Chapter 1: I Don't Deserve This!
Chapter Text
Blitzø realised, seemingly too late, that he loved Stolas, and he was so scared. He wasn’t strong enough to fight the chains that pulled him out of the courtroom, but that didn’t stop him. He could feel himself losing the person he loved again. He didn’t fight hard enough to remain in Fizz’s life, and he couldn’t go through that pain again, not with something as final as an execution. He pounded at the door and likely would’ve done so until his fists were a broken, bloody, visceral mess if it weren’t for the people behind him who were crying because they’d almost lost him. The look on his daughter’s face stopped him from hitting the door anymore; she rarely cried, and certainly not over him.
Even the embrace from his family couldn’t calm that cold, jagged fear that he’d lost Stolas. He’d lost another person he cared about, another person he loved. Why didn’t Stolas do something? Use his powers, fly away, anything! He was so damn powerful; why would he just accept his fate like that? For Blitzø of all demons. None of it made sense.
He pulled away from them and tried to pry the doors open. Just when he felt like he was on the brink of a breakdown, Blitzø was knocked to the ground by the doors being shoved open. He was ready to release a tirade of verbal abuse, but then he noticed who was there. Stolas was carelessly dragged through the doors and thrown to the ground next to him, looking defeated but alive. Blitzø moved closer to him, desperate to know what happened that led to Stolas’ downtrodden face and the lack of a crown on his head.
“I’ve been banished.”
Before Blitzø could come up with the words to respond to this or make any shitty attempts to comfort him, some dick chucked their drink at Stolas, enraging Blitzø, who was ready to fight this person on Stolas’ behalf. A fight he could handle, fighting made sense to him; emotions – his own and especially others’ – did not.
“It’s fine, Blitzø. I’m okay.”
Blitzø knew Stolas was lying, but he backed off anyway and instead did the one thing – other than fighting some loser who thought chucking a drink at someone was the height of comedy – he could think of to help Stolas. He told him he could stay with him and Loona. Then he did perhaps the softest thing he’d done in a while; he held Stolas’ hand as they walked out, deciding not to comment on the way his hand trembled.
As they walked home, there were people in the street cheering for him, and someone even held a banner with his name on it. It was surreal, and Blitzø couldn’t even enjoy it because it came at such a harsh cost. Stolas had lost everything; what right did Blitzø have to celebrate while he was miserable?
Another person dumped something slimy and green on Stolas, and Blitzø had to force the smile on his face and hold himself back from losing his shit. Stolas didn’t need that from him right now. He needed Blitzø to keep a cool head for once and just get him home – or what counted as home for him now. He needed to get Stolas somewhere safe so he could break down, scream, cry, break shit, or whatever he needed to do after today’s shit show.
Blitzø had never invited Stolas back to his place before, too self-conscious of the small rundown apartment. It was home, and as close to a safe place as Blitzø ever had, it was filled with memories of his life with Loona, and he cherished those memories and the home they’d made together, but whenever he showed up for their scheduled rendezvous, Blitzø couldn’t help but compare the palace to his apartment, and it left him feeling inadequate. Now, though, he didn’t have it in him to be embarrassed by all the photos with his face scratched out from a particularly bad night or the fact that his ‘bed’ was a torn-up sofa that he found in a dumpster because he couldn’t afford to actually go out and buy a new one at the time. His main focus and priority was Stolas; he needed to get him cleaned up, settled in, and as comfortable as was realistically possible; everything else they’d handle in the morning after they’d all had time to rest.
He only got distracted from this task he’d set himself when Loona pulled him into a hug and told him she loved him – and called him Dad again! The warm, fuzzy feeling it gave him quickly turned ice cold and sharp like a dagger to the heart when he turned and saw the despondent look on Stolas’ face. Octavia. Blitzø couldn’t imagine how he’d react to having his daughter taken from him and forced to stay under the care of an evil bitch like Stella. He’d probably lose his shit and get himself killed trying to get her back; he hoped Stolas was smarter and less reckless than him.
Stolas didn’t speak as Blitzø led him into the bathroom and remained silent as Blitzø eased him into the lukewarm water and started to clean his feathers. It worried Blitzø, but he didn’t push the owl to talk and just gently spoke to Stolas, hopefully providing him something other than his thoughts to focus on. Stolas made little chattering noises as Blitzø combed through the soft feathers on his head; in any other situation, Blitzø would’ve found it downright adorable – not that he’d say that out loud – but now it only made him want to hug Stolas and never let go.
He felt that warm feeling in his chest again as Loona handed him one of her sweaters for Stolas to wear, and it quickly froze up once more when he noticed Stolas’ face in the water. Shit. Fuck. Blitzø sat him up again and forced a smile that he knew barely hid his concern, but Stolas was very out of it and probably wouldn’t notice.
He went into his living room/bedroom/kitchen to give Stolas privacy while he got dressed, but the niggling worry in the back of his head that Stolas might hurt himself was ever present, and Blitzø found himself on his phone in the hopes that he’d find something to distract himself with. He’d scrolled through hundreds of comments from other imps who were inspired by him; there were people who wanted I.M.P to kill some people for them and some who even wanted to work for him! The corners of his mouth reluctantly pulled upwards into a small smile as he was filled with something akin to pride. It slipped away when Stolas left the bathroom, dripping wet and wearing Loonie’s clothes, and Blitzø was reminded of why he was getting all that praise and business; he hadn’t earned it, not really.
Stolas was hunched over and moving sluggishly like he didn’t have the energy or drive for much more. Blitzø hated knowing that he was the cause of this, and part of him – the self-destructive, self-hating part – felt that it would’ve been better if Stolas had never shown up to save him, but he couldn’t deny the part of him that was thankful to have been able to return to his home with his daughter; he just wished Stolas hadn’t lost his home and his daughter for it to happen.
Blitzø held Stolas’ hands again and led him to the sofa, getting him to lie down and draping his horse blanket over him, wishing he had something warmer. Stolas was shaking like a leaf, and Blitzø couldn’t tell if it was from the damp cold or the shock of everything that had happened. Stolas mumbled a ‘thank you’ as Blitzø made sure the blanket covered him nicely, and he felt his heart ache. Stolas didn’t need to thank him, not for this, not after everything he’d done for Blitzø.
“No. Thank you, Stolas.” Blitzø looked away for a second. “For saving my life.” He didn’t have to after everything Blitzø had done and not done. He still didn’t understand why Stolas saved him.
“Always.”
Feeling guilty again, Blitzø turned away, hugging himself and working up the courage to say what he wanted to say to Stolas. Something he should’ve told him a long time ago. If he didn’t right now, he might never. “Hey, Stolas, I–” He made the brave decision to look at Stolas as he confessed how he felt, but Blitzø stopped talking when he noticed that he was already asleep. Of fucking course. Blitzø finally found the courage to be honest and open with the bird, and he was asleep.
He looked so peaceful and sweet, though, and the frustration he felt quickly died down. He was beautiful, and Blitzø couldn’t help the fond smile gracing his face as he reached out to brush Stolas’ hair from his face. Even in sleep, Stolas managed to look exhausted, and a big part of Blitzø wanted to curl up against him and hug him, but instead he just kissed him on the forehead and settled for keeping an eye on him from the beanbag near the balcony.
Stolas tossed and turned a few times, and Blitzø resigned himself to a sleepless night. He needed to be there for Stolas in case he woke up in the middle of the night and needed someone, and he needed to be awake to protect Stolas – what if someone decided to try their luck at killing him now that he was powerless? Blitzø couldn’t let that happen. He’d die before he let someone hurt Stolas again.
Chapter 2: I'd Wait Up All Night
Summary:
Fizz pulled Blitzø into another hug, while Ozzie glided past to talk to Stolas.
“Fizz. Can’t breathe.”
If anything, this just made Fizz hold on tighter. Blitzø’s chest was still rising and falling; he was alive. He was here. He was safe. He hadn’t left him again.
Notes:
Here, have a Fizz chapter, because I love him and his friendship with Blitzø.
Also it's my birthday, and I got a bunch of Helluva Boss stickers :)
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Blitzø didn’t sleep that night. Every time he tried, he just kept picturing the courtroom and the way Stolas looked as he was dragged away, thinking he was about to die.
To put it mildly, he was a little jumpy from a combination of the lack of sleep and the residual stress from the day before. Every sound had him on edge, and he was half convinced that Satan would change his mind and send someone to kill him, and maybe even his daughter and Stolas. Should he call Millie and Moxxie? Was it too early for that? What time was it anyway?
He checked his phone. It was four in the morning. Shit. Yeah, definitely too early to call them, and he did promise Millie he’d do better at respecting boundaries. But he felt restless just lounging there on the beanbag, so after checking Stolas to make sure he was still breathing, Blitzø opened Loona’s bedroom door a crack to check on her. She was there. She was okay. She was safe.
Feeling like he could breathe a bit easier, Blitzø slumped back onto the uncomfortable beanbag that had become his bed. Just when he had settled back down and was considering trying to get at least a little sleep, he heard loud knocking at the door. It was like whoever was there was trying to knock it down.
It’s happening. They’ve come for me. I need to make sure they leave Loonie and Stolas alone and that they don’t go after M and M if they haven’t already.
The banging continued, and Blitzø shook off his nerves and braced himself as he headed for the door. He was ready to be dragged away in cuffs, or maybe just executed right then and there; he wasn’t expecting, however, to be immediately pulled into a near-bone-crushing hug.
“Fizzy, baby, let him breathe,” the dulcet tones of the sin of Lust met his ears as he gasped for air.
He was slowly released from the surprise grasp and was met with the tearful face of his best friend. He immediately wanted to stab or shoot whoever caused his friend to cry like this, but then he realised it was likely because of him – and for the sake of his family, he should probably hold back on the self-destructive shit, at least for now.
He wasn’t sure what to say.
“Happy to see me?” Was what he settled on. Because he was an idiot.
“You fucking dick! Do you know how worried I was? I thought you were gonna die!”
Blitzø tensed and placed a hand on Fizz’s shoulder. “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice softer. He hated how he’d managed to hurt his friend again. He didn’t deserve more pain.
After the trauma of seeing his best friend on trial, sentenced to death by Satan himself, Fizz found himself unable to relax, and sleep had been proving impossible.
It was at around half four in the morning when he told Ozzie he was going to Blitzø’s to check on him. He needed the physical proof of Blitzø standing in front of him to feel safe in the knowledge that his best friend was still alive.
Ozzie had insisted on accompanying him, saying he wanted to check on Stolas. Part of Fizz wanted to tell him to stay home; part of him was still pissed at him for not doing more to help Blitzø, but he didn’t really feel like rehashing that argument – though it was less an argument and more just Fizz yelling through tears.
He nearly melted from relief when Blitzø opened the door, and he couldn’t hold himself back from hugging him. He was really there. He was alive. He hadn’t been killed.
“I’m sorry.”
Fizz pulled Blitzø into another hug, while Ozzie glided past to talk to Stolas.
“Fizz. Can’t breathe.”
If anything, this just made Fizz hold on tighter. Blitzø’s chest was still rising and falling; he was alive. He was here. He was safe. He hadn’t left him again.
After having spent so long apart and holding on to so much anger over what happened, they were friends again. They’d finally spoken about the fire, and Fizz knew now that it wasn’t intentional and that Blitzø had tried to visit him and had never abandoned him like everyone told him. It hadn’t been too long ago that they’d reconciled, and Fizz had nearly lost him again. He never wanted to leave Blitzø’s side again.
He could feel Blitzø rubbing his back, and his breath hitched in his throat as he was brought back to all the times Blitzø had comforted him like this when they were younger, and Fizz had managed to convince himself that he wasn’t as talented as he’d been told, that he was going nowhere, and that he was a fraud. Blitzø was always there for him, and he’d almost forgotten what that felt like; he’d forgotten how much he needed his best friend in his life.
“It’s okay, Fizz. I’m okay.”
Fizz knew he was crying, but Blitzø didn’t comment on the way Fizz was soaking his shirt with his tears; he just continued to hug him.
Blitzø was alive. He was here, holding Fizz in his arms, and he was okay.
While Stolas and Ozzie spoke in the kitchen, Blitzø and Fizz went for a walk.
“He just sat there! He didn’t even say anything until Bee stood up for you. You were going to die, and he did nothing.”
“Fizz–”
“He was fine with an imp getting killed for stepping out of line. How the fuck does he see me if that’s something he’s complacent with? How can he hold me and say he loves me when he was so okay with my best friend being killed?”
“Fizz. I’ve seen the way that big rooster looks at you. I don’t doubt that he loves you.”
“When I asked him if he’d have done more if it was me on trial instead, he said yes. When I asked why, since I’m an imp too, do you wanna know what he said?” Blitzø didn’t say anything, and Fizz continued. “That I was different from other imps.”
Blitzø grimaced. “Yeah, that is kinda fucked up.”
“Exactly!” Fizz shouted, then deflated slightly and sighed. “I love him so much, but I don’t know if I can get over this. I don’t know where we stand anymore.”
Blitzø awkwardly moved closer and pulled Fizz into a side hug, like he used to do when they were kids. It still managed to provide that same comfort from their childhood. He’d missed this so much.
“You should talk to him about how you feel.”
That was rich coming from him.
“I love you, Blitzø; you’re my best friend, but you are a fucking hypocrite.”
“Fair.”
Fizz ended up staying the night, cuddling with Blitzø on the beanbag, offering comfort that Blitzø wasn’t aware he needed so badly. The soft purring emanating from his best friend’s chest gently soothed him to sleep.
The comfort of sleep was short-lived, however, as soon after falling asleep, Blitzø was awakened by a nightmare of the trial, where instead of Stolas showing up at the last second to save him, the executioner’s axe chopped Blitzø’s head off, causing him to wake up in a cold sweat, shaking and feeling his head and neck to make sure it was still attached to his body. He felt like he couldn’t breathe, and he peeled Fizz’s arms off of him so he could go break down in the privacy of the bathroom. He didn’t want to wake anyone else up. He’d be fine. He just needed a moment.
He was working on untangling Fizz’s other arm when his friend began to stir. Before Blitzø could pretend to be asleep or just yank his arm away and run to the bathroom, Fizz opened his eyes and looked around. He blinked a few times, looked around again, and then his gaze focused on Blitzø trying – and failing – to extract himself completely from his grasp.
Fizz frowned and tightened his grip on Blitzø, so simply bolting to avoid a vulnerable moment wasn’t gonna work.
“What’s going on? You okay?”
Fizz had always been good at reading Blitzø and knowing when he wasn’t okay. Blitzø wasn’t sure if that remained true, after all this time, but Blitzø couldn’t seem to get a hold of himself long enough to convincingly pretend to be all right regardless.
“Yeah. Yeah. I’m fine.”
The memory of what nearly happened overwhelmed him and refused to let him bury it deep like he did all his other traumas – though that never lasted for long and always ended up bursting out in destructive and self-isolating ways.
“I’m fine,” Blitzø repeated, as if saying it more than once would make it true.
“Blitzø, you’re shaking.”
Fizz loosened his grip on him, and Blitzø took the opportunity to finally untangle himself from Fizz’s other arm. He didn’t need the comfort. He didn’t deserve it. “It was just a bad dream. I’m fine, Fizz.” He pulled away from his friend and sat on the floor beside the beanbag, pressing his back up against the window and curling in on himself, attempting poorly to self-soothe by wrapping his tail around his body tightly.
Fizz paused for a moment before speaking again. “Do you wanna talk about it?”
Fizz had always been the person Blitzø confided in when they were little and he had a nightmare or was just upset about something. Sometimes Fizz would tell jokes and entertain him with circus tricks until Blitzø felt better; sometimes he’d even stay up with Blitzø all night just so he wouldn’t have to be alone. He was a really good friend, and Blitzø ruined it all. I didn’t deserve his care and concern then, and I don’t deserve it now. I don’t deserve–
“So, hey, what type of cheese do horses like best?
Blitzø just stared at Fizz, dumbfounded. Well, that was a big topic shift, not that he was complaining, he really didn’t want to talk about his nightmare, much less the trial and the emotions attached to it.
“Masca-pony.”
Realising what Fizz was doing, the corners of Blitzø’s mouth twitched up ever so slightly. Fizz remembered. It was almost like nothing had changed between them, like Blitzø hadn’t fucked everything up, like they’d just hit pause on their friendship.
Without missing a beat, Fizz said, “Why did the horse get a promotion?”
Blitzø could feel his trembling stopping, and he turned towards Fizz, leaning forward in anticipation as his tail uncoiled itself from his body and started to contentedly sway behind him.
“Because he was outstanding in his field!”
Blitzø snorted this time, which made Fizz laugh – something Blitzø took great pride in causing, after being the cause of so much pain in his friend’s life.
Seemingly noticing the potential for a spiral, Fizz nudged Blitzø and set up another joke. “Why do most horses look so fit?”
“Because they’re hot.” Blitzø wiggled his eyebrows, and Fizz rolled his eyes but failed to hide his amused and widening smile. “Oh, c’mon, you know I’m right.”
“Oh, fuck off. Not everyone has a horse fetish like you.” Fizz laughed again. “It’s because they’re on a stable diet.”
“Mine was better.”
“I’m not getting into this with you again, Blitzø. Anyway, I’ve got another joke, and I know you’ll love this one. Some racehorses are staying in a stable. One of them starts to boast about his track record. ‘In the last 15 races, I’ve won eight of them!’ Another horse breaks in: “Well, in the last 27 races, I’ve won 19!’”
Blitzø remembered this joke. Fizz first told him it when they were both twelve and Blitzø was made to feel worthless by his father yet again because he failed to get nearly as much applause as Barbie and Fizz. He’d been so upset and angry, but by the end of the joke, his ribs hurt so much from how much he was laughing, and the tears in his eyes were from that rather than the feeling that nothing he ever did would be good enough to make his father love him. To this day, he couldn’t remember exactly what his father said to him that time, just how it made him feel, but he’d never forget the joke Fizz told or the way he was there for him and tried to lift his spirits no matter what.
Blitzø decided to cut in and continue the joke himself. “Then another horse says, ‘Oh, that’s good, but in the last 36 races, I’ve won 28, so fuck you, bitch!”
“The horse did not say that, Blitzø.” Fizz sounded nearly the same as when they were little, and he tried to turn a game with balloon horses violent by covering one of them with ketchup blood.
“Well, I’m telling the joke now, and I say he did.” Blitzø smiled, starting to feel more comfortable and less on edge. “The horses notice a greyhound, who’d been sitting there listening.”
Fizz took over again. “‘I don’t mean to boast,’ says the greyhound, ‘but in my last 90 races, I’ve won 88 of them!’ The horses are clearly amazed. ‘Wow!’ says one, after a hushed silence.”
“‘A talking dog!’” They both said at the same time before bursting into laughter. Blitzø couldn’t remember the last time he’d laughed this hard. Fuck, that was sad. Amazingly they hadn’t woken up Stolas; losing his magic, and the stress of the trial must have really knocked him out.
Fizz practically dragged Blitzø back onto the beanbag and held him so that he was pressed right up against him, Blitzø’s face buried in his chest. “You don’t have to talk about it right now. But I’m always here for you if you change your mind or just need me to tell you some more awful horse jokes or puns.”
Blitzø smiled. Even though he still felt like – no, knew – he didn’t deserve it, it meant the world to him to have his best friend back, and he’d do anything not to lose him or push him away again.
“Thanks, Fizz.”
Notes:
I got the horse jokes from this site: https://www.willowbrookridingcentre.co.uk/horse-jokes/
And here's the link to the Spotify playlist I made for this fanfic if you wanna check it out: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/453wMSYtITJVRCx1h2rDl4?si=bb5cc58897254fd1
Chapter 3: Heavy Is the Crown
Summary:
How is Blitzø doing a week after the almost-execution, you ask?
Not Great.
Chapter Text
Blitzø could still feel the cold, unforgiving stone of the chopping block against his neck, and the trial haunted him whenever he slept – which was rarely lately.
He should be fine. Things had worked out; his head remained firmly attached to his body, his family was safe, his name had been cleared, and he had been celebrated by impkind. So why did he still feel so fucking uneasy? He couldn’t shake off the cloying feeling of wrongness, of guilt and frustration. He was ready to die, to sacrifice himself for those he loved – to do something right for once in his fucking life – but then Stolas showed up like a damn angel, like a knight in shining armour, saving him again. Stolas had thrown his life away from him! And for what? What could Blitzø possibly offer him? He wasn’t worth all this, and sooner or later Stolas would realise that, and he’d realise he’d thrown everything away, lost everything, for nothing. The resentment would build until he hated Blitzø more than Blitzø hated himself, and the thought of this happening made Blitzø feel like the floor was crumbling beneath him and he couldn’t breathe. When did that damn bird get such a chokehold on his heart? When did he start to let Stolas affect him so much?
A warm horse-themed mug was shoved into his hands, pulling him out of his head. “Here, Dad.”
He blinked a couple of times and turned around. Without having to fake it, a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, and he spoke softly, “Morning Loonie.”
“You were zoning out again.”
Shit. He’d been doing that a lot the past week. He hadn’t realised Loona had noticed.
“Oh, sorry.”
She didn’t need another reason to worry about him. He knew she’d been having nightmares of what nearly happened, and Blitzø felt terrible about being the cause of them. She was shaken up by the whole ordeal, and he hated that she’d had to go through it. He tried to help her as much as she’d allow him to, but since they were more alike than she’d ever admit, she preferred to put herself back together alone. However, there were times when she’d accept the hugs he offered because she needed the reassurance that he was still there and breathing, and times where she’d quietly ask him to stay because she couldn’t fall back asleep otherwise. Blitzø also ‘accidentally’ left his favourite horse plushie – worn from years of cuddling – with her the day after she’d broken down in tears in his arms, barely out of her nightmare, begging him not to leave her and breaking his heart in the process. She’d kept the plushie in her room since then, and if Blitzø noticed her clinging to it when he comforted her after a nightmare, he didn’t say anything.
Loona frowned and muttered something under her breath before asking, “Is everything okay?”
“Of course!” Blitzø assured her, forcing enthusiasm he definitely did not feel right now. “I’m fine, really.”
He looked at Stolas. Beautiful Stolas, who was so peacefully sleeping on a sofa that was far too small for his spindly body. His legs hung over the edge in a way that just couldn’t be comfortable, and Blitzø was sure this sleeping position was causing some serious back problems, but Stolas never complained – Blitzø almost wished he would.
Loona hummed noncommittally, seemingly unsatisfied with his bullshit response, and sat on the floor next to him.
“Drink your hot chocolate before it gets cold.” She nudged his hand gently with hers. “I even added those stupid tiny marshmallows you like.”
Loona was being uncharacteristically nice to him. She had been acting oddly non-combative since his almost-execution, and he wasn’t entirely sure how he felt about it yet.
“They taste better than regular marshmallows,” he mumbled into his drink.
Loona rolled her eyes and laughed fondly. “Whatever, Dad.” The way she now called him ‘Dad’ with ease warmed his heart. He wondered when that simple word would stop amazing him – he didn’t think it ever would.
Blitzø took a deep breath, the smell of cinnamon and cardamom grounding him. It reminded him of his mama, and it reminded him of when Loona came into his life. He was so excited for her to be there, but she was understandably reluctant to settle in and call the place home, so he’d made his mama’s famous hot chocolate that first night and told her about his mama and how she’d make him that drink whenever he had trouble sleeping or was upset. That time spent in the cramped kitchen, learning his mama’s hot chocolate recipe, seemed to somewhat ease the apprehension Loona held, though she hadn’t felt at home enough to call her room her room until about a month after moving in, and it took her even longer to actually decorate it and leave her mark on the apartment. He continued to make Loona hot chocolate whenever she had a nightmare, or he sensed she needed some comfort. She’d complain and tell him she wasn’t a kid – wasn’t his kid when she really wanted to hurt him – and that she didn’t need coddling, but she’d still drink the hot chocolate and smile when she thought he wasn’t looking.
“You been up long?” Loona asked. She feigned nonchalance, like it was just a casual question, but the way she kept running her fingers through her hair gave her away.
Blitzø smiled. “Nah.” He hadn’t slept in two days, but she didn’t need to know that.
Loona had a look on her face like she didn’t believe him, but she didn’t comment on his lie. Instead, she slowly got up, lingering by his side for a moment before saying, “I’m heading out. You gonna be okay?”
In other words, am I gonna find you wasted to the point of lying in your own sick again? He still hated that she’d been the one to find him like that.
“Go. Have fun, Loonie. I’ll be fine.” He had to be. He couldn’t be falling apart when he was needed. By Stolas, while his world was imploding, and by Loona, whether she’d admit to it or not.
She smiled at him, and he wished that fixed his inner turmoil, but all it did was soothe his hurt for a moment – a moment that only lasted until the door shut behind her, leaving Blitzø alone with his thoughts again. Fucking fantastic.
Notes:
Fun fact: Blitzø's horse plushie is called Biscuit Queen and it was gifted to him when he was a kid by Fizz
NonBinaryWaffle on Chapter 2 Thu 30 Jan 2025 04:09PM UTC
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