An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Persona 3, Persona Series
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Takeba Yukari/Yamagishi Fuuka
Characters: Takeba Yukari, Yamagishi Fuuka, Iori Junpei
Additional Tags: Fluff and Angst, Hugs, Getting Together, Blushing, Trans Male Takeba Yukari, Trans Takeba Yukari, Bisexual Takeba Yukari, Trans Male Character, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Transphobia, Internalized Transphobia, Crushes, Holding Hands, Self-Esteem Issues, Mutual Pining, Iori Junpei & Takeba Yukari Friendship, Bickering, Happy Ending, Persona 3: Reload, July Break Bingo, July Break Bingo 2025, One Shot
Series: Part 3 of July Break Bingo 2025, Part 3 of Trans Takeba, Part 60 of My Persona Fics
Summary:
When Takeba realises he has a crush on Fuuka, he can’t imagine her liking him back. Until the day Fuuka asks him to be her boyfriend.
and as you can tell, this is only the first chapter, cuz there's no WAY i'm done with these two-
anyways uhhhhhh hope you enjoy!
AO3 Link:
For some reason the link box doesn't want to pop up so click here for the AO3 version
Full Story:
What the hell was he doing?
The question repeated itself again and again, almost spinning around Phoenix's head as he sat hunched over in his plane seat. It was a miracle he hadn't burned a hole into the seat in front of him with how hard he had been staring at it since he woke up. It was only about 7:12am. He'd woken up at 6:50am, and from the moment he had processed where he was instead of his bed and was awake enough for any stream of thought his brain was swirling with what he was currently doing, and why he was even on this plane flying from Japan to Germany.
It was all thanks to that awful letter.
Phoenix had just finished a thankfully easy case - It was both a blessing and a curse that the prosecution and the detectives managed to miss the hand print left on the victim's jacket when she was pushed to her death - and was in the hallway to his office, absentmindedly thumbing through the mail he had grabbed from the building's lobby. Considering this was the office and not his actual apartment, there wasn't anything interesting. Bills, spam mail, one or two requests for him to take their case, a maroon envelope- Wait.
The attorney stopped in front of the door to the office when he saw the envelope. It was small, about the size of a card that you'd get for your birthday. He wasn't entirely sure if the color was maroon but it was the closest word he could think of. There were no designs or patterns, not even a fancy wax seal. On the front was the office's address, so this likely wasn't just dropped into his mailbox and was instead sent. And on the back was a simple message written in cursive.
Cursive he knew far too well to mistake it from anyone else.
"To Phoenix Wright"
Phoenix nearly dropped the mail in his hands trying to dig his keys out of his pocket. Once he was finally inside he tossed the now useless mail (at least to himself) onto the reception's desk and sat down on the adjacent couch. A trembling hand raised to cover his mouth. He wanted so bad to think this wasn't actually from her. That he misplaced the cursive and the shade of the envelope and this was just some strange letter from nobody. A crazed stalker, a ransom letter, anyone but her.
Anyone but Eliza Edgeworth.
It had now been about five years since she just vanished, leaving behind a letter that proclaimed "Prosecutor Eliza Edgeworth chooses death" on her desk. She hadn't said good bye to anyone or let anyone know where she could be going. She was just here one day and gone the next. Her bellboy - who she had apparently hired after the Redd White case - was the one to find the letter when he went to bring her some morning tea. Apparently she hadn't even bothered to close the door behind herself, it had just been left wide open. It then took almost a full day for the news to finally reach Phoenix. He knew Eliza since they were children and he was one of the last people to find out about her disappearance? It was because Gumshoe was investigating into where she had even gone himself and was thus too busy to say anything, but that only made him more furious.
Why wasn't he considered with this from the start?
Ever since that day he was constantly calling and texting Eliza to try to regain contact. At first it was every day, sometimes multiple times a day. Asking where she was, if she was okay. If she was even still alive. "Eliza Edgeworth chooses death" could have been her dramatic flair. It could have also been literal. Literal kept Phoenix awake most nights. It then became once a week, then once every few weeks. He hoped it would never reach such a length of time that he'd stop trying to reach her entirely.
Calling and texting her soon became like he was still talking with a friend. He'd detail whatever headache of a case he was working on into her voice mail while he paced around the office. He'd send photos of food he was having or any Steel Samurai memorabilia he came across. On rare nights when he'd go out drinking he'd spam her with barely legible gibberish. The only legible enough to read parts were when he professed his love to her. That love was probably the only thing that kept him from abandoning Eliza entirely.
And now here he was with an envelope almost the same shade as her suit, with cursive he could probably replicate himself without reference. And he didn't know what outcome he wanted from this.
It took several minutes of putting down the envelope and picking it back up, of pacing around and tearing the gel out of his hair. "... Fuck it!" But eventually he lifted the flap that was barely glued down as it was and pulled out the contents. And maybe it would have been better if this was a ransom letter.
Inside was a plane ticket from Tokyo to Germany, and a small piece of paper that nearly made him faint.
"Come meet me in Germany ~ Edgeworth"
And now Phoenix was here, about an hour away from landing in the airport, wondering what the actual fuck he was doing. He had no actual, concrete proof that this letter came from Eliza. It was her handwriting, she signed the letter with her last name. But who knows, maybe this was some strange and elaborate way to get him killed. Fly him out to an entirely different country where no one that he trusted would be. He had garnered a couple of enemies during his career, and sure they were all in jail, but strange things were always bound to happen. Or maybe he was telling himself all of this because he didn't want to actually face his old friend.
What would he even say to her? "Wow, it's been a while since you just disappeared without saying anything and leaving me thinking you killed yourself, it's nice to see you again!" He didn't even know why she left, did he have any right to be angry? Was he even still angry...? Sure, at first he was absolutely furious with grief that his childhood best friend had abandoned him when they had just reunited and were mending their friendship. But now... Now he wasn't even sure what he was feeling. Hopefully he could get his emotions straightened out before meeting Eliza again.
Several hours of his flight landing and trying to figure out how to get to Eliza passed before Phoenix was stood in front of the door of an extremely large and far too expensive looking house. He double checked the letter that came with the plane ticket, which also had her new address on the other side, making sure he even read it right. And he certainly did. He hadn't realized just how much being a prosecutor paid. Maybe he should consider a job change. His grip on his suitcase tightened and loosened as he stared at the doorbell. 'You're already here Phoenix, you might as well just press it. Where else could you even go now that you're in an entirely different country?'
The doorbell was nothing to write home about, a simple chime to alert that someone was at the door. But almost too quickly after he pressed the button the door was opened. The attorney's eyes were wide at the site in front of him.
That was not Eliza.
Instead of a woman with long grey hair and a bit too much makeup like Phoenix was expecting, there stood a man. The same height, hair color, eye color, even almost the exact same facial structure. But, and this could not be stressed enough, this was a man. And unless the attorney was misremembering, Eliza was not. At the very least, the similarities between Eliza and this mystery person were so numerous that there was no chance he was a romantic partner of some sort. Probably not a sibling either, Phoenix never remembered ever seeing or even simply hearing about a brother. Possibly a cousin? The resemblance felt far too uncanny for a cousin, but it was the best guess that he had.
But there was a look in this man's eyes. Relief, joy, regret, guilt. Why would a complete stranger be looking at the attorney like that?
"Oh, uh, sorry," Phoenix finally managed to find his voice again. "I hope I don't have the wrong address, I'm looking for..." He had to give himself a moment before saying it. "Eliza Edgeworth?"
Upon hearing that name the man froze. He was desperately trying to avoid even looking at the attorney. The pit in Phoenix's stomach grew even more as he thought of a million horrifying ideas as to why he got this reaction from this stranger. Eliza is dead, he was expecting to hear, she's been dead for five years.
"Ah, yes. About that..." The man adjusted his glasses, eyes squinting slightly as if he was trying to figure out how to say whatever he needed to say.
"That... Would be me."
~***~
Miles' fingers gripped the edge of the kitchen counter so hard they were starting to shake and turn white. To his left was a kettle boiling water, and to his right was a set of teacups with tea bags on a tray (he would normally prefer loose tea leaves, but this was time sensitive), along with a small cup of sugar. And in the living room was his childhood best friend, Phoenix Wright, probably still confused out of his mind and wondering if Miles had lost it.
"... I'm sorry, what-"
"Look, just- Just come inside-"
"No- No, hold on, you can't just brush off-"
"I'm not trying to brush this off. I'll make us some tea and I can-"
"I don't want tea, I want answers!"
"Phoenix, please!"
Thankfully that plea was enough to get the attorney to calm down, at least enough that he was willing to sit and wait for tea to be made. It also gave Miles enough time to figure out what he was even going to say. How could he explain that he and... Her were the same person? Sure, it was a straightforward explanation. He was tired of being a woman so he decided to become a man. But no matter how straightforward and matter of fact he could be, he couldn't predict Phoenix's reaction to the news. He was prepared for the attorney to up and leave the moment he understood what had happened, unable to accept such an explanation, out of just pure disbelief or discrimination. And honestly, the prosecutor would let him. It would be gut wrenching to officially lose his best friend. But he just needed to let Phoenix know what happened.
The annoying screech of the kettle announcing the water was done boiling snapped him out of his thoughts. Time was up, he needed to let the truth out. He poured the water into the tea cups and made his way to the living room. He wouldn't have been shocked if Phoenix could hear his heart pounding furiously in his chest. The attorney himself was sat on the couch, observing the marble fireplace against the wall and the painted portrait above it, of a young Miles and his sister Franziska. There was another person stood behind the two of them, but they were completely torn out. According to Franziska, dogs had chewed away at the painting. She didn't have any dogs, nor did she ever.
Miles gently cleared his throat as he stood in the doorway, being able to tear Phoenix's attention away from the painting. He properly entered and set the tray down on the coffee table, taking his tea cup before sitting himself in one of the arm chairs on the other side.
"Thanks.." Phoenix mumbled, picking up his own cup. Even after all of these years, he still held Miles' tea cups with such caution, as if he was afraid to drop it at any second. It brought a tiny smile to the prosecutor's lips. "So, um..." The attorney pointed at the painting. "The girl in the black dress. Is she a cousin?"
"No, my sister. Franziska" Miles gently blew on his tea before taking a sip. He was reminded as to why he basically never drank tea from a bag.
"Wait, when did you ever-"
"She's von Karma's daughter."
"Von Karma had a child-?!" Phoenix has to physically restrain himself from jumping out of his seat, setting his cup down so he didn't break it or spill any of the drink in it. The restraint didn't stop the shiver up his spine upon hearing that name. The fact that Eliza was considered the demon prosecutor and not him was an absolute shock. "Someone had a kid with him??"
"Yes, I know, it surprises me to this day as well." Miles gave a tiny chuckle, now looking up at the painting himself. "Neither of us have any idea who her mother is. Or possibly was. We're not even sure she's still alive." He took another sip of his tea. "But Franziska doesn't have any interest in finding her."
"Guess that's fair.."
The silence after that was uncomfortably thick. Neither man really knew how to begin on the actual crutch of the issue. Or, multiple issues, in actuality. Eliza's disappearance, and the sudden appearance of Miles in her place. While the prosecutor was in the kitchen making the tea, Phoenix had a bit of time to think through the current situation. He figured that this stranger - whom he was now realizing he didn't even know the name of - was indeed Eliza, just... Now she looked like a man. But that didn't make it all hurt any less. Did he trust Phoenix so little that he couldn't just tell him what he was doing? Why did he feel the need to drop off the face of the earth? And if the attorney hadn't bothered to try to contact him, would they even be sitting in the same room right now? Would they ever even see each other again...?
"So, uh-" "So I-" Both men started speaking at the same time. The thick silence then returned, with an added layer of sheepishness and embarrassment that they had interrupted each other.
Miles was the first to once again break the silence. "You can go first."
Phoenix shook his head. "No, no, I- You should go first. You're the one who has..." He gestured a hand in the other's direction, gesturing to all of him. "A lot of explaining."
"Right, I suppose I do.." Miles let out a sigh as he set his cup down, adjusting his glasses as he tried to figure out where to even start. He really should have thought of what to say before even making the sudden decision to send that plane ticket to Phoenix... Might as well start off simple. "Well, as you can tell... I'm a man now."
"Ye- Yes, I can see that, but how?"
"Well, the surgeries and hormone replacement therapy weren't the easiest-"
"No, no, not- not that." Phoenix waved his hands to stop Miles. "How's not the right question, um..."
"Maybe this would be easier if you just asked questions and I answered them." Miles gave a little nod. "Ask anything you wish."
"Okay, well..." The attorney rubbed the back of his neck, fiddling a little with the stray hairs that hadn't managed to get grouped into his gel infested hair. He had far too many questions to ask, where could he even start? "I guess... Easiest question first. I don't even know what your new name is."
"Oh, right, of course." Miles had a small, subtle smile on his lips. A smile Phoenix hadn't seen in years and that still caused his heart to flutter into his throat. Despite all of the physical changes his smile was still beautiful. "It's Miles." His name was still beautiful. But maybe Phoenix had a love-infected bias when it came to this person.
"Oh, that's-" He nearly caught himself when he realized he was going to admit he thought Miles' name was beautiful. He knew about those drunken confession texts that he left the other, he always saw them the next morning when a splitting headache would wake him up. But it was one thing to say such things through a screen, it was another when it was all in person. He wished his cheeks weren't bright red with blush. "That's a nice name."
He also wished that the chuckle Miles gave wasn't towards his red cheeks. But by the light dusting of pink on the other's face, it probably was. "Thank you. I vaguely remember my father mentioning that it would've been my name if I had been born male. I was always fond of it because of that.. I guess now it's obvious why."
Phoenix gave a hum of agreement and a nod, leaning forward and folding his hands together. He wanted so bad to just ask why Miles was only getting into contact with him now, but it still felt too soon. If he asked that now he would probably be locked out of any other information if that conversation went south. "How long have you known that you were... Well, a man?"
"With 100% certainty? About four and a half years." Miles hummed. "Vaguely? I suppose... As long as I could even grasp the concept of my body and gender being incorrect. Thankfully my father was supportive of me preferring a more masculine look for myself."
"Yeah, even for formal school events I don't think I ever saw you wear a dress or skirt. Always a little suit and bowtie." Phoenix and Miles shared a chuckle, and then silence once again. Thankfully this wasn't as thick as the previous silence, and it was only because the attorney was trying to figure out if he should even ask his next question. But when was he ever one to shy away from those hard to ask questions? "And... What about von Karma..?"
Phoenix regretted asking that question as quickly as he had asked it upon seeing how Miles' eyes darkened. After he got the hellish prosecutor thrown in jail there were one or two brief mentions of him from Miles. But that was it. Very rare and brief, only mentioning how he wished he'd never been taken in by that man. And that was where the conversation would end. This was clearly a subject the prosecutor disliked- No, outright hated discussing. "Hey, you don't have to talk about it if you don't want to, I- I shouldn't have-"
"No, it's-... It's fine." Miles sighed. A long, deep sigh that seemed to just be there to prolong this conversation further. He'd already dug up these painful memories with Franziska. But Phoenix deserved to know every bit of the truth, including the ugly parts he wished he could forget. And maybe with his childhood friend, it would be at least a little bit easier. "The moment I was officially placed into his custody, he forced a feminine look onto me. I was no longer allowed to cut my hair, I couldn't even wear pants. Skirts and dresses and ruffles became my wardrobe. And the older I got the worse it became. Both this forceful femininity and my hatred of myself and my body." Miles had had his arms crossed across his chest, but now they were wrapped around his torso in a tight hug. It hurt so much to remember all of this. The nights where he cried himself to sleep because he caught a glimpse at the stranger in the mirror. When he had cut his hair out of an act of teenage rebellion, and promptly received a verbal lashing about how he was a woman and should act like one already. The make up that brought him both dysphoria and sensory discomfort. Corsets and heels and painted nails and he hated every second of it.
"And it's... It's ultimately why I left how I did. Now that he couldn't have a hold on my life anymore I decided to leave. I came here, to my sister's home, and tried to find myself once again. Find that little boy that I once was, who should have been allowed to grow into a man." He gave a small, slightly pained chuckle, his grip on himself loosening slightly. "He skipped half of his childhood and all of his teenage years, but at the very least he can be here now..."
Miles was startled by a thumb suddenly wiping something wet across his cheek. He looked up from his lap that he had been staring into to see Phoenix now knelt down in front of him, one hand resting on the prosecutor's cheek. He hadn't even noticed that he moved from the couch, nor when his eyes gained such deep sorrow. And he hadn't even noticed that he himself was now crying. So that's what the attorney had wiped away. Miles had hoped that his friend would never see him cry.
"Jesus, Miles, why did you never say anything...?"
"I... I was scared." He chuckled once again, still as pained as before. "Von Karma made me believe that I should be disgusted that I wanted to be anything but a perfect woman. I figured everyone else would feel the same... Even you..."
If von Karma wasn't already locked away on death row, Phoenix would kill him himself. He knew that the prosecutor was vaguely horrible to Miles, it was obvious by how distant and cagey he was. But he never realized... In the blink of an eye he was stood up with his arms wrapped tightly around his childhood friend. He probably should have asked first before just hugging the other. But then again, there were a lot of things he probably should have done. He should have paid more attention to his friend's deeply buried pain. He should have broken down more walls, offered more support. But when Miles hugged back, with such a tight grip that felt like he might lose the attorney if he let go, Phoenix stopped all of those "should have"s and turned them into "will"s. This was the present. There was no point in wallowing in regrets, especially when he could feel his friend's tears start to soak into his shirt.
"I've got you, Miles... And I'm sorry, but I'm not letting you go again..." While it was through little gasps and slightly raspy, the small laugh he got from the prosecutor brought a smile of pure relief to his lips.
"Why do you think I asked you to come...?" Miles pulled away a bit, just enough that he was able to wipe his tears away as best as he could. But he made sure that Phoenix couldn't stop hugging him. Not like Phoenix even wanted to. "I hate admitting it, but I've missed you for these past few years..."
"Well, lucky you. You're stuck with me forever."
The pair shared a laugh. A comfortable, happy laugh, that they hadn't genuinely shared since they were children. It was a laugh that felt like home. And they stayed in that hug for several more minutes. Even when Phoenix could feel his back start to grow sore from bending over to hug Miles, he stayed firm in his position until his friend finally pulled away himself. A sniffle and the prosecutor was reaching into his pocket, pulling out his phone. "Now, if it's okay with you... I'd like to ask my own question."
"Oh, uh, yeah, go ahead." What could Miles even want to ask? Maybe just simply "how have you been?". Maybe he wanted to see how downhill the prosecution office had gone since he left, or how Detective Gumshoe was doing.
But when Miles started to scroll through something on his phone, the attorney could feel a pit start to form in his stomach. And that small pit became massive when Miles finally showed him what he was scrolling for.
One of his drunken texts, the most recent one, in fact. Phoenix vaguely remembered the case he was celebrating. It was one of those entirely bizarre cases that Phoenix could swear was some sort of fever dream - a zookeeper had been killed, and placed in the lion's area to make it look like the lions had done it. But considering that there was barely any blood in the exhibit aside from the victim, the police actually made an arrest (a janitor that had been working the night of the murder), and that's who Phoenix was defending. Of course he won despite how many hairs he pulled out of his head from frustration. And Gumshoe, with his very limited salary, had taken him and Maya out for a celebration. And during that Phoenix had a little too much to drink and thus suddenly too many feelings to hold back. So he once again sent a text about how much he missed Miles and was still in love with him after all this time. How he was impatiently waiting for his friend to finally return.
He wished he had just deleted the messages when he saw them.
"I suppose it's less of a question, and more of a request to discuss this."
He really wished he had deleted those messages.
"I don't know what's there to discuss." Phoenix shrugged as he sat down in the armchair next to Miles'. "I got drunk celebrating a case and texted that to you."
A pause as the prosecutor looked at the texts. "Well, was it true?"
"God, yes." The attorney ran a hand across his face. The blush that had come and gone earlier came right back. He felt like he was in grade school telling his crush he had a thing for them. Except now he was a grown adult telling his crush he had a thing for him. But "had" didn't feel entirely correct. "It was a miracle you never managed to notice how in love with you I was, especially when we were starting to mend our friendship. Why do you think I was constantly around you?"
"Because you've always been stuck to me, Wright."
"And why do you think that was?"
You could practically see the gears in his head turning and a light bulb appear as Miles realized just how long Phoenix's feelings have been there. "So when you said you changed your entire career path for me..."
"Okay, that was mostly because I refused to believe the kid I knew, who was always raving about how she'd be just like her father and protect people from baseless accusations, suddenly grew up to join the other side. And by supposedly forging evidence and bribing witnesses, no less. I needed to know what the hell happened between you suddenly leaving and then that caused such a sudden shift. Plus, watching Mia defend me sparked a sense of justice that I needed to follow." Phoenix looked to the man next to him, who now had a look like he was expecting more to that explanation. "... Okay, yes, and it was a tiny bit because I still had feelings for you. But to be fair when I made the sudden change my girlfriend had been convicted of murder, I wasn't exactly in the mood to confront any romantic feelings."
"God, don't remind me of her..." Miles sighed, taking his glasses off to pinch the bridge of his nose. Dahlia Hawthorne was a mess of a case that he never wanted to remember. "Well, now I wish I had known all of that before my sudden disappearance." He let out a chuckle as he put his glasses back on. "It wouldn't have been the healthiest for me, but at least I'd have a chance to be with you."
"Well I wouldn't have wanted- Wait-" Phoenix interrupted himself when he actually processed the last part of that sentence. "At least I'd have a chance with you", that didn't make any sense. "You're saying that like you don't have a chance anymore."
Apparently, somewhere along the way, some sort of miscommunication happened that led to this joined confusion. "Wright, I understand that personalities are more important than looks for some people, but..." Miles gestured to himself, eyebrows raised to say "Do you see what I'm getting at?" "I believe most straight men wouldn't continue to be attracted to me now, even if they had known me as long as you have."
And thus, the miscommunication presents itself.
"... Miles, what made you think I was straight-?"
"...What?"
It was just short of impossible for the neighborhood to not hear Phoenix's laughter, as well as Miles' brain completely short circuiting. The attorney was bent over himself, eyes squeezed shut hard enough to start to form tears, one arm holding onto the arm of the chair for some sort of stability. "Miles I-" He tried his best to calm himself down enough so that he could actually speak through his laughter. "I thought you knew I was bi-?"
"You've literally never made mention of this-???"
"How many times have I described a male celebrity as "extremely hot"?"
"That doesn't necessarily mean-"
"Several of them I said I wanted to make out with-!" Phoenix's sides and lungs were starting to hurt from how hard he was laughing. It was painful but it was so nice that he was laughing right now. The entire flight to Germany, he was terrified that this meeting would end with a broken heart and more anger than he knew what to do with. But here he was, doubled over in laughter and his best friend nearly joining him with his own hard laughter. It was like five years hadn't passed between the two of them. They were right back to where they were all of those years ago.
It took a minute or two for the both of them to calm down. Although for Phoenix his was far more forceful, having to calm down because he was starting to cough from a lack of air. Miles quickly rushed to the kitchen and grabbed a glass of water, now being the one to kneel down in front of his friend as the other took the glass. "Thanks.." The other coughed out before taking a few sips. Miles' hand was gently rubbing against the other's back to help ease him, at least a little.
"Jesus, Wright, don't hurt yourself over something silly."
"Hey, I-" A cough interrupted the attorney. "I wasn't trying to."
Well. Now Phoenix's feelings - both past and present - were on the table. He was still just as in love with this wonderful prosecutor as he was five years ago, possibly even more so. Miles felt so much more genuine and true than Eliza had. While Phoenix hadn't completely realized there were more walls for him to break down, it still felt like Eliza was holding something back from him, though he could never put his finger on it. But Miles? He was so much happier. He felt lighter. He felt like an actual person that the attorney could talk to rather than something always just out of his reach. To hear nothing but his laugh for the rest of time would be a blessing.
There was now only really one thing left to discuss.
"So... I've poured my heart out to you for the past five years. Do I get to know the feelings of the famous prosecutor?"
Now it was Miles' turn to become a flustered mess. His face was covered in red and his eyes tried to look at anything that wasn't Phoenix's stupid smile that had "He's adorable" written all over it. The prosecutor already brought up the fact that he would have loved a relationship if he knew of his friends feelings sooner, why was he having to repeat himself?
"I thought I already made those obvious.."
"Well maybe I just want to hear you actually admit them." One of Miles' hands had been resting on the other's knee since he brought Phoenix that glass of water, and now it was being moved by the attorney so that their fingers could be slightly intertwined. If the prosecutor's face became any redder, he swore he might pop a blood vessel.
"Well- Obviously I feel the same."
"And that would be...?"
"God, you're an ass..." Miles let out a small, frustrated sigh as Phoenix started laughing again. The prosecutor could give elegant rebuttals to any argument, tear down whatever evidence or wild theory was presented by the defense with words alone. But when it came to three measly words his voice just ceased to work. He wanted so badly to be able to proclaim his feelings. To tell Phoenix that the attorney never left his mind during these five years. How everything seemed to remind Miles of the childhood friend that he left behind. How he read every message and listened to every voicemail, and how there were so many times where he was hovering over the call button wanting desperately to press it. Yet every time he chickened out because he was terrified of where the conversation could lead, especially when his voice started to get deeper and thus unrecognizable from how he sounded the last time they talked.
How could three little words ever hope to convey all of that?
But, when he really thought about it, Miles realized that they weren't just three little words. A returned "I love you" could completely change their lives if they decided to pursue what would come of it, for better or for worse. It was an endless possibility of outcomes. Dates and morning kisses and the possibility of a messy breakup, or holding each other in their arms and never letting go for the rest of their lives. That sounded like a possibility worth exploring.
"... But I love you. More than those words could ever convey."
If Miles had known how much Phoenix's face would light up over his confession, he might not have struggled as much to say it.
But when Phoenix started leaning towards him, seemingly out of some sort of impulse without thought, the prosecutor wished that he had struggled just a little more.
He quickly placed a hand on the other's chest to stop him, even leaning back more so that their lips had no chance of meeting. He could feel his cheeks grow hot with blush. "W- Wait-"
Their eyes met for a second or two, Phoenix clearly looking like his brain was trying to catch up with whatever had just happened. His sudden jerking back away from the prosecutor indicated that he had finally realized what was happening. "Ack- I'm sorry, I didn't realize-" His cheeks were as red as Miles' now.
"No, no, it's fine-"
"Is it-?"
... Was it? Was it actually "just fine", or was he simply just saying that because it's what he should say to smooth over the situation? It wasn't even necessarily a bad situation, just a small action without thought. Although, "small action" was far too much of an underestimate. This was a kiss. Not just a kiss, their first kiss after confessing their feelings for each other. If the romance stories Franziska had described to him when they were younger told him anything about actual romance - which, they shouldn't, but that was the only frame of reference for him - the first kiss was magical and special, and surprise kisses in general seemed to be a highlight. And yet, he had completely stopped this one.
"Well- I suppose I would have preferred if you had asked first.."
"... Can I kiss you then?"
So that's what people mean when they say they could feel their heart stop. Obviously it wasn't literal, but Miles could feel his entire body suddenly freeze up. All of his thoughts had come to a halt.
It wasn't necessarily that he didn't want to kiss Phoenix. Thoughts of the two sharing such intimacy certainly crossed his mind here and there, even more so after he decided to "die" and came here to Germany. No, he very much wanted to kiss his childhood best friend. But...
"... I don't- I don't think I'm ready for that. Not- Not right now, at least..."
His gaze stayed away from Phoenix once he finally admitted to both the attorney and himself that he wasn't quite ready for a kiss. The windows behind the armchairs, the small magazine stand that was sat between them just to fill the space, the ceiling and floors and everything but those blue grey eyes that he was sure would now be filled with some sort of negative emotion. He had rejected Phoenix's advances, why would he not be upset by that?
"Miles, look at me." Phoenix's voice cut through the silence and Miles' anxiety-induced spiral. The prosecutor didn't listen at first, his shoulders tensing up in some strange attempt to become smaller. Maybe if he kept them there long enough he'd be small enough that he wouldn't exist anymore.
"Please..?"
There was now softness, a slight desperation in his voice. It made Miles want to shrink even further into himself. He didn't think there was any disappointment, even hidden underneath the softness, but one could never be too sure. The only way he could verify what emotions the attorney was actually feeling was to answer his plea and look up at him.
Being a prosecutor, Miles had become incredibly talented at reading faces. While it wasn't technically needed, considering he never did any cross-examining, it came from his early days so he could read even the slightest hint of despair on even the most stone faced defense attorney. He relished in the moment where his opponent realized that their entire case had crumbled to dust and they had lost. That defeat was intoxicating. At least, he was told that he should have been enjoying it.
But he couldn't read any sort of disappointment or anger or anything that would convey that Phoenix was upset. His lips wore a small smile, and it was genuine. It wasn't a mask to cover up whatever he was actually feeling. His eyes held the same softness that his voice had when he spoke. "Believe me when I say, I'm not upset with you. I would never get upset with you setting boundaries. So please don't ever be afraid to do so, okay?" He gently placed his hand on Miles' cheek, and the prosecutor couldn't help but relax into the touch. His walls that he'd put up to protect himself could be so easily broken by the attorney now. Only by Phoenix Wright. "We can take this at any pace you need. And you obviously know how impulsive I can be with you, so let me know when I go too fast."
"And what if that pace becomes too slow...?"
"Miles Edgeworth, I have been in love with you since we were kids. I was in love with you while you were suddenly gone after... Well, you know.." The prosecutor tensed up once again at being reminded of DL-6, but that tension seemed to melt and be replaced with a bright blush when he felt a feather light kiss on his forehead. While it was technically a kiss, it wasn't a direct kiss on the lips, which is specifically what he was not in any way ready for, so he allowed it. Besides, it felt nice. Warm and comforting. "And I'm still in love with you even after five years of you being gone again. I think I've gathered enough patience to wait a lifetime for you to be ready."
Deep in Miles' thoughts, he couldn't help but think he didn't deserve any of this. Phoenix was being far too kind after being abandoned twice by the prosecutor (even if the first time wasn't entirely his fault). 'He shouldn't be so willing to just wait for you to man up,' his thoughts screamed at him, 'You don't deserve his patience after everything you've put him through.' And he believed these thoughts. Truly. He didn't regret why he had up and left five years ago. But the how? That was something he'd be working on forgiving himself for for only God knows how long.
But for right now, with his face cradled in his best friend's hand ('Are we still only best friend's now?'), Phoenix looking down on him with so much kindness that the prosecutor could feel his heart swell to bursting, he let himself believe for the moment that he deserved forgiveness.
"Alright... Thank you..."
"No need to thank me for a bare minimum thing, Miles.."
Miles took a second to let a chuckle out in response before he stood up, his knees now creaking from kneeling for so long. He should have moved back to his chair when Phoenix's coughing fit was over. Oh well, future him could reap the consequences later. "So, where are you staying while you're here?"
... Of course there was something Phoenix would forget.
"Um... Nowhere. I kind of came here as soon as my flight landed." He really should have thought of some sort of living situation before just immediately coming here. He had brought money, and he didn't even make time to convert it to the right currency. "I'll try to find a hotel or something nearby."
"No need, Franziska has a spare bedroom you could sleep in. She already knew that you were coming." Miles waved a hand in dismissal as he headed towards the doorway. He then paused right in front of it, his cheeks became a soft red. "And... My bed is big enough for two people, if you would rather that.." Smooth. Bold. Phoenix wanted to kiss this man already. But he would happily wait for when that moment came.
"Wow, already asking me to sleep with you? Pretty scandalous of y-" The attorney's sentence was suddenly cut off by one of the couch pillows being thrown at his face. Now the light blush that was just on Miles' cheeks had spread to his entire face. And he was pouting slightly. Phoenix had seen grumpy, stern, smug, but never pouting. It nearly brought on another laughing fit.
"Never mind, you'll sleep on the couch while you stay here!"
While it wasn't entirely laughing, Phoenix did chuckle as he got up and walked over to Miles, his arms wrapping around the prosecutor's waist to pull him closer. Miles was trying very hard to not look at the man clinging to him, lest he completely melt and surrender to that adorable face. "Oh come on Miles, I was kidding!"
"Well you should have thought of that before opening your mouth!"
"Please, what can I do to get you to forgive me?"
Miles considered his next words carefully. Not out of fear of rejection, it was becoming painfully obvious that Wright could say yes to just about anything the prosecutor could suggest. No, it was simply because of how cheesy and cliche it sounded. But then again... Look at who he had wrapped around himself.
"I assume you haven't eaten yet, considering you came here so quickly after your flight landed. And I would hope that you didn't try to eat whatever garbage the plane might have served you," He loosened Phoenix's arms enough so that he could turn around to face the other. "so, allow me to take you out to lunch and maybe I'll forgive you for your transgressions. There's a sandwich shop not far from here that should suffice." 'Should suffice', as if that shop hadn't been his place of comfort for the first six months he was here, and even more so after his breast removal and phalloplasty. The food there would more than suffice.
"Oh my, is the great Miles Edgeworth asking me out on a date?" Phoenix's lips shaped themselves into a playful smirk as he placed a hand on his chest, feigning surprise that quickly turned into genuine amusement as Miles once again turned his face away from the attorney. Some pointless attempt to hide his blush that had engulfed his face, ears, and neck, and who knows how much further under his shirt.
"A simple yes or no would have sufficed, Wright."
A warm laugh from Phoenix. An amused smile hidden behind a hand from Miles.
Something that’s been on my mind lately is that I’ve noticed whenever some fanfiction authors need a plot device to get Rick and Morty closer (like just in a general sense, not speaking solely from a romantic stand point, because that ship does exist, and I can’t exactly pretend it doesn’t) they tend to make the family way more abusive than usually.
I actually recently found one, if I’m remembering right, when I was looking for some Jerry related fics to read that was about Mort being trans, and the fic included Jerry just… being transphobic? Like… as if that’s not so out of character for him?
Jerry might not fully understand it at first (in a more broad scenes, but some part of me also pictures Jerry just being like “As long as your happy, then that’s good enough,” while also not fully grasping how to make the situation easier or what sort of advice might be good to give), and I can imagine he’d say something unintentionally because he’d be confused, but I very much doubt Jerry is genuinely transphobic.
Like. This is Jerry. He’s a coward, and can be an ass sometimes, but to equate that as him being transphobic in anyway is just, like. No?
I’ve seen it with Beth on occasion too, where, in a fic, Rick and Morty were planning to run away and never come back, and Beth comes in ready to just beat the shit out of Morty or something, and like. Bro. 😭
Look, I’m not saying you can’t have these types of dynamics in the family. Just like. Make it more in character, I guess?
I understand not every universe is going to be the same, and that’s understandable. There’s probably a universe where Jerry is transphobic (I’m wincing as I type that out), and in that case just make it less obvious you’re using it for a plot device, I guess?
I don’t know. It just kinda bugs me how people tend to treat some characters in the show, while they make Rick the most amazing person ever, when he’s literally the worst. That’s not me saying use him as the plot device either. That’s just me finding it a little ridiculous how people go out of their way to make everyone else in the Smith family a villain, while Rick is this messiah of peace and love when that’s also just not the case.
Fluttershy and Treehugger are in a small clearing on the outskirts of a forest. They are surrounded by trees. Fluttershy is lying on her stomach, looking around her. She is on the left. Treehugger is on the right, and laying on her back, her legs in the air. She has her eyes closed. Both have sticks and leaves in their manes.
Implied drug use (weed, other hallucinogenics), morning after breakdown, enbyphobia (born from confusion and fear for child, happy ending where nonbinary character is respected and cared for)
Fluttershy awoke to a pounding headache and the lingering smell of weed. Her muscles were sore, as well as her eyes. Actually, scratch that. Her whole body hurt, not just those two things.
The smell of weed was what brought her to full awareness. She hadn’t smoked since adopting Velvet La-... Daisy. Since she’d adopted Daisy. But the smell was unmistakably emanating from herself. Although, it seemed to be coming from next to her as well.
“Heeeey...” Treehugger’s voice broke through Fluttershy’s worried thoughts. “You seem to be confused Flutters.”
Fluttershy perked up. “Yes, well, um... I am confused Treehugger. How did I... You... We. How did we get here?” She glanced sideways, checking for an audience, “And er, why do we smell like... This. We haven’t done this in a long time.”
The air stilled, and Treehugger smiled. “Ah, so you don’t remember much of last night. That’s okay Flutters, I’ll fill you in.”
And so Treehugger told Fluttershy of how she’d found her at home, paralysed in fear and confusion, having the worst trip of her life (Fluttershy groaned in affirmation at this statement), and how she chose to take Fluttershy to the outskirts of the Everfree Forest, close enough to a payphone in case Fluttershy's trip took a turn for the worse.
"I mean, I knew you'd had some weed but you seemed to have been on something else entirely, like, something waaaay unsafe without supervision-" Treehugger glanced sideways at Fluttershy, suddenly serious, "-Like morning glory seeds."
"Oh... Was it that obvious?" Fluttershy mumbled, looking embarrassed, "I thought I had them hidden well."
An uncharacteristic frown developed on Treehugger's face, "Not well enough to keep away from a greened out Flutters. I found a packet of them on your counter when I checked in on you." She sighed, and rolled onto her back while dropping her head back on the grass. "You really shouldn't keep stuff like that in the house when you have a kid."
Fluttershy spluttered, and shot up. "Daisy! Is sh-"
"They're fine dude, but I'd suggest stopping before you use the wrong pronouns for your kid again."
Fluttershy sat in stunned silence for a few moments, her thoughts racing. "Wh-what do you mean?"
A breeze slipped through the trees, rustling the leaves above them. Treehugger smiled sadly at Fluttershy, before reaching her hooves up to the boughs above. "You see these trees, Shy? When you look at a tree, what's the first thing you think of?" Upon further stunned silence, Treehugger attempted to push the conversation more, "Do you look at the tree, and think about it's gender? Or do you think about things like the texture of its bark, the colour of the leaves...?"
"I don't know what you mean..."
The trees seemed to shiver at Fluttershy's statement, and shade dropped over the two of them. She let out a small cry, and shifted towards Treehuggers side.
"Do you think about how they move in the wind, how beautiful they are, the fruit some of them produce?" Treehugger's voice rose in volume to be heard over the wind. " Do you think of the shade they provide for us, and the respite they give to small animals...? Or do you ask yourself the silly question of what their gender is?"
A few moments passed, as Fluttershy frowned. "Well... I suppose I don't think about that. Although a lot of trees-"
Treehugger sighed, cutting Fluttershy off. "Listen Fluttershy. You're trans. You're a trans woman. Why is someone not having a gender or having a different gender so strange to you?"
Fluttershy flinched. "But... Won't Daisy be mocked for it? I just want h-them. Them to be safe."
"You're making Velvet's life unsafe right now my friend." The trees shivered, and the wind suddenly stilled. "You're hurting them."
The silence was oppressive, and Fluttershy felt her voice become small. "I am?" She seemed to pause to consider the statement, memories of Velvet's broken voice and magical outburst bursting to the surface. A few moment later, and Fluttershy felt tears glob down her face. "Oh my god. I am."
"You hurt them. But... I believe it isn't too late to make it up to Velvet. They love you Fluttershy, they just want you to love them too."
A sharp sob fell from Fluttershy's lips. "But I DO love them! I love them so much! They're my kid. I just... I don't know why I wanted them to-"
Treehugger rolled her eyes, and pushed her hoof against Fluttershy's lips. "I think you wanted them to be like you. But they're not. And that's okay."
They laid together a few moments more, the silence only pierced by Fluttershy's crying. The wind began to playfully dance amongst the leaves, indicating a new future ahead of Fluttershy, and her child, Velvet Lace.
Story End.
~~~
Note: Sorry for the old art! I had this stuck in my drafts for a long time because I didn't know how to complete the story. I hope you like it!
Warnings: Splitting stitches, stab wound (no actual stabbing occurs in this fic! he only breaks the stitches in a still-healing previous injury), blood, mentioned transphobia/transphobic bigotry, cursing, slightly delirious behaviour
A/N: i know it’s a day late. i’m awful. sorry. hopefully dumbass gay roman being smitten with trans boy logan makes up for the wait a little bit
Okay, so maybe Roman should have listened to Patton when he said not to strain himself. And maybe it was a little rash of him to get up and punch the guy despite the strain it caused him. But he doesn’t regret it! Nope! He will gladly take the pain of ripped stitches any day if it means punching a transphobe in the face.
And. Well. Maybe “pain” is a bit of an understatement, because holy shit why does it hurt so much is he dying? According to the cute boy he literally fought a bigot for despite never meeting him before in his life, no. He’ll be fine if he stops squirming, the guy says, but Roman can’t sit still when he’s literally falling in love with this cute stranger, so. Time for funeral arrangements. Maybe his new husband will come weep at his grave, bring him a single red rose to place on his tombstone. It’ll be so poetic, and it’ll be beautiful, and he’ll lay his ghostly hand on his new husband’s shoulder in comfort, and he’ll laugh at Virgil from the grave because he got a boyfriend first!
“Hey! Prince Charming! Don’t zone out on me like that,” his new husband commands, and who’s Roman to ignore such a pretty face? A pretty face, which is currently a lot closer than he anticipates, and Roman almost knocks their heads together when he jolts up in surprise. His new husband is pressing hard on his opened stitches, and although Roman’s sure he knows what he’s doing (he has glasses, and all the smart people have glasses, everyone knows that), it still hurts like a bitch. Pretty boy sticks his tongue out of the corner of his mouth as he examines Roman’s stomach, and although the small detail makes Roman’s heart go doki-doki in his chest, he can’t seem to look away from the stranger’s own sharp, focused gaze. Who gave him the right to have eyes like that? All shiny and silvery like metal, or maybe Roman’s third-favourite shade of nail polish.
“I’ll try to wipe off some of the blood, but I can’t do much more than that, not here. It’s too unsanitary and I don’t have proper equipment. I won’t risk infection with impatience. The paramedics will take care of it,” his new husband says plainly, brushes his fingers against Roman’s side, and Roman is pretty sure he’s dying. There’s no way that this isn’t an angel. Although, Roman never expected that angels would be so… bossy. The handsome stranger instructs him to keep pressure on his side, details how exactly to hold his hands to his stained skin. Maybe he could be a little gentler about it? Especially when he puts his hands over Roman’s own, and presses harder, and draws a groan from Roman’s throat. “Oh, stop whining. It’s your fault you decided to be unnecessarily reckless for no reason.”
“Ha! For-- For no reason? I would punch that guy ‘gain for you if I h’d the chance!” Roman exclaims, slurred in pain yet loud in the buzzing energy of the outdoors cafe he's probably gonna die in. Honestly, maybe he's okay with dying right now. Yeah, he's sitting here sprawled in a cafe chair bleeding out, but he also has his new husband with him, so who's the real winner here?
"Your new husband, huh? I wasn't aware that we were married already. Shouldn’t you at least ask your potential suitor on a date first?" the pretty stranger muses, face stoic, but there's a teasing glint in his eyes and a subtle smirk as he uses some napkins to wipe a spot of blood off of Roman's hip. The touch sends a shiver down his spine, lends itself to a sense of familiarity despite them never having met before now. Is he talking out loud? Those thoughts were supposed to stay in his head. Hopefully his new husband isn’t annoyed by long rambles at two a.m., because that’s like… Roman’s whole aesthetic. “Although, I suppose the legal and financial benefits of marriage are a positive, despite the tradition itself being an unnecessarily exorbitant game of ‘who can spend the most money and look as rich and successful as possible’ whilst perpetuating wildly amatonormative societal expectations of seeming stable to your friends and family purely through means of surface appearance. But sure, weddings are fun.”
“Haah… Y’sound like Virgil,” Roman mutters as he knocks his head back to rest on the table behind him. The handsome stranger immediately puts his cleaner hand underneath his head and lifts it up, cradling the dead weight with a small frown. “H-- Sorry, wanna… wanna sleep. Virgil a’ways says that weddings are stupid. You guys’d get along. Wait, no, that’s the worst idea I’ve ever had, and I’ve had a lot of shitty ideas.”
“Mm, I’m sure you have. Punching a transphobe for a stranger is definitely one to add to the list. Don’t fall asleep, Prince Charming. You’re not losing that much blood. Hey, you-- how far away are the paramedics?” And… wow. Even the way he speaks makes Roman want to snatch him up. He’s so authoritative, and obviously doesn’t take shit from anyone, and Roman could probably listen to him talk forever. He’ll be like his own personal audiobook. An ASMR YouTuber that lives in his house and shows off that amazing voice of his but also gives him cuddles because that’s what cute husbands do together. That’s the dream.
“An… ASMR YouTuber? You sure have strange priorities.”
“‘S important! Oh, hey… wha’s your name? I have to know how t’ introduce y’a to my friends. ‘Oh, hey Virgil, this is my husband… Bob McBookshelf. I got a cute boyfriend before you, give me fifty dollars.’ Y’know, like that,’ Roman asks, and if he’s being honest, he doesn’t even really know what he’s talking about anymore. He just knows that talking makes him more lucid, and his new husband told him to stay awake, so he’s going to try his best to do just that.
“Ah. Well, my name unfortunately is not Bob McBookshelf. It is Dr. Chae, professionally, but you may refer to me as Logan if you’d like,” Logan says, Dr. Chae, and Roman is taken aback. Not only is his new husband cute, and has the best voice he’s ever heard, but he’s also smart? And a doctor?!
“Woah. That’s so cool. I can’t believe I’m g’nna marry a doctor. Wait, does that mean I get your last name? Roman Chae. That sounds weird. Fits you better. Guess we don’t have to change our las’ names. And! You’re a doctor, ‘f course y’a can’t change it now. Wow… a doctor. You are the coolest person I’ve ever met. And I met Beyoncé once. She didn’t see me or talk to me, but it was still awesome. And you-- you’re a doctor. You must be suuuuuper smart. Already got a college degree ‘n’ stuff. But you… don’t look old.”
Logan’s eyes flick up to meet his, incredulity written across his face, and then it morphs into something almost fond as he lets out an amused huff of a laugh. He looks beautiful, even as he shoves his hands back on Roman’s open wound again, and Roman thinks maybe he’s a masochist or something. He should be angry at the rough treatment, but somehow, he doesn’t really care that much. Oddly enough, he trusts this stranger, his new husband, and Roman could probably get stabbed again except this time by this guy and even so he’d be the one apologizing. “I’m 24. My school experience went by very quickly.”
“Ohhhhh… you’re one of those. Those… smarty-pants people. Smarty people. Pants people. Logan, am I dying?” Roman feels delirious, and he probably is. Logan snickers quietly, smiles small and soft and-- and-- Roman has a feeling that if the blood loss doesn’t kill him, Logan’s adorable smile will. Thankfully, he can hear sirens outside, and that must mean an ambulance is here.
Wait.
“Wai-wai-wait, Log’n, why’d y’a call an ambulance? I’m fine,” Roman asks, reassures even as he moans dramatically when another stinging ache reverberates from the wound. “It hurts but I c’n take it! Had t’a… had t’a before! Got stabbed, did’ja know that? It sucked. My best friend… ex-best friend did it to me. Thought she was cool. She was… not cool. But! I don’t need a hospital. Jus’ a… just a little. Little papercut. Small. I c’n sleep it off. I’m strong.”
“You absolutely can not. You do understand that you didn’t just get stabbed, right? Your “ex-best friend” slashed at your stomach. The laceration is at least eight inches in length, who knows how deep, and you broke a majority of the stitches with the stunt you pulled. There is a very real possibility of you bleeding out without medical assistance. Sit still so I can make sure pressure stays on the wound, and then the paramedics will pick you up, and then your stitches will be re-sewn. There is no need for panic, but you can’t fall asleep, either.”
And, well. Maybe Logan has a point. She did yell something about splitting him in half when she did it, but Roman doesn’t really remember the encounter that well. But Logan’s a doctor! And he’s smart! So he obviously knows what he’s talking about. He can’t die before he gets married to his beautiful doctor husband. That would be the worst ending to the Disney movie that is his life. Well, if Disney had stayed true to the source content and featured a lot more gore and dramatic gay lamenting.
“Yes, yes, I’ll be your doctor husband, as you say, as long as you take me on a date first. Now hold. Still,” Logan demands, exasperated, and Roman isn’t even aware he was moving. Maybe he’s just wiggling because all of his love for his cool new husband is bursting out of him. And he says so, manages to get Logan to crack that pretty smile again, and Roman’s injury hurts just a little less.
I think it’s less ‘abo is the hill that this person is going to die on’ and ‘hey can you stop inherently treating every aspect of this genre as bad and its roleplayers as shitty no matter how they interpret it’ aka ‘can you stop shitting on the people that roleplay this genre like your weird kinks are probably any better’
i mean if shitting on abo is the hill you want to die on when I rarely see untagged abo prompts then there’s literal untagged raceplay and intentional transphobia prompts on this website, that’s uh. a bit yikes too.
The solution to people asking your gender/questioning it (ex. Are you really a girl?) is to respond with something they don’t even consider a gender. Catch them off guard with the wildest thing you can come up with
Ever forget that you're not supposed to bring up Queer ThingsTM in front of certain people and it ends with them having a cold ass take about something (misgendering a trans woman on purpose and calling her a man in this particular case) and you regret even opening your mouth about it so you try real hard to change the subject which you kida succeed at. In this case this why I don't bring up certain friends of mine when I'm with certain people.
Totally don't feel pissed off and icky after the conversation! 💞🌸😊✌/s
