He owns the shop with his sister Marilla.  He’s the one who carved the counter years ago after his dad passed the shop to him.”

“It’s a family-owned coffee shop?” Anne asks.  The thought delights her. Some of her enthusiasm must show through, because Gilbert’s smile grows slightly.

“It is.  And we really are hiring, if you’re interested in filling out an application.  I’ll put in a good word for you.”

He winks, and Anne is halfway between mortified and horribly pleased.  Having a cute boy flirt with her in this wonderful coffee shop feels too good to be true.

“You don’t even know if I can make coffee yet,” she says.  Gilbert shrugs.

“I’d train you.”

Anne directs her gaze to the pastries and shrugs.

“We’ll see.”

She can see Gilbert nod out of the corner of her eye, and Diana nudges her.

“I already know what I’m ordering,” she says.  “Do you need a minute?”

Anne nods, scanning the chalkboard menu and trying to ignore Gilbert’s expectant gaze.  There’s a map off to one side with countries that coffee beans came from marked, and the menu itself is a combination of familiar drinks and delightful concoctions with creative names.  Anne keeps falling more and more in love with this place by the second.

“I’ll try a Huckleberry Mudpot.  Can I have it iced?” she asks.

“Of course,” Gilbert says, writing the order down.  “Do you want a pastry with that? These ones were made fresh today, or we have our leftovers from yesterday over there for a discount.”

Anne glances at the pastries and feels her mouth water, but there’s no way that she’d be able to choose just one and she doesn’t have the appetite for more right now.

“I’ll just start with the coffee for now,” she says.  Gilbert nods with a smile and tells her the total, and Anne the coins he hands back in the tip jar.  This earns her an appreciative nod, then Diana leads her to a table further in the shop.

“So…” Diana says.

“Hm?” Anne hums.

“Gilbert.”

Anne drags her eyes away from the painting she had been studying and frowns.

“What about him?”

“He was totally flirting with you!” Diana says, bumping her shoulder.

“No he wasn’t!”  Anne turns back to the painting only for Diana to grab her arm.

“Yes he was!  Trust me. Gilbert has always been charming, but that had intent .  He totally likes you!”

Anne rolls her eyes.

“He doesn’t.  He doesn’t even know me!”

Anne is not a fool.  She knows that, while she’s lost a few freckles and her face has matured nicely, she still isn’t much to look at.  Her orange hair isn’t even styled properly today! She had just put it in two easy braids, not intent on meeting a cute barista at a magical coffee shop.  No, her biggest draw is definitely her mind and her creativity, and Gilbert hasn’t had a chance to become acquainted with that side of her yet. There’s no way he would flirt with her based on looks alone.  Even her personality could sometimes push people away if they weren’t kindred spirits.

“Chai latte!” Gilbert calls from the counter, and Diana shoots Anne a look before going to retrieve her drink.  Anne resolutely returns to studying the nearby painting rather than watching the way the sunlight from the window flits through Gilbert’s hair.

“Huckleberry Mudpot,” Gilbert calls, and Anne joins Diana at the counter.  Gilbert gives her a smile that she ignores, but as she’s grabbing her drink she sees what’s scribbled where her name would usually go.

“Carrots! ” she nearly shrieks.  Then, before she’s even aware of what’s happening enough to consider that it might not be a good idea, she flips her drink over Gilbert’s head.

He stares at her, coffee dripping down his nose.  She stares back at him, then turns and manages to walk calmly out of the coffee shop and out of sight of the windows before she has a breakdown.

She just ruined everything .  She’s had issues with her temper since she was younger, but she’s always been the most defensive about her hair.  She knows it’s ugly.  She’s been told it’s ugly multiple times by multiple bullies throughout her whole childhood.  She just can’t believe that a barista in the most magical coffee shop she’s ever found would be so rude and callus as to point it out.  He doesn’t even know her well enough to hate her, and now she’ll probably be banned from life, and she’ll never get to try their pastries, or sit at a table and write, or study all of the paintings hanging on the wall, or--

“Anne!” Diana calls, rushing over to her.  “Oh, Anne. Take some deep breaths.”

“I’ve ruined everything, Diana!” she sobs.  “It was the most beautiful coffee shop but he called me Carrots and now everything is horrible and I’ll never be able to go back and--”

“It’s alright, Anne,” Diana said, rubbing soothing circles on her back.  “Gilbert feels badly about it. He doesn’t blame you, he just didn’t realize how upset you would be.  He even gave me an application for you, so you know that you’re still wanted there. He promised not to tell anyone else.”

Anne tries to regulate her breathing and blinks up at Diana through her tears.

“Really?”

“Yes, really.  See? Here’s the application.”

Diana shows her the paper, and Anne swipes at the tears on her cheeks before taking it.

“Come on,” Diana says.  “Let’s go walk around for a bit.  We can go back to Green Gables another day.”

Anne nods, and Diana links their elbows and starts down the street.  Anne stuffs the application in her pocket and tries not to think about it.  She’s not sure if she could ever apply there now with the wound so raw, but Diana is right.  They can go back another day, and Anne can try to scrape up enough shame to apologize, although Gilbert should do that first.

When they cross the street, she spares the coffee shop one more backwards glance.  Through the window, she thinks Gilbert may be looking their way. He may, perhaps, chance a small wave.

Anne doesn’t wave back, but next time, she might.

#writersmonth2019 #anne with an e #anne shirley #gilbert blythe #maeve posts #My writing

[carrotsofavonlea]

Anne of Hogwarts

Chapter 3: Anne loses house points

[AO3]

The Gryffindor common room was warm and had a fire burning. Immediately Anne felt at home. She had made friends already with the boy called Albus but other than him she knew no one else in her house.

Anne sat on her bed in her dorm and wrote to Marilla and Matthew about the train journey. She wrote how she's made some friends, told them she was a Gryffindor and how she can't wait to see them at Christmas.

Anne's first lesson was charms with the Hufflepuffs so she sat between Ruby and Albus. She saw Cole and persuaded him to sit next to Ruby.

They were learning a simple spell to light the end of the wand.

“Lumos.” Anne said, and her wand started to light up faintly.

“Nice work, Miss Shirley.” The professor said. “Ah, Mr Blythe, absolutely marvellous.”

Anne turned around sharply only to be met with the smug grin of one Gilbert Blythe. He had managed to get his wand to light up even brighter than Anne's and she tightened her grip on her wand.

“Oh Anne, isn't he smart?” Ruby whispered, blushing when Gilbert had looked at her.

“The smartest.” Anne rolled her eyes. She refused to look at him again, turning back to copy out on her slate the wand movement required for the spell.

“Anne? Anne!”

She could hear him calling her name and Ruby nudged her. “He's talking to you.”

“Let him. But I refuse to give him the satisfaction.” she raised her voice a little so he would hear her remark.

She felt him tap her shoulder with his wand, but again she would not turn around.

“Anne.”

That was it. Everyone else had instantly become Gilbert's friend. He was funny, smart and kind. Everyone wanted to be his friend. But not Anne. For some reason she just wouldn't look at him.

If she wouldn't look at him, he would make her. He looked down at where her bright red braid was just in front of him. He'd never seen anyone with such bright hair.

Years later Gilbert would admit that this was not his proudest moment, but in his 11 year old mind all he wanted was the girl with the fiery hair to look at him.

So, without thinking, he leaned forward and grabbed one of her long braids. He gave it a light pull and whispered, “hey carrots!”

But before he could register what was happening, she had stood up, shouting at him.

“You rude, horrid boy!” She grabbed his slate on his desk and raised it above her head. “I'm not talking to you!”

With a quick movement she had brought the slate down on his head.

Ruby shrieked, Cole laughed a little, but the rest of the class went silent. Gilbert looked up, holding a hand to his head. He looked a little dazed but other than that he was ok.

“Anne Shirley!” The professor shouted. “That's 50 house points from Gryffindor.”

“But-”

The Gryffindors in the class started to boo, except for Albus.

“Professor, it's my fault.” Gilbert stood up, he swayed a little before steadying himself by holding on to the desk. “I shouldn't have pulled her hair.”

“I expected more from you Mr Blythe.” The professor said sternly. “5 points from Hufflepuff.”

“Only 5!” Anne shouted, “you took 50 from me!”

“But if you recall Miss Shirley, you hit another pupil. Violence is not tolerated here at Hogwarts.”

She sat down, speechless. Gilbert Blythe would forever be a name of hatred in her heart. How dare he humiliate her, how dare he cost her house points. It was only the first day but Gryffindor had already lost hope for winning the house cup this year.

After class, Ruby still looked shaken up.

Cole raised an eyebrow. “Ruby why are you crying? She hit Gilbert not you.  And it's only 5 house points.”

Ruby sniffed, “Poor Gilbert.”

Anne was held back behind for a few minutes to be reprimanded. When she came out, Ruby, Cole and Albus were waiting for her.

“What happened?” Cole asked, ignoring Ruby's tears.

“I'm getting a howler sent home, whatever that means.”

Cole and Albus exchanged an uneasy glance.

“What is it?”

“A howler is a message that basically shouts at the recipient. Teachers like using it to scold.”

“Marilla is going to have a field day. My temper is indeed a curse, just like this horrid hair.” Anne buried her face in her hands and Cole lightly patted her back.

“It'll be ok.”

“How? I've lost so many house points. Albus,” she looked up at the small Gryffindor, “I can understand if you never want to be my friend after this.”

“Mistakes happen.” Albus smiled. “Besides, in a few days people will forget all about it.”

“I hope you're right.” Anne weakly smiled.

“Come on, we've got transfiguration next.” Albus grabbed Anne's wrist and pulled her away from the Hufflepuffs.

Anne walked into transfiguration with her heart feeling heavy, she couldn't look any of her fellow Gryffindors in the eye.

“Anne!”

She looked up, and saw Diana's smiling face waving enthusiastically to sit next to her. Anne immediately ran over and the two girls embraced.

“Diana I'm so glad to see you. You wouldn't believe the time I've had already.”

“I could tell by the looks the other Gryffindors were giving you.” Diana smiled sadly. “What happened?”

“Gilbert Blythe happened Diana.”

Diana sat up straight, eager to know everything. “Gilbert Blythe? The handsome boy from the train?”

“Ruby's just about gone over him.” Anne sighed, taking out her slate and wiping off the drawings from charms. “But I don't see why. He pulled on my hair and called me carrots.”

“Oh Anne, that's just boys being boys?”

“So? That doesn't excuse him. He hurt my feelings and I shan't ever forgive him.”

Diana took out her own slate, somehow it was perfectly clean, and the board was fresh. Anne's was second hand from Marilla and had a few scratches on it. Only then did she really notice the differences between them. Diana's robes were professionally made with a softer material. Anne's were made my Marilla, and they had a coarser material.

She supposed Diana would also soon tire of her when she realised how much better a friend she could do than the poor Gryffindor who kept losing house points, who had a “bad temper” and was a “freak” among her fellow Gryffindors.

“Oh Anne, are you really not going to forgive him?”

“I don't see how I could.”

“That's enough talking.” The professor shouted from the front. “Don't make me take house points.”

So far life at Hogwarts had not been as Anne had hoped. The night of the feast was simply wonderful, but when it actually came down to lessons, she might have been top of the class, but her behaviour caused her to lose house points. She wasn't trying to lose house points, but it seemed like the teachers were out to get her. Not to mention her other classmates began whispering about her.

It just wasn't what she had hoped for at all.

The other Gryffindors maybe didn't get along with Anne, but she had found herself true friends in Cole, Ruby, Diana and even Albus tagged along on some library trips.

Anne still refused to speak to Gilbert, but she was determined to be top of the class and beat him fair and square. Together they had charms, defense against the dark arts, and care of magical creatures. And Anne was determined she would prove she was just as smart as Gilbert.

But charms was where their rivalry was really evident. Both battled it out to master the spell first. One lesson, Gilbert recalled practising summoning a book from the other side of the class, but Anne had been stood behind him and barely missed his face with the book when she had summoned it. He started to wonder if that was a habit of hers.

“Mr Blythe,” the professor asked Gilbert to stand up. “Please demonstrate the levitation spell.”

Gilbert nodded, feeling Anne's eyes on him. She still hadn't said anything to him for the past few weeks.

“Wingardium levios ah .” He waved his wand, but the feather barely lifted.

Anne immediately raised her hand and Gilbert sat down as she took over.

“If I may,” she said and waved her wand. “Wingardium levi o sa.”

The feather lifted off the desk, floating as if pulled by an invisible string attached to the end of her wand.

“Very good, Miss Shirley. 10 points to Gryffindor.”

She looked over her shoulder at Gilbert, expecting him to be embarrassed or feel humiliated. But he was smiling at her, he looked...proud? Again with the mocking.

After class, Anne was packing up her things when Gilbert stood in front of her desk. Cole had dragged a reluctant Ruby out of the room before she could interrupt.

Anne refused to look up, but Gilbert bent down his head to meet her gaze. She had no choice but to look him in the eye.

“May I help you?”

“I just wanted to congratulate you. For class today.” He cleared his throat awkwardly. “You beat me.”

Their rivalry was unspoken but both were fully aware of it.

“You pronounced it incorrectly, that's why.” She shrugged, acting indifferent.

“You're right. I should have pronounced it levi o sa instead of levios ah . Emphasis on the O and not the A.”

He gave her a genuine smile, and for the first time, Anne allowed herself to smile back. But quickly she reminded herself that Gilbert was not a friend.

“I have to go.” She quickly said, rushing out of the class, but Gilbert followed her.

He followed her all the way to the Great Hall.

“Anne? Can't we be friends?” He said but she turned sharply to him.

“No Gilbert. You hurt my feelings terribly that day, I can't ever forgive you.”

He stepped forward slowly, his robes were slightly disheveled from where he'd rushed to put it on to follow her. “I'm awful sorry I said those things about your hair. I only did it because... because I wanted to meet you so much. Please Anne. Can't we just be friends?”

She looked at him, but something in her just couldn't forgive him. Not yet.

She turned away from him and sat down at the Gryffindor table next to Albus, glancing over her shoulder once to see Gilbert slowly walking out of the Hall.

“Hey, Blythe!” Billy Andrews grabbed Gilbert by the hood of his robe to steady him. “How are you, bud?”

Billy Andrews was not his “bud”, but Gilbert tried to be friendly to all houses, even the Slytherins.

“Billy.” Gilbert nodded politely.

Billy had a few Slytherin friends crowded around him. Gilbert almost laughed at the idea that they were supposed to be intimidating.

“What's up with you and that mudblood?”

Gilbert froze, hating that word. “You mean Anne?”

Billy nodded, pointing a finger into Gilbert's chest. “Why were you walking with her?”

Gilbert didn't react to Billy’s attempt at provoking him. “None of your concern. And besides, who cares if she's a muggleborn ? A cute girl is a cute girl.” He smirked and stepped backwards from Billy.

Gilbert shoved his hands in his pockets and whistled as he made his way back to the Hufflepuff common room. He wasn't going to give up on Anne just yet.

#shirbert au #anne of hogwarts #shirbert #awae #awae fic #hogwarts au

[sergeantrosabellaswan]

The Selection, CHAPTER 4, STUPIDLY BRAVE OR BRAVELY STUPID

“I’ll see you at the capitol in a couple of days, okay?” Pietro was telling me softly, his hands cupping my face as I struggled not to cry I nodded silently, leaning in to kiss his cheek. “I love you- now go.” He gently pushed me off towards where I was supposed to ride back to the city with the king and his two sons.

“Don’t do anything stupid,” I told him with a sniffle and a smile.

He scoffed, puffing his chest out in faux arrogance.

“When had I done anything stupid?” he asked me.

“The frog pond,” was all that I said. My smile only grew at the flustered look that took over his face.

“We both agreed never to talk about that!” he yelped, trying to grab for me as I sauntered out of reach, giggling at him.

“I’ll see you in the capitol city!” I laughed at him, getting into the fancy car and immediately sobering at the sight of the three royals trying to stop themselves from smiling at the rare sight of me being happy.

“We ready yet?” I scowled heavily, sinking into the plush, leather seat and folding my arms. “Good- let’s get this show on the road already.”

The king’s smile disappeared at my sudden change of attitude and he tapped on the divider separating us from the driver. The car began the long drive into the capitol, leaving behind everything that I’ve ever known; I only had my small suitcase, which contained all that owned, despite the blond prince’s protests that I would receive all new items at the palace. I had, of course, ignored him as I packed my well loved toy bunny, which I had owned ever since I was a small infant.

As the motorcade inched its way through the thick woods, I quickly found myself sinking deeper into myself; I couldn’t let my guard down! I forced the heavy scowl to stay on my face, even when I started to feel myself nodding off.

The quiet mumblings of the three royal men pausing their conversation made me jolt wide awake. My hands automatically went for the knives in my sleeves before the blond prince held up his hands in peaceful surrender.

“We’re here,” he announced, taking in the grouchy expression on my face.

“Define here,” I grumbled, wonderingif it were legal for me to smack there heads together.

“The capitol,” the brunet- James- told me in a hurry, evidently seeing the irritated look in my eyes.

I sat up more and stretched in a cat before turning to look out the window. I felt my eyes widen as I took in the streets, bustling with people and little shops lining the streets selling all sorts of thing; dresses, food, and even a little pet shop. I wrinkled my nose in distaste at all the luxurious and unnecessary items that people were buying; really, did people here in the capitol city know how to prioritize what they wanted from what they needed and manage money?

“How long was I out for?” I asked, covering a yawn as the car turned into a long, winding driveway.

“Three or four hours…?” Prince James said, not flinching at the look that I threw him.

“We’ll let you get settled in and then you can meet the rest of the Selected,” the king said with a comforting smile. I nodded, my mind still foggy with sleep.

I only grunted in response, settling myself deeper into my seat as I waited for the seemingly never ending car ride to be over.

At last, the car pulled up to a huge, ornate building; it took me a few seconds to understand that this was the palace.

“You live here?” I asked no one at all, my voice coming out incredulously and higher than normal.

“It’s a bit much, isn’t it?” the blond asked me as the door was opened and a hand appeared.

“That’s one way of putting it…” I grumbled as I batted the hand aside and scrambled out of the car, quickly followed by the two princes and the king.

“Joseph!” a pretty woman with strawberry blonde curls and twinkling blue eyes came forward to kiss the king on the cheek. “How was the journey?”

“There were a few…” Here, the king paused, clearly looking for the right word. “Complications.”

I snorted to myself, gaining the attention of the woman, whose smile diminished slightly at the sight of me. I stood up as tall as I could and held my head high; there was no way that I would act ashamed of my background!

“You must be Lady Rosabella Swan,” she said, coming closer to me as a man began to take my suitcase and quiver from the car. I only nodded at her as I watched him take my things into the palace. “I’m Queen Sarah, my dear; it’s lovely to meet you at last.”

“Likewise,” I couldn’t help but grunt out; I felt truly out of place at this grand home.

“Are you alright, though? My husband told me of the attack on your village; is everyone alright?” My mood turned sour at her seemingly innocent inquiry.

“We had only four casualties on our side; most of the damage was done to the bandits,” I answered in a blunt tone of voice, making it clear that I didn’t want to talk about it. “Do you have any idea as to when everyone will arrive?”

“Hopefully before lunch,” the king answered me, a tight smile on his face. “Which is served at noon sharp.”

I nodded silently, my mind all in a whirl with plans if what still needed to be done; jobs, housing, childcare…

“Lady Rosabella, you need to come inside and have a bath,” the queen said, pulling me from my thoughts. “Heavens child, when is the last time you had a fresh change of clothes?”

I shrugged my shoulders; I honestly didn’t know.

“Oh, never you mind any- we’ll get you nice and pretty for tonight, my dear,” the queen was mothering me, and it kind of felt nice; I never really had a mother to fuss over me, as how my mom was slaughtered when I was eight years old.

“What’s tonight?” I found myself asking.

“Oh, it’s an interview process, my dear; it’s where the palace reporter asks the Selected a few questions about their bringing ups and it’s just so that the people can get to know you ladies better,” she answered, taking me inside and towards an elevator that looked as though it was made of glass.

“Now then, my dear…” the queen said once we were inside the claustrophobic tube and traveling up. “There’s nothing to be scared of, it’s all simply going to be a five minute interview with palace reporter Phil Coulson; five minutes, not a second longer. You’ll have a list of questions which he’ll ask you so that you can prepare and not get caught in something you’re not comfortable with.”

I hummed nervously. “What else can I expect from tonight?”

“A light dinner, and games in the ladies’ room, near my library,” she answered, taking in the disbelieved expression on my face.

“You mean libraries actually exist? That they’re not made up like candy and zoos?” I asked her, my eyes wide.

She started to chuckle, but realized that the look on my face was dead serious.

“I can show it to you after you’re cleaned up,” she offered me with a small smile as the elevator dinged, the doors opening. Out of instincts, I poked my head out, my hand up for the queen to let me go out first. After checking for danger and deeming it as being safe, I exited first, waving my hand for her to follow me.

“You don’t have to do that, my dear,” she told me. “The palace is very safe.”

“No place is safe until I say it’s safe,” I flat out told her. “Trust me; there were weekly raids from bandits, sometimes they would attack two or three times in a single day. So you’d have to excuse me for being a little bit jumpy.”

She nodded her head, biting her lip as she came to my name written on a shiny plaque on the left of double doors. She watched as I pushed open the doors, following me inside.

The second I entered, three ladies dressed in pressed uniforms scampered in from a connecting room and curtsied to the two of us.

“Your majesty,” they murmured, straightening themselves back up again to take me in. they all looked rather taken aback at how unruly I looked; wild curls bound into a last minute messy braided crown, a well loved leather jacket, boots held together with strips of duct tape, a dusty face full of freckles and a blouse thin from too many washings. I’m certain that I looked more like a ragamuffin than a lady.

“Oh my sweet dear, come with me; Anne, draw up the bath; Mary, be a dear and go lay out some clean clothes.” The one who spoke was clearly the leader, was smiling kindly at me as she shooed me towards a luxurious bathroom, decorated in shades of white and pale blue and with a scent of flowers. “Strip, my dear, you can put your clothes in the hamper in the corner.” She pointed off towards where a tall wicker basket was placed. I nodded and began to remove my clothes carefully folding them neatly before placing them into the hamper. The three woman watched me with wide eyes as I finally got down to my underwear and chest wrap.

“Did you injure yourself, my lady?” Mary asked me, her eyes wide with pity as I shook my head, understanding what would make her think such a thing.

“No, we didn’t have the resources for bras, so we had to make due with what all we had,” I answered, grabbing one of my knives from my boot and using it to cut through the bindings. A loud “Ooof” from me and my breasts were free. “See these?” I held up all seven of my knives in one hand. “Don’t even try to pick them up; they’re heavier then they look and they will cut you down to the bone.”

“Question, my lady?” the one called Anne asked me, her tiny voice wavering. “But why are the handles different?”

I held up the knives that I carried at my wrists. “These are close combat knives.” I then held up the four knives that I carried in my boots. “These are throwing knives.” Finally, I held up the knife I carries at my back. “And this knife can sever bone- trust me, I had to do it before.”

Their eyes flew wide open as I shimmied out of my underwear and got into the tub, wincing at the hot water. The second I was in the water, Lucy was at my head with a bottle of something.

“It’s shampoo, my lady,” she told me, her soft voice trembling still. I nodded before ducking my head underwater to get everything wet.

I let them fuss over me; it felt nice, being pampered. I could only hope that I looked remotely the same afterwards. The last thing I wanted was for Pietro to not know who I was at first glance.

After the bath, which lasted longer then what I was comfortable with, I was removed and wrapped in a fluffy towel before gently led into the bedroom.

I looked around as the three maids fussed from inside the generously sized closet in one corner. The walls were the prettiest shade of blue, the cream carpet so plush that my feet sank into the carpet, the bed big enough for my Queen’s Bandits with plenty of space left over.

“Lady Rosabella, what do you think of this one?” I turned my attention onto Sarah, who was holding up a very petty, yet unpractical dress.

“Oh hell no,” I said, eyeing the closetful of dresses.

“Whatever is the matter, Lady Rosabella?” asked Mary, her sweet smile morphing into a confused frown.

“I am not wearing dresses,” I scowled. “Back in Wakanda, dresses were seen as a status of great wealth; they weren’t exactly practical for everyday life.”

“Yes, but you’re not in Wakanda anymore, my lady,” the leader said, her voice filled with nothing but kindness. “You are in the palace.”

I sighed, taking in the pretty turquoise fabric.

“I know I’m not; it’s just hard for me to accept the mind frame that I’m in a new, relatively safe place now,” I mumbled, sitting to allow them to fuss over my hair. I didn’t say anything when they asked me about makeup, and they automatically understood that I had no idea how to put it on.

By the time they allowed me to look into a mirror, I couldn’t even recognize myself; the transformation was incredible. My normally frizzy curls were vibrant in color and soft to the touch, my befreckled face was free of dirt and blemishes, but my eyes still held the same haunted sparkle to them, I couldn’t help but notice.

They buttoned and laced me into the dress, which to my surprise was a perfect fit.

“We took what you were wearing and altered this dress to fit you better, my lady,” Mary told me, making me chuckle. When I was presented with shoes, I pouted; I had been wearing the same boots every day for the past seven years; the least I could do was go around barefoot. The head maid, Anne, as she introduced herself, only rolled her eyes at my request, but told me to wear socks to keep my feet warm.

I padded around my room, poking and exploring while Anne, Mary and Lucy chatted quietly to themselves while working on embroidery.

What had I gotten myself into?

 THE SELECTION TAGLIST

@propertyofpoeandbucky​

@invisibleanonymousmonsters​

@itsanerdlife​

@crushedbyhyperbole​

@the-life-of-bucky-barnes​

@tilltheendwilliwrite​

@bolontiku​

@lazydoodlesandfanfic​

@after-avenging-hours​

@captain-rogers-beard​

@anika-ann​

@kentuckybarnes​

@buckybarnesstar​​

@coffee-with-bucky​​

@buckysknifecollection​​

@cxptain​

@sweater-daddiesdumbdork​

@buckybarney​

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#The Selection #Rosabella Swan #Steve Rogers & Rosabella Swan #Royalty AU #MCU #Avengers