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Chapter Text

Stolas’s Bedroom

The morning sun of the pride ring rose in the sky, glistening through the door of Stolas’s balcony like it had any right to interrupt the beauty sleep he had cried himself into.

It was the day after Blitzø had asked him on the date, and Satan, had it started off awful. His hungover head panged as he sat himself up. A near-empty wine bottle entered his view along with an all too-familiar apple-shaped bottle of absinthe, both on the dresser on the other end of the room. He swiped the bed sheets off of himself, walked over to the bottles, and held the wine up to inspect the label.

“2001 Von Eldritch Dornfelder Envy”

Stolas brought the mouth of the bottle to his beak, and leaned back as he chugged down the last of the wine that he had planned to share with Blitzø, that was until Blitzø declined everything and drove away last night, leaving the prince on the front steps of his own palace. He felt the alcohol buzz in his empty stomach, which churned and forced itself back out his throat, which he spewed into the bin near the dresser.

He groaned, as his heart ached for the imp.

The door of Stolas’s room swung open, the halls quiet and barren after all staff had been sent home for the weekends, as well as his daughter, Octavia, was at her mother’s. Stolas stumbled down the hallway, as he glanced at the paintings framed on the walls of his home, and made his way to the kitchen. Stolas was no master chef, but he knew his way around a stove and oven, even while incredibly hungover and emotionally drained. He turned one of the dials to medium heat, having placed and oiled a pan over the stove top, then cracked an egg over into the pan. The yolk fell down, perfectly circular. 

“At least I have that going for me.” Stolas thought to himself with palpable sarcasm, as he flipped the frying egg over and scooped it onto a plate. He opened the fridge, and pulled out a bowl of cooked rats, which he tossed onto the now-free pan to sear. Once sat down, he scrolled on his phone as he absentmindedly shoveled fried rat and egg down his gullet. 

His shoveling was interrupted by a call. The ringtone blared, which hurt his ears a bit, and brought Stolas’s mind back to reality.

“Unknown Number”

(666) 8629-329

He clicked his beak nervously, yet he pressed accept and held the phone to his ear.

“Hello?” He croaked out, his voice rough from his slumber, which he quickly rectified by clearing his throat. “You are calling Prince Stolas of Ars Goetia.”

“Hey, Horny Owl.” The voice on the other end was familiar.

“Eh, Who’s this?”

“It’s Verosika.” He heard the succubus take a long sip of something. “Y’know. Ozzie’s, last night.”

“Ah, Miss Mayday .” His voice bit the air, memories of how rude everyone was to Blitzø resurfaced as each second passed. “The succubus who dared insult my Blitzy.”

The succubus snorted. “Sure was.” The tense silence on either end was long, Stolas’s brows scrunched in annoyance, while Verosika, for all he could gather, was happily wasting his time and sipping on a drink. “I wanted to put an offer on the table.”

Stolas stilled for a moment “Excuse me?”

“If you ever need a break from that imp, just call me.”

The prince stood up, who barked into the phone like a wound up dog. “What the hells- I would never do something like-!”

“Just a ride around lust.” She interjected. “Get drinks. Sing karaoke.” They both paused.

Verosika continued. “I can help you see what he really is. I know you’re in love with him and all, but you’re nothing but a fling to him. Like I was. That asshole’s caused enough pain, and I’m not about to let him fuck you in the ass then leave with your too.”

“I can’t help but think you’re projecting. Miss Mayday.” The cold words dripped off his tongue, punctuating her name to convey his disdain.

They paused again, for longer than before.

She sighed, seemingly giving up on her little quest. “Just don’t make me say ‘I told you so.’ Kay?” The line went silent, hung up.

Stolas sighed then relaxed down into the chair below him. He ran a hand back through his head-feathers, and scrolled through the photos he had of Blitzø with the other. One thought plagued his mind.

“What if she’s right?”

Chapter Text

Stolas’s Mansion - Living Room

How could he have been so naive?

Stolas had collapsed into the daybed in the living room not long after he had portaled Blitzø out of the palace grounds. Never-ending tears, followed by suffocating sobs were all he could manage in the moment.

How could he have been so blind?

He dug his phone out of his pocket, and the bright blue light of the screen seared his exhausted eyes. Each selfie he had taken with Blitzø should have revealed the nature of this relationship from the start. Blitzø had no time, or care for Stolas… eyerolls, frowns, the presence of pure animosity within each photo. He hadn’t realized it before, or maybe he didn’t want to believe it was there. 

Didn’t want to believe that the man he loved hated him.

Blitzø hated him.

Blitzø despised him.

He threw the phone across the room, and a loud bang sounded as it hit the wall, followed by it landing softly on the carpet. Stolas turned over in the daybed and clutched himself in a hollow attempt to hug something , to fill the void that had been ever so present in his life. He wailed into the night, crying himself to sleep.

...

He awoke to the feeling of the morning sun, which shone through the windows of the palace, onto the tear-stained feathers of his face.

His home was quiet, save for the chirping birds, as well as the shrubs and trees in his garden that were rustling in the distance. He groaned, as he didn't want to get up out of the slumber that he had so gracefully wept himself into.

Footsteps began to emanate from the halls, and came closer to the door of the lounge. When the door in question opened, entered his butler imp. They stilled in the doorway for a moment, who no doubt was taking in the miserable sight of the goetian prince, maybe even considered retiring for the day to leave Stolas to his inner turmoil.

“Stolas, your majesty, you must awaken. It’s unbecoming for a prince to be so… this.” The butler crept closer, and shook Stolas’s shoulder gently to beckon the owl demon to get his hind out of the sofa, and up for the day.

The prince grumbled. “Hrnh… everything about me is unbecoming.” 

“Whatever you say, Prince Stolas. Get up.” His soft yet demanding voice persuaded him to lift himself out of bed groggily. The prince stumbled a bit before he balanced up to his proper height. They moved to the kitchen where the butler so kindly cooked breakfast for the prince, a plate of rats on buttered toast.

Along with the food, Stolas’s butler handed him his phone, much to the prince’s surprise. “I hadn’t noticed you grabbed it for me.” The screen had gained an unseemly crack from the upper left corner to the bottom, which he traced with his index finger.

“I do many things that go unnoticed.” The imp stated flatly.

“Yes… you’re probably right.” 

Awkward silence enveloped them both.

He put the passcode into his phone, and scrolled through his notifications. None from Blitzø. 

Why would there be?

The silence was broken by the butler. “I assume the meeting with your paramour did not go as planned, sir?”

Tears pricked the edges of Stolas’s red eyes, which peered down to his phone as he continued to search through the sea of notifications. “No.” he whispered, his mandible trembling.

To his surprise, a bowl of honey pistachio ice cream was slid onto the table, along with the insertion of a desert spoon into the nutty dessert. Stolas looked at it, then at the imp, who gave him a shallow bow before he took the other plates from the table to wash.

“I’ve never asked your name… have I?” Stolas asked.

“No. I never assumed it was customary for you to know.” the butler said, as he stepped up onto a stool to reach the sink with a sponge in hand.

“May I?” 

“Hm?”

“Ask for your name.”

Another pause. Pauses during conversation had always made Stolas nervous.

The butler glanced back at him. “Pringsley.”

“It’s good to know your name Pring-sley.” his tongue fumbled the imps name, but with a bit of time, he’s sure he’ll get it right.

“Hm.” Pringsley returned to washing the dishes, and Stolas returned to scrolling through his phone.

(666) 8629-329 

hey. offer’s still on the table.

1 day ago

Offer? He didn’t remember an offer.

...

Oh.

Verosika.

He nibbled the talon of his pointer, as he mulled over whether or not he should take the offer. Of course, Verosika was Blitzø's ex, and that could warrant some... feelings from Blitzø if he ever does find out. But... is a prince not allowed to have fun and let loose once in a while?

'Dear Verosika. I find myself willing to take up your offer. When will you next be available so that we may-' ...

“Pring- Pringsley.” Stolas internally hooted with joy at having pronounced the imps name correctly.

“Yes, Prince Stolas?” Pringsley was now on a ladder, and was stacking plates on the shelves.

He inspected his work-in-progress text. “What would it be called when someone takes another on a date, but as a friend? Or something like that?”

“Hanging out, sir?”

“Thank you.”

He finished typing out his text, and pressed send.

After letting out a breath he hadn't realized he had held, he anxiously watched his phone screen. Soon, 3 little dots bounced up and down, signifying Verosika had indeed received and viewed his text, as well as she was texting back.

A little swoosh sounded from his phone when Verosika texted 'don’t be a dork, whenevers fine'

He typed back, maybe a little too quickly 'Then, would it be a problem if we did things today? I've had a bad night.'

'when should i swing by' He thought for a moment. Nothing was really planned for the day. Or the day after in fact. Neither the day after that...

He waved those thoughts away. 'Would noon be appropriate?'

'cool, cu then'

Stolas sighed in a mix of relief and excitement. Honestly, this was the first time anyone had offered to have a friendly anything with him, apart from maybe…

Blitzø.

“Any plans for today, majesty?” Those words brought him out of the dark thoughts that he had almost slipped into, ones that he’d rather not revisit right now. Or ever.

“Yes, uhm, a friend has offered to take me on a drive around the lust ring.”

Pringsley raised an eyebrow, with a look that Stolas just knew what the imp had assumed.

“N-nothing like that!” he waved his hands ‘no’ “She said; it’s just drinks and karaoke…”

He hesitated.

“What’s karaoke?” He asked Pringsley, who looked up at him with a bit of disbelief.

"Singing. Sir."

Chapter Text

Stolas’s Mansion - The Foyer

Stolas’s gaze held to the clock on the wall. It was 12:00 o’clock, noon.

He couldn’t help but fret over his shirt, particularly the cuffs, which persisted to itch his wrists. Alas, Verosika would be arriving at any minute, so he gave up his futile fussing and hurried out into the courtyard.  

The palace gates grinded against their hinges as Stolas peeped his head out in search of his associate. When no sign of the popstar could be seen, he slid between the doors of the gateway, wary to be in public ever since that cowboy had made himself known.

Not long after he had locked up the gate, the blaring of pop music was fast approaching from his left. His head spun toward the noise, his eyes locking onto a pink convertible barrelling down the street in his direction. Whoever was driving clearly had a disregard for their own ears, as the music became more and more grating upon the prince’s the closer the car got. 

The vehicle abruptly halted a few steps from Stolas, to the point the back-end of the spyder hopped up, threatening to flip over. 

The license plate read: SUCK-4-LIFE

“Get in, seed sucker.”

Stolas’s gaze shot up to meet Ms. Mayday, who’s faux leather coat matched her car in colour. He gulped down the lump in his throat, feather’s thoroughly ruffled. He could feel her piercing stare through her heart-shaped sunglasses, one that exuded ‘Stop wasting my time.’

This was all too bizarre for the prince. Going out on some playdate with a famous popstar, let alone one that’s also conveniently or inconveniently his Blitzy’s ex. 

‘Ex.’ That planted a thought in his mind. Is he also Blitz’s ex? 

“Hey, I said get in.” Verosika bitched, interrupting Stolas’s train of thought.

He fumbled for the car door handle. “Y-yes, my apologies.”

‘Stupid.’ He thought, ‘So rude, pay attention.’

Stolas figured that this convertible was likely not made for someone of his stature as he climbed into the passenger seat. His long legs simply could not and would not fit in what little space there was below the dashboard, subsequently he was forced to sit with his knees up to his chest. To his dismay, he swiftly realized when he aimlessly touched behind the seat that there was no seatbelt.

“How’s the music?” Verosika inquired, the volume knob tantalizingly close. It’s not his car though, so…

“Fine,” He tittered, “Lovely, in fact. Maybe a bit loud? Sorry, you don’t have to- I can handle it.” 

‘Stop blabbering.’ The voice in his head chided.

Verosika raised an eyebrow, and silently turned down the volume of the music to what was at least tolerable before planting her foot down on the gas.

Humid city air forced Stolas back into his seat as they zoomed down the street. To at least be able to follow along to the song playing off the speakers he crunched forward behind the window to escape the deafening wind. He didn’t recognize the song, so he peered down to the little stereo to see what station she was listening to.

FM 86.3 THE BEST MAYDAY HITS

‘Ah.’

♫ Pack your bags, sun’s out. ♫

♫ Take a vacay babe. ♫

♫ Take it straight to bonetown. ♫

Suddenly the air around Stolas was chilly, and he looked at the distinct buildings. This was certainly the Lust ring. Curiously, he turned his head to Verosika, who pocketed a small Asmodean crystal.

“So.” She voiced. “Why the change of heart?”

“Hm?”

“You said you had a bad night.” 

“O-oh. It’s not important.” He saw her side-eye him. “I- I don’t really want to talk about that right now.”

His head dipped between his knees, feeding into the pathetic look he’s had all day. 

She noticed, and muttered in sympathy. “Don’t need to.”

Stolas’s mind wandered. It made everything feel so dull, to be left with the words Blitzø said. Everything was desaturated, lifeless. What was the point? He had no one to love.

‘No. I have Octavia.’ He reasoned to himself. ‘Don’t overreact, this is senseless.’

‘Your daughter? She despises you. What makes you think she loves you ?’

‘Fucking dissapointme—

“Stolas?”

His head snapped to Verosika, who stood in front of some club he couldn’t recognize.

Her pointer beckoned him to follow. “Get your ass out of my car.” Though she demanded it, there was an essence of playfulness to her words.

Limber limbs struggled to escape the car seat, but after a few moments Stolas joined Verosika on the sidewalk. He scanned the environment around him. The last time he was in Lust was with Blitzø, and that didn’t exactly go well. Yet, even with the few times he’s been here, he could deduce that it’s certainly a more welcoming place than most other rings, even though it brought back painful memories.

The whole ring glowed a low azure, from the brick to the rain. Of course, the ring itself was intertwined with its sin, Asmodeus, which easily separated the manner in which magic presented itself here. 

In Wrath, there are spheres of molten rock above bottomless volcanoes.

In Envy, there’s an ocean that spans for a fathomless distance.

In Lust? There’s comfort. There’s music.

Muffled music. Music which shook the walls with bassy percussion.

They passed by the bouncer on their way into the club, who’s jaw hung open when he saw Stolas, a goetian prince, along with the popstar. On the inside of this building was extravagant lighting, brilliant and blinding. The owl shielded his eyes. He felt someone tapping on his shoulder, head tilting to see Verosika.

“Go sit down, get a drink. I’ll be back.” She said as she pulled her wallet from her purse, before strutting off towards the other end of the club, where the karaoke booths seem to be.

He slunk between other party-goers, surveying the area for the bar. Clinking of glasses, unintelligible singing, and—

‘Oh my, is that person-? Oh, yes, that’s… sex.’ He spun away in the other direction, miraculously coming upon the very thing he was in search of. 

The bar.

Behind the counter stood two bartenders, one succubi with white hair and black horns, the other a hellhound, skinnier, and polishing a glass. Stolas planted himself onto one of the barstools, the two demons' eyes locked on him.

“Like a drink?” The succubus leaned on one hand.

“Yes.” Stolas gave an insipid smile. “Wine would be lovely.”

“Knew you’d be a wine man. Red?” His head dipped down below the counter, presumably looking through a fridge of some sort.

“Certainly.”

Burgundy wine poured down into the glass, which he placed in front of Stolas. “My name’s Seth, by the way.” 

The hellhound butted in, “Mine’s Dez.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you Seth, Dez.”

“Hey, you're that prince, aye?” Dez questioned, “The one that's got the media going crazy.”

Stolas swirled the drink in his mouth. “I suppose.”

“How much of it’s true? I mean, we all know you… cheated. Your wife—

“Ex-wife.” Seth corrected. Stolas stared into his wine.

“Yeah, yeah, ex-wife, whatever. She says you cheated on her with an imp, I mean, was he hot?”

“Dez, man, I don’t think he’s come here for questions about his marital status.”

“Oh come on, Seth, I’m just asking a few questions. Like, how’d that imp’s dick feel when he was getting pounded into his bed—

“DEZ.” Verosika glared at the hellhound, who backed off, but muttered obscenities under his breath.

She laid a hand on Stolas’s shoulder, who flinched. White pupils stared back at her.

“Come on, I got a booth for us.”

Stolas nodded.

Seth spoke up, “Sorry ‘bout that, Verosika—

“Fuck off, Seth.”

The Club - Karaoke Booth

Verosika was bent down, scrolling through the plethora of songs on the karaoke stereo. Stolas stood a few steps to her right, patiently waiting for her to select something, anything.

Are we gonna have a problem?

Oh?

You got a bone to pick?

He knew this.

You’ve come so far, why now are you pulling on my DICK?

I’d normally slap your face off

And everyone here could watch

“But I’m feeling nice, here’s some advice, listen up BIYAATCH! ” they screamed in unison.

…

Colour me stoked…

I’m so happy!

♫ Woah ♫

♫ Honey whatchu waitin’ for— ♫

Stolas howled in Verosika’s face, “SHUT UP HEATHER,” causing her to topple over laughing.

♫ Step into my candy store! ♫

♫ (Oh) Time for you to prove you’re not a lame ass anymore ♫

Verosika climbed back onto her feet, struggling not to giggle into her microphone.

♫ Then step into my candy store! ♫

♫ It’s my candy store, it’s my candy- (x2) ♫

♫ It’s my candy store, it’s my candy store! ♫

“WOO!” The popstar threw her hands up in the air. “I'm gonna need another drink after that performance of yours! How about you?”

“No thank you, I’m pleasantly buzzed enough.”

“Suit yourself.” She muttered her order into a small ‘Need A Drink?’ intercom.

Once her drinks arrived, drinks plural, three martini’s, a mojito, and a margarita— a lot of m’s— they both flopped back into the booth's leather couch. Verosika’s right shoulder was towards Stolas, to where he noticed her heart shaped tattoo. 

“May I inquire what your tattoo says?”

Verosika looked down at her own shoulder, twisting as to let Stolas still see it. “Blitzø. Crossed out, obviously.” Her pinky traced the line striking through the imp’s name.

He hummed in interest.

“Got it when I was dating him. I wasn’t a popstar back then, hadn’t even been offered a contract.” One of the martinis is downed. “It was a rocky relationship at best, but I tried to make it work. One day, a big producer attends one of my small gigs and offers to produce a hit for me. How can I say no, y’know?”

Her finger tapped the mojito in her hand, before speaking again.

“I told Blitzø. Said those three words that everyone wants to hear. Except for him, apparently.”

Verosika’s head turned, and her eyes locked with Stolas’s.

“Cause he ran.” 

She leaned back and chugged down the rest of the mojito, using her fingers to stop the ice from falling in her face. Stolas on the other hand was sitting there with his eyebrows scrunched, and a sputtering mouth.

“Wh- He ran? The Blitzø I know wouldn’t run from anything.”

“Then you don’t know him well enough.”

They fell into an uncomfortable silence.

Stolas mumbled, whilst looking down at his hands, “We… Our relationship. It was transactional when it started. That’s how it started. My grimoire for him, and, well, sex every full moon.”

Verosika grimaced, and in response he huffed a pained chuckle. “Not the best situation, hm?” An amused exhale left her nose. “I realized he thought that was all that I wanted, which it wasn’t. I wanted to be more than…”

“Fuckbuddies?”

“Err… yes. So I decided to free him from my influence, in hopes we could restart our relationship. Last night, I gave him an asmodean crystal and… he said so many things .”

He curled into himself.

“He hates me. I fucked up. Absolutely Fucked. It. Up. ”

She shuffled closer and placed a hand on Stolas's back. “Hey. Don’t beat yourself up about it. I blamed myself too, but I promise it’s his fault.”

His palm rubs away a stream of tears.

Verosika rummaged in her purse, and pulled out a pink card. “Here, I’m inviting you to the Anti-Blitzø party. Details are in the card.”

Stolas took the card. The edge of his beak curled in distaste. “Anti-Blitzø party? That’s foolish.”

Verosika’s card is pushed back into her hands, but she insisted. “Keep the card and think about it, Stolas.”

For a moment he wanted to bite back… but he’s so tired . So, instead he pocketed the card.

Stolas stood up. “I think I’ve had enough karaoke-ing and clubbing today Ms. Mayday. Would you kindly drive me home?”

Verosika copied. “Sure.”

Stolas’s Mansion

Stolas waved goodbye to Verosika, who drove off in her pink convertible.

His hand withdrew the ‘Anti-Blitzø’ card from his pocket. It read as follows:

Stolas, congrats!

Blitzo has officially broken your fucking heart.

I told you so.

It would be my pleasure to extend an honorary invite for 

being his freshest ex, to our Halloween party in the

human world for closure and to indulge in our shared

hatred for that miserable fuckboy.

I hope to see you there ♥

Verosika Mayday

Bitterness gnawed at his mind. ‘Such a stupid idea for a party.’

As his talons traced along glistening silk, his eyes examined each painting as he passed by. Tarps hid him and his wife’s faces in every single frame, leaving only Octavia’s to be viewed.

‘At least I have her…’

THUD.

Stolas froze.

Someone was inside his bedroom, but he didn’t know who. Of course it could be Pringsley, but by his memory, his duties for the day were supposed to be over.

“Fuckin’ stupid sack of toys…” A familiar voice sniveled from inside his bedroom. So familiar.

“Blitzø?”

The intruder paused.

Quick footfalls emanated from the room, away from the door and towards the balcony. Stolas, in hot pursuit, rounded the corner to see Blitzø’s horns dip below the railing. Without thought his legs sprung him across the room, and he leaned over the balustrade to see any sign of the imp.

“Blitzø!”

But alas, he was gone.

His body crumpled over into the balcony railing, fighting back tears.

Who knew not all wounds heal overnight?

Chapter Text

Asmodeus’s Tower

In the Lust ring there is no sun, though stars aplenty. Skies of umbral cloud rain near-constantly, lit up by the beacons of blue that give the ring its provocative vibrance. The residents, clothed anywhere from velvet to leather to lace, are seldom seen outside their doors. Not because of any danger though, quite the opposite. It’s the Lust ring after all. 

Just like the residents, tonight Asmodeus and Fizzarolli were staying in, high up in the sin’s tower. No, it was their tower now. Just a few weeks ago they officially became a couple… publicly. 

Nearly everyone had theories on their relationship status ever since Fizzarolli started emceeing at Ozzie’s, and they ranged from the two being fuckbuddies; an idea most subscribed to— to the sin and imp being married, were hiding a secret child, and they were planning on running away together like some horribly written romcom movie. The media liked that one. 

In the end, it was somewhere in the middle. They were together. They were partners. Romantic partners— sharing a romantic moment on their now-rumpled bed. Aromas of sweat and jasmine wafted amongst the laboured breathing that they shared. It had been a good night. A good night with ropes and a ball gag.

Fizzarolli released the saliva covered gag from Asmodeus’s mouth, looking into his sultry, ravished eyes.

“You’re ferocious, Froggie,” Asmodeus purred, “What. A. Display.”

The jester played with his lover’s mane, twirling it between his fingers with an affection that made both demons giddy. “I’m glad you got your rocks off,” he smooched Ozzie’s beak, “I know I did.”

Giggles reverberated throughout the room as they tussled trying to get the ropes off from around the sin’s body. It was not long before they laid there, simply enjoying each other's warmth in an embrace.

However, with all good things, it came to an abrupt end when a calliope rendition of ‘Entry of the Gladiator’s’ emanated from Fizzarolli’s phone across the room on the dresser. A long metal arm snaked from its grasp around Asmodeus and sprung towards the device, capturing the obtrusion and bringing it in sight of the owner’s face.

The ringtone was silenced, before Fizzarolli put the phone up to his ear. “Hey, Blitzø? Somethin’ wrong?” 

“Yeah, I… need to return some things.” Fizz could hear how raw his friend’s voice was, how the trembling of his lip impacted his words, what the knot in his throat felt like. He thought Blitzø was supposed to be at Stolas’s right now, hell, he was here just last night getting those ‘things’ for their full moon schtick.

“Shit, okay, uh…” He grimaced toward Ozzie, who returned a concerned yet understanding nod. “I’ll meet you at the warehouse, ‘kay?”

“Already here.” Blitzø hung up the call.

Fizz pecked Asmodeus’s cheek, soon bounding for the door. “Be back soon, Ozz.”

“Take your time, Fizzie Frog~” The frisk in his voice hid the worry that his face did not.

Ozzie’s Warehouse

Blitzø was wandering in circles, stuck inside his own head because there wasn’t really anyone to get him out right now. The fuck had he done wrong? Except of course calling him a pompous rich asshole, and flipping out on him and everything…

But, fuck. What was he supposed to do? Everything just felt so right that morning, or at least easy. Now there’s this feelings bullshit and all the fucking tears. Tears from those big, beautiful, stupid red eyes.

‘Feathery asshole, why wouldn’t you wait?’

Suddenly, the loud noises of confetti cannons and sparklers erupted from behind him, and he whipped around to find Fizz stepping out of one of his sugar daddy’s limos. “Sorry, I hadn’t had the time to pick out one without the confetti dicks- wow, you look fucking horrible.”

“No shit.” Blitzø wanted to laugh, but it just hurt. Underneath it all, his heart was being wrung like a wet towel, squeezing it of every possible tear, happiness, whatever, to leave him feeling just numb and empty.

Fizz stepped forward a bit, leaning his head in cautious care. “Wanna talk about—”

“Fuck no.”

Fizzarolli stared at him, nearly glaring at him. Yet, instead of prying, his expression softened with a sigh. “Alright.” 

He turned before his clinking prosthetics carried himself into the warehouse. “Did’ya use anything?” His fingers tippy-tapped the code into the keypad, which responded with a mixture of pleasured expressions. “Cuz I’d have to clean them if you did.”

The golden wings of Asmodeus’s vault door splayed out, revealing the luscious toys and garments that lined every wall. Displays upon displays, colour and rubber. If Blitzø wasn’t in such a pissy mood, he’d be horny. “No. Everything’s clean.” 

“‘Kay”

…

After everything was sorted out and returned, the two imps walked out into the street. Fizzarolli was closing up shop, and Blitzø was staring down at his phone.

Specifically, he was staring at Stolas’s contact. There had been nothing exchanged at all since that night. Not a sentence, not a word, not an emoji. It made him feel the kind of ill that resides in your throat, and in your eyes. The twisting, writhing feeling of… “Shit.”

He wanted to talk… but he didn’t know where to start. He wanted so many things right now, he wanted to apologize, he wanted Stolas to apologize, he wanted to stop thinking about it all. He wanted to be touched, like the metal hands on his back, but he wanted it to be that bird’s claws instead, talons sinking into his skin and—

Wait, metal hands?

Before he had a chance to react, he was being shoved into the limousine. He struggled, and used his feet to push against the car’s door frame. “Fizz- What’re you fucking doing—”

“Blitzø,” Fizzarolli had his arms swirling around the others waist triple-fold, “you and me both know you need to talk, get in the fucking limo.”

“I’LL FUCKING FU—”

The Limousine

Blitzø sat in his seat, pouting like a little bitch. He was not expecting a ride, and he was certainly not expecting an impromptu interrogation. But… he did need to talk to someone, even if he didn’t want to admit it out loud.

“So,” Fizzarolli rested his chin on his hands. “What happened?”

Blitzø grumbled incoherently.

The other glowered. “I can’t hear you if you mumble.”

“He fucking threw me out!”

“Threw you out.” Fizzarolli repeated back, unconvinced.

“YES!” Blitzø thrust his arms down into the car seat to support his careening, ending up just inches from Fizzarolli’s face. “He fucking-” He shook the hand with the asmodean crystal like it was a curse, “‘gifted’ me this crystal thing, then said a bunch of words for ‘I wanna roleplay some gay, sappy shit.’”

“And then what happened?”

Blitzø’s fingers fidgeted over the crystal embedded in his glove. “Well… I realized he was being serious about… liking me, which is stupid. A fuckin’ prince liking an imp?” 

Fizzarolli raised an eyebrow. He did not just use the hierarchy card with him .

“And then, he was all like ‘I know what this is to you’ and bullshit like that, and I yelled at him cos he was being a royal fuck-” Thinking back to that night, his demeaner slowly crumpled in on itself, shoulders slumped, his frown deepened. “Then he said uh…”

“Yeah?”

“Shut the fuck up, I’m trying to remember.”

“Jerk.”

“Prick.”

Fizzarolli sank himself back into the seat, sighing to rid himself of his building temper, while Blitzø stared at the floor, searching for the words.

“He said… ‘I think so highly of you, I didn’t realize you think so low of me.’ and I tried to-” His breath hitched. “I tried to apologize, I did. But he did some portal shit, and then I was outside.”

Fizz frowned, because, hells, Blitzø was so fucking shit at communicating, it made him want to throttle him. Fizz’s head fell back into the car window with a thunk, and muttered, “I’m gonna fucking explode, I swear to Satan.”

Blitzø wiggled his eyebrows. “Creaming your pants already? This is some weird foreplay.” As a reward, he was flicked in the forehead, causing him to respond with a surprised yelp.

Fizzarolli switched seats to sit next to Blitzø, who rubbed his forehead. “That sucks, I don’t know exactly how you feel right now, but I can guess you feel pretty shit about it. Right?”

“I mean, yeah?” 

“Do you want some advice?” Fizz placed a hand on Blitzø’s shoulder.

Blitzø’s face sunk into his hands. “... yeah.” 

“You need to validate his feelings. ”

The assassin’s brow furrowed, with a look of puzzlement crossing his face. “The fuck does that mean?”

Fizzarolli let out a groan, because FUCK this man is dumb. “Like, fucking tell him that you understand, or want to understand. I’m pretty sure you both want the same thing,” his voice lowered to a mutter, “You’re just too stupid to fucking make it happen.”

Blitzø glared, “Hey, I heard that shit.” Before mocking a punch into the other’s ribs. 

Fizz nursed the imaginary injury, and chuckled heartily. A comfortable silence settled upon them, with either imp in their own minds.

“Look, I know it’s not easy, and you’ll probably be at odds with each other plenty of times.” Fizz’s metal arms whirled around the other into a tight side hug. “But right now, the only thing you can do is try and talk about it.”

Blitzø hummed in thought. “Guess I should bite the bullet then, huh?”

“I have no idea what you mean, but go for it.” Fizz’s head rested back against the seat.

Blitzø pulls his phone from his pocket and opens up his contacts. With a tip and a tap, he sends a simple message to Stolas:

A gif.

A gif of a horse sniffing the camera.

A gif of a horse sniffing the camera with the text “I know what you are.”

‘That’ll get him talking.’ The sides of Blitzø’s lips tugged into a smug little smirk.

  The Night After.

It was quiet in the tower tonight.

Asmodeus was late at work in the factory, and now that Fizzarolli wasn’t working for Mammon, he didn’t have to practice for much except for his night’s at Ozzie’s. So, he was making himself dinner.

Fizz was spreading jam and hellnut butter over two slices of bread, which was the closest thing to cooking he was allowed to do. After grabbing a plate out of the dishwasher, he set the sandwich down upon the dish and opened the fridge. Inside were a variety of things, but he wanted a drink. His eyes landed upon the Spite, but… ugh, he was craving citrus. So, he drifted to the OJ, but it's out of date... Spite, off OJ, Milk, Purple Stuff— they still have some sunny blight!

He poured himself a glass of the crisp sunny blight, and then carried his meal and beverage to the coffee table in front of the living room TV. After embedding his form into the velvet couch, he brought his delicious HB&J sandwich to his lips, and syrupy jam spilled out onto the plate as his teeth sunk into the bread. Whilst humming pleasantly to himself, he scrolled through the notifications of his phone. A couple Wackdonalds coupons, some Helltube recommendations, a few messages from Barbie Wire…

Oh, Verosika had posted something on Sinstagram.

Fizz tapped open the notification, and immediately his jaw dropped, mushed sandwich dropping onto his chest.

It was a duo selfie, which Verosika had taken at her annual Anti-Blitzo Party.

"Oh..." He sat up and wiped away the stain on his shirt, and then he honestly started to giggle a bit. "This is not good."

And it wasn't good, because trapped in a headlock hug was a surprising addition to the party, awkwardly smiling into the camera.

The Prince Stolas himself.

"Blitzo is gonna flip the fuck out."