Chapter Text
Fizzarolli hopped off the couch, bells jingling faintly as his mechanical legs flexed. The tension from the confession was still in the air, but a mischievous grin crept back onto his face. “Alright, sugar,” he said, spinning on his heel. “We’ve had enough heavy stuff for one night. You’re in Ozzie’s club—might as well get a private show.” Ozzie leaned back against the couch, a pleased rumble escaping him. The neon bull and ram in his mane flickered brighter, like spotlights turning on. “Oh, this should be good,” he said warmly. “Fizz doesn’t show off for just anyone.”
Fizz mock-bowed to Ozzie, then to you, his mechanical arms whirring as they extended to their full range. “Prepare to be amazed, dollface.” Before you could respond, Fizz leapt. He somersaulted backward off the lounge railing, catching himself mid-air with a twirling grab on a dangling stage light. The mechanical limbs spun him effortlessly through a series of flips, his bells jingling in perfect rhythm with the muffled bass of the club below. He landed on the edge of a table in a flawless handstand, balancing on two fingers. His grin was wide and bright, glowing eyes locked on yours as if to say, You’re safe now—watch this instead of worrying.
“Ta-da!” He launched himself into a series of mid-air twists, each movement so fluid it was like water bending to music. When he finally dismounted, he spun in a flourish, ending with one knee bent and a hand extended toward you. “What’d I tell ya? Still think I’m just a cute clown?”You laughed—really laughed this time—clapping your hands together. “That was incredible! You’re amazing, Fizz.” Fizz blinked, then tried to hide the small blush creeping under his makeup by wiggling his eyebrows dramatically. “Eh, amazing’s just another Tuesday for me.”
Ozzie’s laugh rolled through the room like a deep drumbeat. “Show-off,” he teased, though his neon eyes were soft with pride. “But I can’t blame you. That was quite the performance.” Fizz strutted back over to the couch, still buzzing with energy. “Hey, gotta keep our guest entertained, right? And maybe… remind her we’re not all scary demons.” As the music thrummed below and the neon lights painted the room in dancing colors, you felt the weight of fear slip further away.
Fizzarolli, still buzzing from the acrobatics, spun on his heel and pointed at you with a dramatic flourish. “Alright, sugar, your turn. No hiding on the sidelines now.” You blinked. “M-my turn?” He wiggled his fingers like a magician about to reveal a trick. “Yep. You and me—time to christen Ozzie’s club with the worst dance ever performed by a mortal.”Before you could protest, he clasped one of your hands in his warm mechanical one and tugged you gently off the couch. The club’s bassline thumped through the floor, and Fizz exaggerated his first few steps—knees too high, elbows flailing—making himself look as ridiculous as possible. You couldn’t help it: a laugh bubbled out of you, bright and unrestrained. “Fizz! That’s awful!”
“That’s the point!” he declared, spinning in a clumsy circle before bumping shoulders with you. “C’mon, dollface, loosen up!” You followed his lead, copying his deliberately terrible moves. He started doing a bizarre sideways shuffle, and you mirrored it, both of you barely keeping your balance as you doubled over with laughter.
Ozzie watched from the couch, a broad smile softening his features, his neon eyes glowing warmly. The bull and ram in his mane swayed in time with the music, clearly amused. “That,” Ozzie said, his voice rich and affectionate, “is the most joyful disaster I’ve ever seen on this dance floor.” Fizz struck a ridiculous pose mid-spin, one leg outstretched like a ballerina but with all the grace of a drunken imp. “We call it… ‘The Neon Train Wreck,’” he announced grandly, making you laugh even harder. You grabbed his hand again and spun him, and he pretended to stumble dramatically, falling into an exaggerated dip that left you both giggling uncontrollably, blending with the music and Ozzie’s low chuckle.
💜Later💜
The music in Ozzie’s club began to fade, the thumping bass giving way to the soft buzz of neon lights winding down. Staff demons moved quietly, sweeping floors and stacking glasses as the last patrons filtered out into the Lust Ring’s night. From the high windows, the city’s endless glow painted the clouds in shades of pink and cyan. Ozzie glanced toward the doors, his neon eyes narrowing slightly. Even in his own club, he was cautious—this was still the Lust Ring, and a lost human was tempting prey for anyone with sharp teeth and worse intentions. He turned back to you and Fizzarolli, his voice low but reassuring. “Closing time. We should get you somewhere safer, sweetheart.”
Fizz twirled once for show, then moved closer, the bells on his outfit jingling softly. “The boss’s tower’s the safest place in this ring. Trust me—no one’s dumb enough to mess with that territory.” You nodded, but a flicker of worry crossed your face as you glanced at the shadowy corners of the club. Ozzie noticed. Without another word, he stepped forward and crouched slightly, his massive hands sliding around you with surprising gentleness. Before you could react, he lifted you effortlessly, cradling you against his broad, warm chest.
A small gasp escaped you, your hands instinctively clutching striped vest for balance. His scent was faintly sweet—like burnt sugar mixed with a hint of smoke—and the neon glow from his hair painted your hands in shimmering blue. “Better this way,” Ozzie said quietly, his tone a protective rumble. “You’ll be less noticeable if I keep you close.” Fizz grinned as he walked beside the two of you, but his eyes held a rare softness. “Look at you, sugar—VIP treatment already.”
The three of you slipped out through a private exit at the back of the club. Outside, the Lust Ring’s streets shimmered with neon haze and far-off laughter, but the alley behind the club was quiet. Waiting at the curb was Ozzie’s limo: a sleek, gleaming vehicle longer than most city buses, glowing cyan under the neon streetlights. The tinted windows gleamed like liquid obsidian. As the limo door opened silently, Fizz jumped in first, holding a hand out to steady you as Ozzie gently set you inside. He followed, his massive frame folding into the spacious interior with practiced grace. The door shut behind you, muffling the distant chaos of the city.
Inside, the limo’s lights were dim, the seats upholstered in rich velvet that smelled faintly of spice. The sudden quiet made you exhale for what felt like the first time all night. Ozzie’s neon gaze met yours, and for just a moment, all the danger outside the limo faded, replaced by a simple, undeniable sense of safety.
Fizz nudged your shoulder, grinning. “Told ya. Best bodyguards in the Ring.” You couldn’t help but smile back. “Yeah… I’m starting to believe that.” The limo glided away from the curb, heading toward the towering silhouette of Ozzie’s domain, the Lust Ring’s lights reflecting off its sleek surface like stars in an upside-down sky.