I saw that you wrote for characters outside danganronpa as well. I was wondering if you could write a oneshot of Phoenix Wright having a crush on the reader? Thank you so much in advance! I love your work!!!
I’m so happy to get my first non-Danganronpa request! ♡ Writing Phoenix was so much fun. That said, I do need to give a little warning, I’m only on the first Ace Attorney game right now, so if something feels slightly off, it’s either me still learning the series or it might be tied to spoilers I haven’t reached yet. Also, I know cases are only supposed to take three days but I forgot that when writing this... Soooo just pretend they can take more than three days. Thank you so much for understanding, and I really hope you enjoy!
Pairing: Phoenix Wright x Reader
Warnings/Notes: Set during the first Ace Attorney game timeline. Reader is a defense attorney as well. No major spoilers for the game’s cases.
Summary: Phoenix Wright wasn’t exactly known for keeping his cool outside the courtroom. Between coffee breaks, late-night case prep, and long days of trials, he found himself stumbling through something much harder than defending clients, dealing with his growing crush on a fellow defense attorney: you.
The office was unusually quiet that morning. Phoenix had gotten used to the way Maya’s chatter filled the space, how she always managed to make the silence feel less intimidating, even after those first few nerve-wracking cases. But today Maya was running late, and the only sound in the office was the scratching of his pen against a half-finished case file. He kept stopping mid-sentence, staring down at the paper as if it had wronged him somehow. His thoughts weren’t on the case. They were on you.
You were a defense attorney too, one who had crossed paths with him more than once since his first trial. At first, you had only been a name whispered in courthouse halls. Another rookie attorney, people said, one who had already started to build a reputation for being sharp, quick on your feet, and relentless once you smelled a contradiction. Phoenix had felt his stomach twist when he first heard about you. He remembered thinking, Great. As if I don’t already have enough to prove, now there’s someone else making a name for themselves.
Then he’d actually met you.
It was after one of his earliest trials, back when he still couldn’t quite shake the trembling in his hands whenever he held up evidence. You’d stopped him in the hallway, introduced yourself with a casual confidence that made him stumble over his own name, and then, worst of all, you’d smiled at him. Not the polite, courtroom smile that everyone wore like armor, but something genuine, something that made his chest feel far too tight in the span of a heartbeat.
He hadn’t recovered since.
Phoenix dragged his hand through his hair and let out a low groan. His crush—no, calling it a crush made it sound childish, didn’t it?—had only gotten worse the more he ran into you. Every time you stopped by the office to drop off documents, every time you sat across from him in the gallery while waiting for a case to begin, every time you leaned over his shoulder to read a file and your sleeve brushed his arm, he could feel himself falling harder, deeper, and he hated it.
Not because he didn’t like you. Quite the opposite. He liked you too much. And in his mind, there was nothing worse than making a fool of himself in front of someone like you. You were sharp, put-together, capable. Phoenix, on the other hand, was still learning how to tie his tie straight on trial days.
The door to the office opened just then, and his head shot up, expecting Maya. But it wasn’t her.
“Morning, Wright,” you said, stepping inside without hesitation. You always sounded so casual when you said his name, as if the two of you had known each other for years. You held a thin stack of papers in your hand, tapping them against your palm as you glanced around the office. “Maya’s not here yet?”
Phoenix scrambled to his feet, almost knocking his chair over in the process. “Oh—uh, no. She’s running late today.” His voice cracked halfway through the sentence, and he quickly cleared his throat, trying to disguise it with a cough.
You raised an eyebrow, smirking faintly, but didn’t comment. Instead, you crossed the room and set the papers down on his desk. “I thought you might want a copy of these. It’s the witness list for the Parkham case, you’re co-counseling, right?”
Phoenix blinked. He’d forgotten you were on that case too. He cursed himself silently, how could he forget something that meant spending the next week working alongside you?
“Y-yeah,” he managed, reaching for the papers. His fingers brushed against yours, and he nearly dropped the whole stack in surprise.
You noticed, of course. You always noticed. But instead of teasing him for it, you only smiled again, a little softer this time, as though you were silently forgiving his clumsiness.
“I figured it’d save you some time,” you said. “I know you’ve been swamped lately.”
Phoenix swallowed, clutching the papers like they were a lifeline. “Thanks. Really. I… appreciate it.”
There was a pause then, one of those moments that stretched just a little too long. Phoenix could feel his heart hammering in his chest, the words say something repeating like a mantra in his head. But what was he supposed to say? I like you so much it’s pathetic? That wasn’t exactly professional courtroom conversation.
Thankfully, Maya’s voice rang out from the hallway just then, and she burst into the office a second later, holding a paper bag. “Nick! I brought you lunch—oh, hey, [Name]!”
You waved at her, the easy camaraderie between the two of you instantly filling the room. Phoenix let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, sinking back into his chair. The moment passed. His pulse slowly steadied. But the thought still lingered in the back of his mind as you chatted with Maya, your laughter light and effortless.
How was he supposed to survive an entire case working by your side if he could barely handle a single casual visit to his office?
The week moved faster than Phoenix expected, though not without its fair share of nerves. The Parkham case was already proving tricky, lots of witnesses, conflicting testimonies, and a prosecutor who seemed determined to run circles around every point of the defense. But the thing that rattled him most wasn’t the opposition. It was working beside you.
You weren’t intimidating in the way Manfred von Karma was, nor did you loom over him like Miles Edgeworth often did with his razor-sharp glare. No, your presence was quieter, subtler. But Phoenix found himself glancing sideways every time you spoke in court, distracted by the confidence in your tone. You didn’t waver when the prosecutor pressed. You didn’t falter when the judge asked questions. Even when you were forced to improvise, your words flowed like water, smooth and steady.
Watching you work was exhilarating. And terrifying.
He should have been focusing on the details, on every scrap of testimony, on the evidence they needed to secure a not-guilty verdict. But then you’d lean just slightly across their shared bench to show him a note you’d scribbled, or you’d murmur a quiet suggestion near his ear, and suddenly his brain turned into white noise. He’d catch himself staring at your profile longer than he should, noticing the curve of your expression as you smirked at a contradiction, the way your hand tapped lightly against the table whenever you were deep in thought.
More than once, Phoenix thought the prosecutor might notice how distracted he was. He prayed you hadn’t.
After one particularly grueling day in court, the two of you ended up walking out together. The courthouse was buzzing with its usual noise, lawyers rushing to and from hearings, police officers conversing in clipped tones, reporters swarming anywhere they smelled a headline. But when you nudged his shoulder lightly and said, “Come on, Wright. Let’s get some air,” he followed without hesitation.
You ended up at a small café just a block away, the kind of place Phoenix had walked past dozens of times but never really noticed. The tables outside were scattered with people sipping coffee and picking at pastries. You found a spot near the edge, dropping your briefcase onto the ground beside your chair as if you’d been there a hundred times before. Phoenix sat across from you, still a little dazed at the turn of events.
“You order,” you said, leaning back and crossing your arms. “I’ll pay next time.”
Phoenix blinked. Next time? His throat went dry at the implication, though he tried not to let it show as he stood and went inside to place the order. By the time he returned with two cups of coffee, you had your case files spread across the table, already flipping through them with a pen in hand.
“Relax, Wright,” you said when you saw the look on his face. “We’ll go over this quick, then we can actually enjoy the coffee.”
It was easy to get lost in your rhythm. You’d point out a weakness in the prosecution’s case, and Phoenix would nod, scribbling his own notes beside yours. You’d make an offhand joke about the witness, and he’d laugh, probably louder than he should have in a public place. The minutes slipped by in a blur, until finally you pushed the papers aside and picked up your cup.
“See? Productive and pleasant.” You took a sip, then tilted your head toward him. “You don’t do this often, do you?”
“Do what?” Phoenix asked, caught off guard.
“Take a step back. Breathe. You get so locked into your head sometimes I wonder if you forget the world exists outside the courtroom.”
Phoenix rubbed the back of his neck, embarrassed. She wasn’t wrong. “Yeah, I… I guess I just don’t want to slip up. Every case still feels like it could be my last chance, you know?”
Your expression softened, though there was still a hint of amusement in your eyes. “Wright. You’ve already proven yourself. Nobody can take that away from you. Not even Edgeworth.”
The way you said his rival’s name, half teasing, half serious, made Phoenix chuckle despite himself. “He’d sure like to try.”
You laughed too, and the sound was so bright that Phoenix nearly forgot how to breathe for a moment. He forced himself to look down at his coffee instead of staring.
This was his problem. He wanted to believe what you said, to believe that he was capable, that he wasn’t just fumbling through each case by sheer luck. But hearing it from you… it meant too much. It made his chest ache in a way he didn’t know how to handle.
“Thanks,” he said softly.
You shrugged, as if it were the easiest thing in the world. “Just telling the truth.”
The conversation drifted after that, nothing heavy, just bits of gossip from the courthouse, small observations about the café’s eccentric décor, a joke about how Maya would be furious if she knew Phoenix came here without her. And the whole time, Phoenix kept thinking about how normal it felt. How natural. As though this wasn’t just two colleagues grabbing coffee, but something deeper, something that made his pulse quicken with the hope he was too afraid to name.
By the time you both stood to leave, dusk was settling over the city. You shouldered your briefcase and glanced at him with that same easy smile you always wore.
Phoenix almost choked. “Tomorrow?”
“Of course. We’ve got a lot of ground to cover before court resumes.”
He nodded quickly, trying not to look too eager. “Right. Tomorrow.”
You waved as you headed down the street, blending into the evening crowd. Phoenix watched until you disappeared from sight, his coffee cup still warm in his hands, his heart anything but steady.
Tomorrow. He could survive until tomorrow. He had to.
The next morning, Phoenix woke earlier than usual. It wasn’t nerves about the case, well, not entirely. He’d been through enough long nights poring over evidence that his anxiety had dulled into something familiar, something he knew how to handle. No, this was different. He couldn’t stop replaying your voice in his head, the casual way you had said, Same time tomorrow? as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
He shouldn’t have been so wound up over it. It was just coffee. Just two colleagues preparing for court. But Phoenix couldn’t help it; he ironed his shirt twice that morning, tied and retied his tie until it lay perfectly straight, and still felt like he looked out of place when he finally arrived at the café.
You were already there, of course. Leaning back in your chair, a cup in hand, sunlight catching the curve of your profile as you skimmed through a folder. You didn’t notice him right away, and Phoenix found himself rooted to the sidewalk for a second, staring like a complete fool.
Get it together, he scolded himself before stepping forward.
You looked up when the chair across from you scraped against the pavement. “Morning, Wright. You’re late.”
Phoenix glanced at the clock inside the café, he was five minutes early. “Am I?”
You grinned, sipping from your cup. “Relax, I’m teasing.”
He groaned, covering his face with one hand. Why did you always know how to knock him off balance so easily?
Still, the two of you settled quickly into your rhythm. Papers spread between coffee cups, notes scrawled in margins, quiet laughter that Phoenix swore earned you both a few odd looks from other customers. But every time you leaned over to point at something in the file, he felt the heat rising in his face. He prayed you’d think it was from the coffee.
After an hour, you sat back with a sigh. “That’s enough work for now. I refuse to let my entire morning be swallowed by the prosecution’s nonsense.”
Phoenix chuckled. “That’s probably healthier than what I usually do.”
“Lose track of time until Maya has to drag me away from the desk.”
You shook your head, a mock look of disapproval crossing your face. “You’re hopeless, Wright.”
Hopeless. He knew you meant it playfully, but the word lodged itself somewhere deep inside him anyway. Hopeless, that was exactly how his crush felt. Hopelessly obvious to himself, hopelessly distracting, hopelessly dangerous if he let it slip. He managed a weak smile, but his thoughts spiraled all the same.
The two of you left the café not long after, heading back toward the courthouse. The trial was grueling, as expected, witnesses who contradicted themselves, evidence the prosecution tried to bury under technicalities, a judge whose patience thinned more with every passing hour. But you were steady. Phoenix leaned on that steadiness more than he realized until he caught himself doing it.
When court recessed for the day, he was exhausted, but the relief of being beside you outweighed his fatigue.
“Good work today,” you said as the two of you stepped into the hall. “We’re actually making progress.”
Phoenix exhaled slowly. “Thanks to you.”
You tilted your head. “Don’t sell yourself short, Wright. You caught that slip in the second witness’s testimony. Without that, we’d be in real trouble.”
He rubbed at the back of his neck, embarrassed. “I guess.”
“No guessing. You were good today.”
The sincerity in your voice made his heart stumble. He wanted to respond, to say something, anything, but words failed him. All he could do was nod awkwardly and hope you didn’t notice the way he froze.
The hallway around them was thinning out, the courthouse gradually emptying for the evening. That was when you spoke again, your tone lighter, almost teasing.
“You know, Wright… you get this look when you’re thinking too hard. Like the whole world could be ending and you’re trying to solve it in your head.”
“Yeah.” You smirked. “It’s kind of endearing.”
Phoenix nearly tripped over his own feet. “E-endearing?”
You shrugged, walking ahead just enough that he couldn’t see your face. “Don’t let it go to your head.”
He didn’t have to see your expression to know you were smiling.
That night, Phoenix sat in his office long after Maya had gone home. The case files were open on the desk, but his eyes kept drifting toward the empty chair across from him. He could still hear your voice, light and casual, calling his nervous habit endearing.
He dropped his head into his hands with a groan.
He was in trouble. Big trouble.
The next day in court was merciless. The prosecution had dragged out witness after witness, each one more infuriating than the last, and the judge had nearly banged his gavel into splinters trying to keep order. By the time recess was called, Phoenix felt wrung out. He barely had the energy to gather his papers as he trudged out of the courtroom with you at his side.
“You’re frowning again,” you said lightly, falling into step beside him. “I told you, Wright—you’ll get permanent wrinkles if you keep that up.”
Phoenix glanced at you, intending to shoot back something clever, but his mind went blank the second he caught the way you smiled at him. All warmth, all ease, like the stress of the trial didn’t even register on you.
“Uh—I—” he stammered, then quickly looked away. His throat went dry. The words tangled in his head, trying to force their way out. He wanted to say you made everything easier, that just being around you reminded him why he fought so hard in the courtroom. Instead, what came out was:
The moment the words left his mouth, Phoenix wished the earth would open up and swallow him whole. His face burned hotter than a furnace. He had not just said that out loud.
You blinked, startled. Then, to his horror, a grin tugged at the corner of your mouth. “Excuse me?”
Phoenix’s ears were ringing. “I—I meant—uh—like… the coffee! You smell like coffee, because of the café—”
You stopped in the middle of the hall, folding your arms as you tilted your head at him. “So what you’re saying is… I reek of coffee?”
“No! Not reek! That’s not what I—” Phoenix fumbled so badly he nearly dropped the file in his hands. He bent to scoop up the papers, scattering them further in his haste. As he scrambled on the floor, trying to collect every loose sheet, he could hear your laughter bubbling up above him.
“Relax, Wright,” you said through your laughter, crouching to help him. Your fingers brushed his as you handed him a page. “I’m just messing with you.”
Phoenix froze, staring at the papers instead of at you, because if he looked up and saw that grin again he’d probably never recover. “R-right. Messing with me. Got it.”
By the time you both stood, his pride was in tatters. He straightened his tie just to give his hands something to do, desperate to salvage a shred of composure. You, meanwhile, seemed utterly unbothered.
“So,” you said casually, tucking the last of your notes into your briefcase, “I smell like coffee, huh?”
Phoenix wanted to melt into the floor. “Please don’t ever repeat that again.”
“Too late,” you teased, smirking as you walked ahead of him. “I think I’ve found your new nickname for me.”
He groaned, dragging a hand down his face as he followed. “You’re never going to let me live this down, are you?”
The rest of recess passed in a blur of Phoenix trying desperately to act like nothing had happened. But his slip-up lingered between them, especially when you threw him the occasional sidelong glance that made his stomach twist.
When court finally adjourned for the day, you turned to him outside the courthouse, your eyes gleaming with amusement.
He braced himself. “Yeah?”
“You’re right.” You leaned in just slightly, lowering your voice. “I do smell nice.”
Then you walked away, leaving Phoenix rooted to the spot, heart hammering, face burning so badly he thought it might never cool down.
The sting of his “coffee comment” haunted Phoenix for the next two days. Every time you so much as passed him a file, his brain replayed the moment on a loop, reminding him how hopelessly clumsy he was. It didn’t help that you seemed to enjoy teasing him about it, you’d occasionally sniff the air dramatically in court, or remark that the judge’s chambers smelled “almost as nice as I do, right, Wright?” It was lighthearted, good-natured, but Phoenix could feel his composure slipping every time.
So when another attorney cornered you during recess one afternoon, Phoenix wasn’t entirely prepared for what came next.
You were standing near the bench outside the courtroom, flipping through your notes, when a voice, sharp and condescending, cut across the hall.
“Well, if it isn’t [Name].”
Phoenix looked up to see a familiar face: one of the older defense attorneys, notorious around the courthouse for his arrogance. He strutted toward you, smirking in a way that made Phoenix’s stomach twist.
“I heard you were co-counseling with Wright,” the man drawled. “Must be nice to have someone to carry your casework for you.”
You didn’t even flinch. Without lifting your eyes from the page, you said coolly, “If you’re implying Wright carries me, you’ve clearly never seen him in court.”
The man chuckled, but it wasn’t kind. “Come on, don’t get prickly. Everyone knows rookies like you flame out fast. The only reason you’re still here is because the prosecution hasn’t chewed you up yet.”
Phoenix felt heat flare in his chest. He glanced at you, you were still calm, but he saw the subtle way your shoulders tightened. You didn’t deserve this, not after how hard you worked, how sharp your instincts were, how much you’d already proven yourself.
Before he knew it, Phoenix was on his feet.
“That’s enough,” he said firmly, stepping forward. His voice rang louder than he expected, but he didn’t back down. “You can insult me all you want, but don’t talk to them like that.”
The older attorney blinked, startled. “What, am I wrong? You’re both just rookies playing dress-up in the courtroom.”
Phoenix’s hands curled into fists at his sides. “You weren’t there when they dismantled the prosecution’s case yesterday. You didn’t see them catch contradictions that seasoned lawyers would’ve missed. If you think they’re ‘flaming out,’ then you’re not paying attention.”
The words came out steadier than Phoenix felt, but he meant every one of them. He wasn’t about to let anyone belittle you, not while he was standing there.
For a moment, the man looked like he might argue. Then he scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Whatever. Waste your time propping up another rookie. See where it gets you.”
He stalked off down the hall, muttering under his breath.
Phoenix exhaled, realizing only then how tense his body had been. He turned toward you, suddenly self-conscious. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to—”
But you were smiling. Not your teasing grin, not the playful smirk you gave him when he stumbled over his words, but something warmer.
“Wright,” you said softly, “you didn’t have to do that.”
“I know,” he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. “I just… I couldn’t stand hearing him talk to you like that.”
Your eyes lingered on him, and for once, Phoenix didn’t look away. There was something in your gaze—something that made his chest tighten, something that wasn’t just amusement or gratitude. It felt heavier, deeper, like an unspoken understanding passing between you.
Then, because the moment couldn’t last, you quirked your lips into a smile. “You know, you’re kind of impressive when you get all fired up like that.”
Phoenix blinked. “I—I am?”
“Don’t let it go to your head,” you teased, echoing your words from before. But the way you said it this time, with a glint of fondness in your eyes, left Phoenix’s heart pounding long after you walked back into the courtroom.
For once, he hadn’t embarrassed himself. For once, he’d managed to stand tall. And if the warmth in your smile was any sign, maybe, just maybe, his crush wasn’t as hopeless as he thought.
The courthouse emptied slowly that evening, lawyers and clerks trickling out until the echo of footsteps in the halls grew faint. Phoenix and you were still inside, tucked into a quiet corner of the defense lobby with a pile of notes that refused to shrink no matter how many times you combed through them.
Maya had gone home hours ago, complaining loudly that she wasn’t going to sit around while “Nick nerded out over paperwork.” Phoenix hadn’t minded her absence too much, it gave him a chance to focus, and more dangerously, it gave him uninterrupted time alone with you.
The two of you sat shoulder to shoulder at the table, papers spread haphazardly between coffee cups and half-eaten snacks. The overhead lights buzzed faintly, casting long shadows across the room. Despite the fatigue creeping into his bones, Phoenix found himself reluctant to leave. The quiet moments like this, where it was just you and him and the low rustle of pages, it was the kind of peace he rarely found anywhere else.
You leaned forward, circling a line in one of the witness statements. “There. That’s the inconsistency we can use. How did no one notice this before?”
Phoenix blinked, trying to follow your words, but his brain had slowed. He wasn’t looking at the page anymore. He was looking at you, the crease in your brow when you concentrated, the way your fingers tapped the pen against the paper, the tired but determined set of your jaw.
And before he could stop himself, the words slipped out.
The pen in your hand stilled. Slowly, you turned your head toward him, one eyebrow raised. “What?”
Panic surged in Phoenix’s chest. Idiot. You weren’t supposed to say that out loud. He scrambled, searching for a lifeline. “I mean—the way you caught that inconsistency. You’re amazing at this. You always are.”
For a second, the excuse seemed to hold. Then you smirked faintly, tilting your head. “Always? That sounded suspiciously like a compliment, Wright.”
His ears burned. “Well… it was.”
Silence stretched between you. Phoenix could hear his heartbeat in his ears, could feel his throat tighten as though the next words were forcing their way out whether he wanted them to or not.
“I—I mean it,” he said, his voice softer now. “I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone like you. You’re… confident, and sharp, and you make this job feel less impossible. And every time we work together, I—”
He stopped himself, snapping his mouth shut. The weight of what he was about to say hung heavy in the air.
You watched him carefully, your expression unreadable, though there was a flicker in your eyes that made his chest ache.
“Every time you what?” you asked gently.
Phoenix swallowed hard. His palms were damp against the edge of the table. He wanted to tell you. To finally lay bare the feelings that had been building since the day you introduced yourself in that courthouse hallway. But fear rooted him to his chair—the fear of ruining everything, of making a fool of himself, of seeing disappointment on your face.
“I…” He forced a shaky laugh, waving a hand at the stack of papers. “I just mean every time we work together, I feel like we have a real shot. At winning. At, you know, getting justice.”
The excuse was flimsy, and he knew it. He could see it in the way your eyes lingered on him, sharp as always, as if you’d noticed the truth hiding between his words.
But you didn’t push. You only leaned back in your chair, smirking softly. “Well, I’ll take that as a compliment, too.”
Phoenix tried to relax, but his heart was still racing. He’d come so close—closer than he’d ever intended. And yet, a small part of him whispered that maybe it wasn’t such a bad thing. Maybe the truth was bound to slip out eventually.
And maybe… you wouldn’t mind.
The following morning, you were back in the defense lobby, coffee in hand, sorting through files while Phoenix paced the room like a man with too much energy and nowhere to put it. He’d hardly slept. The near-slip the night before replayed in his mind again and again, his half-finished words echoing until he swore he could hear them in the hum of the courthouse lights.
Every time we work together, I—
He couldn’t focus. Not on the case. Not on the papers. Not even on the fact that court would start in less than an hour. Because the truth sat heavy in his chest, louder than anything else: he liked you. No—he was in love with you. And if he didn’t say it soon, he was going to combust.
You glanced up from your notes, brow arched. “You’re wearing a trench into the floor, Wright. What’s with you today?”
Phoenix froze mid-step, his throat tightening. This was it. He could brush it off, make some excuse… or he could finally say what had been clawing at him for months.
His mouth was dry, but the words tumbled out anyway.
Phoenix’s face went red, and he raised both hands quickly, words spilling faster as panic set in. “I—I mean, I more than like you. I… I think about you all the time. When we’re in court, when we’re not in court, when you’re not even here, I—God, I sound ridiculous.” He raked a hand through his hair, pacing again. “You make me want to do better, to be better, and every time I see you, it’s like my brain just… stops working.”
He stopped, finally forcing himself to look at you. His voice softened, sincerity shining through the rambling mess. “What I’m trying to say is… I’m in love with you.”
Silence. The kind that stretched long enough to make him wonder if he’d just destroyed everything, their partnership, their friendship, whatever this was between them.
But then you laughed, a soft, almost disbelieving sound. Setting your coffee down, you stood and crossed the space between you. “You really had to work yourself up into a full meltdown to tell me that, didn’t you?”
Phoenix swallowed hard, shoulders tense. “…Maybe.”
You tilted your head, eyes warm. “You could’ve just asked me if I felt the same.”
His heart stuttered. “You… do?”
Instead of answering with words, you reached up and straightened his tie, your fingers brushing against his chest. The touch was brief, but it lit him up like electricity. “I do,” you murmured, smiling. “I have for a while.”
Phoenix blinked at you, stunned, before a nervous laugh bubbled out of him. Relief washed over him so strongly his knees felt weak. “Wow. I can’t believe that actually worked.”
You grinned, shaking your head. “For a defense attorney, you’re really bad at building an argument when it comes to feelings.”
“Hey, cut me some slack,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “Courtroom confessions I can handle. Personal ones… not so much.”
Still smiling, you stepped a little closer. “Good thing I like you anyway, Wright.”
The bailiff’s voice echoed from the hallway, calling everyone back to court. The moment broke, but as Phoenix followed you into the courtroom, his heart felt lighter than it had in years.
For once, even with a trial looming, he knew, no matter the outcome in court, he’d already won something far more important.
Thank you so much for reading all the way through! This was such a long oneshot to put together compared to what I usually post, but I had so much fun writing Phoenix as the flustered, lovestruck mess we all know he secretly is. I’m still slowly working through everything in my inbox, but I promise I’ll get to each request one by one. Hopefully I’ll be able to post more consistently from here on out. Thank you for your patience, your requests, and your support, it really means the world to me! ♡
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