Chapter Text
Another job well done. Another great fucking kill in the bag. The day was going good for Blitzo. It had started fantastic, with Loona having breakfast in the kitchen with him; then a productive meeting was spent with Millie rating his newest OCs, giving honest feedback — not like whiny bitch Moxxie with his “this is so unprofessional, sir” or “why did you spend our pensions on those custom made figurines, sir?” — and ideas for improvement. After that, they had been packed full with contracts to get to and Blitzo had had the opportunity to try his new trouple shotgun. And it was fucking awesome.
Again. The day was going good. And it could only get better, really. With it being a Full Moon and all. Not like Blitzo looked forward to those, fuck no. But, well, since he had to get to them, might as well enjoy the deal, burn off some steam. It only made his day better. Not because he had to meet with Stolas either. It was just that… well, they had great sex. It was almost worrying how sexually compatible they were. Blitzo wouldn’t pass up on that. But not because it was Stolas.
«We’re done for today, right?» asked Moxxie, dragging his feet against the carpet like he had been the one doing the heavy lifting. Pussy.
«Looking forward to get Millie to peg you?» asked Blitzo, taking off his coat to check for any stains.
«Ew, the fuck is wrong with you?» Moxxie probably had one of his stupid frowns on his ass face. Blitzo didn’t even need to look at him.
The sleeves were clean…
«Should be the one asking, how’s taking it in the ass, Mox?»
Look at that: spotless coat. That was a fucking miracle after the bloodshed of the day.
«Like you don’t know,» teased Millie. When Blitzo turned around to glare at her, she was holding Moxxie’s head on her tits like he was a child this close to bursting out crying.
«First, thought we were on the same side,» he said, gesturing between him and her, feigning hurt. «Second, I’m a top,» he pointed out. Millie rolled her eyes.
«Sure you are tonight,» retorted Millie, looking him up and down. He winked at her before checking himself once again.
He was wearing his usual clothes, sure, he had managed to keep them clean, but that wasn’t intentional. And, alright maybe he had made sure to pick clothes that weren’t ripped up and stitched back together. Couldn’t a demon want to look decent once in a while?
«Looks good, right?» he asked hopefully, making a small twirl on himself. Moxxie snorted.
«Odd to see you worried about fashion,» pointed out the little bitch «one would think you’re doing it for someone else.»
«This,» he pointed at himself, «is not about Stolas,» he said seriously.
«Who mentioned the Prince?» Millie smirked, like a gotcha. She didn’t fucking got nothing.
Blitzo huffed and walked around the couple, to Loona’s desk, she promptly passed the grim-book to him without even raising her eyes from her phone.
«See, this is how you do your job,» said Blitzo, showing off his perfect daughter, who only lightly growled when he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her in a side hug. Okay, she almost bit his head off. His point still stood.
«That’s why none of ya have been employee of the shitting month,» he added, stepping away from his daughter before she decided to make him taste his own teeth.
Moxxie rolled his eyes, but at least kept his big, dick-sucking mouth shut.
«Can we go now?» he asked instead, crossing his arms. Blitzo waved his hand vaguely as he walked back to his office. He needed to get some toys before popping off at the palace.
Shutting his door closed and locking it for good measure — he wouldn’t want Loona to witness his depravity with her perfect innocent eyes.
The office smelled of gunpowder and sinners — they all had this distinctly earthly smell that persisted years after they had died — mixed in with Blitzo’s own scent. He should air up the place or the human-stink would never leave, sticking to the wallpapers and furniture. Another time.
He went straight to his chest, getting it out from under the desk and opening it. Alright. Stolas hadn’t sent any paragraph-long roleplay ideas, and it had been a couple of months since their last time… Maybe something easy, to get them back on their feet. Something they could improvise with.
There were a lot of choices. Honestly, Blitzo had no idea where to start. Some ropes could do, maybe a plug? Meh, neither of them were much into that. His phone buzzed in his coat pocket. Oh, yeah, a vibrator seemed easy enough. The phone buzzed again.
Who the fuck was texting him outside office hours? Blitzo should really get a proper work number cause these shitstains thought they could just text or call out of the fucking-
Ah. It was Stolas.
Blitzo’s chest absolutely did not tighten at that realization.
Good evening, Blitz. I hope you’ve been having a good day so far. I am texting to inform you that there is no need for you to spend the night at my palace if you don’t wish to.
And then.
I will send someone by tomorrow for my Grimoire.
Blitzo re-read both messages at least four times before he threw his phone against the wall. It didn’t break. Which only pissed him off more.
Fuck his phone and fuck Stolas with his fancy fucking vocabulary. The bird had been avoiding him for months by then, acting like he was giving Blitzo the choice, when, really, he was being passive aggressive about it. Fuck.
Why did he even care? Stolas was a pompous Goetian prick, screwing around with some lower class imp to satiate some kind of fetish or something. He had gotten bored. But why the fuck did Blitzo care? He had Stolas’ book and his own freedom. He had everything. Still, something just didn’t sit right with him.
Stolas had dropped him. Not the other way around.
It had only been a matter of time, he knew. At some point, Stolas was bound to get tired of him and would move on to some other imp chucklefuck desperate enough to have their holes played with by a thirsty owl. Someone better. Someone who wouldn’t question Stolas dumbfuck ideas. Someone who looked better, even. Blitzo had ego for days, but he had to admit he couldn’t compete with some incubitches or even the imps in Stolas’ favorite trash shows. Hell, he was fucking disfigured. A goddamn monster by princely standards.
Maybe that had been it, at first. Maybe Stolas wanted to feel like he was taming some wild animal. But it didn’t turn out that way, and Stolas was moving on.
Well fuck him.
He dropped the fancy book on his desk and, with a kick of his boot, pushed the chest back under the desk, it probably scratched the floor, making more indents than there already were. He walked to the door and then back toward the chest again, to kick it a second time, it slid more under the desk, hitting the back of it.
When he threw his office door open, M&M stopped whatever boring ass conversation they were having to look at him. Blitzo ignored them both to drop the van keys on Loona’s desk. And got out. He would walk back home, he needed to fucking… walk it out. Or what-the-fuck-ever. If he was lucky, he would find something to kill on the way.
It wasn’t late, but even if it had been, Blitzo knew he would’ve found the streets bristling with assholes. If he had taken the van he might’ve run someone over, just because. Who cared? Sinners regenerated or something anyway. But, if he had taken the van, he would’ve had Moxxie’s obnoxious voice in his ear, Millie worried look boring holes in the back of his head and Loona… well, Loona was cool, actually, she didn’t care.
Blitzo went out of his way to bump into as many people as he could, in the hope someone would start a fight, but not really in the mood to start it himself. No one took the bait.
What was the point of that anyway? It wasn’t just anyone he wanted to fight with. He wanted Stolas. To fight with Stolas. If the bird wanted out he could tell him face to face instead of making up excuses; but no, princey had to be a bitch about it. The Royal didn’t give two shits that the only reason I.M.P. worked was because of his fucking book, and it wouldn’t surprise Blitzo if Stolas just decided to take it back, one day. Again, it was his book.
The rational part of Blitzo’s brain was telling him to calm the fuck down before he made one of his trademark idiotic choices and ruined the deal — if they still had one. He would be the only one to pay. He had to think. However, the angry as fuck part of that same brain — definitely bigger and louder than the rational one — was close to convince him to punch someone’s teeth in, again, just because.
Blitzo was so taken with his internal conflict, thinking of pros and cons, that he almost walked past his apartment. How the fuck had he been so fast? Had he zoned out? The fuck?
Taking his phone out of his coat’s breast pocket to check the time, Blitzo assessed that, yes, he took the usual thirty or so minutes and he just got really deep in his head, as usual. Almost nine o’clock. He was supposed to already be at the palace by then. Possibly butt naked and about to plow Stolas’ feathered ass.
He stared at his phone screen until it turned black again, then stared some more. Turned it on and opened the chat with Stolas. Turned it off. On again and re-read the messages. Then, again. The only thing it accomplished was making him more angry, obviously, not like it came as a surprise to him. He looked up at the contact name “Stols”. So much for familiarity.
Fuck it.
With one last look at the apartment building, Blitzo turned the opposite direction and marched up to the palace. It was gonna be a long fucking walk.
✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦
The palace towered over him. It always did, but that evening it just looked more… towering. Ah fuck it, Blitzo could barely think, let alone try to put into words how inadequate he felt while staring at the blaring sign of how much his and Stolas’ worlds were far apart one from the other.
The luxurious palace, out of the city, away from the smell of gas and death, with its tall walls all around it, barriers made of hard stones. It seemed to be made with the intention to keep the trash out. To keep Blitzo out. Dark stone walls with high columns covered in intricate designs. And the bigass sigil right on Stolas’ balcony for all to see.
Blitzo climbed over the wall and stayed crouched over the hedge for a moment, between in and out, simply looking at the ground underneath and trying to come up with something, anything, to convince his body to get back. Forget about the texts and just… sleep on it, or something.
The more Blitzo observed the vegetations of the garden he would end up in once he jumped off the wall, the more he felt his anger rise. He knew the names of half the plants in that goddamn garden. Stolas had talked to him about it for hours, going off on how he had acquired this or that kind, or whatever. Stolas had acted like they were friends, asking Blitzo about his interests. And now that he was bored, he just cut him off, like he was his little boy-toy — his impish plaything — and he could just get rid of him like that. Fuck him.
Down the gate, Blitzo made his way to the palace wall and looked up at the balcony. Same old song and dance. He sighed and got to climbing. He had visited so often that, by that point, the wall had a sort of natural ladder for the spaces in which Blitzo had planted his boots time and time again. Climbing up that wall over and over, month after month. But not anymore, because Stolas was bored of him now.
Blitzo hoisted himself over the railing and face planted into the hard stone on the other side of it, groaning as he lifted himself up again. Not even good at balance, of course he was an ass of a performer.
The door to Stolas’ bedroom was closed, another hint that the prince’s “come if you want” farce was just that: a farce. He wasn’t expecting Blitzo to come at all. Fucking rich prick, thinking he could beg Blitzo to fuck him raw monthly and then just drop his sorry red ass on the side of the road. Well, Blitzo wouldn’t fucking let him.
The first instinct was for the imp to kick the door down but, on second thought, realised he didn’t want to owe Stolas the repair. Fuck, the fancy door was probably worth more than any cheap fuck Blitzo could deliver. The glass was colored yellow, orange and red, arranged in the design of a shining sun on the left and what seemed to be a moon on the right. Over the door, more colored glasses, and Stolas’ sigil. But even without that last touch, it was just so… Stolas.
The idea of kicking the door down came stronger than before, this time for the very specific reason of breaking it. He wanted to see the glass shattered at his hooves and step on it hard enough to make the shards into colored dust. Wanted to see Stolas’ eyes stare at him, confirming that, yes, Blitzo was the monster he had ever paraded himself to be. He couldn’t be careful with fragile things, and he didn’t want to be careful.
Pushing down the roaring want to tear the fucking door — the palace — to shreds, Blitzo fished in his pockets and found some of the instruments from his lock pick set, most of them he had lost long ago, but he didn’t need them anyway, so he never replaced them. The lock was almost too easy to pick and, under different circumstances, it would’ve been just the kind of set-up for one of Stolas’ roleplays. As things were, Blitzo only got more pissed at the low security the palace had. Not like he should be surprised, Stolas was powerful as shit — that one stunt with Striker had been… just a thing, one time occurrence.
Blitzo didn’t kick the door down, but he sure as fuck gave a strong enough kick once the lock had been picked. The hinges struggled slightly, letting out a soft squeaking noise. Nothing compared to how loud the door itself hit the wall of Stolas’ bedroom.
For a moment, Blitzo’s breath caught in his throat. Stolas was just sitting in bed, wearing his robe and reading one of those stupid books of his. His head snapped to follow the origin of the sound and his big red eyes — with white pinprick pupils — focused on Blitzo’s. It was unfair how pretty Stolas looked all the time. Even when he wasn’t trying to, he was always so…
«Blitz!» he exclaimed, dropping his book to the side and pulling his robe tighter over his chest and around his hips. He stood up with an uncertainty that only made Blitzo’s anger flare.
«I wasn’t expecting you,» he admitted, looking around the room anxiously. He was blushing, but Blitzo was trying not to focus on that.
«Yeah, big fucking surprise,» spat out Blitzo, stomping his way up to Stolas. And the bird had the guts to look alarmed, like he wasn’t four feet taller than him.
«I’m sorry, you didn’t text so I-»
«Shut up,» Stolas did, his beak clicking closed immediately «the fuck do you think you’re doing, hm?»
«I’m sorry, I don’t think I get what you mean,» and he kept apologizing. Always sorry, never meaning it.
«Don’t you? You got bored, haven’t you?» he jabbed Stolas in the stomach, because that was the highest he could go. Stolas stepped away until the back of his legs touched the mattress, and he stopped.
Art by phe__lina (on twitter)
«I really… Blitz, I don’t understand,» he said that last word slowly, like Blitzo hadn’t got it the first two times.
«You never do, do you?» he snapped «you’re so fucking stupid for a smart guy.» Stolas flinched.
He didn’t mean that. Almost regretted it when those white dots in the sea of red that were Stolas’ eyes made a reappearance.
That, at least, shut the bird up.
«You think I don’t get your passive aggressive act?» he asked, jabbing him again, harder. Stolas sat down at that, making them closer to eye level, if anything.
«Think us imps are all dumb as shit?» he continued, not even sure where the fuck that was coming from «news flash, asshole, you can’t fucking drop me like trash once you’re done with me.»
«Blitz,» Stolas caught Blitzo’s hand, that had been gesticulating about without the imp even realizing «I really don’t… I’m sorry for whatever I did, I really don’t know what you want me to say,» he sounded equally desperate and frustrated. Of course he was frustrated, the dick he had been fucking himself on was talking back.
«Oh, don’t beat yourself up, your Highness,» he interrupted before Stolas could keep talking. Blitzo couldn’t stand his voice.
Stolas shook his head, like clearing his mind before refocusing his eyes on Blitzo.
«Can you just listen to me?» he snapped, Blitzo tried to draw his hand back, but Stolas held on, staring at him with that odd determination he sometimes displayed. «I don’t understand where you got… I am not dropping you, I want… I want to spend time with you, want to… to get to know you, Blitz I-» he cried out, sounding distressed enough to seem genuine.
«Do you think I would… that I would divorce over a fling?» divorce? What the fuck? Since when?
«You’re so very important to me,» bullshit.
«Save it, bitch,» he chuckled bitterly, feeling his eyes sting «Not like I fucking… I know we weren’t gonna grow old together like some bitchass…» like a what? A couple? They weren’t that «you’re fucking immortal and shit, but you didn’t even have the balls to dump me in person.»
«Wait,» Stolas squeezed the hand he was still holding, and Blitzo just wanted to squeeze his back, feel the soft feathers under his scarred palm, the warmth of it.
«You still got words to shit out? Go on, wanna fucking hear what you come up with,» he wasn’t supposed to talk like that to Stolas. A Royal. A Prince. But he wasn’t scared of the bird, he had never been.
Stolas hesitated at that, looking down in Blitzo’s eyes with something the imp couldn’t name. Genuine sorry was the first guess, but that couldn’t be it.
«Blitz I… I don’t know what to say, I don’t… I don’t think you’re dumb, I think you’re possibly one of the smartest demons I know,» he went to hold Blitzo’s other hand, drawing them close to his chest.
«I really am sorry if I made you feel… like I didn’t value you, because I do, real-»
«Don’t fucking kid yourself,» interrupted Blitzo, taking a step back and getting his hands out of Stolas’grasp in a quick motion. Stolas sat still, hurt, or so he pretended. He couldn’t be hurt by this.
«You think I don’t know how I look? You think you can…» love? «like someone like me?» he would’ve kicked himself at how pathetically his voice cracked.
«I do like you,» said Stolas immediately, blushing right after the admission.
«You don’t,» spit back Blitzo «I'm just easy to have, I’m covered in scars and-» fuck. That wasn’t supposed to get out.
Stolas’ eyes widened at that, and he looked down at Blitzo’s hands like he could see through the gloves, and then back up at his face, the only scar he couldn’t cover. Not like Stolas didn’t know exactly where they all were. He had seen them all.
«Scars?» repeated the bird, «I had no idea these were…» he reached his left hand out to touch Blitzo’s cheek. The imp slapped it off and took another step back.
«You know what? This was a fucking mistake,» and that was being generous.
«I’m leaving,» he turned on his heel, thankful his voice didn’t break (again).
There was a moment of silence, filled only by Blitzo’s boots clicking against the floor as he made his way back to the balcony door. Then Stolas stood up.
«Blitz,» he called out. Instinctively, Blitzo stopped, «can we talk about this?» he pleaded, his soft voice even smaller than usual.
Art by phe__lina (on twitter)
Blitzo flipped him off, his eyes were burning by that point. Fuck. He wiped at them with the sleeve of his coat. Not deigning one last look at Stolas’ direction, the imp finally walked out.
Fucking hell. He slammed the door closed to make sure Stolas wouldn’t follow, then jumped up on the railing and looked down. It was all so stupid. So fucking stupid.
He groaned and climbed over the railing, testing his footing and wiping his eyes again before his vision could get blurry, he made his way down slowly, his eyes filling with tears often enough to make it hard to place his hands and hooves right.
It was halfway down that Blitzo realized he had walked all the way to the palace and would have to walk all the way back to his apartment.
Fucking dammit.
Chapter Text
It had been a miserable as fuck week and all Blitzo wanted to do was bury himself under a pile of shit and die.
Usually, fights left him high and full of energy, giving him that extra adrenaline he carried with him for two or even three days if the fight had been good. But after he had come back from the palace and collapsed on the couch, all he felt was this uncomfortable sense of not belonging in his own skin. He wanted to crawl out of himself and disappear.
Instead, he had gotten up the next day and went to the office, because that’s how grownass adults deal with their shit. He had gotten to work and whined while going about his business until some imp fuck from Stolas’ staff came to collect the book. For the rest of the day, Blitzo had been on edge about not getting it back after the stunt he had pulled at the palace. And yet, the next morning, it was right in his hands again, with “regards from His Highness”, as the same imp had said.
And that was how. A week later, Blitzo was still very much not out of business, busting his ass as hard as he could on missions to get his brain busy and, simultaneously, tire himself out enough to fall asleep the second he touched the couch.
That specific Friday night, Loona was out partying down in Gluttony – good for her, Blitzo always thought she needed some friends her age – which meant the imp couldn’t be bothered to even make dinner. He wasn’t hungry anyway. He just wanted to fall into an easy sleep that would leave him wondering if he had even closed his eyes at all.
The apartment was more of a mess than it usually would be, and Blitzo wanted to get it cleaned as soon as he got his shit back together. Not like he couldn’t survive some extra laundry laying around, still, Loona deserved better than that.
Blitzo wrapped himself in his horse blanket and hugged it close to his chest, closing in on himself. He realized he hadn’t even changed, he could feel his mother’s charm poking him under his chin. Like he wasn’t feeling enough like shit already.
He didn’t even know what he was feeling shitty for. Yeah, alright, he and Stolas had had a nasty argument, but it didn’t mean shit. Stolas had given him back the book, that meant they were fine. Right? Of course they were.
They’d have great fucking sex next month, and things would go back to normal. Maybe Stolas was just stressed, Hell, who wouldn’t be while dealing with a fucking divorce? — Blitzo still had to wrap his head around the fact Stolas was divorcing, but that was beside the point.
Yeah, they were both just stressed.
Blitzo groaned to himself, pissed at his brain for thinking instead of letting him sleep.
✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦
It was about a week and a half after the argument when Fizz called.
Blitzo had been feeling… better, in a way. With the certainty that things were fine and nothing bad was absolutely fucking going on between Stolas and him, Blitzo had managed to get back on his feet. Enough to not have to bury himself in work until he practically passed out.
Loona was in her room, rock music blaring from her old shitty speaker. The neighbors would’ve knocked their door down if they had any. And even if that happened, Blitzo would shoot a warning shot to scare any fucker off.
In the meantime, the imp had enough energy left to make some grilled cheese for dinner because, honestly, he had totally forgotten to go grocery shopping recently and his fridge — together with his and Loona’s diet — was suffering due to it.
Blitzo had already changed into the comfortable shorts and t-shirt combo he usually slept in, walking barehooved around the kitchen. The floor had been cleaned and Loona had taken care of laundry after getting tired of the smell.
Blitzo almost missed the sound of his ringtone — a circus themed one — drowned out by Loona’s music, but caught the screen lighting up before the call went to voicemail.
«Heeeey, Fizz?» it was unexpected for his friend to call. They mostly shared memes and set a date to meet up for coffee once every two or three weeks to catch up. They didn’t even text that regularly.
«What’s up?» he asked next, pressing the speaker close to his ear as he walked up to Loona’s door and knocked twice. The music immediately lowered.
«Not much, wanted to hear how you were doing,» replied Fizz. Blitzo walked back to the stove and put the phone on speaker.
«I’m fiiiine,» he waved his spatula around before flipping the grilled cheese «why you ask? Is there… I should be worried about shit?»
«No!» it was almost too quick. «No, it’s just… you had your thing with Stolas like, last week?» Blitzo groaned, his tail lashing out behind him.
«Big fuck-up,» muttered Blitzo, not sure Fizz had even heard him.
The line was silent for a while, like Fizz was waiting for him to explain — HA. as if — before forcing out a cough in the speaker.
«Why the fuck did you call, Fizz?» asked Blitzo more serious, focusing on not burning up the grilled cheese as he glared at the phone, hoping his friend could feel it through the phone line.
«I really wanted to know how the night with Stolas had gone,» he sighed «you were all bitchy about the last two-»
«I was not “bitchy” about it!» Fizz completely ignored him.
«-Times and I just wanted to snoop around in your life,» there was a grin in the tone the jester talked in. Clear as fucking day.
«We didn’t fuck,» was all Blitzo offered.
Shit, the cheese was over grilled. Hopefully Loona wouldn’t mind.
«That’s why you’re still bitchy?» Blitzo rolled his eyes and set up a plate for his daughter, putting the food down on it and walked up to her door, knocking twice. After a moment, Loona opened up.
Fizz’s voice was going off in the background and the hound nodded toward the phone on the counter, mouthing “who’s on the phone?” Blitzo just shrugged and offered her the plate. She looked down at it and nodded, before disappearing back in her room.
Fizz was still talking. Motherfucker had always had the biggest, loudest mouth, but Blitzo wasn’t used to his constant rambling anymore.
«You know, Ozz told me every couple needs some communication between one fucking and the other,» he was saying, completely unaware that the assassin had lost half — if not more — of the monologue.
«What couple? Me and Stolas?» he asked, setting to make some more grilled cheese for himself with what he had left. Which wasn’t much, but he was a little guy, never needed much.
Fuck, back at the circus he could go days with no more than a piece of bread in his stomach. Most of their money was spent on momma’s medicines and treatment, so there wasn’t much to do. Not like it had helped, in the end…
Fizz was still talking. Blitzo shook the memory out of his head.
«Gon be honest, you lost me, Fizz,» interrupted Blitzo. Fizz groaned loudly and a soft oof could be heard on the other side of the call, like the jester had plopped down on a bed. Or something soft anyway.
«Alright, you talk then, what went down with princey?» ah. Blitzo wanted to go back to dissociating.
«Nunya, is it?» snapped Blitzo, burning himself with oil while throwing his hand out in a fit. Just what he needed. Why don’t go ahead and get more scars. He was such a shithead.
«Oh, come on,» again, the exasperation was clear in Fizz’s voice «you ever talked, like, once, about how you feel? With anyone?»
«Feelings are for pussies and all I feel is horny and angry.»
«Whatever makes you sleep at night,» Fizz sighed again.
«What? It’s true, what am I supposed to feel? Want me to talk about how sad I am about not fucking Stolas? About how pissed I was walking out after our fight? Ho-»
«You had a fight?» ah fuck. Fizz wasn’t the only loud mouth. Blitzo should really get himself in check because this impulsiveness of his was gonna get him in trouble at some point.
«Yeah,» he admitted, «but it’s nothing, we’re fine, Stolas gave me the fancy book back so he’s not angry at me. So it’s fine.»
It was fine. Blitzo had gone over that already and he was sure things were just peachy.
«What did you do?» asked Fizz with that no-bullshit voice he sometimes got.
«It wasn’t my fault!» retorted Blitzo, flipping the cheese and wincing at how burned one side was. When did he get so shitty at making goddamn grilled cheese?
«Sure it was,» insisted Fizz, «did you blow up in his face?»
«I had a good reason,» he stated. Fizz let out an unimpressed hum, signaling for him to go on.
«He just… he told me not to go, again, alright? And I got pissed, so I went all the way up to his fancy palace and… alright I did blow up in his face a little,» he put the words out like he was afraid that, if he stopped for too long, he wouldn’t start again.
«Did he tell you “don’t get here” or did you just read that?»
«“there is no need for you to spend the night at my palace”» recited Blitzo — in his best Stolas’ impression — who had read the text enough times to remember it by memory.
«Sounds more like a suggestion to me,» answered Fizz. Blitzo got the grilled cheese out of the pan and bit down on it immediately, burning his tongue in the process.
«Yeah, would you suggest Ozzy not to fuck you on the night you normally fuck?»
«We fuck every night.»
«Not the point.»
There was a moment of silence before Fizz sighed.
«It’s different, me and Ozz, we’re dating, you two have a contract,» pointed out Fizz, matter-of-factly.
«And what’s wrong with that?» retorted Blitzo «he gets his ass plowed and I get to do my job.»
«Maybe he doesn't want that?» suggested Fizz. Which was stupid. What would Stolas have to lose with their arrangement? They worked fine and it was easy.
Then again, Blitzo wasn’t exactly beauty incarnate. Stolas, meanwhile, was all pretty and dainty. Maybe he wanted someone like that? Less sharp around the edges, or something like that.
«Yeah, who would?» he sighed, looking down at his arms.
«Not what I meant, fuckward,» Blitzo snorted at that. He was so fucking glad he had Fizz again. He should tell him so at one point.
«Yeah, I know, but Stolas don’t want anything… anything real, not like you and Ozz,» he was a Prince. And Blitzo, a failed performer.
«He doesn't even know… anything, not ‘bout the scars or any of that shit, what you think he’d say if he knew?»
What would Stolas say if he learned Blitzo was only good at breaking things, ruining people. He wasn’t made for serious or to stick around too long, eventually, everyone got caught in the fire and Blitzo would stand in the rubble, wondering how the fuck he’d been so stupid.
«I think you should start with that,» said Fizz after some time. Blitzo chewed on his cheese to bite back the immediate reply that came to mind.
«Ozz knows about the fire, told him as soon as shit started getting serious, it’s like relationship one-o-onw,» Blitzo rolled his eyes and swallowed.
«You weren’t the one to set fire to the tents,» Fizz didn’t reply. It was the truth; couldn’t argue with truth.
«I still think you should get that out of the way; if he leaves, he leaves.»
«Yeah, so he takes back his fancy book and I’m out of business,» Fizz seemed to forget, sometimes, that not everyone had been the clown face on everything for years and had the best sugar daddy in the Seven Rings.
Fizz hesitated «I don’t think he’ll do that,» he whispered, like, actually, he wanted to say something else.
«And if he does… I guess there are other ways to get upside,» reassuring.
«Yeah, I’ll think about that,» which meant he would ruminate on the conversation for the rest of the week.
The call ended soon after. Blitzo felt drained from the inside out and all he wanted to do was get his head off of Stolas, Fizz and whatever else. He took his half eaten grilled cheese and plopped down on the couch, turning on the TV to shut his brain up with some mindless reality bullshit.
✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦
After a full three weeks of uninterrupted Stolas-thinking, the culmination of the whole thing — the shit-cream on the trash cake — presented itself on Saturday, in the form of a box and an envelope inside a frilly paper bag.
Not any box and not any envelope, obviously. The box was small, gray, elegant, with a thin blue line running through it horizontally and the sigil of Asmodeus carved in the same color, which confused Blitzo for a second, until he took in the sight of the second item. The envelope, yellow-ish, was closed with a wax sigil, Stolas’ sigil.
Blitzo did not panic. In fact, he was almost relieved Stolas had reached out — if a bit pissed the bird couldn’t just text him, but knowing the dramatic fucker… it was fine — and, he imagined, sent some kind of instruction for some roleplay or something. The box was from Lust, after all.
It wasn’t the first time Stolas had sent stuff at the office either. Really, there was no reason to panic. Still, Blitzo had this odd feeling in his stomach, like he should’ve been worried, which made him anxious, because stupid fucking brain.
Then again, his gut feelings had saved his ass more than once. It wasn’t reassuring in that specific situation, as said gut feelings were screaming “DANGER” in bold red letters.
Without much more ruminating, the assassin stood from the chair in his office to close the door in case whatever was in the box was a bit too hardcore — better to spare Loona’s innocence— and sat back down.
The tattered fake leather of his chair rubbed uncomfortably against his coat, sticking to it and making squeaking sounds every time he moved.
«Here goes nothing,» he sighed, opening the box. His brain flatlined for a second.
He knew that object, and not for the reason he would’ve liked. Over a sort of blue pillow, rested a golden crystal. Just like the one Blitzo had seen Verosika use on occasions. An Asmodean Crystal. To travel to Earth.
What. The. Fuck.
Blitzo stared, head completely empty as he tried to make sense of what he was looking at. It was an Asmodean Crystal. From Stolas. To travel to Earth. For his business(?) The business that relied on Stolas’ fancy book. The book Blitzo was allowed to use in exchange for sex. That he wouldn’t need if he had an Asmodean crystal.
Fuck.
Blitzo didn’t need to open the envelope to figure out what was said inside of it. Some kind of letter telling him to bring the book back and to fuck right off.
Part of Blitzo felt a smug sense of accomplishment. Like he had totally seen that coming a mile away, especially after their fight. Something that made him feel justified in never fully trusting Stolas, because he was no different than the rest of the rich pricks he had grown up among. And Blitzo was exactly the big scary monster that couldn’t, and shouldn’t, be treated with care. There was this small part of him that was satisfied with the outcome, because it was known and something that always happened. He was used to it.
He should’ve been used to it.
Despite the small satisfied part, the thing Blitzo felt the most was anger — who could’ve fucking guessed — and that was also good, anger was good. Familiar. Even before… Even before the fire, anger had always been so much easier than anything else. Punching his problems until his knuckles bled, until there was nothing left to punch. Maybe it hadn’t been the fire to turn him into what he was, maybe he was just meant to be his messed up self. Maybe he had always been messed up.
Oh wonderful, now he was sad. Fuck Stolas and his fucking book. He wanted it back, good. Blitzo didn’t fucking care.
Pushing his chair back a bit too hard, scratching the floor, Blitzo stood up, grabbed the crystal and dropped it into his coat pocket, then took the envelope and crumpled it into a ball. Fuck the letter too.
His employees watched him storm out of his office and throw the crumpled up envelope in Loona’s direction.
«Shred it,» was his only instruction before getting out. He couldn’t deal with Millie’s interrogation or Moxxie’s bitchiness.
He was going to Lust.
Fizz had shit to explain, because there was no fucking way he and his rooster-fucker didn’t know about the goddamn crystal. And his friend had had the balls to reassure him.
He was going to Lust.
✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦
Despite his rekindled friendship with Fizz, and the somewhat frequent outings the two of them organized once every while, Blitzo had never visited his friend’s house. “House” didn’t even begin to cut it, if he was being honest. Nah, Fizz lived in a fuckass building — the whole building — with his rooster boyfriend, which explained why the place had so many dicks and pussies on display. Normally, Blitzo wouldn’t have minded; that specific evening, it kinda pissed him off.
A tall succubus with two ponytails was leading him through blue corridors, one after the other, and he, in return, was leaving wet splotches on the fancy carpet, his clothes dripping wet from his run under Lust’s rain.
Blitzo’s eyes run over every surface, gouging for details, for anything to distract himself. It all looked the exact same, every door and every statue, one the copy of the other, and he almost felt dizzy from it. It was kinda like the corridors ones in Stolas’ palace, except those Blitzo could navigate effortlessly.
He mentally facepalmed hard for thinking about Stolas. Not like he ever stopped. The succubus looked at him with an odd mix of curiosity and annoyance and he instinctively flipped her off.
The door — double doors — to what was probably Fizz’s room was exactly like all the others with bigass hearts on each side. The succubus went ahead to knock but Blitzo pushed her out of the way and just barged in.
In the hurry he forgot his phone at the office so, technically, Fizz couldn’t know he was coming, still, he groaned in annoyance noticing the jester on his — big as shit — bed, mindlessly scrolling through his phone while one of his uglyfuck therapy dogs laid on his chest.
Fizz almost dropped his phone over his face, startled by Blitzo’s sudden arrival. He sat up straight, sending his dog rolling off him. He looked him up and down before the assassin practically climbed the mattress, shattering what little remained of his ego at how hard the task proved itself to be. Once the embarrassing ordeal was done he got the Asmodean Crystal from his pocket and tossed it toward Fizz.
«The fuck?» mumbled the jester, setting his phone aside to collect the crystal.
«Should be the one asking,» snapped Blitzo, his anger flaring for literally no reason. «Stolas sent it to my office.»
Fizz stared at him, still clearly confused as he looked over the crystal, tapping and rubbing it.
«Did you thank him?» he asked, giving it back. Blitzo snatched it and groaned.
«He dropped me, like I knew he would,» pointed out Blitzo, pronouncing every word as slow and condescendingly as possible.
«Fucking- you still haven’t talked to him?» Fizz’s stupid dog settled over the jester’s lap and he sighed, caressing its head.
«No need, clearly. He just gave me this and probably wants his book back for good, not much to talk about,» Fizz rolled his eyes and took another exasperated breath, like he was biting his tongue. Blitzo took that as an opportunity to keep going.
«And you knew, didn’t you? You and your Cock don’t just mass-produce these,» he accused, waving the crystal like it was the biggest piece of shit on earth.
«No shit, asshole, Asmodean Crystals are expensive,» snapped back Fizz «you’ve been bitching all over yourself the whole month, and now you wanna fight with me because you couldn’t keep your relationship?»
Blitzo stopped in his tracks, whatever he was going to say, forgotten, because Fizz had just metaphorically slapped him right across the face. He was still angry, but now he couldn’t place his anger because it wasn’t directed at Fizz, and it wasn’t directed at Stolas. It was…
«I don’t wanna fight with you,» he admitted, lowering his head like when his momma scolded him for accidentally hurting Barb.
«Could’ve fooled me,» answered Fizz, still snappy, but less so. «What you need?»
Hard question to answer. Blitzo needed more than he could ask, more than he deserved to even wish for. More than what Fizz, or anyone, could give him. He needed someone to be angry at him for once, to put him in his place, because then, at least, he could know how to react. He couldn’t deal with being accommodated.
«Just… how do I use this shit?» he ended up asking, looking at the crystal in his hands and placing it on the bed, between him and Fizz. That wasn’t the reason he was there — he wasn’t even sure why he had been so set on going to Lust in the first place, now that his anger had subsided — but at that point, he might as well go ahead and ask the important questions.
«Your Prince didn’t tell you?» Blitzo shrugged.
«Sent a letter,» he admitted «but I don’t wanna read it.» Even if he knew what was said in it, even if there was no way Stolas would give him a second chance after he had fucked up so spectacularly — and he didn’t feel like he deserved the second chance anyway — he couldn’t read the letter. That would’ve only added to the whole downward spiral he had embarked on. Again, he knew what was said in the letter, so no need to read it. No need to be faced with how little Stolas thought of him.
«Alright…» Blitzo could feel Fizz’s eyes on him, that soft look he absolutely hated, he remembered it mostly from when they were kids, but still now, even if different, it was the same.
The assassin didn’t need to look up and see yet another reminder of how good he was at ruining people. The truth was that maybe Fizz had forgiven him, but Blitzo could never forgive himself, and sometimes all he saw while looking at his friend was the ghost of the kid he had blown up.
Fizz’s robotic arm extended to take the crystal from in front of Blitzo’s now crossed legs. The assassin flinched at the sight, and hoped his friend didn’t notice or, at least, wouldn’t address it.
«You should find somewhere to keep it safe, if you lose one of these there’s like a fuckton of paperwork to fill, and some fines I know your broke ass can’t pay,» explained Fizz, examining the crystal over and over, like it had somehow changed since two minutes ago.
«Who you calling broke, asshole?» Fizz completely ignored him.
«Could make it into a necklace or… not sure, could do something like that?» Blitzo raised his eyes to see Fizz point at the assassin’s glove and the yellow decoration over it.
«I guess?» Fizz nodded and put the crystal back down in between them.
«Alright, this one’s in your name, which means you’re the only dumbfuck that can use it,» Blitzo hissed at that. It was an inconvenience and he should probably discuss an emergency protocol or something with the Ms in case they got captured again. Still, it was cool he didn’t have to worry about any human accidentaly fucking off to Hell with his crystal.
Fuck. His crystal?
That wasn’t right. It had always been Stolas’ book.
«Stay with me, yeah?» called out Fizz, shaking him by the shoulder. Blitzo nodded, blinking away the sting in his eyes.
«What else?» he asked quickly, avoiding eye contact to, instead, snatch the crystal and tap on it like Fizz had done at the start.
«You stimulate it while thinking where you wanna go, pretty easy,» shrugged the jester. The dog in his lap whined and turned on itself before falling asleep again.
«Stimulate as in…»
«You know how.» Cool, so now he had to get fucky with a rock. On top of everything.
A stupid rock his stupid bird gave him. Except Stolas wasn’t his and Blitzo didn’t want him to be. He didn’t want to have a… anything at all with Stolas. And even if he did, Stolas didn’t want that with him, so it didn’t matter.
He inhaled deeply, squeezing his eyes shut against the sting of hot sadness about to spill from his eyes.
He fucking missed Stolas. He didn’t want to miss him, and yet there he was, fighting tears he wasn’t sure how to justify. It was all just too much. He had held everything in for so fucking long. He was exhausted. He wanted to disappear and forget everything, and everyone.
He couldn’t cry in front of Fizz, like a fucking pussy. Blitzo hugged his arms around his stomach, the crystal against the fabric of his tourtleneck. He hugged himself, because he couldn’t hope for better, and he was the absolute worst. He deserved the worst, worse than the worst.
And he didn’t cry, he held it in.
That was until a pair of cold, metallic, arms wrapped around his shoulders and pulled him closer. He let himself be manhandled and buried his closed eyes in Fizz’s shoulder. The crystal held between his arms and middle. Tight. Until he could feel the edges stab his skin just enough to bother him.
Being this soft. Being treated this gently. It just messed up with his brain.
«He doesn't want to talk to me anymore,» he sobbed, his voice breaking. He was so out of fucks to give he barely noticed.
«You wanna hear what I think?» whispered back Fizz, still holding onto him tight, rubbing circles over his back.
«You gonna tell me anyway,» joked Blitzo, his mouth buried in his friend’s clavicle. The chuckle he was met with was the best thing he could hope for right then.
«That’s ‘cause my opinions are always right,» he pointed out smugly. «But honestly, I think you should see what Stolas said, and if he really hates you as much as you think he does, then at least you know.»
Fizz drew back, holding Blitzo by the shoulders so that they were looking straight at each other.
«You say that like there’s other options,» scoffed Blitzo, letting go of himself to wipe the tears away.
«There are lots of options and I know which one’s right,» he shrugged, sitting back straight, «but I ain’t gonna spoil it for you.»
Blitzo rolled his eyes, and even that felt exhausting. He couldn’t remember the last time he had cried like that and he felt his whole body aching from it. Fuck whoever said that you felt better after a good cry. Bunch of bullshit.
«I dunno Fizz,» he breathed out.
«How much worse can it get?» Blitzo opened his mouth, ready to vomit out all that could get worse, but Fizz held up his hand, stopping him. «Realistically, you two already don’t talk and your deal is as good as gone, what can a letter change? Worst case scenario you get called out on your bullshit.»
«Exactly, what can a letter change?» Fizz sighed loudly.
«Listen to me, shut up your dumb brain for two seconds and listen,» he said firmly «you went up to his palace, screamed at him because he didn’t wanna fuck — or that’s what you think anyway — stormed off and didn’t reach out once in a month, he gives you a way out, which he could just not give, and throw your business under the bus.» he spelled out.
«And a whole bunch of other shit which, again, no one tries that hard for a cheap lay,» Blitzo opened his mouth to say something. Fizz shook his head.
«I’m talking, you shut up,» Blitzo rolled his eyes but snapped his mouth closed.
«You’re right on one thing, you’re hard to deal with,» he conceded «you get angry over nothing, zero self restraint, and once you’re done screaming and shouting you expect everything to go back to normal.»
«So what?» he finally snapped, more aggressive than intended. Fizz looked at him like he had just proved his point.
«You avoid problems until they become a whole fucking… a mountain of shit you can’t get over,» pointed out the jester.
«What are you, my therapist?»
«If you really have a therapist you should change ‘em cause they’re not fixing shit,» that elicited a chuckle from both of them.
«Whatever, let’s pretend you’re right,» Blitzo knew Fizz was, but couldn’t admit it «what you want me to do, go there and beg on my knees for Stolas to take me back?»
«You go home and read that fucking letter,» started Fizz «and then you do nothing for a while, because you’re stupid impulsive.»
«And then?»
«That depends on what the letter says.»
Blitzo looked down at the Asmodean Crystal and caressed the top of it with the pad of his thumb. It was kinda nice, smooth to the touch and sorta pretty. It was from Stolas’. Stolas was pretty too. Fucking Christ Blitzo missed him. It was pathetic. He really should read the letter and get the whole bullshit over with.
Wait. Fuck. The letter?
Blitzo jumped down from Fizz’s bed — shit, it felt higher — and bolted for the door, then stopped a second to look back at his friend, staring at him with worry and confusion.
«Thanks,» said Blitzo, putting the crystal back in his pocket, «for everything.»
«It’s whatever,» Fizz shrugged and Blitzo turned around, ready to go back to the office to stick together the shredded letter.
«Good luck,» was the last thing the jester said. The last thing Blitzo heard. Good luck, he certainly needed that.
Chapter 3
Notes:
in this chapter we get a good look at “the letter” and I put the on Phel did first and a version that you can read in case you a) struggle with cursive b) struggle with dyslexia c) struggle with both
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
As it turned out, no matter how much Blitzo believed in himself, he could not run all the way to the Hellavator, then run some more to his office. He ended up almost passed out before he could reach the I.M.P. building, only to realize he had dropped his keys to Loona. By that point, any other imp would’ve probably gave up, not Blitzo fucking Buckzo, who happened to run on spite, if nothing else.
From the office to the apartment, Blitzo did not run, more like power-walked, pushing drunken assholes of all kinds out of his way, even the ones that weren’t really in his way, because fuck them. He had to get the extra energy out of his system before he started thrashing the apartment in search of his keys – that, realistically, he would’ve found perched on the holder next to the door.
He was not settling down until he found and stuck together that Satan’s forsaken letter. And then… then he would read it. Yes, that was the whole point. It still made his stomach contort in ways it definitely wasn’t supposed to, thinking about what Stolas might think of him. What he might have written in his letter, harsh words to let him down, sweetened only by the soft strokes of his handwriting.
It wasn’t normal, the way he became nauseous at the idea of never seeing the bird again. It wasn’t how he was supposed to feel about a hookup… a friends-with-benefit? It didn’t feel right. No label felt right.
It was useless to run around in circles. Whatever the letter said, whatever Stolas wanted or didn’t want from Blitzo would become apparent as soon as the imp got his hands on the stupid piece of paper and decoded the fancy cursive the bird loved so much.
That was… if he managed to break in his own apartment, which shouldn’t have been that hard. His hands were shaking, either from anxiety or the adrenaline still running wild in his system, Blitzo couldn’t tell. It was making his job fucking hard.
He groaned loudly once his pin fell on the shitty carpet he was kneeling on. Some blind touching around later he finally felt the cold metal under his palm and retrieved the object, starting over his ministrations. After what felt like too fucking long, the lock clicked and Blitzo pushed the door open. Thank Fuck.
The apartment was dark, much in the same conditions he had left it the previous morning. It felt like it had been years since then. Blitzo’s eyes didn’t need much adjusting and he, as quietly as possible, made his way past the door and to the holder where both him and Loona held their keys.
First keyring he picked up was Loona’s, second one his own, with van key and horse charm. Before he could slip back out of the apartment like he had never been there in the first place, the door to his daughter’s room creaked open, the sound of the hinges loud in the stillness of the apartment.
Loona was standing in the doorway of her room, fur messy and eyes half-lidded, looking down at Blitzo like trying to read him; the imp, meanwhile, just hoped he wasn’t shaking from how agitated he was.
«Where are you going?» she asked, her voice groggy from sleep. Blitzo felt immediate guilt at the notion of having woken her up. Couldn’t get one thing right if he tried.
«Back at the office,» he answered, eyeing the still open front door like it could run away and leave him locked inside «gotta get… shit.»
«You wanna look for the letter you told me to shred,» it wasn’t a question, she knew. Blitzo was both proud and ashamed of how attentive Loona could be, especially with him. He knew that, logically, he couldn’t treat her like a kid and pretend she didn’t understand any of the shit he had going on, but it hurt to know he was doing such a pissing poor job at hiding it.
«Nah, that’s dumb,» he waved vaguely, forcing out a chuckle that was anything but convincing. Loona crossed her arms and nodded.
«Sure, then you don’t care that we also burned everything like we fucking do at the end of the week?» Blitzo’s eyes widened and he felt his stomach drop for a moment.
«I kept it,» sighed Loona at last, probably noticing Blitzo’s immediate shock «’s in… over there, under your horse statuette.» she said, pointing at a spot near the oven.
Blitzo practically jumped over the kitchen counter to reach said statuette, sure enough, right there was the envelope, creases running all through it from when Blitzo had made it into a ball. The wax sigil was broken, but the letter inside seemed untouched. Loona walked up behind him and, like reading his mind, she said «didn’t open it, didn’t read it.»
The imp was half relieved and half disappointed. He didn’t want Loona to have to shoulder his responsibilities, but it could’ve been nice to get a preview of whatever the fuck Stolas had come up with before actually reading it himself.
It was an odd feeling, holding the one thing he had thought about for the past… how many hours had it even been? Blitzo hadn’t checked his phone or the time in general since leaving the office. And now, he had it right there, unscattered – mostly anyway – and probably readable.
The imp’s body was about ready to crumble on itself as all the fears that had been driving him up to that point slowly melted off him, leaving a kind of tiredness that seeped through his bones. He sat down on the floor, not too careful in how his legs ended up – in a fucking unnatural angle, that’s how they ended up.
Loona huffed in that fond-annoyed tone Blitzo was somewhat familiar with, before crouching down in front of him. The imp was just hugging the dumb envelope like it was a living, breathing thing.
«You should go to sleep, dad, ‘s pretty late,» whispered Loona, tilting her head to meet Blitzo’s eyes. He looked up at her and shook his head.
«I have to read this,» he mumbled, sure as all Hell that if he didn’t get it over with that night, once his mind was more awake and could properly overthink everything, he would postpone it forever. And then he would lose his chance, if he ever had one. Which he didn’t.
And yet, he couldn’t really bring himself to open up the envelope and look over the letter. He was so fucking tired, hadn’t been tired like that in the longest time.
«You’ll read it tomorrow,» Loona sighed when Blitzo shook his head again. He knew he was acting like a petulant bitch and that his daughter was being way too patient about it.
«Fuck’s sake, dad, it’s gonna be right there tomorrow; so is your fucking bird,» she said, standing up and pulling Blitzo to his feet. The assassin had to hold himself on the kitchen counter so as not to fall back on his ass. In the whirlwind of contrasting feelings, his heart squeezed, just a bit, at Loona calling him dad (twice!), it was sadly overtaken by a sense of dread. What if Stolas wouldn’t be there tomorrow? What if he had never been there in the first place? Blitzo couldn’t blame him, but-
«Go the fuck to sleep,» Loona interrupted is spiraling before it could go too far. Maybe he really did need to go to sleep.
On autopilot he walked to the couch, noticing, more like a background detail than anything, that Loona had walked off to lock the front door. Blitzo face-planted on the couch with a loud groan, not bothering to change out of his clothes or take off his boots and holding the envelope under his chest.
The rough and familiar weight of his blanket was draped over his back and he turned on his side to hug it around himself.
«Loona?» he called out, turning his head around to spot the dark silhouette of the hellhound.
«Yeah?» he hesitated, looking down at his hands for a moment. He should start being honest, shouldn’t he?
«I’m so proud of you,» he said, a common sentence that he spewed at any minor achievement — because, really, he was always proud of his daughter — but with an honesty that made him feel particularly vulnerable.
Loona didn’t answer, not immediately, but Blitzo could almost hear her think.
«Same,» she concluded, in a whisper that, he could almost believe, was just wishful thinking mixed with sleep deprivation.
«Night, dad,» she added, her door creaking open again. Blitzo turned around and smiled at her.
«Goodnight, Loony,» he saw her disappear behind the door and stared for some more seconds before turning around and curling in on himself around the envelope that smelled, if faintly, of Stolas.
✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦
The morning after, when Blitzo woke up with his arms tucked close to his chest, and his tail wrapped around himself, he realized two things. Number one, he was cold as shit after sleeping in his wet clothes – that had dried against his skin – making the fabric feel tighter and ten times more uncomfortable than ever. Number two, he had Stolas’ letter in his hands, still held close but no longer smelling of the prince – more like wet imp, and not even the good wet.
He rolled on his back, feeling his spikes rip more holes in the cotton duck covering the couch. One more one less, it wasn’t like he was keeping count anyway. Blitzo held the letter on his chest for a moment, then lifted it up with both hands; the faint light coming from outside, reflected over the creases in the paper and the broken sigil. The imp rubbed his thumb over the outdents in the wax, smooth and precise, just like the hand that had made it.
It should’ve been easy to just open the rest of the envelope and take the letter out, getting the whole ordeal over with. For fuck’s sake he was ready to read it the night before, while running on nothing and tired as all fuck.
Like summoned by the thought of having skipped dinner, his stomach gurgled, giving, if anything, a momentary distraction.
He needed to be in the right headspace, or something, to read anyway, he knew that deciphering Stolas’ cursive would’ve been a challenge on his best days, so better to get to it with at least a full stomach.
From his first idea of eating something quick and then read the letter before Loona woke up, Blitzo’s plan changed to getting out of his clothes, taking a shower, making breakfast for himself and Loona to read the letter over a big plate of pancakes. But, in the end, he realized he couldn’t read over breakfast because he would surely stain the letter, and what if he covered a very important part about how much of a dick Blitzo had been with syrup? So he brought the envelope to the office with him but, would you look at that, it was such a busy day he couldn’t really find the time to read. And he couldn’t take the letter out for missions, because what could happen with syrup could very well happen with blood.
So Blitzo just waited, and waited, and waited, for the right opportunity to just sit down, possibly with a fuckton of ice cream at hand, and read like he had never read in his life. It wasn’t his fault the week was just that busy, he couldn’t control that.
It had been a week, one of Stolas’ servants had already walked by to get the Grimoire back, just that morning, in fact, so the following work day had been… rough, to say the least. Everyone could tell and Blitzo couldn’t bring himself to gather up enough fucks to give.
And to add insult to injury, like the past weeks hadn’t been enough, it was a Full Moon, again. Blitzo had realized only after coming back home and, noticing the note on his calendar.
It had been a month since Blitzo had seen Stolas the last time, and from how angry he had been, he could barely remember what he looked like, if he had been different, if he had fixed his feathers weirdly, if he had used a new preening oil or tried some new make-up. Probably none of that, since he wasn’t expecting him that night.
Blitzo turned on his side and stared at the window, at the Full Moon right there, mocking him. Stolas was probably doing some ritual or something, the imp had never cared to learn what the bird actually did. He did care now, only because an explanation, no matter how ball-numbingly boring, would’ve given him the chance to listen to Stolas’ soft voice.
By accident, or maybe by some sort of thought-association, Blitzo’s eyes fell on the envelope he had left over the coffee table. He had taken to bringing it around like it was nothing more than his flintlock – except on mission, because he was not risking it – to the point that, in his mind, it had almost lost its function. Sometimes he forgot there were supposed to be words inside that envelope. Words he could admit, deep into the night and under the light of a Full Moon, he didn’t want to read.
It was absurd how divided his own brain was on that stupid piece of paper. He wanted to burn it and forget about it once every ten minutes, and he wanted to read it once every five. And yet, it was still there, unburned and unread.
Blitzo sit up, knowing sleep wouldn’t come for another while and considered going to the bathroom to scream into the filled sink, before remembering how fucking expensive warm water was, and he was not sticking his face in freezing water either.
He tapped his hoofs against the floor, leaning with his elbows on his knees and his hands folded in front of him. His eyes, staring at the offending item like he couldn’t decide what to do with it. Because he couldn’t.
Maybe he should just do it in one go, ripping off the bandaid or whatever. He reached out one hand, his tail thumping harshly and slapping his own calf by accident. He didn’t realize he was shaking until he started to extract the letter from its container.
It was just words, for fuck’s sake, he had survived much worse shit in his life. Words wouldn’t kill him.
He braced himself as he unfolded the letter – the envelope now abandoned on the floor – and stared at it for a moment, before he finally decided to read it.
Dear Blitzø,
I hope this letter finds you well. I am so very sorry for not reaching out sooner, and for everything else. I’m sorry my behaviour offended you, ̶I̶ ̶s̶t̶i̶l̶l̶ ̶c̶a̶n̶’̶t̶ ̶w̶r̶a̶p̶ ̶m̶y̶ ̶h̶e̶a̶d̶ ̶a̶r̶o̶u̶n̶d̶ ̶w̶h̶a̶t̶ I never got bored of you, in fact, I hardly think I could ever. I have done some thinking, and although I never believed you stupid, like you accused me of doing, I understand I never treated you with the respect of an equal and for that, again, I am forever sorry.
The crystal I am gifting you is not, on my part, an olive branch to hope and put things back to the way they were, it is a key to free yourself of me. It will allow you to continue your business without the need of my Grimoire – and on that note, I’d like to have it back, I will send a servant on the day of the Full Moon to collect it, so as to give you time to get adjusted and comfortable in your new ̶a̶r̶r̶a̶n̶g̶e̶m̶e̶n̶t̶ situation. As you can imagine, I am not asking you to come here again, you have no obligation to visit me, ̶a̶l̶t̶h̶o̶u̶g̶h̶ ̶I̶ ̶w̶o̶u̶l̶d̶ ̶l̶o̶ and can do whatever you’d like from now on.
Asmodean Crystals are under Asmodeus’ jurisdiction, so you will, technically, be bound by the rules of the Lust Ring, but you will no longer be breaking demon law.
This is not a punishment or an act of pettiness, don’t believe this is due to our ̶f̶i̶g̶h̶t̶ ̶f̶a̶l̶l̶o̶u̶t̶ disagreement, I’ve been arranging this new set-up for a while now and only my cowardice held me back from speaking up about it sooner. Our arrangement is not right – it never was – and I can see that now, ̶I̶’̶m̶ ̶a̶s̶h̶a̶m̶e̶d̶ ̶o̶f̶ ̶h̶o̶w̶ ̶b̶l̶i̶n̶d̶ I’m sorry I never listened to you when you voiced your discomfort and I hope this can make up for it, for even a fraction of what I did to you.
Lastly, and I’m telling you in a final act of selfishness that I hope you’ll excuse, I needed to confess that I harbor feelings for you, I can’t say when it all began, but I’m sure of what it is now. ̶I̶’̶m̶ ̶s̶t̶i̶l̶l̶ ̶s̶c̶a̶r̶e̶d̶ ̶t̶h̶a̶t̶ ̶I̶’̶m̶ ̶n̶o̶t̶ ̶g̶o̶o̶d̶ ̶e̶n̶o̶u̶g̶h̶ ̶f̶o̶r̶ I won’t ask you to return them, because I believe our last encounter told me all I needed to hear. What I ask you is to accept the flame I carry for you in whichever way you’d like, stomp it down if you may, but don’t doubt its warmth, please.
With all this said, I wish you the best with your business.
Yours,
Stolas
Blitzo stared, for the longest time, mind filled with enough thoughts for him to not grasp even one. It was like the room around was spinning from how hard of a time he was having to try and understand the meaning of the words. He knew them all – almost all of them, at least – but he just… he didn’t understand.
One thing Blitzo often did when he didn’t understand something was get pissed at it. In this case, he was pissed at Stolas, because that whole fucking speech felt like something he should’ve said in person. Although, in that case, Blitzo would’ve probably got pissed at Stolas. So maybe the letter was better? But fuck him still.
Blitzo groaned and harshly folded the letter back, pushing it between the waistband of his shorts and boxers before hastily putting on his boots and his shorter leather jacket – because his usual coat was being patched back together after the last mission – over his white sleeping t-shirt with bold yellow lettering saying “honse girl”.
Before leaving, he looked back at his apartment from the front door, looking for anything that would stop him from doing what he meant to do. Literally nothing called to him to get back to the couch and sleep it off. There was nothing for him there.
✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦
If possible, Stolas’ palace seemed taller than the last time Blitzo had climbed up its walls, for the first time in forever, he felt scared of the height as he followed the steps he had memorized. His stomach kept turning on itself and the letter pressed between his pants and boxers felt heavy, trying to pull him down below.
When the balcony came into reach, he didn’t hesitate to throw his upper body over it, followed by one leg and then the other. He landed with his ass on the concrete and let his back rest against the railing, staring ahead at the familiar door. Locked. Blitzo had grown used to seeing it wide open, with Stolas on the other side, wearing some ridiculous get up for one of his roleplays. It looked wrong, closed. Now that the imp wasn’t fuming, like he had been the previous month, he could actually let himself feel the hollowness in his chest grow, just a fraction.
Pressing the heel of his hands against his eyes until he started seeing white spots, Blitzo groaned, before deciding to finally push himself up.
As he worked on the lock — still too fucking easy to pick — the assassin considered his options, what to say, how to start. His tunnel vision had distracted him from what to do after he arrived at the palace, focusing only on getting there.
The balcony door swung open — which shouldn’t have happened, since Blitzo definitely wasn’t done — and Blitzo fell back on his ass, letting his tools rattle to the floor.
«Blitz?» Stolas’ voice sounded unsure, like he had been expecting Blitzo, but didn’t know what to expect from him.
«Hey,» the imp looked up, running his eyes from the prince’s talons all the way up to his heart-shaped faceplate, his red eyes wide with small white pupils looking down at him. He was wearing his usual robe, falling a bit on his left shoulder – showing a half-healed scar that only a blessed dagger could’ve made, it made Blitzo’s heart clench – like he had put it on hastily after getting startled awake. It could be so fucking easy, right then, to crack a joke, flirt with him and pretend nothing had happened at all.
«I wasn’t expecting you,» it felt way too fucking familiar. Stolas leaned down and offered him a hand that, after some consideration, Blitzo took, holding onto the faintest thread if he had to.
«Thought I could make an entrance,» he retorted, showing off an uncertain smirk that, he knew, didn’t reach his eyes. Stolas didn’t even smile back, looking left and right as he let go of the imp once he was back on his hooves.
«What-» Stolas cleared his throat, wrapping his robe tighter around his waist and covering his shoulder «what are you doing here?»
«I… I got your letter,» he said, getting the folded paper out of his shorts – suddenly realizing how dumb he must look – and waving it slightly. Stolas focused on it and frowned, maybe at the crease in it, Blitzo couldn’t tell.
«I sent it last week,» pointed out the prince, sounding a notch more pissed.
«Yeah, well, I read it now, gonna get on my case for it?» Stolas crossed his arms, but Blitzo knew that was the wrong thing to say even before that. Goddamn, Fizz had told him to chill the fuck down and it was time he actually did that.
Easier said than done.
«I just…» where did he even begin, there was so much that had been left unsaid, and not only after their fight, but since the start, too much shit to just walk past like that.
Stolas sighed and stepped aside from the door, nodding toward the bedroom for Blitzo to get in «I don’t think the balcony is the place to talk.» Talk, right, like that was easy.
Blitzo walked in, taking his time to look around the room, despite having been there more times that he could count. It was all the same, of course, with the big bookcase and the too many books, piled one over the other in every way they could fit. The elegant sofa, the coffee table to the side. The bed, with clean and tidy blankets, folded to the side where Stolas had probably stood up from moments before. All the same, but it looked so colorless.
«Why did you sent me this?» asked Blitzo, slapping the letter with the back of his hand and looking at Stolas’ back while the prince closed the balcony doors. Stolas’ shoulders raised for a second, flinching, before slowly turning around.
«I don’t think I need to explain the meaning of my words, if you read it, you know why,» he said defensively, standing with his back straight against the door, his hands folded behind himself.
«Come on, Stolas, I’m trying to… to talk or whatever sappy shit you wanted,» Stolas puffed up slightly, and not in the good way Blitzo was used to.
«What I want, Blitz, is for you to… to give me an answer, even if it’s negative, you-»
«It’s not!» snapped Blitzo, his tail lashing out without his consent. Stolas froze in place again. «Give me five. Fucking. Minutes to think, Christ’s sake.»
The imp turned around, giving Stolas’ his back and stomping around the room. He couldn’t do this shit. What was he even thinking? That he could sit down and just talk about his feelings like in one of those Sinsmas movies they put on TV the entire month of December? He wasn’t like that.
Stolas, meanwhile, didn’t say anything. Blitzo heard him walk toward the bed and sit down, but didn’t dare look at him because that would only make things harder.
Like a band aid. All in one go. He had survived worse. All that shit.
Blitzo stepped in front of Stolas, staring at him for a couple of seconds before his eyes fell to the floor. Why was it so hard to talk when the bird was looking at him?
Alright, new plan.
Blitzo climbed onto the opposite side of the bed and sat down with his back to Stolas, legs crossed and tail wrapped around his stomach.
«Stay put,» he said, hearing the other demon shuffling about from behind him, «it’s easier if I don’t have to look at you.» Just like with Moxxie, back to back, he could talk feelings and pretend he was addressing an empty room.
«Very well,» Stolas sighed and shut his beak, waiting. Blitzo closed his eyes and imagined he was anywhere else. Not in Stolas’ room, not so close to Stolas himself.
«I… this whole… thing we have- had, I don’t know what you’d even want in… I’m just an imp, Stolas, what do you see that makes you think “oh, yeah, I’ll get that one”,» he laughed bitterly, raising his knees closer to his chest.
«I’ve never… I’m not worth it, and if you knew the shit I’ve done… you’d never forgive me, and you shouldn’t, no one should.» Even if Fizz had – and why the fuck had he? – Blitzo knew he didn’t deserve it.
«I’m… a monster and you… I don’t want to ruin you, I can’t ruin you too.»
The room was silent and Blitzo felt the need to throw himself out of the balcony and hope to land on his head. The blanket under him shifted, looking down, the imp noticed Stolas’ hand close enough to grab.
«Can I say something?» he asked, quietly, as if talking too loud could break the moment. Blitzo let out an affirmative humm.
«I can decide for myself, if you’re worth it?» Blitzo didn’t answer, because he couldn’t find the words to. «Is it about… your scars?» he had remembered his slip up.
«Yeah,» Stolas kept silent, Blitzo knew it was his turn to speak, again. «You’d hate me if I tell you, and I can’t fucking deal with that.» He pushed his hands against his eyes, rubbing at them before he could feel the wetness on his cheek.
«I’m so scared of that… And I’m scared ’cause that means… that means I’m soft.» Blitzo breathed in harshly, like, suddenly, there was not enough air in the room. It burned to fill his lungs so quickly, but he welcomed it in a grounding sort of way.
«I could never hate you and…» Stolas’ voice felt liberating. Blitzo looked down at the prince’s hand in time to see him fist over the blanket «I can listen, if you want to tell me.» Blitzo didn’t want to tell him and he hugged his arms around his legs, hiding his head over his knees.
«Don’t shut me down, please,» it was such a small sentence, whispered and almost lost in the emptiness of the room.
«It was a fire, an accident, but it was my fault,» like a band aid «the scars and… everything… I’ve hurt people, but even before that… I’ve always felt this way – like a monster – long before I got burnt, that’s how everyone sees me as… I’m just used to that.» His eyes were stinging and he needed something to stay in the moment and not let his mind wander off. He looked down at Stolas’ hands, still fisted over the mattress, so close. He put his own hand down next to it, almost touching him, but not really.
«I can’t… I can’t just un-learn that, I can’t be good, I’m not good.» But he didn’t want to be bad either. He didn’t want to be… him forever, not the version of himself he was right then. Stolas waited, but Blitzo couldn’t manage any more words, he felt like anything could send him spiraling by then.
«I don’t suppose I ever told you of my marriage?» Stolas’ voice was like an oasis in the desert and Blitzo snapped his head up to listen, he didn’t answer, but the prince didn’t need him to, because he simply kept talking.
«I was arranged, as a kid, the day we met, in fact,» there was a smile in his voice, mixed in with something more bittersweet «I didn’t love Stella, but I thought… I thought we could get along, we were in the same boat, as they say…» the silence that followed spoke volumes.
«It didn’t work out the way I hoped.» he concluded. «Do you think I am not scared, Blitz? When the only concept of love I have is stained by years of… the “love” I was supposed to believe in never did anything but hurt…»
«I just think that… I think you are worth the risk, of getting hurt again.» Blitzo didn’t see it that way, but in that moment he felt the need to hold onto Stolas’ hands. It was a desire sudden enough that his brain didn’t manage to stop it.
Stolas froze at the contact, but didn’t move away and Blitzo took the opportunity to grip tighter, like the prince could run away if he didn’t.
«I’m not used to being worth the risk,» he admitted, his tail slowly unwrapping from around himself and his legs relaxing slightly.
«I’m not used to risk, and yet,» Blitzo chuckled and so did Stolas, finally moving his thumb to run over the imp’s fingers, bumping on each digit.
«Can I turn around?» Blitzo tensed for a moment and had to close his eyes to stop his head from spinning.
«Yeah,» he conceded, a little breathless. Stolas slid his hand away from under Blitzo’s and the feeling of coldness was immediate.
The blankets and the fabric of Stolas’ robe shuffled behind him and, once the sound stopped, signaling the other demon had settled down, Blitzo decided to do the same. Stolas was kneeling in front of him, his eyes glowing red, bright enough to illuminate the smile on his beak and the blush on his cheeks. He tilted his head to the side, studying the imp’s own face.
«I believe you made me soft, too,» he said, reaching his hand out for Blitzo’s scarred cheek. He stopped inches away, giving the imp time to draw back, but he didn’t, and Stolas cupped his chin delicately with his featherlight touch.
«Cheesy much?» Blitzo covered Stolas’ hand with his own, reveling in the warmth of his cooing laugh.
«Like you weren’t aware already,» scoffed the bird, clearly unbothered by the comment.
They stayed like that for a while, close but not speaking or moving at all. Blitzo had words burning on the tip of his tongue, threatening to spill. It was Stolas, though, to break the silence.
«You’re the pink in my cheeks, and I love that it means I'm a little bit soft,» he whispered, drawing closer until their forehead were touching. Stolas’ eyes – all four of them – were closed, while Blitzo couldn’t help but stare at him, at the flush on his faceplate and the upward curve of his beak.
Stolas clearly wasn’t expecting to be kissed, if the way he almost jumped back was any indication, but Blitzo held on to him until he was reciprocated.
For the first time ever, their kiss wasn’t as hungry as usual, desperate, with Stolas’ beak hitting Blitzo’s teeth twice as they adjusted, but not hungry. Blitzo buried his hands in Stolas’ crest, holding him close until he couldn’t breathe anymore, then a while longer, leaving them both gasping for air when they separated.
Blitzo didn’t let go, didn’t let Stolas move too far. They were looking in each other’s eyes, the imp’s cheeks were burning up and Stolas’ words were echoing in his ears.
«You’re the pink in my cheeks, and I love that it means I'm a little bit soft,» he whispered, low enough that only the other demon, inches from his lips, could hear. Cheesy, but true, even if, in the morning, he would never bring himself to say it again.
«Stay the night?» asked Stolas, breaking through the hazy fog of sleep that, now that Blitzo had done what he had come to do, was wrapping around his brain.
«I’m way too tired to fuck tonight,» even if, he considered, he could pull through for one round, hopefully without dropping. Stolas shook his head.
«Not like that, just… stay?» Stolas looked so fragile, Blitzo was afraid to break him only by looking at him. He glanced over the bird’s shoulders, toward the balcony, then at his bird again. His bird.
«Alright.»
They still had lots of shit to talk about. Shit for days, for weeks. As Stolas slid his robe off and floated it toward the couch, Blitzo thought he could deal with that. He kicked off his boots and threw his jacket on the floor, bothering only to take the skull charm out of his pocket and setting it on the bedside table.
Left in his usual sleepwear Blitzo crawled under the blanket next to Stolas. The bird turned on his side, facing him, the imp shuffled closer until his face was buried in the softness of the other’s chest feathers, where he could smell the expensive preening oil that Stolas liked so much, something spicy that Blitzo couldn’t place. He wrapped his arms and tail around the bird and closed his eyes.
He could get used to this.
gwencarson126 on Chapter 1 Sat 16 Aug 2025 11:29AM UTC
Comment Actions
gwencarson126 on Chapter 2 Sat 16 Aug 2025 11:29AM UTC
Comment Actions
Neyane on Chapter 2 Sat 16 Aug 2025 12:05PM UTC
Comment Actions
Stolitz Obsessed (Drunk_Poets_Society) on Chapter 2 Sat 16 Aug 2025 08:45PM UTC
Comment Actions
Cyanfox3 on Chapter 2 Sat 16 Aug 2025 05:24PM UTC
Comment Actions
Stolitz Obsessed (Drunk_Poets_Society) on Chapter 2 Sat 16 Aug 2025 08:45PM UTC
Comment Actions
Phelina on Chapter 3 Sat 16 Aug 2025 10:08AM UTC
Comment Actions
Stolitz Obsessed (Drunk_Poets_Society) on Chapter 3 Sat 16 Aug 2025 08:46PM UTC
Comment Actions
gwencarson126 on Chapter 3 Sat 16 Aug 2025 11:28AM UTC
Comment Actions
GlitterKoneko on Chapter 3 Sat 16 Aug 2025 11:47AM UTC
Comment Actions
Neyane on Chapter 3 Sat 16 Aug 2025 12:14PM UTC
Comment Actions
megamegaturtle on Chapter 3 Sat 16 Aug 2025 08:05PM UTC
Comment Actions
JaeOctopi on Chapter 3 Thu 21 Aug 2025 11:34PM UTC
Comment Actions