#The fact that he was so lonely and miserable and kept dreaming of his crew mates being alive.

[shima-draws]

Binks’ Sake hits SO differently now

[skelanonymous]

Song Prompt 4 -  You Don’t Know Me

I’m trying my hand at some bad guy poly, and if I get to my Little Night AU, this may become a prequel of sorts.

Song: You Don’t Know Me by Elizabeth Gillies

Skeleton: Nightmare

Words: 3.2k

“Boss, you can’t be serious right now.” Killer’s mouth hung open. Dust sighed off to his left, rubbing his face hard enough to shake dust from his hood. Horror wouldn’t meet his eyes, Cross also nervously avoiding them, leaving Error the only one still looking, albeit with some exasperation.

“I’m very serious.” Night responded to Killer without bending. “This is not something I’d like to be a part of.”

“If that’s the reason, cuz you don’t wanna, then that’s fine. But that sounds like a crock and I ain’t one for bullshit.” Killer grabbed the end of the table with whitened knuckles. Nightmare could taste the frustration off all of them, but his icy resolution could outlast their mounting agitation. “So just be honest. We can handle whatever you got to say.”

Nightmare looked at his phalanges, faking disdain with ease, unaffected stone face a talent he’d picked up before leaving the tree’s shade.

“I have no reason to lie. I am not willing to join your polyamorous posse.” They’d all been having “sleepovers” for months now, and he’d caught on long before he walked into a dream he wished he could erase. It would’ve been fine had it been Horror or Killer, but Dust was always vigilant and had remembered Nightmare’s brief intrusion the next morning. “I admit, it’s impressive you’ve managed to keep this working between so many of you, and I don’t care what you spend your free time doing, but my time will be spent on other ventures.”

“But in the dream-”

“I’m not a nun, but walking into a dream orgy when you expect something a little more tame and having a reaction isn’t that ridiculous.” Dust’s gaze bore into his skull. He couldn’t crack, not if he was trying to pass off this lie. Keeping calm was critical.

“So that’s it then. No?” Killer just shook his head. Good, please, give up. Nightmare’s feigned nonchalance had held through much worse, but the backlash afterwards would be worse if he broke beneath it.

“It’s a no.” Night stood from the little table he’d been called to like an intervention. “Now I’m returning to my study. Come find me if anything happens to the castle.”

He did NOT run, but he portaled the instant he turned a corner. It dropped him into a forest patch on the edges of this world just before he lost his composure.

“Son of a fucking BITCH!” His tentacles lashed out, splitting apart all the trees in the area with a giant swing. The corruption roared out of his mouth, furious and wild, screaming his voice hoarse. He didn’t give a damn about any of it, just seeing red from the blackened aura that got denser and denser around his body as he raged in nature, a force all on his own.

Of course he wanted to say yes! Envy scorched through his hands, clawing ahead for what it could not reach. Rage he reserved for himself, though saved some for his damned fate, at being too fucked to just be with a person. Even now, not within their embrace, the greed seduced his pitch black soul to have so many loves with which to indulge, having them all pay attention to him, their king, their saviour, they OWED this to him!

“God damn it, NO! Fuck you!” He continued ruining the countryside, rampant as the growth surrounding him.

He couldn’t love them. Not like they wanted, not the way they did each other, forever an outsider to the perfect temptation. He’d tip the balance and break the scales. He would destroy this for them. Slowly, he felt the brain fog raise, the tinges of red outlining everything finally fading away with his energy.

When the colors of the ruined forest fully returned, he directly portaled to his study. Dust was waiting patiently on the desk’s edge.

“The castle couldn’t have had a disaster that quickly.” Nightmare sat at his desk without acknowledging he’d been caught moping outside. Damn his perceptiveness when not distracted.

“I mean, it did.” Dust stated in a matter of fact tone. “They’re unhappy with the answer.”

“And what? You’re here to force me to change it?” Lashing out was what he excelled at. He wasn’t meant for soft cuddle puddles and doting, his body literal poison to those around him, his aura a drain. Dust didn’t bite.

“No. It wouldn’t be honest if it was forced.” He spoke airily, as if admitting the blatant truth could be anything but bitter disaster.

“Then why have you come to my study?” Nightmare hoped he’d rise to the bait that time, more direct in his aggression, and Dust would meet and rise to it most days, but besides twitching a few times, he holds his sanity at the low blow.

“To remind you. I know what I saw, and you know what I saw.” Dust didn’t leave room for argument and Nightmare didn’t lie about it out of respect. “Just know that the door is open should you change your mind.”

“Thank you, but my answer remains the same.” Damn him. Each denial took away more of his resistance. Perhaps he knew that, persistence hunting him with a strong will borne of the endless loops that forged most of his loyal following, waiting until one day he asked over something inconsequential like breakfast for the yes to slip out without Nightmare even on guard enough to catch it.

“Whatever you say Boss.” Dust nodded, but those eyes haunted him. He hadn’t heard the last of this, but the tide would ebb for now.

Nightmare fell back into the plush chair tiredly, already awaiting the next wave.

He knew what he wanted, but he could not obtain it. If he acted on his wishes, he’d destroy what he sought. And if he denied it, he’d be acting against his natural state while forcing himself to be miserable. There wasn’t a way to win that he could conceive of so he settled with ignoring the feeling entirely.

Despite his refusal, they didn’t change their interactions with him in the slightest after that first day.

Meal times remained largely unchanged except for the stolen glances at him if he betrayed any affection or laughed (which wasn’t often, but they were his crew and knew his weaknesses). Missions and responses to commands had also remained the same, though that was expected. They still offered him the opportunity to join in on movie nights. He had refused all of those since the rejection.

Maybe it was the way Horror had frowned when he’d said no for the fifth time in a row that changed his mind. Ignoring feelings didn’t make them disappear and he’d always been a little softer for Horror’s requests. He only asked for what he considered essential.

“Let me finish this. I’ll be down in five minutes.” Tidying up his papers took seconds, but he needed the minutes for composure.

When he made it down, Horror had curled up into Error’s lap with a gigantic grin, Error softly praising him with small head pets. The others waved at him.

“Hey Boss! Sorry, we let Cross pick this time.” The ‘we didn’t think you’d say yes’ was implied. Nightmare nodded at Killer while moving to sit on the couch against the wall.

“I can live with choosing next time.” The little bursts of joy hit him like a face full of air freshener, his sludge rippling but otherwise unaffected. They’d popped in the DVD and set up before flicking off the lights.

Nightmare watched intently for the first fifteen minutes, he’d never seen it before, then looked around.

The group had paired off into cuddly duos, Killer and Cross, Horror and Error, leaving a lonely Dust seated by Nightmare. From here, he could feel Dust’s cold longing, wanting to join in like the others but knowing his only possible partner would refuse him. The movie was loud, the others absorbed in it or each other and not even able to see them from where they sat. Nightmare laid a tentative tentacle over Dust’s shoulder. He refused to speak a word, merely moving his arm for Dust to accept or not.

His dual colored eyes dilated before quietly shuffling over. Leaning in, he pressed himself along Night’s side with a little wiggle to get cozy.

From this angle, Dust’s ears within an inch of his mouth, he spoke softly.

“Is this okay?” He didn’t know what he felt like to others. Dust hummed so low that Night could only feel it.

“Yeah.” His right eye twitched, Papyrus must’ve said something. “What are those weird swords called?” Night’s eyes flicked up to the screen.

“A flamberge sword. It’s mostly used to counter others by-” Nightmare went into its varied history, a few famous wielders, its construction. They kept their eyes on the film, and Nightmare whispered it to Dust, like a secret history lesson while some cheesy dramatic scene full of loud music drowned out the rest. By the time he’d stopped, Dust comfortably leaned fully against him. His head had come into contact with the corner of Night’s mouth without ceremony, suddenly making Night aware of his proximity.

“You’ve read a lot.” Dust turned his head, now his teeth only a breath away. Nightmare couldn’t take his eyes off of them.

“Books were all I possessed before…” His eye roamed over the group before returning to the gentle intensity building in the centimeter between their teeth. “Dust…”

“You can have this Boss.” Dust’s soul pulsed with determination, Night washed over in its warm waters. “I know how much you wanted it.” His red and blue eyes dropped to Night’s teeth, hovering with hot breath, half-lidded in need. “Just take it Nightmare.”

The touch of their mouths made Night’s own soul explode in the rush of desire that blazed into an inferno at the smallest sprig of kindling.  His tongue begged for entrance before he could think the action through, Dust letting it in without hesitation, shaky hands dug into Night’s sweater. The loud movie covered the quiet wet sounds, Night’s tentacles shifting silently to cradle Dust as he devoured all he was offered.

His soul lurched when he pulled back; he wanted to consume Dust but the rational part of his brain managed to catch him before he dove back.

“Hah. Nightmare, come back.” Dust’s hands had fisted in Night’s sweater tight enough to tear. Nightmare ignored it to squeeze his eye shut, trying to breathe through the mounting urge to take Dust apart, piece by piece, in view of the others, damn their relationship, he’d take ANY of them whenever HE wanted.

“Stop.” He said it at normal volume, shouting compared to the hushed exchange before. It drew the attention of the others. “I can’t.”

“Why?” Nightmare hadn’t opened his eye to see, but he could hear how hurt Dust sounded, hands trembling where they still balled in each other’s clothes. His normally distracted voice spoke firmly. “Tell me why.”

“I can’t.”

“You can. You just won’t. Tell me why.” Dust shook his head to dislodge Papyrus, ringing in crystal clear. It struck his soul, shattering the thin barrier holding back his honesty, unable to hold onto thoughts while containing the rot of his corruption from spilling over and swallowing them whole.

“I will devour you. All of you.” His tentacles sought them out, tentative. His vocal cords ached with an involuntary voice drop. “I will fucking ruin this. Your love cannot overcome my nature.” Each appendage curled around their throats, besides Dust, laying in his arms. The eye of the storm, Dust laid there calmly, like Nightmare’s tentacles weren’t threatening to strangle all of his loves in one fell swoop. Nightmare’s sludge dripped off of him, onto the couch, sizzling where it’d dropped onto Dust’s shins. He didn’t flinch.

“You wouldn’t know, you won’t let us try.”

He could feel the others struggling against him, hands sliding on the slick material while his tentacles grew tighter.

“I’LL KILL YOU!” Night growled, his own fingers clamping down on Dust’s neck, pressing down on the bone hard enough to creak underneath them. “I’ll take what I want and dust the rest!”

“Then do it.” Dust met his eyes unafraid. He relaxed into the hold, even as Night’s hands got ever tighter.

The corruption buffeted the inside of his skull, whirlwind of thoughts and crazed emotion, fed by the slow building terror of the others, their struggles more and more frantic the longer his tentacles gripped them. The only exception was Dust. His eyes had slid shut, limp and relaxed in his hands. Nightmare didn’t realize how out of control it’d gotten until he heard the crack.

Nightmare released Dust instantly, hands struggling with the healing magic Nightmare was trying to force through the agitated sludge.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!” Night didn’t stop trembling until he felt Dust touch his wrists. The splashes of cyan across Dust’s calm smile startled him out of everything, tentacles dropping the others to curl in on himself. With a deep breath, the magic flowed more evenly, in control of this at the very least. The crack slowly wove together until only a scar remained. Nightmare avoided the gazes of the others he could feel staring him down, caught unaware by Dust pulling on his wrists, falling directly onto Dust’s chest, face onto his shoulder, forced to stare at his own mistake.

“Just relax…” Dust’s head rested atop his own. He felt the skilled hands slide into the crevices between his tentacles, pressing and rubbing away the tight balls of tension until he finally let them all go.

“How did he do that?” Cross whispered from the side.

“Hell if I know.” Killer sounded close as well, shuffling from just beyond his vision.

“Patience.” Dust’s fingers pressed down to unwind the stress of his back, though not the sins crawling there. Nightmare shifted to lay in a way that he could see off the couch. The others watched them from the floor with wide eyes. He sighed, tracing Dust’s sternum during inhales.

“I could have killed you.”

“You wouldn’t have.” Dust’s faith never wavered, the others radiated guilt. Nightmare averted his gaze.

“I’m still sorry.”

“Then make it up to me.” Nightmare sat up, resting his hands on Dust’s chest for leverage, ending up sitting on his lap before taking the hands that had fallen off his back. He pulled Dust up to match him.

“How?” Night blushed under Dust’s intense observing, relaxing at the gentle clank he got in exchange. It sent a tremor through his spine.

“Answer us honestly.” Dust’s skull twitched against him, tranquil determination a temporary state at best. He kissed Night softly over and over again, plying at his defenses with the promise of what this could be, curiosity over how they worked together. Dust wasn’t alone in this after all. “Do you want us?” The shuffling of knees hit his ears; the others had moved closer to hear him, their hearts glowing with so much hope and positivity it almost hurt to bear. Night’s voice broke under its weight.

“...yes…” The next kiss was triumphant, his face cradled close while he submitted to Dust’s tongue. Dust broke them apart, Night too dazed to see, his hands reaching out to pull his partner back.

The taste changed, the tonguework different, enthusiastic all the same. The hand on his cheek this time larger, he felt a thumb stroke across the line beneath his ruined eye. The name was out before he saw them.

“Cross.” Behind, someone had made a home amongst his tentacles, a back against his. “That’s unusually bold of you.” His eye trailed over the purple flush with an amused grin. He didn’t let the building anxiety pool in the poor guardsman, grabbing the collar of his jacket to kiss him again while his tentacles wound around his other ‘attacker.’ Killer’s groans drifted to his ears.

“Fuck Nightmare, didn’t think you’d get so handsy so fast.” The back of his skull tapped Night’s. Tentacles had wound up Killer’s legs to hold them still, a third binding around his chest to keep him pinned. The fourth explored his upper femurs, pressing over his shorts to his pelvis, Killer’s gasps music to his ears. He pulled back from Cross with a smirk.

“You seemed like you’d be into it.” Killer nodded against his back, but Cross also nodded in front of him, eyelights blown wide with Night’s taste in his mouth and his hands on his chin, wiping away the line of purple saliva from that last messy kiss.

Horror leaned against his leg from the floor. Night dropped a hand to rub against his skull, avoiding the large crack without seeing, knowing the location by memory alone.

“Thanks.” Horror purred from the ground, head falling more heavily in his lap.

Sitting on Dust, Killer against his back, Horror in his lap, and Cross leaning over to kiss him and Dust equally brought his soul peace. Error hadn’t joined, but Nightmare would’ve been more surprised if he had.

“I-I’m sure y-you know my stance on t-t-touching by now.” Error had his arms crossed, body still pixelated near his neck from the impromptu strangling earlier.

“Except Horror. He deals with Horror’s touches the best out of all of us.” Cross removed himself from the pile to offer his hand. Error glared at the TV, but took it anyway. “Most of us have gotten to hand holding though!” Cross’s enthusiasm turned Error blue.

“S-shut up…” He offered his other hand for Cross to take as well, even Error unable to contain his smile at Cross’s joy and attention.

It was laughably easy, Nightmare slotted into the dynamic with ease, an extension of their regular back and forths but sweeter, tinged with something warm. The loud voice in his mind still craved more but he could fight it off for now. Nightmare took a deep breath.

“I’m...still concerned, about everything, but I…” They waited for him to collect his thoughts. “If you’ll have me anyway, then I’ll give it all I have.”

“That’s all we can ask.” Dust smiled while Horror hummed his agreement.

“Hell, that’s what we’re doing too. You, aaaah, ain’t special.” Killer’s body writhed against him. His tentacles hadn’t been distracted by the moment, steadily edging Killer into whining pants, shorts wet against his appendage and thrusting back against it. Night raised him up to hold him solidly between himself and Dust.

“You know, this does offer many new opportunities to shut you up.” His black bones traced the rim of Killer’s pelvis peeking out over the waistband. Killer cursed when Dust leaned forward against Killer’s back, circling to the front to tease his lower sternum, finger peeking inside of his rib cage.

“None of them work. Trust me, we’ve tried.” Dust hid his smirk against Killer’s back, playfully nipping through the hoodie, shaking against the charged bones.

“Fuck you guys.” Night met Dust’s dual-tone gaze one more time. Hesitant to accept and run forward with them still. But Dust took his hand to bring it with him into Killer’s body, wrapping them both around his spine to a moan. They’d help and guide him, he need only ask for it, and with that, he laughed.

“Maybe we will.”

-

I’m very happy to have this out of my WIP folder.

[creative-type]

A Day to Remember

Summary: Robin had never been one for celebrating birthdays Rating: Gen Word Count: 3000 AO3

AN: I can’t believe I forgot today was Robin’s birthday. Please forgive the slightly rushed quality

She had forgotten what day it was. Bone tired after a particularly nasty storm and keeping watch the night before, Robin went to bed early. It was hard to be reminded that she wasn’t young anymore, capable of pulling all-nighters on a whim and powering through the following day with nothing more than a little gumption and a few extra cups of coffee.

Nami was still at the deck when Robin bid her goodnight, distracted and tasting the air after the storm. Wind whipped strands of orange hair across her face, almost bronze in the light of the dying sun, but she paid it no mind. Absorbed as she was, Robin wasn’t certain that Nami heard her speak, let alone notice a bit of extra hair. Robin smiled a small, tired smile, and wondered if the salt of the ocean spray was stronger or the smell of the ozone more pungent for someone so attuned to the fickle temperment of the world’s most dangerous sea.  

“Tomorrow will be better,” Nami said, right as Robin was about to slip through the door. She made it sound like a threat.

Robin’s smile spread a little bit farther. If there was anyone she trusted to make such a bold promise on the Grand Line, it was the navigator of the future Pirate King.

“Good night.”

Xxx

She had forgotten what day it was. As predicted, the sun shone deceptively bright on a miserably cold morning. They must have been near an island for the temperature to stabilize so much in such a short period of time, and a winter one to boot. Robin bundled herself in a fluffy, oversized turtleneck with sleeves that extended just past her fingers and she still was shivering. It was a day for staying indoors with the company of a good book and the blackest coffee Sanji could procure, and Robin thought of little else as she made her way to the galley.

That was not what happened.

Instead, right as she placed her hand on the doorknob Robin’s mind roused itself just enough to realize that the ship was entirely too quiet. The cobwebs of sleep were brushed aside by a sudden wave of paranoia. Something was wrong, something had happened to the crew while she was asleep. Adrenaline hummed in her veins and sharpened her senses to their sharpest point. Robin crossed her arms across her chest, ready to attack at the smallest sign of trouble.

The door to the galley sprung open, and Robin had to spring with it in order to avoid being hit. She sprouted arms on instinct, grabbing hold of whoever was on the other side

“Dos Fleur.”

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY, ROBIN.”

The gears of Robin’s mind ground to an abrupt halt, unable to process those words, said in that order, by these people. Phantom limbs vanished in a flurry of petals, releasing her hapless victim -- how was it always Usopp who ended up in these types of situations? -- dumb shock focing her flesh and blood arms to fall limply by her side.

There was a banner spread across the aquarium. Everyone, even Zoro, wore little party hats. A surprised laugh startled from her lips. Robin wasn’t even sure where they had gotten little party hats, and she made it her business to know everything that went on aboard the Thousand Sunny.

At her feet, Chopper beamed, holding a brightly-wrapped present above his head.

“For you!”

Robin took the package with trembling hands, feeling the firm contours of a book beneath the festive trappings. She opened her mouth to thank him, but no sound came out, unable to speak around the lump in her throat.

Xxx

She had forgotten what day it was. February in Ohara tended to be a bleak, dreary affair, with more mud than snow and a population of men and women more irritable than a pack of bears woken too soon from their midwinter nap.

It was Robin’s job to make sure none of that mud made it into the house, and when it inevitably did, to clean it up before Auntie noticed. Gods forbid any tracked itself onto her precious carpets, or if the welcome mat was anything less than pristine. Robin was in a war of attrition with nature itself, fighting a never-ending battle against the forces of sludge and untidiness.

The effort was exhausting, especially when Robin saw her cousin smirk as she scuffed her dirty shoes against the polished wooden floor. Of course Auntie would never believe it if she said Mizuira did it on purpose, so Robin didn’t even try. She kept her head down and her teeth clenched so hard she could hear her molars grind against each other, scrubbing with a dozen hands red and chapped from a winter’s worth of work, the damage to each copy compounding back to the originals until they cracked and bled at the knuckles.

It would have been less damaging in the long run not to use her power, but Robin didn’t have time to waste doing it the slow way. The normal way, which might have taken three times longer but would have kept the village bullies from knowing that she was a freak of nature. Auntie hated when Robin used her Devil Fruit to do chores and made sure the whole island knew about it, but Robin didn’t care. Anything to get out of the house as soon as possible.

Robin took Aunt Roji’s accusations of freeloading to heart, and had no intentions of staying under her roof any longer than she had to. That meant spent every possible moment in diligent study in hopes of one day joining her mother at sea. As soon as she finished her work to Auntie’s satisfaction she ran to the library.

The Tree was almost unrecognizable denuded of its leaves. Robin imagined the legs of a million giant spiders spreading from the great trunk, each one waving at her as the wind twisted through the countless branches. She imagined them plucking her cousin right off of the ground and sticking her in an equally giant web until either she apologized for trekking mud through the house or starved to death, whichever came first.

Imagining made her feel a little better, and Robin managed a smile as she opened the door. There was a burst of noise and color that seemed to shake the tree itself. Robin flinched, instinctively curling in on herself to protect from the unexpected blow.

None ever came. Robin dared to peek open the eye she didn’t realize she’d squeezed shut, revealing the beaming faces of the archeologists.

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY!” they chorused, Professor Clover loudest of all.

She was only allowed to stay for half an hour before her aunt sent Uncle to summon her home, but it was one of the happiest of her life. When Robin dared ask if she could return after finishing the supper dishes, Auntie grounded her for the next week and a half, before chiding her for eating too much bread at dinner.

Xxx

She had forgotten what day it was.

Days at sea blurred together with mind-numbing monontity, and it was only as Robin counted down the time until they were scheduled to hit land did she remember the date. She curled up a little tighter in her too-small bunk, ignoring the shriveled, sick feeling that settled in her stomach and the sound of pirates snoring all around her. She didn’t make a sound, was afraid of breathing too  loudly for fear that they would take that as an excuse to betray her.

No one had told her how lonely it could be out at sea. Robin could have written a dozen papers on the history of sailing, knew how the ship she slept in was put together from its smallest part. But knowledge was no substitute for experience, and now that she was out chasing her impossible dream Robin wondered if she hadn’t been a fool for dreaming it in the first place.

Even if there was anyone on board she could trust enough to tell, her birthdays weren’t worth remembering. Every year that passed was another reminder of her failure. Another year of with the scales left unbalanced and the truth hidden from the world. Everyone Robin ever cared for was dead, and there was no one left in the world who would celebrate the Demon of Ohara’s continued survival.

Robin did not cry, laying there surrounded by enemies. Crying was a weakness she could not afford. But she very much wanted to, and as a moonbeam spilled in through a porthole, illuminating the danger that lurked at every corner, Robin forced her mouth into a rictus smile instead.

Xxx

She had forgotten what day it was. It was unbecoming for a woman nearing thirty to draw attention to that fact. At least that’s what Robin told herself anyway. For the most part she did not care that she grew another year older when there was a chance Crocodile might decide to kill her in the next five minutes.

And besides, the scorching sun of the rainless desert was nothing like the more temperate climate of the West Blue, where each island had four distinct seasons. The difference between winter and summer in Alabasta was the difference between being shut in an oven and falling face-first into a pit of boiling lava -- hot or more hot. It was difficult to remember that it was February at all.

At least, that’s what Robin told herself, anyway.

She was suspicious when she found a package on her bed and an invitation to dinner. She was apprehensive when she opened it to see what was inside. She held a bit of cloth between her thumb and forefinger, holding away from her body as if it were diseased. It was little and it was black and it was a dress. Tlhe bead of sweat that trickled down her brow at the sight of it had nothing to do with the heat.

Robin knew better than to refuse a direct invitation from her superior, and Crocodile was nothing if not a gracious host. They ate a lavish meal at one of the most expensive restaurants in Aluburna, sharing a bottle of wine that cost more than their poor waiter made in a year. There was no mention of work, no schemes or games to coordinate, and Robin got the impression that Crocodile was mocking her the entire time.

“For you,” he said as they went to go their separate ways, and he handed her a small velvet box with a pair of diamond earrings inside.

Crocodile had given her many things: safety, anonymity, a lead to the next poneglyph, and each one came with a price. Robin searched his expression, his body language, struggling to maintain her mild facade.

Dark amusement danced in his dead, soulless eyes, and his lips stretched to bear a few more teeth in what might have been mistaken as a smile. He knew. He knew it was her birthday, and Robin had no idea how. He relished in her discomfort, and he raised an eyebrow in silent challenge. 

There’s nothing about you that I don’t already know. You have no secrets, no schemes that I haven’t foreseen. Now what are you going to do about it?

Robin accepted the gift and gave a smile in return, sweet and sharp as poisoned honey. Inclining her head slightly, she conceded that he’d won this round of the deadly game of power they played with one another.

Little did he know, she had no intention of losing the war.

Xxx

They hadn’t forgotten what day it was. Slightly shell-shocked, Robin let herself be led to the table where Sanji had prepared a feast catered to her tastes. The cake that made up the centerpiece wasn’t too sweet, and the coffee was as black as sin. Fruit and a breakfast casserole rounded out the meal where Robin sat at the place of honor.

“Told you it was going to be a better day,” Nami said with a conspiratorial wink.

Robin sat, still holding Chopper’s present in her hands. “I thought you were talking about the weather.”

Nami’s laugh was drowned out as Brook broke out into spontaneous song. He went through at least a dozen variations of Happy birthday to you, including one that Robin had never heard before and suspected he made up on the spot. Between great heaping mouthfuls of food, Luffy demanded they sing Bink’s Sake, earning a well-placed kick to the head.

“Shut up, you shit,” Sanji growled. “Today’s Robin’s day, and I’m not going to let you--”

“But Robin wants to sing Bink’s Sake, don’t you?” Luffy asked.

“I would like that very much.”

Even as she said those words, Robin realized they were the truth.

With a whoop of joy, Luffy inhaled the rest of his plate and jumped on the table, forcing the rest of the crew to guard their food lest it be stolen out from under their noses. He was joined by an enthusiastic Chopper and Usopp, and Robin suspected Franky would have, too, except there was no room and he had pulled out his guitar to play accompaniment to Brook’s violin.

Robin could feel the resulting cacophony reverberate in her chest, even Zoro putting aside his sensibilities in order to sing along, his low baritone standing out from the rest of the crew. Robin could think of no better performance than the one she witnessed in front of her. 

The last note scarcely had a chance to linger before Chopper was dashing across the table, dodging plates and glasses in order to situation himself on Robin’s lap. He picked up the present she had set aside. “I got you this one! Open it first!”

And suddenly, pulled from seemingly invisible nooks and crannies, every one of the Straw Hats was holding a gift, as if she needed any more than their presence in her life. Robin dutifully took it from his hooves, the tremor in her hands scarcely visible. Chopper’s look of wide-eyed innocence, pure and undefiled despite the hardship he endured, nearly made Robin lose her composure for good.

As she initially suspected, it was a book, but more surprising was what lay between the covers. Robin raised an eyebrow, looking down at the diminutive reindeer. “A collection of bedtime stories?”

He bobbed his head. “For the next time you read for the crew.”

“I will treasure it forever,” Robin promised, before leaning down to kiss his forehead. Chopper squirmed delightedly.

“That doesn’t make me happy at all, you asshole!”

Robin’s grin stretched until her mouth hurt for smiling, and she was suddenly accosted with more presents: a ceramic bird from Usopp, expertly painted, a knife from Zoro slender enough to hide under her clothes, a world atlas nearly one hundred years old with a small note tucked inside the corner that had written the page number that showed Ohara in all its geographical glory.

“It was between that and this really cute outfit I found back at Saboady,” Nami explained. “I couldn’t decide so I got both. I left it in your closet to try on later.”

Robin felt the slightest bit overwhelmed when Sanji added the collected works of a famed romantic poet, left untranslated so she could enjoy the nuance of the original language. Brook played a haunting melody he had written just for her and promised he would teach her how to play it on his grand piano.

Lastly Robin looked up at Franky, who simply held up a pair of ice skates, daintily grasping the laces between the thumb and forefinger of his massive hand. Reflected light danced off the metal blades, and she concentrated on that rather than the crude flame pattern he’d colored in himself.

“I’ve never skated before in my life,” Robin said.

“Me neither, but you know what they say, there’s no time like the present,” he said, laughing a little at his own pun as he placed the skates in her hands. “I made enough for everyone. Nami-sis says we’re due to hit land by noon, and temperatures like this I’m sure there’s a frozen pond somewhere. Trust me, it’ll be super fun.”

And it was. The Straw Hat Pirates returned to the Sunny only when it became too dark to see, braving the bitter cold and ice to be in each other’s company. Sanji thawed them all with a giant cauldron of drinking chocolate made with milk and not too much sugar before diving up the last of the cake. How he’d kept Luffy from eating it all at breakfast would forever be a mystery.

A slow, sleepy feeling seeped into their bones, and Robin sprouted a line of limbs to fetch her book of stories and a lantern to read them by. Someone put up a murmured protest that she shouldn’t have to read to them on her birthday that she promptly ignored.

Chopper was the first to fall, then Usopp and Zoro -- though it took much longer for the steady rise and fall of his chest to deepen to a true slumber. Luffy fought it for as long as he was able, but snuggled next to Usopp it was a losing battle.

Brook’s serenading accompaniment faded to soft snores. Franky managed to fall asleep with his hand propping up his chin, contented dreams playing behind his eyelids. Nami and Sanji held on the longest, a murmured mellorine the last thing Robin heard before she was the only Straw Hat left awake.

Marking her place, Robin closed the book and set it aside. An army of arms brought blankets and pillows that were draped and tucked where appropriate. In moments the Straw Hat Pirates looked more like a group of children camping out than one of the most feared crews across the five sea.

Life was funny like that sometimes.

Once she was satisfied that her crew (family) was as comfortable as she could make them, Robin gathered her things and retreated to the crow’s nest. After all, someone needed to keep watch.

She watched the moon rise over the sea, its light bright enough to read by. Even by herself Robin knew she was not alone, and she treasured the quiet in her own way. The Straw Hat Pirates had given her more than she ever could have asked for or wanted, something she had yearned for as a child but convinced herself as an adult that she did not need. They had made her birthday a day to remember. And for that, she would be forever grateful. 

[dylan-o-yumm]

Well hey! Can I say that I'm totally agree that there is not enough nero stuff? (I think i read all lol) anyways… I have angsty one even I hate to make this to good boy sad … but since I read the one with s/o being pregant how about one that the s/o dies during birth like losing to much blood and yeah ..I even had in mind that's even twins Girl and a Boy but yeah since he lose his s/o that he maybe was to even broken to take them care off that someone from the dmc Crew took care in that time?

(I think I read all of the Nero stuff out there too, which makes me sad. Almost as sad as your request! Anon, why would you do this to me! I mean, I cant be too mad because I love angst… but STILL!)  

“Dante, I can’t do this. Every time I look at their faces, all I see is her” Nero sniffles, handing his baby boy over to his uncle as Trish holds and rocks his daughter over by Dante’s desk, calming the baby down since she had started crying. Dante carefully takes the baby into his arms and bounces slightly, keeping the boy asleep while he talks to Nero. His frown is evident but he cant help but feel bad for Nero, also going through tough times after loosing you. Dante was a good friend of yours, your death taking a tole on him too. 

“Look, kid. I know you miss, Y/n. We all do. But you can’t just hand away your own kids” Dante kept his tone natural, knowing if he sounded too sympathetic, Nero would get pissed about it. Nero hated when people pitted him, especially now when he wasn’t the one who died. Well, a part of him did. Yes, he was hurting… a lot, but you were gone, never even getting to see your newborn babies faces before you took your final breath. He felt sorry for you, not him. 

“I can’t look after them! I… I don’t want to” Nero admitted, his hands shaking slightly as he felt tears brim his eyes. He looked like hell; eyes puffy from constantly crying, bags under his eyes from never sleeping, his hair a mess and skin slightly more pale than the last time Dante had seen him since Nero never left the house to get some sunlight after your passing. 

“Nero, don’t turn into Vergil. You can’t abandon your kids, you’re better than that” Dante scolded, his large hand rubbing and patting your sons back. For someone who doesn’t have kids, he was doing a good job. “You were so excited to have these little rugrats and now you can’t even look at them? This isn’t what Y/n would want, kid” Dante adds, showing his disappointment in his nephew through his eyes. He thought Nero was stronger than this. 

“Don’t you dare tell me what she would and wouldn’t want! She’s not here! You have no right to speak for her!” Nero bursts, yelling loudly enough to cause both children to stir and begin crying loudly. Both Trish and Dante rock them back and forth to sooth them, shushing softly while Nero’s eyes soften, realising he wouldn’t be able to be a good parent without you here. Hearing them cry because of him struck something in his chest and he just wanted to leave, get out of there before he melts down in front of Dante. 

“Look, kid… take a week to get your shit together, then come back. Step up and be the father you promised Y/n you were going to be” Dante said, his words feeling like a kick to the stomach for Nero. He shut the door, locking Nero outside so he and Trish could look after the twins for a week, leaving Nero along to deal with his emotions. 

The whole week, Nero was miserable. He was constantly lonely, the house empty and devoid of colour without your smile to brighten it up. He got some sleep, but would wake up screaming and crying from the nightmares. It was the same dream of the twins ripping you apart, it was gruesome and horrible and he knew thats not what really happened, but he did blame the children for your death. 

By the fifth day, he had showered, shaved, brushed his teeth and changed his clothes, seeming like the old Nero once again. He was still sad, he always would be. But he had been doing a lot of thinking, Dante’s words echoing in his mind. He knew you’d be disappointed in him, the fact that his kids weren’t even with him right now was enough to make him fall to his knees sobbing, crying to the heavens how sorry he was that he let you down. 

Come day seven, he was a lot better. He knew he needed his kids back. He wanted them back. He no longer blamed them for your death, realising it was just a horrible thing that happened. He made his way to Devil May Cry, knocking on the door and being met with Dante holding two bottles. He was welcomed inside, not mentioning anything about his breakdown and Dante didn’t bother asking any question, seeing that Nero looked a thousand times better made him realise his nephew was ready to be a father now. 

Dante walked him over to Trish who was playing on the floor with the two babies and Nero smiled as soon as he saw them, reaching down to pick up his baby boy. He held him close to his heart, pressing soft kisses to his crown before picking up his daughter and doing the same to her. He held the twins, one in each arm and sat with his back against the crappy couch, staring lovingly at them both. 

“Daddy’s here now. I wont ever leave you again. Thats a promise” 

[littleredroseonthevalley]

Wildest Dreams

Summary: A New Year’s. A wedding reception. Two parties, set apart in time, spell a begining and an end in Emily’s life.

Rating: M -  Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16 with non-explicit suggestive adult themes, references to some violence, or coarse language.

Notes: Hello, everyone! I wanted to do a Nathan piece for weeks now, especially after The Big Reveal on TJ. My first attempt was ‘An Opera on Separation’, but Zig ended up worming his way there and it turned out to be less about Nathan and more about Emily getting over Nathan and ending up on the arms of Ziggy-Pop himself.

Then, last Thursday, I heard ‘Wildest Dreams’ by Taylor Swift while trying to come up for a new number for my dance crew and it really inspired me!

Oh, and a fair warning, this is NOT a part of ‘An Opera on Separation’ universe. This is a completely separate one-shot. Perhaps I ought to take a page from my fellow authors and change the MC’s name, but I tend to prefer the default name for reasons.

And I used the ‘An Opera on Separation’ taglist. Sue me.

Emily was leaning against a wall and wishing she was dead.

Who the Hell decides to break with someone just outside a Starbucks? On the day before Christmas Eve, no less?

Emily’s ex does.

She sighed once more. Her holidays were miserable over it, as her family expected her to bring her significant other to the feast. Showing up alone was right depressive.

Returning to work on the 26th hadn’t been any easier, as somehow the entire office building where she worked as a secretary ended up figuring out about her shameful break-up before lunch hour. That certainly thwarted her hopes of having at least half a day of peace.

Consequentially, all her colleagues insisted terribly for her to attend the building’s New Year’s Eve party, as a way to ‘get back on the horse’, so to speak.

She pushed back as hard as she could, but she ended up caving. She supposed she could hang around until ten or so, have some cheap liquor and leave to spend midnight the way God intended.

Drunk and alone on her bed.

What the young woman did not count on was the fact that the hours between eight and ten would be Chinese torture in form of a company gathering.

Everyone around her seemed to be drunk on the sad excuse for champagne the company had provided, and the friskier were coupling up in bizarre pairings, like Crystal, the sour receptionist, and Dan, the Porno King from accounting.

Those scenes of moral decadence only served to further Emily’s depression. Despite attending a prestigious university and having academic honours, she was stuck at the same dead-end job as the woman who seemingly collected chocolate wrappings on her desk drawer.

Corporate America was a soul-sucking monster and that girl was out of soul to give.

Feeling claustrophobic, the woman unlatched herself from her spot on the wall and walked over to the balcony for some air. The place was thankfully devoid of people, except for a blond guy who was smoking and leaning against the railing.

She considered leaving, but the idea of returning to the crowd was enough for giving her a small anxiety attack. No, if she hung out on the opposite end as him, perhaps he wouldn’t notice, or would pick up the cue and leave her be.

And it worked for a while, she could sit down on the dirty floor and stretch her aching legs. The man finishes his cigarette and picks another one from his suit jacket and tries to light it, to no avail.

He sighed loudly and seemed to curse under his breath. He, then, turned to her and said, amicably: “Hi-ya.”

She looks over to him and takes a moment to realize he’s talking to her. Then, she responds with a lazy: “Hey.”

“Do you have some fire?” He asks, rather supplicant. “My lighter seems to have given up on me.”

“No, sorry. Non-smoker.” The woman answers, still wishing for the man to go away.

“Such is my luck. Perhaps it’s a sign that I smoked way too much today. It’s a nasty habit, but I never had it in me to stop.” He snorts, anxious. “What brings you to the smoking area?”

She looked at him, confused. “This is the smoking area?”

“Yep.” He popped the p and pointed to the ash dispensers around the balcony. “I’ll go ahead and say you wanted a break from all that inside.”

The young woman sported a small side smile over the comment. “Pretty much. And to stay out of Crystal line of sight. After she’s done with Dan, she’ll have nothing else to lose.”

“Dan still works here?” The blond asks, more to himself, surprised. “I was sure he’d be fired after all the data leaking.”

“You and me both, pal.” She says, while sipping her beverage. “ The virus got into the system through one of his porn movies, after all.”

“I think whom you really should look out for is Marcia from HR. I saw her pulling a busboy into a closet some half an hour ago. That woman is insatiable!” The guy bemoans, well-humored.

Emily raises a well-kept eyebrow, throws a smirk and says: “You speak out of experience?”

He laughs. “Jesus, no. It wasn’t over her lack of interest, though.”

“How conceited!” She accused, smiling. “I’m Emily, by the way.”

He also smiled, charmingly. “Nathan. Nice to meet you.”

“Nathan? Like the boss?” She asks, curious.

“You know the CEO?” He responds, surprised.

She nods. “Well, yeah, I’m one of his secretaries.”

“Ah, cool.” He shakes his fair head. “Life-long dream of being a secretary?”

The statement was ridiculous enough to drag a loud laughter out of the girl. “No way. I’m a writer. Well, I was a writer.”

“What happened?” He asks, taking a seat next to her.

“It happened no one wanted to pick up my manuscript. Then I tried to self-publish, but that fell through pretty quickly.” She sighed. “After that, I decided to cut my losses and had a friend wire me with this gig. So here I am.”

He grimaces. “I’m sorry for that. If it makes you feel better, I always wanted to be an anthropologist, but my dad thought going on field studies resembled too much a vagabond lifestyle and argued that corporate law would be much more my speed. And so, here I am, and guess what?”

“What?”

“Corporate law sucks.” They laugh.

“It does make me feel a little better.” She pokes.

“Well, I’m glad my misery is amusing to you.” The man smirks with his shiny pearly teeth.

“What brings you to this disgrace of a party?” Emily asks, blunt.

“It was a pretty good excuse not to attend my parents’ disgrace of a party.” He responds with a shrug. “You?”

“Some of the girls at the desk thought it’d be depressing for me to spend New Year’s alone, so they nagged me until I agreed to come.” She throws back an offending lock of hair.

He hummed. “That may be the reasoning of most of the people in here tonight.”

“Damn year ending on a Wednesday.” She huffs. “I suppose it’s fitting. A mediocre year ending on a mediocre day.”

“I’d drink to that.” The blond echoes.

“Cheers!” She raises her lonely red cup.

Emily was going all out for that party later tonight. She had only just left the hairdresser’s and was ready for putting on the dress, which hung at her closet door for over a week in anticipation for tonight.

The piece had been handpicked. She’d much prefer a Paco Rabane, but the evening required some demure, and so she went with a blue-and-gold, slit on the leg, Gucci ball gown and a matching clutch. The also blue high heels disguised her short stature and highlighted her lean legs.

Finally, the jewellery. She was covered in diamonds, from his earrings, neck and hands, everything was adorned with pieces which sported the precious gem. Even her hair was held up with an encrusted pin.

She put on the luxurious outfit and sat down to do her makeup. Supposedly, she could have had it done at the beauty parlour, but she rarely liked the results when she let others do it for her. Not to mention, she was rather disgusted with the shared brushes and products.

No, she was a dextrous woman. She could do it herself.

First, the base on her cheeks, to disguise small acne scars, some sun damage and the insistent swelling from the past few days. Then, a smidge of blush, for a healthy colouring. Emily was way too pale for her own good.

Next, the eyes. Eyeliner and mascara would make her eyes pop against the white, and now unmarred, skin. Then the mandatory red lipstick, carefully applied to her full lips.

It was a night event, she could humour herself and splurge a little with the products and not look like a clown.

When she was finally done, she picked up the clutch and checked her money, phone and documents. Then, fetching the car keys, left for the party.

“Have these naval charts approved by Tuesday, and have my car picked up from the shop first thing in the morning.” The greying-haired man ordered with little as much as a look to the young woman standing by his desk.

“Yes, Mr. Sterling, sir.” She nods and writes down his commands at her planner.

“You may go now, Emily.” He dismisses, and the girl excuses herself.

Closing the door with care, she returns to her seat at the desk she shares with two other secretaries, Kate and Jess.

“I don’t know how you can deal with that dick and keep that stupid smile on your face.” Jess mentions with a sneer.

Emily shrugged. “I’m happy these days. It won’t be Mr. Sterling who’ll pop my bubble.”

Kate scoffs, her sixth sense for a good piece of gossip tingling hard. “Happy, right. Just the other day you’re lamenting on the corners because of what’s-their-name. When we’ll know the name of this ‘happiness’ of yours?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” The other responds but couldn’t contain the smirk.

“Yeah, sure!” Kate shouts and points accusingly. “You totally smiled. Come on! Please, please, please!”

“No! Just drop it.” Emily said, good-naturedly.

“Kate, Emily’s entitled to her secrets.” Jess said, not as much to defend her as to get the other girl to sit quiet. Emily never could understand why, but Jess was never much of her fan.

“Fine.” She huffed in response. “Meanie.”

The three women finished their shift and parted ways at the company’s doorstep. Emily walked over to the subway station with a skip on her step. She did not lie when she said she was very happy to be brought down these days.

Life was much too good when you’re in love.

Reaching her modest one-bedroom apartment, she quickly changed her clothes and put herself to work. Her boyfriend would be stopping by later tonight, and would stay for dinner, so Emily had to whip out a first-class meal and clean up the place by nine.

Dating her boss’ son was something that the redhaired did not planned for, it just happened, and it certainly took some adapting. Their relationship had to be kept under wraps, lest Jess and the other employees think she’d receive preferential treatment.

But it was worth it. When Nathan said he was actually Nathan Sterling, III, it shocked her. She felt rather betrayed, as he kept that slight detail for over a month of going out, and the ‘no-telling rule’ was rather uncomfortable.

But Nathan was also a caring, loving boyfriend. He makes her feel like a princess every day he’s with her. He called or texted three times a day, just to check on her and talk about their day. He showered with gifts, ranging from the romantic, like flowers, to the lavish, like diamonds, to the thoughtful, like a first-edition of her favourite childhood book, ‘Charlie and the Chocolate Factory’.

In the end, forfeiting bragging rights to Kate was a too small of a sacrifice. She loved Nathan, she wanted to be with him. Waiting until such time she could quit her miserable job for ‘coming out’ to her friends was absolutely worth it.

At exactly nine o’clock, a knock on the door jump-start Emily from the oven to skip over to the living room. She opens the door with a wide smile and says: “Hello!”

Nathan doesn’t say a thing, he prefers to let down the bags he’d been holding, picking up the woman by her waist and twirl her over the cramped living room, eliciting giggles from the redhead.

Reaching the middle of the room, he smiled broadly, kissed her nose and said: “Good evening, Emily. How you’re doing?”

“I’m fine. Better now.” She unwrapped herself from his arms. “Just sit down, I’ll finish dinner in a moment.”

“Great, I’m famished!” He says, boisterous. “By the way, I brought some wine.”

“I’ll grab the bottle opener.” She shouts from the kitchen.

Soon enough, Emily emerges with a carbonara, two glasses and a bottle opener and sets them on the table.

“And I brought another thing, as well.” The blond says, a wicked smile on his face.

The redhaired couldn’t help but smile over the man’s childish antics. “What is it?”

“Well, remember you said Tuesday you wanted to go out dancing?” He asks, but before she could answer, he continues. “I felt really guilty I couldn’t take you, BUT, I could bring an iPod and a sound box. So get ready, Em, ‘cause tonight we’re dancing on the hottest and most exclusive club in the city!”

Emily beamed at the surprise. She walks over to him and kisses him deeply, until them both are out of air. After they break apart, she says: “I love you.”

“I love you more.” He smirks and bends down to kiss her again.

She was up in the sky, and no-one would bring her down.

The party venue was a good two-hour drive from her place, across state lines. But it did not matter, Emily enjoyed driving on the highway, with the high speed cleansing her frustrations and the hustle-bustle of people driving across the land engaging her mind.

She enjoyed looking at the vehicles passing by, looking at the faraway license plates and conjecturing stories about its passengers, where they were going and from where they came.

The ferry that took her to Martha’s Vineyard was no less of an enjoyable experience, feeling the salty wind hitting her face and observing the great reddish-blue expanse of the ocean beyond the sound.

Once at the wealthy suburb, she drove to a small, wooded area near the country club. She decided to walk to the venue, her old, rusty and noisy Kia would certainly be too much of a difference from the imported, luxury cars that filled the valet service.

No, she was aiming a low profile that night, and that sky-blue old machine would not do.

The fifteen-minute walk from the gates to the main salon was harder than she expected, given the heels were less for movement and more for show. Her feet would remember this night tomorrow morning.

Emily reaches the ostentatious French doors at the club entrance and gives her invitation to the usher. The young man greets her with a smile and walks her over to her seat.

A server comes and offers her champagne, which she gracefully accepts a flute and made herself comfortable.

The party was about to start.

“Emily, please, say something.” Nathan pleaded, looking hurt at her while she just shrunk further within the couch. The woman was silently looking at the void for over fifteen minutes now.

“I think you should leave.” Emily complied, letting out the phrase in a hoarse voice.

He really wanted to fight, to scream, to stay and have her react. Even if it meant she would throw something pointy and hard at him.

But, in the end, the whole thing was breaking his heart as well and he was never one with high threshold for pain, so he complied to her wish and walked over to the door. Before stepping out, he turns back one last time and says: “Call me if you want to talk. Anytime.”

Emily did not respond. After Nathan shuts the door on his way out, she did not make a sound. She enjoyed the silence of the house, she noted the tiny steps of bugs in the kitchen, the dripping of raindrops on the windows and the leakage on the sink.

The first thought that hit her with some reasoning came who knows how later in the day, and it was a simple phrase.

Nathan’s engaged.

An arranged match, he said. Kassidy Marquez’s family controlled port infrastructure around the Gulf of Mexico, and it was a big move for a shipping company, as large as it was, still confined within the Northeastern Seaboard.

He came by that afternoon to tell her of his father’s decision, to have him wed the young girl. He confessed to know Kassidy from college, and to have casually dated her in the past, but assured Emily of his ‘undying love and devotion’.

Nathan also expressed his intentions to maintain a relationship between them, even on the event of his marriage.

She didn’t want to think about it. She couldn’t think about it now. She was out of breath, like she was drowning in dry land.

She just wanted to draw the drapes and pretend she was dead.

“Oh my, Emily, you’re such a delight!” The older woman says, laughing of something the girl had said.

“You’re too kind, Mrs. Franklin.” The redhead smiled politely.

“What’s your relation to the couple, again?” The other wonders, remembering she had not been told.

“Oh, I’m a working colleague of the groom’s.” She responded. “Speaking of which, it seems they’re ready to have their first dance. Would you care to accompany me?”

“I’m much too old!” The woman complains, good-naturedly. “Go along! I’ll see them from over here.”

“Please, Mrs. Franklin, you’re much too youthful to call yourself old. But if you excuse me, I love this part of weddings.” Emily stood up and walks over to the dancefloor, blending in with the crowd watching the newlywed couple.

The bride was a looker, with her long black hair and tanned skin, a shine on her eyes like a blushing virgin, that freshness of going on to a new life. Her luxurious and pristine Vera Wang dress highlighted the posture of a young aristocrat and flew through the room like a curtain dancing on the wind.

But if we’re judging by appearance, the groom was the pretty one. He looked every bit like a fairy tale prince, with his tall and lean frame, white skin as if he had never met the sun in his life, and the blond hair combed backwards. The suit was midnight black, perfectly tailored overseas, and with sapphire cufflinks to give a finishing shine of upper crust.

They twirled through the room the whole fifteen minutes of Blue Danube in flawless grace, and without breaking a sweat. Soon after, they started the rounds through the guest tables, to receive the congratulations from the various guests.

A good hour later, when Nathan and Kassidy reach table 13, which contained the looser relatives on the Sterling family, they are greeted by the recently-widowed Great-Aunt Susett Franklin.

“Oh, my darlings!” She kisses each of their kisses, much to the displeasure of Kassidy. “Congratulations on the nuptials! It is such a wonderful adventure, and I hope yours to be filled with bliss and bounty.”

“Thank you, Aunt Susett.” Nathan says, politely. “How do you like the party? I hope you’re not feeling too alone out here.”

She laughs, dismissively. “Not at all! Emily has been keeping me in good company the entire party. Lovely girl, that one.”

Kassidy made a face. “Emily? I don’t remember an Emily at the guest list.”

“I don’t think you’ve met her, honey. She says she’s Nathan’s colleague, from work.” The older woman comments, in passing. “A shame you’ve come by just when she left to freshen up. She seemed so eager to congratulate you!”

A cold shiver shot through Nathan’s back. It couldn’t be, could it? After months of silence, she wouldn’t come to great lengths to attend the reception. However, he certainly did not know any other Emily, lest one who worked for him.

His ocean-blue eyes run through the venue, looking for that unmistakeable red hair.

And, then, he sees her.

She looked as beautiful as ever, with the dress and the accessories he had gifted her over the months of their relationship. But her eyes were different, they seemed dead and filled with tears.

She set her sights on him and seemed to pierce his soul with it and all he wanted to do was scream.

But it did not last long, as on the next second she turns around and leaves the party.

The blond muster some stupid excuse and dashes after her, not caring what anyone would think or say. He underestimates a seasoned woman on heels with a very good reason to run, as he couldn’t find her on the hallway by the salon, nor at the entrance hall to the country club.

Nathan would only be able to catch up under a willow, a short walk from the main gateway of the club. “Emily! Emily, wait!” He says, and reaches for her arm, pulling her close and forcing her to face him. “What are you doing here?”

“I came for the free booze. What do you think I was doing?!” The redhead shouts to his face. “I was torturing myself like the idiot I am.”

“You’re not an idiot.” He responded, severe. “Why didn’t you call me? I’d come to you.”

The woman scoffed, incredulous. “And drop your wedding?”

“I dropped it now, didn’t I?” He shoots her a side smirk, trying to dispel her hostility, to no avail.

“Don’t do that!” She shouts. “Don’t try to charm your way out of this. It won’t work.”

He sighed. “Okay. But I can honestly say I really missed you.”

“It. Won���t. Work.” She repeated.

The blue-eyed man shrugged. “It’s no trick, but believe what you want. Why you’re here?”

“I thought I needed to see it for myself.” She declared, her voice wavering. “Shock therapy, I guess. To force myself to let go.”

“You know you don’t have to if you don’t want it.” He looked pleadingly at the woman, who stood tense and straight like the willow next to them. “I love you. I want you. We can make this work if we really want to.”

“Look, Nathan, I get why you did what you did. I get that you left me for Kassidy, and that what we had wouldn’t have a future. But don’t ask me to be a part of your Boston Brahmin fantasy.” She shot him a look. “If you can’t be in it for the whole thing, at least let me find someone who is.”

The reality of things start to catch up to the young aristocrat. “So you’re just gonna leave? You’re abandoning me?”

“You left first, Nathan.” She coldly accuses. “You left me all those months ago when you said you’d be marrying Kassidy. And I’m not going down with the ship, I’m sorry.”

The blond start taking steps backwards, trying to focus his eyesight, blurred by the pain he felt on every muscle of his body.

Seizing the opportunity to leave, Emily looks back at him and says: “I really loved you, you know?”

“I know.” He manages to respond. “I love you, too.”

“I truly hope Kassidy makes you happy.” She said with a melancholic smile on her face.

“She won’t.” He responded, but the redhead had already left.

Emily ran the rest of the distance to her car, where she hastily took off every piece of jewellery and tried to clean off the make-up, ruined by the tears.

When she calmed herself minimally, she started the engine and drove away.

Taglist: @alicars; @boneandfur; @choicesfannatalie; @diamond-dreamland; @emerald-bijou; @kennaxval; @liamxs-world; @lizeboredom; @mfackenthal; @mrsdrakewalkerblog; @radiantrosemary; @topsyturvy-dream