#stolas goetia fanfiction

[pinkthick]

Just answer Via

Summary: "I understand you're upset, Octavia. But I love you more than anything. Please don't shut me out like this. I'm begging you."

Notes: Mind you, I didn’t watch Helluva Boss yet. (Just watched 3 episodes but the Goetia family got my heart so I needed to write something. 😭) Again, there is a bit of self-harm so um yeah. Enjoy

Warnings: Blood and Self-harm(cutting), Hurt No Comfort

A Octavia lay on her bed, ignoring the incessant buzzing of her phone. Messages and calls from her father flooded her notifications. She couldn't bear to listen or respond; the pain was too fresh. Stolas, on the other hand, found himself alone in bed, tears streaming down his face as he sent desperate apologies to his daughter.

He was drowning in regret. His perfect starfire, how could he hurt her? Tears cascaded down his face as he lay in bed, haunted by the distance between him and his beloved daughter. Desperation fueled his fingertips as he composed messages, pouring his heart out in a digital plea for forgiveness. The room echoed with his cries as he poured his emotions into each desperate attempt to connect with his daughter.

Octavia, however, was resolute in her decision to shut him out. She couldn't bear the disappointment and pain that seemed to accompany Stolas wherever he went. And fuck him. She didn’t need him. And dad Stolas sure as hell didn’t need her.

"Via, my love, please hear me out. It's all a terrible misunderstanding," Stolas pleaded in a shaky voice through a voice message, his vulnerability exposed.

But Octavia just tossed and turned in her bed, drowning out the incessant buzzing of her phone with a pillow over her head as more of his messages were coming in.

"I understand you're upset, Octavia. But I love you more than anything. Please don't shut me out like this. I'm begging you." He clutched his phone tightly, fighting back his own tears, but to no use. "I know I've been a fool, but you are my world. I would never willingly hurt you. And Blitzo—he doesn't mean more to me than you do. I never left you for him," he sobbed into the phone as he fervently composed one apology after another.

She didn’t want to entertain his attempts to explain himself. That was what she was telling herself over and over. In truth, she knew that if she allowed herself to listen, she might be swayed by his words. That were probably lies. All he did was lie.

Stolas' voice cracked with emotion as he spoke “You're my little girl, and I can't bear the thought of losing you. Please, let me make things right. I don’t want to spend an eternity without you, Via.” I’m so sorry my baby.

Stolas continued to call, each ring intensifying her frustration. Unable to endure the constant intrusion any longer, she seized her phone and, fueled by anger and disappointment, hurled it with all her might against the wall. The shattering impact silenced the incessant ringing and buzzing, providing a momentary respite.

The room fell into an eerie quiet, broken only by the sounds of her sobs. Her chest was heaving with a mixture of anger and relief as she glared at the broken pieces scattered on the floor.

She just..stood there. Breathless even. The moonlight streamed through the shards, casting an eerie glow that seemed to mirror the shattered fragments of her own emotions. She couldn’t take her eyes off the glinting shards—they suddenly seemed sharper, more defined.

The pain sometimes provided a twisted solace. Not always. But sometimes it did.

She bent down to pick up the scattered remnants of her phone. As she started to gather the broken pieces, a small shard embedded itself in her hand. There was a brief pause, but Octavia's expression remained stoic. It didn’t feel bad. It didn’t feel — enough.

Examining the shard in her hand, she felt an odd sense of detachment and she calmly removed the shard, and a slow trickle of blood began to stain her hand. The black droplets fell, but she continued cleaning up.

The room felt colder and despite the discomfort, a strange tranquility settled over her as she gazed at the glistening blood on her hand.

But it wasn’t enough. She needed more.

—

Stolas paced around his trashed room, frustration boiling over. "Damn it, Octavia! Why won't you let me explain?" he muttered to himself, fists clenched. The shattered remnants of his belongings lay scattered on the floor. His attempts to reach Octavia only led to the voicemail now "Blocked me, hasn't she?" Stolas seethed, resentment simmering beneath his feathers. He felt abandoned, misunderstood.

Stolas couldn't contain the turmoil within him any longer. With a guttural scream, he hurled a crystal vase across the room again, the shattering sound punctuating his frustration. “Satan forbid I try to be happy for once!” he growled, his fists now indiscriminately demolishing everything in his path. He knocked over a grand bookshelf, sending leather-bound tomes crashing to the ground.

His anger manifested in every strike, every shattered item a reflection of the shattered connection with his daughter. Stolas grabbed another vase, memories of happier times with Octavia flashing before his eyes. With a furious yell, he sent it flying, watching it disintegrate against the wall. "Stella, you wretched fiend!" he spat, resentment fuelling his rampage. He tore down curtains, the rich fabric torn to shreds in his hands.

The contents of drawers spilled onto the floor as Stolas overturned a dresser, the crash punctuating his fury. He kicked at the debris, uncaring of the damage inflicted upon his once-stylish attire.

Why wasn’t he allowed to be happy?

Stolas's rampage came to a sudden halt as his eyes fell upon a small, damaged frame. He bent down, trembling hands carefully picking up the remnants of a drawing — Octavia’s drawing. "No—no, no, no!" Stolas gasped, horror etched across his face as he cradled the fragile piece in his hands. The once-pristine frame lay shattered, and the drawing bore the scars of his unchecked fury.

A choked sob escaped him as he traced the lines of Octavia's childish strokes. "Not this drawing—oh, fuck," he whispered, guilt and regret intertwining in his voice. Stolas hastily searched for tape, his hands shaking as he fumbled through.

With a watery chuckle, he found the tape and delicately began piecing the frame together, his movements careful, as if mending this small drawing could somehow mend the larger wounds. As the drawing took shape again, albeit marred and fragile, Stolas looked at it through tear-filled eyes. The crayon depiction of a happy family seemed to mock him as he gently wiped away a tear that threatened to stain the paper.

I would never hurt her.

But you did.

Stolas settled onto the debris-laden floor, clutching the repaired drawing against his chest. Tears welled in his eyes as he gazed at the innocent depiction of a happier time. Silent sobs racked his frame as he whispered to the drawing, "My baby... my starfire," with a trembling hand, he reached for his phone.

He scrolled through his messages and soon the cruel reality struck. Octavia's name remained devoid of any response — what did he expect really?

Desperation etched across his features, Stolas dialed Octavia's number once again. The familiar tone of voicemail filled the air, echoing the emptiness of his heart. He clutched the phone, tears streaming down his face, as he whispered brokenly, "Please, Octavia, just talk to me." Stolas pressed a hand to his chest, as if physically trying to ease the ache within. "I've messed up," he admitted through choked sobs, his vulnerability laid bare. “I know I did, Via.”

Gasping for breath between sobs, Stolas's trembling hands scrolled through his contacts. After a moment of hesitation, he scrolled down to 'Stella.' A deep inhale preceded the press of the call button, the phone ringing.

Then, against his expectations, a begrudging voice answered on the other end. "What do you want now, Stolas?" Stella's tone dripped with irritation, a testament to the strained dynamic between them.

Stolas hesitated, his voice catching in his throat before he managed to stammer, "Stella, please, it's about Octavia. I need to talk to her." His desperation clung to his words.

A heavy sigh on the other end hinted at Stella's exasperation. "How many times do I have to say it? Octavia doesn't want to talk to you. Is that so hard for you to grasp?" The blunt truth struck Stolas like a blow, and he felt the weight of his actions press down on him.

He didn’t know what to say but Stella's voice turned colder, cutting through the strained air. "Was the sex worth it?" she asked as Stolas felt a knot tighten in his stomach.

His words stumbled as he tried to justify himself, "It wasn't just about that, Stella. I needed something more, something that made me feel alive."

A bitter laugh escaped Stella's lips, a sound tinged with both anger and disbelief. "Alive? You chose momentary pleasure over your daughter's happiness. What kind of father does that?"

A simmering anger brewed within Stolas as he clutched the phone as he retorted, "What kind of mother does what you do? All you ever did was show her off to your friends—you never cared for her! I don't even know if you love her!"

Stella's voice, now laced with a mix of anger and hurt, responded, "Don't turn this around on me. You're the one who shattered our family for some demon's affection. I did my best for Octavia, and I won't let you blame me for your mistakes."

Stolas, undeterred, retorted, "Your best? She needed both of us, Stella. We both failed her. You were more concerned with appearances than being there for Octavia. Don't pretend you're innocent in all of this."

A bitter laugh echoed through the phone as Stella responded, "But where is she now, Stolas? Is she staying with you?" The question hung in the air, a cruel reminder that Octavia had chosen to distance herself from her father in the wake of his mistakes. Stolas felt a lump forming in his throat, the weight of the truth pressing down on him. He glanced around the shattered room, now devoid of any semblance of the life he had once known. "No, she's not with me," he admitted, his voice carrying a defeated tone.

Stella's laughter persisted on the other end, a sound that grated against Stolas's ears. "Of course she's not with you. Why would she want to be? You've made your bed, Stolas, and now you have to lie in it."

A heavy silence settled between them, and Stolas struggled to find the right words. "I... I messed up, Stella.”

No shit.

"I'm going to check up on my daughter since you probably disturbed her night with your calls," Stella declared, her voice stern and resolute. The weight of her words hung heavily in the air, leaving Stolas with a sinking feeling that he had pushed Octavia further away.

"Stella, please—" Stolas began, his plea interrupted by the decisive click of the call ending. He stared at his phone in silence, the dim glow of the shattered room casting shadows over his disheveled appearance.

—

Octavia stealthily made her way to the kitchen, ensuring that her mother or uncle were not present. And they weren’t, thank Satan. She cautiously opened drawers, her search focused and deliberate. Her hands sifted through the utensils until she found what she was looking for – a cold, gleaming knife tucked away among the ordinary cutlery. Octavia's gaze lingered on the blade, reflecting the moonlight that streamed in through the window.

Via found herself descending onto the cold kitchen floor, the knife held loosely in her hands. Conflicted emotions swirled within her, a storm of pain, anger, and confusion. Her own mind was a battleground, torn between the yearning for control and the dread of succumbing to old habits. She traced the edge of the knife with her fingers, contemplating the scars that adorned her past.

The temptation to cut again clawed at her again. It would be so simple. Peaceful even.

She closed her eyes, taking a shuddering breath. She just felt numb thinking about her insignificant existence. Her parents didn’t want her. They needed a heir and they got one. She realized that no matter what she’ll do, her life will atone to nothing. The only time the emptiness was filled was when the slits from her wrists were open and blood poured down her arms.

Memories of Stolas flooded her mind. She couldn't escape the vivid recollections of his face, a mix between concern and disappointment, every time he discovered the evidence of her self-harm. His eyes mirrored the pain he felt for her, a silent plea for her to find solace without resorting to self-destruction. My beautiful girl. My beautiful miracle girl. Why would you do that to yourself?

He always asked the same questions.

Octavia could almost feel Stolas' gentle touch as he cleaned her wounds, his hands moving with a tenderness that belied the frustration and sorrow etched on his face. His gentle touch, the careful application of bandages, his tears for her.

Lucifer knows, one of them had to pretend to care .

The knife felt heavier in her hand for some reason. She didn’t.. set out to do this tonight. Gripping the knife tightly, she steeled herself for the familiar dance with pain. She held her breathe as she pressed the blade against her skin, tracing lines that mirrored the scars of her past.

It was always fascinating. Hypnotizing. And before Octavia really understood what her body was doing, the knife was squeezed tightly in her fist and was cutting again. The pain was sharp and sudden, but faded as soon as the beautiful red started to run. She never realized how beautiful blood could be. The color was bark and painful but soothing at the same time. Stunning.

It’s scary. She shuttered to think of what Stolas would think of her if he knew she had intentionally cut up her arm again. Blood isn’t comforting, she knew that.

What did she really do?

—

Stolas summoned a hologram of a little Octavia. The ethereal form glowed softly, capturing the innocence and purity of his daughter in happier times. The miniature figure stood before him, her eyes wide and curious.

"Why are you crying, Daddy?" the holographic Octavia asked, her voice a sweet echo from the past. Stolas looked up, his tear-streaked face met with the spectral image of his daughter, a painful reminder of the joy he had inadvertently traded for fleeting moments of pleasure.

He struggled to find words, the lump in his throat making it difficult to speak. "I'm sorry, my starfire," he whispered, reaching out as if to touch the hologram, only to grasp at the emptiness.

The holographic Octavia tilted her head, her innocence contrasting starkly with the broken reality surrounding them. "Did I do something wrong?" she asked, confusion clouding her ghostly features. Stolas shook his head, his heart aching at the notion of his little girl blaming herself. "No, no, my love. Daddy made some mistakes, and I hurt you. I hurt us," he confessed, his voice trembling.

"Can't you fix it, Daddy?" she asked, her small form glowing with hope.

"I'll do everything I can to fix it, my precious. Daddy promises," he vowed to the ethereal image.

A gentle, playful giggle emanated from the holographic Octavia, her form shifting to mirror an older version of herself. "You're still embarrassing as fuck, Dad," she quipped, her tone filled with a teasing familiarity that sent a wave of relief through Stolas.

He was stunned and looked up from his tear-stained hands, and his eyes widened at the sight of the hologram transforming into an older, more mature Octavia. The glow of the projection illuminated the room, casting an ethereal light on the wreckage. A tentative smile played on Stolas's lips as he took in the image of the holographic Octavia, her features reminiscent of the daughter who had distanced herself from him. "Via, my dear, I... I miss you," he admitted, his voice carrying a mix of longing and regret.

The holographic Octavia, now resembling the older version who had grown distant, rolled her eyes playfully. "You've got a lot of making up to do, old man," she said, her tone softening as she reached out, the glow of her hand brushing against Stolas's cheek — but he didn’t feel it.

He wished he could feel it.

"I'm so sorry, Octavia," Stolas began, his voice heavy with remorse. "I never meant to hurt you. I've made terrible choices, and I've hurt you. I just want you to know that I love you, more than anything."

The holographic Octavia regarded him with a mixture of warmth and skepticism. "You messed up big time, but you’re lucky I love you too." she responded and Stolas melted before her.

As their interaction deepened, Stolas found himself immersed in the illusion, the holographic Octavia's laughter and responses feeling so authentic that, at times, he forgot she was merely a projection. So Stolas allowed himself to believe that the hologram before him was his actual daughter.

—

Stella burst into the kitchen, her eyes widening in shock as they fell upon Octavia, blood running down her arms. Anger and concern clashed on Stella's face, her expression darkening. "What the fuck, Octavia? You're cutting yourself again?" The words were sharp, a mix of frustration and worry. Octavia felt a pang of guilt and shame. She stammered, searching for words that could explain the inexplicable.

"Mom, I—" but before she could finish, Stella's voice cut through, more forceful this time. "I can't believe you're doing this again. Fuck, we need to clean up before anyone sees, especially my brother." As Stella moved towards Octavia, a mix of urgency and irritation, Via instinctively tried to shield her actions. "No, I can handle it myself," she protested weakly.

Stella, however, wasn't having it. "Handle it yourself? Look at you, bleeding all over the damn place. We don't have time for your bullshit. Now, give me that knife, and let's clean you up." She hesitated but she did give the knife to her mother.

As Stella examined the wounds, Octavia winced, and a cry escaped her lips. "It hurts!"

"Stop acting like a baby," Stella snapped, her tone harsh. "This is your mess, and you're going to clean it up.” Her mother retorted, her voice stern as she led Octavia towards the sink. The moonlight painted a macabre scene as Stella started cleaning the wounds, Via started to watch as her blood fell to the bottom of it and mixed with the water until it turned pink and pooled around the drain.

Stella, frustration etching her features, demanded an explanation as she asked, "Why did you do it? You stopped doing this awhile ago." Octavia, still sniffling, looked up at Stella and whispered, "You know why." Her mother’s eyes softened briefly, a mix of sympathy and exasperation in her gaze. "He's not worth it. Doing this to your body isn't worth it." she insisted, reaching for a cloth to start cleaning Octavia's wounds.

Via, her voice shaky, responded, "I can't... I can't get his face out of my head.” As Stella dabbed at the cuts, Octavia winced "Why can't you see that you're worth more than whatever he did?" Stella pressed, frustration tingeing her words. "Cutting yourself won't make the pain go away. It only adds to it." Octavia, tears streaming down her face, struggled to find a response.

Stella, her hands continuing to move methodically to clean Octavia's wounds, couldn't hide the frustration in her voice. "Now stop feeling sorry for yourself. You can't waste a pretty face like you have," Stella remarked, her words sharp and tinged with frustration. "You can't be pathetic like him."

Octavia, still sniffling, met Stella's gaze, her eyes reflecting a tumultuous sea of emotions. "Why did he choose him over me?" she asked, her voice tinged with a vulnerability that echoed through the room. "The Imp?" Stella clarified, pausing for a moment. Octavia nodded, prompting Stella to scoff. "Because he's a fucking moron who gets crazy over a dick," she retorted, her disdain evident in her tone.

The truth in Stella's words hung heavy in the air, a bitter acknowledgment of the absurdity that had fractured their family "You're better than this, Octavia. You're worth more than someone who would choose... that, over his own daughter. Don't let his colossal mistake define your worth."

Octavia, her voice heavy with pain and resentment, confessed, "I hate him. He promised he would never leave me, but he didn't even bat an eye when he had the chance."

Stella, finishing up and turing off the water, frowned at Octavia's raw confession. "As I said, he's a fucking pathetic old gay—"

"Mom," Octavia interrupted, her tone pleading. "I just wanted him to love me more than he loves Blitzo."

Stella's expression hardened briefly, a flicker of anger in her eyes. "His name doesn't even deserve to be in your mouth," she asserted as she continued "You're his heir, Octavia, and he should have put you first. I don't care about his reasons; abandoning you was inexcusable."

Octavia looked down, her mind a battlefield of conflicting emotions. "I thought I meant more to him," she admitted, her voice a mere whisper.

Stella's tone grew more unbearable as she patted Octavia's head with a forced semblance of affection. "You're a fool for thinking that," she remarked, her words a cold reminder of the harsh reality they were grappling with. Octavia, looking up at her mother, felt a surge of frustration and yearning for understanding.

She opened her mouth to speak, but Stella cut her off. "Now, we had a great heart-to-heart talk, but you need to clean up here. We'll talk tomorrow," she declared, her abrupt shift in demeanor signaling the end of their conversation. As Stella stood up, leaving Octavia on the kitchen floor, she stopped in the doorway, her gaze lingering on her daughter "I don't think I need to tell you that you need to wear shirts with long sleeves the next few weeks?" she remarked.

"No, Mom," Octavia replied, her eyes downcast as she reached for a towel.

“Great! Now chop-chop," she declared as Via nodded, her movements mechanical as she began the task of cleaning up the blood from the floor. The room seemed to blur as a vivid memory transported her to a moment years ago, a time when Stolas had bandaged her wounds.

Octavia sat on the bathroom floor, tears streaming down her face, her arms marked with fresh cuts. Stolas knelt beside her, gently cleaning the wounds with a tenderness that seemed incongruent with the pain etched on his face.

"I'm sorry—" Via began to apologize, but Stolas, his eyes welling up with tears, cut her off with a quiet intensity. "You don't need to apologize for this," he insisted, his voice a mix of sorrow and genuine concern.

He pressed his forehead to hers, a tender moment that spoke of a father's love grappling with the pain of seeing his daughter in such a state. "I just wish you'd stop doing this."

She just continued to scrub at the floor.

—

The holographic Octavia, with a mischievous twinkle in her eyes, suggested, "How about we go to dinner this Friday at that new local place? Just you and me, Dad." Her proposal hung in the air “Just like old times.”

A surge of joy mixed with sorrow filled Stolas's heart as he tried to reach out and touch her, only to be met with the intangible glow of the hologram. Frustration etched his features as the realization dawned upon him. "You're not... real, Via," he admitted —to himself.

The holographic Octavia simply smiled, her expression retaining a gentle warmth. Which wasn’t real. It was only in his head.

A profound sadness gripped him as he realized that this connection, no matter how comforting, was merely a mirage—a fleeting illusion that couldn't replace the tangible presence of his estranged daughter.

In a moment of despair, Stolas clenched his fists, his vision blurred by fresh tears. "I'm so sorry, Via," he whispered, the sincerity of his remorse echoing in the quiet room. He raised his hand and swiped through the holographic projection and the radiant image flickered, and Octavia's form began to dissipate like mist in the wind.

Stolas cried out, a raw and anguished sound as he sank to his knees, the weight of the real world crashing down on him once more. But the sudden ring of Stolas's phone shattered the heavy silence in the room, jolting him up. Hope flickered in his eyes as he fumbled to retrieve the device, a desperate anticipation that maybe, just maybe, Octavia was reaching out.

However, as he glanced at the caller ID, disappointment and frustration welled up within him. It wasn't Octavia; instead, the name "Blitzo" blinked on the screen. Stolas hesitated, his thumb hovering over the answer button.

He chose to not to answer though, letting the call go to voicemail.

Oh, Via..

As he glanced out of his own window, the moonlit sky seemed empty. Stolas knew, more than ever, that he needed Octavia.

—

Octavia, sat by her window and her arms now bandaged, her gaze was fixed on the distant horizon. The city lights twinkled below, reflecting in her eyes, yet the flicker of resentment lingered. She convinced herself that she no longer needed Stolas. The night sky stretched above her, mirroring the vast expanse of the void that had replaced the warmth of their connection.

Separated by physical and emotional distance, father and daughter found themselves gazing at the same sky, yet the chasm between them seemed insurmountable.

[fallloverfic]

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Fandom: Helluva Boss (Web Series)       

Relationships: Octavia Goetia & Stolas Goetia, Stella Goetia & Stolas Goetia

Tags: Therapy, Angst, Hopeful Ending, Self-Esteem Issues, Abusive Relationships, Anxiety, Pre-Canon, Post-Canon

Summary: Stolas tries out human therapy.

Getting Help, 2252 words (complete)

[hazbinshusk]

day thirteen of salem's unofficial attempt at kinktober:

cream pie/cum eating (stolitz x reader)

+ + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + +

Stolas’ feathers are wonderfully, gloriously soft against your cheek, albeit ruffled and stained with the drool dripping from your parted lips as Blitzø fucks you from behind. You’re laying on Stolas’ stomach, cradled by his long, slim legs and braced up on your knees. Blitzø’s hands are clutching at your hips, claws digging into the soft flesh, his touch a stark contrast to the gentle way the owl prince is stroking your hair.

“Oh, darling, doesn’t he feel so good?” Stolas coos, petting your cheek. You smile up at him dazedly, whimpering as Blitzø gives a particularly hard thrust into your dripping cunt. Stolas pouts down at you in faux-sympathy, ghosting clawed fingers over your skin to push your hair away from your forehead. “Tell Blitzy how much you love having his big, thick cock inside you.”

“I do,” you moan, arching your back as Blitzø smooths a hand over the curve of your ass and squeezes. “I love it.”

“Love what, pet?” Stolas prompts teasingly.

“I…” You try to bury your face in his chest but he hooks a claw under your chin. “I love his… unh, his cock in-inside me.”

“Mmm,” Stolas smiles. “Good girl.”

“Fuck, you two are good for my ego,” Blitzø snickers through gritted teeth, and you jump as the spade of his tail snaps against your ass. “Christ on a fuckin’ stick, you are milkin’ my dick, sweets.”

You can feel goosebumps rise over your thighs as Blitzø retakes your hips and pulls you back in time with his thrusts, the sound of flesh meeting flesh rising. You can feel your thighs slick with your own excitement, feel the addictive ache between them as Blitzø’s cock fills and stretches you every time he bottoms out inside you. Blitzø grabs at your tail, winding it around his fist and gripping the base of it tight. At the same time, Stolas slips a hand beneath you, delicate fingers finding your clit.

“Oh, fuck!” you half-laugh, half-moan as the sensations flood through you. Stolas chuckles at your reaction, continuing to stroke your hair as he teases your clit. Blitzø curses aloud as you tighten around him, and when he tugs hard on your tail you cum, hard. The only thing that stops you from collapsing is Blitzø’s grip on your hips, and your orgasm does nothing to slow him down. “Fuck, Blitz, I can’t…”

“Yes, you fuckin’ can,” Blitzø growls, pressing himself down against your back. You feel his mouth graze your shoulder, and Stolas pushes himself up onto an elbow to bring the imp into a messy, hungry kiss. Blitzø groans into the kiss, his hips stuttering against yours. “Fuck, Stols… shiiiit…”

Stolas quickens his fingers against your clit just as Bltizø begins to lose control, and when your cunt tightens like a vice with another orgasm Blitzø moans, loud and rough as he spills himself deep into you. He keeps pumping until you can feel him begin to soften inside you, his breathing laboured. Blitzø continues to exhale a mixture of curses and slightly offensive ‘praise’, and Stolas hoots happily at the show the two of you have provided as Blitzø slides his cock slowly out of you.

“Satan, that was…” you let your head fall back down onto Stolas’ feathers, inhaling the scent of expensive oils and the delicate note of his own exertion. “That was fucking great.”

“Damn fuckin’ right it was, tits.” Blitzø replies, and you yelp as he smacks you appraisingly on the ass.

The owl fakes a pout as he watches Blitzø stretch his arms out above his head. “I have to admit, Blitzy, I’m a bit jealous that our darling girl was the one who got to feel your hot cum fill up her tight little—”

“Fuck, you’re greedy,” you laugh breathlessly, and Stolas makes it up to you by stroking his hand down your spine. “You could at least let us catch our breath before you start angling for round… what, four?”

“Six,” Blitzø interjects cockily, moving up the bed to kneel beside Stolas’ shoulder. “C’mon, birdie. Quit complainin’; you’re on clean-up.”

Stolas grins, and you watch as he curls his long tongue around Blitzø’s softening cock and draws him into his eager mouth. The imp groans as the owl prince sucks him clean, reaching out to run his hand through your sweat-damp hair.

“Fuck, Stols…” he mutters, shuddering as the owl suckles teasingly at his tip. Blitzø lets him linger for a few moments after his cock is well and truly clean. Stolas squawks in surprise and arousal as the imp suddenly grabs hold of his crown feathers and jerks his head back. He grins down at him, pupils dilated and smirk wicked. “Her turn.”

You whimper as the two of them roll you off of Stolas and onto your back. You moan to the ceiling and your hips rise off the mattress as Stolas suddenly buries his face between your legs. He buries his tongue deep inside your cunt and you fist your hands in the sheets, eyes rolling back at the sudden overstimulation.

Blitzø snickers as he watches your reaction. “That’s fuckin’ adorable – it’s like you’re possessed.”

“Sh-shut up, Blitz—” you whine, and his laughter doubles. You curse as he reaches down to roll his fingers over your clit just as Stolas thrusts his tongue deep into you, and your whole body seizes up as you cum again, your hand clutching at Blitzø’s shoulder. “Fuck!”

Blitzø grins in satisfaction, his hand fisting the base of his cock. “So… round six?”

[theamberfist]

Sink or Swim | Stolas x Reader

Romantic! Stolas x Swim Instructor! Reader

Description: When Stolas signed his baby daughter, Octavia up for swim lessons, he never expected to like her new instructor so much

(Notes:) (gender neutral reader) (reader is a sinner) (reader is baby Octavia's swim teacher)

Words: 1,640

❀ Fun fact: I've taught parent-infant swim lessons IRL so all the exercises shown in this are real ones we use with infants ❀

Stolas frowned as he pushed open the door to the building in front of him; unable to help the slight nervous feeling that bloomed in his chest. He supposed there should have been no cause for concern, considering he was a prince of hell and easily one of the strongest beings in this ring, but it wasn't as if he'd ever done something like this before. 

He readjusted his arms, where Octavia rested on his hip sleepily. On a normal day, she would have been napping at home now, but not for much longer. He'd specifically chosen this time because he knew that, once she woke up, she would be as active as ever. Stolas reminded himself that this was for her sake, not his; he could hold his head up high for her, just as he always did.

When he entered, the imp at the front desk looked up from his work and his eyes widened slightly. "Prince Stolas..." He managed before finally clearing his throat and regaining his composure, "Right, we were expecting you." Though, something told the owl prince they hadn't actually thought he'd make good on his plans and come in. 

"The toddler pool has already been reserved, and your instructor is waiting for you there," the imp went on to explain as he checked their names off on a clipboard, "I'll let them know you've arrived." 

"Thank you." Stolas nodded awkwardly before turning and heading through the locker rooms to the pools. Though he could have simply signed Via up for regular lessons, he'd decided a private one would be better for the sake of them both. He wasn't aware that meant they'd reserve an entire pool for them, however small, but at least this way, he would have fewer paparazzi to deal with. 

Finally, he reached the pool deck, seeing that the whole facility only had a few people in it right now. There was a large lap swimming pool in front of him, as well as a splash pad to his right and the toddler pool to his left. When he looked over, there was already someone sitting on the side with their feet in the water as they waited. They wore a red swimsuit with the word 'lifeguard' printed in white, leading him to believe this was the instructor the imp at the front desk had mentioned. 

He made his way over to the toddler pool as Octavia began stirring in his arms now. It was a good thing he'd already gotten her into her swimsuit, or he would have had a hard time getting her to sit still long enough for it now. 

Upon hearing them come over, you looked up and smiled, setting the clipboard you'd been holding on the side of the pool. 

"Hello!" You called, "Here for the parent-child swim lesson?" Stolas nodded and you stepped out of the barely knee-deep pool to come over to him. To his surprise, you seemed to be a sinner, rather than an imp or hellhound like he'd expected. Your appearance differed from them greatly, and there was an energy about you that told him you had to be a human soul. 

You smiled and introduced yourself. "I'll be teaching our class every week," you explained, "If anything is too difficult or uncomfortable for you two as we get started, please let me know. Private lessons means I have a little more flexibility in what we do." You winked at the last part, and though it made the prince's heart beat quicker, he was fairly certain you just meant it playfully. 

"Anyway, who is this little one?" You asked, turning to the little owlet in his arms, whose big round eyes were staring up at you. 

"This is my daughter, Octavia," Stolas replied, immediately relaxing now that the topic of conversation had changed, "She's about a year old; I hope that's alright!" You waved him off.

"That's perfect," you said, gently reaching out towards the baby, "I've worked with kids much older and much younger than this." Octavia's tiny hand grabbed one of your fingers and you smiled kindly before looking up at her father. "And you're Prince Stolas, right?" He blinked.

"Just Stolas is fine!"

You nodded before removing your hand from the owlet's grip and standing up straighter. "Well, if you're ready, then we can get started." You said, that professional air returning to you, "I was thinking we'd have her in the shallow area to start with and ease her into slightly deeper waters." Stolas nodded, setting his bag down on a pool chair and then following you to the water. 

Now that you'd been properly introduced, Octavia was eager to follow after you, and he held her little hands as she stepped into the shallowest area of the pool. You giggled, encouraging her along the way. 

Once she stood so that the water was up to her knees, you brought out a dive toy and placed it on the pool floor, asking her to reach down and grab it to get her a little closer to the water. Stolas sat by her as she did so with ease, and then you moved the toy slightly deeper. 

He admired how much energy you seemed to have with his owlet, as well as how kind you were to her. Your soft voice and easy patience was a stark contrast to Octavia's mother; that was for sure. The two of you watched her repeatedly pick the dive toy up from increasingly deeper as if she had no care in the world. 

Finally, he broke the quietness between you two as you congratulated Octavia at another job well done. "Do you often teach lessons here?" He asked a little awkwardly, "I haven't seen many human souls in this ring of hell before." You smiled and nodded.

"Yeah, I teach almost all the lessons we offer here," you replied, moving Via's dive toy again, "It's the same job I had while I was alive, and I guess it's the only thing I've really found that I'm good at."

Stolas couldn't argue with that. Usually, Octavia was much more timid around water than this. She wouldn't even go in it at all if he wasn't holding her hand the whole time. With you, though, she was so enthusiastic that she hadn't even noticed the lack of touch. It was like he'd brought a different baby to the pool altogether today. 

"I see," he replied with a nod, smiling down at his daughter, who was happily splashing some of the water. "Do you have any children of your own?" You shook your head.

"Nope, I mostly kept to myself while I was alive- and, I guess, while I've been dead, too." You shrugged, "But when I found out how few kids in my neighborhood knew how to swim, I started doing lessons to keep them a little safer." 

Stolas nodded, wondering if it would have been too much to hope that 'keeping to yourself' meant you didn't have a spouse or partner, either. 

"If you're ready, we can move to the deeper water exercises." You changed the subject now and the prince nodded, placing a reluctant Octavia back on his hip and bringing her towards the deeper pool nearby. There, you helped him perform the next exercise, which consisted of him resting the owlet's head on his shoulder and trying to get her to kick her legs as he moved her through the water on her back. She was less enthusiastic about that, but you were quick to think; holding a toy up so her focus would shift. 

That calmed her down a lot, and soon enough she was kicking her legs happily as she giggled at you. "Do you get many attendees to your lessons?" Stolas asked in an attempt to strike up a conversation with you again, "I know those who died and ended up here aren't at as much risk of drowning." You nodded.

"That's why I work here," you smiled, "People in the pride ring aren't really concerned about dying unless it's at the hands of angels. I still think water safety is important, though."

The prince couldn't argue there. After all, that was why he'd signed Octavia up for these lessons. That, and he'd thought it would be nice for the two of them to get out of the house together for an activity. 

"Then I applaud you for your work!" He replied, "I'm sure many hellborn children can be quite difficult to teach." You laughed.

"You have no idea how much hellhounds hate swimming." 

The rest of the lesson went on just like that. With each new exercise, you found yourself getting that much more comfortable talking with Stolas, and vice versa. Octavia was also doing extremely well with everything you threw at her, and at this rate, you knew she'd be confidently swimming around on her own soon enough. 

Finally, the lesson ended and you praised the little owl before dismissing the class and hopping out of the water. Feeling warmer than you had when you began, you grabbed your clipboard to prepare for your next class.

Stolas glanced your way as he carefully dried Octavia off. "Same time next week, then?" He asked with a grin and you nodded.

"I'll be looking forward to it!" He didn't say anything, but inside, he knew he would be too. Just as he was grabbing his bag to leave, you came over and handed him a small piece of paper. The owl prince raised an eyebrow. 

"My number," you explained with a smile, "just in case." He nodded at that, feeling his heart flutter as he placed the paper in his pocket, and then you waved them both off as they left.

It seemed he'd gotten more enjoyment out of these little swim lessons than expected, and he couldn't wait to come back. 

[alastor-simp]

Hugging Them Out Of Nowhere - I.M.P Gang + Stolas x Reader

❥WARNING: Will contain some swear words/profanity

❥Notes: Here we goooooo! Starting to write for the Helluva Boss series now. It might take a while for me to get in depth with some of the characters especially Blitz since hes a very chaotic character, but I'll try my best. There will be hints/spoilers from the other episodes in the series.

Based on last weeks episode, Blitz and Stolas deserve these hugs!!!

I will do more for the other characters like Fizz and Verosika soon. Enjoy you guys:)

Blitzø🐴

🐴Hugging Blitz was not very common at I.M.P. He was a very touchy feely with everyone at work especially with Moxxie and Millie. There were many work group hugs that he initiated with the rest of you, which was met with not a lot of enthusiasm back, well except from Millie.

🐴Finding a job was an IMP wasn't very easy since many of the work establishments used imps as either slaves or whatever paid the lowest amount since imps were on the bottom of the food chain. Seeing the silly jingle for the Immediate Murder Professionals on TV, you quickly came to look for a job and were introduce to everyone by Blitz. Blitz was.....well he was an okay boss. There were moments where he was a downright dickwad and others where he showed a compassionate side, but it wasn't commonly seen.

🐴Your relationship with him started off just being employee and boss, but it soon changed to friends as time went on. There was more to Blitz that met the eye and you had seen the sides of him that not many others saw and it made your heart ache. You doubt if even Loona knew about it and she was Blitz adopted daughter, but their relationship was kinda rocky.

🐴Sitting on the lounge couch in the I.M.P office, you jumped a bit when the door slammed opened. Blitz had walked in, but he wasn't in an upbeat mood like he usually was. His face was in a deep scowl and there were big dark circles under his eyes. He barely even reacted when Millie shouted a "Good Morning Boss" at him, as he sluggishly walked towards his office and slammed the door, leaving you and the others alone.

🐴"Umm...is he okay?" you were the only one who spoke, while the others just continued about their day. "Don't know, don't care." was the short response you got from Loona, as she sat with her legs on the desk, typing away on her phone. Moxxie just shrugged his shoulders and said that "Sir usually has moments like this and its best to leave him alone." Your eyes looked back at the door to Blitz office, contemplating if you should go and seem him. Heaving a deep sigh, you got up from your position on the couch and made your way over to the door.

🐴Looking into the room, you see that the room was dark, with small beams of red light coming from the blinds in the window. Blitz was sitting on his chair, head resting on his arms that were folded on top of the desk. Making your way slowly towards him, you called out his name softly.

🐴"UGHHHH! FUCKING CHRIST ON A STICK! CAN'T A GUY JUST HAVE SOME ALONE TI-" He stopped mid-sentence in his rant, as you had wrapped your arms around, giving him a hug. Blitz had no idea how to respond this your actions, as he stayed still, tail moving back and forth. "If you think offering sexual favors is going to increase your pay, then think again." Blitz grumbled out, but he raised an eyebrow when he heard you give a soft chuckle.

🐴"I'm not doing this for sex Blitz. I'm trying to make you feel better. I don't know whats going on with you, but I'm here if you need to talk about it." Not a word was said after that, as you continued to hold Blitz. His body was tense throughout the whole hug, but you felt him slowly relax against you. You felt something long wrap around your abdomen, pulling you closer towards him. You quickly realized it was his tail, and moved closer into the hug.

🐴After a few minutes, the hug slowly came to an end, as Blitz unwrapped his tail from you, allowing you to step back. Blitz's red irises held a bit of softness in them, as he continued to stare at you. He turned his head away, but one of his hands made his way up to your head and gave it a slight pat. "Thanks for that." he said to you, as his hand fell from your head. You smiled back and gave a small nod. Blitz then lifted his head and was wearing a large smile. "Alright time to get ready to kill some fuckers for our clients. MOXXIE! GET YOUR FAT ASS IN HERE!"

Moxxie🔫

🔫Starting as a new employee at I.M.P had you nervous, causing you to fiddle with your hands. You didn't know how the others would be, fearing they would hate you upon first seeing you. Surprisingly, they were kind people, as you were offered a huge hug from the imp named Millie and a little wave from her husband Moxxie. The hellhound seemed a bit antisocial when you saw her, but she was nice enough to give you a small head nod before going back to her cellular device.

🔫Your skills in fighting were subpar, but Moxxie and Millie were kind enough to train you. You had gotten closer to them over time especially Moxxie, but not in the romantic sense, you saw Moxxie as a big brother. You loved how passionate he was about singing and creating songs, and you adored how he soft he was for his wife.

🔫There were moments you felt really bad for Moxxie as he had to endure the nasty insults that either Blitz or Loona would throw at him. You still couldn't figure out why they kept calling him fat, like what? You were always there to cheer him up though whenever he was having a bad day, especially after having to deal with Blitz all day.

🔫Today was a bit of an odd day as a helicopter had arrived to pick up Moxxie, along with Millie and Blitz. You couldn't figure out what was going on, but you decided to stay behind in the office in case something happened and to watch over Loona for Blitz. They were gone for a while and had returned back in the afternoon, but this time Blitz was wearing a leather jacket and Moxxie was in a wedding dress? Curious you asked what the hell happened and Millie was kind enough to tell you everything.

🔫Your heart ached for Moxxie when you found out about his horrible father. You honestly wished you had gotten on the trip so you could stab his father in the face. Your eyes glanced over to look for Moxxie but he had slip away from you. Wondering where he went you followed after him. Leaving the room, you wondered out in the hallway and peered to see where he went. The last place you checked was the public restroom, so you went inside there.

🔫The bathroom wasn't the best but it wasn't the worse, since the toilets actually worked, but the floor definitely needed a cleaning and the mirrors needed replacing. You heard the sound of sniffles coming from one of the stalls and walked closer to it. Opening the stall door slowly, you looked inside to see Moxxie sitting on the toilet. He was still wearing the dress, and his legs were up on the seat, covering his face with them, as he had his arms and tail wrapped around his legs.

🔫"Moxxie?" calling out his name, you slowly entered the stall, closing the door behind you. He jolted upon hearing you call his name, removing his face from his legs, showing his tear streaked face. "Oh crumbs. Sorry I'm..I'm alright, don't worry about me." He tried to play it off that he was alright, but you can tell that his smile was forced. moving closer, you dropped down to your knees, inching closer to wrap your arms around him in a hug. No words came from Moxxie when you did this, but you heard the sounds of whimpering coming from him, as he moved his arms to wrap you in a tight hug, moving his head to cry on your shoulder.

🔫Placing your hand on his back, you rubbed it to provide him comfort as he continued to cry. It sounded like he was okay now as the sounds of his crying had stopped and his breathing had returned to normal. "What has you so upset, Mox?" Pulling away, you continued to stay on your knees to look at him. "Just....I feel so useless. I never wanted to go back to my old life, and the time I do, I finally get to stand up to my father, only to be knocked out like a weakling. I should have killed him, I could have but I didn't, and I almost got Millie and Blitz hurt because of me." "Moxxie stop!" Moxxie clamped his mouth shut, upon hearing you yell. "From what I heard from Millie, you opposed your father and even threatened him, and to me that is anything, but weak. You defended the love of your life, and told your psychopathic father to F off, so whatever negative thoughts you having going on in that head of yours, tell them to F off too."

🔫Moxxie eyes widen as he heard you talk, before returning to normal. The sad look on his face was replaced with a soft smile, as he wiped his tears away with his hand. "Haha thanks Y/N." Smiling back, you stood up from the ground and reached your hand out to grab Moxxie's, lifting him from the toilet. "Come on, lets get you out of that dress, even though you look very cute in it." A pinkish tint appeared on Moxxies face, before he yelled a "Hey!" and punched your arm, causing you to laugh.

Millie🪓

🪓Your first impression of Millie was not what you expected. You were very surprised that someone as kind and sweet as her was from the Wrath ring. The memories from your encounter in the Wrath ring gave you PTSD and you never wanted to experience that again, but Millie was making you slowly change your opinion.

🪓She was the definition of a hellish southern belle. Her country accent was adorable and the warmth she expressed with everyone was very motherly. You did see more of her violent side during your missions, but she was far from scary, badass was the word to describe it.

🪓The both of you had become two peas in a pod when you started working at I.M.P. The both of you participate in girly hobbies like going to spa trips and clothes shopping, but it did become target practice training on some days, as you really needed to improve your combat skills and Millie was kind enough to help you with that.

🪓It was very rare to see her in a depressive state, but you had seen it first hand during the mission at Camp Ivannakummore. You had just spotted Millie and Moxxie arguing about the mission and Millie running off crying, upset that Moxxie wasn't giving her a chance to shine. You weren't upset with Moxxie as it was clear he felt horrible for upsetting Millie. You told him to go do what he had to do and that you would go check up on Millie.

🪓It took a while, but you were able to find Millie, sitting behind the curtain on the stage at the camp. She was still upset as she still had tiny pinpricks of tears on her eyes. She spotted you and try to play it off, but you had run up to her and gave her a massive hug. Millie raised her hands up in shock, before looping her arms around your back, hugging you back super tight. "Are you okay?" you whispered.

🪓"I'm alright, suga. Don't worry about me." Millie said, as she tightned her arms around you more, making it hard to breathe. "Ack, can't breathe!" Millie gasped and removed her arms around, waving her arms up in the air. "Oh gosh! I'm so sorry. I forget my own strength sometimes. Ya alright?" Millie kept checking to make sure you were okay to which you responded with a thumbs up. "Moxxie felt bad about what had happened, and I'm pretty sure he's gonna come around and apologize to you. Come on, go out there and perform Millie. You gonna knock their socks off."

🪓A bright smile returned to Millie face, as she gave you another hug, yelling out Thanks, before she let go and made her way up to the stage.

Loona🐺

🐺Awkward, was the word to describe your relationship with Loona at the beginning of when you two first met. You honestly had no idea how to approach her since she seemed very unamiable with everyone, including her adopted father, Blitz. Her personality tended to shift to being very sarcastic to angry rebel, and you had no idea which one you were going to get when you talked to her.

🐺Blitz noticed your attempts to bond with Loona and it actually warmed his heart, as he did noticed that Loona didn't really have many friends except Vortex. He hatched a plan to get you two to become friends by inviting you over for a sleepover. You were happy that Blitz wanted to help, but you still felt this was overdoing it.

🐺Entering inside Blitz home, you scanned the walls, observing the pinned up photos and decor. You spotted Loona, who was sitting on the couch, who leaned her head back to look at you before putting it back up. Blitz had appeared from the bathroom, and noticed you at the door. "AH, you made it! C'mon, sit right here next to Loony!" Blitz had dragged you by the hand to the couch and made you sit down. "There we go, now the both of you are gonna have a fun bonding sleepover party. I'm gonna go out and hang out with Fizz, so both of you have fun!" Blitz said with excitement as he literally ran to the door yelling out a "BYE LOONY TOONY! LOVE YOU!" before slamming it.

🐺Now it was only two, alone in the living room. You had no idea what to do, so you just moved your eyes around the room, taking in everything. You smiled at some of the photos of Loona and Blitz, especially the adoption photo. Your eyes then move to look at Loona. She was wearing dark purple shirt that said "Fuck You Dad" and black lounge shorts with skulls on them. Loona lifted her head a bit from her phone, and noticed your eyes staring at her. "What?!" She growled out a response. Shaking your head, you stopped staring and quickly apologized. "Oh nothing, just...I like your pajamas. They're cool." Loona blinked at your response, having seemed to calm down. She gazed at her shirt, then back at you, "Um..thanks".

🐺You smiled back at her, and looked away. No one said a word after that, leaving the room in silence. "Have you heard of them before?" was spoken next to you, causing you to jump. Looking back at Loona, you tilted your head, "Um..who?" Loona pointed to her shirt, "Fuck You Dad. They are a band." "Oh no I haven't. Are they good?" Loona smiled a bit and moved to the side to grab a pair of headphones, while handing one to you.

🐺The both of you listened to the music, bopping your heads to the beat. The atmosphere slowly began to improve between the both of you, as after that you both chatted about other music genres and cool books to check out. The both of you decided to watch a movie, as you went into the kitchen to make some popcorn, while Loona put on a thriller movie to watch. After the movie, you had realize it had gotten late, and decided it was time to head for bed. You decided to sleep on the couch, as you didn't want to make the new relationship with Loona weird again if you slept in the same room. Loona bid you a goodnight and close the door to the room, as you got comfortable on the couch.

🐺You were awakened by the loud growling sounds coming from somewhere. You got up groggily and headed to where the sounds were coming from. They were coming from Loonas room, so you decided to open the door to see if she was okay. Upon entering her room, you saw her laying on her bed, hugging herself as she continued to whimper and growl. "Loona?" you walked closer to where she was, and sat on the bed, reaching out a hand to touch her. She had woken up at that, and shot up from her position on the bed, growling while baring her teeth at you. Her eyes were full of fear, and she had small tears in the corners of them. You jumped a bit at her reaction, but stayed where you were. "Loona, its me." you spoke in a calm tone, to reassure Loona you meant know harm Extending your arms out, you slowly moved towards her, wrapping your arms around her to give her a comforting hug. Loona's slit eyes had widen, signifying that she was calming down. She soon realized you were hugging her, and raised an eyebrow at you, "What are you doing?"

🐺You slowly released her from the hug and moved back a bit, to glance up at her. "I was trying to comfort you. You seemed to have had a bad nightmare." Loona said nothing, and just leaned back, crossing her arms. "It was nothing. Don't worry about it." Heaving a sigh, you uttered an okay and got up from the bed. You were stopped when you felt a hand grab yours, stopping you in your tracks. Turning your head back, you looked a Loona, who was wearing a bit of a shy expression. "Can...uh...can you lay with me for the night?" Widening your eyes at that, you gave her a soft smile back, and slowly moved towards the bed. You laid on the opposite side of where she was staying, and turned your back towards her. You felt her settle behind you, heaving out a long sigh. The room became quiet again, making you believe she had fallen back asleep, but you felt a pair of arms wrapped around you from behind. Her large tail had moved under the sheets to lay on top of you, it was amazingly soft. "Thanks." was what you heard from behind you. You smiled and moved one of your hands to pet her tail before closing your eyes, falling into a deep sleep.

Stolas🦉

🦉You were the one of the maids/butlers that resided in the Goetia Family mansion. You were newly employed by the family, so there were many things that you had to learn from the other imps, but the job was fairly easy.

🦉The inhabitants of the mansion was the Prince of the Goetia Family, Prince Stolas, and his wife and daughter, Stella and Octavia. Fear had filled you when you first saw Stolas in front of you, when you asked for a job. He was extremely handsome, and quite tall as well. His appearance was very stoic and graceful, yet it still made you feel sheepish when he gazed at you with a cold expression. He may have appeared very distant, but there was more to him that met the eye, as he hired you immediately and offered you adequate pay for your services and your own room in the mansion.

🦉He was a prince, but there were other things about him that you soon discovered during your time at the mansion. He was such a nerd, his love for exotic plants and astrology always made you smile, as you saw how at peace and happy he was when he was indulging in his hobbies. His love for his daughter was extremely sweet, always looking out for her and making sure she was safe and happy.

🦉It soon became clear that he was having an affair with someone else, given how often you caught him giggling about said person on the phone. He often referred to him as "Blitzy" and you happened to see said person or imp, when they were climbing up the balcony to Stolas chambers. You happened to hear the both of them going at it one night when Stella and her daughter were away. Let's just say that whatever was going on in there was best left unseen, but you noticed how much carefree and joyful Stolas was after, so you thought to best leave it alone.

🦉Stolas was called away very late at night for some unknown activity. Whatever he was, he was very excited and dressed to nines. He was gone for quite a while, so you decided it be best to head to bed. Your dreams were disrupted by the sounds of Stella yelling, my satan, she was such an annoying dreadful women. Getting up from your bed, you made your way over to where the sounds were coming from, and headed to one of the balcony's. Hiding away, your eyes spotted Stolas and Stella standing in front of each other. Your ears were able to pick up Stolas saying "𝒲𝑒 𝒶𝓇𝑒 𝑔𝑒𝓉𝓉𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝒟𝒾𝓋𝑜𝓇𝒸𝑒!" Oh my satan! He was finally asking for a divorce!

🦉The rage in Stella's voice was apparent as you heard her insult Stolas one last time, before turning away from him. You hid yourself even more, so she wouldn't be able to spot you. Once the coast was clear, you walked out and made your way over to the balcony to where Stolas still remained. His back was turned towards you, and he was leaning against the railing of the balcony, hands clutching at the feathers at the top of his head. The aching in your heart grew at his sad display. He was suffering so much.

🦉"Your highness?" Stolas jolted from his position, standing up from his regular height, and turning his head all the way back to look at you. "𝒪-𝑜𝒽 𝒴𝒩! 𝒲𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝒶𝓇𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒹𝑜𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓊𝓅?" His eyes were dripping with tears, smearing his lower eyelids with black mascara. "I happened to hear you and Stella arguing." Stolas heaved a sigh, and pointed his head down in shame. "𝑀𝓎 𝒹𝑒𝑒𝓅𝑒𝓈𝓉 𝒶𝓅𝑜𝓁𝑜𝑔𝒾𝑒𝓈 𝐼 𝒹𝒾𝒹𝓃𝓉 𝓂𝑒𝒶𝓃 𝓉𝑜 𝒹𝒾𝓈𝓉𝓊𝓇𝒷 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝓈𝓁𝓊𝓂𝒷𝑒𝓇" He was in front of you right now, crying, and he was apologizing to you? No no, he had no reason to apologize.

🦉"May you do something for me your highness?" you asked while walking closer to him. Stolas lifted his head and said "𝒴𝑒𝓈 𝓌𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝒾𝓈 𝒾𝓉?" "Can you sit on the ground for me?" Stolas tilted his head at you, confused, but he proceeded to do as you ask. Now that he was level with you, you moved closer to wear he sat, throwing your arms around him in a comforting hug. "𝒪𝒽 𝑀𝓎!" Stolas let out a surprised hoot, raising his arms in shock at your actions. Squeezing a bit tighter, you continued to hug him. "I apologize for doing this, but you looked in need of a hug." Stolas grew less tense and placed his hands on your shoulders, pushing you back a bit. "𝐼'𝓂 𝓆𝓊𝒾𝓉𝑒 𝒶𝓁𝓇𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉 𝓃𝑜𝓌 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝒾𝓈 𝓃𝑜 𝓃𝑒𝑒𝒹-" Stolas stopped when he saw the look on your face, basically telling him you were NOT buying what he was saying.

🦉"Its obvious to me you are not alright. You had just broken off the marriage with your horrid wife and you are staying up here, crying your heart out. What you need right now is a hug and some comfort. I understand if you are not comfortable with it and you can push me away." It all happened so quick, Stolas had wrapped his hands around you, pulling you back into a tight hug. He had lowered his head enough to where it was pushed against your chest. Sounds of sobbing could be heard and you felt your shirt becoming slightly dampen from his tears. You cradled his head against you, rubbing the back of his head feathers gently. The both of you remained in the position, with you holding Stolas as he continued to let all of his emotions out.

🦉His sobs soon came to an end, and he removed his head from your chest, but he kept his arms wrapped around your back. His crimson eyes glanced down at you and he was wearing a soft smile. "𝒯𝒽𝒶𝓃𝓀 𝓎𝑜𝓊, 𝒴𝒩." Smiling, you moved your hand to wipe the last of the tears on his face. "You are welcome, your highness." "𝒪𝒽 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝒾𝓈 𝓃𝑜 𝓃𝑒𝑒𝒹 𝓉𝑜 𝒶𝒹𝒹𝓇𝑒𝓈𝓈 𝓂𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝓌𝒶𝓎. 𝒫𝓁𝑒𝒶𝓈𝑒, 𝒸𝒶𝓁𝓁 𝓂𝑒 𝒮𝓉𝑜𝓁𝒶𝓈." Your eyes widen a bit a that, before they returned to normal. "Okay." Stolas smiled even more and leaned his forehead against yours, thank you again.

🦉"It might be a bit late to ask this, but would you like some ice cream?" Stolas face stilled for a bit, before he broke into a hooting laugh. "𝐼 𝓌𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹 𝓁𝒾𝓀𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝓋𝑒𝓇𝓎 𝓂𝓊𝒸𝒽."

TAG LIST:

@alastorsgoldie @91062854-ka , @delectableworm , @iiotic

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@lillylovesalastorsm1 , @cosmiccoralz , @iheartalastor ,

@mezzo-piano230 , @yukiinee

[chkn-soup]

.PUDDLE.

—————————————————

Warnings: These little demons are too silly..silliness overboard (also some slight sexual innuendos/references)

Syno: Helluva cast and what they’d do if there was a puddle or wet spot infront of you while you were walking to your date…(this is so stupid..)

(Suffering with severe writers block rn but I managed to juice this out of me, bare with me yall!!)

—————————————

Moxxie:

Moxxie is a die hard gentleman, and I will stand by that. So he will totally be prepared for this occasion (like he was in the Loo Loo land episode with his little Fanny filled with meds for Via) He’d most likely whip out some sort of plastic or cardboard like walk way for you to step on..and he just like had that..on hand, meanwhile you’re saying things like…”I can just walk around it”, but please let him be cautious and spoil you, he loves being prepared for such drastic situations to get his partner away from danger..even if the danger is just getting your shoes wet. Afterwards he’ll ask if you are alright..as if walking over a puddle is traumatic or like it took a toll on you.

Blitzø:

Blitzø probably won’t care or even notice the puddle in the first place. In fact if he does notice it, he’ll purposely push you into it so your feet get all wet, especially if you’re trying to avoid it in the first place, then he’ll laugh at you and your pouty face. But if you’re actually upset about it and don’t start laughing with him he’ll definitely be like “What..you mad your shoes are wet?” Once he realizes you’re pretty pissed about it he’ll say “Ok ok..sorry.” And will then join you in the puddle and make sure his feet end up equally as soaked or even more so just so you aren’t mad at him the whole night.

Stolas:

Stolas will most definitely see the puddle and he’s all for keeping his partner out of harms way especially the smallest ounce of it, and he knows that appearance is everything and so is comfortability, he doesn’t want your feet to be wet and soppy therefore uncomfortable for you. So he’ll do the reasonable things and use his powers to make you float over it…like Stolas..really? He’s one that likes to one up, and he really loves to show off, especially to his partner. So he will use his magic for the smaller things just to impress you, that includes making you float over a puddle just so your precious feet stay dry and warm.

Fizzarolli:

Our little froggy will do what he does best and leap! You don’t think he’ll extend the both of you over a mere puddle then you are wrong, Fizz is the king of Drama, and he will be super dramatic about this whether you like it or not, He’ll extend the both of you over thoroughly and will look very badass while doing so. And he’ll even ask too “didn’t I look so cool.” Sure Fizzy, the coolest.

Asmodeus:

This big boy will not hesitate to pick you up into his arms, and he IS strong enough to do so, all while he walks into the puddle himself, but you know anything to make sure his sweetheart is alright, and no no, he won’t be setting you down afterwards, he’ll just carry you the whole way to the date just because he feels like it..and you know what you’re much safer up there with him anyways…so why would he let you down?

Striker:

This mf cowboy (“save a horse” iykwim) will not hesitate to pull some dramatics as well, he’ll whip out his little lasso from his side and wrap it around you throughly while he pulls you away from the puddle in the last moments before you even get the chance to step on it and he’ll draw you in to send you spinning (or more like falling) straight towards him and into his chest..he’ll hold you mighty close to him as he walks the both of you to your date and he will keep the lasso on you…just incase there’s anymore danger up ahead, or he’ll totally lay down his jacket for you over the puddle, just like an old school gentleman would do.

Mammon:

Mammon will definitely pull a Blitzø where he’ll purposely push you into it and will laugh at your reaction but on the other hand he won’t join you in your wet shoe’d state, he’d rather just laugh at you and say that you should audition for his pageant because watching you in dreadful situations is funny to him. He will be kind enough to dry your feet up at home/or even the restaurant, and he’ll make sure your feet are dry.

—girls—

Millie:

This precious lady will honestly want to get into the puddle with you just to splash around, it doesn’t matter that you have reservations that you’re already 20 minutes late for, she’ll dead stop and be like “Baby look a puddle!!” and you’ll understand her and begin to jump in it with her, she loves just doing childish things with you even if some people might find it gross. But! if you don’t like puddles and won’t jump in it with her she understands completely and will quite literally pick you up over her head and carry you over it…doesn’t matter if you are taller or bigger than her, she’ll carry you anytime, anywhere.

Loona:

She’s another one who will pull you into her closer so you aren’t near the puddle but instead near her. She doesn’t want your feet wet and will try to protect you or prevent you from going into it, just because she knows how annoying wet socks are, But don’t even try to mention she did it or she’ll go back/find another puddle to push you into….the shell feel bad and will lend you her socks..don’t mention that either.

Verosika:

Hehe..Verosika really loves you she does, and that’s why she has high expectations of you. One of them being that you’ll carry her through the puddle instead of her carrying you. So she’ll see the puddle, purposely get closer to it and pause when she’s a step away from it..she’ll look down roll her eyes and say something about her shoes,…take the hint [reader]! And if you do take the bait and carry her (if you can) well..she’ll give you Tenfold for treating her so nicely and will peck your cheek after..but don’t think you’re putting her down immediately after..the fun has just started.

Stella:

Hello..??? She’s royalty and is lowkey a little bratty (she need a brat tamer..I’m here for her😏) so she’ll obviously expect you to do something for her to get her out of this drastic situation, do you want her new heels to be ruined by mud? She doesn’t think so. So she’ll pause before the puddle and eye you to see what you’ll do, you can do anything and she’ll absolutely love it, pull her out of the way, lay your jacket on it, or even carry her and she will laugh and grin smugly, kissing you before continuing to walk with you again. She likes when you treat her nicely..she’ll do the same for you coming back that way at the end of the date.

——

Hello my loves! I’m trying to write your requests, thank you all for being patient and supportive I love you all and you deserve your asks to be answered, you beautiful people!!🫶🏼🫶🏼!!

[cryptidghostgirl]

Make You Wish Chapter Six -- Stolas

Pairing: Alastor x Reader

Previous Part: Chapter Five -- The Conversation

Warnings: None for this chapter I don't think but please correct me if I am wrong.

Word Count: 1,568

Master Lists:

Master Lists 

Hazbin Hotel Master List 

Make You Wish Master List

A/N I promise I am working on getting requests out as quick as I can. Apologies for them taking a while, things have been super hectic recently and I am also massively depressed.

Click here and leave a comment if you want to be added to any taglists or send me an ask about it.

Y/n thanked the imp guard who let her into the office gracefully as she entered the space. It was dark, all the curtains drawn to cover the windows. The small speck of light that escaped their grasps traversed the floor frantically, bringing Stolas into high relief. He was sitting at his desk, bent over it with his hands tangled in the feathers of his hair. He looked stressed and appeared not to have noticed Y/n's presence. She cleared her throat.

"You asked to see me?"

Stolas raised his head, turning to face her with wide, nearly unseeing eyes. Long ago such a look from such a demon would have sent a shiver down Y/n's spine. Now, she simply watched him. Things had changed, she had changed. The afterlife had finally hardened her.

"Yes." he got to his feet, walking over to her, "I wanted to- what are you wearing?"

Y/n rolled her eyes. The judgment and scrutiny thick on his tongue wasn't helped by his posh accent.

"Clothes?" she indignantly responded.

There wasn't a way for her to exist around the man who owned her soul that wasn't guarded, inside and out. She crossed her arms, tapping her foot slightly.

"My dear, you look lik-"

"Don't call me that." Y/n interrupted, "I've asked you before. I don't like it."

The name was an infringement of boundaries. It simulated closeness and before today drove the nails of loss further into the muscle of her heart. In a way, it still did. Alastor was back but, he had still gone and things were still different. Y/n couldn't quite get a read on him yet, his plans and ambitions, his purpose in returning and in finding her.

She felt like what he wanted was for things to go back to normal, to the way they had been. Y/n knew that was an impossible future for her and had the slight idea that it might be for him as well. To be perfectly honest, Y/n wasn't sure she even really wanted things to go back.

The dress had been nice and she had wished for Alastor to return many times over the years but she had also worked hard for her life. She had tried, put all her effort in, and she liked the person that had come out the other side. There was a fear in Alastor's return, a fear that with him back, all her hard work would be undone. That she would comfortably let herself slip back into the familiar, becoming nothing but his guest star once again. Still, she knew Alastor, knew he would always do what it took to get what he wanted regardless of how anyone else felt about it. It was the one truly consistent thing about him.

"My apologies." Stolas sighed, "I was simply taken aback by your appearance. You look like a human."

"I know." she hummed, unable to keep the slight smile, the slight hint of warmth from her voice.

Y/n was conflicted about Alastor but she was still happy he was back, overjoyed even. The conflict didn't stop those feelings from bubbling to the surface.

"It was a gift."

"A gift?" Stolas repeated, intrigued, "From whom?"

"It doesn't matter." Y/n shook her head, all semblance of a smile falling from her features, "Why did you ask me to come?"

"Always straight to business with you." he mused, "It wasn't Blitzo, was it? I know you two are close..."

There was an unvoiced fear in his question. Y/n couldn't quite trace it's origin. Stolas was always odd when it came to the imp in question however and so, she payed it no mind. There was enough going on without any added pressure or confusion concerning the man who owned her soul and her dear friend.

"No, it wasn't Blitzo. It was an old friend of mine."

"An old friend... it wouldn't happen to be the Radio Demon, would it?" Stolas asked in mild disgust at the thought, "I saw that little show he put on, treating poor Vox so distastefully, so no use trying to hide the fact that he has returned."

Stolas knew Y/n had been close with Alastor before his disappearance. At the beginning of their arrangement, he had been so set on them being friends and had quizzed Y/n about her life at every opportunity. Eventually, Y/n's lack of equal enthusiasm beat him into submission but Stolas still drew on what he did know when necessary.

"Stolas, it doesn't concern you." Y/n sighed, "You own my soul, not my social life."

There was a tense moment, a sharp, shared gaze. Stolas relented.

"You are correct. I just know how hurt you were the last time and men like him... Y/n, they don't change."

Unbidden anxiety snuck momentarily into Y/n's mind and she beat it back with a baseball bat. These were thoughts for later, to run her hands over when she was alone in her room. It didn't matter that he was giving voice to her deepest concerns and confusions, this was neither the time nor the place to address them.

"I figured things out, learned to fend for myself." she replied, working hard to keep her voice even and respectful, "I'll do it again need be."

Stolas was not a man of violence but he was one who had a great capacity for it. Y/n knew this, Y/n was always careful around him because of this. It wasn't like Alastor where camaraderie flowed easily between them, creating an even ground in place of a power imbalance. While Stolas could on occasion be kind, pleasant, even endearing in Y/n's gaze, she always knew exactly where they both stood when she was in his presence.

"I'm just worried about you."

"Why?"

She hadn't meant to ask it. All the pressure, the changes of the day had been building up inside her and begun to trickle over the edges. She needed to be alone.

Stolas seemed equally as taken aback by her question as Y/n had been in asking it. He struggled to speak, his mouth opening and shutting several times before he finally spoke. It was as if even he didn't know the answer.

"You work for me, I don't want you ending up useless."

It was out of character and inane, they both knew it. Y/n didn't press the matter any further, ready to leave and get on with her life. Ready to sleep and see if things were real when she woke up.

"So, what did you need me to do?"

Stolas cleared his throat, comfort and authority seeping back into his being. He was such a strange man, so powerful yet so unsure. Y/n never quite knew what to do with him.

"I need the book, my grimoire."

"It's not the full moon already, is it?"

That was the deal: IMP got to use the book except for when it was the full moon. Stolas shook his head.

"No, it isn't but there is a festival in the Wrath Ring I need to conduct a ceremony at. It is a yearly event."

"And you don't have it all memorized already?"

Stolas glared lightly at her.

"I am a busy man."

Y/n was on the verge of asking if moping in his office, alone in the dark was a part of this alleged busyness but stopped herself. It was a good impulse, the one in her that avoided conflict. She crossed her arms.

"Fine, I'll bring it to you. When do you need it by?"

"Tomorrow." as if struck by a sudden inspiration, Stolas' eyes lit up, "Why don't you all come with?"

"You mean IMP?"

"Yes! It could be a wonderful time. The festival is always so quaint and joyful, I think you would like it."

"Millie would probably be happy at that." Y/n mused, a finger to her chin in thought, "And Mox. They're from Wrath after all but... I can't travel between rings, Stolas, and our deal means you stay away from Blitzo."

Stolas shook his head, laughing slightly.

"That first issue is easy enough to fix."

"Is it?" Y/n looked up at him, her brow furrowed.

It was times like this he wished his life had panned out differently. Stolas saw a friend in the demon, a companion. Instead, she was essentially his slave. Stolas had never been good at people and Y/n was no different. The line between them was wobbly at best under his command.

"I am a Goetia." he reminded her, "There is not a lot that I can't do."

"Okay then, I just never... never thought the scope of your power would include something like that. I thought it all had to do with the human realm."

"And you are a human soul."

"I guess that makes sense." Y/n shrugged after a moment's thought, "But that still leaves Blitzo."

"I wont bother him, you have my word."

Y/n could see the flash of strife beneath his cool complexion as Stolas raised a hand in oath. He was obsessed with physical representations of the immaterial, Y/n knew. It was nearly charming.

"Fine."

"Fantastic, it really will be a wonderful time. Why don't you bring that old friend of yours along too!"

----

TAGS:

@luzzbuzz @fudosl @mfnqueen1

[the-apple-of-her-eye-au]

Okay so, exciting stuff here people! Inspired by a scene from The Stars in His Eyes

Amazing work, as always! By @blitzy-blitzwing 💜✨️💜✨️

Let's call this "The Morning After" although without the sexual undertones! Some domestic Stolitz instead ❤️

[jazzmasternot]

He’s just like me Fr

[blitzsicedcoffee]

Gearing up for ghostfuckers angst, I am going to write that Striker kidnapping Blitz fic and it's going to be really torturous for Blitz I am so sorry (no im not). maybe it'll have a happy ending (probably not without a ton of trauma). but stolas will save him! (not until the damage has been done).

[stolitzsings]

New fic posted!

Check it out if you're into 4.4k of self-indulgent stolitz smut featuring cock-warming, face-sitting, and a whole lot of Blitz’s praise kink 😈

[viktheviking1]

Confession

“I’ll just get right into it. I am so so sorry. About everything. About trying to steal your book, about pretending I was there to reconnect- ah shit, I haven’t even apologized for tricking you into helping me rob your parents’ castle. I’m sorry for that, and I’m sorry for insulting you. Oh, but I'm going out of order now. Um, I’m also sorry for seducing you so that I could steal your book, and for making you use ‘owl shart’ as a safe word, telling you that your books on plants and frogs were boring . . . aw fuck, I’m out of order again.”

Sighing, he gestured at himself and continued, “Look, I’m a shitty person. I was shitty from the day I was born and I’ve only gotten shittier since. Honestly, it’s a fucking miracle that you managed to put up with me for as long as you did. I . . . I know I can’t take back the past. There are so, so many things I would change if I could. I’ve hurt so many people, and that’s not including the f**ks I kill for a living. Ugh. No, scratch that part.

Placing his elbows on his knees and holding his hands together, Blitz leaned forward, looking down at the groudn, “Point is, I thought that I was, like a curse, or a disease that needed to be cured. So I never let anyone get too close, and for a while, it seemed to work. I got to keep them, and their lives weren’t ruined; I thought it was a win-win, but they moved on, and I . . . I was left behind; the consequence of my own actions biting me in the ass. I was- I've been lonely and it didn't even work. I did hurt them all, in the end, because turns out, they wanted the one thing I refused to give them. The deepest, darkest, dampest, shittiest parts of me. Now, I don’t know why you would want to be exposed to that mess, but I don’t want to run anymore. I think . . . I think I’m finally ready to fight for what I want. And what I want is . . . is you. I don’t know how we’d make it work but . . . I don’t care what we have to face, if you would just let me . . .” He sighed again, closing his eyes, “Let me stay by your side, in whatever way you can allow . . . I will stay because . . . because I love-”

The words stopped suddenly, as Blitz opened his eyes . . .

Read the rest on The Pompous and The Prick!

[helluvahusker]

I'm utterly incapable of writing a Stolitz smut scene where Blitzø doesn't call himself Daddy at least once.

[xfangheartx]

Key points that are in my Helluva Boss fanfics.

Blitzø and Stolas made up after Apology Tour.

Fizz and Ozzie are engaged to be married.

Verosika's back in rehab along with Barbie and they're both forming a relationship.

Blitzø is going to a therapist.

Octavia is currently comatose due to falling through ice on a trip to Earth.

Ozzie has to go to a council meeting the same day he and Fizz are supposed to get married.

Vassago agrees to help Stolas keep custody of Octavia.

Moxxie and Millie are currently trying to have a baby.

With Mastermind premiering today, I really have to consider what I'm gonna do next.

[reptilian-angel]

The Cafe' Prince & The Killer Cook Pt. 1:

Chapter One - "Egg on your Face" Mega-Omelet

ME: Blitzø, having suffered a the worst day of his life, finds an unexpected silver lining when he awakens inside some random cafe hosted by a sweet (if oddly articulate) little girl, Via and her chef daddy, Stolas (Who looks like Hell on Wheels and cooks just as good, but who gave a shit.)

Later on after this chance encounter, a completely unanticipated offer might just be what Blitzø needs to turn his trashfire of an existence into a lifetime of amazing food, exciting moments and maybe even . . . Love?

Stolitz fluff, food chain puns, good food and healthy doses of angst await you at the Stars & Stir-Ups Cafe’!!! (Yet to be named)

Inspired by Pink Lomito’s ABSOLUTELY ADORABLE Stolitz Cafe’ AU fanart and written with their blessing, so I can only hope this will live up to the hype! (Displayed Below)

Full disclosure, I DO bake as a hobby, but I am NOT a career baker so most of descriptions of any foods mentioned, cooking and otherwise, will totally be written by an author completely in the dark, so please be gentle with any criticisms regarding any of the cooking displayed here. (Also see the end of the chapters for the recipes used, or at least the closest comparisions.)

Get Your knives and forks ready, you sinners & saints, and please enjoy!! I owe nothing!!!

Normal P.O.V.

When Blitzø woke up, he was automatically confused.

He had expected to be face flat, ass up on the shitty, grime covered flour of the bar he had trudged into last night like he had only hours to live. It had been a record-breaking shitty-ass day for him and he decided, like the many, many bitchy broke losers out there who had had their dreams squashed and trampled on like gnats in Hell, to drown his sorrows. Burning $ouls like tissue paper, he had began going for broke, mooching off other patrons and drunkards, earning petty shots in impromptu contests and maybe even performed a small strip tease for a gaggle of succubi and incubi.

He wasn’t a hundred percent sure how it ended, although he did have a vague recollection of plowing his dick into one of the incubi in one of the nasty as fuck bathroom stalls and wondering if the greasy pump soap could be used as lube before fading to black.

Christ on a Pogo stick he had REALLY gotten fucked up, didn’t he?

That said, he wouldn’t have been shocked in the slightest if he had found himself upside down, half- naked and definitely robbed of his wallet and phone in some shady alley at the crack of dawn. Yeah, that would have been normal for him.

Waking up in a plush, fancy-pants booth with a soft, comfortable quilt thrown on top of him was not.

He began leaning up to try and get some sense of where the fuck he was, but everything between his ears immediately started to bitch at him with an acute, relentless thrum that felt even worse than the headaches Moxxie gave him while bitching at him. On a good day.

He gave a low groan, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes in a sorry attempt to dull the throb. He swore everything was hurting, his horns were hurting, his scars were hurting, fuck, even his brand was hurting -

“Fudge.”

That innocent correction almost made him tumble out of the booth. He barely smacked his palms against the floor to keep him from actually falling face flat on its surface. Points for highly trained trapeze instincts. Centering himself, he found a pair of big, bright pink, and admittingly cute eyes of a little owl demon looking right at his.

Even with him being upside-down, he could tell they were a girl; maybe four or six, with a messy nest of long dark hair let loose save a small ponytail tied up on the side of her head with a scrunchie covered with moons and stars and a simple pink jumper with white stars of various sizes printed all over it.

It had taken a second for his hungover brain to figure out she was an owl, the white heart-shaped frame of her face like that of an owl’s a dead giveaway. The way she blinked at him only cemented that conclusion. She blinked calmly at him, despite how fucking weird he was sure he must’ve looked as a middle-aged, hungover, hot mess sleeping in what he just know fully realized was a restaurant booth.

Feeling caught off guard for a number of reasons, he could only respond with, “Sorry?”

The Little owl gave him a reproaching look, or at least as close to one as a toddler could manage. “‘Fudge’. You said it wrong.” She stated in all seriousness. “You’re supposed to say ‘fudge’ when you say the ‘F’ Word. Otherwise, it’s not polite.”

“Says who?” He asked.

“Says my daddy.” She said proudly as if she was referring to Lucifer himself. “He says ‘Politeness is the-” She paused, her face scrunching up in concentration, “- ‘Per-Ah-Get-Ive’ of sensible young demons’.”

He gave her a small smirk. “Oh yeah? And what is that?”

“What’s what?”

“Whatcha just said – Know what it means?”

He had expected her to respond with a "yes" as all little hellspawn do to prove they were just as smart as their parents who most of the time are dumber than the garbage man, and of course be all snooty and snobby about it too.

But, amazingly, she shook her head so much her hair flew in both directions. "Nope! But my daddy taught me that word. Which means it must be a smart grown-up thing to say. My daddy's all grown up and smart so it makes sense to try and apply it to my everyday 'Wing-guess-tics'."

"Uh, 'wing-guess-tics'?" He repeated with a smile.

The little owl nodded. "You know, the way you talk and how you sound to other people. Don't you ever take pride in how you sound towards others less proud of themselves?"

Blitzø sure as hell didn't. In fact, good mood or bad, he couldn't give two shits in a Gluttony Ring brand crapper what every other piece of shit thought about him or the way he talked. Which is exactly what he should tell to this innocent, sassy, too precious for words little oh satan's taint, he was too hungover for this.

Getting up at an old man's pace, he grunted, "I don't really have an answer to that, ow."

Okay, sitting up straight didn't quite stop the ache, but it wasn't harping so badly now.

The little owl made a sad sound. "That's too bad. Everything needs an answer."

"Does it?" He asked while once again pressing into his eyes to try and settle his headache. She gave an affirmative hum.

"They do. Sometimes."

Blitzø gave up trying to squeeze his eyeballs back into his brains and gave a slow roll of his neck, breathing with the small audible stream of cracks that followed. "Yeah, well, sometimes is better than no times I guess." Once his neck didn't feel so stiff, he looked down at the little owl who still was blinking up at him. "Hey kiddo?"

"Yes?"

"Can you, uh . . . Can you tell me where we are right now?" Geez, Blitzø, you need a little kid to tell your dumb, hungover ass where you crashed? Talk about hitting rock bottom.

She giggled like he had just told a funny joke. He admitted, even with a headache, the sound was nice to hear. "You're in our cafe, sir. Mine and Daddy's cafe. You've been here ever since last night."

He felt embarrassment collide with exasperation in a wave that only incensed the pounding in his skull. Grreeeaaat. Now he had to deal with a bitchy dad that could probably make a Karen more bearable. And considering his crappy luck, he could probably give Moxxie a run for his money when it came to whining and botching. Like he didn't have enough of a migraine already.

To distract himself from the imminent ass-chewing, Blitzø decided it was a good time as any to take a quick peek around. In case, things went tits up, he should know how much he could tag with horses and dongs later.

Look all over, he had to admit . . . He was pleasantly surprised.

The cafe was definitely a little ritzier than almost every other diner or bistro in Pride, at least the ones run by imps or sinners. It wasn't an 'in-your-face-so-suck-it-bitches' bourgeois nightmare that you found on the cover of rich people magazines, but it was still easy to smell the $oils that had been burned to buy the number of furniture and appliances that filled it. Pristine designer steel tables, floors tiles so clean you could eat off of them, cushy warm booths like the one he was sitting in that felt comfy enough to be small bed; yeah, this place made the local Hellbucks look like a gas station men's room (Which was also, coincidentally, one of the many places he would periodically wind up in after a bender).

He could probably make off with one of the tablecloths - Made with actual fucking linen, not rag or crappy burlap - And the money he would get for it would easily pay off his non-existent mortgage.

The walls, covered in perfectly intact, shiny wallpaper that was neither covered in mildew nor aged and peeling, colored the interior with a tasteful cream and vanilla striped pattern. Each dark strip of cream had subtle motifs of shooting stars, little crescent moons and cheery spiraling suns. The cushions seated on each chair and the fabrics of the booths were royal blue and spotted with muted violet stars, all differing sizes, each cleaner than the back seat of an Imp City taxi cab. Plus, no springs popping up to try and fuck him in his little red hole.

He then noticed the bar. A quaint but spacious counter as long as Blitzø's body and tail combined, a simple but pricey cash register at one end, with matching leather stools lined up perfectly beneath it. A large glass case half the size of his van sat at the other end, the inside holding shelves of numerous plates of decadent-looking desserts and pastries that drew an expectant grumble from his stomach.

It wasn't his fault, the last thing Blitzø remembered having that was even close to food was some outdated peanuts and the olives he wiped from some douche who had ordered nothing but martinis that were drier than Wraith in a heatwave.

And he normally hated olives, Christ, he must've been fucked up to devour those things, pit and all. Fuck, did I bang the guy who ordered then too?

Okay, not the priority right now, Blitzø. Especially with the cute little kid in front of you whose dad is definitely gonna throw you out on your ass the minute he sees you -

"Oh! Daddy's awake! Good morning, daddy!"

Fuck.

Blitzø jerked his head up at her cheerful greeting, opening his mouth if only to curse at how his head throbbed in response -

— Only for it to immediately die when he caught sight of "Daddy" coming into the cafe'.

Fuck him twice.

The demon that had stepped into his view was, hands down and pants down if his belt was loosened, one of the most gorgeous demons he had seen.

And the tallest, Jesus Christ.

The owl demon was as tall as a tree, with legs for days ending in jet black talons that clicked delicately against the immaculately clean tiles as he strode over. His body was much, much thinner than Blitzø had expected, delicate and lithe with sinfully svelte curves around his well-rounded hips that he felt an instant, barely concealed urge to wrap his legs around and squeeze. His upper body was just as long, lengthy frail arms that grew like willow branches from his shoulders with dainty but large hands and fingers that reminded him of spider legs as they moved and were just as dark as his feet. They were probably as soft as that little fluff of feathers that peeked out on his chest.

Looking at his face, he was slightly taken aback at the sight of not one but two pairs of eyes peering back, although the second pair were smaller and placed higher on his forehead, just as wide and bright as Via's, but instead of pink they shone with crimson and were as opaque as a ruby. It was obvious who this little girl got her looks from the most; the same dark spot at the tip of his beak, and the same shade of grey blue feathers, only his grew darker in hue as they climbed up his very lean throat, combed into a neat and very trim style that clearly was given a lot of attention. The only blemish to it would be the bold streak of grey that cut through the feathers which easily gave away his age, but somehow that had actually improved his looks as it contrasted the young (and pretty) features of his face.

His outfit wasn’t too extraordinary but still, Blitzø felt himself growing warm at the sight of the white button up dress shirt and the open cranberry pink waistcoat the owl was currently snapping shut dexterously and simple dark slacks that hugged his legs perfectly.

Fuck. I was once woken up with V wearing lingerie that was made pretty much just string but this guy is dressed like a fucking waiter and I wanna lay him flat on the counter.

Blitzø was suddenly that much more thankful for the blanket covering his lap, because he was sure feeling the telltale signs of a growing boner.

Oh well, he was sure it would go away once this guy started to whine about having to deal with a drunken piece of shit first thing in the morning -

The tall owl, even with the slightest of sleep still clinging to it, smiled warmly and brightly at his daughter. “Good morning, my Owlette.” Blitzø felt himself once again be knocked off guard by his chocolaty, silky tenor voice, the sound of it sending pleasant shivers down his spine.

Fuckhim three times, he sounded hot too. Satan, this sucked.

The owl’s pleasant chuckle only added to Blitzø;s horny chagrin. “I see you beat me down to the cafe’ today. I hope you slept well, my Starfire.”

The little “Starfire” nodded happily. “I slept good, Daddy! And so did our guest!” She gestured innocently at the imp, who then tensed at being put on the spot by a kid. “When I came down to check on him, he was snoozing like a kitten!”

Blitzø, of course, made a face. A kitten?

It went unnoticed by the little owl, but not by her father who gave her a stern, but still soft look. “Via,” He started. “You didn’t disturb our guest while he was sleeping, did you?”

“Via” quickly shook her head, he feathers swinging side to side in a flurry. “Mh-mm! No, Daddy, I promise I didn’t! I was real quiet until he woke up and said the bad thing wrong.”

He blinked at her. “The ‘bad’ word?”

“One of the words that Mummy used to -” He explanation was abruptly cut off by her father’s wincing and his hands waving the universal sign for stop. “O-oh, alright, alright, sweetie, I understand, no need to go further!”

Blitzø watched them quietly.

Huh. So pretty boy had post-marital troubles with the little former wifey, huh?

Yeah, that made sense. Aside from his friend’s, Blitzø had yet to see any marriage that wasn’t one step away to instating the “death do us part” vow.

This guy must have gotten out while the getting was still good. But not without a few licks dealt, judging by the signs of wariness on his face.

He mentally sighed. Alright the hottie daddy knows you’re here and first impression has clearly gone to shit so, get ready for take two, dumbass.

Blitzø, deciding that jokes was the way to go in a pinch, then said casually. “I guess ‘Mummy’ wasn’t a ‘fudge’ kinda girl.” He then put on his best smile as he looked straight on at the pretty owl. “Me, personally, always liked the mine with plenty of nuts.”

As smooth as it sounded, he still cringed on the inside. Oof, Blitzø, how lame do you sound right now?

However, to Blitzø’s surprise and relief, the innuendo did not go unnoticed by the only other adult in the cafe’. Both sets of eyes went wide and the haggardness on his face was instantly washed away with a swift, prominent pink flush that Blitzø definitely liked seeing. Next to Via, it was probably the cutest thing he saw this morning. It certainly took the edge off the ass-chewing he was sure to get.

Usually, anytime he cracked any sex jokes around others, he was almost immediately told off by whatever prude or asshole or Karen was in the vicinity (i.e. Moxxie) and who clearly had no sense of good humor. (Like they didn’t start humping on each other’s earlobes the second every one’s back was turned like the hypocrites they were.)

Anybody else who didn’t was either not giving two shits or just as eager to talk dirty after a line up of shots.

But this bird seem reasonably sober. But then again, judging by his frame, he was probably the type of demon to go for light drinks like martinis or cocktails rather than tequila or beezlejuice. Considering the little girl now running up to him and hugging his shins, it was more than likely. He had the bitter experience of always dealing with a parent more often found nursing a hangover rather than an infant and it was an all around shitty experience he had no wish to repeat.

However, right now, he wouldn’t mind getting another peek of that cute ass blush as the bird briefly ducked down to scoop up into his arms. “W-well,” He started, “It’s certainly good to see you awake, Mister . . . ?”

“Name’s Blitzø. The “O” is silent.” Blitzø stated without missing a beat.

The owl blinked. “What ‘o’?”

“Exactly.” Blitzø nodded without thinking and once again, groaned in pain as everything from the neck up throbbed.

“Oh dear, hangover not quite remedied yet?”

Blitzø hissed out a breath. “Yeah, that’s a big fat fff-fudgin’ no.” He smirked weakly at Via’s approving nod. “I feel like I decided to go dumpster-diving outside the nearest Sinnabon’s for a midnight snack-run.” His empty stomach than made itself known by giving an impatient grumble. “And it looks like I’m up for round two so I think it’s about time I get outta here.”

The owl blinked again. “I’m sorry?”

Blitzø carefully climbed out of his improvised bed and unsure of what to do, opted to take apart the bedding and fold it as neatly as he could. “Yeah, I know, I know, I should’ve been out of here hours ago, I get it. Satan knows no-one wants to deal with a hungover dumb-a first thing in the morning. I know I wouldn’t, plus you gotta kid here and I can’t imagine you want some strange weirdo around your baby-girl so I better clear out before -”

The quilt literally rising out of his hands cut him off like a record scratch. The fuck-?

He watched cow-eyed as some kind of blue sparkly whatsit energy surrounded the quilt and untangled the lump he had been making a mess out of. It than began folding itself in a much more professional fashion than his was and as soon as it finished, it levitated right over his head and towards the guys who, judging by the ethereal sheen wrapped around his talons, was making it.

“Mr. Blitzø,” He started calmly. “As the owner of a cafe’, I have often had ‘strange weirdos’ coming in and going out from here every day. Thankfully, most of them are courteous enough to show up around working hours, but I am no stranger to any who who wander in from the late-night crowd, which I’m assuming is where you come from.” His tone wasn’t accusing but Blitzø still frowned at the teasing lilt he definitely heard.

“As for my little Starfire,” The bird continued, nuzzling his daughter on the cheek which earned a giggle. “Via, I like to think at least, is an excellent judge of character, especially more so with strangers. So, if she thinks that you’re trustworthy then that’s more than enough reason to let you stay.” With a twirl of his talon, he sent the quilt through the door leading upstairs to, whatever the fuck it led to as he set Via down on one of the stools after a quick, dramatic spin that earned him another giggle. “At least, long enough for us to feed you a decent breakfast.”

That last bit was definitely NOT what Blitzø thought he’d hear. “Uh, excuse me?”

“Oh certainly, after you’ve been given food of actual substance to eat instead of the leftover, surely bacteria-ridden remains scrounged from a random dumpster.” The big bastard responded blithely as he made his way around the counter, to where Blitzø finally noticed the fancy-looking coffeemaker that made him feel more broke-ass than he already was. “But first, I believe refreshments are in order. Would you prefer coffee or tea?”

The asshole part of him wanted to deliver a pissy comeback at the offer. He was a grown-ass man, more than capable of getting his own food, fuck you very much and no trust-fund, (sexy) long-legged prick had the right to tell him what was okay for him to eat or not – Moxxie already got his ass enough about that, he didn’t need anyone else doing that shit.

Big bitch was probably trying to keep him here long enough to call the cops on him the minute his back was turned so he could stick him with some BS robbery charges just for shits and giggles. Which had happened to him before due to more than one nut-job Karen and/or Kevin.

And of course, since it was fucking Hell, there was only a certain amount of times that you could get arrested and get bailed out before the taxpayers think to simply say “Fuck it” and just take your money and never bother to find your cell keys.

That in mind, he was so not in the mood to bust out of prison again, that one stint in Greed was enough for the next five years.

Well, fuck this bird. The front door was right there and he was not gonna have to put up with whatever bullshit this guy was -

His stomach halted his would-be flipping-the-bird-at-the-bird-on-the-way-out escape with a rumble even louder and more impatient than before. The tell-tale smell of brewing coffee didn’t do anything to help quell it. And damn, did it smell good . . .

. . . . . . Oh, forget it, they dump that dumpster every other day and he was too hungover to spare the effort to drive. Or Look for his van. Or try to remember the name of the club he was at.

“. . . I usually have iced coffee. But right now, I’ll take a regular coffee, as black as blood.”

That request was responded to with a humored smile. “I myself usually take it black as sin, but I’m always up for a challenge.” Turning to the way too complicated than should be normal looking, coffee-making monstrosity, he also added, “Also, forgive me.”

“For what?” Blitzø asked as he came closer to the bar. This close, he could now spot a simplistic yet obviously custom-designed hotplate big enough to fit enough food for five people, flat black surface on one side and a classic stove-top on the other.

“For not introducing myself properly earlier.” A clean, see-through glass coffee pot that Blitzø didn’t even see him pull out appeared in his hand as he whipped out a coffee filter so finely made it looked more like a hankie, bypassing the coffee maker completely. “I’m Stolas, owner of this cafe’ as well as Chef and Barista. You’ve already had the pleasure of meeting my daughter, Octavia, my darling little helper.”

“Daddy says I’m his ‘Suzy Chef’!” Via, also now known as “Octavia”, chirped proudly. Before Blitzø took a seat on one of the stools, he moved as to help her up but she shook her head. Gripping the crank under the seat, she pulled it up and down like a desk chair’s until the seat was low enough for her to climb up. He watched in bemusement as she then adjusted the seat back up. Clearly, they were built with the varying heights of Hell’s diverse demographic in mind.

Not bad thinking, Blitzø had to admit.

“Indeed you are, my Owlette.” Stolas chuckled. Having placed the filter inside a clenex wrapped around a chic-looking coffee pot, he placed a silver carafe onto the stove-top side of the hotplate and flipping the switch. Taking out a bag of coffee grounds that smelled fucking fantastic. “She and I have been running this little cafe’ for about four months now. And if I may so, we’re doing rather well. Granted, we’re not millionaires but I’m certainly not complaining.”

In almost no time at all, the carafe’ started whistling sharply. Stolas took it off and replaced it with a small skillet that Blitzø didn’t see being pulled out either, only to stare unabashedly at the medley of cheeses, meats, veggies and eggs that literally flew in from the entry to what he guessed was the kitchen like it was something of out of a kid’s movie. He knew Via giggling at his face but he forgoed responding to that, as while Stolas attended to the coffee pot, a bottle of oil floated over to the skillet and poured a delicate amount inside with two slices of butter following suite. “. . . Uh, yeah, if you’re good at something, you should capitalize.”

“Perhaps, but it’s not really so much about the money as it is the business of cooking itself.” Stolas said earnestly as he dumped the grounds into the filter and sweeped up the carafe to pour in the hot water in one fluid motion. “I find that this line of work gives me much more gratification than that of my previous occupation.”

“Oh, what was that? Real estate spokesman? Attorney? Phone seee-” Blitzø was instantly reminded of Via’s presence as the little girl hummed happily while folding and unfolding a napkin she plucked from the napkin holder closest to them. “-eeecrecy operator?”

If Stolas noticed the near slip-up, he didn’t comment on it. “No, I’m afraid. Simply one of the cogs of the crumbling, over-heated machine that is known as Hell’s government.” While the skillet started to pop and sizzle, the owl than summoned a sizable knife to finely chop one onion to join the oil and butter. As the coffee grounds were left to bloom, Stolas made quite a show of crumbling up a thick sausage into bits with one hand while simultaneously conjuring an actual clutch of flames in the other hand, selecting a few strips of bacon to cook and crisp in a matter of seconds. Most likely to show off for Blitzø and his daughter who “oohed” at the sight.

Admittedly, Blitzø was a little impressed too, but he’d be fucked by a mime before he ever let on. “Geez, playin’ it up a bit, don’t ya think?”

“Perhaps a bit.” Stolas admitted, not so sorry in the slightest. “But compared to how stoic and quiet I had used to be, I relish any chance to ‘play it up’.” Having deemed the bacon thoroughly cooked, which it definitely was going by the smell, he extinguished the flames and set the crispy strips onto a cutting board for a magicked knife to chop up. Washing his hands in a small sink set by the hotplate, he gestured towards the enchanted parade of flying ingredients, allowing three eggs to gently land on the counter.

Blitzø, at this point, had taken his eyes away from the free magic show in front of him, cool as it was, to quietly observe Stolas’s shapely ass as he bent over to retrieve something from one of the lower cabinet.

Hmm. He could feel the tip of his tail flicking in appreciation. Guess the cake wasn’t only in good in the cases.

He tried to keep ogling as unnoticeable as possible as he asked. “Old job sucked that bad, huh?”

“Oh, abominably so.” Stolas groaned as he fished around in the cabinet obliviously. Eventually, he made a small sound of triumph as he located his prize; a small mixing bowl which he then set on the counter next to the eggs. A crooked finger brought a whisk right into his hand just as all three eggs were lifted and cracked into the bowl and the shells were tossed away. “And all I can say is that I’m bloody well glad that it’s behind me.”

“And now Daddy gets to be the bestest chef in all of Hell!” Via proclaimed, which was rewarded with a loving smile.

“Well, I certainly try my best.” He said cheerfully. He made sure to keep close attention to the carafe’ as it poured more water into the now ready coffee grounds as he beat the eggs thoroughly. As dark, fresh coffee began to drip into the pot, he set the bowl aside to neatly dish the sausage and bacon into the skillet. “I don’t know if anything I make will win any awards, but I wouldn’t mind if they didn’t. As long as I have my Via and this cafe’, I’ll be happy.”

Those words, despite himself, left a deep pit in Blitzø’s stomach.

He was all too familiar with the feeling to know that it wasn’t hunger.

And the cause of it was the warm translucent air wafting around in the little cafe’ that was more potent than the coffee.

And more pointedly, how out of place he felt to even be watching it.

He felt his claws clench the leather of his seat, the fabric creaking softly in response to his tightening grip. The pit felt like it was growing larger, making his shoulders tense. He found himself staring full-on at the clean surface of the bartop and tried to ignore the itch of his spines going erect. For the next few minutes, all that was heard was the sizzling and firecracker-like popping of the skillet as the eggs were poured in, the repetitive sound of coffee dripping and Via humming as she tried to fold her napkin into something other than a lopsided square.

Blitzø took a deep breath through his nose, his lips sputtering a bit like a horse’s (Didn’t he wish) as he exhaled.

“. . . Look, I’m . . . ” He paused a moment to think his words over carefully. The last thing he felt like doing right now was to sound an utter dickhead to the guy who was making him a hot meal for a total stranger.

No telling if he was the type to spit in on the plates of assholes who deserved it.

“. . . I’m sorry for, uhm, for having you make deal with me first thing in the morning.” He managed to get out rather lamely.

He wasn’t sure if the bird heard him. But that didn’t stop him from continuing. “I . . . I had a really, really real sh- crappy day yesterday, and – And I just needed to blow off a little steam.”

Images started to flash unbidden in his head. Of zeroes, of bottles, of bitter looks and smashed frames only made everything in Blitzø had been able to blissfully ignore up until that moment, then chose to rear its ugly head making him let out a barely concealed grunt. “. . . Point is, I-I’m sorry for screwing up your day and -”

He was interrupted by a good-sized mug being set calmly before him. He started as the smell of the dark roast curling in soft puffs and into his nostrils, the scent heavenly and already mending the throb of his head – only to be taken aback at the feel of a large, plush-soft hand petting the space between his horns in a comforting rub.

It took every single inch of Blitzø not to either smack the hand away or bite it off on sheer impulse.

He looked up and instead of what he thought for damn sure was going to be a patronizing sneer, – Because how else would any prick look after patting an imp’s head like a puppy’s? - Stolas’s face was as soft and reassuring as the smile on his beak.

A smile filled with nothing but understanding and warmth.

Sweet Lucifer, when was the last tim anyone had smiled at him like that?

“No apologies are need here, Mister Blitzø.” Stolas said simply. No hint of bullshit. “Nothing’s been broken, nothing’s been ruined. So please, don’t worry. I’m not a demon so easily rattled. Especially by lovely surprises such as yourself.”

. . . . Blitzø blamed the warmth he felt tingling on his cheeks on the steam coming from the mug.

Stolas didn’t comment on it, but he was sure that he heard some not very subtle amusement in his voice as he turned back to his cooking. “Would you like for me to add some peppers to dish? They were freshly picked this morning and I’m sure that they’ll taste wonderfully with the eggs.”

“UH-” Blitzø grabbed the mug and pretended to study it to keep himself from doing anything else dumb. “Y-yeah, sure, whatever, go nuts. I’m good with whatever.”

“Marvelous! I’ll add some as soon as the eggs have cooked for a bit.” Stolas said cheerfully. Blitzø muttered a “yeah, whatever” to his back as the owl reached from some green and red peppers big enough for Via to hold in both of her hands. He then made a small hoot that Blitzø, even with how off-kilter he felt at the moment, found cute. “Oh, and let me know how the coffee is, please. I’m trying a new blend I finally managed to put together a few days ago and I’d love to hear your opinion.”

Blitzø blinked at that. “Wha-? You mean this isn’t instant?”

Stolas shook his head. “Oh no. I try my best to use fresh items whenever I cook. Not that I have anything against instant or frozen food, but, as a chef, I find it almost like cheating if I’m not as authentic for my customers. The last thing I want is to have our cafe’ be mistaken for another Twink Trip or Hexxan.”

Blitzø would have taken a shot at that remark. Namely how if you loaded up gas station coffee with a fuckton of sugar, cream, and booze, it didn’t matter about the quality ‘cause who would give that much of a damn about dirty bean water -

That is, had he not taken a sip out of his mug.

It took a moment of peering down at his “coffee” to think up a much more direct response. “. . . . This is the best damn cup of coffee I ever had.”

“Thank you!” Stolas accepted the compliment cheerily. I admit it took much longer to properly cultivate and grow the beans for it than I had originally anticipated. I mean, I already knew the process was intricate but it’s a whole other experience when you actually attempt it yourself.” Stolas gave a weak chuckle as he prodded at the eggs simmering in the skillet. “I’ve lost count of the amount of times I almost blew up my grinder or ruined my insides.”

Blitzø, taking a much larger sip of his coffee hummed appreciatively. “Yeah, bad coffee can f- trip you up.” He knew that to be true. He once had to get his stomach pumped from drinking brew made by some dumbshit in his RV. That experience wasn’t really as painful as the telling-off Moxxie gave him afterwards. Little bitch always had act like he was right.

He took another big gulp. “You did good, though. Five stars.”

It wasn’t blind praise. Blitzø never bullshitted how he felt about what he drank and ate, (Much to Moxxie’s, Fizz’s, his Sunday Barista or, really, anyone’s annoyance) and the coffee was no exception; heavy and crisp with a balanced pairing of earthy and floral notes, the acidity like berries that left plenty of room for flavor instead of just tang. And the aftertaste didn’t linger like secondhand smoke, it left gradually with a mellow sheen that he didn’t mind in the slightest. Even though he was more an iced coffee guy, this was a kind of coffee Blitzø could see himself drinking again. When he wasn’t hungover, that is.

“Well, I’m thrilled to hear that, Mister Blitzø. Thank you.” Stolas responded gratefully.

By now, he had placed a lid over the eggs to let them simmer which allowed him to focus on chopping up the peppers. The imp assumed that had all he had been cutting up before Stolas turned to delicately slide a plate baring an apple that had been sliced in a way that the core stood erect as a tower with the slices spread open like a flower bloom. Before he can ask how the hell he did that so fast, Via chirped happily before plucking one slice and biting into it with a thank you.

Blitzø found her delight over the piece of fruit adorable, which the baby owl took as an invitation to pluck another slice and offer it to him with a smile. Satan, could this kid get any cuter?

He took the offered slice with a cheeky grin. Only to quickly toss it in the air and catch it with his tongue like an iguana’s, adding a “Bleh!” just for laughs, for which he earned a round of giggles from Via. He had almost missed by being blindsided by the cinnamon and spice flavor that had been baked into it. It had to have been made that very morning if the warmth and freshness of the slice was anything to go by, allowing the fruit to melt orgasmically well into his taste-buds. Wow.

He and Via had had unanimously agreed to split the apple between them, with no objections from Stolas as he busied himself with divvying up the vegetables and summoning other ingredients from the kitchen to prepare accordingly. Via filled up most of the time with chattering on innocently about little things, how funny her dream was last night, how home-school was “five times better than private school as there were less big dummy poop-heads” - Blitzø almost choked on a slice while Stolas lightly admonished her about “language” - And how her daddy once made her the bestest cake ever in the in the whole wide world for her fifth birthday. Blitzø, for as sweet as he found her daughterly praise, had to swallow the gag when she started going on about the “tasty” mouse chunks Stolas had added.

Bird or no, eating mice for Blitzø was a flat out no.

A sudden, horrifying though than popped into his head. Was Stolas going to add mice to his food?

Like mouse sausage? Mice bacon? Rat peppers? Was that a thing?! Or was he just pulling a Moxxie and asking dumbass question?

. . . Probably just being a Moxxie.

His internal debate was cut short by something else being set before him. A damn good-looking something.

An omelet the size of Blitzø’s fist lay before him, hot and steaming and straight from the hot plate. Yellow as can be with spots of golden brown, there were no signs of tears of breakage, with a perfect fluffy layer peeking from the folds stuffed with meat, veggies and oozing cheeses. The artsy fucker had even gone the extra mile and draped the top of it with a thin sheet of mozzarella, some garnish and a couple slices of baby tomatoes. Talk about extra.

“There you are, this morning’s special - ‘Egg On Your Face’ Mega-Omelet, with all the fixings and extra cheese for those unwelcome aches and pains. If I’ve done my job right, it should fix you right up.”

“Like magic!” Via dded with a bright smile. Both men chuckled at her.

“Like magic, huh?” Blitzø smirked. Well, I’ll just have to see about that.

Sure, the eggs may have looked good, but Blitzø had learned all too well that food looking good and tasting good were two totally different things.

What looked like a pile of slop to the naked eye could taste just as good as a five morning star meal served Beelzebub herself. The same thing applied to a plate of fancy finger foods that cost the same as a house mortgage but tasted like cardboard in the end. And Blitzø certainly had more than enough exposure to lousy food like that, thank you and fuck you very much, with no wish to repeat it.

Which he hoped he wouldn’t with this monster-omelet before him.

Deciding not to put it off any longer, he picked up his fork and dug the prongs into the soft-cooked eggs, scooping up a decent-sized bite with plenty of pepper, meat and cheese. After a moment’s consideration, he also speared one of the baby tomato slices. He gave the loaded fork a few blows to cool it, because there was no way he was going to down a maybe-shitty breakfast with a burnt tongue.

He stuck the fork in his mouth -

And his mind was BLOWN.

If there was such a thing as a bit of paradise, than these eggs were the mother fucking proof in the pudding. Or omelet, in this case.

The eggs were cooked to perfection; nice and fluffy to where they melt on in his mouth like luscious chocolate from Lust’s first class bakeries. And the flavor was like a parade in his mouth, from the salty onions, the crisp tomato and the sweet peppers, the numerous flavors sucker-punched his sense of taste without overwhelming the presence of the eggs. The meat inside was spectacular too, the bacon was at the optimum point between chewy and crispy, and the sausage was deliciously flavorful and greasy. His kind of meat, with the right amount of salt and black pepper.

He could barely hold down the pleasurable moan, but did nothing to stop all the muscles in his body from going lax.

Man, fuck trying to go to heaven, the key to fucking Eden’s Gate was right in his head hole.

A bemused coo. “So I take it you like it?”

Blitzø taste-jizzed mind abruptly snapped back into focus. Stolas’s beak was curled into a big, smug-ass grin that made his own fault in to a frown. The owl simply looked at him expectant. Dammit, if the kid weren’t here, he would have gladly told the bird exactly where to shove that grin.

Instead, he gave a disgruntled growl. “Yea, it’s . . . okay.”

Most chefs would have promptly gotten offended by such a dry appraisal of their “masterpieces”, especially if it came from an “uncultured swine” such as him.

But once again, Stolas surprised him by delivering a pleased smile in lieu of a hissy fit. “Well, I’m glad you like it. Eat up now, or it’ll get cold.”

Blitzø chose not to shoot off a shitty comeback, despite being rankled by the “order”. He took out his bubbling frustrations out on his food, picking up the plate and bringing it close enough to begin shoveling the omelet into his mouth like a starving man.

The petty, spiteful gremlin that was roughly, meeeh, ninety percent of his overall personality hoped that such a messy personality hoped that such a messy display would earn at least, would earn a groan of disgust. Always did the trick when he wanted to annoy Moxxie.

However, much to Blitzø’s complete consternation, the owl just gave a small humored hoot and returned to the hotplate with a single crack or insult. Like he didn’t give two shits about his bad manners.

Blitzø internally growled. What an ASS.

. . . A pretty ass, but still.

“I’m glad you’re pleased by my cooking skills.” The big bastard (Yes, Blitzø was calling him that again, suck it.) said happily, busying by wiping down the skillet while beating a new batch of eggs and sliding two slices of bread into a small old-fashioned toaster. “I have to admit, my main specialty is baking and drinks, but I try my best to expand my range of cuisine when I can.”

Once the yolks and whites were thoroughly whipped, there were poured into the skillet and almost immediately they started to sizzle and bubble from the rewarmed metal. “Unfortunately, I can’t cook the kind of food necessary to run a full-fledged cafe’.”

Blitzø swallowed a sizable bite of egg and pepper before asking, “Can’t you just wiggle your fingers and hocus pocus a steak or something?”

Stolas shook his head. “Alas that’s more Lady Beelzebub’s forte than mine. Even my magic can only do so much. Now if this was a flower shop that would be another matter, but it is what it is.”

“I’m glad it isn’t.” Via piped up. “I love Daddy’s cafe’! And I love helping him cook!”

“And you do such a magnificent job, my Owlette.” Stolas’s praise was followed by a small plate of scrambled eggs encircled by toast cut into the shape of flowers and mice, covered in butter and jam. Via took it with a bright thanks, digging in right away with a sparkly pink fork also provided by Stolas. “But sadly, a cafe’ needs more than peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and milk to cater to wider clientele. Not that I’m downplaying your talent as a chef, darling.”

“I’s okay, Daddy.” Via said, crumbs dotted on her beak from biting into one of her toast flowers. “I know it’s only because I’m not big enough to use the stove yet.” Blitzø mirrored her smile as she beamed up at him. “Once I can do that, Daddy said I could make even better dishes just like him.”

“Indeed I will, Starfire.” Stolas affirmed. “But for now, I’ll have to settle for looking for another cook. Sadly though -” Stolas pulled a face. “- There hasn’t been one suitable enough to help me run things here.”

“Yeah, it’s hard running the show solo.” Blitzø agreed. “Sucks even more when you don’t have a good crew to back you up. Don’t know where I’d be with M&M.”

Stolas blinked. “Uhm, ‘M&M’?”

Via blinked too. “Like the candy?”

Blitzø snickered. “Nah, Moxxie and Millie, friends of mine and my emplo-” He cut himself off with a grimace. “Well. Who were supposed to be my employees.”

The sudden downtrodden shift that overcame the imp id not go unnoticed by Stolas. “‘Supposed to be?’ What does that -”

“Don’t ask.” Blitzø said curtly. After a second, he added a little less harshly. “I-I don’t really wanna get into it right now.”

Because if I do, I KNOW I’m just going to get pissed off and do something shitty all over again.

“. . . . Alright then.”

Blitzø could hear it clear as day that the bird bastard had more questions, and would more than likely prefer to bombard him with rapid-fire questions like Moxxie would when he wanted to be particularly annoying. But thank Satan, he looked put off enough to put him off.

Small blessings.

The next few minutes passed in silence. The lull of it broken only by the sounds of silverware hitting the plates as Blitzø and Via ate, the drip of coffee as more was brewed in the pot and the subdued sounds of crunching each time either a somewhat concerned Via offered Blitzø a bite of her toast or, returning the favor, when he offered her a bite of bacon or sausage – He learned quick that she didn’t like peppers so much so he did well to avoid giving her any filled-to-the-brim bites. He could only hoped that the reason she liked it wasn’t because the meat that was in it wasn’t made from rodent.

It probably was, though, because . . . Birds.

Eventually, Blitzø had cleaned his plate, a satisfying weight settling in his stomach, he let out a contented sigh, his headache feeling miles better than almost a half hour before. “Woo, that was good. A frickin’ plus.”

The owl’s smiled chased away some of the terseness from before. “Happy to hear it. It’s always good to get good reviews on new dishes.”

“Yeah, I’ll bet. Quick question, though.”

“Yes?”

Blitzø pointed at the now empty plate. “Level with me – Was there any mice in that? Because, I get it, you and Via are birds, but I kinda draw the line when it comes to eating plague-carrying little turds.”

Stolas tittered at that. “No, no, I assure you, no lovely vermin of any kind was served to you. Unfortunately, I’ve learned that mice are terrible cures for hangovers.”

“What’s a hangover?” Via asked in that no-filter, childishly clueless way that all little hellspawn did.

Stolas, in a perfectly natural response to such a question, was freeze awkwardly. “O-oh, well, erm-”

Blitzø supplied the answer. “It’s like a really bad stomach bug, but for grown-ups.” Giving the little owl a conspiratorial grin, he added in a fake whisper, “Basically, if you eat too much green stuff, your poop comes out greener than Mammon’s butt.”

Via burst into a peal of little girl laughter that definitely brought an easy diffusion to Stolas’s unease, even earning a couple of barely smothered hoots that were poorly hidden by his hand.

Huh. That was twist.

Usually the parents were scolding him at this point, the usual uptight bullshit spiel about “using such vulgar language in front of their innocent little babies, you demented little firetoad!”

Not that he gave a shit because he was a comic genius, fuckyou, Moxxie.

After a bit, both birds managed to quell their laughter enough for Stolas to gently urge Via to head upstairs and get ready for the day. She agreed without protest, stopping only to allow Blitzø to ruffle her headfeathers as he added, “Gotta look cute for the suckers!” That earned him an admonishing look from Stolas that was weakened by his approving smile.

A smile that only grew bigger when Via caught the imp completely off-guard with an unexpected hug, her tiny arms wrapping swiftly and tightly around his waist, almost sending him falling off his stool. Before he could recover, Via was already heading up the staircase, humming cheerfully all the way.

Stolas’s soft chuckle drew Blitzø out of his shock. “Via has certainly taken a liking to you quickly.”

“Uh, yeah, I-I guess.” Blitzø rubbed at the back of his neck. “Last time I got hugged like that, some piece of shit nicked my wallet to buy thirty Bruiser King gift cards.”

“Oh, that’s a pity.”

“Joke was on him, though, he got food poisoning with the first card he used.”

Stolas hummed approvingly as he poured them both a fresh cup of coffee. “Well, I suppose there is such a thing as karma.”

Blitzø barked out a laugh. “Ha! Yeah, and maybe there’s a God.” He accepted the refilled mug, along with the offered sugar and creamers, and dumped almost each one in like an alcoholic adding liqueur. “Uh, speakin’ of, what do I owe ya?”

Stolas, who had added his own preferred condiments to his coffee in much more moderate manner, paused in his blowing at the steam rising from his mug. “Pardon?”

“What do I owe ya? For the food and coffee.” After a moment, he also added with only a tiny wince of guilt. “And whatever else my drunk ass did to your place before I blacked out.”

By emotionally-traumatized principle, he wouldn’t have asked outright. Often times, being the victim of a classist system that shat on those on the bottom rung, he had been subjected to grossly padded bills and unexpected expenses issued by a good percentage of the “well-to-do” owners of “upstanding establishments” where he wound up spending half the night washing up dishes. Once he got fast enough, and only if neither the food nor the service was worth the lightening of his wallet. Blitzø didn’t hesitate to pull a dine and dash; making escapes either through the bathroom window, the vent, or once through riding one of those fancy dining carts into the kitchen and out the employee entrance that admittingly had been fun to ride . . .

. . . Right up until he learned too late that the entrance opened right up to a three-story staircase with no handrail.

Needless to say, that had been one shitty ride to the hospital, Moxxie lecturing him the whole damn eight miles.

After everything – And he meant everything – in his lower body healed, he opted to hold out on anymore dashing. At least until the little baby-dick whineypuss would get off his fucking back about paying.

That aside, he saw no reason to be the deadbeat bun right now. Not when Stolas had been nothing but polite towards him. Even though he certainly didn’t deserve such kindness . . .

He braced himself for the amount as he took a long sip of his sweetened coffee -

“Oh, you needn’t worry – You don’t owe me a sint.”

Blitzø sputtered into his mug, nearly choking on the brew as he processed the owl’s words. “*Cough* *Cough* *Hack* Blegh! Excuse me?”

“You don’t need to pay me.” Stolas restated. “Like I said, you’ve done nothing wrong. You’ve been nothing but civil, you are obviously sorry for any offense you think you’ve given – Not that you have, don’t make that face – And more importantly, Via likes you. So I see no reason to change you.”

Blitzø frowned at him. “You’re screwing with me.” He stated flatly.

“I assure you, I am not. Honestly, your praise over your breakfast was payment enough. In all honesty, you were doing me a favor.”

“Meaning?”

“I don’t get a chance to try out new recipes on new faces very often, so any new opinions are always appreciated.” Blitzø felt his face fault at the slow, awfully sensual smile the owl sent him. “Especially ones as sublime as yours.”

Blitzø forgoed looking him in the eye, each cerise eye of his hooded and looking at him like he was going to be the next dish for him to devour, choosing instead to chug down half the contents of his mug. Gulping audibly, he mumbled back, “Glad I was such a good guinea pig for you.”

“I prefer the term ‘freelanced taste-taster’, personally.” Stolas retorted politely.

“I don’t want your charity.” Blitzø bit at him.

“Nor am I giving it to you. Like I said, you did me a favor.”

“How do you know I’m not some thieving bastard taking adventure of goody-two-shoes shop owners like you?”

“I have measures set to prevent such an occurrence.”

“I’m an undercover health inspector and you just failed.”

“Now you’re just grasping, dear.”

Blitzø rubbed a hand over his face. “You can’t just -” He let out a frustrated breath. “Look, I get you’re an . . . Okay guy and you are obviously trying to set a good example for your kid. I get that, but I don’t want to be the lasting impression of what to expect when giving out freebies to poor drunken bitches like me. No one should have to deal with that without getting paid, -”

“Mister Blitzø.”

Stolas’s firm tone stopped him with the sharpness of a smacked ruler. His face was stern, but not completely harsh as he eyes were looking at him with a softness that pricked at his chest.

“You. Do. Not. Me. Anything. And when I say something like that, it’s because I mean it with all the sincerity that is implied. It is not just for the sake of looking good in front of Via and certainly not some sort of dastardly ruse to get you to lower your guard. You’ve apologized and you meant it, you’ve been kind towards my daughter and enjoyed my cooking without bias or sarcasm. That said, believe me when I tell that is something I care for much more than any check or bill.”

Stolas sipped at his coffee calmly, making no comment about the for certain mollified expression on his face. “So, please, no more apologies. They are appreciated, but to be honest, after twenty-two of them, it just feels repetitive.”

Blitzø gave him a look. “Sorry what now?”

“Mister Blitzø -”

“Nah, nah, what you just said, the fuck you mean I said sorry twenty-two times?”

Stolas’s beak dropped into a thin line, taking a moment to maybe think his words over before formulating a response, “When Via and I found you last night, you were in a . . . A great deal of distress.” He was clearly trying to more emphatic than judgmental. “You were greatly intoxicated and horridly incoherent. Once I was close enough, all I could hear was you saying sorry over and over.”

Blitzø could feel himself growing hot from the neck up in embarrassment. The apprehensive caution in Stolas’s voice was doing fuck all to help the crashing wave of shame following up like a speeding train.

He didn’t need Stolas to tell him what he was bawling like a baby over.

But, ever the bottom bitch for punishment, asked anyway. “. . . I say what for?”

Stolas then turned sheepish. “O-Oh well, uh-uhm, I don’t quite recall -”

“Bird, I don’t do any of that hee-haw Shit, it’s too early and I’m still hungover and all I’m gonna do is get pissed off now WHAT did I SAY?”

With two sets of eyes, it was easy to see that Blitzø was not going to give up on getting an answer. Stolas sighed softly.

“You made a great deal of apologies to a great deal of people. I didn’t catch every name but, erm, you had quite the list.” He sipped at his mug, stalling for only a minute before continuing.

“You apologized to a miss Mistly for dinging her car door while trying parallel park by a Wacdonald’s, a miss Queen for breaking smashing her one of a kind pirate ship in a bottle instead of the pinata by accident on her birthday, a miss Millie for chipping her favorite ax, a mister Moxxie for making him run all the way to Greed for a single battery for your TV remote, dropping his guitar fourteen times, borrowing his wallet, or more accurately, pinching his wallet to pay for Voxflix twice, a miss Barbie for stealing one of her skirts and ripping it whilst performing a split, I couldn’t really make out what exactly you were apologizing to a “Vee” and a “Fizz” for -”

“Okay!” Blitzø blurted out. “Okay! I get it! I get it! I was a hot mess, no more shit needed, I got it!” He cringed at the indignant crack in his voice. Christ, like he didn’t look enough like a pathetic shit already. He might as well plan to fake his own death again.

You know what they say, fifth time’s the charm.

“It wasn’t that bad.” Stolas’s weak attempt to reassure him only bounced off of the imp like a ping-pong ball. “It really wasn’t. Really, you should have seen me afterwards when I was binge-drinking.”

Blitzø scoffed. “Yeah, yeah, I’m sure you got real frisky from all those white wine spritzers.”

“Actually, I tended to lean more towards absinthe.” Stolas retorted, with no little bit of sass, taking a small bit of gratification from Blitzø’s surprised. “Of course, with how I was knocking back each bottle, you’d almost believe they were Purgerade drinks.”

Blitzø lifted his head from where he had been pressing it into the bartop. “Damn, how many we talkin’?”

“At least two to three on a good night, or whatever was close to that.”

The imp gave a low whistle. “”Fuck me, bird. I get shit-faced after half a bottle, how the fuck are you still standing?”

“At this point, stubbornness and sheer dumb luck, I believe.” Stolas quipped.

That startled enough mirth in Blitzø to actually make him laugh. “Join the club, pal.”

“I fear I cannot, as I have cut back my vigorous drinking to properly attend to Octavia. Leaving my former occupation did wonders for helping me cub the habit.”

“Bosses sucked that bad, huh?”

“Doubly so, considering it was a family business, sort to speak, although, I can assure they were family in name only.”

“Ugh. Preachin’ to the fuckin’ choir – there’s only so much shitty family a bitch could take in one day.”

“That, Mister Blitzø, I can wholeheartedly agree on.”

There were getting off-track. Blitzø bit his lip. “. . . I’m sorry for my shit.”

“For the final time, no more apologizes are necessary.”

He angled his head towards the staircase door. “I probably scared your kid.”

“Via has seen far worse, I assure you. Even when off your cups, you weren’t untoward her in any way, so you can save any of the claims of indecency that you’ve half-heartedly concocted in that crafty little mind of yours.”

“Just let me fuckin’ pay you.”

“I neither require nor want your money and I promise you, should you try to force any $ouls on me, I will promptly set it to aflame.”

“Lilith’s titties, you’re a stubborn bitch.”

“And you are an equally stubborn spendthrift.”

“Fuck you.”

“Not without dinner, if you please.”

Blitzø groaned. “God, we’re gonna keep talking in circles if you don’t just charge me and get it over with. I’m not fucking broke, I have the $ouls, just let me pay you.”

Stolas’s counter remark definitely caught Blitzø unawares. “It’s been a long time since anyone’s done something genuinely kind for you, hasn’t it?”

Blitzø’s hackles rose instantly at the “innocent” statement. “You trying to say something?”

Stolas merely sipped at his coffee. “Just an assessment.”

“Or you being a dickhead.”

“I made you a free breakfast for which I expect nothing in return. I am being absolutely forthright whereas you are choosing not to believe that I have no ulterior motives. Who, might I ask, is being the dickhead here?”

Oh, this smug bitch.

He had wanted to let loose a snarl that would make the owl falter in his not requested charity streak. He felt the urge already rising in his throat, ready to finally tell off this prick who was seriously starting to piss him off . . .

. . . But could only let out a low whine at the exhaustion of prolonging the one-sided argument, the fatigue of a bad night, getting totally smashed and crashing just as hard setting in. Being still half hungover sure as shit was not helping to keep the spark of pride burning.

If anything, Blitzø felt even more tired.

He wanted nothing more than to lay everything out, pay whatever the fucking bird deserved and drag his broke-back ass back home and lick his wounds from last night. And the only thing that was stopping him was getting through to this royally stubborn and feathery (Not to mention pretty soft-looking) bastard of a demon.

“Alright, look – I want to pay you back, but for some weird ass reason, you won’t let me.”

“I think we have perfectly established that.”

“So we got a problem.”

“Which could be solved by you accepting my putting your breakfast on the house.”

“And it should be clear as fuck that ain’t happening.”

“So I’ve gathered.”

Blitzø blew a breath of air out of his nose. “I’m not just being an asshole here – I don’t like owing people anything. I’ve been dipping in and out of debts for years, financial and personal. And just that fucking recently I finally managed to pay off a good chunk of them only to literally be screwed over again almost the same fucking day. So now I’m once again edging too damn close to bankruptcy for my liking.”

He gave the owl a flat look. “Meaning I can’t take any chances, such as freebies or random handouts, cuz Charity was just as easily turn into high-interest loans with zero time frames for return payments, unless you want to set up an installment plan that involves cutting out pounds of flesh ever week. Obviously, a guy like me can’t afford to look any more fucked up than he is with a chunk of anything missing.

“All that said, do you see what I’m gettin’ at?”

“. . . . I’m starting to.” Stolas said with a considerate look.

“Satisfaction eased through Blitzø’s frame. “Great. Glad we finally got that -”

“All the same, you needn’t pay me.”

And just like that it was gone.

He growled so sharply it would have destroyed eardrums had he done it inside of headphone speakers. “You fuckin’-”

“But since you won’t accept the gesture,” Stolas interrupted calmly. “How about just doing me a special favor?”

“‘Special favor’?” Blitzø blinked. “What kinda -”

A sound not unlike a light bulb dinged in his thank full-no-longer-as-sore cranium.

Oh.

Oh okay.

He gave a resigned sigh. “Hooookay, look, tootsie hootsie, if you just wanted a quick shag in the back all you had to do was ask. But I gotta warn ya, the place I’ve fucked in was a public bathroom that probably wasn’t cleaned in the last year or two, so I’ll probably need to wipe down the goods with something. Baby wipes would be good if got’em -”

“NO!” A spluttered hoot brought his attention back to Stolas, whose heart-shaped features had turned an almost violent shade of crimson in the span of half a minute. “No! No, no! Not that kind of favor, no! I mean I need your mouth!”

Blitzø gave him a deadpan look. “Yeah, I got that much, relax.”

“No! No! I mean -” Stolas let out a shaky warble before planting his face into his hands while muttering to himself in fit of bashfulness.

Blitzø just sipped at his coffee, waiting for him to spit whatever he wanted to say out. To his credit, he didn’t stare, knowing from his own share of verbal vomiting moments that doing that would just make his embarrassment worse.

Even though he no clue what the fuck he was suddenly so damn worked up about.

I mean, fuck, if I had a sint for each time I said the “wrong” things, I’d be raking in more money more green than Mammon.

A deep breath. “Forgive me, I’m doing this all wrong. I’m trying to offer you a deal. Something, I hope, will mutually beneficial to the both of us.”

The incredulous look on Blitzø’s face was quickly addressed. “Nothing vulgar or dramatic involved, you needn’t worry. Nothing of the sort.” He took another deep breath. “I would like for to come in again, and try my cooking.”

. . . . . . . . . . . . .

“Say what now?”

Stolas made a small noise of exasperation. “As I said, I’m still relatively new to running a business dealing with dining and catering and the like. I’m often pushed into having to spontaneously expand my range of techniques and specialties depending on my success. I know I’m capable, but I know that I can’t just rely on my own opinion and preferences alone. Even more so when I’m attempting new dishes. As such, I need an outside opinion.”

The imp blinked. “And yooouuu think that’s me?”

Stolas nodded. “Very much so.”

“Some fucking rando off the street who broke into your private property, was wasted out of his mind and could just as easily rob you blind despite these so-called ‘measures’ you said you have?”

“Not as ‘so-called’ as you say, but yes.”

“Rrrright.” Blitzø rolled his eyes. “Don’tcha have, I dunno other foodie friends, you can ask? Or maybe just wait for some famous food blogger critic douchebag to to come in and give you a rating?”

“None that would trust to be fair or take seriously, or assume my want for approval is really a want for cheap compliments – that I’m desperate enough to give someone license to either be obnoxiously petty or to deliver the best shallow review that procures them a not so low-key invitation to my bedroom.”

Blitzø grunted. “Asshats.”

“You should see how quickly they recoil as soon as they learn of Via.”

“Fuckin’ asshats.”

“Quite.” Stolas affirmed. “And to answer your other question, yes, I do have others whose say I do value, but I’ve heard relying on the biased does not help one’s credibility. I do appreciate the precious few whom I’m fortunate enough to have as friends, but I need a healthy dose of honesty from outside sources to provoke me to experiment and expand myself.”

“And you think that guy is me?” Blitzø repeated, gesturing to himself crudely.

“Of course.”

“Bullshit.”

“Good gracious, and you call me stubborn.”

“It’s not -” He let out a small snarl.

Seriously? He was still keeping this up? Enough was enough.

“Look, I get you’re trying to be nice, I get that. But, trust me, I’m the last fucking guy you want to be nice to let alone have around. Seriously, ask fucking anyone in hearing distance – I’m a right bastard on a good day and a pushy dickhead on a bad one, I’ve fucked up more people than I’ve actually helped and you would have more sense to shoot me rather than invite me over again. I mean, you gotta kid to think about, and -”

Blitzø shook his head. “And you don’t want me messin’ with your business. The one I tried starting flopped before I even got my feet off the ground. Pretty sure that speaks a fuckton for how helpful I can be towards you.”

He could barely ignore the burning sting of truth in that statement.

Saying all the shit that was a constant boiling inside him all out loud sucked.

It sucked balls.

He knew it was better than letting it all rot and fester like he let everything else – But it still sucked.

Fuck what his therapist said about it being being cathartic. He should quit that bitch.

It’s not like he would be able to pay them for much longer anyway.

Blitzø knew he was not the kind of person to be asked to come back. Even the scraps of friends he had managed to hang on to could barely wait for him to leave as soon as he said hello.

Moxxie was the leading example of proving him right. Even when Blitzø actually adhered to his demands of privacy and properly asking for invites to visit, (That Blitzø still found completely anal of him although he bit his lip) Moxxie was adamant to get him out the door before he could even get two fucks in.

Even Millie, Moxxie’s blast and a half of a wife, who was far more accommodating than her whore-back husband, drew the line when it came to his company being longer than necessary.

That was to say fucking nothing about his own flesh and blood.

Barbie Wire, his twin sister, his other half, would sooner see him six feet under before seeing him again.

Cash Buckzo, his father, never asked for him, never wanted him, and made it a point of telling him so straight to his face more than once.

His mother, . . . . . . . . . . . . . . She sure as fuck would have been better off without him.

And his exes? Those who he didn’t remember or couldn’t care to remember, those he never took a chance on because of him being too much of a pussy to try?”

Verosika? It was pretty fucking clear on how that went.

Fizz?

He was never wanted.

He was never missed.

He was never asked to come back.

Not for a visit.

Not for a drink.

Never just to hang and shoot the shit.

He was always tossed away as soon as necessary.

He was always left behind, pushed aside, shoved into the background.

Forgotten.

Dead for all those concerned.

Dead, except in the way he wanted when he was at the lowest he could be.

No one ever missed him.

No one ever wanted him back.

Nobody.

“. . . . I fuck things up more often than I get them right. There’s a pretty good chance if you get involved with me, shit’s gonna go sideways for you too.”

He wasn’t sure if he had muttered that part aloud or not. Not that he gave a shit.

He halfway expected to be asked to repeat himself.

Or maybe Stolas would curse him under his breath for being such a dramatic bitch.

Maybe he would finally cut the bullshit and be real about what the fuck that he really wanted from him.

However, all Blitzø got in response, was a soft touch at his wrist, soft as silk and just as gentle.

Along with two sets of big cerise rose eyes that crinkled gently at the corners as they held his gaze with calmness and sympathy.

And maybe something else, but that could’ve been that whiny, fractured part of himself making up what wasn’t actually there.

“I’ve taken far riskier gambles than trusting a stranger out of the blue, Mister Blitzø.” Stolas spoke in such a comforting voice. “And I have yet to lose from any of them. Perhaps it’s rather cocky to say so, but since my winning streak has yet to be broken, I think you’re a rather good bet to take a chance on.”

The tender smile, that was nothing short of dazzling, he gave Blitzø at the end such a declaration was a damn good seller.

Satan forbid this man ever works for Vox – cause with that smile, he could sell gas station keys like they were the keys to gates of Eden itself. I mean, if his touch alone could send sparks up my arm like he was doing right now. . .

Fuck him if he knew.

The hand causing such a feeling than gave two soft pats to his wrist before lifting away to grab the coffee pot once more, refilling Blitzø’s mug with still steaming java and the exact number of sugars and creams he had diluted it with before.

“So, how does coming in twice, three times a week sound? I usually close the cafe’ around seven since I try to get Octavia in bed by eight thirty on weeknights. If you like to come by over the weekend, I close around six thirty to seven o’clock depending on how busy I get. Except any catering orders or special events, I’m not fussy over whenever you come over. All I ask is that you let me know when you’re coming by in advance so I can have something ready for you. A day or two ahead would be just fine.”

Blitzø, this time, could not find in him to groan loudly in protest to the blatant hardheaded dismissal of the what seemed like hours long argument. The argument he bitterly realized that he couldn’t fight against.

That did nothing to stop him from throwing his head back and scowling at the annoying as shit clean ceiling tiles above them.

“. . . . . . . You really aren’t gonna give this up, are you?” He said after a while.

“I suppose I’m about as bull-headed as you are.”

Blitzø gave a chuffing laugh at that.

Well, fuck.

What was he supposed to do with that?

What could he do with that?

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Fuck it, if the worst happened, he could just disappear again, right?

Not likely Stolas would look for him just for a review, right?

. . . . Right.

“. . . . . . . . . . The peppers and onions were both sweet.”

Stolas blinked at him like the owl he was.

Heh. Cute.

“The omelet was good, but it was kinda over-sweetened; I don’t know what kinda onions you added but personally I would use a more subtle kind of onion to help round out the sweetness of the peppers.”

He let this sink in for a moment before continuing, “I remember seeing you add a green pepper so next time I would recommend using a shallot, maybe about half a tablespoon’s worth should be right. A regular tablespoon’s good too if you don’t use too much of the peppers.”

He sipped at his refreshed coffee. “I personally, like some spice in my eggs to help me wake up, so don’t be afraid to throw some in the mix in the future. Like oregano or basil. You don’t have to go crazy with the amount, though, - just about when you’re making the bowl and a few dashes of it on top when ya put it on the plate. It’ll pair well with the tomatoes and not distract you too much from the rest of the food.”

He took a breath. “Coffee’s good, strong enough to double as a chemical peel, everything any caffeine addict is looking for. The aftertaste doesn’t turn me off from drinking the rest and from how it feels going down I am a hundred and fifteen percent sure you’re a nit-pick bitch cuz I taste how finely you ground the beans without turning them to powder. It’s good ya didn’t because that shit’s only good foe about half hour before fighting to keep your eyes open by either shooting up some dope or knocking back enough 66-Hour-Energy drinks to give the Big B a heart attack.”

Shouldn’t he stop? Maybe he was saying too much. Stolas had asked for honesty and Blitzø was doing his best to deliver it with as little jackassery as possible.

Problem was, for Blitzø, jackassery was his default language, according to practically everyone and their fat mom’s. And, most of the time, he didn’t even realize how much he let slip out before he got a sharp crack across the face. Or a knee to the balls.

He chanced a look at Stolas. If he looked upset, he could take it all back. It wasn’t too late, he could still backtrack -

Tiny stars sparked in Stolas’s wide eyes. Small and bright and beautiful, looking every bit like the twinkling little lights his mom would tell stories to him and Barbie back in their childhood. After the circus ring was cleared of trash and the last Hellhorse was tucked in their stall. Back when, even thought hings weren’t easy, everything was okay.

Before everything suddenly wasn’t.

Stolas, upon noticing Blitzø looking at him, instantly grew more flustered in some odd cacophony of joy and mortification, his plumage fluffing up from the top of his crown to the little floof of feathers on his chest. His hands belated came up to smooth them back into place, unfortunately they did little to quell them along with the rosy blush that tinted his face plate into an eye-catching pink.

Damn, this bird was so cute it was unfair.

The anxious itch in his chest was put to ease right there and then.

This couldn’t actually work, could it?

. . . Could it?

. . . . . . Maybe. Just maybe.

Emboldened, Blitzø sent the owl a lazy smile that easily darkened the pink on his face, matching the warmth the imp felt on his own face. “The apple was like a fucking angel feather, so soft and tasty. You have got to show me how the ever-loving fuck you made it turning to to applesauce ‘cause that shit was better than fuckin’ crack.”

Stolas looked like he couldn’t decide whether to be elated or overwhelmed.

After an awkwardly long amount of time, he clearly had settled on elation. His upper set of eyes turned upward in little crescents as his beak returned the smile with a brightness that Blitzø felt proud of bring out.

“I’d be happy to, darling.”

To be continued . . .

ME: Hey all you sinners & saints! Who’s excited for HAZBIN HOTEL coming out this friday?!?!?!? (Or Thursday if you actually watch it at it’s appointed time) I know I am!

I am SO EXCITED AND DESPERATELY TRYING TO IGNORE THE FACT THIS STORY IS LITTERALLY GOING TO LOST IN HAZBIN HIGH THAT I KNOW IS COMING FOR THE PAST WEEK. AND THE WEEK AFTER THAT. And the week after that . . .

ANYWAYSO, here is the recipe for the Mega-Omelet, which let me tell, just reading the ingredients alone mad me feel full! Also, what do you do for your respective hangovers? Let me know in the comments!

I’ll have the next (& FINAL chapter of this installment) written and posted as soon as I can, so until then, eat hearty, everyone!

Oh, and enjoy your stay at the Hazbin Hotel . . .

[mintaikk]

Currently grabbing the Canon-but-not-canon stolitz images for a post, but I wanted to post this one separately. Here's their Instagram posts of Blitzø being drunk and then Stolas caring for him