Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Fanart (by me) that inspired this fic: Freaky Motherf*ckers

STOLAS

˚· ✦.✧˳·˖✶ ☾ ✶˖·˳✧.✦ ·˚

Stolas groaned as the blackness of sleep drifted into memory and his mind caught up with the present. He remembered singing at Verosika’s party, recalled Blitzø crashing it, then there was that other very attractive imp he'd danced with… The rest was a complete blank.

With a heavy sigh, he sat up—well, tried to. Not even halfway upright, something attached to his head snagged on the arm of the couch and yanked fun back down with a grunt. 

Where am I? 

The room around him was tiny, cozy but messy. Quite messy. Still, he tried not to judge. Not everyone could afford a butler or a maid, that wasn't their fault. Still, there was cereal in the carpet, clothing strewn about—and none of it his, from what he could see—and a horse calendar on the wall that made him think of Blitz.

He sighed, shaking his head. He couldn't let his mind keep wallowing like this. He had to get up and get moving. This wasn't his home and he didn't want to overstay his welcome.

I must have gone home with that dashing imp man. Oh dear, did we…? I don't even remember his name! I hope he doesn't think horribly of me for it, I had far too much to drink. Not that I regret dancing with him, kissing him, touching him…

The memories sent a stirring through his loins and he felt movement under his blanket. Staring down at himself, he realized something was off. The scale, first of all. The couch must have been enormous if he fit on it so easily, but it didn't seem so large compared to everything else. Second, his boner was enormous . His tail lashed out from beneath the threadbare blanket he’d been sleeping under, and that was his final clue. He didn’t see a flash of long feathers, but a serpentine red whip with a familiar pointed black tip. 

Oh. Oh no.

In a panic, he flung off the blanket and jumped to his feet, but the weight of his horns threw off his momentum and he went crashing into the nearest wall. His whole body felt heavier than he was used to, his limbs short and strong, but distinctly not his . He knew this body well, however, and he didn’t need a mirror to confirm what he already knew from the white scarring he’d traced over a dozen times, the long tail he’d felt wrap around him in so many places, and, of course, that cock.

“Need any help out there, asshole?” Loona’s voice rang out from a door covered in yellow caution tape and KEEP OUT signs. 

“Ah, no. Nope.” Stolas said back quickly, a little too quickly perhaps. His head swam at hearing Blitz’s voice come out of his own mouth

If this had happened even just a few days ago, this would have been a dream come true. Today, however, after he’d finally gotten some kind of closure, some kind of progress in moving on… Of course this was when he managed to get himself stuck in his exe’s mother fucking body. Just when he thought he might be able to make a clean break and maintain some independence, to try and heal and move forward.

I can’t just stand here gawking. I need to find him. We need to fix this.  

“You sure about that, weirdo?” Loona called out after a few moments of quiet. 

“Yes, quite. Um, I mean, yeah. I’m fine.” He adjusted, trying to mimic Blitzø as best he could. It wasn’t as convincing as he’d hoped.

“Uh…huh.” Loona’s unconvinced reply sent him into a panic.

Stolas had on Blitzø’s underwear, but nothing else to speak of, so he quickly rummaged through the tiny den for clothes, finding discarded pants strewn across the TV and a shirt on the ground near the couch. He wobbled as he walked, the weight from his horns sending him careening around like a fresh sailor on his first day at sea. He got his legs into his pants, but had to take a moment to figure out the tail hole. Usually his butler bothered with those details. By the time Loona’s door handle clicked open, he was quite literally chasing his tail to try and get the snap closed over the base of it. He looked up and met her eyes for a split second before crashing into the coffee table and tumbling to the ground.

“Oh dear, oh no-” He winced, rubbing the back of his head where it had struck the arm of the couch.

A sinister growl sent a jolt of fear into Stolas but before he could react, Loona’s imposing frame covered him entirely, her claws digging into his shoulders as her eyes blazed red. She bared her fangs and snapped her teeth with a snarl. 

It was in this moment that Stolas realized just how much more breakable he was in this form and just how terrifying a hellhound could be.

“You. Aren’t. Blitz.” She seethed, grabbing one of his horns to yank his head up roughly. “What did you do to him?! Where is he?! Who the FUCK are you?!”

Stolas panted under her, eyes wide with panic. “I-I don’t know what happened, I’m so sorry, Loona, I promise I will find a way to correct this-”

Loona raised a brow, but didn’t release him. “... Stolas?” 

He nodded with a little whimper, too scared to move otherwise.

Loona huffed and rolled off of him with a groan. “You fucking IDIOTS, what did you do this time? Was this some kind of ‘kiss and make-up’ bullshit gone wrong?”

“Far from it,” Stolas sighed as he carefully sat himself up, leaning against the arm of the couch. “I don’t yet understand it myself, not entirely, but I can assure you we are still quite broken up.”

“Greeaaaat.” Loona shook her head and threw the discarded shirt at him. “Get dressed, I’ll take you to your mansion .”

“Well, it’s more of an estate than a mansion, really-”

“Don’t care.”

Chapter Text

BLITZØ

❘❙❚ ⵁ ❚❙❘

Blitzø’s head hadn’t hurt this badly since the night after hitting two Sin hotspots in the same night. A night which had also made him feel like utter shit. This time, however, he hadn’t gotten wasted off his ass, so it didn’t really make any sense to be this hungover.

“Loooooony…” He whined, but stopped as he heard the sound of his voice. It didn’t even sound like him. Shit, did I blackout BEFORE drinking somehow? How did I get this shitfaced without remembering it? I remember going home and crying and… yeah, DEFINITELY not gonna rehash that shit.

The nausea rushed through him like a flash flood and he had just enough time to roll to the edge of the couch and spew. Coughing up the last remnants of whatever he’d eaten—had he even eaten last night?—Blitzø stared at the ground for a moment with a furrowed brow. Everything seemed off . Like he was looking at the world through extra-dimensional glasses. Then there was the rug he’d just hurled on… That wasn’t his. He’d never seen it before, as far as he remembered. 

Must’ve hooked up with someone. Great. Another ex to add to Verosika’s party list for next year…

Then he realized he wasn’t on a couch, but a bed. 

Shit, I need to get out of here before-

“Hey, you’re up! Don’t worry about the mess, I’ll get it later.”

Blitzø looked up towards the voice and narrowed his eyes with confusion. A broad-chested imp with a jawline that could cut glass stepped in through the door, and he looked vaguely familiar. Oh shit. Blitzø groaned as he realized where he’d seen him before. He wore a long kimono-type-thing over his boxers right now, but he could picture clear as day the tank he’d worn the night before: “Better than Blitzø”. 

Another fucking ex. Honestly, I wouldn’t put it past me to fuck the guy who was sucking that bird-prince’s face last night…

Fearing the worst, he sat up and closed his eyes. 

“Soooo… did we…?” Blitzø grimaced, still unsure what the fuck was up with his voice.

“Almost.” The imp chuckled, “But you were pretty wasted, so we just cuddled instead. Buuut if you wanted to try once we take care of that hangover, I would definitely not be opposed. I made breakfast. I wasn’t sure what you’d like to eat, so I—”

Blitzø shook his head with a groan, “Nope, I need to check on my daughter and I don’t exactly do repeats.”

The imp frowned and cocked a brow, “But we didn’t even—”

Blitzø was already on the move. He swung his legs over the side of the ridiculously tall bed and prepared to jump down but his feet hit the ground far too early and he went careening over the edge and landed chest-first into his puddle of vomit. 

“Oh shit, man… You okay?”

The imp Blitzø still couldn’t remember the name of rushed over to him, but he held out a hand with a miserable groan, “I’m FINE, Christ on a stick just let me fuck off with what dignity I’ve got left…”

“At least let me get you a clean shirt.” The imp sighed and opened his closet as Blitzø rolled onto his back with a tortured huff.

“Fine. But I don’t owe you shit . I just don’t want to smell like regurgitated chimichangas or whatever it is I ate last night.” 

“You don’t have to rush, you know… if your phone isn’t working and you want to check on your kid, you can use m—”

“I don’t need your fucking help!” Blitzø snapped, “I can do this on my goddamn—”

He stopped mid-sentence as he sat up, realizing that something else was very wrong. The very tall bed was not as tall as he thought, but he still should not have been able to sit up from the floor and see clear over it. Not to mention the strange feeling of his body against the rug seemed to ruffle his… everything . And his head, it was heavy from the hangover, but still lighter than it should’ve been. He reached up to touch his horns, but found only air. Even his arms felt longer than they should be, lighter, thinner. 

Taking a deep breath, Blitzø finally looked down at himself and saw feathers . Feathers everywhere, and feathers he immediately recognized. 

What in the Freaky FUCKING Friday bullshit is going on here? 

“STOLAS YOU MOTHERFUCKER—” He roared and tried to jump to his feet, but the limbs worked all wrong. His knees were too high, his ankle was halfway up his leg and those were entirely too long to function. He managed to get one foot under himself, but the other went flying out too far, too fast, and he flailed out his skinny arms until he managed to grab onto the bed posts, just barely catching himself before he ate carpet again, and not in a fun way.

“Uh…” The wannabe bird-fucker stared at him with a great deal of concern, “Is there a reason why you’re yelling at yourself? I mean, I talk to myself sometimes too, I guess, but…”

“Look, I’m dealing with a LOT of shit right now, so can you just fork over the shirt and I’ll get the hell out of your life?” Blitzø stuck out his arm rudely, clinging to the bedpost for dear life with the other. Cloth touched his hand and he snatched it up, managing to get both feet under him even if they felt alien and awkward. As he fumbled with his too-long slender fingers to get the buttons from Stolas’ stupid fucking vest open, Wannabe-Bird-Fucker shifted awkwardly at the closet door and watched him.

“For what it’s worth, I really would love to go out again…”

“Not a chance, fuck-face.”

“Stolas, you don’t seem like yourself. Look, I thought we had a connection last night, you were—”

“It’s been less than twenty-four hours, you don’t know shit!I He was plastered, and while I’m glad you’re not enough of a shitstain to fuck him while he’s wasted, this still isn’t happening so just get the fuck over it and move on with your life. You really think a prince would ever want an imp for anything other than a good fuck, at best? And you didn’t fuck shit , so give it UP already.” Blitzø snapped, but immediately guilt set in. That was the whole problem, wasn’t it? That he couldn’t believe it, that he didn’t believe it until it was too late. 

Blitzø glared at the imp with all four of his eyes (which still felt fucking WEIRD) until finally, the burly fucker shook his head and left the room. 

Great, just another thing you ruined for Stolas. Great going, fuckwad. Blitzø berated himself as he struggled to get out of the owl’s fancy clothes. He set them aside and shoved his arms through the shirt he’d been given, surprised at how much easier the process was without horns in the way. The shirt had a flirty-looking pastry on the front with the text “Stud Muffin” in a stupid font. Blitzø stared at the shirt for a moment, then pulled it off unceremoniously and left it on the floor. He stole a pillowcase off the bed and threw the soiled clothes inside, slung it over his shoulder, and held onto the bed posts as he tried to learn how to walk with Stolas’ stupid bird legs. 

“Stupid-Fucking—Feather-faced—Cunt-nugget—” 

Step by shaky step, Blitzø made his way to the doorframe, through the hall, and to the front door of Wannabe-Bird-Fucker’s apartment where the imp had started cleaning up the massive breakfast he’d made for Stolas. Another jolt of guilt seared through Blitzø’s core and he scowled deeper on his way out the door, ducking under the short-ass frame and slamming it behind him.

Using the wall as a support while he got used to the gangly legs, Blitzø found his way out to the street and winced at the brightness of day, standing shirtless on the sidewalk with a pillowcase over his shoulder. He shook away the glare and tried to suss out where he was from what he could see. Apartment buildings in lilac and turquoise hues rose above him and just down the street, he saw an obnoxiously lux sign advertising “Tits & Ass”. Classy. Well, that answers the question of what Ring I’m in.

Rubbing the back of his too-long feathered neck, Blitzø looked down the street both ways, but every imp and succubitch that caught his eyes either gawked up at him in shock or immediately  looked down and scurried away. 

I’m too hungover for this shit. Does Stolas even carry money? How the fuck am I supposed to get back to… his place, my place? Where the fuck should I even go?  

He slipped his hand into his pockets, but all he had on him was Stolas’ phone and some candies in wrappers. Who the hell knew where those had come from. He snatched one up and threw the wrapper on a bush as he popped it into his beak. Walking still felt like he was prancing around on his tip-toes, but thankfully Stolas was light as fuck so he just had to keep all four eyes on whatever direction he was moving and maybe he wouldn’t fall. 

He fiddled with Stolas’ phone next and swiped it open, thanking Lucifer for the fact that Stolas had face-recognition enabled. He found his own face in the contact list and called it, his eye twitching as he waited for an answer.

You better pick up that fucking phone, I did NOT go through all six of my emotions in twenty-four hours just to deal with this bullshit. Pick the fuck UP.

Chapter Text

STOLAS

˚· ✦.✧˳·˖✶ ☾ ✶˖·˳✧.✦ ·˚

Loona had to help Stolas out of the building and into the I.M.P. van, as every time he attempted something more complicated than walking down a hall, he got his horns caught on practically everything . 

“Thank you.” He sighed as he settled into the passenger seat, trying not to move his head too much. The van had felt so cramped and tiny the last time he was in it, but in Blitzø’s smaller body, it was perfect. Cozy, at worst, and tall enough on the road that it made him feel a little less… small. Is that why Blitz likes it so much? I suppose I never thought about it.

“So… you don’t remember anything about how this might’ve happened?” Loona prompted as she swerved through traffic, leaving him gripping the handle of the door for stability.

He decided not to question if she was licensed. He certainly wasn’t. Well, Blitzø was, he was sure, but Stolas had never had to drive anywhere, why should he bother learning? 

“I can’t think of anything that could have caused this. Once we have my Grimoire in hand, and Blitzø of course, I should have no trouble locating a spell to reverse it, rest assured.”

Loona tilted her head and scowled a little. “But if he’s in your body, then wouldn’t he have to do the spell? I get the feeling that might not be… well, he doesn’t have much attention to detail sometimes. Like, at all. And no patience for reading. So…”

“I can walk him through it. He need only repeat after me and follow my instructions.” Stolas said firmly, but the seed of doubt had already infected him. “Though perhaps we should start with some basic magic use. Just to ensure he knows how to access it, of course. I tend to forget that not everyone was born with such magic, it does take time to perfect, but I have no doubt that together we can resolve this.”

“Uh… huh.” Loona sighed and yanked the wheel without warning. Stolas could swear he felt at least two wheels leave the ground and bounce back down once she straightened the vehicle out. His tail had wound itself around the back of his chair and he let out a small whine at the rocking of the van, despite his efforts. 

“Never taken the back roads, I take it?” Loona chuckled. 

“Ah, no…” He cleared his throat and forced out a little chuckle, “I usually teleport where I need to go, or, ah, my drivers will take me.”

“Riiiight… No offense, but do you and Blitzø have anything in common?” She scoffed lightly and blazed through a light just after it turned red. 

“I, ah, well…” Stolas blushed and clung to the door handle. “We are—were, um, we were in more of an ‘opposites attract’ kind of situation.”

“Suuure.” Loona sighed and shook her head. “Sorry I asked.”

“It’s quite alright. I’m, well,” Stolas bit his lip. “I’m sorry that you have been in the middle of this so often. You and Via, both.”

“Then you should be apologizing to her, not me.” Loona shrugged. “But you should do that when you’re not in Blitzø’s body.”

“Right.” Stolas chuckled softly, shaking his head only to have his horns catch on the back of the seat. He grumbled and righted himself, only to be startled by a blaring set of screams coming from his pocket. He jumped in his seat and fumbled in his pocket for the offending piece of technology. 

“Good Heavens, is this his ringtone for everyone?” Stolas held up the phone and saw his own face staring back at him from the contact photo. He used a single finger to swipe and accept the call, putting it on speaker.
“Blitz? I truly hope that this is y—”

“Stolas, what the FUCK did you do?!”

Hearing Blitzø in his own voice was startling to say the least, but at least he could be sure it was him. Who else would speak to him like that?

“Hold on, now.” Stolas huffed and glared at the phone. “Why would you assume that I did this? I wanted you out of my life, this is the last thing I would have wanted! As far as I know, this is a plan you concocted to—”

“Why the fuck would I want THIS?! I just—” Blitzø yelped, followed by the sound of the phone clattering with distant curses from Blitzø in the background.

“Blitz?” Stolas frowned, looking at Loona in question.

“God fucking DAMNIT, you and your fucking BIRD LEGS!!” His voice returned from the other end. “Christ on a doughnut, how the fuck do you WALK with these toothpicks?” He groaned as he came back to the phone.

“I forgot to mention,” Stolas continued, “I have Loona here. She’s taking me to my estate.”

“Well, that’s perfect. Just fucking greaaaat because guess what? I’m not THERE, you dipshit!”

Stolas blinked, then blushed hard. Usually his feathers would fluff out at a moment like this, but now he was grateful to be featherless. At least it wasn’t as obvious when he was flustered. “Oh… right.”

“What’s THAT supposed to mean?” Loona growled.

“I, ehm, I may have gone to someone else’s home last night. I wasn’t entirely sure, but—”

“Hold the FUCK UP.” She snarled and whipped the van around onto a curb, pulling it sharply to a stop and earning another yelp from Stolas. “Alright, you two? You better get your shit together and figure this shit out. Blitzø, can you get to Stolas’ place from where you are or do we have to come pick your ass up?”

Blitzø sighed from the other end of the phone. “I… know I’m in Lust, but that’s about it. That guy you went home with? He didn’t even have the decency to fuck you, so you didn’t miss much. Grabbed your shit and now I’m just out on the sidewalk. And, uh, people aaaare staring.  Yep. So you should probably come get me.”

“Where in Lust are you?” Loona sighed heavily.

“Great question! Somewhere near a place called ‘Tits and Ass’, that’s about all I’ve got to go on.”

Loona deadpanned, her ear twitching in annoyance. “Pretty sure that doesn’t narrow it down at all .”

Stolas had since uncoiled his tail and began holding it in one hand for comfort. “Well, I have a better option in mind. Since we’re close to my estate, if we use my Grimoire, we can summon you to us. Much simpler, and safer for everyone involved.” He chuckled uneasily, avoiding Loona’s gaze in hopes she wouldn’t take offense. 

Blitzø paused on the other end, then sighed. “Well, sure beats trying to figure out wherever the fuck I am. Just hurry it up, alright? I feel like a shirtless wacky inflatable tube-fucker out here.”

“I hardly think—Wait, why are you shirtless? Are you outside in a state of undress? Do you know the trouble you could cause for me if you—”

“Calm your bird tits, Stolas! It was either that or some chatzky bullshit your new boyfriend offered, and frankly, this look at least makes you look hot, so you’re fucking welcome .”

“First of all, I—”

“Oh my god, ENOUGH ALREADY!!” Loona groaned, yanking the car back onto the street without warning. “We’re going to Stolas’ place, getting the fucking book, and we’re hanging up now. Okay? Okay. Bye.”

Stolas hesitated, but Loona reached over and ended the call before he could change his mind.

“I swear to fuck,you two bicker like an old married couple. You just skipped the marriage part and went straight to the bitch-fest.”

Stolas sat quietly in the passenger seat, clutching his tail with both hands now. After a few moments of quiet driving, aside from the screeching of the tires occasionally, he sighed and spoke. “I suppose it never has been exactly… healthy between us.”

“No shit.”

˚· ✦.✧˳·˖✶ ☾ ✶˖·˳✧.✦ ·˚

Stolas had never been more relieved to see his home as it rose to view through the windshield of the I.M.P. van. The moment the wheels came to a stop outside the gate, he flung open the door and tried to launch himself out of the door, but forgot once again about his horns. They smacked into the door frame and threw his head backwards as the rest of him went forwards, which left him sliding feet-first out of the van and crumpling to the ground with a groan. 

“That hurt …” he whined, rubbing his backside. “Why did that hurt so much?”

Loona’s door slammed shut and she strode around to look at him with her hip cocked, annoyed. “Falling hurts. Get over it. Is Octavia here?”

Stolas sighed and got to his feet, dusting himself off in the process. “Yes. She’ll be best suited to using the Grimoire, so would you do me the favor of, ah, filling her in on the situation? Coming from you, it may be less… startling.”

For the first time, at least as far as Stolas had observed, Loona’s expression softened into something like a smile. “I think I can handle that. Just show me the way. I don’t wanna get lost in this big-ass palace of yours.”

“It’s not a—well, I suppose it doesn’t matter. This way, please.” Stolas walked towards the gate to flag down a butler. “You there! Open the gate at once, it’s an emergency.”

The imp he’d always thought of as tiny in comparison to himself seemed only short compared to Blitzø’s stature. Stolas straightened himself up as much as he could, but it didn’t do much of anything for how small he felt. 

The butler looked him over for barely a second before laughing, “Oh, I’m certain it is. But I’m under strict orders that you are not to enter the premises again.”

Stolas blinked, then remembered when he’d given that particular order. He winced at the realization and sighed. “Listen… I’m in quite a difficult situation. I must get inside, and—”

Loona put a hand on his shoulder. “Nice try, Blitz, but we both know he’s not going to budge until he hears from a certain bird prince .” She raised a brow at him. 

Stolas blinked up at her (that was still strange, looking up at people) until the pieces finally began to go together. “Oh, yes. One moment.” 

He pulled out his phone and texted Blitzø. Well, himself. His phone. Currently under Blitzø’s ownership. 

“Blitzø, I need you to call my butler and command that he let us in. The contact is simply ‘Butler’.”

After a moment, a text came back:

“ u don’t even kno his name???”

Stolas huffed and hunched over the phone to keep it out of sight. 

“Please just call him and tell him to let us inside. The sooner we get in, the sooner you’re no longer stranded in Lust.”

“ i cud just call fizz”

“ Unless you have his number memorized, I doubt you could. It’s not in my contacts and I am not sending it to you unless you call my butler and insist he let us in.”

Blitzø did not respond. 

Stolas rubbed his temples, his tail whipped back and forth angrily behind him. Just as he was about to call the asshole back, he spotted his butler taking a brief call, which sent the imp scowling towards the gate once more. 

“Well, it seems you are welcome at the Goetia estate once again. Please come in .” He sighed heavily, his eyes weary and bored. The gate clicked open at the touch of a button, and Stolas and Loona headed inside. 

He led her into the foyer and directed her towards Octavia’s room. “I’ll get the Grimoire, then we’ll reconvene in the kitchen. Via can get you to it.”

“Got it.” Loona nodded and started down the hall for Octavia’s room. 

Alone, Stolas started down the hall for his own quarters, but the once-familiar halls felt massive to him now. His steps were so much shorter, walking to his room felt like so much more of a chore than it had before. Stolas looked up at the intricate stained glass windows, the chandeliers above him, the expensive rugs that lined the floor. He remembered where he’d awoken that morning, such a stark contrast of torn and peeling wallpaper, stains that looked like they might never come up, and so little room at all for even just the two of them. Loona’s pointed question echoed in his mind, what did they actually have in common? When the Grimoire was no longer in the equation, what was left except sex and some emotions? Could that ever have been enough?

Stolas almost didn’t notice, being so lost in melancholy thought, but as he neared his bedroom, he heard the small familiar taps of his butler’s feet behind him. A quick glance over his shoulder proved his assumption correct—he was being followed. 

The butler merely stared at him, hands tucked neatly behind his back. “I’m sure you understand.” He said plainly.

In truth, Stolas did understand. Given their history, it was actually refreshing to know that his trusted servant was still looking out for him, even if he didn’t know that this was him. “I do. And I must thank you for your loyalty and steadfast service.” 

The butler frowned, tilting his head to the side as if he’d spoken a foreign language. 

Stolas smiled to himself, shaking his head as he continued on. 

The footsteps behind him continued. “I’m afraid I was given orders to let you in, but that did not include access to every room in the estate…”

Stolas paused and sighed. He kept his face forward and clasped his hands behind his back, speaking evenly. “I assure you, your Prince knows exactly what I am here to do, and if you would like to call him to confirm, please go right ahead. I merely need my—his Grimoire to bring him back here safely. I don’t believe you’d like to stand in the way of that happening, would you?”

The butler didn’t move, at least not as far as Stolas could hear, save for a rustle of fabric and the quick sound of dialing. 

He kept moving. The little imp would talk to Blitzø and Blitzø would confirm on his behalf. 

“Sure is easier than going through your fucking staff…”

The ghost of Blitzø’s voice rang through his head from the first night they’d slept together, and he had to admit, he wasn’t wrong . But they were only doing their jobs. Blitzø never understood just how much went into maintaining an estate like this, and how could he? That wasn’t his fault, nor Stolas’. Simply a difference in their life experiences.

He finally arrived at his room. It felt as though he’d walked thrice the distance on such short legs, but his mind was on the Grimoire rather than the trek. He headed straight for his library, but despite his determination, he couldn’t help but notice how much taller everything was from this view, how imposing it all seemed. Most of all, he couldn’t ignore how little it felt like he belonged in here, now. 

Undeterred, Stolas climbed the ladder and pulled his Grimoire off the bookshelf with ease, sliding back down to the floor to charge back out into the hall. 

“I’ll take that, thank you.” Stolas’ butler snatched the Grimoire out of his hands and tucked it under his arm, “At least until His Majesty returns. I’m sure you understand.”

Stolas glared at the butler, now more than just annoyed.

“We need that Grimoire to bring him here.” He said coolly, his tail lashing back and forth.

“He is perfectly capable of traversing anywhere in the Seven Rings that he pleases without assistance.” The butler insisted firmly, his face a placid mask of grim resolve.

“Not right now, he can’t.” Stolas gritted through Blitzø’s sharp teeth. “Which is why he needs our help. You’re more than welcome to call him and confirm, again , if you won’t take my word on it.”

“I’m afraid I must insist, I’m sure you understand.”

“I’m afraid I don’t .” Stolas straightened up to his full height (which wasn’t much) and looked down at the other imp. “Why don’t you try explaining it to me?”

Unflinching, the butler held his gaze. “I do not delve into His Majesty’s personal matters, but I manage his matters daily, both personal and professional. Since his childhood, you have enjoyed certain privileges at the Prince’s expense… you have done nothing but pillage his home and belongings, toy with his emotions, and destroy his marriage. Your ‘relationship’ began with an attempted thievery of this very book, at which time you manipulated his fragile mental state for your own benefit. Forgive me if I do not feel inclined to give you the benefit of the doubt. ”

Stolas took a step back, shocked at the way his butler had spoken to him. Well, not to him , but to Blitzø. 

“How dare you—”

“I only dare to serve my Prince. In his absence, I aim only to use my best judgment, and my best judgment says that his Grimoire is safer in my hands than yours .”

Stolas seethed, but the reprimand lingering on his lips stopped short. In this body, in this… situation, there was no point in fighting. His butler was doing his job, after all. And frankly, he was doing it well. Still, no one except Blitzø had ever talked to him so brazenly. 

“Fine. Then take it to Via in the kitchen. I’ll be just behind you.” Stolas sighed, putting on a forced smile. “Lead on.”

Chapter Text

LOONA

☽ ⛧ ☾

The massive halls of the Goetia estate reeked of overpriced privilege arrogance. The whole place smelled too clean, too pristine, too rich . Loona couldn’t wait to get the fuck out. Still, seeing Octavia again wasn’t the worst development. Almost made it worth it, really.

In the vast sprawl of halls and rooms and halls that lead to more rooms and rooms that probably led to more halls, it actually wasn’t hard at all to track down Via’s room. She’d gotten her scent while hanging with her in LA, but even without that, her bedroom door stood out like a Wrathian in the Envy ring. The rest were all plain white, if not gilded in spots, but Via’s door was covered in angsty band posters, keep out signs, and topped off with a bust of a taxidermied Quieve made to look like a punk rocker, complete with a fake green mohawk and piercings. Loona smirked and took a quick picture of it on her phone, saving it for later when she might need a smile. Then, she knocked on the door.

“Ach, what NOW!?” 

Loona snorted at the response. “Mood.”

There was a sudden clattering from inside until finally the door swung open to a very confused Octavia, who was still wearing her Stylish Occult pajamas. She blinked at Loona and tilted her head. “Why are you here? In my house? No offense, I just…”

“You’d have to try a lot harder to offend me, trust me.”

Octavia stared a moment longer, then blushed and rubbed the back of her neck. “Give me five minutes? I just, ehm… I’d like to change.”

“Knock yourself out.” Loona shrugged with a little smile. “I’ve got my phone, I can entertain myself just fine.”

“Right… yes. Well. One moment.” Via held up a finger and shut the door in a flurry of feathers. Loona could hear her cursing to herself inside, tripping over things and opening and closing drawers. It didn’t take long for her to reemerge, this time dressed from head to tail, complete with her signature beanie.

“There we are. That’s better.” She tucked a stray feather out of the way and looked down the hallway, surprised that Loona was still alone. “Who let you in? Does my dad know you’re here?”

“It’s… complicated.” Loona grimaced, “C’mon, your dad is gonna meet us in the kitchen, but he wanted me to explain the whole thing.”

“Of course he couldn’t do it himself.” Via sighed bitterly, shaking her head. 

Following the smell of food, Loona started for their destination and Via walked beside her, her hands deep in her pockets and her face already in a scowl. Sighing back, Loona shrugged, “I mean, we don’t have to get right into our dads’ bullshit… how’ve you been?”

“Good, I guess.” She shrugged, but offered Loona a little smile. “I mostly just put on my music and pretend nothing’s wrong.”

“Hard relate.” Loona snorted, elbowing Via playfully. “Shit sucks, but it’s not forever. You think you’ll ever want to get your own place? Must be shitty having to deal with their drama all the time.”

Via groaned, “You have no idea…”

“Some idea.” Loona chuckled. 

“Right.” Via blushed and shrugged. “I forgot, we’re both tangled in their ridiculous bullshit…”

“Always.” 

They shared a laugh, and Loona realized the halls didn’t seem so empty anymore, the whole place was less offensive to her senses with Via close by. 

“So… if we weren’t trudging through their bullshit every other day, what would you prefer to be doing?”

Via thought for a moment, “I’ve been thinking about learning to play drums?”

“Sick.” Loona grinned, “You should give it a go. Sounds fun.”

“What about you?”

Loona’s smile faded a little, her thoughts turning to the pound. She didn’t know where she’d be without Blitzø, despite all of his bullshit. She sighed and shrugged, “Dunno. Honestly, I think I’ll miss Blitzø’s bullshit whenever I end up moving out. Kinda grows on you… to a point.”

“Wish I could say the same…” Via sighed, wrapping her arms around herself. She looked away and slowed her pace, their footsteps echoed down the empty hall. 

“It won’t always be like this.” Loona offered quietly. “Either they’ll figure their shit out, or they’ll end it for good. Hard to say, but it won’t be forever. Besides, you can always move out if it gets to be too much, right?”

Via sighed, “I guess.”

They turned a corner and found the casual dining area and kitchen space waiting for them. Via grabbed herself some cereal and a bowl, then raised it to Loona. “Want some?”

“I’ll never turn down free food.”

With breakfast made, they sat opposite of each other at the table and crunched on the sugary cereal, which had the unfortunate effect of covering the sound of incoming footsteps. 

The imp butler shuffled into the room with Stolas’ Grimoire tucked under his arm, followed by a very grumpy-looking Blitzø. Well, a Blitzø-shaped Stolas.

Loona snorted a little laugh at the sight. “Oh, didn’t trust him with the book, huh?” She raised a brow at the butler, who barely seemed to even hear her. He bowed in front of Octavia, offering out the book. 

“I’m told I should be giving this to you, madam.”

Via set down her spoon and took the book, scowling at who she assumed was Blitzø. “Why are you here?”

Blitzø-shaped-Stolas looked at Loona with a deeper frown, “You haven’t told her, yet?”

Loona rolled her eyes, “She deserved to have breakfast first, at least. Blitzø’s safe, and it’s not like someone’s going to have the balls to attack a Goetia in broad daylight.”

Octavia’s jaw hung open as she looked between the two of them, ignoring the butler (who placed himself nearby to watch the scene unfold). She scoffed and rubbed her temples with wide eyes. “Why are we talking about someone attacking my dad? What is happening? And why are you here?” She glared at Blitzø-shaped-Stolas. “Someone explain this, please .”

Chapter Text

STOLAS

˚· ✦.✧˳·˖✶ ☾ ✶˖·˳✧.✦ ·˚

Loona sighed, “Something fucky happened, our dads switched bodies, so that…” She gestured to Stolas, who waved sheepishly. “Is your dad. Mine’s in Lust, and we need you to use the Grimoire to bring him back here safely.”

Via stared at Loona. Then she stared at Stolas. Then at the Grimoire. Finally, she groaned and flung her head back and slumped in her chair. “This is such bullshit! ”

“I’m afraid it’s not, Via…” Stolas stepped closer, clasping his hands in front of him. “It really is me… for now. If we can bring Blitzø back here—”

“That’s not what I meant!” Via huffed and shoved the chair out from the table as she jumped to her feet, glaring down at Stolas. Oh, he did not like being looked down upon by his daughter like this. 

She stared Stolas down, a dam bursting within her. “Once again, you and that red—you both just keep fucking around and fucking everything up! You say you’re done, and then this shit happens!”

“Via, I am so sorry,” Stolas stepped toward her, arms open to embrace her. “I don’t know how this happened, but it was never our intention—”

“Enough, dad!” Via took a step back, looking down at him in disgust. “Your life revolves around him , not us. You’ve made that perfectly clear.” She stormed away from the table, shaking her head. “Figure it out for yourselves, I’m going to stay with Mum.”

“Octavia—”

“Sorry, Loona.” She said under her breath as she stormed toward the door. 

At a loss, Stolas stood helplessly and watched her leave. His heart broke as he thought he heard a slight sniff as she left their sight. His eyes stung, his chest ached. Had he really been neglecting her so badly through all of this? Regardless, he had to do better. Once this was fixed, once he was himself again, he would find a way to put all of this behind him and focus on—

A slow clap shook him out of his thoughts. 

Loona stared at him from across the table, clapping her hands together in a steady, sarcastic rhythm. “Great fucking job. Real ‘Dad of the Year’ material.” She said flatly, reaching for the Grimoire. “Just tell me what I’m looking for in here, I’ll do the spell.”

Stolas looked back at the door Octavia had left through, a small whimper escaped his lips. He needed to fix this, yes, but there was something he needed more. Without another word, he ran after Octavia.

“Octavia, Octavia! Wait, please!” Stolas stumbled down the hall, his short legs getting tripped up as he tried and failed to match pace with Octavia’s longer strides.

“Leave me ALONE!” Octavia cried over her shoulder, slamming a door behind her. 

Stolas fell forward and scrambled ahead on all fours until he reached the door. He flung it open and saw her descending the foyer steps. “Via, please understand, I had already cut things off with him, we had parted ways, I didn’t want this to happen any more than—”

“And yet here we are!” She flung her arms in the air and charged down the stairs.

Stolas knew he couldn’t catch up with her on Blitzø’s short legs, so he threw himself over the banister and leapt. 

He didn’t remember his lack of wings until he was already in midair.

Stolas tried to catch himself with his feet, but they buckled under him and one leg snapped painfully, earning a sharp cry of pain that he didn’t recognize as his, not right away. He laid on the ground, clutching the thigh of his broken leg with gasping whimpers as he tried to calm himself. A jump like that should not have hurt this much, much less broken a bone. 

Well, not for a Goetia. You’re not a Goetia at the moment, but surely you won’t forget now.

“What the hell, Dad?!” 

Octavia’s voice cut through the pain and he felt her kneel beside him. 

“Sorry, I thought I could just c-catch up with you—” He winced as he tried to move, quickly realizing that was a bad idea.

“Just stop.” Octavia huffed. “Stop moving, stop chasing me, stop hurting yourself, just STOP!”

Loona rushed through the doorway just in time to hear her final shout, followed by the house butler. The hellhound slid down part of the bannister and jumped down to the floor, pulling out the Grimoire from under her arm with a heavy sigh. “Did you jump from up there?”

Stolas hissed in pain, “I… yes.”

“Motherfucker…” Loona growled and sat beside him, turning through the pages of the Grimoire. “There’s gotta be some kind of healing spell in here, right?”

“Yes, but first…” Stolas sat up with a cry of pain, turning to Octavia. “I’m… I’m sorry. It’s true, I don’t want you to leave, but… I don’t want you to stay against your will. I will be fine, I promise. If you want to stay with your mother until we get this sorted out, I will respect that decision. I was impulsive, I…” His mind drifted over the events of the last several days, weeks, months. “I am impulsive. More than I would like to admit.” He looked up at his daughter through another wince. “And it keeps hurting you. I can’t bear to hurt you any more than I already have.”

Octavia stayed quiet for a moment, and every second of silence drove a dagger into Stolas’ heart, but he knew it was no longer the time for talking. She clenched a fist, then released it with a tired sigh. “I love you, Dad… But please get your shit together, alright?”

Stolas choked on a chuckle, “I will do just that, I swear, Via. I love you, my owlet.”

Via awkwardly patted Stolas’ horn, then stepped away and looked at Loona, “Let’s… hang out when we’re not in the middle of this. Maybe? If you want?”

Loona cocked her hip and nodded, “Sounds like a plan. You’ve got my number.” 

“Yeah.” Octavia rubbed her face, “Okay. Good luck with this mess. Call me when things settle down, okay Dad?”

Stolas nodded, “Of course. Of course, my little starfire.”

“Not so little compared to you, today.” Octavia chuckled and shook her head as she walked toward the main entrance. “Good luck.”

The door opened and closed, and she was gone. Stolas watched, his eyes glued to the door even after she was gone. I shouldn’t have tried to drag her into this. It doesn’t involve her, it’s just… more of my mess. Maybe I should look into a therapist. An expensive one.

“Alright, let’s get that bone fixed up. We have to set it, first, so it doesn’t heal unevenly.” Loona set the book down and knelt beside Stolas. “You’ll probably want something to bite down on.”

“I’m certain I can handle it.” Stolas insisted. In truth, pain seemed like just the thing he needed to think clearly. “Do your wor—Holy MOTHERFUCKING HELL!!” 

Loona pressed on the break and something snapped back into place, sending a lightning bolt of pain through every one of his nerves. 

“Sorry. Works best if you aren’t anticipating it.” Loona shrugged, “But the worst is over now. Do you happen to remember what page the healing shit is on?”

Stolas gasped through the pain, rocking back and forth as much as he dared while trying to keep his leg stationary. “Page, ah… page. Healing. Yes. Check… Page 281. Or after.” He tried to breathe through it. 

“Loona, dear,” Stolas began with a deep breath. “Has… has Blitzø always been this… breakable?”

Loona looked up from flipping the pages, narrowing her eyes in confusion. “Um, yeah. We can’t all be royalty.” She shrugged, turning back to the book. 

Stolas swallowed and nodded, sitting silently while she located the proper spell. Part of him didn’t feel he deserved the healing. He wanted to live with the pain of his folly, the reminder of his impulsivity, his blindness to everything around him when he began chasing after something or someone. Usually someone, if he was honest with himself. Blitzø, Octavia, it was always them that had kept him going because if he was truly truly forthright… Well, he hated everything that he was just as much as Blitzø seemed to. He never wanted to be a Goetia, never wanted to marry that horrible woman, never wanted to bear so much responsibility, so much power… sometimes he wondered if life would be better if he had been born an imp. If he stripped all of that Goetia Prince nonsense away, he actually did like himself. Somewhat. Most of the time. Right now, not as much.

“So… is this spell going to work with me doing it? I know the portal spell is different, never tried anything but that before.” Loona admitted, reading over the page with a cocked eyebrow.

“Let me see, please.” Stolas gestured to the book, which she pushed over to him. He glanced down at the page, but as he tried to find the words, they seemed to shift around on him. Not literally but his eyes just couldn’t focus quite right, or his mind couldn’t capture them as well. He took a deep breath, really cleared his mind and fixated on the page and he could get the gist of it, but it wasn’t as easy or enjoyable as reading usually was for Stolas.

“With all the practice you’ve had with the portal spell, I think you should be able to manage.” Stolas decided, pushing the Grimoire back to Loona gently. “Let’s try, at least. I’d prefer not to be back in a hospital quite so soon, and this is simple enough of a break to heal without much fuss.” I hope.

“Alright, then…” Loona put her hand on the broken bone, giving it a light touch, but Stolas still felt a sting of pain. He kept it to himself, waiting as the hellhound murmured the spell aloud and focused her energy on the bone. Relief flooded through him as the bone began to knit together and the pain receded, leaving only a dull ache in its place. 

“Oh, that’s much better. So much better. Thank you, thank you , dear.” Stolas laid back against the marble floor, letting the cool stone distract him from the echoes of pain he’d only just been feeling.

“No problem.” Loona flipped through a few more pages. “So… summoning spell. We should do that.”

Chapter Text

BLITZØ

❘❙❚ ⵁ ❚❙❘

To his credit, Blitzø tried to wait like he was told to. He wasn't good at taking orders to begin with, but when what he expected to be a quick ‘beam me up, bitch’ continued to be nothing, he saw no reason not to at least walk around a little. Moving would probably draw less attention than standing stationary on the sidewalk like an oblivious bird prince begging to get mugged.

Blending in really isn't an option right now, so Plan B. Clothes. Stolas probably doesn't even need money, I could just charge it to his… Tab? Estate? His name? Fuck it, let's find out. I mean, he's the one that took issue with me being shirtless in his body, and I doubt he'd want me walking around covered in yesterday's hate-cake or whatever he ate…

Blitzø headed for the only store in sight: Tits & Ass. Classy shit. Still, they were bound to have a novelty tee shirt or something. 

As he walked, he towered above every other passer-by on the street, which was a wild feeling. Maybe it’s just too easy to look down on everyone around you when you’re literally looking down at everyone all the time… Blitzø instinctively tried to make himself smaller, walking slouched over on what felt like his tip-toes. He took slow, measured steps to make sure he wouldn’t fall over, and gratefully his tail seemed to help a little with balance, though it was far less useful than his own long one. Fuck, he missed his tail. And his horns. And his dick. Stolas had a nice one, sure, but it wasn’t his . 

Blitzø had to bend down several feet just to fit into the door of the shop, where he was greeted by an electronic doorbell that literally moaned at him upon entering. 

“Christ on a stick…” Blitzø muttered to himself. “Fucking Lust .”

“Welcome to Tits… and Assss~” A slithery melodic voice rang out from the register. “Whether it’s a peach or a pair of melons you’re looking—Oh! Your Highness, welcome, welcome , it’s truly an honor to have you in my humble sex shop.”

The shopkeeper, a winged serpent demon, leapt over the counter with a flutter of wings and entered a deep bow towards Blitzø, to which he could only scowl in confusion. Then he remembered whose body he wore. Right. Time to work that royal magic.

He cleared his throat, straightened up to Stolas’ full height—which nearly sent his head through the ceiling—and struck a pompous pose as he attempted Stolas’ accent. “I find myself in dire need of a fresh garment… A shirt.” He clarified with an awkward chuckle. “I would be most in your debt—not actually in your debt, of course, can you imagine? But I would appreciate it if you could kindly… Fuck this is exhausting.” He dropped the accent. It wasn’t like anyone was going to question royalty. “I just need a shirt. You got anything that wouldn’t embarrass a prince of Hell?”

The shopkeeper bowed again, practically scraping their face across the linoleum floor. “My Prince, it would be my honor … Is there any specific style you’d like? A color you prefer? We have lace and leather, latex, burlap—”

“Cotton’s fine.” Blitzø sighed, rubbing his face. The feathers on his face felt weird when he did that. Everything felt weird about this.

“Oh, of course. Organic, naturally, let me see…” 

Blitzø poked around some of the leather harnesses at the front of the store, he picked at the straps and flicked the bell at the collar with a little snort. He might have to remember this place when he went shopping for accessories again. In fact…

“You mind if I pick up a few other things here? You can bill it to my, uh, tab. Estate. Whatever.”

“But of course, your Highness! Anything you’d like, and of course I’ll cut you a deal befitting a royal such as yourself.”

Blitzø grinned, “Perrrrfect.”

❘❙❚ ⵁ ❚❙❘

With both arms full of shopping bags, wearing a new tee shirt with a peach and eggplant emoji on it, Blitzø strode down the street with a new confidence and a new pair of peach-shaped sunglasses. Being royal was nice . 

Several demons gawked as he passed, some averted their eyes, but then he felt a tug on one of the bags on his arm. Blitzø had been the victim of a mugging more than once, but this time he had the upper hand. He spun around in a flash and grabbed the handles of the bag the little imp had latched onto, staring down at the guy with a fierce glare. 

“You wanna rethink that, pal?” Blitzø grinned, giving him a terrifying glare that seemed to pulse with light. 

In a flash, the frightened imp turned to stone right where he stood.

Blitzø blinked.

Did I do that? Shit. I didn’t even know STOLAS could do that. Did his dad fuck Medusa or something? Christ on a stick…

He yanked the bag strings free of the stone imp’s hand. A few fingers broke in the process and Blitzø winced. “Sorry you got stoned, dude. I’m… sure it’ll wear off. Maybe. Aaaaanyways, good luck with that.”

He tried to whistle to himself as he walked away, but realized whistling with a beak was not the same as whistling with lips. Maybe impossible. “Goddamn beaky motherfucker…” He grumbled. “Can’t even fuckin’ whistle .”

He took another step forward just as red light glowed on the ground in front of him. The ground suddenly was no longer there, and he stepped into nothing but air, tumbling down the magic hole in the ground with a squawk. His shopping bags went sprawling along with him until he hit marble flooring face-first, his back bent until his legs dangled in front of his face, his tail fanned out like a startled flag in midair.

“What the fuck !?” Blitzø groaned and slumped over to his side, long limbs flopping every which way.

“Oh, good. A little less graceful than we might have hoped, but well done, Loona.”

“You’re both welcome. Now, if you don’t mind, I’m going to finish my breakfast while you two sort this shit out.” Loona marched out of the room without a second glance.

Blitzø sat up and rubbed the back of his neck, looking around for a moment as he reoriented himself. “Oh…” He spied himself , but he knew it was Stolas inside. Even sitting, his body looked so much smaller from Stolas’ tall-ass perspective. Blitzø sighed. “Great. The band’s back together.” 

Stolas, standing weirdly straight with his stupid-good posture, looked at Blitzø with annoyance, his tail flicking back and forth at the tip. “And what, may I ask, are those from?”

Blitzø followed his gaze to the shopping bags, now emptied out all over the floor and revealing the harnesses, bralets, and other spicy garb he’d ‘purchased’ with the royal discount.

“Uh… well, you were mad about me being shirtless and it felt rude to just get the shirt and not, uh, support their small business, yanno? So…”

Stolas frowned. 

“Fiiiine.” He groaned, “Ugh, I had them charge it to your estate or whatever. You can afford it. Keep it, if you want.”

“No. It’s all yours.” Stolas sighed, “I suppose it’s my fault for expecting you to take this seriously …”

Blitzø huffed and pulled himself to his feet, using his height to its full advantage as he leaned down to peer at Stolas with a piercing glare. “I’m doing my fucking best. I even tried to be polite and shit to the store owner so I wouldn’t fuck with your goddamn royal reputation, you fucking asshole , so you’re FUCKING welcome!” Blitzø scoffed and shook his head, about to march away when he spied something worrisome. A patch of blood on the floor. Imp blood. “Did you somehow hurt yourself—hurt my body —already?!”

Stolas crossed his arms and averted his gaze. “I… forgot I couldn’t fly in your body.”

Blitzø blinked blankly, flinging his arms out as he looked around for some explanation. He looked up and saw the stair banister just overhead, then groaned and facepalmed. “Christ on a stick, did you jump from there?! Why the fuck—”

“It’s not important. Loona healed it, so you won’t have to deal with it once we’re back in our own bodies.” Stolas said, dismissive.

Blitzø paced on his toes, pinching the bridge of his beak-nose-thing with a grumble. “The sooner we fix this shit, the better. By the way, why didn’t you tell me you could Medusa a bitch without even blinking?”

Stolas shrugged, “Oh, so would you have preferred I told you every possible ability I possess on our first date or our second? Oh, that’s right, we only had one and I’m starting to believe it wasn’t even that. You just wanted to get into Ozzie’s, and I was your ticket inside, wasn’t I?”

“That’s not… That’s not what we’re talking about!” Blitzø huffed, “Let’s just get this shit fixed, okay? What do we need to do, huh?”

Stolas tapped his hoof impatiently, deep in thought. After a few moments of silence, he sighed. “We need to search the Grimoire for the right spell, then you’ll need to perform it. I’ll show you how.”

Blitzø scowled, “I… don’t think that’s a good idea. Maybe we should just call Ozzie or Bee, you’re friends with them, right? I’m sure they’d—”

“I don’t want to bring a Sin into this mess. It’s bad enough you were seen in Lust wearing that, and… wait.” He blinked with sudden recognition. “Did you use my petrifying gaze on someone?”

Blitzø crossed his arms back at him, “Not on purpose .”

Chapter Text

STOLAS

˚· ✦.✧˳·˖✶ ☾ ✶˖·˳✧.✦ ·˚

With a deep groan, Stolas pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to calm himself. They were never going to get this resolved if they kept bickering like this. 

“Alright, let’s just agree that we’ve both been forced into a difficult situation, and that what has happened, happened. Now, we must move forward and fix this. ”

“Then I can fuck right on out of your life for good.” Blitzø murmured with a defeated sigh. 

“Right.” Stolas muttered back, a pang in his chest. That wasn't what he wanted , not really, but it was for the best. For both of them. At least Blitzø seemed to understand that. 

Clearing his throat, Stolas reached for the Grimoire and flipped it open to begin reading.  To his dismay, his eyes struggled with the mass of words on the pages, flicking from one paragraph to the next. He read the same chunk at least five times without retaining a single word of it, starting over from the top every time he realized it. Frustrated, he began flipping through pages faster and faster before finally shutting the book with a WHOOMPH. 

Blitzø jumped a little and scoffed. “ Christ on a canoe, the fuck did that book do to you? I thought you loved reading?”

The tease in Blitzø’s voice hardly helped with Stolas’ anger. “I do. With my own eyes. Maybe it's just… Harder with only two.”

Blitzø snorted and reached for the book, opening it and sitting to read, looking haughtily down his nose as if imitating Stolas. His playful smirk faded into a thoughtful wide-eyed curiosity. “... Huh.”

Stolas quirked a brow, his tail flicking impatiently. “Yes?”

“Well, this is a shit ton easier… But I don't think it's the extra eyes. Lemme check.” Blitzø covered his top set of eyes with one hand and continued reading, then even closed one of his remaining eyes. “Yeah, it's not the number of eyes that's the issue.”

Stolas narrowed his gaze at Blitzø, his mind turning. If it was easier in Stolas’ body regardless of the number of eyes, then that meant it wasn't an eye issue at all. He blinked as it dawned on him. “Blitzø, have you ever been tested for, well… Learning challenges?”

Blitzø bolted to his feet and loomed over him, “What the fuck are you implying?! Christ on a stick, I was raised in the fucking circus , sorry I didn't get a college-fucking-education—”

“I'm serious, Blitzø!” Stolas frowned. “Being in your body, when I try reading, it's as if the text doesn't want to be read. Your mind seems to be… Fighting against it. It's not a criticism, I assure you. I just… Well, certain things make more sense now, that's all.”

“ What things?” Blitzø scoffed. “Please, do tell.”

Stolas shifted awkwardly. Feeling this much smaller than him was affecting him more than he realized. “Well, I've always found your spelling errors endearing, but now I understand where they come from. And your dislike of reading…”

“Oh, good, you like the fact that I’m stupid , that’s exactly what I wanted to know!”

Stolas straightened and stepped towards him, but it didn’t have the same weight as it did when he was the taller one. “That is not what I said, stop twisting my words! I’m saying you may have dyslexia or some kind of dysregulated attention disorder. It’s not an insult, it’s—”

“Fine, I get it, Daddy likey dummy and I’m the dummy, can we move the fuck on!?”

Stolas threw up his hands in defeat. “You aren’t listening to me, Blitzø!” 

“Because you’ve always been sooooo good at listening.” Blitzø snapped back. “The second you decided you were done with me, you didn’t hear a goddamn thing I said, so excuse me if I don’t want to sit here criss-cross-applesauce while you tell me what’s wrong with me!”

Stolas opened his mouth to speak, but the words didn’t come. Maybe… maybe there is truth to that. I was hurt. I had a right to be hurt, but perhaps I was a little too rash when we fought.

“Oh,” Blitzø laughed bitterly, “ now you’re speechless? Now you’re listening?”

Stolas looked up at Blitzø, keeping his mouth shut. He couldn’t think of any kind of response that made sense, that would help , but now didn’t seem like the time for more wasted words. He simply nodded and held Blitzø’s gaze. 

That seemed to be the last thing Blitzø expected. He huffed, his body tense, fists clenching at his sides as he heaved in heavy breaths, as if contemplating making a run for it or punching something. “Christ, Stolas…” He huffed and began to pace back and forth, tightening his fists and shaking them free over and over again. “Do you—Do you even remember our conversation last night? Do you remember what I said or were you too far gone? Because it’s honestly hard to fuckin’ tell.”

Stolas took a deep breath, rethinking the events of the night before. After his song, everything got a bit fuzzy. He remembered that Blitzø had shown up, covered in that ridiculous stained tablecloth, remembered that they had talked, and… Well, then he remembered the other handsome imp he’d gone home with. “I… remember that we did talk, but the details are, well…”

“Figures.” Blitzø sighed and let his fists relax in defeat. “Look, the short version is, I apologized to a shit-ton of people in the shittiest ways possible, but every time I picked up my phone to start apologizing to you, it… it wasn’t right. So I came to do it in person, and, well… it was still shitty. I can’t think of a way to do it that doesn’t feel shitty. I can’t stop feeling shitty about it. So, like… I get it. That I make you feel shitty, because I make me feel like shit, and fuck, this is sounding so stupid —”

“It’s not.” Stolas said gently, watching him even though his mind wanted him to lose focus. He’d never felt such difficulty focusing, even when it mattered so much to him. Blitzø’s everything was starting to make so much more sense. It didn’t mean he still wasn’t hurt, but… well, he was beginning to understand him a little better with every passing moment. “It’s not stupid. You aren’t stupid. I don’t see you that way.”

“Doesn’t matter how you see me, doesn’t make me less of a shitstain.” Blitzø laughed darkly, leaning against the bannister with a long exhale. “So I guess no matter how I do it, it’s gonna sound stupid and fake, so I’ll keep it simple. I’m sorry, Stolas.”

Stolas finally looked away, a pang of guilt slithered through him and he shook his head. “I’m… sorry, too. I should have let you say your piece during the full moon. Maybe we wouldn’t be in this mess if I had.”

Blitzø looked down at him, his expression unreadable. After a long moment of silence, Blitzø sat down in front of the Grimoire again and opened it up. 

“So, what am I looking for in here? Body swapping? Is it that easy? I get the feeling it ain’t.”

Stolas stepped closer and sat down beside him, looking at the book as well. “Likely more complicated than that. Perhaps it’s a transfer of essence? A soul binding and unbinding, maybe… I’ll admit, most of my Grimoire is dedicated to astrology and astronomy, the study of skies and planets and prophecies. I have some basic spells for other purposes, but nothing too complex.”

“So there might not even be anything in here that can help?” Blitzø frowned, flipping through the pages.

“Perhaps not… but it’s worth exploring before we take this to anyone else. The more contained we can keep our little ‘issue’, the safer it will be for both of us.” Stolas leaned in to watch the pages move, far too aware of the physical closeness between them. He resisted the urge to lean against him, no matter how desperately he wanted the comfort. Now was hardly the time.

“Then… let’s at least check this off the list, I guess.” Blitzø sighed, turning another page.

Chapter Text

BLITZØ

❘❙❚ ⵁ ❚❙❘

Blitzø closed the Grimoire with a heavy sigh. “Well, that was two hours of our lives we’ll never get back.”

“Hm? Oh.” Stolas had wandered off to check on the plants lining the stairs. “Well, at least we’ve exhausted that avenue. Thank you for reading through it for us. I rather wish I could have, but...”

“My brain is fucked up. Got it.” Blitzø stood and started for Stolas’ bedroom, but stopped when he saw Stolas’ butler waiting in the hall. 

“Forgive me, Your Highness, but your presence is requested.”

Blitzø looked down at Stolas, expecting him to answer, but the butler ignored him entirely, his expectant gaze trained up on Blitzø. 

“Oh, shit. Right. Um. Well…” He cleared his throat, trying to copy Stolas’ accent as he overcorrected his posture, standing at awkward attention. “Who is it that requests my regal presence? And why did they not shed-yule with me in advance? I’m a very busy owl, you know.”

“Of course, your Highness. It’s your father.”

Blitzø looked down at Stolas. Seeing the shock on his own face was strange enough, but to know it came from Stolas was worrisome. He’d never seen him look that way, the crease in his upturned brows, the tight lips, the nervous swallow. Is he… afraid? Shit, who even is his father? I probably should know this. Shit. Shiiiiiit. 

“Ahem,” Blitzø coughed, resuming his Stolas impersonation. “I would like to bring this very helpful imp entrepreneur with me. Do you think my dearest papá would mind if I brought him along?”

Stolas started breathing heavier and chuckled his nervous chuckle, “I don’t think that—”

“I would advise against it, Your Highness .” The butler urged with thinly-veiled caution. 

Bitch.

“Fine. I’ll—I shall handle it alone.” Blitzø huffed, crossing his too-long arms over his chest. “How soon is he expecting me?”

“Immediately.” The butler sighed, disinterested as ever. 

Blitzø looked at Stolas blankly, who caught his gaze and cleared his throat. “Give me, ah, just a sec.” He told the butler, shoving the Grimoire at him. “How about you take this back to his—my room. Yeah? Good deal. Thanks, buddy.”

The butler scrunched his brows in confusion, holding onto the Grimoire but staring down Blitzø with obvious confusion. After a moment, he shrugged it off and started down the hall, Blitzø could practically hear his thoughts screaming “ I’m not paid enough to deal with this bullshit.” At least, that’s what he would be thinking in that position.

Blitzø faced Stolas with a sigh. “Okay, sure I met your dad when we were kids, but all I remember is that he’s fucking tall and fucking rude. What’s his deal? What do I need to know? Gimme the five second digest.”

“Oh… Oh, this is far more than a five second explanation, ah…” 

Blitzø pinched the bridge of his beak and clacked it awkwardly. His whole face still felt wrong. “Okay, fine. Should I fake sick? Demonpox? Hellbies? Wait, can you even get sick? Is that a thing?”

Stolas rubbed his face, eyes still wide and his thoughts clearly racing. “I… well, maybe, ahm…”

“Okay, plan of attack, then. Should I just let him talk at me? Smile and nod? Say ‘yes, Daddy’ to whatever he says?”

“Oh no, not that. Dear Lucifer, anything but that.” Stolas covered his eyes and shook his head feverishly. 

“Okay, then what?!”   Blitzø shouted, “Give me something to work with here!”

“I’m sorry, I’ve never had to think about it like this before, he’s—” Stolas waved his hands, struggling for words. “You should… Well, yes, let him speak, but respond respectfully, keep your back straight, don’t whine and especially don’t cry in front of him—”

“What the fuck? Why would I cry ?”

“I don’t know! You put me on the spot, I’m trying my best , Blitzø! I haven’t spoken to him in decades, what could he want now ?” Stolas pressed his back against the wall and slid down it with a groan, wrapping his tail around his legs. “Does he know ? Oh no…”

“Stolas, Stolas, breathe. ” Blitzø sighed and knelt in front of him, “Breathe, alright? It’ll be fine. I’ll keep my mouth shut, and my back straight, and it’ll all be—”

“Your car is waiting, Your Highness.” The butler said with a bored tone, edging on impatient.

“Shit.” Blitzø and Stolas sighed in tandem. 

Blitzø patted Stolas on the head, still trying to stay in character. “Don't worry about me, dear Blitzy. I have plenty of experience with disappointing father figures.”

“Just remember who he is , this is a demon King .” Stolas whispered.

Blitzø waved him off dismissively, following the butler towards the car. 

“And what would you like done about the imp, Your Highness?” 

Blitzø glanced over his shoulder, suddenly remembering just how lovely Stolas’ staff had been to him every time he'd been here. He wasn't going to be an asshat about it, but… Maybe it would be helpful for Stolas to know how the plebes were treated around here. “He is our guest… But do keep an eye on him. Can't have anything going missing, can we?”

The butler nodded, “Of course, Your Highness. I shall keep an eye on him, personally.”

Blitzø moved to reach for the door handle, but the butler opened it for him before he could even touch it. Oh shit, I could get used to this royal-ass treatment. “Thank you. How about something strong to drink for the ride to Daddy's place, hmm? A little ‘hair of the dog’ to keep me sharp.”

“The bar is stocked with your favorites, Your Highness.” The butler slipped into the car and pressed a hidden button, and with a hiss a compartment opened, filled with fancy-ass bottles nestled in ice like little penguins taking a cold nap. 

“That’s what I’m talkin’ about…” 

The door closed, leaving him alone in the cab as he grabbed a bottle of something blue and fun-looking, popped the cork, and took a long swig. The imp chauffeur put the car into motion, though Blitzø could barely feel it, the ride was smooth as fucking butter on a Wrathian roof in a Hellfire storm. 
Blitzø removed the tacky tee shirt and pulled on the provided finery. It was easier to do without horns in the way, but harder than expected with such long, lanky limbs going every which way.
His phone let out a scream and he picked it up with a little huff, unlocking it with a feathery finger as he sipped more of the blue stuff right from the bottle. A text from Stolas awaited him:

“His name is Paimon. Address him as ‘Father’ if anything, but best not to at all.”

“so i shoodnt sit on his lap n ask him 4 pancakes? ther gos my plan”

“Please take this serriously.”

“*seriously."

“chil ur tits, i gotthis”

“Update me the moment you safely can, please.”

“yup”

Blitzø took a long swig of the blue stuff and sighed, embracing the light buzz that started to set in. He needed it to balance it all out. He wasn’t going to fuck this up. Not intentionally, of course. He really did plan to give it his best effort. Maybe they were over, but he didn’t want to fuck Stolas’ life up any more than he already had. 

Hell… maybe I can make it a little better. 

Before long the car came to a gentle stop. The anxiety Blitzø had shoved down deep suddenly bubbled up within him and he swallowed the knot rising in his throat. 

Show time.

Fuck.

Chapter Text

BLITZØ

❘❙❚ ⵁ ❚❙❘

Blitzø reached for the door handle, but once again the servants beat him to it. Trying to shake the awkward tension and all-too-real imposter syndrome setting off alarms in his head, Blitzø straightened his back, lifted his chin, and focused his eyes straight ahead. He had to sell this. It was going to be the only performance in his life that actually mattered—it had to be his best.

The attendants kept their eyes down, not a single one attempted eye contact with him, which he was rather grateful for. At least they wouldn't see the fear behind his eyes.

Paimon, however, would probably see right through it. 

He won't. That's not a fucking option. Saddle up, motherfucker, no turning back now. 

Blitzø strode into the grand foyer, so gilded and opulent that it made Stolas’ home look like a modest cabin. Imposter alarms continued blasting in his head, but Blitzø just kept moving, following a silent butler whose hooves quietly tapped across the marble floor ahead of him. 

“What's your name?” Blitzø asked suddenly, too panicked to stay quiet.

The butler didn't respond for a moment, but finally looked over his shoulder with a suspicious eyebrow quirked. “... Me, Your Highness?”

Blitzø chuckled a little, shaking his head. “Yeah. Sorry, I've probably never asked, have I?”

The butler shook his head slowly, “No. I—it's Korrik, Your Highness.” He hesitated as Blitzø continued watching him, only a few steps behind as they entered a long, red hallway. “Please forgive my being forward, but… Have I done something to offend?”

Blitzø blinked and frowned, tilting his head to one side and putting his hands on his hips. “What the—no, no. I just wanted to know. Has no one in this family ever asked for your name without it meaning trouble?”

Korrik swallowed and quickly regained his composure, facing forward with his posture so straight it looked like he had a yardstick up his ass. “It's—I am nothing but grateful to be working at His Majesty’s estate. This is one of the most coveted positions in Hell for an imp like me, I'm proud to be of service.”

Blitzø sighed and pinched his beak. That was still weird. “Listen, forget I said anything. I'm not trying to get you in trouble. Just trying to get to know someone so I won't feel so…” Blitzø twisted his lips, unsure if he really should be saying any more. He had to play the part. Why does the universe seem Heaven-bent on making me PERFORM after I gave up showbiz? “You're doing quite well at your job, I was thinking of giving you a commendation to my Da-Father, that's all.” He cleared his throat, imagining a stick up his own ass to try and keep Stolas’ ridiculously good posture up.

He watched the tension melt away from Korrik’s shoulders ever so slightly, heard a slight smile in his voice that he seemed to be trying to stifle. “Thank you, Your Highness. Please don't trouble yourself on my account, but it is appreciated nonetheless.”

Blitzø smirked a little, taking the little victory. Might be the only one I get today.  

His phone shrieked and he cursed to himself, picking it out of his pocket and silencing it before checking the latest text. 

“Maybe we should call this off, it’s not too late to turn back, is it? I can do damage control with my Father once we’ve resolved our little ‘problem’, so why don’t you come back for now? Unless you’re with him now? Please, tell me you aren’t…”

Blitzø took a deep breath as he continued following Korrik down the hall, it would look far too suspicious to turn back now. Just ahead were enormous gilded doors with all kinds of magical looking symbols on it. Besides, he had to make good on his promise of a good word for the butler. 

“alredy inside, to late. got a idea, pick up and mute urself”

Blitzø pressed a button to call Stolas, then put the phone in his vest pocket, on speaker. This way, Stolas could listen in and at least not torture himself with what ifs while he waited, and Blitzø… well, the pressure was on to do this flawlessly.

The giant doors opened from inside and Blitzø strode forward, imaginary stick in his ass keeping him in a proper posture despite how unnatural it felt to him. Fear sent shivers up and down his spine, fluttering through the feathers at the back of his neck, which he quickly smoothed down with as casual a movement as he could. 

The demon King sat upon his throne, a dark mass of writhing black energy that suddenly began to shape itself into a number of equally regal forms. Finally, the form settled on that of an impossibly tall horned owl. Even if Blitzø hadn’t met him in the past, there was no question as to who stood before him. 

Well, at least this body is a lot harder to kill.

Blitzø sucked in a breath and bowed before the demon, deep and smooth. Nailed it.  

“Oh, so you do remember that you’re demon royalty, now? Isn’t that swell.” Paimon’s mocking tone echoed across the chamber, punctuated by the steady clack of his claws against the marble floor.  

Straightening up, Blitzø tried to keep his face as unreadable as possible. Less is more. Don’t talk unless you abso-FUCKING-lutely have to. He cleared his throat, “Whatever do you mean?”

Paimon’s eyes narrowed as he scoffed at his ‘son’, slowly pacing toward him like a giant hellcat stalking prey. He began to circle Blitzø, eyes unblinking and unflinchingly trained on him as he took slow, measured steps. “You’ve done your duties well enough, I will give you that. Never has a full moon passed when you haven’t made your appearances, and you did sire your precautionary heir, somehow.” He added with an audible roll of his eyes and began to slowly clap his hands. “The bare fucking minimum. Bravo.

“I was willing to overlook your divorce, these things do happen, of course, but your lack of discretion is another thing entirely.”

That’s it. Just let him talk at you. If he’s anything like my shitstain of a dad, he’ll get it out of his system and I’ll say some polite bullshit and that’s that.

“First, I hear word that my granddaughter has been traipsing around the human world without either a disguise or an escort, then I come to find that it’s because she had stolen your Grimoire, which she clearly cannot properly use, given that she could have easily conjured herself a human disguise if she did… Now, I understand she’s in her teen years, which can be quite unruly if not given a firm hand from the very beginning, which I hardly expected from you.” Paimon laughed cruelly and waved a hand, “But I had hoped that your wife would manage to make up for what you lack in that department. A shame, really. She’s had nothing but horrible things to say about you, as I’m sure you’re aware.”

Blitzø clenched his fists at his side, focusing on his breathing to keep from saying something he definitely shouldn’t. This motherfucking CUNT NUGGET. If he wasn’t a fucking demon King, I’d come back here with the team after this is over and end his fucking—

“And then there’s the matter of the imp.” Paimon added in a disappointed, disgusted tone. He even shuddered, shaking his head. “Now, it’s no shame to want a little something extra piece on the side every now and then,” Paimon patted Korrik’s head with a slimy smirk as he passed by him, and the imp kept his eyes firmly on the marble flooring, showing no reaction other than the subtle way his tail wrapped around his ankles. “The problem lies, again, with discretion. Rumors are one thing, easily dismissed, threatened away, or even bought out. Rumors, we can handle. What makes for a very inconvenient challenge is seeing you on the front page of a publication sharing a table with your little fucktoy.” 

Paimon flicked his wrist and with a magic flourish, a newspaper from Lust appeared in his hand, and indeed, there was Blitzø and Stolas right on page one. Blitzø flushed and ground his beak to try and keep his silence, which was becoming far too difficult. Remembering that Stolas was listening, assuming he did as Blitzø suggested, was a major incentive to keep his trap fucking shut.

“Nothing to say for yourself?” Paimon stopped his vulturesque circling and stood just in front of Blitzø, straightening to his full frightening height. 

Nothing to say for yourself? Yeah, that’s what I thought. Worthless little piece of—

Blitzø fought off the stubborn memory of his own father. How many times had he stood in front of his own father like this, just waiting for him to get to the fucking point while he studied his feet, learning to loathe every part of himself so thoroughly that he would never forget it… His eyes burned suddenly, the feeling had risen in him before he could even recognize what it was. Don’t cry. You can’t fucking cry in front of him, it’s like the ONE thing Stolas told you, idiot! He closed his eyes tightly to try and convince them to shut off the damn waterworks. 

“Aww, does the little owlet need a hug? Did Daddy hurt your little feelings?”

Blitzø forced his eyes open just in time to see Paimon’s swift backhand before it struck him, sending him back several steps. 

“Grow the fuck up. You are a Prince of Hell, you are my son, and you are an utter disgrace. I gave you everything you could have ever possibly wanted! You had servants, riches beyond measure, knowledge of the cosmos at your fingertips, and this is how you repay me? This his how you treat the entire Ars Goetia, as a joke?” Paimon loomed over him and lashed out again, sending Blitzø into a nearby column. 

He pressed his hand against the cool stone to try and steady himself, his other covering the most recent welt that would surely bruise if he was in his own body. 

“Because when I see you galavanting around with this rodent,” Paimon jabbed his finger at the image of Blitzø on the newspaper. “I can’t help but assume that this is all just one big laugh to you. Then, oh, it just keeps getting better and better …” Paimon sneered bitterly.“ Then, your ice-queen of a brother-in-law sends me a photo of you strolling around Lust this morning, wearing practically nothing, and slouching like a goddamned janitor?! And to add the final garnish to this flaming feast of bullshit, you haven’t said a single word to your defense, so tell me why I shouldn’t banish you this instant and finish raising your daughter myself to ensure she doesn’t end up like you? Because that’s beginning to sound like the only solution that makes any sense to me.”

Blitzø’s eyes widened as he took in the stakes of this interaction. This wasn’t just a slap on the wrist, this was do or die. Possibly literally. Octavia was at stake, not just Stolas himself. He steeled his nerves and straightened himself up, wiping the blood from his mouth as he squared off against Paimon.

“Sir…” Blitzø began carefully, clasping his hands behind his back to keep himself from throwing a punch he knew he would regret. “The imp is no longer a concern. I have broken ties with him, permanently.”

“Lovely. Would you like a goddamned trophy?” Paimon glared down at him, unimpressed.

“No, sir.” Blitzø said firmly, keeping his eyes trained on the King no matter how much he wanted to look away. He had to convince him. “But I would like you to listen to me.”

That earned a quirk of an eyebrow from Paimon. “Very well. Speak, since you’ve remembered how.”

Blitzø’s heart pounded in his chest, his whole body practically buzzing with tension. He racked his brain for anything that seemed like it would appease him, anything that would fix this fucking mess he’d made. After all, this was his mess. Most of it, at least. 

“As my ex-wife and I had our… struggles, I lost sight of myself, of my station. The imp was a welcome distraction at the time, but I do regret that it became so… public. I can assure you, my focus will be entirely on my duties and my daughter from this moment on.”

“And how do you expect me to believe that? You’re only sorry you got caught.” Paimon growled low in his chest, eyes narrowed. “Your word means less than my servants’ at this point, son.”

Blitzø’s throat grew tight as he searched his mind for ideas, for any kind of solution that might placate the royal-ass father-of-the-year in front of him. 

An idea sprang to mind. The only one so far that made sense, but fuck, it wasn’t good for him. Very not good for him. Good for Stolas, though. And Octavia. It wasn’t like he had much else to bargain with except this, and he knew it. Blitzø slipped a hand in his pocket and turned off his phone. Stolas didn’t need to know this part, he only needed to know that everything would be okay. With a deep breath and a hollow pit in his stomach, he knelt down on one knee and stared up at the demon King.

“In apology for the shame I’ve brought our family, I offer that same imp into your service, to do with whatever you please. I hope you’ll accept, Father.”

Paimon raised both his brows as he considered. “Well… I’m glad to see that you remember their place as well as yours. Let this serve as a lesson and a final warning. Your apology is accepted. Have him sent here as soon as you can make the arrangements.” The demon King retreated to his throne, sending a half-hearted wave of his hand over his shoulder as dismissal to his son. 

Heart pounding, hands shaking, Blitzø forced himself to turn back to the gilded double doors he’d entered through and stalk down the hall. If he hadn’t turned off his phone entirely, he was sure it would be ringing off the hook.

Korrik ignored him entirely on the walk back, and Blitzø realized he’d never made good on that promise, either. I really am SHIT at keeping promises. But I’ll keep this one. 

Once he was back in the car, he opened the cooler of drinks and drank the strongest looking one halfway down before coming up for air. 

First, we fix the body issue, then I’ll follow through with King Douche... One thing at a time. Until then, I’m emptying this mother-fucking cooler.

Chapter Text

STOLAS

˚· ✦.✧˳·˖✶ ☾ ✶˖·˳✧.✦ ·˚

Stolas paced in front of the front doors to his estate, his tail lashing back and forth with anxious agitation. The call had cut out at exactly the wrong time. He didn’t think his father would kill him, but he had threatened banishment , threatened to take Via from him, and then Stolas had heard nothing but the sound of the call being disconnected. He’d called him back, what, sixteen times by now? But it went straight to voicemail each and every time. Loona had tried her best to reassure him that everything would be fine, but he couldn’t believe that until he saw Blitzø with his own eyes and heard from him directly. 

Finally, his chauffeur pulled languidly up the drive and it was all Stolas could do to keep himself from rushing out to the car right then and there. If the car was returning home, it wasn’t going to be alone. 

Most likely.

He clenched his fists so tight that they ached, eyes glued to the back door as his butler stepped forward and opened it. Relief flooded his mind and body as he saw his own body within, quite alive and well, but a frown soured his lips as Blitzø stumbled out of the car with a bottle in hand. He spied several empty ones within the cab.

“What the hell happened? I’ve been waiting her with no idea whether you were alive or banished or—”

“Shhhhhhhh. Sh.” Blitzø held up a hand as he neared him, then patted his head as he passed by. “All fine, ‘s aaaaall fine. Sorry, phone died. I convinced him we ended shit and he’s convinced. Just gotta lay low for a bit, stay outta the headlines and we’re gooooolden.” He waved a hand and strode in through the front door as the butler opened it for him. He moved so much faster, Stolas had to hurry to catch up on his far shorter legs. 

“Things with him are rarely so simple. What did you say to convince him? It sounded like he struck you . Twice. You can’t just—Stop walking away from me!” Stolas all but shouted. 

Blitzø snorted and turned to look over his shoulder at him. “Hard to keep up with my long legs, innit, biiiitch?” He stretched out a long, clawed foot and leaned back against the stair's baluster in a pose that looked far more like that of a stripper than a royal.

“Will you stop ? We need to have a serious discussion about this! I need to know exactly what was said, what the terms for his forgiveness were and—”

“Can’t you just fuckin’ trust me ?” Blitzø groaned and sank against the side of the stairs until he plopped on the ground. “I said it’s fiiine. I wouldn’t say it was fine if it wasn’t fine. Via’s fine, you’re fine, everything’s fucking PEACHY.”

“Then why are you so thoroughly wasted if everything is perfectly ‘fine’?” Stolas challenged, staring him down now that they were closer to eye level again. “ You are not fine, so I am not fine. He struck you, Bl-” Stolas remembered his butler was likely close by and gritted his teeth. “He struck you.”

Blitzø let out a cackle and threw his head back. “Oh, Christ… you think that’s what fucked me up? That was not even close to my first time getting backhanded by a father figure. Not even fuckin’ close.”

Stolas frowned, crossing his arms. “... You never told me about your father.”

Blitzø rolled his eyes, “Puh-LEASE, like you ever asked. I mean, sharing daddy issues is super romantic and all, it’s totally riiiiight at the top of my list of conversation topics.”

“Don’t you dare pretend like I never asked about you, never tried to get to know you!” Stolas glowered, “I tried . Many times. In conversation, in texts, every way I could think of, but you refused to let me in. You’d… blow it off with a joke, or change the subject, or not even respond at all.”

Blitzø grumbled and let his head fall to his shoulder, “Can we talk about this later? Or never? I’m too drunk for this shit.”

“And whose fault is that?” Stolas threw his hands up and spun on his hoof, tail lashing angrily behind him. “Fine. No more talk of that, but I need your word… Whatever was said between you and my father, I need you to swear to me that it is resolved. That Via and I are safe from his intervention. Are you sober enough for that at least?”

Blitzø languidly straightened himself up, more serpentine than avian. He rested his head back against the baluster again and sighed heavily. “Yeah. Yeah, it’s over. He won’t come after you or Via as long as you keep being your perfectly proper princely self. Okay? I swear on my life.”

Stolas watched his expression sober, but his expression was unreadable. Still, he had the promise he’d asked for, and he knew Blitzø wouldn’t lie about something so important. He knew the importance of caring for a daughter. “Thank you. How about you get to bed and sleep this off. I should probably make an appearance at I.M.P., if only to put worried minds at ease. Hm?”

Blitzø rubbed his face with a groan. “I gueeeessssss… But you aren’t going any any fuckin’ missions, got me? Not even close. You can’t even make it through your own fuckin’ house without breaking something, so there’s NO fuckin’ way you’re leaving that office. Got it?”

Stolas pressed his lips together and tapped a finger to them. “That seems fair. Shall I tell them of our predicament? Perhaps they could help. They are quite capable, and I certainly couldn’t fool Loona, I doubt I could be convincing enough for them. You always were the better actor, after all.”

“Don’t remind me…” Blitzø pulled himself up to his feet, though not without effort. “Fine. Bring M and M up to speed and see if they can help. But no—”

“Missions. Understood. I won’t put this body in any danger.” Stolas agreed. 

“Good. Now what’s the butler’s name?” Blitzø started snapping in the air, “Hey Jeeves? Winston? Aaaaallllfred?” The butler appeared before Blitzø even finished trying out names.

“What do you need, Your Majesty?”

Stolas blinked back at them both, thinking back. His butler was so attentive, he’d never had to call him by name. But had he truly never even asked? He tracked his memories, trying to find any instance of learning the names of the imps who worked for him, but all that came to mind were the times he’d commanded them, the times they’d served him, and even times he’d been, admittedly, rather rude to them. Something for me to work on, I suppose. 

In the time Stolas had become lost in his thoughts, his butler was already helping Blitzø up the stairs. Loona had begun to descend them at the same time, pausing to glance at the drunken Blitzø on her way down. 

“I’m a little impressed.” She snorted as she trotted down to the ground floor beside Stolas. “He doesn’t fuck himself up that badly for just anyone.”

Stolas rubbed his face with a heavy sigh. “I don’t mean to. And frankly, this time I believe the credit goes more directly to my father.”

“Ah, daddy issues. Makes sense.” She shrugged. “So, what’s the plan then? He looks like he needs to sleep that off, but what are we doing with you until then?”

Stolas gestured to the door. “We are going to I.M.P. to see if Millie or Moxxie have any idea how to resolve our little ‘problem’.”

“Don’t you have any powerful friends we could ask?” Loona raised a brow. “I mean, sure the dumbass twins could do some research, but those Goetia fuckers are powerful as fuck .”

Stolas started out the door and towards the van, noticing that his people had parked it as out of sight as possible, hidden behind some tall bushes. “My family members are… well, yes. They are powerful, but given the conversation Blitzø just had with my father, reaching out to any of them would be a dangerous move. We can’t draw any attention to this, he’s already furious with me for the publicity attached to our attempt at a relationship, if you can even call it that. Best to start small, and with those we trust.”

“If you say so.” Loona shrugged.

˚· ✦.✧˳·˖✶ ☾ ✶˖·˳✧.✦ ·˚

“Boss!” Millie’s cheerful exclamation greeted Stolas as he walked into the office behind Loona. “We were just sayin’ how we weren’t sure if we’d see ya today. Heard ya had a tough night.”

“You don’t have to talk about it, sir.” Moxxie added, jumping to his feet from where he’d been sitting on the couch. “But we’re ready to—”

“It’s not him, fuckwads.” Loona rolled her eyes and plopped herself behind the desk, pulling out her phone.

Stolas sighed, “She’s right. Hello, I, ah, suppose I should explain… Obviously, I may look like Blitzø, but it’s actually—”

“Stolas?!” The couple guessed in unison, eyes wide.

He stared back, impressed. “How did you guess it was me?”

“Well, first of all,” Moxxie stepped closer, inspecting him. “You sound nothing like Blitzø, you use proper grammar, courtesy, and absolutely zero innuendos or foul language. Second, your posture is a dead giveaway.” 

“Then there’s the accent .” Millie added in her Wrathian twang, tapping a dagger against her lips as she looked him over, hip cocked. 

“Ah, right.” Stolas clasped his hands behind him. “Well, you are correct, obviously. Blitzø is currently in my body, and we’re unsure precisely how it happened. He, and I, thought you both might be able to help us find a solution. My Grimoire had no such spells, or reversals, unfortunately.”

“Well, why don’tcha ask that clown friend’a yours? Or, Blitzø’s, I mean. He’s awful close with Asmodeus, and all, I’m sure he’s got plenty of magic that’d do the trick.”

Stolas hesitated. “I don’t wish to involve anyone else if we can help it. My father is already within a breath of banishing me if I step out of line. He’s not aware of this magical mess, and it’s vital that we keep it that way. I’m certain he’s watching my every move, so I can’t take any risks. ”

“You as in Stolas , right?” Moxxie added, “Not Blitzø. Which is who you look like right now. Which means… you can actually move rather freely right now.”
Stolas hesitated, but he couldn’t deny the logic in that. “Technically, that is true, but if we can resolve this without anyone of note suspecting, that would be… ideal.”

“Understood, sir—I mean, Your Highness.” Moxxie added a little unsure bow.

“No need for that, here.” Stolas assured him. “Simply ‘Stolas’ is perfectly fine.”

“Stolas, then.” Millie smiled and nodded. “Alright, I guess we better get movin’. Anything… specific we’re lookin’ for?”

Stolas thought for a moment, his tail flicking as he thought through the options. His thoughts were racing, possibilities swarming, bobbing and weaving. He was used to far more order with his thoughts than this, decisive and organized. Logical. 

“Well… it happened last night as we slept, but not anywhere near one another, so the spell must have been done remotely. To do so, it would require something personal from both of us. If you can narrow down the list of people Blitzø has interacted directly with, in the last week or so, I’ll compile a list of those in my life that may have both ability and motive. That should give us a solid start.”

“You got it, boss!” Millie saluted with a smile.

“We’re on it, sir!” Moxxie added, “You stay here with Loona and we’ll report back. Low profile probably is the best call, in this case. And Loona will keep you safe if anything happens!”

All three imps looked over at the hellhound, who didn’t once look up from her phone, her feet propped up on the desk.

“Right. Yes. Well, we should get to it, shouldn’t we?” Stolas forced a smile and nodded his thanks to Millie and Moxxie, then stepped into Blitzø’s office and closed the door behind him. He had to organize his thoughts somehow, and he couldn’t do that without a little peace and quiet. Pausing once the silence settled, Stolas looked around the office. He’d never taken much time to do that, and hadn’t spent all that much time here at all, if he was honest. 

To his right, three framed playing cards splattered in blood, torn in places: all aces. A quick glance around the room and he found the missing ace, also framed, torn, and bloodstained. Surely there was a story there, one he would never have known to ask about.

No, nothing to ask about. We’re through. We’ve both made that quite clear at this point. He sighed and started for the desk, a poster just behind it catching his eye. 

“The Incredible Blitzo! One-Night Only!” 

It sported a black and white image of Blitzø’s head, the poster seemed either cheaply made or hand-drawn, but by someone admittedly better at art than Blitzø himself, if Stolas had to guess. 

Then there was the “Wild and Free” horse poster across the room, but that was no surprise. Beside the desk chair, two framed circus tickets hung near a calendar that hadn’t been updated for at least a few months.

So many mysteries, and yet all too late. Stolas thought to himself as he looked at Blitzø’s chair with a deep melancholy. I would have loved to know every story behind these, every struggle, every victory. Why couldn’t you let me in?  In his mind's eye, he watched as Blitzø led him around the office, sharing the tales behind each of his curios, some proudly, others with his endearing bashful avoidance, but sharing nonetheless. 

Stolas banished the visions and leaned on the desk, his fingers splayed over the worn wood. 

Enough brooding. We must find the answer to this mystery and get back into our proper bodies. 

Stolas grabbed a coffee-stained notebook and opened it to a blank page to start writing down names.

Stella - Motive, but no direct means.

Andrealphus - Assisting Stella?

Striker - Motive, but no magic. Resourceful, not to be underestimated.

It wasn’t much, but it was a start. Now, the question was, how to look into them without attracting any unwanted attention? That part would be much more difficult. 

Chapter Text

STOLAS

˚· ✦.✧˳·˖✶ ☾ ✶˖·˳✧.✦ ·˚

After listing out his enemies, Stolas turned to the rather depressing task of listing out the people in his life he could trust. 

The list was short.

Even within his family, there were precious few siblings or cousins he even knew past their name and abilities, much less if they were trustworthy. Better to simply assume any family would end up on the ‘Suspect’ side, to be safe. 

Stolas’ head had only grown heavier and heavier since he’d sat down. He dropped the heavy thing into his hands with a deep sigh, giving his neck a break. All the lights seemed too bright, the sounds too loud, and even the buzz of electricity had become almost deafening, all creating a pressure and pain within his head that made him want to curl up under the desk until it went away. 

Just as he was seriously contemplating doing just that, the door to the office burst open and he jumped, nearly falling out of his chair in the process. “We’re-ah-not accepting new customers today, sorry—”

“Good, because I am not one.” A familiar voice accompanied by a jingle of little bells pulled Stolas out of his maelstrom of pain just enough to snap back to reality.  

“Fizzarolli?” 

“Whoa-ho-ho, breaking out the full name, huh? What, am I in trouble or something?” The ex-jester cackled and started poking at the framed playing cards, his tail snaking behind him with a playful flicking tip. Stolas hadn’t recognized him as quickly when he wasn’t in full jester gear.

Stolas rose to his feet, off-balance and still partially blinded by the fluorescence. “Sorry, just, ah, dealing with a—”

“Ahhh, that’s your migraine face. I’d know it anywhere. Lucky for you ,” Fizz pulled out a little vial of something pink and tossed it to him. “I tend to carry around some premium Painslayer from Sloth these days. Just the thing for those pesky bastards. Here, all yours.”

Stolas fumbled to catch the vial and looked at it for a moment before drinking it down in one go. Anything to get rid of this blinding pain… He swallowed, making a face at the strangely sweet flavor on his tongue. He leaned over the desk and planted his hands on it, breathing deeply as the little potion worked its literal magic. The pain faded, the lights dimmed, the sound faded away and he could focus again. “Oh… That is perfect . Thank you, Fizz. Thank you.” 

Stolas collapsed in the chair again with a deep sigh.

Fizzarolli took a step closer, his hands clasped behind his back innocently as he looked a little closer at the imp in front of him. “Long day? You seem… off.”

Stolas swallowed, his eyes darting as he searched for something that would come off more Blitzø-ish. “Just the, ah, migra—that. Yeah.” He’d already forgotten the word. “I’ll be myself again in no time, thanks to you, old pal.”

Fizz eyed him suspiciously. He crossed his arms over his chest. “Uh… huh.” 

Stolas rubbed the back of his neck and tried to slouch a little more, hoping to sell it. “Yeah, sorry, today just isn’t really the best day for a visit…”

Sauntering closer, Fizz looking him over with an uncomfortable amount of scrutiny, the bells on the ends of his hat jingling lightly. “There’s something funny going on here. And trust me, I know funny .”

Stolas looked at the hat, attention drawn to the little bells. He hadn’t seen him in person since the time he’d spent with Asmodeus during the kidnapping/blackmail situation, and come to think of it, he’d never seen him not in costume. He’d caught a glimpse of Mammon’s disaster-piece of a show, including Fizzarolli’s epic resignation, and there was just one piece that still left him curious. “So, I’ve been wondering…” Stolas cleared his throat, hoping to change the subject. “Why do you still wear the hat? You’re not officially a jester anymore, so....”

Fizzarolli’s expression changed almost instantly and Stolas realized he must have made some kind of mistake. He narrowed his eyes and flattened his palms on the desk, staring Stolas down.

“You’re not Blitzø.”

Stolas swallowed, “Wh-what do you mean?” He chuckled uneasily, “Of course it’s me.”

“Okay, I’m not fucking stupid.” Fizz rolled his eyes and used his leg prosthetics to make himself taller, looking down at him. “First of all, you haven’t said ‘fuck’ once, even during a migraine. Second, Blitzø would never ask that question . You might as well come clean, you’re not gonna fucking fool me. Where is Blitzø? Is he safe? Do I need to call Ozzie? He’s riiiiight outside...”

“Don’t call Asmodeus, please—” Stolas stood and held up his hands. “It’s… I’m Stolas. Blitzø is fine, just sleeping off the after effects of drinking my entire car bar. He’s in my body, as you can probably guess, but we’re… well, we’re trying to resolve this little issue.”

“Not exactly what I’d call ‘little’, but fair enough.” Fizz backed down to his typical height and shook his head with a laugh. “Hoooly shit. This is wild. I knew something was off with your posture, first off, but I figured hey, the guy’s got a migraine, he’s never really himself when he’s dealing with those, but daaaamn. So, what’s it like? Having fun seeing how the 99% live?” He propped his head on his hands with a wide-eyed blink and a shit-eating grin.

Stolas stepped out from behind the desk, pacing the dirty carpeted floor. “Well, I have seen things from a new perspective, but mostly we’ve been in crisis-mode since we awoke.”

“So you woke up like this? Hashtag no-filter?”

Stolas blinked, “I don’t understand what you mean, but… yes. We woke up in one another’s bodies. That’s about all I know. We’ve scoured my Grimoire but had no luck there, so I’ve enlisted I.M.P. to help in our search.”

Fizzarolli nodded slowly, tapping a robotic finger to his lips in thought. “Well, I could ask the big guy for a hand…”

“No! No,” Stolas said quickly, “I don’t want to trouble him, I would much rather keep this little issue contained and once we find a solution, or it wears off, we can go on living our lives and forget it ever happened. Besides, it’s quite vital that I stay firmly out of the headlines for the foreseeable future.”

“Well, that should be easy, considering you aren’t you right now. The papers don’t give a shit about Blitzø unless he’s with you.” Fizz snorted and slung his arm around Stolas’ shoulders. “Come oooon, let’s go get some lunch. Have you eaten today? You can’t just stay here alone obsessing over this.”

“I’m quite sure I can!”

“Rephrasing: I will not let you stay up alone and obsess over this shit. Everything’s gonna work out, okay Your Highness?” Fizz patted Stolas on the chest and straightened his collar. He paused and pulled away with a little awkward cough, realizing how familiar he was getting with him. “Sorry. Just hard to separate in my head that it’s not Blitzø, yanno? Heh. Alllllright, let’s order in. You like tacos? Let’s get tacos.” 

˚· ✦.✧˳·˖✶ ☾ ✶˖·˳✧.✦ ·˚

Several delectable tacos into lunch, and Stolas had a thorough understanding of why Fizzarolli was not only a crowd favorite, but how he’d won the heart of the very embodiment of Lust. He was infectiously genuine, joyful, kind, and hopeful in a way that was quite often impossible to find in Hell. His grin was as contagious as Hellbies and his laugh even moreso. It was no wonder Mammon was so attached to him as a performer, and to see why Asmodeus was infatuated with him was no stretch at all. He was, simply put, charming as Hell.

He found himself relaxing more with every minute spent in Fizzarolli’s company, unwinding and letting the stresses and concerns of the day dissolve into sensible chuckles and outright laughter, a rare occurrence for Stolas.

As another peal of laughs faded into the air, a pause settled between the two until Fizz sat himself on the corner of Blitzø’s desk and kicked his legs out with a little stretch. “Sooo… last I heard, Blitzø was on his way to your place with a sackful of top-shelf kinky shit, and now you two are on the outs. What the hell happened? I mean, I know it’s none of my business, but also, it kinda is. Plus, maybe I can help!”

Stolas sighed, the buzz of joy quickly fading. “I don’t think there’s anything to be done, aside from fixing this magical mess and going our separate ways.”

Fizzarolli frowned and crossed his arms, “Really? You two have issues, sure, but you’re already gonna just throw in the towel?”

Stolas sighed and shrugged, launching into the tale of the Full Moon and the events that followed. “I thought freeing him of our deal would open the path to true affection, give us a chance to explore our relationship on equal footing, unfettered. Clearly, I was wrong. He sees me as some kind of monster, and that… that hurts .”

Fizzarolli shrugged back and leaned back on his palms, gazing over his shoulder at Stolas. “You’re allowed to be hurt. So’s he. You want my honest opinion?”

Stolas neatly popped the final bite of taco in his mouth, nodding shyly. It couldn’t hurt to hear him out. Not like there’s much else for me to do at the moment.

“Okay, so…” Fizz steepled his fingers and took a deep breath. “With all due respect, you’re both absolute shit at communicating.” 

Stolas frowned and leaned back in the office chair. “I thought I communicated quite well during our exchange. I told him the terms had changed, I expressed my intent, I gave him the freedom he deserves, I—” He dropped his head into his hand with a heavy sigh. “Frankly, I’m not sure what I could have done differently.”

Fizz spun around and propped his feet up on the other end of the desk, his tail curled up and flicked around as he thought on his answer. “Well… sounds like you shared your perspective, sure. What you gotta understand about Blitzø, though, is he’s pretty direct about a lot of shit, but when it comes to anything remotely emotional, it takes a lot to get him to open up, yanno? His dad, well… Not really my story to tell, but he’s always had plenty of voices in his head telling him he isn’t worth shit, and it takes a lot to drown them out. What did he say during all this?”

Stolas recounted what he remembered from that night, which was most of it. His mind wasn’t as sharp as he was accustomed to, in Blitzø’s body, but that night wouldn’t leave his memory any time soon. “First, he treated it like it was a… a roleplay scenario, a joke. Then, he kept yelling at me about how I looked down on him for being an imp, but… I never thought of him as anything but equal.”

Fizzarolli tapped his lips with a finger, tilting his head to and fro. “Weeeelll, when I talked to him about you the first time, it sounded like you’d been giving him all kinds of attention, right? Asking him about his day, trying to engage, and all that jazz, but he was convinced it was only just sex. He’s stubborn like that, always has been.”

“But what else could I even do ?” Stolas flopped back against the office chair and let it spin lazily in a long circle. “I’ve done everything I can to express my intentions with him. What am I to do, wait around forever for him to realize I’ve been honest with him? I have all of the time in the world to wait, but he doesn’t. Only one of us is immortal.”

Fizz looked away at that, his shoulders sagging a little as his gaze went soft, distant. 

“Oh, I—” Stolas swallowed, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bring up—”

“It’s fine,” Fizz chuckled softly. “It’s not like we haven’t had that talk a dozen times, Ozzie and me.”

“How did you two manage to do it? To be together, despite all your differences?” Stolas looked up at him with an earnest, begging gaze, desperate to understand. Despite it all, I can’t seem to stop hoping. Wanting. Perhaps that’s my folly, my fatal flaw. Blitzø. I can’t escape him, especially now. 

“Ozzie and me, well…” Fizz chuckled, warming at the memories swimming behind his eyes. “I had just signed with Mammon when the accident happened, so when I needed prosthetics, Mammon called Ozzie to get me back on my feet.”

“The accident?” Stolas frowned, “I assumed you were… well, it’s not my business. Sorry. Please, continue.”

Fizz raised a brow, then sighed. “Might not be a bad idea to ask Blitzø about what happened. He was… involved. That’s what drove us apart for so long, but probably better if you hear it from him, not me. Anyways, Ozzie came by to fit me for the prosthetics, and we got to talking, flirting, eventually more than flirting , if you get my drift, heh… But he never treated me with pity. Never looked at me like I was broken, or lesser than. He was empathetic when I was in pain, of course, but . I… never really had that in my life. No parents, just Blitzø’s dad, but he was a money-grubbing drunk. Still is, I assume. Blitzø was the only person I really gave a shit about until then, and after the accident, I was told he never came. It was a lie, I found out, but it still hurt like a bitch. I thought I was alone in the world all over again, but Ozzie… he sees me. Through the clown bullshit, through my brave face, even when I was at my absolute worst , he’s always seen right through it.”

Stolas rested a hand over his heart, trying to ignore the ache in his chest. “I… there’s nothing more I would love than to be seen like that. I keep telling myself I just want someone to see me that way, but I know the truth is that all I want is him .” He dropped his head in his hands, in Blitzø’s hands, and closed his eyes. Whoever did this must really have wanted to hurt me, this is absolute torture. All I wanted was to break free… wasn’t it? Do I still want that? Stolas knew the answer, and he’d already said it aloud, but still his mind rebelled against it.

The silence that followed his confession filled Stolas with restless anxiety. He craved validation, comfort, even just a smile and nod, but when he saw Fizz with a raised brow and a lopsided frown, it only confused him more. “What? Did I say something wrong?”

Fizz hissed through his teeth and rubbed the back of his neck. “Weeeelll… if you really want my honest opinion?”

“I do. Please.” 

Fizzarolli sucked in a deep breath and let it out in a ‘fuck it’ kind of sigh. “All I heard in that answer of yours was what you wanted.”

Stolas’ eyes widened. He blinked up at Fizzarolli, stammering. “I… but that’s not—” He stopped himself, tracing his verbal steps until he realized Fizz was, well, spot-on.

Fizz nodded, “Don’t get me wrong, when I said you’re allowed to be feeling hurt, I wasn’t bullshitting you. Let me take a guess, though… You had a scenario in your head when he came over, you were expecting to give him the crystal and he’d be so grateful and touched by your big show of love that he’d be shocked and grateful, and then y’all would fuck and start dating for real, right?”

Stolas shifted awkwardly in his seat. “I, well… yes. Is that so wrong, to hope for the best?”

“Not wrong, nah.” Fizz shrugged. “But it sounds like you’re stuck in your own head, sir. You’re stuck so much in what you want from him, but relationships are two-way streets.”

“I know that. I mean, I know it logically, but… Well, perhaps I could have…” Stolas rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly.

“I’m not gonna tell you how to live your life,” Fizz held up his hands. “But if you’re not ready to give him up, then don’t . I’ll be honest… I’ve never seen Blitzø give a shit about someone as much as he does with you. Sometimes that just shows up as batshittery on the surface, but you have been living rent-fucking-free in his head for a while now, far as I can tell. His idiot brain has just been working overtime to try and convince himself it’ll never happen.”

“So has mine.” Stolas admitted with a sigh. “I just felt like… maybe if I made myself better, if I confronted the imbalance in our relationship, it would make me more deserving of his love. It would make me feel deserving of his… Well, at least maybe it would’ve been a start.”

“Aaahhh… see, that’s part of the problem.” Fizz grimaced a little. “You’re both expecting each other to prove that you’re enough. That’s a lot of fucking pressure to put on someone, and it’s not gonna end well unless you take responsibility for that shit on your own, and he does the same. Not saying it couldn’t work between you two, but you gotta stop hating yourself so much or you’re never going to believe anyone else can love you, no matter how many big romantic gestures someone gives you. Same goes for Blitzø, too.”

“Ah, so I just need to stop hating myself, of course . I’ll just stop doing that.” Stolas groaned sarcastically. “Easy.”

“Never said it was easy, tiger.” Fizzarolli laughed and hopped off the desk to stand beside Stolas, patting his shoulder. “But it’s worth the work.”

“You sound like you can relate.” Stolas looked up at him with a miserable pout. 

“I can.” Fizz chuckled in his signature rasp. “Sure, Ozzie and I have been together for a while now, but honestly, until I worked through my shit with Mammon, there was always this voice in the back of my head telling me that I had to deserve him. Had to earn my place beside a Sin. I mean, who the fuck was I to be worthy of that gorgeous motherfucker?! Sometimes I still feel that doubt sneak in, but it’s easier to fight off, now. Ozzie reminds me every day, multiple times how much he loves me, but before I sorted out my own shit—with his support, I’ll admit—there was an imbalance there. Sure, we talked about it together, but talk wasn’t enough. 

“Because Mammon was the whole reason we even met, I had this idea in my head that I owed Mammon everything , that if I didn’t prove I was the best, year after year, then I was a fraud. The only way I thought I could deserve someone like him was to be The Best, all the time. It was fucking exhausting .” Fizz groaned and plopped down on the floor, resting his back against the wall. 

Stolas turned his chair to face him, leaning over his knees as he listened.

“But Ozzie was with me the whole time. He tried to encourage me to give up the contest so many times, but he never forced me. He never commanded me, he never made our love conditional on anything like that, and it wasn’t until this last contest that it finally clicked for me. Even when it came to facing down Mammon, he let me fight that battle myself. He could’ve gone directly to Mammon and convinced him to pick a new winner to get me out of it, he could’ve tried to work out some agreement with him, I dunno, there’s a shit ton he could’ve done, is the point, but he didn’t. He let me tell the embodiment of Greed to go fuck himself and Ozzie didn’t step in at all until Mammon threatened me directly, then he fucking…” Fizz flushed and laughed fondly. “He fucking told the world he loved me, on live TV? The absolute madman.” 

Stolas smiled, but it was tinged with jealousy and longing. I want that, more than anything. But there I go again, only thinking about what I want… Fizzarolli wasn’t wrong, there. 

“Long story short, it sounds like you’re not super aware of the power imbalance between you. Like, you might be making a point to treat him as an equal now, but that doesn’t just undo a lifetime of being treated like trash just for being an imp. Even being one of the most popular imp performers in Hell didn’t save me from the imposter bullshit I went through.”

“Even being in his body for such a short time, I’ve already begun to understand what it must be like. I admit, I had no idea until—”

“All due respect, but you don’t know shit, sir.” Fizzarolli chuckled, quirking a brow. “You think a few hours as an imp is enough time to ‘get it’? Oh, boy. No offense, but you didn’t even get a taste. Maybe a sniff, at best.”

Stolas frowned and crossed his arms. “I’m trying .”

“Listen, I’m not trying to criticize!” Fizz laughed and held up his hands, then shrugged. “But you said you wanted my honest opinion, and that’s it, buddy. You wanna really see what it’s like for imps?”

“Well, yes. If it will help me—” Stolas stopped himself, his mind on Blitzø. Did everything he did revolve around him? That couldn’t be healthy. He took a deep breath, then let it out slowly, centering himself. “Actually, I just want to know. For me. I am a Prince, I have many imps in my employ. It would be wise to understand you all better, regardless.”

Fizz smiled tightly, but nodded. He bounced to his feet and stretched, heading for the door with Stolas following just behind. “Yeah. Okay, so how about we take a drive, eh? If we take Loona, Ozzie will give us space. People won’t fuck with us if we’ve got a ruthless Hellhound with us.”

Outside, Loona sat in the exact position she’d been in when Stolas left her, her hind paws propped up on the table, phone in her face. 

“Oh yeah, by the way, you have company.” She muttered without looking up. 

“See? She’s perceptive as fuck.” Fizzarolli cackled, “Come on, we need you to be our badass bodyguard. You up for the task?”

Loona finally looked up, raising a brow as she looked between them. “Well, I know neither of you can fight for shit, so I guess so.”

“Hey, I’m not… well, I’m not totally useless in a fight.” Fizz pouted, crossing his arms. “But hopefully we don’t need to put that to the test. Let’s take Blitzø’s van, Ozzie’s car is a bit too rich-looking. Where we’re going, we’d be mugged before opening the door.”

“Are you sure this is safe?” Stolas swallowed, tugging at the collar of his shirt. 

“Nope!” Fizz grinned, slipping his arm through the crook of his elbow to tug him out the door.

Chapter Text

STOLAS

˚· ✦.✧˳·˖✶ ☾ ✶˖·˳✧.✦ ·˚

With Loona reluctantly in tow, Fizz led them both out to the sleek black car waiting outside. Stolas waited for Fizz to open the door, and when he didn’t, the prince realized his mistake and reached for the door handle himself. I am perfectly capable of opening my own doors… But apparently, I’ve forgotten that.

“Used to having an imp do that for ya, huh?” Fizzarolli chuckled, seemingly more amused than insulted.

“Apologies.” Stolas muttered as they both made themselves comfortable in the back seat.

“You don’t owe me any.” Fizz shrugged with a casual smile. “I’m willing to bet today’s been a shit-ton of culture shock for you already, and it’s not about to ease up, so just try and roll with it, yeah? It’s not every day you get to experience shit like this! Try and see it like it’s a good thing.”

Loona shut the car door after she got in, and immediately went back to scrolling on her phone. 

“Considering everything that’s happened already, it’s been difficult to see this as a positive thus far, I must admit…”

“Yeah, life’s like that.” Fizz slumped comfortably in the seat with a comfy smile. “But sometimes what feels like the end of the world can actually be just the beginning of a better one. We just don’t see it until we come out on the other side. Trust me on that.”

Stolas looked him over curiously, certain there was far more to that story than he knew already. Regardless, he couldn’t help but believe him. How could he not? 

“I do. Now, where are we going, exactly? Should I have looked into a bullet-proof vest?” Stolas asked, honestly worried.

Fizz laughed, “Nah. I mean, anywhere in Hell that’s not a terrible idea, but I’m not taking us to the Doomsday District or anything. That’s Sinner shit, we’re heading to a spot I like to go when I need to get away from it all.”

“But… I thought you were taking me somewhere…” Stolas trailed off, frowning.

“Somewhere you can see imp life for yourself, yup. Well, a few somewheres.” Fizz corrected. “But I’m not just putting you through torture, heh, I wanna show you the fun stuff, too!”

The partition between the driver and the passengers lowered and a sultry low voice danced through the gap. “Fizzie Frog, I see we have company… where are we heading next, hmm?”

Fizz chuckled and slinked up to the partition on his springy limbs. “Jolene’s! And, I was actually kinda hopin’ we could have a little ‘imp time’ to ourselves for the rest of the day, Big Guy. Promise we’ll be careful, plus we’ll have Loona to keep us safe!”

Ozzy glanced into the back seat and raised a brow. “Are you sure you don’t want me to stick around? I can stay up here with the driver, quiet as a mouse… I just know that I would feel much better if I was close by.”

“Mmmhmm.” Fizz leaned back against the backwards facing seats to eye Stolas with a questioning look. “Well… that depends.”

Stolas hesitated, but he had to admit it did sound safer to keep a Sin nearby. Just in case. “I don’t mind.”

Fizz and Stolas looked to Loona, but she hadn’t yet looked up from her phone. 

“Then I gueeesssss you can stick around.” Fizz teased Asmodeus through the open partition, darting through it to give him a quick kiss before he slithered back to his seat beside Stolas. 

Ozzy flushed, practically melting as he settled back into his seat and shut the partition with a parting wink at his lover just before it closed.

Stolas watched them with an aching heart and a fond smile. They were positively adorable, that hadn’t changed, but the desperation in his own heart for that kind of love was impossible to ignore. He looked down at his hands, Blitzø’s hands, and he couldn’t stop the influx of imaginings that swarmed him. He saw himself in Ozzy’s place, Blitzø in Fizz’s. He saw them sharing chaste kisses that sent shivers down his spine, then raunchy groping that would put the Sin of Lust to shame, but it was impossible to watch the visions in his mind without feeling the tug of the black hole of pain and shame and his deep, heavy knowledge that they would never have it. That he would never see Blitzø look at him the way that Fizz and Ozzy looked at each other. 

Stolas realized that Fizz had said something to him. “Sorry, I lost myself in thought.”

“Figured so. You were miiiiles away. Wanna talk about it?”

“Not especially, if I’m being honest.” Stolas sighed, gazing out the window as they left the business district of Pride behind for wherever ‘Jolene’s’ might be.

“Fair enough. Well, just don’t get too lost in your own head, that shit’s the worst.” Fizz groaned and flopped his legs over Stolas’ lap as he stretched out in the seat. 

He couldn’t help but laugh to himself, amused by how easily the ex-jester had disarmed him entirely. He treated him so casually, he’d never been around anyone who’d been that way with him except for Blitzø. The more time he spent with Fizzarolli, the more he understood their deep friendship, and how they’d been able to so quickly rekindle it.

“So, what exactly is ‘Jolene’s’ and should I be concerned?” Stolas asked casually.

“Don’t you worry, your princeliness, you’ll like this spot.” Fizz promised with a grin so genuine, it was impossible to believe otherwise. Stolas even found himself smiling a little at the reassurance. 

“Well, if you’re so confident, then I shall be, too.” 

“That’s the spirit!”

It wasn’t long before the car came to a stop in front of a row of buildings at the edge of the Pride ring, between the uptown and entertainment districts. As Stolas stepped out of the car, he looked around and noted that there seemed to be few sinners walking the streets here, mostly imps and other low-ranking hellborn. It wasn’t a ‘nice’ part of town by any stretch, but it certainly wasn’t Doomsday-worthy. Yet. Give it a few decades of abuse, and it would fit right in, though.

In the distance, the only buildings of note he saw were a tall hill sporting a hotel, and in the other direction, a sprawl of high-rise towers with flashing lights all over. Here, however, things seemed much quieter, more tucked away. Here, they could get lost in the obscurity, and Stolas had to admit he felt a bit comforted by that. The look of Jolene's place, though… Well, seedy was the kindest word he might use.

The partian lowered a few inches. “Are you sure you don’t want an escort, Froggy?” 

Fizz gave him a confident smile. “Positive. They don’t tolerate any kind of fighting in here, unless it’s Fight Night. And don’t worry, it’s not!” He added with a little chuckle, “We’ll be fine. I’ve seriously missed this place.”

“Alright, but we’ll be right outside in case anything goes wild. I’m just a text away, okay?”

“Ozzzziiiie, we’ll be fine!” Fizz slinkied himself out of the car with a mechanical whir and Stolas shot Asmodeus a half-hearted wave before clumsily climbing out the door himself.

Stolas braced himself for the worst as Fizz opened the door to Jolene's, expecting a rough-and-tumble bar filled with spiked-leather-jacket-wearing ruffians at best, or Striker-types at worst. Instead, the smell of deep-fried deliciousness washed over him in a welcoming blanket as he took in the cozy atmosphere—dark wood lined the walls, accented by posters of hellborn performers (several of which sported Fizzarolli himself), paintings in various styles, and nostalgic paraphernalia of hellborn celebrities spanning generations. Stolas didn’t recognize any, save for Fizz.

The crowd also recognized him and as he entered, a small round of welcoming cheers rung out from the joint. 

“Fizzo!”

“Fizz is back!”

“Thought you’d never leave Lust again, much less come back to this dump!”

“Aw, lay off! Would you come back here if you could live the high life like that?”

“I sure as fuck wouldn’t, I can tell ya that…”

Laughter followed the good-natured jeers and Fizz laughed along with them, but then those same folks started looking at Stolas with recognition, not all of them seeming quite as amiable.

“If it isn’t Blitzø, are you the one who dragged Fizzarolli back in here?”

“Might just earn some brownie points that way, you could use ‘em.”

Stolas waved off the comments sheepishly, putting on a slight smile, though he noticed more than a couple glares. He thought he even recognized a succubus from Verosika’s party, and when he made eye contact with her, her scowl and middle finger confirmed his suspicions. 

“Yeah, heh.” Fizz draped his arm across Stolas’ shoulder and tugged him towards the bar. “He talked me into dropping in, I can’t say no to the guy!”

The manta-headed bartender raised a brow as he looked at them both. “Thought you hated his ass.”

“Nah, we patched things up. Big misunderstanding, really.” Fizz grinned and spun himself onto a stool with a playful grin. 

Stolas climbed onto a stool next to him, still far too aware of the eyes following them. Him, really. He knew Blitzø could be an asshole, but sometimes the scale of that impact still surprised him. Despite it all, it made him ache for Blitzø. Hurt people hurt people, and he still hadn’t even scratched the surface on how Blitzø had come to hate himself so much that he lashed out the way he did. It wasn’t that he’d never asked, of course. He’d tried so many times to get to know him better, to understand him, to find out anything he could about him, and every little love kernel he’d been able to glean from Blitzø, he’d treasured like the last drop of water in an unending desert. 

Everything about us was unhealthy from the start, wasn’t it? 

“Hey buddy, I didn’t bring you here to get lost in your head. We’re here to have fun!”

“Is that why we're here?” Stolas asked genuinely, “I assumed it was to learn about classism and experience the hierarchy between imps and demon royalty.”

Fizz blinked back at him, then snorted out a laugh. “Geez, you got your head further up your own ass than I thought… Dude, I hate to burst your bubble, but being an imp has nothing to do with demon royalty. Most of the time, we forget they exist entirely. Like, yeah. There's discrimination and shit, obviously, but our lives don't revolve around it. It affects it, sure, but if all the royals disappeared one day, our lives wouldn't change much at all. That's the point. You're out of your body, but still not out of your head. You're still seeing all this from your perspective. What's the good of spending time in his body if you aren't going to open your mind up, just a little?” He held his fingers a hair's breadth apart with a playful smile.

Stolas drummed Blitzø’s fingers on the bar top as he let those words soak in fully. How could someone so playful and so silly in nature be so damned wise? 

“You know, if you ever tire of entertainment, you would make an astounding therapist.” Stolas let out in a breathy chuckle, weighted with the gravitas he found himself submerged in. 

Fizz laughed, “Oh, no. Never. Never. I couldn't sit there listening to strangers bitch all day. Yeah, I've got good advice, obviously, but that's reserved for people I give a shit about.”

“And you count me among them?” Stolas stared up at him with wide eyes, searching them for the honesty he never doubted would be waiting.

Fizzarolli grinned and slung a robotic arm around his shoulders. “What do you think, Feathers?”

“You're already starting to sound like him.” Loona snorted from behind them where she'd flopped onto an old couch, but she still didn't look up from her phone. “Just multiply the self-loathing by a thousand and throw in as many curse words as you know, and you'll be a dead ringer.”

Stolas flushed and chuckled, turning his head to look around Jolene's as he leaned into the embrace ever so slightly. He saw it with new eyes, now. Gouges in the worn wooden bar had previously seemed like evidence of violence, but as he looked closer, he saw initials, hearts, and no small amount of lewd cocks and breasts carved into the surface. He could practically hear the laughter of those who’d carved them, drunk and at ease in a way he couldn't totally relate to. Sure, he'd been drunk plenty of times, but never in a setting like this—surrounded by friends, letting his guard down, feeling safe with everyone around him. Hells, he didn't even feel that safe and free alone at home. All around him, the imps and other hellborn chatted and lounged, several already with drinks in their hands despite the fact that it was midday. No one paid him any attention except Fizz, not even Loona after she'd said her piece. He could just… Exist.

“I… Think I'm starting to see what you mean, Fizzarolli.” Stolas admitted with a soft sigh, his shoulders eeking out tension like a balloon with a gentle leak. 

Maybe this experience wouldn't be so terrible after all.

Chapter Text

BLITZØ

❘❙❚ ⵁ ❚❙❘

CW: negative self-talk & minor self-harm

Blitzø wanted nothing more than to sleep off the morning’s drama, but it just wouldn't happen. He flopped on his stomach and stretched out his too-long limbs that somehow they all fit on the massive bed, tried laying on his back, his sides, even tried wrapping a pillow around his head, but nothing worked. 

The massive amount of liquor he'd consumed on the drive back to the mansion still left his head spinning, but instead of dulling his thoughts, it only seemed to amplify them. First, his thoughts spoke in Verosika's voice.

Look at the big, brave martyr… Such a selfish prick he'd rather sell himself to a royal asshat than actually fucking TALK to someone who cares about him. You deserve everything that's coming to you, prick.

Then it was Striker.

Well, lookie here. Just jumping from being one prince's plaything to his daddy's. It's a shame you're such a coward, you might've actually made something of yourself. 

Then Fizz. 

You're just throwing it all away, and for what? You were finally getting better, you had someone who loved the fuck out of you—AGAIN—and you ran. You just keep running, Blitzø. Where will you run next? What if you CAN'T run from this? You have a fuckin’ daughter now, you're just gonna abandon her because you can't deal with your own bullshit?!

“She's grown, okay? She's more than capable of handling herself…” Blitzø whined to the empty room. “She’ll have the apartment, I'll make sure M&M keep an eye out for her. They'll be great parents. Better than me, for sure.”

The room didn't answer him, which only made those thoughts louder and louder. Angry tears stung his eyes and he wrapped his arms around his chest, digging his clawed fingers into his feathers biceps. He stopped himself as guilt bubbled up like boiling tar in his chest—it wasn't his body he was hurting. 

All of the usual things he'd do when he felt this shitty were off the table unless he wanted to hurt Stolas, and he didn't. That was the whole fucking problem. Sure, he couldn't really actually injure his body without angelic weapons, but the searing guilt would follow him all the same.

I don't deserve him. I never did. I never COULD. He deserves so much fucking better than me, why can't he see that?! 

His thoughts drifted to the beefy imp he'd woken up to this morning and another nauseating wave of shame washed over him at how he'd treated him. He surely thought it was Stolas being an asshole, just another thing Blitzø fucked up for him… Unless he did something about it. 

Better than laying here drowning in crippling self-loathing. I need to start getting my shit together before I face the music anyways.

“Bernard? Baxter, wait, Benja… What was your name again?” Blitzø called out for the butler as he pushed himself to the edge of the bed.

“What may I assist you with, sir?”

Blitzø jumped a little, the butler imp was silent as a cat on the prowl. He cleared his throat and straightened his back, putting on his best Stolas impression. “I need to visit Lust again. Could you get the car ready and find me an outfit that won't draw attention?”

The butler, looking as bored as ever, nodded and shuffled to the closet. “As you wish, your highness.”

Several minutes later, he was cloaked with a large hood that hid most of his face and seated in a sleek black car, less impressive than the one he'd taken to and from Paimon’s estate. 

He couldn't remember the address, so he requested a drop off at Tits and Ass, he could walk from there by memory. As soon as he was back on the sidewalk in Lust, he kept an eye on the shops along the side of the street until he spied a treat shop and helped himself inside. The cloak did it's job, keeping him obscured enough not to be recognized as the shop owner greeted him like any other customer with a sultry tone.

“Welcome to Hot Glazed Buns… can I interest you in something cream-filled today? Or maybe our extra thicc jiggly cheesecake titties, complete with chocolate ganache nipples, sold in pairs, obviously.”

“I think he's more of an ass man… Gimme a dozen of whatever says ‘sorry I was a dickwad, please give me a chance to try again sometime in the near future but not right this second’?”

The demon purred and nodded, “I've got some ideas… How horny are you thinking?”

“Uh… Medium? Like, not un-horny, but not ‘plow my ass right this second’ horny?”

“I think we can manage that.”

He charged it to Stolas’ account with facial recognition on his phone and headed for the hunk’s apartment with the box in hand, a red ribbon tied neatly around the black box to complete the offering. Now if I could just remember the guy's name… Obviously we fucked at some point, but it must've been a one-night stand or a drunken club bang. 

The warmth of the fresh pastries spread through his fingers as he waited at the door and he pressed the doorbell button before he could talk himself out of it.

Seconds passed without a sound from behind the door, and Blitzø wondered if he should leave the package unattended, or maybe write a note. No, a note would be a dead giveaway that I'm not really Stolas. I can't spell for shit. Maybe I could just-

The door swung open, startling Blitzø. Blinking back at him was an equally surprised incubus in a muscle tee that accentuated his muscles quite nicely. Well, at least Stolas and I have good taste.

“Oh.” He frowned as Blitzø lowered his hood. “It's you.”

“Hey, um… I mean, hello. I… Well, I wanted to apologize for this morning.” He quickly slipped back into his Stolas impression, holding out the box.

The hunk raised a brow at him, then looked down at the box, considering. He sighed and opened the door wider, turning his back on him to head for the kitchen. “Come in, I guess.”

Blitzø followed him inside, closing the door behind him with his foot. It slammed louder than he expected and he winced. “Sorry, I, ah… Don't know my own strength sometimes…”

The incubus led him to the kitchen and leaned back against the counter with his arms crossed over his beefy chest, a single eyebrow raised. “Y’know, after this morning, I really just assumed you had changed your mind. Which is fine, obviously.” He shrugged, casting his eyes down at his feet. His tail flicked sharply just before he looked back up at him. “But… Why the change of heart?”

Blitzø sighed and set the box on the counter, rubbing his knuckles as he shifted his weight from bird-foot to bird-foot. “Not necessarily a change of heart, I just… I wasn't myself, exactly, when I woke up this morning. I was a goddamn asshole. And you—” He sighed and rubbed his arm. “You didn't deserve it. You were a mother-fucking gentleman. And I… Well, I think we could both honestly say I acted more like Blitzø than a prince.”

That earned him a laugh, which stung about as much as Blitzø expected. 

“Well, you're not wrong…” He finally reached over to open up the box of treats, tugging the ribbon until the bow unraveled. The smell of sweets and buttery bread filled the kitchen in moments as he opened it, fishing out a cream-filled, ass-shaped donut with a little white sparkle painted on in frosting. He chuckled as he took a bite, nodding in appreciation. “Hot Glazed Buns. Good choice. I go there on my cheat days.”

“I'm glad you like them.” Blitzø answered honestly. “So… Confession: I don't remember exactly what happened last night after we danced and made out… If you gave me your name, I absolutely forgot, and I'm so sorry, I—”

“It's alright,” He laughed. “You were pretty wasted by that point, I'm not surprised. It's Jeoffry. The ‘O’ is silent.” He smile turned nostalgic, then soured slightly. “That's how Blitzø and I met. I mean, how we started talking, at least. You know how he's always introducing himself that way and all? Yeah, we had a good laugh about it.”

Blitzø stared at him, trying to remember. He squinted, tilted his head. Had Jeoffry changed his hair or something since then? He thought maybe he remembered, but when they'd met, he might've had a beard or something…

“Friends call me Jay. Jeoffry sounds like an accountant or something, practically unfuckable. Never really fit me, but made for a good ice breaker and when I heard him say the exact same thing, well, it seemed like fate, yanno? Fuck, I had a mustache at the time, it was pretty bad, I'll admit, but he didn't seem to care. He was charming in that ‘I don't give a fuck’ way of his, you know?”

Mustache, yep. Shit, I do remember him. 

“Sorry, didn't mean to go straight into stories about our shared ex.” Jay chuckled, taking another bite of the donut.

Blitzø shook his head quickly, “No, it's fine. I mean, I was curious, given the whole reason for the party where we met.”

“Well, still. I'll keep it brief. We laughed, we drank, we made out, we drank more, wet fucked… And when I woke up, not only was he gone, but he'd broken a vase, thrown up in my dishwasher, and stole a statue of a warhorse I got from my grandma.”

Blitzø cringed. He still had the statue, he'd just forgotten where it had come from. He'd mail it back, or something. “That's… Really shitty.”

“Yeah. I mean, I'm over it now, but Verosika's party just goes too hard to skip, and people feel better when they know they aren't alone. I mean, my story is tame compared to lots of folks’ history with him, I consider myself lucky. But enough about him.” Jay smiled and gestured to the box of treats. “Don't you dare make me eat all this by myself, that's just cruel and unusual punishment. Do you know how many calories I'll have to burn off if I did? I insist, take whatever you want.”

Fuck, why does he have to be so fucking nice? Why can't I just fuck over people as shitty as me? Blitzø felt like refusing would reflect poorly on Stolas, so he picked out a danish that resembled a thong-flossed butt and took a bite. “Shit, Thurs is good.”

“Told you.” Jay smiled back at him, finishing his donut.

Blitzø took another few bites before breaking the quiet again. “I'm really… I appreciate you giving me another chance. I'll pay for having your floor cleaned, I promise, and I… I'd really like another shot at getting to know you. More soberly, at least. Then… Maybe not so sober, who knows? But the point is, I'd like to give you my number, if I didn't last night.”

“Yeah, we never really got that far.” Jay admitted with a chuckle. He sauntered over to him and backed him up against a wall, planting a hand on the wall beside him as he leaned in close. “I'd like that. You free later? Or now?”

Blitzø flushed and swallowed. Blood rushed right to his cock, much to his surprise. Well, Stolas IS a total bottom… I guess that means I'm one too until this is fixed. Fuck… This is feeling way more appealing than it should be. Even though he was taller than the incubus, his feathers all stood on end and he felt somehow smaller. He wanted nothing more than to let the man lift him over his shoulder and fuck his brains out—

“I… I really wish I could, but I-I have to take care of a few more things. My life is… It's a mess right now. I just need a little time to get things in order.” He swallowed as he admired the muscled beefcake that had him pinned to the wall. “Call me in, say… A week? And we can make up for all that lost time.”

Jay’s eyes narrowed and a smirk crept onto his lips. “Are you sure I can't change your mind? Because I think we could both benefit from letting off some steam…” Jay slid a knee between Blitzø’s too-long legs and began to grind on him slightly. 

Oh fuck— Blitzø swallowed as a shiver ran down his spine and created a full-body ripple through his feathers all the way down to his tail. Shit, fuck, Christ-on-a-stick why is this so fucking HOT… but it wasn't his body. He wasn't here to get railed, even if his temporary body wanted it more than anything in the world.

“I… Ah, um, I've got some princely duties to a-attend to, or else I wouldn't hesitate, aha… Give me a week. Just one week.” If we haven't fixed this shit by then, I can at least ask Stolas’ permission by then… he'll probably be pent up by then, too. Wait, shit, what if we can't fix this in time to get me to Paimon?

Jay sighed with a chuckle, “Gonna make me wait for it, huh? I think I can handle a week…”

Jay was the farthest thing from Blitzø’s mind as he raced through scenarios. “A week, yeah.” He murmured, starting for the door. 

“Hey, you're just leaving?” Jay frowned.

“Sorry, just remembered something urgent. But call me in a week. Things will be better by then. Hopefully.”

Jay leaned against the wall just inside the door as Blitzø exited, watching him leave. “A week, then.”

Blitzø charged out of the building, grabbing his phone to call for his ride but as soon as he left the building, he saw the car waiting for him just outside. He put his hood over his face and tucked himself into the back seat. “Back to the mansion.” He sighed, “Thanks.”

He reclined across the long back seat and pressed his palms to his eyes with a deep groaning sigh. Well, that's one loose end taken care of. Those two will probably be great together. He's nice, at least. Nicer than me, that's for fucking sure.

His hard dick strained against his trousers, still fully at attention and desperate for relief. It was smaller than what Blitzø was used to, but he'd grown familiar enough with Stolas’ body in their time together that none of it was a surprise, really… Until just a minute ago. Blitzø was a fucking top, but Stolas’ body definitely wasn't. Shit, he could even feel his hole clenching, aching to be filled. 

What the fuck was he supposed to do about that? 

He pulled out his phone and typed out a text to his counterpart.

“brakeup sexx?”

Chapter Text

STOLAS

˚· ✦.✧˳·˖✶ ☾ ✶˖·˳✧.✦ ·˚

Stolas couldn't say how long they'd spent at Jolene's, but every moment thus far had been educational to say the least. The tension he felt he'd been carrying for much of his life had eased away with every conversation, every peal of laughter. Fizzarolli had been Lucifer-sent, it seemed, he managed to slip Stolas/”Blitzø” into conversations with impossible ease, even with people who didn't like Blitzø much. The jester had a way of encouraging others to lower their guard that was nothing short of miraculous, and only served to strengthen Stolas’ curiosity in Fizz’s shared history with Blitzø.

Eventually, they said their goodbyes and stepped back outside to the waiting car with Loona in tow and made themselves comfortable in the back once more. 

The partition lowered and a familiar feathery face peeped through the slot with a smile. “Have fun, Fizzie Frog? And guests?”

Fizz chuckled and slinkied up to meet him with a kiss, nuzzling his nose against the Sin’s with unholy levels of cuteness. “A total blast! Didn't expect any less, I love this place.”

“Good! Where to next, then?”

At that moment, Stolas felt his phone buzz. He pulled it out and fumbled to unlock it. Once he did, a dark blush crept over his cheeks at the message that awaited him and his borrowed length swelled in his pants, demanding his attention.

“brakeup sexx?”

He'd never indulged in such things before. To be fair, he'd never had a real break-up outside of his current divorce, and he had absolutely zero interest in trying anything of the sort with Stella… But maybe with Blitzø, it could be a good thing. Perhaps it would give them closure, allow them both to move on. 

Maybe it might even be the key to reversing whatever magic had caused them to switch bodies in the first place. He bit his lip as he considered it, his mind leagues away until the slippery imp settled beside him again.

“You still with us, buddy?” Fizzarolli chuckled.

“Oh! Yes, sorry. Very sorry.” Stolas cleared his throat, his tail twisting restlessly around his ankles. “I just… Got a somewhat urgent message. Perhaps we could resume this little tour tomorrow, if my ailment persists?”

Fizz raised a brow, then peeked at the phone screen. A slow smirk crept onto his face and he waggled his eyebrows suggestively. “Oooh, I see.”

“Booty call?” Ozzie guessed from the partition, a matching smirk on his own sinful face. “Usually folks use smaller vocab the hornier they get, using bigger words is a new one for me, but you won't hear me judging. Get your freak on!”

Loona groaned and rolled her eyes. “Can everyone just stop being horny for two fucking seconds?!”

Stolas blushed all the more, slumping in his seat and bringing his knees to his chest to hide his face. “Oh gods…”

Fizzarolli and Ozzie laughed and the imp elbowed Stolas lightly, “Where should we drop you off? Or do you wanna have him meet you in Luuuust for an epic menage a raaaaw ?” Fizz’s voice ended in a purr, eyebrows waggling shamelessly.

Stolas groaned with indecision, his mind swarming and his pants straining with the thick meat that certainly wasn't getting any softer or smaller. “... Lust is safe, I suppose. Just make sure it's somewhere private? Send him the address. Please.” He shoved his phone to Fizzarolli, eager to shirk the responsibility of crafting the return text.

Fizz took his phone with a cackle, “You got it! Oh, we'll make this the best break-up sex you'll ever have, don't worry. You're in very experienced hands. Well, not in terms of break-ups. Just in terms of sex. Yanno? B-b-because you've got the hook-up with me and Ozzie! Obviously. You know what I mean. I'm… Gonna stop talking now.”

“Back to Lust, then.” Ozzie chuckled. 

“Aaaaand I'm out. You'll be safe enough with a Sin hanging around and I can walk from here. Later.” Loona kicked open the car door and slammed it shut behind her.

Stolas rubbed his face with a nervous chortle. Am I making a mistake? Oh gods, I hope and pray that this fixes things. If not… I don't want to consider the alternative. 

BLITZØ

❘❙❚ ⵁ ❚❙❘

Blitzø tapped the side of his phone restlessly as he waited on an answer. Shit… I shouldn't have sent that. Stop thinking with your fucking cloaca and use your upstairs brain, dipshit! Can you unsend it? 

Underneath the text, a little checkmark appeared as the word “Sent” changed to “Read”.

Shit. Fuck! Christ on a stick, why did you press send so fast? Don't you think before you do anything?! Fuck…

The longer he stared at the text, the more his heart began to flutter and pound in his chest.

He stalked back towards the shop where Stolas’ car was waiting for him, trying to ignore how fucking horny he still was. Even harder to ignore was the giant lack of response from Stolas. Honestly, whatever. It was stupid to even ask. As he climbed into the car, he pulled up the text and started typing.

“forgett it i wasthinkin w my dik-”

Just as he was about to press ‘send’, a response came through. An address. An address in Lust.

Blitzø's heart skipped a beat, his hard length lurched in his pants and his cloaca clenched and gaped, hungry to be filled in a way that was entirely foreign to him, yet somehow felt like the most natural thing in the world. 

Fuck. I'm a fucking MESS. But… I guess we're doing this. Shit. FUCK.

His horniness hadn't come anywhere close to abating, and it wasn't like there was much else he could do today. And if this had a chance to fix things… Okay, yeah, it was a longshot, but best case: fixed! And worst case: sex. Really hard to argue the math, there. Emphasis on hard.

Blitzø sighed and knocked on the partition that had given him some privacy, rattling off the address he'd been given. The driver turned the car around and started off towards the new destination without question.

It was rather nice to just say shit and have it happen. No one talked back, argued, or questioned his motives. Maybe that's why he kept me around so long in the first place. I never mince my fucking words or flattered him like that, that's for goddamn sure.  

Blitzø pinched the bridge of his beak and flopped his whole body across the long seat. I miss my body… I CANNOT be a fucking bird prince for the rest of my life. Not an option. Whatever it takes, we're fucking fixing this… And we're doing it before the week is up. Stolas can NOT find out what I promised his jerkface dad. Blitzø groaned to himself; that was the last thing he wanted to think about right now. Break-up sex. Think about that. It's not the worst fuckin’ idea you've ever had, at least…

Arousal in Stolas’ body felt different than in his own. He shifted his hips where he lay, testing out the way everything felt as he trailed a hand under the waist of his pants and over his soft, feathered stomach. Every little movement sent shivers across his body and jolts straight to his cock and his aching hole. It seemed like the arousal was equally shared between them, he'd never felt anything like it in his own body. Sure, ass-play didn't feel terrible , but he never hungered for it, nothing like this burning need that he felt now. 

Blitzø let his long fingers trail down further into his pants, coaxing his slender length out of its sheath as the car gently rocked over the hills of Lust. 

He grew harder as his touches encouraged his member along, but something in the back of his mind kept him from outright pumping it to race to orgasm. Patience had never been a virtue Blitzø could boast of, but just jacking off didn't feel like it would be enough. Lackluster, at best. He needed a warm body, a hot, hard cock.  

Is this why that bird was always so fuckin’ needy? Fuck… This whole ‘issue’ better not last much longer. I refuse to be a desperate horny bottom for any longer than abso-fuckin-lutely necessary. 

The car rolled to a stop and Blitzø reluctantly pulled his hand from his pants, buttoning them back up with a grunt of annoyance. 

Bitch better not keep me waiting.

Chapter Text

STOLAS

˚· ✦.✧˳·˖✶ ☾ ✶˖·˳✧.✦ ·˚

Standing before the Wicked Whispers luxury resort, Stolas gripped his slender tail between both hands as he looked up at the shimmering towers. They were equal parts elegant and phallic with a vulva-shaped fountain in the front that gushed with unbelievable dignity. It was so much , and in that moment, he was distinctly aware of how little he looked or felt like a prince. At the bar, he’d been just one of many, all in the same standing, no need for posturing or trying to outdo one another, as was always the case with the other Goetia. His ‘family’ seemed more like political opponents than kin, and friends? Well, Goetia didn’t need friends, if his father was to be believed.

He didn’t want to think about his father any more than he had to. Especially right now.

With a deep breath, Stolas straightened his spine, released his tail, and marched toward the front doors. You belong here. Remember, you’re a prince. That isn’t unique to just your physical body.

As he started for the entrance, a tall incubus twink in skimpy shorts and glittering heels pushed past him with a flutter of wings, not even pausing to look up from his phone as he stormed into the revolving doors, followed by three hellhound bodyguards, each more impressive and imposing than the last. 

“Watch where you’re goin’.” The last one growled in Stolas’ direction, not even bothering to look at him.

Stolas huffed to himself, but it was easy to talk himself out of saying anything when they all towered over him. He pressed on, starting for the check-in counter. As he stepped up to it, he realized just how much this place was built to accommodate hellions of much more impressive stature than his current build. The desk was just barely above Stolas’ eye-level, and suddenly he felt like a fluffy, weak little owlet all over again, asking to sit with his older siblings at a family gathering. They’d never given him the time of day, save for laughing at him, of course, but at least the desk clerk addressed him without a fight.

“Sex workers locker room is on the second floor, sanitary work is in the basement.” The succubus said in a monotone, hardly looking up from her screen as she popped a bit of bubblegum between her teeth. 

Stolas huffed and straightened up as much as Blitzø’s body would allow. “I’m a guest, thank you very much.”

The succubus blinked, then leaned over the desk with a little more attention. “The guest of whom?” She asked, quirking a brow.

Stolas felt the sting of that. “It’s been arranged by Asmodeus .” He said boldly, keeping his chin held high. He couldn’t help but smile a little as her expression changed, eyes widening a little as she straightened her posture and typed furiously on the computer. 

“Of course! Yes. I have it ready right here, you’ll be in the penthouse.” She handed over the golden key, complete with a red velvet heart-shaped pillow and golden tassel attached with a gold cord. “Your companion has already checked in, please do let us know if there’s anything we can do to make your stay any more pleasurable. And I do mean anything .” She moaned softly with a whispering smile, having completely about-faced into a sultry persona.

“Thank you.” Stolas said without really meaning it.

He headed for the gilded elevators and waited for a set of doors to open. Everyone else around him was at least a head taller than him, and having come from an imp-only bar, he noticed the astute lack of lower-ranking demons among the guests here. There were plenty of succubi and incubi, of course, but they were almost exclusively workers, definitely not guests. The ones that seemed more like guests reeked of privilege, money, and/or fame. He spied at least one Wrathian imp decked in obscenely lavish gold accessories, rings on every finger, a single horn even dipped in gold. A few Greed sharks accompanied him, but Stolas didn’t let his eyes linger long enough to draw attention. He looked instead down at his threadbare clothes. Blitzø’s favorite coat was something Stolas loved dearly, but the blood stains and tears, the frayed threads and loose buttons practically screamed ‘ I don’t belong here ’ in a way that made him feel fleetingly like this might not be the best idea.

Before he could talk himself out of anything, a vibrating buzz sounded from the elevator to his left and the doors peeled open like metal curtains. Stolas let the taller demons enter first, then found himself a chaste spot in the front corner by the incubus manning the lift. 

“Fifth floor.”

“Seventh, please.”

“Eleventh.”

“Sixth.”

“Seventh as well.”

The demons called out their floors, some bored, some excited. A couple in the back had already started making out, their tongues as noisy as their groans. The lift operator didn’t react, this was likely a tamer ride than many, even as a bra went sailing over the heads of the other occupants and landed on the incubus’ right horn. He pressed the necessary buttons and then glanced at Stolas with a slightly suspicious gaze, waiting for an answer. 

Stolas blinked, then remembered his key and held it up, not wanting to draw any undue attention to himself.
The incubus blinked in recognition, straightened his back and pressed the top floor button, lacking any numbers at all, indicated only with a black horned heart.

The rest of the demons had exited by the time the lift reached the top floor, it was only Blitzø and the lift operator, who seemed to have relaxed a little once it was just the two of them. 

“Can I ask you a question, pal?” The incubus asked with a little lick of his lips.

Stolas blinked, looking up at him with an air of surprise. “I don’t see why not.”

“Who’d you have to fuck to get this suite?” He chuckled, jealousy dripping. “Like, damn.”

Stolas crossed his arms and his tail flicked in annoyance. “No one. And it wouldn’t be any of your business even if I had.”

The incubus blinked back. After a moment, he cleared his throat and the door opened to the penthouse. “Apologies. Enjoy your stay.”

Stolas left without a second glance at the incubus. As the doors hissed closed behind him, a little more tension slipped away from his spine and he took a deep breath, then pushed one of the plush, gilded doors to the penthouse suite open, slipping through as if he didn’t want anyone to notice.

“Blitzø? I’m, ah, here.” He called out, looking around the room in awe. It was gorgeous. Every window was draped in soft, buttery textures, sinuously curved furniture laid languidly around the room, each just the right size for at least two people to comfortably use at once. A leather sex swing hung by a broad bay window overlooking Lust, and a multitude of toys and accessories decorated every flat surface, though they looked elegant enough to pass as a decoration in any royal house.

“Thank fuck! ” Blitzø’s groan ended in a sort of whine. His voice came from the canopied bed where Stolas spied his feathered body (still a strange experience, seeing it across the room) propped on its knees with hands fisting the covers beneath as Blitzø looked over his shoulder at him. He panted hard, his red eyes on the fine line between begging and demanding.

“Get my cock in this ass right fucking now or I swear to FUCK you’ll need to tie me down.”

Stolas stared. 

Stolas blushed. 

And Stolas got rock-fucking-hard.

Chapter Text

BLITZØ

❘❙❚ ⵁ ❚❙❘

After all this time having poked fun at Stolas for being a needy bitch, Blitzø couldn't deny that in that moment, he was absolutely a needy fucking bitch. And it didn't feel bad. In fact, every time he started feeling ashamed of it, that feeling got sucked into a red hot vortex and came out as arousal in a relentless feedback loop of horniness. It was exhausting and amazing and fuck he needed a dick in him yesterday.

“Blitzø…” 

He looked over his shoulder at Stolas, his need radiated off of him like a radioactive bomb ticking down to detonation. Even though he was looking at his own body, it was so painfully obviously Stolas. The posture, the way his tail moved in slow, deliberate curves behind him, the look in his eyes, it was undoubtedly the demon prince in that body, not the cocksure imp with abandonment issues that previously inhabited it. 

But then there was the obvious tent in Stolas’ pants. And it needed to be no longer in those pants and in Blitzø’s aching cloaca. 

Blitzø hurled himself off the bed, his too-long limbs getting tangled in the process and earning him a faceful of carpet that he didn't even want to think about taking a blacklight to. It didn't deter him for a second. He scrambled to Stolas and knelt in front of him, which had the odd effect of putting him at eye-level, and began taking off his pants. 

“Blitzø, are you certain this is what you-”

“I'm sure, I'm so fucking sure, just help me with these buttons, it's really fucking hard with these long-ass royal fingers of yours and I'm this close to ripping them off with my fucking beak-”

Stolas’ fingers slipped under Blitzø's chin and tilted his face back up to meet his gaze. Wide-eyed and panting, Stolas merely tipped his head an inch to the side with a slight mischievous smile that sent erotic shivers down Blitzø's avian frame straight to his slender cock.

“Say ‘please’.”

Every inch of Blitzø's birdy body tingled with arousal as a shuddering moan escaped his lips. “F-for fuck’s sake, you… You want me to fucking beg?” Blitzø tried to summon even an ounce of his usual top energy, but his body betrayed him at every turn. His voice came out bratty at best, more begging than challenging.

Stolas, that fucker, just smiled a little wider. His tail flicked behind him like a hellcat in position to pounce. “And what if I do, Blitzø? Would you beg for me?”

Blitzø started fucking with Stolas’ pants again rather than dignifying him with an answer. Stolas snatched up one of his wrists, and though Blitzø could have easily wretched it free, he simply froze in his grasp.

“Always so impatient.” Stolas chuckled in amusement, stroking Blitzø's cheek with his free hand. “I know that ache you're feeling inside better than anyone else. It yearns to be filled, to be used.” His finger drifted down Blitzø's jaw, over the tender feathers at his neck, then grasped him carefully but firmly by the feathers at the back of his head. 

“I'll give you what you need, Blitzø… Everything you're craving. I just need you to do one thing.”

Blitzø's mind reeled, the room seemed to spin, as if everything in the universe had begun to orbit around Stolas and Stolas alone. 

“What?” Blitzø panted out. 

Stolas’ smile turned his eyes into crescent moons, and Blitzø floated untethered, lost in their gravity. His hungry hole pulsed and still ached for him, but those eyes, that smile… Nothing mattered more than whatever he was going to say next.

Stolas leaned in until his lips were right beside Blitzø’s ear cavities. His voice came out soft and low, with deep vibrations that shook him to his core and made every one of his feathers shiver with need. 

“I need you to trust me.” 

Blitzø swallowed and broke free from his paralysis just enough to put his hands on Stolas’ arms, clutching him like a life raft in a hurricane. His throat tightened as he nodded, realizing that every word he spoke was absolute truth the moment it left his lips.

“I trust you.”

Stolas let out a pleased little hum and unceremoniously scooped Blitzø up over his shoulder like he was nothing. Blitzø remembered carrying him when they were in their own bodies, he knew logically how light Stolas’ stupid bird bones made him, but being scooped so easily stunned him to silence. The feeling was more embarrassing and arousing than he would ever admit. In moments, he was airborne and bounced gently onto the bed as he heard a shuffle of fabric, then the sound of clothing hitting the floor.

Blitzø rolled onto his back so he could see what was happening, far too antsy to just lay there waiting. Stolas stood there in only his boxers, he gave Blitzø a wry smile and quirked a brow. “Feeling impatient, are we?”

“No, I mean, yeah, but it's not- I'm just-” Blitzø huffed. “Are you gonna dick me down or not?”

“Of course. But this is a rare opportunity to gain a new perspective on so very many things, there's no need to rush through it.”

“Sure there is. The reason is: I'm fucking horny.” Blitzø turned around to face him, crawling towards him on his hands and knees on the bed with as much seduction as he could muster. He groped the bulging cock he knew oh-so-well that tented Stolas’ boxers. “And that bulge right there doesn't lie, so let's just do the nasty and trash this bougie-ass fuck-nest.”

Stolas thrust his hips eagerly into Blitzø's touch at first, letting out a low moan as he braced himself with one hand on Blitzø's shoulder. 

Blitzø grinned, lurching forwards to lick a firm stripe over his boxers, tracing over the outline of his cock. “Come on… We both want it.”

Stolas bit his lip and panted softly. Finally, he took a step back and started to peel off the boxers. His impressive cock bounced free, standing at attention at the juncture of his hips as his tail flicked back and forth behind him. “Mmm… Indeed we do. But I find it quite thrilling to be the one setting the pace, for once.”

Stolas walked over to the bedside dresser and peeked into its drawers, palming his cock with curiosity as he did.

Blitzø watched and scowled, but his ruffled feathers and quivering leaky cock betrayed just how hot he got at the idea of not being in control. It didn't mean he was going to make it easy on Stolas, though. 

Stolas smiled as he pulled something out of the drawer and turned to Blitzø with a pleased smile. He held up a silky red blindfold and twirled it on one finger.

“Choose a safeword, Blitzø.”