very shyly tagging some mooties :3 no pressure !! @heiayen @sincerelyhunnybee @carminechrollo @yaminohimeyume @dewberrydusk @hikentomori n whoever wants to join !!
THANKSS SO MUCH FOR THE TAG LOVELY LIAA @caramelluxe â đđđđ„đ„ !! there's probably a pattern here.. maybe.. maybe (˶Ëđ·Ë˶) đđđ
[ đŠ no pressure tags : @xxscarlettstarxx , @kianaflame23 , @kixxtie , @getorade , @kldgo , @remoriast , @sorreleia , @emxoxo05 , @heavenssxnt , @liliklei , @rainlina , @storynette , @cherrys-wrld , @amortoru + anyone who wants to do it đ„ ! ]
will we ever get a flashback of nanamiâs widow fic? i think it would be nice if the backstory is something like higuruma liked y/n first but never said anything to anyone and nanami confessed first so higuruma just pushed down his feelings bc he wanted his best friend to be happy
i think it would add so much to their characters
higuruma loved you from the start
Hiromi Higuruma had always been quiet, even when fighting for justice. He believed in the power of evidence above all else. So he always sits at his office with a mountain of evidence, down to the minuscule details that anyone would miss. That admirable precision and control won many cases, making him the best in his field. But that very same strength in the courtroom became a liability in forming romantic relationships throughout his life. He had too much self-control, was too secretive for his own good, and had too many walls around his heart. All the principles of love worked against him, so he watched the years go by, an observer to everyone he loved fall in love with someone else, especially you.
It started at the campus cafeteria. You were hard to miss, always carrying rolls of paper or a stack of books; that lipstick shade stood out in the crowd, and your coffee was always the same sweet one, unlike Higuruma's black coffee. What's worse is that you always sat at the same table next to him.Â
For a long while, Higuruma convinced himself that he was inconvenienced by your presence. The rolls of paper you bring always occupy some portion of his desk, and it was difficult to watch you shuffle through several art supplies just to get an accurate rendering of hand-drawn buildings. He could have sworn your T-square fell on him twice, and he picked up your pencils that rolled from the ground more times than he can count.Â
But you were always apologetic, always grateful and wary of the small ways he helped you. He would scoot a little closer to make room for you, wordlessly place another chair beside you, because he knew you used it to keep your things from tumbling off.Â
 It was a bit annoying, but itâs basic human decency, he convinced himself with a sigh as he flipped through his textbook. But Higuruma never moved seats, and always sat at the table next to you.Â
He was doing it long enough for you to become acquaintances, or cafeteria seatmates, as you call them.Â
It didnât take long either for him to notice the shift in his life, the way he'd hear his heartbeats in his ears whenever youâre near. Too often, he began thinking he was developing a heart condition because of too much coffee.Â
Higuruma knows the law and codes like the back of his hand; he is familiar with every process that has to do with it, as if he were finding his way home at night. But this quiet love and subtle affection were a foreign, invasive entity. It ruined his focus, his sleep. Sometimes he found himself clutching his heart, wondering what the hell was wrong with him.Â
Itâll pass, he told himself. Like all the people he loved before, itâll pass.
-
Higuruma considered ending your cafeteria meetings. After all, the library was better. But there was a flame of hope in his heart that never died. The hope that soon you'd look at him a certain way and share the torturous feeling of love he'd carried for months.Â
There was a campus concert next month. Youâve been asking for a while now if he will come.Â
If she asked me again, Iâll say yes, he told himself. Â
But you never asked again.
He went to that concert anyway, and you were there with someone familiar. Someone he has known his entire life.Â
He could tell you were just friends for now. But Higuruma knew Nanami like a brother, and he couldnât miss the rare softness in his eyes or the way he looked at you, as if everything else were static. Neither he nor Nanami liked loud places, let alone concerts. Yet here they both are for the same reasons, and different standings.
Higuruma didnât like where he stood, so he left quietly.Â
He went to the cafeteria less and less, overthinking past conversations until he hated and half-pitied himself.Â
On Fridays, Higuruma and Nanami share the same dismissal time. They would walk home, talking more about their current school activities or the new stores opening in town, rather than their own lives. Even before, Nanami was talking about you. Subtle, never mentioned your name, and passed it off as a new friend he met at the library. But Higuruma missed the underlying affection in his tone, too preoccupied with himself and his thoughts of you.
It felt like a cruel joke, something he'd probably get over in a week.Â
But each time he went to the cafeteria, he knew you were falling in love with someone else bit by bit. He could see it in your demeanor, on the way youâre smiling at a text message on your phone in between breaks.Â
Eventually, Nanami invited him, saying he found âsomeone.â
Higuruma knew that Nanami never took people lightly. So he knew it was you, and his best friend was seriously in love after all these years.
Higuruma knew from the start, but he kept it to himself and smiled.Â
He promised he'd keep the truth to the grave, even as you walked down the nave in your wedding dress, marrying his best friend, with him as the best man, watching nearby.
But it was difficult to carry the truth alone, lying awake occasionally, wondering why he never found love again.
He remembered when you first met. He yearned for that quiet coexistence, the way you appeared beside him like a lamplight when he had been alright with semi-darkness. He felt sick, knowing he was merely a blur in your life, and he saw you as grace, akin to light.
But Higuruma kept it all to himself, as he always does, and returned to work. Maybe his true love was delivering justice, straightening the crooked world of law from the edge. And heâd be okay with that.
He was there at your special moments, the wedding, the birthdays, and when you found out you were having your first child.Â
He was family, and that was enough.Â
But the Shibuya incident transformed so many lives overnight. When he heard the devastating news, he was at your doorstep half an hour later, worried how the news would affect you now that your due date was three weeks from now.Â
But when you opened the door, you smiled brightly at him and asked if he'd stay for dinner.Â
âKento would be here in a few minutes,â you said with certainty that Higuruma felt his heart clench.Â
They haven't told you yet, no. Not over a phone call. Not when they know your pregnancy was sensitive.Â
Higuruma faced his clients with that admirable composure, even as he handed over their terrible fate.Â
But this time, he was wordless, his hand shook. Breaking the news to you was the hardest thing he had ever done, because he knew that no amount of gentleness could soften the fact that his best friend and the love of your life would never be coming home tonight.Â
-
You didn't take the news lightly. He didn't expect you to be brave at this vulnerable moment. You were beyond emotional, grief personified, and the aftermath was etched across your face. Higuruma stayed when you experienced light bleeding for days due to extreme stress. He scheduled check-ups and has been mistaken for your husband several times. His worry extended to the child you were carrying, knowing that this immense grief could affect her too.Â
You broke down several times a day, crying to the point of near dehydration, and were inconsolable.
Higuruma was there when you were searching for the missing warmth where your husband used to be. You can't sleep without being held, convinced that everything will collapse and take you with it. So Higuruma was at your side every moment until Kyoka was born.Â
When you held her tiny body in your arms and looked at her bright face, Kento's features softened like gentle sunlight, and you cried. You cried for half an hour, promising your daughter you'd love her as much as Kento loved her that you'd protect her with your life and do everything for her happiness.Â
Higuruma stood on the side, silently vowing to himself that he'd do the same.Â
-
Higuruma kept that promise throughout the months that came.Â
As your eight-month-old daughter dozed off in his arms after he read those small alphabet books he'd bought her, Higuruma remembered every single thing that had led him to where he was. He felt guilty about the happiness he felt at the prospect of raising his late best friend's daughter. It didn't escape him that, at times, it felt wrong to live in the shoes of a man who had gone too soon.
But you and your daughter were embedded too deeply in his life. He'd wake up in the morning, reminding himself to stop by to buy the bread Kyoka loves so much. He'd leave work, thinking of stopping by the store to get the tea flavor you secretly liked.
Every day, you were becoming closer to the definition of family, and that word scared him.Â
Family.Â
The more he ingrains the word in his head, the more likely he is to overstep.Â
Kyoka calls him dada the moment he comes into view.Â
And this morning, you baked celebratory cookies for him after winning a case. It wasn't the yellow lemon tea cakes you always baked for Kento. It was oat cookies, the ones he always bought at the cafeteria back in college. And you knew.
You were in the kitchen, washing Kyoka's baby bottles when the clock struck 8 pm.Â
Kyoka's bedtime. Higuruma gently carried her upstairs to her room without waking her, then set her back in the crib.Â
On his way out of the bedroom, he took the folded coat he had left three days ago. It smelled mildly of the detergent you always use.Â
Higuruma went downstairs. It's time to go back to his apartment and break the illusion of family he's been clinging to. But when he reached the landing, you called, âHiromi, stay over for dinner.â
It was simple, almost routine, that Higuruma was afraid to get used to it.
Part of him knew that these moments in his life were bound to end.Â
It'll pass, he told himself as he helped you set the table for two. Like every good thing that makes his life worthwhile, it will pass.Â
But that sort of pessimism had no room for the present. Not when you're beginning to smile more often since Kento's death, not when you're relearning Hiromi's favorites to quietly repay his presence in your life when you needed Kento the most.
Higuruma realized he never stopped loving you. But his love has the capacity to transform; it wasn't selfish or one-dimensional. He told himself that if he could love you in one way in this lifetime and you'd let him, he wouldn't ask for more.Â
Even if it wasn't the romantic love he hoped for years ago, he's happy.Â
He's happy to watch you laugh, to watch Kyoka grow, to be in the life you built with another man and help it continue while loving you silently, deeply.Â
For the rest of his life.Â
a/n. i survived college hell week, have some more angst
hi anon!! i have a few ideas written down for that!! đ but I'm currently trying to survive architecture school hell week lmao. posting another fic might take a while hehe so ty for your patience, I'm glad you loved the series so farr!!
i would love to hear what you guys want to see in the following fics!! đ
mdni. higuruma sleeping with his client's daughterÂ
Hiromi Higuruma had truly gone off the rails since he hit his mid-30s.
When he should be going through case files and arranging the evidences for that money laundering case, he was at a discreet love hotel agreeing to a late night fuck with his client's daughter.Â
You were sound asleep, pillowed on his arm as he stared at the ceiling.Â
What the hell am I doing?Â
He shifted slightly on the bed until you were sleepily turning the other side. He took it as an opportunity to wake himself up and shower. He has to work in the morning, do laundry, clean up the apartment, and more importantly work on your father's case.Â
He knows the old man was a douche with too much money and carelessness. Every now and then, Higuruma takes these cases to keep his law firm afloat. Rich assholes are willing to pay twice or thrice more, especially when they're guilty. Higuruma doesn't even need to use clever word play with your father just to cover the expenses of the case; he already had his check out.Â
And you?Â
You always accompany your father, not to input sound judgment or just generally be a helpful daughter but to eyefuck him every time he's in the room. The length of your skirt decreases an inch in every scheduled appointment, you've been staring at his nose too much, pretending you can hold eye contact.Â
It was frustrating, like a bug in his mind that was always crawling and buzzing, demanding he do something about it.Â
He does eventually. When you went to his office one time in the skimpiest skirt he's ever seen carrying evidence on a brown folder.Â
You sat at his desk and handed it over.Â
He looked through it, suspicious and with every right to be. This is the type of evidence money can generate in a snap of a finger. The exact thing he was fighting against.Â
Only if the justice system wasn't flawed.Â
Only if money wasn't a problem.Â
He tossed it on the table, rubbing between his eyes.Â
âWhere's your father? Is he parked downstairs?â he asked, clearly between the line of irritation and frustration.Â
You rolled your eyes, offended that he was even asking as if you're a preschooler needing a guardian.Â
âHe went away. For business, I think.â
He loosened the tie on his collar. âThe trial is on Monday.â
âHe'll come back,â you answered, swinging your legs off the table.Â
He sat down this time, eyes on you as his swivel chair creaked at the movement.Â
You've been working very hard to get his attention lately. He wouldn't let that go to waste.Â
âIf you want it so much, bend over,â he said so casually, you almost choked.Â
Higuruma was angry at himself, living through a rigged cycle that even winning is still a curse.
It was a turn on to see him take it out on you, to feel how strong his arms were under that suit, and how well he was under that boring black slacks.Â
Higuruma knows that the evidence you brought will win this case at court, and he was the right man for the job.Â
He took it off his mind momentarily, busy getting that infuriating skirt off as you bent over his desk. You must have forgotten to remove the price tag, so he tore it too. It was too expensive. He wouldn't pay that much for something that can rip apart in one try.Â
-
âThis is a one time thing,â he muttered against your skin. He zipped up and smoothed his suit with practiced ease.Â
But youâre pretty damn insistent, aren't you?
Always trying to meet up with him, ending up in places where he's at, and even if Higuruma walked among the most disciplined man on earth, he canât shake you off. Not like this, not right now when you have embedded yourself too deep in his life.Â
So here he was, at the love motel, showering, scrubbing off his skin as if that could wipe away the anger and tolerance he has of his situation.
He know he'll eventually come back to the bedroom, forget his morals somewhere in the shower drain, and fuck you as if he didnât have work in the morning.
-
It was 4 am when he got out of the shower, and you were awake, eyes already following him as if in anticipation.
He ignored you and rummaged through the closet.
âI need to leave early,â he said shortly.
âLeaving too soon? Why?â you asked, sitting upright.
âI have work.â
âOf course,â you frowned. âFive minutes?â
âNo.â
You groaned, flopping back to bed. If you think your bratty attitude will work this time, youâre mistaken.
He pulled an undershirt from the clothes hanger and said, âYou want me to win your father's case? Let me work.â
âIsnât the evidence enough?â you protested. âI worked hard on that.â
Ah, so it was you. Forging fake evidence, and very well at that. The apple truly doesn't fall far from the tree.
He walked towards the bed and sat on his side of the bed, looking at you.
It infuriates him how alluring and charming you carry yourself, only because it pokes holes on his self-control and discipline.
He kissed you. It was raw and genuine, you still taste like expensive champagne. A reminder that you exist in two different worlds.
âIt needs some work, sweetheart. Needs backup to be more believable to the jury. You understand that, right?â
Your expression softened as you understood, although still visibly upset that heâs leaving you.Â
The small hours were your most vulnerable time, Higuruma knew that after a week of seeing you. The sunrise isnât there yet, the party is over, your hookup has to go to work, and the world begins early for everyone else.Â
You clung to him, admitted that you want to see him more often, even after the case was over.Â
âYouâre keeping me grounded,â you told him. Because life without him was a constant blur, always full of color, always spinning and intoxicating. You longed for the warmth on your side instead of an empty bed with no memory of last night.Â
You were vulnerable enough to tell him that your father was a good person. Heâs kind with his employees and donating money to at least two charities. Higuruma scoffed softly, giving up on drilling the fact in your pretty little head that no good person participates in embezzlement. He guessed you weren't much of the apathetic daughter you present yourself to be.
It pains him that your vulnerability bleeds onto him, infecting him. He was close to admitting that he needs you parallel to the way you needed him. Higuruma longed for the thrill he missed out in his early years, for once, a careless existence outside his title.Â
The word he was considering at the back of his mind was: alive.
One he rarely felt in years, because he deluded himself long enough that working himself to the bone is what being alive meant. Truly, he just longed for sleep. For the spontaneity of being human. And you were the embodiment of the life he once watched from afar.Â
Higuruma was not ready to admit that yet, knowing you might not feel the same after all. Maybe he was just a passing impulse, a sweet limerence, a chapter in your life you can easily throw away.Â
He was not ready for the truth.
So he kissed you again, complied with the five minutes you wished for. He didn't complain again when that five turned into thirty.
I considered making a different blog for all the filthy shit in my drafts, but oh well. just ask me to remove you from the tags of nsfw/suggestive fics <33 Iâll tag these fics accordingly by â#[character name] smut"
mdni. higuruma sleeping with his client's daughterÂ
Hiromi Higuruma had truly gone off the rails since he hit his mid-30s.
When he should be going through case files and arranging the evidences for that money laundering case, he was at a discreet love hotel agreeing to a late night fuck with his client's daughter.Â
You were sound asleep, pillowed on his arm as he stared at the ceiling.Â
What the hell am I doing?Â
He shifted slightly on the bed until you were sleepily turning the other side. He took it as an opportunity to wake himself up and shower. He has to work in the morning, do laundry, clean up the apartment, and more importantly work on your father's case.Â
He knows the old man was a careless douche with too much money. Every now and then, Higuruma takes these cases to keep his law firm afloat. Rich assholes are willing to pay twice or thrice more, especially when they're guilty. Higuruma doesn't even need to use clever word play with your father just to cover the expenses of the case; he already had his check out.Â
And you?Â
You always accompany your father, not to input sound judgment or just generally be a helpful daughter but to eyefuck him every time he's in the room. The length of your skirt decreases an inch in every scheduled appointment, you've been staring at his nose too much, pretending you can hold eye contact.Â
It was frustrating, like a bug in his mind that was always crawling and buzzing, demanding he do something about it.Â
He does eventually. When you went to his office one time in the skimpiest skirt he's ever seen carrying evidence on a brown folder.Â
You sat at his desk and handed it over.Â
He looked through it, suspicious and with every right to be. This is the type of evidence money can generate in a snap of a finger. The exact thing he was fighting against.Â
Only if the justice system wasn't flawed.Â
Only if money wasn't a problem.Â
He tossed it on the table, rubbing between his eyes.Â
âWhere's your father? Is he parked downstairs?â he asked, clearly between the line of irritation and frustration.Â
You rolled your eyes, offended that he was even asking as if you're a preschooler needing a guardian.Â
âHe went away. For business, I think.â
He loosened the tie on his collar. âThe trial is on Monday.â
âHe'll come back,â you answered, swinging your legs off the table.Â
He sat down this time, eyes on you as his swivel chair creaked at the movement.Â
You've been working very hard to get his attention lately. He wouldn't let that go to waste.Â
âIf you want it so much, bend over,â he said so casually, you almost choked.Â
Higuruma was angry at himself, living through a rigged cycle that even winning is still a curse.
It was a turn on to see him take it out on you, to feel how strong his arms were under that suit, and how well he was under that boring black slacks.Â
Higuruma knows that the evidence you brought will win this case at court, and he was the right man for the job.Â
He took it off his mind momentarily, busy getting that infuriating skirt off as you bent over his desk. You must have forgotten to remove the price tag, so he tore it too. It was too expensive. He wouldn't pay that much for something that can rip apart in one try.Â
-
âThis is a one time thing,â he muttered against your skin. He zipped up and smoothed his suit with practiced ease.Â
But youâre pretty damn insistent, aren't you?
Always trying to meet up with him, ending up in places where he's at, and even if Higuruma walked among the most disciplined man on earth, he canât shake you off. Not like this, not right now when you have embedded yourself too deep in his life.Â
So here he was, at the love motel, showering, scrubbing off his skin as if that could wipe away the anger and tolerance he has of his situation.
He know he'll eventually come back to the bedroom, forget his morals somewhere in the shower drain, and fuck you as if he didnât have work in the morning.
-
It was 4 am when he got out of the shower, and you were awake, eyes already following him as if in anticipation.
He ignored you and rummaged through the closet.
âI need to leave early,â he said shortly.
âLeaving too soon? Why?â you asked, sitting upright.
âI have work.â
âOf course,â you frowned. âFive minutes?â
âNo.â
You groaned, flopping back to bed. If you think your bratty attitude will work this time, youâre mistaken.
He pulled an undershirt from the clothes hanger and said, âYou want me to win your father's case? Let me work.â
âIsnât the evidence enough?â you protested. âI worked hard on that.â
Ah, so it was you. Forging fake evidence, and very well at that. The apple truly doesn't fall far from the tree.
He walked towards the bed and sat on his side of the bed, looking at you.
It infuriates him how alluring and charming you carry yourself, only because it pokes holes on his self-control and discipline.
He kissed you. It was raw and genuine, you still taste like expensive champagne. A reminder that you exist in two different worlds.
âIt needs some work, sweetheart. Needs backup to be more believable to the jury. You understand that, right?â
Your expression softened as you understood, although still visibly upset that heâs leaving you.Â
The small hours were your most vulnerable time, Higuruma knew that after a week of seeing you. The sunrise isnât there yet, the party is over, your hookup has to go to work, and the world begins early for everyone else.Â
You clung to him, admitted that you want to see him more often, even after the case was over.Â
âYouâre keeping me grounded,â you told him. Because life without him was a constant blur, always full of color, always spinning and intoxicating. You longed for the warmth on your side instead of an empty bed with no memory of last night.Â
You were vulnerable enough to tell him that your father was a good person. Heâs kind with his employees and donating money to at least two charities. Higuruma scoffed softly, giving up on drilling the fact in your pretty little head that no good person participates in embezzlement. He guessed you weren't much of the apathetic daughter you present yourself to be.
It pains him that your vulnerability bleeds onto him, infecting him. He was close to admitting that he needs you parallel to the way you needed him. Higuruma longed for the thrill he missed out in his early years, for once, a careless existence outside his title.Â
The word he was considering at the back of his mind was: alive.
One he rarely felt in years, because he deluded himself long enough that working himself to the bone is what being alive meant. Truly, he just longed for sleep. For the spontaneity of being human. And you were the embodiment of the life he once watched from afar.Â
Higuruma was not ready to admit that yet, knowing you might not feel the same after all. Maybe he was just a passing impulse, a sweet limerence, a chapter in your life you can easily throw away.Â
He was not ready for the truth.
So he kissed you again, complied with the five minutes you wished for. He didn't complain again when that five turned into thirty.
I considered making a different blog for all the filthy shit in my drafts, but oh well. just ask me to remove you from the tags of nsfw/suggestive fics <33 Iâll tag these fics accordingly by â#[character name] smut"
