My blog is dedicated to write some hiromi fan fiction for fun, I do NOT take this serious, and I'm not even committed to it. I don't want to get famous with it(i want), I do it because think it's fun.
BUT if you're a patient person and liked my writing, may I consider doing a fanfic of some jjk character you want.
masterlist (I want a taglist😞)
Things im NOT writing: frat au, nerdy, darkromance, huge age gape/pedophilia, age play, incest, Fanfics where the reader has a specific characteristic (and that becomes the sole plot of the writing. Besides, I want everyone to read my fanfics), pornography/ pornography with no erendo, zoofilia, catboy, catgirl, puppyboy, puppygirl, and all of these weird hybrid kinks, romanticized SA, dead dove(?), non-con, weird pet names like: daddy, mommy, baby(for an adult), etc... and things i don't feel comfortable.
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pt. 3 | hiromi higuruma thought he knew everything about his secretary.
then one phone call introduced him to her six-year-old daughter.
pairing: higuruma x f!reader
content: secretary!reader, boss!higuruma, single mom!reader, hiromi accidentally becomes a dad, your daughter's name is harumi
part two here.
harumi looks at you as you sit by your vanity getting ready. the little girl tries to match you; every time mama dabs a tissue to fix her eyeliner, harumi dabs on her own face as well. every time mama puts on blush, harumi secretly takes the blush from the table after to put some on her own cheeks. every time mama combs the tangles in her hair, harumi combs hers, too.
harumi looks up to you.
that is a fact. your daughter watches every little thing you do as if you are her sole universe, and, well—maybe you are.
"so pretty, mama," she whispers earnestly as you finish doing your makeup. when you catch her reflection on the mirror, you smile warmly.
"you think so, baby?"
harumi beams.
"the prettiest!" she squeals as she shuffles closer to you. "are you going to see mr. higuruma without me again?"
one thing harumi noticed is that lately, after going to work together, mama and mr. higuruma often takes her home to be with the babysitter.
she would watch as mama instructs the sitter for the evening. after everything that was needed to be said is relayed, you would kiss the top of harumi's head with the promise that you will be back after her bed time.
harumi doesn't really mind. the baby sitter is nice—she lets her watch cartoons and sometimes makes her hot chocolate before bed.
but, even when the bedtime snacks are tempting, she can't help but wonder, mama is going out a lot with mr. higuruma.
like the babysitter, mr. higuruma is nice. maybe even nicer. he brings her gifts, talks with her about her drawings, listens when she talks about what adventure strawberry shortcake and her friends did in the newest episode.
she remembers a conversation she had with a classmate after telling the class about hiromi.
"so a dad," her classmate had pointed out.
harumi paused. "no," she replied after a moment. "mr. higuruma is not my dad."
"but that's what dads do," another added. "they care a lot."
it made harumi think.
mr. higuruma always spent time with her.
always made sure she's happy.
always made sure she's well provided for.
so, yes, the textbook definition of a dad—the textbook being her bedtime storybooks.
but mr. higuruma isn't her dad. harumi is very sure about that. her dad was someone else she'd never met. someone mama never talked about past someone who hurt me a long time ago, so she stopped asking. if it hurts mama, it's not something she wants to dwell on.
it's whatever.
harumi has mama.
mama is enough.
besides, mr. higuruma isn't trying to be her dad—he was just mr. higuruma. just a kind man. her drawing appreciator. her emergency snack provider. her favorite person at the office to sit beside when mama was busy. and, apparently, someone who liked buying too many things at bookstores.
harumi giggles at the memory.
"are you listening, baby?"
harumi looks back at you. you are already standing, slipping your earrings on.
"yes, mama," she nods.
"then what did i say?"
harumi pauses. she definitely wasn't listening. blinking up at you, she murmurs, "you said..." she thinks hard. "be a good girl and don't eat candy before dinner."
you stare at her as you reply, "i didn't say that."
harumi grins sheepishly. "but you were thinking it, mama."
you laugh before opening your arms. your little girl immediately barrels into you for an embrace. kissing the top of her head, you tell her, "be good for the babysitter, okay?"
"okay."
"and don't stay up waiting for me. you have a bedtime for a reason."
"okay."
"and if you need anything, tell the babysitter and she'll call me."
"okay."
you kiss her forehead again. harumi leans towards your touch before asking, "are you going mr. higuruma's house?"
you smile, amused.
"no, sweetheart," you reply after a moment. "just somewhere with him."
"oh."
harumi thinks about that.
"you're spending lots of time with him," she comments. "are you going on dates with him?"
she watches as you bite your lip, face heating up.
"...no, not really. where did you learn that word?"
"tv," harumi replies. "if it's not a date, then why are you extra pretty? why do you always try to look extra pretty when you meet with mr. higuruma?"
"okay, enough questions," you say in embarrassment.
"i don't mind, mama," harumi immediately says with a soft smile. "i'm happy that you're spending lots of time with him."
and really, she is.
mr. higuruma feels safe.
she feels happy when he's around.
mama? harumi sees how mama changed.
work doesn't tire her anymore, especially on the days when mr. higuruma hugs her from behind while she files documents.
she smiles more after coming home late with him.
mama talks a lot on her phone now, too, and it's always mr. higuruma.
he's a nice change. mr. higuruma is a nice addition to team harumi and mama.
the next few weeks become a blur of those little changes. harumi starts noticing that mama doesn't just come hone with mr. higuruma anymore.
sometimes, mr. higuruma comes over.
sometimes, when the babysitter is here, harumi knows mama is going to his apartment.
sometimes, they all go somewhere together.
and sometimes, when she wakes up in the morning, she finds mr. higuruma already sitting at their kitchen table, drinking coffee while mama cooks breakfast. those are her favorite mornings.
it's not that something particularly exciting happens—usually, mr. higuruma just reads the newspaper while mama complains that he keeps leaving his mug beside the sink instead of putting it in the dishwasher.
sometimes they argue about what to have for breakfast.
sometimes mama laugh so hard she topples over.
sometimes mr. higuruma smiles with the tip of his ears tinting red.
harumi likes those mornings because they feel strangely familiar, like something she's known for much longer than she actually has. she doesn't know what exactly happened—she only knows that somewhere along the way, mornings stopped being just mama's and hers.
now there was someone else sitting at the table who knew where the spoons were, how she liked her eggs, and how she wants the crust in all her sandwiches cut. only mama knew that, but now? mr. higuruma knows, too, and it feels right.
harumi thinks it's nice.
mama thinks so too.
right?
and mr. higuruma?
does he?
harumi stands by the hallway where she watches you and hiromi. she takes note of the way your brows furrowed the same way when you're hurt, and how hiromi's do the exact same thing.
maybe that's why they look like they belong together.
she watches as hiromi points at the hallway, unaware of her presence. you were supposed to have dinner in a while. maybe they're arguing about what to eat?
maybe.
so why is mr. higuruma packing up?
she watches as hiromi grabs his things. he says something else before walking out of the door.
harumi purses her lips. mr. higuruma just left, and mama looks... stricken. was it really about dinner? one will never know the answer to something until they ask.
so harumi asks.
"mama?"
your head snaps towards her.
"...baby."
you quickly rub your eyes. as she steps closer. harumi glances at the door before returning her attention to you.
"mr. higuruma just left," she carefully points out. "he'll be back, right?"
"..."
you strained a smile as you shake your head.
"...maybe tomorrow then?" harumi tries.
"i don't think so, baby," you force out. you take her hand and lead her to the kitchen. as you prepare some baking sheets, you say, "mama and harumi are a good team. we don't need anyone else, right?"
harumi stares at you.
"...yes," she finally says after a moment.
...harumi has mama.
...mama is enough.
i'm so fucking excited for pt 4 i wrote it first before writing pt 3
a few months has passed since your daughter becomes the firm's favorite little visitor. ever so kind and charming, harumi befriends everyone in the building. she always has everyone fight over who gets to watch her while you finish up work.
hiromi, (un)surprisingly, always wins whenever he's part of the competition. he only needs to put his palm out before harumi grabs it happily. he is always so smug about it, too.
one morning, as you prepare breakfast, your phone rings. looking over the caller id, you see your boss's name. confused as to why he's calling so early, let alone without sending a warning message, you hastily pick it up.
"attorney," you greet. "good morning. how can i help you?"
"good morning," hiromi replies. you can hear a busy street in the other end of the line. "i've stopped by at a store. what does harumi need for school?"
you pause. your eyes flicker to your daughter who's still fighting sleep at the dinner table.
"...what?"
"harumi. what does she need for school?" you can hear the quiet shuffling of objects before he continues. "i'll buy them for you. i'm already at the bookstore to buy stationeries for the office."
you bite your lip. for some reason, this is all so embarrassing. harumi is your daughter, and you definitely do not want anyone to inconvenience themselves over your responsibility.
with a shake of your head, you reply, "there's really no need, mr. higuruma. i'll buy them myself. you don't have to worry about it."
"then i'll miss out on the discount," hiromi retorts dryly.
you almost laugh. "buy more supplies for the office then," you suggest in exasperation. "everyone leeches off your stuff anyway, attorney. better come prepared."
"i've already talked to them about it," hiromi calmly responds. "they are grown men and women with a salary. they can buy their own brown folders and bond papers."
"yes, so you must be aware that i'm also a grown woman who can buy my own daughter's school supplies."
"i'm aware. you are also the woman whose child i care deeply about."
you stop whatever you're doing right then. your face starts to burn. it means nothing, right? your boss takes care of harumi a lot at work, it's only natural he feels drawn to buying her things.
"miss secretary," hiromi says after a moment. "how about you put your phone on speaker and let me talk to harumi?"
you don't know what has gotten into you when you obliged almost immediately. clicking the speaker button, you cross the kitchen to reach the little girl.
"harumi, mr. higuruma's on the phone. he's asking for you."
harumi, still so sleepy earlier, perks up from her seat. she excitedly takes the phone from your hand.
"mr. higuruma!"
"harumi, good morning," the man warmly greets. "i'm at the bookstore store. would you like anything? what do you need for school?"
harumi looks up in thought. "well... i need the primary colors paint for my art class, i need sparkly paper for my science class, i need snacks for my recess—"
"—harumi," you whisper-shout. you shake your head, embarrassed.
your daughter's mouth forms an 'o' shape. "oh, mama said no. never mind, mr. higuruma!"
hiromi sighs from the other end. "your mother is stubborn and hard-headed. i'll get them for you, sweetheart. anything else?"
you purse your lips as harumi starts listing everything out.
what greets you and harumi at the firm is even more surprising. on your desk are four full shopping bags. your jaw drops as harumi starts excitedly rummaging through them.
your little girl starts squealing.
"wow! glitter pens! i didn't ask for these!"
"a new sketchbook! mama, look—it has strawberry shortcake and her friends on the cover!"
"new color pencils? mama, i've always wanted these! it's the expensive kind we see at the store, remember?"
you heart starts trying to claw its way out of your chest as you watch harumi. every single bag is for her, and it's all full of school supplies and materials for arts and crafts. you've barely had anyone to help you raise your daughter, and now that there is finally someone else so willing to put on effort for her...
just then, you feel someone behind you, and then a large hand on your back. startled, you snap your head to the side where you find hiromi holding up one more bag, this time towards you.
"hello," he greets. "i may have gone overboard with the shopping. i bought some necessities for your cubicle as well."
you take the bag from him, speechless.
"...attorney," you force out. "you really didn't have to. i... do you have the receipt? i'll pay you back—really, this is all too much."
"nonsense," hiromi says with a small smile. "she needs them, doesn't she?"
"the school supplies, maybe, but the other things are just pure indulgent..."
"then let me indulge the both of you."
your brain rewires again. with wide eyes, you look at him again. annoyingly enough, he still looks unbothered.
hiromi glances at you. "i bought us snacks for later. they're in the mini fridge at my office. tell me if both of you are hungry."
okay. so your heart feels like it's finally out of your chest and is sitting in your mouth instead. you feel dizzy, overwhelmed by everything this morning.
before you can say anything, harumi pops her head out of one of the shopping bags.
"mr. higuruma?" she calls out.
"yes, harumi?"
"thank you!" she patters towards hiromi and embraces his hips. "you bought a lot of things for me and i'm very happy. i will make good use of them, mister. i promise!"
hiromi's eyes soften. he gently pries her arms off him before he crouches to her height, holding her hands instead.
"you're welcome, sweetheart," he says. "your mama did mention a while ago that you're part of the honor roll this quarter. treat them as a little reward from me."
the little girl brightens up, nodding enthusiastically. her pigtails bounce against her head, the sight enough for you to finally melt.
you stayed at the firm with hiromi for an overtime. as you two work to finish the remaining documents on his desk, harumi sleeps peacefully on the couch across the office. as soon as everything wrapped up at around seven in the evening, you start packing up.
"thanks for dinner, attorney," you say, back still facing him as you arrange the shopping bags from earlier morning.
hiromi looks at you and hums. "i'll wait at the bus stop with you. you're bringing a lot of things home."
so he did. without much thought, he gently gathers the dozing harumi in his arms while you take the bags. minutes later, you reach the bus stop in front of the building where you wait for your commute home.
"next trip is at quarter to eight," hiromi says as he settles down on the bench, adjusting harumi on his chest. he watches you sit beside him before he adds, "fifteen minutes more."
you hum in response. for a few moments, it is silent as you think about the day you had.
you've never encountered someone so patient with your daughter, going even as far as involving himself in her personal matters. you glance at hiromi secretly, just in time to see him adjust harumi's hair and pulling his coat higher into her shoulders when she shivered a little in her sleep.
your throat run dries at the sight. for so long, you wanted this for your daughter. though harumi had always made it clear that you were already enough for her, you still didn't miss whenever the girl's eyes would linger whenever she saw a father and a child playing together.
now that someone has unknowingly stepped into that role... harumi had stopped. that part always made you wonder. what changed? was it hiromi?
just then, an old lady and her daughter arrives at the stop. you scoot closer to hiromi to make room for them, the old woman smiling when she noticed.
"thank you," she says. after settling on the seat, he glances at the three of you and hums. "your daughter has your husband's eyes. reminds me of my daughter and my husband."
your heart drops to your ass. before you could deny anything, the younger woman laughs quietly.
"mom... let's leave them alone. they probably had a long day."
"what? i'm just saying what i see."
you can feel hiromi staring at the back of your head. suddenly, getting hit by a bus felt less painful than enduring whatever this was right now. you internally start panicking when he doesn't deny anything, so you take matters into your own hands.
"he's not my husband," you quickly say with a pained laugh. "he's my boss, but yes she's my daughter."
the old woman blinks. "oh. well i'll be damned. are you sure?"
"mom," the younger woman covers her face. "please leave them alone."
"what? they look like a family."
you nearly choke. beside you, hiromi finally clears his throat. "she's telling the truth," he says with a small smile. "i'm her employer."
the old woman nods slowly.
"ah."
a beat passes. then, she looks at harumi, still sleeping peacefully against his chest before adding, "very devoted employer."
your face burns hot.
"ma'am..."
"i didn't mean anything bad," she says with an innocent smile. "it's just nice to see a man taking such good care of a child who isn't even his."
that shuts you up instantly because, after everything, it's true. hiromi has been more of a dad to harumi in three months than her biological father in six years. even as something as simple as the school supplies for her you used to beg the guy for was provided by your boss without so much as a request nor a complaint.
if all, hiromi did everything for harumi with a proud smile.
the old woman smiles knowingly and turns back to her daughter.
"young people these days are always so complicated. when your father and i met..."
"mom..."
the bus stop is then filled with stories from older days. you and hiromi remain quiet for the a while, waiting for the bus to arrive.
a few minutes after the old woman started talking the night away, you glance at him apologetically.
"i'm sorry about that, attorney," you whisper. "i didn't expect i'd drag you into something so awkward."
hiromi glances back at you. he looks strangely thoughtful.
"hm?" he hums. "it wasn't awkward. if anything, i think she simply noticed something i haven't."
your heart skips. you force yourself to ask, "what is it?"
he doesn't answer immediately. instead, his gaze settles on harumi again before quietly answering, "how comfortable she is with me."
you swallow.
"she really likes you."
"i suppose she does."
hiromi looks up again and looks at you—really looks at you.
"so i hope you'll have me. even just for a while."
jjk tumblr users surpass their reddit power scaling brethren in character assassination for one man and one man alone and that is higuruma hiromi. seriously—the horny brainworm infestation got so bad people started forgetting what a tragic character he is when you actually read his scenes. like, you’re telling me that higuruma went to go fight the king of curses thinking only about the ROLE he had to fulfill (much like how the law had just become about roles people play instead of seeking the truth for him) and also spent his (presumed) last days assuming he was waltzing to his own death as a self-imposed punishment? and that’s NOT everyone’s favorite part of his character? i know i know fiction and all that but please. that man is not eating y/n out on the office desk he’s spiraling about the state of justice and is also clinically depressed.
i pray that the release of his fight with sukuna will rectify some of this but my hopes are not high.
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What do you guys think about i do some some 'Daydream hour' small one-shot about some jjk characters while I dont finish what I'm supposed to because I'm busy?
husband!higuruma x reader, girl dad higuruma, fluff | wc 1.3k
the living room is a mess. realistically, to call it a mess is an understatement in itself — it's complete disarray, with toys strewn across the floor, cushions from the sofa laying limp from being stepped on and a pile of scattered building blocks discarded at the far side of the room.
in the midst of the chaos sits your daughter, innocently blinking up at the tv screen, engrossed in the film she’s watching and seemingly indifferent to the clutter surrounding her. every few minutes, she absent-mindedly waves the toy hammer held tight in her grasp, eyes still fixed on the large screen in front of her as flickers of light dance across her features.
you smile to yourself, noting the fact that the hammer is still practically stuck to her hand as always.
-
it was a few months ago when she had rediscovered it amongst her mini tools, quickly pulling the mini hammer out of her wooden toolbox and sending a toy screwdriver flying out of it in the process.
she'd inspected it for a second, tongue stuck out in concentration, before looking up at her father, as though trying to gauge something. after a few more seconds of careful deliberation, the girl seemed to be pleased with her decision, a smile forming across her features.
"look papa, i'm a...judge!" she'd giggled at her own words, looking pleased with herself as you huffed out a surprised laugh. hiromi, on the other hand, said nothing, his expression unreadable except for the way his gaze softened the slightest bit, brows raised a fraction.
"where did you learn that from?" you had murmured, smiling softly and gently ruffling her hair as she'd pretended to bang the hammer against the carpeted floor, like some makeshift gavel.
she raises a small finger to point at hiromi, a huge beam across her face.
"we played.." she paused, as though trying to remember the word. "...court…papa taught me. he said that's what he does at work!"
you'd thrown your husband a teasing look of mock-exasperation at that — seriously, just how often did he think about work?
since that day, though, your daughter had been absolutely set on bringing the hammer everywhere, cheerfully explaining how she was "working" just like her father. you didn't really have the heart to tell her that a wooden hammer from a toy construction set wasn’t exactly the same as a judge’s gavel, so instead you simply opted for watching her show hiromi her impression of a judge excitedly as he softly smiled at her, gaze surprisingly gentle despite the exhaustion written all over his face.
-
you eye your daughter now sat on the living room floor among the disarray of scattered toys and plushies.
“hey sweetie, let’s tidy up. you can watch tv after, okay?”
your four year old doesn't reply, simply remaining fixated on the tv screen, not bothering to spare you even a glance in your direction — probably because she hasn’t even noticed your words to begin with, too engrossed in whatever she’s watching.
you try again, slightly firmer.
"hey…time to tidy up," you crouch down and start collecting some nearby blocks, hoping to set a good example and encourage her into joining you. she remains resolutely uninterested in your words, however — every time you glance up at her, hoping to see progress, you find that she's paying you absolutely no mind whatsoever.
you finally stand up once more, pressing a hand to your hips.
"come on, we need to tidy up or else i'll have to turn off the tv."
that gets her attention. she slowly looks up, eyes meeting yours, before quietly speaking under her breath, so quietly that you almost miss it.
".….nuh uh…objection."
you pause, momentarily stunned by her words and trying to fight off a tiny smile so as not to encourage her. despite your best efforts to maintain a neutral face, though, she immediately catches the way your expression falters. that only spurs her on to repeat it, eyes bright as she speaks with more confidence this time.
"objection!"
before you can think of an adequate response — if there even is an adequate response for your four year old treating tidy-up time like a debatable matter in court — you hear the jangle of keys followed by the front door clicking open. a tiny gasp escapes your daughter's mouth before she's pulled herself off the floor, running towards the source of the sound where your husband is stood, taking off his work shoes.
you follow her, watching fondly as she runs up to higuruma with an excited squeal. he flashes a tiny, barely perceptible smile as he places down his briefcase before squatting down to her level, letting her run into his arms. the second he’s holding her, she leans her body into his embrace, her face hidden behind his head as she peers up at you, as though trying to figure out whether you’ve forgotten about tidy-up time yet or not.
much to her dismay, you haven’t.
huffing out a laugh at the situation, you cross your arms, addressing your next words towards your husband who’s busy stroking your daughter’s hair gently.
“you’ll never guess what. she’s objecting to tidying up, hiro,” you murmur, throwing an accusatory glance his way, though your tone carries no real malice. “just how many pretend court cases have you done with her?”
“not that many, my love..”
big wide eyes glance between you and higuruma curiously, your daughter’s hands tightening a little on her father’s suit as she tries to gauge the upcoming verdict of your playful mock-feud.
“hiromi, no normal four year old child knows how to use the word “objection” in a sentence.”
he doesn’t respond to your words. it’s funny, really: the fact that he’s a lawyer and yet somehow you manage to render him speechless within a single sentence or two.
in actuality, he supposes he probably could reason his way out of these situations — the circumstances aren’t as clear-cut as you paint them out to be, after all — but what good would come of it? he’s perfectly content in avoiding the conflict of it all, enjoying the occasional moments of simplicity that seem to be integrated so sparingly into his busy schedule.
for that reason, he simply nods in silent agreement and removes his blazer before gently guiding your daughter to the living room to see the mess for himself.
you note now that everything about him looks…tired. from the slight slump of his shoulders to the taught line of his mouth to the dark marks under his eyes, he clearly looks worn down. and yet despite it all, he still seems to be able to reserve a soft kind of tenderness for your daughter as she stands by his side, chewing on her lip as she inspects the mess that she’ll inevitably have to tidy.
she slowly reaches out an arm and grabs onto his hand, causing him to immediately soften, letting her grasp tighten around his fingers before leading him to the heart of the mess. he doesn’t complain, simply allowing her to guide him as she pleases before he kneels down next to her to help as she begins reluctantly collecting toys to put away.
a small smile plays on his lips, and whilst there’s still an unspoken kind of deep weariness rooted beneath it, higuruma seems to be somewhat enjoying the change of pace.
higuruma continues to help your daughter collect toys to put back into their respective baskets, but not without overhearing her grumbling under her breath when she thinks nobody can hear.
“…i’m…within my rights…to not tidy up..”
well, maybe he’d have to hold back a little on the pretend court trials with her after all.
- Windy really can't stand not being the main focus
I don't know if I'll ever get to it, but I do have a short Windy and Digitan comic idea. And Just wanted to doodle a moment of Windy's selfishness. This definitely wasn't the full idea 😅. I'd like to flesh it out a bit more as I did have a slightly different idea.
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"All done." You wiped the excess sunscreen off your hands and looked over Hiromi's back, ensuring that you'd left no white streaks behind. "Ready to go?"
"Just a moment," He replied, stepping aside, presumably to fetch the keys. You rocked back and forth on your feet, already feeling giddy. After all, you had finally succeeded in getting your boyfriend to take a day off. Not only that, but actually planned a beach trip for the day. So for once, as a reward for all his hard work, he would actually spend the day on golden sands and in blue waves, rather than on the couch.
You had even convinced him to get new swim trunks for the occasion, ones which he had no matching rash guard from late high-school to pair with. You turned when you heard him make his way back to the doorway, adjusting your tote on your shoulder and pausing as you looked at him. The sunglasses were definitely a rare sight on him, but it was certainly better than frying his retinas out in the sun. And it wasn't the sandals that made you stop and stare either. But rather the t-shirt he'd put on. Right over all the sunscreen you'd applied (and his toned chest). "Hiromi?"
"Hm?" He was already turning the door, keys in hand.
"What are you wearing?"
His brows raised up. "A shirt?" With his free hand, he tugged at the hem, glancing down. "After I just put sunscreen all over you." You perched your sunglasses atop your head, looking at him just short of exasperated. "Are you just wearing it to drive? Or..."
"Well, that was in case." He looked at you, a but awkward. "You just...planned on wearing a shirt anyway? What if you want to swim?" "You can swim with a shirt on." He shrugged as he stepped out, holding the door as you exited right after.
Now, you weren't mad. That would be unreasonable. You were, however, bewildered. It was the natural course of a relationship to discover more things about your partner. You supposed it was fortunate that all you discovered was his apparent fondness for remaining mostly clothed.
You kept up pleasant chit-chat during the car ride there, and as you walked from where you'd parked to find a good spot to spread the blanket. All the while, though, you couldn't help but glare at that shirt. The navy hue seemed to look back at you, condescending as can be.
It wasn't ridiculous, though, not at first. You laid on the blanket, reading your book at a leisurely pace, enjoying the bright sun, summer warmth, and the sound of crashing waves. At your side, Hiromi simply watched as water flowed in a constant rhythm, and gulls flew through the air. At the very least, he seemed truly at peace, which was a first in your relationship. Ordinarily he was rushing around, hurrying to get to his office, or a courtroom. Rushing to meet with his clients, rushing to gulp down a convenience store coffee, rushing, rushing rushing. You savored the sight of him so still. You just thought you'd be savoring it a little more without all that fabric in the way. "I'm gonna go down to the water for a little while." You declared, shutting your book with a thud and stretching your arms slowly. "Are you staying here?"
"I should watch your bag." He replied simply, glancing around at the fairly full beach, as children ran around and people strolled the shore. "Maybe a little later."
You felt deflated, even as you rose and walked down towards the crashing waves, pretending you did not mind. You knew he worked through tiring weeks, and the beach was a chance for a little rest and relaxation, so he might leave feeling replenished. You just...didn't think that would involve him sitting and simply watching. A glance back and you caught his eyes on you, making you smile despite yourself.
The water was cool, a welcome break from the warmth of the day. You waded through until you were deep enough to float and and gladly embraced the gentle flow of water. And for a little while you enjoyed the melody of flowing water, crashing waves. You swam, let yourself rise and fall and be pushed by the water. You waded in the shallow span of water close to shore, catching the rays of warm sun. You strolled along the sand, occasionally gathering a shell or two bearing a unique pattern or color. And briefly, turning the little shells over in your hand, you sat on damp sand and looked out over the water. But a time came when there was an afternoon lull, and crowds had thinned out. And you realized you had spent most of your time alone.Back upon the sand you saw that Hiromi had picked up his book and engrossed himself in reading. You joined him on the blanket and turned towards him.
"You know, if you didn't want to go, you didn't have to."His brows knit together as he looked up at you. "What do you mean?"
"You've been up here the whole time, reading, keeping your shirt on. Staying as far from the water as possible." You paused. "I hate to think I dragged you out here on your day off if you'd rather...you know, be at home."
And suddenly he looked almost stunned. "I'm enjoying myself." He spoke. "And you're here with me. And I've gotten sick of spending every weekend and spare minute cooped up indoors."
"But you haven't even gone swimming." He glanced around. "Maybe later." It was your turn to look surprised. "Later? The water's fine, Hiromi."
"I know it is. But it's so...crowded." You glanced around the beach, noting the mosaic of spread blankets, chairs, umbrellas and shades, all occupied by their own groups. And the water, full of people clad in brightly colored swimwear. Then your eyes made their way back to him, wearing the black swim trunks and loose navy blue shirt.
"You didn't want to swim because of the crowds?"
He leaned back on one hand, his eyes on his lap. "It feels a little...awkward."
You couldn't help but snicker. "I think you're one of the only people I know who thinks it's awkward to be seen swimming at the beach on a beautiful day."
"Maybe." He said plainly.
"Come on." Standing above him, you extended your hand. "We're going swimming."
Before he could utter a single word in protest, you reached down and wrapped your hand around his wrist with a gentle, yet firm grip. It took a small tug to draw him up and off the towel, even as he muttered worries about your belongings or the amount of sand sprinkled over everything. It wasn't until your feet met wet sand again that he finally spoke. "Don't you think it seems immature, being an adult man and messing around in the ocean?"
"I think it's immature to think that." You decided as a cool wave lapped at your ankles, and sand shifted below the soles of your feet. "You already spend every day being a super professional, very serious guy, after all. What's so childish about having fun?"
Something in him relaxed, bringing a smile to your face. And as you bent forward just enough to feel the current, your entire side was splashed with cold saltwater. Hiromi chuckled, now half soaked himself from smacking the water's surface with his arm, and looking entirely too satisfied with himself for having done so.
But soon, you retaliated, prompting him to do the same. And you both became fixated on your game of utterly drenching each other. The stretch of the beach filed with sounds of sloshing, splashing, and your joint yelps and screeches as it went on. Certainly half the good people trying to lounge and catch up on tanning were all staring on in disapproval from the ruckus. The thought would arrive later, when you had washed the day off and were back at home. But for that glorious little moment, lasting no more than an hour, you were both happy, and nothing else. There were no thoughts of offices or courtrooms. No troubles from the workplace bleeding into your minds. And even the navy shirt that was now waterlogged from ocean waves couldn't bother you.
And later in your bedroom, as you dried off freshly conditioned hair and rubbed lotion into sunkissed skin, he bent down and pressed a kiss to your forehead. "Thank you for today."
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