#FIZZ WAS SO SHOCKED

[glitchedcosmos]

Them representatives of my four brain cells watching mastermind

[arriettyspin]

I NEED to know what Vi's reaction was like seeing Jinx and Ekko turn up to the final battle together.

The last time Vi saw Ekko he and Jinx were beating the hell out of each other (she may even have presumed he was killed in that fight). The last time Vi saw Jinx she was at rock bottom, unwilling to fight and contemplating suicide.

And yet here the two of them are decked in matching fits and everything, fighting perfectly in sync. How and when did that happen?

Ekko: *swoops by Jinx on his hoverboard to give her a swift kiss on the cheek mid-fight*

Vi:

[hideawayfairy]

Just wanted to share this expression of Ozzie looking heartbroken when Fizz credits Mammon for being the reason they're together in the first place. I know we don't know how they met yet, but I imagine Oz feels pretty torn up that Fizz thinks the only reason he's with him is because of Mammon. It's probably something he's never once considered and yet here the love of his life is feeling indebted to someone else for their romance this entire time.

[foldingfittedsheets]

When I worked pizza it was a rough gig. I’ve talked about getting fired but the reality was that it was ridiculously easy to get fired at that place. For that reason it was a bit hard to get attached to new hires. Until they passed the two month mark it wasn’t worth forming emotional attachments.

Enter Daisy. There was nothing wrong with Daisy, really, as a person. She just was a bit ditzy and couldn’t hustle worth a damn. For these sins the veteran staff was almost constantly annoyed at Daisy.

But she was blithely unconcerned or unaware of our frostiness. She greeted us with chirpy friendliness every day that was undeterred by our almost blatant ignoring of her. This was fine with Daisy. She’d fill the silence we left by talking our ears off about her dead beat boyfriend, whatever thought was in her head that moment, and the current drama in her friend circle.

One day we snapped. Daisy clearly needed some hazing because we were going crazy. She made herself a pizza for dinner and passed it off to the guy working the ovens, then went to the bathroom.

I don’t remember this being premeditated but all three of us left in her wake lunged for the anchovies.

See. We had anchovies on hand for the very rare occasions someone asked for them on a pizza. It was terribly uncommon but we had them. It stunk up the entire restaurant every time anchovy went in the oven so we all unilaterally loathed anchovies. We assumed Daisy would loathe them too. We poured the fish juice from the can all over her pizza.

We all then went nonchalantly about our work. Daisy’s pizza came out and I sliced it for her as she strolled over from the bathroom. She smiled and thanked me and sat with her back to us, scrolling her phone.

We waited like horrible little imps of mischief, anticipating her outraged and disgusted cries. She lifted the pizza and we leaned closer, malicious in our delight. She took a bite. She chewed. Swallowed. Took another bite.

Slowly we became transfixed. We left off all our closing clean up tasks to watch Daisy’s back as she ate her pizza with every sign of enjoyment. Our malevolence fizzes out into shock. She didn’t say a peep about the anchovy juice. The oven guy had emptied the can over her food and she was unmoved. We couldn’t look away.

We were silent as she finished and brought her plate over to be bussed. We stared at her.

“What?”

“Did you… like… your pizza?”

“It was fine.”

I broke. I was broken. This girl, this annoying cheerful girl, had broken me. “Daisy,” I said in agony, “We poured anchovy juice all over it. How did you even eat that pizza!?”

“Oh! I thought it was really salty! I don’t actually have a lot of taste buds there’s this weird thing with my nose. I really only get like salty, sweet, bitter. You guys put anchovy juice on it!? That’s so funny!”

Reader, she meant it. She thought it was hilarious that we had spiked her pizza with fish oil. She thought it was even funnier that she’d eaten it all without knowing. We all kept laughing together through closing duties, repeating “I thought it was salty!”

That was it. Daisy was part of the team. She had eaten all the malice we had toward her and come out smiling. She won. The following story took place well over a decade ago. I’m aware it contains shitty behavior. You’re supposed to realize it was shitty that’s why I wrote it.

[taelophone]

Friends Don't⋆˙⟡. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . Luigi Mangione x Reader TWs: Baby Trapping . Friends With Benefits . Dry Humping . Luigi doesn’t take his boxers off like once LOL . Gross imagery cuz I’m nasty . Penetration . Luigi is implied neurodivergent, specifically autism . Daddy Kink . Glasses Luigi . A/N: ngl this is v depraved as well🙂‍↕️

“No, hush, you don’t get it. It was like, a look…see, this is why I don’t tell y’all stuff!”

The sounds of crinkled and crunchy chip bags rustled, accompanied by the aggressive slam of Kota’s heavy hand placing down his cold bottle of beer on the coffee table.

Bubbles of carbonation fizzed, alcoholic foam bubbling to the neck before retreating into the amber glass. Bodies shuffled, voices murmured, television buzzed, and pages flipped as Luigi, your dearest friend, flipped through the pages of his planner.

“But like…” Lindsay began, popping a few primary-colored M&M’s in her mouth with a throw of her head. “You guys weren’t there, he was literally soul-searching me!”

“Lindsay, please stop being delusional,” Kota sighed, a pitying glint in his eyes to pair perfectly with his cynical smirk.

“I’ll hop up there and shove my foot down your throat, please don’t, Rykler” she sighed, a half-amused pout on her lips as she reached over the coffee table from her crisscrossed position on the floor to drop some popcorn in her mouth.

“Last name is crazy…” He chuckled.

“So wait, when are we all leaving? Next Saturday?” You asked, cutting through the pair’s banter with a subtle reminder to focus.

You crawled off of the floor, the cotton lycra of your leggings dragging against the ivory carpet. Your hands came to rest on the side of Luigi’s thigh, raising your head to peer over at the planner in his hands as he mapped out an itinerary for your trip to Athens, Greece.

You felt it for a moment— his quad muscles tensed under your hands for a moment, quick enough to go unnoticed, but slow enough to raise a flag of shock or fluster.

“Should be,” Luigi began, his middle finger adjusting the bridge of his reading glasses. “The flight should be like…eleven hours. So Lindsay, don't sit by me because I wanna get some sleep.”

“Wow, you’re so funny,” she chuckled, a sarcastic roll of her eyes and a surprisingly elegant flash of her middle finger.

“I know, it’s a curse” he fired back, quick with his tongue. It was like watching siblings go back and forth with each other, each little nitpicking jab aiming to push the other to call a truce or sink the pair into a vicious cycle of verbal blows. 

“Anyway, I’m gonna drive Kota home. I can see the glimmer in his eyes when he looks at his keys” Lindsay murmured, side-eying him with both care and annoyance before slowly sliding the black and silver fob into her coat pocket.

“Somebody get this man his keys,” Luigi joked, a boyish grin painting his face while he watched his frat-brother stand up and stretch. A few loud pops, cracks of age, and ease echoing from the tall boy's spine before he shakes himself free of insomnia.

“A’ight, we out. Text me when you get home, Pep. Oh, and,” he paused, picking up his beer from the table with a surprisingly sweet and genuine chuckle. “Don’t fuck it up. You got this bro, ALPHA!” He barked, enunciating his proclamation of Luigi’s leadership with a few hits to his chest.

Whatever that meant.

“I won’t, I promise,” Luigi chuckled, waving at the pair of them as they made their way out of your cozy apartment.

With the pair of them gone, the only company between you and Luigi transitioned into silence. His eyes scanned over the small book, filling the empty boxes of next weekend with blue-inked notes and E.T.A’s.

You watched his hands, now slowly bringing your chin to rest atop his thigh. His concentration was so heavy he almost didn’t notice the way you rested your head and arms on his much larger leg, your head tilted innocently to the side like a little doe, discovering man for the first time.

Almost.

“Why are you still on the floor?” He asked with a tiny smile, not once removing his gaze from the journal in front of him.

“It’s comfy” you shrugged, flicking your eyes up to his. The black frames of his browline glasses glimmered until the pale yellow light of the overhead lamp, little white highlights flashing every once in a while with a slight tilt of his head.

He hummed, dropping his pen in the inner hinge of his planner before closing it entirely. He sat it down on the table in front of him, stretching out his arms with a barely audible groan. 

“Come up here, I don’t want you to hurt your knees. You’ll get carpet burn…” he sighed, crossing his arms over his stomach as he peered into your eyes.

“But I’m comfortable” you sighed, propping your elbows up on his thigh.

“C’mon, your knees are gonna feel terrible,” he sighed, reaching over to scoop you up from under your shoulders just to set you next to him on the couch.

“I was comfortable on the floor, c’mon man…” you sighed, glaring at him through your peripheral. Your faux annoyance soon melted, bringing your temple to rest against his sturdy shoulder while he fidgeted with the silver chain around his neck.

“But you’ll be the first one to complain about knee pain later” he stated, shooting you an amused side-eye that mirrored your own.

“Yeah well I don’t get knee pain from sitting on the carpet—“ you teased, a bright and tongued smile on your face.

“Aht-! Behave yourself,” He mused, his brows shooting up as high as the muscles in his face would allow, a pinkish tint on the tip of his nose. Luigi was the last man to ever speak on the subject of behavior— after all, he was almost as ill-mannered and impatient as you.

You weren’t really sure where you stood with Luigi. The lines had long since blurred and distorted into a muddy and grotesque portrait— platonic wires plugging themselves into outlets of intimacy that deviated from the standard friendship.

You knew what his hair felt like between your interdigitals, the soft curls of cocoa brown finding their way into your palms every other night. It wasn’t a question of how it would happen next, it was only when.

It always started in similar ways. Two friends left alone for too long, searing seduction and sexual tension filling the empty space between the both of you.

It was almost pathetic the way you managed to tangle your limbs together every time you laid eyes on each other for too long. Hands gripping and grabbing at anything they could, like frustrated virgins relieving themselves of chastity.

“I’m so well-behaved,” you chuckled, rolling your eyes at him with a lopsided smile. Your head fell to the side, its refuge found on the blade of his shoulder.

“Stop it” he giggled, low and steady in his chest before he shifted to pick up his planner once more. “You guys are evil…making me plan the trip alone.”

“We’re not evil, we just suck at planning. Isn’t organizing and planning your thing?” You joked, your top row of teeth pulling in your bottom lip in sarcastic banter.

“Oh, okay,” he laughed, the silver bridge of his readers slipping down the slope of his nose slightly with the sudden movement of his head being thrown back. 

“It’s okay, we’re just keeping the nerd well-fed,” you said, watching him fill in the last few notes and details in the tiny black lines.

He paused, his brows pinching together with a slightly stretched smirk on his lips. He was confused, of course, but deeply amused by your words.

“I don’t think I’m a nerd,” he said, readjusting his glasses with the knuckle of his pointer finger.

You stared at him, looking him up and down in silent protest. The glasses, the annotated planner in his hand, his monochrome Adidas hoodie, and his dorky black basketball shorts as he faced you with a boyish smile.

“Okay, Luigi…whatever you say!” You nodded, a clear tone of disbelief dripping from your words.

He paused, a small pout on his lips as he leaned back further onto the couch. 

“Am I actually that nerdy…?”

“Yes.”

“Oh.”

“But it’s ok you’re sexy, so you’re a hot nerd,” you said, fluffing the curls at the back of his head briefly.

“Wow. Thanks. I feel so much better. My heart is just overwhelmed with gratitude” he deadpanned, a subtle nod of his head really solidifying his joy.

 He nodded with an unenthusiastic smile, fiddling with the bow-tied drawstring on his black shorts, the cheap polyester bunching up slightly with his gentle tug on the knot.

You watched his hands, curiosity killing you slowly as you succumbed to the strange sensory captivation.

“You shouldn’t look at people’s dicks, it’s not polite” He murmured, letting a teasing chortle slip as his hands ceased their relentless stimming.

“Oh shut up,” you gasped, immediately lifting your head from his shoulder to land a playful blow on his chest. “I was watching you be an idiot with your shorts, actually.”

“Wow,” he drawled, carrying out the w sound for as long as he could while shaking his head slowly. “So you make me plan cuz I’m ’good at it’, AND make fun of me stimming? You’re two for two right now!”

“Oh my god I hate you” you sighed, scooting away from him.

“No, you love me,” he said, pulling you back towards him by the hem of your pink sweatpants. “My dick too, apparently.”

“Ew don’t be gross, Luigi,” you said, raising your eyebrows at his sudden forward attitude. He wasn’t normally handsy or forward, but this was a welcome change.

“We can do something gross,” he joked, a shy and almost childish giggle marking the end of his sentence as a reddish blush crept up to his cheeks.

“Luigi!” You scolded, sporting a shocked smile as he abandoned your gaze.

“Sorry, sorry, it’s the beer,” he sighed, throwing his hands up in faux defense.

You giggled, crossing your arms and sinking further into the couch, letting the tension melt away from your spine and shoulders.

“Imagine not being able to handle your liquor…” you teased, poking his chest with the manicured tip of your finger before spaying your hand over his chest, gently pushing him.

“I can handle my alcohol just fine,” he said, raising a brow at your hand as it slowly began to feel around his slightly firmed pec muscles.

“You know what else you can handle?” You mused, not even bothering the way you squished his pecs with giddy giggles.

“Oh, but I’m gross,” he laughed, his opposite eyebrow joining its twin in its raised shock. 

“Your boobs are big” you murmured, giving one final squish to both of his muscles before withdrawing your hands. To your surprise, Luigi grabbed your wrists, situating them on either of his shoulders as he pulled you into his lap by the dip of both of your hips.

“Actually, they’re called pectorals…not boobs,” he began, slowly diving into a lengthy rant on anatomy and how the male body differs from the female body. 

Your eyes began to glaze over, his hands holding the top of your hips with a firm, but docile grasp on your delicate skin. His deep and suave voice felt like fluttering feathers brushing across your soul, plucking your heartstrings with arousal.

“You have boobs, I don’t have boobs…I don’t think I do anyway, but I have been in the gym a lot more—“

He paused, a sudden wave of pleasure washing over him, a quiet and muffled grunt sounding from the depths of his throat as he was torn from his absent-minded rant. His eyes shot open, his pupils dilating and locking on your form.

Your head tilted forward, eyes gently closed in bliss, and tiny gusts of wind left your lips as you rocked your hips back and forth against his. His bottom lip curled over his bottom row of teeth, his tongue jetting out to brush against it.

“Oh wow…” he murmured, as quiet as distant waves on the salty shores— a reminder that good times were ahead the further along you rode. “That’s new.”

You smiled, your bottom lip coming between your teeth in lustful seduction. He held on to your hip bones, his breathing slowing down with the weight of each breath as he guided you back and forth.

“You’re rude, you weren’t even listening to my important anatomy lesson…I plan, cook, entertain you, organize for you, and help you get your rocks off and this is how you treat me?” He rasped, the front of his canines coming into view as he smiled while his tongue poked out between his teeth.

You whined breathily, his hands pressing you further against the large bulge in his shorts, angry and twitchy underneath the cheap synthetic fabric. He was big— intimidatingly girthy underneath you as it begged to be set free.

You wanted to go faster, your hips stuttering as you attempted to pick up the pace, but Luigi’s firm hold on your hips prevented you from grinding at your own pace. You huffed, glancing up at him with an annoyed glint in your eyes.

“Mmmh, not yet…you did this, not me. Finish what you started,” he mumbled, dragging your hips along his painfully slow. His head tilted back, the wall behind him smashing the top of his curls down as his eyes fluttered shut to concentrate on the feeling.

“Lu, c’mon, don’t be cruel…” you sighed, your face twisting in disappointment and arousal. The push and pull was enough to keep you tingly, the cotton on your panties soaking with each passing second, but not enough to really get you anywhere in under twenty minutes.

“Hm, am I? What have you been to me this whole time…” he chuckled, watching your expressions closely as annoyance and arousal fought for dominance on your face.

His hands were heavy, kneading the flesh at the back of your upper thighs possessively. Hot with fever— itching with lust, it was disgustingly intimate.

His hands traveled your body like it was normal, each depraved and desperate squeeze of his hands fueled by the hunger of a man starved. Your poor puffy and practically pulsing clot ached for action, anything to push you over the edge he kept you so far away from.

“Luigi…come on…” you whined, frantically rutting your hips against his. Much to your surprise, his hands didn’t restrict you from your fervent rocking, letting you capsize against him again and again like a creaky old boat seeking land in a storm.

Deep and sharp breaths filled his lungs, providing the necessary oxygen he needed to survive until his next ragged breath. He liked watching you lose your self-control on top of him— it was so beautiful.

He always had a habit of attempting to fix things, broken or not, and rebuilding them into something…better. What would look better to him, is if you were a babbling twitching mess on his lap.

“Is this too gross for you? Hmm?” He purred, his hands falling to his sides as he left you to do all the work yourself. He watched as you huffed and whined, rolling your hips against his painfully hard bulge again and again.

“Shut…shut up, please—“ you panted, hot and heavy breaths drying up your mouth as you focused your dwindling amounts of energy on riding each wave to euphoria.

“Aht, don’t be a brat,” he warned, popping you on the side of your thigh with a slight scrunch of his nose. “Say you’re sorry.”

By now your eyes burned with the same fire that nipped at your thighs; salty, sinful, seductive tears glossing your waterline better than Maybelline could ever hope to shine. Pulsing above him with quiet whines, your nails clawing into the muscles on his shoulders while his large hand rubbed the spot he slapped to soothe the sting.

“Fuck, I’m sorry, Daddy…” you winced, the simple motion enough to humble yourself. You’d never expect him to be a rough man at all, but Luigi was a man full of surprises.

He chuckled briefly, his face twitching with building pleasure as he watched you work your legs and hips to keep your rhythm. He listened to your whines grow louder, the way your rhythm began to falter sent almost sadistic sparks of giddy excitement coursing through his veins.

“Aw, it’s not enough for you? Do you need my help?” He teased, his large palms coming up to rest on your hips in a taunting manner.

“Yes…yes, please, my legs hurt—! Need help,” you panted, leaning forward to press wet and open-mouthed kisses to his neck and jaw in hopes of convincing him to give you some mercy.

“Poor baby,” he huffed, pulling your sweatpants down your hips. “You need me for everything…planning, company, an orgasm…”

He sighed, pulling his shorts down just enough to expose his boxers, not even bothering to take them off as he pulled his dick out of the fly of his boxers. He slid your cotton panties to the side, the pads of his fingers pressing into the supple flesh of your sides, skewering you down onto him.

You cried out, the stretch just as unfamiliar as it was every single time. He was big; massive even as he took sharp advantage of the slick that had glossed up and decorated your folds from failing to bring yourself to an orgasm moments prior.

“I can’t say no to you…it’s a fucking problem…” he whined, using your smaller body like his own toy as he pistoned you up and down his girthy dick.

You moshed, tears of pleasure and painful sensitivity dribbling down your face as fast as you could blink. Mascara coursed from your lashes, violating the pristine, crystal-like water that once held nothing but emotion.

Dirty like muddy water, tainted with a reminder of how your very own friend makes you feel almost daily. Never mind the years of careful boundary building and shared experiences— you’d always find yourself tangled within each other.

Again. 

And again.

And again.

Paff! Paff! Paff! Paff!

It was disgusting—, your mingled moans and sounds of sticky and hot fabric meeting in the space between you repeatedly. Soaked panties sticking to your lips, boxers caving in with the weight of dribbled precum and sticking to his lower abdomen.

He was a freak for not bothering to take his boxers off, fully aware of the consequences if he chose to keep them on. Luigi didn’t seem to care, however, he was overjoyed with the aspect of you ruining his perfectly new Calvin Kleins.

No amount of money could replace the memory of you dripping down his length and onto the soft material with a loud, helpless shout of his name.

“Close…” you shrieked, using up the last of your breath to warn him of your rapidly approaching climax.

But he already knew that. He knew from the moment you began to flutter and convulse around him that you were nearing your edge.

“I know, I know…” he purred, using your hazy, pleasure-driven state to suck on the side of your neck.

He left blue and purple bruises in his wake, high enough to be annoying to attempt to hide later. If you could give him attitude and mouth, he could give you hickeys.

You stilled, a loud cry leaving your lips as your hands clawed and scratched at his back and shoulders. Warm white flashed beyond your eyelids, your poor twitchy cunt convulsing around Luigi’s dick and painting him pearly.

He watched in awe, his eyes honed in on the scene before him as you shuddered against his chest. At that moment, only one thought crossed his mind as he pistoned you up and down on him.

“Sorry…!” He whined, your slow eyes widening in realization as his thrusts became more and more erratic.

Heavy and milky ropes of cum shot directly through you, pollinating the flowers of your cervix with a loud grunt. His hands slammed your hips down, holding you in place while giving him a loud whimper.

“Luigi, what the fuck!” You moaned, slowly regaining your consciousness as he lazily continued to pump up into you.

“Moment of weakness…” He murmured, the devilish smirk glued to his fanged features like the cat that ate the canary. Purring with pride, and stained with the sweet sweet nectar of his reward.

His grey boxers were now a deep, charcoal grey, fucking every drop of his load back into you slowly.

“It’s fine. I'll buy you a plan B…”

[lost-romantique]

Blitzø's Realization & Feelings

I like how Blitz is initially confused the moment Stolas arrives on scene and breaks into song...

He understands that Stolas just saved him from getting his head chopped off, but he still doesn't understand what he's doing at the trial.

After all, in Blitzø’s mind Stolas is over him, and moved on the moment he saw Stolas having the time of his life dancing with BTB.

In Blitzø’s memory reel Stolas has his top eyes open, and I think to Blitzø he reads it as Stolas seeing and relishing in that kiss, in that moment. Blitzø doesn't even consider the fact that it was a drunken kiss.

But the moment Stolas takes all the blame for himself, things take a turn...

It clicks for Blitzø, and he's just in pure and utter shock as he sees just how much Stolas genuinely and truly loves him.

It's at this moment where he says the words, "I don't want to live a life without you by my side."

Blitzø takes this time to finally let his emotions pour out like a fucking waterfall.

Whereas compared to Ghostfuckers he just subtly acknowledges it.

His expression drops from realization to pure panic at Stolas' actions. Blitzø doesn't want to die, but at the same time, he definitely doesn't want someone he cares about to take the fall for him.

"What are you doing!? I don't deserve this!"

"I realized too late!" Blitzø acknowledges that he realized both Stolas’ feelings and his own feelings too late in the game.

Blitzø in Apology Tour didn't understand his own feelings, let alone Stolas’ feelings. He tries to, but he can't.

"Don't give your life to clean my slate."

What I love about this line is that it reads as: Don't sacrifice yourself to absolve me of my crimes. Blitzø makes it clear he doesn't want this.

"You’re my heart."

Blitzø breaks down and says these words because to Blitzø this is what Stolas is, the key to his heart that he's kept locked up for years, and someone he wants to give his whole heart too.

Because Blitzø closed off his heart after the fire. His love is something that he believed could hurt someone, but with Stolas, he's worth that risk.

The moment Stolas is wrapped in chains, Blitzø moves on instinct, almost as if he's trying to get out of his own chains so he can run to Stolas.

Felt like it would be a disservice not to show the clip that destroyed me. 😀

Blitzø, the moment he's freed of his chains Blitzø says the words, "No- no!" in disbelief, shock, and desperation.

Blitzø is so desperate to stop Stolas from what he's doing, begging him to do anything to stop this from happening. And if that meant getting himself killed, he'd do it.

Because he doesn't want a repeat of this happening. It's one thing for people to leave Blitzø, he’s used to that, but it's another to have them die, especially in front of him.

He breaks down when he fears his worse fears have come true: that Stolas is dead and he can't do anything to stop it.

It's why Blitzø is so shocked and surprised the moment he sees Stolas alive, because his worse fears didn't happen.

The moment Blitzø gets the reassurance that he's is loved by Stolas he falls into that caretaking role almost instantly, since he knows Stolas is hurting right now.

He's taking steps being extra gentle, extra reassuring, extra soft, even going as far as to fluff the pillow on his couch.

It vaguely reminds me of how Blitzø is able to sorta gage what people's needs are. In this moment, Blitzø was about to shoot Creepzo, but instead he opts to beat Creepzo with the end of his gun once he realizes Fizz is on the verge of a panic attack.

What I love about this shot is that this is the most at peace Blitzø has ever looked in the entire show.

He's just so grateful that he's alive and that Stolas is alive.

~~~~~~

Anyway, wanted to include this bit because I love how Sam Haft pointed out that Blitzø leaves Mastermind more self-actualized.

Whereas for Stolas, he leaves Mastermind more humbled as he gets a taste of how truly privileged he is.

[moonstruckme]

Ok, your little jily about hypothermia gave me the urge to see :

The reaction to the marauders to you falling through the ice. Like you were skating on the Black Lake with Sirius and James because they convinced you (against you initial worry) while Remus stands off to the side and watches (the most unsure and worried of them)

And I can see James and Sirius trying to race each other as you try to get a hand of ice skating. Then a crack and you fall through.

It’s like you know that scene with Amy in Little woman

I would totally get if you don’t like it since you’ve just written a similar one.

Your work is amazing ! Hope everything is ok for you ❤️

Thank you lovely <3

cw: ice skating trauma?

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1k words

It’s just like Sirius and James to goad you out onto the lake and then get bored of you when--as you tried to warn them—you can’t skate. James is fizzing with energy, promising to come back as soon as he makes one quick round of the cove, and of course when he challenges Sirius to a race your boyfriend is too competitive to decline. 

They take off at light speed, blades schwicking across the dark ice. Remus, sitting bundled up on land, eyes you worriedly over the top of his book. 

“Be careful,” he warns, not for the first time. 

You are nervous, with no handholds and no boyfriends to help you, but you’re eager to reassure him. “Don’t worry.” You smile. “I’m not going to go racing after them.” 

Remus returns your smile, and, mollified, returns to his book. 

The ice on the Black Lake is far from pristine. There are dips and ridges, and soon you find yourself being channeled down curving paths away from the shore, hardly moving your skates and arms out to your sides for balance. The ice beneath your feet begins to look darker, less of the frosty sheen or slashes from other skates. It feels smoother, too. 

You let yourself glide forward, raising your head to see if any of your boyfriends are looking to witness your success. The first crack is a light sound. Almost negligible, but it gets your attention. You scream as the ice falls out from beneath you. 

The cold shocks you down to your bones, freezing the blood in your veins and pressing in on your lungs. Instinct propels you upwards. 

“H—help!” 

Your voice is a tight cry. The air doesn’t feel much better, colder even, but you try to stay above the surface, the blades on your feet slicing uselessly through the water below. Each time you try to grasp at a piece of ice and pull yourself onto it, it breaks away. Your breaths are gasping, panicked puffs that send white clouds into the air in front of you. 

You can hear your boyfriends shouting. 

“Pads, wait—wait—” 

Sirius is crawling towards you on the ice, another shape moving quickly in your direction. 

“Accio branch!” 

James tosses the long stick to Sirius, who holds it out for you to grab onto. The bark bites into your palms, but you don’t let go as both boys use it to drag you out, ice jutting into your middle. As soon as you’re out to your hip you’re in Sirius’ embrace, his strong arms bringing you closer and helping you pull your legs from the water. 

“You’re okay,” he says, firmly. As though daring anyone to prove him wrong. “You’re okay, baby, we’ve got you. We have you.” 

James and Sirius keep you tucked between them, pushing you on dripping skates and wobbly legs to the edge of the lake. Remus looks like he tried to come out wearing his shoes. His face has drained of its wintery flush, brow set tense with worry. 

Sirius helps him back to the shore, but not before Remus casts a warming charm on you. You give an odd shiver at the change. 

“How’s that, angel?” James scrubs a hand up and down your arm. His voice is light, but its lightness is so forced and so different from his exuberant tone of a few minutes ago. 

Remus pulls you into a hug as you start to cry. Tiny sobs mixed with shivers, your frame shaking in every way possible. Remus holds you securely to him as he lowers you both to the ground. He casts another warming charm for good measure. 

“You’re lucky she didn’t get dragged under by the grindylows,” he says with your head tucked beneath his chin. He sounds angry, but it’s quickly succumbing to weariness. His arms wind around you tighter. 

“We didn’t know she’d try and go into the middle!” Sirius argues as he kneels beside you, James at his side. Your boyfriend’s face is lined with guilt as he reaches for you, unsticking a damp piece of hair from your cheek. 

“How was she supposed to know?”

“Sorry,” you offer wobbily. Each of them makes some sound of sympathy. 

“No, sweetheart, it’s not your fault,” Remus soothes, covering your cheek with his warm hand. James rubs up your calf from your ankle as though he intends to warm you inch by inch. “It was only your first time, you couldn’t have known.” 

“Yeah,” James agrees, “you’re fine, lovie. Nobody said for you to be sorry.” 

You try on a smile. There’s snot frozen above your top lip. “So I can only be sorry when you say?” 

“Yes,” says Sirius, very seriously. 

He grins when you laugh. Remus cracks, too, and James looks relieved at no longer being scolded. Sirius smooths another piece of hair from your face, looking at you carefully. 

“You okay, baby?” 

“I’m okay,” you confirm. “The warming charms are helping a lot. Thanks, Rem.” 

“That’s our Moony.” Sirius smiles at him, clearly eager to be back in your boyfriend’s good graces. “Always knows the perfect spell.” 

“You know that one, too,” Remus grumbles as James starts to unlace your skates for you. “You could’ve done it the moment you got her out.” 

“Ah, but we’re not all as quick on our feet as you, you swot.” 

“Do you think you can walk back inside?” James asks you, slipping your shoes on. “One of us could go get some tea from the great hall while you warm up in the common room.” 

“Fuck that,” says Sirius. “I know where Slughorn keeps his nice cocoa now. I’d say we’re entitled to some of that after our trials.” 

“One of us is,” Remus corrects him drily. 

“Right, then.” James takes your hands, standing you up slowly and fitting an arm around your waist for support. If the wet of your clothes chills him, he doesn’t complain. “We’ll pilfer enough of Slughorn’s cocoa for one person, and you’ll be good as new by dinner.” 

“I already feel okay,” you try to reassure him. 

“Shh, shh.” Remus takes you by the hand, squeezing gently. “Don’t correct them. Take your dues.”

[timkontheunsure]

Why it's Ghostfuckers Blitz gets hooked on

Think not wanting anyone else is some of reason why he got so up amped up on the ghost thing.

He knows they don't really exist, but he's sad and horry. Normally he'd go find someone to play with. (Even if no Dennis needs apply).

So it's a dumb sexy fantasy for him, where he wouldn't really be with someone else, but could still get off.

And cosplaying as Bethany, isn't just getting to pretend to be someone else for a bit. As a rest from himself.

It's getting to play someone with rizz.

Something Blitz hasn't felt confident in since the not-a-breakup.

Something he used to take pride in.

Being able to fucking a prince so good, he wouldn't notice Blitz stealing an infinitely powerful artifact.😈

(heh take that Verosika, Blitz has more game than you).

But he misses and loves Stolas so much that all that confidence has gone poof.

And he just can't bring himself to really want to sleep with anyone else.

(confirmation he wanted to sleep with Fizz; even if the love letter and flower weren't enough of a clue).

Millie looks a little shocked he didn't make a joke out of it, like she did.

The whole day's been a really eye opener for her into how much in love, and how heart broken he is over Stolas.

Even Blitz calling Moxxie a little fuckable is said more like a compliment, than a want. He said her husband, making it clear Moxxie is Millie's person.

[msfantasy-anime]

That’s MY Husband!

Luffy x Wife!Reader

Summary: Boa finds out Luffy is married

A/n: Yo i for real struggled with a concept for this… i actually don’t like it but i just want to complete the request

Part XI

“Hello, we want to register our marriage~” You say, beaming at the clerk who is looking between you and Luffy with weariness.

“You want… a marriage certificate?” The clerk asks, unsure if he heard you right.

“Yep.” Luffy pops, becoming antsy with anticipation.

“You want… to be married … to him?” The clerk asks you pointedly, making sure he understands the situation. “Or is this marriage certificate for another gentleman?” The clerk looks down at Luffy’s outfit which looks like it was looked like it was grungy old clothes yanked off the floor (it was) and dirty from a day gallivanting about the city. Whilst you? You were in a nice clean outfit which look brand new from the store and that’s not even taking into consideration of your styled hair, manicured nails and pretty makeup.

There had to be a mistake.

What kind of groom doesn’t even have the decency to put on nicer shoes?

“Huh? Who else would it be for?!” Luffy bellows making the clerk flinch.

“A-are you a pirate?” The clerk asks hesitantly placing his hand underneath the counter, feeling for the panic button.

“Sure am! I’m gonna be king of the pirates!” Luffy bellows once again making the clerk shake fearfully in his place as he continues to feel around for the button.

“Y-your trying to force this young lady to marry you. Aren’t you?” He asks, more so accusing than anything.

Your hand slams down onto the counter, haki emanating off of you. “No one’s forcing anything. Now I’d get your damn hand away from the panic button.” You say with seething frustration leaking from your taut mouth. “You’re ruining the moment for us.” You hissed threateningly, making the clerk relent in fear.

“Y-yes ma’am! R-right away ma’am!” The clerk scrambles away in search of the marriage certificates only to come zooming back around the corner with the certificate in hand, having both you and Luffy sign the documents.

As soon as Luffy drops his pen, he turns to you and plants a kiss right onto your lips, unlike all those years ago when you first got married, you actually returned it this time.

Your lips collide into each other making your nerves fizz and buzz at the sensation of Luffy’s own mouth pressing so tantalisingly against your own. But just as soon as it started, it ended with Luffy pulling away with a huge grin slapped across his face until it quickly fades in terror at the sound of the towns clock chiming to indicate the new hour.

“CRAP! Nami told me to be back by the bell! Let’s go!” Luffy yelps, dragging you along in a dazed state back to the ship.

It felt like you teleported to the ship.

One moment you were being dragged out of city hall and the next moment you were both standing aboard.

You were expecting to be hearing an ear full from Nami at your tardiness, only she’s currently distracted with the pirate empress, Boa Hancock… who just so happens to be aboard.

It only took a mere moment of your presence for Boa to snap her head up, her eyes dragging across you and quickly darting away to stare at Luffy.

You’re curious as to why she’s here, and you don’t miss the glossy, heart eyes she’s throwing at your clueless husband.

Now imagine the horror of watching a pirate, known as the most beautiful woman in the world, call out your husbands name, pulling him into an embrace and puckering her lips as she is about to press her own mouth to his. A place that’s meant to be strictly for your own, and a place you kissed just moments before.

The swift shock of dismay that ran through your system caused you to stand stock still, unmoving, unblinking and not breathing. You were so caught off guard by the action, you weren’t sure if you want to cry, scream, yell or become violent at this woman’s non-consensual advances on your husband.

It felt like you were under a spell, unable to do anything but watch on as your blood runs cold.

Sanji places his a firm hand on your shoulder, as if pulling you out of your internal hysterics with his calm demeanour and reassuring grip, but your shaken nerves and furrow brows wordlessly explain your intentions of escalating.

Taking a long drag of his cigarette Sanji begins to provide you advice. “Give the captain a minute. There’s a certain grace Boa has earnt, after all- without Boa’s help, Luffy would be dead, and so would Ace.”

You turn your attention back to Luffy, who is currently craining his neck away. His hands planted around her wrists as he holds them back.

“Hey! Back off - I have a wife!” Luffy reprimanded Boa. Her affectionate gaze seems to shatter at Luffy’s careless words. Her struggle to grab him seems to fumble, her arms turning more limp.

Boa’s bottom lip begins to wobble in honest heartache.

It’s funny. One moment you were wanting to punch her lights out, the next you felt bad for the girl who was obviously head over heels for your husband… and understandably so.

But now… now it’s just sad as you watch the most beautiful woman in the world go limp, falling to the ground on her ass as she begins to wail at Luffy’s news. Watching the pirate princess cry fat blobs of tears is far from entertaining.

“I-I-I thought-t-t the r-r-report was WRONG!” Boa stutturs and and sobs all whilst she bites her bottom lip to stop it from trembling.

Pinching the bridge of your nose, you side eye your clueless husband who only seems to cringe away at Boa’s loud crying.

Gently, you approach the pirate princess grabbing her hand and returning it with a reassuring squeeze. “Unrequited love is unfathomably painful.” You say, providing a small smile.

Nothing could’ve prepared you for what came next.

Your simple words cause Boa to release the loudest wail yet, throwing herself at you, crying into your chest.

“I-I-I-I thought if I w-was just p-patient- that he-he would eventually l-like me b-back!” She wails once again. You just continue stroking her head, unsure what to do other than to provide comforts to the heartbroken girl.

Oh boy… this isn’t how you thought your wedding day would go…

[imp-in-simp]

Blitz-Fizz Dance Analysis

I feel like this little moment was Fizz’s way of showing Blitz forgiveness after his apology!

At first, Blitz was only planning on throwing the confetti here. He turns away immediately.

They’re not partners anymore (the fire destroyed that, and it’s been 15 years)

But also… performance is Fizz’s thing and Blitz feels he’s only there to enhance his performance,

But then Fizz pulls him in to join him, in what I feel like is an implicit sign of forgiveness

He’s letting Blitz perform with him again, as a sign that the fire is now water under the bridge, they’re okay, they’re back to normal

At first, Blitz is too shocked to react

But then Fizz does this, and it’s like Blitz’s performing muscle memory kicks in (he does the tail thing too)

That’s when he smiles,

That’s when the joy and memory of joy performing with Fizz kicks in

Free of insecurity about his talent/pain surrounding the fire

As well as the understanding he’s truly been forgiven

Look at that smile

And it ends perfectly with this little flirty moment

(Love how he pulls him closer ^^)

I do believe they had a ‘homoerotic best friends’ type relationship - so this is yet another confirmation that it’s all forgiven and they’re back to normal <3

(Fizz then drops blitz, which is a gag I know, but it still feels like another return to their silly goofy ways!)

[heartsforjh]

I saw your post saying you'd cook writing something for Luke.

Sooo.....

Luke childhood friends to lovers would be pretty cool

ofc! thanks sm for the request 🙂🫶 fair warning: i did not in fact cook, this is more like a snack 😭

“so… can i get your number before i go? maybe we can hang?” ethan edwards, one of the hockey players from school, asks. his tone is casual but there’s a flicker of hope in his eyes.

you smile, holding your hand out for his phone.

“sure, why not?”

you punch your number into his phone, your fingers brushing against the screen as the room buzzes with laughter and music. handing it back, you grin. “there you go.”

ethan thanks you before heading off, and you take a sip of your drink, the cold fizz tingling against your lips. the exchange admittedly, leaves you feeling giddy. you’re stood leaning against the counter top, before a sharp voice immediately drags you out of your thoughts.

“the fuck was that?” you freeze, instantly recognizing the voice. it’s Luke’s—your best friend since you were in diapers. his tone is irritated, and when you turn around, you’re met with his all too familiar, towering frame. it would be intimidating if this wasn’t the same boy you used to watch cry over having to do homework as a kid.

“what was what?” you ask, surprised by his sudden tone. casually, you take another sip of your drink.

“i’m serious! what was that?!” he repeats, his voice more insistent now.

you sigh, placing your drink on the counter and giving him your full attention. “what do you mean? he asked for my number, so i gave it to him.”

Luke runs a hand through his long hair, visibly stressed. “so what— you guys are a thing now?”

you blink, caught off guard by his reaction. “oh my gosh. just because he has my number doesn’t mean we’re a thing… not yet, at least.”

you can’t help but tease him a little, curious about the frustration he’s displaying. something about his reaction feels… different, almost protective.

“that’s my friend! you can’t just… you can’t do that with my friends!” his voice rises slightly, cracking in a way that betrays the emotion he’s trying to hide.

“why not? they’re not just your friends Luke.” you frown, not happy about the possessiveness in his tone. this isn’t the first time he’s acted this way. growing up, he always had a hard time sharing—specifically his teammates or neighborhood friends. he had no problem playing dress up but firmly shut you out when it came to anything with the boys.

Luke exhales sharply, his shoulders slumping. “its not ethan i care about, y/n. it’s you. you’re mine. i love you, and i don’t want ethan—or anyone else—to have you.”

the words hang in the air, thick and heavy. your mouth fallls open slightly, shock washing over you. Luke looks just as stunned, whatever bit of confidence he had found before already crumbling as he runs a hand down his face.

“forget it. just… forget i said anything y/n. do whatever you want.” he moves to leave, his frustration spilling into his steps. he’s quick to try to up and leave.

but you’re quicker. grabbing his arm, you step in front of him, blocking his path. instinctively you stroke your thumb on his arm in a comforting way, and you tilt your head up to look at him. you’re so close now, the faint smell of his cologne filling the small space between you.

“first of all, Luke, don’t ever walk away from me like that.” you say firmly, voice soft but unwavering. “second of all, i love you too.”

he sighs. “no y/n i mean it like—”

you cut him off, your voice steady and reassuring. “i know exactly what you meant. i said i love you too.”

“wait—you do?” he asks, his voice quiet and, expression of disbelief.

you nod, a soft smile growing on your face “i’ve loved you since we were kids Luke. i think i knew the day quinn ripped my barbie’s head off and you got into a fight with him over it.”

Luke lets out a breathy laugh, glancing down before meeting your eyes again. “that was second grade. i’ve known i loved you since kindergarten, when you let me have the last blue Play-Doh. so, technically, i’ve got you beat.

you roll your eyes, laughing softly. “not everything’s a competition, Luke.”

“really? cuz it feels like i’ve been in competition for you my whole life.” he admits, only half joking. he somehow finds the confidence to snake his arms around your waist.

“come on lu. you should know that nobody could ever compare to you.”

his cheeks flush slightly, and he grins, sheepish but hopeful. “you mean that?”

“of course i do.” you say softly.

“so… uh… wanna be my girlfriend?” the words tumble out quickly, his confidence once again faltering as he rubs the back of his neck.

you laugh, shaking your head. “what was that?

he groans, looking at the ceiling for a moment before repeating himself, slower this time. “do you wanna be my girlfriend? it’s okay if not, i just really—”

“of course i do!” you cut him off, grinning up at him. he lets out a sigh of relief, hand falling back to your side, gently caressing up and down.

“hey.” he says suddenly, glancing towards the door. “let’s ditch this party.”

you nod without hesitation, lettting him take your hand and lead you toward the exit. the two of you walked in as friends, but as you step out into the cool night air, hand in hand, you know you’re leaving as so much more.

sorry for the wait but i really hope y’all enjoyed this one :) next part of the quinny smau is coming out next so keep an eye out!

[ripplestitchskein]

The most compelling thing about this whole relationship, and I’d argue the show in general, and what the episode highlighted so exquisitely is that they are perfect for each other, they honestly are exactly what the other one needs but their individuals issues are preventing them from seeing and actualizing it. It’s a delicious character driven conflict. There is no big bad keeping them apart. There is no ill intentioned person pulling the strings and putting things in their head to foster this miscommunication. It is solely their own traumas and issues fucking them over in the most relatable ways. What is brilliant about it is that the entire linchpin of this, and the overarching theme is that this is all a circus show, that the root of it is that both of them have been putting on these acts their whole lives and if they would both just STOP performing they would get what they need. The conflict now is one of them is trying to stop acting altogether while the other is scrambling to stay on book.

Blitzø needs someone who will appreciate him, build him up, encourage him, love him without condition, obligation or most importantly, as merely the consequence of putting on a good performance. Stolas does that from the beginning, he sees and admires Blitz as he is, his problem is actually rooted in the act Blitz puts on. Even Blitz’s closest friends and family, and Blitz himself, can’t or won’t allow Blitz to stop the performance though.

Millie, Moxxie, and Loona all love him, but even they went into this episode putting pressure on Blitzø to perform even going so far as to follow him so he wouldn’t fuck it up. The sex toy shopping spree was just gathering props in service to that performance, to this show they are encouraging him not to bomb.

Fizz, who recently learned the lesson Blitzø needs to learn, who stopped performing for the benefit of others, is probably the only one approaching it from a “What kind of stuff do you guys actually like?” perspective, but because Blitzø is so focused on doing a good job he really doesn’t consider what he actually wants, he’s buying things he thinks will support the show. Lighting, costumes, props. Even the Stolas Sex Stuff box is basically just a prop comic box.

He needs to get his act just right and put on the best show he can so they can keep the book and to allow the show to go on.

But like his performances in the past, Blitz chokes. For the entire scene in the bedroom he is basically saying “Let me run that again, I’ll get the lines right this time!” And the reason it is so heartbreaking is that what Stolas wants, is just him, not the facade of a clown doing his best bits, just the person behind it. We see in The Circus Blitz has been told his whole life that not only does he need to keep putting on that show but that if he doesn’t he’s worthless. There’s always a better act waiting to take your spotlight, you can be bought and sold on a whim.

The Circus and its parallels in The Full Moon perfectly encapsulate this issue. He kept doing the same thing over and over, trying to make that balloon horse and it’s when he improvs and is himself that someone appreciates him, laughs with him and sees the value of him as Blitz not the clown, but because its not the audience as a whole it’s not worth anything and that’s when someone else swoops in to wow the crowd. We see this over and over in the show: he keeps trying the same schtick and when he flops he just gets more and more desperate to get his self assigned role right.

In Stolas’s case he was actually really good at his act when he followed the scripts he was given. Everyone around him seems shocked by his recent behavior, they really bought the happy family, regal prince play he’s been putting on all this time. Blitz comes back into his life and gives him a new script. In The Circus Stolas is himself at first, showing off his books and enthusiasm for knowledge but his audience isn’t responsive so he switches “What do you want to do? Give me the script for how you want me to act.” From when he first wakes up bouncing with enthusiasm and told “Stop being yourself, act like a Prince” he calms himself and tries to be what he’s supposed do be and he keeps doing that until Full Moon.

While Stolas enjoys their game and his new playmate he is pretty much putting on an act the entire time, looking to Blitz for cues over and over until they are under the tree. In this scene both Stolas and Blitzø are, in my opinion, both completely genuine and without artifice. Blitz expresses what he really wants, and Stolas is delighted and supportive of it, admiring him and expresses that he hopes he’ll do a good job with his grimoire and when Blitz says he’ll maybe hire him, Stolas is delighted but expresses that he hopes he’ll “qualify”. This shatters my heart into pieces, because even here while Blitz is dreaming his big dreams of being a boss Stolas is still “I hope I can learn how to do a good job with the role I’ve been given. I hope I can be what you want me to be.”

When they meet again 25 years later he looks to Blitz for the script again and fulfills the role Blitz more or less implies he wants to the best of his ability, if not over the top and over dramatized as it’s a new role for him. It still doesn’t fit quite right though. He’s still acting.

In The Full Moon Stolas is still following a script but one he’s at least written himself this time, no doubt influenced a bit by his romance novels and telenovellas. When Blitz approaches him and tries to seduce him again he flushes and wavers to go back to the character Blitz assigned him but he has a new script now and he gets back on task. He has a whole performance he is sticking to. He presents the crystal and has a little animation to explain it and everything.

But then we come to the moment when he isn’t acting anymore, when he genuinely tells Blitz this is how I feel, this is what I want, this is who I am. He even takes off his hat, you can hardly see his royal outfit, just his earnest face as he waits for the reaction of presenting himself as just Stolas saying what he wants and not Stolas the performer saying what everyone wants to hear.

Blitz is too caught up in trying to get them back on script, to keep up the show. He tries desperately to stick to the act, which Stolas is trying to break free from. This unfortunately confirms what Stolas suspected. It was always a play, it was always just a performance, like Stella and the other Ars Goetia, Stolas is only valuable if he says his lines right. Even his daughter lashes out when he starts breaking character. Those around him only value him if he is acting to type, he is not enough as just Stolas.

The horrible irony is he truly was awakened by Blitz. Hs stops acting because of him. He learns that he wants to be himself and not a scripted version designed to please others, but sadly it is Blitz, the catalyst for all of it, who is still stuck in performance mode. Stolas realizes because of Blitz something real, but during their conversation is shown that even Blitz just wants him to stay in character, that there is nothing real here, just more lines for him to say. So Stolas exits pursued by imp.

A lot of Blitz’s fury in this scene is because Stolas is not fulfilling his role any more. In this way he is no different than Stella or even Octavia. He is angry when Stolas stops saying his lines. He has gone off script. But where Stella is upset because it ruins her image, and Octavia is upset because it upset the fakery of her perfect family, Blitz is instead panicking because he NEEDS to get this performance just right. When he fails bad things happen, he is replaced, he is unloved, he is sold off, he is forced to do things he doesn’t want to do.

So he lashes out, he tries to FORCE Stolas back into the role he assigned him, to incite a confrontation from the character of pompous royal asshole stepping on the lower class and using them for their own gain instead of just a person earnestly trying to be genuine. Why is Stolas not saying his lines? Why isn’t he fulfilling his role? So he tells him what he is supposed to be. He yells at him to get back into character.

Stolas is devastated to realize the trope he’s been fulfilling in Blitzo’s life, he’s not the romantic love interest but rather the villain of the piece. He doesn’t even want to be in this show anymore, he wants to just be Stolas, and he is absolutely destroyed to learn that rather than just being himself, rather than even being the love interest, he is instead the antagonist in Blitz’s play. But he doesn’t want that role, or probably any role, any longer, he’s finally breaking out of these performances and being himself, so instead of reverting to type, Stolas sends Blitz off stage completely.

In this way it’s really beautiful for Stolas’s character growth, he could have just given in, stepped back on stage. He has so many opportunities to pick up these old characters he’s played, but instead Stolas follows through and just shuts the show down completely.

[shortcakelils]

OH MY GOD

This was too good for me not to post IM SORRY😭

[mintaikk]

Thinking about this moment

Blitzø's first instinct was to comfort Stolas.

Throughout their entire relationship, Blitzø has always bit back at Stolas and wasn't afraid to tell him when he was being weird or over the top, and Stolas never reacted.

But this- this is genuine rage, heartbreak, and anger. Blitzø basically told Stolas that he's a rich asshole who never cared about him, who treated him like he was disposable and purposely played with his feelings because he didn't see him as important. He told Stolas that he thought he was a terrible person who did all this because he didn't think he was important. Yeah, that's going to fucking hurt when it's from someone you care so much about.

And Stolas's line from "Oops." When Ozzie said that Fizz hates Blitzø Stolas was shocked and said, "But why?" He genuinely couldn't think of a reason that anyone could hate Blitzø. But Blitzø can have a whole list of reasons why he can hate Stolas.

And I just fucking realized this. Their miscommunication runs so deep that Stolas genuinely believes that Blitzø hates him.

I've already talked about Blitzø's perspective, so I'm gonna talk about this scene more. Despite everything in his life and how Blitzø treats people, he is genuinely a caring and loving person. Look at the way he treats Fizz and Loona. Look how he goes out of his way to protect his employees. In Truthseekers, Blitzø's first instinct was to grab Moxxie and get Millie and Loona to safety. In the same episode, he stood in front of all of IMP when Dhorks held their guns to them. He gave up the only room in his apartment so Loona could have a comfortable place to sleep. He's just a very caring and loving person. In Seeing Stars, he saw how worried Stolas was about Via and immediately came up with a plan to help calm him down.

And despite his anger right now, of course he's going to try and comfort Stolas when he's crying. Because he's a caring and loving person who hates to see the people he loves get hurt.

[1920sladydectective]

Best Friend's Mother Ch.6 (Finale) 6.8K MDNI 18+

Here she bloody is, my darlings!

All done, finally, giving me room to write even more Ambessa stuff. Next stop Professor Medarda!

That being said, I've loved writing this story and feel so honoured by the reception it has received. Thank you especially to @shinyshayminflower for the initial prompt, @uselessbard1031 for the endless support and @chocolate-quotes for the stunning cover art which I adoreddddddddddd.

Love you all, let me know what you think!

Warnings: Degradation, Name Calling, Overstimulation kinda? Lots of alcohol idk I'm British and this is set at Christmas okay.

Chapter 6:

You’d failed at the first hurdle, the first second, the truest and largest fuck up possible of a New Year’s resolution. Bubbles fizzed in your blood, common sense popping like a thousand little sparks. 

She tasted good, like whisky and regret and those tiny chocolate puddings on the trays at the party. The party you couldn’t quite remember or reconcile, the party that faded to blurring noise as she consumed you. 

Ambessa’s mind was screaming at her. This was not how she’d intended the evening to go. Rather the opposite. She was going to kiss one of Cassandra’s uptight friends, unwind them a bit and then take her drunken gaggle of children home. 

Instead she’d been ripped to shreds by her daughter and was now eating the very forbidden (but no longer?) fruit she had tried to avoid. 

You pulled away merely to breathe, but it was enough, like a shock of cold water. Tears, hot and angry sprung into your eyes almost immediately. 

“What was that?” You snarled, gulping in air. 

“I-“ Ambessa coughed slightly, “A mistake,” 

You scoffed, shoving her, “You can say that again,” 

“No,” She backtracked, muddled, “I just meant-“ 

“Do me a favour and fuck off, okay?” You wiped your mouth viciously with your sleeve, panic heavy in your heart as you rushed past her without another word. Drunk and distressed, you made your way into a random corner and stayed there. 

You’d tell Mel in the morning, you told yourself with trembling hands, but right now it would be too much. 

Ambessa was having the most tiring evening ever. Nothing was happening in the right order, as if she’d been given the smaller part of every wishbone in existence.Her mouth was a villain, intent on ruining everything. Glancing in the reflection of one of Cassandra’s crystalline statutes, she saw her massacred face, red smudges everywhere. 

“Well,” Cassandra Kiramman’s smug voice rang out, “That was a damn sight better than seeing you kiss my child like last year,” 

Muscled shoulders seized, wide golden eyes meeting cool grey ones, “Lovely party,”

“I think that’s the first time in twenty years you’ve said that,” She snorted, “I needn’t lecture you about how stupid that was, we both remember what happened with Maddie,”

“She isn’t Maddie,”

“Evidently,” A click of teeth, an outstretched hand holding cloth “I’ll see you on the 14th, I can take your money and your secrets then,” 

Ambessa sighed, wiping her face of lipstick and taking a regrouping breath. There was little to do but sober up and figure out a battle plan. Divide her stupidity and hopefully conquer her love. Or some other battle analogy she was too pissed to think of. “Thank you,”

“There’s no need for that,” She smiled, rolling her eyes at her friend, “You’re hosting the women’s luncheon in February,” 

Fuck.

You were sitting in a fancy taxi, a snoozing Mel on your shoulder as Kino rambled about the artwork in Caitlyn’s house. You didn’t care about the fact that the frames were worth as much as the art, or that some of them had taken years to find. You didn’t care about anything at all really, save the brooding woman in front of you. She seemed so cold, so distant, and you found that it did not suit her. You’d never be rid of her, that understanding had set in as you stumbled out of the car and into the front porch. She was like Japanese knotweed, strong and thriving and made to rot the very foundations of life. Here you were, a three time offender of succumbing to her, despite your morals and your strength and your hatred. 

Deft fingers attempted to grab your wrist as Kino and Mel waltzed arm in arm up the staircase, but her hold found nothing but air. A snap, a growl, something animalistic as you trailed quickly after your friends, the third of the good little wolves and nothing more. 

Sleep was easy due to alcohol, though all it really did was lock you in dreams. Tender kisses and bitter words fighting for the spotlight, leaving your mind a flashing drunken strobe. Sweaty, distressed turning and rolling until dawn beckoned and you lay shivering in the fetal position. No amount of fancy heating systems could rid your bones of the chill, heavy limbs freezing you in place. 

It took several hours and a minor pity party to make it into a different pair of less sweaty pyjamas, another hour to make it downstairs and fifteen seconds for your hopes of sorting this out as soon as possible to be crushed. 

A series of texts from Mel. Mel and Kino had left twenty minutes ago, a sibling breakfast tradition you had been omitted from due to your lack of appearance. Fuck. Just her, somewhere, lurking. 

The kitchen was safe, paprika crisps settling your stomach as you brewed some longjing tea. A plan was formed, tell Mel, pack your shit and stay with your cousin until the housework finished later this week. It was solid, grounding and allowed you to get the fuck out of this weird fantasy land. Nothing felt tangible here, all consequences smashing down as soon as the spell of the upper class echelons was shattered by travelling 20 miles north. You holed yourself up in one of the spare sitting rooms, avoiding where she thought you’d be in favour of unfamiliar cream sofas and animal artwork. 

It wasn’t enough. 

Tentative footsteps, her arrival heralded by Mina, like a slow marching procession. There was no escape. One way in, one way out. The oak door clicked shut softly. You did not, would not, give her the satisfaction of looking up. 

Your name on her lips, measured and calm, as the sofa to your right dipped with her body weight. A loud clunk, your gaze meeting a bottle of artisan Olive Oil. 

“Olive branch?” She muttered, “We were out of breadsticks,” 

You looked at it, still not her, nose twitching. Her charm, though flavoured now with hesitancy, was viscous and wrong as it lapped at your skin. “That implies there’s a conversation to be had here, and there isn’t,”

“Look at me,” Soft but impatient. 

Your eyeline did not move. Her arrogance astounded you.

“I was thinking-”

“No, Mrs Medarda,” You snapped, formality and fury, making the cat jump, “There is nothing you can say, I am going to tell Mel and then I’m going to get away from you, as fast as possible,” 

“A tad dramatic,” Cryptic, passive smile, “Mel knows, darling,” 

“What?” This had you meeting her gaze, “You told her?”

“Not yet,” A sniff, “Not exactly,” 

“Well then she doesn’t fucking know, you twat,” 

Ambessa’s lips upturned slightly, “She doesn’t know the specifics, but she knows my motivations,”

“Motivations?” You scoffed, “Your untameable pride and sex drive you mean?”

Ambessa, despite having spent most of the night replaying every interaction you had ever shared under the rosy haze of infatuation, had yet to find a way to piece together her confession. Part of her wanted to wax lyrical, a modern day poet speaking in nothing but nonsense and flowers. But your impatience, borne of hurt and exhaustion, hung heavy above her. She was the one fearing the guillotine’s blade now, she should have learned from history that the revolution always comes in the end. And here it was, the revolt of her own mutinous heart. 

“Well?” Her silence unsettled you, those carved brows scrunched inwards, as you fought a mounting urge to backhand her. 

“Not quite that,” She muttered, “Wouldn’t have bothered with the olive oil if it was just sex, dear,” 

Your eyes rolled, pushing off of the sofa, body fleeing before your blood curdled in your veins. 

She grabbed your arm, pulling you back down with a thud, “Stop I-” gasped air, “I’m trying to be honest here,”

“You’re speaking like a Dickens novel and I’m supposed to take you seriously? Three Ghosts come and slap you in the face? Or some New Year’s resolution, is it?” You yank your hand back, skin fizzing and yearning for the calloused warmth to return. 

“Yes, actually,” 

“What was your Christmas past like then?”

“Troubled,” She quipped, rolling her eyes at you, “It is a resolution, one I indeed to stick to,”

A laugh, grating against your throat, “Didn’t take you for the type, you don’t seem in a rush to change anything about your life,” 

“Stop being childish and listen,” She snapped. 

“You have two minutes,” You spat, “And then I’m leaving,”

“Two minutes isn’t even enough time to boil an egg,” 

“Ambessa,”

Muscles tensed. Fine. Fucking Hell. “I’ve been bad to you,” There, well done Ambessa, a start. Accountability, the sharp blade you must crush within your palm. 

Tart and hard, an unripe cherry between your teeth, shock bloomed. There was nothing particularly reassuring about her words, but you jumped all the same. 

“I abused your kindness and took advantage of you,” How lovely and romantic, the muted whites of the room shifting to morose greys. 

“Old news, cemented about nine kisses ago,”

“I know that,” It was sharper than she’d intended, a sigh rattling out, “I know,”

“If you know, why are we having this conversation?” You grabbed the olive oil, waving it about, “What kind of weak, spindly branch is this?”

“You’re so pedantic, must you have everything spelled out for you?!” She growled, tenderness foreign on her tongue, “The I’m in love with you kind,” 

A spell, like a muffling blanket of snow, enveloped the room. Such a tender, sweet truth, with all the certainty and promise of the apple of Eden. Was she the snake or Eve, you could hardly tell. You sat, in stasis, as she swallowed. 

FIve minutes. Ten. A brutal, endless fifteen. 

“Don’t be cruel,” Acid burned in your mouth, tears smarting your eyes, “Don’t wave that about,”

Snip. Your words cutting Ambessa’s newly found heartstrings, “I wouldn’t,”

“Wouldn’t you?”

“No,” It was firm.

“And that’s what Mel knows?” You asked, eyes narrow. You didn’t believe her, couldn’t, wouldn’t. Really, really shouldn’t. 

“She insisted upon it, screamed at me in the Kiramman’s bathroom,” 

“Wait,” Awe bubbled between your ribs, “Last night?”

A begrudging nod, that soft half smile that made you melt. She loved your lip twitches of surprise, your mouth turning over words you couldn’t vocalise. 

“Why?”

“She sort of stumbled into it, as did I,” A pause as she pulled a red wine bottle and glasses from seemingly nowhere, “Do you mind?”

“Yes, I do,” You snarked, flicking the cork onto the floor, “But by all means, don’t let that stop you,” 

“I won’t,”

You took the glass she offered all the same, settling into the sofa with renewed confidence, petulant hands spilling drops of burgundy onto the cream sofa. “Stumbled, you said?”

Ambessa crossed her legs, Malbec coating her tongue, “She was..frustrated that I had not distanced myself enough from you,”

“I noticed a distinct difference,”

“That’s what I said,”

“Not taking your side,” You swished your hand for her to continue. 

“She said I was selfish and many other things, another character assassination,” Heavy chug, “But she wanted a reason, a cause,”

“She always does,” Anticipation was building now, possible half truths and sweet words lingering just out of reach, “It’s the only reason she forgave me, because of how I felt,”

Ambessa nodded, eyes distant, “Did you know I find it harder to sleep now?”

What? You were hungover and hair of the expensive vintage dog was not quite cutting it.  Speak plainly you maddening cow, your mind cried. Instead, “Pardon?”

“I miss the weight of you on my chest, and the coldness of your toes on my calves,” She muttered, memory easier than big declarations, “It’s what I thought of when Mel asked me to prove it, to prove it was..” 

Monster. Cannibal. Villain. She was gnawing at your bones, words like ambrosia to all the battered, tired shades of you that sat before her. You missed that too, had mourned it like so many other little, luxurious sweetnesses. 

“That’s still a physical desire,” You rationalised, lips stained with wine. 

A grunt, “Do you need more?”

A nod. Several. Only confirmational overkill would do here. 

“I-” Her hand twitched, “find myself trying to force an affinity for apple tea,”

“You hate it,”

“But it tastes of you,” She said, “Sometimes it’s all I can do to stave off the craving,”

“So you miss my mouth? Physical.” 

Ambessa pouted, heavy hand overpouring another glass, “What do you want from me? I’ve already said it,”

You laughed, in spite of it all, “I want to know what you’re feeling, not what you miss or crave or imagine,”

It seemed to rent her asunder, her feelings etched in memories, stuck far away from words. Love was one, but it was vulnerable and rough against her tongue. It had only come out via happenstance, sleep deprivation and growing panic. Affection hung in the background, and devotion sat like oil on her smooth skin. How was she to wield them? A great axe pulling her into herself, straining underdeveloped muscles. 

“It’s a bit like quicksand,” Her tone was unsteady, “It’s eating me whole,”

“What is?”

 “Love,” She snarled, as if it was obvious, eyes ever so slightly glazed. 

“The more you fight, the more you sink?”

She nodded, a heady relief in your understanding, light at the end of her confusing tunnel, “Exactly that,” 

You downed your glass, “Then I’ll throw you a stick, help you out,” a dismissive sniff, “I hate you,”

“No you don’t,” No hesitation, “You fell before I did, Sweet Girl,” 

“And look where that got me,” 

“But we’re in it together now,”

“There is no together, Ambessa,” You were sinking, she would not be proven right, “Your love is as dangerous as your indifference, wolves do not cradle their prey tenderly,”

“You aren’t prey,” It was a cry, angry and indignant, as her hands found yours. 

“Then why am I covered in your bitemarks?” 

She grumbled, “I think we’ve used the full extent of this metaphor, darling,” 

“Metaphors, jibs, cold truths, however you spin it, you are an emotionally immature mess,”

“Mel called me an emotionally impotent bitch,” She said, interlocking her warm hands with your trembling ones, “You were kinder about it,” 

“I’m always kinder about everything,” You replied, tightening your grip.

“It’s one of the things I love about you,” 

“Stop saying that!” 

“What?” She smiled, something giving way inside her, “Love? That I love you?”

“I-Yes,” You were chest deep now, thick wet sand eating you, “I don’t know what to do with that, with you,” 

Ambessa sat, rhythmically stroking your knuckles, as her head leaned closer to yours, “You let me earn you, my darling,”

Thick sludge, stealing your breath away now, “Earn me?” 

“Will you let me try?” Her voice was molasses now, pushing you down into the very bottom of the pit, her brain finally catching up with her body, “Words fuelled by action?” 

“L-like date me? And woo me?” Your eyes were fluttering, heart a schism of fear and fancy. 

She hummed in confirmation, free hand tucking some of your glitter crusted hair behind your ear, gaze soft. 

“Doesn’t seem very characteristic, Ambessa,” 

“Yes, well,” A humorous sigh, “You’ve clearly made me sick, some kind of spell or curse,”

You smacked her arm, a nonsensical laugh slipping out. She was ridiculous and stupid and images of her sending you flowers or taking you mini golfing came into your mind unbidden. 

“Is that a yes, my darling?”

“What does Mel think?”

“I think you should ask her,” Ambessa’s voice wrapped around you, “Regardless of this, I will not monopolise on your relationship with her,”

“I think you’re suffering from head injury,” She was perfect, she was handing you your dreams on a silver platter, so why couldn’t you take it? “I think I need some time,”

She nodded, ignoring the dark growl in her chest, “There’s no timeline,” Actually, the timeline was she wanted to be between your legs right now, but it seemed the clocks were confused. 

With an odd, robotic stroke to her cheek, you stumbled out of the room and back up the stairs. Ignoring your door, you curled into Mel’s room, allowing yourself to be engulfed by frilly bed sheets. She’d find you later and you could have a chat. 

Find you she did, snoring and pale in her bed, with wine stained lips and tear stained cheeks. Hungover limbs crawled around you, kissing your forehead. 

“Babe!” It was a happy shout, as you flinched awake. 

“That was not the only way to do that,” 

“It’s the way I chose,”

The conversation that transpired was as follows. You bared your snotty, shattered soul and called her mother all the cruel, loving things you could think of and she nodded sagely whilst stroking your hair. She then decided to take her mother’s side, and say that you should definitely pursue a relationship if you loved her, as if it was that simple. You were now battering her shoulder with a candy cane shaped cushion. 

“Hitting me isn’t going to change my answer,”

“It’s not normal to tell your friend to date your mother,” You cried, “The only sane person in this family is Kino,”

“Really?”

A memory of him drizzling a chicken wing with melted chocolate the night before returned, “Christ, okay you’re all nuts!” 

“You still haven’t told me what you want,” Mel murmured, taking the candy cane from your grasp, “Just that she’s evil and you feel weak when she smiles, which honestly urgh,” 

Uncertain, jittering hands tug at a strand of hair, “I don’t think I know,”

Silence, her hand on your shoulder, as you sorted through the bombed out craters in your mind. Each kiss, fight, and confession had made its mark and the rubble was hard to decipher. 

“I think I want to exist a bit, before I commit to anything,” 

“You have been through a lot, babe,” Mel was so gentle, you adored her more than she could ever ever know, “Maybe just be you? Mum’ll wait,”

“Will she?” That was your hope and your fear. 

“She’ll have to if she’s serious, and if she doesn’t then fuck her, you can find another fish, preferably one I’m not related to,” 

“I love you,”

“Damn right,” She kissed your head, “Now can we watch TV or something, my head hurts,”

Three days passed, and she was surprisingly normal. There was no forced affection or ultimatums, just the same smile; considerate and mischievous. You were grateful, the space confirming what you’d said to Mel. You needed to be you, away from the magic and madness of this house, and only then would you really know. 

When you told her as much, firelight flickering in the library on your last evening, she let out a long sigh. The grating, dull pain in her heart intensified, but with it so did her plan.

The last dinner felt stupidly biblical, final and massive, as though you may never return. A veritable feast, overflowing plates and glasses, as even Rictus joined you for the meal. Kino was a jester of epic proportions, breaking more than one glass in his pursuit of a punchline. Ambessa sat, quiet but merry, against the carved mahogany chair of the dining room. Mel, as ever, was the master of pictures. You dreaded the thought of the costs to develop that much film, though you placed bunny ears behind Kino’s head as you grinned into the flash all the same. Rictus, though, was the real diamond in the rough of the evening. Strong and well mannered, with your exact sense of humour. He was quiet and yet seemed to fill every silence that threatened to hurt you. You felt sorry to have overlooked him in a way, leaning a heavy head against his shoulder. 

“I’m going to miss you,”

“Miss my endless free labours?” He joked, a gruff voice above your ear. 

“Miss your sanity,” You said, “Miss your friendship,”

“Well, I’m only ever a phone call away,” He replied, “Us furniture have to stick together,” 

You laughed, bright and true, as he dolloped another mountain of tiramisu onto your plate. 

Slowly, but surely, you all retired to bed, a holiday well spent and a heavy desire to return to normal weighing in the air.

The next morning, as he bundled your endless possessions into Mel’s boot, Rictus called you over. 

“Something the matter?”

“Kid,” A sternness, “You’re going to be alright?”

You snorted, “I told you I’d keep in touch, where’s this come from? Delirious from all of Mel’s handbags and shoes?”

“I love Ambessa Medarda very much,” He said out of nowhere, hand stroking your arm, “Don’t let her wants eclipse yours,”

“What?” What the fuck was he on about? 

“Speak of the devil, and she appears,” He muttered, stepping away without a further word. Bastard. 

Ambessa squeezed Mel with all her might, an acceptance blossoming in a relationship filled with shards of glass and broken promises. “Look after yourself, work hard,”

“Party harder,” Mel muttered, “I know Mum, I’ll see you at Easter,”

She climbed into the preheated Land Rover, just as Rictus wandered back into the Manor with a shout and a wave. Kino had said goodbye over breakfast, nearly breaking a rib, and so it was just her.

The goodbye was stilted, her large hand stroking your hair as she took an audible sniff. It made you giggle wetly, swallowing down the impulse to just collapse into her and let yourself be consumed. You first, her later. That was probably what Rictus had meant, god your brain was slow today.

“Thanks for a lovely Christmas, and everything in between, well most things,” You mumbled, watery smile. 

“You’re more than welcome, Sweet Girl,” 

“I-I’ll be in touch, when I can,” Her hand was warm in yours, keeping you anchored in place. 

“IF you can, Dear,” She corrected, voice caring “I expect you to take this seriously,” 

A scoff, as you nodded and pursed your lips. Everyone was treating you like you were suddenly going to go back on your plan and jump her bones against the front door. It was a valid concern, even you hadn’t decided completely if you would or not.

“See you soon,” She said, a throwaway comment, as you let go and climbed into Mel’s car. 

Several beats. Your heart full and empty, a weird schrodinger’s joke. A fern tree smell from the little car freshener. 

“Well that was agonising to watch,” Mel quipped, shooting her mum a wave and pulling out of the driveway. Manicured nails flicked on a random playlist, 80s rock heavy, as you stared out at the frosty scenery. 

The flowers started a week after you had gotten back to Edinburgh. Always different, always perfectly sized for your light green vase and never overwhelming. It was a constant sign of her presence, without the stifling need to be responded to. There was never a note, beyond her initials, and that made each delivery all the sweeter. Sometimes other things would come with them too, after a long deadline or big presentation, there would be wine or a new book. It was a more considerate type of materialism, reminiscent of sand castle buckets and chiffon dresses, as glimmering parts of your old self emerged from the explosion of Her. 

Winter socials, dancing around the house in pyjamas singing ABBA with Mel as the world began to thaw.

Valentine’s Day arrived, and with it a little bouquet of roses and a takeaway voucher. 

Happy Valentine’s Day, Ambessa x

                               You too, Sweet Girl x

It was your first point of contact, and you couldn’t bring yourself to regret it. She was slowly but surely winning you over from afar, earning you as she’d said and this new, fresh, old version of yourself was happy to let her encroach a bit on No Man’s Land. Plus, this burrito was one of the best things you’d eaten in ages.

Ambessa was smiling widely at her phone, heart a jackhammer. She felt foolish, any acknowledgment sending her into a tailspin, but that soft kiss at the end of a text was enough to solidify her already immense resolve. You were hers, and she was yours, however long she had to wait.

You were granted the funding you needed, your academic success propelling you into spring with tired and happy limbs. Eleven weeks of flowers, a few scattered texts and one slightly drunken nude later, Mel was rambling at the dinner table about Easter plans. 

“Dad’s not back till the last week,” You replied around a very hot mouthful of chicken parm, “Presumed I’d spend the rest of the time with you,”

Mel’s eyes glistened, shit eating grin on her glossed lips, “Did you now?”

“Oh come off it,” You snapped, “Ambessa already offered anyway,” 

“She has? How nice of her,” Excitement fizzed in her, battling with a bit of sadness at losing her friend’s full attention, “And how is that? Calla lilies this week, I noticed,” 

“Why’s that matter?”

“They mean beauty,” 

“They have meanings?” Tomato sauce stained your grey joggers, you didn’t care, “What about the others?” 

She snorted, “You thought they were just random?”

“I-I” A gulp, “Well, fuck I don’t know I just thought they were pretty,” 

Her laughter grated at you, google your true friend in the matter, as you scanned through each message Ambessa had supposedly sent. 

Bluebells first - Humility. Ironic start. 

Honeysuckle - Bonds of Love

Yellow Tulips - Sunshine in a smile - your heart seized. 

Peony - Bashful - not a word you’d really associate with her. 

White Hyacinth - Loveliness - Hers or your own? Both, you decided. Both. 

Edelweiss - Devotion - a dizzy wave of warmth over your skin. 

Red Roses - I Love You - apt for Valentine’s day. 

Chamomile - Patience in adversity. How brave she was, how ridiculous.

Forget-Me-Nots - True Love Memories - Her stained grin, garlic bread in hand came to mind. 

Red Camellias - You’re a flame in my heart - This coincided directly with her receiving a picture of you in a lacy red bra and thong, courtesy of cheap pints in your favourite pub, and an uncharged vibrator. 

Calla Lillies - Beauty. 

Your chicken parm was cold now, your mouth hanging open, as your eyes burned slightly. 

“You back with me, babe?” 

“This is so stupid,” You spluttered into cold marinara sauce, “She’s so stupid,”

“Love makes a fool of us all,” Mel said wisely. 

“Is that why you, Viktor and Jayce were curled up last night? I saw you holding hands,” 

“Be quiet!” She whined, “Die,”

“Don’t throw stones, Mel,” You mocked, “You’re looking awful glassy right now,” 

You would stay for Easter then, you both agreed over chocolate mousse, as you sent a thumbs up to Ambessa’s invitation. 

Ambessa, glasses balancing on her nose as she read a novel, scanned the text. Once. Twice. An exuberant third time. Rictus ended up battered with requests for a clear and ornate Easter menu, despite the fact that the holiday was over six weeks away and not at all favoured by the Medarda family. Mina had taken to nibbling her phone but only ever when you texted, and Ambessa was beginning to take it personally.

Your spring deadlines came and went, as April and its gentle rest bite from academia beckoned. The journey was painfully familiar to you now, as was the warm and rough rock sitting in your stomach. You felt you again, which was terrifying as it finally gave some space for her. Something you had come to want so desperately it made your dreams turbulent and your hands shaky. She still had some work to do, but as you flicked through your sparse text exchanges you couldn’t fight the smitten smile. 

You loved Ambessa Medarda, and that was okay now. For both of you. 

Ambessa had been waiting for three hours by the door like an overexcited dog. Several times Rictus had come to ask her questions or show her things, and each time she was transfixed on the long driveway.

“Mel said they wouldn’t be here before 2,” He said, smirk on his lips. 

“She’s never reliable,” 

“She is literally compulsively on time,” 

“Rictus, do I pay you for these kinds of conversations?”

“No, but you probably should, I was going to bring it up during my next performance review,” 

“Ah yes, 31st of April, wasn’t it?”

He laughed, wandering back towards the tower of hand painted easter eggs he was tending to.

2pm on the dot you pulled up by the house, clambering to stretch your legs. As the door opened Mel ran to it, kissing her Mum’s cheek and shooting past her to get to the toilet. Whether intentional or serendipity, Mel had given you the perfect opening to stare like a lovesick fool at her mother. 

“Ambessa,” Her name a cry of joy.

“Sweet Girl,” She ignored the thickness in her throat, eyes glimmering at seeing your face again. 

“T-Thanks for the flowers,” Unsure hands, “And the messages they sent,”

She smiled, stepping forward and squeezing your arm. “Always, as long as you enjoy them,” 

“You’ve been just what I needed,” Affection swelled in your chest, “Present but distant,”

“Like a ghoul?” 

You giggled, “Exactly that,”

“You keep comparing me to spirits and ghosts,”

“I actually compared you to Scrooge, not the ghosts themselves,” 

She rolled her eyes, snorting, “You must always be right, mustn’t you?”

“Ambessa,” You repeated, gentiler now. 

She hummed in question, gaze meeting yours. 

“I think I’m ready to try now,” A sharp inhale, “If you are?”

“Well,” Her crimson lips part into a dazzling smile, “That makes me very ha-”

“Princess!!” Kino, dressed in plaid pyjamas, shouted as he ran to engulf you in a hug, “You’re here!”

“Bastard child,” Ambessa grunted under her breath, watching as you cuddled her son and made faces at her over his shoulder. 

“Later,” You mouthed, before focusing on Kino, “Hello there, Peacock Prince,”

She wandered back inside with a murderous expression, greeted by Mel halfway through a bag of Quavers, “Kino cockblock you?”

“Mel, I fund your lifestyle,” Ambessa snapped, “Do not antagonise me,”

“That’s a yes,” Her crunchy words said, offering her a cheesy grin. 

It took until after dinner that evening for you to get a moment alone together again, your spot in the library occupied as you stared across at her. Kino was out with another lady friend and Mel had common sense, so the air that crackled around you would not be interrupted. It was a good thing too, you’d spent the whole time eating your spaghetti trying to make yourself look alluring. Until Mel had pinched you under the table. 

“So,” You started, chest tight. 

“So,” She repeated, stroking Mina, “You said you were ready?”

“Yes,” Your decision was certain now, having spent some time back in her presence. You wanted it all, as soon as you could get it. Seemed you were as damned as she was. The devil on your own shoulder.

“We can take it slowly, Sweet girl,” She said, leaning forward, “There’s no rush,”

Your blood was thick and hot, mind whirling, “What if I want to rush?”

Ambessa grinned, chucking Mina away and with one sharp tug moving you onto her large thighs, “Then I’d say, where would you like to start?”

She was solid and seductive and all the things you’d avoided in your time finding yourself. She was as sticky and tempting as always, though her love tempered the fire now. Things were never done by half, and you’d fooled yourself when you planned to build a relationship step by step. Ambessa had laid the foundations, floral and firm, so now you wanted to chuck brick and cement together as fast as you could. 

“This maybe?” You half slurred in anticipation, hungry lips meeting hers. 

Ambessa was, for once, incredibly surprised. You were devouring her, with no restraint, as if no time had passed at all. But you were different now, she could sense it. Stronger, more certain of your place, your needs and wishes. It suited you, like an attractive new coat. Her hands were roaming about, searching for the best place to land, each patch of skin more perfect than the last. 

“Are you sure?” She murmured against smudged lips, holding your chin in place to stop your desperate advance, “I don’t want to push you away again,”

You melted, kissing her palm, “You won’t,” it was breathless, “I promise,”

“I’ll only do this if I get to take you out tomorrow, a nice long day together,” Her honeyed voice muttered, though one hand was already making its way under your shirt. 

“So a win-win?” 

Calloused fingers grazed your nipple, kissing your neck as she nodded into it. 

“Not sure I could ask for a better Easter,” You joked breathlessly, body twitching into her touch. 

“That’s why you’re not going to ask for it,” Her voice was dark, a switch flipped, “You’re going to beg,” 

Welcome back Ambessa Medarda, you’ve been sorely missed. I hope you fuck my brains out now. “Please?” You quipped. 

A sharp pinch to your nipple, a low growl, “Do you think I’m joking, girl?”

You ached for her, mind fracturing, as an earnest apology ripped from your throat. Your pleading was real now, her wet kisses maddening. 

Ambessa felt hungry, ravenous in fact, and you had offered yourself like a perfect little dessert. How kind. How naive. It took her a few minutes of pawing at you for all of your clothes to be left on the floor, goosebumps prickling your skin as you rubbed yourself against her thigh. This was perfection, your thoughts slush as she whispered filth in your ear. 

“More,” You whined, the pull on your chest not harsh enough. 

She twisted until it burnt, making you jolt, as her wet tongue soothed the ache, “That enough pain for you? So desperate for it,” 

“I-I”

“Is that why you sent me those filthy pictures?” Her thumb, slick with you, danced in circles across your clit, “Wanting to show yourself off, hmm? A slut in red lace?”

“Ambessa,” You gasped. 

“You wanted to drive me mad,” A suck to a sore nipple, “Wanted to corrupt me, after I tried so hard to stay away,” 

“It was an accident,” You slurred, stomach tensing as you thrust in rhythm with her touching. 

“An accident?” She scoffed, nuzzling against your throat, “That’s what you call spreading yourself for me on camera?” 

You were so close, her words like gasoline as you whimpered a confused apology, your mind desperate to keep feeling good. 

“Is this an accident too, Sweet girl?”

“Wha-” Your eyes rolled, cunt gushing as your first orgasm slammed into you like a sledgehammer. 

She slipped you off her lap, sliding out from under you to the ground, as your bare skin touched the cool red leather chair. She knelt, a devious grin on her lips, between your trembling legs as she watched a soft slickness drip down your thighs.

“You’ve made a mess,” She said, disapproving pout on her face, “Say you’re sorry,”

“S-sorry, Ambessa,” You mumbled, eyes glassy. 

“Good girl,” She stroked your thighs, a tight grip on them, tiny crescent moons from her nails, “It’s okay, I’m here to tidy you up,”

She had always been skilled, playing you like an instrument, but as her hot tongue hit your folds you found yourself blank, empty and unsure if you would ever feel anything other than raw, molten pleasure again. Teasing kitten licks lapped up your juices, her golden eyes controlling your every move, as you went limp against the chair. It smelt of her. Everything in this room did. Your body twitched again. 

Her tongue drew another two orgasms from your needy body, sweaty hair sticking to your forehead as you tugged at her salt and pepper curls. 

At some point you ended up flat on the floor against her fancy Persian rug, legs spread as she sat on your face. She was soaked, your cheeks wet as you ate mindlessly. Her orgasms were like nectar as she came apart above you, stern voice turning airy and dazed.

“Just like t-that,” She panted, fucking herself on your tongue.

Your hummed agreement hit her swollen clit, her tongue lolling out her mouth as an animalistic grunt filled the room. 

You were in a bed now. How had that happened? 

“Still with me, little one?” She teased, stroking your hair as she loomed above with a long, hard strap-on. 

“That looks nice,” You babbled, chest rapidly rising and falling. 

“Would you like it?”

A nod. 

“Ask nicely then, Sweet girl,” 

“Pleasepleaseplease,” You said, sweet as sugar, spreading yourself just as you had in those pictures. 

Ambessa Medara was a strong woman. It was her defining feature in fact. Iron will and firm muscle, she prided herself on being a fortress. Here, however, with a whimpering slut beneath her, her resolve shattered like china against marble. You were stuffed before she’d processed the last plea, a surprised gurgle as she worked to destroy you. 

Again, and again and again. She fucked that sweet spot in you with relentless efficiency, as cool leather rubbed against your clit in time with her thrusts. You’d long since given up on the idea of being quiet, mewling gasps and shouts of her name leaving you hoarse with fluttering eyes.

“Cum for me,” It was a sudden command, voice harsh and high, as she fell apart with a vicious thrust. 

You obeyed, the coil in you snapping again, as her sweat covered skin collided with yours. 

You stayed like that, hearts beating in time, as lust faded to contentment and exhaustion. Her slurred praise soothed your battered body as a cold flannel wiped away the stickiness that lingered everywhere. 

There was little else to be said that night, words of love and happiness pouring from you both under your shared silken sheets. 

She loved you. 

You loved her. 

How perfect. 

Slightly lopsided, with a turtleneck to hide the smattering of bruises across your skin, you made your way to the breakfast table. You’d agreed with Ambessa to tell Kino this morning before your date, the only thing still truly weighing on her out of the way in order for you to have the perfect day together. 

He was currently assembling a tower of waffles and bacon, as Mel systematically pushed it over. Rictus stood making more construction materials at the hob, sharing a grin with Mel. 

Ambessa, seeing you enter, coughed loudly to silence the squabbling. 

You wandered over nervously, resting beside her. 

“I’d just like to make everyone aware of something,” She started slowly. 

“Someone dead?” Kino muttered, staring at you. 

“No,” She held her hand up to silence him, “Nobody’s died,”

“Someone pregnant?” Mel asked. The shit stirrer. 

“No I-” Ambessa glared at her, taking a deep breath her hand gravitated towards your shoulder,“I wanted to let you know that we've decided to pursue a romantic relationship,”

“Oh,” Kino’s body tensed, “And when did you make this choice?”

“Last night,” You replied hesitantly, “Why?”

“Fuck,” He groaned to himself, a gruff laugh heard from the hob. 

“I do believe we said one thousand even,” Rictus mocked, flipping a waffle onto the boy’s plate. 

“You couldn’t have waited another twelve hours,” He grumbled, fishing for his wallet in his coat. 

“What is happening right now?” Ambessa said, voice stern. 

“I bet yesterday,” Rictus said as if it were obvious, “Wolf pup here bet today, thought you’d need a little time to warm up, silly boy,”

“You’ve been betting on our relationship?!” You cried, eyes wide as saucers. 

“I wanted to feel included somehow,” Kino whined, “Everyone was taking me out for breakfast to shut me up,” 

Your gaze turned to Mel, who held her hands up, “I knew nothing about this babe, I swear,” 

Liar. Her grin gave her away. 

Ambessa took the wad of cash from Kino’s hands before Rictus could, taking two hundred pounds from the pile, giving you a hundred and keeping the rest for herself, “Our commission,” Her voice was tiny daggers, “For entertaining you all so thoroughly,” 

Both men grumbled, though the sparkle in their eyes told them it was never really about the money, the satisfaction coming from destroying the other's pride. 

A pause, as she turned directly to her son, “You’re taking this very well, Kino, despite your usual nonsense, I am sorry for keeping you in the dark,” 

“About as dark and subtle as a bat signal, Mum,” He laughed, “I knew you’d tell me when it worked for you.

“Yes, well, thank you anyway,” Her voice was laced with sarcasm, as she kicked down his tower this time. 

The loud, nonsensical rumble of infighting filled the kitchen as her hand found yours, a tight squeeze making you smile. 

No more secrets. No more sadness. 

You were finally officially a Medarda.

[fizzie-frog]

I don't know who needs to see this or if anyone does at all, but I just wanted to mention that here-

-it's the first time Fizz took his hat off in front of us, not in front of Ozzie.

What's underneath is no surprise for Ozzie. In Oops! we learn that they sleep together, and Fizz very much sleeps hatless at night as he puts it on after he wakes.

what a cute lil heart tattoo there

Besides, look at Ozzie's reaction to the 'reveal' in Mammon's magnificent musical:

He is sad, disappointed, heartbroken that Fizz would have such a low opinion of himself. He hates that that the one he loves sees himself as something so much lower than his worth, but nowhere is there shock or even the slightest hint of surprise on his face.

Ozzie has seen this before. Assumedly, he has seen it all (they f*ck, your honour). Even if he wasn't disgusted or something like that, there would still be a hint of surprise on either one of his three! faces, but there isn't, cause he knows.

Yeah, it's the first time he takes his hat off... In front of the audience, which is us behind the screens. Ozzie knows him underneath it all, and I think it's just so beautiful honestly. Someone with his guard as high up as Fizz allowing someone else to see him for everything, deep beyond the bells and the saturated colors, makeup and lighting. To know that Fizz trusts Ozzie this much to allow him this, and I'm sure Ozzie is honoured to have that from him.

It's such a compelling image, honestly:

This little guy who was handicapped for life in a massive fire, was a miracle he survived it and potential following complications and medical procedures, in a relationship with Ozzie. Ozzie, even in his biggest form seen so far, towering endlessly over this little jester that fits into his hand, literally flaming. And yet, Fizz will cuddle this enormous, flaming deadly sin like it's nothing. Now that's trust, and that's so beautiful.

There is so many things to say about their relationship, but the amount of raw trust and love between them is something you often times can only dream about. I've never been much of a shipper, but them? I love them. I hope all the best for them.