#getting to see edgeworth's soft side other than steel samurai

[lardguz]

All You Can Eat Bluff-et

WHEW. This took me a lot longer to write than I anticipated because I got kind of stuck near the end (just like a certain fatass lawyer in this one, hehe) but YEAH. Wow! Hope you guys like gay lawyer feeder/feedee relationships! 

Phoenix Wright sat on the couch in his office, formerly known as the Weight & Co. Law Offices, blankly staring at the TV screen in front of him. It had been two weeks since he was found presenting forged evidence to the court and subsequently stripped of his attorney’s badge and defense attorney title. Since then he’d not really had much to do, not being used to being unemployed for the first time in years. He had cleaned the office from top to bottom multiple times in the first few days following his sudden dismissal, trying to keep his mind off the creeping existential dread. His friends had stopped by frequently to check on him when they heard the news, and he put on a reassuring smile to them all, but now? The apathy was beginning to set in. Phoenix sat there, wearing just a dress shirt, an undone tie, and some slacks, watching the news talking yet again about his disbarment, with his hand rummaging absentmindedly around in a bowl of potato chips. He kept bringing handfuls of the crunchy snacks up to his mouth, loudly chewing on them without realizing how much he was eating.

  Phoenix had been eating like this for as long as he could remember, but without constant cases keeping him on the move, and all the time in the world to just sit on the couch and mindlessly watch TV, his snacking habits were starting to show on his body. His middle was starting to protrude just the tiniest bit, slightly straining the button nearest his tummy on his dress shirt. As his fingers scraped the bottom of the bowl with nothing left to eat in it, Phoenix got up off the couch and turned off the TV. At that precise moment, he heard the familiar Steel Samurai ringtone that his former assistant, Maya, had begged him to put on his cell phone echoing from across the office. Trotting over to his messy desk, he picked up the phone. “Wright and Co. Law Offi—er, wait. No. Hey, this is Phoenix Wright speaking?”

 “Wright, I’m outside your office door,” spoke a familiar voice with a slight British accent to it, “Open up. How long have you been hiding away in there, anyways?”

Phoenix audibly sighed. “Just a couple of days, Miles. Don’t worry about it. I’ll be right over.” He hung up and made his way over to the office door, hastily running his hand through his hair to make sure it wasn’t a mess.

 There outside his door stood Miles Edgeworth, the famed prosecutor, long-time rival to Phoenix Wright, and his boyfriend. The silver-haired man had bags in each hand which seemed to be very heavy. Phoenix leaned in to kiss his partner and then welcomed him into his office. Edgeworth looked around at the shabby state of the room, empty snack bags littering the floor, and huffed in mild disgust. “Really, Wright, you live like this? Have you eaten nothing but garbage junk food at all the past week?”

Phoenix rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “Well, you know, I was always more of an art guy in college than a cooking guy? Ehehehe…”

Miles groaned and dropped the heavy bags onto the couch, sitting down next to them. “Well, it is a good thing I brought you some real food then, Wright. Here, come sit next to me. I’ll show you what I’ve brought.” The well-dressed prosecutor patted the cushion beside him gently. Phoenix lowered himself down next to his boyfriend slowly and looked into his cool gray eyes curiously. Edgeworth opened one of the bags and pulled out a few plastic containers of some sort of soup. “This is homemade potato and leek soup, with lots of heavy cream. Very nourishing. It’s still warm, I made it just before I left to come over here. And this,” he said as he opened the other bag, revealing a single much larger container, “is a devil’s food cake. I also made this myself, but I baked it last night. The frosting is also homemade.”

Edgeworth popped the lid off of one of the containers of soup and, pulling a spoon out of the bag, dipped it into the bowl and lifted it to Phoenix’s mouth. Phoenix leaned back a little in confusion, stammering. “I-I am perfectly capable of feeding myself, Miles! You don’t have to—”

He was cut off abruptly as the spoon was inserted into his open mouth. The soup, with beautiful, bright flavors and creamy deliciousness, practically melted in his mouth. His cheeks flushed crimson as his eyes met his boyfriend’s, who lifted a finger to his own lips in a shushing gesture. “You have done so much for me, Wright. Now it’s my turn to take care of you. Understand?” Phoenix nodded quickly, still a little dazed, and Miles removed the spoon, refilling it from the bowl and bringing it to his lips again. This went on and on, as Miles emptied one container of soup and moved onto the other two, until there was no more left to feed to his lonely boyfriend. Phoenix belched softly, rubbing his distended belly, which strained against the buttons of his shirt even more now that he’d eaten essentially a whole pot of soup by himself. Miles rubbed his swollen tummy sympathetically before leaning over to whisper in his ear. “I hope you still have room in there, Wright, because you still have to eat dessert…”

Removing the rich chocolate cake from its container, Edgeworth cut off a large piece and held it to his boyfriend’s lips, encouraging Phoenix to take a big bite of the delicious confection. He opened his mouth wide and took a much larger bite than Miles had anticipated, taking about a quarter of the slice in one gulp. The two men continued in this manner, the prim and proper prosecutor delicately feeding slices of the moist chocolate cake to his now very stuffed boyfriend until no more cake remained. Phoenix undid the buttons on his shirt to allow his strained gut some relief, the orb of flesh firm and hard to the touch. Edgeworth gave his boyfriend some gentle belly rubs to try and ease his aching tummy before leaving for the night, promising to be back again tomorrow with more proper food to keep the unemployed former lawyer well-fed.

  A year had passed since the fateful trial that had left the legendary Phoenix Wright unemployed, and not many people had seen much of the former lawyer since. Only his closest friends, and the occasional food delivery person, had been in contact with Mr. Wright since his disbarment. The one-time master of courtroom bluffs was sitting on the couch in his former office as he did every day now, a small stack of takeout boxes stacked on the coffee table in front of him. Anyone who knew Phoenix Wright in his lawyer days would hardly recognize the man on the couch as that legendary defense attorney now. Phoenix was wearing a baggy hoodie and a pair of sweatpants, having long since outgrown his old tailored suits from when he still practiced law. The loose, stretchy clothing he preferred to wear at present didn’t leave much to the imagination despite not being form-fitting yet. Phoenix’s chest, once a decently defined pair of pecs, had blossomed into a pudgy pair of moobs that even his XXL hoodie couldn’t hide, and his growing gut sat comfortably in his lap, the bottom of his softening tummy rolls peeking out from the bottom of his hoodie whenever he stretched or moved his arms. Speaking of which, Phoenix’s arms were also noticeably jiggly with fat, with rolls that bunched up at his shoulders whenever he reached upwards. He also had a nice, plush pair of love handles that oozed into a muffintop over the elastic waistband of his sweatpants, which his boyfriend Miles Edgeworth had taken quite a fancy to grabbing ahold of whenever they kissed. None of his weight gain on his upper half even held a candle to how his lower half looked, though. Living such a sedentary life for the past year since his disbarment had sent quite a bit of fat to his thighs and rear end. Phoenix’s ass cheeks were enormous, giving him a beautiful pear shape whether he sat his fat ass on the couch or stood up to waddle to the door to get food delivery. Each round cheek was roughly the side of a pillow, and just as soft. His thighs were also thickening at an astounding rate, each one roughly wide enough to get him stuck in some smaller chairs. When he’d weighed himself earlier that week, Phoenix saw that he’d surpassed 350 pounds. If he had still been a lawyer, that number would have stunned and horrified him, but now? He didn’t really mind at all.

 The tubby former lawyer scratched at the stubble on his double chin, leaning forward to grab one of his takeout containers stacked in front of him, when the doorbell rang. Phoenix lowered his arm and instead hoisted himself off the couch, his chubby stomach wobbling underneath his sweatshirt as he did so. He walked over to the door to the office,  his meaty thighs rubbing against each other uncomfortably as he did so. God, I’m probably going to have to start taking bigger steps when I walk soon, Phoenix thought to himself as he reached the door. He peered through the peep hole, expecting to see Maya or Edgeworth or someone more familiar, but instead he saw a face he never thought he’d see again. Or, rather, the lower half of a face, since the upper half was covered by a very familiar visor. Phoenix hastily opened the door and stepped outside to confront the visitor.

“Godot?!” he shouted, “How did you get here? Aren’t you supposed to be—”

“In prison?” the white-haired man laughed. “Yeah, well, as it turns out, murder in defense of another isn’t a death sentence. Your pretty little boyfriend got my sentence reduced for “good behavior” and “health reasons”. He also said I should stop by and say hey.” The former prosecutor glanced up and down at Phoenix’s body, chuckling dryly. “Good to see you’ve been taking real good care of yourself, Phoenix, despite everything that’s happened to you.”

Phoenix gulped, subconsciously scratching at the bottom of his overfed gut which flopped over the waistband of his sweatpants. “So, you heard about… that?” Godot nodded, and Phoenix sighed softly. “Figures. Yeah, I got played for a fool. Given forged evidence to present in court. I’m sorry for letting you down so soon after I proved to you that I was worthy to follow in Mia’s—”

“Trite!” Godot snarled. Phoenix yelped and reflexively covered his face, expecting to feel a scalding cup of coffee smack into his face upon hearing his old rival’s nickname for him. He peeked around his fingers to see the masked man rummaging around in a plastic bag that was slung over his arm. That was the first time Phoenix noticed that Godot was carrying multiple plastic bags. The older man clicked his tongue decisively and pulled out a small white box, marked with a logo like a coffee cup with three red lines going horizontally across it. He held it out to Phoenix.

“What’s in this?” Phoenix asked curiously as he reached a hand out to take the box. Godot stayed silent, so Phoenix opened the little package. Inside was a large pastry, a cream tart shaped like an attorney’s badge. Phoenix looked down at the confection, then glanced back up at Godot, a look of confusion plastered on his chubby face. The masked man’s eyes couldn’t be seen, but his mouth broke into a sly grin upon seeing the disgraced attorney’s expression. “I needed something to do after I got out of prison, so I decided why not do what I was always born to do and open a nice little coffee shop? We’ve been a massive success, and your prettyboy boyfriend told me you’d been really enjoying sweet stuff lately, so I decided I’d bring a little taste of Café Armando to your office.” He lifted his bag-laden arms to properly show off just how much he’d brought with him. “Got a little something of everything we make back there for you, Wright. Mind if I come in?”

Phoenix swallowed heavily, his mouth watering already at just the prospect of gorging himself on fresh-made pastries. He nodded shakily, unable to form words with his mouth in his dazed state. Godot shouldered past the overweight former lawyer, heading further into the office. He chuckled loudly at the stack of takeout boxes on the coffee table. “Looks like you already got plenty to eat here, Phoenix, but that’s fine, I’ll put my stuff on this side of the couch for you.”  Godot dropped the bags of baked goods onto one half of the couch, leaving Phoenix with the other half all to himself.

The portly man sat back down on the couch cushion, his lardy ass spreading out under him to take up the entire couch cushion. He made to reach for one of the plastic bags and grab a box from within, but Godot slapped his hand away. He waggled a finger in Phoenix’s face. “Ah ah ah, that’s not how we’re doing this, Wright. Your man had very specific instructions for me. So you just sit there and look pretty while I handle the hard stuff, tubby.” Godot prodded a finger into Phoenix’s chubby gut to emphasize his point before reaching into one of the bags and removing the box that contained the cream tart from earlier. The older man then swung his legs over either of Phoenix’s thick thighs and straddled his rounded gut, leaning on it lightly while pressing the cream tart to the scruffy man’s lips. Phoenix eagerly devoured the tart in just a few bites, waiting impatiently for the next confection.

The two men continued their feeding session for hours, Godot getting more and more forceful the more Phoenix ate. His fat cheeks and double chins were covered in crumbs and cream, and a few bits of pastries had fallen onto the front of his hoodie, which was now riding up heavily on his distended gut. The soft layer of fat cushioning the outside of the enormous orb was stretched far by the amount of food Godot was stuffing into his former rival. Phoenix’s mouth was constantly full, every time he finished chewing on a pastry another was prompt shoved into his tiring mouth. Godot growled taunts in a low tone the entire time, calling him a fat pig and commenting on how far gone he was after just a year of unemployment. Finally, as he reached into the last bag to grab another pastry to shove into his adversary’s mouth, Godot’s long fingers closed around empty air. Turning his gaze back towards Phoenix’s exhausted, messy face, he grunted in annoyance. “Well, I guess that’s the end of my fun for now, Wright. But before I leave, I got one last thing I need from you…” Before Phoenix could muster a response, Godot leaned heavily against his bloated gut and wrapped his arms around the stuffed man’s chubby shoulders, planting his lips against Phoenix’s cream-covered mouth. Phoenix let out a muffled noise of surprise before melting into the kiss, unable to deny his long-standing attraction for the mysterious masked Godot back from his lawyer days. The two passionately made out for another few minutes, Godot’s sharp teeth digging into Phoenix’s lower lip occasionally. Finally, they parted, and Godot stood up, slapping Phoenix’s engorged stomach as he made to leave the room. Phoenix sat there in a daze for a few moments before the inevitable food coma washed over him, lulling him into a slumber while his stuffed gut digested its feast.

 Morning light filtered through the blinds of the former Wright & Co. Law Offices’ windows, shining directly into Phoenix’s eyes and waking him up. The disgraced lawyer yawned and stretched as he leaned back on his couch, where he had fallen asleep sitting up the night before, just as he did every night these days. It was now a little over four years since the once-famous Phoenix Wright had been stripped of his attorney’s badge, and that time had not been kind to his once-slim and fit body. As he yawned, his fat cheeks caused his eyes to squish shut entirely, and his triple chin creased into a quadruple chin. His neck was buried under rolls of fat, showing no separation between chins and neck anymore. His hoodie, once slightly too big for him, was now several sizes too small, and yet he kept wearing it. The only thing it covered was his oversized moobs, which stretched the elastic fabric nearly to its limits just from their girth alone. The sleeves of said hoodie were starting to rip in places on the seams, his pillow-sized fat-coated biceps poking through the little tears in diamond-shaped bubbles that widened as he stretched his arms above his head. Phoenix’s stomach, while nowhere near his biggest asset, was still impressively large, completely visible due to his hoodie not even coming close to covering it now. His gut split into two distinct rolls that were separated by the fold where the upper roll collapsed over his belly button. The lower roll pooled in his lap like a liquid, settling between his overstuffed thighs while also overflowing over the outer edges of them, and flopping over the edges of his knees slightly. His love handles had also become a multi-layered deal, each one soft and squishy and overflowing out of his strained waistband like an overcooked souffle.

Still, due to his sedentary lifestyle since losing his job four years ago, Phoenix Wright was incredibly bottom-heavy. All those months of planting his fat ass on his couch and doing nothing but eating crappy takeout food, sleeping, and watching Steel Samurai reruns on his TV, with the only exercise he got being walking to the door to bring in all the bags of food he got delivered every couple of hours, truly did a number on the lower half of his body. Each of his enormous shapeless asscheeks took up one half of the couch, the cushions completely flattened underneath his incredible weight. The burgeoning bulk of his massive ass strained the fabric of his once-huge sweatpants, with one steadily growing tear going right down the middle of his butt, which would reveal his boxers to anyone behind him if his ass weren’t firmly sat down on his overburdened couch at almost all hours of the day. His thighs were almost as thick as tree trunks, making his pants look like overfilled piping bags, with little rips forming on the seams where his dimpled cellulite poked through. His thighs were so fat that no mater how far apart he spread them while sitting, they pooled under him in a way that they were always touching. The fat from his thighs was also starting to fold over onto his knees, making it gradually harder to bend them when he stood up to get his food deliveries. Phoenix was also starting to notice that his meaty calves were starting to get so fat that his ankles were fusing with the mass of fat that was the rest of his flabby leg rolls. All in all, the former legal legend was nigh unrecognizable to anyone who hadn’t seen him in the past four years and known about his decline into pure sedentary gluttony.

Phoenix felt a buzzing coming from the pocket of his hoodie that currently rested right between his massive pillow-sized moobs, straining his fat arms against his squishy chest. The sheer size of his chest made it hard for his already-overburdened arms to reach things in front of him, especially when it was something so close to his body. Eventually he managed to reach his pocked and pull out his phone and saw that the last of the deliveries had been made, so Phoenix swung his bulk off the couch and began waddling to the office’s door. His soft, flabby gut hung almost like an apron in front of his legs, the lower half of it dangling halfway down his couch-crushing thighs, slapping against them loudly with every heavy step he took. The obese man opened the door and gathered up the piles of takeout containers in his flabby arms, his wobbling gut just barely brushing the floor as he leaned down to pick up the precious packages. He knew he had a double date tonight with his husband and boyfriend, but Phoenix just couldn’t wait that long to have his greedy gut properly filled. He began steadily waddling his way back to his old worn out couch, his shapeless orbs that were his enormous ass cheeks jiggling hypnotically the entire time.

Phoenix slowly lowered his incredible bulk back down onto his sofa, oblivious to the strained groaning of the metal frame beneath his prodigious rear end. He deposited his delicious cargo onto the coffee table in front of his couch and leaned forward, his double-layered tummy splitting into even more rolls as he strained to reach one of the roughly thirty or so containers of food. He grabbed it in his pudgy fingers and sat back, sighing in relief as he opened the styrofoam box. Inside was a triple decker cheeseburger with extra cheese and bacon, with extra fries. Phoenix always gorged on burgers on Wednesdays, it was an old tradition of his and Maya’s to get burgers on Wednesdays nights after working a long case. Now that she was too busy training to be the next Master of Kurain Village, Phoenix opted to just stuff himself with extra large burgers on his own instead. Grasping the massive burger between his sausage-sized fingers, he lifted it to his mouth and took a huge bite, moaning in joy as the flavors of the juicy burger burst over his taste buds. A little bit of grease dribbled down his scruff chins, but Phoenix didn’t even notice. He continued devouring the triple cheeseburger with practiced ease, demolishing the entire thing and all the fries in record time before moving onto the next container, and the next, and the next…

The former lawyer ate and ate for hours, completely lost in the decadence of his burger feast, each one just as fattening and greasy as the last. Phoenix was completely ignorant to the pounds he was packing on in his fast food haze, too busy stuffing his flabby face with his greasy “breakfast”. His fatty arm rolls grew thicker and thicker, ripping the seams of his hoodie’s sleeves to shreds after just an hour of gorging himself. Tears in the stretchy fabric began to form between his massive breasts, each one straining the overburdened sweatshirt in opposite directions. His soft, flabby gut gurgled as it slowly seeped further outwards, filling his entire oversized lap and overflowing over his legs entirely. His enormous ass and titanic thigh rolls finally won the battle against his formerly-loose sweatpants, a series of loud ripping noises and the twang of splitting elastic signalling their end as waves of lard erupted out of them, his meaty love handles and wobbling cheeks resting comfortably on the arm rests of his overtaxed couch as his oak tree sized thigh rolls dangled over the edge of the sofa cushions.

Finally, after just a few hours, Phoenix finished devouring the last of his burger feast, belching into his closed fist after swallowing the last bite. The man lazily looked down at himself, realizing all he could see was his bare tits and the top roll of his gut. Then he felt his soft fatty flesh covering the entire couch, overflowing over the edges, and it hit him: Phoenix had officially grown fat enough to fill his two-person couch just by himself. As that realization was sinking in, he heard a loud noise, like metal bending, and his heart sank. Trying desperately to lower his sagging lard-covered arms to his sides to hoist himself off of the ticking time bomb that was his couch, Phoenix realized he was now so fat that his arms couldn’t bend right at the elbow anymore, his rolls of arm fat folding over the joint and making it essentially useless. Not only that, but he couldn’t even get his arms down to his sides anymore because of his beanbag-sized moobs and layers of side rolls getting in the way. Well, that just leaves me with one option, Phoenix thought to himself as he planted his chubby feet on the floor in front of him. He began slowly leaning forward, trying to inch his way upwards and off of his sofa, but after a few minutes a cold realization dawned on him: his enormously fat ass was stuck between the armrests of the couch. He’d heard of people getting stuck in a dining chair before, but an entire loveseat?! This was ridiculous! Phoenix didn’t have long to think about how incredibly obese he had gotten, as the couch let out one last groaning metallic shriek and gave out under his unbelievable weight. Phoenix let out a yelp as he plummeted backward to the floor with a resounding boom that sent the entire office quaking. Thankfully he had a lot of extra padding to cushion the fall, and he lay there groaning, his flabby shoulders and back rolls pushing his multiple chins and drooping jowls up around his face. Well, at least Miles and Godot will be here in a few hours, Phoenix thought to himself. I may as well sleep off those burgers while I wait for them. The gigantic man yawned loudly as he fell asleep, pinned beneath his own hundreds of pounds of lard, snoring loudly the entire time.

 Phoenix woke with a start as he felt something laying on top of his squishy chest. He opened his eyes and was greeted with the familiar red glow of his boyfriend Godot’s visor inches from his fat-wreathed face. Standing over him and looking mildly amused was his husband, Edgeworth, holding a few bags of food in his arms. The chief prosecutor tssked softly as he shook his head at his obese partner. “Really, Wright, I’ve been warning you about that couch for months now, and yet you kept ignoring me. Now look where that got you, stuck laying on your back, pinned by your own greedy ways.”

Godot laughed softly as he leaned forward to kiss Phoenix’s fat lips. “He has a point, Phoenix, you really have let yourself go. You’ve become quite the hungry little hog, haven’t you?” The masked man grabbed heaping handfuls of Phoenix’s flabby jowls as he shoved his mouth against the helpless former lawyer, making out with him with such an intense ferocity that Phoenix didn’t really know what hit him. Their lips parted with a whimper from Phoenix, craving more, but it was cut off by Edgeworth sticking a sticky cream-filled donut in his husband’s greedy mouth. “There will be plenty of time for that later, dear, but for now, I’m sure you must be starving. Let us take care of that little issue first before we get you up off that floor and find out just how big a butterball you’ve become.” Miles passed the rest of the box of donuts to Godot, who was still laying on top of Phoenix’s enormous bulk. He positioned the box on Phoenix’s chins for easier stuffing access and began pressing the fried sweet delights into his mouth one after another, barely giving him any time to swallow one before another was fed to him. Miles sat on the floor beside Phoenix, leaning against his pillowy arm rolls as he began stuffing his husband’s face with large fancy cupcakes, frosting and crumbs flecking his droopy jowls and his many stubble-covered chins.

The tender dual-feeding session was over quickly, with two feeders and one voracious feedee making short work of the boxes of baked goods. Edgeworth leaned over his morbidly obese husband’s arm fat to kiss his round overstuffed cheek. “All finished? Then we should probably get you off the floor now and see how much you weigh, hm?” Godot whined from where he still lay on top of Phoenix’s mounds of man-tits. “Aww, but I’m having fun up here! He’s so soft and fun to pinch and lay on now “ The masked man grinned mischievously. “Plus, it’s so fun to see from above just how far the mighty Phoenix Wright has fallen.” Miles gave Phoenix’s flabby gut a hearty shove, sending the entire expanse of his husband’s fat-swaddled body wobbling so hard that it knocked Godot off of his chest. The two men each grabbed one of Phoenix’s lard-coated wrists and heaved, taking a solid five minutes to get the jiggling mound of pure fat that was once the best defense attorney around back on his feet. Edgeworth then led the pear-shaped butterball to the scale he’d bought last year, watching the numbers go up and up. They finally stopped, and Edgeworth read the display out loud. “Seven hundred and sixty-two pounds. Good god, Wright, you really have gotten enormous.” He pulled Phoenix into a hug, squishing into his pillowy soft body. “I’m so proud of you, dear.” Godot grabbed a fistful of his boyfriend’s chair-sized ass cheeks appraisingly, before grunting in approval. “Yeah, I’d say you’ve become a pretty prize hog, Phoenix. Good work. Looks great on you.”

The two much smaller men escorted their doughy partner as he lumbered his way back to the broken sofa. Phoenix was breathing heavily, worn out from just waddling over to the scale and back, but the couch was completely busted. He had nowhere to sit now. Edgeworth patted his squishy shoulders reassuringly. “Don’t worry, Phoenix. I can get you a special reinforced couch delivered tomorrow. But more importantly, I have a job opportunity that came my way for you.”

Phoenix looked at his husband quizzically. “Job opportunity? What kind?” Miles chuckled. “Well, it involves a lot of eating as a front, but… how good are you at playing poker?”

 A young brown haired lawyer was pacing around the defendant lobby of the courthouse. Today was his first ever trial as a defense attorney, and his client was nowhere to be seen. The chubby man was very nervous, loudly muttering to himself in a voice that had clearly been driven hoarse from practicing all night the night before. “It’s fine, Apollo! Everything is just fine! Your client is probably just stuck in traffic, that’s all! He’ll be here in time for the trial! It’s fine! You’re fine! I’m fine!” He took a deep breath and let loose a yell that could probably be heard from across the entire courthouse. “I’M APOLLO JUSTICE, AND I’M FINE!!!” Breathing heavily after such an incredibly loud scream, Apollo wiped his forehead with the back of a pudgy arm and walked over to one of the benches in the lobby, collapsing onto it gratefully. It was then that the rotund young man noticed the array of tables on the other side of the defendant lobby, each one piled high with mountains of food. “What the…” he mumbled to himself, “Who is all that food for…? Is- Is that for me?” He hoisted himself off the bench and walked over to the tables, his fat tummy growling hungrily at the sight of all that delicious food. Apollo was by no means a skinny man, having been well acquainted with stress eating ever since he started law school. Reaching out for a cream-filled donut with one chubby hand, he stopped when he heard noises coming from out in the hall. Loud noises, like a dinosaur was stomping around out there. Curious to know the source, Apollo turned around at the exact same moment the door to the defendant lobby opened. His eyes were greeted with the sight of none other than the Chief Prosecutor himself, Miles Edgeworth. Apollo yelped in shock and bowed his head respectfully, but Edgeworth stopped him. “That won’t be necessary, Mr. Justice. I’m not here on prosecutor business. It’s a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance, though. I’ve heard much about you from your mentor, Mr. Gavin.”

Apollo’s chubby cheeks were bright crimson, flustered to receive such high praise from such a legendary prosecutor. “U-uh, th-thank you, Mr. Edgeworth. I mean! Uh! Chief Prosecutor, sir!” Miles chuckled, a sound that Apollo was certain not many heard. “Please, Mr. Edgeworth will do. Now, I’ve heard you’ve taken over the case that Mr. Gavin was originally meant to take?” Apollo nodded. “Yes, Mr. Edgeworth. Once I heard who it was I would be defending, I insisted! He was always a hero of mine when I first decided I wanted to be a lawyer as a kid. Even after what happened seven years ago, I still believe he’s innocent!”

Edgeworth nodded, satisfied by the fledgling defense attorney’s passionate answer. “Excellent. Well, then, your client shall be arriving shortly.” Apollo looked up at him, clearly confused, so Edgeworth continued without pause. “I said I wasn’t here on prosecutor business, correct? The only reason I came here was to make sure your client could get here on his own.”

Apollo hummed in even further confusion. “What do you mean, Mr. Edgeworth? Is he… injured?” Miles shook his head gently. “You’ll see soon enough. Good day, Mr. Justice, and good luck with your trial.” With that, the Chief Prosecutor left the defendant lobby, his coat tails swooshing behind him. Apollo stood in the middle of the lobby, absolutely baffled, when he realized the loud stomping noises in the hallway had started again, and were getting louder-- and closer. He stood and watched as the door to the hallway was opened, not by a hand, but by an enormous flabby stomach as wide as the door was pressed into it slowly. The wobbling double-decker behemoth of a gut oozed past the door frame, soft enough that it could still fit through despite being wider than the doorway itself. Then came the rest of the doughy man’s front, his enormous drooping moobs and upper belly roll the only thing covered by his tent-sized sweatshirt. His neck was a thick ring of no less than eight flabby chins, all covered in a stubbly beard. His eyes squinted from behind jiggling oversized jowls that drooped down to his shoulders. The mammoth of a man continued shuffling his way through the doorway, squishing all his doughy rolls against the frame. His arms, which were just cylindrical dimpled pillows of fat that were slowly absorbing his round hands at the wrists, grasped at either side of the door frame to try and lever his massive bulk through the door easier. But suddenly, his flowing rolls of lard stopped moving through the doorway, and the flabby behemoth strained and pushed against the walls with his swaddled arms, trying desperately to get the rest of his bulk through the door. Apollo shook himself and trotted over to help the comically oversized man.

As he got closer to the wedged ball of lard, Apollo really got a good look at just how massively obese this guy was, even with only half his body visible. The young lawyer wasn’t skinny at all, but this guy even put his soft and round physique to shame. Apollo was pretty sure he could see the man’s feet peeking out from under the bottom of the exposed rolls of his incredible gut, which came down to just above his ankles. Looking down at his own stomach, which only just barely drooped over his belt, he couldn’t help but feel a little impressed, and maybe jealous, that someone could get just so ridiculously fat.

Apollo coughed nervously before addressing the panting, wobbling blob of a man. “Uh, sorry to bother you, sir, but uh, do you… need help getting through the door?”

The blubbery behemoth responded in a voice that was deepened by all the fat caking his neck and interrupted with wheezy breaths every few words. “Yeahh… tha’ woul’… haah… helph a lot… thin’ my assh ish… haah… shtuck…” Apollo had to take a few seconds to mentally translate what the enormous man was saying through his speech being slurred by his flabby jowls getting in the way of his mouth. “Oh, your, uh, b-backside is stuck? Here, let me grab your arms and try and pull you through, okay sir?” The doughy butterball nodded, his cheeks and chins jiggling as he did, and he reached his overburdened arms as far forward as he could. Apollo had to lean into the man’s cushiony stomach rolls to reach his arms, feeling himself sinking into the warm, soft adipose. He grabbed onto the man’s fat-ringed wrists and began pulling as hard as he could, trying to ignore the way being enveloped between the man’s blubbery tits and tummy made him feel. After a few minutes of pulling the immense man’s nearly useless arms, Apollo finally felt the wobbling flab all around him begin inching forward slowly. He kept tugging at the monstrously sized man’s round hands as he in turn shuffled his titanic thunder thighs through the door, every roll and fold of fat covering them touching at the middle, all the way down to his ankles.  Once he got his double door-wide hips and thighs through the door, it was just a manner of getting his fat ass inside, which was easier said than done.

Apollo let go of the man’s flabby arms to take a few steps back and think of a new plan of attack. He scanned the blubbery blob’s body, observing the parts he could now see that were stuck on the other side of the door before. It was no wonder he’d gotten stuck in the door. It was a single doorway, and this man, who was so fat that he’d probably be immobilized by his own weight soon if he kept getting fatter, had a lower half that was wide enough to take up five chairs at a dinner table. One overstuffed thigh was almost as wide as the doorway itself on its own, let alone two of them. His squishy love handles oozed over the top of his sweatpants that probably had more X’s in their size than Apollo cared to even imagine, giving the already definitively pear-shaped blubber bag a overflowing muffin top behind his apron of stomach rolls. His arms rested at a ninety degree angle because of his beanbag-sized tits and plush love handles colliding with fat-coated arm rolls that were the size of his own fat head. Damn, how huge must this man’s butt be if it’s still stuck in the doorway after all the rest of that managed to get through?! Apollo thought to himself, when he noticed the whale-sized lardball eyeing the food tables that he’d almost taken a donut from earlier. “Who’sh tha’… haah… food f’r...? Haah… haah…” the behemoth wheezed. “The food? Oh, I’m not sure. It was here when I got here. No one said whose it was.” Apollo could only stand and watch in awe as he observed what happened next. The monumentally obese man began wobbling his bulky form forward and backward against the door frame, slamming his rolls against it repeatedly as cracks began to form around the wooden framework. He then began slowly inching his thunderous legs forward, having to shift his blubbery bulk back and forth in a painfully slow waddle, his lard-caked thighs touching at all points no matter how far apart he spread his legs to “walk”. As he moved his door-sized legs forward, the cracks around the door frame widened, creating loud snapping noises as he dragged his rolls of fat further and further into the defendant lobby.

Finally, with one resounding crunch, the door frame gave way, parts of the walls surrounding it coming with it, crushed to pieces by the enormous blob of a man and his incredible ass cheeks. The flabby titan’s doughy body surged forward as he freed his backside finally, giving Apollo a chance to finally see the probably half-ton of lard in all his glory, and boy, did it make sense how he’d gotten so stuck in that doorway. The man’s ass was easily wide enough to get stuck in a double door, let alone a single one! Each doughy cheek probably took three chairs to sit on on their own, and they sagged so far down that they were touching the floor! Apollo was stunned. How could someone get this fat and still be up walking around? The swollen mass of fatty rolls wobbled constantly as he stood still, wheezing from the effort of busting through the doorway using his hundreds of pounds of fat as a battering ram. After getting his breathing back to the normal level of heavy breathing for one his massive size, the colossal mountain of man-flesh turned his attention back to the tables piled high with food across the lobby, drooling at the sight of it all. He began shuffling his jiggling bulk towards the tables slowly as Apollo watched in fascinated awe. Each heavy step shook the entire room, his double-decker gut rippling with shockwaves from slapping against his meaty cankles with every step. His shapeless flabby ass cheeks wobbled hypnotically as they bumped against the floor with every movement. His beanbag chair moobs slapped against his flab-caked arms, which rested at an angle  even when waddling across the room. His cascade of chins and sagging jowls shook with every heaving breath from the exertion of walking so much. As soon as the man’s gut rolls reached the tables before the rest of him, he flung his doughy body at the plates of food, his fat hands grabbing any food within reach and stuffing it into his greedy face, chewing loudly and getting his chins covered in food. Apollo cleared his throat and spoke to the whale of a man. “Um, excuse me, sir, but, wh-why are you here? This is the defendant’s lobby, not a buffet.”

The barely-mobile butterball spoke around a mouthful of food. “Mmmmph… sho… Milesh… mrrrrmph… dihden… shay…? Youh… ahre… hffff… my… lawyuh…mmmmph…”

Apollo’s jaw practically hit the floor. Gazing at the mound of blubber before him, wearing a tiny sweatshirt stretched across his moobs and sweatpants what couldn’t even contain half of his ass fat, the young defense attorney stammered out a response. “W-what?! So then… y-you’re the Phoenix Wright?! The famous defense attorney?” The man’s swollen fatty head wobbled in something resembling a nodding gesture, his neck too fat for an actual nod. “Wh-what happened to you? Last I heard, you’d been disbarred seven years ago! How did you end up like… like that?” The enormous Phoenix Wright paused his gorging himself to explain. “Haaah… haah… I wohrk… ash a… haah… tashte… teshtuh… urrrrp… fuhll… tihme…” The blob-shaped man smiled cryptically, before immediately returning to stuffing his face with the frantic speed of someone who thought they would starve to death. Apollo rubbed his temples, more stressed than ever. How was he going to defend someone who couldn’t even go ten minutes without eating? This case was going to be an ordeal, he could just tell.

#my writing #fat!ace attorney #fat!phoenix wright #ssbhm #male weight gain

[wrightaboutthat]

Unnecessary Yearning ~A Narumitsu One-Shot~

Summary: "You should have heard him talking about you after the Steel Samurai case! He kept saying 'Wright...Wright...Wright' over and over!"

Stricken with new feelings, Edgeworth attempts to carry on with his work and make do. Only, visions of a certain attorney lead to methods turning a little less than professional.

Written from Miles' POV.

Tags: Masturbation, Sexual Fantasy, Longing, Arousal, It's what the kids call, Denial, Mr 'I'm saddled with unnecessary feelings' Edgeworth lol like YEAH OKAY SIR, How's that going for you, Canon Compliant, Yearning

Additional Notes: Hello everyone! This is my first work in the Ace Attorney fandom. Glad to be tipping my toes into the universe, and super excited to finally be writing the boys. Thank you so much for reading! <3

You can also read the work on AO3 here [x]

It’s going to be a long night. My brain feels utterly thick and heavy from all which weighs down on me: evidence to sift through, cases to win, and losses to be recuperated. The latter two earn a stiffening of my figure, bits of bitter venom surging through my veins to match. I try not to mull over them too much however, what with all the deeper implications they carry. No; far too complex and far too unnecessary.

I instead focus on the present, focus on the current matters that await within my office. My silver gaze momentarily scans the various files atop my desk, before drifting over to my stewing tea. I straighten a bit, attempting to hone in on the delightful fumes, the tantalizing call of work to be done..

...But still, does my mind feel oddly muddied. Unsurprisingly, a scowl furrows my face as a result. 

Walking to grab the warm tea, I momentarily turn my attention towards the world beyond my window. The lights of the city below glimmer and flash as activity bustles on. The last bits of setting sunlight cast dramatic colors upon the horizon. Unfortunately though, as I continue to stare, something else tantalizingly flashes within the reflective sheen. Or someone else, rather.

Him. Him.

Ahh. The man who rose from the ashes of my past. The man who viciously inserted himself back into my life. The man who dared to make me question my own reality. So he’s to blame. He’s the culprit. He’s the reason behind the present strangeness. He was indeed the trigger behind previous emotional oddities, so it only makes sense that he’s tormenting me now.

...Or does it?

My frown grows- particularly when the swirling imagery doesn’t fade away. In fact, it grows all the more detailed, all the more vivid. It’s like my brain genuinely teases me for a few fleeting moments, letting me see him and all that he is. That sickeningly corny grin on his face. The way he sheepishly runs his fingers through his hair. The image of him behind me, slamming us into the very surface providing such visions...

I startle something terrible, backing away with a bubbling mixture of revulsion. How unexpected and heinous. How dare he. How dare he affect me so. How dare he insert himself into my workplace where he’s not welcome. 

And how ludicrous that I let him.

I clench my jaw and walk back to my desk, fingers knotted through my hair. There’s work to be done. There are matters to attend to. There are things that call for my attention. And none of them should deal with him.

But they do. Dammit, of course they do; with my subconscious stumbling from their presence, they scream the loudest of all. They dare to surge to the forefront. Because while case papers are visibly scattered before me, while knowledge swims within, he’s there in front. Flashing before my trembling vision, waltzing to the tip of my subconscious, and settling in the worst possible manner between the apex of my thighs.

No...

This cannot be happening. There’s no possible way this can be happening. I try to think of something else, anything else. All the work that needs to be done. That vile security guard from our case prior. But I can almost hear him chuckle at my lackadaisical efforts. And thus, does my strangely bewitched body mewl in delight, persuading me to hopelessly swell further.

I fume and begin to walk around the room, hoping to shake it off. Perhaps laps will serve me better. Perhaps getting my blood flowing will pull it from more problematic locations. But alas, I see him, I hear him, I feel him. I begin to bulge something terrible against my pants, the tight fabric no longer comfortable. It’s painful even, especially with all my movement, chaffing and rubbing atrociously.

But I don’t want to give in. I don’t want to fall into such vile acts. I don’t want him to hold such power over me.

And yet...

It’s like he materializes behind me, his hands gently yet firmly grasping my hips. He stills my furious stride, before I can practically feel his breath against my ear.

“You’re a mess, you know that?”

I grit my teeth. I want to argue. I want to deny it. But when I feel his hands starting to guide mine, when I’m lead to the fly of my pants, I really have no objections to his point. I can feel his grin against my neck then, and I can’t help myself; I shudder despite the rampant denial.

I still try and stop. I still try and hesitate. But the more I wait, the more painful it gets. The more I stall, the more vivid the visions become. A confusing and overwhelming mixture of emotion bubbles up then. I’m furious, but desperate. Appalled, yet curious. I consider things just a second more...

And then I’m deliciously coaxed; with my back facing the window, with my body towering over my desk, I unzip myself and allow the product of his doing to spring free.

The typical groan of relief departs my throat, but it’s hushed, captured as I bite my lip. A second later, my brow furrows something fierce, continuing to dance between enjoyment and revulsion.

“You’re cute when you’re mad,” I can picture him saying, leading to a furious blush and stronger swell. Would he say such a thing? I cannot be certain, yet all rings clear within my subconscious. So much so that I growl at him.

“Shut up, Wright...”

“Yeah yeah. Now shhh,” he murmurs back through reveries, “Just enjoy yourself, Miles.”

Miles.

My name, so rarely uttered, growled off his lecherous tongue...

My eyes roll, and I grasp myself then. I wrap my fingers around the taut, soft skin. I firmly grab the stiffness was as he likely would. And it takes every bit of my power to not release a growling groan into the quietness of my office.

My office.

My eyes, slick with both a furious and midnight sheen, fly back open at the notion. I stare at myself in horror, stare at how utterly erect I am. All because of him. All because of him. 

I grit my teeth; how long will this dreaded back and forth go on? And which side will come out on top? Naturally, I careen for the reasonable, for the chaste maturity. But unfortunately, and unbelievably, my mind is no match for my body. My mind is no match for his spell. Because just as my grip lessens, he manifests behind me once more.

“I worry about you. You work way too hard, Miles,” he subconsciously murmurs in my ear, his vocals deeper and more honeyed than usual.

“Wright...”

“I like you saying my name like that,” he chuckles, and I can almost feel the flick of his tongue against my earlobe, “But I like you putting all your troubles to the side even more. So relax, dammit. Don’t be such a hardass...”

His tease, his care, his sultriness...It’s all too real. It all feels too real. I release another growl of frustration, but feel myself being tugged into the rabbit hole further. I begin to relent, begin to cave, allowing his very image to guide me down and down and down.

And so when I finally begin to move, when I finally begin to pull and tug, it’s entirely his essence.

He works me. He strokes me deeply. He topples my body towards the awaiting mahogany desk. Though I wish to deny it, though I wish to bellow in protest, it feels...utterly incredible, like it never has before. It’s intense, and electrifying, and unbelievably arousing. Once more are my eyes rolled away from view, noises of pleasure circulating around my chest. I have to fight against them, swallow them down, but yet again, does the attorney come out on top. The vision of his fingers, of his work, naturally pulls a centered vocalization from my lips.

“Wright...” I growl, “Wright...Wright...”

I’m rewarded with his voice in my ear once more. “Just like that...Fuck, Miles...”

My stomach clenches; would he even stoop to such naughty vocabulary? Would he even dirty his softer tongue so? Hearing it feels forbidden, yet so very divine. My hips practically buck, riding the reverie and falling deeper.

“Wright...Wright...Wright...”

The passes become harder, faster. His name grows louder, deeper. My mind falls grayer, darker. But of course, similar patterns are followed. Of course, the tug-of-war that is my reality is suddenly yanked in the opposing direction once more.

Because a series of loud raps on my door yanks me far harder than my own hand, startling me something terrible. My head whips up towards the mahogany barrier just in time to hear the reason, the culprit.

“Mr. Edgeworth, sir?”

Magma still burns in my veins. Evidence still twitches betwixt my fingers. His voice still moans in my brain. So very quickly, despite it all, do I bellow back to the damned detective.

“NOT NOW.”

Despite the fire I’m standing in, I can feel the saddened deflation on the other side of the door.

“B-but, sir...”

“PAYCHECK, GUMSHOE,” I snarl, attempting to instill as much threat and as little waver as possible.

He whimpers like a gloomy pup, before finally, thankfully, backing away.

“Y-yes, sir...”

His footsteps depart, but a bit of my fantasy is stolen along with him. It’s like pieces of foggy bliss are yanked out the door and down the hallway, loosening my grip on myself and the situation. Am I safe? Am I free from them?

As if to taunt, I feel myself twitch, and he manifests once more. I feel him again: the heightened movements of his panting chest against me, the ragged groans in my ear, the twinge of his teeth against my neck...

No. Safe from Gumshoe’s interruption perhaps, but still locked deep in the throes of Wright’s intrusion. How utterly strong he is. How much of a hold he has on me...

“Nngg...”

I groan in both frustration and persistent arousal. I want to stop. I want to latch on to the interruption and calm back down. But I can’t. I’m transfixed. He has me.

“Accursed attorney...” I growl through my teeth.

Right on cue, I can see that smug grin of his, sending droves of new warmth barreling down my body. And thus, does the cycle begin again. It only takes a few strokes to fully get back into it, but then I’m unimpeded, unshakeable beneath his spell. The angry, shaky breaths manifest once more, and my hips are coaxed back into movement.

I’m what they would refer to as “pent-up” I suppose, everything zinging to life at the thought of that damn man. His energy, his confidence, his very essence...

My lips curl into a snarl, coupled with the tightening of my hand. Anger and disgust towards the situation does no good; in fact, it only serves to amplify. And as such, I’m thrown into an endless loop, the fiery emotions driving me higher and higher. The more I push away, the more he pulls. The more he pulls, the higher the inferno roars. I’m practically jerking, practically trying to fight against the inevitable. But it’s no use.

I can see myself furiously pounding him into the very desk I’m leant upon. I can picture him folding me over the couch and having his way with my sorry form. I can imagine my angry body knelt before him, marveling in what I’m about to consume...

My entire lower half gives a mighty quake, and I tighten in a plethora of places. I’m going to finish. He’s going to make me finish. My ebony-soaked eyes reel about my surroundings, before flashing with a realization. I need to capture the evidence. I need to halt its sullying path. I need to be utterly inconspicuous about this.

So in perhaps the last allowed second of logical thinking, I snatch a handkerchief off my desk and blanket it over the incrimination. And there I hold as I utterly plummet into flames. My face wretches, my muscles tense, and consequently, comes a most forbidden hiss.

“Phoenix!”

And out it all spills. My anger, my deeper complexities, those wretched feelings...It floods against my fingers and into the handkerchief, my vision flashing white with every sharp burst. My jaw clenches something terrible, the temptation to yell through the release so very tantalizing. But I stay hushed. I manage to keep it contained to shivering grunts and rolling snarls. Instead, my body takes the brunt, my hips jutting with each intense crest. My legs begin to liquify, and my form begins to shake, so with a final spurt, do I collapse forward on my desk with a hand, the wretched evidence in the other.

I heave and gasp through the aftershocks, straining for normalcy to return. I claw my way down from the mountain, trying to get away from the outrageous act. It’s very difficult to do so when I can picture him stroking me into utter completion, whispering lecherous praises and deeper affections into my ear...

I straighten myself and slam my hand on the desk, disgust desperately surging through my veins to block it all out. One look at the soiled handkerchief and my equally dirtied hand amplifies this, my face contorting into a deep scowl.

I was really just enraptured by my urges like some hotheaded grade schooler. I really just turned my place of work into a place of dirtied fun. I really just pleasured myself because of him.

Because of Phoenix Wright.

Damn him. Damn him damn him damn him...

My clean hand comes to capture my face, my fingers harshly grasping my temples. I take a moment to hide away from it all, perhaps in a better attempt to deal with the rampant feelings flowing through. Regret, disgust, anger...But where the icy emotions exist, as do the fiery still, to my dismay. Deeper desire, longing, yearning...

I’m no better off from such an act. The more primitive urges are satiated, yes, but I’m still atrociously in limbo, atrociously in the middle.

I tuck myself back in, clean my hand with tissues, and throw the wretched handkerchief away. I focus on adjusting my attire, on straightening my cravat, on re-composing myself...

...Yet I still find myself unable to do much else than stand with both hands leant against my desk, deep in thought and emotions. I heave a harsh sigh, trying so hard to make sense of it all.

How did this happen? Why did seeing him after all these years lead to this? How could I be so foolish? I doubt we’re really even considered friends, and he’s certainly not...mine.

My eyes widen at the mere thought, before I force further bile to manifest. No. He’s not. And he won’t be. He’s my rival, if anything. Nothing more. Perhaps I was simply carried away by the excitement of our banter, the passion brought to the table. Perhaps my body simply craved an outlet for stress and tension. Yes.

But despite the logic that presents itself, despite the perfectly sound explanation, I still can’t move. I still can’t put it aside and simply get back to work. Nor can I rid my thoughts of that idiotic, passionate, absurd, torturous man.

Dammit indeed.

#Narumitsu #Narumitsu fanfiction #Wrightworth #Wrightworth fanfiction #Miles Edgeworth #Phoenix Wright #Dick Gumshoe #... #SCREAMS INTO THE VOID LMAO #I'm so excited to be posting but also??? nervous???? #Like lads let me tell you #This is deadass the first work I've ever posted outside of the HG Realm ever #Like I've ONLY ever written Hunger Games-centric content up until this point #SO THIS IS VERY NEW TERRITORY IN SO MANY WAYS HSKDSL #But I'm so very excited #And I have four WIPs going right behind this one #Aka I now have a Problem on my hands sjdksdlks #ALSO DO WE FRICKS WITH FIRST PERSON #IS THAT ACCEPTABLE AROUND THESE PARTS #GUESS WE'LL FIND OUT SJKDSHL #if i'm locked into edgeworth and 4/5 of my stories are written from his perspective no they're not

[grievingauthor]

NaruMitsu Week Day 3: Anniversary

Read on Ao3

Winter has always been difficult for Miles Edgeworth. December in particular had it's fair share of difficulties and annoyances; holidays, the flu, the cold. Nightmares, unbearable sadness, and an anniversary Miles would often rather forget.

It's good then, that his family always seems to know the best ways to cheer him up.

Miles jerked awake, breathing hard. He groaned, running a hand across his face, and sat up. That stupid dream again. Would he ever be free of it? It had been almost thirty years. Three decades! He'd known the truth for nearly as long as he'd believed the idiotic lie his mind kept telling him! And yet the dream continued to haunt him every December.

Miles felt the bed shift beside him and looked down. Phoenix had one sleepy eye open, a hand on his thigh.

"You ok?" he asked, stifling a yawn. His hair was sticking up at all sorts of odd angles, and he had a small pool of drool at the corner of his mouth. Miles couldn't help but smile.

"Just a bad dream, love. Winter and all that," he said softly. "You go back to sleep."

Phoenix hummed, eyes closing for a moment as Miles leaned down to press a kiss to his temple. He rolled onto his back and sat up, hands pressing against the small of his back in a vain attempt to get it to pop. He didn't manage to suppress the second yawn this time, instead taking a moment to blink tiredly at his husband.

"I'm not the one with a trial coming up, babe. I can stand a few hours of lost sleep. Pancakes?" he offered. Miles bit his lip, glancing at the alarm clock to his other side. 2:47 am. That was a decent enough time for breakfast, wasn't it? Miles sighed, looking back at Phoenix.

"Alright. I'll start coffee. Try not to wake the children, alright?" he said, tugging the blanket off his lap and sliding on a pair of slippers. He heard Phoenix snort at his request.

Together they tiptoed their way out of their room and down the hallway towards the stairs. Phoenix lingered outside Trucy's door for a moment, just listening to her breathe. Miles wouldn't admit it, but he did the same outside Kay's. She'd been bouncing off the walls since they'd picked her up from the airport that morning, apparently anxious about some sort of announcement. Miles would put good money on it being related to Detective Skye's own anxieties. He'd been getting complaints from more than one prosecutor about being "snackoo'd" by her.

They moved downstairs and into the kitchen, pausing a moment to share a brief kiss under the mistletoe Pearl had insisted they hang above the entry. Christmas was...well, today, technically speaking. The tree sat in one corner of the living room, all red and blue lights and multicolored baubles. He'd helped Trucy put up the (truly ridiculous) star just the day before, when everyone had been opening their gifts from Phoenix's gaggle of friends and former clients (how he'd maintained contact with Will Powers over the last ten years, Miles would never know. At least he was never in want of rare Steel Samurai merchandise).

Miles changed out the grounds and set the coffee pot to brew, then dragged out a chair and sat at the kitchen island, watching Phoenix hum as he set about gathering bowls and pans and all manner of ingredients. He let the peace of the moment wash over him, eyes drifting closed for a fraction of a second before snapping them open again. Right. The dream. He sighed, slumping against the counter and burying his face in his arms.

"We can put off seeing him, Miles."

He looked up, catching Phoenix studying him. Miles shook his head. "You say that every year, and every year I agree, and we never end up going. It's been twenty-eight years, Phoenix. I need to visit my father. Whether I want to or not."

Phoenix frowned, and turned back to the bowl of batter he was preparing. "You know," he said, "you could always ask Maya or Pearls to channel him. It might give you some kind of closure."

"I've told you before, I don't want to. The man deserves his rest, especially this close to…to…"

"The anniversary of his death," Phoenix finished. Miles sighed.

"Yes. That. I know it's unbecoming of me, really I do, but I just...I can't, Phoenix. So instead I am going to pick up the flowers we ordered, and I am going to see him, and you -" he pointed a finger at Phoenix, "-are going to join me while I do. Franziska has already agreed to keep an eye on Trucy for us, and Apollo is due to return to Khura'in for that case he's working on. I imagine Kay is going to be quite busy with Ema, if I've guessed right about why she's been so nervous."

"And Sebastian has that concert to prepare for," Phoenix sighed, "I know. I just…you don't have to go if you aren't ready to, Miles."

Miles sighed again. He'd been doing that a lot the last hour, hadn't he? So rather than respond he stared into the middle distance and let the sound of sizzling pancake batter drown out every thought his brain tried to form.

A plate of fresh pancakes slid into place in front of him a few minutes later, drawing him out of his dissociative state. Phoenix had made a smiley face out of the blueberries he'd put into them, and as silly as it was, it made Miles smile. His father had done that, before everything had gone wrong. Saturday morning cartoons and smiley face pancakes. He looked up at Phoenix, a sad smile tugging at his lips.

"I don't think I'll ever really be ready, darling. So I should just go, hm? You'll be there with me after all, and we'll visit Mia too."

Phoenix smiled softly and leaned forward to press a kiss to his forehead.

"You two are so gross," came a voice near the stairs. Kay stood in the kitchen entry, leaning against the wall. She pushed off of it, moving to hop up onto the island counter, attempting to steal Miles' pancakes.

"And just why aren't you asleep, Kay?" he asked, pushing them out of her reach. She pouted at him, then turned her ridiculous puppy dog eyes on Phoenix. He sighed and started fixing another plate for her.

"I could smell the pancakes, duh. You old men having a party without me? I'm hurt," she said. Miles rolled his eyes.

"Sit in a chair like a normal human being please, Kay. And we weren't having a party, we were...talking about Friday," Miles said.

Kay's eyes widened, letting out a quiet "oh". She obediently moved to one of the chairs, pulling it closer to Miles so she could lean against him. He welcomed the contact, wrapping an arm around her. They fell silent again, Phoenix continuing to make pancakes for a while. Finally, Kay spoke.

"I'm gonna ask Ema to marry me."

Miles smiled, catching his husband's eye. Phoenix rolled his in response.

"I'm happy for you," he said.

Kay sat up so she could look him in the eye.

"September or December?" she asked.

"Pardon?"

"The wedding. Should we hold it in September, or in December? If it's okay with you I mean."

Miles blinked, then shared a look with Phoenix. Was...was she asking if…

"The 28th should be a happier day for you, Miles. I'm sure Ema would agree. Is it ok with you if we get married then?"

Miles meant to respond, truly he did, but all that came out was a soft sob. He closed his mouth, nodding instead. Kay broke into a grin and flung her arms around his neck in a bone crushing hug. He returned it, tears rolling slowly down his cheeks as he looked up at Phoenix, lost.

He'd like to celebrate another kind of anniversary on the 28th. Why not his daughter's wedding anniversary? His father would have liked that, watching Miles walk Kay down the aisle.

Phoenix grinned, walking up behind Kay to press another kiss to Miles' forehead.

"Merry Christmas, Miles," he said, and well. Merry Christmas indeed.

#NaruMitsu Week 2021 #NaruMitsu #WrightWorth #ace attorney #Phoenix Wright #Miles Edgeworth #Kay Faraday #NaruMitsu Day 3 #post canon #auth writes #this is late oops

[agoldengalaxy]

A Samurai’s Love

read on AO3

There’s a Steel Samurai marathon at the Wright Anything Agency, and Miles and Maya have a heart to heart.

--

“Justice will soon be served, evildoer! Your foul deeds will not be tolerated, for I, the Steel Samurai, shall strike you down!”

Miles does his best not to grin, though keeping it a secret that he is a fan from his companions has proved to be fruitless; it’s why he’s here in the first place, after all, at the Wright Anything Agency. Since Phoenix had gotten disbarred, he’d been rather distant - not returning many calls, only focusing on the little girl that his client had left behind. So Miles and Maya had to take it upon themselves to do anything they could to support him, and that included showing they cared.

“Oh, this is the best part!” Sitting on his left, a starry-eyed Maya is grinning ear to ear as she stares at the screen. Beside her, her head in her lap, is Pearl, curled up rather contently, having fallen asleep much earlier. She doesn’t really understand the appeal of the show, despite being a child herself.

Miles can’t hide his smile this time, and he nods. “I agree.” Of course, he’s seen this episode before. How would he not? The watch party was more of a distraction for Phoenix than anything else, even if the man didn’t particularly care very much for the show.

The Steel Samurai grunts in his struggle against the Evil Magistrate, though besides the TV, the room is very quiet. Just as Miles is wondering why they hadn’t been met by a sarcastic comment from Phoenix, he feels a soft weight press into his right shoulder.

He glances down and bites his tongue to keep from gasping, trying to comprehend the scene before him. Phoenix had slumped over, head resting against Miles’ arm - it seems he had been falling asleep and needed someplace to lay. Trucy is curled in her father’s lap, head against his chest, a hand grabbing a fistful of his hoodie loosely.

When the surprise wears off, Miles takes a moment to look at his old friend’s face, only illuminated by the flickering light of the TV. His brow is slightly furrowed, and his lips slightly parted. Relaxed like this, he looks more his age; the past few weeks, he’d been looking a little worse for wear. Miles frowns deeply at the dark circles underneath his eyes, unlike anything he’d ever seen. He wonders how long it has been since Phoenix had gotten a good night’s rest.

He sighs softly, shaking his head a little. He has half a mind to wake him and tell him to go home and get some real sleep, but...he has a feeling it won’t go well. He’d certainly fight him over it, so he might as well let him get some well-deserved rest. Without thinking much about it, he reaches over with his opposite hand and pushes some of Phoenix’s stray hairs out of his eyes. He doesn’t move.

“He hasn’t been sleeping.”

Blinking, Miles looks up, finding that Maya is now looking at him. Her expression is one of concern now, and he realizes she must have been watching for some time. “...Is that so?”

She nods, her eyes shifting to rest her gaze on the sleeping man beside them. “I haven’t been able to visit him as much as I’d like,” she admits softly, “but he told me...not that I couldn’t have figured that much out on my own.”

He closes his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath. Even he had come to that conclusion. “I can’t say I blame him,” he replies, opening his eyes to meet Maya’s. There’s so many unspoken things in just this one look - concern that doesn’t really need to be voiced, because they know. But there’s nothing they can do about it. Phoenix is disbarred, and that’s that. Although Miles will be doing everything in his power to help, he is not Chief Prosecutor, and he doesn’t have very much authority. So all they can do is support him.

“Um, Mr. Edgeworth?” Her voice is still soft, though she’s dropped her gaze to run her fingers through Pearl’s hair in a comforting way. For a moment, she looks like she might cry.

“Yes?” He’s not sure what it means, but he’s almost positive he won’t like it.

Maya swallows hard. “He won’t tell me anything about that day. About the case. He hasn’t even told me if the rumors are true.” Taking a shaky breath, she lifts her gaze back to the TV. “I don’t believe them, Mr. Edgeworth. Nick would never forge evidence. But I…” she closes her eyes, shaking her head. “I feel so useless. I sometimes wonder if things would have turned out differently if I was by his side like I should have been.”

He has to admit it catches him off guard, at first. Maya is such a positive force, it’s hard to remember she’s still young. She’s the one that forces a smile and does anything she can to get Phoenix laughing again. He hadn’t even thought about what kind of toll it must take on her.

Shaking his head, he tries to meet her eyes. “You cannot blame yourself for what happened. Even I don’t know all of the details, but…” he sighs. God, what can he even say? It hurts to think about, let alone talk about. “I have a feeling this was bound to happen, no matter what. This trial...it reeks of foul play. But not to worry, Ms. Fey. I will get to the bottom of it.” If it’s the last thing he does. He would do anything to see Phoenix Wright genuinely smile again.

Maya reaches up to wipe under one of her eyes, and she smiles a little. “Yeah, I’m sure you will. I guess there’s no use thinking about what might’ve happened, huh?” She sniffs, then looks back up at him, still smiling. “And geez, Edgeworth, how many times do I have to tell you to call me ‘Maya’? We’ve known each other for so long.”

Blinking, he stares at her for a moment, then smiles just a little, himself. “I apologize. It is just a habit.” He bows his head. “I’ll try to remember next time.” They both fall quiet again, turning their attention back to the screen, though he’s sure they’re both paying it only some attention. He allows himself to look back down at the man leaning against his shoulder, and for some reason, he smiles. He’ll chalk that up to relief, but...something about having him so close like this really warms his heart.

On his opposite shoulder, he feels a nudge. Looking up, he’s met with a smirking Maya. “You know, Nick may keep secrets, but I know he’s not the only one.”

“What on Earth are you talking about?” he asks carefully, not liking the way her smirk curls upward smugly.

“It is so painfully obvious that you love him, Edgeworth. Well, obvious to everyone except him, of course,” she answers nonchalantly. What…? His heart leaps into his throat, and he stares at her blankly. Any coherent thought leaves his mind, because...she’s right, of course, but he doesn’t want to admit that much.

However, he’s well aware that the longer he stays silent, the more suspicious he seems, so he clears his throat and looks away. He can’t look into her eyes. Not now. “I...I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he notices her roll her eyes. “Right.” She draws out the word. “You may be a big bad prosecutor, but you happen to be a terrible liar.” A hand comes up to rest on his arm, and he brings himself to look back at her. Her smirk has softened into a smile now. “Look, I know it’s probably hard for you, but I just want to let you know that you have nothing to worry about. No matter what, through thick and thin, Nick has always been there for you. And I know...I know he feels the same.” She seems very confident. “He may not be in the right place right now, and you both may be too stubborn to admit it, but...I just want you two to be happy.”

For some reason, the words end up making his eyes burn. He has to drop his gaze, not wanting Maya to see. What can he even say to this? He closes his eyes for a moment, shaking his head a little. “I...don’t know what to say.”

Maya seems to understand, and she smiles again. “Just think about what I said, okay? I’m sure Nick could use some good news.” She yawns, stretching her arms above her head, then leans back against the couch, just barely resting her head against his other arm. She rests one hand over Pearl’s back comfortingly. “Guess we’re not going home tonight, huh?”

Miles pauses, staring down at her, then smiles a little, despite himself. “Hmph. I suppose not.” He looks back up at the TV, watching the credits roll.

“Good night, Mr. Edgeworth.”

“...Good night, Maya.” He feels her smile against his sleeve, and then relax.

And he is alone.

He lets himself look down at Phoenix again, his face still as handsome as ever, even shrouded under the cloud of exhaustion. He can’t help but wonder if he truly was as obvious as Maya claimed, or if she is just exceptionally perceptive. Perhaps it is a bit of both.

Letting out a quiet sigh, he leans his head against the back of the couch, noticing Phoenix’s hand by his lap. For a long moment, Miles considers taking it, but decides against it. No. Not yet.

But soon. Despite how out of the blue it had been, he supposes Maya has a point. And perhaps he will feel better when his deepest secret is no longer just a secret.

His eyes slip shut, and as he drifts off, Maya’s voice echoes in his mind.

I just want you two to be happy.

Perhaps they do deserve that much.

#ace attorney #miles edgeworth #maya fey #narumitsu #wrightworth #phoenix wright #pearl fey #trucy wright #let! them! be! friends! #please and thank u #agoldengalaxy #my writing #my post

[runningwolf62]

@wardencommanderrodimiss @pachelbelsheadcanon

Happy Phoenix gets disbarred day, have this. Hopefully Tumblr doesn’t crop it.

Credit to my brother for the “Dahlia commits tax fraud” joke.

Larry runs his hand through his messy brown hair and looks to Maya. She has too much experience in burying relatives. He wishes he could do this on his own, like Godot talked about. Protecting Maya for Misty. But this was too much for him to carry on his own.

“A small ceremony for just family and friends might be wise,” his voice is rough and Maya jumps a little when he speaks, “we can have a large, what do you call it for funerals? Is it still a reception?”

“After the funeral it’s a reception, before it’s a visitation,” she replies tiredly, Larry gets to his feet to head to his kitchen and get them both a drink of water.

Maya barely acknowledges it when he puts it in front of her, simply staring blankly at the papers before her. Larry sits down next to her and lets out a rough breath. They are too young to be doing this. Maya should not have had to bury this many family members.

“I- shit I have to be one to give all the speeches don’t I?” He’s only known her three months but that was more than Maya.

“I could channel my sis I guess but-” Maya swallows and reaches for the water, Larry moves to sit next to her.

“If you’re gonna channel people why not channel your mother to do all this paper work,” Larry jokes, Maya glances at him but doesn’t laugh. She doesn’t seem more upset though so Larry takes it.

“I could you know.”

“Huh?”

Maya is staring at her water not at him, “channel her. If you want to talk to her.”

Larry stares at Maya and hesitates. What does he say? He wants to see Misty, he does. To ask for explanations, to say goodbye, for any final guidance but Maya looks exhausted.

“I think we’ve all had enough of channeling for a bit?” Larry says instead and Maya huffs softly in what sounds like agreement.

“I would like to talk to her, at some point. But not now.” There’s so much to say to her but so much to now.

Larry pulls a paper to him and starts trying to fill forms out.

“Are you mad at Nick?”

Larry looks up from the form he’s trying to understand to Maya, “no? Why would I be?” He and Nick have things they need to talk out but now’s not the time when he’s this exhausted emotionally and Nick’s busy.

“For defending Go- Diego.”

Larry sucks a breath in through his teeth and sets the paper back down. “Not really.” He runs a hand through his hair and tries to find the words to explain, “I’d- I don’t know how mad I am him honestly. Like yeah he killed her but she-” he cuts off and looks away from Maya.

“What?” Maya pokes his shoulder with one finger, “What?”

“She died trying to save you,” Larry mumbles as though that will take the sting out of his words. Maya looks startled but not hurt so maybe it does. “If anything I’m mad at her I think! Like, how is this fair?” And that’s what it boils down to, Larry doesn’t know how to feel about the fact that he knew Misty better than Maya had.

That she’d had the chance to meet her daughter and instead died for her.

Not even his fanfiction can help with this.

-

Stripes?

Hey Wolfman

Don’t die, funerals are a pain in the ass to plan

I will become immortal just for you

‘ppreciate it

-

Larry stops off with Maya at Nick’s office, it’s not like Godot is sitting there drinking coffee, he’s in jail and it’s just Nick sitting in his office, probably avoiding paperwork.

But the smell of the coffee lingers on Nick’s shirt, or maybe just in Larry’s imagination, and he’s quiet as Nick and Maya talk.

Honestly they’re all quiet. Maya’s trying to get excited for something she and Nick are talking about, Steel Samurai or something, but Larry can see her struggling.

He coughs quietly, “I’m gonna go.” Edgeworth’s lent him a couch in his apartment while Larry and Maya deal with the funeral and cleaning out Elise’s place and Larry looks into moving somewhere new because he doesn’t need to live close to Elise now.

Misty.

Fuck.

Nick nods and Maya wishes him a good night. He gives a small smile and wave and heads out. Maya and Nick will help each other.

He flicks his phone to see that WolfDragon is still offline (good he should be sleeping) and send Edgeworth a text that he’ll be there soon.

He slips the phone back in his pocket and stands outside the Wright and Co offices a moment longer, wondering that if he just started screaming until his voice gave out if Gumshoe would just let him off with a warning.

Deciding luck has not been favorable towards him lately he heads for his car instead.

-

Edgeworth looks up from the book he’s reading as Larry comes in, “have you eaten?”

“No. Nick and Maya were talking about getting something but…” Larry felt like he was imposing. Edgeworth just hums and points to the fridge.

Larry opens it to find Edgeworth’s snagged him leftover spaghetti. He debates just eating it cold but the knowledge that Edgeworth would never let him live it down convinces him otherwise.

He watches it spin around in the microwave, Edgeworth still silently reading.

“Did you stay up just to see that I got back?” He hesitates, is Edgeworth starting to squint at the page? “Maybe you should take a break, let your eyes get some rest.” Had his dad needed glasses? God Larry couldn’t remember anymore.

Edgeworth shakes his head but sets the book to the side, “I had reading I wanted to do. However yes, I may have positioned myself to make sure you got in safely.”

Larry shakes his head, “you can just say yes Edgy.” He turns to check the time on the microwave, “thanks man.”

There’s a pause before Edgeworth says, “You’re welcome.”

The microwave beeps and Larry pulls out the plate and sets it at the counter across from Edgeworth who’s gone back to squinting at his book. Larry’s not going to be the one to tell him he might want to think about glasses.

He tucks in and after a few bites his appetite returns full force and he has to struggle to not shove it down his throat in a horrifying display that would undoubtedly end with Edgeworth throwing him out.

Edgeworth says nothing though, simply continue to read, Larry finally takes in the book he’s reading.

“Edgy?”

“Yes?”

“Are you reading about how to do Oragami because-“

Edgeworth snaps the book closed to glare at him and Larry shuts his mouth. He looks away from Edgeworth first.

“You’ve heard that story about paper cranes right?”

Edgeworth lets out a sigh, “who hasn’t?” He shakes his head, “I doubt folding a thousand paper cranes is any more likely to grant a wish than eyelashes or pennies.”

Larry nods and pushes his plate to the side, “I guess it’s just nice to think, you know, if we put that much passion and energy into something we could somehow seize control of our fate for just one moment.”

Edgeworth startles a moment before nodding. He sets his book to the side and visibly wrestles with something before he finally speaks.

“I’m sorry. It’s very clear that your apprenticeship was good for you and that you’ve grown as a person and I’m sorry that it was, that she was taken from you.”

Larry wants to thank him, to cry, to scream, because god, that’s all he’s wanted; the respect Miles is showing him now.

So of course something else comes out of his mouth.

“Do you ever,” Larry pauses and takes a deep breath, “do you ever feel like you killed him?”

Miles pauses and looks to Larry, “what?”

“Your dad. And I don’t mean the part where you thought you’d caused the gun to go off like-”

Miles considers it and looks over at him, “yes. I’ve been told it’s a normal part of grief.”

“Who told you that?”

“A therapist.”

Larry lets out a weak laugh, “maybe I ought to get one. I just worry they’d get murdered and I’d be accused of doing it.”

“Larry.”

“You said it yourself, I bring misfortune down-”

“Larry-”

“I can barely look at Maya and I worry Nick blames me you know? Like it’s not my fault but Maya should’ve gotten to know her mom and didn’t but I did and I know he holds that against me-”

“Wright does not-”

“Objection!” Larry looks at him now, Edgeworth’s pushed the book to the side and his steel eyes have softened, “do you really think he doesn’t hold that against me Edgy?”

“It would be utterly illogical to hold that against you,” Miles replies firmly, “Misty Fey made her choices and you were as much a victim as Maya.”

“You’ve seen Nick in court he doesn’t use logic.”

Miles laughs at that but looks at Larry gently, “but he reaches the truth all the same. You are not responsible for what happened. Any part of it.”

Larry wonders what it would be like to be as in love with someone as Edgy is with Nick.

“Thanks.” He runs a hand through his hair and kind of shakes himself, “I didn’t mean to unload all of that on ya.”

Edgeworth shakes his head though, “it is… wise to talk about these things.”

Larry reaches over and claps Edgeworth on the shoulder, “still. Thanks.”

Edgeworth actually smiles and Larry pulls his hand back and lets out a rough breath.

“We’re thinking of making the funeral a private affair and having a reception for other authors, friends and fans.” Larry lets out a rough breath. Shit he’s got speeches to write.

In the silence that follows Pess stirs from next to Edgeworth’s legs and comes around to see Larry, her claws clicking on the floor.

“Hey girl,” Larry runs a hand through her soft fur, she’s like a big walking cotton ball, “you’re so big and fluffy.”

“She’s a puppy still actually,” Edgeworth gets to his feet as Larry continues to play with his dog, “my sister recommend I get one for companionship and emotional support and a breeder she’d bought from had just had a litter so…”

“Wait.” Larry looks up from the dog now, “is this the sister that has the niece that has the dog named Phoenix?”

“It’s her daughter technically-”

“You know what I-” Edgeworth shuts him up by showing him a picture of a young girl with her arms wrapped around a fluffy orange dog.

“Oh my god it’s adorable.” He tries and fails to smother a laugh, “smaller than Pess though.”

“They’re two separate but similar breeds and the breeder my sister got from has lines for both.”

Larry glances at Pess and considers that this dog is likely worth more than he is, “I see.”

“Yes, my niece’s dog is a German Spitz while Pess is a Keeshound.”

"A Casehond."

"Keeshond."

“Case Hound."

"No."

“Case Haunt. Croissant.”

“Stop.”

Larry is laughing though and while Edgeworth is shaking his head Larry gets the impression he’s not actually angry at him or his antics.

Edgeworth considers his dog a moment longer before he looks at Larry. “Come on, she needs a walk and-” Pess shoots to the front door, “and some exercise would be good for both of us.”

“Alright.” Larry gets to his feet, he wouldn’t mind spending some time with Edgeworth and just kind of roaming.

-

Larry walks alongside Edgeworth, the silence just slightly awkward but neither of them seem eager to break it.

“We all just have shit luck with mentors,” Larry finally says, Edgeworth smothers a laugh.

“You aren’t wrong.”

Larry looks at him and his mouth twitches, “someday I’ll say something you’ll have to admit is right.”

Edgeworth looks unconvinced but Larry is pretty sure it’s with some fondness. He needed to work on rebuilding his friendship with Nick like this. Get to a more comfortable place.

The park is largely deserted at this hour, the unseasonably cool air must’ve kept most people inside. Larry drops onto a bench and pulls out a small sketch book and a pencil.

He normally didn’t like people watching him draw but he makes no effort to shoo Edgeworth away as he sketched the city skyline through the trees. His goal is just a messy sketch finished in five minutes, the focus on shapes and conveying details without fine details.

He shows the finished effort to Edgeworth, “just a drawing exercise, no body flying over a burning bridge…”

“You’ve got a lot of talent,” Edgeworth smooths the awkwardness of his morbid joke, “I’m glad to see you using it.”

“Thanks Edgy.” He smiles slightly, “I’ll be honest though, I should really work on faces, not backgrounds.” He had gotten a lot better but he needed to keep at it.

“Oh?”

“Yeah Nick was always better at faces, I did backgrounds really well.” Because he was trying to avoid drawing cats. Occasionally he’d slipped big cats into his art just to use those skills- oh Big Cat AU. That would be a fun drawing exercise and produce some content for his fanfic.

“I wanted to ask you about that.” Edgeworth seems to hesitate before he sighs, “about Dahlia.”

“Oh fuck her,” Larry sprawls out, “in life she was a bitch and death didn’t stop her.” He leans his head back, “okay so you know Nick became a lawyer to save you right?” Which was one of the gayest things he’d ever heard.

Edgeworth nods and Larry looks over at him, “so he’s studying law… on the side.”

“I read the case file.” Edgeworth cuts in, Larry grins at that.

“Oh okay stop roasting Nick got it.” He runs a hand through his hair, “so what do you want to know?”

Edgeworth shakes his head, “how none of you noticed and why… why after all that he’d still go to such lengths to defend Iris?”

Larry snorts and shakes his head. “Look I know you studied at the finest schools in Germany and all that,” he shifts his leg so Pess can get under the bench to sniff around, “but for those of us who went to public university in America it is simultaneously the smartest and stupidest times of most people’s lives. No I didn’t question the girlfriend Nick was always with, thought it was grossly sappy and I didn’t think they were gonna get married or anything.” He makes a face, “and the pet names were disgusting but look man, Nick’s not bad looking, and she was pretty too. They seemed to like each other. No I didn’t think she was secretly the twin of a psychopath or- no Dahlia’s just a petty- anyway no.” He lets out a rough breath, “kicked my own ass for that enough. My best friend gets framed for murder by his girlfriend, who tried to poison him, and I never even thought anything was wrong.”

Pess shoves her head between his legs, Larry ruffles her ears and then shifts before she can tangle the leash around his legs.

There’s a moment of silence and then Larry adds, “and the whole time she was committing identity theft so-” and that makes Edgeworth actually laugh.

Larry joins in and Pess adds a happy bark, her tail wagging furiously behind her.

“Hey hot shot prosecutor does that count as tax fraud or…” Larry wheezes and Edgeworth is clearly struggling not to laugh harder.

“You cannot accuse Dahlia Hawthorne of every crime that ever existed.”

“You can’t prove she didn’t commit arson.”

“Larry!”

It’s not funny, it’s really not but it’s the way Larry’s trying to make this conspiracy theory work and the way Edgeworth can’t keep a straight face long enough to be his straight man that makes it hilarious. Or maybe it’s just that he needs something to laugh at in all this.

Once they pull themselves back together Larry rubs at his eyes. “I think you had another question?”

Edgeworth pauses and Larry cuts in, “and not ‘what’s wrong with you’.”

“I would not have-” Edgeworth shakes his head, “why after all that Wright would do so much for Iris?”

“She didn’t commit arson.” Larry loses the battle against his grin as Edgeworth glares at him, before he answers more seriously.

“One of Nick’s strengths is his loyalty,” he gestures between the two of them, “it’s why he still puts up with us.” Despite all the Edgeworth had done and Larry’s own various shortcomings. “I don’t know if he just sees the best in people or if he’s too stubborn but Nick’s loyalty is hard to lose.” He would know.

Edgeworth nods in agreement and Larry leans back against the bench. “But as loyal as he is to friends there was only two people Nick would've done anything for," Larry glances over at Edgeworth, "Dahlia was one of them."

"Who was the other?" Edgeworth asks and Larry takes the moment to reflect that he was considered the stupid one of the three of them.

"Come on Edgy don't make me spell it out for you."

"Oh of course. Maya."

That's it Larry is going home. Or back to Edgeworth’s apartment. Shit. He just sighs and leans back against the park bench to watch the sunset reflect off the city buildings.

-

The funeral is… something. Larry gives a speech, he remembers writing it, but he does not remember what he says because he looked over at Maya and just hated that he’d gotten to know her mother for four months and that was more than Maya had been allowed to have.

The visitation is alright. He knows some of the authors that show up. He’s glad Maya can stick close to Nick he wheels through the crowd playing host and hoping no one can tell he just wants to scream.

They bury Misty next to Mia, Maya cries into Nick while Larry stares blankly at the grave. It’s real. This is real.

The next thing he remembers clearly is waking up on the floor of Edgeworth’s kitchen. Pess licks at his face and whines, he groans and forces himself off the floor. Well he’s clothed so that’s good. He’s also not that… hungover… Oh.

He looks to see Edgeworth sitting at the kitchen table and rasps, “please don’t judge me.” He’s entitled to, Larry spent the time after the visitation crying himself almost sick, did maybe two shots of vodka, laid down on the floor to cry more and passed out.

Edgeworth looks up from the newspaper at him, “that was hardly the worst thing I’ve ever seen anyone do in the name of grief.”

Larry slowly pulled himself to his feet, his head throbbed in tempo with his pulse.

Edgeworth got to his feet and got out a glass, Larry flinched at every sound but gratefully downed the glass of water Edgeworth put in front of him.

“Between the crying and the drinking you’re probably dehydrated. There’s advil in the medicine cabinet.”

Larry blinked gratefully at him, “do you mind if I lay in bed all day and maybe steal your dog to pet?”

“Take a shower first.”

Larry runs a hand through his hair and groans, “sounds good.”

-

Are you handling things okay (edited)

Stripes?

Hey Wolfman

Sorry for the late reply, you’re probably asleep but yeah. The funeral was rough. But yeah I’m okay.

Do you want to talk about it

No

Tell me about Warriors

Bramblestar has rabies is the hot new meme

What?

We got the description of book 2 of series 7 and Bramblestar’s going to lose a life and start acting weird and the fandom decided he has rabies.

I read enough 2006 fanfiction to know that he’s obviously been possessed by Tigerstar’s ghost.

I will stage a revolt and establish you as the series’ new writer if they bring him back again

Okay please tell me that exhaustion is making me misread things and one of the protagonists is not named Shadowpaw

Unfortunately he is

WHY

It gets worse

Oh no

His parents are Dovewing and Tigerstar the second

Oh god no they made him leader

Larry has gently encouraged Wolfdragon to ramble, well rant, about Warriors for half an hour when Edgeworth knocks at the door.

“I’m not dead,” Larry calls back, Edgeworth pushes open the door.

“Are you up to eat something for lunch?”

“Not Eldoons I don’t think,” Larry glances to his phone, Wolfdragon’s still typing something about wasted character potential by bad plots and back to Edgeworth, “but yeah probably.”

-

Sorry, gotta go, but if they kill Bramblestar in a bullshit way I’ll get rabies.

If you or a loved one has contracted rabies from Warrior Cats you might be entitled to financial compensation

Pfft See ya Wolfman

Night Stripes!

Oh yeah it’s like close to midnight for him. Edgeworth is waiting in the hallway when Larry stumbles out, his head hurts less and he aches in his chest but he could do lunch. He can pretend to be a human.

“Who are you texting?” Edgeworth asks curiously, Larry shrugs slightly.

“A friend.”

“Who is she?”

Larry gave him a dirty look, “he’s just a friend. We talk about books and shit.”

Edgeworth lifts his eyebrow, “what books?”

Larry steps back, “what am I, on trial?”

“You’re hiding something,” Edgeworth replies firmly, “and I am…”

“Aww are you worried about me?”

“Given the spiel you said in court, yes.”

Oh. Well that is his fault. Larry hesitates a moment, debating and lets out a breath. “You… can’t tell Nick okay. I met this guy writing fanfiction.”

Edgeworth looks so incredulous a moment that Larry regrets it immediately. “You…”

“I know.” Larry shoves his hands in his pockets, “but that’s why I thought about writing in the first place and he encouraged me to try and then Misty took me as her apprentice and he’s been checking in on me.”

Edgeworth is just staring at him and Larry is tempted to start rambling again but he’s afraid he’ll confess that it’s 1) Warrior Cats fanfiction 2) he may have accidentally caused a bunch of people online to ship fictionalized cat versions of him and Nick and boy that would be a mistake.

“It’s not Steel Samurai fanfiction is it?” Edgeworth’s voice is strained and Larry stares at him a moment.

“Oh my god.”

“Answer the question.”

“You used to read-”

“Answer the question!”

Larry’s head hurts as he laughs, Miles Edgeworth read Steel Samurai fanfiction. “Don’t worry,” he finally wheezes out, “I don’t write Steel Samurai fanfiction, you’re not secretly my number one fan.” He grins at Edgeworth, “no shame Edgy, it’s a fun hobby.” Just not one he expected Edgeworth to have.

Edgeworth looks away, “I expected as much, I would read the meta people put forth and occasionally someone would… run with an idea.”

“And once you get a taste for good fanfiction it’s kind of addictive,” Larry agrees easily, “even in a good series there’s moments to explore or just things there wasn’t enough time to explore.” Ah, Edgeworth probably read gen fic then. He rubs the back of his neck, “yeah I’m up for lunch. Nothing too strong and somewhere quiet…”

“I was thinking of going to Wright’s office to talk with him and Maya.” Edgeworth glances at Larry, “to check in on her.”

Larry nods and bumps against him, “yeah.” They need each other right now.

Pearl isn’t bouncing around the office but she does chirp a greeting to them. Larry makes a note to ask later if she wants to finish Into the Wild at some point.

Maya’s still quiet, still subdued but she offers them a small “hey.”

They make some small talk, all very subdued, before Maya gently tugs on his sleeve and Larry follows her away to the hallway.

The moment they’re there she wraps him in a hug, Larry starts before he returns it. She shakes against him, Larry wants to say something but that’s part of why he likes writing. He has time to think out the best words.

“I’m so sorry.” Is what he settles on, Maya clings to him before stepping back.

“Nick, Pearly and I are gonna go back to the Kurian Village for bit I just… I need to take care of her house, can you-“

“I can help,” Larry agrees immediately. “We should probably hire some cleaners,” he thinks about it, “let them uh, clean out all the trash and food and things and then just- we’ve got this.” It’s not as steady as he wants it to be. He’s not as steady as he wants to be.

Maya nods and swallows, “two more favors.”

“Yeah?”

“Uh, Pearly mentioned reading a book with you?”

“I was going to ask about that!” Larry perks up at that, some of the pressure in his chest easing, “I was just trying to distract her, does she want to borrow it? I’ve got most of the series but it’s just collecting dust, I’d love to give it to her so they actually get read and loved.”

Maya claps her hands together, “you would?”

“Yeah, I loved them and I’d love to see someone else love the series too,” Larry rubs the back of his neck and grins, “I hope she does.”

Maya nods quickly, “and I think she’d like to read with you again before we go.”

“I can do that.” Larry let out a breath, nothing bad. Nothing hard.

“One more favor.” Now Maya looks nervous and Larry swallows. Something prickles at him and he’s not sure he wants to agree to whatever Maya’s about to ask of him.

“I- The trial’s over. Nick got him 15 years on Second Degree Murder.”

Larry doesn’t know how to feel about that and nods jerkily.

“I want, I want us to go speak to him. Maybe have you talk to Mia or Mi- my mom.” Maya looks at him worriedly and Larry lets out a rough breath.

Despite himself he nods, “yeah. Yeah I can do that.”

#Ace Attorney #Larry Writes Warrior Cats