A/N: Sequel to .net/s/4826648/1/Nightmares.

Yup yup, a Sequel. It CAN be read as a stand-alone story, but I wouldn't suggest it, you'd miss a lot.


And it is. Pure fluffity fluffity fluffiness. XD


His eyes roam over her sleeping body, her curves hugged by the nightgown. His eyes roam, but not greedily, simply curiously, as he glances around the room. What could have possessed her to sleep as late as she was was a mystery even to him, but he was glad for it.

The Princess was very possessive about her room and the things in it. Rarely did she allow anyone to enter, and even then it was always Sven. Naturally he was curious as to the room's inhabitants. He approached her bed cautiously, quietly, stealthily like the cat he is known to be. First he checks under it, for anything incriminating of unusual, and when he funds nothing her searches the rest of the room.

Finally, he is about to leave, but thinks of something. He hadn't checked her desk. He approaches it eagerly, happily, ready to see what his little Princess has been hiding from him all these years. Ever since the incident when he had discovered Eve's terrible secret, nearly four years ago, she'd grown closer to him, yet somehow father apart. Perhaps he can discover the reason now.

At first, he sees little but the usual array of plushies, books, and I few crude drawing. He didn't know Eve liked drawing. That was nice. He is about to turn away when he sees something else. A single, black ribbon protruding from a drawer. He opens it, and to his childish delight, discovers a diary. He opens it quickly to the marked page, to the most recent entry, written a few days ago.

Dear Diary,

Train got hurt again. I hate it when he acts all reckless; I wish he'd just be careful on occasion. I always have nightmares after he gets hurt.

For a moment her panics, thinking that, perhaps, these are the same Nightmares she has confessed to having all those years ago, but relaxes (and also tenses) as he reads on.

It's the same dream, too. The one where I'm hurt and he dies for me. I'm not sure if it's better or worse than the ones I had when I was little. I don't like it, regardless. Even in real life, whenever I tell him to be more careful, he just ruffles my hair and says, "Relax, Little Princess, I'm fine." Doesn't he know how much that bothers me? Doesn't he know that it makes me feel weak and stupid? I'm not a princess, damnit! I've been through just as much as he has!


Eve Heartnet.

He does a double take. Eve Heartnet? Hadn't she officially become Eve Vollfield several years ago? He gleefully flips several pages back, a stupid, impossible, yet oddly addicting hope rising within his heart.

Dear Diary,

I haven't had almost any of those Nightmares ever since I told Train. I'm so happy! But something else is going on. I…like talking to Train, but if I don't talk to him maybe I won't let it slip that I'm….

Several pages were skipped here. He almost missed it as he flipped through, but a cat-like grin exploded on our Hero's face as her read what she had wrote.

In love with him.

I guess I'll sign my diaries Eve Heartnet now. Wishful thinking as it may be, I think it'll make me smile.

Sincerely Yours,

Eve Heartnet.

Whether it made her smile or not, it certainly made him smile, the sort of intoxicating, idiotic, Train-like smile that only he could quite pull off. He heard the girl rustling in her bed and resisted to natural urge to run, instead sitting down on her bed next to her. He pushed a few strands of golden hair from her face, his grin being replaced with a softer smile as her eyes open drowsily, pink staining her cheeks to match her eyes. "Train…Train-kun…?" she whispered, confusion in her voice. Whether from just waking up or finding her love on her bed next to her as she woke up he didn't know, but he knew he had to do this fast, or he'd chicken out.

He really didn't want to chicken out.

He leaned down and whispered breathily into her ear. "Wishful thinking, Princess? Hardly." He smirks as he breathing hitches in her throat, and presses his lips to her throat. She whimpers, just slightly, and he wraps his hands around her waist, pulling her ever closer to him. She smells like lilacs. Yummy.

He pulls away after a moment, smirking like a cat at the bewildered, frightened, yet somewhat pleased expression on her angelic face. "Eve, please tell me you're not going into shock." His tone is playful and sarcastic, but even he can't mask the genuine hope he feels.

"No…" she whispered hesitantly, as though doubting her own words. "But…what…"

"Diaries can be rather insightful, love." He glances ever so slightly towards the one he had just been reading from, expecting a scolding or perhaps a beating, but she is still distracted by the fact that he called her Love.


Nonetheless, she quickly recovers herself and gives him a scolding glance, punching him –but not hard- in the arm. "Train, there's a reason I said you can't come in. And you're not supposed to read other people's diaries, and-- "

"Ugh, I think I liked the sound you made earlier better," he groaned, internally chuckling at the confusion on her face, so, because he's so very kind and wants to teach Princess all the great stuff that you couldn't possibly learn in any book, he presses his lips once more to her throat, peppering kisses from her collarbone to her jaw.

She whimpers again.

He smirks.

"That's the sound," he says . And that's when they hear the distinctive sound of a wooden door slamming against a wall. Which can only mean one thing.

Sven-daddy's home.


Eve and Train both look at the fuming man, then at each other, then at the open window. They nod to one another, and away they go, Eve in her nightgown and Train with the widest smirk one would think to be possible on his face.

Maybe wishful thinking isn't so improbable after all.


E/N: Is it just me or does Train seem kinda player-ish in this? Not that I'm complaining, of course, Player Train ish Smexy. XD