☁ o, dreamer || gilbert blythe x reader ☁

bonus chapter II: o, romeo

A/N: Hello everyone! I'm back at last with a long-awaited update. I know you all have been waiting over a year for this, so I only hope it can live up to your expectations. I was unfortunately locked out of my wattpad account for some time, but I'm completely overjoyed to say that I'm now back to writing and I intend to keep it that way-- and that includes finishing this story. Thank you all for your overwhelming support and indefatigable patience. It means the world to me.

   The unforgiving winter had at last given weigh to a dewy spring sometime in mid-April, and a slight chill hung in the air like a thick, damp blanket over Green Gables. It was a clear night, crisp and still, and you were up in your room as you usually were at this late hour, perched in front of the vanity attempting to detangle your wayward locks with a silver comb. Though it was still somewhat short, that slightly awkward growing-out length, the rough coastal winds that rolled off the sea and stirred the little isle you called home never failed to create quite the knotted mess. You were so preoccupied that you almost didn't notice the muted, sporadic tapping sounds that seemed to be coming from somewhere in your room. Slowly, you set the comb down onto the vanity tray and looked around, being as still and quiet as possible so as to hear the noise again. A few moments passed in silence, but then there it was. Tap. This time, you could identify the sound as the soft thud of something hitting your window. You stood, cautiously approaching the window and hesitating a moment before lifting it open. There was nothing but the familiar hum of nocturnal insects chirping and buzzing in the still darkness. 

   "Hello?" you asked quietly, not really expecting an answer at all. It had been a long day, and your weary mind was likely just imagining things. 

   "What light through yonder window breaks?" a familiar voice called out from below. 

   You jumped at the sudden response with a sharp gasp, but your surprise was soon replaced with a wash of relief, accompanied by that familiar warm and fluttery feeling in your abdomen. 

   "Gilbert?" You leaned out of the open window, squinting as you tried to make out his features in the warm glow of light that emanated from your room onto the grass below. "What are you doing?"

   "With love's light wings did I o'erperch these walls," He continued, stepping forward into the light, tossing a pebble up and catching it in his hand repeatedly. His voice grew slightly louder and his inflection slightly more dramatic. "FOR STONY LIMITS CANNOT HOLD LOVE OUT-"

   "SHHH!" you whisper-hissed, cutting him off. "You're going to wake everyone!" 

   He wore a devilish smirk now, leaning himself up against the tree in your yard and milking that boyish charm of his for all it was worth. "And if thou's kinsmen find me, what will'st they do? kill me?"

   "Lady Marilla will'st chase thee off with a broom, more like." You rolled your eyes and stifled a giggle. 

   "By a name, I know not how to tell thee who I am. My name, dear saint, is hateful to myself," He continued to recite, struggling up the old dogwood tree until he was right outside your open window. "Because it is an enemy to thee. Had I it written, I would tear the word."

   "You're hopeless," you said, no longer able to fight the smile you'd been attempting to keep at bay. 

   Gilbert nodded, a smile creeping onto his lips. "I know," he said. He leaned in and kissed you deeply, the way he always did, like you were the only two people on earth. He then pulled away, leaning his arm on your window frame for support. "Come out with me."

   "I can't, you know I'm still on house arrest," you replied, gazing down at his hand that rested just next to your knee on the windowsill and gently grazing it with the back of your fingers. It had been quite a long time since you and Gilbert had seen each other, let alone be in the exclusive company of one another-- sometimes, if you could steal a moment away from the watchful eye of Mrs. Cuthbert, you could briefly (and prudently) convene in the churchyard on Sundays, but that was a rare luxury. You had yet to return to school for spring classes with the other children either, but would instead catch up on studies with Diana a few afternoons each week so as not to fall behind. Ever since the little mishap last winter after John Blythe's funeral, Marilla had enacted a rigid punishment that involved an indefinite grounding that had still yet to be lifted or even spoken of.  Secretly, you think she just liked having you around for your company.