#fluff with no plot

(This image is brought to you by 'suuho'!)

Imagine for a moment...cooking with Sanji. For (Y/N), this was an almost daily occurrence, as her boyfriend never refused her offers to help cook breakfast, lunch, or dinner for the crew. It was an early, sunny morning. The two had awoken as usual. Cuddling, clinging to each other like koalas. Reluctantly, the couple pulled themselves out of bed and washed up. If they didn't begin cooking as soon as possible, Luffy would raid the kitchen and start eating all the ingredients.

The sound of vegetables being cut filled the silence in the kitchen. The sound of waves crashing against the sides of the ship, the wind blowing through the open windows and the sound of water boiling in a pot on the stove. The two worked silently together. A pan was placed on the stove beside the pot of boiling water and soon the smell of butter cooking filled the air. Next, steak was placed in the pan and potatoes were carefully dropped into the pot. The sound of feet thudding against the wooden floorboards could be heard quickly approaching and the couple knew Luffy and Usopp would be the first to enter the kitchen and demand food.

~ ~ ~

Imagine for a moment...baking with Sanji. Flour was covering several utensils that hadn't even been used. Melted butter dripped down the sides of the bowl and was messily coating a cupcake pan. A bag of dark chocolate chips, a cup of sugar and two eggs sat beside the bowl of batter. (Y/N) wasn't the best at baking, but thankfully, Sanji was an excellent cook and baker. He showed her the measurements to double the amount of batter so there was enough for the whole crew. They worked together to clean up her spills of butter and flour.

The smell of melted butter wafted through the kitchen and out the window where Chopper had been watching patiently for the tasty treats being baked. Flour coated (Y/N)'s hair and shirt. Her smile lit up the whole room and her boyfriend couldn't help but stare in awe as she remained positive. No matter the mess that formed or the batter that didn't cooperate as certain ingredients chose to not mix together despite her best efforts to combine them.

~ ~ ~

Imagine for a moment...dancing with Sanji. A clumsy waltz was performed at a very slow pace on the deck. (Y/N) let herself be guided as she did her best to not slip on the floor. Brook's music guided the couple along as they matched their steps to the taps of Brook's feet. Keeping beat to the music, swaying steadily and gliding across the floor - they floated. Eventually, the music grew louder and everything else seemed to fade away as their gazes locked. Falling deep into a trance, they were completely ensnared by the other.

The hand on her waist pulled her closer into his chest. She wrapped her arms around his neck as he brought his other hand to her waist and continued to hold her close. They had slowed to a simple sway and rather than dancing in circles, they now simply moved from side to side.

~ ~ ~

Imagine for a moment...reading cringe poetry to Sanji. On a stop at a small island with a lovely little library, (Y/N) had found a book of short, sweet, romantic poems that had immediately caught her attention. As she flipped through the pages, she found herself cringing at how sappy or strange some of the poems were. She quickly bought the book and ran to show Sanji. When the two were resting peacefully on the deck as the ship sailed to the next island, she decided to read some poems to her lover.

"Constellations The stars above, Form images for you my love. Constellations to guide, You back to my side.

Stories without pages, Lights without cages, Stars connected for ages, Brought together by ambages. Constellations so high, May these signs in the sky, Pass by, Leading you to where I lie."

One poem and then another.

"Together we lie A cold embrace, An eternal place. A single rose, A permanent pose.

Side by side, Tears dried. Hand in hand, Beneath sand.

Together we embrace, Coup de grace. Softly we fall, You and I, my love, my all."

Eva Nine had just been heading for the evening market-- she thought Rovender and herself could use fresh spiderfish for dinner, and she had been on her way to get some. She was thinking of how they would prepare it, when a tiny voice suddenly cried behind her:

“Eva Neeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeen!”

Then something small but heavy latched onto Eva’s right leg, nearly sending her stumbling. She gasped, caught herself, and then laughed. Smiling, she turned to look down at the little ball of gray fluff sticking to her.

“Hi, Besteen,” she said.

“Eva!” The little Dorcean peeped, “I zaw you! I wuz playing wid Dorcy d-d-down dere and I zaw you, and zaid ‘hello’--but–but you– you deedn’t ztop!” She made a series of small puffing noises—the outset of a Dorcean eyas temper-tantrum.

Eva recognized the threat, and was quick to try to neutralize it. She reached down, stroking the baby's fluffy, slate-colored fur.

“I didn't see or hear you,” she said gently, “if I had, of course I would have stopped to say hello to my favorite Dorceans.”

Besteen huffed, but seemed placated; she was much more easily pacified than her sister, with her mild temperament. She rubbed her face on Eva's pant leg, then lifted a pair of arms.

“Up?”

Eva had to really bend her knees—and even then, it still took a little bit of effort to haul the eyas off the ground. She had her hands firmly around Besteen, just under her main pair of arms, the rest of the eyas dangling until Eva held her close. Tiny claws dug into her clothes and pricked her skin as Besteen settled in her arms. The eyas's little beak nuzzled into the crook of her neck, and she made a few soft, happy chirping noises. Eva could feel the tiny Dorcean's whiskers brush against her skin.

Besteen was getting heavier by the week, but Eva still enjoyed holding her: every time she did, she could feel a wave of intense, calming contentment radiating off the baby Dorcean and into her. It was an immediate salve on her nerves, whenever they did get frayed, usually if she thought too much about the past; it always grounded her, brought her back to the here and now.

“Wheel you marry me one day?” Besteen asked wistfully. She played with a few strands of Eva's long white hair.

It took so much willpower for Eva to not burst into giggles. Besteen was too cute. Fortunately, all that managed to escape was a chuckle.

“Of course,” she humored, “but only when you're big.”

Besteen's large yellow eyes went even wider. “How beeg?”

“As big as your mother,” Eva said.

“But I'll nezer be az beeg az mommy!” Besteen whined, several arms flailing in dismay, “dat wheel take forezer!”

Eva chuckled again and adjusted her hold on the squirming eyas. “Alright, good point. Your momma is huge. So how about when you're as big as your papa?”

“Hmmmm,” Besteen considered this. “I could geet az beeg az papa,” she mused. Her fur puffed up, and she chirped.

“Yez,” she agreed solemnly, “when I am az beeg az papa, we wheel marry.”

“Sounds like a deal,” Eva agreed. Besteen clung tightly to her again, nuzzling and preening Eva's hair. Eva rocked her a little, humming a lullaby Muthr once sang to her. It did nothing to calm the baby Dorcean, who continued her affectionate frenzy, but Eva didn't mind.

“Bezteen!” A gravelly voice called from the distance, getting closer. Occasionally a smaller, higher voice would echo it: “Bezteeeeeen!”

Redimus was coming up one of the ramps that circled around the inside of the nest-shaped village. Dorcy, Besteen’s twin sister, was clinging to one of his legs.

“I'm here, papa,” Besteen said. She rubbed her cheek against Eva's and snuggled into her harder. “Wid Eva Neen!”

Dorcy pointed at her sister. “Papa! I found dem!”

“Yez,” Redimus said. “You are a very skilled tracker.” He then addressed his other daughter: “Bezteen, da zun is zetting.”

Besteen made a soft whining noise. Eva chortled, shaking from trying her hardest to not burst out laughing at the cuteness of it. But she could tell the baby Dorcean was torn between obeying her father and her desire to stay with Eva. Redimus knew. He crept a little closer, lowering his head slightly.

“Eva may want to go home,” Redimus said, more gently, “and we need to leave az wheel.”

Besteen’s large yellow eyes went even wider. She clung even tighter to Eva. “One more hug?” She bargained.

“Alright,” Redimus sighed, “juzz one more hug. Den let Eva Nine go home.”

Besteen squeezed Eva as much as she was able, nestling into her close. Eva gave her a kiss on her little cobby head and put her down. Besteen sighed wistfully and scurried over to her father. She crawled up one of his legs.

“Papa! Papa!” She squeaked, “Eva Neen zayz she wheel marry me when I am beeg az you!”

Redimus glanced at Eva with his good eye. He smiled, chuckling. “Oh? Deed she?”

Besteen tugged on his fur. “Yez! Zo I have to go home and have deener now, zoz I can geet beeg.”

“Alright,” Redimus said, in a slightly playful tone, similar to the ones Eva had used on her earlier. “Let's go home, den. Dinner eez waiting. You'll need to eat up if you are to get my size.”

He nodded to Eva, then continued up the ramp, back towards their home. Besteen and Dorcy waved to Eva as they passed, and she waved back. She waited for them to be a good distance away before she turned back towards the markets and her original goal– but then something clung to her leg, and she almost stumbled again. She burst out laughing.

“Besteen,” she chortled, echoed by Redimus's more severe cry as he scrambled back down the ramp.

As he walked with Vania, Cole found himself a happy man, pleased by how the day was progressing. It had been a simple day together, spent mostly in pursuit of relaxation. Now they were taking a quiet stroll down the beach in the evening, and he was nothing if not satisfied; today was a good day to be hand-in-hand with his girlfriend, and to enjoy the ocean.

As they went, he smiled at Vania, and she smiled back. "What are you thinking about, Cole? You're being so quiet."

He shrugged. "Not much."

"Really?" She laughed the faintest bit. "You have that 'I'm thinking about something I like' face on right now."

He chuckled at that. "Well, okay. I'm kind of thinking about how I've enjoyed today. It's just been good."

"You've had a good day?"

"I have."

"…Good." She smiled a little more, squeezing his hand as she swung their joined ones between them. "I have too."

"Oh yeah? What did you like about it?"

"I liked spending it with you." She looked out across the water contemplatively. "I haven't had a full day off in a really long time. It's been busy in Shintaro recently. Getting to spend it with you was the best way I could've unwound."

"Really?" A warm feeling of appreciation filled him. "That really means a lot to me. You know that, angel eyes?"

"I know. That's why I said it!" She looked back at him and smiled. "You mean a lot to me, Cole."

He chuckled. "You mean a lot to me, too."

"Good."

She strayed a little closer, bumping his shoulder. He grinned, and when she tried to stray away, he pulled her in again. She laughed, easily coming to stand in his personal space as they came to a stop. "What is it?"

"What, can't I have fun with you?" He grinned, putting a hand on her waist. "Dance with me."

"There's no music…" She put her free hand on his shoulder even as she said it, not protesting.

"Who needs music? We don't." He led her in a simple box step, waltzing to the sound of the ocean shore.

She giggled, playing along. "Fine, but if I miss the rhythm and step on your toes, it's not my fault."

They waltzed for a few moments, with Cole humming some out-of-tune waltz, before he spun her. She smiled, turning in the sand, and returning to his arms; he then pulled her even closer, and too close to dance.

She looked up into his eyes, admiring them. "How'd you get so cute, handsome?"

He chuckled. "I don't know. I guess I just did."

"Well, you are awfully cute. It's pretty outrageous."

"Shouldn't that be my line?" He looked down at her, transfixed. "You're so beautiful."

She blushed a little, laying her head against his chest. "Most people don't say that."

He let his arm on her waist encircle her, pulling her close. "Well I've got mixed feelings about that. You are gorgeous, but forgive me if I don't want just anyone complimenting you, y'know?"

She giggled, holding him tightly. "I forgive you. You're the only one I want to get that kind of compliment from; I've liked you for forever, anyway."

He chuckled. "You know, I think I can say the same. Having you is the second best thing to ever happen to me."

That gave her enough pause to look up at him. "Second best? What's the first?"

"Meeting you, of course." He winked at her. "Can't have you without knowing you, sweetheart."

"Oh, you dork!" She laughed, reaching up to pull him into a kiss. "Leave it to you to use a cheesy pickup line."

"Hey, I've got plenty more." He squeezed her tight, feeling satisfied. "After all, angels like you don't fall from heaven very often."

"Isn't that line supposed to be a question?"

"I don't need to ask for an answer I've already got, angel eyes." He grinned. "You're a certified angel."

She giggled. "Fine. If I'm an angel, then you're a knight, I think." She looked up at him appreciatively. "A knight in shining armor."

He smiled down at her. "I don't wear armor very often, you know."

"Neither do knights. Just when they're protecting, and you wore it when you protected my kingdom– my country and my people. I'd say that makes you a knight; I could even officially knight you, if you wanted."

"Really?" He chuckled. "You could, but what would be the point?"

"Oh, I don't know. A title, a place in Shintaran nobility. If you want it, it's yours."

"Well… if I don't need it to have you, then I don't know if I want it. I just want you, sweetheart."

"Are you sure?"

He almost laughed again, looking into her pretty doe eyes. "I'm sure. I'll let you know if I change my mind."

"Fine." She smiled at him. "I'll show you my thanks in a different way, like I have already."

He smiled back. "Please do. I'm all yours."

"Yes, you are. Now kiss me."

"As you wish." He did as she asked, sweet and gentle. This had to be the best part of the day so far…

As the water washed up and splashed their bare feet, Vania separated from him, smiling sweetly at him. "I'm so happy to have you, Cole. You really are my dream come true."

He smiled back, seeing the ocean in her eyes. "I could say the same about you, Queenie."

"You can if you want." She rested her head against his chest again, and for the millionth time, Cole was struck by just how much smaller she was compared to him. "I'm nothing special, but if you want me, I am yours."

"Of course you're something special, Vania. You're Vania, the queen of Shintaro… and you're my girlfriend. That's something special."

"I suppose it is," she murmured, hiding a smile.

He squeezed her tight. "I mean it. You're special, and don't forget it."

She giggled a little. "Okay. I won't forget."

"Good." He smiled, letting up the pressure a little. "You're the reason today's been so good, so don't forget that either."

"I won't." She looked up at him and smiled wider. "I won't forget one bit."

"Good."

Cole took a deep breath, enjoying the salt scent of the ocean. A good end to a good day, with good company… with Vania, any day was good, but today especially. He was happy.

Blade, who sat in front of Kafka on their ship cabin as they ascended further away into space, had this silent, troubled look about him again.

After the events in Luofu, it was no surprise to her to see the eerily silent disposition Blade has taken up on. It was not his usual mood of persistent quiet and solitude— no, Kafka assumes this to be somewhat deeper and personal.

Now, Kafka was not one to pry.

In essence, the Stellaron Hunters should primarily be co-workers more than anything. Though she would be lying if she denied certain friendships formed along the way— but that was certainly too wholesome of a term for them.

They’re more complex to put a word to, but one thing was for certain: intimate relationships skirting more than ‘friendships’ risks danger to Elio’s scripts, and without their sense of purpose, what would all this make of them?

Exactly the reason why both Blade and Kafka understood clearly the nature of their relationship.

She was his tether, his leash; He was her weapon, her Blade.

Surely there was a physical attraction too, to which they’ve indulged themselves in countless of times across several missions all over the galaxy, but that intimacy was purely physical and nothing else.

And yet, at the sight of his seemingly melancholic mood, Kafka wanted nothing more than to dissect it apart and study piece by piece the reasons for someone who swore to be nothing else but a weapon is able to feel so human.

Perhaps it was her fascination in understanding emotions she could not feel; perhaps it was her own pursuit of the rough beauty of his agony that pleasured her. Either reason made sense, and yet Kafka knows it was not the entire truth.

“Kafka.”

The sound of her name rolling off his tongue finally snaps her out of her thoughts. Her? Lost in her thoughts? It was an occurrence that rarely ever happens and so as if second nature, she smiles at him, coy and almost sultry just to distract him of that fact.

“Yes, Bladie?”

And yet Blade sees it too— the performance of it all.

Kafka was a talented actor. Flawless, even, as she always is in most things she enjoyed to do, but nothing of her nature seemed to slip past his keen gaze. Not even her alluring smile could distract him from the hidden curiosity brewing deep in those lilac eyes.

When they first met, Blade was all rough edges and sharp teeth. She defeated him in that battle though he barely recalled the details of it. The only lasting memory he remembered is one of how he died at her hands— and the peace he felt in that momentary ‘death’.

It was different from the previous deaths his immortality cursed him; in those deaths, he remembers the feeling of the weapon piercing his skin, how his blood felt warm as it rushed out of his body, how he could still taste the iron in his tongue. His vision would flood with red and then he’d feel his muscles stitch back together in endless persistence of inflicting him agony.

Only by the death at her hands did he experience peace— at first, he thought the monster inside him subsided, that this would be it. But no. The monster was still there, it simply listened to her.

It was such a rare marvel in all his hundred years that he simply allowed it and followed her through in seeking destiny.

It was her gift, it seems— an ability she masterfully uses for manipulation. Though for Blade, it was his peace and saving grace.

“Listen, Bladie, unleash the mara.”

When she needed a weapon, she simply had to tell him so.

“Listen, Bladie, loosen up.”

And when its all over, she simply had to sheathe the weapon back and the monster inside him listened obediently.

“Listen, don’t think about anything at all.”

Even at times when thoughts flooded his senses and the overwhelming grief was too much, she only had to speak and it would all be gone in an instant.

Those were the same words she uttered to him when they first met and he agreed with a nod at her then, feeling the emotions subside to a calm.

Though now that he recalls it, he wonders if she actually used her ability on him. He still remembers a singular thought that pestered him that moment: how she smiled at him, and how he thought how sad that smile looked.

It was the same smile she’s giving him now.

“Earth to Bladie? Hello?” she repeats again, her voice always calming him even without the use of her ability. “You’re staring.”

At the mention, Blade instantly looked away, setting his gaze back to the endless sea of stars beyond them.

“You stared first.” he replies.

Kafka chuckles, almost shy and amused, though Blade knows it was only an act.

“I couldn’t help it, Bladie.” she reasons, leaning back comfortably on her seat. “You were having this look on your face again.”

‘This look’ , Blade sighs at it, closing his eyes and wishing away his previous thoughts before they drifted to Kafka.

Even without saying it, Blade could anticipate the next words coming out of her mouth. He knew her too well, and she knew him well enough to see the pain he keeps.

“Do you want me to whisper them away?” she offers kindly, though he assumes this not to be true either.

Kafka simply offered for the sake of the next mission they were heading to. She would need a weapon then; an efficient and sharp one, not the kind that he is right now.

Kafka has already done so much to get him back to his senses. Blade already felt uselessly reliant on the peace her voice brings him.

“No.” he answers curtly, silently insisting himself to fix it on his own. “I’m fine.”

Kafka hums, a sound that said ‘if you say so’ without even uttering the words out loud.

Still, Blade could still feel her gaze prickling his skin, demanding to be acknowledged.

He could never refuse her for long.

“Kafka.”

“You’re thinking deeply. What are you thinking about, Bladie?”

A forgotten part of Blade deep inside him instinctively answered home as he thought of Luofu. He didn’t even know he was still capable of this feeling— didn’t even know he was capable of remembering his history past the hurt and suffering blinding it all together.

And yet, back in Luofu, some of it came back to him like a movie in which he was both audience and main actor.

Pain, nostalgia, suffering, betrayal— they all molded together inside Blade’s mind and he wanted nothing more than to stop thinking.

These were not memories of home, and even if Blade had the vaguest idea of home, home would not give him the peace he seeks.

Only Kafka could give him that. She even offered her abilities and he knew it would work. The memories would condense back into the deepest recesses of his mind and he’d be numb of feeling this pain— finally at momentary peace.

But until when would he be reliant on her?

Blade knew more than anyone about the dangers they face, especially the dangers Elio’s scripts always pose upon them. And as always, Kafka was at the center of it all.

Unlike him, she is not immortal, and yet her lack of fear convinces most people she is.

That’s why he was needed for the next part of the script. To be her protection, to be her weapon. Blade could not allow danger to befall her. Though her skill in battle is not to be underestimated, a nagging fact keeps pestering his thoughts, troubling him to the point of silence and contemplation—

Kafka was mortal, beautifully and tragically so.

The thought of losing her felt too much pain enough as it is.

“The mission.” he answers instead, finally turning back to stare at those lilac eyes.

They seem to be staring past the white lie he gives, and Kafka thinks he’s right to assume so.

She didn’t buy the reason one bit but Blade already declined her offer to whisper to him.

Kafka always respected his decisions, so she doesn’t push further, even when she notices how he looks more exhausted than he lets on, even when she knew that grief was ripping apart every fibre of his immortal being.

Instead, she gets up.

Blade thought she was about to leave him alone— it was the last thing he wants— and he almost stops her from doing so until he realizes she simply circled over to his side of the seat, placing herself next to him.

“I understand. But we’re not due to another warp until tomorrow.” she says simply, placing an elbow on the table and placing her chin on her open palm, her face turned to the side to look at him.

“Relax, Bladie.”

Being under her whisper numerous times already, Blade knows the familiar grasp of it to his subconscious. It always felt like a string, wrapping and coiling around him at the sound of her velvet voice, caught like an insect on the spider’s web. He also knew the tone of her voice when she made an order but this one, none of those things were this.

Her suggestion to relax merely sounded like a request.

And even then, ‘relax’ was a word not in his dictionary. Blade didn’t know what to do with himself.

To Kafka, it was obvious the thoughts still troubled him. She didn’t even understand why his troubles bothered her too: was it because of their upcoming mission? Is it a leadership instinct to keep the team in tact? Is it still her curiosity to pry apart the emotion he feels to study for herself?

But Kafka knows Blade’s signs. She could see when he’d need her to whisper to him, she understands her responsibility to keep him in check.

This time though… it doesn’t seem like the mara is the one causing his internal struggle.

Kafka would rationalize with herself all she wants of the reason why she was so insistent to help with his worries, pointedly evading the truth of it all.

The truth that she cared for someone other than her own. The truth that she was able to feel it in her own way.

It was not part of the script.

It was not a move she planned on or an emotion she foresaw. It didn’t even seem like an emotion she thought herself capable of. Her affections for Blade was like an extension of herself, they were hers and she saw him as a part of her being.

Still, all of this feelings were foreign to her.

It was not part of the script…

…then again, if it wasn’t, then why should it matter?

Kafka gracefully stretches her arms out, yawning into her palm. By all means, she was not tired, but it was easy to pretend just to be able to lean her head to his side, her head resting on his solid shoulder.

“Mmn, we should rest, Bladie.”

Blade made a low sound that vibrated in his throat. Kafka has learned to understand that as his sound of agreement.

She made no move and simply rested herself next to him like that. Blade didn’t dare to move either.

In their silence, they both found their own comfort.

It was Blade’s voice that broke the silence, “Tell me a story, Kafka.”

With her eyes still closed, she hums, pondering which story to tell him this time.

A more recent memory came to mind: of dinner parties and expensive gowns, of pearl necklaces and tailored suits. Kafka told him that story, even when Blade himself was a part of it.

Could you blame her? Seeing her Bladie in a suit was a core memory even when there were parts of the night she’d rather forget.

On the other hand, Blade knew better than to bring those parts up— he’s always so obedient, isn’t he? Or perhaps he simply did not find interest in doing so. Blade rarely ever finds interest in anything, really…

Except this time, Kafka finds the reason for his unresponsiveness.

As Blade’s weight slowly piled on the crown of her head, Kafka heard the low rumble of his chest— Blade has fallen asleep, leaning into her with his arms crossed over his chest.

Still, Kafka finished her story, voice going lower until it almost seemed like she was whispering her words to float within his dreams. All the while, she carefully slips the sword clutched in his arms and placed them carefully beside her.

Blade was still in deep sleep as she replaced the sword with her own arm, looping it around his as she made herself comfortable against his shoulder.

Then, she closed her eyes, humming a classical piece she knew like the back of her hand.

The sound of his breathing was the deep undertone to her own orchestra, and she knew no other melody could be any better than the one they made.

AUTHOR’S NOTES

cross-posted on AO3. english is not my first language and i wrote this in my notes so apologies for errors. i was brainrotting so bad i had to get them out of my system.

title is taken from the quote:

I dream of a grave, deep and narrow, where we could clasp each other in our arms as with clamps, and I would hide my face in you and you would hide your face in me, and nobody would ever see us any more. — Franz Kafka, The Castle

You’re used to the big romantic displays of affection and how people celebrate Valentine's back home. A lot of couples wait to propose on this special day, some others shamelessly carry giant teddy bears all the way to their partner's doorstep just to impress them. Dozens of roses, fancy restaurants, you name it. But since you moved to Japan, you noticed there’s a bit of a difference. Christmas was considered the most romantic day of the year here, and Valentine's- or Red Day was focused more on chocolate as simple gift-giving. Back home it was kind of expected for guys to do the gift-giving and romantic stunts on Valentine's but in Japan, it’s the other way around. So it was up to you to take the lead on how you wanted to spend this special day with Kai. You spend the night over on the thirteenth so that you could optimize your time spent with Kai the moment you wake up. In contrast to your deliberate planning, it completely went over Kai’s head on what day today was. He woke up as normal, from having maybe four hours of sleep tops as he started mentally equipping what workload he needed to cover today. To Kai, it was just another Tuesday. You could imagine his confusion when you asked him to take the day off. Your boyfriend insisted if there was really something you wanted to go to, he’d take you on the weekend. You pouted and told him “It has to be today!” It clicked in his mind that today was Red Day, but it didn’t clear up his confusion about why that was important enough for him to ditch time that could be worth a full day of research. The most he was expecting from you was maybe a box of mint chocolates when he returned back from working late. You kissed his forehead and told him he deserved a day off, and that Valentine's should be a special day spent together. 

He once again insisted that he couldn’t afford to take a day off, and attempted to stand up from the bed that you shared. You hooked your arms around his shoulders and anchored him to sit back down. You smooched him quickly multiple times, from his now feverish cheek, to his soft jawline, and again on his forehead where he liked being kissed the most. He huffed “Angel- please-” convincing himself that he wouldn’t melt from your touch. Being with you continued to confuse him, you were a walking dichotomy. Normally, he hated touch, but you were the exception. With his rose-tinted glasses, he saw you as completely pure. While the feeling of kisses and hugs were still new to him, he couldn’t admit that it was possible for him to feel touch-starved. The combination of your kissing bombardment and sweet talking convinced Kai to ditch work. He’s undeniably stubborn in every other way, but your presence creates this unique effect on him. This was one of the rare opportunities where he caved into your wishes before his own. 

You smiled and told him that was a smart choice and you reassured Kai that he deserved a day off. After all, he’s a workaholic. You cupped his face in your hands lovingly and told him you wanted to pamper him all day.

He clicked his tongue and furrowed his eyebrows, shutting down that idea immediately. He’s not going to let you baby him all day and then insists if there was anything else you had in mind. 

You hum and tell him you weren’t set on anything else but to take care of him. 

You knew he was up all night, so the first thing you wanted was for him to doze off back in bed while you got up to prepare him a decorative breakfast. He took that as a fifteen-minute power nap before joining you in the kitchen, to your surprise. 

He asked you what you were making for breakfast and you told him you were going to make little heart-shaped pancakes. You were adorable to him, but he still had the audacity to tell you pancakes in the morning were way too sweet for him. You retorted saying that he only ever makes a cup of coffee for himself in the morning and that this alleged “dessert” for breakfast was still healthier than his go-to. He couldn’t argue with that, and he let you cook. 

_______ Taking the day off felt absolutely alien to Kai, but he was happy to have your company. You would typically go out for dates at night, so seeing the sun hit your beautiful face was a privilege. He wasn’t exactly one for mushy words, but you could feel his golden-eyed gaze on you in admiration. 

Time felt slower, and that was a good thing. You were the only person that Kai wanted to talk to for hours. You listened to him and his complex thoughts, and his spiels never felt like a tangent when he conversed with you. You understood him, and at times when you didn’t, you put in the effort to stay on the same page. Hearing your own thoughts, and how they contributed or challenged his own opinion, felt emotionally intimate. 

To Kai, this was his equivalent of cuddling; casual but close, as any couple would be. It made him feel vulnerable, and a part of him hated it. But your presence, your intelligence, your complexity; reminded him of how he fell in love with you. And having this time now to talk to you in-depth for hours made him feel like he was falling in love all over again.

You recalled how different Kai acted when you first met him months ago. And you remembered the threshold you had to pass before Kai felt comfortable with physical contact at all. Let alone any display of physical affection. Only after that feeling of emotional intimacy, did Kai allow you to touch him. It was something you had to ease him into, from hand-holding and soft hugs to start. 

Nowadays he let you hug him tight, and kiss him anywhere on his face, to his neck and shoulders. He’d never admit it, but your kisses felt addicting to him. He didn’t know it was possible for him to feel touch-starved until you entered his life. 

You left him in a pool of serotonin as you drowned him in smooches on his cotton bed. Once you gave yourself a second to breathe, it also gave Kai a moment to recall where he was. One second the two of you were eating breakfast and chatting, and suddenly you two were back to his blankets. He could feel his face burn bright red, from your passionate pecks, and he knew you enjoyed seeing him so flush. Kai asked you if this is all you meant by indulging him on Valentine's, and he warned you that his own stamina could only last for so long. You giggled and told him you needed to get it out of your system.

You stopped bombarding him with kisses and laid on his chest for a bit. The two of you bantered back and forth as you normally would before Kai decided to sit up. While he was happy to spend time with you, he wouldn’t let himself spend an entire day lazily in bed. 

You clasped your hands together, satisfied as you were sure you had your boyfriend for the whole day now. You asked him what he’d like to do together and he replied anything that was relatively private. Pressing your luck, you tried to sweet talk him into bringing you to that modern art museum you were dying to visit in Chiyoda. Kai groaned and told you that was too far for a last-minute trip. You begged him to go with you, and he continued to decline. Saying how art wasn’t his thing and he couldn’t understand the charm in it. On top of that, he told you he wasn’t in the mood to take the train just to get there, knowing how stuffy public transport can be with people. 

You sighed and scrapped the museum date for now. You knew you could bring it up to him again if you’d planned it ahead of time. You decided to go through a list of date ideas and you told Kai had to agree on one thing. Eventually, the two of you compromised with visiting a botanical greenhouse. It was simple, calm, and most important to your boyfriend- it was private. Plus it was a nice way for the both of you to enjoy some greenery in the cold month of February.

The two of you got dressed, ready to go out for the day. Kai pulled out the same black and grey business attire he’d wear any day of the week and that (slightly atrocious) iconic green jacket of his from his closet. You packed extra clothes ahead of time, knowing you wake up at his place. You were ready to change and your boyfriend panicked, shielding his eyes with his hand while quickly exiting his bedroom to avoid your indecency. You’ve been together for months now, but Kai was shy to physical stuff like that. You didn’t mind it all, in fact, you found it sweet how clear it was that he felt attracted to your personality first far before your looks. 

_______

You were strolling through the greenhouse garden. It was more humid than what you were used to, but the garden was lush and tranquil. Kai was hesitant to show PDA when you guys went out, but he was more flexible with it today because of how little traffic the greenhouse path had on a weekday morning. He let you hold his gloved hand the entire time, and you’d occasionally swing it back and forth playfully. Throughout the slow winding path, you’d point out the flowers you liked the most. You were amazed to find how much variety the greenhouse actually held, let alone the size of the place, and how high the glass panels were built. You pointed out other flora that reminded you of home, and you took pictures of them excitedly. Kai thought it was cute how easy it was for you to enjoy something so trivial, and he liked seeing you smile. 

You passed by a patch of hydrangeas and pointed out how they were the same type of flowers that grew at his father's place. You noted that his dad liked to garden when he had the time, and Kai nodded, appreciating you remembered that small fact about Pops. You mentioned how hydrangeas were one of your favourite flowers, especially the pink ones. Kai challenged that and said you told him pink roses were your favourite just a couple of weeks ago. You told him you have multiple favourite flowers so long as they were your favourite colour. Your partner responded saying that’ll make it easier to remember the next time he buys you a bouquet. 

After you took your sweet time browsing through the indoor garden, Kai let you guide the way home, predicting that you’d want to take a detour across the city before settling back at his apartment. Not a moment later, he was proven right when you asked to check out a cute cafe you haven’t gone to before. 

You were already out, so it made sense to check out a couple of things while the day was still young. Kai complied, and you squeed, pulling his arm as you eagerly entered that adorable cafe. As you looked through the menu together he squinted to make sure he saw the prices correctly. A tiny piece of cake here costs 1500 yen??? You told your boyfriend that you’d cover the cost and you easily had the disposable income to cover it. He denied your offer and said he wouldn’t want to come off as a cheapskate letting you pay for everything. You asked him if he was sure that was okay, knowing he needed to be tight with money and he reassured you. He mentioned that the pancakes you made earlier were sweet enough for the day and that he’d just get himself a black coffee. It was still overpriced all things considered, but it’s not like he couldn’t afford it. 

Once your tiny tray of desserts and drinks was served you eagerly pulled out your phone again to take pictures of everything. Especially with how delicate your mini cakes were decorated adorably in season for Valentine's day. The moment you started taking photos, Kai reminded you to keep him out of the shot, knowing that you’d post them on your Instagram. You knew he needed to keep a low profile, and you reassured him that you wouldn’t forget that so easily. You showed him the series of pictures you did take, and how you could only register maybe an unfocused glimpse of his gloved hand and torso at best. Asking him if any of those were fine to post, he gave you his approval and you happily uploaded them. _______ You spent the whole day doing domestic, lowkey things within the city, nothing too extravagant but certainly enjoyable. Your original plan was to spoil Kai all day, but you should’ve known that he’d try to do the same for you- so it turned into a little cheque dance every time it came to paying for something. 

You were happy with how your day turned out, and it felt a little more synonymous with what you remembered Valentines being like back home. While Kai didn’t participate in the whole Western ordeal of buying you a box of chocolates and red roses, you were happy he caved in and took the day off just to spend time with you. Having his company was the best gift- but you had to admit the small perks of having him treat you to a cute cafe and a little bit of shopping was pretty nice too. 

You understood Kai wasn’t much of the mushy type and he wasn’t super transparent with his words, but you knew he was glad he took the day off as well. Stress got to him easily both inside of work matters and in his personal life, and you felt like skipping work was something he certainly needed, even if it wasn’t something he’d admit out loud. 

Aside from the art museum, there was only one other thing you really wanted to do today- which was pampering your boyfriend. Once you two arrived back at his apartment, took off your shoes and set down your shopping bags, you brought it up again. Kai clicked his tongue again and furrowed his eyebrows like he did the first time you asked him. He told you he wouldn’t let you baby him, and you told Kai that wasn’t it, all you wanted was to take care of him. You told Kai that he deserved a nice massage to unwind and that you wanted to play with a skincare routine on his face. 

He paused, thinking about it and you waited patiently for his answer. You prefaced to him that you didn’t have to if that’s something he wasn’t comfortable with. He let you know his personal space bubble was completely different from you than other people. Normally he hated anyone being closer than a meter in his vicinity, let alone touch but that didn’t apply to you. He trusted you, and he saw you differently than everyone else. You were pure in his eyes, you were his angel. He told you that touch wouldn’t be an issue, but that he was simply puzzled by how adamant you wanted to take care of him.

Sure, you were together romantically for months now. And he started to get a better feel for your personality, how you acted, what you liked about him, and how you two were happy together. But he couldn’t wrap his head around this yearning you had to take care of him. It was foreign to him. He knew he loved you, and that he wanted to protect you and keep you safe, he knew he dedicated himself to you. And he knew you loved him but… he couldn’t process that fully. He couldn’t understand the fundamental reason why you would. You frowned hearing his tangent. You wish you could figure out how to articulate to Kai that he is human and that he is completely worth being loved, and that he deserved to be. You wished you could admit to Kai that he had an issue with depersonalizing himself, but it was a nuanced, tangled issue that you couldn’t easily drop in a sentence or two. And you worried if you brought it up with poor execution, he’d think you’d only love him out of pity. You wanted to let him know these small things you picked up since you two started dating, and you knew you’d address it in the long run, but in the meanwhile, you were determined to let Kai relax. To let him feel okay in the moment, even if it was temporary. You responded to him, saying how he was overthinking, and that he needed to accept and trust you loved him even if there wasn’t some logical root or “ethos” to your love for him. You gently pushed down on his shoulders, indicating for you two to sit on the couch. You shuffled over and kissed him on his forehead, and then you kissed his lips. You told him in a soft, low voice “let me take care of you.” 

Children and boyfriends have never been something that Lily Evans has ever devoted time to thinking about. Would she have a spouse when she was older and, presumably, wiser? Likely. But it was never something that she devoted extra time to.

And yet she finds herself thinking about children an unusual amount near the end of her last year at Hogwarts, freshly turned eighteen. She isn’t sure when she starts thinking about children except for the fact that her boyfriend James Potter finds himself entertaining small children more often than the average person.

She cares for James deeply, perhaps she even loves him, although she doesn't quite realize that that's what she feels for him. Does she think they'll get married, perhaps not, they're still children after all. But for now, her future contains James and only James and she doesn't see him going anywhere.

The first time she remembers that children are a thing that people make and have is when the Weasley's ask them to babysit their sons one weekend near the end of May. James gives an enthusiastic yes and Lily doesn't mind helping him out, especially considering how adorable Molly and Arthur's little boys are. They've met them at enough Order meetings that they all refer to Lily and James as Aunt and Uncle.

Lily is keeping an eye on George (or is it Fred?) while he takes a nap in his little bed while James has Fred (or maybe it's George) in his arms and he dances around the Weasley's small house. Lily hears the off-key singing of James somewhere in the distance and can't stop herself from smiling, especially when the baby's tinkling laughter follows. His voice grows louder and louder until James finally enters the room and Lily watches him make silly faces at the tiny baby in his arms. Eyes widening and squinting, mouth opening and closing comically as James sways the baby back and forth. For a second she forgets where she is and whose children they're watching and imagines that it's their baby that James is holding and it is their room that he is dancing around. His hands look almost impossibly big holding the tiny human life form, as if nothing more precious or valuable has ever existed. 

Lily feels as if something is expanding in her chest, a warmth spreading through her along with something that feels almost like content. Maybe it's the baby in his arms, or the disarray of James's hair, or the way his glasses sit crookedly on the end of his nose, or maybe the fire is just getting too much for her but Lily never wants the moment to end.

"Something wrong, Lils?" James asks her, grinning from where he stands, still swaying his hips as if he's dancing.

"Nothing, just... thinking," she replies mysteriously and smiles back at him. The moment is ruined when a wet squelching sound comes from the baby in James's arms.

"Let's go change your diaper, shall we little man," James coos at the baby. "Quite the shitter ain't he Lils?"

And Lily has to stop herself from snorting too loudly lest she wake up the twin.

The second time that she remembers is when James and her are invited to accompany the Potter's to a distant relatives’ 50th wedding anniversary. James has absolutely no recollection of who any of these so-called relatives are, but they agree to go. The party includes a lot more people than either of them expected, and a lot more children than they thought.

Somehow James ends up as the leader of this gaggle of children. They're all competing for his attention, trying their best to impress him. Lily doesn't notice he's been whisked away by the children for at least half an hour when she realizes she's been carrying on a conversation with people she's never met before and can't remember the last time she saw James in the room. 

She remembers excusing herself and wandering around calling out his name, receiving no answer in return until she finds them. James has fallen asleep on a couch, glasses lopsided on the bridge of his nose, mouth open, and seven children surrounding him. One of them has squeezed in under his left side in between James's side and the arm of the couch, two more are snuggled under his other arm, one has laid themselves out across his lap, and the remaining three have all fallen asleep sitting upright on the ground leaning against James's long legs.

And all Lily can do is stand there and blink. These children, who she's fairly certain James has never seen before this party, have all laid claim to him as if they have known him their whole young little lives. And Lily is struck by the sudden image of James and their children like this, and the familiar warm feeling she had when they watched the Weasley's kids spreads through her again. 

She backs out of the room quietly and goes back to the party and when Mrs. Potter asks her where James is, Lily tells her he's with the children. She can't stop the warmth and adoration from creeping into her voice and onto her face. Euphemia has a knowing look on her face but purses her lips and says nothing.

It happens when James is staying over at her house and is trying to figure out how to cook eggs in the morning without his glasses on. It happens when James goes out of his way to irritate Petunia and throws his arm across her shoulders and squeezes her into his side. Petunia, for all her hatred and bitterness of the Wizarding World, has a difficult time hating James, and Lily knows because she can see how hard her sister fights to remain angry around him.

Lily can't help but soften inside when Petunia and Vernon briefly break up once he finds out about Lily and James is in Petunia's room comforting her. She's peeking around the corner and she can't help but eavesdrop on the two of them.

(She can, but as all good sisters, she won’t.)

"Hey Tunie, how are you feeling?" James asks quietly, perched on the edge of Petunia's bed.

"Go away, this is all your fault," Petunia snaps, her voice nasally and congested as she gives a loud sniff.

"Come on now, tell me what's happened," James insists quietly, and Lily doesn't think he even realizes that he's stroking Petunia's hair. There's a prolonged moment of silence, and then,

"Vernon broke up with me," Petunia says in a heartbroken voice. "Because I finally told him Lily was a witch."

"Oh Petunia, I'm so sorry," James says. "Is there anything I can do to make it better?"

"You can get out and never come back and take my sister with you, both of you, and your magic, ruin everything for me, none of this would be happening to me if it wasn't for you two," Petunia all but wails and Lily can't help but flinch at the accusation. James persists however and refuses to get angry or leave the room.

"I know you don't mean that, you pretend to be all mean and cold but I can see right through you, I know how much you love Lily," James says as he rubs Petunia's back. "I know how much you miss her when she's not here, it's all over your face and if we left, you'd be devastated. Worse than now."

Petunia sniffs and lets out a childish, "No, I wouldn’t."

"Besides, Vernon was terrible, would you really want to be with someone who wouldn't love your sister the way you and I do," James says and Lily's heart picks up the pace at that admission because James still hasn't said it to her even though he shows it with everything he does.

Petunia crawls onto her knees, Lily can see the corner of a red eye as Petunia sniffs again, looks down at her lap, and then throws her arms around James in a tight hug. "I guess you're right," she mutters into James's shoulder.

"That's our girl, now how about I make you some tea, hm?" Petunia gives a nod and James extricates himself from her arms and leaves the room. Lily beats him to the kitchen, and that's where James finds her waiting for him.

"Hello darling," James says and drops a kiss on Lily's forehead as he putters around the kitchen preparing tea. All Lily can see is this same scene but in their own house where James has just finished comforting their own child and she can't stop a besotted grin from spreading across her face as she watches him.

Lily goes up to him and wraps her arms around him from behind and rests her head on his broad back. "James, I love you," she mumbles.

He laces his fingers with hers and without missing a beat says, "And I love you, my love."

Lily's not sure if it's the youth and inexperience in her talking, but there is something about the softness and warmness of James Potter that makes him feel like home to her. She can't see a future with any man who is not him. She can't imagine having children with anyone who is not him. She can barely contain the giddy excitement of a small child who is half of her and half of James.

But she can't convey this through words. At least not yet. She doesn't want to seem foolish for thinking these things. And she has not found an appropriate way to tell James, "Let's make babies together." 

Although a younger James probably would've been delighted to hear such a proclamation.

So she lets James make his tea and go back to her sister and waits for another chance.

It's when the neighbours ask Lily to watch their newborn while they go out for dinner that she finally gets the chance. Lily isn't sure why, but the baby immediately takes to her when his parents drop him off. The boy is absolutely fascinated with Lily's hair and her face and won't stop giggling at her the entire time he's in her arms.

Lily isn't sure what she's doing, but she's delighted at the reaction it's getting her and can't stop staring at the baby with a silly grin on her face. She forgets where she is and with whom she is for the briefest of moments. It’s when the baby yawns and nestles into her chest and closes his eyes that she finally manages to look away. She feels as if she will burst, her chest can't contain her heart.

She looks up and sees James watching her; he looks almost dazed at the sight before him. He blinks and gives his head a minute shake before looking down at Lily with a softness and warmness that makes her melt. It's one of James's special looks, the rare ones that show just how much he truly adores Lily. He comes over and sits next to her, one arm around her shoulder and looks down at the baby sleeping contently in her arms.

"You've got a talent with children, Lils," James whispers to her.

"Well, I have the best to learn from," Lily whispers back, eyes twinkling. "I'm glad at least one of us is a natural with children."

"Why's that?" James asks.

"It'll make things easier when we have our own, won't it?" Lily replies nonchalantly. And there is silence. And more silence. And still more silence. It goes on for so long it makes Lily nervous. Maybe she misread James, and he wasn't thinking like she was. Perhaps he hadn't thought that far ahead, and she'd scared him. But when she turns to look at James, he is absolutely starstruck.

He's staring at her as if she has just announced that Christmas is early and Lily has given him the stars as a gift. 

"Do you really think about us having children?" James asks finally.

"Of course, who else would I have them with?"

He kisses her sweetly in response and the two of them sit, their foreheads resting against each other, the sleeping baby between them, quiet.

"Lily."

"Yes, James."