blxssomwrites

[blxssomwrites]

Fandom: Gintama Rating: T Main characters: Sakata Gintoki, Hijikata Toshirou Pairing: Gintoki/Hijikata Genres: Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Family, Friendship

Well I forgot to share it here but I’ve started a drabble series for this ship! Its a collection of scenarios between these two dumb samurai being in love. Mostly fluffy and/or hurt/comfort scenarios! 

[blxssomwrites]

Title: The scars we hide Fandom: Gintama Rating: K Word count: 1767 words

My first jump into this fandom! I’ve recently started watching this series, and Gintoki quickly cemented himself as a top fav. I haven’t went that far in yet, but I really loved the relationship shared between him and Otose so I wanted to write something about them!

This piece is inspired by the headcanons from @gintamajustaway! I’m still learning how to write the characters, so I apologize if the characterization feels off. Regardless, I hope it’ll be an enjoyable read!

They say that with age comes wisdom, at least when it comes to knowing that things aren’t always as they appear.

Otose might be old, facing pain and aches befitting of an aged body but her mind is sharp and her eyes are even sharper. It’s a boon to have when she’s running the bar; knowing when to pour and when to pull back is what allows her to have returning customers. It’s not necessarily good for business if she lets them die of alcohol poisoning, after all.

But Otose thinks that she gets more practice in telling the subtleties of human emotions and behavior from the idiot living upstairs.

Sakata Gintoki is many things, though among those who knew him, the general view seems to split into two. A lazy, good for nothing perm haired manchild that attracts trouble the way a garbage truck attracts flies. A kind yet fierce self sacrificing samurai who’d do anything in his power to protect what’s precious to him.

Otose has come to learn that there’s more to what meets the eye. Gintoki hides what he truly feels behind layers upon layers of masks, especially if it hints at pains suffered from the life or death battles that he finds himself in far too often.

It’s impossible to survive the grievous wounds inflicted on his abused body without complications. Otose knows that there are days where his old scars act up, but for all the whining that Gintoki does on a daily basis, this is the one thing that he’d keep mum on.

She learns quickly that his body language provides more information than words ever will. Gintoki laughs obnoxiously to hide a wince. Slouches when he thinks no one is looking. Clenches his jaw when he frowns. His movements are less sharp, more practiced and controlled, like he’s trying not to tug on anything in fear of ripping the seams wide open.

Otose often leaves him be, for she knows that Gintoki is both stubborn and selfless, who wouldn’t take too well with being fussed over because he made them worry about him. Whenever he comes into her bar by himself, she doesn’t question when she spots bandages peeking out of his kimono, the faint exhausted lines on a too pale face. Instead, she quietly slides him an extra drink to his order, comments that he looks like shit and pretends not to see the vaguely appreciative look he gives her from the reflection of the glass she’s polishing.

But Otose cares more than she lets on, and has enough common sense to know when to step in. If his old scars affect him too much by her standards, she’s not going to let him suffer in silence any longer, nor any more than he should.

When Kagura and Shinpachi entered her bar that morning without Gintoki trailing behind them, Otose pretends to look disinterested when she gives them breakfast, commenting on the lack of their silver haired boss.

“Ah, Gin-san said that he feels tired today,” Shinpachi replies, eating his portion slowly as opposed to the girl that’s shoveling down her second bowl of rice beside him.

“Yeah! Gin-chan told us to mooch breakfast from you cause he doesn’t want to make it,” Kagura says in between bites, then shamelessly asks for more rice.

Otose’s eye twitches even as she scoops out another bowl full, while Shinpachi flashes her an apologetic smile for her tactless remark. That soon slides off into an almost thoughtful frown. “We have a job to do today, but I guess it’s just going to be the two of us.”

“Hmph! He’s leaving us to do all the work today while he sleeps like a lazy bum.” Kagura makes a face. “Shinpachi! We’re not going to give him any of the pay, okay!? If you do I’ll hit you!” And she does smack him over the head.

“Ow! You’re hitting me anyway!” comes the heated reply, and then it degenerates into a nonsensical argument that hides the underlying worry that these two harbor. Otose knows that they sense something amiss with Gintoki, sensitive as they are when his mood genuinely plummets, but they’re unsure on how to tread on the subject. She doesn’t blame them.

When the pair finishes their breakfast and heads out to work, she makes an offhand comment on collecting rent from the lazy bastard later. Otose turns her back as the tension melts off of the children’s shoulders, and plans for her visit upstairs.

Roughly half an hour later, she exits her shop with supplies in hand and slowly makes her way upstairs. Otose doesn’t bother knocking, merely slipping inside with a slight shink.

Her steps are light, and it’s telling on how awful Gintoki feels when he fails to acknowledge her presence upon opening the door. The curtains were still drawn, probably in consideration for this prideful idiot who didn’t want his kids to see him in this state.

The blanket is pulled up that she only sees tufts of his silver hair. Otose sits a considerable distance away, for prior experiences taught her that with Gintoki and his past, it’s best to be out of his reach until she has a good grasp of his mental state.

“Gintoki,” she calls out.

There’s a flinch from under the blanket before it’s pulled down enough for red rimmed eyes to peek through. Otose feels her heart clench slightly at the pain hidden in them, but keeps her composure.

“Old hag.” Those eyes narrow. “If you’re here for rent, I don’t have the money.”

She knows that it’s an act to keep up appearances. He knows why she’s here but still puts up a front, this selfless fool.

“One of these days I’m going to throw your sorry ass out into the streets,” she replies with a faint huff. A beat of silence, then she wears a softer look. “What hurts this time?”

Gintoki closes his eyes, unable to stand the concerned gaze. He hates it, the man had once told her after too many drinks loosened his tongue. He hates making people worry for him, cause he doesn’t feel like he deserves it. Otose chalks it up to a drunkard’s rambling, and treats him a little nicer the next day when he complains of a hangover.

Otose doesn’t push even as the quietude stretches on for minutes. It’s a battle of wills, sprinkled with a dash of futile hope that if he remains still long enough, she’d give up and leave. Gintoki is stubborn but Otose didn’t survive this long by being docile, either.

They’ve done this song and dance before, back when it’s just the two of them. It’s only a matter of time before--

“... my shoulder.” Otose hums in acknowledgement, giving him room to elaborate if he wants. “... been a fucking bother since last night.”

Another hum, then she shuffles closer. Gintoki cracks open an eye at the noise, wariness clashing with her quiet resolution before he sighs. Otose doesn’t help him when he tries to sit up, though her hand hovers close at the small of his back, just in case.

He carefully sheds his pajamas, biting back winces when the simple act aggravates his shoulder. Otose has seen this strong back several times, and it’s never a pleasant sight when she sees new scars mixing with the old.

Her gaze flickers to the cause of his misery. It’s unsurprising that his dominant arm would bear the heaviest burden. It makes sense for his enemies to incapacitate the wooden sword that inflicts damage as if it were steel. Slash his shoulder and that should stop his rampage, right?

Too bad for them that Sakata Gintoki often defies common sense in his single minded desire to protect what’s precious to him. But damage is still damage, and despite being called the shiroyasha, Gintoki is very much human. His body can never fully recover, only repairs itself enough to function.

Otose brings with her a small bowl of warm water and a clean kitchen towel. She dips it in, squeezes out the excess water before she gently dabs his shoulder. Gintoki hisses at the contact, but aside from the initial flinch, he remains tight lipped.

Once it’s sufficiently cleaned, she picks up the small bottle of ointment, and squeezes out the clear gel onto her fingertips. Then it’s carefully applied on the marred skin. Another hiss, an instinctive lean to get away until he rights himself back up again. Otose continues the treatment, her practiced hand being as gentle as it could be.

After a thorough coating, she tells him to stay put prior to her exit, barely catching the grumbled complaint. Her initial action was to pour him a glass of strawberry milk, but after a moment of consideration, she switches it with cool water. A bottle of painkillers was fished out from inside her left sleeve, and with the items in tow, she returns to his room.

Gintoki is now wearing his pajamas properly again, still sitting upright. His eyes flicker to the door upon her entrance.

“At least you know how to follow orders.”

“Shut up.”

Still, he accepts the pills and water with a tiny nod. Otose goes to sit back down by his futon when he gingerly wiggles his way under the blanket again. The treatment might take the edge off, but what he really needs is rest. A difficult task while he waits for the pills to kick in, she’s sure.

Otose may not be able to alleviate his pain, but she can help him relax enough to make it bearable. Thin, wrinkled fingers slowly finds purchase in his hair, and after gauging his reaction, they slowly dig into his curls.

Ever so slowly, the tension oozes out of him. A small, appreciative sigh slips through his lips with each pass that she makes through his soft locks. Otose merely continues the comforting ministrations until his eyes slip shut and his breathing evens out. Her fingers remain for a while longer while she takes in his peaceful expression.

Her own lips curled into a small, maternal smile. Gintoki is stubborn and reckless, lazy and boorish, loyal and kind, and the son that Otose sees him as.

Eventually, she does pull away. Otose picks up her stuff, shuts the door behind her and continues on with her day. Things will return to normal soon enough.

(She doesn’t question when Shinpachi and Kagura gifts her with some red bean buns that evening, nor acknowledges the soft thank you that Gintoki utters when he passes by her the next morning).

[blxssomwrites]

Little moments of whump

Grand whump is wonderful, of course, but what takes my breath are those subtle moments that show the whumped character is really not ok:

- taking a moment to close his eyes because he’s light headed/exhausted/has such a bad headache

- pressing the heel of his hand against his temple, because his head hurts or he can feel his temperature rising

- spacing out a bit during a conversation - especially when he’s the one speaking, so that he kind of trails off and has to shake himself and apologise and get back on track

- pressing a cold bottle of beer/coke against his forehead and just taking a moment to savour the relief

- especially a normally diligent/stoic character - falling asleep on the job or somewhere he shouldn’t, even if it’s just for a moment, and he’s startled awake by someone/something and there’s just that moment of being lost in his eyes as he tries to figure out where he is and what’s happened

- his hands are shaking and he accidentally meets someone’s eyes who’s seen it happen so he shoves his hands into his pockets or armpits and stalks off

- a little stagger as he walks, or kind of drunkenly reeling off-course a tiny bit before he self-corrects

- that helpless expression just before he collapses

- moving wrong in a way that aggravates the pain, and the sudden seizing of his body

- breathing through the pain

- leaning against objects so he can stay upright, especially if he’s doing it as nonchalantly as possible

- a pause as he first notices that something isn’t right

- that white knuckled grip

- a hitch in his voice as he talks

- half-lidded eyes that are becoming unfocussed

- the way his head lolls

- where he can’t even spare the energy/strength to turn his head and he kind of just accepts things/carries on looking straight ahead

- trying to carry on speaking a command or direction or explanation even though he can only voice a few words at a time, either because of pain, or weakness, or confusion/disorientation

- someone passes him something but his hands are clumsy and he fumbles with it rather than just taking it normally

- reaching under a jacket and coming out with a blood-stained hand (always this <3)

- apologising for being about to pass out just before he does (afhflksdkkjfgg)

[blxssomwrites]

Title: Kissing booth Fandom: Ace Attorney Rating: K

yeah this is just a super super self indulgent piece ft. my OC fkhgjn. really i didn’t think too much on the plot nor the characterization but if you still wanna read it then go!

“You know pal, it feels like there’s a joke somewhere. The Homicide Department setting up a kissing booth and all. Not like I’m complaining; it is for charity but—“ Detective Gumshoe gave a little shrug. “—I still feel like the guys are pulling one on me. I mean, who’d wanna kiss this old guy?”

“Aww, don’t say that!” Fulbright patted his friend on the shoulder. “You’ve got a special charm of your own! I think a lot of people would find you a kissable guy.”

Gumshoe looked unconvinced, but then he sighed, letting out a few loose chuckles. “I guess you’re right. If anything, it is for a good cause. Every dollar we get counts, yeah?”

It was the annual fundraising event, so every municipal police department had to contribute by holding some form of attraction or activity to raise funds for the local children’s hospital. For some reason, the LAPD had submitted a request to hold a kissing booth of all things, and it was accepted easily enough.

Gumshoe barely caught any of it before suddenly, he was knee deep in an intense discussion on the best looking candidates to take the shifts. When his name came up, there was a round of agreements that he protested to, but ultimately outvoted.

“It’s unfair for us to choose purely on conventional attractiveness,” one of the girls had explained. “We want to cover our bases for maximum profit, and you give off this warm, friendly atmosphere that we’re certain would attract people.” A few nods sealed that discussion, so Gumshoe merely resigned himself to his fate. At least Bobby was another one of the chosen candidates, so he wasn’t alone in this.

Thus when Saturday rolled along, Gumshoe arrived at the festival grounds. He wore one of his rarely used but nicer shirts, since they were supposed to look more inviting. He met up with Bobby – who had ditched his usual white suit for a grey polo shirt with brown pants and what looked to be thin leather gloves – near the entrance before they weaved their way through the sparse but sizable crowd of people towards their destination.

There was no mistaking a kissing booth when one laid their eyes on it. A simple wooden booth decorated with hearts of various shapes and colors definitely stood out amidst the other attractions on the fair grounds. Gumshoe noticed that there were a few curious onlookers, which did little to ease the nerves fluttering in his stomach.

“You got some mints stashed up?” Fulbright’s voice pulled him back on track, his gaze flickering sideways. Gumshoe rubbed at his beard, looking thoughtful.

“Oh yeah. That’d be a handy thing to have, huh?” While Gumshoe didn’t necessarily find the thought of kissing strangers too uncomfortable, even he didn’t want to kiss a stinky mouth.

“Of course, there’s still time for you to buy some. I’m the one handling the first shift, so you might as well take your time in exploring the fair, too.” Throughout the three day event, the selected individuals would sit through two hours shifts. This way, everyone would have a chance to contribute as well as check out the fair itself.

The scruffy detective sported a mildly guilty look. “You don’t mind it?”

Fulbright grinned, flashing his friend a thumbs-up. “Of course! It’s the just thing to do!”

It took a little more convincing before Fulbright managed to lightly push Gumshoe into the crowd, cheerfully waving and reminding him once again to have fun. Once he could no longer see him, Fulbright pushed up his glasses before he returned to the booth.

Truth be told, he could share Gumshoe’s sentiment. Fulbright didn’t think he was all that attractive, but apparently his coworkers thought otherwise. With a little sigh, the detective made himself comfortable on the provided seat, turning the folded sign from close to open.

If he remembered it correctly, each kiss cost a dollar. They would first put the money in the jar before the kiss. Practically a quick smooch on the lips, or somewhere else – that’s appropriate, mind you! – if the customer requested it. Anything longer would be an additional dollar, and if there was tongue involve… well, he didn’t want to think too much on it.

Fulbright rubbed his suddenly warm cheeks, reminding himself that this was for charity! He wasn’t going to expect a long line, but he’d be lying if he didn’t wish for that to be the case. And maybe a part of him was kind of hoping that there’d be a particular individual that would stop by…

He once again rubbed his cheeks, trying to banish those thoughts. This was for the children’s hospital! That was his top priority and nothing else! Every single dollar counted, after all!

Initially, it had been pretty slow but about half an hour into his shift, Fulbright started to receive a steady stream of customers. It was when Detective Skye joined him for her shift that the line really grew. It didn’t surprise him that more people were in her line – a mix of men and women, it looked like – since she was a beautiful lady.

When there were breaks in the line, Detective Skye grumbled on about the more disappointing kisses. Like, if she was going to be pulled into this, she’d want it to be a decent experience, yeah?

“Feels like I’d get more of a spark kissing a corpse.”

“U-Uh that’s not really something to joke about…”

Still, things went smoothly on his end. Fulbright experienced minty smooches, soft kisses on the forehead and a couple of overtly eager people. He pulled back before things got too weird, and they paid extra so it worked out in the end.

He had just sat down to take a swig of his water when another person approached the booth. Fulbright looked up, expecting to see another stranger but instead saw a very familiar face.

“Hey Hana, how are you doing?” Skye greeted her first. The young clerk flashed them a small smile, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ears. As opposed to the blouse and skirt combo that made up her work outfit, she was wearing a simple knee length summer dress with orange high lights. Her bangs were held back by flower shaped clips, allowing people to really see her spectacled hazel eyes.

“I’m doing well, thank you for asking,” she replied. A bit soft spoken but Fulbright could still hear her voice over the noise of the fair. “I heard that your department was doing this… attraction.” A light blush adorned her cheeks as she mentioned it, gaze flickering away for a second. “I wanted to contribute to your efforts.”

“That’s very noble of you, Miss Cooper!” Fulbright piped in, drawing her attention to his grinning visage. “Every little bit counts, so we’re very appreciative!”

“So, which one of us did you want to smooch?” Skye asked, resting her elbows atop the counter. Cooper remained quiet for a few seconds, her cheeks gaining back that rosiness. Fulbright sincerely thought that something might be wrong, but she stuttered out her answer before he could say anything about it.

“U-Um… I’d like to… kiss… both of you…”

“Getting the full experience, eh?” The female detective smiled teasingly, though her expression softened when Cooper looked more flustered. “I kid, I kid! Like Bobby said, every little bit counts. Thank you for your contribution, Hana.”

She still looked quite red faced, but more composed. Cooper adjusted her spectacles, fingers grazing the rim a few times. Then her hand dipped into her purse, where she took out two dollars and placed it in the jar.

Since Skye was closer, she propped herself up, leaning forward a little. Cooper closed her eyes and met her halfway, pecking her lips softly. She quickly pulled back, flushed in a pleased yet embarrassed sort of way.

Fulbright waited until her gaze fell on him before he bent forward, tilting his head down to compensate for their height difference. Cooper took in a quiet breath, the met his lips softly. The tips of her ears reddened considerably when it ended, her fingertips lightly brushing her lips. She looked at her feet, then back at the detectives with a little smile.

“That was… n-nice. Thank you.”

Skye planted a hand on her hip, chuckling. “No problem! That was one of the better kisses I had today.”

It really was an impressive, if worrying sight at just how red Cooper became. “Well—thanks again for the donation! Please take care of yourself, but have fun too!”

Upon realizing that a couple of people were approaching the booth, Cooper straightened out her dress, then clutched the straps of her purse. She gave them a quick nod. “Um… I s-suppose I’ll see you two at the office on Monday?”

“Of course!” Skye responded, though half her attention were on the group of guys that was pointing at their direction. Her face soured a little, but she still managed to give the clerk a sincere smile. “Like he said, take care of yourself!”

Cooper nodded one last time before she skittered away, her small frame quickly disappearing in the sea of people. Skye sighed, partially hoping that she too could escape but knowing that there was still an hour into her shift.

Her friend patted her shoulder somewhat sympathetically. It is for charity, after all. She just needed to survive till someone else take over.

[blxssomwrites]

Title: Domesticity  Fandom: Ace Attorney  Rating: K Word count: 1589 words

I was in the mood for domestic moments and my brain went in different directions until I settled on this one. self indulgent piece with my own headcanons sprinkled on top

clenches fist they deserve to be happy and have a good time together 

They’ve been together for quite some time now. The exact date is fuzzy, but only because he feels like it doesn’t quite measure up to this feeling of wonder that he gets everyday. Bobby still can’t believe that he’s with this strong, righteous individual– that he can call Simon his boyfriend and feel stupidly giddy about it. They take things slow, to learn each other’s boundaries, know what they like and dislike. That’s more than fine with him.

(Simon is still learning that he’s deserving of this love, after more than seven years of being treated like a prisoner than a person, and Bobby is taking steps in opening up, for his time spent imprisoned showed him that he lacks personal, meaningful relationships in his life).

Bobby knows that Simon has went through a lot, so he’ll do anything that he can to make him feel comfortable. He only ever gently initiates things, backing off if it’s not well accepted with a soft apology. Though he doesn’t let Simon walk over him, too used still in guarding his heart from the cruelties of the world. It’s all about consent in this relationship. 

Bobby will never force Simon to do anything that he’s not comfortable with. He might push at his boundaries, testing the waters to see if Simon would let him nudge into participating. They might fall behind on how ‘traditional’ couples would act, and maybe they’ll never really be a normal couple with all the cracks that they’re slowly fixing, but that’s fine. So long as he gets to be together with Simon, he’s content.

That being said, it does throw Bobby for a bit of a loop when one day, after a rare lazy lie in bed during an uneventful Saturday morning, Simon invites him to take a shower together. Bobby blinks, needing a second to process that.

Now, while it involves them seeing each other naked, it’s not an inherently sexy action. Bobby learnt that it’s always better to see things neutrally and not fall for typical expectations. And that proves to be the right course of action, when Simon follows up with a mention of how he thinks his hair is in need of a good wash. 

Bobby lays back down, sighing with a small smile. Right. They’re just taking a shower together. That’s it.

Roughly half an hour later, they found themselves in the shower. It’s not cramped, but it’s not like Bobby has ever shared it with another person before. It was… surprisingly easy to see Simon in an undressed state, though he can’t help but notice the collection of faded scars littering his body. Bobby doesn’t stare at it for long, nor does he comment about it. There’s a story behind them, and it’s already a huge show of trust that Simon even allows him to see them at all. If he wants to tell him, then he’ll be ready to listen. If it’ll forever remain a secret, that’s fine too. 

He’s not going to betray his expectations, if Simon had any.

He too sports his own collection of scars. A few slices here, a bullet wound there– both of them were not physically unmarred, so he hopes that it can be considered as his own show of trust. Not a lot of people sees what he hides underneath his righteous white suits and the positive attitude that he tries to bring each day, after all. 

Bobby faces the shower while Simon has his back to it, and he turns on the water. The initial stream was cold – enough to elicit a noise of surprise from Simon, to which he apologized for – before it reaches a comfortably warm temperature. His usual showers were often in extremes; icily cold or searingly hot, so this was a nice change of pace.

The water trickles down his skin from the curve of his neck all the way down to the length of his legs. Bobby sighs, enjoying that uniquely calm lull that only comes from being in the shower. It’s only when he hears a grunt that he remembers. Right, he’s not the only one in here. He changes the setting on the nozzle so that both of them could feel the spray of water.

Eventually, his hair sticks to the side of his face, and he has to swipe back the bangs that covers his eyes. He sees Simon with his long hair running down his chest, and Bobby has to stifle a laugh.

“That’s gotten pretty long. Seems like a hassle to wash,” he comments, not unkindly. Simon flashes him an unheated glare, swiping the worst of the hair out of his face.

“Hair hygiene was the least of my concerns, and I’d much rather keep it than getting it buzzed,” comes the reply. He watches his partner run his fingers through the wet hair. There’s a beat of silence, then Simon looks at him with an odd yet contemplative look.

“Fool Bright...” Simon’s Adam’s Apple bobble visibly as he swallows. “Would you, perhaps, offer your assistance in helping me wash it?”

Bobby swears his throat got a little dry at that, but he doesn’t let the shock settle in for long. He grins softly, then gestures at his basket of products. There’s a citrus scented shower gel, a bottle of shampoo and hair conditioner, among others. “Choose which one you’d like.”

He goes to turn off the shower, waits until Simon makes his choice. Once there’s a good amount of shampoo slathered atop his head, Bobby gets to work.

Bobby digs his fingers into his scalp with the intent of thoroughly washing every strand of hair. A circular motion, then his thumb slides back before his fingers grips in. He feels Simon shudder at one point but he remains silent.

He thinks that, up to this point, this is one of the most intimate things he had ever done. It’s nothing hot or heavy, far from the realm of intimacy that most people would think off. It’s just him washing his partner’s hair, and it’s a nice time that he wouldn’t mind doing more often in the future.

Bobby’s eyes remains on Simon while his were shut. He wonders if the lack of sight allows Simon to feel just how the fingers that dips behind his ears. Once done, Bobby manually handles the hand shower, maneuvering the jet of water that mats his hair down once more. The suds were slowly wash away until he’s reasonably sure it’s completely washed out. 

“You can open your eyes now.”

Simon does so. Maybe he was seeing things, but he thinks that the other is smiling a little at him, perhaps pleased with his work. Bobby wants to kiss him at that moment, but refrains.

There’ll be plenty of chances after they’re not at risk of slipping and cracking their heads open. Not a romantic moment, he reckons.

There’s another round with hair conditioner, which goes as peacefully as before. They continue their shower in silence until it’s time to head out. Bobby steps out first, hands Simon the extra towel before he goes to dry himself up. Once sufficiently dried, he wraps it around his waist, then went to the sink to brush his teeth. After a gargle of mouthwash and a nice floss later, he steps out of the bathroom.

Bobby chooses to wear one of his comfortable hoodies and a pair of slacks. When Simon exits, he’s wearing a pair of jeans and a Steel Samurai themed T-shirt (a gift from Chief Prosecutor Edgeworth, oddly enough). Just like how Bobby forgoes wearing his shades at the moment, Simon leaves his hair untied.

They looked starkly different than when they’re in court, fighting to bring justice for all. In this setting, they’re just two individuals that just enjoyed a shower together, and planned on relaxing at home all day. Bobby thinks that it’s a nice feeling, being able to let loose and lower his walls like this with his partner. 

He shoots Simon a teasing look, tipping his head at the T-shirt. 

“It was one of the only clean pieces of article that I have left,” he grumbles in reply.

“Ah, it has been awhile since we’ve done the laundry.” Bobby looks contemplative. “Maybe we should do that today.”

A stretch of silence. “Perhaps. But after breakfast, and after Taka is fed.”

Bobby laughs, soft and sweet. “Of course! It’d be a crime to not start the day with a good breakfast!” He gets to his feet, covers the distance between them and plants a peck on his lips. “Any special requests? Of course, it depends on what we have left in the fridge.”

A hint of red creeps up Simon’s cheeks, but he doesn’t pull away from the hand that slips into his. “Anything will do.” A pause. “But since you’ve offered, I suppose I’m in the mood for some... vegetable hash.”

Bobby grins, squeezing his hand. “One vegetable hash, coming right up!”

And as Simon makes idle comments as they head into the kitchen, hands still linked, Bobby thinks that he could really get used to this sort of... domestic life that they’re slowly building.

A new chapter in his book, where he vows to make the most of it this time around. Bobby won’t delude himself into thinking that it’s going to be a smooth road, but he thinks that he’ll be able to overcome anything that comes in his way.

He’s not alone this time, after all. 

[blxssomwrites]

Title: No words necessary Fandom: Ace Attorney Rating: K Word count: 749 words

Been wanting to write some indulgent pieces of this ship! And just write more about the good detective cause I love him so much

Under a sky of perfect midnight velvet, under stars so brilliant they drew the eyes heaven bound, two men sat on the crest of a grassy hill. It was a toss-up on which sight made for a rarer scene; the clarity of the stars on this cloudless night, or Prosecutor Blackquill and Detective Fulbright sitting so close together that their knees touched. Stranger still was the fact that they were holding hands; specifically Fulbright holding Blackquill’s. 

“It’s funny, isn’t it.” He kept his eyes on Blackquill’s hand, trailing idle patterns because it was easier than looking at his expression. One might call him a fool for choosing to focus on this rather than admiring the glimmers of light dancing across the night sky, but Fulbright was already looking at one. It might not be as bright, but he personally believed it was the prettiest sight of them all. 

Blackquill hadn’t reacted since he impulsively grabbed hold of his hand, though Fulbright felt tempted to see the look on his face, considering he never imagined that the Twisted Samurai would even allow him to do something of this nature. Seven years of being shackled left its marks beyond physical imprints. In a way, the implication spoke volumes more than words ever could. “That we both knew, but never said anything.”

“There was never a need to say it, Fool Bright.” Blackquill’s words were soft, weary. “I was a man condemned to the gallows. I would be naught but a fool if I let myself believe otherwise. Regardless on the… feelings that arose, there’d be nothing to gain but sorrow.” The I don’t want you to experience went unsaid but rang loud in Fulbright’s mind.

His gloved finger kept making random shapes, a contemplative air about him. “You didn’t have to worry about that, sir.” Dry lips were licked, before he continued. “I would have done a fine job on my own. I always meant what I said, even from the first time I met you. My superior advised me to not get attached but…” A wordless shrug.

“I’ll never give up on you, Prosecutor Blackquill!”

“Don’t worry sir! I’m certain that your rehabilitation would make a difference!”

“... I still stand by what I said, sir. I’ll never give up on you till the bitter end.”

“It wouldn’t be a Fool Bright thing to do, would it?” There was a ghost of a smile on Blackquill’s lips.

Fulbright mirrored it. “Guilty as charged, sir.”

A light sort of silence draped over the pair. Not necessarily comfortable, but easy on the shoulders still. It was silence shared by two men who went through their own personal hell, survived and now were considering on the possibilities that the past no longer shackled them from. A future where they might not have to face alone.

“… you said before that it was acknowledged yet left hovering in the air around us, like the Grim Reaper brushing its scythe over my throat prior to my acquittal.” Well, it wasn’t quite that dramatic, but Fulbright hummed in agreement. He could feel Blackquill’s intense gaze on him, then a finger teased over his lip, feather-light. The detective felt his breath hitched in his throat, hand accidentally squeezing Blackquill’s as his eyes flickered to the suddenly close prosecutor.

“Would you like me to say it now?”

It was funny how much the man had stolen his attention from the very first moment he laid his eyes on him. Fulbright thought that he could believe in the law, but it was the same law that wrapped a noose around the neck of a man that he truly believed was redeemable. People had said that it was impressive how he didn’t fall for Simon Blackquill’s suggestions, but he just didn’t want to admit that he’d been under the Twisted Samurai’s spell since day one.

And man, who would have thought his daydreams would one day turn to reality?

“Yes,” Fulbright murmured, his heart pounding against his ribcage. “Please, sir.”

Fulbright swore he heard a faint snort of amusement, but his mind was entirely dominated by the touch of cracked lips against his. Soft as it was, he could still feel sparks of electricity zipping through his nerves. A second of hovering, close enough that their noses brushed together before their lips locked once more. This time it lasted longer, felt heavier and filled with a need that stole Fulbright’s breath and left him warmly dazed.

No words necessary indeed.

[blxssomwrites]

Summary: Bobby refused to see himself as a victim. Like, others had went through worse. Who was he to complain when he was lucky enough to still be alive? Besides, he was fine! (spoiler alert: he was not fine) Luckily for the detective, a certain ginger haired lawyer knew how to help him, whether he realized he needed it or not.

Basically a combination of my own headcanons, a desire to write something about them and partially my own version of coping with a recent tragedy. At the very least, I got to channel the emotions into something productive and in all honesty, I truly did enjoy writing this piece! Hopefully it’s still an enjoyable read!

[blxssomwrites]

Title: Justice never sleeps! Fandom: Ace Attorney Rating: K Word count: 2974

Basically my first attempt at writing something for AA. Recently played through the games all the way to DD, and fell head over heels for Bobby! A lot of the inspiration came from @windmaedchen-aa lovely art, specifically the office baby version cause I’m a sucker for soft interaction.

This piece is chock full of attempts on grasping the characters mixed with my own hearty sprinkling of personal headcanons. Also involves windmaedchen’s OC, Kid Fox! Thanks to them also for talking and bouncing ideas with me haha. Hope I did Kid some justice!  

Well, please enjoy!   

As always, Detective Gumshoe left his apartment bright and early, decked in his usual jacket that had been with him through thick and thin. While some had called it ratty, he personally thinks it added a sort of charm to it.

Regardless, he made the walk to the precinct. His apartment might not be all that maintained, but its close location in relative to the precinct made the blasted icy showers and creaky elevator worth it. Half of the time.

Gumshoe gave a wave at the clerk manning the front desk, flashing her his patented ‘pal’ smile as some of his coworkers dubbed it as. She returned it with a shy smile of her own, her face flushing slightly at his hearty chuckle. He took the elevator to his floor, and it was when he stepped into the office that something immediately caught his attention.

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