Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Life has many valuable lessons. 

Most, Blitzø ignored because he - in his own words - ‘didn’t give a shit’.

Well, he gave a shit about this one. 

Common sense wasn’t something Blitzø completely disregarded, despite the majority vote from those who knew him or had the displeasure of once doing so. 

He was often coined an idiot, a moron, stupid, foolish, irresponsible, senseless and overall an utter imbecile. 

Blitzø liked to think he was daring, cunning, witty, astute, resourceful and overall very hard to kill.

As he stared down at himself for the umpteenth time, Blitzø found himself acknowledging that the former list might be more accurate.

The life lesson he was currently staring in the face was not one that had been written down anywhere, had not been verbally spoken and therefore fell into the category of common sense that neared more ‘an absolute fucking rule’ that would possibly nullify the ‘very hard to kill’ part of his personal self-study.

He could be fairly dumb, he knew that, but even Blitzø was stunned at this level of ‘oh I’ve fucked up’.

Need it be said, one should never get drunk whilst messing around with a Grimoire. 

Not even a Grimoire, it was Stolas’ Grimoire and even though it had been Loona who initially started all this with a drunken spell that she’d randomly found, it was Blitzø who had escalated the situation to the point it now was.

When one says ‘oh I’ve fucked up’, they usually mean it with some grain of leeway.

Blitzø, did not have any leeway with this one.

He had deeply fucked up.

The initial spell was hazy- all Blitzø could remember was laughing his ass off, feeling a whoosh of tingles and then a bunch of sparkly colours because when you’re that gone on the alcohol, everything starts blurring into sensations that cannot be aptly processed.

He’d known from Loona’s manic laughing that something funny had happened to him, and the fragmented memories of him looking at his hands- which were not his organic hands by any degree -and his tail, told him he’d gone through some form of transformation.

It was an hour later, after the buzz had started to dwindle and Loona had passed out in her room, that Blitzø had decided to simply ‘change himself back’ in a drunken stupor like it was something he’d done every fucking day.

Somehow, the question of him even being able to do so never popped into his inebriated brain because Blitzø had drunkenly started flipping through pages that he couldn’t even fucking read and promptly started using magic that he had no idea how to even conjure. 

Needless to say, after mixing fuck knows what, Blitzø had been knocked out by his own concoction- of spells, or alcohol, who the fuck knows.

Probably both. 

The hangover was monumental, and he had been flat out for most of the weekend and before he knew it, it was Sunday night, which screwed him over even more. 

Now he was staring at a completely whack-ass version of himself that he wanted out of.

Immediately.

First, he was no fucking Imp.

He was covered in spiny feathers that whilst retained his organic colouring, were in no way reflective of his former being. For one, the crested feathering of his head gleamed iridescent in the light and the ivory scarring he’d sustained so many years ago, glinted the same array of multicoloured light fractals.

The chromatic display was scattered over the palms of his hands, and anywhere else his scarring appeared- including the white that separated the black bands adorning the two exaggerated quills that replaced his horns. 

His sclera no longer held a scarlet iris accompanied by a jet black pupil, they were just illuminated pools of haunting aureate. The insignia that identified him as a lowly circus clown was reduced to nothing more than a inky stain upon his forehead- a vaguely heart-shaped blotch which was not a feature Blitzø found himself fond of. 

Neither was the lack of his sharp teeth, which meant he had an alien sensation in his mouth which made no sense to him because he had no definable gums either- just a razor sharp beak that sat at the very tip of his lips. 

Lip? 

He had a bottom one, for sure. The edges of his mouth felt slightly rough, as though they were serrated but it was nothing he was familiar with.

The jet black lines that ran vertically over his eyelids remained in place, as did the black spines that stood on end between his shoulder blades.

Everything remotely identifiable as the Imp he had been before, promptly ended there.

His frame was lanky, too long for him to know what to do with, and his tail was far too heavy for him to lift. The end of it was adorned with more spiny feathers, the crest splaying out before it returned to a solid, fleshy arrow-shaped tip. That iridescent white blended into a sharp, black end that was much larger than Blitzø knew what to do with.

He would have said that about the weight that usually resided between his thighs, but that was gone too.

Blitzø wasn’t entirely sure how to process the loss of that amongst everything else. The only indication he had that it was absent, was the fact he couldn’t feel anything down there at all.

He was stupid enough to try and fix whatever he’d originally been and now he was this.

He was not so stupid that the presence of feathers, a beak, digitigrade legs and a lanky-as-fuck frame, didn’t immediately answer any and all questions as to what he was supposed to be. 

“Fucking dammit.”

So he’d fucked up. 

Here was the even bigger issue.

He was going to have to tell Stolas.

Okay, not a big deal right? 

Wrong.

Stolas hated him.

At least, Blitzø was ninety-nine-point-nine percent sure that the Prince of the Ars Goetia, fucking hated his guts. 

Their monthly arrangement had ended abruptly and without explanation nearly a year ago.

Ozzie’s had happened, then L.A had happened and then other shit had happened… then more fucking shit happened and then nothing. 

Blitzø had simply received a text instructing him to leave the Grimoire by the balcony doors and to pick it up the next night on from the same place. 

That had been a routine thing for the past eight months and Blitzø hadn’t seen the Prince once.

Only reason Blitzø even had the Grimoire still was because Stolas wasn’t cruel enough to leave I.M.P without means to do their work- which Blitzø was absolutely certain came from consideration of his employees rather than him.

Pretty sure he was fucked from that angle, too, because how the fuck was Stolas going to let this go unpunished?

He wouldn’t. 

Not after everything.

Blitzø blinked down at his feet, which were strangely equipped with small talons on ridiculous avian toes.

“Fuck.”

There was no other word for it, because Loona had already taken one look at him and said the same damn fucking thing. 

‘Well, you’re fucked. We’re all fucked.’

She’d left with the demand for him to deal with this and Blitzø was still stalling hours later because… he knew what he had to do but he didn’t know what to actually do.

He couldn’t just waltz up to the Palace and go in, he also had nothing to wear because none of his shit was big enough. 

That was a lie, he had oversized hoodies but he was sized up enough that his thighs were actual thighs and his hips were wider and his waist was more slight-

In short, none of his fucking pants would fit. 

Blitzø ran his hands down his face, hating the way everything felt coarse and rough. His feathers weren’t like Stolas’, they weren’t soft and downy. They were brittle and unkempt, just an array of prickly spindles because why would his form translate to anything remotely pleasant at all.

Blitzø huffed, having nothing to do but resign himself for the inevitable. 

He couldn’t stay like this.

He’d have to ask Stolas for help and… somehow plead his case. 

First things first… clothes.

He’d torn the get-up he’d gotten drunk in and the garments that did survive were so tight to him that he’d had to literally tear them off. His legs felt too thin to take his body weight and his tail was a hindrance that he could not overcome.

It dragged along the floor and he ended up crawling on his hands and knees over to his closet, blank and anxious all at once. 

He pulled a dark red hoodie off its hanger and wrestled it on, quills tugging this way and that with many a painful twinge. Next he rummaged through his drawers, trying on several pairs of pants until he was left with no other choice but to wear his boxers- because they at least had an elasticated waistband and were just about loose enough to fit his thighs.

It was still too tight, but at least he didn’t have the issue of having something between his legs to potentially strangle. 

He snatched his phone from his bedside cabinet and contemplated calling the owl ahead of time, but the notion of having to explain everything over the phone was too much. 

“Fuck, Blitzø. You really cocked this up.”

He had texts from Moxxie but he refused to open the chat he shared with his friend and employee. He really didn’t want to have to deal with the shit he’d get off Moxxie for this, because he could hear the fucking lecture from here and it wasn’t pretty. 

This would potentially doom I.M.P and whilst Blitzø was prepared to reap the consequences of his drunken actions, he couldn’t stand knowing that everyone else would too.

There was no other way around it. 

He was going to have to beg.

Life lesson number two.

Bird feet were not made for pushing down on pedals.

Blitzø was already uncomfortably hunched over in the driver’s seat to his van- which was like being stuffed into a barrel except the barrel would be better at this rate. His knees were practically jammed into his elbows and it felt like his face was mere inches from the steering wheel. 

Never before had Blitzø felt so fucking cramped- and he’d been in some tight spaces.

In every sense of the word.

His tail was at a really awkward angle and it hurt to even try to sit up, because it felt like his spines were actually digging into his back. 

His skin felt sore, like he had a trillion pin-pricks all over it. 

Delightful.

Trying to drive his van along the road leading to the Palace was ridiculously treacherous at night, his cack-handedness at steering and switching gears forced him to trundle along at a shameful speed that had cars honking continuously behind him. 

If Blitzø wasn’t starting to become more and more aware of himself and his situation, he would have pulled over and snapped all their necks.

Right now, he was trying not to envision Stolas snapping his. 

The situation with the owl was not something Blitzø had been expecting to face any time soon, if at all.

It was a life lesson that repeatedly tried to make itself known, and Blitzø dismissed it every single time it cropped up.

Now he couldn’t hide from it, because with every lane he drove down, he was remembering and reflecting.

It was severely unpleasant to do so, because he’d been here too many times before.

He’d fucked up what he had with people, too many times before. 

Apathy was a wonderful suit of armour to adorn when shit hit the fan with someone who really mattered, but the issue was Blitzø didn’t just slap on a mask of indifference.

He wielded himself with weapons of self-destruction, never addressing the actual root cause of the battle and just observing it blow itself up as the other people around him got struck with the debris. 

He watched it happen from a safe distance, until he turned his back which remained bare and unprotected. 

Inevitably, that’s when those who’d fought on his side were wise enough to take aim, because he’d betrayed them first and let them take the brunt of his mistakes.

That’s what happened with Stolas, alright.

They’d had something, Blitzø wasn’t so far gone that he hadn’t picked up on the trace amounts of something that coiled a little too pleasantly in his chest when Stolas did shit like held him after they’d fucked. 

If he could even call it that at this rate. 

No, he couldn’t, because what had started out as a monthly romp in the bedroom, had dwindled into conversations, lunches, random visits and ultimately exchanging tokens of affection like mutual interests and sharing hobbies. 

It morphed into quiet care- Blitzø’s heart tip-toeing around the very edges of having feelings and then he’d tripped because despite trying to keep the owl at arms length, Blitzø had ended up neck-deep in a place he had sworn to never allow himself to be.

That was fine, he could handle that. He could have handled that, if it had stayed one-sided.

At first he could play it off as such, because really, who the fuck would want to be close to him anyway?

Well, Blitzø had thought Stolas to be foolish and he played along with that narrative until fondness and appreciation set in. Set in because Stolas wasn’t an idiot and wasn’t dumb. He was gentle, and he was kind, and he genuinely cared and Blitzø got swept up in it all to the point he did what he always did.

He took Stolas for granted, and Stolas had walked away afterwards.

Blitzø, despite knowing the pain he was in and even being able to name it, threw his middle finger up at it all because as long as he could slap the band aid of ‘it meant nothing’ and ‘none of it was real’ onto the situation, he could pretend it was true.

It wasn’t true.

It wasn’t that Blitzø had been blind.

It wasn’t that he didn’t quietly like it and it wasn’t as though he didn’t miss it.

It was that he’d known he wouldn’t be able to keep it, and so he’d destroyed what they’d had and thrown himself deep into the true delusion.

That everything was okay.

That he was okay.

He wasn’t okay.

If drinking yourself stupid every night you can afford to do so was a sign of good mental health, then sure, Blitzø was great. If being so out of it to the point that you’re throwing yourself at people who leave you half stripped down in public bathrooms was a sign of self-care then Blitzø was doing fantastic.

If taking unnecessary risks in all corners of life to the point your daughter starts drinking with you at home to keep you from ending up dead in a ditch after some asshole had gotten hold of you was a sign that you were in a good, positive place in life, then yeah.

Blitzø was doing phenomenal.

The lights of the Palace grounds shone up the road and Blitzø left his thoughts to the pit they belonged in, knowing better than to actually drive straight into the courtyard. 

Once upon a time he would have, but not now. 

Not like this. 

He pulled into a lay-by and parked behind the usual bushes that he used before things had gotten familiar. 

His phone pinged and he pulled it out of his hoodie pocket, seeing a single text from his adoptive daughter displayed on the screen.

‘Sorry, Dad.’

The words stung, because it wasn’t her fault. 

Blitzø pushed the van door shut and tugged up his hood. 

He was sorry, too.

Chapter Text

Lesson number three.

Things you can do as an Imp, do not translate to things you can do as a lanky fucking bird. 

On top of just not having the agility due to having disproportionate weight in areas like your fucking heavy ass tail, there was the very obvious matter of size. 

Blitzø was not as unnoticeable as a hoodie-clad tangle of limbs and therefore did not make it past pushing the Grimoire onto Stolas’ balcony. He lost his footing and tumbled down, loudly breaking terracotta pots and whatever the fuck else Stolas had littered about below.

He landed hard, and the yelp that left him was not lost in any other noise that he made. 

“Fuck,” he spat, hearing a definitive crack in his pocket which meant his phone had taken the brunt of his fall. He winced, worrying for a second that he had snapped something.

“Stay where you are!” 

“Well, what do we have here?”

Great.

Déjà-fucking-vu.

He grunted as he was dragged to his feet, a mass of grazed limbs and messy feathers. He blinked at the charcoal grey Hellhound who had him by the scruff of his hoodie and feigned innocence, noting how confused the Night Guards were in turn.

“State your business.”

Blitzø opened his mouth then closed it before clearing his throat awkwardly. “Uh… friend of Stolas’? Was supposed to get in unnoticed and uh… surprise him?”

“What you got, Rog?” 

“Supposed friend of His Highness, Amine,” Rog replied, turning to a female Hound with latte fur. 

She gave Blitzø a calculating once over and he held his breath. “You’re rather under-dressed for the party, Sir.”

Blitzø swallowed hard, not at all ready for the news that there was a party going on. The fuck? 

Why would there be a fucking party? Stolas hosted those now? 

“Uh… well. Was gonna borrow… something,” he offered lamely, blinking as was set down. He stumbled lightly before straightening up somewhat, realising that he was a head or so taller than the Hounds. His hood fell and he noted how the two before him immediately started, a sense of unease settling between them as they exchanged looks. 

“Not a good idea to pull pranks round here, Sir,” Amine declared, placing her hands upon her hips. “His Highness has the Palace heavily guarded during events. When you’re not a regular it sparks suspicion.”

A regular?

Did Stolas host these fucking parties frequently?

Blitzø idly placed his hands into his pockets only to pull out the broken remains of his phone. They all stared as he let the fractured plastic and glass crumble to the cement paving under their feet.

“Fuck’s sake,” Blitzø muttered, rummaging around for the last few fragments. “I just bought that fucking model.” Again, he saw the guards exchange a look. “I got nothing. Consequences of trying a shit prank, I guess. Can I wait somewhere for Stolas or…?”

“We will notify His Highness of your arrival… may we request a name?” Rog ventured, again giving Blitzø a once over. 

Fuck.

“Uh… just tell him his long lost plaything fell from the balcony. He’ll know.”

“I’m sorry, Sir. We really need a name,” Amine insisted, standing a little straighter. 

Blitzø gave her a look, irked because what the fuck? They didn’t demand a name last time he got busted!

“Come on, I already lost the element of surprise here. At least let me have the joy of seeing his reaction to the sight of me,” he scoffed, feigning excitement at the prospect of still surprising the Prince. “Fact I’m such a mess makes it fucking better.”

“What’s your relation to His Highness?” Rog inquired, dark eyes sharp.

Blitzø shoved his hands back into his pockets, turning his chin up haughtily. “I won’t disclose that information as it’s private to the Prince. He can tell you himself,” he bluffed, hoping for the love of fuck that it worked. He saw their hesitation and scowled. “What’s the big deal? You can see what I am. You really think I’d come up here dressed like this if I was anything other than a dumb fucking friend?”

“Right…” Amine sighed, giving Rog a look before beckoning Blitzø to follow them. “We’ll have to ask you to wait in one of the dens. His Highness would not appreciate you amongst his guests in such attire.”

“No shit,” Blitzø muttered, glaring at the surrounding plants as he was led away from the entrance. Part of him wanted to make a run for it and do this a different way, but he was stuck because the sooner he did this, the better.

He also wasn’t dumb enough to make a run for it after somewhat gaining traction with the Guards. He didn’t escape them before and he was not stupid enough to try now.  

So here he was, scuffed and dirty, once again being led through the Palace- which looked different from when he’d last seen it. 

The whole place looked less daunting, more clean and less… hollow. The photos that once lined the hallways were no longer of Stolas and his ex-wife. Instead they were of the Prince and his daughter, sometimes together, sometimes not. 

There were various pieces of art, too.

It was simply brighter than before, and Blitzø guessed the reason for that was down to Stolas being happier in general. Without Stella, without him.

Well, this was going to fucking suck even more then.

The sound of pompous music made up of violins and stray piano notes floated from the Great Hall and Blitzø immediately cringed, hating it in an instant.

Amine halted, opening the door to a small side room that consisted of two arm chairs, a fire place and a large bookshelf. It was lit by four ornate sconces and Blitzø wondered if it was meant for private business discussions given the rather unusually bland decor. 

“Please wait here,” Amine requested, nodding to Rog who took post outside. 

The door was closed and Blitzø exhaled at length, feeling his hands shake as he started trying to figure out how to explain himself. He didn’t really have anything, because he knew he had no feet to stand on with this. 

The minutes ticked by and he didn’t dare move, not a fleck of curiosity to distract him from the current dread forming in the pit of his stomach. He heard voices and his heart shot up into his throat, the churning in his stomach violent and unbearable as he shoved his hands into his pockets.

The handle to the door creaked and he swore he’d throw up, that prickling sensation all over turning into an outright sting as though he’d rolled in a plot of nettles. 

“I assure you, I am quite fine. You may return to your normal posts.”

Fuck, that was Stolas’ voice. 

Stolas was on the other side of the door.

Blitzø hiked up his shoulders as said door finally opened, a tall, regal owl stepping inside with a stone cold expression that didn’t budge when he met Blitzø’s wide, apprehensive gaze. 

They merely stared at each other before Blitzø noted that the Hounds were still lingering. 

“…surprise…” he winced, waving his hands pathetically. 

Stolas blinked once before he grasped Blitzø by the upper arm, yanking him forward and out of the den. 

“Ow- fuck, Stolas-”

“Silence,” came the rather aggressive hiss. “Thank you, you really may return. I know exactly who this idiot is and will deal with him accordingly.”

Blitzø scowled, shooting the Prince a glare as Rog and Amine nodded and took their leave. 

“Oi, Stolas-”

He was cut off when said male whirled round, talons digging uncomfortably into Blitzø’s upper arm.

“Do not utter a single fucking word,” came another hiss, and Blitzø shut his mouth, allowing himself to be dragged up the staircase and all but shoved into the bedroom that he’d initially been trying to get into.

He stumbled, not yet good with his balance. 

“Where is it,” Stolas demanded, slamming the door shut and clapping on the lights. “Where is my Grimoire?”

“On- on the balcony,” Blitzø managed, pointing lamely in said balcony’s direction. “Look, Stolas, this was an accident and-”

The Prince didn’t even listen, shoving Blitzø aside as he threw open the stained glass panels and retrieved his beloved book. He ran a hand over its cover before flipping through several pages. Once reassured that it wasn’t damaged, he fixed a withering glower on Blitzø who was genuinely expecting to feel himself turn to stone. 

“How dare you misuse my Grimoire like this! Do you have any idea what you could have done to yourself?!” Stolas near-yelled. “What spell did you even use to transform yourself?! Who did you give this to in order to do this?!”

Blitzø swallowed hard, trying not to react to being shouted at. 

“It- Loona…” Blitzø dragged a hand down his face, feeling exceptionally sick. “We… were drunk and… and I don’t know how or why, but she was reading through the book and something fucking happened.”

“Drunk.”

Blitzø nodded, shrinking back as the room darkened exponentially. 

“What spell. Did she recite,” Stolas grit out, fists balled in a way that made Blitzø wary.

“That’s the fucking thing…” he whispered, genuinely afraid. His heart was pounding against his sternum and his lungs were aching with how little oxygen he was getting. “I… I don’t know, because I tried to fix it myself and… and I made it worse.”

Stolas set the book down with a dull thud, taking a step towards Blitzø who felt his spiny feathers stand on end in response.

“What. Are you saying.”

“I- I went through several other spells trying to undo the one Loona read and… and I was fucking drunk and couldn’t even read them so I don’t know how I-” 

Blitzø squeaked as he was grasped by the neckline of his hoodie and shoved back against the dresser behind him, the edge of the wooden surface digging into his back. He gulped down air, enraged vermillion amidst pitch black plumage looming over him. 

“I’m sorry,” Blitzø stuttered out, officially convinced he was about to die. “I’m sorry.”

Stolas emitted a seething note before whirling around, his Eldritch form receding. “Do you have any idea how fucking impossible it is to undo a tangle of multiple spells when you know them?!” He lifted up the Grimoire only to slam it down again. “You have fucked yourself over, how am I supposed to undo what you don’t even know has been done?!” 

“I- I don’t know,” Blitzø croaked out, not daring to leave the vicinity of the dresser. “I was drunk and-” 

“Enough of your excuses! This was given to you with the last thread of trust I had! Why do you continue to destroy whatever privilege you gain?! Are you incapable of any form of responsibility? Do you have any sense at all?! The spells in this book could have killed you- they should have! You are the most irresponsible, selfish, ignorant and arrogant man I have ever met! Get out!”

Blitzø blinked, stunned into a stupor for a fraction of a second before disbelief smacked him across the face and he shook his head, grasping onto the Prince’s sleeve.

“No, no Stolas- Stolas, I can’t go out there like this! I don’t know anything about this fucking body, please!”

He was shoved back with force and he went down with a pathetic note. 

“I am done putting myself out for you!” Stolas spat, tearing his sleeve away from Blitzø’s grip. “I do not care what you do, but I am not cleaning up your mess! You broke my trust, you have no idea how hard it was for me to get over you and to finally have you out of my life! You do not come crawling back here with this shit! You did this to yourself and I refuse to have anything to do with it! Get. Out!”

Blitzø swallowed hard, heart hollow because he wasn’t sure how he hadn’t seen this coming. Stolas was pointing at the open balcony and Blitzø sniffled, blinking back tears because he had nothing more to plead.

He nodded, scrambling up on thin, wobbly legs and yanking up his hood. He didn’t dare look behind himself as he clambered over the balustrade, dropping down the other side with no grace at all. He landed in the shrubs this time, which was better than the already broken terracotta pots and pushed past the guards that popped up automatically.

He took off towards the gates, hitch in his stride as he tried to hold back the sobs. He made it to his parked van and wrenched open the door, too blinded by his distress to do anything other than huddle up and cry, because fuck could that have gone any more wrong?

He hiccuped, looking for his keys only to find them missing.

Blitzø choked on a dreadful realisation that he had lost them somewhere in his tumbles, which meant going back out there.

That was impossible, he was absolutely certain that the next time he went anywhere near the Palace, he’d be killed outright. 

“F-fuck,” he wept, stuck because without a phone he couldn’t contact anyone. Walking back was out of the equation, he’d be seen and assumed to be a fucking rich prick- which would get him killed quicker than he could blink.

Blitzø heaved in a breath, unable to hold onto any one thought.

He was right about Stolas hating him, and the full weight of everything dawned then.

He was stuck like this. 

He was stuck in this fucking body that wasn’t his.

He’d cost I.M.P the Grimoire, which meant he’d just cost M&M their jobs. He had no way to pay them, or pay his own rent and that would mean-

That would mean that Loona would lose her home too and-

The fear rose like serrated teeth shredding up his spine and he slammed a hand down on the dashboard, suffocated and trapped in every which way.

Why did he ever ask for help, when he was the last demon in Hell who deserved it. 

Chapter Text

There were supposedly five stages of grief.

Blitzø was pretty sure he’d cycled through them multiple times in his life to the point he essentially existed within them. 

Shock and disbelief was something he’d gotten over- burned through it within seconds because what even was shock anymore? What was disbelief? He saw most fuck ups coming, he just ignored the warning signs because he didn’t care.

Whatever.

Why would a fuck up be wary of fuck ups?

Pain and guilt? 

He lived that. 

He breathed that. 

He wasn’t a stranger to either of those and he didn’t exactly make conscious efforts to avoid them. His heart beat with the agony and his veins pumped the guilt through him at a rate that meant he was practically a walking, talking, self-inflicted war wound.

He was scarred to fuck for a reason, after all.

Anger.

Anger was where he was stuck. The bargaining was never part of it, he threw his middle finger up at the prospect and only paid attention to the self-loathing he felt and the anger he had towards those emotions he couldn’t escape from. 

It was the anger that had him right now.

He’d stepped out of his van after crying himself out, knowing he couldn’t stay there. He was veering into the depressive stage, and it was taking an ugly, apathetic turn. 

Fine.

Fuck the order of whatever he was going through. He couldn’t live like this and if his stupidity had reached its true limit then bargaining was all he had left to go with. 

Blitzø sniffled, looking at his vehicle with bleary vision. 

Well, he really had no other choice. 

The guests had long gone, and Blitzø was now feeding off his own self-hate. 

“Fuck this.”

He stormed back up the lane, fully prepared to get himself arrested at this point because he had nothing left to lose. Not right now, at least.

He didn’t bother trying to be sneaky. He stalked up to the front door and thumped it with all his might, more than ready to belt out Stolas’ name if he had to. 

The Butler answered, tired and a little harried even as the Guards rounded the side.

“Sir!”

“You were told to leave!”

Blitzø lunged forward, easily slipping into the Palace even though he didn’t make it far. He kicked as he was pinned to the runner, several hands holding him down as his arms were wrenched behind his back. 

“Do not move!”

“Fuck you! What can you do, huh? Gonna put a fucking bullet in my brain?!”

“Someone get a damn officer on the phone!”

“What in Hell’s name is going on?!” 

Blitzø swore he saw red when Stolas came rushing from the stairwell, clad in his usual robe and slippers- but he was disheveled, face flushed and Blitzø knew that look. 

The Prince was evidently startled to see Blitzø on the floor, under three Hellhounds no less. 

What was worse was the other demon behind the Prince, clearly having got dressed in a rush for his shirt was still undone and even though Blitzø could barely make him out, he knew.

It shouldn’t make his heart lurch. 

It shouldn’t make his stomach churn like it was.

“Sirius, wait-” 

“We got it handled, Your Highness! Please stay back!”

Whatever, Stolas could fuck who he liked but Blitzø wasn’t dooming Loona.

“Fucking asshole! You wanna punish me, that’s fucking fine! I’ll take whatever fucking death penalty you dish out but I’m not leaving here until we talk! Loona’s not gonna have a fucking home if I don’t fix this! I can’t leave her with fucking nothing! Stolas!”

Blitzø yelped as his head was yanked back then shoved forward with such force that his skull audibly cracked upon the flooring. He heard it reverberate throughout his frame, followed by a loud snap that left him with nothing but a pathetic whimper. 

That didn’t feel, nor sound, good.

“Stop! Stop, don’t- that’s enough, please!”

Blitzø warbled quietly in pain, feeling the multiple weights on his back lift. 

“Your Highness, he-”

“It is my fault,” Stolas was saying, voice tight and closer than Blitzø could envision. “I didn’t- I shouldn’t have handled our upset the way I did. Please, release him.”

“Stolas, what do you want me to-”

“Oh, Sirius, I’m so sorry. I will call you later.”

“Of course.”

The breath that left Blitzø when his shoulders dropped forward was shallow and too quick, loud to Blitzø but barely a wisp to everyone else. 

“Up, come on. Up.”

Blitzø scrunched his eyes shut, not at all wanting to stand. 

“Get up.”

Whatever. 

So Stolas had someone else. 

What. Fucking. Ever.

Blitzø had been fucking around up until a month ago, so who was he to even be shaken by it? Why did he even care?

Blitzø grimaced as he pulled his arms under himself, his elbows and spine audibly popping as he took on his own weight. The wet patch on the floor didn’t go amiss and neither did the way his feathers stuck to the side of his face, which felt hot and fuzzy.

His head swam violently and he doubled over, already knowing what was going to happen. He didn’t even care that he couldn’t hold it back, whatever had settled in his stomach purging itself to the rich red runner that was already splattered with black splotches and scattered spindly quills. 

Blitzø staggered as he backed up, crashing into one of the side tables and ending up on his hands knees again. 

“Get him up, quickly. Thimble, call for Yima. I need this carpet cleaned immediately.”

Blitzø dropped his head to the floor as Stolas’ voice began to peter out, his vision clogging up with a foggy black mist.

Fuck bargaining. 

Fuck everything. 

He wanted to pass out. 

It wasn’t fair that he remained conscious throughout being taken upstairs to a room he didn’t recognise. It wasn’t fair that he was aware as Stolas tugged off the hoodie and began looking him over. 

It was absolutely unfair that Blitzø had to sit there, tears streaming down his face because he couldn’t place any one cause of pain and the mental haze was clearing the more the pain grew. 

Blitzø leaned back as Stolas moved to press the cloth once again to the injury the damn fucking Hounds had given him. It didn’t matter, he needed answers. He needed to know the price of fixing this. 

“What would it take?”

He blinked rapidly as Stolas tutted and tried again, only this time Blitzø held his arms up defensively. 

“Blitzø, enough of this! You are bleeding!”

“So fucking what?! I don’t care, you don’t care- no-one fucking cares because I’m not fucking important!” Blitzø snapped, trying to stand from the toilet seat and failing. A wretched sob left him as he clattered back down, a tangle of long spindly limbs and tatty fucking feathers. He pressed the heel of a palm to an eye, knowing that he was just going to break again.

“Just fucking… please let Loona use the book. Just until… until she can get a new job or something. I can’t go back. You know what’ll fucking happen if I go back. I’ll get fucking lynched and there ain’t no way anyone’s gonna pay any fucking ransom. Just… I need to give Loona my bank details so she can fucking look after herself, okay? Okay? I don’t care if you kill me after that, feed me to your fucking plants, I don’t care. You want me to compensate you? Fine. Someone’ll pay to fuck this mess, I’ll do it, but I can’t leave Loona like this. I can’t leave my baby girl like this.”

“Sh sh,” Stolas hushed, pressing the cloth to the wound at Blitzø’s temple. “I would never see your daughter on the streets, Blitzø. I never would.”

“I fucked up, she didn’t fuck up. She didn’t. This is entirely my fault. She didn’t want me drinking out no more, that’s all. I wasn’t in a good way and she was trying to help-”

“I understand. I’m not going to punish her, Blitzø.” 

Blitzø nodded, because as much he feared Stolas, he also trusted him. He sniffled, letting his cheek fall to the owl’s upper tummy as Stolas hushed him quietly. 

“I’ll do whatever you fucking want,” Blitzø wept, the migraine creeping in at the back of his skull. “I’ll fucking… sell myself, put a bullet in my brain or let you do it- whatever it fucking takes.”

“Blitzø,” Stolas intoned, clicking his beak audibly. “Don’t offer such things. I would never accept such things. I was angry, that is all. My Grimoire is so very dangerous and you have made quite the mess of yourself.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I know.”

Blitzø wallowed in the meagre comfort of having Stolas near, the hurt cutting deep when he realised how detached the owl sounded. 

“I lost my keys somewhere,” he whispered, deciding to just shut his emotions out. “I broke my phone falling from the balcony.”

“Right…”

Blitzø groaned as he was pushed back, dizzy all over again as the nausea flooded his system. 

“You will need to rest before bathing,” the Prince was saying, moving things around the bathroom. “You will simply have to stay here whilst I figure this out. This room is next to mine, so you might as well stay in it. We will work things out when you are not so distressed.”

He wasn’t going to argue. How could he? He’d promised to do whatever he was told and he was going to fucking stick to that because his life literally depended on it. 

He barely registered being hoisted up and guided over to the bed, but he registered the sharp discomfort of being laid down upon quills that felt needle sharp against his skin.

“I know. I know it’s very unpleasant, Blitzø. As long as you don’t move around too much you will be fine. We will address your feathers tomorrow, I promise.”

Blitzø nodded dazedly, accepting the thinner bed throw instead of getting under the quilt. The mere suggestion of having it press down on him made him feel ill. 

He released a shuddering breath, everything feeling alien and unnatural as he laid there. He blinked at Stolas who was leaning over him, looking at him with a less stern expression. 

It made his heart thud dully in his chest with a bereft ache. 

“I really am sorry, Stolas,” he whispered despairingly, wishing he hadn’t driven the owl so far from him. “Everything you said, I know it’s fucking true. I didn’t mean for this. I don’t mean for this.”

“Hush, Blitzø,” came the quiet command, a hand cupping Blitzø’s cheek before shifting to tuck him in. “Sleep. You must sleep, now. You won’t heal unless you rest.”

Blitzø quietened at the dismissal of his apologies, crushed in a whole new way as he resigned himself to the fact that he’d done with Stolas as he’d done with everyone else he’d held dear.

He really couldn’t handle anyone being kind to him.

He really couldn’t keep anyone’s attention, because he hated himself and knew they’d eventually hate him too. 

Blitzø drew in a distressed breath, feeling the tears still run down his face even as he tried to will himself into a state of blissful obliviousness. He wanted to not think, or feel, or exist.

Not right now.

‘Yet you still shove away anyone who gets too close until they resent you for being a selfish, shitty, shit fuck!’

He didn’t want to hear those words, because they were true and he was tired of hearing it.

It was the sole reason he was such a liar.

The truth always hurt. 

Chapter Text

It was horrible waking up. 

He was somewhat healed, for some fucking reason, but everything else was just fucking horrible. 

First, he hadn’t quite known where he was. That was disorienting and scary, because he only had fragments of memory and none of them were reassuring or pleasant. 

Then he’d had to make a mad dash for the bathroom- which was a mortifying experience because bird anatomy was an all-in-one situation that felt fucking confusing as well as horrifying. 

He didn’t know what fucking time it was and he had no idea what else to do, but taking a look in the mirror told him he desperately needed to shower.

So he did.

Let it be said that feathers were the worst fucking things in the fucking universe when sodden with water. Not only did they twinge with every fucking tug or pull, but they didn’t lay flat either. 

He’d broken several just trying to dry off and after twinging himself between the legs by mistake…

Yeah.

He was beyond miserable. 

Even worse, he wasn’t fully bird because under the tatty quills of his chest, lay two nubs of flesh that were sore and wholly unwanted because what the fuck? He was well and truly something fucked up between species. 

Seeing as it was clearly too early for anyone else to be up, Blitzø busied himself with re-making the bed and trying to get somewhat acclimatised to moving about. He was very unbalanced due to his tail and it was impossible to get around freely. 

It was absolutely a curse.

Being thirsty was the next curse to plague him and after failing to figure out how to drink water from the cup at the side of his bed, Blitzø had simply given up. 

So he’d die of dehydration.

Fine.

Whatever.

Frustration from discomfort ended up becoming too overwhelming for him and he plonked himself down on the rug, looking about the room. It was nothing special and he dragged his tail round, studying it with ire and poking at the spiny feathers that adorned it.

The more he sat there, the more his mind began to float between annoyance and anger, and he tugged hard at a quill. It came away with a sharp sting, but the ache behind was somewhat satisfying.

Cathartic.

Weirdly soothing and even more weirdly relaxing.

So that’s how he remained. 

He was sat cross-legged on the carpet, idly plucking the spiny feathers from his tail when the door opened. 

He blinked in surprise as Stolas peered round it, expression marginally curious before he caught sight of where Blitzø was and what he was doing. 

There was a few seconds of silence, neither moving until Blitzø flicked his wrist and the quill he was holding onto swiftly came away. 

Stolas was charging over with frightening speed and Blitzø grumbled as his hands were pushed away from himself. He huffed loudly, not wanting to look the owl in the face as he checked Blitzø over. 

“Blitzø, listen to me,” Stolas instructed, collecting up the numerous plumes that lay scattered across the floor around the smaller male. “I know. I know that I handled this situation deplorably. I handled this vilely, and I understand that this was already going to be frightening for you. I made it ten times worse and-” 

Stolas choked up, shaking his head and falling to his knees, looking at the feathers he’d collected. 

“I’m so very sorry for throwing you out when you came to me for help.”

Blitzø shrugged despondently. “You did what I drove you to.”

“You didn’t. I’m the one that cut ties with you,” Stolas uttered shakily, raising a hand to his eyes. “I threw you out and vented my frustration in the terrible way of taking Sirius to bed, as usual.”

Ugh.

He didn’t want to hear that.

He also couldn’t deal with Stolas crying about it. 

“Stolas, you already know that I fucking ruin whatever I have,” he exhaled, hands wandering back to his tail. “I fucking… break whoever I get close to and I take shit for granted. You did what everyone else did, because you saw what a fucking asshole I am. If it’s any consolation, you held on longer than anyone else. I reap what I sow. I shouldn’t have fucked around with your Grimoire.”

He scowled, yanking a bunch of feathers out in irritation. 

“I should have fucking killed myself with it.”

“Please…” Stolas whispered, holding Blitzø’s wrist. “Please stop saying that. You said it last night too, I never- I know what I said but I did not mean it like that. I was terribly angry and knowing what you could have done to yourself… it was very frightening.” 

Blitzø didn’t know why that was an issue at all. “I don’t understand,” he muttered, drawing his knees up awkwardly. “You’re not making sense. You were scared by what I could have done but fucking… told me to get out anyway? What’s the fucking difference? You even said I should have killed myself with it.” 

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Stolas inhaled slowly, balling his hands upon his lap which had Blitzø tensing. The owl caught it and huffed in distress. “I’m not going to hit you, Blitzø. Please don’t… please don’t react like that.”

“I hadn’t… made you that angry before,” Blitzø mumbled, somehow finding the ability to loosely curl his tail around himself. “Look, if there’s fuck all that can be done then just put me out my misery, Stolas. I wasn’t fucking holding it together anyway. Whole reason Loona was getting plastered with me at home was because I was gonna end up in some fucking ditch somewhere otherwise.” He tipped his head back, running his hand through the mussed feathers atop his head. “Some… fucking Dad I am, right? Can’t even hold shit together for her. Now she’s gonna fucking lose everything. Would’a been a fucking mercy on you all if it had done me in. Least she would have inherited everything.” He glanced at the owl whose mouth was a thin line and he scoffed derisively. 

“I don’t know why it makes you so fucking mad. You hate me. I’m here because I can’t leave shit the way it is for my kid. Make no fucking mistake I am not under any fucking illusions. You made it clear how you felt and I’m not gonna fucking beg you to pretend, okay? Don’t fucking pity me. Just… I said I’d do whatever you asked. If I can’t change back then I need to get shit sorted so they can keep going without me. I’m tired. I’m done.”

Stolas furrowed his eyebrows, concern written all over his pretty face. “Why? What happened that made you so-” 

Blitzø hissed sharply without even meaning to, feathers fluffing up and spines standing on end as he curled up defensively. “It doesn’t fucking matter,” he growled, hugging his knees tightly. “No-one fucking cares and I don’t want anyone to fucking care.”

He was doing it again.

He was pushing Stolas away and he clenched his jaw, irked further by the acknowledgment of his own words and actions. He scrunched his eyes shut and dropped his head to his arms, feeling the moisture gathering at his lower-lash line. 

“Very well,” came the quiet, flat reply. “If that is what you wish.”

Blitzø’s heart thudded against his sternum and he fought against the walls he’d built around himself, not truly wanting to give up on the chance he may just have. It was like a pin prick of sunlight filtering through a sealed dome and he swallowed hard, throat feeling raw and swollen. 

“It’s not,” he croaked out, pressing his face into his folded arms. “I’m scared you’re just gonna throw me out again and I hurt all fucking over-” 

He was cut off by Stolas shuffling right next to him with a sigh, nimble talons starting to fiddle with the spiny feathers jutting out from Blitzø’s shoulder. The quiet that came over them was strange, and Blitzø took the chance to calm down. The avian-Imp sniffled, glancing at Stolas who was rather focused.

“What are you doing?”

“You have brand new plumage.”

“Yeah, no shit,” Blitzø mumbled wetly, huffing. “They fucking hurt. Feels like fucking needles all over.”

Stolas scoffed softly, demeanour finally losing it’s tension. “It would. Your feather sheaths are still in place. You need to remove them, Blitzø. It won’t hurt once you do that.”

Blitzø blinked, wiping the back of his hand across his eyes. “How… how do I take them off?”

“Not by plucking yourself bald,” Stolas told him pointedly, deftly flicking a thin, near-clear sheath away. 

Blitzø averted his gaze, nodding guiltily. “I hate myself,” he confessed, knowing it didn’t need to be said. “I push people I care about away because I don’t… I don’t want them to fucking see what I see.” 

“You know, the things we like about you are the things you don’t see,” Stolas mused, moving to sift through the feathers at Blitzø’s back. “You still have your spicula.” 

Blitzø prodded at the very end of his tail, tearing up again. “What even am I, Stolas? I’m… I’m fucking hideous.” 

“No, you’re just in need of TLC, Blitzø,” Stolas assured, settling more comfortably. “We’ll figure this matter out. Right now, we need to get you in better condition.”

“Okay,” Blitzø whispered, reaching for his tail and gingerly mimicking the way Stolas was removing the cloudy casings to each individual plume. It was mind-numbing work, but also calming in a non-destructive way. The owl was obviously better at it, quicker and far more skilled, but Blitzø was a quick learner nonetheless. 

“Stolas?”

“Mhm?”

“Did I scare Octavia making that fuss last night?” 

“No,” Stolas answered quietly, now working the back of Blitzø’s crest. “She spent the weekend with her Mother and Uncle. She goes to college from there and will be home tonight.”

Blitzø sniffled again, feeling drained. “My mouth feels fucking weird,” he complained, genuinely distressed even as Stolas snorted. “I don’t know how it works. I tried to fucking… drink but I just poured it down myself. I went to take a piss and I don’t know what the fuck came out of me.”

“Blitzø,” Stolas intoned, ruffling the quills he had set free. “Alright. I will walk you through what you need help with.”

Blitzø nodded, weepy and feeling sorry for himself. “Can we… can I try to make shit up to you?” he asked tentatively, looking at the owl who stilled. “I… I know. I fucked up real bad but I’m… I am sorry. I don’t wanna make you hate me. I don’t wanna make the same fucking mistakes with you that I have with everyone else. I really fucking don’t.”

Stolas was quiet before sighing heavily, which in turn had Blitzø wilting in defeat. 

“I… will think about it,” the owl ventured, visibly uneasy about saying so. “I don’t wish to be swept up in your destructive nature, Blitzø. You self-sabotage and it’s hurtful to witness. You do push people away and it’s very hurtful to go through.”

Blitzø nodded, well aware of the fact. “I know. I’m sorry.”

He felt Stolas’ gaze on him and grimaced, deciding that he couldn’t ask for more than he already had. He was a greedy fucker but he was also quick to accept the inevitable. 

He’d lost Stolas.

Stolas was just a better person than anyone else Blitzø had burned. 

Chapter Text

It took three and a half hours to rid himself of every fucking sheath. 

He really meant every. Fucking. One. 

Luckily, he got the hang of it fairly quickly and once Stolas had completed uncovering Blitzø’s arms and back, the avian-Imp was able to wave the Prince away. He didn’t want the fuss, not when it made him feel guilty knowing that Stolas was doing everything out of a sense of duty.

That and… Blitzø didn’t want anyone around as he sorted his more intimate areas out. 

Having the sheaths removed made a world of fucking difference and Blitzø was already less tortured by that alone. Stolas had left to get himself dressed and to do whatever it was the Prince did during the day.

Blitzø had busied himself with collecting up the numerous sheaths and shoving them in the trash basket that was located in the corner of the bedroom. His feathers were disheveled and unkempt, but were no longer painful.

They were surprisingly soft. 

Not as silky as Stolas’, but still pleasant against his fingertips. His tail still remained fairly spiny, and Blitzø had spent a good few minutes working out the muscles needed in order to move the heavy appendage about. Doing so unveiled his ability to splay his spindly quills and he admittedly sat there fanning them out and folding them back for longer than necessary.

Blitzø didn’t have any interest in venturing out the room and he was exhausted from everything thus far, so he crawled back over to the bed, this time huddling under the covers. 

The weight didn’t hurt. He still felt disproportionate, his limbs were too long and his mouth still felt fucking weird but… but he wasn’t in pain.

Physically, at least.

His heart and mind were another matter, but he was determined to be appreciative for what mercy he was being graced with. There was that niggling speck of light from before- no longer a pin-prick in the great wall he’d constructed around himself- that reminded him that Stolas had said he’d ‘think about it’.

That did mean that Blitzø had hope. 

He had hope that maybe he could fix things. 

The instinctive response was to shut the notion down, turn his back on it because those words meant no but Stolas had always been different. If Stolas said he’d think about it… then Blitzø wanted to trust that the owl really would think about it.

The hard part was knowing that Blitzø couldn’t sit there doing fuck all. He was going to have to actually let his guard down, soften up and be more open. He was going to have to let Stolas in and that… that meant taking the risk of getting hurt all over again. 

It made his stomach churn just thinking about it. 

Fuck.

If he let his walls crumble, let them all tumble down and let Stolas get close then… then it was going to be scary. It was what Blitzø was afraid of the most, but grasping hold of that tiny hope was the first step in being better… right?

It was turning his back on all the self-preservation he’d built up over the course of his tumultuous life, but Blitzø was already at rock bottom. He’d really fucked himself and his friends, his family- everyone -over. He had to do something and if he was going to break out of the vicious cycle he’d trapped himself in then he might as well do it for the only guy who ever breathed the possibility of a second chance. 

Hope was a scary thing too, but Blitzø was scared enough as it was anyway. 

It wouldn’t make an ounce of difference then, because what did you have to lose when you had already lost it all?

The resounding answer was; Nothing.

Waking a second time was less unkind. 

Mostly because someone was gently petting him, and Blitzø hadn’t felt a comforting touch in far too fucking long.

Almost a year- which said more than he was comfortable verbalising. He blinked himself awake, aureate hues finding Stolas perched upon the edge of the bed. The owl wasn’t exactly smiling, but his expression wasn’t harsh.

Blitzø groaned and rolled onto his back, rubbing his eyes and shuffling into an upright position. “Fuck. I crashed out didn’t I.”

“Rightly so,” Stolas told him, moving to stand. “I took the liberty of sorting you out some clothes,” he continued, lifting several neatly folded garments from the bottom of the bed. “They will be a little loose, but they should fit you just fine.”

Blitzø swallowed down the snark reply that bubbled up and steered himself to more sincere waters. “Thanks,” he mumbled, not yet able to say more. 

“You are very welcome,” Stolas returned, patiently holding out the assortment. 

Blitzø tentatively took them, noting that there was a hoodie, two sweaters and a t-shirt. For his lower half, there was a pair of board shorts and two pairs of leggings. 

“Thanks,” he said again, immediately tugging the purple hoodie over his head. The board shorts were a sunshine yellow and he was quick to thread his long legs through them, slipping from the bed as he let them rest upon his hips. He exhaled at length, feeling eons better for being swamped in cloth. 

“They’ll do you nicely,” Stolas voiced approvingly, reaching out to adjust Blitzø’s hoodie. 

Blitzø tipped his head back, blinking up at the owl who blinked down at him inquisitively, not sure why Blitzø was staring at him. 

Blitzø turned round, immediately transfixed on the fact that he wasn’t as short as before. Stolas’ chin was level with Blitzø’s forehead and the urge to face-plant the owl’s chest was terrifyingly strong. He refrained though, averting his gaze and choosing to fiddle with his banded quills instead, laying them flat and pulling up his hood. 

“We should get you something to eat,” Stolas said quietly, straightening out the quilt before refolding the other clothes. He set them upon the dresser then moved over to the door. “Shall we?”

Blitzø wordlessly obeyed, walking out into the hall with slow, tentative steps. He kept his focus on the floor, heart disquieted when they approached the stairs. Stolas all but glided down them and Blitzø faltered, one hand on the bannister.

He felt so fucking tall…

If he misstepped or slipped, he would surely pitch forward without warning. He could snap his legs or… or his neck. The notion had Blitzø unable to move, both hands now holding the bannister as he tried to talk himself into lowering his foot. 

“Blitzø?”

He barely heard his name, too caught up in trying to erase the visuals of him laying in a tangled mess at the very bottom of the staircase. 

It was a really nauseating image.

“What’s the matter?” Stolas asked, placing a palm at the shorter male’s lower back. 

Blitzø shook his head, wanting to return to his room already. “What if I fucking… break my neck?” 

Stolas paused, looking down at him with visible surprise before taking one of Blitzø’s hands. “You won’t,” he assured, guiding Blitzø down one step, then another. “I won’t let you trip.”

Blitzø’s heart was jammed so far up his throat that it wasn’t until they were on level flooring that he found himself embarrassed by his behaviour. 

What was he?

A fucking baby?!

“Sorry,” he mumbled, shoving his hands into his pockets and lowering his face in apology. 

“It’s alright, Blitzø,” Stolas soothed, voice a little off, as though he were quietly delighted or something. 

No fucking wonder, it was probably hilarious to see a grown ass man freak out over walking down a fucking staircase. 

Blitzø huffed self-consciously, padding after the owl who waltzed straight into the kitchen, humming happily as he went. 

“Right, let’s get you something to drink.”

Blitzø wandered over to a high stool at the kitchen island, sliding onto it with notable hesitancy. Looking around, the Palace really was a lot more homely. There were more plants about, and more… things. Just things.

Dumb things, like a toaster, and a microwave. 

There was even a mug holder sat there. 

There was also a small plant pot with a powdery blue and white bloom staring right at him with bright ruby eyes. 

Blitzø looked to Stolas who was busy with whatever, only to then turn back to the little flower that was smaller than his fist. It was still staring at him and Blitzø glared at it, which did nothing at all.

He stuck out his tongue only to find that the little plant mimicked the gesture and just like that, Blitzø was intrigued. He lowered himself to the glossy tabletop and trailed a finger across the plant’s low-set pot, watching it track the movement with avid fascination. 

Blitzø tilted his head, walking his digits along the edge of the pastel yellow ceramic before daring to boop the plant on the mouth. Predictably it snapped at him, clinging onto his fingertip with such little pressure it was undeniably adorable. 

Apparently, it was a vicious little thing because despite inflicting zero damage, it continued to gummily chomp with malice. 

Blitzø scoffed softly, forgetting everything else as he pulled himself free and offered the snippy little plant his sleeve, kicking off a mini tug-o-war that delighted them both. 

“Aw you so fucking vicious, you so fucking vicious,” he whispered, voice pitched high as he pinched his sleeve and shook it minutely. “You so fucking vicious-” 

He froze when he felt eyes on him and looked up, finding Stolas just stood there, watching him with a blank expression. 

Oops.

Blitzø sheepishly withdrew, glancing at the bulb who squirmed in protest at having lost its toy. He sat back as Stolas set a cup in front of him, steaming with what Blitzø assumed to be tea. 

Fuck.

He hated tea.

Especially Stolas’ tea. He found it way too bitter.

He wasn’t going to complain though, he knew it would be rude. 

Blitzø took the cup with an uneasy smile, glancing back to the plant as Stolas remained opposite him. 

“Now then. If you are going to be staying here, there are rules you must follow,” Stolas began, which had Blitzø immediately on edge. 

He hated rules, but he was going to have to follow these ones. 

“Firstly, please do not involve yourself with my staff. They have duties that cannot be impeded, is that understood?”

Blitzø nodded, having zero intention of going anywhere near Stolas’ staff. 

“Secondly, I ask that you do not wander from the main house. The Palace is frequented by other Goetia and various Nobility. The house is completely separate and I wish to keep it that way.”

Blitzø felt his expression grow flat. “Stolas, I couldn’t even get down your fucking stairs.”

Stolas gave him a look and Blitzø huffed, glancing at the plant in his peripheral. It was back to staring at him and Blitzø wanted to go back to playing with it. 

“Thirdly, I hold gatherings most weekends. It’s how I socialise and I will expect you to conduct yourself accordingly.”

Blitzø blanched, giving the owl a shake of his head. “Fuck no! I’ll stick to my fucking room, Stolas! I don’t wanna-” 

“I don’t think you realise how long you will be stuck in that form for, Blitzø,” Stolas said grimly, raising his cup to his lips. “Detangling multiple spells is going to be difficult even for me, but we know not what you started with and we don’t know how many you cast- let alone the sequential order. I will have to study my own Grimoire all over again for this, which will take time. In-between my other commitments and duties, no less.”

Blitzø’s stomach plummeted and he swallowed hard as Stolas straightened back up. 

“You best make yourself at home in that new body of yours,” the Prince mused, popping a straw into Blitzø’s cup.

Blitzø grimaced as he closed his mouth around it, taking a slow sip.

Yup.

Fucking bitter.

Chapter Text

“Via, it is not nice to laugh.”

The Princess paid her Father no heed, still sniggering into her coffee whilst Blitzø sat there unsure of how to react to being so openly mocked by a teenager. 

Least of all a fucking Princess.

“What the fuck goofed up spell did you use?” Octavia asked, shoving a biscuit into her mouth. 

“He used multiple trying to fix the one Loona initially cast,” Stolas sighed, stirring whatever was in his saucepan. 

Almost immediately, Octavia’s mirth vanished. 

“Oh.” 

Blitzø bristled, tired of going over the fact that what he did was fucking moronic. He already knew that, he didn’t need to keep being told.

Octavia had come home and had burst out laughing the second she laid eyes on him. She wasn’t exactly unfriendly, but she wasn’t friendly either. The best way to describe the situation was that she was mostly talking around him. 

“What uh… how long till you fix him?” She questioned, looking to Blitzø nervously. 

The avian-Imp paused, not understanding why she was suddenly so tense. Was she worried that he’d be staying with them for long?

“We are working on that,” Stolas replied lightly, his back turned to his daughter who was sporting a rather apprehensive expression.

Blitzø honed in on it immediately, giving her a look that had her ducking her head and turning to Stolas who fussed her fondly. 

Blitzø felt the guilt frothing, easily picking up on her unease.

Great.

Being around made Stolas’ kid uncomfortable. 

He was the final nail in her parents marriage, after all and the owl was already with someone else.

This fucking sucked all round. 

He turned back to the plant who was causing a quiet ruckus over the steam wafting over from whatever Stolas was cooking. Blitzø idly picked up one of the recipe books that stood to the side and opened it, using several ornaments to keep it propped above the little flower like a roof. 

He placed another book behind it, affectively sheltering the small bulb from any further grief. It warbled happily and blinked at him, which had Blitzø quirking a small smile and stroking it’s small cheek with the side of a finger. 

“Are you listening, Blitzø?”

“Yes,” came the instant reply only for both owls to regard him flatly. Blitzø huffed, slouching onto the marble. “No.”

“I didn’t think so,” Stolas tutted haughtily. “You will need to contact your employees and let them know what is going on. I will allow them the use of my Grimoire but I expect it back here every weekend.”

Blitzø edged around his own feelings of vexation, knowing that he was affecting Octavia with his presence. He didn’t want his defensiveness to make it worse. “I broke my phone,” he reminded, trying to come up with a quick excuse to return to his room. 

“There is a house phone, Blitzø,” Stolas informed him with sigh, audibly exasperated.

Blitzø was really starting to feel unwelcome. 

He glanced at Octavia who was staring at him blankly, shrouding herself close to her Father despite him being busy. 

Yeah, fuck this. 

“Uh so… I’m gonna… head back up and uh… work out a game plan for M&M and Loona. Don’t wanna just… call them with nothing in mind,” Blitzø announced awkwardly, carefully stepping off the stool.

Stolas turned around at that, apparently not expecting Blitzø to leave. “I’m going to be serving dinner in a minute. You can do that after. Via, do see if the table has been set for us, will you?”

“Yes, Dad.”

Blitzø balled his fists, waiting for her to exit the kitchen before puffing out a frustrated breath. “Stolas, I can’t fucking eat with you!” He hissed, which had the owl moving away from the stove altogether, demeanour taking on that stony aura that seemed to be a failsafe to actual anger. 

“May I ask why?”

Blitzø’s aureate gaze flittered to the doorway. “I don’t wanna make shit awkward for your kid, alright?”

Stolas immediately relaxed, losing the sharpness in his edges. “You won’t.”

“Uh… already am? Can’t you fucking tell that she’s uncomfortable? I can.”

“Via is not uncomfortable with you.”

“I know what an uncomfortable kid looks like, Stolas. I used to be one.”

“Still are, by the sounds of it,” came the snide reply and Blitzø actually flinched, unexpectedly hurt by the comment though he did not understand why. 

Why did that actually hurt? 

The quiet clack of a plate being set down had him blinking rapidly and he looked up just as Stolas reached out to him. 

“Whatever,” Blitzø dismissed, turning away and avoiding the Prince completely. “I don’t wanna encroach on you and your kid. Dinner time is family time. You don’t fuck with that.”

Stolas was silent before noticing the small shelter that Blitzø had built around the plant that sat upon the kitchen island. He started disassembling the book-roof and returning everything to where it belonged whilst Blitzø stood there, just watching. 

“I called Via whilst you were sleeping,” the Prince explained, voice somewhat gentle. “I ran everything by her. I asked her how she would feel having you here and made it clear that if she was troubled by you in any way, then I would not permit you to stay. Do you really think I would knowingly distress her?”

“Fuck, no,” Blitzø puffed out, stressed with how his words were being perceived. “That’s not what I- you know that’s not what I’m saying.” 

“I think you’re projecting.”

Blitzø clamped his mouth shut, not daring to say another word. He knew how arguments started- fuck, he was a professional at kicking them off and Stolas’ tone was carrying blaring alarm bells.

“Via has made it very clear that she is fine with you staying here. She is fine with you joining us for meals and generally being around the house. If you are not, then that is a different discussion. I do not appreciate the insinuation that I would choose you over her.”

Ouch.

The desire to bite back was physically causing his chest to ache but Blitzø had swallowed worse. 

Stolas was on a different page now. He wouldn’t understand Blitzø anymore and that was Blitzø’s own fault. He just had to deal with it.

Was this acceptance already, or was this still the depression talking?

He couldn’t tell. 

He was going to need to log down which stages of grief he was going through and for what- because multiple situations were happening and he was still grieving the last set of losses he’d undergone. 

He really needed to keep track of them all. 

Self-therapy, right?

“Table’s set, Dad!”

“Right,” Stolas announced, bringing Blitzø out of his thoughts. “Are you joining us or not?”

Blitzø lowered his gaze and nodded.

Wasn’t like he could say ‘no’ after that, could he. 

This was fucking awful.

Not the food. The food looked great, smelled great- it tasted great too, but Blitzø was struggling. 

Stolas had made Chicken Fricca-something and whilst Father and Daughter were chatting and eating happily, Blitzø was nearing his limit on being able to sit there. 

It was the most pathetic thing, but he didn’t know how to fucking eat. His mouth felt too wide- yes he was aware that he was a gobshite but having teeth made a huge difference.

He felt like everything was just going to fall back out like the water had, and the issue was that he was hungry.

So fucking hungry he could cry.

Had it just been Stolas, he would have dredged up the courage to ask, but he felt like he was imposing on Stolas and Octavia already. He didn’t know when to interject into their conversation and he didn’t know how to word his question either.

So he was sat there, racking his brain for a way to take tiny mouthfuls without embarrassing himself or making a mess. No-one was paying him any attention and yet he felt like all eyes were on him. Sod’s Law dictated that the minute he put the fucking utensil in his mouth, they were going to look his way.

He was stressed.

He was so badly stressed. 

He didn’t deal with stress well. 

“Is it not to your liking?”

Blitzø snapped his head up, having been staring down at his plate which was of course, barely touched whereas both Stolas and Octavia had practically finished. 

Blitzø’s heart thudded in his chest and he clammed up, temperature sky-rocketing as all the attention fell upon him. With that, came pressure and it was so alike being under a spotlight that Blitzø felt the acute thrum of anxiety crawling up his feathers and spines. 

He felt put on the spot and he couldn’t grasp any single thought, which had him panicking worse. 

It was the hidden, pernicious poison that Anxiety carried.

The ability to keep you locked in place, blank faced and seemingly apathetic whilst you boiled in your own blood, screaming internally and begging to breathe because your lungs had all but failed you. 

It was the insidious threads that cinched tight around your heart, forcing it to race in one place as it couldn’t escape the sudden restriction. Your mind flew into overdrive, a mass of mental static that did nothing but plunge you into a bottomless pit of hyperawareness that clashed with the fact you were not able to register your surroundings.

None of it was seen outside of the prison that was your posture or expression. You were just there, suffering in silence until there was a break in the onslaught or you came out through sheer exhaustion alone.

If you hit the deck, you were lucky. 

Blitzø was not lucky. 

Not by a long fucking shot. 

“Blitzø, this is terribly rude, even for you!”

“Dad!”

Octavia’s shout was what freed him and Blitzø bolted, blindly scrambling for the nearest door which happened to be the one to the Palace entrance. 

He didn’t care. 

He needed out.

He got about as far as the foyer when he was blinded by a bright light, causing him to stumble back with a start. His vision was all blotchy and he tripped over himself but arms held him tight, held him secure. 

“It’s alright, it’s alright.”

Stolas. 

“It’s alright, Blitzø. It’s alright.”

It wasn’t alright. 

He was making scenes and he was-

“Breathe, slow now. Take slow breaths, you are alright.”

Blitzø turned his face into Stolas’ chest, trying to follow the instruction for the sake of not causing further problems. He puffed out several breaths before gingerly pulling away, dragging his palms down his face as he tried to ground himself.

Stolas wasn’t letting him go, though. 

“Sorry,” Blitzø croaked out, covering his mouth with his sleeves. “I’m Sorry.”

“Was it too much?” Stolas asked, furrowing his eyebrows as he lowered Blitzø’s arms. “I can make something else for you, Blitzø-”

“I don’t know how to eat,” Blitzø whispered in defeat, lowering his head completely as the tears welled up and fell straight to the floor.  “I don’t know how to fucking eat. I don’t have teeth, I don’t know how to chew. I don’t know how to not… have it all fall back out on the plate or down myself or-”

He cut himself off, looking up at Stolas who had a stricken expression on his face. 

“Oh I am so sorry,” Stolas exhaled, pulling Blitzø into a hug that he automatically sank into, desperate for some form of comfort. He let himself cry as Stolas’ arms tightened around him, talons deftly threading through the feathers at the back of Blitzø’s crest. “Oh darling, I am so, so sorry.”

The term of endearment did way too much, more than Blitzø would have ever admitted but he pushed himself into Stolas’ frame, seeking reassurance because it was the first time Stolas had sounded like Stolas.

“I understand,” the owl whispered, beak pressed to the top of Blitzø’s head in a not-quite kiss. “Let’s go back and-”

“No, fuck no. I just made a fucking scene in front of your daughter-” 

“Who just threw her mashed-potato at me for being a ‘Princezilla’,” Stolas told him, audibly miffed. 

Blitzø stalled at that before sniffling and letting the owl half-push him back to the dining room where no Owlette was to be seen. 

His plate was gone too.

“I fucked up dinner,” Blitzø fretted, which had Stolas scoffing. 

“I’m very sure she is getting more mashed potato,” Stolas sighed, sitting the avian-Imp down just as the Princess returned with a tumbler in hand, the blue and red glitter within it’s decorative layer swirling with her stride. 

“Here.”

Blitzø blinked widely as it was set in front of him, domed lid and straw all in place. 

“It’s a… Chicken Friccassoup.” 

Blitzø snorted, holding the tumbler with both hands and easily taking a mouthful through the straw. He sat back when it became clear that he was good, accepting the napkin that Stolas offered him. 

The tension wasn’t bad but Blitzø wanted to ensure he hadn’t caused any problems. He wiped his eyes with the napkin and looked at the clearly irked Princess. 

“Where’d you get him?” 

“Forehead,” Octavia replied without missing a beat, going back to her meal like nothing had happened. She’d got a whole second helping, which Blitzø had a feeling was not just for her own wants.

“I don’t condone such measures,” Stolas muttered, getting a rather fierce glare from the owlette. “I acknowledge my ‘Princezilla’ outburst and I am genuinely sorry.”

“You can have that cup,” Octavia stated a little flatly, not looking up from her phone. “I want the new one anyway and you need something for your baby food.”

Blitzø didn’t reply, knowing that she wasn’t looking for a thank you. The gesture was understood and he took the jab with full gratitude. 

“Feed him once every four hours, Dad.”

Stolas placed his glass down, rubbing his temple as his daughter smirked. “Via…”

She didn’t take it back and Blitzø flashed the frowning owl a frail grin.

“Chirp chirp, Stolas.”

Stolas’ blatant annoyance was worth Octavia’s actual laugh. 

Chapter Text

It was weird having someone knock on his door.

No-one ever did, not really. 

Especially not as he was just about to get in bed.

“Yeah?”

He already knew who it was, he just didn’t know why.

Stolas sidled in with a tentative smile, several things in his arms. 

For whatever fucking reason, Blitzø was instantly nervous. The owl seemed a tad… inconsistent with his mood and Blitzø was pretty sure that Stolas was wavering between that sense of duty and the moral dilemma of helping him.

Which sucked, because Blitzø would walk if he had any other options.

He really didn’t though. 

He couldn’t stay like this.

“I’ve brought you some towels,” Stolas informed him, looking around the room. “We’ll need to get you set up in here properly. You’ll need more clothes and we’ll get you a new phone-”

Uh oh.

“Oh shit, no- Stolas, you don’t need to go doing anything,” Blitzø assured hurriedly, holding out his hands. “You’re letting me stay and fucking… taking on the fucking mess I made. That’s more… more than I deserve. I’ll figure out a phone and uh… as for clothes-”

“Blitzø, again, you are drastically underestimating how long this will take,” Stolas murmured, lowering himself to the edge of the bed. “I may be powerful but using multiple spells as you did… I don’t think you realise how lucky you are to be alive. Undoing what has been done carries that same risk. I have to be one-hundred percent sure and to be that… I have a lot of work to do.”

Blitzø grimaced as the guilt ate him up. “I’m really fucking sorry, Stolas.”

“I’m not asking for more apologies,” came the quiet reply. “You’ve apologised more than enough and certainly been saddled with heavy consequences. I know it was not on purpose and… it certainly provides me a challenge.”

Blitzø perked up at that, tail sweeping behind him as he forced a grin. “Pfft. Totally knew it. Didn’t wanna take credit for helping you progress your fucking magic studies but you know. Can’t help myself.”

Stolas cast him a half-amused smile for that. “You were drunk.”

“Yeah? Drunk me makes fucking great decisions. This? Just proof I’m indestructible.”

Stolas snorted, elbows resting on his knee as he propped his chin on a palm. “You literally made yourself an amalgamation of several things.”

“I fucking evolved, bitch!”

Stolas laughed outright, beckoning him over. “Let me- let me have a look at you.”

Blitzø scowled, only clad in his board shorts anyway. “I’m a fucking bird,” he grumbled, standing before the owl who ran a hand through the plumage on his stomach.

“You’re certainly something,” Stolas mused coyly, turning Blitzø around. “You maintained much of your Imp-ness, but you have… quite sharp feathering in places. I thought they were actual spines, like those on a hedgehog but that is not the case. It is merely that some of your rachis’ are longer than your feather vanes.” 

“Blah blah with your bird talk,” Blitzø muttered, pouting when Stolas smacked him lightly. It was fine all the whilst Stolas was studying him but the second that those hands swept up Blitzø’s back, he emitted a startled trill and jerked away, feathers all standing on end. 

He shivered as Stolas tittered, ignoring the Prince who was greatly amused. “Quite the reaction.”

“Fuck off,” Blitzø mumbled, self conscious as he tried to un-puff himself. He didn’t know what it meant, but he had an idea and he didn’t want to go there. 

“Really though, you’re not anything I’ve seen before.”

It didn’t matter that he was fucked up, in a fucked up predicament or that things were sketchy between them.

Blitzø was always going to be Blitzø. 

He fixed the owl with a leer, leaning in Stolas’ general direction whilst fanning out his tail. “Saying I’m one of a kind, aye?”

Stolas blinked once, cheeks tinting pink before he averted his gaze, fiddling with a corner of the towels he’d set on his lap. 

Blitzø flushed with embarrassment himself before puffing out his cheeks and slouching forward with his arms dangling. “Yeah, it’s fucking awkward. Gimme my towels.”

Stolas held them out with both hands and Blitzø gingerly took them, heading straight for the bathroom and setting them upon the rails. He sensed Stolas in the doorway and looked up, tilting his head in question at the owl who was leaning against the frame. 

The owl folded his arms loosely, cerise-rose hues lowered to the floor. 

It had Blitzø quirking an eyebrow. “What’s wrong?”

Stolas exhaled with a sorrowful sigh, slippers nudging at the small matt that graced the bathroom floor. 

“I’m sorry for how I acted at dinner, Blitzø.”

The demon in question returned to setting out what he’d been given- which wasn’t enough to really keep him from having to answer. The initial want was to dismiss it entirely, but Blitzø found himself shifting to stand before the Prince. 

He dared to look up at the man he had spun out of control over, well aware that Stolas hadn’t yet made a decision on if they could even try to be friends.

Blitzø inhaled slowly, not used to being as tall as he was. “You don’t have to be fucking sorry, Stolas. I know I pissed you off with what I said before. Yeah, I really didn’t mean it to come out the way it did, but what I said still hurt. I’m sorry I don’t word shit better.”

Stolas clicked his beak, stepping back as Blitzø tactfully returned to the main bedroom. He scrunched his eyes shut, knowing he should say something more.

Be a little more open.

That’s all he had to do.

“I’m not good with talking about shit I feel,” he confessed, wringing his hands together. “I have a fucking bad handle on my mental health. I’m not gonna lie. I lose people faster than I lose my fucking sanity. I know I don’t deserve any of the shit I have- and that’s not me throwing a fucking pity party, I’m saying I know.”

He rubbed his palms together as he dropped himself on the bed, pulling his legs up awkwardly when Stolas took a seat at the bottom of the mattress. 

“Fact is, I shouldn’t fucking be here,” he sighed, looking up at the textured ceiling. “I know I shouldn’t be here. I shouldn’t have been using your fucking book when you cut me off- which, you know. I don’t blame you for. I got serious issues I don’t know how to get over and that makes me a defensive, reactionary asshole.” 

Blitzø hiked his shoulders up, hands nestled between his knees as he looked over at the owl who was quietly listening. 

“No-one’s gotta have that kinda shit in their lives. There’s a reason even my sister dipped- and trust me, I know I ain’t the best Dad to Loona. Been a shitty friend to Mox, too. It doesn’t mean I don’t wanna be better, I just… don’t know where to start but…” he trailed off, realising he’d rambled. “My point is, you don’t have to apologise for shit. I can’t fucking imagine what it’s like to cut someone like me out and move on, get back on track and then have ‘em turn up like I did- in the state I did.”

“Have… you never cut anyone out before?” Stolas asked, not looking up.

“Not really,” Blitzø admitted, unsure of whether to feel relieved about the lack of response to what he’d expressed or hurt by it. “Always had the door slammed in my face, rather than the fucking other way around. Always warranted, you know.”

“It won’t always be you, Blitzø.”

Blitzø scoffed loudly, flashing Stolas a grin that was blatantly disingenuous. “Don’t go trying to make me feel better, not after the bullshit I’ve pulled.”

Stolas averted his gaze again. “Then… I shall simply say that I appreciate you being open with me.”

Blitzø scrunched his face up, groaning as he grabbed a pillow and smushed his face into it, falling to the bed and curling up with it to his chest. He heard Stolas titter and waved an arm about, shooing the owl away.

“Goodnight, Blitzø.”

Blitzø peeked over the top of the pillow, watching the owl who smiled at him with a softness that hadn’t been there before. 

“Night, Stolas.” 

The door closed and Blitzø rolled onto his back, emotions all over the place as he stared up at the ceiling. The image above him was distorted, eyes unfocused as Blitzø contemplated his own words, only to come to the realisation that for the first time, he really wanted to change.

He didn’t know how, but he wanted to.

Well, like his Mama told him, it was never too late to try.

Tuesday brought the beginning of a new routine. 

It wasn’t one that Blitzø liked, but he was nothing if not determined to fit whatever he could of his old self into his new life- however temporary it may be.

He rose just before six, showered, made a poor attempt at tidying his feathers and then tidied over the room. He was too anxious to venture out and so ended up practicing his balance, trying to recall exactly how he moved in his original form.

He had longer limbs, but he realised that as ridiculous as his tail was, he could use it to help him counterbalance when needed. Splaying out his feathers helped increase drag and it was fairly manoeuvrable. 

As was the rest of him. 

Getting up at the ass crack of dawn to basically contort yourself was not something he’d ever played out in his head- well.

He had, but not for reasons relating to anything moral.

Or practical. 

After spending an hour of slowly stretching, holding himself in various positions and just testing the waters on his general mobility, Blitzø took to letting himself lay on the floor, balcony doors open and a cool, morning breeze ghosting in. 

He realised fairly quickly that he would need to request things from his own room back in Imp City.

He needed his notebooks and sketchpads, his pens and headphones. He really needed his skull pin- even if it was just to keep in his room somewhere. He wanted his Spirit Jr. plush and a couple of his horse models- just something to make him feel less alien in his own space. 

Yeah, he needed a new phone. He wanted to be able to text Loona and M&M, handle some shit for his company whilst he was here. 

Also horse videos. 

He needed those to decompress. 

Blitzø yawned and rolled over onto his back. He was wearing a red t-shirt and a pair of black leggings that came to his knees. 

Everything came to his fucking knees. 

Blitzø looked up as he heard movement in the hall and held his breath as a soft knock resounded on his door. It opened a few seconds later and he blinked at the upside down image of Stolas, who’d had to scan the room for him. 

“Oh, you’re up.”

“Been up since six,” Blitzø told him, getting to his feet and following the owl out onto the landing.

“You don’t have to wait for me to come and get you, Blitzø.”

“I know.”

“I will be looking into your situation today,” Stolas informed him, automatically turning to help Blitzø down the stairs even though the avian-Imp was feeling more confident in his steps.

“Kay.”

“Morning Starfire,” Stolas greeted as he walked into the kitchen, Octavia shoving a handful of cereal into her mouth before knocking back her coffee. 

“I’m late, love you,” she rushed, kissing her Father on the cheek before glancing at Blitzø. “See you.”

Blitzø had to double check that she was actually talking to him before he raised a hand. “Have a good day, sweetie.”

It rolled off his tongue way too easily and he cringed at the smirk she wore before Stolas opened up a portal right there in the kitchen. 

“Don’t forget to feed him every four hours!” She called back through, laughing when Blitzø tossed a biscuit after her which she caught. “Thanks, man-child!”

“You better get good fucking grades, Princess!”

She vanished as the portal closed and Blitzø scoffed, knowing that she’d been in touch with Loona from that alone. 

Which was something he still had to do. He dragged a hand down his face, noting that his little leafy friend was looking at him expectantly. 

“Well hi little buddy,” Blitzø whispered, lowering himself down to the tabletop. He moved to stroke it’s cheek and was immediately latched onto. “Aw… did Stolas not feed you yet? He’s a mean fucker, isn’t he. Yes he is. He’s a big lanky meanie- ow.” Blitzø scowled as he was smacked on the head with a packet, his ire vanishing as he realised that Stolas had given him a resealable bag with small chunks of raw meat. 

“Only give him two, or he’ll get sick,” Stolas warned, busying himself at the counter.

“Fuck yeah! Hang on lil buddy, I gotcha,” Blitzø grinned, opening the bag and fishing out a small piece. He offered it to the bulb who took it from him with an audible snap, large eye closing in delight before hassling Blitzø for another. “Demanding little shit,” Blitzø chuckled, watching the small plant take another diced cube of whatever it was. He sealed the bag back up and padded over to the fridge, placing it upon the top shelf.

“I gotta make those phone calls today,” he sighed, moving to wash his hands. “Gonna have to grab a cellphone so I can still handle client inquiries. Don’t wanna leave everything up to M&M.”

“Already ordered you one,” Stolas stated, holding the lid to the blender and switching it on just as Blitzø began to protest. The noise cut him off and he was forced to glare at the smug owl who just smiled at him obnoxiously. The minute it was off Blitzø huffed, dumping the tea towel he’d dried his hands with onto the side. 

“I’ll reimburse you for that,” he grumbled, deciding to fold the cloth instead. 

“Very well, if that is what you wish,” Stolas chimed, setting the red and blue glitter tumbler in front of the shorter male. “Your breakfast. Fruit smoothie.”

Blitzø blinked in surprise and took the liquidised concoction with a small thank you, sampling it with curiosity. He chirped happily when he tasted various red fruits and blushed when Stolas tittered at him.

“Glad it’s to your liking,” Stolas smiled, placing a helping of sliced fruit into a small bowl for himself. “What else do you need?” He inquired, gesturing the the kitchen island. 

Blitzø took a seat in front of the little plant and set his drink down, rubbing his palms together. “Yeah, I gotta get some shit for that room.”

Stolas nodded, popping a piece of strawberry into his mouth as he set a sheet of paper in front of Blitzø, along with a pen. “Let’s make a list.”

Blitzø puffed out his cheeks, taking a long drag through his straw before turning the sheet in order to start.

At least making lists were something he was good at.

Chapter Text

He’d fucked up again.

He was on the precipice of crying about it, and he really felt stupid. 

He was also… going to have to ask for help. 

Again.

He wrote out the aforementioned list and Stolas took it to get the stuff that Blitzø needed, because no-one could so much as glimpse Blitzø anywhere near his own home in case the similarities made his mishap too obvious.

Also because Blitzø would not be objective in any form and end up with every fucking thing coming with him.

He made his phone calls to M&M whilst Stolas went into his study, and Blitzø hated every second of it.

They were fine, but Moxxie wasn’t impressed at all with the situation and proceeded to lecture Blitzø on the proper use of the Grimoire, the dangers of drinking himself into such a state and how this was not going to be easy to fix.

Like Blitzø hadn’t heard enough of that already. He knew it came from a place of concern, though, and that made it easier to stomach.

Millie was all excited to hear that he was staying with Stolas, which was awkward and weirdly cute. 

Blitzø wish she wouldn’t get so happy about it, though. 

Loona was okay, quiet and a little timid-sounding when Blitzø called her but he made sure to reassure her that this was his fault, not hers. It was good to hear her voice and he promised to be home as soon as he could be.

Her reply told him that Octavia was definitely in touch with his daughter, and he wasn’t sure how he felt about that. It was fucking cute but he worried that his mistakes would wind up jeopardising their friendship.

Stolas had kept his word and the Grimoire was back in I.M.P’s hands for now- seeing as he was going to research everything else before touching the actual spells that could have been used that fateful night. He’d gone off to look through his other books for the chance that some idiot had done something, anything similar to what Blitzø had done to himself. 

So Blitzø had busied himself with setting out the horse figurines that Stolas had kindly brought back for him, along with his horse blanket, Spirit Jr. Plush and other personal possessions that had Blitzø feeling less ill at ease.

He’d left the balcony doors open and rearranged the room to his liking so that he wasn’t as anxious. The bottom of the bed was now facing the door, and a small bedside cabinet sat between the bed-frame and the balcony. The dresser and wardrobe remained at the far wall and Blitzø just preferred the room this way round. 

So he’d had little to do but go through his sketchbooks just as a means of comfort, until he decided to do another round of stretching and then the problem arose. 

There was no easy way to say it.

Being a bird sucked.

Blitzø preferred being an Imp, there was no question about it. 

There was nothing great about being covered in fucking feathers. They caught on clothing, they snapped easily, they never stayed down and they hurt when tugged. They loosened easily and they took fucking forever to dry.

His feathers weren’t at all like Stolas’, whose plumage was glossy and sleek, neat and perfect. Blitzø’s were unkempt and tatty- and he was over having to just accept it. 

He swore they got duller by the second and that was when he remembered that Stolas preened. Having helped the owl in the past, Blitzø erroneously assumed he could handle such a task on his own- but no.

No, because he had no idea what he was doing and now he was stood outside Stolas’ study, feathers matted together in ugly patches because he had just slapped the oil onto himself and tried to massage it in like he would have a general body lotion. 

Let it be known that it did not work like that.

Blitzø took a shaky breath and knocked, hearing Stolas immediately grant entry.

He turned the handle and slipped in, already feeling his eyes well up. Stolas was at his desk, head bowed into the pages of a book and Blitzø sniffled, feeling beyond stupid. 

“I fucked up again.”

He heard Stolas pause, then heard the pen that the owl had been holding, promptly drop. 

“Blitzø- oh goodness, what did you do?” Stolas asked, audibly hurrying to stand. Blitzø held his arms out as hands grasped his wrists. 

“They kept catching on my fucking clothes so I thought- I mean, I fucking helped you preen a couple times, why am I so fucking useless at everything?”

“You’re not useless,” Stolas tutted, turning Blitzø around and walking him back out into the hallway. “I didn’t… think you’d attempt this on your own and failed to let you know that I was going to help you. It’s alright.”

“How is this fucking alright, I’m gonna have to fucking shave my feathers!”

“Blitzø, stop it,” Stolas chided, pushing him through the doorway of the newly organised guest room. “You’re not going to have to shave- oh, you moved things around.”

“I had to,” Blitzø said thickly, feeling absolutely sorry for himself. “I’ll move it all back if you want. Sorry, I should have asked.”

“It’s quite fine,” Stolas assured, ushering Blitzø into the bathroom. “Now, you’ll need to wash this all off. Don’t worry, we all go through this. It took me a little while to learn too. Just use the usual body wash.”

Blitzø nodded, shucking off his t-shirt and board shorts. “I’m sorry about this, Stolas.”

“No, this one is on me,” Stolas disagreed, rummaging through the cupboard under the sink whilst Blitzø stepped into the shower unit. “I’ll be right back.”

Blitzø didn’t reply, already working the soap through his plumage. It felt very uncomfortable, like heavy clumps tugging at his skin which hurt more than he could deal with. He knew by now not to tussle them or wash himself roughly, but it seemed like they were the most ridiculously sensitive pricks.

Literally. 

He rinsed off and started the process again, each time the weight lifting.

It took four rounds, but by the time he was in a towel and in his room, he was just relieved to be free and not bald. 

Stolas was on the bed when he exited, a bottle of oil in his hands. Blitzø took one look at it and shook his head, already put off for life.

“No fucking way, I just got it out. I think my skin’s gonna split with all the fucking pulling,” he griped, wary even as Stolas beckoned him over.

He went because… it was Stolas. 

“Sit. I promise you it is different when done properly.”

Blitzø gingerly got onto the bed, feathers still damp. He reluctantly held out an arm, peeved and sore, but not wanting to be more of a problem that he already was. 

“I’m going to use Ylang Ylang for you,” Stolas said with a small smile. “Third. It’s gentler than the First.”

“I don’t know what that fucking means,” Blitzø exhaled, wincing as Stolas tipped a small amount of oil into a palm and began deftly sifting through Blitzø’s more downier plumage. 

It was irksome at first, being pulled about after already feeling discomfort, but as Stolas quietly moved to the spines at Blitzø’s back, the avian-Imp found himself somewhat relaxing. He looked down at his thighs and sighed.

Couldn’t leave it all up to Stolas, could he.

“How do I…?”

Stolas hummed in question before tipping a tiny about of the preening oil across Blitzø’s fingertips. “Gently separate each feather and lay it flat to the direction it grows,” he instructed, watching as Blitzø attempted to do so. “You don’t need to rub it in or anything, just glide each one between your fingers. A little goes a very long way.”

Blitzø followed the owl’s guiding words and ended up losing himself to the monotony like he had when removing the sheaths to his vanes. He lost track of time, aware of when the spinier plumes adorning his tail were being worked on. 

He didn’t know when Stolas had started humming, but Blitzø relaxed further as the owl did so. Stolas had a beautiful voice, and it lowered Blitzø’s stress levels to the point that he didn’t even mind it when those skilful talons moved to the crest atop his head.

He felt Stolas shuffle right up behind him and Blitzø leant back on instinct, resting his elbows atop the owl’s knees as he pulled his own legs further up onto the bed. Stolas hooted softly and Blitzø couldn’t help the quiet trill that left him in response.

Five minutes later and he was completely mollified. Stolas’ touches were a lot less fleeting now, sifting through Blitzø’s quills with a lingering sense of affection that was so natural that Blitzø almost didn’t pick up on it.

It just felt really nice. 

“Do I do this every day?” He asked, aware that the towel around his waist had pretty much fallen off by now. 

“Mhm,” Stolas nodded, palms sweeping down Blitzø’s shoulders and torso. The way the owl paused upon sweeping over Blitzø’s nipples was too blatant to play off and Blitzø huffed, squirming self-consciously.

“Yeah, still have those.”

“How very curious,” came the quiet reply, Stolas wrapping his arms tightly around Blitzø’s waist. It had the shorter male tipping his head back, bumping Stolas’ jaw with his beak. 

“Thank you for helping me,” he murmured, very aware of the way his body was starting to feel marginally warm, especially when Stolas nuzzled him lightly. 

“If this oil works for you, then I shall order you a bigger bottle,” Stolas whispered, dropping his face to Blitzø’s shoulder. “Does it feel better?”

“Yeah,” Blitzø breathed, closing his eyes and revelling in the warmth of being held. He ran his talons up Stolas’ forearm and down again, mind a little spacey. “Do I need to preen… everywhere?”

Stolas snorted at the question and pulled away, forcing Blitzø to sit up. “Where there are feathers, there is preening to be had.”

Blitzø groaned and stood, snatching the bottle from the quilt whilst Stolas began folding the towel he’d laid out. 

“They’re smaller… around my fucking… all-in-one, so do I-” 

“It’s a cloaca, Blitzø.”

“Bird-puss. Whatever the fuck it is. How do I do it?”

“Very little oil,” Stolas laughed, waving him away. “Just sweep over yourself in the direction they lay. That goes for any of the sensitive areas.”

“Be right back,” Blitzø told him, heading to the bathroom to do just that. 

He dropped the towel altogether, making sure to only dab some oil onto his fingertips before very carefully gliding over the very insides of his thighs, and over his backside. The base of his tail was more like tufts than feathers but he was being thorough regardless.

Once done he placed the bottle upon the side of the sink and washed his hands, glancing up and pausing. 

He blinked, surprised because… damn. 

He looked so much better.

The array of iridescent fractals were back and he grinned, having honestly thought they’d been a drunken illusion. He dried his hands and bounded out, forgetting about the towel completely.

“Check out my fancy fucking ass!”

Stolas looked up and Blitzø grinned, turning around and fanning out his tail feathers, the glittering shine to them very evident in the light coming through the open balcony. 

Stolas blinked widely, visibly shocked. 

“Pretty cool, huh? I thought I was fucking seeing things. After I fell from your fucking balcony, all this shit vanished,” Blitzø explained, holding up his tail with his hands. “Thought they were fucking dumb when I first saw them.”

“Your crest, too,” Stolas noted, voice sounding thin. 

“Yeah, and where my scars are,” Blitzø continued, utterly oblivious to the way Stolas was looking at him. “I guess that oil works, huh. Smells nice too, not gonna lie.” He tilted his head in the filtering sunlight, fascinated with the chromatic display that scattered across his body. “What you think? Not too much of an eyesore now, right?”

Stolas inhaled slowly, getting up off the bed and approaching the male still studying himself. 

Blitzø started when a hand cupped his cheek and he warbled nervously as Stolas stood ever so close, nearly looming over him. The Prince’s cerise-rose hues were burning with a bright intensity that left Blitzø marginally breathless and his voice got caught in his throat as the tension between them skyrocketed. 

“You’re a very, very handsome man, Blitzø,” Stolas whispered lowly, tone a few octaves deeper than Blitzø was used to hearing. It had his heart skipping several beats and his lashes fluttered as Stolas dipped down, beak grazing the side of Blitzø’s neck.  

He fluffed up in a fluster, utterly shy and caught off guard as Stolas withdrew with a coy smile. 

“I best return to my studies, Blitzø. You should get some rest whilst you can.”

Blitzø swallowed thickly as the Prince took his leave, heart in his throat and body flushing with a very unfamiliar sensation that was centred around his lower abdomen and between his thighs. 

Blitzø looked down, instantly aware of exactly what the feeling meant.

“Fuck…” he cursed, flopping onto the bed with absolutely no idea how to stop the ridiculous smile on his face. 

Stolas called him handsome.

He hadn’t seen that coming.

Chapter Text

He should have seen this coming.

He had known, it had been knocking around in the back of his skull since the night he got busted running inside the Palace, but it was easier to play ignorant when shit wasn’t right in your face.

Well, it was right in his face now.

So he’d had a chill evening the night prior and had slept straight through till morning. The lack of physical discomfort did wonders and Blitzø was determined to keep up the maintenance that his new form demanded.

So he’d preened where needed, done his stretches and for some forsaken reason, decided to venture downstairs on his own. 

That was fine, no-one was up yet and he was happy to sit at the kitchen island and play with the plant who he had not yet renamed- because no-one had offered one so Blitzø would give the little guy one.

A really good one. 

Blitzø had gained some form of bravery because he’d decided to feed it early and had noticed a couple dishes left out on the side. He was washing out his tumbler when a portal opened up by the door and Stolas stepped through, tittering way too happily and robe half hanging off him.

“You better not,” the owl was saying, and Blitzø felt his stomach drop when the same man who he’d seen at the Palace before, leant into the room. 

He was not another bird. 

He was a Stag, a very sexy one. Taller than Stolas.

Great.

“I make no promises.”

“You can’t disobey orders,” Stolas giggled, pushing the Stag back with a talon. 

That had the asshole bending right into Stolas’ space, crisp white shirt and suit jacket practically gleaming as they closed in right there and then, dangerously and all-too obviously close. 

“I can, if I like the consequences.”

Fuck no.

Blitzø glowered and deliberately dropped his tumbler into the sink from a semi-impractical height, the clatter loud enough to make Stolas jump out of his skin and the Stag freeze up. 

The absolute mortification on Stolas’ face was partially satisfying and Blitzø found himself immediately pissed.

“Oh shit, did I make it fucking awkward? My fucking bad,” he stated flatly, shoving his hands into his hoodie pockets before marching round the counter and swiping up the little plant that was abnormally quiet. He didn’t bother with anything else, having lost all desire to do anything but face-plant his bed. 

He trudged up the stairs, mood shot and heart heavy.

He walked into his room and fell back against the door, feeling the turmoil churning in his stomach and not knowing why.

He hugged the round pot to his chest before padding back over to his bed and setting the plant upon the cabinet. He flopped down beside it, watching the bulb unfurl and look around. It seemed confused and timid with the difference of it’s surroundings- until it saw him and greeted him with a happy little snap that morphed into something sad.

Ugh.

Blitzø didn’t get it.

That shouldn’t have fucking bothered him. He’d been in the same room as multiple people sucking face and outright humping one-another. Heck he’d been one of those people! He outright sought those kind of whores out and took fucking photos-

Blitzø scrunched up his face, the mere notion of seeing Stolas with someone else making him queasy. 

Why the fuck would that make him so fucking… fucking… 

So what if Stolas had someone else? 

They could still be friends! Long as the new guy didn’t get snippy about them fucking around in the past, that is. 

Blitzø rolled over, confused by the fact that his chest ached so badly. He huffed, too restless to just stay there. 

Fuck he wanted to leave. 

He wanted to tune shit out because what the fuck?! Stolas spent the fucking night with that guy? After being so… had Stolas been flirting with him the night before? 

Blitzø had thought it was flirting.

It must have been wishful thinking.

Maybe calling Blitzø handsome was a joke, because handsome compared to fucking what? That Deer-guy was… fucking hot.

“Idiot,” Blitzø muttered, filling a small cap with water and bringing it to the bulb who waved its leaves about excitedly. He gently dripped the water into the soil and set it back down, exhausted and wanting to start the whole day over.

Actually, he wanted to skip the whole fucking day over.

He was quiet for about two seconds before he growled and flung his pillow at the wall, frustrated with himself. 

Really, the fuck was he doing? He’d wanted to change, to be better! He should have made a light-hearted comment and been polite- now he’d probably ruined Stolas’ morning and made himself look like a right dick.

Who was he kidding, he was a dick. Getting fucking upset that Stolas had a boyfriend-

Blitzø blinked, having not realised that his vision had gone blurry. The tears that broke free as a result had him slowly sitting up, dread filling his veins as he thought the situation over. 

“Fuck… no, I’m so stupid,” he whispered, looking to the bloom who merely stared back at him. “Oh fuck no, I’m so fucking stupid.”

Blitzø sat at the edge of his bed, heart pounding because… had he actually been blind this entire fucking time, after all?

It was Stolas cutting him off that had been the catalyst for Blitzø going off the rails. It had hit him incredibly hard and Blitzø had put it down to Stolas being the last straw that he had but… but Blitzø had been crushed by it. 

Even now, that feeling in his chest, he was crushed.

Was that it? 

This whole fucking time? 

Blitzø willed himself to his dresser, picking up his notebooks and flipping through the many pages. He logged every scrawl of Stolas’ name he’d ever written within them, the way it appeared multiple times throughout. 

Always accompanied with hearts.

Several of his horse characters too, resembled the owl one way or another.  

He’d even drawn horse-version of them both. Any sketches of his family, too, they all included Stolas. 

“Fuck me,” Blitzø exhaled, shutting the pages away and slumping forward over the glossy surface. That explained everything, and with all his walls down, Blitzø had no denial to hide behind.

He was in love with Stolas, and Stolas? 

Stolas was in love with somebody else.

If that wasn’t fucking karma, then Blitzø didn’t know what was.

Looking back on it all, Blitzø had to wonder where anyone got the idea that he was any kind of intelligent. He couldn’t for the life of him figure out how he had been so fucking oblivious to his own feelings.

How had he missed the signs? 

How?

How?!

Was it that he had instinctively known how pointless his feelings were? Had he convinced himself that their whole relationship was about the book- convinced himself right from the off that it was all about the book on his account?

He’d certainly put it down to that… with a certain asshole cowboy…

Was that how far he was into his self-loathing? That he didn’t believe anyone could love him so he in turn didn’t even identify the signs of himself falling for another?

Had he burned through all the love he’d had to offer and Stolas snatched up the last shreds of it and made it grow without his notice? 

Whatever the reason, Blitzø was so blindsided by the revelation that he’d stayed on his bed, staring up at the ceiling with Spirit Jr. in his arms, silent tears spilling to the quilt under him. 

He didn’t even think himself pathetic, he was numbed by the fact he still had that ability. 

Had he learned nothing? 

Being in love with someone would only get him severely hurt, because they’d see the truth of his rotten core faster than anyone else. 

They were always the first to leave.

The truth was, Stolas deserved better than what Blitzø could ever offer and it was Stolas’ home. It had already been established that Blitzø shouldn’t be there and the last fucking thing Blitzø should ever do was be rude to the owl’s friends or whatever.

He had no fucking right to be.

He’d said he’d change, so he would. He could be the best fucking friend he could be- if Stolas would even want that.

Blitzø rolled onto his side, looking to the plant who gazed at him with a woeful little expression. He sniffled and leant up, reaching out to pet it. 

“Sorry,” he whispered, scrubbing his face with his sleeve. “I took you without thinking. It’s not as bright in here as the kitchen, huh, lil buddy.”

He didn’t know if anyone was going to be about but Blitzø knew he couldn’t just stay there forever. He dragged himself up and turned on the bathroom light, immediately noticing that all the shimmering colours of his plumage had vanished again.

His quills and feathers were dull once more and he scoffed, easily joining dots as he washed his face and patted it dry.

“I would be a fucking mood ring,” he told the bulb who waved its small leaves at him as he picked it up. “Best get you back where you belong, lil buddy.”

He hated leaving his room right after he’d vowed not to do so, and he hated it even more when he heard Stolas in the kitchen. 

The nausea was strong but Blitzø shoved it deep in the depths of his inner workings and held his head high as he waltzed right in, setting the plant down as Stolas looked up from his book. 

“I am returning my emotional-support plant and I’m sorry for being an asshole this morning.”

Stolas was just staring at him and Blitzø clenched his jaw. 

He was going to be better.

“Yeah. I’m boring again. I don’t wanna talk about it, but I know I was out of order so… I get if you’re upset with me.”

Stolas looked back down at his page, turning it delicately. “I’m not upset at you,” he said softly, not at all sounding himself. “I am… embarrassed and I am very sorry that you… saw that.”

Blitzø inhaled sharply, tilting his head back before sitting directly opposite the Prince. He reached over and shut Stolas’ book, not willing to have to repeat himself once he got this out. 

“You shouldn’t be fucking embarrassed,” Blitzø chided sternly, annoyed that he couldn’t soften his tone. “It’s your fucking house, your home, your life- all that fucking jazz. I’m the one all up in your business when I have no right to be.” He grimaced and pushed himself back up. “I’m sorry I was fucking rude to your boyfriend. If you want me to apologise to him, then I will. If not then… honestly, I’m just gonna keep to my room anyway so I won’t be making shit awkward for you two.”

Stolas blanched, sitting ramrod straight as the avian-Imp headed for the doorway. Blitzø just reached the bottom of the the stairs when the Prince came hurrying after him. 

“Blitzø, wait! About Sirius, he’s not-” 

“In the know?” Blitzø guessed, wanting off the the topic as quickly as possible. “Yeah, kinda fucking figured because no dude is gonna be good with an ex-fuck toy hanging around. I’m not gonna fuck this up for you, so don’t worry about it.”

“That’s not-” 

“Why are you two being all dramatic on the stairs.”

Great. 

“Uh… we’re not. I’m just… going up them,” Blitzø justified lightly, exchanging a look with Stolas because now it was really awkward.

“You’ve been up there all day,” Octavia noted, her white pupils narrowing as she looked between them. “Did you two fight? Already?”

Stolas rubbed his forehead, clearly stressed. “Via, now is really not the time-” 

“Yeah, I was just… staying out the way.”

“Why?”

“Via, enough,” Stolas demanded, turning to Blitzø who was uneasy all over again. “Blitzø, about Sirius-”

“Why are we talking about Sirius?” Octavia cut in, demeanour immediately bristling. She glanced at Blitzø then whirled round on her Father. “That’s where you were last night?! What the fuck, Dad! You slept with him again?! Why?!”

Oh this was grossly uncomfortable to be part of. 

“Via, please-” 

“I can’t fucking believe you!” Octavia yelled, storming off towards her bedroom whilst both men just stood there. 

Blitzø took a deep breath, holding up his hands. 

“I am way outta this conversation.”

“For goodness sake, I can’t believe this,” Stolas stressed, voice shaky as he turned to go after his daughter, then hesitated, looking back up at Blitzø with a lost, troubled expression. 

For fuck’s sake, why was he having to do this.

“Look, she’s your kid. Anyone you end up with is gonna affect her so you gotta talk to her. Like now, talk to her.”

Stolas wavered and Blitzø flicked his tail.

“The fuck you standing there for? Go talk to your daughter, Stolas!”

“I- but you-”

“Why are you fucking hung up on me? She’s your priority, idiot! I’m just a dumb fuck, for fuck’s sake! Go sort your kid out! I’m not fucking going anywhere, am I!” 

Stolas clicked his beak and went after her, leaving Blitzø to deflate on the stairs before trudging up them. 

What a fucking mess.

He seriously wanted to go home.

Chapter Text

So things were fucking icky now.

Octavia was being sharp and avoidant with her Father and Blitzø was keeping to his room as much as he could. He wasn’t called down for dinner- though he wasn’t feeling well so would have declined anyway. He merely paced until he was exhausted then went to bed. 

Thursday was hard. 

Hard because Blitzø didn’t want to function but he fought through his stretches and tested the waters on his flexibility. He was still pretty damn nimble and that made his body feel less alien at the very least. He did venture down on his own and found that his tumbler was already made up and in the fridge, along with a note from Stolas.

Prince was apparently taking the ‘shove my head into work’ route as it contained an apology, and a promise to have breakfast and dinner sorted in the fridge whilst he took a few days to knuckle down.

Blitzø didn’t blame Stolas for wanting to speed up the process of getting him out. He didn’t know what Octavia’s deal was, but she clearly didn’t like the Sirius guy.

Stolas seemed happy with him so… who knows. Maybe in time she’d warm up to him.

Thursday was the day that Blitzø’s phone arrived, and after feeding his lil buddy, Blitzø had decided to take him back up seeing as no-one was really in the kitchen. He found the brand new phone at his bedroom door, still boxed. 

So he spent the majority of the day setting it up and getting himself back into an online life. It was actually nice, Loona wasn’t as astringent in her texts to him and dealing with a couple clients had been refreshing to say the least. 

He wasn’t hungry by dinnertime so remained in his room, catching up on various things and even going as far as to watch a couple self-help videos that were… difficult to digest. By the time he went to bed, he was feeling resigned and knew he needed to help hurry this whole changing-back-process along, not hinder it. 

It didn’t feel good being cooped up and he didn’t want Stolas to be avoidant. Friday he’d attempted to sneak down but Octavia was talking quietly to her Father and so Blitzø had quickly gone back up.

The knowledge that they were working shit out was great, but Blitzø was still trying to work out how to kill his feelings because fucking hell it haunted him.

Looking up how to get over someone was not helpful because Blitzø refused to cut the owl out of his life. 

Weird, because a lot of the ‘steps’ were things Stolas had done with him, but Blitzø was not going down that road. There was no fucking way Stolas had loved him like that. Blitzø was an Imp, he was a fucking… idiot and Stolas had been in a bad place for years. 

Blitzø was just the guy who had opened the door. Stolas had kicked it through all on his own and the affection was surely misplaced. 

Moping around wasn’t healthy, but Blitzø was nothing if not resilient. He sat at the desk and wrote out every fucking thing he could recall from that night.

It wasn’t a great deal, but he remembered some things. Flashes of symbols and indistinct images of various pages had luckily come to mind and Blitzø had become hyper-focused in not only drawing them out, but also looking them up.

Which had taken him down a rabbit hole of magic in general and that got him thinking about how he obviously carried some magical abilities within. He didn’t dare test that theory, though. 

Stolas really would throw him out if he did that. 

He was quietly playing the soundtrack to Spirit whilst idly putting his etched out memories in order of sequence when someone knocked on his door.

‘Someone’.

Only ever gonna be one person.

“Yeah?”

His door opened and Blitzø turned down the volume to his phone, sitting back on his chair as Stolas immediately honed in on the papers.

“Oh…”

‘Oh’ was what went through Blitzø’s brain upon seeing Stolas in a navy blue pinafore worn atop a silver short-sleeved peasant blouse. The lace collar was dainty and so fucking cute, and the form-fitting dress hugged Stolas’ lithe frame. 

He realised he was staring and averted his gaze as he cleared his throat, ignoring the way Stolas definitely picked up on the ogling.

“Figured it would be helpful if I drew out what I remember,” Blitzø deflected, handing the owl what he had scribbled down so far. “I left out anything I’m not sure of, but… hey, if it helps, right?”

Stolas flipped through them, eyebrows raised. “These are… surprisingly accurate. You have quite the vivid memory.”

“Yeah.”

He didn’t need to be told that. He remembered shit he didn’t want, which took up room for the crap he actually needed.

Stolas inhaled audibly, holding the sheets to his chest. “May we talk?”

Blitzø recoiled, immediately groaning and slumping over the desk. “Do we fucking have to?”

“Yes.”

“Right now?”

“Yes.”

“Is it gonna be fucking awkward?”

“Yes.”

“Is he making you kick me out?”

“Ye- No!”  

Blitzø grumbled as Stolas glared at him, a most appalled expression on the owl’s face. “I don’t wanna talk about it.”

“Blitzø, please. I am asking you, please.”

Blitzø clenched his jaw, pushing his chair away from the desk and wheeling it towards the bed. He got up and flopped down upon it, leaving the chair for the Prince who seated himself with a slow, formal air about him.

Stolas opened his mouth then he noticed the plant that Blitzø had purloined from the kitchen. “What… you like him that much?”

Blitzø glared, reaching for the pot and hugging it to his chest as he remained on his stomach upon the bed. “He’s my emotional-support buddy, leave me alone.”

Stolas blinked once before tilting his head. “Did you… give him a name?”

Blitzø rest his cheek on an arm, letting small leaves curl around his fingertip. “Bon Bon.”

“It suits him,” Stolas mused, settling back in the chair like he was about to start a therapy session. “He eats once a day, needs his soil dampened twice a week- only a sprinkle. When the suns out, he’d do well being placed on the rug in the sunshine for a few hours.”

Blitzø held his breath, turning to Stolas who gave him a semi-stern look. 

“They get very attached so be prepared to look after him for the rest of his life.”

“I can have him?” Blitzø asked incredulously, leaning up a little in his disbelief. 

Stolas lifted one shoulder in reply. “He likes you.”

“Yeah but… I can… I can keep him?”

“Yes, if you can commit to looking after him. He’ll eventually outgrow that pot, so be prepared.”

Blitzø chirped happily, the sound completely involuntary as he hugged the low-set terracotta that Bon Bon was in. He cupped Bon Bon’s small head and pressed his beak to the tiny little face, heart swelling with emotion when Bon Bon warbled affectionately.

Blitzø grinned and sat up, elated because he had grown attached. “You gonna hang out in here with me, lil buddy? You gonna be my lil bestie? Wanna-” 

“Blitzø,” Stolas interrupted, cutting the avian-Imp off. “We really need to talk.”

Blitzø stilled, grin dropping as he steered himself back to neutral waters. “Yeah, I know,” he murmured, settling Bon Bon in his lap. 

“About Sirius-”

He tried not to flinch, not to cringe or grimace but he had no idea that his plumage would just fucking wilt. 

It was a dead giveaway.

His feathers flattened entirely, even the two upon his head and he felt it. He felt it and Stolas clearly saw it fucking happen because he stopped talking.

Cue the uncomfortable fucking silence. 

“What does that reaction mean, Blitzø?”

“Don’t wanna talk about it.”

“Blitzø-”

“I am so fucking willing to listen to you, Stolas,” Blitzø stressed, audibly desperate. “I will do whatever you fucking want but come on. For my fucking sanity can we skip over my half of this and focus on yours? It doesn’t matter why. I’m not interfering or interrupting, I’m just gonna stick to my room and remember what I can, so you’re not jammed between your relationship and my fucking mistake for longer than needed, okay?”

Stolas clicked his beak, feathers ruffling in frustration. “I do not know where I stand with you. I know it is unfair to push you to be open with me but you wanted to make amends and I am, frankly, very confused because I thought you didn’t care. I cut ties between us because you didn’t care. Apparently, you cared very much and still do, and I am trying my best to talk about this but now you don’t want to. What am I supposed to do?”

Blitzø relented, setting Bon Bon back on the cabinet. 

“I do care. I always fucking cared. I just have a really hard time showing it, alright? I’m not… used to people caring either- not for real. It really fucks you up when you care more than anyone else and then you realise you’re the only one who feels that shit. So no, I’m not open about myself.”

“You were the other day.”

“Yeah, and I don’t even know what it did. So what’s it gonna do now, Stolas?”

“Put us on the same page!”

“What fucking universe are you living in where me and you are ever gonna be on the same fucking page!?” Blitzø asked, not a thread of bitterness to be found in his question. “I’m a fucking broke ass Imp! I’m lower than low! I’m a mentally fucked up, screwed up, traumatised and jaded motherfucker who can’t read for shit, spell for shit, or keep anything together! My dumb ass is nowhere near your page- and like fuck am I letting you ruin yourself to get to mine!”

“I slept with him because I couldn’t focus on anything after preening you,” Stolas blurted out, stunning Blitzø to speechlessness before he recoiled.

“Is this revenge? Is that it? Are we doing that? Really, Stolas? Just tell me you don’t wanna be friends, okay? Way fucking easier than this.”

“No! Fucking Hell, I’m not dating him!” 

“You fucked him then broke up?!”

“No! I was never dating him! It was just sex!”

Blitzø paused, furrowing his eyebrows as his self-depreciation jumped into the fray. “That’s it? You ditched my dick and found another? What… why? Was I not… good enough for you anymore?”

Stolas’ pale face seemed to get paler as Blitzø just crumpled on the spot.

“I fucking… I did whatever you wanted. I didn’t say no except that one fucking time, Stolas. I know I fucked up at Ozzie’s and… everything after, but I didn’t mean to make you just drop me like that,” he lamented, wanting to hold onto something but finding that Spirit Jr. was up by the headboard. “If you’d wanted sex after preening me you could’a just had me? Why go to him if I’m right there?”

“He only gives me sex, that’s why.”

“Yeah? Like I can’t give you-” Blitzø clamped his mouth shut and he saw Stolas perk up a little as though hoping he’d caught onto something. 

Yeah, Blitzø had caught onto something alright. He swallowed back the bubbling hurt as he tried to raise his defences.  

Nothing.

“I get it,” he croaked out, struggling as his lashes fluttered from the sudden influx of emotion. “He has a dick. I don’t. That’s all I was fucking good for, and now I don’t have that so I have nothing to give you. All I have is a bird-puss that I don’t know what the fuck to do with. His dick’s gonna be better than mine anyway because he’s not fucking fun-sized.”

Stolas sat there with his mouth open before snorting, bringing his talons to his beak. 

Being laughed at was like being doused in acid and Blitzø couldn’t help but think back on his worries from before- that Stolas would end up like… them.

“Fucking… laughing at me like everyone always does,” he wept, turning away only to have his wrist grasped.

“No, this is terrible,” Stolas declared with glassy cerise-rose hues. “This is a terrible situation. That’s not what happened, I promise. I promise you, that’s not what happened.”

Blitzø shied away from the words, embarrassed that he was once again crying. He scrubbed at his face with his sleeves, knees drawn up as he hugged them to his chest. “It doesn’t matter. I’m the one who pushed you away.”

“Oh Blitzø this is a mess, I’m so sorry. We are terrible communicators. I shouldn’t have cut you off without explanation or without trying to talk to you properly,” Stolas confessed, moving from the chair to the bed. He pulled Blitzø into a hug and the avian-Imp slumped against him, unable to tell whether he felt angry or hurt.

Or guilty.

He didn’t protest when Stolas held him tightly, but he felt disquieted, like it wasn’t allowed.

Stolas didn’t speak for a while, just stayed holding him close and Blitzø in turn allowed himself to just accept the moment for what it was. It was somewhat forced, because he was just so tired of feeling the way he did. 

“I think words aren’t safe right now, are they, sweetheart,” Stolas murmured, caressing Blitzø’s arms in a bid to soothe.

“No,” he whispered, audibly still crying.

“Then I’ll just hold you, until words are safe again.”

Having Stolas close made a world of difference to him regardless and Blitzø huffed, tossing the papers from the bed to the chair. He pulled Stolas down to the quilt and nuzzled into the owl’s neck, shutting out the niggling voices that told him not to be so stupid.

Stolas hooted softly, petting the quills atop Blitzø’s crest as Blitzø stubbornly held onto him, wanting the affection and the reassurance no matter the cost. 

Well, Stolas wasn’t dating the asshole, so it wasn’t technically cheating.

Yet.

Chapter Text

“It would mean a lot if you would be there.”

“I don’t know why.”

“You’re my first ever friend, Blitzø. I would love to walk in there with you and have everyone wonder who you were.”

“I’m not a fucking show-pony.”

“No, but you would make a very good one.”

Blitzø scoffed, looking over his shoulder at the owl who had ended up spooning him. “Guess so,” he murmured, trying not to think too hard on how Stolas was very much wrapped around him. Their legs were tangled and Stolas hadn’t let go of him once. 

Blitzø really fucking liked being held. 

“Think of it this way, you can be whoever you want,” Stolas piped up, snuffling Blitzø’s neck. “You can be a Hell-famed horse trainer.”

“Nah, I’m gonna tell everyone my work is classified,” Blitzø muttered, knowing he wasn’t going to be absent from the damn fucking party that Stolas was throwing the next afternoon. He didn’t want to go, but he would, because he was aiming to be the greatest fucking friend that the Prince had. 

“Oh, mysterious,” Stolas purled, voice way too low again for Blitzø’s sanity. It had him shrinking in on himself, shivers breaking out all over his skin and causing his feathers to fluff up- but his spines, tail and crest all flattened. He blushed as Stolas blinked at him.

Then the owl flat out smirked and leant down. “Like this tone, do you?”

“Fucking quit that!” Blitzø snapped, covering his ear with one hand and pushing Stolas away with the other. “You’re making my fucking back itch!”

Stolas hooted with laughter, unperturbed as Blitzø grumbled and hugged a pillow to his chest, grouchy and self conscious as he let his tail sway idly off the bed. 

“Oh but I do love talking in such a sultry tone,” Stolas continued, arms tightening around Blitzø’s waist so he couldn’t escape. “I daresay I haven’t quite had someone to use it on, and you do have such a lovely reaction.”

“I will fucking peck your eyes out,” Blitzø growled, trying to squirm round and failing. “Stolas!”

“I’m just relieved we’re okay!” Said demon protested, giving Blitzø a squeeze. “I missed you.”

“Yeah right.”

“I did. I really did.”

Blitzø grunted, wishing that his heart didn’t beat so fast, so quickly. “I… missed you too.”

The arms around him increased their grip and he leant back into Stolas’ frame, aware of the dress hugging the taller male’s lithe form. 

Dress.

Right.

“So uh… what do I fucking wear for this gig?” 

“Oh! I have the suits I used to wear when I was about your size,” Stolas gasped, sitting up with an ecstatic look on his face. 

“Oh fuck no, I am not wearing any of your fancy, rich-prick crap,” Blitzø refused, rolling onto his stomach as Stolas tugged at the banded black and white feathers atop Blitzø’s head. It didn’t hurt, but it was annoying and Blitzø nipped the owl’s arm without much thought.

He paused when Stolas flinched back in surprise.

Worried that he’d actually hurt the Prince, Blitzø quickly sat up and grasped Stolas’ wrist, studying the area with genuine seriousness. He brushed a thumb over the minuscule indent that his beak had left and looked at the owl who had rosy cheeks- a precursor to either tears or something stupid. 

“Sorry,” Blitzø apologised, believing it to be the former. “I didn’t know that would hurt.”

Stolas’ large cerise-rose hues took on a shine that had Blitzø frowning immediately, Stolas’ expression morphing into something swoonish. 

“Aw, you’re so sweet, Blitzy.”

The way his heart skipped a beat over hearing that pet-name was so fucking hateful that Blitzø wanted to cut the damn organ out.

“Ugh. You’re so fucking-” 

Blitzø was cut off by the other draping over his body and he puffed out a breath, unable to keep hold of his moodiness when his back was being snuggled into. 

It was quiet in the nice sense for a good twenty minutes, Blitzø half-dozing off as he absentmindedly ran his fingers through Stolas downier plumage just above his knee- which was hitched up over Blitzø’s thigh. The position was oddly intimate and yet it didn’t feel inappropriate or awkward in any way.

Maybe they were just that comfortable with one another underneath it all. 

“Hey Stolas?”

“Yes, darling?”

The butterflies kicking up a fuss in Blitzø’s abdomen really needed to die.

“It’s been over four hours.”

There was a beat of silence before the Prince snorted cutely, rubbing Blitzø’s stomach with a giggle. 

“Yes, yes it has. Let us get you fed, darling.”

As the Prince stood, inching down his pinafore that had risen up, Blitzø couldn’t help but hope that ‘darling’ was there to stay.

“It’s boring.”

“It’s classical!”

“Nah, she’s right. It’s fucking lame.”

“It is not lame. It is standard practice to have-”

Blitzø dragged the remnants of his blended meal through his straw, the noise loud and obnoxious enough to silence Stolas’ on-coming ramble. 

The owl shot him a glare. “Rude.”

Octavia laughed, greatly amused whilst Blitzø simply feigned innocence. 

“Can’t we have something cool, just this once?” she asked, looking hopeful. 

“It would be impossible to play anything either of you listen to, in the Great Hall.”

“You’re a Prince, you can play whatever you like,” Blitzø scoffed, slumping back in his chair. 

“No, I cannot.”

“I’m a Princess, I can play whatever I want,” Octavia muttered, pushing her plate away. 

“No, Starfire, you cannot.”

“What if I did, what would you do?”

Blitzø smirked as he caught Stolas’ troubled expression, and it made the avian-Imp wonder if Stolas had ever really had to scold his daughter. Not that Blitzø was any kind of good at scolding Loona, she was just too fucking adorable even when flying off the handle. 

Blitzø exhaled softly, missing her greatly. He missed home, too. 

“Dad. Dad, I’m seventeen. I’m not gonna be upset by you sending me to my room.”

“I wouldn’t send you to your room.”

“Then… what would you do?”

“I’d send you over to Tanitia’s. I’m sure Tabitha would love to spend time with a real Goetian Princess.”

Blitzø quirked a smile, automatically placing Octavia’s plate atop Stolas’. He set the used cutlery atop the empty dishes and stood, balancing his tumbler atop the shallow stack as he moved to the kitchen.

He slapped on the water and let the sink fill, hearing Octavia plod on in with a flat frown. 

“No luck, huh.”

“Gonna have to suffer, old man. I am not willing to sacrifice myself to Tabitha over Dad’s dumb party music.”

“Whose Tabitha?” Blitzø asked, struggling to find any form of washing-up liquid. “Where’s your fucking dish soap?”

Octavia shrugged, opening the fridge and pulling out a pudding pot. 

“Tabitha is the daughter of Lady Tanitia, and Tanitia’s a real stuck up cow. Tabitha’s in two of my classes and she makes it super clear that she wants to be my friend. To the point of pushing her way into everything I’m doing. It’s fucking annoying.”

Blitzø gave her a look, having found a barely used bottle right at the back of the cupboard above the counter. “She only interested ‘cause you’re a Princess?”

“Yeah,” Octavia huffed, jamming her teaspoon into the pudding pot. “She doesn’t actually ask about me. Just wants to know what I buy and where, how rich I am and if Dad will buy me stuff.”

“Which he does,” Blitzø grinned, busying himself with washing up. 

“Yeah but I’m not a spoiled brat,” Octavia sighed, leaning heavily on a palm. “I’m just like any other kid there. It wouldn’t be so bad but she says stuff like ‘if you have brand stuff you don’t use, I’ll take it off your hands,’ and ‘your Dad would pay for us if you came along,’. One of the worst is when Tabitha is with others and she boasts about how close we are. We aren’t. She’s just annoying.”

Blitzø shook his head. “Fucking leech. You not called her out yet?”

Octavia blinked, spoon still in her mouth. “Dad says I can’t because of who we are.”

“The fuck?”

“If I show dislike to one person, others will jump on the bandwagon and she could end up being bullied,” Octavia grumbled, folding her arms and slumping forward. “I don’t like her but I don’t wanna be the reason someone gets bullied.”

Blitzø scoffed, twisting his body to the side so he could still use the sink whilst talking to her. “So tell her you have someone else you do that shit with.”

Octavia rose her eyebrows, large cerise-hues wide with surprise. “That’s a lie though.”

“So make it a fucking truth,” Blitzø shrugged, drying his hands on a tea towel before starting on the items he’d just rinsed off. “You got friends?”

Octavia hesitantly shook her head. “Hard when so many would have an ulterior motive. I’d like to go to concerts and the mall with a friend. I go with Dad but… you know. He’d never trust anyone.”

Blitzø grinned softly, leaning back on the edge of the kitchen counter whilst turning his tumbler round the cloth covering his fist. “You know who likes the mall and concerts?”

“No.”

“Loona,” Blitzø said with a fond smile. “Not saying you have to be besties or some shit, but if you wanted to go, she’d take you. Loona’s not got many friends either.”

At that, Octavia sat up. “What? She’s older though, and she has a job. She won’t wanna hang round a kid.”

“Are you though?”

“Am I what?”

Blitzø frowned, setting the tumbler on the side. “A kid.” He inhaled deeply, glancing up at the ceiling. “Age don’t fucking matter like that, sweets. Loona grew up so fucking fast she never got to do shit like go out with friends. She didn’t get to do a bunch of stuff- hanging out, sleepovers, make-overs, malls, concerts, movies- just a bunch of shit that normal kids did.”

“She didn’t? She’s so cool though. Seeing her Sinsta, it’s like she does everything.”

“My Loony is very cool,” Blitzø grinned, unable to hide his pride. “Us Dad’s, we try. Not the same as having a friend though, right?”

“No,” Octavia mumbled, nudging her empty dessert pot around until Blitzø simply picked it up. “What if she says no?”

“She’d love to go places with you,” Blitzø scoffed, rinsing out the plastic and washing off the teaspoon. “Think about it, yeah? Talk to your Dad and shit. Loona’s no pushover, she’d look after you way better than some asshole paid to would.”

Octavia quirked an eyebrow before fixing him with a sneer. “Didn’t Dad pay you once to be our bodyguard?”

Blitzø froze, eyeing her with a grin born from irked acknowledgment. “That’s why I’m able to fucking say it, smartass.”

“Long as Loona wouldn’t burn down the mall we went to.”

“Okay, Little Miss Sass, you took your fucking shots. Go do whatever you do to unwind before resting that snarky head of yours.”

Octavia stretched, leaning back precariously on her stool. “I stuff dead things with sawdust.”

Blitzø scrunched up his face as she snickered and got up.

“Where’s your Dad got to anyway?”

Immediately Octavia’s expression fell. “Calling the Stag-whore,” she exhaled, demeanour flat. 

“Oh.”

Awkward. 

Awkward all over again. 

“I just… he’s not a bad guy just… Sirius is….”

“Serious?” Blitzø offered, earning himself an amused huff. 

“No. The opposite. He’s not only sleeping with Dad, so… you know.”

“Oh.”

Blitzø did not know how to process that, and he turned to place the teaspoon back in the drawer. He wasn’t exactly able to comment. He’d not been exclusive with Stolas when they were hooking up either- though Stolas was the only person he returned to. 

Anyone else was a fucking random ass that wasn’t planned, and he never slept with anyone again once they parted ways.

Stolas was always going to be the exception, there. 

“Sorry. I just feel frustrated over it,” she admitted, holding onto her other arm as she stood there. “I want him to be happy. We all know he wants a real relationship and yet he’s fucking guys who don’t see him as anything but a notch in their bedposts.” 

Blitzø nodded slowly, mind elsewhere. “I uh… did the same thing, for a while. Not with the same person so I was worse but you should talk to him if it’s worrying you.”

“I try,” Octavia mumbled, staring at Blitzø intently. 

It got to the point he became unnerved and he shifted. “What?”

“You like him still, right?”

Blitzø fumbled with the plastic pot he’d been holding, having not known whether to recycle it or just throw it in the trash. He hissed as he nearly dropped it, aware that Octavia was watching the level of his fluster with a very knowing gaze.

He held his breath, looking up at her with a racing heart as she simply took the pot from him and tossed it into a box with other plastics. 

Blitzø cleared his throat and averted his line of sight, not at all comfortable with the way she could blatantly see right through him. 

“Then… we still have hope,” Octavia murmured quietly, which had Blitzø’s head snapping up. 

“For what?” He asked, apprehension rising as she lifted her chin and shrugged.

“Thanks for the advice, old man. I’ll think about texting Loona,” she said, tone light just as Stolas walked into the kitchen. “Hey Dad. Blitzø did the dishes.”

Blitzø was still too troubled to think straight and he numbly watched her kiss her Father’s cheek before skipping off to her room. 

“The dishes are for the Scullery Maids to do, Blitzø. I quite literally pay them,” Stolas was saying as he too fetched a dessert from the fridge. 

Blitzø emitted a soft note of acknowledgement, stepping aside with faltering grace so that Stolas could get to the cutlery drawer. 

“Are you alright?” 

Blitzø blinked at the man he was undoubtedly harbouring feelings for, taking in Stolas’ pale, heart-shaped features, large cerise-rose hues and florentine tufts. 

“Y-yeah. Yeah, I’m fine,” he puffed out, pushing away from the kitchen counter entirely. 

“Good,” Stolas chimed obliviously. “We have some digging around to do in my old room.”

Chapter Text

“This would look lovely-”

“No.”

“It’s genuine silk!”

“I don’t fucking care if it’s made of fucking gold, I ain’t wearing that crap.” Blitzø watched as Stolas pouted, causing the shorter male to roll his aureate hues. “It’s all way too flouncy for me, come on.”

“Well, I suppose,” Stolas sighed, placing the ruffled garment back. “I don’t know what to do. You like nothing I have here.”

“This is all your formal shit, Stolas,” Blitzø pointed out, getting off the low bed he’d been sitting on and approaching the wardrobe. “Where’s all your casual stuff?” 

“Oh… that’s in the walk-in,” Stolas replied distractedly, going through another rack of clothes. “I doubt there’s much in there.”

Blitzø quirked an eyebrow and flicked on the light for the closet that led to an en-suite bathroom. It was double-sided and he hummed, noting the disorganised array of garments that hung from more hangers than he could count.

He scoffed and flipped through several shirts, pulling out a forest green button down that was decorated with white patch-worked flannel. Embroidered pins were stitched to its breast pocket and he popped his head out into the room.

“Hey. Can I nick shit from in here? Kinda like this,” he said, holding up the shirt. 

Stolas leant back and scoffed. “If you please. Nothing in there fits me these days. Take what you want- you can’t exist in that hoodie as you try to.”

“Hey.”

“Do not even try, you’d live in that suit of yours if you could.” 

Blitzø scowled, setting the shirt upon the bed. He spotted an ivory silk shirt trimmed with ruffled and paused. “That one’s okay.”

Stolas glanced over his shoulder and blinked. “You would?”

“Yeah. It’s not as dramatic as the others.”

“Ah,” Stolas smiled, returning to his wardrobe. “Right, so the less extravagant, the more comfortable you’d be.”

“Yeah,” Blitzø nodded, walking back into the closet. He picked out a few more things when Stolas’ phone began ringing. He froze, dread welling up because-

“Why is Via calling me from downstairs,” Stolas complained, which had Blitzø exhaling in relief that he had no right to feel. 

“Loony calls me from the bathroom when we’ve run out of bog-roll!”

“Charming, Blitzø.”

“That’s a bog-roll brand in Sinner-land!”

He grinned when Stolas tutted in annoyance, his daughter apparently not having called him by accident. “Hang on, Blitzø. Just take what you want- I need to-” The Prince stumbled over a couple plushies that had rolled off the bed as he scrambled towards the door. “Yes, Via, what is it? What in Hell’s name do you need a soldering iron for? You did what? Where did he get one?!”

Blitzø chuckled, Stolas’ harried footsteps hurrying down the hall and finally vanishing altogether. Blitzø exhaled softly, sifting through Stolas’ rather pristine clothes. 

None were particularly worn and some looked like they’d never left their hangers. He spotted several designer boxes underneath the hung garments and lifted the lid to one. He found a tuxedo-style suit within the thin paper layers and shoved it aside.

The next four were mostly the same, until he found a black one right at the back. 

“Hello, what are you?” 

Blitzø crawled under the rack and tugged the wide box out by a corner. He lifted the lid and immediately grinned. The contents still had their tags- which meant Stolas had probably never worn it. 

Oh he was so wearing it. 

He lidded the box quickly and shoved it under several other things he had selected. Once satisfied he padded back into the main bedroom in order to collect the button-down and the shirts that Stolas had set out. 

Some were going no-where near him, but since the owl had placed them upon the bed, Blitzø would take them along. 

He turned out the light and headed for the door, nearly tripping when he stepped on something soft. 

“The fuck?”

Blitzø awkwardly twisted in order to look down at the offending article, finding an Imp plushie staring up at him. He snorted, noting it’s bunny-like ears and wide, slightly manic smile. He shuffled his burden and leant down, hooking one of its ears with a foot and managing to grasp it with a hand. 

Noise in the Palace made him hurry, and he swiftly made it to his own room, shutting the door with his backside. He dropped the plushie on his desk and got straight to work placing the items of clothing in his own wardrobe. 

The sleek black box he slipped into the bottommost drawer, wanting to keep it a secret.

All in all, the assortment brought him up to a decent variety of dress options, which included two pairs of leather pants- one matte, the other not. The black suit pants and three-quarter length jeans were also nice additions. 

He’d also snagged a red silk shirt, a black, short sleeved dress shirt and a washed-cotton blouse with voile sleeves.

From what Stolas had selected, he had a ruffle-trimmed ivory silk shirt, a scarf-collard shirt that was a dark maroon and a loose chiffon blouse that was teal.

There were also a bunch of generic sweaters, but Blitzø just folded them and put them in the drawer. He grunted as he looked over to his desk, collecting the Imp plush that he’d meant to return to Stolas’ old bed. 

Looking at it now, it was a little creepy-cute and he chuckled, noting how it was still in pretty good condition. “Well, you can join Spirit Jr.” He murmured, setting the teddy right next to his bright yellow pony plush. 

A gentle warble from the bedside cabinet drew his attention away and Blitzø flopped onto the sheets, reaching out to fuss Bon Bon who nibbled at his fingertips with a yawn. “Getting sleepy, hey bud.”

Bon Bon wasn’t the only one and Blitzø groaned as he got up, dragging himself over to where he had draped his t-shirt and shorts over the back of his desk chair. He stripped off and adorned them without much fanfare, his mind blessedly quiet. 

He was just tucking his chair in after having put his worn clothes in the hamper when his bedroom door opened, a stressed-looking Prince plastering himself to the door.

“She burn down her room?” Blitzø asked, already grinning. 

Stolas ran a hand through his styled feathers, shaking his head. “She is so very fearless. I do not know where she gets that from.”

“Gee, I really wonder where,” Blitzø drawled flatly, knowing exactly how absolutely fearless Stolas could be. 

“I would never have been so brazen as to take a soldering iron from the handyman and tried to ‘emboss’ a newly taxidermied pangolin.”

“She was Hot Stamping? That’s fucking cool. She figure it out?” 

Stolas’ glare said enough and Blitzø decided against asking further questions despite being curious. He wandered into his bathroom, picking up his preening oil bottle and noting how depleted it was. 

“Will it always run out this fast?” he questioned, finding Stolas on his bed, Imp plushie in hand. “Fell on your floor, so I rescued the lil guy.”

“I loved this plush as a child,” Stolas murmured, brushing his palm over the teddy’s head. “It needs a little TLC.”

“Sounds fucking familiar,” Blitzø joked, opening the balcony doors so the warm evening air could flow in. It was nice against his plumage and he sighed as he placed Bon Bon in the gentle rays of the sun outside on the wooden platform that he hadn’t really used yet.

“I’ve got a bigger bottle on the way for you,” Stolas told him, uncapping the Ylang Ylang Third and smoothening a thin layer over his fingertips. “Let me see how you’re doing.”

“How big? I feel like I’m going through this shit like water,” Blitzø frowned, tugging off his top and perching on the edge of his bed. He wasn’t entirely thrilled with the prospect, knowing that last time had caused Stolas to go… elsewhere, after preening him.

“It takes a little while for your feathers to soften,” Stolas reminded, sitting behind Blitzø and getting to work on his shoulders. The sensation was too soothing and he wished he had better willpower because when Stolas’ robe slid to the side, revealing his thigh, Blitzø had little to no control. 

He reached out and deftly began straightening the short tufts, following the direction in which they grew. He noted a few ruffled vanes and pouted. 

“You got the one you use?” 

A flash of light and Stolas was handing it to him without comment, which of course only boosted Blitzø’s confidence. 

They ended up oddly positioned, with Stolas preening Blitzø’s crest whilst the avian-Imp worked absentmindedly on the owl’s large tail. The wide barbules meant that he had to focus extra attention upon them otherwise they’d stick together and create gaps that didn’t look good.

He huffed when he noted a nick in the black trim of Stolas’ outer plume, and he twisted to give the owl a glare. 

“Hm?”

“How’d you fucking do this?” He demanded, pointing at the area that would surely ruin his hard work. 

“Caught it in the door,” Stolas tittered, gliding his palms down Blitzø’s back and sides. 

“Great. Now I have a fucking oddity in my masterpiece,” Blitzø grumbled, pushing himself up. He hiked his shoulders as the cool breeze drifted in, the sensation utterly wonderful. “I gotta preen your dumb head, clumsy fuck.” 

Stolas blinked and shuffled down as Blitzø oiled up his hands, kneeling on the bed. He began meticulously preening Stolas’ quills whilst ensuring to be careful not to accidentally poke the owl’s upper set of eyes.

“How come you can style them? I couldn’t fucking style mine to save anyone’s life.”

“It’s just how they fall at this point,” Stolas murmured, tone almost faraway. “I’ve used this style for so long, they simply fall in this manner.”

“Lucky fuck,” Blitzø muttered, working down the back of Stolas neck until he could thread through the finer vanes adorning ivory cheeks. He didn’t realise how close they were until Stolas hooted softly, and Blitzø blinked, stilling as his breath caught in his throat. 

He leant back immediately, flustered and more than a little fearful that he’d crossed lines. He emitted a startled note when a palm cupped the back of his head and Blitzø flailed lightly, arms up and close to his chest in order to prevent them from being even closer. 

“S-sorry,” he stammered, scrunching his eyes shut. “Got fucking carried away.”

“You can get carried away, Blitzø,” Stolas whispered, his beak way too close to Blitzø’s ear. 

It had the smaller male fluffing up as he was guided to the sheets despite being on his side. He trilled nervously as Stolas knelt over him on all fours. “I should preen you the old fashioned way,” Stolas mused, apparently delighted in how flustered Blitzø was around him. 

“The fuck is the old-” 

Blitzø clamped his mouth shut as Stolas dipped down, nuzzling into a rouge neck. He took a feather between his beak and lower lip, gently nibbling along the rachis whilst smoothening the barbules down with his tongue. The second he was done, he moved onto another, and Blitzø gasped, curling his hands into the quilt under him.

“Stolas,” he whined, the warmth that rushed throughout him near-unbearable. He puffed out a breath and squirmed, unable to keep himself still as he squeezed his thighs together. 

“Very sensitive aren’t you, darling,” Stolas uttered in that low tone that Blitzø couldn’t stand. 

He bit his lower lip, on the precipice of moaning outright when Stolas pulled away with a soft laugh, stroking Blitzø’s upper arm soothingly. “I shouldn’t tease you so.” 

Blitzø groaned, cheeks aflame as he peered at the Prince through raised arms. “What… what if I like being teased by you?” he asked daringly, knowing he shouldn’t even try but finding himself without any self-preservation at all. 

Stolas blinked once before an unnerving smile etched across his face, cerise-rose hues deepening a fraction as he ran a talon up the inside of Blitzø’s knee. “Oh, you sweet little thing. I don’t think you’d handle being teased by me.”

Blitzø’s heart jumped into his throat, every feather and spine standing on end as he trembled. He didn’t know what to say, because he couldn’t tell if this was where he was supposed to take up the challenge or if Stolas was rejecting him in a playful manner so that they didn’t have to make things awkward. 

He was at a loss and he also… didn’t want Stolas to leave. 

He didn’t. 

He feared that whatever tension was brewing between them would lead to Stolas going to the other guy and-

He was distracted by a sudden dampness blooming between his legs and he sat bolt upright, fixing Stolas a faux-glare. “Can handle anything you dish out,” he growled, wanting an excuse to use the bathroom. 

“Of course,” Stolas replied with a condescending lilt. “The way you clench your thighs together absolutely supports your adamant declaration.”

Blitzø’s temperature sky-rocketed and he whirled around at the owl who was studying his talons dismissively, one knee elegantly propped up on the other. 

“Fuck you.”

“I daresay, you’re lacking the equipment to do so,” Stolas returned slyly, so smug it actually had Blitzø feeling intimidated.

The want to resort to spite was strong but he balled his fist instead, shoving it down because lashing out would do nothing but undo the baby steps they’d taken.

“Go sort yourself out, darling,” Stolas tittered, waving him away. 

Blitzø’s heart sank and he made to turn around before huffing loudly, chest aching with the shame in knowing that he just couldn’t not ask. 

“Are you… gonna… go?” He asked quietly, not able to look up. “I know I fucking… don’t have what you want but I-” he puffed out a breath, feeling crestfallen as a notion wormed its way into his head. “I can still… do shit for you.”

There was a very tense silence before Stolas inhaled and sat back. “Oh? Can you?”

“Yes,” Blitzø declared strongly, the only time he’d been one-hundred percent confident since staying with the Prince. He’d do whatever it took to keep Stolas with him. “I got a fucking wicked tongue.”

Stolas purled, looking ever so lewd in the way he lay back, robe very much falling off him. “Mhm… a very enticing offer,” he whispered, staring at Blitzø who was already raking his aureate gaze over the owl’s frame. “I’m not sure you know what you’re getting yourself into.”

Blitzø quirked an eyebrow and folded his arms, frowning at the owl now laying on his side upon the bed, cheek propped up on a palm. 

“You seriously gonna talk to me like I’ve never railed you to the fucking headboard multiple times?”  

Stolas’ smile widened and something flipped in Blitzø’s stomach.

“I’m not interested in you railing me to the headboard, Blitzø.” 

Fuck… that tone was going to kill him.

Blitzø smirked, returning to the bedside and placing his hands either side of Stolas’ hips as he leaned down, wanting to gain the upper hand in some form because the damn bird was really fucking him up. 

He ghosted his fingertips under the purple robe that Stolas wore, separating the crushed velvet and feeling his heart skip several beats when Stolas rest a hand atop a glossy rouge crest, barely applying pressure as he guided Blitzø down.  

It was enough to have the avian-Imp slowly lowering himself to his knees, enough to have him grasping Stolas’ backside and revelling in the way the Prince tossed his head back in delight when Blitzø dragged his mouth over silken flesh.

It didn’t matter that Stolas wasn’t saying his name, or uttering any words of praise. 

The fact that Stolas came on Blitzø’s tongue a minute and a half later, was all that Blitzø cared about.

This, was more than enough.

Chapter Text

He woke up to one of the balcony doors clattering against the double-doored frame.

There was a chill to the air, but Blitzø was cocooned in a blissful embrace that he initially thought he had dreamt up. The memories of being between Stolas’ plush thighs came scorching up his spine and he stirred, well aware of the fact that he himself had gone untouched.

That was a fact that he strangely didn’t mind. 

The clattering was interrupted by a sharp bang, followed by rattling that sounded all too close.

Blitzø snapped his eyes open and cursed, rolling out of Stolas’ arms and already uttering apologies to the miserable little plant that he’d set out in the sunlight hours before.

It was not sunny or warm anymore.

“Shit, shit shit, I got you,” Blitzø whispered, sheltering Bon Bon who cried with a pitiful little voice, his soil just shy of waterlogged in the drizzle. “Hey, hey, I’m here,” Blitzø ushered, closing the balcony altogether and setting the weeping plant down.

He heard Stolas stir but didn’t pause to offer an explanation, already running into the bathroom and grabbing the hand towel in there. He didn’t hear Stolas’ disoriented question and packed the towel atop the soil, wanting to soak up as much of the excess as possible. 

Bon Bon wailed in distress and Blitzø immediately felt panic bubble up, noting that the delicate petals were bruised from whatever twigs and other small debris had been blown into the bulb by the gales. 

Nothing he did calmed Bon Bon down and Blitzø clenched his jaw. He swept up the pot and went into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. 

He was out not five minutes later, holding a bundle of towelling to his chest. He puffed out a breath as Stolas blinked in confusion, having seen him take the little plant into the bathroom. 

“Where did you-” 

A quiet warble emanated from the towelling and Stolas held out his hands. “Let me see.”

“I can’t believe I left him out there,” Blitzø near-growled, crest and tail flaring as he carefully approached the bed. “I’m such a fucking shitbag.”

Stolas regarded him tiredly before sighing. “Did you make sure he has soil in that?”

“I’m not completely fucking stupid. I did listen to you when you went on about your fucking plants,” Blitzø muttered, leaning down a little. He huffed as Stolas gently pulled the material back, revealing a much quieter Bon Bon nestled within a hefty scoop of soil packed into Blitzø’s t-shirt. The make-shift fabric planter was tied with the drawstring from the avian-Imp’s board shorts and the towelling kept any mess from leaking through. 

“He’s a little bruised, but he’s okay,” Stolas assured, cooing softly when Bon Bon stirred.

“His pot was flooded,” Blitzø mumbled, audibly wrought with guilt. “So much for me being able to fucking look after him.”

“It happens, Blitzø. I have made heinous mistakes with my plants- especially in the beginning. Don’t lose confidence so soon. He’s safe and we can repot him in the morning.”

“Will he be alright like this?” Blitzø asked, cupping the small bundle to his chest as he straightened. 

“He will,” Stolas nodded, blinking as Blitzø began gently swaying in place, as though placating an infant. “You can set him down, Blitzø. He’ll be alright.”

Blitzø shook his head, not looking up. “I need to make sure he knows I’m sorry and that I still love him.”

He didn’t care how dumb it sounded, his stomach was in knots and he didn’t think he could physically unlock his arms anyway.

“You don’t need to leave him, just come back to bed,” Stolas insisted, pulling the quilt back. 

Blitzø hesitated, worried all over again. “What if I crush-”

“You won’t,” Stolas promised, patting the space next to him. “Come on.”

Blitzø tentatively slipped beside the owl, allowing Stolas to guide him onto his side. 

“Just lay him at your chest,” Stolas instructed, spooning Blitzø from behind and gently bracketing Blitzø’s body so that they were both curled around the towelling. 

Blitzø swallowed hard as he cupped Bon Bon’s head in a palm, the bulb’s eyes half-closed as he stared pitifully up at Blitzø with little strength. 

“I’m here lil buddy,” Blitzø whispered, scooping the bundle up against his lower jaw and using the crook of his elbow to keep it all in place. Bon Bon lay his small head upon Blitzø’s cheek, the hefty sigh escaping something so tiny causing Blitzø’s heart to swell with endearment. 

He felt Stolas’ shift against him from behind, felt the owl reach over and lightly pet Bon Bon’s head and for a moment he feared the owl would leave. 

Blitzø was always going to be his own worst enemy. 

He tried not to think about what he was doing as he reached back and took hold of Stolas’ hand, dreading the moment that the owl would pull away, but Stolas did the opposite. The Prince nuzzled him with a soft hoot and interlocked their talons, leaving Blitzø’s heart fluttering wildly.

He didn’t know why Stolas was allowing it, but Blitzø would take what he could get.

Such is life, and such was love.

Blitzø groaned as a minuscule sneeze came from the centre of his bed, Bon Bon now in a proper fabric planter surrounded by a bath sheet that was leant against a hot water bottle that Stolas had kindly given to him. 

The poor thing had a cold and Blitzø had been driven into ‘panicked-parent mode’ as soon as the small coughs and sniffles started. Now they were both on blended food, because Bon Bon had a sore and swollen stem which meant he had trouble swallowing down his usual diced morsels.

“I’m sorry, bubs,” he sighed, padding over and kneeling by the bed. “I’ll get you the best grow light I can find, okay?” He chuffed out a sad note when small, damaged leaves clung to his fingertips and Blitzø leant right over, placing his beak to Bon Bon’s head. “Love you, lil buddy.”

The stuffy warble that Bon Bon emitted was close to affectionate and Blitzø smiled, already gone for the little plant he was unable to keep from babying. 

It was a baby, anyway. 

“Gotta get ready, bubs.”

“Blitzø, may I come in?” 

Said male pushed himself up, relieved that he had not yet started getting himself sorted for the event happening in just a few hours. 

“What’s up?” He called, leaning down to pick up a quill that he’d shed somewhere in the course of the morning. 

Stolas came in with a low groan, holding a hand to the back of his head. “I got my charm bracelet stuck.”

“How?” Blitzø asked with a laugh, beckoning the owl over. 

“I was just sorting out the back of my feathers when something got caught.”

Blitzø shook his head as he turned Stolas around and carefully fiddled with the bracelet. He undid it first, allowing Stolas to lower his arm with a light hiss. It was automatic to massage his shoulder before focusing on getting the bracelet free. 

He did it with the utmost care, slipping it from Stolas’ florentine tufts and making sure to smoothen down the offended plumage.

“Is it free?” Stolas asked, audibly worried. 

Blitzø didn’t answer, only brought Stolas round in order to return the trinket to a dainty wrist. He secured it with a lopsided-grin, his touch lingering at the back of Stolas’ hand.

“All fixed,” he murmured, bashful as the Prince’s cheeks tinted pink. 

“Thank you,” Stolas uttered quietly, looking down at the charms that hung off it. 

Blitzø inhaled steadily and tore himself away, knowing when the atmosphere was charged with potential and knowing he wasn’t in any way permitted to just freely indulge. 

Not like he knew how to kiss with this fucking face anyway. 

“What will you be wearing?” Stolas inquired curiously, a knowing smile on his face as Blitzø averted his gaze. 

“Not telling,” he replied, turning his face up haughtily. 

“Oh?”

“You wanted me to make a fucking entrance, I’m gonna make a fucking entrance,” Blitzø stated with his hands on his hips, tail lashing from side-to-side behind him. 

“Should I be worried?” 

Blitzø fixed the owl with a grin that easily slipped into a leer. “Always.”

He was expecting to be rebuffed somehow, but Stolas tittered shyly and bit his lip, sidling up to Blitzø and placing a palm against his chest.

“I don’t know what they’ll think of a bad boy turning up at my party.”

Blitzø’s body flushed with nerves but he chuffed out a laugh and smirked, swinging Stolas round and dipping him in a well-practiced move. The owl hooted with surprise before swooning dramatically and Blitzø chuckled, pulling him upright and deciding that he shouldn’t take anything too far.

“Right, I need to get dressed.”

Stolas blinked widely, faux-shock washing over his features. “You’re kicking me out?”

“Yeah, I need to prim this ass to your fancy fucking standards,” Blitzø griped, waving the owl towards the door. 

“Are you really dressing up?”

“Yes, Stolas.”

“Does this mean you’re coming in after me?”

Blitzø paused, having not considered that part. “I… guess? If you’d like me to?”

“I’d only steal the attention if I was with you,” Stolas mused, fiddling with his bracelet again. 

“Text me when you want me to fucking… walk in?” Blitzø suggested, anxiety creeping up his spine because it was the last thing he wanted to do. He’d do it for Stolas though.

It was something the Prince seemed to want, for him to walk in and cause a stir. 

Blitzø did stand out, so it wasn’t entirely surprising. 

He guessed it would give Stolas a boost socially, to be more than just the Prince who divorced his wife. Blitzø knew that was mostly all he was known for, despite being so much more than that.

“Blitzø?”

“Mhm?” 

Stolas was looking at him and Blitzø forced a grin. “Text me when you want me to walk in,” he repeated more firmly, leaning against the doorframe. “I promise to not let you down, for once.”

Stolas opened his mouth as though to argue and a weight lifted off the avian-Imp when the Prince merely shook his head. 

“Very well, Blitzø,” Stolas murmured, cheeks tinting pink again. “I shall see you later.”

Blitzø hummed in confirmation, watching the owl glide down the hallway back to his own room that was truly right next door. 

Fuck.

Now he’d done it.

Stolas was expecting some fucking… eye-catching fuck-boy or something, right?

Blitzø already knew what he was wearing but he wasn’t sure about himself. Stolas had called him handsome though, so perhaps all he needed to do was be himself, just less of a vulgar loser. 

Blitzø exhaled at length, locking his bedroom door and padding over to his charging phone. He perched on the edge of the bed, flicking through random articles to see what the general consensus of Stolas even was.

‘Stolas, Prince of Extramarital Affairs.’

‘Goetia: No comment on Prince Stolas’ Losses after Divorce.’

‘The Truth Behind Stolas, Prince of the Ars Goetia: Ex-Wife Spills Tea!’

‘Princess Octavia, Heir to the Throne of Shame?’

Blitzø clicked off, having seen enough. 

He looked over to where Bon Bon was sleeping, tilted against the hot water bottle. “Alright, bud. Daddy’s gotta go make a fucking scene,” he whispered, stroking Bon Bon’s cheek before getting up.

“Rich ass fuck-boy it is.”

Chapter Text

‘Ready and waiting, Blitzy~’

The text was glaring at him and Blitzø was ninety-nine percent sure that he was going to throw up.

Oh he fucking nailed what he was going for, but the person inside the outfit was freaking the fuck out. 

His plumage was vibrant, in place and shimmering in all the right areas. He was wearing the vintage-washed denim suit that he’d found in Stolas’ closet. It was a dark, dark charcoal blue and was absolutely perfect on him. It made his colours pop and the dark lining to the blazer really enhanced his aureate hues. 

He’d gone with the black scarf-collared dress shirt and he’d left the front of it partially untucked. When Stolas had text to initially say that he was greeting guests, Blitzø had snuck back into the owl’s old bedroom, determined to find some form of footwear because he’d seen so many fucking shoe boxes the last time he was rummaging through the closet.

He’d admittedly made a wreck of it, but he had found a pair of black gothic-style platforms that he was initially way too scared to put on. 

Turns out, spending hours every morning making sure you knew how to fucking use your whack-ass crazy tail really paid off and Blitzø spent the forty-five minutes of waiting around, walking around his room and trying to get used to being even taller.

They weren’t ridiculous and Blitzø was well accustomed to platforms and heels as it was. He just needed to be confident. 

Stolas wasn’t dating, which meant that Blitzø had a chance. It might be the tiniest, slimmest chance in the world but Stolas was clearly still open to some things.

That gave Blitzø hope, and even worse, it gave him incentive.

With a last kiss to Bon Bon’s head, Blitzø strode out of his bedroom door, feeling his phone buzz in his inside pocket.

That would be Stolas asking where he was.

Blitzø hit the bottom of the stairs and immediately steeled his expression to one of his usual, asshole grins that he used in the clubs. He squared his shoulders as he approached the doors leading to the Great Hall, that lame, classical music already audible. 

He stepped aside as the door creaked open, an Imp holding a tray of wine glasses exiting. Blitzø snagged one and immediately found himself at a loss without a straw. He cursed inwardly, his phone going off again and he clenched his jaw, detouring to the kitchen to find one.

He grabbed one from the drawer- a rainbow stainless steel one -and plonked it into the glass with a laugh.

This was fucking ridiculous but he looked the part.

He hoped.

Taking a sip, Blitzø trudged back to the Great Hall doors and took a deep breath as he grasped the handle and finally opened them.

The first thing he heard was the lame band, and the first thing he saw was bright polished floors, a bunch of frilly, elegant, regal outfits and then different nobles and royals milling about. 

As predicted, he was noticed one by one and Blitzø shoved the self-consciousness right down as he feigned ignorance to the attention. He didn’t know where Stolas was and that was mistake number one.

Mistake number two was rolling his eyes at himself- which had several nobles immediately bristling because of course they thought everything was about them.

Glaring at the immediate pricks in his vicinity, Blitzø shoved a hand into his pocket and marched through until he finally caught sight of the Prince he was there for.

Stolas was wearing a loose white ruffled shirt, the silk trailing down his long arms and lithe torso. The buttons were glinting down the front of it, and a cascade of silver rhinestones dripped from the shoulders. The collar was ruffled lace and his waist was hugged by a lace sash.

White silk pants adorned his long legs, and the loose fit meant that they just ghosted the floor. 

He was gorgeous in every aspect and Blitzø was absolutely starstruck.

He also didn’t care if everyone fucking saw. Who the fuck wouldn’t be?!

The whispers were still going and Blitzø faltered as he realised that Stolas was talking to another.

Uh oh. 

Sirius.

That threw a spanner in all this because Blitzø didn’t want to be around that guy. 

Fuck, why was he there? Was Blitzø supposed to make Sirius jealous? Fuck, was that what Stolas wanted? 

Double fuck, Blitzø had fucking got Stolas off the other night and- shit. Okay, so the two weren’t dating but Blitzø wasn’t exactly sure if there was potential there and he’d probably crossed a dozen fucking lines and-

“Glitz!” 

Blitzø stuttered mentally as Octavia came wheeling out of nowhere, catching everyone’s attention all over again. He froze when her thin arms wound around his waist and he was jammed for a split second in absolute disbelief.

What. The. Fuck.

“Been waiting for you, old man.”

“Sorry I’m late, sweets,” he finally greeted, ruffling her head feathers with thinly veiled nervousness. 

This was fucking awkward as fuck.

“Penalty is one shot per fifteen minutes,” Octavia declared, smirking up at him with a very determined gleam to her cerise-hues. 

“Three shots of what?” He asked, resisting her attempt to pull him to Stolas who only just turned round and spotted him.

It was like an electric shock went through him because Stolas’ face went completely slack, chin physically dipping as he very blatantly raked his gaze over Blitzø’s entire frame.

It would have been flattering, had Sirius not also turned, and Blitzø met the Stag’s intense dark gaze. 

Sirius was… Sirius was absolutely regal. 

He had magnificent antlers, was dressed in a sleek black suit and polished shoes. He was taller than most in the room and he looked the part.

Blitzø couldn’t help but acknowledge that they looked so fucking well-matched, stood there as they were.

“Glitz, come on,” Octavia was urging, tugging at Blitzø’s sleeve a little desperately.

Ah fuck.

There was no competing with that, even with a bad boy aesthetic and platforms. 

“Glitz!”

“Hey, hey-hey,” Blitzø hushed, taking Octavia’s hand and pulling her back. She stared up at him with confusion and he exhaled softly, smiling at her. “You know I can’t just interfere with what they have, right?”

His voice was so quiet and as Octavia studied him, he could see that she understood, perfectly.

“They don’t have anything,” she insisted, holding his hand with both of her own. 

“Via-”

“Please,” Octavia whispered, sounding horrifyingly choked up. “Please don’t give up on my Dad.”

Blitzø clenched his jaw, heart lurching at her outright plea. He gazed at her before nodding once, cursing himself out because dammit, he was gonna get himself so fucking bulldozed. 

“Alright. I won’t.”

Her relief was so palpable that he had to scoff, finding himself in another hard hug before she bounded off. 

Kids were fucking adorable. 

Their innocence, however, was easily shattered and Blitzø felt guilt bubble up at the part he may play in dashing her hopes.

Never mind his own.

He glanced to the ornate ceiling before wandering over to the table where many glasses were laid out. He wouldn’t get plastered, but he’d take something stronger than the fucking wine.

He was helping himself to a glass of Alcoholic Punch when a hand pressed against his lower back. He blinked, looking at his side to find a very intimidating demon stood next to him.

Fuck man. Sirius was huge.

“I do not believe we’ve had the pleasure of being introduced,” Sirius greeted, voice smooth and low. 

Blitzø was rendered dumbfounded for three seconds before he took the hand offered to him. 

There was literally no point in hiding it. He could already tell in the way Sirius was gazing down at him, that the fucker knew.

“Fucking Hell man, if I wasn’t so far up Stolas’ feathered ass I would have creamed my fucking panties at the sight of you,” he muttered, knocking back his drink.

Sirius quirked a smile, apparently amused. “You wear panties?”

“Only at Church on Sundays,” Blitzø replied wryly, waiting for the Stag to get to the point. He wasn’t sure if he should apologise for the other morning or not, and he wasn’t entirely sure about the name situation since apparently he was going by ‘Glitz’ now…

“I think Stolas was expecting you to join him,” Sirius said conversationally, pouring himself a drink.

Blitzø sighed, giving the Stag a tired look. “Come on, dude. Don’t ride my ass like this. You damn well know I’m not gonna fuck with what you have with Stolas. I’m just getting shit sorted and then I’m outta the fucking picture.”

Sirius rose his eyebrows and Blitzø tried not to bristle. 

“I thought he had told you that we were not dating?”

“Yeah, the fuck is that about? You blind or something? Why you fucking about with other whores if you have Stolas?” Blitzø demanded in a hushed voice, aureate gaze piercing as Sirius brought his glass up to his mouth, laughing quietly. 

“You are quite endearing,” the Stag chuckled, placing a hand upon Blitzø’s shoulder. “I assure you, me and Stolas were no more than friends exploring mutual curiosities together. We have since ended the intimate side of our friendship and will not be returning to it.”

Blitzø’s heart started racing and he struggled to keep a lid on the hope he’d been batting back and forth. 

“I’m pretty sure I’m invited to help you see fucking sense,” Blitzø told him with more earnest than he meant to. “He’s the one who asked me to dress up and shit, I didn’t even wanna be here. Look at me, I’m not anything like…” he trailed off, gesturing to Sirius whose expression softened exponentially. 

“My dear fellow, what are you saying? You are terribly beautiful,” Sirius insisted, setting his glass down. “I assure you, I am not the one that Stolas is interested in.”

Blitzø paused mid-gulp of his drink, feeling his stomach twist all over again. “Bet you ten bucks it’s not me, either.”

Sirius blinked in mild surprise, picking up on Blitzø’s pun and shaking his head. “I believe the young Princess has given you a new designation and so I shall abide by her whims. Do go to him, Glitz.”

Blitzø scowled ahead as Sirius left him and Blitzø tried not to get too caught up in all that the Stag had just told him. 

Fuck, he wanted to believe him so bad. 

As he refilled his glass and popped his straw back into it, Blitzø dared to look over at the Prince who was surprisingly staring at him despite being in a group. His expression was visibly worried and Blitzø tore his gaze away, scrunching up his face as he fought back against the insidious voices that told him to take his drink and leave the party altogether. 

If he took what Sirius said as truth- and the damn Stag really did seem fucking decent -he’d be putting himself in the direct line of fire. 

He’d be seriously trying to aim for a relationship with Stolas, and it was something he’d never thought he’d have.

Not with anyone. 

If he walked away-

Blitzø took a steady breath, already knowing that he wouldn’t be able to. 

If this was the last shot life gave him, then he’d take it with everything he had. 

Chapter Text

“I don’t believe I’ve seen you attend one of Prince Stolas’ events before.”

“Uh… no, I’m usually chilling elsewhere.”

Fucking typical.

He couldn’t believe this was happening. 

“Where are you from? You have quite the unique accent.”

“Here,” Blitzø answered quickly, desperate to get to the Prince who was now fully engrossed in conversation with the group he was amongst. “I’m from here.”

“Is that so? What are you exactly, if you don’t mind us asking?”

“Bird of Paradise,” Blitzø said impatiently, having been saving that line for a joke. 

Was all but one right now because he was surrounded by several fucking prissy bitches who had stepped right in front of him just as he’d decided to brave going over to Stolas. 

He’d been en-route in fact.

“I do have a preference for exotics,” came a heavily masculine voice, causing the small flock of Ladies to part, all of them giggling. “I do believe you may be overwhelming our new friend, my Hens.’

Oh sweet fucking mother of Sin.

Who the fuck was this asshole? 

Blitzø felt his spines slowly prickle as a scaled demon, tall and dressed in a dark red suit, loomed before him. He was definitely some kind of reptile, but he was no snake or mere lizard.

Handsome dude too, but Blitzø wasn’t exactly getting chill vibes off of him. So much so that when the Ladies left, Blitzø found himself wanting them back.

“What is your profession, if I may pick up the aforementioned question posed.”

“Classified,” Blitzø quickly replied, having already joked about that one too. He also hadn’t even heard that question being asked.

Wasn’t a fucking joke now, because something akin to interest etched itself onto the man’s face and he leaned in uncomfortably close, causing Blitzø to clam up as claws trailed down his scarred cheek. 

“Exotic and mysterious. You certainly know how to ensnare a man’s attention.”

Oh no.

Fuck no.

Hell no.

The initial response was to jerk away but Blitzø was still conscious of not causing a scene. He flashed the reptile a grin before stepping back. 

“I’m for viewing purposes only,” he chided playfully, wagging his finger. He glanced over at where Stolas was, the Prince now back with Sirius. It was jarring when his view was blocked yet again, and it came with a very uncomfortable leer.

“I must warn you, I am not the best player of ‘Look but Don’t Touch’.”

Blitzø’s heart thudded- and not in a good way. Did this guy think that was a turn-on? It fucking wasn’t, and Blitzø was not letting any random fucker near his body.

Not this version of his body.

“Am I keeping you from something? Perhaps, someone?”

It was about as much of an out as he could probably get and Blitzø drew a sip of punch through his straw before tilting it towards Stolas and Sirius.

“Ah,” the demon before noted flatly. “Of course Sirius would be interested in a delicacy such as yourself.”

The fuck?

“Actually, I’m here for Stolas.”

Oops.

“Oh? Moved on already has he? My my. How interesting.”

Blitzø swallowed hard, fighting not to tense when a claw tipped his chin up. 

“When His Highness is done with you, do come find me. I shall indulge in your ‘Classified’ line of work quite thoroughly.”

Blitzø shuddered and he took the offered card without hesitation, knowing full well his reaction was being completely misinterpreted. He felt eyes on him and ducked his head as he was finally allowed to pass by. He did so with his skin crawling and he didn’t falter when when realising it was only Sirius now stood there.

“Who’s the fucking creep with the scales?” Blitzø asked, not bothering to hide his disquiet.

Sirius glanced in the direction that Blitzø’s had come from and frowned. “Ah. You are referring to Salistor?”

“If that’s the guy in the red suit, then yeah,” Blitzø mumbled, standing a little closer to the Stag who regrettably seemed like a genuine character.

“Did he approach you?” Sirius asked, something close to concern in his tone. 

“Fucking blocked me on my way to you and Stolas,” Blitzø huffed, handing the Stag the card he’d been given. 

“What’s going on?”

Blitzø’s heart stuttered as Stolas came up from behind them, and Blitzø immediately noted how they were near enough head-height in his platforms. He trilled quietly and leant his body into the Prince’s, whose response was to steady him with a not-so-happy glance.

“Salistor seems to have taken an interest in Glitz.”

Blitzø watched as Stolas frowned, taking the card that Sirius offered him.

“Salistor gave you this?”

Blitzø nodded, feeling his plumage physically flatten. “Fucking called me ‘exotic’ and ‘mysterious’, then told me that he’s not good at ‘Look but Don’t Touch’.”

Stolas’ expression morphed into disgust and he handed the card back to Sirius who folded it with a shake of his head. 

“I would advise steering clear of the Komodo Dragon,” the Stag counselled, positioning himself in front of Blitzø so that he was mostly hidden from Salistor’s view. 

“No shit,” Blitzø grumbled, feeling as though his goals of being loud and obnoxious had crashed. “Told me he’d indulge once Stolas was done with me.”

Stolas whirled round, utter shock on his face. “Excuse me?!”

“Yeah sorry,” Blitzø winced, realising the implications. “I didn’t wanna fucking stay there so didn’t correct him.”

“That isn’t the issue, what in Hell does he think you are?!”

“An Escort, I would assume,” Sirius sighed grimly. “I do wish he wouldn’t frequent your events.”

“Why is here if he’s that much of a creep?” Blitzø asked, not seeing why Stolas didn’t have him barred from the get go. 

“He’s always someone’s plus one,” Stolas sighed, shaking his head. “It’s very difficult to bar someone who hasn’t a bad reputation outside of the bedroom- and even then, only in specific settings.”

“Huh?”

“For those in the know, Salistor is not well thought of,” Sirius murmured, visibly being cautious of his words. “He is known for his unsafe practices and lack of respecting not only boundaries, but also agreed terms.”

Blitzø furrowed his eyebrows, half-catching on and half-second guessing himself. “Wait… are you fucking talking about… bondage and shit?” 

“To put it lightly,” Stolas confirmed quietly, leaning a little against Blitzø’s side. “He presents himself as a dominant but he has very bad etiquette. He’s not someone I like but not everyone sees him as problematic and in my position, I cannot do anything without possibly outing others who do not wish to have their private lives made known.”

Blitzø clenched his jaw, looking to Stolas calculatingly. “You fucking got into it with him, didn’t you.”

“A handful of times,” Stolas admitted, gesturing to Sirius. “That’s how we met and became friends. I was interested in the community but was very naïve about what was safe, sane and consensual. Sirius showed me the ropes.”

“Kinky bitch,” Blitzø scoffed, knowing already how exploratory Stolas was. “Good you found a way to educate yourself.”

“I should educate you,” Stolas mused coyly, nudging Blitzø who scowled. 

“I don’t need fucking educating.”

“Oh, believe me. Yes you do.”

Blitzø bristled, crest flaring as he lashed his tail in annoyance. “Why you fucking sex shaming me in front of your hot sex therapist?”

Sirius snorted, wholly amused whilst Stolas blanched. “About BDSM and Bondage, not sex in general!”

“Oh.” Blitzø blinked, ignoring the Stag who was laughing. “Okay.”

“Honestly,” Stolas tutted, lifting his chin. “Where has my daughter gotten to anyway?”

“Dunno, I was waiting for her to give me my penalty shots for being late,” Blitzø shrugged, slipping a hand into his pocket.

“I should go look for her-” 

“Allow me,” Sirius smiled, giving them both a pointed look. “You two should talk whilst you have the chance.”

With that he left and Blitzø immediately tensed up, unsure of the blatant instruction. He hesitantly looked to Stolas who was already looking elsewhere in a dejected manner. 

Fine.

“I… fucking chickened out when I came in and saw you with him,” he confessed, dipping his chin in remorse. “Thought for a second that maybe you just wanted me to make him jealous and I… didn’t fucking wanna.”

“You really think I’d use you like that?” Stolas asked with clear exasperation, setting his glass down. 

“It’s hard to imagine you wanting me around for… me,” Blitzø mumbled, doing the same with his own. “I’m a damaged piece of shit, Stols. Gonna take time for me to realise that some people can genuinely like me.”

“I genuinely like you,” Stolas exhaled, finally turning towards him properly. “You aren’t… uncomfortable around Sirius?”

“Not like the fucking scaly creep,” Blitzø muttered, half-heartedly shrugging. “Bambi’s Dad is cool. Wish I could be butthurt over him being so fucking perfect but whatever. He’s not an asshole so… good for you.”

“Blitzø… how many times must I tell you that there’s nothing between us?”

Blitzø snapped to the owl who quickly waved a hand, having caught his own lack of clarity. 

“There is truly nothing between me and Sirius,” Stolas amended, expression softening. “I apologise about Salistor.”

Blitzø shuddered with a grimace. “Fucker touched my cheek and everything. Fucking asshole.” He felt himself warm when the back of obsidian knuckles gently brushed against the side of his face, Stolas pouting softly. 

“We’ll both steer clear of him.”

Blitzø quirked a smile, daring to openly admire the owl. “You uh… you look really pretty, Stolas.”

The Prince chuffed out a bashful titter, shyly ducking away before placing a palm to Blitzø’s chest. “You look very handsome,” he returned, giving Blitzø an appreciative once-over. “I forgot I ever had this. It suits you ever so well. I do love the use of my old boots, too.” 

Blitzø felt his entire demeanour brighten. “So I did good?” 

Stolas’ cerise-rose hues widened at the question before he smiled coyly. “You did very good,” he purled, leaning in to brush his beak against Blitzø’s neck feathers. “So good I might even reward you tonight.”

Blitzø seized up, that warmth blossoming much lower as Stolas tugged a quill teasingly. Blitzø trilled, tilting his frame towards the Prince whilst taking hold of Stolas’ slight wrist. 

“How do I turn that possibility into a definite?” He asked, voice barely above a whisper as he forced himself to maintain eye-contact. He brushed his thumb against the inside of Stolas’ palm, the moment far more intimate than he felt it should be. 

“Oh? Are we that eager to be rewarded?” 

Blitzø grinned knowingly, ever-ready to jump into any form of flirtation. “I’m that eager to know I’ve pleased you.”

The way Stolas faltered, the way his cerise-rose hues darkened- all of it, it had Blitzø wanting to lean in and cup those heart-shaped features that haunted him day and night. 

“Do you even know what you’re signing yourself up for?” Stolas asked, something sincere lacing through his tone as he stepped right into Blitzø’s space.

It was a scary question, because Blitzø didn’t want to feign confidence when it was clear that Stolas was asking for honesty, but on the other hand, he really didn’t like admitting stuff like this. 

He’d promised, though.

“No,” he admitted, puffing out an anxious breath. “It’s you, though. So…”

“Hm? Are you saying you will trust me?” Stolas inquired playfully, his light-hearted lilt a blatant attempt at giving Blitzø an out if he so wished for it. 

“I’m… saying I want to learn to trust you.”

Oh this was so dangerous.

He was really being obvious and Blitzø had no idea if Stolas was understanding him correctly. 

“Only you, though,” he added, the nerves tearing up his spine as Stolas raised his arms, looping them around denim-clad shoulders. 

“I am amenable to that,” he mused, eyes shining with mirth. 

“Goes both ways,” Blitzø mumbled daringly, pulling Stolas flush against him. He hated the lame fucking music behind them but if it was a means to continue this moment, then he’d follow it. “I’m not interested in being one of many.”

“You calling me a slut?”

“You are a slut.”

Stolas was smiling at him with a narrowed gaze that burned intently. “I should teach you to respect your Prince.”

Blitzø lifted his chin defiantly, not willing to back down when the owl was so determined to one up him. “I liked you better when you were under me gasping my name.”

Stolas’ smile became disconcertingly wide. “I know for a fact I didn’t utter your name once last night,” he whispered, trailing his talons down Blitzø’s nape. 

“Knew that was fucking deliberate,” Blitzø scoffed, taking hold of the hand that was gracing his iridescent feathering. They were so close that a kiss would be almost too easy, but Blitzø wasn’t going to cross that bridge.

Not when he was already laying his cards out as best as he could. 

“Did it bruise your ego?” Stolas asked, allowing Blitzø to gently sway them in time with the piano notes. 

“Were you thinking about some other fucker?”

Stolas laughed, shaking his head. “No.”

Blitzø grinned, ignoring every other damn demon in the room as he bumped Stolas’ beak with his own, a feather’s breath away from actual affection. 

“Then it’s a challenge.”

Chapter Text

He didn’t know how they ended up slow dancing, but they did and they weren’t the only pair to do so. 

That made it a little less embarrassing, especially because Stolas was resting his head against Blitzø’s shoulder and it felt fucking blissful. 

Only when Octavia interrupted them did they part, and Blitzø grinned, stepping back to allow the owlette to take his place. 

A different smile graced Stolas’ face as he laughed, spinning his daughter round with such joy in his heart it had Blitzø quietly falling in love all over again. 

He backed up as everyone moved to make room for the addition of other nobles deciding to join in. It was sort of fun, and Blitzø quirked a smile, folding his arms as he watched. The atmosphere was genuinely nice and as Octavia beamed up at her Father, Blitzø half-wondered if Loona would ever dance with him.

Maybe one day? When she was older and he was less of a mess?

“I assume you are prohibited from dancing whilst engaged in business with the Prince?”

Just like that, the atmosphere was crap. 

Blitzø huffed lightly, not wanting Stolas to see who had approached him. The owl would most definitely cut his dance with Octavia short and over Blitzø’s dead body would he let that happen.

“Not particularly,” he replied, mentally working out how to get to the opposite side of the room where the heavily depleted punch bowl sat. It would be a weak excuse to say he was going to get a drink, but slipping away and ending up on that side would be good enough.

“Oh?”

“It’s a personal policy.”

He gripped his own upper arms as a tail trailed down his thigh and he immediately noted how much he didn’t like it. 

Being sober made a fucking huge difference, because Blitzø knew if he was in a club setting prior to being banned from the like by Loona, he’d of let this asshole do whatever.

It was a disconcerting wake-up call that he really didn’t care about himself, at all. Not that he hadn’t thought that before, he could dredge up a slew of memories where he had let just anyone have at him.

Not even just in the past year or so.

“Are you exclusive?”

“Yes.”

“Very interesting.”

Blitzø clenched his jaw, feeling a hand trail down his back. He closed his eyes and inhaled ever so slowly, trying not to let his temper fly.

“Hey, Glitz!”

Blitzø snapped his head up, seeing Octavia pulling her Father through the dancers who were now breaking up. 

Stolas’ bright eyes met Blitzø’s and there was an immediate unease between them as Salistor straightened up and pulled his arms back to himself. The thwack of a tail against his backside had Blitzø jerking forward slightly and the avian-Imp knew that Stolas had caught it.

“Your Highness, Princess,” Salistor greeted with no hesitation, arrogant as ever. 

“Salistor-”

“You met Dad’s new boyfriend!” Octavia all but shouted, their side of the Hall going absolutely silent. 

Blitzø emitted a shocked note in the back of his throat, unable to move a fucking muscle as a murmur went through the room.

“Octavia,” Stolas hissed, looking at his daughter in confused horror. 

“I would suggest you give the Prince’s Consort some space,” Sirius spoke up rather loudly, apparently having been right behind them the whole time.

“Please,” Salistor scoffed, giving them all a look. “He’s obviously not-”

“Darling,” Stolas interrupted, holding out his other hand. 

Blitzø stared at the owl in disbelief, heart surely not beating because this was not happening. He felt a less disquieting push from behind and mechanically reached out, feeling everyone’s eyes on him. His breath hitched as Stolas all but yanked him to his side, casting Salistor a look of clear warning.

As hot as it was, as much as Stolas’ hand in his was one of the best feelings ever, Blitzø knew not to derive any hope from it.

That was only exacerbated by the fact that as they turned towards the other side of the room, Stolas leaned down towards his daughter.

“We will be having words later.”

Blitzø didn’t know if Octavia was shitting bricks over that, but he certainly was.

Blitzø puffed out his cheeks as Stolas whirled around from having finally bid the last of his guests farewell. He ushered Octavia further up the now-empty floor, the servants already starting to filter in as Blitzø trailed after the two.

The doors to the Great Hall were promptly closed and locked, and then-

“That was not acceptable to have done, Via!” 

“People were asking me who he was anyway,” the owlette muttered, her tone giving away how unapologetic she was.

Blitzø didn’t want to be stuck in the middle of it, but he could tell that Stolas wasn’t used to being anywhere near this angry with her. It was more than evident that she wasn’t going to back down on this, Blitzø knew from how she stood there that she was going to die on the hill she’d set herself upon. 

“You should have asked me!” Stolas stressed, throwing an arm out in Blitzø’s direction. “Giving him a new name?! Announcing that he’s my boyfriend! Do you have any idea what you’ve just done?!”

“Ended your phase of sleeping with everyone? Yes, because I’m sick of it!”

Blitzø knew a pissed off parent when he saw one, and he knew the words that could be thrown in the moment. He watched Stolas take a deep breath, an attempt to quell the rage surely bubbling within. 

“Via, that is not-”

“You’re not happy!” Octavia shouted, her small fists balled as her eyes welled up with tears. “I know you! We both know you! You hook up with different people but they never once make you smile like he did!”

Stolas’ cerise-rose gaze flittered to Blitzø who grimaced because he didn’t want to hear the owl voice what he feared to be true. He exhaled at length, feeling that sliver of hope begin to dwindle. 

“Look, sweetie… you can’t decide for your Dad who he should be with,” he said calmly, trying to de-escalate the situation with little to no knowing of how to do so. “I’m not the guy you seem to think I am, either. I’m-”

“What does it fucking matter?!” Octavia demanded, scalding frustration spilling down her cheeks. “So what if you’re an Imp or a fucking dickhead? You love him! It’s so fucking obvious, it always has been!”

Blitzø felt his insides crawl with everything hideous as he glanced to Stolas who was staring at him with a shell-shocked stare.

Being outed was not fair. 

It was not fair. 

He couldn’t deny it because that would fuck him over twice as bad and hurting them both would make more of an issue in the long run, so Blitzø sucked up his own pain and dug deep.

“Just because I feel something, doesn’t mean that by default your Dad has to settle with me,” he said firmly, keeping his volume and tone in check. “That’s not how love fucking works. You can be frustrated, you can be scared and angry, you can even disagree with what your Dad does, but you cannot force him to be with someone. You pulled a really shit move back there and you know it.”

She closed her mouth, distraught by his agreement with her Father. 

“Blitzø-”

He couldn’t hear the owl say it. 

So he’d say it all himself, instead.

“Your Dad cut me off for good fucking reasons, Via,” he reminded her sternly. “I did things and said things that hurt him, yeah? I’m not a good guy. I’m the complete fucking opposite and he deserves better than me. All that aside, I can’t be plastered over headlines. Look at me, I’m a fucking freak. That reflects badly on you and your Dad, as it is. I don’t know how you got it in your head that I’m even an option here, because I barely make the cut as a decent friend.”

Stolas wasn’t saying a word and Octavia looked to her Father pleadingly before crumbling, her palms coming up to her face as she began to sob.

It was heart-wrenching to watch her cry and Blitzø approached her with a heavy sigh, replacing her hands with his own. “You gotta let your Dad make his own decisions, sweets. Even if you worry for him, he’s a grown man who’s fought for you since the day you were born. You can’t force a relationship, okay?”

He didn’t say that it’s what had been done to Stolas before and he didn’t want to look Stolas’ way at all. He’d already overstepped and he knew he should call it quits whilst he could. 

“Come on,” he murmured, finally reaching out a hand to Stolas who had apparently been crying himself, for he heaved in a shaky breath and threw his arms around Octavia with a broken apology. 

Blitzø stepped back, wanting to make sure that they were both no longer at odd-ends.

“I’m sorry Dad, I’m really sorry.”

Stolas’ gentle hushing was enough to put Blitzø’s worries at ease and he slipped away, shoving his hands into his pockets as he ascended the stairs.

It hadn’t bothered him, truthfully. 

Of course it didn’t. He liked the idea way too much, but it would be a nasty lie to live even if for a little while. 

Sirius had it wrong, he had to have.

Blitzø closed his bedroom door and plonked down on the edge of his bed, leaving his light off because he didn’t want to disturb the still-sleeping plant nestled upon the quilt. 

He wasn’t quite sure why he wanted to cry, but he really did. 

From being given unwanted attention to facing Sirius and then having such a fucking warm moment with Stolas to this?

It really wore him down.

Blitzø sniffled, taking off the boots and putting them back in their box. He did the same with his outfit, gently boxing it all back up and placing it in the drawer once more. 

He wouldn’t need it again. 

Any of it.

This was the final nail in the proverbial coffin.

He was willing to live with the fact that he’d wrecked his own family, willing to admit that he’d fucked with several others too, including M&M’s at one point-

Not Stolas’.

He wouldn’t ruin what Stolas had fought to keep safe, and he wouldn’t add to the plethora of vicious headlines that already existed. 

Blitzø blinked rapidly, placing Bon Bon upon the bedside cabinet and moving to refill his water bottle with the hot water from the scalding tap in the bathroom. 

He couldn’t lie to himself any longer, and he couldn’t hang on like he’d used to.

He couldn’t stay, because Octavia was right.

He did love Stolas, and he refused to hurt him further. 

Chapter Text

He was mid-doodling when his bedroom door opened.

No knock this time. 

He’d been idly scribbling down ideas on where to go for roughly three hours, losing track of time whilst being unable to leave because…

How could he just vanish after everything?

It was a good job he hadn’t, because Stolas looked close to how he had when Blitzø first turned up. He was in a black, crushed velvet robe and he must have come up earlier because there were no signs of the tears he’d shed with Octavia.

“Why.”

Having a frazzled brain did not go down well with sudden influxes of anxiety, and Blitzø’s thought process short-circuited as Stolas’ expression darkened from the lack of reply.

He cleared his throat nervously, his mouth devoid of moisture in a rather sudden turn. “Why uh… why what?”

Stolas folded his arms and began pacing the room. “Why would you tell her that you love me?! What purpose, does that serve?!”

Oh.

Well, he’d already dug his grave. 

He might as well lay in it.

“I do.”

Stolas stalled, giving him a blank once over before scoffing. “Oh. No. No you don’t. I doubt you even know what love is.”

Ouch. 

“Yes, I do,” Blitzø maintained, his temper flaring. “Absolutely shit at knowing how to show it, and I had no fucking idea until I saw you and Sirius that morning, but I do.”

That seemed to send the Prince into a tizzy, for he whirled around mid-pace. “How can you not know?!”

“I didn’t fucking know I had any of that left in me,” Blitzø shrugged, apathy starting to sink in as a means to disguise the nausea welling up. “Thought I’d burned away the ability to feel that way.”

“For- for how long?” 

“Doesn’t fucking matter, I push people away because I know how it ends up.”

“No, you don’t.”

Blitzø slumped back in his chair, not wanting the conversation. He leant heavily into his palm, soaking up the ache blooming across his chest as Stolas just stood there staring at him. 

What was there to fucking say? Ball wasn’t in his court, not this time.

“I’m not the same man I was back when we were just sleeping together.”

Here they went. 

Blitzø inhaled steadily, mentally scrambling for the broken bricks that once belonged to the dome that he’d built around his heart. He’d smashed so many holes in it over the past week that it had collapsed on its own accord. 

He wasn’t fast enough.

“I expect effort now. I expect to be treated as I should be, and I demand honesty, openness and for promises to be kept.”

Blitzø could have put in effort, but it would have fallen short at honesty. He was a pendulum. On one hand he was too honest to the point it put people off, and on the other he was a coward who didn’t own up to his own mistakes. 

Fuck’s sake, he was scared to tell people when he didn’t like shit that they liked. How many times had Moxxie tried to share a hobby, an interest, and Blitzø had pretended to enjoy it too? He was crap at saying no to people, crap at being open. 

Blitzø Keeping Promises was a known joke in the local bars- literally. 

“I have standards, Blitzø.”

Ouch.

That one stung.

“Standards that I will not lower, not for anyone.” 

Yeah, back to plan A. 

“I’m not fucking asking you to lower shit, Stolas,” Blitzø exhaled, getting up and starting to collect his notebooks together. “I wasn’t gonna say fuck all to you about it. I’m not- yeah, I can delude myself into thinking maybe. Maybe I could become what you need, or want, but I don’t even know how to do that for myself so how the fuck am I gonna do that for you?”

He tipped his head back, shoving his gathered books into his backpack. 

“I’m not creating wedges and rifts in your family. I’m not doing it. I did that to my own, and look where it put them. You were doing great before I came busting in here- shouldn’t have done that. Just say the whole fucking thing was a prank. Tell them I’m a hired clown. Whatever.”

“What? What do you- you aren’t leaving-” Stolas’ tone was a little shrill and it had Blitzø pausing. 

Was he leaving, or was he running away? 

He didn’t know. 

He didn’t know what he was doing. 

He looked to Stolas, who was now studying the room that Blitzø had returned to its original layout.

“Then what do I do?” Blitzø asked, half-helpless, half-extending a token of trust. “I made your kid cry. I shoved into whatever you had going on with Bambi’s Dad-”

“For the last time it wasn’t-”

“It was still something,” Blitzø stated firmly, not budging from his stance. “He’s a good fucking guy, even I can tell that. You think I’m too stupid to see that you’re better off in his fuck-buddy hands than you are with me in any fucking capacity? I lived my life ten feet deep in denial of everything that hurts, but not this.”

Stolas’ demeanour shifted, something less panicked settling in.

“What hurts?” 

“Stolas, it fucking kills me to know that this whole time I was in love with you and didn’t fucking know it, least of all show it,” Blitzø exclaimed, now exasperated. “Would have thought it was automatic but I’m not that good with my emotions.”

“So you regret it?” 

Blitzø stilled, unsure exactly what was being asked. “I regret not being a better person to you in general,” he clarified, patting himself down.

Still hadn’t found his keys. Maybe he could hot-wire the fucking van?

“I don’t regret anything we did, I’m too fucking selfish for that,” he finalised distractedly. “Look, about Bon Bon. I gotta find somewhere to go first. I know the ideal fucking thing would be for me to piss off and not come back but I promised to look after him.”

Stolas scoffed softly, reaching out and taking Blitzø’s backpack from him. “You’re not leaving, Blitzø.”

It had the avian-Imp deflating on the spot, because he truly felt torn. “Then what do I fucking do?” He asked, voice barely above a whisper. “I’m fucking… trying to be a decent friend and it’s still not fucking working.”

He blinked when warm hands cupped his face, gentle thumbs brushing the gathering of moisture that glinted along Blitzø’s lower lash line. 

“Maybe because we are past the point of trying for a friendship, darling.”

The choked sob that tore from him was nothing short of pathetic and Blitzø ducked his head entirely, unable to bear the brunt of hearing that. His lungs pulled tight and he felt his plumage wilt on the spot as he nodded.

“I wanna go. I gotta go,” he croaked out, grasping the strap to his backpack only to be halted again. 

“Blitzø, sweetheart-” 

Blitzø stumbled as he was grabbed by the neckline of his hoodie, another hand gripping his lower jaw non-too gently. 

“I’m saying we can only be more than friends! Why are you falling apart!”

Blitzø drew in a terribly sharp breath, near blubbering as he let Stolas hold him up. “Keep fucking- waiting- for you to tell me- that we can’t be anything at all.”

“You silly bird,” Stolas exclaimed, pulling Blitzø into a crushing hug. “You silly, silly bird.”

Blitzø didn’t feel he was being silly, he felt as though he had missed something because what was even happening? 

“I don’t understand,” he whispered, scrunching his eyes shut as Stolas hushed him. 

“Let’s… let’s take it one day at a time,” the owl soothed, visibly worrying as Blitzø emitted a pitiful note. “I didn’t… I know. Tonight wasn’t good.”

“I fucking… put the room back and everything,” Blitzø complained, feeling embarrassment bubble up. He was still unsure of himself and the constant back and forth was wearing him thin.

“This room has served its initial purpose,” Stolas announced, taking hold of Blitzø’s backpack and hiking it over a shoulder. “Let Bon Bon sleep for now, since he’s recovering. We’ll collect him in the morning.”

“Wait- wait, where-” 

“My room, Blitzø,” Stolas cut in, collecting the two plushies from the bed. “We can shift everything over in the morning.”

“I’m moving into your room?” Blitzø questioned, feeling light-headed. 

“Yes, so bring your preening oil,” Stolas instructed, already holding the door open. 

“Why?” 

Stolas gave him a tired sigh. “I am done existing next door knowing you are over here by yourself with whatever thoughts you torture yourself with. I can’t maintain a distance with you, I just- I just can’t.”

Blitzø stared at the balcony doors before hurrying into the bathroom and retrieving the aforementioned oil. 

He paused upon exiting, looking back at Bon Bon who was sleeping soundly after being given a little glucose and a newly heated water bottle. 

“He’ll be just fine, Blitzø.”

Logically, Blitzø knew that. Bon Bon had spent all hours in the kitchen before Blitzø was on the scene and would probably rest better without the likes of Blitzø constantly faffing about. 

Walking into Stolas’ bedroom was like returning home in a strange way, even though some things had changed. The sheets were still a rich flood of merlot and the stained windows a cascade of violets and purples. 

All the dressers, vanity and bookshelves were mahogany still, but the walls no longer sported Stolas’ Insignia. Silver-lilac wallpaper embossed with ivory blossoms stretched across the room and the flooring was now cherry wood as opposed to the soft carpet that it used to sport. 

Blitzø padded up to the vanity, studying the various little ornaments scattered about the upper shelves before placing his single bottle of preening oil upon it. 

Stolas was setting the plushies down on his Chaise Lounge and Blitzø inhaled slowly, tummy churning as he grappled with the myriad of emotions accompanied by very little thought. 

“Do you need to charge your phone?” Stolas inquired, having pulled the device out of the side-pocket of the backpack. 

“No,” Blitzø mumbled, watching as Stolas placed the notebooks and sheets of paper upon the small table. He wanted to ask what exactly Stolas meant by all this, but he was worried he’d sound dumb. He wanted to believe the intention was them tentatively entering something - more than friends - but it felt ever so strange to suddenly be there without any definite asking out or reciprocal confession. 

Maybe Stolas didn’t need to say it and Blitzø was just stupid.

Given the start of all this, the latter seemed most likely. 

“Hey… is… is she okay?” He ventured nervously, now wanting to make sure that there wasn’t a hidden scolding coming up. “I’m sorry for fucking… taking over, with Via.”

Stolas stilled for a fraction of a second before slowly zipping up the now-empty bag, tucking it under the chair. “If it had been anyone else, I would have considered that unforgivable,” he said blandly, turning round and loosely folding his arms. “It involved you, and… it wasn’t right that you were put in that position when she knew your… feelings.”

Blitzø chuffed out a meek laugh, rubbing his palms together. “Yeah… it was… not…” he trailed off and ran a hand through his crest feathers, not really knowing what he wanted to say. “She’s fucking perceptive when she wants to be. Like Loona.”

There was a pensive silence then Stolas took a graceful step forward, hands clasped together before him. “I… wish to hear you say it.”

What?

“What?”

Blitzø blinked widely, feeling his face flush with warmth as Stolas bit his bottom lip and glanced down, coming to stand right before him.

“I think it’s something I should hear straight from the horse’s mouth, don’t you think?”

 Oh… fuck. 

Blitzø cringed, unsure if that was exactly fair to ask. He wanted to point out that Stolas hadn’t said anything of the sort, hadn’t given any clear confession-

Blitzø’s eyes widened as he realised the error in his own thinking. He was the one harbouring clear feelings and he was the one to be cruel from the off.

He saw the shine start to dim in Stolas’ eyes and recalled what Octavia had so desperately cried out.

“So what if you’re an Imp or a fucking dickhead? You love him! It’s so fucking obvious, it always has been!”

He really did, and he shouldn’t be so fucking scared to say it. 

He glanced down at his hands before inhaling steadily as Stolas sighed.

“I shouldn’t-”

“I love you,” Blitzø murmured, lifting his gaze to Stolas’. “I am… in love with you and… I think I have been for a fucking… long ass time.”

Fuck, his heart was racing and he felt seriously sick, but he meant the words and they felt good to say. Really good to say. It was hard to keep eye-contact when Stolas was staring at him and so Blitzø turned his head to escape the awkwardness.

It only took two steps for Stolas to be pressed up against him, and Blitzø lowered his lashes as talons ghosted across the cheek he’d pressed against a shoulder. His breath hitched as the side of his face was nuzzled, and he automatically wrung his hands together nervously. 

"Thank you," Stolas whispered against Blitzø's ear, ruffling the sanguine tufts with his breath and causing Blitzø to shiver with a quiet note. “I’ve wanted to hear that from you for so very long.”

His heart skipped several beats as Stolas guided him in for a very tentative press of their mouths and Blitzø inhaled sharply as the touch registered. 

It felt like a cold rush of the pleasant kind, and despite it being such a gentle kiss, Blitzø felt his insides ignite with an intensity that he hadn’t known he could feel.  

He blinked as Stolas pulled away, still caressing Blitzø’s feathers with a smile that the avian-Imp hoped was adoring. 

“Let’s sleep, darling. We can talk more tomorrow.”

Blitzø nodded, speechless for so many reasons.

Mainly because this couldn’t be real.

It was never this easy.

Right?

Chapter Text

Blitzø rolled over with a groan as he left the world steeped in gentle dreams. That wasn’t a common occurrence at all, but had been something he experienced frequently when cocooned in Stolas’ arms.

He knew it was morning by the sheer fact that he was awake against his will and he yawned, sitting up and blinking blearily at the familiar sight of books and plants.

Plants.

Bon Bon.

Blitzø eased himself from the bed, trying not to disturb the Prince who was still sleeping soundly. He quietly opened the door and padded into the hallway before entering the room he was now apparently moving out of.

“Hey lil buddy,” Blitzø greeted, finding an already-awake blossom staring at him sleepily. “How we feeling today?” He picked up Bon Bon’s fabric planter and held him up, smiling when the little bulb warbled affectionately. “Yeah, gonna get you breakfast, Sweet Pea.”

He took care in carrying Bon Bon downstairs, walking into the kitchen and noting how naturally light in there it was. Bon Bon meeped in recognition and Blitzø sighed, placing him down. 

“Wanna return to the kitchen where there’s no evil outdoors, huh?” 

He smiled sadly when Bon Bon sneezed, still unwell from his ordeal. It took nothing to mash two morsels into a paste, and Blitzø warmed a little sugar water, adding a teaspoon of it to the mix. It was gross-looking but Blitzø didn’t mind. 

He used the back of said teaspoon to scoop a little about the size of a pea and offered it to Bon Bon who took it readily. It was quiet while Blitzø continued to feed the small plant he had grown to care for, and he was semi lost in thought when he felt a dull thump against his shoulder. 

“I’m sorry.”

Blitzø chuffed out a laugh, dropping his cheek to the unruly feathering atop Octavia’s head. “You’re okay, sweets,” he murmured, watching Bon Bon lick the paste off the edge of the teaspoon. 

“I just wanted him to be happy.”

“You make him happy.”

“Not like you did.”

Blitzø sighed heavily, gently nudging her upright as he turned towards the sink. “Your Dad has to be happy for himself, you know. I’m also not the only guy who he can happy with.” He studied her deflated demeanour before rinsing out the pot and spoon. “Sirius is a good guy.”

“They don’t want to date,” Octavia mumbled, huffing her way towards the fridge. “I assumed that they were because I’m not fucking dumb. I know when Dad’s off ‘visiting’ or having ‘visitors’ round,” she stated flatly, lifting her hands to form air quotes. “I was waiting for him to introduce us or something after two months but he never did. So I asked when he was going to introduce me and… Dad explained it was just a mutual thing with no strings attached.”

“Two months huh,” Blitzø acknowledged a little distractedly. “They've been screwing around for a while then.”

“About five,” Octavia muttered, leaning upon the kitchen island miserably. “I know it sounds bad, that I shoved you at him without… considering how you would have felt. I just miss hearing Dad laugh like he used to.” 

She looked up at him then, calculating gaze as unnerving as ever.

“Loona misses you being happy too.”

“Fucking knew you two were talking,” Blitzø grumbled, wishing that very much wasn’t the case. At the same time, he was glad to know that they were getting along. It was just a shame that the reason for their apparent association was because he’d messed up so badly that they had felt the need to rely on one another for comfort. “You asked her about taking you to the Mall, yet?”

Octavia dragged a box of cereal across the table and rummaged through it, favouring the sugared stars and moons above the plainer crunches that served as the base for the brightly coloured breakfast choice. She popped a few into her mouth before nodding. 

“She said if Dad says yes, then she’ll take me.”

Blitzø quirked a smile, dampening a sheet of kitchen towel so that he could clean Bon Bon up. “Told you she would.”

Octavia tossed a moon-shaped morsel at him and Blitzø chuckled, never one to pass up the chance to throw an ‘I Told You So’ at someone. 

“So you gonna ask my Dad about it?” She questioned, voice a little hopeful. 

“No-o, that’s your arrangement with Loona. You can ask your Dad, I’m not getting involved there,” Blitzø scoffed, not at all interested in venturing near any further boundaries that he felt were in place.

He wasn’t apt in recognising such things in the first place, and that had cost him a great deal as it was. 

“Fine. Well, I’m off to listen to music.”

“Hey, Via?”

The owlette pivoted on a heel, turning around expectantly as Blitzø began tidying up. “About… me and your Dad,” he ventured cautiously, shaking off the teaspoon he’d used. “I don’t know how to say this but… you have to just let shit happen in whatever way it does.”

Her expression morphed into concern. “So… you’re giving up?”

“No, I’m saying you can’t force shit.”

“I can influence it,” she replied stubbornly. “Guide it. Something.”

“No, sweets. You can’t. I know- I know you wanna. I… have made the mistake of thinking that getting involved like that would change shit, but you can’t change what people feel. Not in this.”

She visibly clenched her jaw and Blitzø gazed at her pleadingly. 

“I’m asking you to leave me to it. Okay? Let me and your Dad just… figure shit out for ourselves, yeah?”

“Yeah,” she exhaled, deflating where she stood. “Does this mean I can’t call you Glitz?”

“Nah, you can call me Glitz,” Blitzø snorted, not at all fazed by the name. “Better than what anyone else might have fucking come up with.”

“Could have called you Fritz or something.” 

“Yeah yeah, keep it to Glitz,” Blitzø told her, petting Bon Bon before waving her off. “I’m heading back up. Enjoy your music.”

She saluted him and skipped off, leaving Blitzø to pad back up the stairs with a somewhat tired air about him. He almost went back into the room he had originally been staying in, remembering at the last minute that Stolas had switched gears. 

Which gears, Blitzø didn’t know. He had an idea and he really hoped he was right about it but the issue remained that he wasn’t one-hundred percent certain and that wasn’t easy to rectify. 

He pushed open Stolas’ bedroom door to find the owl still in bed, but on the phone.

Immediately he backed out, not wanting to intrude but something hit the wooden panels just as he was closing them and he peeked back round, Stolas glaring at him and pointing to the space at his side.

Blitzø tentatively stepped in and shut the door, padding over to the owl who shuffled across.

It was so fucking odd, but Blitzø did as he was instructed nonetheless. 

He didn’t know who Stolas was on the phone to and he didn’t really care.

“I’m surprised he even cares. We only hooked up once and I never spoke to him again.”

Blitzø tried not to eavesdrop as he settled down, awkwardly wondering what to do with himself whilst Stolas continued talking to fuck knows who. 

Facing the owl seemed rude, but staring up at the ceiling was even worse, so Blitzø opted to lay on his side facing away from the Prince in a meagre attempt at giving him privacy. 

It only took a few seconds for Blitzø to land himself deep in thought- exactly where he didn’t want to be.

Of course it was going to bother him. 

What exactly were the terms of… whatever was happening right now? Were they just going along with what Octavia had declared? Was this a temporary thing whilst he was like this? 

He couldn’t see Stolas wanting him as an Imp, he was literally just a scruffy, scarred up Imp. Like this he was… actually pretty. 

At least Blitzø thought he passed as pretty. Or rather, his feathers did. 

What if this was payback?

Blitzø’s heart thudded with dread, an ache blooming as he got stuck on the thought.

Stolas wouldn’t do that, what the fuck was he thinking? 

Not that telling himself that made an ounce of difference, because now Blitzø was wondering just how much Stolas had changed. 

It didn’t matter, Stolas would never string him along like this. Stolas wasn’t like that, he was kind and genuine, and even if he’d grown, even if he’d stepped into new pages of his life it didn’t mean he was suddenly going to be like everyone else Blitzø had been with.

His flight was trying to kick in, reminding him that it was Stolas getting too close that had set Blitzø off last time. 

The more Stolas got to know him, the more he’d grow to hate the man that Blitzø was. It was fact, it was truth, it was so predictable and yet Blitzø was a glutton for suffering, for punishment because he couldn’t bring himself to up and go. 

“Did you feed Bon Bon?”

The question registered and Blitzø nodded, still consumed by the anxiety currently tearing into him. “Yeah,” he whispered, staring straight ahead with an unfocused gaze. “He’s fed.”

“Goodness, you sound miserable.”

He wasn’t miserable, he was just… working through internal issues. 

“Don’t you think this is rather hypocritical of you, Blitzø?”

Huh?

“Huh?” Blitzø looked over his shoulder then twisted round. 

“It’s rather rich for you to get huffy over the topic of me having sex with others. I have that right. I never gave you attitude for doing so when you were regularly hooking up despite our arrangement.”

Blitzø scrunched up his face, not at all appreciating Stolas’ tone. 

“What the fuck did I do now?”

Stolas visibly faltered, as though catching himself. “I… thought you were upset over my conversation?”

“I wasn’t paying attention to your conversation.”

Stolas gave him a look. “You’re right next to me.”

“Yeah? And? The Hell kinda asshole do you take me for? I’m no fucking virgin am I, why would I be up your ass about that? I dated a fucking succubus for fuck’s sake. Shit dude, I stayed in relationships where I knew I was getting cheated on because I’m that sad motherfucker who believed they could still want me whilst going behind my back because ‘it’s just sex’. Are you really accusing me of that shit?” 

He was borderline ranting but his anxiety was sky high and Stolas had lit the fuse to Blitzø’s stress levels. The owl was staring at him blankly and Blitzø felt his spines flex as his anxiousness blew wide. 

“I tuned you the fuck out because I got shit going round in my own head, alright? On that fucking note, if you think I’m that kind of asshole then why even have me move into your room? Fucking Hell. Why would you even bother-”

“Alright, alright!” Stolas interrupted, holding his hands up. “Alright, Blitzø. I get it. I’m sorry.”

An awkward, tense silence ensued and Blitzø felt an immediate swing of guilt well up. He inhaled a stressed breath, really hating the weird moments that him and Stolas seemed to be constantly having. 

“Sorry,” he murmured, subconsciously tugging at the feathers adorning his upper arm as he stared down at the quilt. “I get that it’s normal to expect the worst from me. I know. I just wish it was different.”

He wished that he was different.

The knowledge he was different did not help because it was a physical change and not a mental one. Stolas remained quiet and that just made him feel worse. In the end, it was all he could do to let the depressive feeling sink in and accept it for what it was.

He swallowed thickly, knowing his apology wasn’t good enough. “I’m really sorry, Stolas. I’m stressing the fuck out and-”

“All you do around me is apologise,” Stolas sighed morosely, still holding onto his phone. 

Didn’t Blitzø know it. 

“Yeah… I fuck up. All the time. Look, I’ll get better at showing that I’m sorry, that I’m learning and fucking… changing, but for now ‘sorry’ is all I have,” he mumbled, pushing back the covers. “It’s… all I have.”

He swung his legs over the side and sat there, dragging his hands down his face. 

So stressed.

So fucking stressed. 

“What… what has you so burdened, Blitzø?” 

Blitzø shook his head, dropping his hands between his knees. 

“Everything, Stolas. Just everything.”

Yeah, it wasn’t that easy. 

Chapter Text

“I don’t think the worst of you.”

Blitzø looked up from where he was folding several t-shirts into a drawer that Stolas had cleared for him. They’d been transferring his belongings over from his original room and it wasn’t a terrible silence that had formed, but it had certainly hung over them.

“I know,” Blitzø sighed, reaching for a coat-hanger. “It’s me. I think the worst of myself.”

“I don’t want this tension between us, Blitzø. I really don’t.”

“Me neither,” Blitzø murmured, wanting to be free from the shackles of at least one worry. He had too many right now, and he was dangerously close to being burnt out in all aspects of his being. Blitzø stilled as the Prince wandered over, cuddling up to his back despite being taller. 

Those long arms looped around his hips and Blitzø set down the hanger entirely, shuffling on the spot until he was gazing at the owl who was most definitely the demon of his dreams, as well as his nightmares.

“Stolas?”

“Mhm?”

Blitzø inhaled steadily, tired of warring with himself. He just wanted to know. 

That’s all.

“What are we doing?” He asked, unable to keep himself from sounding solemn. “What am I doing here? Moving into your room? What was I even doing last night, dressing up for you? What do we do about what Octavia said in front of… fuck… all those fucking people?” He looked the Prince in the eyes, willing to take the truth no matter how much it hurt. “I don’t know what this is. Are we something? Are we playing along with who… who ‘Glitz’ is whilst I’m like this? I just…” He hung his head back, exhaling a monumental breath wrought with stress. 

He really hated exposing how fucking dumb and vulnerable he was.

“I got so much shit on my shoulders right now,” he stated, not meaning to sound firm but doing so out sheer determination. “So much fucking shit. I’m in this mess and there’s no end in sight. I feel alone, and you’re new. You are… really fucking new. I feel like I’ve changed on the outside and you’ve changed on the inside. I’m scared, and I’m fucking stressed, and I just need to know if you’re remotely viewing me in the way I’m viewing you.”

“Blitzø,” Stolas intoned, straightening up and taking the avian-Imp’s hands. “Isn’t my moving you into my room, answer enough?”

“No, Stolas, it isn’t,” Blitzø huffed, annoyance lacing his tone as he became a little more than just frustrated. “I don’t want hints or any of that subtle crap. I need shit spelled out for me, because I’m scared to leave shit up to hope,” he explained, feeling a weight lift as he spoke his own reality. “That’s why I push people away.”

“You push people away because… you’re scared to hope?” Stolas echoed, furrowing his eyebrows. 

Blitzø clenched his jaw, nodding once. “I was the kid who laughed with everyone, not realising that they were laughing at me. I didn’t see it coming when people cut me off, because I believed ‘em when they kept making excuses to avoid me. No-one ever told me straight up that shit was over, or that we weren’t really friends, not until they were forced to because I was too fucking dumb to get it.” He turned to close the wardrobe, riled at having to explain any of this. 

“That’s why I push people away. I got close to people, they got close to me and then something happened. Something fucking happened and I woke up one day in that ambiguous fucking zone where I realised that I’m more attached than they are. Tried to save what was there, figure out if it was me or them. Try to fucking… make ‘em stay but that… that never fucking works. Learned after a while that everyone’s gonna fucking leave eventually so why go through the pain.”

Wow.

“Wow,” Stolas breathed, echoing Blitzø’s own thought. “You…” he trailed off, ducking his pale face before worrying at his lower lip and Blitzø hated that the nerves made him ramble even further.

“That kinda shit… it really fucked with my head,” Blitzø continued, allowing himself to soften a fraction. “I got fucking desperate, did really fucked up shit like stalked people when I knew they were fucking lying. You catch bitches like that red handed and they only preach that they knew you were a creep all along. Didn’t matter that they were fucking cheating or meeting up with other friends instead of being sick or whatever.”

“Did it make you jaded?” Stolas ventured, tilting his head to the side.

“No? Maybe? I don’t fucking know,” Blitzø grumbled, not knowing how to navigate the subject he was currently in. “Bitter, paranoid, defensive? It made me a lot of things. Untrusting, definitely.”

“You said you wanted to learn to trust me,” Stolas murmured, placing a palm to Blitzø’s cheek. 

“I do,” Blitzø puffed out with a slight scowl, glaring up at the Prince with vibrant aureate hues. “So please, just be fucking up front with me. What do you want?”

Blitzø watched the demon before him take one step back, hands clapping together before he let them drop, still tightly clasped. 

“I would like for you to keep being that open with me,” Stolas began, something marginally proud in his tone. “I would like us to room together so that I can properly bond with you. I would like us to work together on this situation, and…” 

Blitzø watched the way Stolas sighed, looking down at his hands before seemingly making a choice on whatever decision he was warring with. 

“I want to see if a relationship is… possible. Between us,” the owl stated tentatively, flexing his intertwined talons as he spoke. “I… have not lost love for you, but I have developed doubts and… resentments, that I would like put to rest.”

Blitzø blinked, allowing himself to process those words without hanging onto any one thing. It was hard, because he was immediately snagged by the urge to ask what doubts and resentments Stolas had, but he was trying to be objective for once.

“So… I have a chance?” He asked, feeling his heart push up against his sternum at the mere suggestion. 

“You… do,” Stolas confirmed slowly, nodding once. “I would like to see where we go.”

“Okay…” Blitzø replied numbly, not knowing what else to say. 

Stolas wanted to try. 

It wasn’t a relationship, but it could be.

That was… pretty fucking unbelievable. 

Fuck, Stolas wanted to try.

Shit. 

“You look lost, Blitzø.”

“Y-yeah, I… no-one’s ever fucking tried before.”

An amused smile graced Stolas’ face at that. “To date you?”

“Yeah- no. No. Yeah, I’ve dated, but it’s never been… something anyone worked towards,” Blitzø explained distractedly, very much running through several emotions at once. 

“Fell into a lot of your relationships, did you?” Stolas asked, the question sounding more like a statement than an inquiry.

“Sorta.” Blitzø murmured, looking down for a moment. “So uh… we just see where we fucking go?”

“Mm-hm.”

Blitzø puffed out his cheeks and gave a single nod, knowing there wasn’t much else to it than that. He didn’t know if it was necessarily the best time for anyone to be testing the waters out with him, but there was also a sense of understanding that if Stolas could like him or whatever whilst Blitzø was at his worst then…

Was he even at his worst?

He didn’t know. 

One thing was for sure, he wasn’t going to push the owl away this time. 

 “So… you’re not official.”

“No.”

“You just… might be eventuality.”

“It isn‘t a hard concept to grasp, Starfire.”

“So you’re not boyfriends.”

“Not… exactly, no.” 

Blitzø chuffed out a small sigh as Octavia frowned and folded her arms, eyeing her Father who was making them all breakfast smoothies. 

“Does this mean you’re still going to hook up with Sirius and others… or…?”

Oh shit, Blitzø hadn’t even thought of that one. Would he even be comfortable with that? Those dudes were essentially just booty calls and Stolas didn’t necessarily have to stay inactive just because he was seeing if Blitzø was compatible with him.

Then again… it felt off because they were sharing a room. He didn’t know how he’d handle going to bed knowing that Stolas was with someone else. He also didn’t like the idea of having to go to his old bedroom if Stolas wanted to fuck someone here. 

They weren’t committed to one another though and it was Stolas’ room at the end of the fucking day. Blitzø didn’t have a single say in any of it and so kept his mouth shut. 

“-not appropriate for you to ask, Via!”

“So that means yes.”

“It doesn’t mean ‘yes’, it means I don’t appreciate you asking questions like this!”

“Well someone’s got to! I doubt Mister Red-Head is going to ask you shit, you’re so Princezillary half the time,” Octavia huffed, slumping over the kitchen island. Blitzø kept his head down, not wanting to get into it again with her, though he did nudge her with his elbow. 

“I know, I know,” she complained, reaching for the cereal box that couldn’t have more than a measly handful left within it. “I’ll stay out of it.” 

Stolas clicked his beak in annoyance as he set her smoothie down, hands placed upon his hips. 

She took it with a wide stare and Blitzø shook his head, turning to Bon Bon who had been warbling for his attention for the past few minutes. 

“Do you not have homework, Octavia?”

“Yeah yeah, I’m going.”

She dragged herself up and trudged off to her room, leaving Stolas to throw his hands in the air with exasperation. 

“Thanks,” Blitzø murmured as his own blended drink was placed before him. 

“I do not know what has gotten into that child,” Stolas griped, taking the stool opposite the avian-Imp. Blitzø didn’t reply, having a sneaking suspicion that it was his own daughter’s influence. He didn’t think Loona was instigating anything, just that the owlette wasn’t exactly grasping what she was being told as Loona may intend.

He’d probably have to talk to Loona about the whole fucking thing, because it was putting Stolas at odd ends with the Princess. 

That was going to be fun.

“For the record, I would not do that to you,” Stolas muttered, sounding peeved as he stirred his smoothie. 

Blitzø swallowed his mouthful slowly. “I’m not asking you to stay a fucking nun for me, Stolas. You said we’re only testing the waters so… you know. Not a relationship, not a commitment, not exclusive.”

Speaking those words cut deeper than he’d ever admit, but he was proud of himself. 

“You wouldn’t like it though.”

“No, but I’m not… you’re not my boyfriend. I don’t get to fucking dictate that you don’t see other people when you’re just… testing shit out. Sides, you said it earlier yourself, you have that right.” 

Stolas was quiet for a moment before sighing heavily. “Let me rephrase, I would not like it if you were intimate with others whilst we ‘tested shit out’. I do not want to be intimate with others when I am trying to build something between us.”

Blitzø ducked his head, trying to feign a nod rather than the truth that he was drastically relieved to be told such. 

“I can see your relief, Blitzø.”

“Oh fucking shut up,” said male snapped, the fluffing of his plumage having given him away. 

Stolas hummed in amusement, for some reason eating his smoothie with a spoon like it was yoghurt. “Why would you tell me it’s okay to do, if it would distress you?”

Ugh.

“Not my place to tell you what to fucking do,” he mumbled, trying not to lose his appetite. 

“No, but you should voice when something would hurt. I wouldn’t want to hurt you and I believe that if the roles were reversed you would take my feelings into consideration if something would upset me.”

“Course I would. Not even a fucking question, is it.”

Stolas was smiling to himself after that and Blitzø just went back to his breakfast, torn between tentative hope and nauseating dread.

His life was getting weirder and weirder, and somehow he was more level-headed than he’d been in a long fucking time.

Like Stolas had said; he’d better get used to it.

Chapter Text

“Did anything hurt?”

“I was too fucking drunk to tell.”

“What sensations do you remember?”

“Uh… tingling? Something like a cold rush? Stinging at one point? I think I felt numb for the fucking most of it.” 

The scribbling of Stolas’ pen was strangely soothing, though Blitzø was feeling mostly irritated by the newly forming quills on his tail. He hadn’t noticed them before- though he should have expected that the feathers he’d pulled out on his first morning would grow back eventually.

He just didn’t appreciate the itch. 

“There is such little to go on,” Stolas exhaled, audibly troubled. “I don’t suppose Loona would recall the spell she started off with?”

Blitzø shrugged as he tried removing a sheath only to wince.

Nope.

Not ready.

“Uh… I can fucking ask, but I doubt it. She was plastered just as badly as I was.”

The exasperation was clearly visible and Blitzø couldn’t help the way his heart twinged with guilt.

“Alright,” Stolas inhaled, drawing a line under the first set if data. “What were the after-effects.”

“Uh… I was out for like… the whole weekend.”

It was not fun watching Stolas drop his notepad down like it was the most offensive thing in Hell. 

“I’m sorry?”

Blitzø sucked in air through his beak, the sensation odd. “So, got fucked up early hours Friday and didn’t wake till Sunday night. Loona walked out and I came straight to you. Only thing I really remember is having an excruciating migraine.”

Stolas’ demeanour was stiff, and his expression was so fucking pissed off, it really had Blitzø inwardly reiterating to himself how fucking dumb he’d been. 

Especially when Stolas pinched the flesh between his eyes and rubbed his temples.

“I cannot express how easily this could have ended in absolute catastrophe,” the owl stressed, setting his pen aside. “I know. I know I have already given you such a hard time over this but I am so… so severely angry that you put yourself at risk to this degree. You could have killed yourself.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time I fucking tried.”

The words were out before Blitzø could even contemplate them and he very physically felt the way Stolas went rigid in his seat.

“Uh…” Blitzø scrambled mentally for a verbal balm and he cringed when he found nothing. “I’ve hit fucking lows too many fucking times, Stolas. Look at me, the shit I’ve crawled through is literally slapped across my fucking skin. My job involves getting shot at and busted up as it is. I know you’re gonna see it differently but the fact that I could have done myself in with this shit doesn’t fucking faze me. It would have effected Loona and that’s something that haunts me but for myself?” He could only shrug and he did so with an air of defeat. 

He just didn’t exactly care to that degree. Not about himself. Not anymore.

“I believe we have gone over enough for today,” Stolas stated quietly, rising from the small table that he had in his room. “I merely request that you ask Loona what spell she used initially, and hope that she remembers something that gives us a definitive direction.”

Blitzø nodded, pulling out his phone and firing off a text to his adoptive daughter that he knew wouldn’t be answered any time soon. 

Blitzø placed his phone aside, fussing with his tail until Stolas joined him on the rug.

“What do I do if I’m stuck like this?” Blitzø asked, knowing it was somewhat of a forbidden question. 

Slender talons carded through the quills atop his head and Blitzø sank into the caress without consciously meaning to. 

“It’s too early to ponder such a question, Blitzø,” Stolas answered quietly, tussling the elongated feathers that made up Blitzø’s crest. “I can only promise you that I’ll do my utmost best to rectify it.”

“I know. I’m really thankful for that.” Blitzø smoothened down his tail feathers before leaving them alone. “Still sorry though.”

“Enough apologies,” Stolas whispered, cradling Blitzø’s face and deftly taking a quill into his beak, running along it with his tongue before doing the same to another. 

Blitzø emitted a small note of protest, the sensation still not quite something he could handle. “That really fucking tickles.”

“Does it?” Stolas questioned, voice dropping an octave.

“Don’t,” Blitzø warned, leaning away. “I don’t wanna fucking… sit here riled up.”

Stolas tittered, a little bashful at the admission. “You are very cute.”

“Fuck off.”

“I will not.”

“Go… feed your plants or something.”

“I do that every morning.”

It was marginally embarrassing, having to sit there whilst Stolas went over several feathers with painstakingly gentle attention. It was embarrassing because Blitzø could feel himself grow fidgety, yet he wasn’t willing to move. 

It was comfortable on the floor. 

“Stolas?”

“Mhm?”

“Thanks for helping my sorry ass even though I constantly let you down.” 

The preening stopped abruptly and Blitzø didn’t dare look up from where he was fiddling with the fibres of the rug. He couldn’t help the soft trill that left him when his face was pulled towards Stolas’, the owl bumping into his cheek affectionately.  

“It went both ways. I let you down, and I hurt you, too. With my thoughtless words and my erroneous determination to gloss over matters that I should not have, I know that I hurt you, too.”

Blitzø mumbled something under his breath before uncrossing his legs and leaning into Stolas’ frame, throwing caution to the wind as he snuggled into the owl’s torso. He exhaled at length as Stolas merely hugged him, and Blitzø tried to relax. 

It was near-impossible to do so, but there was no-where else he’d rather be.

Dinner had been a quiet affair, and they’d all wandered into the living room afterwards, which was… bare and kind of plain considering that they were in a Palace. 

Stolas was watching soaps that Blitzø had zero interest in and Octavia was flipping through a taxonomy book for whatever reason. They were both sat upon the plush sofa whilst Blitzø had automatically gone for the floor. 

In truth, he wanted to retire. 

Going up to Stolas’ room alone felt weird though, and Blitzø wasn’t interested in feeling anymore weird than he already did. He’d left his phone upstairs and so had nothing to distract himself with.

Which was obviously dangerous because left idle, Blitzø gave way to thinking. 

It was the last thing he wanted to do. 

Luckily he was too tired to really come up with anything and so was just sitting there staring into space until Stolas’ show ended. 

“Have you got your things together for tomorrow?” Stolas asked, turning off the TV whilst Octavia closed her book. 

“Yes.”

Blitzø absently collected their cups- the two always drinking some form of warm beverage -and headed for the kitchen where he began rinsing them out. He set them aside just as Octavia passed the door, on her way to the bedroom. 

“Night, Blitzø.”

“Night sweetie,” he replied, glancing over his shoulder only to find that she was already gone. He stifled a yawn as he automatically reached for the plates on the side, blinking several times as a hand blocked him from doing so.

“Scullery Maids,” Stolas reminded, ushering Blitzø away from the sink. “I do pay them for their services.”

Blitzø diverted his attention to Bon Bon, who had noticeably improved since being back in the kitchen. Blitzø sighed as he leant down and pressed his beak to the pastel hued bulb. “See you in the morning, kiddo.”

Bon Bon warbled with affection, tiny leaves unfurling to brush against Blitzø’s face. 

“Sleep well, little one,” Stolas smiled, clicking off the light and heading out. Blitzø reluctantly followed suit, wondering if the days were always going to be like this. 

Sluggish.

Heavy.

Draining. 

Stolas glided straight into his bathroom, hidden by an extensive canopy of drapes and Blitzø merely got himself undressed, looking around for his t-shirt.

“You’d be best sleeping without clothes, darling,” Stolas advised, stepping back into the room. “Your feathers need to breathe, and it lessens the risk of them being twisted by your clothing.”

Blitzø had known that…

“Okay,” he mumbled, ditching the t-shirt and ridding himself of his bottoms. He checked his phone and headed straight for the bed, determined to shield himself within it and fall into blissful unawareness for a good number of hours.

Anything to take him away from the day. He turned to face the wall, one arm tucked under his cheek whilst he held the other close to his chest. 

It was quiet save for Stolas faffing about in the room and Blitzø willed himself to sleep before the owl would inevitably join him. 

It was so awkward, because they’d been a little distant after their talk. It was how they had been after that fuck up in Lust. Barely in contact, Stolas being wish-washy before all Hell had broken loose and Blitzø had been cut off. 

Should have seen it coming with how Stolas had been texting him, editing out the ‘sex’ part of the deal more and more until eventually it really was just about the book.

Stolas got nothing in return for letting Blitzø use it- except no Blitzø at all. 

That been the new deal, after all. Stolas let Blitzø use the book in exchange for never having to see him again… and Blitzø wasn’t blind to the slight spite that came with that message. It truly was solely about the book and there was nothing he could have changed about it. 

Smart, to be fair. 

He felt the bed dip behind him and within an instant he was being cuddled from behind. He scrunched his eyes shut, conscious of his strange physique and all his spines. 

He was a very spiny creature. 

“What’s wrong?” Stolas asked, retracting his arms when Blitzø tensed up. 

Man, he was all over the fucking place today.

Fuck.

“No uh… I just- I’m kinda fucking… prickly,” he mumbled, reaching down to pull his tail from under the quilt. He let it hang off the side of the mattress, being that it held the worst of the spindles. 

“Blitzø, it’s alright if you don’t want to cuddle, sweetheart.”

Blitzø clenched his jaw before laying flat on his back, dragging both palms down his face. “How the fuck am I still fucking up and giving you the wrong fucking impressions.”

Stolas snorted and scooted close, pressing his beak to Blitzø’s shoulder whilst resting an arm across him. “We are both more nervous than we want to admit, aren’t we.”

“You’re nervous?”

“Of course.”

“Don’t ‘of course’ me,” Blitzø mock-sobbed, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his palms. “Heads fucking stuffed with crap I don’t wanna think about.” 

“Anything you want to talk about?” Stolas inquired, leaning up on an elbow as he lay next to Blitzø who puffed out his cheeks. 

“I don’t wanna entertain anything in my fucking brain,” Blitzø grumbled, allowing one hand to fall upon Stolas’ shoulder. “I wish I could switch it off.”

“Oh…” Stolas mused coyly, switching to a light smirk as Blitzø immediately sank into the sheets. 

“Fuck off.”

“I’m just saying, I can help you,” Stolas teased, though he merely rest his head against Blitzø’s upper arm. “I’d help you if you needed it.”

“Thanks,” Blitzø replied blandly, not wanting that to be the reason they were intimate. 

Was that something he should voice? 

He didn’t want that discussion right now, if it was.

Blitzø blinked, his heart skipping a beat when Stolas leant up and over him. They stared at one another for a few seconds before the Prince sighed heavily. 

“Starting tomorrow, there will be no more apologies, Blitzø. Not from you, not from me. Not over this, or anything that happened before now. If there’s anything you wish to address, please do so, because I am very much wanting to just get close with you.”

Fuck, if that wasn’t music to his ears.

“There’s nothing,” he whispered, a little breathless as he dared to bring a palm to Stolas’ cheek. “Fuck, there’s nothing. I wanna move on. I don’t wanna drag any shit up from before. If you can fucking forgive me for everything up till this then I’ll take it, Stolas.”

The owl before him smiled, cerise-rose hues shining with emotion as he nodded, lowering his face in order to press a kiss to Blitzø’s forehead. 

“I forgive you, if you can forgive me.”

“If you need me to say it then I forgive you,” Blitzø murmured, smoothening down the feathers at the side of Stolas’ face. “For whatever.”

Blitzø scrunched his eyes shut when Stolas bumped their beaks together affectionately, the gesture alone lifting his mood even further. 

“Let us sleep, Blitzø. Tomorrow is a brand new day to face.”

Chapter Text

Blitzø groaned as he was awoken by the quiet vibration of his new phone and he sluggishly quietened it from his bedside, blinking blearily at the screen.

Six a.m. 

Too fucking early these days. 

Stolas was asleep next to him, hooting softly as he lay on his stomach, cheek pressed to the plush pillow and arms folded under it. 

Ugh. 

How Blitzø’s heart warmed at the sight. 

With as little movement as possible, Blitzø slipped from the bed and grabbed the t-shirt he had planned to wear for the night priot. He swiftly pulled it on, followed by the cordless board shorts that he’d had to practically ruin for the sake of Bon Bon.

Who Blitzø was determined to see to.

Phone retrieved, Blitzø silently exited the bedroom and padded down the stairs, flicking through his emails as he went. 

He strangely felt calmer today, and that was… good. He was halfway down when he heard hushed voices coming from the living room.

“That’s a terrible idea!”

“Oh come on, Elf. How is it a terrible idea? What else can we do?! It’s stuck!”

“How will we get it back up if it falls completely?! We cannot clamber over the furniture!”

“We can’t wait here until someone finds us, we’ll get into trouble!”

“We’re already in trouble, Taffy! I told you not to place the cart over here!”

“If His Highness wakes up and finds us like this, we’ll be turned to stone and given the state of you two, I’ll make the prettier ornament.”

“Trinket!”

Blitzø quirked an eyebrow as he reached the bottom of the stairwell, slowly walking towards the voices and peeking round the door.

He was met by quite the scene.

A trio of Housemaids were gathered by the large windows, one barely keeping the curtain rail in place whilst another had armfuls of the heavyweight fabric in hopes of reducing the strain that came from the tasseled trim of the velvet drape being snagged in the wheel to their cleaning cart.

“Trinket, I cannot hold this! It’s too heavy!”

As the maid with glasses began to totter from the rail, Blitzø swiftly moved forward, easily reaching up and steadying her smaller frame.

He startled the trio who all gasped and floundered on the spot, but Blitzø was quick to set the curtain securely upon its hooks. The young female with striking blue eyes backed up from where Blitzø stood a little too close and she knocked into the rack of brooms and sweeps that stood within the cart.

“Careful,” Blitzø told her, catching it. “Roll the cart in reverse,” he instructed, nodding to the back wheel that caused this mess. They stared at him with frightened expressions before doing just that.

“I told you!”

“You did not tell me!”

“Stop bickering you two, we’re in enough trouble as it is,” the Imp with glasses scolded, hurriedly pulling the last remaining tassels out. “It’s free, it’s free!”

“Quickly, His Highness mustn’t see us!”

“He’s still asleep,” Blitzø told them, waiting until they were clear of the drapes before stepping over to the door and holding it open. “You’ll make it out.”

“Oh, thank you. Thank you, Master Glitz, we are so terribly sorry!”

“For what? Accidents happen,” he scoffed, letting the door close as they came to a stop in the kitchen, checking over their cart. 

“Accidents may happen but Sequin would have our necks for this,” the maid with glasses sighed, bowing lightly to Blitzø. “Thank you for helping us.”

“You’re talking about Sequin, it’s Yima I’m scared of.”

The other two agreed solemnly and Blitzø blinked. “So uh… whose who?” The dread on their faces had him in turn on edge and he winced inwardly as the blue-eyed Imp stepped forward.

“I’m Trinket, Sir. This is Elf, and Taffy. We really are terribly sorry. We didn’t intend to run behind schedule-”

“Trinket, you can’t make excuses,” Elf cut in anxiously, glancing to Blitzø who stepped towards the sink. 

“You guys need to chill. I’m not gonna fucking rat you out. Just asking because I’m curious. Sides, I’m an early bird. Literally.”

The trio exchanged looks before Taffy leant forward. “Was that a play on words?”

“It’s called a pun.”

“No, Elf. He was being literal.”

Blitzø scoffed and rest his elbows upon the kitchen counter where Bon Bon was still tightly furled, fast asleep. 

The maids were whispering and Blitzø quirked an eyebrow, catching his supposed-name more than once. He opened the fridge and waited, noting when Trinket was nervously pushed forward by her two companions.

“Uhm… Master Glitz?”

So fucking weird. 

“Yeah?”

She glanced back at her fellow maids who urged her on and Blitzø tried not to think about how terribly tall he was to them. They were about the size of Millie, who he knew he would tower over in this form.

“Pardon us for asking but uhm… is it true that you are His Highness’ boyfriend?”

Blitzø turned to the sink, unsure of how to reply. “Heard that from the party, huh.”

“…we did,” Taffy spoke up, the first to seemingly relax. “It took us all by surprise because we’d never seen you before.”

“Nope, I’ve been in stealth mode this whole time,” Blitzø told them with a smirk, dropping two morsels into the small pot and using the back of a teaspoon to mush it down. “Till that fiasco in the fucking hallway, anyway.”

“That was you?” Trinket gasped, adjusting her apron. “We heard it was quite the scuffle.”

“We best be going,” Elf broke in, taking hold of the cart and adjusting her glasses. “Thank you again, Master Glitz!”

Blitzø waved idly as they vanished in the direction of the Great Hall, wondering if Stolas really was so strict or if it was just the generic routine for Palace staff. 

A tired snap of tiny jaws alerted him to Bon Bon who had awoken and Blitzø grinned, sliding onto a stool. “Good morning, kiddo. You’re looking better.”

Large ruby eyes blinked at him and Blitzø chuckled, stroking Bon Bon’s cheek with the side of his forefinger.  “You hungry? Gotta dampen your soil a little too.”

He received a series of small growls and Blitzø laughed, offering Bon Bon the very end of the teaspoon. “Last time you gotta eat this mushy stuff.” 

It was quiet whilst he fed Bon Bon and after cleaning him up and sprinkling his soil with water, Blitzø took a moment to play with the plant he had built a bond with. 

It was whilst he was mid tug-o-war with a sheet of tissue paper that Stolas appeared, tired and slightly ruffled. 

“Morning,” Blitzø greeted, straightening up and letting Bon Bon win the fight. 

“You rise ever so early,” Stolas half-complained, heading straight for the kettle. 

“Habit,” Blitzø replied, starting up a second round of tug-o-war. He cooed as Bon Bon viciously tore up his end of the tissue, small jaws strong enough to give Blitzø a little tension in their game. He trilled softly when arms wrapped around him from behind, Stolas’ frame pressing up against the flattened spines of Blitzø’s back. 

“Good morning, Blitzø.”

It was too early for his heart to be so energetic, but Blitzø tentatively relaxed. “Yeah, good morning.”

Once Octavia was off to her classes and Stolas was back in his study, Blitzø busied himself with the one area of work he knew he could handle remotely.

Clients. 

The backlog wasn’t too dreadful, but it still took him substantial time to organise everyone. It felt weird, not being at I.M.P and he missed his daughter greatly. 

She was still being distant, but he gathered that she was annoyed by his fuck up. He’d apologise in person when she visited- because she would. 

Soon.

By the time twelve came around, Blitzø was beyond bored. He’d ended up watching trash videos for an hour, then he’d dozed off for another. 

Watching the clock was the equivalent of watching paint dry and Blitzø rolled off the couch, determined to find something to do. He couldn’t explore the actual Palace, and he wasn’t sure about venturing outside either. 

Bon Bon was basking contentedly in the kitchen and Blitzø couldn’t get his pet’s attention at all- which left him with one horribly glaring truth. 

He was going to have a repeat of this, every fucking day.

Fucking shit on a stick, he could not handle doing fuck all. Not like this. Blitzø was not an idle person, he hated being cooped up, hated being still, hated not putting his mind to something. He hated feeling trapped, and here he was, trapped in a big ass house with fuck all to do. 

Like Hell was he doing this for the foreseeable future.

Absolutely fucking not.

Blitzø trudged towards the staircase, hating how every footstep echoed. No wonder Stolas wore slippers all the fucking time, it was disconcerting hearing yourself move about in every mundane way. 

He stood before Stolas’ study door and inhaled deeply, forcing himself to just knock.

The fucking knocks echoed too.

“Come in.”

Blitzø rolled his eyes as he stepped into the room lined with huge books, stacks of parchment and various bottles of glowy crap that he didn’t understand but would most definitely be dumb enough to drink. 

Stolas was sifting through a large tome that looked well beyond its years, cerise-rose hues flittering over to Blitzø who pushed the door shut.

“Everything alright? I am rather busy, Blitzø.”

“Yeah, sorry, it’s just that uh…” he fumbled verbally, then mentally before fearing that Stolas would just sent him away. “Is there anything I can help with?”

Stolas paused before scoffing, shaking his head. “Sweet of you to offer, but you may simply relax.”

“No, I can’t. I tried, I’m going fucking nuts. Is there anything I can do?”

A weary expression adorned Stolas’ beautiful features, but Blitzø was determined and over the threshold of his desperation. “I’m sure you can entertain yourself, Blitzø.”

“With what?” Blitzø asked, placing a hand on his hip. “I can’t explore the Palace. I can’t go outside, and I can’t do chores. I know I look like a deadbeat fucker, but I’ll scrub your fucking floors at this rate.”

Stolas snorted, sitting back in his chair. “As much as I would find you enticing on your hands and knees, that is what I have staff for.”

“Exactly,” Blitzø grumbled, ignoring the jest. “I can’t even wash a fucking cup. I’m used to doing shit, Stolas. Seriously. I’ll be quiet, I won’t piss about, just give me a task or some shit.”

The owl was staring at him and Blitzø clenched his jaw. 

“Please,” he added, averting his gaze for a split second.

Stolas hummed in thought before placing his hands down upon the surface of his desk. “Well, since you’re asking, I could do with someone feeding my older plants every other morning. The staff are hesitant and often timid, which puts them in the bracket of prey. If I were to write the instructions, would you mind?”

“Done, what else?”

“That’s… really all I need.”

“Stolas, I need to do something in the afternoons, come on. I am losing my fucking mind already and I’m going to be here for who the Hell knows how long.” He was whining now and he knew it, but he was going to drive himself mental if he did nothing for days on end. 

Stolas glanced around his Study before furrowing his eyebrows. “I honestly have nothing for you to-”

“I’ll put shit back for you.”

“I’m sorry?”

Blitzø made a reluctant noise in the back of his throat, really not wanting to go where he was going to go. He padded up to Stolas’ desk and gestured to the various papers scattered over it.

“You’ve got shit all over your desk, you’re just stacking your damn books up around yourself- so let me put them back. When you need stuff, I’ll go get it. I’ll fucking… get your tea and shit whilst you work.”

The look on Stolas’ face was abhorrent because he looked so fucking stumped. “You… want to be my assistant.”

“I mean, I fucking caused you an extra fuckton of work,” Blitzø mumbled, that fact only just clicking for him. “Kinda should step up and make myself useful.”

Stolas hesitantly looked about himself before gesturing to the stack of books by his desk. “Those belong on the bookshelf over there…”

“Great,” Blitzø puffed out, immediately reaching for them. 

“They go in order of subject,” Stolas told him, sounding marginally dubious.

“Yeah, got it.”

He may not be able to spell to save his life, but Blitzø could fucking read. He had books of his own- questionable in nature, sure, but he read them. He preferred pictures, of course, but he wasn’t incapable of reading a fucking title and figuring out where it went. 

As he started doing just that he found himself zoning out, mind finally content. Stolas went back to studying, the scritching of his pen becoming white noise as Blitzø continued to return the various tomes and spell books back to their shelves. 

The parchment was more of a challenge, because it meant grouping Stolas’ notes together in order of subject- then finding their designated folder. Stolas was pretty organised in set up, but he didn’t seem to utilise the system he had going.

Not well, at least.

Unless Blitzø was the reason for that, which he probably was given how problematic his transformation methods had been. 

“Oh…”

Blitzø looked up from the floor, having been engrossed in Stolas’ notes. “What’s up?”

“Uhm… I’m terribly sorry, but I think I still need the Encyclopaedia of Enchantments…”

Blitzø set down the sheet he was holding and pushed himself up, scanning the shelves for the book in question. He found it easily and pulled it from its allotted slot, offering it to Stolas who took it with a blink.

“Thank you…”

Blitzø didn’t reply, already back on the floor with his legs crossed. He was trying to decipher which folders he should place Stolas’ notes into when the notes in question contained two or more subject matters. He ended up placing them in a folder between the two topics, not wanting to get stuck on such a menial issue.

Stolas’ Study was more akin to an office- though it was made up the warm woods and purple drapes that gave it a less-formal appearance. Blitzø’s office at I.M.P was an office. This felt more like a miniature library, with the walls lined with bookshelves and all sorts.

The folder cabinet was smaller, but Blitzø was good at keeping things in order - minus his personal life. He was just one of those people who liked everything to have a place. 

“You can put this one back,” Stolas announced, voice flat as he held out the book without looking up.

Blitzø quirked a smile, taking it wordlessly and carefully returning the heavy encyclopaedia to where it belonged, Stolas’ tone letting the avian-Imp know that the owl was fully absorbed in his research.

Everything had its place, and if nothing else, Blitzø certainly made a good assistant.

Chapter Text

Three days in and Blitzø had fallen into a routine that kept him occupied and sane. 

He woke at five thirty a.m. on the dot and took up the task of feeding Stolas’ large, gluttonous flora- which was terrifying even at his exaggerated size. He practically threw the slabs of meat at them and watched them chew from afar before moving onto the next plant until each one - and there were many - were fed.

Watering was a little less easy, and he knew the damn fuckers thought his wariness was funny. Either way, the upside was that he got to pass by Stolas’ staff and he made it a point to greet Trinket, Elf and Taffy as they packed up their cleaning cart in the hallway. 

Stolas was always down by half past six, and Blitzø was usually just giving Bon Bon his breakfast and morning fuss. 

Octavia was up at seven and out the door by quarter-to-eight. After downing a smoothie of some sort, Blitzø showered in the bathroom of his prior room and got dressed for the day, still spending a few precious minutes stretching out his body and keeping himself in check.

He then spent the next few hours checking in with Loona, Millie and Moxxie, and seeing to clients. There was a slight twinge at how well the business was doing without him, but he was shoving the notion to the back of his troubles, because at the end of the day he needed it to go fucking well.

Once twelve rolled around, he was in Stolas’ study, returning the owl’s books that had been pulled from their shelves over the course of the morning, filing away whatever notes had been made and overall just… doing as he was asked.

They weren’t chatty whilst working. Stolas was focused and Blitzø was in a world of his own making half the time. It was comfortable though, quiet company and Blitzø liked it. He liked being around Stolas. 

They usually wrapped up around four, which was when Octavia was finished with her classes and then Blitzø was left to his own devices until dinner. 

Stolas always watched his soaps, Octavia did homework and Blitzø… Blitzø just sat on the floor waiting for bedtime. Weirdly enough, that aforementioned quiet followed them throughout the entire day all the way to bedtime, with Stolas often falling asleep without saying much more than goodnight.

Blitzø didn’t mind, the owl had things to work through. He missed the light touches and cuddles, though. 

Overall, it wasn’t a fun routine, but it was a routine he was settling into and that was more than he could ask for at the moment. 

A hard slam jerked him out of his thoughts and Blitzø snapped his head up, finding Stolas glaring at him with a book in hand. 

“Oh, welcome back to the world of the living!”

Whoops. 

“Sorry,” Blitzø apologised, getting up from the floor and taking the book as was expected. 

“Honestly, the amount of times I have to ask. Might as well do this myself,” Stolas muttered, opening another tome. 

Yeah, the Prince was a little moody today but that was alright. Blitzø was used to testing peoples patience and he was a tad spacey for some reason. Had been since that morning. 

Thursdays were a sluggish day, even at the office. 

“I need my notes from Monday.”

Off Blitzø went, on his knees as he scanned the binders lined up on the very bottom shelf. “Uh… what subject were they on?”

“Does it matter?” came the predictably moody reply.

“Yeah, I filed these under subject,” Blitzø explained, wincing when Stolas’ expression hardened for a second before he was dropping his pen, visibly stressed.

“Why would you- that doesn’t help me! I make notes based on information taken in, it is governed by relevancy, updated information, not bloody subject, Blitzø!”

“I used the folders that were already there,” Blitzø explained hesitantly, not wanting to escalate the situation. He’d just gotten comfortable, he really didn’t want to lose his stride now. “I didn’t know you wanted them organised by day. Can do that from now on, though.”

“What’s the point,” Stolas bit out, tossing the folder he had aside. The papers within it were not secure and they fluttered everywhere as a result. The look on Stolas’ face said that he had absolutely not intended for that, but Blitzø couldn’t help the immediate plummeting of his heart as the owl got up, hands waving Blitzø aside. 

“I need to step out.”

The door closed behind him and Blitzø felt his plumage flatten, as it always did when his emotions took a dive. 

Well, he was always going to fuck up at some point and it had been close to four anyway. 

Once upon a time he would have left the room and locked himself elsewhere, but he was in the process of changing. He’d take responsibility, so he was going to fix this. He could organise things via day of the week- he just needed to re-label the folders, go through them and figure out when Stolas had written them up.

First things first, the scattered sheets which really were no hassle at all. He set them aside and went through Stolas’ drawers, finding a pack of coloured marker pens and a reel of white labels. 

Stolas would no doubt end up making dinner at this time, so Blitzø settled down to work, pulling out the folders and peeling off their old stickers. He went through them as he did so, choosing a colour for each day of the week. 

His memory was fairly good when it came to shit like this, so having read Stolas’ notes he located them all fairly easily. The issue was the weekly system put things out a lot, which resulted in Blitzø getting carried away- as usual.

He ended up creating a colour-coded table that he stuck to the back of each file, then colour coding every sheet to a subject that also had a designated colour. He grouped them as best as he could, diving down a rabbit hole that had him comparing books that Stolas had written from, down to what ink the owl had used when he genuinely couldn’t place a day.

Luckily, Stolas tended to write the dates in the top left corners- but only on the first page, which meant Blitzø spent a ridiculous amount of time actually reading through them. He had referred to his phone for the dates in which he hadn’t been there and added in the use of plastic sleeves to better separate consecutive notes. 

Even better, was that Stolas had a stapler. 

It was only when his phone pinged and the digital display alerted him to the time that Blitzø realised he’d been at the task for hours.

To the point it was nearly midnight. 

Fuck.

He didn’t even realise that he’d skipped dinner, having lost his appetite along the way in his absolute focus to not screw up further. He tried not to be anxious over the fact that Stolas hadn’t called for him, or even checked on him, because the owl had seemed stressed from the minute that Blitzø entered the room and maybe Blitzø should have asked if he was even wanted or something. 

Maybe Stolas needed some space?

He still had ways to go, the amount of notes the owl took was absolutely ridiculous and Blitzø was determined to organise them all.

Every. Single. One.

So he did. 

Pulling an all-nighter was nothing new, he slept abysmally anyway. Besides, if Stolas needed space then this was a good, productive way of allowing the owl that. 

It wasn’t until around two that Blitzø started to feel a headache coming on, the amount of data overwhelming him to the point of tears but he’d started this and Stolas would be beyond pissed if he came into his study only to find it in shambles. 

So Blitzø doubled down even further, until finally, at exactly four-forty a.m, he was placing the notes that Stolas had originally wanted, upon the desk in a plastic slip.

The bottom shelf containing the folders and binders were all newly labeled and sorted, yet despite the feat Blitzø felt nothing but tired and disappointed in himself. 

He just hoped it was enough to make up for the disappointment that Stolas had felt in him, at the very least.

He hadn’t wanted to wake Stolas, so had just pottered about in the kitchen until it was time to feed Stolas’ plants. He did so on autopilot, following the instructions to a T.

He fed Bon Bon, then tactfully avoided the Prince who Blitzø was now certain had had enough of him for the time being. He snuck off to his old room in order to shower and then knuckled down for his own work. 

Or… that’s what he’d intended.

He was wearily going through emails when the bedroom door flung open. He jolted upright, having been a breath away from calling back a client who had an inquiry. 

Stolas stood there, looking harried and confused as he held up the notes that Blitzø had placed on the desk.

“What is this.”

Blitzø swallowed hard, slowly getting to his feet and tucking his phone away. Fuck, had he got them wrong?

“Did I mess up again?” He asked, taking the plastic-encased papers and pushing past the wide-eyed owl. 

He hadn’t spent all night redoing the fucking folders only to have given Stolas the wrong fucking ones, had he? He had been batshit tired, sure, but seriously. 

“Blitzø-”

Said male strode into the study and flopped to the floor, immediately tugging out the Monday binder. “You said Monday, right? This Monday just gone?”

“Blitzø, what are you-” 

“Take this,” Blitzø huffed, thrusting the binder into Stolas’ arms. “I must have misplaced it. Fuck’s sake. Sorry, I’ll fix it just gimme a sec.”

“What… did you-”

Blitzø exhaled a sigh of relief as he realised it was a mere mix-up, the Monday notes having been placed in the wrong folder when he’d set them upon the ones that Stolas’ had brought in.

“Here,” Blitzø amended, holding out the correct ones and automatically taking the binder back. “I had the two sets together and was dumb enough not to double check before putting them out. Sorry for that.”

Blitzø returned the offending papers to their folder and straightened up, finding Stolas staring at the notes. 

“They the right ones?” Blitzø asked anxiously, second-guessing himself. He watched as Stolas lowered the plastic sleeve, a helpless look washing over his features. 

“What even is this,” the owl choked out, startling Blitzø who froze. “I- you didn’t come down for dinner, or come to bed. I thought you were upset with me, especially when you weren’t there for breakfast. Now I find out you’ve been reorganising my whole bloody note system when I’m the one who was being a bitch.”

“You weren’t being a bitch,” Blitzø instinctively countered, pushing himself up and hesitantly placing his hands upon Stolas’ upper arms. “You were having a bad fucking day, that’s all. I’m… sorry I made it worse.”

That had the Prince outright bursting into tears and Blitzø panicked, taking the plastic sleeve off of him and immediately moving in to cradle Stolas’ face.

“Hey it’s okay,” he hushed, deftly catching Stolas’ tears before the owl himself could do so. “I can fucking put it all back, I can do something else if you want-”

The avian-Imp was cut off by Stolas vehemently shaking his head, pushing into Blitzø’s arms and dampening the rouge feathering with droplets of distress. 

“I’m sorry,” Stolas wept, clinging to Blitzø’s hoodie as the baffled male shifted to accommodate the taller male’s frame. “I’m so, so terribly sorry.”

Blitzø was mentally floundering, somehow having ended up with an armful of distressed Prince when he himself was in shambles over having not slept. 

Not that Stolas looked rested by any stretch of the imagination.

“I was a bitch, I have been this whole bloody time.”

That wasn’t helping.

With a small sigh, Blitzø ushered Stolas out into the hallway, closing the study door and redirecting them both to the bedroom they shared. 

There was no point in doing shit if Stolas was this upset.

At least this was something Blitzø knew he could fix.

Chapter Text

“All I’ve done is be horrible.”

“You’re just stressed, Stolas.”

“It’s not an excuse.”

“No, it’s a fucking reason. I screwed up, you got frustrated. It’s fucking life.”

“You didn’t screw up, I was being unreasonable.”

Blitzø pinched the feathers between his eyes, feeling stressed himself as Stolas refused to let up on the blame game. They were in bed- or rather, Stolas was laying in bed whilst Blitzø was sat on the floor going through work emails. 

“I’m sorry, Blitzø.”

“Nothing to be sorry for. Just rest. Can tell you got fuck all sleep last night.”

“You didn’t sleep either.”

Blitzø didn’t reply, too aware of the fact. 

“Please Blitzø, rest with me.”

Blitzø exhaled softly, his headache pressing enough that he simply finished off the email he was on and stood from the floor, tugging off his hoodie and shorts before padding round the bed to his designated side. 

The minute his ass touched the mattress, Stolas was pulling him down, long arms and legs wrapping around Blitzø’s smaller frame and crushing him close. It had the smaller male flailing lightly, having not expected to be grabbed at all.

He puffed out a breath as Stolas cuddled him tight, heart fluttering wildly because the owl was so very silky-soft and Blitzø hadn’t preened for days.

He was undeniably tatty again.

Which meant he was going to be spiny and prickly. 

He eased himself from Stolas’ embrace, having to go as far as to physically pry the owl’s arms from around him. The look of utter desperation on Stolas’ face had him halting, realising how his actions were being perceived.

“I haven’t preened…” he confessed awkwardly, pushing Stolas’ arms to himself. “I’m really fucking coarse so if I just preen quickly then-”

“May I preen you?” 

The question was a little odd since Stolas had done so a number of times, but Blitzø nodded all the same, slipping from the bed and retrieving his bottle of Ylang Ylang Third from the vanity. He handed it to the owl who was now sitting up, sniffling a little as he calmed. He patted the top of the quilt right before him and Blitzø sat upon it with his tail in his lap, conscious of the fact he was nude.

If this would help Stolas feel better though…

“It wasn’t you I was frustrated with yesterday,” Stolas began, voice audibly thick. “I have been researching for days and have come up with so very little. I wish to give you something to hold onto and I cannot for the life of me do so fast enough.”

Blitzø didn’t know what the fuck possessed him in that moment, but he couldn’t stop himself. He was taking Stolas’ hand before the owl could tip any oil into it. The result was Stolas looking down at their interlocked fingers, seemingly confused.  

“Got you to hold onto,” Blitzø supplied, feeling embarrassed even as he said it. 

Stolas stared at him before he flushed with a rosy hue, ducking his face and fluffing up from whatever emotion Blitzø had triggered. He didn’t know how to read the owl in moments like this, where Blitzø was riddled with his own self-doubt and anxiety, but he hoped it wasn’t completely cringe-worthy.

 “Stolas, I’m lucky you’re fucking helping me at all, I’ve said that. You don’t need to fucking drive yourself insane with rushing to fix this. You had shit going on before I turned up and I know I’ve been scared and fucking… desperate to change back but like… I did this to myself,” he reminded, stroking the back of Stolas’ knuckles in a bid to soothe the owl. “I can and will wait.”

“You hate being stuck like this, though,” Stolas whispered, placing a hand on Blitzø’s back. 

“I don’t… hate it,” Blitzø bit out, not really sure how he felt about himself these days. “I’m getting used to it. Most of it just comes from the upkeep of my fucking feathers. It helps having shit to do, keeping myself occupied and all that. Point is, I’ll be fine. Don’t run yourself into the fucking ground over this, okay? You’re doing more than you should be, we both know that.”

He ended in a mumble, purely because Stolas was being ridiculous with his bashful smile and the owl’s shyness made Blitzø feel shy in return. 

“I understand,” the Prince murmured, squeezing Blitzø’s palm before pulling away. “The upkeep of your feathers I can certainly help with,” he said, uncapping the bottle of oil. “I can’t believe you spent all night doing that. Breaks my heart- I thought you were in your old room.”

Blitzø oiled his own fingertips and got to work on his tail, noting that the sheaths were ready to be removed. He’d leave them for last, not wanting to pull the thin casings off his new feathers until he’d preened everything else. 

“I’m trying to be better.”

“Being better doesn’t mean putting up with me when I’m being a bitch,” Stolas tutted, sitting up on his knees and smoothening the two banded quills atop Blitzø’s head. 

“You put up with me being an asshole,” Blitzø pointed out, frowning as he flicked a loose feather from his thigh. 

“Not anymore I don’t.”

“You did, though.”

“The fact you are no longer behaving as such makes my behaviour even more deplorable. I cannot and will not punish you for how you’ve acted nearly a year ago. Especially when I too was at fault.”

“Guess it was a shit time for us both,” Blitzø mused absently, finally tugging at the cloudy-white casings to his once-missing tail feathers. 

“Longer for you, as I understand,” Stolas ventured, his tone giving away his un-voiced request to know just how badly Blitzø had spun out of control.

“Loona really confided in your kid, huh,” he sighed, feeling ashamed of himself all over again. 

“Octavia has very much confided in yours, too,” Stolas told him, those nimble talons easily working through the plumage blanketing Blitzø’s back. “I believe it was Via who reached out first in all this. Your daughter merely relayed how similar we both were.”

“We were not similar,” Blitzø scoffed, the bitterness very blatant. “You turned to exploring with others. I hit the bottle as much as I could and let anyone do whatever they wanted with me. Got to the point that Loona went with me just to keep me from getting myself killed. After that proved to be a fucking bust she kept me home.”

“You let anyone do… whatever with you?”

Blitzø snorted, nodding his head. “Story of my life. I forgot what the fuck feels good anymore. I just wanted to be fucking wanted. By someone. Anyone. Even if that meant letting ‘em do shit that hurt. I’m that much of a desperate fuck. I ain’t got much to give but I got a dick, and I got holes.” He inhaled sharply, shoving the memories away. “Well, had a dick. One less accessory but someone’ll use me if need be- ow, the fuck?!”

He glared as Stolas flicked away the feather he'd just plucked, expression just as dark. 

Blitzø got the hint, huffing as he turned back round to his tail. “Yeah, whatever.”

“I hate how you talk about yourself.”

Blitzø grunted as he was tilted back against Stolas’ chest, the owl sweeping his palms down Blitzø’s stomach and abdomen. It was a little overwhelming but Blitzø allowed it, already feeling lulled by the scent of his own preening oil and the feel of being less tatty. 

“It’s how others talk about me,” he supplied blandly, holding up an iridescent quill that had come loose from his crest. “Should make fucking pens outta these.”

“You need to learn to stop adhering to those who have nothing nice to say,” Stolas chided, taking the quill in question and placing it aside. 

“Please. No-one has anything nice to say.”

“I have nice things to say.”

“You’re one fucking person. I don’t even know what you see in me or why you do considering.”

“How many other people are you this open with?” Stolas asked, wiping his hands on a towel that had been apparently procured out of thin air. 

The question caught Blitzø completely off guard and he sank back a little, knowing that the answer was already obvious. 

“Just you.”

“Exactly.”

Blitzø exhaled heavily, idly toying with the feathers on his thighs until he felt the Prince snuffle the crest atop his head. “Do you need to preen?”

“Do I look as though I need to?”

“No…”

Damn owl.

“I appreciate the offer, darling.”

That fucking term of endearment was going to kill him, Blitzø fucking loved it way too much. Same way that he loved the fact that Stolas was nuzzling him and running his palms along Blitzø’s tail, up his thighs and sides, over his shoulders and down his arms.

Blitzø trilled in appreciation, the vocalisation completely involuntary. 

“You’re very soft after preening,” Stolas mused, ducking his face into Blitzø’s neck. “Thank you for being so patient with me, Blitzø. You didn’t have to go to all that trouble, you absolutely did not.”

Blitzø blinked slowly, mind a little mushy as a palm cradled his cheek and turned him to meet a cerise-rose gaze. “I wanted to help.”

“You have helped so much.”

Blitzø leant into the warmth offered, oddly mollified as he was laid down with care. “I want to be good.”

“Oh?” Stolas whispered, tone changing in an instant. “You want to be good for me?”

Blitzø huffed, wishing that he could rebuff the Prince who was laying flush to his side. “I don’t wanna fuck up anymore.”

“Go back to wanting to be good for me,” Stolas instructed lowly, nipping Blitzø’s jaw and lightly teasing the feathers of the smaller male’s neck. It had a warmth blossoming south and Blitzø scrunched his eyes shut, drawing his knees up as he fidgeted from the influx of sudden feeling.

“You really are handsome,” Stolas murmured, and Blitzø hated the way he fluffed up at the praise. 

“I’m not even a real fucking bird,” he mumbled, trying to will his heart to remain steady. 

“You’re my Blitzy, what else do you need to be,” Stolas scoffed, leaning over the smaller male who gave into the kiss bestowed as though it were as natural as breathing. 

It wasn’t, because it was still a new sensation and he hadn’t felt Stolas’ tongue against his own for far too long.

Not like this.

It wasn’t difficult to match the Prince’s pace and he felt everything dampen between his legs when knowing hands swept along the inside of his thigh. 

Fuck, he couldn’t stop himself. Blitzø kissed back with fervor, grasping Stolas’ cheeks and relishing in the way the owl rippled with delight upon having the affection reciprocated. 

He’d missed feeling so fucking good with this man.

“Oh Blitzø, you are so wonderful,” Stolas uttered breathlessly, pulling away and kissing the avian-Imp’s fine feathering. “What would you like me to do?”

Was there any fucking question?

“Sit on my face.”

Blitzø watched the owl falter and he wondered what he’d said wrong when Stolas opened his mouth then closed it. 

“No? I can get you off another way. Whatever you want,” he amended quietly, sweeping his talons down Stolas’ side. 

“That’s… what you want?” Stolas asked, blinking down at him. 

Geez, was it suddenly taboo or some shit?

“Yes? Yes… but if you don’t want…”

Blitzø hesitantly accepted the kiss that Stolas gave him, the owl’s eyes shining with something unreadable as he carefully straddled Blitzø’s neck. Those long arms reached out for the headboard and Blitzø grinned, tilting the man he harboured way too strong feelings for against his tongue. 

Pleasing Stolas was never going to be something he’d tire of.

The way Stolas moaned, the way his breath hitched as he rocked ever so gently against Blitzø’s mouth, the way he purled with delight when Blitzø teased him just so. Blitzø may not know shit about his own body, but he knew Stolas’ well and he emitted a soft note as he himself dampened with excitement, Stolas’ gasps and words of praise doing more than they probably should.

It didn’t register properly, because Blitzø was so desperate to please the man his heart yearned for. 

He. Just. Wanted. To. Please. Him.

Being so singleminded was never a good thing, couldn’t be healthy to any degree, but Blitzø was enamoured to the point of it being a raw need. 

He wanted to be something to Stolas. 

He wanted to be something special. 

Blitzø grunted as Stolas ground down against his jaw, hands gripping the headboard hard until his talons scratched the gleaming wood. The shrill notes spilling from the Prince became heavy, laboured and Blitzø doubled his efforts, rolling the pad of his thumb over the hypersensitive gem of flesh that had Stolas trembling with ecstasy. 

The feathers atop his head were tugged hard, and Blitzø winced, not used to that type of sensation. His horns were far more sturdy, though he supposed losing feathers in such a way wouldn’t be the worst in the world.

Stolas’ grip almost immediately relaxed, the Prince’s chest heaving as he let go of the headboard and shuffled down. 

Blitzø had barely processed the fact that Stolas had climaxed before his face was grasped and he was being kissed, the owl most definitely tasting himself on Blitzø’s tongue. Those hands returned to the quills that made up Blitzø’s crest, this time gentle and soothing. 

“Sorry, I’m so used to grasping Sirius’ antlers, I-”

It was like being punched in the fucking gut and Stolas flinched first.

“Oh no.”

Blitzø blinked, stunned for about a second before he nodded, seeing the absolute horror on Stolas’ face- which hurt just as much. Stolas had held onto Blitzø’s horns too, once upon a time.

“Y-yeah, yeah I get that. That’s okay.”

“No, oh no, Blitzø-”

“It’s okay. Don’t- I just got you to stop crying. Don’t worry about it. Come on, you think I haven’t been called other names in bed? Some people are into that shit. I don’t expect anyone to really think of me, anyway.”

“I was thinking of you, I was only thinking of you. I just meant that I knew I had pulled hard on your feathers,” Stolas rushed, clearly panicking despite Blitzø’s very valiant attempt at glossing the moment over. “I meant it became a habit- I’m making this worse.”

He was, but Blitzø wasn’t going to agree out loud. He let the silence settle and idly wondered if he would really live up to Stolas’ newfound expectations. He didn’t want things to remain awkward, however, and he inhaled steadily, filing the hurt and shock away for another time.

“You know… if there’s shit you want me to do differently, I will.”

Stolas looked up from where he’d had his hands over his face. “What?”

Blitzø reached for the towel that Stolas had used to wipe off the preening oil, now using it to pat down his neck and chest. “If there’s things he did or… anyone did that you really liked… you can tell me. I want to make you feel good so… you know. If you’ve found things you like, it’s okay to say. Might take a few tries to get it right, but I’ll learn.”

“You- no,” Stolas replied, looking down at his lap and sounding choked up all over again. “I’ve always liked the way you touch me. I loved it. I love it. None of them were anything other than a moment and I… I thought of you quite often when with them.” He scoffed derisively, tipping his head back as though rolling his eyes. “Used to hold onto your horns first. It was a habit I got from sleeping with you in the first place, why the fuck am I such a mess?”

Blitzø shrugged, offering the owl a lopsided smile. “It’s okay. You’ve been stressed and shit, your life got derailed and all that. Don’t worry about it, okay?”

“You’re breaking my heart. I wish you’d yell at me for being such a slutty bitch.”

Blitzø exhaled sharply and dragged Stolas down to the sheets, nipping him as he once would have done. It wasn’t as effective without teeth, but he managed at least a little pressure. 

“You’ve always been a slutty bitch. Loved you then, love you now. Quit spiralling. That’s my fucking job, not yours.”

He buried his face in Stolas’ neck because he’d said those words for the first time unprompted and that was… fucking humiliating. 

“Blitzø?”

“Yeah?”

“Can I kiss you?”

“I’m yours to fucking kiss, aren’t I?”

He grinned as Stolas tutted, the owl clinging to him just as he had before, carding his talons through Blitzø’s crest and easily earning the forgiveness which Blitzø had readily given. The knowledge that Stolas didn’t think of anyone else dug deep and Blitzø felt himself flush with warmth all over again, tail sweeping from side to side as keeping still became outright impossible. 

The way Stolas suckled on Blitzø’s tongue had the avian-Imp trilling softly, and as he felt himself slicken he stuttered on a breath, the sensation completely new. It felt like his body temperature had skyrocketed in one single second and he gasped, losing himself to the way Stolas’ mouth moved against his own.

He’d never been this wet before. 

He was used to a firmness between his legs, a tension in his veins that yearned for a myriad different things- to be encased in slick heat, to be taken hold of and teased, worked with a repetitive motion until he was satisfied. He knew what to fucking do with his prior anatomy, knew what he wanted.

He did not know what to do with the anatomy he had now. He squirmed uncomfortably as Stolas’ palm swept south, teetering closer to where Blitzø knew he was most different and for a split second he felt his heart skip a beat as though he were excited at the prospect.

He was getting aroused but he didn’t have what Stolas liked-

Blitzø broke the contact between them abruptly, chest heaving as he tilted his body away from Stolas’, the self-consciousness bubbling up because it wasn’t what Stolas liked.

“Blitzø?”

“I uh… should… go bathroom or some-” 

He yelped when Stolas snagged him by the tail, easily tugging him back once the owl had a good grip on ivory and rouge arms. He felt how damp his feathers were between his legs and grabbed the towel, not giving a fuck as he just shoved it between his legs and kept his head down.

He was fucking mortified.

“Talk to me,” Stolas pleaded, cupping Blitzø’s face. “Please baby, talk to me. You don’t think twice about touching me and you do so with so much confidence but the minute I try to reciprocate you shut down. Even when… I get the impression you start feeling good.”

Hurdle after hurdle, he was getting tired of them. Like being a fucking prickly shit wasn’t enough. 

“I don’t have what you want,” Blitzø finally muttered, defiantly forcing the tears back as they blurred his vision. “You like… dick. I don’t have that anymore. I don’t know how to use what I’ve got. I know how to use my hands and my fucking tongue, I don’t know how to fuck you with… this.”

The silence was horrific and Blitzø hated the fact that several droplets fell from him. He hastily scrubbed his face with the back of a hand, annoyed at himself for getting emotional about it. 

“Blitzø, I like men.”

Duh. He knew that. He gave Stolas a confused look, but the owl just shook his head.

“You aren’t a woman, Blitzø. Not all men have dicks, this universe is a vast and wondrous place. I am no less a man just because I have a cloaca.”

“Not saying that,” Blitzø huffed, unable to keep from rolling his eyes. “You like dick though.”

“I like men!” Stolas reiterated exasperatedly, cradling Blitzø’s face. “You’re a man, and I happen to find you very attractive! Is this why you’re so tense around me? You worry that you aren’t enough now?”

“I’ve never been ‘enough’,” Blitzø mumbled, averting his gaze altogether. “Can I go bathroom now?”

“Do you need to use the bathroom?” 

Blitzø ducked his chin, escaping Stolas’ hold. “I don’t wanna mess up your fucking sheets.”

Stolas made several noises that were honestly hard to place, though Blitzø understood that they were expressions of annoyance and frustration. 

“Please lay down.”

Blitzø tensed, casting the Prince a wary look. “Why?”

Stolas was looking at him evenly before he scooted close, placing a hand on Blitzø’s upper thigh as he leant in, nuzzling Blitzø’s ivory tufts. 

“I really want to taste you,” Stolas murmured, causing Blitzø to freeze on the spot, heart hammering away against his sternum. 

“I want to show you how good you make me feel, and I want to fuck you with my tongue because you’ve made me fall for you so much this past week I can’t keep my hands to myself anymore.”

The pitiful note that escaped Blitzø in place of actual words was downright pathetic. He swallowed hard, watched as obsidian talons trailed across the back of his knuckles which were rigid due to the grip he had on the towel.

“You can let go, Blitzø. It’s okay.”

He did so mechanically, heart in his throat as he looked to Stolas in turn. The Prince did nothing but smile at him in a way that made him feel… a lot. 

“May I?” Stolas asked, gently tilting Blitzø’s chin up, cerise-rose hues burning with intensity.

Fuck.

Blitzø was so fucking whipped.

Chapter Text

He was staring up at the ceiling, heart hammering so fast he swore it was going to pop out of his chest.

“Relax, darling.”

He was shaking terribly too, legs drawn up and clamped together to the point that they ached. It was as though he felt cold, as though he were freezing and yet the warmth in his lower abdomen was very much present.

“Oh don’t be so nervous, Blitzø,” Stolas intoned, laying right up against Blitzø’s side and lovingly nuzzling his cheek. 

Blitzø exhaled at length, not sure of the oddly vulnerable feeling that he was experiencing. He wasn’t a virgin- far fucking from it -so this should not be so daunting. 

“You’ll… stop if I say, right?” 

He swallowed hard as Stolas pulled away from him and instead cupped his face. “I will never do anything you don’t want, or like, Blitzø. That is a promise to you that I will never, ever break.”

“Y-yeah…” 

He knew that. He trusted that. He trusted Stolas in that, he just… didn’t necessarily trust himself to voice any discomfort.

“Can you kiss me?” Blitzø asked meekly, untangling his hands from one another in a bid to tentatively hold onto Stolas’ wrist as the owl stroked his lower stomach. 

“Lift up your neck for me,” Stolas instructed, resting his arm under Blitzø’s head and cradling him as close as he possibly could. It felt nice, secure, and once the Prince began kissing him as requested, Blitzø found himself ever so slowly calming down. 

He pulled his own arms back to his chest as Stolas began running a palm up and down the fine rouge feathering of Blitzø’s thighs. It drew a soft note from the shorter male whose heart picked up the pace when slender talons eased between his limbs. 

He tried to focus on the kiss, the way Stolas was keeping it gentle and evenly paced, nothing overly intense or frantic and the amount of care taken had Blitzø exciting even further. 

He jolted when the sweeps along the inside of his legs ventured as high as they could go, and he instinctively squeezed his knees together, scrunching his eyes shut. For whatever reason, Stolas just kept kissing him and as the owl tugged at his bottom lip, Blitzø eased off, heart flittering wildly within his ribcage as the pad of a talon ghosted over his dampened feathers. 

He flinched, a note of half-protest escaping his throat as Stolas ever so slowly caressed the immediate area around an unfamiliar need. 

“You’re so very wet, just from being fussed,” Stolas uttered, voice sodden with something heady, heavy, and Blitzø sank against the owl’s florentine plumage, unable to help the way he buckled at the obvious approval in Stolas’ tone. 

The second Stolas ghosted the velveteen seam to his cloaca, Blitzø tensed, clutching onto Stolas’ chest feathers and ducking his face into the owl’s neck. He clenched his jaw as the pressure against him increased, the slickness of his body making itself completely known as finally, the pad of a talon swept over something that had Blitzø gasping loudly.

It wasn’t that it felt good, it just felt like a lot, like a shot of electricity that strung its way right up his spine minus the weird burn that enduring such left behind. 

The second touch was about the same, but the third had him pitching his hips up, head tipping back because oh, that felt really fucking nice.

He couldn’t swallow the stuttering moan that tumbled from him amidst short puffs of air, and Blitzø automatically sought Stolas’ mouth, wanting to be kissed. Those digits dipped within and Blitzø arched, pushing his backside to the sheets as his tail swept across the bed in response. 

He half-moaned, grasping onto the owl’s wrist as the pressure within flexed. It wasn’t the in-and-out motion that Blitzø expected, but a more back-and-forth, though he couldn’t exactly pinpoint where it felt good, he just knew that it did. 

He outright keened when Stolas encircled that hypersensitive gem with his thumb, kissing Blitzø’s open mouth, his neck and then the Prince vanished, pushing Blitzø’s knees apart as he trailed nips and tokens of affections down Blitzø’s trembling frame.

The sudden burst of saccharine pleasure that skittered up Blitzø’s lithe body when a hot, wet tongue swept against him had a breathy moan punching out of him. He flailed both verbally and physically, one hand clutching at the pillow under his head and the other burying within dishevelled florentine tufts.

He wasn’t saying anything coherent, just babbling useless words that were broken sentiments. He felt palms firmly press either side of his upper thighs and threw his head back as he was suckled upon, the change between long licks, languid laps and all-too knowing flicks of a way-too talented tongue making him writhe.

That pressure within returned, this time with more fervor and Blitzø was gone, surrendering completely because this was so much more than he’d been prepared for. He was squirming under the attention, unable to keep still but at the same time desperate to stay in place because the attention bestowed was delicious and delicate and-

“Oh you’re so beautiful like this, so beautiful all laid out before me. Keep mewling for me, Blitzø.”

He hadn’t even known he was doing so, but Stolas’ praise had Blitzø’s breath quickening at an alarming rate. The coil within grew taught and all it took was for Stolas to resume suckling against him for Blitzø to lose it. His mind blanked out as the heat pooling in his lower abdomen bubbled exponentially, the force of it almost violent as everything became a surge of tingles and spasms that he couldn’t control.

He rocked against Stolas’ mouth, head clouded and frame jerking as his feathers quivered from head to toe. The air in the room was exceptionally dry, whilst the space between his thighs felt impossibly slick. The high lingered, as though he were slowly rebooting and he puffed out several breaths, aware that Stolas was pressing slow kisses to his most intimate of areas. 

The rush had him boneless, and Blitzø had to lay there numbly, trying to process all that he’d just felt. The ticklish swipes of Stolas’ tongue became unbearable and he whined, voice shot and airy to the point he could barely whisper. 

He brought a hand to his face, feeling how flushed he was under his plumage as Stolas kissed his way back up to him. 

“Gorgeous boy,” the Prince praised, cradling Blitzø’s face and kissing him deeply. “Handsome, most gorgeous boy.”

Fuck, he shouldn’t be so fucking elated to be told that. 

“You were so good for me.”

All he had done was lay there, yet Stolas’ sincerity had Blitzø feeling like he’d actually accomplished something and he was smiling bashfully before he knew it, gazing at Stolas who beamed at him with an emotional gleam to his cerise-rose hues. 

Blitzø drew his knees up, reaching for the owl who was all-too eager to cuddle him close, tucking Blitzø’s face under a slender chin and uttering further words of admiration as he ran his palms along Blitzø’s thighs, over his stomach and back- sweeping touches everywhere. 

“You are the most handsome man I’ve met no matter what form you are in,” Stolas whispered reverently, which had Blitzø fluffing up and nuzzling into him. He trilled when Stolas hooted ever so quietly in response and Blitzø allowed himself to be lulled into a genuine sense of security.

His body still thrummed with satisfaction and he felt the low rumble reverberate throughout his chest as he gave way to a purr, sweeping his tail around Stolas’ back as though to pull him closer. 

This.

This was all he wanted.

He was woken by a gentle tugging atop his head.

It wasn’t a hard tug, just a rhythmic pull every so often and Blitzø slowly registered that Stolas was twirling a banded quill around a slender talon in a repeated motion. 

“Are you awake, my handsome?”

Blitzø stirred, the sensation ticklish and he pushed himself up on his elbows, rubbing his face as the those fingers glided over his head and through his crest.

“Mmm… my handsome pretty bird.”

Blitzø paused, casting Stolas an unimpressed look as the owl smiled at him with coy smugness. 

“Mmm… my handsome little Phoenix,” Stolas cooed, dropping his head to the pillow and immediately wrapping Blitzø up in a cuddle. 

He grunted at the pressure and rolled over, tail splaying out as he snuggled into Stolas’ chest with a heavy sigh. 

“What time is it?” He asked quietly, rubbing his cheek against silken tufts. 

“Time to get up soon, because Via will be home and I still need to do some work,” came the hushed reply.

Blitzø stretched, looping his arms around Stolas’ neck and bumping his beak against the owl’s chin. It resulted in him being kissed, which was exactly what he’d been gunning for.

He trilled as Stolas squeezed him tight, everything right with the world for these precious few moments.

“How are you feeling, Blitzø?” 

The question was accompanied by the light preening of his banded quills and Blitzø purled, contentedly closing his eyes as he revelled in the sensation of Stolas’ beak running along them. 

“I’m good,” he breathed, ready to drift off again. “Are you good?”

“I’m wonderful, Blitzø.”

“That’s good. All good.”

“Very easily mollified, aren’t you.”

“That can be good too.”

“It’s very good, but we need to mobilise.”

“That’s less good.”

Stolas’ amused giggle was enough for Blitzø to start grinning and he inhaled deeply, taking in the scent of the owl’s sweet preening oil. Blitzø’s was more heavier, as it carried the headier warmth of something not-quite spice but certainly apparent.

He liked it, but more importantly, Stolas had chosen it for him.

The two scents mixed together created a blend that was beyond addictive, and Blitzø loved the idea of carrying traces of the slightly peach-like oil that Stolas favoured.

“You need to eat, Blitzø.”

He really did. 

“You need to start eating properly, too. Can’t live off smoothies, sweetheart.”

Blitzø whined in a petulant manner, discontent with the notion. “I don’t need real food, I have no fucking teeth.”

“You don’t need teeth.”

“Yes I fucking do. If I just swallow, I’ll fucking choke.”

“Thought you were used to that, sweetheart.”

“Fuck you,” Blitzø snorted, amused by the jab. He rolled onto his back and sighed, knowing that they couldn’t stay put much longer. He also knew that constantly making Stolas blend his meals was not fair and so reluctantly nodded. “Yeah… better get used to using this mouth, huh.”

“You’ve used it adequately enough so far.”

“Stolas,” Blitzø chided with a chuckle, lightly smacking the owl’s thigh with the back of a hand. “Can you… help me before your kid comes home? It’s… kinda embarrassing to do shit in front of her.”

“Of course,” Stolas smiled, running his talons through Blitzø’s crest. “I more than understand. I should have been more attentive in the beginning, anyway, rather than forcing you to suddenly contend with such a thing.”

“We said no more fucking… harping on about that shit,” Blitzø reminded, lolling over Stolas’ thigh with a lazy sprawl. “We gonna get up and eat then?”

“Mhm…”

He was just staring at the Prince, marvelling at him for a moment before Stolas exhaled at length and petted him. 

“What?”

“You’re just very... thoughtful.”

Blitzø scoffed at that, sitting up and yawning with a stretch. “Sure. Let’s get going then, should have fucking… slept properly last night.”

“You’ll sleep properly tonight,” Stolas assured, also getting up. 

“Yeah,” Blitzø murmured, watching the owl adorn his usual robe. He blinked when the Prince glided over to him, pulling him into a tight embrace.

“You are very thoughtful, and it means a lot that you would go to such lengths for me, Blitzø. I do not know anyone else who would have.”

Those words meant a lot to Blitzø in turn and he grinned sheepishly, hiding his face within Stolas’ neck. He had been so afraid that he might have really upset the other. 

He’d been afraid of his new body, too.

It was scary how much nothing else mattered when he was in Stolas’ arms. 

Chapter Text

“Alright?”

“It hurts to swallow.”

“Then take smaller mouthfuls.”

“I’m already taking small fucking mouthfuls.”

“Smaller.”

Blitzø huffed and begrudgingly did as instructed, the forkful of rice already having been halved once before. It was uncomfortable, but he was getting the hang of it. Apparently, it wasn’t at all necessary to chew as a bird since they all harboured a gizzard, which would break pretty much anything down.

The more you fucking know.

The only downside to that, was that Stolas had practically forced Blitzø to swallow a teaspoon of digestive grit and crushed oyster-shell which was horrific and vile to choke down. At least he didn’t have to do it again for a good number of months.

Disgusting though.

“About tomorrow’s event, I would like you to continue to arrive fashionably late, as it were.”

Blitzø paused, having taken to crushing his peas to the roof of his mouth. He swallowed and reached for his drink, giving the owl a contemplative look. “You think that’s a smart idea? Having me there? I don’t know what to fucking tell anyone and you damn well know they’re gonna ask.”

“Just tell them we are dating.”

Blitzø huffed, having seen that coming a mile away. “We aren’t.” He watched the owl place a cup down, visibly irked by the answer. 

“What exactly do you wish for us to say, then?”

“The truth,” Blitzø pointed out as though it were the most obvious thing in Hell. “We’re not dating, but are seeing how things fucking go.”

“I don’t see the issue.”

“It’s not true, that’s the issue.”

“I do not believe you hold that much care for the ‘truth’ so why do you not want me to simply announce that we’re together?”

Blitzø inhaled deeply, giving Stolas a flat glare. “Take it from someone who sees your lot from the outside, yeah? Don’t plaster us as a couple everywhere, because it’ll make shit real fucking difficult when you decide I’m not what you want. I’ve come into the picture from no-where. I’m already suspicious as fuck, don’t force anyone to go digging by making me a threat.”

It was almost funny how Stolas flailed verbally for several seconds. 

“What do you mean when I decide?! I’m considering you seriously, Blitzø!”

He was going to implode, honestly. “Yeah, I get that, but let’s be fucking real here. You said you had doubts and reservations-” 

“I said resentments.”

“That too, and that counts,” Blitzø pointed out, pushing his small plate aside. “You made it clear you wanted to see if I was what you wanted, so it’s not that you know. You don’t know that you’ll end up wanting to date me.”

The owl blinked, as though this were complete news to him. “It is like you do not listen to a word I say.”

“Stolas, you keep fucking telling me that I don’t know how long I’ll be like this for,” Blitzø sighed, finally giving up on trying to edge round the hard facts of the matter. “For all we know, I’m like this for the rest of my fucking life. I’ll have to figure shit out somehow and if you have to go through a whole fucking cycle of ‘dumping’ me because everyone thought we were dating after you realise that I’m not compatible with you, then that is all I’m gonna be known for.”

He let that point settle in before continuing.

“My face is gonna be all over the fucking papers and that will be who I am from that point on- just Prince Stolas’ trashy ex, and then people are gonna question why I wasn’t good enough. That is not how I want to start life over if I have to.”

“Who is to say it’s you that will get dumped?! You could dump me, no-one would even question that!”

“Are you fucking nuts? I’m not adding to the fucking garbage that gets passed around about you!”

He watched Stolas’ expression harden as the owl tilted his head haughtily. “This sounds more like you being wary of commitment.”

Blitzø felt his feathers splay out, spines needle-sharp as he glowered. “Fuck you. I’m not the one on the fence about having a fucking relationship, am I?! I want to date you, why would I be fucking wary?! Don’t put your fucking commitment issues on my ass when I sent myself on a fucking suicide path over losing you!”

The silence was a tad nasty and Blitzø felt himself deflate, having confessed more than he’d ever wanted to. He cleared his throat, picking up the plate and padding round to the sink where he absolutely intended to wash it. 

“Point is, it’s better to just be fucking honest. We’re seeing each-other. We’re not dating and that’s fine. There’s nothing wrong with being honest,” he finalised, subconsciously speed-soaping the crockery so Stolas couldn’t stop him. 

“Uhm… are you two alright?” 

Fuck.

Stolas was on his feet in a second, arms outstretched to the owlette who was lingering in the doorway. “Oh… Via, I’m so sorry.” 

“We’re fine, I’m just a fucking grouch,” Blitzø bit out, drying his hands and shoving them into his pocket. “I’m gonna go sort shit out for tomorrow.”

He didn’t wait for a response, not comfortable with knowing that Via had overheard him yelling. Knowing how she lived with her Mother always doing so… 

Yeah. 

It fucking sucked. 

He’d apologise later, no worries on that front. He just hated how Stolas reacted to him. It was like being on a fucking minefield, the owl had a bad habit of taking shit in the worst way possible and Blitzø had too short of a fuse to handle some of the directions that the damn Goetia went in.

No, Blitzø wasn’t afraid of fucking commitment. Blitzø could commit hardcore, to a fault even, but he was wary of gaining as bad a reputation in this body, with this identity, as he had before. Was that so wrong? Was it wrong to want to preserve something?

He didn’t push people away because he was afraid to commit, he pushed them away because he was aware they might not commit as seriously as he inevitably would.

Whatever, the subject was going to be touchy because he was the one with adamant feelings.

He huffed as he shuffled into Stolas’ bedroom and began looking through the various shirts he could shove together with some pants. Of course, he wasn’t in the mood to do anything of the sort and so ended up trudging onto the balcony, closing the doors behind him and sitting there against the balustrades.

It wasn’t cold, nor overly warm. Just a generic evening and Blitzø exhaled at length, not even tempted to scroll through his phone. 

The truth was, he was a little angry. It was the first time he’d really felt annoyed by Stolas, because so far he had assumed always being in the wrong, but now he was irritated. Why bother being so affectionate if all they were going to do was bicker at the first opportunity?

Blitzø waved it all away, knowing that he was probably adding to Stolas’ ‘doubts and resentments’ by being so pissy in the first place. 

They were a mess, and he didn’t know what Stolas was even looking for in particular. Calm? Reason? Rationale? 

He didn’t know, but as he relaxed back against the marble, Blitzø couldn’t help but shake the feeling that Stolas might be looking for something that he would never find.

Not in Blitzø, at least.

He hadn’t moped for long.

He was tired, but he was resilient at the end of the day. He had returned to the room and rummaged through his side of the closet for an outfit- which he half-heartedly put aside. It was nothing as grand as his first, but hey, it was an outfit. 

He was laying in bed, scrolling through various apps with an arm tucked under his cheek and his legs drawn up when Stolas came in. Weirdly, he wasn’t anxious about it nor was there any tension. 

Not for him, at least. Maybe he was just that burnt out?

He felt the bed dip as Stolas sat upon it. “I’ll need you to remind your friend to drop the book off tomorrow morning.”

Blitzø didn’t move, still scrolling through his phone. “Yeah, I’ll text him now.”

“You’re laying on top of the quilt.”

“I’m comfy.”

He heard the thud of a pillow being thrown down with force and huffed, rolling onto all fours so he could push himself up. He scowled as Stolas lay there under the blanket, arms folded and expression stony.

Again.

“Please, Blitzø.”

Blitzø clenched his jaw, not liking the way Stolas felt the need to tell him what to do. “I should be allowed to sleep how I want, you know,” he grumbled, sliding between the sheets before going back to his phone.

He tensed when Stolas scooted right up beside him, obsidian talons sweeping through a rouge crest of glittering quills. He leant away, not entirely trusting of the contact but faltered when Stolas bumped against him.

“I am sorry,” the owl sighed, nuzzling him with a soft hoot. “I am wrong to get spiteful when you make valid points, Blitzø. I think it’s automatic because of how I was always on the defensive with Stella, I’m not used to disagreements being… non-aggressive.”

Blitzø let that sink in before placing his phone aside and shifting so the owl could rest upon a shoulder. “Maybe it’s too soon for you to think about an actual relationship with someone, Stolas.”

“Put you off already, did I.”

Blitzø closed his eyes, fully aware of how Stolas had tensed up. “I meant what I fucking said,” he murmured, unable to help the way he grimaced upon voicing such a thing. “Just… I get it’s fucking selfish to-” 

“It’s not selfish, Blitzø,” Stolas cut in, resting an arm over said male’s waist. “I was being selfish for wanting you to step into a role publicly that isn’t in place privately. I’m too used to how Goetia present themselves- you’re either dating or you’re not, married or not. It’s a terrible ordeal that I should not perpetuate because I wouldn’t dream of forcing such a thing upon Octavia- but I still do it to myself.”

Blitzø lifted his lashes, gazing up at the ceiling for a brief moment before swallowing thickly. “Don’t get fucking mad at me but… I don’t think you can test shit out with me when you’re still pissed about stuff from before. It just isn’t gonna work. I get that you wanna move on and shit but sometimes it don’t fucking go that way.”

The heavy inhale from Stolas was a good indication that the owl had come to that same conclusion, especially because Stolas sat up with a soft scowl on his face. 

“What good will dredging up the past even do? It is so long ago,” he stressed, running a hand through his feathers. “Neither of us were in a good place, nothing was solely your fault, either.”

“No… but if it fucking weighs on you then it weighs on you,” Blitzø shrugged, fiddling with the covers. “If you can’t move on then maybe you need to talk about it.”

“I don’t want to talk about it, because as I said, it was not solely your fault,” Stolas stated flatly, glaring ahead. “It is an unwanted feeling. I do not even know why I harbour it, nor do I wish to simply yell at you as it would do nothing but harm us both. It is- for lack of a better word -petty, to be this far down the line with a grievance I do not wish to have.”

Blitzø nodded dumbly despite the Prince not looking at him, trying to hide the relief that he felt upon knowing that it wasn’t something specific that he’d done that the owl couldn’t get over. 

It didn’t take away the fact that there was an issue though. He reached up, deftly massaging Stolas’ shoulder blade with a small sigh. 

“I’m real fucking sorry for what I put you through,” he whispered, wishing he could rewind time and be different. He blinked when Stolas settled back down, snuggling up to him anyway and pressing a kiss to his cheek. 

“I know, and I know you really mean it,” Stolas uttered quietly, reaching down for Blitzø’s hand. “I wish I knew how to let everything go, because I really want to. I want to be with you, too.”

Blitzø tilted his face to Stolas’ florentine tufts, not knowing what to reply with.

He wished he knew what to do.

Chapter Text

It bugged him all night, and throughout the whole fucking day. 

Stolas had made it clear that he didn’t want to talk about it and Blitzø wasn’t going to push because that would only result in another argument. That left him with a subdued and distracted mood since waking and he was honestly scaring himself with how much he was trying to figure out a solution.

He’d woken early as usual, fed the damn murder plants and spent a good hour or so fussing Bon Bon. He’d spent the late morning preening and going through files because why not, he didn’t need to hold himself to the week-day standard of work being that he was fucking bored half the time. 

Keeping busy helped him think, and fuck, he really needed to think.

Stolas had spent the morning with Octavia which gave Blitzø space but come the afternoon and the weekly ‘party’ that Stolas held, he had to shove the whole subject to the back of his mind in favour of getting ready.

Which left him here, sitting at the top of the stairs as he waited for Stolas’ text. 

Blitzø wasn’t dressed in anything fancy this time round, just a silk shirt and black slacks. He didn’t see the point and wasn’t really in the mood for anything showy. Oh he looked good, he knew that, but his heart wasn’t in the event to any extent and if he could stay upstairs he would. 

He really hoped that Stolas had been able to fix the whole ‘Glitz is the Prince’s boyfriend’ thing. 

His phone pinged and he didn’t even need to look at it to know he was being summoned. 

Walking into the Great Hall was not as daunting as it had been the first time around. In fact, Blitzø found himself walking straight in without a single fuck- because he was still mentally preoccupied.

He spotted Stolas with Sirius as usual and blatantly ignored everyone else as he joined them, this time punctually according to the Prince.

“Oh that’s a nice shirt,” Stolas greeted, gesturing to the black and silver embroidered garment that adorned Blitzø’s torso.

“Thanks, it’s yours,” he drawled, looking up at the Stag who smiled warmly.

“Nice to see you again, Glitz.”

“You too, big guy,” Blitzø returned, standing to the side and looking out over the Hall. “That creep here again?”

“Always,” Stolas sighed, folding an arm across his waist. 

Great.

“What do you actually do at these fucking things?” Blitzø asked, noting Octavia standing awkwardly with a group of teens around her age.

“Talk. Gossip. Judge,” Stolas mused into his wine glass, adjusting his pale blue blouse. 

Blitzø scrunched up his face as he was handed a glass by Sirius, this time without a straw. His expression must have said it all because Stolas gave him a pointed look. 

“You can do without it.”

Yeah… he could. 

He didn’t want to though and he snagged a straw from a passing server, popping it into his drink despite Stolas’ disdain. 

“It’s part of my character,” he defended, aware that Sirius was chuckling. “What were you two horny bastard’s talking about anyway?”

“Oh… just the usual,” Stolas replied dismissively, averting his gaze. It had Blitzø pausing, looking to Sirius who was giving Stolas an unimpressed look. The tension escalated and Blitzø exhaled at length.

“Want me to go stand by the punch so you can finish your conversation?” He offered, catching on quick.

“I’m sure that’s not nec-” 

“Please,” Stolas cut in, not looking up as Sirius all but frowned at him. 

“No problem,” Blitzø murmured, nodding to the Stag before wandering off towards the buffet table. He didn’t mind, not really. Stolas had shit to work out and if the owl needed to confide in someone then at least Sirius wasn’t a douchebag trying to intervene.

Sides, Blitzø had a lot on his mind anyway. 

He ended up mixing the rest of his wine with the punch and merely standing to the side, leaning back on the wall where unlike before, he went completely ignored.

Until a familiar head of dark charcoal feathers came trudging up to him. 

“Hey sweets,” Blitzø greeted, noting the frown on Octavia’s face. “You over it already?”

“Yeah,” she huffed, slumping to the wall at his side. “Where’s Dad?”

“Dunno, he wanted to talk to Bambi’s Dad alone,” he told her with a sigh, shoving a hand into his pocket. 

“Great. You sleeping in the guest room again, then?”

Blitzø scoffed, shaking his head. “Nah, don’t think it was that kind of talk, V.” 

“I hate these dumb parties,” she grumbled, folding her arms. “They’re so boring.”

“I know,” Blitzø agreed, tilting his body towards her. “You talked to your Dad about going out with Loona yet?”

She shrugged half-heartedly, gaze fixed on the floor save for a glance towards the group of youngsters she’d been amongst earlier. 

Immediately, Blitzø honed in on the way the two girls were dressed in all frilly gowns and bows. The three guys were just as heavily done up, and given how the owlette didn’t opt for even a basic dress…

“Those your friends?”

“No…”

“They look like they could pop if you stuck ‘em with a pin.”

Octavia snorted, giving him a sideways grin that came with a relaxing of her demeanour. She puffed out her cheeks and hiked up her shoulders. “I don’t really fit in,” she mumbled, gesturing to her attire.

Oh Hell no.

“You want to wear a frou-frou as fuck gown?” He questioned, quirking an eyebrow to stave off the anger.

“Ew.”

“Then who the fuck cares?” Blitzø asked her, voice low so no-one would overhear. “You look great as you do.”

“In this old crap?” She drawled dubiously, pulling at her black and gold sweater. 

“I mean I’m wearing your Dad’s old crap,” he reminded, pointing at the gold and then his silver. “Kinda match.”

A small smile played across her face. “We can be oddballs together then, I guess.”

“Fuck it, next party let’s both wear something real fucking dumb.”

Her face lit up, eyebrows raised as she stood there with an intrigued air about her. “Like what?”

“You come in a suit,” Blitzø decided, already grinning. “I’ll wear the frou-frouest fucking thing I can find. Bows and all.”

Octavia shook her head, stifling a giggle. “We should both wear the ugliest, frilliest dresses we can find. In neon.”

“Deal.”

Her cerise eyes widened. “Seriously?” 

“Fuck yeah,” Blitzø insisted, setting his glass down on the sill to his left. “Can’t have loud music, so loud ass clothing it is.”

“Really, you’ll wear a big stupid ugly dress with me for a laugh?” 

“Abso-fucking-lutely.”

“Pinkie swear?”

Blitzø smiled fondly, holding out a talon and letting the Princess hook her own around it. “Pinkie swear. Now what’s the deal with those punks, huh? They ice you out or some shit?”

He watched her shake her head again, less rigid in her stance as she flattened her palms to the wall behind her, pushing off of it only to let herself fall back before repeating the motion. “They keep asking questions I don’t want to answer.”

“About your parents and shit?” Blitzø guessed, heart sinking when she nodded. “Sorry, V. That sucks.”

“I can tell they’ve been told to ask,” Octavia continued, looking up at the ceiling. “That happens a lot, kids fishing for facts about us for their parents… aunts, uncles, whatever.”

“Bet they got some asshole relatives in the media business, huh,” Blitzø guessed, noting a gap in the crystals on the chandelier. He blinked in surprise before sniggering. 

“What? What is it?” Octavia asked, large eyes curious and desperate to know.

“See that?”

“No?” 

Blitzø chuckled and pulled her to stand in front of him, guiding her hand until she was able to spot the very same space that he had. 

“Oh shit, wonder how that happened.”

“I nicked that when I was a kid,” Blitzø told her triumphantly, unable to keep the pride off his face.

“What? No you didn’t,” Octavia scoffed, disbelieving even as he cackled. “How?”

“It was a lot lower to the floor back then,” Blitzø explained, leaning back against the wall. “Was when I met your Dad. Fuck, he was such a boring nerd.”

Octavia grinned slyly. “What do you mean ‘was’?” 

“Yeah well, he has powers now and a temper. I’m not saying shit like that to his face now that Princezilla is a thing.”

“Fuck, I hate his Princezilla mode,” Octavia exhaled, still smiling. “I think he’s doing better, though.”

“Yeah? I can’t tell,” Blitzø admitted, gazing out at the Hall in hopes to spot the owl in question. “I piss him off a lot.”

“He’s just going through a rebellious stage,” came the light reply, and Blitzø laughed as he nudged her side. 

He caught sight of a familiar demon in the crowd and cleared his throat. “You wanna make yourself scarce, kiddo? Don’t want that douchebag around you since he’s coming this way.”

Octavia’s intense gaze flickered upwards before she nodded. “I’m gonna go find Dad.”

“Good idea, bring me back-up,” he joked, waving her off just as Salistor approached with a smugness about him that Blitzø did not like. 

“I hear that the Prince has adjusted the terms of your… arrangement, shall we say,” Salistor greeted, standing right before Blitzø who feigned nonchalance. 

“Not really,” Blitzø replied flatly, retrieving his drink from the window sill. “I’m not interested in anyone but him.”

“Oh but of course,” came the low, condescending drawl. “Who could resist a Prince, after all? I know I couldn’t and very well didn’t.”

This asshole was seriously sleazy.

Blitzø didn’t like sleazy. 

“He’s more than a Prince,” Blitzø reminded carefully, really wishing that Octavia would hurry up. 

“You are very loyal to your role, aren’t you.”

What fucking role? What was this dude fucking talking about?

Blitzø took a deep breath, levelling the demon before him with a seriousness he seldom displayed. “Look, I get that the impression you got from me was that I’m some fucking hooker, and I get it. What’s a Prince doing with trash like me, yeah? Been there, done that. Thing is, I’m not. I’m a friend of Stolas’ who wants to be more- and he’s agreed to see where we go, so with all due respect please stop approaching me. I’m not interested in anyone but Stolas.”

The look on Salistor’s face could curdle milk, and Blitzø felt a genuine chill run down his spine. “Yet he’s very much interested in others aside from you, isn’t he. How long has it been since he left his own party to go with Sirius? What did he tell you? That they wanted to talk? That was the same excuse we used when the tension got impossible to bear. I took you for a smarter man than that, Glitz, come now.”

“Wow,” Blitzø deadpanned, not at all fazed. “Yeah, if you think I’m gonna fall for that crap you got another thing coming. I’ve literally had worse than you.”

He froze when a hand grasped his face, holding him up in a painful grip. “You’ll never have better than me when I have my way with you, because believe me, I will.”

Blitzø flinched at the threat and allowed himself to be knocked against the wall, heart hammering in his chest as Salistor stormed off. 

Yeesh.

Fucking asshole. 

It didn’t seem like anyone had taken notice and Blitzø quietly slipped out the nearest exit, irked by the fact he felt shaken. He didn’t know where Stolas or Sirius were, and he trusted Octavia to tell them that Salistor had been beelining for him. He hoped they could put two and two together, because he wasn’t going back in there. 

He was done with the party tonight.

Chapter Text

He found himself in the kitchen, trying to will away the ache in his lower jaw as he sat there petting Bon Bon who was quite literally chewing his fingertips. Blitzø didn’t care, the small plant was unable to break his skin and so he just allowed it.

Salistor was a fucking fucktard, no doubt about it, but Blitzø really was used to that kind of crap. 

He had more important things to ponder- like how to help Stolas feel less resentment towards him. It wasn’t something Blitzø often experienced. 

Resentment.

He definitely felt dislike towards certain individuals and he absolutely hated some fuckers but… resentment? Did he resent them? 

They resented him, that was for sure. 

Everyone did, so it wasn’t a surprise that Stolas had come to as well. The difference was that Stolas was willing to work through the resentment but neither of them knew how one worked through something like that.

Blitzø inhaled deeply, unfocused gaze boring into the wall opposite him as he sat there lost in idle thought, trying to find the difference between what he felt and what others did. The only thing he could agree on was that he also resented himself- but he didn’t feel what he felt about himself, for anyone else. 

Which was immaterial because it still didn’t solve the problem of how to help Stolas move on from the negatives he felt. He gathered that’s what Stolas was turning to Sirius for- because fuck knows Blitzø was useless apparently in trying to make up for all he’d done. 

Growing to be a better person was seriously hard, but he still wanted to do so. What was really difficult was facing what he’d done and taking responsibility for it. 

Thing is, he’d do it for Stolas.

He really would. 

The light footsteps to his left alerted him to company and he gave the frowning owl in the doorway a slow blink. 

“Hey,” he murmured, gaze downcast as obsidian palms came to his cheeks. He pulled back, not wanting the sensation of having his face held again so soon.

“Deimos saw what happened,” Stolas stated quietly, running his thumbs over Blitzø’s fine feathering. “He told Sirius, who then told me. I have told Salistor he is no longer welcome, as he placed his hands upon my love interest.”

“Is that what I am?” Blitzø asked with a lopsided smirk, trying to make light of the way his heart skipped a beat. 

Love interest?

“I am sorry for asking you to leave my side,” Stolas continued, moving forward to wrap his arms around Blitzø’s frame. “Sirius was so very annoyed with me. I thought he was going to scold me in front of everyone.”

Blitzø scoffed softly, pushing himself up. “That’s why you two left, huh?”

Stolas expression said it all. “I told you, I would not-”

“I know,” Blitzø assured, silencing the owl with a sad smile. “Salistor is a real asshole though. Dickwad tried it with me for real.”

“I’m so sorry, I have been wanting to bar him from my events since my own experience with him, but it was difficult to do without him possibly making that side of things public. He won’t be here anymore, Blitzø. I promise.”

Nodding was all the avian-Imp could do, and he padded towards the hallway, intent on heading to bed. “Handled him fine. Or… well, he handled me but I was fine.”

“He hurt you,” Stolas noted from behind, voice terse as though he were angry.

“Nothing new, Stolas. It’s over with now,” Blitzø dismissed easily, pushing open the bedroom door. “You and Sirius work shit out at least?”

Stolas tutted at the question, rolling his eyes as he moved to undress. “Yes, though he did indeed scold me.”

“Kinky,” Blitzø joked, spluttering as the blouse Stolas wore was thrown at him. 

“He never did the disciplining, I’ll have you know,” Stolas announced with a haughtiness that had Blitzø grinning. 

“Yeah, kinda got that from what I heard that morning you came back from fucking him,” Blitzø reminded, reaching for a coat-hanger.

“Why bring that up, I hate myself for being so weak. I just… I was so scared I’d jump you that I defaulted to what was available,” Stolas complained, shimmying his slacks off. 

“Wow, to what was available, not who? Does he know you talk about him like that?” Blitzø teased, taking the blouse and hanging it up along with his own shirt. 

Stolas gave him a sideways look. “Yes, because he called me the same. We weren’t anything more than that.”

Blitzø didn’t need further reassurance and he wasn’t looking for it. He watched Stolas vanish off into the bathroom before collecting the owl’s clothes. He put them away and wandered over to the bed, plugging in his phone and pushing the covers aside.

It was a funny fucking image for Stolas to be- 

Blitzø froze, a thought popping into his head that he really wished hadn’t. He felt his body flush with warmth and he bit his lip, the sensation odd without his teeth. 

He couldn’t suggest that, could he?

No, it was a dumb fucking idea. Stolas would never go for it, and Blitzø wasn’t even sure if he was brave enough to go there.

Then again, wouldn’t it be a solution? A unique one, maybe, but…

Blitzø’s aureate hues locked onto the Prince who returned with a disgruntled expression on his face, apparently having a tangled quill at the back of his head. 

“Blitzø, can you-” 

Yeah, no way was Stolas going to see him stood there frozen on the spot and not be weirded out.

“What’s wrong?”

Blitzø swallowed thickly, throat dry as he slowly straightened. “Y-you know you said you didn’t want to talk about the whole fucking… resentment shit because it wasn’t- it didn’t make sense and shit but you still feel it and everything but can’t yell at me or… you know?”

Stolas huffed loudly and dropped his arms, robe slipping down a shoulder. “Back to this again. I should never have mentioned it.”

“No! No, hear me out!” Blitzø rushed, rounding the bed and taking hold of Stolas’ wrists. “What if you… what if you punished me?”

Stolas blinked once before scoffing. “You’ve been punished enough, what would I even do? Have you clean out the servants quarters?”

“I meant- I meant like that- fucking… discipline me or whatever. How you said you did with him,” Blitzø half-hissed, humiliation racing up his frame as the mere suggestion had him feeling small. “Couldn’t you do… that?”

Stolas stilled, and that forsaken silence ensued. 

The tension was so thick it burned and Blitzø held his breath as Stolas turned, one eyebrow raised. 

“You want me to discipline you.” He gave Blitzø a once over, something condescending entering his tone. “You don’t even know what you’re asking for.”

“Bullshit,” Blitzø snapped, tail lashing wildly. “I’m not dumb. I get the gist of the whole thing, alright? You decide what you wanna fucking do to me and we agree on it, we tell each other safewords and then it happens. I’m no fucking amateur when it comes to kinks, Stolas.”

“No,” Stolas breathed, cupping Blitzø’s cheek with a sense of severity. “You are very new to being treated correctly, though, Blitzø.”

“So then I’m in good fucking hands, yeah? You’re not gonna fucking break me.”

“Oh but I want to,” came the low purl, the Prince’s voice practically reverberating throughout Blitzø’s body as the owl pushed into the shorter male’s space. “I yearn to break you down and build you back up, Blitzø. Especially now that I know you have feelings for me.”

Fuck.

The way his nerves blew open in response to that was abhorrent and Blitzø really hoped he didn’t look as fucked as he felt.

“I trust you,” he stated earnestly, unwilling to give up on the idea. “I swear, I’m not just throwing this out there with zero experience- you’ve been with me enough to know that I know and maybe I’ve not had the best experiences but… Stolas, come on. If we can’t talk it out, if you can’t fucking express it by yelling at me or whatever then… then this is something you can do.” 

He watched Stolas visibly contemplate the suggestion, and Blitzø swore his chest was alight with the trepidation as the owl finally nodded once.

“I suppose it is something worth thinking about.”

“What’s there to fucking think about? I’m literally giving you consent,” Blitzø insisted, lowering himself to the bed and crawling over to his side of it. “We’ve been kinky before.”

“The things we messed around with aren’t like what I have come to sometimes enjoy,” Stolas tutted, sliding under the blanket with care. “I am flattered you trust me considering your condition.”

Blitzø scoffed, the notion all but ludicrous to him as he snuggled down against his pillow. “I’m not fragile, Stolas. I’m not exactly vanilla myself, am I.”

“No, but you have been hurt before.”

“I know you won’t hurt me. Sides, if I wanna stop we’ll stop, right?”

The Prince shot him a flat look for stating the obvious. “I am confident within myself. I am more concerned that you won’t say if you reach a limit.”

Blitzø wanted to scowl, having thought that about himself before. “If I did that you’d fucking know and then you wouldn’t trust me. I’m kinda trying to fix that, okay? If I have to fucking call it, then I’ll call it.”

Stolas eyed him skeptically before humming. “What… don’t you like?”

Blitzø glanced upwards in thought, poking at the quilt. “Don’t really know. Hard when you’re not fucking sure if it’s the actual thing or if it’s just the asshole doing it, or their way of doing it.”

“I understand that,” Stolas sighed, turning to pillow his head on an arm as he gazed at Blitzø with visible softness. “The things Salistor did weren’t the problem, he was.”

“Yeah… fucking dickshit, I don’t know what he fucking wants with me,” Blitzø grumbled, wrapping his arms loosely around his knees. “I guess I’m good to try pretty much anything at least once. Had a lot done to this body- well. Not this body but you fucking get what I mean.”

He didn’t like admitting it, because it somehow made him feel used but that wasn’t… that wasn’t the point and nor was it something he wanted on his mind. 

It wasn’t even true. 

He’d just had bad experiences.

“What uh… what about you?” He asked tentatively, not wanting the focus to be solely on him. “What kinda shit don’t you like?”

“Pain,” Stolas stated without missing a beat. “Not… not real pain. Once upon a time, maybe, but I believe I have dealt with enough physical abuse for a lifetime.”

Blitzø nodded in quiet agreement, aware that Stolas was more likely to be triggered by such a thing than pleasured. 

“Yeah…” he agreed absently, staring off into the dark end of the room. “I could handle it but… kinda had enough of it. In general.”

“No pain play,” Stolas declared with a wry smile, seemingly content with the decision. 

“How you gonna fucking punish me, then?” Blitzø asked through a scoff, not at all following.

“Oh there are many other ways to punish you other than using pain, Blitzø,” Stolas purled, sidling up to the shorter male who shrank down a little as the owl leant over him. “I wonder if my methods will have you begging for pain instead…”

Blitzø growled, pushing Stolas’ face away with a palm. “Quit it. I’m not going to fucking beg.”

Wrong thing to say apparently, because Stolas’ face lit up with absolute delight, a disconcerting smile etching across his beautiful face. 

“I take that as a challenge, Blitzy. You will beg.”

“Fine. Wanna place bets on it?” Blitzø shot back, filled with nothing but faux-confidence that he was telling himself he’d magically materialise in the moment. He clicked his tongue as Stolas ran a talon down an ivory cheek. 

“Mm… very well. What is it specifically you’re so sure you won’t beg me for?” He asked coyly, cerise-rose hues burning with an intensity that Blitzø really wanted to dismiss as the lack of lighting in the room. 

“I won’t fucking beg for anything.”

“Don’t let your ego talk for you,” Stolas warned, tapping Blitzø’s beak with a knowing look. “You have to give yourself room for verbal expression, as that may very well be all you have whilst I play with you.”

Blitzø shivered, his feathers physically ruffling as Stolas tittered smugly. 

“I’m waiting, Blitzy.”

Shit.

What could he even go with? 

“How about,” Stolas began, sweeping a hand under the quilt and running his palm down Blitzø’s side and thigh. It sent the avian-Imp into a flurry of feelings, especially when Stolas trailed his touch a little lower than expected. 

He emitted a soft note, sinking back when Stolas kissed him with an exaggerated level of pressure. 

“If you beg me to let you cum, the longer I shall deny you.”

Blitzø stuttered, aware that his threshold for such was practically paper thin. He held his breath as those talons swept right between his thighs, a fleeting caress that nearly had him begging for more.

Fuck, he should suggest something else. There was no way-

“Of course, if you don’t think that’s something you could take, we could go for something less difficult?”

Hook, line, fucking sinker.

“Deal.”

He was so screwed.

Chapter Text

One of the biggest issues Blitzø had within himself, was that he sucked at waiting.

Stolas had said yes, they’d kind-of-talked and now he was impatient to get the whole thing started. It wasn’t because of the subject matter specifically, he was like this with everything. 

The second an arrangement or decision was made, Blitzø ended up restless and listless until it was right in front of him. He hated anticipating things and so often acted impulsively to get the ball rolling. 

It stemmed from his young life as part of the Circus. Performing was something he had grown to hate, to fear, because being the clumsy, untalented, unfunny fuck that he was, he failed all the time.

Failure cost money.

Money was a necessity and what started as buzzing excitement before shows steadily morphed into apprehension and dread. Dread because what would he fuck up this time?

Fucking up had consequences.

That pleasant fluttering, full of energy and youth had spun into a heavy weight that did nothing but make him queasy with nausea. He couldn’t tolerate that sensation, and that was all he fucking felt when he had to wait for something to happen.

It fucking ate him up inside, made it impossible to focus on anything.

So Sunday was a fucking nightmare. 

He woke late, having had a semi-restless night and Stolas was missing from the bed. In fact, Stolas wasn’t in the actual house and neither was Octavia. 

Blitzø had gathered that Sundays were their Father-Daughter days given how often the owl mentioned them specifically in regards to Via, but he also had hoped he’d be given a heads-up. 

Why, he didn’t know. He wasn’t privy to that information and it had nothing to do with him. 

So Blitzø busied himself with Bon Bon for an hour and ended up calling Loona. 

It was an uncomfortable call, because Loona seemed to be doing fine without him as was Moxxie, Millie and I.M.P on the whole. He tried to tell himself it was more so because he had a good fucking team, than because he was a hinderance to his own company. 

It resulted in him watching various videos as an escape, Gaagling whatever came to mind because he needed the distraction from his own thoughts. It took him down several rabbit holes that he had no true investment in, but hey, maybe knowing the difference between an odontocete and a mysticete would be useful one day.

Not.

Sinstagram was just as fucking boring and Blitzø took to sketching in the end, allowing himself to freely draw those he considered family. It was one of his genuine comforts, drawing. It always had been and Blitzø quickly lost himself to a myriad of messy outlines that in his most rooted of faiths, he knew would never come true.

It wasn’t a belief, from his perspective he knew and the melancholic self-soothing derived from etching out his deepest of dreams of having a family, being loved and cherished, cherishing in return…

It opened the door to fantasising about being someone different. Someone who didn’t fuck up, didn’t hurt others, didn’t inhale the hate spat at him and someone who didn’t exhale the guilt with every breath. 

Someone who didn’t permanently exist in the tragic plane of yearning for life, but dreaming of an eternal sleep because the exhaustion in his veins was too great in order to climb up the crumbling walls of the pit he’d spent over three decades digging himself into. 

He wanted out of the pit, out of the grave everyone wished him to rot in. He didn’t want to be the person he was, he didn’t want to be the person everyone thought him to be. He didn’t want faces to morph into twisted scowls at the sight of him, didn’t want the scathing snarls when they spat his name. 

He didn’t want the smiles to vanish, the fists to clench, the tears to run.

He didn’t want the blood to spill. 

He could accept not having a family, if in the end his current friends grew to hate him as was inevitable by the standards of reality.

He wanted to be liked by someone. 

Just someone.

One person. 

One person who didn’t think he was born to cause harm. They didn’t have to love him, not really. They just had to not hate him and it would be enough.

Blitzø smiled idly, expression softening as he added one last tuft to the owl he had drawn next to himself on the page. 

He just really wanted Stolas to stay.

It really was a bad idea. 

He shouldn’t be here, and he truly fucking knew it, but he also really couldn’t help himself.

“So… where can I find them?” 

The blue-eyed Maid that Blitzø had hassled into helping him glanced up, visibly irked. “Top-most shelf. I really mean it, Master Glitz. If you get caught then you best make it clear that I was ordered to do this.”

“Yeah yeah yeah, hush your fucking pie-hole. I’m not gonna get caught,” Blitzø griped, having wandered into the Public areas of the Palace. “They’re out, alright? It’s one fucking book. Come on.”

He was on a mission he shouldn’t be on, too.

Stupid drawing of his, giving him ideas.

He had wandered into Stolas’ Study after a particular dumb sketch had lingered in his mind longer than it should have. He had let curiosity get the better of him in regards to the owl’s earliest of notes and had been idly reading through them until he hit a dead end.

He didn’t really understand much, but he had a feeling he could grasp things if he had a better foundation to work from. That curiosity resulted in him sneaking down to the servants quarters and requesting for Trinket, who he recalled the name of for some fucking reason. 

She’d been ever-so-nervous at first, obviously assuming that she’d made an error but Blitzø had quickly enrolled her into his scheme that he had stressed was ‘beyond fucking secret’.

She’d been semi-intrigued, though her worry was still present in her demeanour.

“Why is this Library so fucking huge?” Blitzø asked, climbing the ladder and scanning the row of books that boasted a beginners guide to everything magic. He pulled the first three of the series from the shelf and dropped down, grinning widely. “Fuck yeah!”

“You said one!”

“Then I’ll be calling for you more fucking often, you want that?”

“No, I’d rather you not call for me at all,” she huffed, folding her arms. “We really mustn’t linger, Master Glitz,” Trinket hurried, ushering him back towards the Library doors. 

Blitzø was too excited at the prospect of being able to fulfil his sudden urge and so dawdled until the back of his legs were thwacked with a scrunched up apron. 

“Move!”

“I am, I am,” he hissed, glancing up and down rows of books before beelining towards the section of the Palace that Stolas referred to as ‘The House’. 

He clutched the books to his chest with a genuine sense of triumph, stepping aside so Trinket could lock the wooden panels that separated the living quarters from the rest of the grand building. 

“Here,” Trinket told him, holding out her phone. “Rather than trying to lead you back out there, take my number. When you’re done with those, leave them behind the vase in the hallway. I’ll return them and fetch you the next three.”

Blitzø blinked in surprise, setting the trio of tome’s down before taking her phone. “Seriously?” 

“Yes, seriously. You’re a nightmare to hide and I’m not supposed to be out here during the day,” Trinket chided, waiting as Blitzø entered his number into her phone and then promptly text himself a book emoji. 

“Thanks, Trinky.”

“It’s Trinket.”

“That’s what I fucking said,” he dismissed, noting the time. “Gotta hide these. Thanks and… bye.”

He didn’t bother waiting for her to reply, too determined to get away with this goal of his no matter what. He didn’t know what time Stolas would return, but he sure as Hell didn’t want to be caught with what he had.

He pushed open the door to Stolas’ bedroom and hummed, not knowing where to hide the damn books he’d need to read when alone. He ended up shoving them into his backpack, where he kept his sketchbooks. 

Stolas didn’t go through Blitzø’s shit, the owl wasn’t like that. 

Confident enough that Stolas wouldn’t pry into the bag, Blitzø took out the first tome and opened it, sitting cross-legged on the floor. He fluffed up in excitement as the simplified text geared towards young Goetia greeted him.

It was the purest form of learning from scratch and Blitzø immediately honed in on the pictures that gave a visual representation of what was written on the opposing pages. 

It was so much fucking simpler than reading Stolas’ notes and within five minutes Blitzø was starting to grasp what he couldn’t before. 

His sudden interest wasn’t born from mere coincidence, nor from some egotistical notion that he could actually utilise anything he’d learned. 

He just wanted to understand. 

Maybe it wasn’t all about the spells, maybe Blitzø himself had wonky magic. He wouldn’t know unless he learned and he knew Stolas wouldn’t teach him. Fuck, the owl would probably remove any such abilities from Blitzø in an instant- because yeah, who would fucking trust Blitzø of all demons with something like this?

Still, Blitzø wanted to know. It couldn’t be that hard, learning this shit and actually being responsible about it. If he was going to be like this for a while- possibly forever -then he should be like Stolas as much as he could, right?

Even Loona could use certain forms of magic, and Stolas’ whole thing was about enchantments and all that jazz. It could be something they could bond over, eventually, if Blitzø had a basic understanding of it. 

The prospect of such had Blitzø flopping forward with a dumb smile on his face, truly a fool to his own imagination and whimsy. It was something he could become good at, surely.

Yes, he’d fucked himself up but he wasn’t a bad-looking bird. He hadn’t killed himself and he’d cast several spells without even knowing what he was doing. That had to count for something, right?

Blitzø pushed himself back up, clearing his throat as he steered his focus back to the words before him.

He needed to take this seriously. He had an actual chance here to learn something, be something and to share something with Stolas that Stolas himself was passionate about. 

Blitzø could become someone worthy of Stolas’ attention if he became less of a fucking mess. 

The constant mental slipping meant that Blitzø had to start the book over several times, but he didn’t mind being thorough for once. He didn’t want only the drawing that started this to come true, he wanted the others to as well. 

He wanted to build a family with Stolas, but that was near impossible given that Blitzø had nothing to start from. He wanted a life with him and he wanted to make Loona proud.

He wanted to fit in for once, wanted to be part of something, to belong.

If that meant sneaking off to study then he would- because when he wanted to research something he knew he could. His wasn’t able to focus on shit he had no interest in, but if Blitzø liked it then he could lose himself in the subject for fucking weeks.

Years even.

In the case of Horses, it was a lifetime. 

He hadn’t really studied like this though, and Blitzø stuck out his tongue as he rummaged through his bag for a notebook that wasn’t as used as the others. He huffed as he ended up having to go from the back, most of his dumb doodles being scattered throughout. 

He’d get a proper notebook eventually. 

For now, this would do- because if Stolas was taking notes on what he learned, then Blitzø would too. 

Chapter Text

“How are you feeling, Blitzø?”

Blitzø blinked from where he had been admittedly paying more attention to Stolas’ jotted down points than he normally would. 

The mystery of where the Prince had gone with his daughter the day prior had been answered an hour or so after Blitzø had purloined the novice books on magic. The two had gone to the Mall and Blitzø was able to seamlessly fall into the role of listening to their day without casting a single shred of suspicion upon himself.

Stolas was too engrossed in Octavia’s enthusiasm for all her new clothes and taxidermy supplies to pay any attention to Blitzø and the avian-Imp was quick to fire questions off when Stolas looked at him for a little longer than the shorter demon liked.

They’d had dinner as a trio, chatted idly about how well Bon Bon was doing and Blitzø had even snuck in that he’d spent most the day drawing and watching videos. He was able to throw in some of the random subjects he’d come across which were a fantastic deflection from the fact he’d started a whole ass project of his own.

A project that would no doubt be torn from him in seconds should it be discovered. 

Stolas had been tired after his long day and Blitzø was itching to get back to his books - so sharing a room was now a problem that Blitzø needed to figure out. He didn’t go anywhere else and Stolas wasn’t easy to fool.

Damn bird had four fucking eyes, after all. 

He’d been admittedly quiet, having slept listlessly because all he’d wanted to do was binge-read. Laying there had been torture and he really needed to get new notebooks for this specifically. 

He’d text Trinket who said to leave it with her but Blitzø had impatience issues doing so- though he was trying to entrust the task to her being that she knew how shit worked and he didn’t. He couldn’t get her into trouble by rushing her.

Sparking off suspicion would be a serious mistake for them both now, because he’d sent her money in order to purchase several on his behalf seeing as she could leave and he couldn’t. He’d have to wait till Thursday morning to fetch them from the slot under the stairs that once held a small lamp- it was now hidden behind a large vase and seemingly forgotten about. 

It served a new purpose, and Blitzø was very much content with the fact that Stolas wouldn’t just randomly check it for no fucking reason. 

“Blitzø?”

“Sorry,” he quickly apologised, having got lost in his thoughts. “I’m good, just putting your notes where they belong. Sorry I’m slow, I’m kinda spacey today. You okay?”

He placed the sheets before him into their designated folders and busied himself with the books that Stolas had left out. 

“I am doing very well, thank you,” Stolas murmured, tapping his pen upon the desk.

Blitzø noted the formal tone and paused, cocking his head. “You sure?” He asked, recalling how distracted the owl had been since that morning. “You need tea or something?”

“No, no thank you,” Stolas exhaled, dropping his pen in favour of linking his talons together atop the cover of whatever book he’d been flipping through. “Via isn’t coming home tonight. She’s at her Mother’s for the next few days as she spent the weekend with me.”

“Yeah? She gonna miss the next few episodes of your fucking show then,” Blitzø joked, checking the spine to an encyclopaedia before realising it didn’t actually fit within any of Stolas’ current shelves. “This go in the Library?”

He received a single nod and Blitzø set it aside, surprised that Stolas had placed it with the books that were meant to be placed back within this room specifically. 

“Octavia is away,” Stolas reiterated, giving Blitzø a look. 

It took a staring contest that went on five seconds longer than it should have for Blitzø to catch on and he tensed on the spot, having somehow forgotten about that whole fucking thing.

“Oh? Oh. Yeah. Yeah?” He stalled as he looked down at the tome in his hands before taking a steady breath. 

He could do this. The sooner he got it over with, the better.

“Today works for me,” he voiced with what he hoped to be confidence. “If it works for you.”

“Mhm. It does,” Stolas murmured, picking up his pen again before his cerise-rose hues locked onto Blitzø who couldn’t help but tense again. “I wish to discuss the session if you would be willing. I will admit I have nothing I wish to look into further today, so I would like us to move into the den next door.”

“We’re moving rooms?” Blitzø asked in surprise, shoving the book he had been holding onto whatever shelf was in front of him. 

Fuck it.

He’d fix it later. 

“We certainly are.”

Blitzø rubbed his palms upon the denim adorning his thighs, anxious in an instant as he mechanically followed the Prince out of the Study.

Well, he’d wanted it right at his door, and for once, Blitzø had gotten what he wished for. 

“Repeat it back to me.”

Did birds sweat? 

They had to, because Blitzø swore he was sweating buckets of fucking ice. 

“I’m going into the guest bedroom, going to undress and fold my clothes, then shower and preen with the oil you’ve put in there,” he recited with a thundering heart. “Then I’m going to kneel on the rug and I’m going to wait for you.”

Stolas was fucking serious about all this to a point it was kind of annoying.

“Are you comfortable with those instructions?” 

“Duh.”

Fucking Hell the look he got for that.

“Yes,” he amended, trying not to sound irked. Wasn’t the damn owl going to have fun with this at all?

“During the session you are to address me as?”

Blitzø clenched his jaw, feeling reluctance creep up his spine. “Prince Stolas or Your Highness.”

“Good. Your safe word is Equus. What is mine?”

“Petunia.”

“Recite the Traffic Light System to me.”

“Green is good, Amber is slow down, Red is stop.”

He blinked as Stolas inhaled steadily. “In the case of calling Red, I can pause the session to inquire as to your needs. In the case of you using your Safeword, the session will end immediately no questions asked. Would you rather I use Red synonymously with your Safeword, or would you like to use Red to pause the session?”

“Uh… Red to pause the session, Safeword to end it with no questions asked.”

“Do you wish to continue our bet?” Stolas inquired, not once looking away from Blitzø who was trying to figure out why the clear-cut-answer-question they were having was giving him confidence. 

“Where if I beg you to let me fucking cum, you won’t? Yeah, I’m good with that.”

He wasn’t going to fucking lose, he was not.

Blitzø tried not to shrink back when Stolas’ eyes darkened, his entire demeanour sharpening a fraction from where he sat. 

“Very well,” Stolas smiled, clasping his hands together. “The session itself will be predominantly orgasm denial, Blitzø. I will only physically restrain you. I will not prevent you from talking nor verbally expressing yourself, however cursing and name-calling of any kind will result in additional minutes of denial. Are you comfortable with that?”

Blitzø nodded, unsure of how the denial would work with his current form. “Yeah but uh… how do you- I mean with a dick there’s ways to fucking prevent you popping off but how…?”

The way Blitzø’s stomach flipped at the sudden softening of Stolas’ expression was really unwarranted and unfair.

“I wish to use a spell, are you comfortable with that?”

Oh.

“Yeah,” Blitzø replied lightly, not at all fazed by the answer. It must have shown, because Stolas blinked as though surprised. Blitzø didn’t know why, he’d trusted the owl up till now and he’d seen Stolas use his magic for all sorts.

“Alright, do you have any questions?” Stolas asked, tilting his head.

Blitzø swallowed thickly, rubbing his palms together. “How long will everything last?”

“I am willing to compromise on time, given that we don’t know your limits yet,” Stolas smiled, voice a little gentler as he leaned forward, elbows resting upon his knees, chin upon his laced knuckles. “The session will start from the moment the spell is cast, as that is when I will begin touching you.”

“So… an hour?” Blitzø guessed, not seeing anything less as worth it.

“If you are happy with an hour then an hour it shall be, but if I may can I suggest forty-five minutes and half an hour of allotted penalty time should we need it?”

“Yeah, that’s good,” Blitzø quickly agreed, relieved that the time wasn’t being left up to him. 

“I would like the penalty in regards to begging for climax, to be three additional minutes of intense stimulation,” Stolas stated, chin tilted upwards loftily. “The products I have chosen are all for the purpose of heightening pleasure and sensitivity, meaning you will be very aroused. That includes the oil you will be preening with. Are you comfortable with that?”

If he had to hear that fucking phrase one more time…

“Yes.”

“I intend to use various toys in order to pleasure you, is there anything you would not be comfortable with, Blitzø?”

“I don’t want anything huge rammed up me,” he forced out, self-conscious over voicing it. “I know it’s a punishment and all but it’s only my second time being touched down there, so…” he trailed off, unsure of how to word the slight fear he had over being stretched.

“Blitzø, I’m not going to risk hurting you in any way,” Stolas promised, reaching out and grasping Blitzø’s hand. “If penetration is not something you feel sure about then we can absolutely strike it off.”

“I’m good with penetration, I just don’t want anything… big.”

It was punishment enough to fucking say this shit, honestly. 

“Would you be amenable to my requesting consent of each toy I wish to use before using it?” Stolas asked, surprising Blitzø outright. 

He nodded with wide eyes, having never been privy to knowing such things when he’d messed around with others like this.

Not that anyone had ever gone through shit with him like this.

“That would put my mind at rest,” Stolas smiled, giving Blitzø’s hand a squeeze before letting go. “I do not intend to use your name throughout this session, and I will talk down to you. Are you comfortable with that?”

Fuck’s sake. 

“Yes.”

He scowled lightly, wanting to get on with it and he could tell that Stolas was aware of his impatience. 

“Blitzø, the nature of this session is, as agreed, a disciplinary one,” Stolas ventured, his tone alone reaching in an almost sad way. “I do wish to vent somewhat, but there would be no point in this being a resolve if I were to truly hurt you in the process. I need you to be very honest with me, is there anything you would not want me to call you or to say?”

Shit.

Fuck.

Blitzø averted his gaze, digging deep as quickly as he could for things that would genuinely fuck him up. He’d had so much thrown at him in his life that most of it bounced off because he either agreed or knew the situations where such names or insults came from. 

“I’m good with everything except references to the fucking circus,” he finalised quietly, not wanting to look Stolas in the face for what he had to confess. “Shit with my family or… exes… stuff like that. I know how they feel about me and this is about you, so… don’t want that shit brought up.” 

He dared to glance at Stolas who was staring at him like the answer was somehow disappointing.

He knew there was plenty of stuff the owl could use as verbal ammunition, so it hadn’t felt too much of a restriction… 

“If that’s okay.”

“It’s absolutely okay,” Stolas assured firmly, still giving him that same look. “Anything else?”

He didn’t want to ask it, but he knew he’d never cope if the owl chose to swing it at him, so Blitzø inhaled heavily, heading for the door because he knew he needed to go ahead and shower. He gave the Prince still sitting there a defeated sigh.

“Just… the ‘o’ is silent.”

Chapter Text

Stolas wasn’t fucking kidding about the damn fucking oil.

After showering, drying himself off and preening with what had been placed on the side, Blitzø was left to kneel on a rug that was straight up a foam exercise mat- or something like it, at least.

At first he was just apprehensive, knelt there with his hands in his lap and tail curled around him. 

Then it started.

It was like the tiniest of shivers breaking out under his plumage, not enough to make him shudder, but enough to make him feel very alert. He’d used tingling lube before, it felt like that but thinner and less mint-infused.

Definitely felt chilled though.

He didn’t know how long it had been, but his heart jumped right into his throat when the door opened and he swore his jaw had gone slack at the sight of Stolas quite literally gliding in.

Fucking Hell.

What had he fucking agreed to?

If his eyes were bugged out, then Stolas was going to have to shove them back into Blitzø’s skull because the owl had to be fucking joking.

“Colour?”

Already?

“Green.”

“Up.”

Oh that tone had him weak and Blitzø barely heard the command, too starstruck with the way Stolas’ waist was cinched in a black lace corset, no panties- fuck, no fucking panties -and swathed in a black chiffon robe that literally pooled upon the floor around long obsidian legs. 

“Up. I will not instruct you again.”

Fuck, he was so fucked.

He inhaled shakily, getting to his feet and standing there lamely whilst Stolas opened a drawer and retrieved a sleek black box that was fairly sizeable. 

Blitzø watched, mouth dryer than it had ever been as the lid was gently removed, the contents hidden by crisp silver sheets of shiny paper. He noted the first item to be presented and blinked, turning around with his hands behind his back. 

He was very swiftly spun back round.

“Do not move unless I instruct you too.”

Oops.

Blitzø almost wanted to smirk, but the coldness in Stolas’ tone kept him from doing so. His heart was fluttering all over the place and he inhaled slowly as his arms were guided upwards. He quirked an eyebrow as Stolas vanished from view, only for his grip to return behind the avian-Imp who caught on quick.

Ah.

He knowingly held onto his own elbows as cushioned leather cuffs were secured to his wrists, the accompanying straps binding them to his forearms. It wasn’t an alien position, as he was used to having his arms tied to his horns in most cases of kinky play.

The matching choker that had two hoops either side of it was placed around his neck, again, consciously tightened.

“Do you need anything loosened?” 

“No, Your Highness.”

Damn, he couldn’t tell if he liked using that title or not.

The rest of the gear was fairly standard- and not at all as fancy as he’d feared. The same cushioned leather was wound around his waist and thighs, comfortably secured but not in any way too tight. The buckles didn’t grace his feathering in any way and neither did the edging of anything dig into him.

It almost felt like this wouldn’t be that big of a deal, until Stolas snapped his fingers and a mass of leather and chain spilled from the ceiling, the sudden bounce of it making Blitzø jump.

He watched with buzzing nerves as Stolas straightened the apparatus now suspended there, the purpose of it blatantly obvious. 

Blitzø licked his lips as he was beckoned to approach, Stolas’ rather gentle arms lifting the avian-Imp into the swing that was lined with that same kind of cushioning on the floor. 

It wasn’t foam, but it was a hell of a lot like it. 

Blitzø tentatively lay back, allowing Stolas to do as needed. 

“Lift your hips.”

Blitzø stared upwards as his tail was threaded through, the long appendage easily reaching the wooden boards. He could hear his own heartbeat thundering against his sternum as it was secured to the floor, which was a good idea considering he might subconsciously lash it.

Next his cuffs were properly secured to the upper chains hanging from the ceiling, and his choker was clipped into place via either side of the swing. There was give, but not much. 

He felt his breathing quicken as Stolas came to stand before him, expression stony as he stared down at Blitzø with little to no emotion. 

“Part your legs.”

Blitzø did so with a tremble, trying not to think too far into what he was doing as his thighs were lifted and buckled to their respective holds, ankles quickly following suit until he was just hung there on full display.

He swallowed thickly as Stolas gave him a solid once over. 

“Does anything hurt?”

He really needed his voice right now. 

“No, Your Highness.”

“Does anything need to be loosened?”

“No, Your Highness.”

Stolas nodded once, stepping back completely and moving over to the box still resting upon the bed. “Colour?”

Blitzø scrunched his eyes shut, anxious to the point he very truly felt sick. He was absolutely determined to do this, because after this… after this Stolas would hopefully be able to forgive him for everything.

Truly everything.

For once, Blitzø needed to do everything he was told. He needed to be good, he needed to please. 

He needed to make everything right.

“Green.”

It was strange, feeling so vulnerable with someone who you had already been so extensively intimate with. 

It was also strange to feel so conscious when you’d been fucked every which way, and yet Blitzø had never experienced this. 

He was staring up at the ceiling, fighting his own vocal cords as Stolas teased him with his tongue. Two of the owl’s talons were working him within and Blitzø was unable to so much as squirm. He whined, well aware of the spell being cast and he arched as much as his restraints permitted, very much on the precipice of shattering when Stolas pulled away.

The unbearable sensation of being so close remained and Blitzø knocked his head back, knowing that was a discomfort he was going to be stuck with for forty-five fucking minutes. 

He inhaled slowly, trying to acclimatise to the influx of arousal and the natural urge to seek satisfaction. He couldn’t exactly relax, but he did his best to, well aware of his thighs already shaking. 

He could do this though. 

He could.

He could and would earn forgiveness.

The sharp sound of a cap being closed alerted him to the stimulating lubricant that Stolas had requested to use and Blitzø closed his eyes, trying to simply enjoy the feel of slick talons against him. He gasped when the pad of a thumb rolled over his most sensitive part, and he fought the urge to push into the touch because fuck it was really nice.

It was difficult to stay composed when Stolas pushed the digits within, a strange pressure forming in Blitzø’s abdomen as he was properly pleasured at a notable speed. 

Stolas wasn’t saying a fucking word, and that in turn made Blitzø nervous to verbalise anything at all. The air rushed out of him as the hands withdrew and he tried to catch his breath as palms swept down the inside of his thighs. 

It didn’t soothe like it was supposed to, because Stolas’ tongue was back to flicking over that hypersensitive gem and Blitzø jerked against the restraints for the first time, clenching his jaw because the sensation was absolutely impossible to bear. 

He could hear how laboured his breathing was as Stolas scoffed and pulled away, not at all looking impressed.

“If it wasn’t for that spell, you’d be dripping all over my floor, wouldn’t you.”

The condescending tone was easy to take, the scathing look was not though and Blitzø reminded himself that this was a means to an end. He couldn’t bite back or argue. He had to keep his mouth fucking shut for forty minutes- which he knew he could do if he really tried. 

Stolas was already in the box again, and Blitzø felt his stomach flip at the sight of a small device that was not-so obvious in its function as it didn’t at all look phallic in any way.

Until the end of it was shown to him and he promptly caught on. 

It was a suction toy, he could handle that. 

“Do I need to explain what this does?” Stolas asked haughtily, practically dangling it in front of Blitzø’s face. 

“No, Your Highness.”

Stolas’ eyebrows rose and Blitzø fought not to be smug about the fact that yes, he was going to address the Prince as he’d been told to. 

“Good. Colour?”

“Green.” 

He wasn’t going to call Red. He’d only call Amber if he absolutely had to, but he would not call Red. He’d already decided that-

The thought vanished, his body jolting automatically as he instinctively tried to escape the sudden sensation between his legs. The startled note that left him was punched out of his throat before he could even catch onto it and he tried to regain composure, feeling his face flush as he puffed out several breaths.

“Such a reaction, and it’s only the default setting,” Stolas stated flatly, sounding bored as he propped his chin on a palm, holding the toy in place with a gaze of burning cerise-rose.

Blitzø clenched his jaw, scrunching up his face as he forced himself to quieten. His thighs quaked as he held himself still, the pressure building behind his aureate hues already. 

“Oh, you don’t have to silence yourself for my sake,” Stolas continued dryly, moving the silicon device in slow circles before pulling it away and allowing it to tug slightly at Blitzø’s over-sensitised need.

“Fuck-”

The pang that shot through him was nothing short of awful, because he physically felt the timer click back a minute and he caught Stolas’ smug expression. 

Fuck. He’d messed up already. 

“I think this is a delightful little thing, don’t you?” Stolas mused airily, pulling the toy away and dipping his tongue into the hollow of it that continued to suckle away. “Mm. I don’t find the default setting as fun. Let’s try the second.”

Blitzø tossed his head back as far as he could, the chains holding him in place clinking noisily as a strangled cry left him upon having the toy return around him. He ended up burying his face into his upper arm, holding on for dear life through stubbornness alone until he swore he’d numbed out. 

He didn’t know how long he’d taken it for, but when the buzzing stopped and the pressure lifted, it felt like a physical weight was gone from his chest. He exhaled heavily, vision blurred but no tears falling.

He wouldn’t permit them to.

His body was thrumming with heat, with a need that was growing still and he swore he was zoning out until Stolas lapped at him again.

“Well, I am impressed,” came the next mocking lilt, talons grasping Blitzø’s chin and turning him to face the owl who tutted at the lack of give in Blitzø’s expression. “You’re such a pretty demon, but you are very much a selfish one, aren’t you.”

Selfish?

Yes.

Yes, he was very selfish. Always had been. He had to admit that, right? 

Blitzø swallowed the choked feeling creeping up his throat, trying to find the confidence to speak.

“Y-yes. I’m selfish, Your Highness.”

Stolas’ touch faltered, and Blitzø wondered if he’d said the wrong thing until the pad of a thumb brushed against him, causing him to whine.

“So selfish. You only care about what you can gain from others, only cared about what you could gain from me. All those years of pining for you and for what? For you to rob me blind, twice.”

Yeah… he’d done that. 

He hadn’t thought of Stolas when he’d gone for the book that fateful day. He didn’t even think, he just knew that Stolas had said he’d be able to access the human world with it.

He hadn’t given a shit about the owl now dipping within him, hadn’t considered him until long after their arrangement was in place. Even then, he hadn’t been open about how he’d felt. 

He’d rebuffed the owl, constantly pushed him aside and pushed him away, acted like he couldn’t stand him…

“I loved you for all that time and yet you, you couldn’t stand me.”

The Prince fucking knew it all.

Blitzø spluttered as two talons were pushed into his mouth, instantly triggering his gag-reflex and causing saliva to mess up his feathers. That pressure within was back, and Blitzø gagged louder than he meant to, the moan tumbling out of him getting lost in the way Stolas was thrusting into him from both ends.

It felt hot, it felt too hot and he squirmed, feeling helpless to the motions that very nearly had him losing control of his resolve.

“Saying that you love me at all is laughable,” Stolas scoffed, wiping his hands on a cloth as Blitzø trembled in place. “Saying you loved me all this time? You must think me a greater fool than I thought.”

Blitzø shook his head, all out of words. He didn’t think Stolas was a fool.

He didn’t. 

He swallowed thickly as the inside of his knee was gently caressed.

Blitzø blinked away the blurriness as Stolas stepped away only to return, the avian-Imp just about recognising the vibrator that the Prince now held. 

“Colour?”

Not big.

Twenty minutes to go.

“Green.”

Chapter Text

“Does it feel good?”

“Y-yes, Your Highness.”

It did, it really did, but fuck, his pelvis was burning. 

Everything was. 

His arms were aching chronically and his thighs felt like they were on fire. His spine was literally stinging with every move and he couldn’t feel his tail.

“I should use you to make myself feel good more often,” Stolas puffed out, thrusting the double-ended dildo fervently into Blitzø’s quaking frame, pleasuring them both.

Fuck, Stolas really should because this was amazing.

Blitzø was losing the grip he had on himself.

“Fuck! Fuck- no wait-” 

“Two more minutes, you’re so very bad at this, aren’t you. It’s pathetic. Your self control is next to zero, but we both already knew that.”

Blitzø keened at the snide tone, hyper aware of Stolas’ slickened need pressing right up against him. He could feel everything, feel how aroused Stolas was, feel the owl’s hardened nub of flesh every time it bumped against his own and he could feel the heat emanating from the Prince’s body.

It was maddening.

The grip on his waist was hard, and the thrusts were becoming even more so, but he was being worked with a pointless endeavour that would go nowhere. Stolas’ moan was brittle, tapering off into a satisfied titter as he gyrated his hips and brought himself off, head tipped back and abdomen flexing in delight.

Blitzø could only remain there, ever so close and yet stuck with the agonising fate of being eternally edged. He whimpered as Stolas withdrew, going as far as to glide the molded silicon over Blitzø’s flushed, slick need before leaning down to press a lingering kiss to him.

Fuck, he wanted to cum. 

He really wanted to, yet he couldn’t and begging would prolong the entire fucking thing- he didn’t even know if he was going to be allowed to pop off at any point and Blitzø felt the shame bubble as that became the reason he choked up.

They’d been at this for forty minutes, but his cursing had earned him seven minutes more. 

Which meant he had twelve remaining.

He was literally dripping to the floor, the audible plip as his excitement hit the wooden boards under them making him burn with humiliation from the inside out. 

“Your body isn’t very resilient, is it,” Stolas mused, cheeks flushed a pretty pink as he patted Blitzø’s overstimulated need with the flat of his palm. “You’re so terribly reactive. I will say, you’ve kept your composure at the very least.”

Blitzø felt a sniffle coming on, his eyes blurring as Stolas pulled out something he knew all too well. 

He would have been delighted to see a Massager Wand at any other time, having used them on himself and others- including Stolas -many a time since being introduced to them.

Right now, it was the worst fucking thing, because as soon as Stolas held it up, Blitzø knew he had to give consent for it.

Eleven minutes.

“Green.”

He didn’t see green when the smooth, rounded head of it buzzed against him, Stolas way-too expertly moving it in slow circles. The harsh reverberation was rattling all the way up Blitzø’s bones and he gave way to a series of broken moans, body jolting as it tried to fight the spell preventing him from reaching the epitome of pleasure that it so desperately needed.

Stolas’ laugh at Blitzø’s inability to escape nearly did him in but he held on, the determination he had to not break in front of the owl becoming a burden so heavy it was physically crushing him.

“Seven minutes left,” Stolas announced, clicking the wand off. “Shall we play seven minutes of Hell?”

Blitzø panted lightly, squinting at what was being shown to him. He nodded, breathlessly stuttering his consent because the end was in sight.

He winced without reason when the dildo was inserted, the pressure within already too much to properly bear. He hadn’t expected it to be a vibrator though, and he squeaked as Stolas turned it on whilst holding it in place. 

“Let’s count down, shall we?”

Countdown?

Blitzø couldn’t count for shit, not with how Stolas was thrusting the vibe within and the avian-Imp’s breath hitched violently as the drone of the wand returned. He yelled as it was pressed back to his cloaca, rubbing over his need with such precision it almost hurt.

Too much, it was too much pressure and he choked on a sob, the startling revelation that he was beginning to cry causing him to fumble with his words.

The massager was loud, and he kept his face in his upper arm as the tears finally spilt, chest heaving as he fought against absolute pleasure, and excruciating frustration. 

He’d never felt so bottled in his entire life. 

There was a sudden rush south and Blitzø spasmed, the indescribable feeling of so much amalgamating into a searing flood that he didn’t recognise in time. He instinctively tried to clamp his legs shut, but the restraints prevented him from doing so and he couldn’t get the words out soon enough.

He twisted his frame away from the owl who stood up abruptly, stepping aside as Blitzø sobbed out a mantra of denial as a wet warmth spilled to the floor in a torrent of absolute horror. 

He couldn’t stop the stream and he couldn’t slow it either, which meant the dam broke at both ends as he outright wailed, hiding himself in his shoulder as far as he possibly could. The vibrator within him slipped out, clattering to the floor with a dreadfully wet smack, clearly landing in the puddle he’d just created.

Blitzø let himself sob noisily, the knowledge that he’d just wet himself humiliating enough, but he’d done it in front of Stolas and he couldn’t move, couldn’t clean himself or the floor and he couldn’t close his legs so he was just there.

A.

Disgusting.

Pathetic.

Failure. 

“Red.”

He heard the word, but it wasn’t him that had spoken it and Blitzø shied away from the hands that slipped across his cheeks. 

“Blitzø, I need you to look at me.”

Stolas sounded worried.

Fuck, he sounded worried, and he shouldn’t. This was supposed to be Blitzø’s punishment and if being toyed until you’d pissed yourself was anything to go by, he’d daresay the punishment was a success. 

“Blitzø? Do you need to Safeword out?”

Blitzø shook his head, stuttering out a verbal no even though he refused to lift his lashes. “H-how long to g-go?”

“Four minutes. Four minutes but we can stop here. We can stop here.”

“Still G-green,” Blitzø wept, shaking his head again with what little room he had to do so. “M’still Green.”

“Are you? Look at me, Blitzø, are you?” 

He nodded, because he was. What was he going to do that would be worse than pissing himself in four fucking minutes? 

“Green.”

“Okay. Okay.”

“I’m sorry-”

A talon was pressed to his beak before he could continue and Blitzø promptly swallowed the apology.

“Sh. Four minutes.”

He shifted, hearing Stolas retrieve the still-clattering vibrator from the floor. It didn’t go back in the box and he heard a towel being dropped to the boards over the puddle. 

He sniffled, staring unseeingly to the side until a hand pressed to his chest. His eyelashes fluttered, still laden heavily with tears but he recognised the small toy that Stolas had started him off with. 

“Default setting,” was all Stolas murmured and Blitzø felt his eyes well up again. 

“Yes, Your Highness.”

“Good boy.”

Blitzø flinched as it was held to him, the rhythmic sensation enough to make him feel like peeing all over again. He gasped, trying to find enjoyment out of it even though it was not-so delicious torture at this point. He could tell Stolas was being gentler, pulling the toy away every so often and even shifting off him slightly in order to give him a precious few seconds of reprieve. 

It was still excruciating, and Blitzø was sobbing the whole way through, right up until the clock chimed and the toy was removed. He wept as Stolas tossed it onto the bed, barely holding onto his sense of self as the owl hushed him and petted his thighs and abdomen. 

“Shh… shh…” 

Those sweeping palms remained as Blitzø began to slowly calm. He felt impossibly hot, like a raw nerve or exposed wire, but Stolas’ hushing and firm caressing was grounding, soothing.

“I’m going to undo your restraints, okay?”

Blitzø nodded, the tears still flowing even as his legs were unclipped. The strange stiffness of pressing them together only made the situation worse and he hated the fact that he had to stand on the towel when Stolas slowly guided him up.

He sat on the dampened cradle of the swing, head bowed as Stolas undid the cuffs and choker. His shoulders felt like they didn’t belong to him and he valiantly tried to compose himself, his mind feeling frayed as he tried to play it all off like he usually would.

“I- I better clean this up. Sorry, Stol- Your Highness, I’m-” 

“Sh-sh, no. No,” came the very hushed interruption, Stolas opening a portal right then and there. 

The light was too much for Blitzø who shied away from it, not wanting to feel seen in the state that he was. His body was thrumming still, but he felt disconnected from it somehow and he simply wiped his eyes, allowing Stolas to guide him through to the bathroom that was just next door. 

Portals were useful for going through walls, apparently.

Blitzø stood there aimlessly as Stolas hurriedly rid himself of his robe and corset, the avian-Imp blankly staring at the drifting constellations that hung above the bath.

“Come here, Blitzø.”

Blitzø shuffled wonkily to the Prince who offered a supporting hand as he beckoned Blitzø into the warm bubbles of the tub. 

Had that been there this whole time?

How did it not get cold?

Blitzø didn’t know, he just huddled into it with a numbness he didn’t know how to process. The tears were still spilling down his cheeks, but he wasn’t actively crying.

He scooted further up as Stolas settled in behind him and he moved to give the owl proper room, but was promptly dragged into a very warm embrace. The feeling of being held was between the best in the world, and the absolute worst, because Blitzø felt vile and dirty whilst at the same time he wanted to be told he was forgiven. 

His mind couldn’t make a decision which left him feeling hollow and he tried to push himself up, not wanting to be a bother because he knew he had failed the whole thing.

“Look at me, Blitzø,” Stolas whispered, cupping said male’s face. “Please look at me.”

Blitzø frowned, really not wanting to. He blinked down at the bubbles before forcing himself to obey, fully expecting to see disappointment.

“Thank you. Thank you, oh Blitzø, I am so, so proud of you. Thank you so much. Thank you.”

What?

His confusion must have been blatant, because Stolas scoffed emotionally, sounding on the verge of tears himself. 

“You did so well. I am so proud, you didn’t beg me once. You held out even when you felt embarrassed, I am so proud of you.”

He wanted to feel like he’d accomplished something, but Blitzø didn’t and so he just stared at the owl who faltered, cerise-rose hues studying him cautiously. Those palms tilted his face up and Blitzø exhaled softly, allowing himself to fall into Stolas’ frame. 

He felt those long arms ever so slowly wrap around him and he sniffled, aware that Stolas was also nuzzling the flattened crest atop his head. He closed his eyes only to grimace because his body was still hypersensitive. He huffed, trying to ignore it even when it seemed to flare up the longer they lay there in the warm water.

He was idly starting to drift off when Stolas patted him awake, saying something about needing to get him bundled up.

He stood on wobbly legs, feeling marginally useless as Stolas outright lifted him from the tub. Being towelled was a blur and he found himself staring at the wall the minute he was placed in the bed. 

That was it, right? 

Stolas had punished him and now they were going to be okay?

He didn’t know, because he’d wet himself and he’d cried. He wanted to ask if Stolas would give him another chance, but he felt too defeated to ask. 

So he just stared at the wall.

He heard Stolas leave then come back, the zip of the owl’s portals rather harried but they faded off as he began to zone out. 

The bed dipping was almost annoying, but Blitzø adhered to being ushered into a sitting position, his usual tumbler being guided to his beak. 

Blitzø automatically accepted the straw, staring at the blanket as he took a sip. The sweet, slightly tart taste of his favourite red berries flooded his mouth and he felt a lump form in his throat as he drank, vision blurring all over again.

He pushed it away, the small cry that left him giving way to another wave of embarrassment.

“Talk to me, Blitzø. Come on, baby, you need to talk to me,” Stolas insisted, moving to sit right before the shorter male.

He didn’t want to talk, but he knew if he didn’t apologise properly, then it would be all for nothing and Stolas might never let him try again. 

He heaved in a shaky breath, fixing the owl with a pitiful gaze. “Can I try again?” He pleaded, blinking rapidly as the tears blinded him. “I didn’t know I was gonna fucking piss myself. I was trying so fucking hard not to cry. I didn’t know that was going to happen. I’m so fucking sorry.”

He hiccuped as Stolas shuffled closer, tilting Blitzø’s face up and bumping their foreheads together. 

“You don’t need to try again, because you were perfect,” Stolas stated in a soothing tone, running his palms down Blitzø’s neck and massaging his shoulders. “There is nothing wrong with crying. It’s good that you cried, it’s okay to cry. Don’t apologise for wetting yourself - it happens, Blitzø. It’s part of the session and it isn’t a fault, do you understand?”

Blitzø hesitantly nodded, reaching for his smoothie again which was promptly given to him. “I didn’t want to disappoint you.”

“You didn’t disappoint me, you were wonderful. You were so beautiful, so perfect.”

The praise was accompanied by Stolas’ hands drifting south, massaging Blitzø’s thighs and he took a hefty mouthful before setting his tumbler aside and falling back, needing the ache to be caressed away in his body. 

“Did it help you forgive me?” Blitzø asked, choking up all over again. 

“Oh I forgive you, Blitzø. It’s over, sweetheart. It’s all gone, it’s in the past, it’s all behind us.”

Those words.

He didn’t know what to do with them and Blitzø folded his arms over his face as he broke down, feeling Stolas’ frame press against his own. He drew his knees up, body racked with the sobs as obsidian limbs pulled him impossibly close.

Those fucking words.

“It’s all behind us, Blitzø.”

It’s all he’d ever wanted to hear since he’d started fucking up in life.

Chapter Text

If pissing yourself resulted in this, then Blitzø wouldn’t be so devastated about it should it ever happen again. 

He was laying atop the quilt, snuggled into Stolas’ arms as the owl fussed him lightly. They’d been laying there for a while, randomly falling in and out of conversation that went everywhere and nowhere at once.

“Mm… handsome fluffy baby,” Stolas noted, running his talons through Blitzø’s plumage that had indeed dried in an unkempt manner. 

Blitzø trilled affectionately, too engrossed with the Prince’s warmth and reassurance to worry about how badly he’d need to preen in the morning. He inhaled deeply, having latched onto Stolas’ chest quills and face-planted them. 

“Blitzø.”

The demon in question lifted his chin as a hand cupped his cheek, the feel of Stolas’ gentle palm so very much wanted. 

“It’s time to reward you,” Stolas whispered, guiding him into a kiss. 

It was the type of kiss that Blitzø often craved. It was slow, languid and yet it took his breath away. 

“May I?”

Blitzø nodded, not really paying attention because he really wanted the Prince’s lips on his own again. He squeaked when Stolas rolled him onto his back, blinking up at the ceiling as palms swept down the inside of his thighs.

It was a pleasant sensation, but it made Blitzø squirm with disquiet. His self-consciousness was amplified by the way Stolas began to nuzzle against him, drawing a heady gasp from Blitzø who didn’t think he was capable of even getting aroused to the extent he had been just hours prior.

Everything came flooding back all at once as Stolas began to lightly tease with his tongue, causing rouge feathering to quiver and for Blitzø to moan brokenly. 

The frustration he’d endured bubbled back into place and Blitzø clutched at a pillow, losing coherency as he keened softly in response to being pushed into. The pressure was all too familiar too soon and he ground his hips down, puffs of air leaving his beak as he heard Stolas’ gentle voice urging him to do so more fervently. 

That sinfully knowing tongue was back against him and Blitzø mewled, everything in his body pulling excruciatingly taught as the burn that had tormented him returned tenfold. His hips pitched down as he arched freely, a saccharine warmth pooling in his lower abdomen the more Stolas suckled. It frothed up vehemently the harder those slender talons thrust into his tight, wet heat once again at the Prince’s mercy.

Blitzø threw his head back as he trembled, the coil within winding impossibly until he swore his mind was whiting out. The heady rush of raw ecstasy surged through him in a sudden burst that had him writhing without any ability to control himself.

He pleaded in a pointless mantra, Stolas’ name spilling from him as he flattened himself to the sheets, unable to do anything more than simply succumb to the torrent of liquid bliss that he’d been denied time and time again.

The breathless note that tore from him was nothing short of depraved, and he flailed lightly, chest heaving as everything went blessedly numb for a good few seconds. 

Fuck.

Stolas was still bestowing fleeting kisses to Blitzø’s need and those talons weren’t slowing at all, the slickness so very prominent. Blitzø had barely registered the high before he was hitting another, the influx of it all causing him to spasm in the most delightful of ways. 

He was reaching down before he could stop himself, feeling delirious with pleasure as he knotted his hands into Stolas’ florentine tufts.

“Stolas- Stolas, please-”

“Sh sh, one more time for me, my beautiful boy.”

Blitzø felt his plumage fluff up as Stolas’ voice resounded throughout his frame and his tail flared in a brilliant display of iridescence. 

He was Stolas’ beautiful boy.

Blitzø’s breathing hitched as he shuddered, hands balled into the quilt as his hips rolled and lifted in quick succession, wanting to feel the satisfied exhaustion that came with being truly satiated. 

He couldn’t make out the praises being offered, too aware of his own whining to catch anything that Stolas was saying, but the owl’s tone alone did enough.

He tumbled over the edge with a shattered sense of self, grinding against Stolas’ palm and uttering the Prince’s name reverently as he shuddered with a stuttering moan. His head was swimming in a haze of bliss, body thrumming with warmth as he lay there, eyelashes fluttering drunkenly. 

He immediately tilted his body to the side, hands simply resting upon his chest as kisses were pressed to his glistening excitement, several languid licks of a tongue dragging a quiet note out of him. Firm palms swept down his legs, over his stomach and then Stolas was right there, kissing Blitzø deeply and cradling his face.

“Handsome baby. Handsome beautiful baby. Proud to have you, so proud.”

Blitzø blossomed under the praise and promise, nodding his head even as the tears started up again. He allowed himself to be fussed before sniffling and pushing himself up.

“Bathroom?” Stolas guessed, already wriggling an arm under Blitzø’s knees.

He wasn’t going to complain, because the notion of walking was absolutely not happening and Blitzø clung to Stolas’ shoulders with a small, shy smile.

He could be a little proud of himself for this.

“I’m glad you weren’t scared.”

Blitzø exhaled at length, soaking up the feeling of his lower back being massaged. Stolas had been adamant that he needed to be properly taken care of- apparently that meant cuddles, constant fuss and having his entire body caressed.  

“I believe you when you say that you love me, Blitzø.” 

He couldn’t help the small smile at that. “Yeah, I really do mean it.”

“I know you do.” 

“I know I was trash to you,” Blitzø murmured, blinking slowly. “I was trash to everyone.”

“I believe that stems from people being trash towards you, first.”

That had Blitzø rolling over, giving Stolas a half-hearted shrug. “You weren’t trash but got treated like it, you were never trash towards me.”

“I had someone who I loved, someone who kept me gentle and caring.”

“Via?”

“Mhm.”

Blitzø nodded, thinking quietly to himself before curling up on his side, cheek pillowed on an arm. “No-one loves me,” he stated flatly, tracing invisible lines in the quilt cover. “I don’t know if anyone ever did, but I know whatever I did have from them that wasn’t hate, I fucking burned. I did that real early on, so I know. I can’t change what fucked up shit made me turn out like this but… I’m trying to be better. Not stupid either, I know it’s too late to fix shit between me and anyone.”

The admission hurt, because it really was an inherent belief that he held in every aspect. It had his vision blurring but he blinked it back and rolled onto his stomach with a huff.

“I just don’t wanna be hated by you.”

“I never hated you, Blitzø.”

He wanted to scoff, because how could the owl not have hated him? He held back though, not wanting to cause an upset. 

“You came close,” Blitzø whispered, lashes fluttering shut. “I know it’s not… likely, that you’ll wanna fucking date me, after all this. I know you’re seriously considering it and shit, but I know it’s really unlikely. I didn’t do this because it might give me that chance. I did it because even if you don’t want me like that, maybe we can still be friends.”

He sniffled, unable to keep the deep-seated sorrow at bay. He hiccuped softly when Stolas lay next to him, slender talons carding through Blitzø’s crested feathering before pulling him close. 

“Blitzø, I want to date you. I want to. My cautiousness is because I want us to be more than the past we’ve now left behind. You’re wrong that you aren’t loved and we will always be friends, even when we date we will be friends.”

It sounded way too good to be true, but Blitzø was finding himself slipping into the belief that it was a reachable reality, which felt like having his heart shredded because somehow forgiveness hurt more than the resentment that he’d been trying to remove. He bundled the quilt and held it up, the hot tears marring his plumage and making his cheeks sore. 

“I know, Blitzø. I know. It’s time for us both to let it all go,” Stolas whispered, tugging Blitzø up and situating him in-between florentine thighs. 

“I don’t want to fuck up anymore,” Blitzø wept, burying his face into the tufts upon the owl’s chest. “I don’t want anyone to hate me anymore. I don’t want to be alone anymore.” He curled his talons into Stolas’ feathers, finding himself unable to stop the flow of grief that he didn’t know he’d even had. It caused him to panic, the sudden shortness of breath unexpected and disorienting.

“It’s okay, it’s okay. Slowly inhale, Blitzø. Slowly.”

Stolas’ voice was truly like a beacon in the dark and Blitzø ended up having to crawl forward, feeling his stomach churn. “I’m gonna fucking throw up.”

Stolas was tossing the quilt aside and helping Blitzø to the bathroom without a word, and Blitzø didn’t hesitate in dropping to his knees as the owl lifted the lid to the porcelain bowl. 

All it took was the sight of it and Blitzø was purging his system of everything- the physical contents of his stomach and the emotional turmoil alike. He choked on a sob, the retching causing his throat to feel raw.

“Okay, it’s okay, you need to let it all out,” Stolas urged, his warm hands rubbing circles into Blitzø’s back with a sympathetic hoot. 

Blitzø didn’t know what was more humiliating, really. Pissing himself or this. 

“Fuck,” he spat, dropping the lid as the Prince flushed the evidence of shame away. “Sorry. I’m a fucking mess.”

“You need to stop apologising.”

Blitzø sniffled, grimacing at the bitter taste in his mouth and he reluctantly stood on unsteady legs, reaching for the mouthwash sat by the sink. 

He let Stolas potter about around him, knowing the owl wouldn’t leave his side.

Not that he wanted Stolas to leave, it just felt weird having someone stick around. Rinsing out his mouth and then the sink, Blitzø doused his face with cold water before wandering back to the bed. He flopped onto it and groaned, his stomach blooming with a vicious ache. 

“Here, sweetheart. You need to drink some water.”

It was the last thing he wanted to do, but Blitzø sat up and took several small sips from the glass, pushing it back towards Stolas who set it upon the side. 

“Fuck…” Blitzø puffed out, rolling onto his side and dragging a pillow into his arms. He curled around it and found it too small to properly do so- the first true instance of him missing his original stature. 

“I miss being small.”

He didn’t know why he voiced it, didn’t even know if Stolas was still in the room. The bed dipping and Stolas’ frame pressing against him answered that question and Blitzø closed his eyes as Stolas held him tight, going as far as to press their cheeks together. 

“I miss Loona,” Blitzø croaked out, starting to feel like one big ache and nothing else. “Moxxie, Millie. I miss I.M.P, and home.” 

“I know you do, Blitzø,” Stolas whispered, interlocking their hands together. “You’ve had a lot of change in one go- I know that is a lot for you. You don’t have to pretend it’s okay.”

“I wasn’t really pretending,” Blitzø wept, leaning back into Stolas’ cuddle. “I just… fucking kept going.”

“You’ve been in survival mode for a very long time,” Stolas murmured, running his talons up and down Blitzø’s arm in a bid to soothe. “Why don’t we take the next few days to recover, hm? Then we’ll start over from there.”

Starting over sounded exhausting.

Then again, when had Blitzø ever really ‘started over’ at any point in his life? 

His past had always crawled up behind him, dismantling everything new that he’d tried to build. 

“It won’t work,” he fretted, scrunching up his face as Stolas kissed away the scalding droplets of liquid distress. “It doesn’t matter what I fucking do. Blitz-o is always on my fucking ass.”

“Not here,” Stolas promised, voice firm as he cradled Blitzø’s cheek. “Not here, not with me. We’ve closed the door on it all, Blitzø. It all stays behind it.”

“It never stays behind it.” 

Blitzø exhaled shakily as he was rolled over, head tucked under Stolas’ chin. He sniffled as the quilt was tugged up, happy to hide from the world. He trilled softly when Stolas squeezed him tight, his florentine sanctuary a protection from the nightmares that paced beyond their embrace.

“It will this time, Blitzø, because I’m the one who locked it up, and I destroyed the only key.” 

Chapter Text

“Wakey-wakey, handsome Blitzy.”

Despite feeling crap from the second he started coming round, Blitzø couldn’t help but chuff out a soft sigh, barely lifting his lashes as he became aware of kisses being trailed down his back and up again. 

“I know you’re awake, my little Phoenix.”

“I’m a Bird of fucking Paradise,” Blitzø corrected quietly, tail sweeping under the covers until it hung off the bed in a lazy oscillation. 

“Indeed you are,” Stolas purled, nuzzling Blitzø’s neck before kissing his cheek. “Will you have breakfast with me?”

His stomach rumbled before he could reply and Blitzø ignored the amused hoot from the owl who tugged at a banded quill. 

“Will you be alright on your own for a few minutes?” 

Blitzø made a noncommittal noise, half-questioning in tone. 

“I wish to have breakfast in bed, darling.”

Sounded fucking fantastic from where Blitzø was still huddled up. “Mhm.”

“I’ll have it arranged with Porri and it shall be brought up.”

Who Porri was, Blitzø didn’t know. He didn’t care, either. He was trying to pinpoint exactly how he felt and why. He didn’t feel bad he just felt weirdly empty and somehow that was kinder than anything he’d experienced before.

He was dozing off again when Stolas returned. 

“Breakfast will be with us shortly,” came the immediate announcement, and then Blitzø was being scooped up rather unceremoniously. He flailed with a hitch in his breath as he ended up straddling the owl who smiled up at him. 

Blitzø huffed and fell forward, snuffling Stolas’ neck feathers and daring to kiss the owl’s cheek. He didn’t know if it was really allowed but he was triumphant in getting away with it. He melted into Stolas’ frame as obsidian hands ran down his back, sweeping over his hips and up his sides. 

“How are you feeling, sweetheart?”

“Don’t know. Vacant, I guess.”

“If you feel yourself dip in any way, will you tell me?”

“Yeah,” Blitzø whispered, curling his talons into Stolas’ florentine tufts. He lay there atop the Prince, drifting back into a blissful sanctuary with the awareness that Stolas was ever so gently running slender fingers through rouge and ivory plumage. 

“You still have your little heart,” Stolas noted quietly, stroking down the slope of Blitzø’s forehead. “Your little black heart.”

It had the shorter male shifting slightly to look at the owl through heavy lashes. “You think that might be what’s wrong with me?” He asked, the question coming out a little airy as though it weren’t a troubling one.

“Hm?”

“That I have a black heart that’s too rotten to do anything? Like it’s not big enough to show how I feel about people and shit?”

The look that etched itself across Stolas’ ironically heart-shaped features was a little confusing, but Blitzø tilted his head, awaiting an answer anyway.

“Blitzø… darling, you have a perfectly beautiful big heart,” Stolas told him, audibly appalled. “You just… you’ve had it battered about, it’s bruised, that’s all. You need to heal and that’s not something you’ve been allowed to do.”

Blitzø huffed, turning his head so his cheek was resting upon Stolas’ collarbones. “Maybe I was born all broken and defective.”

Stolas was trying to sit them up at that. “Blitzø, sweetheart-” 

It had Blitzø whining loudly in protest, shoving his weight forward so Stolas couldn’t do so. He nuzzled the owl’s lower jaw, bumping Stolas’ chin in a bid to deter any further attempts at countering the things that Blitzø was voicing. 

It seemed to work, for Stolas exhaled heavily and held him tight. Blitzø snuggled into him immediately, a small trill escaping his throat as Stolas began preening a banded quill. 

“After breakfast, why don’t we have a nice soak in the bath?”  

“Mhm. Sounds good,” Blitzø murmured, stifling a yawn. He sighed, knowing that his words had worried the owl now simply holding him. “It helps. Just being able to voice shit instead of… keeping it in.”

“That’s alright,” Stolas assured, deftly caressing the back of Blitzø’s shoulders. “I merely ask that you allow me to show you when those things aren’t true.”

Blitzø quirked a smile at that. “When they aren’t true?”

“Well, I can’t take all the naughty out of you,” Stolas mused, tracing the black feathers adorning Blitzø’s forehead. “I won’t be able to discipline you again, otherwise.”

Blitzø blinked, leaning up in surprise as he gazed at the owl with genuine curiosity. “You want to… do that again?”

Stolas blinked widely right back at him, cheeks tinting pink. “I… would love to if you wanted to.”

Blitzø opened his mouth then closed it. “I fucking pissed on your floor.”

“Was one of the hottest things I’ve seen.”

“You’re into that?”

“Into what?”

“Piss.”

“No, I’m into seeing you fall apart, Blitzø. Let us be very clear here, wetting yourself is rather tame.”

“Right so you wouldn’t be so eager to go again if I shit myself.”

“Blitzø.”

“What? I’m just asking!”

“You’re being a menace.”

“Actually, I’m just worrying I’ll do that one day,” Blitzø told him, rolling off the taller male as the tell-tale clatter of a breakfast trolley trundled up the hallway outside. 

The exhale that Stolas released as he got up was so exaggerated that it was funny. “Blitzø, if you ever become so scared of what I’m doing to you that you lose all hold on your bodily functions-”

“Shut the fuck up, I will never legitimately shit myself and you know it, fuck off,” Blitzø growled, annoyed this his little attempt at being annoying had been turned on him so quickly. He glared as the owl laughed, folding the front of a robe over a florentine torso as he opened the door. 

“Your breakfast, Prince Stolas.”

“Thank you, I’ll put the cart back out in the hall once we’re done.”

“Very good, Prince Stolas.”

The scent of fresh coffee and sweetened rolls instantly filled the room and Blitzø sat up, well aware that his plumage was heavily mussed. He stretched his arms out, body folding over itself as he yawned and flopped over, something delightfully serene washing over him.

He exhaled softly and blinked at the male smiling at him from the side of the bed. “What?”

“You’re cute.”

“Gross,” Blitzø muttered, pushing himself up and hiding under the blanket once more. He took the offered cup of coffee and sank back as the warmth of it flooded his palms. 

“Right, we have… muffins, scones, cereal if you wish it… oh she put bacon in here too. Bacon roll?”

“I’ll try it,” Blitzø murmured, nervous of anything he had to actively bite into. It was easier to just pop morsels into his mouth. “Can I break it up?” He asked, taking the plate offered. 

“Do whatever makes you feel comfortable,” Stolas replied warmly, busying himself with his own cup of tea. 

Blitzø eagerly did so, ending up with several bite-sized pieces of his roll that he happily worked through. 

“Here, lemme hold that for you,” he spoke up, setting his plate down upon the bed and taking the cup of tea from Stolas’ grasp. The owl had his own plate held up and out of the way as he returned to Blitzø’s side. 

“Thank you,” Stolas chuffed, setting his muffin aside and retrieving the tea. “It has been such a long time since I had breakfast in bed.”

Blitzø scoffed, taking a mouthful of coffee. “Only time I ever had breakfast in bed was… oh wait. Never.” 

“I shall ensure you have as many as we can arrange,” Stolas promised, scooting a little closer and dropping a cheek atop Blitzø’s head. 

“Don’t get crumbs in my feathers.”

“I haven’t even taken a bite yet.”

“You can’t fucking bite, you have no teeth.”

“Fine. I haven’t even pecked my muffin, yet.”

Blitzø barked out a laugh, Stolas’ wording sounding ridiculous to him. “The fuck. Pecked your muffin. What the fuck,” he snickered, taking another small morsel as the Prince beside him gave him a gentle nuzzle followed by a kiss on the cheek that ended with a very obvious sniffle. 

Blitzø started, leaning down to look at the owl who was wiping away tears. 

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s just so good to hear you laugh.”

Blitzø quirked an eyebrow, something fond bubbling up. “I always laugh.”

Stolas shook his head, the tears still falling and Blitzø snorted, setting his breakfast aside and crawling across the quilt in order to grab a napkin. He ended up sitting before the Prince, patting dampened cheeks with a sense of amusement. 

“Fucking dork, it’s just a laugh.”

“It’s the first true laugh I’ve heard from you, since you’ve been here,” Stolas whispered, taking hold of Blitzø’s wrist with one hand whilst cupping an ivory cheek with the other. “I have missed hearing you laugh.”

Blitzø felt himself fluff up with the bashfulness and he nipped Stolas’ palm affectionately. “I miss hearing you laugh. Should I tell you bad jokes?”

“You don’t tell bad jokes.”

“No, but if you bring out a mirror I can show you one.”

“Would I be the punchline, or you?”

“Only bad joke here is that you have salad cream on the cart. The fuck, Stolas, that shit is nasty.”

“I like salad cream. Stop deflecting, let me fuss you.”

Blitzø rolled out of the way, returning to his side of the bed. “I’m eating. See? I have to finish this whole fucking thing otherwise you’ll get on my case for being a twig.”

“Yes, a whole roll. You can have a muffin after you’ve finished that.”

Blitzø paused, giving Stolas an innocent look. “A muffin, or your muffin. Gotta be specific because I can and will take it both ways.”

“Eat your breakfast,” Stolas chided with a titter, placing a blueberry treat upon Blitzø’s near-empty plate. “Give me your cup. You need a refill.”

“Do you want me to piss myself again?” He giggled quietly when Stolas elbowed him and took the coffee with a sense of delight.

The bread was warm, the bacon cooked to perfection and the coffee was the precise balance of bitter and sweet. 

It might have just been the best breakfast he’d ever had. 

“Your bath is so fucking huge.”

“For you, certainly.”

“You could fit in it properly, you just don’t fucking want to.”

“I like to lounge.”

Blitzø didn’t reply further, for he was in a state of floaty contentment that felt airy, spacious and tranquil. It felt like a break in the mental torture and he was wallowing in the sweet scented heat that was Stolas’ bubble bath.

Blitzø didn’t know he could feel nice. Things felt nice but he never had. 

Not like this. 

The quiet tinkling of the constellations floating above them offered a gentle repertoire of background notes and Blitzø couldn’t help but revel in the cradle of way too many bubbles. His feathers felt silky against his skin, and he was very much aware of how Stolas’ entire frame felt soft under his own. 

Stolas himself was laid back entirely, head resting on the cushioned rim of his tub, staring upwards with a faraway look. 

Blitzø trilled, sweeping his palms up the owl’s neck and grasping at his face. He ended up idly massaging Stolas’ cheeks out of sheer playfulness and he didn’t know why, but the urge to preen the owl in the way Stolas had started doing with him became an absolute must.

He truly never was good with his self control, and Blitzø dipped down, attempting to take a feather between his beak and lower lip. 

Stolas gasped in surprise, sitting bolt upright and Blitzø jerked away, the water sloshing violently and sending suds over the rim. He sat back, heart thudding against his ribcage as Stolas clapped a hand over the offended area, blinking at him widely. 

Shit.

He’d overstepped.

“Sorry-”

“It’s alright,” Stolas uttered a little dazedly, suddenly starting to laugh. “It’s alright, sweetheart. You tugged a really sensitive spot that’s all, oh goodness. Come here, you’re such a darling.”

Blitzø let himself be dragged in, and he found himself seeking Stolas’ gaze, needing reassurance that he hadn’t just fucked up. When Stolas squeezed him tight, Blitzø squirmed, the urge still very much there.

“How… how do I…?”

Those bright cerise-rose hues shone with blatant adoration and Blitzø felt himself grow shy.

“You did it fine the first time, I wasn’t expecting it that’s all. I haven’t been preened that way before.”

Blitzø blinked widely, almost upset by the fact. “Can I? Can I preen you that way? Let me preen you that way.”

Stolas hooted with laughter and Blitzø huffed, wanting to dote on the taller male who only held him tighter. 

“Stolas!”

“Oh let me hold you, you delightful, handsome Dove.”

Blitzø growled in discontent, reluctantly giving in as Stolas settled back down. 

“You can do so later,” Stolas promised, snuffling the crest atop Blitzø’s head. “Just let me hold you like this, because you truly are everything I knew you to be.”

Blitzø let himself settle, the words echoing in his skull as he stared at the side of the bath.

What did that even mean? 

Chapter Text

“You are everything I knew you to be.”

It was ringing in his head still, had done the rest if the day prior and the night he’d just spent conked out. It was there even as he scrunched up the plastic wrap that held the meat now thoroughly devoured by Stolas’ larger plants.

It wasn’t that it was a bad line, or a necessarily worrying one, it just didn’t make sense.

What was he? 

What was he that Stolas knew him to be?

What was ‘everything’?

Could he mess that ‘everything’ up? 

The worst the spoken line brought was the concern that ‘everything I knew you to be’ was somehow attached to Blitzø being avian-esque, which wasn’t the real him and therefore would be rendered moot if he was an Imp once more.

It was Wednesday, and the morning chores were practically done. Tuesday was spent lounging around, being fussed and fed which was weird and wonderful.

Blitzø was ready to return to a somewhat generic routine, though Stolas wasn’t leaving his side for any of it. Not that Blitzø minded, he just wasn’t sure why. He glanced at the owl in question who was petting the gluttonous plant still chewing away. 

It was strange, how quickly Stolas had accepted him back. 

It was strange how everything seemed forgiven just because Blitzø let the Prince ‘discipline’ him and he wasn’t even hurt in any way. 

Was it really that easy?

“Hey, Bon Bon,” Blitzø greeted, stepping into the kitchen and heading for the sink. 

Bon Bon warbled back and Blitzø immediately got to work sorting out the small flower’s breakfast. 

“Let’s have a look at you,” Blitzø uttered, pulling the yellow terracotta towards himself, bag of diced meat dropping to the side. “Gimme leaves,” he instructed, holding out his forefingers for Bon Bon to hold. “Hm… good grip, bubs. No more bruising… no nicks…” He peered at the vibrant red eyes and opened up his fist, quirking a smile when Bon Bon flared his small, delicate petals. 

None were marred, and the little bloom looked to be in perfectly good shape. 

“Atta baby boy,” Blitzø praised, offering Bon Bon a morsel which was swiftly taken. Blitzø sighed softly, waiting for his little buddy to finish eating before petting him. He gently caressed under Bon Bon’s chin, happy to see the plant close his eyes in delight before latching onto Blitzø’s fingertip. 

It was an immediate game, and Blitzø grinned at the display of character and strength. “Yeah, you’re doing great. Such a little fighter, aren’t ya.”

“He certainly takes after you,” Stolas stated, only just walking into the kitchen. He collected the ziplock bag of diced meat and placed it in the fridge once more, giving Blitzø a look. 

“Nah, he’s stronger than me. Gonna be the best in Hell aren’t ya, bubs.” 

Blitzø’s gaze flittered upwards, his mind stalling when he ended up watching Stolas potter about in an oversized silver sweater and white leggings. 

Fuck, the owl was so beautiful. 

Looking at Stolas now, Blitzø couldn’t help but really contemplate the reality he’d found himself in. They hadn’t seen each other in eight months… 

“So uh… how come you started hosting parties?” He inquired as conversationally as he could, leaning upon the kitchen island and ending up in another lazy round of wrestling with Bon Bon. “Thought you hated that shit.”

“Quite the contrary,” Stolas answered with an amused lilt. “I rather enjoy the concept- but it’s no fun when you’re ostracised,” he sighed, expression falling flat as Blitzø just stared at him knowingly. “It was a mandatory stipulation after the divorce. I had to ‘make-up’ for the bad publicity by ensuring I did something respectable,” he finally admitted, demeanour flattening. 

“Wow. Your punishment for getting a divorce was to fucking socialise,” Blitzø snorted, shaking his head. 

“It gave the media something else to harp on about, and I was forbidden to ‘hide away and rot’ as it were,” Stolas continued, opening the fridge. “So hosting weekly functions was an apt deflection and it allowed others to get to know me for me, rather than from Stella.”

“Makes sense,” Blitzø acknowledged, recalling the way the Prince’s ex-wife had gone straight to the media herself. He winced as Bon Bon chomped down a little too hard, actually puncturing the skin of Blitzø’s thumb. He didn’t react otherwise, noting how Bon Bon eased off with a timid look about him. “Strong bubs,” Blitzø praised quietly, stroking Bon Bon’s cheek with the side of his finger. 

“It was very awkward at first, mind you,” Stolas huffed, back to slicing fruit. “I didn’t really know how to host and everyone was rather wary.”

“Really? No-one jumped at the chance to woo the newly available Prince?” Blitzø teased, now making Bon Bon reach for his talons as he held his hand above the plant’s head.

“Salistor did,” Stolas exhaled, retrieving two bowls. “He wasn’t my first experience after I ended our arrangement, he was simply the first to really show an interest.”

“Creep,” Blitzø bit out, walking his digits around Bon Bon’s pot. “So who was your first?”

Stolas glanced at him over a shoulder. “No-one of any significance, I assure you. His name was Rory, I think? He was just someone’s plus-one at a different event. We were both awkward, trying to get through the damn night. Ended up alone in one of the host’s dens and one thing lead to another.”

Blitzø quirked a smile, well aware of the scenario.

“Never saw him again after that, mind you.”

“No?”

Stolas shook his head. “Got into the habit of hosting events just to sneak off with someone,” the owl admitted, setting the plate of sliced fruit between them. “Salistor was exhilarating the first time, but the second was too much. I didn’t feel good at all and wasn’t right for days after.”

“You dropped?” Blitzø asked, eyebrows furrowing as he moved to rinse his hands once again. 

“Of sorts,” came the quiet reply. “Sirius came to check on me after overhearing Salistor gloating.” 

Blitzø clenched his jaw, angered by the fact that someone like Salistor had laid hands on someone like Stolas- and the heavy weight of knowing that had Blitzø not driven the owl off, then Stolas wouldn’t have suffered such an experience in the first place.

Not that he was going to open that wound.

“Speaking of, how does shit between you and Sirius work?” He asked instead, tearing off a sheet of paper towelling. 

“Did,” came the curt reminder, and Blitzø rolled his eyes, tossing the used tissue into the bin without even looking. He knew it would end up in there, he was no idiot.

“Yeah okay, did. How did you guys work?”

“It was honestly just friends with benefits,” Stolas answered lightly, slicing several fruits upon an ivory chopping board. “Sirius is a good friend, we felt safe bedding one another out of a mutual want for sexual gratification. There was no risk of developing feelings, and I knew he respected me enough not to gossip.”

Blitzø nodded, completely understanding why. “Yeah, he’s a good guy,” he murmured, moving to snag a slice of apple.

“So you keep saying,” Stolas drawled, popping a grape into his mouth.

“There aren’t many of those out there,” Blitzø noted, sticking the apple into Bon Bon’s soil. He watched the blossom curiously inspect it.

“You’re here, Blitzø,” Stolas sighed, offering the avian-Imp a slice of banana on a fork. “You are here and you are a good man.”

“These grapes are nice.”

“Blitzø.”

“No really, very nice. You get the good shit, huh.”

He wasn’t looking up, mostly because he couldn’t bare to. 

“Blitzø.”

The hands that guided him to turn around were firm, warm… like velvet and Blitzø exhaled at length, stroking over Stolas’ knuckles. 

“It’s hard to hear that I’m… anything remotely positive after everything I know I’ve caused,” he confessed, voice barely above a whisper. “Even though I want nothing more in the fucking world than to be good, I know I’m not.” He inhaled sharply, lacing their talons together. “I can’t compare to men like Sirius. Not even in this form, so… if I turn back…” he trailed off, blinking as Stolas released one hand and nudged him up by the chin.

“There is no comparison between you or anyone, because I have wanted you out of everyone I have crossed paths with,” the Prince intoned emotionally, brushing his thumb against Blitzø’s cheek. 

“Stolas, look at the shit you went through because of me,” Blitzø insisted, shaking his head. “I don’t even know why disciplining me did anything for you, what did you even get out of it? You barely said shit.”

Stolas hesitated for a second before puffing out a sigh. “It gave me clarity. You gave me permission to vent and believe me, I fully intended to do so but having you there in front of me… I realised I didn’t need to. Not to the extent I thought I did. You were truly willing to let me do as I needed, even though you were so obviously struggling and I… I know how distressed you were over having an accident-” 

Blitzø bristled, a soft hiss leaving him. “Don’t call it that, for fuck’s sake, I’m not a fucking kid. I pissed myself.”

“I was trying to be tactful.”

“Ain’t no tactful way to say it, alright?”

“The point is, you trusted me and that was enough. You took the session seriously, for me. You held out, for me. You trusted me and that… that meant more than any resentment I harboured- all of which were unwanted anyway.”

Blitzø felt his face warm at the admission and he shied away, unsure of how to even respond. He didn’t get much of a chance when obsidian palms cupped his face entirely. 

“Blitzø, you held it together even when you were at your most vulnerable. I called it because I could see that you were in shock- but I am no fool. I know you wouldn’t have called out anyway because you were so focused on giving me what you thought I wanted.”

There was a chide within those words and Blitzø humbly accepted it, knowing he would have no choice but to voice his discomfort should they ever go down that road again. 

“What uh… what was it? That you wanted?” He asked tentatively, not really sure. The lack of pain had made it difficult for him to comprehend as a discipline.

“To make you feel as helpless and desperate as I had felt being in love with you,” Stolas stated easily. “No matter how much I yearned for affection or attention from you, you never gave it. I felt as though all those feelings I had were trapped, and what was supposed to be a beautiful thing, became toxic and a burden.” 

Blitzø nodded slowly, catching on in an instant. “It became unbearable, huh.”

“I too, refused to beg,” Stolas told him, forcing Blitzø to face him. “The thing is, Blitzø, you gave me the opportunity to say what I wanted and when presented with you… I no longer felt the need or want to say anything more. I knew nothing in my heart had changed and nothing prior to that moment mattered. You were hurt too, have been for a very long time and there was nothing in me that wanted to add to that pain.”

Blitzø’s heart thudded as he felt his chest tighten. He cleared his throat, overwhelmed because no-one really acknowledged his pain- not even himself. He let his gaze slip to the side, leaning into Stolas’ touch.

“If you needed to though… hurt me, I mean… I’d let you,” he told the Prince earnestly, the words a meek mumble more than anything else. 

“I don’t want to hurt you,” Stolas whispered, looping his arms around Blitzø’s waist and pulling him into a gentle embrace. “I want to heal with you.”

Blitzø closed his eyes, sinking into the owl’s warm frame. He almost couldn’t believe that Stolas was saying such things, but like the moth that he was to the Prince’s light, he trailed after the hope left in the sentiment’s wake.

“I’d like that.”

He didn’t have to say how he feared that he was past the point of such. He’d support Stolas’ healing in any way he could. 

Chapter Text

“It’s coming after me! It’s coming after me!”

“Just turn around and hit it!”

“It’s trying to eat me!”

“Don’t bring it to me! Don’t fucking bring it to me, I swear to fucking Hell do not bring that fucking Savage- Stolas!”

“Kill it! Kill it!”

“I can’t fucking kill it! No-one can fucking kill that!” 

Blitzø heaved in a breath as the hulking mass of red and black came careening onto his side of the screen, Stolas’ character flouncing past him in a bid to sprint out of the way.

“Stolas you asshole!” Blitzø yelled, desperately trying to orientate his own character so he could attempt an escape. “I told you not to go down that fucking path in the first place! This fucking thing is going to be on our asses now for the entire fucking Quest!”

“You can deal with it, I’m gathering herbs,” Stolas replied, completely calm now that his problem had been pawned off to the shorter male who scowled. 

“I’m handing this fucker back to your ass.”

“No! Blitzø, don’t! You’re a higher Rank than me!”

“I didn’t sign up for your shit!”

“You didn’t tell me there was a monstrosity of this magnitude in this game!”

“Oh shit, I think it went back,” Blitzø suddenly declared, coming to a halt and downing a potion. “Fuck. Where you at?”

“Area five.”

“Oh. There you are.” 

“We need area six,” Stolas told him, wandering off to another Gathering Point.

“Yeah, just lemme craft a bunch of fucking potions, one sec.”

“No rush, Blitzy.”

Blitzø sighed, expertly running through his crafting menu whilst Stolas hummed absently next to him. They were supposed to be in the Study, actually doing work but Stolas had caught Blitzø gaming on his phone and one thing lead to another and now…

Now they were both sat on the floor of the living room, Stolas’ ridiculously big T.V lit up from the gaming console that the owl had been sent to get from Blitzø’s room back at the apartment. The owl was cack-handed as fuck with the controller, and he insisted on paying real money in order to change Blitzø’s old character profile to suit him- but all in all?

Stolas was fucking hilarious to game with. 

“I’m dying!”

Blitzø glanced over at Stolas’ screen, honing in on the steadily depleting purple bar. “How the fuck did you get poisoned- you’re in Area Six! I said to wait, you dunce! Take a fucking Antidote!”

“Oh! Oh no! Blitzen is poisoned too! Oh Blitzø, we’re inflicted!”

Blitzø snorted, watching as Stolas’ character and companion feline walked right into another Poisoncup, tipping it over and causing the ground to saturate a deep purple. 

“Just glug down an Antidote,” he instructed again with a grin, looking at the circular map in the bottom-left corner of his HUD. A foreboding icon was coming their way and he smirked, quickly leaving Stolas behind and sneaking off to safety.

Not even ten seconds later a loud roar resounded out, quickly followed by a shriek, Stolas once again screeching in panic as he floundered to the point that he was leaning heavily upon Blitzø’s shoulder, nearly toppling him over.

“Fuck! Don’t bring him to me!”

“He’s found us, Blitzy! He found us!”

“No, he fucking found you! Go the other fucking way!” 

It was pointless, of course, because Stolas did no such thing and Blitzø was left to cackle as they both scrambled blindly away from the Monster on screen. 

“Blitzø! Blitzø you’re being killed! You’re being killed!”

He didn’t care, he just laughed as he flopped onto his side, controller dropping to the floor as he snickered into his arms. The tell-tale audio of their Quest having failed emanated from the T.V speakers and Blitzø unfurled himself, finding a pouting Prince staring at the loading screen. 

“I did tell you not to go ahead,” Blitzø reminded, propping his cheek up on a palm. 

“You let it murder us,” Stolas accused, skipping through the data window. He waited for them both to reload in their starting area before heading off to the Quest Board.

“We aren’t retrying it,” Blitzø told him, reaching across to thwart the owl’s intentions. Of course, Stolas just held his controller out the way and Blitzø huffed as he sat back down, thoroughly amused by Stolas’ haughty smugness. “We’ll get killed again.”

“Hush, I’m avenging myself and Blitzen.” 

“Yeah? Well me and Stolussy aren’t part of your fucking plans to commit sudoku, so we’re heading in the other fucking direction.”

“You couldn’t commit sudoku if you tried.”

“Don’t fucking test me.”

“Don’t need to, you tried and failed numerous times already.”

Blitzø paused before shooting the giggling owl a look. “Oh you’re fucking proud of that fucking pun, aren’t you. Oh you feel so fucking proud about that.”

“I do.”

“Be the only thing you feel fucking proud of today, because you are gonna get your ass munched by that fucker all over again.”

A coy smile etched across Stolas’ face. “You going to watch?”

“I fucking love to watch,” Blitzø drawled knowingly, immediately trailing after Stolas’ character. It went quiet between them after that, mostly due to the fact that they were actually trying to complete the Quest they’d both embarked on. 

“Oh pot, my Item Pouch is full,” Stolas muttered after a few minutes of running around gathering things.

“Drop the fucking Cold Drinks. You don’t need ‘em and you can just buy more later if we go to the fucking hot place.”

“Is that what you call your bedroom, now?” Stolas joked, doing as Blitzø suggested. 

Blitzø leaned forward, snatching up his tumbler currently filled with soda. “Out of all these fucking places, which one would you live in if you could?”

He felt his cheeks warm as Stolas slowly lowered his controller, seemingly intrigued by the question. 

“Oh goodness. I don’t know, each one offers its own unique charm? I don’t think Wildspire though… or the Recess…”

“Between Highlands and Reach then?” Blitzø guessed, feeling fondness froth up. 

“Oh that’s a difficult one. I’ll have to go with Highlands. It’s ethereal, and very pretty,” Stolas sighed, tilting his head at Blitzø. “What about you?”

“Reach,” he answered without missing a beat. “Looks fucking cozy, and you could fucking cuddle up all day in the hot spring.”

“Eternal bubble bath,” Stolas murmured dreamily before straightening up. “I’ll come live with you in Hoarfrost, but we take weekend holidays to Highlands once a month.”

“Fair. You know where I’d like to go is the Vale. Place looks kinda cool when you’re past the fleshy decor.”

“Oh I forgot about the Vale. Octavia would probably live down there,” Stolas sighed, sounding marginally disdainful at the prospect. 

“Yeah, but she’d live in the pretty place, where the fucking… acid lake is and shit.”

“Makes it so much better.”

“Hey least the acid would clean up those bones for her.”

“I suppose it’s somewhere to throw the unwanted admirers,” Stolas muttered, pressing his controls with a little more force. 

Blitzø watched those gentle hands for a few seconds before daring to ask. “Has anyone actually approached you over that?”

“In person?” Stolas questioned, launching into an attack against their intended target this time. “Please, they’d never live to tell the tale.”

Blitzø couldn’t help it.

The emotion that welled up was beyond him, far too strong for a withered idiot like he was. He ended up stalling in his task, gazing at Stolas with a dumb fucking grin that the owl did a double take of.

“What?”

“You’re such a good fucking Dad,” Blitzø told him, lashes lowered even as his HP drained considerably.

“Be a good fucking player, if you die then no-one is here to save me when I inevitably get poisoned- Blitzen! Oh you nasty ugly crap-face, I will avenge my baby!”

Blitzø cackled, letting himself fall onto Stolas’ side until the owl raised an arm and looped it round him in order to still play. It resulted in Blitzø scooting to sit between Stolas’ thighs, focusing on the battle whilst purring quietly. 

He didn’t care.

He was happy. 

“Blitzø! Stop focusing on the tail!”

“Fuck off, I want the tail.”

“You can’t keep collecting their tails.”

“Fucking watch me.”

“I am. I am watching you faff about unnecessarily.”

“I’m not fucking ‘faffing about’, I’m chopping off tails!” Blitzø argued, a rough note of protest leaving his beak when Stolas tugged on a quill. “Ow! Bitch, I’m mounting the damn thing!”

“I’ll mount you if you- Blitzø! Quit with the tail already!”

“No!”

“Move up to the head! I need the horn! Break the horn!”

It was utter mayhem, with Stolas trying to force Blitzø to shift his analog stick so he wasn’t clinging to the tail as he wanted. 

“Fuck off! Stolas!” Blitzø laughed, losing his place atop the Monster entirely in their scuffle. “Get off! I need to heal- I need to fucking heal!” 

It fell on deaf ears and he truly didn’t mind. Stolas was practically punching the controls and Blitzø was too snagged in the hilarity to really get upset. He waited for the owl to quieten before snatching the chance to take a potion. 

Blitzø was smiling stupidly, Stolas’ long torso folded over him as the Prince threw everything he had at the Monster on screen. Blitzø relented, squirming in order to see the screen clearly as he focused all his hits on the damn creatures head. 

“Oh his life is low! Blitzy, his life is low!”

It was low, and Blitzø was almost giddy from hearing how excited Stolas was over that fact. The owl had really struggled getting the hang of the game and seeing him finally start to get the hang of it was really fucking cool.

Also cute, because Stolas was still a Prince regardless of the setting. 

“I got it!” Stolas exclaimed, shaking Blitzø’s about in excitement. “I got it!” 

“Good for you,” Blitzø chuckled, closing his result window and setting his controller down so he could stretch across Stolas’ lap. “What did you want it for anyway?”

“Hm? Oh. They are my trophies.”

Blitzø started, twisting round to grab at Stolas’ face as the owl hooted with mirth. “You fucking hypocrite! I sacrificed that fucking tail for you!” He struggled as his wrists were held in a firm grip, Stolas tipping his chin up haughtily. 

“I know, your Prince thanks you for your generosity.”

Blitzø thwacked the owl on the back with his spinier feathers, huffing as all he got was an amused titter. “You fucking brat.”

“I am no brat, darling.”

“Are right now,” Blitzø muttered, pushing Stolas’ face away and wriggling himself free of the owl’s grip. He didn’t pick up his controller again, too tired in a good way to do so. He watched Stolas save their game, and Blitzø yawned, settling his cheek upon a plush thigh. He exhaled at length as talons deftly thread through his feathers, drawing a trill from him. 

“You are too, you know.”

Blitzø blinked, tilting his head back. “A brat?”

“A good Father,” Stolas smiled, which had Blitzø frowning in an instant. 

“Eh. Might have been at one point. Not so much lately,” he muttered, aware of the hand at his hip. 

“She should come visit.”

Blitzø grimaced, rolling into his back so he could look up at the owl properly. “Every time I fucking bring that up, she leaves me on read and then starts a new conversation. Don’t think she wants to see me after I screwed up.”

“Perhaps she is merely worried?” Stolas suggested, now stroking Blitzø’s knee. 

“Nah, she’s probably having fun at those parties she goes to, now,” he sighed, expression falling sullen. “It’s whatever.”

“I’m sure she’ll come around, Blitzø.”

“Yeah…” He didn’t really want to think about how much he’d screwed up with his daughter, and so Blitzø chased the frayed ends of the fun they’d been having moments prior. “You’re pretty good at bashing in heads, huh.”

He watched as Stolas scoffed, sitting back whilst rocking Blitzø’s legs idly with a palm. “I make an allowance for this one corner in life.”

“Rather you bash their head’s in than mine,” Blitzø joked, rubbing the side of his temple that had been injured the night he stormed in. “Your guards were pretty fucking serious this time round. I guess an Imp wasn’t that much of a threat last time.”

Stolas tutted, cupping Blitzø’s face and leaning down to kiss the area in question. “Frightened me, seeing you like that.”

He didn’t care.

Fuck it, Blitzø didn’t care, he wrapped his arms around Stolas’ neck and whined. 

“They fucking tried to break my back.”

Stolas didn’t seem to share in the ability to make light of it, and Blitzø pouted softly, poking at the owl’s beak in question. It had Stolas averting his gaze entirely.

“I hold so much regret for that night, Blitzø.”

“Really? You were fucking justified and you went fucking easy on me, considering,” Blitzø ventured, hoping to alleviate some of the guilt on Stolas’ face. Those woeful cerise-rose hues returned to him and Blitzø tilted his head in question. 

“It’s the fact that when you left, I went straight to Sirius. I was so furious, and so panicked that you’d gone in such a state, that I dragged him upstairs and begged him to just fuck me. He didn’t know what had happened. I didn’t tell him until I broke down two rounds in. I’m so ashamed of myself for that. Even more so for what happened after.”

“You mean that time you fucked him after preening me?” Blitzø guessed, smiling wryly as Stolas nodded with a pained expression. 

“I was afraid. I was slipping backwards so fast,” the owl admitted, demeanour timid. “Trying to be cold with you whilst yearning to be gentle… was so very hard. I thought if we ever crossed paths again, you’d be fine. I cut you off thinking you wouldn’t give a single shit. Then you come to me in such a state, and I realised so very quickly that you were scared of me. Truly scared of me. My choice of not talking to you about how I was feeling backfired, because you… truly didn’t know, did you.”

Blitzø pursed his beak before scrunching his face up, readying himself to be agonisingly honest. “I thought I was just something to pass your fucking time,” he admitted, staring straight upwards. “Thought I had to fucking lid how much I liked being around you, because if you caught on then you’d think I was stupid, or creepy or some shit. Kinda realised you were sincere and got spooked- I might have been on the way to realising it was more but then I fucked up and you cut me off. I knew it was because of me, even then.”

Stolas’ plumage seemed to wilt at that, and Blitzø winced, realising that his words were making the owl feel worse. 

“It’s fucking better it happened this way,” he insisted quickly, trying to keep his voice light. “I was fucking determined to just… you know, but you gave me a chance and I wanted to fucking fight for once. I just let people go when they wanna leave- learned the hard way not to chase anyone because when I do, they say the shit I’m scared of hearing but… I needed to hear it from you. Anyway, shit happened and we’re still here. Don’t waste time on regretting anything, trust me. It’s all I do and it had me stuck in fucking misery for years.”

It was a pathetic attempt at offering comfort, and yet Stolas was gazing at him with such a grateful smile, eyes glassy and soulful. It had Blitzø shying away awkwardly, because he didn’t know what the expression meant. 

He blinked when a hand took hold of his own. 

“Do you recall when I said that the things people like about you, are the things you don’t see?” Stolas asked, causing Blitzø’s heart to skip a beat.

“Y-yeah?” 

“Well, some of the things you do see, are some of the things I fell in love with,” Stolas murmured warmly, lacing their talons together with pink-tinted cheeks. “You see so much of yourself as bad- when actually, I find those qualities fun, endearing, cute, sexy… and admittedly… on the rare occasion… very badass.”

“Tell me what’s sexy,” Blitzø demanded, sitting up on his knees as Stolas snorted. “You think I’m cool? What’s the badass stuff? Is it my assassin skills? I got big fucking guns.”

His breath hitched as he was squeezed tight, and he emitted a soft note of protest when Stolas nuzzled him. 

“Can I get kisses for sacrificing that fucker’s tail?” He asked instead, looking back over at the T.V.

“No,” Stolas tittered, now kissing Blitzø’s cheek. “I need at least three more broken heads.”

Blitzø smirked, pushing himself into Stolas’ arms. “If I get you five, can we make out?”

That earned him a laugh, and Blitzø fluffed up as Stolas cradled an ivory cheek. “Get me seven, and I’ll reward you any way you like.”

Fuck.

“Deal.”

Chapter Text

“Mmm… bed,” Blitzø whispered, snuggling into the sheets as soon as he’d stripped off.

He was well aware of the way Stolas was blatantly ignoring him, having not been successful in any of the further missions they’d embarked on. It had taken them both into the early hours and Blitzø could easily admit that he was all gamed out for the time being.

Smashing fuckers up whether they were Slayed or not was definitely cathartic, that was for sure.

He was wallowing in that feeling of mental satisfaction when he was dragged into Stolas’ arms, the owl forcing him to be the little spoon. 

“I thought you were upset with me,” Blitzø teased, trying to look over his shoulder only to be nipped. 

“I was,” Stolas drawled, rubbing their cheeks together. “You earned my forgiveness.”

“What? How?”

“You flashed your lovely little bottom in my direction.” 

Blitzø flushed, irked slightly by how self-conscious he became at Stolas’ tone. “You told me not to wear clothes in bed.”

“Mm. Very obedient, aren’t you.”

“No.”

“Oh yes you are.”

Blitzø whined loudly, exaggerating the sound of his protest as he knocked his head under Stolas’ chin, causing the owl to grunt. What started as a means to be annoying, ended up morphing into a gentle back and forth of nuzzles and Blitzø squeaked as he was flattened to the mattress, Stolas snuggling into him.

“Today was a lovely day, Blitzy. I really enjoyed gaming with you.”

Blitzø blinked widely, mechanically placing his arms around Stolas’ shoulders as the Prince exhaled contentedly. Blitzø couldn’t help the elated bubble that swelled in his chest and he clutched Stolas close, snuffling his head feathers with adoration. 

“I… liked it too,” he murmured bashfully, daring to place a palm to Stolas’ cheek. “I really fucking loved it, actually. You’re fucking hilarious.”

“Really?”

The surprise was audible and Blitzø could only scoff, something within softening exponentially. “Stolas, you’ve always been fucking hilarious.”

“No-one usually finds me funny. Except Via, sometimes.”

Blitzø stared up at the ceiling before idly brushing the pads of his thumbs against the back of Stolas’ shoulders. “You’re the only one who finds me funny, too.”

“Loona doesn’t think you’re funny?”

“Uh… no. Pretty sure she thinks I’m fucking stupid, most days.”

“Are you?”

“Oh yeah,” Blitzø chuckled, knowing it to be true. He closed his eyes, relishing in the weight of Stolas’ lithe frame atop his own. The urge to say that he loved the owl was strong, but he was acutely aware that Stolas hadn’t yet spoken those words.

Blitzø didn’t at all mind that, but he was worried that in doing so, he would make Stolas feel obligated and…

Something about that put him off of expressing the sentiment himself, so he simply kissed the top of Stolas’ head, snuffling the quills there and breathing in their sweet scent. 

“I’m thankful you came back, Blitzø.”

Fuck, the way his heart skipped several beats was so fucking trippy. 

“Me too… I’m really fucking thankful you gave me a second chance at being friends and shit. I still got a fuck ton to work out, and I worry about how things will be if I change back just as much as if I don’t, but I do trust you. Just gonna keep on fucking trusting you.”

He felt his waterline prickle as a hand clasped his own, Stolas’ beak pressing softly to the back of it. “I trust you too, Blitzø. I do.”

“I don’t know how you fucking can,” Blitzø uttered thickly, anxiety making an unexpected appearance. “I don’t know how you can fucking stand me but I swear, I’m gonna fucking try to get better. I don’t wanna fuck up again.”

“Blitzø,” Stolas intoned, leaning up as said male wiped his eyes.

“Fuck. I’m fine,” Blitzø assured hastily, scrunching his aureate hues shut. “Just overwhelmed and shit.” He sniffled as Stolas nuzzled his cheek, gentle tokens of affection gracing rouge feathering and Blitzø forced the Prince back into a cuddle, determined to not be coddled for once. 

He’d learned so much from that fateful day.

It was true, you really only ever knew what you had, when it was gone, but somehow Blitzø found the current truth far more terrifying.

Knowing what you could lose when you knew what you had, was scarier than finding out what it was like to be without it later.

Blitzø groaned as he recognised the sound of the groundskeepers starting up their loud, noisy cacophony, a grouchy scowl etching across his face even as he became aware of the owl dozing off behind him. 

“Fucking hope they get sucked into their own death-traps,” he muttered, blinking as Stolas curled tighter around him. 

“I need my staff to tend to the grounds,” Stolas whispered, the smile very much audible. 

“Can’t you fucking… magic it to the way you want it?”

“No, magic isn’t to be used for such things,” Stolas explained quietly, slowly stroking up and down Blitzø’s arm. “One must be independent from their abilities, otherwise one will be at a loss without them.”

“Who the fuck taught you that?” 

Stolas tittered softly, tilting his body forward against Blitzø’s back, leaving Blitzø to try and decide whether or not to ignore the obvious warmth starting to blossom within him. He blinked blearily at the wall, squeezing his thighs together curiously and feeling an evident rush within.

“I want kisses,” he complained trying to roll over, even as Stolas nudged him back round, clearly favouring their previous position. 

“You can have kisses later,” Stolas chided quietly, still on the precipice of sleep.

“I get to make demands as the Prince’s fucking… love interest, right?” Blitzø asked, tilting back into the owl’s frame drawing an irked huff from him. 

“Make demands later,” Stolas told him, squeezing Blitzø tight in a bid to keep him in place. “You wake far too early.”

Blitzø whined, smushing his head into the curve of Stolas shoulder awkwardly. He jolted when a shriek was heard outside, followed by a mantra of harried denial.

‘Lipzig! Hush that racket! What in Hell is your problem?!’

‘Oh! Oh Daisy, I’m so sorry, I can’t! There’s- there’s remains in the compost again!’

‘For goodness sake, child. It’s just the discarded innards of Princess Octavia’s hobby!’ 

‘There’s eyeballs, Daisy! I can’t!’

‘Silence! Your vocal cords will join them in a minute!’

Blitzø snorted, amused to know that the staff were regularly traumatised by Octavia’s taxidermy delights. 

“Shh… Blitzy, please darling,” Stolas beseeched, exhaling at length as Blitzø relented. The avian-Imp let his lashes fall shut, taking to drawing small circles across Stolas’ obsidian forearm in an idle, affectionate gesture. 

It had the owl tightening the back-hug, and Blitzø half-wondered just how much the Prince really felt for him in order to be like this. He’d put any forms of affection and fondness down to Stolas being ‘in the moment’ and therefore had quietly revelled in it.

Blitzø had never genuinely been cuddled before. 

Not the way Stolas insisted on cuddling him. 

It was completely new and Blitzø found himself accepting.

Accepting that Stolas really did have sincere feelings towards him. No, the owl hadn’t expressed those feelings directly- not verbally, but… it was in everything the owl did. There was a language that Blitzø was coming to understand, slowly but surely.

He knew he wouldn’t be able to confidently say that Stolas was in love with him, but he could say that Stolas definitely had sincere, genuine feelings.

It gave Blitzø ideas.

It was a lot different to show how you felt over saying it, and as Blitzø lifted his lashes, looking over the heavily decorated room, he came to accept that maybe they were more equal than he originally used to think.

Stolas wasn’t just a Prince. 

He was just a demon with a horrendous past that he didn’t choose- like Blitzø.

Like Blitzø, Stolas was also product of societal rules and constructs that edited out who someone was in favour of titles, class, and status. Blitzø never felt that he had control of his life- instead he felt like he was governed by an unspoken string of restrictions that existed within his mind and outside of it.

Stolas’ life had been governed by spoken restrictions that existed within the family he was born into. 

The realisation stuck, because Blitzø had never seen such similarities before. They both had daughter’s- regardless of circumstance -and they both had extremely negative relationships with their families.

Mainly, their own Fathers.

Blitzø carefully shuffled over, nuzzling into Stolas’ neck and rubbing their cheeks together with newfound appreciation.

Stolas had once asked him if words were safe.

The truth was, Blitzø hated words. They stuck to him in a way his scars didn’t. His scars were only skin deep- but the words. The words imbedded themselves into his soul, into his mind and he couldn’t escape them no matter how hard he tried. 

If he were to be really brutal with his own honesty, Blitzø preferred the physical scars because he knew where he had gotten them, and why.

The verbal scars knitted into his existence? 

Not a clue. 

He was just that bad of a person- or so he had thought. 

Stolas didn’t think so though.

Stolas had put everything behind them and thrown away the proverbial key. He’d destroyed it, even, which meant Blitzø was free and could turn a brand new page.

Regardless of what he fucking looked like.

“Oh, I do love your purr,” Stolas suddenly murmured, voice laden with sleep even as he tightened his embrace around the shorter male now attempting to preen him. 

Blitzø couldn’t help it. It was like an unbridled need that pushed against his chest, and he gave into it with a helpless sense of devotion. He started with Stolas’ neck feathers, then the tufts that framed his heart-shaped features. 

It took a little manoeuvring of Stolas’ head to reach his darker florentine quills, but Blitzø was determined, even if the owl he was trying to fuss was a little deadweight and clingy. 

“Blitzø, I won’t be able to help myself if you keep this up,” Stolas complained, holding Blitzø by the waist and finally crushing him close. Blitzø squirmed in response, Stolas’ face smushed into the soft feathers adorning the avian-Imp’s chest.

Blitzø didn’t mind, he adjusted himself to cuddle Stolas’ head, purr still going because it was a wonderful feeling that resided within him and he wanted to stay wallowing in the happiness he had hold of for as long as he could. 

It felt special.

Fuck, he wanted to say it. 

Maybe… maybe it was okay to say it? 

Blitzø inhaled slowly, threading his talons through Stolas’ feathering before deciding to just go with it. 

“I love you, Stolas.”

He felt Stolas tense for a fraction of a second and the immediate worry that he’d said it wrong, or not read the room, bloomed within- but he wouldn’t take it back. He would never take those words back and he’d never abandon these feelings he had. 

He cherished them too much.

Blitzø’s lashes fluttered when a kiss was pressed to his sternum, soon covered by a warm, obsidian palm. 

“Your heart races so frightfully when you say it,” Stolas whispered, pulling away and studying Blitzø’s anxious expression.

What did he say to that? 

Blitzø swallowed thickly, forcing himself to maintain eye contact as Stolas gazed up at him. 

“It’s new, saying how I feel without… it backfiring,” he explained quietly, finding the courage to cradle the owl’s cheek. “I wanna say it though.”

“Please keep saying it,” Stolas uttered, nuzzling into Blitzø’s fine feathering as he shuffled onto his back, forcing Blitzø to plant his knees either side of Stolas’ thighs.

“Come on, Cutsie Hootsie. They put breakfast out there,” Blitzø sighed, fiddling with Stolas’ plumes as the owl decided to lean back, taking Blitzø with him. 

“Mm, I do hunger for something indeed,” Stolas mused huskily, hands sweeping rather obviously down Blitzø’s backside. 

Oh shit. 

Fuck.

Blitzø’s nerves shot through his veins and he shivered lightly, a rather delicious heat pooling in his lower abdomen as Stolas tugged at a stray feather.

“You uh… need me to go wheel it in here?”

“No, I will fetch it once I’ve satiated my need to touch you,” Stolas replied absently, voice dropping low and causing Blitzø’s spines to stand on end. He scrunched his face up as his clavicle was latched onto, and he found himself gasping quietly, pushing his weight against Stolas’ frame whilst bumping their beaks together as Stolas withdrew. 

Blitzø lowered his lashes, feeling the atmosphere thicken between them as he shyly thread his talons through Stolas’ florentine tufts. It increased when Stolas trailed his own along Blitzø’s cheek, a small chuff leaving them both.

“You ever felt this much tension before?” Blitzø asked, tilting his head but not closing the distance between them.

“No…” Stolas whispered with the ghost of a smile. “I almost don’t want to remedy it.”

That had Blitzø smirking. “You wanna see how far we can fucking push it?”

Stolas shook his head, pulling Blitzø ever closer until there was nowhere else to go. “I don’t have the patience for that.”

Truthfully, Blitzø didn’t either. 

He studied Stolas’ face, weighing up all the options he had and realising that he didn’t want to risk this fragile bridge being built between them. 

It’s how he’d fucked up everything before. 

What started out as seeking touches, ended up as small gestures of affection, Blitzø losing himself to how silken Stolas’ plumage was under his fingertips. He lowered his line of sight to Stolas’ dexterous hands, fragile wrists and slender arms. 

Blitzø swept his palms up them, following the line of Stolas’ narrow shoulders and up his neck before cradling the owl’s heart-shaped features once again.

He finally lifted his gaze, blinking at those burning ceres-rose hues with a sense of meekness, as though for the first time realising exactly who he was in the company of. 

Not the ‘Prince’ part.

Blitzø honestly couldn’t give a shit about the title, he never would. He refused to, purely because he knew how much it blotted over who Stolas was.

It was the man, Stolas himself who Blitzø was in awe of. 

How did someone suffer and endure so fucking much, and yet not turn out like… like Blitzø? How did Stolas go through years upon years of abuse, the starting point so fucking young and yet grow to be so gentle? So earnest? So kind? 

How come he found it in his heart to be so forgiving? 

How was he so… so… 

“I wish I could have given you all the love I ever had,” Blitzø murmured, feeling his mood dip as regret set in. “You’re stuck with these fucking scraps because I let so many people ruin me.” 

His face was immediately grasped, and Blitzø puffed out an emotional breath as Stolas hushed him. “Don’t say that. Please, don’t ever say that. If only you knew how much I valued the love you have for me.”

Blitzø blinked rapidly, aware that he was becoming more and more distressed over his own frustration with himself. 

“I hate that I didn’t- that this is what you get now,” he uttered, tearing up entirely. “I used to be decent at least, but after everything…” 

“You give me more than I could ever ask for,” Stolas insisted, brushing his thumbs over Blitzø’s lashes. “You give me so much more than I could ever ask for.” 

Blitzø panicked, pressing a hand to Stolas’ beak and silencing him. “No I don’t,” he sniffled, shaking his head. “I- I know you think I do, but I wanna give you more. I’m gonna be the one to love you like you loved me. I’m gonna learn to love you properly, like I should have all along.”

Stolas blinked up at him before nodding once, and Blitzø had no time to rid himself of the tears that clung to his feathers before Stolas was closing the gap between them.

The feeling of being kissed.

Just that. Just the feeling of being kissed like he was truly wanted.

It was indescribable.

It was incredible.

It made him want to love Stolas, more than he’d ever loved anyone- and he was going to fucking do that. 

Chapter Text

“What are you doing?” 

Fuck.

How did he not see Stolas coming up behind him?!

Shit.

Shit, shit shit shit shit.

Being caught red-handed taking snaps of Stolas’ notes was not exactly how Blitzø had seen the day starting out, but here he was.

“Uh… making a digital log of all this in case I lose something,” he said quickly, hurrying to make a folder in his phone and expertly shifting over what photos he’d taken. 

He really had to be more fucking careful.

“Oh my goodness Blitzø, you don’t have to go to such lengths for me!” Stolas exclaimed, leaning over the avian-Imp and stepping towards the chair before dropping into it.

Blitzø watched him do so with a sense of trepidation, well aware that neither of them were supposed to be in the Study. 

They’d only just washed up after breakfast.

After an extensive cuddle session they’d had breakfast as usual, fed the plants- as usual, then whilst Stolas showered, Blitzø had gotten the bright idea to make copies of Stolas’ notes for himself- not usual. 

Fine fucking plan that was. 

“Yeah, I do,” he countered, putting his phone away. “You work fucking hard and anything could get lost in here. Better safe than fucking sorry.” He stood and shuffled beside the desk in order to retrieve the next folder and was immediately hugged around the waist.

“You’re such a thoughtful darling,” Stolas chirped, voice pitched high as though he were utterly elated. “No-one’s thought of me so much, before.”

Blitzø froze, feeling his face warm as Stolas released him.

Fuck.

Was he a dick for this? 

Maybe he was a dick for this… 

No, he was totally being a dick for this. 

Guilt wormed its way through Blitzø’s system and he immediately decided there and then he had to give up the damn fucking plan to learn magic practically. He was going to do exactly as he’d said he was- because he really couldn’t trust himself to not misplace anything and he should make helping Stolas his priority. 

Even if he was trying to learn magic for the owl in the first place, he couldn’t do this. Not behind Stolas’ back.

Fuck.

He should be honest here, right? Before it became too late or it inevitably bit him in the ass.

“You look troubled, Blitzø,” Stolas noted, sifting through several pages of something- a magazine, by the looks of it.

Well, Blitzø wanted to be trusted, too. He could put the damn books back, but that would no doubt involve Trinket- who he was already putting in harms way by mere association. 

He was changing, so he was… going to be up front for fucking once. 

Blitzø padded out of the room without a word, returning to the bedroom and retrieving the three books he had taken from the Library. He held them to his chest as he retraced his steps, heart thudding steadily in his chest as he approached an unsuspecting Stolas.

“I need to give these back to you,” he said with abated breath, setting the three down before the wide-eyed owl. 

Stolas paused, stroking over the first volume’s cover and tilting his head. “Where did you…”

“Library,” Blitzø puffed out, cringing already. “That day you spent with Via? Yeah… I fucking… dragged one of your Staff into helping me get them. That broke two fucking rules, so I’m sorry.”

Stolas’ expression fell slightly and he swept a palm over the decorative cover. “Why?”

Blitzø exhaled heavily, wishing he’d thought shit through properly before doing any of it. “I wanted to learn some shit so I could maybe help. Or… I don’t fucking know, be able to at least follow what you say when you talk about magic and shit.” He ended up taking the book from Stolas’ hands, opening it on the contents page with a small sigh. 

“You’re always trying to learn what I like, but I… I’m not good at this kind of shit, obviously. I wouldn’t even have magic under normal circumstances so… y’know. I thought if I learned in secret then maybe I could surprise you but… breaking rules to do that means breaking your trust, and I think that’s a… thing I didn’t get until now.” 

He handed the book back, feeling a weight lift. 

“I’m sorry.”

Stolas laid the three out on the desk and leant on a palm, sighing with a slight smile. “You wouldn’t be you if you didn’t break some rules, Blitzø. Who was the member of Staff?”

Oh no.

“Yeah so, I love you and all, and I’m really fucking sorry, but I don’t wanna get her in trouble-” 

“Ah,” Stolas cut in, cerise-rose glinting as he held up a hand. “It’s one of the female Staff, then? Only one daring enough would be Trinket.” 

Blitzø deflated on the spot, genuinely not wanting anyone to take the fall for his own actions. “Stolas, I don’t want her to fucking lose her job over me,” he confessed worriedly, feeling a nauseating bite within. “I made demands I shouldn’t have and that’s fully on me.”

“It’s three books,” Stolas scoffed, setting them aside and getting to his feet. “I’m not going to dismiss her for helping you get books from the Library, Blitzø, honestly.” 

Blitzø blinked, surprised as Stolas came to stand before him, leaning back upon his desk in a casual manner. The owl was gazing at him intently before reaching out and cradling his face.

“If anything, I realise how unreasonable my rules were, because the Library of all places should be accessible to you.”

Blitzø scrunched his eyes shut as obsidian brushed over his lashes, and he tipped his face up a little. “Can I keep reading the books if I ask you to get the next ones?”

He was still jumpy as Stolas stilled, and Blitzø had an apology ready on his tongue in an instant.

“You… really want to learn?” Stolas asked, expression softening as Blitzø visibly held his breath.

Shit, his heart was hammering again. 

“I wasn’t fucking messing about when I said I wanted to be able to understand what you’re talking about. I wanna learn about what you like,” Blitzø told the taller male, now becoming fidgety. 

“I wouldn’t mind teaching you, Blitzø. You only need ask,” Stolas intoned, lowering his palms to Blitzø’s shoulders. “You could have asked me about this, even.”

“Didn’t think you’d let me,” Blitzø confessed, averting his gaze. “After fucking myself up so badly, I just… really didn’t think you’d trust me with knowing stuff about it.” He felt Stolas’ gaze on him and ended up dipping his chin in remorse. “I thought if I proved I could learn and that I could be responsible with what I fucking learned, then maybe you’d see that I could be trusted.” 

Stolas just stared at him and Blitzø couldn’t help the exasperated huff that left him as he tipped his head back. 

“Yeah, fucking- great plan when I’m proving that you can’t trust me with rules and shit, huh. I’m such a dumb fuck.” 

Stolas’ titter was strangely ill-placed, and yet it lowered the trepidation that Blitzø harboured, especially when the Prince pulled him into a hug. “You’re a loveable dumb fuck, Blitzø,” the owl chuffed out, idly running his beak back and forth across a rouge cheek. “At least you realised before I inevitably caught you.”

“Yeah,” Blitzø agreed, rolling his eyes as he held Stolas’ shoulders tentatively. “I had them in my fucking backpack.”

“A very adequate hiding place, darling.”

Blitzø grunted as Stolas pulled away, though obsidian arms remained looped around him and he tilted his head as a giddiness set in. “So… we’re okay? You forgive me and everything?” 

“Not everything needs forgiveness, darling.”

“I did something shitty, though.”

“Not everything is that black and white, Blitzø.”

“I broke two rules.”

“You asked a member of Staff to take you to the Library, Blitzø. That’s not exactly a crime.”

Blitzø was smirking before he knew it, looping his arms around Stolas’ neck and tugging the taller demon down. “What would be a crime?”

Stolas’ expression morphed into something less amused and more coy as he fixed Blitzø with a contemplative look. “Ah. You wish to be held accountable, do you?”

Fuck. He was initially just teasing but looking at the man before him now, Blitzø felt a rush of absolute adoration streak through him.

Held accountable?

Yes. 

Yes he did.

He’d be held for anything if it meant that Stolas would be close. 

“I think letting me break two rules opens the door for worse,” Blitzø murmured, standing on his tip-toes in order to mouth at Stolas’ fine feathering. “I did steal three books.”

Fuck Stolas was so soft, so beautiful. 

“You sound rather eager to be disciplined,” Stolas mused, audibly enjoying the way Blitzø was nipping at the florentine tufts adorning a slender neck. “You know I won’t do so for this, Blitzø. You did nothing unreasonable or wrong.”

Blitzø paused, blinking up at Stolas who simply cupped the avian-Imp’s face and kissed the black insignia gracing Blitzø’s forehead before turning back to the desk.

“Octavia will be home tonight. I must prepare for tomorrow’s event, too.”

Blitzø wavered, feeling oddly at a loss as the beginnings of what he had thought to be the start to an intimate moment, were abruptly severed.

It left him standing there, feeling flushed with a warmth he didn’t know how to expel. Blitzø scoffed at himself, fixing the owl’s back with a leer. 

He knew how to woo his damn Prince, and he was going to.

It was official. 

He’d left all ability to be attractive behind with his Imp-body. It had to be the case, because there was no way he was actually this lame.

He’d tried everything. 

He’d been flirtatious, he’d dropped innuendos left, right and centre. He’d even tried to initiate a kiss with the Prince but was told to stop being a nuisance.

A nuisance! 

The rejection had hurt more than Blitzø had anticipated and he’d tried to initiate intimacy several times in less direct ways only to be flat out ignored.

Maybe Stolas really didn’t pick up on what Blitzø was trying to do?

Maybe Stolas just wasn’t in the mood?

Maybe Blitzø was getting too caught up in everything and he needed to step back? 

Fuck though, Stolas was frequently sleeping around before this, right? The damn owl was a thirsty bitch. He was a horny ass who would jump at the chance to fuck or be fucked- why was he suddenly so switched off from Blitzø?

Ugh.

Switched off.

Maybe Blitzø was a turn off now? Even if Stolas had said that Blitzø was attractive, maybe the changes and all the emotional crap had meant that Blitzø wasn’t as cool or something?

Maybe he wasn’t as interesting now that he’d started opening up?

Blitzø shoved the binder he’d been organising back into its allotted place, feeling grouchy because he was weirdly still yearning for the owl despite the awful thoughts swirling within. 

At least with a dick he could just toss off or kill it with sheer cold- but the current situation left him fidgety and admittedly sticky. He’d already considered ramming tissue up himself but had ditched the idea because that would probably backfire. 

Why was he so damn fucking turned on? 

It wasn’t even that, it was the fact that seeing Stolas made Blitzø burn with an unquantifiable desire- he just wanted to be with him. He wanted to fall into those kisses, feel the owl’s body against his own-

Blitzø slumped forward, fighting the urge to clench his thighs because doing that felt good for a perfect few seconds but it exacerbated the problem right after. 

He knew he could hide in a bathroom and touch himself, but Blitzø didn’t want to. He wasn’t confident enough in the first place, his body was too new and he didn’t feel one-hundred percent comfortable just… fiddling with himself. 

The bigger issue was that he wanted Stolas’ touch specifically and he was fighting to remind himself that Stolas wasn’t obligated to touch him. 

He sat back, feeling slightly overwhelmed and at the same time hollow. 

Stolas was right, he had really shit self control. 

As the sound of Stolas greeting Octavia from the kitchen echoed faintly up the stairwell and into the Study, Blitzø felt that same frustration bubble up that he’d felt before. 

He thought he’d be able to turn to Stolas for anything, but this…

This wasn’t like those other things.

He’d have to figure this one out, on his own. 

Chapter Text

He didn’t eat much at dinner. 

He didn’t really want to be around either of the damn birds because it felt gross sitting there with such desires when the living, breathing cause of said desires was animatedly fussing their kid. 

It felt wrong, felt dirty, and Blitzø was fretting over the night fast approaching.

He had every fucking right to, and all.

He’d managed to keep up a somewhat up-key demeanour around Octavia, and he’d apparently kept his situation completely away from Stolas, who was without a doubt oblivious. 

Genuinely oblivious.

There were no coy smiles, playful smirks, lingering touches or anything. Nothing to indicate that this was part of a longer game or that Stolas was aware- and that made Blitzø feel marginally like a creep, because everything about the owl was making him feel euphoric.

Stolas’ laugh had Blitzø’s veins fucking singing, the way Stolas propped his chin on a palm had Blitzø feeling nervous, the way Stolas moved anything with his hands had Blitzø’s temperature skyrocketing and if Stolas did anything in Blitzø’s direction or addressed him, it felt like being legitimately starstruck all over again.

Had Blitzø fucking hexed himself?

Was he under some fucking spell?

He’d feigned being tired and snuck off for a shower whilst the two settled down to watch their show, unable to cope with the atmosphere that clung to his feathers. He knew he was in love, but this was now scaring him. 

He hurried through the Palace home, picturing words breaking on the carpet and wooden boards behind him as he briskly made his way up to his old bedroom. It wasn’t far, only a couple fucking steps and yet it felt like the longest walk of his life. 

Blitzø practically tore his heavy-feeling clothes from his body the minute he stepped through the bedroom door, completely frantic as he charged towards the shower.

“The fuck is happening to me,” he hissed, gripping the sides of the sink as he looked at himself in the mirror. 

He shouldn’t be shocked. Not really. Stolas was gorgeous, seriously perfect. It was also highly understandable to be sexually attracted to someone you were in love with – especially someone you’d been intimate with before. 

Just… why did he feel so fucking desperate? Was he in some form of fucking delusion?

Even the notion sounded mortifying, but this was forcing other narratives to froth up to the surface.

How come nothing seemed to get Stolas’ attention?

It only used to take a smirk or grin, a flirtatious quip or even just a risqué touch for Stolas to be blushing, growing flustered or shy. Was that a sign that he didn’t feel as strongly as he used to? Maybe Stolas had gotten used to that kind of attention… which was a great thing, Blitzø wanted the owl to feel attractive and confident and-

It was hard to swallow, though.

Stolas was clearly used to having options now, wasn’t he? He’d been active with others - Sirius, most likely on the daily and was not in need of Blitzø’s body anymore. 

It hit Blitzø like a ton of bricks.

Stolas wasn’t into vanilla sex at all… right?

Sirius had known this Stolas longer than Blitzø had, and despite Blitzø having not known Sirius at all, it was evident that Stolas and Sirius had far more experience than Blitzø ever had in this whole subject. They were compatible but… Blitzø wasn’t now.

He hadn’t mentioned or even alluded to anything kinky- which… probably put Stolas off.

Really, Blitzø should have considered whether Stolas would be into anything other than what he was frequently seeking from previous lovers, and as always he’d selfishly just gone looking for what he wanted. 

Ugh.

Why did thinking about this make him feel like crawling out of his skin? Fuck, Stolas wanted to date him, right? They’d established that but then… why?

Fuck

Why was he feeling so desperate? It felt like he was losing his fucking mind over the owl.

Even the cold water hitting his flushed skin couldn’t chase the feeling away. He was so embarrassed about being incapable of handling this, and the layer of knowing that he was probably boring just made it all the more worse.

Blitzø groaned, wanting to bury himself several feet under. Stolas had seen him being completely pathetic today. What in Hell did the Prince think?

Not good things.

Absolutely not.

Not only had he looked like he was about to throw Blitzø out again several times, he had easily dismissed and deflected all of Blitzø’s attempts like they were nothing- all whilst Blitzø just wanted to melt within Stolas' arms.

The mere thought had Blitzø feeling restless and discontent, a whine tearing from him as he knocked his head back against the shower wall. 

He wasn’t good enough, was he. 

Not on his own. Not as just Blitzø.

The desire frothed up at the image of Stolas being gentle and sensual with unknown demons, cuddling them after they’d been good for him, kissing them with praise, pleasuring himself by having sex with-

Blitzø keened, turning to the wall and pressing his cheek against it has he writhed in response. He felt flushed even under the tepid spray and Blitzø couldn’t help but sink his beak into his bottom lip as he dazedly swept his hand down the smooth expanse of his lower stomach.

The slickness of his own arousal was somewhat of a surprise, but the drive within blotted out the voice in the back of his head telling him to pause and consider what pit he was falling into. The desire to have Stolas coddle him, treat him so affectionately and familiarly rattled his system, flooding his senses and demanding he dig deeper into the need he always shoved into a psychological crypt. 

The cemented slabs that locked away the want to be treated gently, lovingly, were pried open inch by inch and a gasp escaped Blitzø’s mouth as he swept over himself, feeling the silken flesh against his palm alight with a pleasure that pooled around his hips,

He wanted Stolas to drown him in kisses.

He wanted Stolas to touch him all over.

He wanted Stolas to tell him that he was good.

So good, Blitzy, you’re so good.

Blitzø emitted a stuttering groan, the strokes in which he worked against himself becoming far more eager as he leant his weight further into the warmed tiles surrounding the shower unit. The flush to his dampened frame was accompanied by a steady increase of his shallowing breaths, hips nudging forward against his own palm as he lost himself to the mantra of; Stolas, Stolas, Stolas-

“F-fuck,” Blitzø gasped out desperately, the expletive cutting off on a note so high that his voice broke on the last letters of Stolas’ name as the world bubbled over with white noise. He shuddered violently, the heady pleasure of his climax ricocheting throughout his disorientated self as the proof of his excitement spilled into his hand, silky between his fingertips before being erased by the water still cascading over his satiated form.

He heaved in the damp air of the bathroom, heart thundering against his sternum as the pleasurable haziness immediately began to ebb away.

It did so with complete callousness, leaving him with a cruel reality in which to endure a bitter realisation. 

It wasn’t enough.

Blitzø jolted, eyes snapping open as he stared ahead, fully aware of the sharp pain that now rocketed throughout his chest. He felt his eyes burn with tears even as the pain dulled to a residual ache and he clenched his jaw, glaring unseeingly at the tiles. 

That unbearable burn was still there, milling about between his legs and Blitzø hung his head in defeat.

He really wanted Stolas.

He really wanted Stolas’ touch.

Blitzø inhaled a shuddering breath, lowering himself to the bottom of the shower even as a sob escaped him.

“Please, just be happy with what you’ve got,” he begged himself, trying in vain to slam the crypt doors closed.

He couldn’t be though, because he was really in love and despite all that Stolas had said, the need for physical affection was something Blitzø couldn’t hide from.

He had to make peace with it, because the very real likelihood of Stolas struggling to be intimate with him out of restraints and scenes, was the crack in his happiness that he’d been waiting for. 

Dread.

That was the only thing coursing through Blitzø’s veins as he made his way back to Stolas’ bedroom on legs that felt like jelly. It was also the only emotion he could justify feeling after having forced himself through yet another emotional breakdown. 

The joys.

No, he had every reason to feel dread.

This whole situation was dreadful. 

One, he was an ugly fucking demon in love with a beautiful as fuck demon. Not that that was unheard of or looked down upon, but he was not what anyone associated with Stolas would be looking for.

At all.

Two, he was in love with a Prince who already had a successful social standing and who had a new set of lovers to choose from.

Blitzø currently hated the number three so he was going to deliberately skip it.

Four, he wasn’t even sure that he could live up to Stolas’ expectations now.

He didn’t have the experience that the others had, and aside from Stolas' playful attempts at times, they’d never tried anything to the degree that Stolas and his… other ventures had. Blitzø didn’t think he was considered bad, but Stolas was definitely not going to be satisfied with what Blitzø had to offer.

Even with a dick.

He hadn’t been aware of Stolas’ feelings for him prior to their fall-out nearly a year ago. He hadn’t known about them… and fuck, he really wished he had. It was Stolas who had sought him out when that initial crap at Ozzie’s had happened. It was Stolas who had picked up the pieces, had even tried to talk about it. 

This was Stolas' life, and Blitzø wanted to be a part of it with all he fucking had.

What he had right now, were bad thoughts, and those led to equally bad decisions. 

In a bad frame of mind, Blitzø almost couldn’t be held responsible for what he did to get out of the immediate panic. He’d always been that way. 

Whatever caused his downward spiral was vicious and unmerciful. 

It always was the case and it didn’t really need a logical reason. The mere fact that he was so quick to trash his newfound joy was going to be a long term battle that would take more than just a few weeks to win. 

The vast amount of doubt came from his insecurities, came from the deep-seated fear that he was an outsider to something he wasn’t supposed to encroach upon and even though he would suck up just being friends with Stolas if he had to, he wanted to be more.

He wanted to be enough.

So, wanting to prove to himself that his anxieties were just that, so Blitzø wasn’t going to avoid and hide tomorrow. He was going to have to work up the courage to ask if Stolas would teach him what he now liked, or brave the option of opening the relationship up so Stolas could satisfy his needs elsewhere.

Blitzø had lived with wanting things he couldn’t have since the day he was fucking born, he would be fine regarding his feelings for Stolas, if that’s what the Prince truly needed.

He would be fine, because he had to be.

He was just being stupid anyway, Stolas had never said that he didn’t like normal sex… but Blitzø was so far down that road and he couldn’t work out why. This could be all in his head, and he knew that, yet he’d spiralled so gloriously it almost felt like a shame to simply dismiss everything on a whim.

So now, Blitzø was just panicking about the bed. 

He didn’t want to lay there, hot and bothered, anxious and pathetic as Stolas held him out of… out of… whatever it is was. 

Good fucking Hell what if Blitzø was so turned on that he had a fucking wet dream or something-

No.

Nope. 

He needed something to knock him out and Blitzø was not beyond rummaging through the owl’s medicine cabinet in the overly luxurious bathroom. He wasn’t beyond nicking the sleeping pills from there either and knocking two back, determined to be completely impervious to Stolas’ presence entirely. 

He did just that and put himself to bed, wishing he could sleep separately but knowing that Stolas would already be suspicious as is. He didn’t care that the clothes he wore did indeed feel a little heavy on his plumage, and he didn’t care that having them on him at all was actually extremely uncomfortable.

He just didn’t want to lay there like a fucking creep, messing up the sheets in his sleep or something. 

He had never known such desperate, desirable despair. This wasn’t about just getting off- he’d somehow done that and everything felt worse. He wanted Stolas specifically and it hurt not to have the physical ability to express how he felt for the taller male. 

What the fuck was up with this?

Blitzø sniffled as he felt the medication he’d taken start to sink in, and he curled up tighter, hugging a pillow to his chest and squeezing it tight as he buried himself into the mattress.

He wanted to be asleep before Stolas came in. 

That’s all he wanted. 

It was all he fucking wanted.

Chapter Text

Waking up felt like shit.

He felt like shit.

Stolas was bubbly and vibrant, and Blitzø felt one breath away from exploding. 

He wanted to fucking punch someone- and this time, not himself.

So the sleeping pills did their fucking job, woo-hoo. Stolas didn’t notice and hadn’t asked any questions either, which only added to the bitterness within Blitzø who didn’t want to get up at all.

Bon Bon needed breakfast though and Blitzø would never leave his Sweet Pea to go hungry.

Aside from finding a tiny little lift in his mood around said plant, Blitzø had no sanctuary anywhere else and the thin notion of perhaps confiding in Stolas was abruptly and swiftly shattered because the owl was in the fucking clouds from the second he walked into the kitchen.

Blitzø was pissy as a result.

He was upset, he felt frustrated and angry, and he quickly decided that he wanted to be left alone. Of course, that would never happen because Octavia was away to fuck-knows-where till Sunday and all Stolas could go on about was his fucking party that evening and how Sirius was going to be there.

It grated on Blitzø, who wanted to resort to spiteful jabs every time the Stag was mentioned, so he ended up playing avoidant purely because he knew he couldn’t trust his fucking mouth. It wasn’t overly noticed, apparently, since Stolas was babbling about all sorts with no care in the fucking world.

Well, Blitzø cared.

He cared and so he stayed the fuck out of the way- which worked, up until it was time to get ready. He was pissed, pissed and highly strung and desperate to go back to all his promises, all his changes, all his wonderful feelings that he couldn’t now find.

It pissed him off that he’d lost grip on that happiness over something so fucking trivial, which meant that Blitzø wanted to make a point of expressing himself in a way he probably shouldn’t. 

In a way he absolutely shouldn’t.

His ire resulted in him rummaging through Stolas’ old closet, in which he found a red knit sweater and black leather pants. He had the platforms he wore last time and…

Blitzø quietly waited for Stolas to exit the bedroom they both shared before going in and rummaging around for a pair of scissors. 

He didn’t care right now.

Stolas wanted a bad boy? Oh he’d get one. 

It was oddly satisfying, cutting up the sweater to the point it was a barely even a crop-top. He stressed holes along the long sleeves and allowed the severed hemline to fray. He cut slits all the way down the backside of the pants, down the thighs and the calves, rendering the once-sleek leather to quite the state.

He was so enraged by the constant feeling of inadequacy that Blitzø went as far as to seek out Stolas’ current personal belongings, easily finding several boxes of harnesses, restraints, belts and buckles. 

He even found the choker that Stolas had placed on him that night.

Blitzø clenched his jaw and put it on before buckling up the straps that had once wound around his thighs. 

If Stolas wanted a bad boy to fucking tie up and fuck, then that’s what Blitzø would be.

The murmurs that broke out the second he walked in were fucking glorious. 

Blitzø wasn’t anxious this time. 

Nope.

In fact, he felt fucking flat and he fixed every single rich fucker a glare as he went straight to the buffet table. He didn’t even bother with a glass, Blitzø just snagged one of the wine bottles on the side and strode off towards the far end of the Hall, away from where Stolas usually stood with Sirius. 

He didn’t look at anyone once.

It took barely a minute for some fucker to approach him, asking who he was and Blitzø fell seamlessly into the game of small chitchat that he knew would go fucking no-where. 

They were all looking for one thing, of course, but Blitzø wasn’t there to entertain them. He was entertaining himself and hating it every step of the way.

“I hear the Prince has many rooms to dip into if we wanted some… fun.”

Ew.

Least no-one was at the creep-level of Salistor. 

His phone went off several times in his pocket and Blitzø blatantly ignored it, going as far as to turn the damn thing off- yes, all the notifications were from Stolas.

Well, if Stolas wanted something, he could bloody well come talk to him. 

It took twenty-two minutes of standing there for Blitzø to become bored and he ended up outside, where another demon stood smoking.

“Got one to spare?” He asked, using his beak to pop open the bottle he’d swiped.

The demon in question - a Snow Leopard or some shit - gave him a once over before handing him her barely-used pack and waltzing off inside. 

Blitzø huffed, shrugging because whatever.

He realised too late that he didn’t have a lighter and so snorted at his own stupidity. Sitting down upon the marble steps with a heavy gulp of the wine- which was red, bitter, and way too strong for his liking -had him scoffing derisively. 

Really. 

What the fuck was he doing, reverting back to this. 

Drinking and dressing up like a slut. He didn’t know, not really. 

“I believe you need a light for that.”

Blitzø exhaled at length, not even looking up at Sirius who didn’t sound as chipper as when Blitzø had met him the first, or second, time.

“Yeah… I know,” Blitzø murmured, defeated already as he slumped against the pillars lining the entrance. 

“Come now, Glitz. What is this all about, hm? Stolas is beside himself with worry-”

Blitzø barked out a laugh, losing it slightly as he pushed away from the stairs and stepped down onto the gravel of the courtyard. “Fucking joking, right? All he’s done all fucking day is fucking go on about you- and I fucking get it, yeah? I’m not fucking competition, and I can’t fucking compare- because I’m not like you, or any of the other fuckers he’s been with. I’m just a boring fuck-ass fuck so you can save it.” 

He sniffled, having not realised he’d teared up. He blinked in confused shock, his sleeves already damp from constantly dragging them across his face. 

“Fuck.”

“Dear me,” Sirius tutted, stepping down the marble stairs and handing Blitzø a lighter. 

“Deer you, huh?” Blitzø scoffed wetly, accepting the light and handing the Stag a smoke, which was oddly accepted. “Thanks.”

“I must confess, when Stolas said you two had cursed communication, I rather underestimated the extent to which you two were struggling.”

“Struggling,” Blitzø snorted, once again wiping away his tears. “I fucking wish we were just struggling. I’d take ‘struggling’ over whatever the fuck this is. Don’t know what he fucking sees in me, don’t know what he fucking wants.”

“To date you.”

“Fucking… where?” Blitzø half-demanded, drawing in a heavy dose of nicotine. “I dress up for what? I come in fucking separately because he doesn’t wanna be fucking seen with me, I’m not fucking stupid. I’m not even fucking eye candy, I’m just here to deflect attention off him and cause a stir as entertainment. I wanna date him, I’ve said it so many fucking times but I’m stuck with a fucking ‘eventually’.”

“Goodness,” Sirius muttered, pulling Blitzø aside by the elbow. They ended up away from the Palace entrance and more so by the fountain, where Blitzø promptly dropped down.

“I tell him that I love him,” he said thickly, vision seemingly blurred for all eternity. “He never says it back.” The huff that left him was- as usual these days -pathetic. “Only time we’ve had fucking sex is when he was fucking… punishing me for all the shit I’d done before. Now he doesn’t wanna fucking touch me. I don’t know why.”

“Have you asked him?” Sirius inquired, merely standing beside the avian-Imp who shook his head and lit another cigarette, having raced through the first.

“How do I fucking ask him something like that,” Blitzø muttered, voice shot. “All I’ll fucking do is make him feel obligated, and then he’ll be even more miserable.” 

“I have never had issues talking to him, I am very sure that should you express these things, he will listen whilst remaining true to his own needs,” Sirius ventured, which had Blitzø grimacing. 

“Maybe the reason you don’t have issues is because you ain’t a fucked up clown like me,” Blitzø told him, taking another mouthful of wine before the bottle was promptly taken off him. He looked up, expecting to find Sirius but was instead met with a stone-faced Stolas.

“Oh shit.”

“Oh shit indeed, get up. Now.”

Blitzø didn’t have to, for he was all but yanked to his feet by the arm, the owl towering over him beyond infuriated. 

“Stolas, I hate to intervene but-”

“Thank you, Sirius,” the Prince interrupted, giving the Stag a stern look. “This is my business, and I draw the line here.”

Blitzø blinked, aureate hues switching between them as Sirius merely held up his hands and gave him an apologetic glance. 

“Very well then, I bid you both farewell.”

Blitzø watched him go, feeling irked as Stolas moved to pull him towards the side of the Palace. He clenched his jaw and wrenched himself free, fixing the owl a glare.

“Blitzø-”

“Fuck off,” Blitzø hissed, which had the owl flinching back. “That’s how you fucking talk to someone you’ve been fucking harping on about all fucking day? Someone you call several times a week? Someone you’ve been fucking for five months right up until you decided I was worth your fucking time? Nah, fucking nah, Stolas.” 

He stormed back into the Palace and shoved his way into the hallway where he saw the Butler who was more than a little harried. He grabbed the Imp by the horn, turning him around and bending low.

“I’d start calling it a night if I were you unless you want the Prince’s next domestic to be plastered over the fucking Headlines with over a fair number of witnesses,” Blitzø warned, giving the older male a pointed look as the owl came marching in.

“Uh… yes, Master Glitz. Very good, sir.”

Blitzø charged up the stairs, very well aware of the storm right behind him and he ensured to put enough space between them when he moved straight into the den they’d used last time as neutral ground.

Stolas came in and slammed the door, the noise exceptionally loud. “What the fuck are you playing-”

“So punish me.”

The look on the owl’s face was near-hateful and Blitzø balled up his fist. 

“Please.”

“Punish you?!” Stolas echoed with a near spit, voice a fraction below enraged. “This is not a fucking game! How dare you do this- how dare you behave like this in front of my guests!”

Blitzø took a deep breath, watching as Stolas raised both hands to his florentine tufts, clearly wanting to pace but not having the room to do so.

Fine.

“Stolas, I can’t fucking lower my fucking walls right now,” Blitzø ground out, hating how strained his own voice was. “I am fucking done and I wanna explode, but I fucking can’t. Can you just fucking take the reins from me again and put me straight because until you do, I won’t be able to say shit about how I feel or why.”

He watched as Stolas faltered, eyebrows furrowing as Blitzø watched him shake his head. “I can’t believe you’ve done this.”

“So fucking punish me. You’re pissed, so have at me.”

“Oh I am furious with you, but I will not hurt you, Blitzø.”

“Words,” Blitzø bit out, throwing caution aside. “You don’t have to hurt me physically, you can use your fucking words. I got enough of them in my head already, nothing you say is gonna be worse than the shit I’ve been telling myself all fucking day.”

Stolas’ demeanour shifted, eyeing him cautiously. “Do you understand what you’re asking for?”

“Yes, Stolas, I do. Okay? I do. I’m asking to you to fucking break me so I can fucking breathe.”

The owl before him pursed his beak, visibly thrown off before he inhaled. “You acted out, because you were upset?”

”I acted out because I can’t fucking… think straight,” Blitzo mumbled, glaring heatedly at the floor. “I feel tangled up. My heads full of shit I can’t stop. It’s too fucking much, okay? After last time, I felt fucking sane. Yeah it was a punishment or whatever, but it unraveled my fucking thoughts and I felt… safe with you. I thought dumb shit and now I feel I can’t say what’s wrong.”

Stolas was staring at him and Blitzø just bore holes in the carpet, unsure where that had come from. 

“Same rules as before?”

Fuck, thank fuck.  

He could cry from the relief.

“Yes. Yes same fucking rules. No swearing, no begging to fucking cum.”

Stolas opened his mouth, looking a little hesitant again. “You can. You can beg- that was the bet for that particular session. There will be no bet for this one. You need release and I will determine when and how you get that.”

“Okay.”

Stolas blinked once before clasping his hands together and offering for Blitzø to sit. “Then let us talk over what will happen, and go over our safety measures.”

Blitzø didn’t hesitate, needing this to happen and needing to find a solid resolve. 

It wasn’t about the fucking sex. 

This was about escaping his own head and the only way out of his mental restraints, was by having him put within Stolas’.

Chapter Text

“Comfortable, are we?”

Fuck, he didn’t know if comfortable was the quite the word. It wasn’t uncomfortable, it was that type of unbearable that he couldn’t help but want more of.

He felt hot, strung out already and it had only been fifteen minutes since he came out the damn bathroom, showered and preened, ready as Stolas had requested he be. 

The lead up to this had been very much the same as before, going through boundaries, re-establishing safewords - Equus for him, Petunia for Stolas. He even had to recite the damn Red, Green, Amber rigmarole again, to the point of restating that Red was a pause and not synonymous with his safeword. 

Stolas was so heavily thorough, and whilst it annoyed him last time, Blitzø had found himself appreciative because he could see the anger that Stolas had felt, morph into authority and calm.

Stolas was in control and even though Blitzø was somewhat anxious of what he was about to be subjected to, he wanted to know.

He needed to know.

Would Stolas give into his anger like everyone else? Would Stolas slip up and hurt him? 

Blitzø needed to fucking know.

He needed confirmation, because he felt like anything negative on his part would give the owl an out and that it would be taken- which left Blitzø with a terrible nightmare to live with atop the ones already embedded into his skin. 

What Blitzø did know, was that he felt like he needed to be unraveled again from what tangle of wire he’d become and none of the noise in his head made sense. He couldn’t think or breathe any which way but he knew one thing.

He’d felt good after last time. 

He trusted Stolas to give him that reprieve, and in return, he’d give Stolas his honest thoughts and feelings. If the Prince walked away after that, then… then Blitzø would just accept it.

As always. 

Blitzø grunted as his feathered crest was grasped, his head shoved back a little harshly. 

“I asked you a question.”

Fuck. 

“Yes, Your Highness.”

“Oh we are past that title, aren’t we?”

Right.

Damn owl was still pissed underneath it all and had wanted to up the ante.

Thus, ‘Your Highness’ was apparently for less-intense sessions.

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

It felt funny to say, if he were honest. Stolas was a Prince, not a King, and Blitzø really couldn’t keep the slight amusement out of his voice when addressing the man he loved as such. 

Mocking came at a cost.

“I’m so glad you find it funny,” Stolas stated lightly, hands resting upon Blitzø’s trembling thighs and gently pushing them to the pleather casing that Blitzø’s was currently straddling. It drew a note of protest from Blitzø who had been trying to keep from fully sheathing the vibrating silicon mold mounted on the smooth, arched surface that he was currently strapped upon.

It buzzed pleasantly within and he sucked in air through his beak, shifting his hips because as much as the constant pressure was nice, it wasn’t exactly doing anything for him. 

His arms were cuffed and stretched above his head, and there was enough give for him to ease off the ache in his elbows and shoulders every few minutes, but aside from that…

He was just sat there, unable to really move.

He kind of loved being at Stolas’ mercy, like this.

“I’m so very glad you can take dear Sibyl so well,” Stolas declared airily, rising all-too gracefully and tilting Blitzø’s face up before gliding over to the bed where several boxes lay open- including the one that had held the gear that Blitzø had sort-of purloined.

He was still wearing it all, in fact, minus his prior clothes.

Sibyl.

Stolas really was the bitch that named everything- even his Sybian. Not that Blitzø had ever envisioned Stolas flat out owning one.

Again Blitzø shifted his hips, wanting friction over constant vibration, and he huffed as the urge to grind bubbled up. He was too secured to do so. He could only lift himself a little in order to slightly ease off the pressure from within when it got too much.

He felt too aware of everything. 

He was so very aroused, the use of Stolas’ favoured products doing more than Blitzø could care to imagine and the usual spell that kept him from reaching climax was present against his lower abdomen, glowing under his feathers in a pale, neon teal. 

He hadn’t noticed it before, but he certainly fucking noticed it now. 

“I didn’t get to properly play with you last time,” Stolas was saying, dropping a small bottle to the bed as some form of gel glazed his fingertips. He was sporting a rather unnerving smirk as he returned to stand before Blitzø, those dextrous hands sifting through the quills adorning Blitzø’s chest until cool talons brushed over the avian-Imp’s nipples. 

Blitzø keened quietly, a shaky puff of air escaping his beak as Stolas stood uncomfortably close- red lace panties practically resting against the slope of Blitzø’s face as those nimble fingers toyed with him. 

Suddenly, what was going on down below felt hotter and slicker than it had a few seconds prior and Blitzø shuddered, hyperaware of how sticky the feathers of his chest felt, how the slow caresses and tweaks were causing him to arch.

“That’s more like it,” Stolas uttered, voice pitched condescendingly low. “I think you can put that vulgar mouth of yours to good use from down there, no?”

Oh fuck yes.

He was into shit like this.

Blitzø didn’t know if Stolas just wasn’t expecting a verbal answer, or if he was being merciful in this instance, but the avian-Imp would take what he could get. Stolas wasn’t making any effort to untie the small bows at his hips that held the garment together and Blitzø clenched his thighs around the Sybian, forcing himself to rise just enough to be able to tug at the small silken ribbon resting alongside florentine tufts.

He started when his nipples were tugged non-too gently, a sharp squeak leaving him as he jerked back, completely caught off-guard. The restraints prevented him from being able to do so far enough and the result was to have the dildo bend slightly within, following the inner curve of his walls.

The ragged moan that left him as a result of the influx of saccharine tingles was a fraction debauched and he whimpered as Stolas tugged at the hardened nubs of flesh again, this time pinching them between his talons.

It wasn’t that it hurt, exactly, it was just a little more on the discomfort side and Blitzø felt his ire spike because he wasn’t entirely sure what he’d done-

“You will learn not to do things without my permission.”

Ah.

“Sorry, Your Majesty.”

“Are you though?” Stolas asked, pinching lightly again and causing Blitzø’s breath to hitch. 

“Y-yes.”

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, I’m really sorry, Your Majesty,” Blitzø rushed out, scrunching his eyes shut as the minimal discomfort grew into something more akin to soreness. “I won’t d-do anything without permission.”

Fuck, his nipples felt fucking hot.

“Without whose permission?”

For fuck’s sake. 

“I won’t do anything without your permission, Your Majesty,” Blitzø gasped out, unable to keep the strain from lacing his voice. 

Stolas tutted loudly, ridding himself of the panties and tossing them aside before grasping Blitzø’s face with a hand. “Your words are useless to me. That deceitful tongue of yours can serve me far better. Don’t waste my time by trying to be clever about it.”

‘Clever’ meaning don’t try to drag it out.

Blitzø understood that perfectly and he tipped his chin up as Stolas drew close again, silken feathers already glistening. 

Stolas was so fucking turned on and it was fucking him up.

Blitzø latched on to Stolas’ flushed need immediately, suckling with fervor because the way Stolas threw his head back and thread his hands through Blitzø’s crest was just fucking everything. 

“Ah… this is what you’re good for,” Stolas breathed, apparently pleased with the way Blitzø was toying with him. Given the angle, Blitzø didn’t think he’d be able to actually get the owl off, and that thought caused a frustration to bubble because he wanted to.

If it was all he was good for then he should be able to do it better than anyone. 

“Mm- that’s enough,” Stolas suddenly stated, roughly shoving Blitzø back whilst stepping away. The white chiffon robe decorated with rich red roses was strangely reflective of Blitzø’s entire appearance and it was oddly what Blitzø focused on as he tried to catch his bearings. 

He blinked as the Prince returned, undoing Blitzø’s arms from above and massaging them in a conscious lull of their session before cuffing them behind Blitzø’s back, wrists to elbows with a stern expression. 

“Does anything need loosening?”

Blitzø swallowed thickly, sensing a change in the male before him. “No, Your Majesty.”

Stolas stepped away, fiddling with the various buttons that governed the Sybian. “Colour?”

Oh.

“Green.”

Blitzø jolted as the pressure within vanished only to return, the silicon he’d been seated upon suddenly taking on a thrusting motion that caused him to excite a little too quickly. He groaned, wanting to rock forward because the in and out wasn’t quite doing what he yearned for. 

It wasn’t like how Stolas had fucked him.

“You really are pathetic,” Stolas sighed, waltzing behind Blitzø and swinging a leg over the Sybian’s back-end. Blitzø felt the owl’s slickened need against the upper-side of his restrained tail and felt his body flush with excitement because fuck, Stolas was getting off on him-

“Ah!” Blitzø yelped as he was pulled back against Stolas’ torso, the position forcing the pressure within to curve right where it felt most intense and he moaned brokenly, head knocking back against Stolas’ shoulder as he was held tightly. 

“Mmm… you’re so helpless, it’s so shameful. You have so much potential, yet you wallow in the need for such trivial pleasures,” Stolas sighed, reaching down and brushing over the hypersensitive gem nestled within Blitzø’s stretched arousal.

“O-oh fuck- no, sorry-” 

“Your speech slips so easily, doesn’t it.”

It did when he was being tortured like this- because Stolas wasn’t just stroking him, he was toying with Blitzø in a way that felt marginally mocking. 

“So terribly sensitive here, aren’t you? I wonder if not being born with such a delicate treasure means you have no ability to withstand even the slightest of attention to it.”

Blitzø jerked as he was tugged at, not at all prepared for the way Stolas’ flicked him either. 

“Big dick, big clit, hm?”

Fuck, Blitzø felt the pressure build behind his eyes as Stolas purled lowly right in his ear, tugging at iridescent tufts.

“I should call you Clitzy.”

Blinking rapidly did nothing but cause the tears to start and Blitzø shied away as Stolas lapped them up with an amused titter. 

“Did that embarrass you? Dear me. There’s a myriad of things you can be ashamed over but this delightful joy of yours is not one of them,” Stolas scoffed, getting up abruptly. “Do compose yourself, sweetheart. It’s not even been half an hour.”

No, it had been twenty eight minutes. 

The sudden harsh tone was biting and Blitzø averted his gaze, trying to draw control from the anger he’d felt before. It was a half-hearted anger, because he was already starting to fray and the Sybian was becoming uncomfortable and overly slippery. 

He was stuck leaning back and he whined as Stolas stood over him, pushing him further against it until he was laid down completely, the choker he wore securing him in place.

”Shh… breathe in for me,” Stolas murmured, sweeping his palms down Blitzø’s torso. Blitzø could tell the owl was waiting for any signs that he would need to be pulled back up. Fuck, this position was insane, but he could easily handle it.

“Colour?”

“Green,” Blitzø puffed out, scrunching his eyes shut as Stolas straddled him with a delighted note. 

“Seeing you like this frustrates me, you know,” Stolas admitted quietly, a faraway gleam in his burning cerise-rose hues as he trailed his fingertips down Blitzø’s cheek. “On the other hand, it excites me more than anything else.”

Blitzø exhaled a shuddering breath as those hands swept up his chest, ruffling his feathers and returning to his nipples which were indeed feeling sore. 

The oddity that was pleasure-pain blossomed across his skin and he clenched his jaw, Stolas’ weight a definite presence upon him. 

“What goes through your little mind, hm?”

“T-too much, Your Majesty,” Blitzø bit out, knocking his head back as Stolas shifted, their body’s aligning all-too obviously. 

The feel of Stolas up against him directly had Blitzø’s aureate hues snapping open and he attempted to look down, only to find that he couldn’t given the angle of his spine. He looked to Stolas who tilted his head, curious of the reaction. 

“Yes?”

“Use me,” Blitzø begged, breath hitching when Stolas tugged at a nipple for the lack of address. “Please, Your Majesty, use me.”

Blitzø’s heart jumped into his throat as Stolas swept his palms upwards, cradling ivory and rouge cheeks before planting a small kiss to the little black heart stamped upon Blitzø’s forehead.

“Oh darling. I wholly intend to.”

Chapter Text

“You look like you’re going to piss yourself.”

Blitzø wished he was, because honestly, this was edging into territory that might have him reaching certain limits. It was nearing the hour mark and he was starting to fracture. 

The Sybian was idle now, though still deep within him and he was still locked to the long frame. Stolas was currently taking a break from grinding on him, and Blitzø was intensely aware of how slickened his hips were from that alone. 

“Are you going to?”

Blitzø shook his head, openly panting as Stolas’ tongue swept under the massage wand currently being held against him. 

“Oh, please do. It made me feel so much more fond of you.”

Did that mean Stolas hated him now? 

Fuck, why had he spiralled so badly? 

He didn’t have answers, and he’d wanted genuine intimacy with the man he loved and now here he was, fucked by fucking machinery and being used like a fucking toy- all of which he’d asked for and yet it wasn’t what he wanted.

His body responded to it as it was mindless to the satisfaction that could be gained by simple physical attention, but Blitzø’s heart felt starved.

Starved of affection even though he had ample quantities of it.

Fuck, he really hated himself. 

He wondered if Stolas would forgive him this time, because this time, Blitzø had gone out of his way to upset the other. 

What was wrong with him?

He’d said he’d changed, he’d worked hard to not do shit like this- this, this was that pivotal point where everyone was on the battlefield, fighting for him and he was there taking shots at the one person who was giving him more than anyone else.

Why was he so selfish? 

Why did he self-sabotage so badly?

Why did he resort to hurting people, then himself?

Why.

Why.

Why.

“- sorry,” he croaked out, voice shot because the overwhelming mantra was starting to fuzz him out. “Equus.”

The wand was immediately removed and Blitzø puffed out a breath, feeling the hideousness of his inner fears all swarm to the surface. He knocked his head back, feeling the cracks start to widen despite having wanted to hold on until the session ended naturally.

“I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry. I fucked up. I’m so fucked up.” 

The timer clicked back three minutes and he didn’t even care. 

“I wanted to be wanted,” he rushed out between shallow breaths even as Stolas hurriedly fumbled with the cord to the wand. 

“Wait- Blitzø, wait-” 

“I wanted us to make love, but you have to be in love to make love and you never say it back. Have to be in love to make love. I’m clueless about this shit so I’m boring. Without it being both ways it’s just sex. I didn’t want to just have sex- but even if we did, you’d be bored with me now.”

Stolas hushed him with audible worry, deftly unclipping Blitzø’s choker and pulling him upright. “Okay, Blitzø. Okay.”

“I’m sorry,” Blitzø choked out, knowing that he shouldn’t feel ashamed for safewording out. “I fucked up, Stolas, I’m really fucked up-” His voice pitched up as he began to panic, thighs still buckled to the Sybian and the weight within felt instantly horrible. “I wanted you, I didn’t want this, fuck, I don’t want this-”

His attempt to escape was immediately stilled by firm hands, and Blitzø near-wailed at the fact he couldn’t lift himself off the silicon shaft that now felt intrusive to his being. He felt the binds on his tail vanish and the sudden influx of claustrophobia came completely out of left field as he struggled.

“Blitzø, Blitzø, you need to stay calm, okay? Can you take a deep breath for me? We are leaving this room, okay? I’m undoing the buckles, can you count with me?”

Blitzø nodded through the inhales, shaking as his chest heaved. He felt the tremble in Stolas’ arms as they reached for the straps holding Blitzø’s lower legs in place. They clinked undone and Blitzø squeezed his eyes shut.

“One a-and two.”

“One and two, that’s a good boy.”

The next set were swiftly undone and Blitzø struggled not to immediately jump up- not that he could anyway. 

“Three and four,” Stolas said for him, already grasping Blitzø by the waist and guiding him away from it all. 

The second Blitzø was against Stolas’ torso he broke, burying his face into the owl’s silken chest plumes with a mantra of apologies. 

“Oh Blitzø,” Stolas uttered, sounding just as distressed as he snapped his fingers, the cuffs holding Blitzø’s arms behind his back vanishing in an instant. “Okay, hold onto me.”

Blitzø did as instructed as he was lifted entirely, wanting nothing more than to hide from it all. 

The worst of it was, Blitzø had asked for it all in the first place.

 “I cut up your sweater.”

“I don’t care about the old sweater, Blitzø.”

“I slashed up your leather pants.”

“You improved them.”

“I took your special sexy gear and wore it in public.”

That caused the owl to pause and Blitzø blinked at the side of the bath, this time clinging to the Prince under him. 

“So you did,” Stolas murmured, sounding dazed. “Why did you do that?”

“I don’t know,” Blitzø whispered, closing his eyes because he was tired of the tears. “I think I just wanted to be yours somehow. I don’t know.” 

They’d been in the bath for a while, both of them crying and Blitzø didn’t really know which reason had triggered Stolas’ distress. 

Now they were just laying there in the warmth, the bubbles having started to dissipate. They couldn’t stay there forever, and Blitzø was unsure of where they now stood. He didn’t even know if Stolas wanted them to sleep in the same room.

He reluctantly sat up, cupping a handful of water and roughly scrubbing his face before looking to the owl who was gazing at him with blatant sadness. 

Blitzø glanced up, the floating constellations catching his attention and he exhaled at length, folding his arms atop the side of the tub, cheek resting upon them. 

“I wanted to… be with you, yesterday,” he admitted meekly, sweeping his tail round. It looked like he was hugging the side of the bath, and to be perfectly honest… that’s exactly what he was doing. “It wasn’t that you had to just because I wanted to, but… it got to me that you just kept fucking… dismissing me. When I tried to kiss you… and you called me a nuisance… I don’t know. I just fucking spiralled.”

“I thought you were just being excitable,” Stolas said in a small voice, shoulders hiked up close to his body. “I didn’t realise you were actually… wanting to have sex with me.”

“I wanted more than that,” Blitzø mumbled, his line of sight ending up on a random tile that graced the ornate flooring of Stolas’ bathroom. “I know. I’m all over the place. I just feel lost. I want you so much, love you so much and… I thought we’d maybe be able to be close outside of the… stuff you now like but… we can’t, can we… because it’s not what turns you on?”

He looked over to the owl who was heavily flushed- and not in the good way. Stolas’ face was crumpled up as he held back obvious tears and Blitzø couldn’t help the way he just stared, utterly confused. 

“Stolas…”

It hurt to see the Prince break down and cry, knees drawn up and hands covering his heart-shaped features. 

Blitzø felt his heart sink and he inhaled steadily, finding a new resolve before sliding himself between Stolas’ knees and awkwardly trying to hug him. He pulled the owl’s hands away and huffed, forcing a smile that felt as wonky as he knew it looked. 

“Hey,” he chuffed out, cupping water and ridding Stolas of his tears. “It’s okay. I let my bad thoughts get the better of me over something fucking dumb, that’s all.” 

“Don’t do that,” Stolas told him, grasping hold of Blitzø’s wrists. 

Blitzø tilted his head to the side, anxiousness frothing up at the upset command. “Don’t do what?”

Stolas took a shaky breath, ushering Blitzø to shuffle back a little so the owl could sit up. “Ugh… don’t shove your upsets aside because you’re afraid of how they effect me. It’s not good to do that, Blitzø. I made a mess of things too. I really did.”

Blitzø couldn’t help it.

He was besotted and he had no-where else to direct his feelings but the man he held them for. 

“Stolas, I’d take any mistakes of yours or whatever and make them mine if you’d let me. I’m used to mistakes. I am a mistake. I’m good at tossing my mistakes aside so… you know. I don’t know what mess you think you’ve made but… but I’m here for whatever you need, if you need help.”

Stolas puffed out a teary scoff, placing his arms upon the rim as Blitzø had. “You’re not a mistake.”

Blitzø didn’t know what to say to that. He was pretty damn sure he was a big one. 

“I lied. I was scared that after you saw how exciting I could be in the bedroom, that you’d be disappointed in how I was normally, so yesterday, I shut down your advances because I hadn’t wanted to disappoint you. It made me so nervous and I hadn’t really… thought of anything to do and I obviously won’t engage in any sessions when Via is here. I didn’t want to say no outright, hoped that maybe I could play it off as deliberately dragging out the tension but you were asleep when I came to bed.”

“Uh… I stole two of your sleeping pills, by the way,” Blitzø suddenly blurted out, back to staring at the tiles as he tried to process what he was being told. 

“You what?”

“I felt desperate? Like I was going to fucking… explode over everything- it was fucking weird, Stolas. I wasn’t just horny or some shit, I was seriously desperate for you in like… my body was reacting to everything you fucking did. I got off in the shower- which did fuck all -and then got scared that I’d be laid there next to you leaking like a fucking creep. Nicked two of your sleeping pills so that I didn’t have to live through that. Sorry.”

The bathroom was silent before Stolas suddenly gave way to a series of teary giggles, wiping his eyes as he cried through what could only be described as helpless amusement. “Those are probably out of date.”

“Told you I was fucking indestructible,” Blitzø muttered, boring holes in the flooring before furrowing his eyebrows. “You fucking thought I’d think you were boring?!”

Stolas snorted, eyes red-rimmed as he nodded. “I think I was trying to keep up this… this persona I thought you liked.”

“I don’t give a fuck about no fucking persona, I give a fuck about you!” Blitzø exclaimed, slapping the water with his tail in annoyance. “Yeah I like kinky shit- maybe not as much as you, but it’s the you part I like it with! You’re the part of this I wanna be with, Stolas! I don’t give a fuck what we do, as long as there’s an ‘us’ involved!”

He felt himself choke up again, because how did he give Stolas that impression?

“Did me saying I love you feel fake or something?”

“No,” Stolas sniffled, reaching out and taking Blitzø’s hand, unexpectedly kissing the back of it. “I knew that you meant it, that you mean it, Blitzø. I was overwhelmed by it, if I am honest.”

Blitzø shifted a little closer, emboldened by the way Stolas was now gazing at him. “Overwhelmed in a bad way?” He asked, noting how they were practically mirroring one another, cheeks resting upon one arm whilst their hands remained intertwined outside the tub. “Did I say it too soon? Too much?”

“You’re so gentle, Blitzø,” Stolas whispered, sounding almost wounded by the fact. “You are far more gentle, far more sweet and so sincere that I often don’t know how to handle it. I fear you see me as someone strong and put together and yet I’m not. I’m harsh because I get busy in my own head, and I jump to conclusions and worse case scenarios all too easily. I’m not as in control as you think and yet I feel I’ve led you on to believe I am. I want to be someone you can rely on and I am afraid I have grown to be too cold-hearted for someone so loving.”

Blitzø blinked once before slumping against the tub. “I don’t wanna be controlled,” he puffed out, glaring at the drapes and wondering why they were even there. “I wanna handle shit as a team. As a couple. It’s why I was determined to learn magic in the first place. I can see where you thought that it was on you, because with this transformation shit, I am relying on you but I’m not looking for you to be using all your fucking spoons on me.”

It was Stolas’ turn to look confused. “Spoons?”

Blitzø chuffed out a laugh, immediately endeared as he idly trailed his talons across the velveteen skin of Stolas’ arm. “You never heard that before?” He smiled tiredly as the owl shook his head. “Every fucking day, you wake up with a number of spoons. I use horseshoes, we can go with petals for you, since you like fucking plants. So you wake up with say, six fucking petals. Takes one petal to make breakfast, one to feed all your plants. Takes one to get ready, two to go through all your Princely responsibilities or whatever. End of the day, you’re left with one petal and you use that to make dinner, yeah? So you’re all out and you just wanna sleep.”

“The… petals are my battery?” Stolas asked, having listened all-too intently.

“Yeah,” Blitzø confirmed, easing up a fraction. “I don’t have a lot of horseshoes. I’m lucky if I wake up with four, and to be fucking honest, I’m out by like… midday, which is why I’m always fucking intolerant and intolerable. So I get it, I’m not asking you to give up any petals for me. What I’m asking, is that you let me be there at the end of the day with half a fucking horseshoe that I’ve reserved for time with you.”

Blitzø didn’t know what kind of response he was expecting, but for Stolas to start crying again and kiss him on the cheek was not it.

“I’d give up a whole flower for you, Blitzø,” Stolas uttered emotionally, turning so he could open his arms for a hug. 

Blitzø was never going to refuse such closeness and he shuffled forward, wincing at the chill to their feathers as the cooled water became rather evident. 

“I’d give you a whole fucking herd.”

Stolas tittered wetly, sniffling as though trying to fight a laugh. “We need to get out of this bath. I need to bundle you up and look after you, get you a warm drink and make sure you’re okay, sweetheart.”

Blitzø nodded but made no move to get out, catching on to a familiar churning in his stomach. 

“Blitzø? Darling?”

Ugh.

Emotions. 

“Hate to ruin the moment but I’m gonna be fucking sick.”

There was no doubt that they were both out of petals and horseshoes for the day, but there was also no doubt that they had each other and Blitzø clung onto that fact harder than he clung to the toilet bowl.

Chapter Text

“Your hot water bottle, Blitzø.”

“Thanks. Didn’t you need one?”

“No, I’m alright. I’m a tad more resilient to chills than you.”

Blitzø scoffed, hugging the water bottle to his stomach as Stolas settled in the bed next to him. They lay there in a silence that felt extremely blatant, knowing there was a lot to talk about and not knowing where to start.

They’d both been afraid of the same thing…

Well, that was as good a place as any. 

“I guess we’re a lot more alike than I thought,” Blitzø ventured, tentatively holding out his hand. 

Stolas took it with a small smile, lacing their talons together automatically. “It would appear so, Blitzø. I never meant to give you the same fear I had. I don’t think anything with you is boring. I never have.”

The relief of that had Blitzø’s emotions storming but he swallowed them back, wanting to stay as composed as he could. 

“Nothing with you is boring either.”

Stolas nodded once before inhaling deeply whilst caressing Blitzø’s knuckles. “So what happened out there, tonight, hm?”

Just like that Blitzø’s walls seem to crash and he exhaled heavily. “Got weird thoughts about not being enough, being too boring, not being attractive unless you had me fucking tied up.” He huffed out another breath and shook his head. “Woke up today in a real fucking dark mood. You were all… bubbly and shit and the minute you started harping on about Sirius I just… it got to me.”

“Does my continued association with him bother you?” Stolas asked, audibly timid. 

The power in that question.

“No,” Blitzø assured with a sigh. “He’s a good guy, I know that. He’s a good friend and I know you have boundaries with him. It’s just hard when it feels like you can do shit with him that you can’t with me.”

“Like…?”

“Talking,” Blitzø puffed out, a sadness creeping in. “Even he says it. You both communicate so easily and with me… it’s so fucking difficult.”

“Mhm…” Stolas hummed, turning Blitzø’s hand over and tracing the outline of his palm. “Sometimes, the reason it’s easy is because in the grander scheme of things, Sirius’ opinion doesn’t matter. Yours does, and I worry about pushing you away.”

“Not talking pushes people away. I know it’s fucking rich coming from me, but… I want you to talk to me. I mean it when I say I love you, Stolas. That isn’t gonna fucking vanish over something you say.”

The owl sighed heavily, clearly contrite. “I know. It’s hypocritical of me seeing as I have continuously stipulated that you need to be open with me, and you have been. You have.” 

Blitzø mentally eased off, not wanting the conversation to edge more towards a scolding- because that’s what Stolas seemed to be expecting. Instead, the avian-Imp gave the owl’s hand a light squeeze, hoping for it to be a gesture of reassurance.

“I’ll keep trying to get better,” he promised, not really sure on where else the conversation could go. “I’m sorry for tonight- today. If I feel that fucked up then I’ll just stay in the room.” 

“I think I might take a break from the parties,” Stolas told him with a bitter edge to his tone, finally letting go of Blitzø in order to run obsidian talons through dishevelled florentine tufts. 

“What? No- Stolas, I fucked up that badly? Do I need to fucking… write an apology to everyone or-” 

“No, goodness, Blitzø,” Stolas hushed with a small laugh, reaching out to lightly ruffle Blitzø’s still-damp crest. “I feel I use them as a crutch- have done since I started hosting them. They are a distraction, a means for me to avoid what so desperately needs my attention.” 

Blitzø quirked an eyebrow, tilting his head to the side. “You got shit you’re avoiding?”

Stolas chuffed with amusement, running his fingers over a black-and-white banded quill that flopped sideways with Blitzø’s head movement. “You.”

Instant recoil. 

“Ah. You don’t… need to go skipping out on your social events for me. I don’t wanna isolate you or anything. I know I demand a lot and I fucking whine about being away from you but I’m not… I mean yeah I’m a clingy motherfucker but I don’t want you to-o-” 

Blitzø’s words ended with a high-pitched hitch as he was unexpectedly flattened to the bed, Stolas having leant onto him with all his weight. It had the smaller male squirming, not wanting to trap the hot water bottle underneath his side.

He just managed to inch it out when his wrists were grasped, arms folded back to his chest. He scrunched up his face as his cheek was snuffled affectionately, Stolas emitting a soft series of chirps that had Blitzø blushing without knowing why. 

He turned his head, looking at the owl who merely gazed at him with a smile. “I want to focus on us. I haven’t been, have I. I’ve been living as I did before, weekend-to-weekend and it’s not working for us.”

Oh the way his heart started racing. 

“Y-you can still have them. I’ll wait-”

“I don’t want us to wait,” Stolas interrupted, voice a little loud as he remained adamant. 

“Okay,” Blitzø whispered, curled awkwardly under the lithe frame above him. He reached back out for his hot water bottle and hugged it to his chest, comforted by the heat of it and its fleece cover. He felt Stolas’ feathers blanket him entirely, from shoulder to hip and he trilled softly, accepting the odd position that they were in purely because it somehow worked.

“Your bird-puss is on my thigh,” he murmured, well aware of it because Stolas’ warmth was always higher there. 

That, and Blitzø was a pervert. 

“I know, aren’t you lucky,” Stolas teased, folding an arm over Blitzø’s shoulder and resting a cheek upon it. 

“Luckiest demon alive,” Blitzø agreed, feeling drowsy as Stolas twirled around random plumes belonging to Blitzø’s crest.

“Blitzø?”

“Mhm?”

“I’m sorry that I didn’t open up to you,” Stolas uttered quietly, now stroking an ivory cheek that was dusted with an iridescent shimmer. “I knew you were upset today, and I chose to ignore it thinking I could fix it later. I am sorry, because to feel the things you do… you shouldn’t be left to guess my feelings when you are trying to fight for your own.”

Blitzø lifted his lashes a fraction, blinking slowly as he allowed the words to process. “My problem is that it only takes one thing for me to spiral out,” he admitted, sweeping his tail round. “I jump to not being wanted, because I never have been and I don’t know what it’s like. I only know what fucking up is like, and so that’s all I believe I’m capable of. It’s why I ask to just… have things stated bluntly. So I know where I stand.”

Blitzø whined lightly when a palm slipped under his cheek, guiding him to face the Prince whose cerise-rose hues burned brightly, glossy with emotion again. 

“I want you,” Stolas stated without hesitation, the words causing Blitzø’s heart to flutter. “I want to experience many things with you. I want to make love to you, and enjoy kinky sex with you. I want to teach you about magic and maybe even show you how to use it- because I do trust you. I want to have a relationship with you, because I love you.”

Blitzø clamped his beak shut, afraid of how squeaky his voice would be since his vision had blurred in a matter of nano-seconds. His heart was flittering away on hummingbird wings and he almost didn’t know how to breathe. 

He didn’t know what to do with himself, so he twisted regardless of how uncomfortable it was and threw his arms around Stolas’ neck, burying his face into the florentine plumes of the owl’s shoulder where he allowed himself to cry freely. 

“I love you too,” he managed, voice indeed embarrassingly high. He hiccuped softly as he nuzzled into the embrace, clinging onto Stolas’ frame with a pitiful warble. 

“I’m sorry I hurt you,” Stolas croaked out, voice sodden with grief as he fell back, dragging Blitzø with him. 

“I’m sorry I hurt you too,” Blitzø returned, squeezing the owl tight before pulling away and trying to catch tears marring heart-shaped features. “Ugh, we’re wetter than we were in the other room.”

Stolas snorted, and Blitzø flashed him a watery grin full of hope.

“We gonna be okay, right?”

“Yes, Blitzø, yes we are,” Stolas promised, cupping Blitzø’s lower jaw with both hands and kissing him lightly. “We are okay. More than okay. I’m sorry for being stupid about all this. You’re mine, I’m yours. If you’ll have me, I’m yours.”

“I’ll have you,” Blitzø declared without missing a beat, aureate hues wide and teary. “I’ll keep you. Can you keep me?”

“Forever, if you’ll do me the honour.”

The delighted, excitable note that escaped Blitzø’s throat was so high and loud that it echoed within the room and he clamped both hands to his mouth, flushing with embarrassment as his feathers puffed up with the joy. He immediately tried to smooth them down, bashful as Stolas tittered fondly. 

“Dumb fucking bird noises,” Blitzø griped, feeling self-conscious as he was immediately fussed. He was too happy to truly be irked, though, and he flopped into Stolas’ arms once again, allowing his purr to reverberate throughout them both.

“I love your bird noises,” Stolas defended with an audible pout, gliding his palms over Blitzø’s quills and feathers. “I love all of you, bird, Imp- you’re my Blitzy.”

Blitzø paused, something creeping into his mind that had him deflating slightly. “Hey uh… not that I’ve fucking minded about any of this but… is uh… what you said about me having a big… down there… is that bad?”

He felt the way Stolas choked on a gasp, apparently taking the question a little more seriously than Blitzø had technically posed it, for the owl was grasping Blitzø’s head firmly and forcing eye-contact.

“No. Absolutely not, no. I would never say anything like that unless we agreed it, I wasn’t degrading or shaming you. I was merely being coy because you’re so reactive, sweetheart. You’re beautiful all over, you hear me?”

Blitzø blinked, not quite sure why he was tearing up again, but he sniffled and nodded. 

“You’re sexy, I find you extremely sexy. I always have and I always will. I love you, all of you, Blitzø.” 

The avian-Imp nodded again, grunting as he found himself all but crushed to Stolas’ chest. 

“Oh, I don’t want you to ever think I’m mocking you in such a way, Blitzø. No. I never would. I never, ever would.”

“It’s okay that I’m different,” Blitzø puffed out, threading florentine tufts through his talons. “I’m gonna be different I just… don’t wanna be too weird for you.”

“You’re not weird- goodness, Blitzø. I’ve worried before that I’m too weird to other men because I don’t have a dick.”

That had the Imp squirming with a scowl. “I love your fucking bird-puss. Shut up.”

“I love yours too.”

“More than my dick?”

“It doesn’t matter what it is, I love you and it’s part of you so I love it.”

“I feel the same way about you. Sorry I ruined our session, by the way. Sybil was fun just… a lot.”

“Sh. Nothing was ruined, it served a purpose. Sybil is in time-out now. We can play together another night, no punishments. Just sexy fun.”

Blitzø’s purr grew louder at the prospect, and he sighed with contentment as Stolas pushed the hot water bottle between them.

“Such a pretty boy,” Stolas whispered, drawing up his legs and bracketing Blitzø in. “My handsome Phoenix.”

Blitzø blossomed under the praise, reaching up to caress Stolas’ cheek as the blanket was tugged up over them. 

 “Stolas?”

“Yes, my darling?”

“I think you’re my Bird of Paradise.”

Chapter Text

Monday morning was kicked off by the Announcement of the Day.

“You made the papers, darling.”

“Great,” Blitzø droned out, not wanting to hear it as Stolas waltzed into the kitchen, clad in a flouncy lilac shirt and navy pencil skirt with a rather risqué side-split. The avian-Imp wanted to make a remark about it, but refrained. 

They’d established something, something comfortable and he wasn’t going to ruin it- not this time. 

“They’ve deemed you a scandal-to-be.”

Blitzø rolled his eyes, irritated by the notion because it made him feel marginally guilty for his immature behaviour Saturday evening. He was kind of done with the feeling now that everything was in the open, especially since Sunday had been spent in bed sleeping away the tears shed over everything that had pulled him to that horrendous point. 

“They also deem you to be hot, daring and a ‘break-in-the-mould’.”

“What?” Blitzø started, draping the tea-towel around his shoulders that he’d been using to dry up his tumbler. Stolas tittered and ran obsidian talons through Blitzø’s crest as he came to lean over the table that the owl was now sat at.

“I rather like the headline, don’t you?”

Blitzø blinked, vision a little hazy still from the steam of the tea he’d been preparing. He stared at the paper in Stolas’ grasp, almost disbelieving of the letters stamped across the front page.

Prince Stolas’ New Flame a ‘Hot Shot of Trouble’

“Fuck…” Blitzø breathed, feeling something akin to elation swell within. He registered Stolas leaning up, registered the kiss bestowed upon his cheek and promptly flashed the owl a genuine smile. “That’s not a bad fucking take!”

Stolas gazed at him fondly. “No, it’s rather delightful. Here, you may find it entertaining.”

Blitzø took it with a curious note, scanning through the article which was scarce with its details. He was looking for some form of dig, some form of slander directed at either of them but it was purely idle gossip. He was indeed referred to as a ‘scandal-in-the-making’ and there were some odd digs about his lack of class but aside from that?

“What they being so fucking merciful for?” Blitzø asked with a raised eyebrow, noting that there was no photo included- which was for the best, considering. 

The clink of fine china being abruptly set down was loud, and Blitzø whirred questioningly as Stolas took the newspaper off of him.

“Count yourself lucky,” Stolas scoffed, relinquishing the sheet with the headline to Blitzø who immediately stuck it to the fridge. “Really, Blitzø?”

Blitzø fixed the owl with a look. “They acknowledge I’m something to you,” he bit out with a soft glare, feathers ruffling as he spoke. “More than what I could ever get before this.”

Stolas exhaled softly, shaking his head whilst tugging the tea-towel from around Blitzø’s neck. “Oh don’t you be too sure. You’d be far more trouble in your Imp body,” the owl told him with a light smirk. “No-one could ignore you, I certainly couldn’t.”

Blitzø returned the smirk, placing his hands at Stolas’ lithe hips. “You did a pretty good job in the end.”

Stolas gasped, grasping Blitzø’s face and shaking it cutely. “How dare you.”  

“Lucky I’m so hot.”

Blitzø grinned as the Prince scoffed and turned away, apparently ready to start the day off- finally.

“So what’s on the agenda?” Blitzø asked, building one of his little book-shelters over Bon Bon who snapped at a stray page and actually punctured it. Blitzø froze just as the little plant did, shocked expressions mirroring one another before Bon Bon promptly leant away and Blitzø hastily closed the wounded book, shoving it the bottom of the small pile. 

“I must admit, we’ve come to a rather complicated impasse,” Stolas sighed, utterly unaware of the fate to one of his recipe books. “Without that first spell, we have no certain direction to take.”

Blitzø held his breath, not wanting to show any negative emotion lest it place unwanted pressure upon the owl.

“Okay,” he said stiffly, wincing when Stolas clicked his beak. 

“Don’t look so constipated, darling. It’s not that we can’t work around it, we just… may have need of the Grimoire for longer than a weekend.”

Blitzø exhaled heavily, already knowing the problem with that. “I can ask that M&M just focus on fucking kills for a week, scrounge as much as possible so that they’re good for a bit?”

“Blitzø… I fear that that won’t be enough,” Stolas said quietly, giving the avian-Imp a pointed look. 

Blitzø nodded, having seen the issue coming up slowly but surely. “Yeah, been using your heavy fucking book for longer than we ever should have,” he agreed, leaning on the kitchen table and blinking down at the tiles. The quiet was just that- quiet, and he hummed in thought as he tilted his head back. 

“M&M’ll be okay,” he stated with a nod, folding his arms. “They’re both capable as fuck so… you know. I can hold up the apartment for a couple weeks, just gotta find work in the meantime is all.”

Loona would not take the news well, though, and Blitzø didn’t have a fucking clue where they’d go from there. Maybe he could argue for real work at the Palace?

“- expecting you to uproot everything, Blitzø, goodness.”

“Huh?”  

Stolas blinked, visibly irked and Blitzø offered him an apologetic glance. 

“Sorry, was just brainstorming for a second. You think I could work here? At the Palace? Gotta be something I could do, right?” 

“You’re so extreme,” Stolas muttered, reaching for the loaf of bread on the side and shoving two slices into the toaster. “You could get to Earth with an Asmodeus Crystal, you know.”

“Fuck, why didn’t I think of that? Oh yeah. They cost a fucking bomb and I can’t get one,” Blitzø retorted a little testily, folding his arms moodily. He scowled softly as Stolas came gliding his way, the tinny clink of the toaster going ignored. 

“I don’t know whether your complete disregard for my being Prince is irritating or refreshing,” Stolas chimed with a sigh, threading his talons through Blitzø’s crest before sweeping his black and white quills back. A small smile graced his heart-shaped features before he bumped Blitzø’s beak with his own. “I will get you your Crystals.”

Blitzø leant back, eyes wide. “That’s… a huge expense…”

“Allow me to reiterate; I don’t know whether your complete disregard-” 

“Yeah, yeah I heard you the first time,” Blitzø cut in with disgruntled air about him. “It’ll take me several lifetimes over to pay you back for just one of those fucking things.”

“It’s a good job I plan to keep you for all your lifetimes, then, isn’t it,” Stolas purled, tilting Blitzø’s chin up coyly.

Blitzø would have played along, but he was seriously contemplating the situation and so he grasped the owl’s wrist, tilting his head at him. “I’m being serious, Stolas. That’s a lot of fucking money.”

Stolas relented, adjusting his hands in order to wrap obsidian talons around Blitzø’s forearm instead. “We can amend the matter later, Blitzø. The more pressing need is for I.M.P to continue, for you to maintain the apartment and cater to Loona, whilst we work on finding a way to transform you back.”

Blitzø puffed out his cheeks, knowing he had little choice. He blinked, the subject of the Crystals suddenly opening up a line of questioning that he hadn’t considered before. 

“Hey… how come you didn’t throw Crystals at me when cutting ties?” 

Stolas didn’t even look up from his cold toast. “Seemed like too much of a favour at the time.”

“Bullshit,” Blitzø stated flatly, eyeing the way Stolas actually glared at him. “Out with it.”

Stolas huffed loudly, lowering his snack. “Watching you walk out the door with a parting gift, happy that we’d said goodbye, was not something I could have coped with. By the time I could have coped with it, I didn’t feel like buying you shit.”

Blitzø snorted, strangely amused and endeared. “You make up with Sirius already?”

At that Stolas waved a hand dismissively. “Sirius is Sirius. I text him that I would not be hosting any parties for a while and his response was several question marks with the reply ‘Those were parties? I thought they were funerals for every fun weekend you killed off.’ Ergo, he’s fine.” 

Blitzø scrunched up his face, fussing Bon Bon who went back to chewing Blitzø’s fingertips. “Sirius is un-serious.” 

“Very much so.” 

“He looks super serious though.”

“I never really paid attention.”

“Is his dick super big?” Blitzø grinned as Stolas shot him a vehement glare, mouth too full to actually answer. “Paying attention now, aren’t you.” 

The owl swallowed his food, took a mouthful of cranberry juice and promptly stood, tucking in his chair. “I’ll organise the Crystals. You organise your employees. I will ensure that the hand-over is discreet, so we will simply portal to your office. There must be no clients at the time of our exchange.”

“Woah- wait, when are you expecting this to be?” Blitzø asked, regretting having teased the owl. “I gotta give them time- we’ve been backlogged a bit from… this shit.”

He received a patient look as Stolas sighed, pausing by the doorway. “I can procure the Crystals by this Wednesday,” he informed a little monotonously, leaning upon the wooden frame. “If you can clear us an afternoon by Friday?”

“I can do that,” Blitzø agreed, petting Bon Bon before following the owl up the staircase. “I’ll have to skip being your assistant tomorrow, Wednesday and Thursday though. I’ll need to fucking organise all our clients for this week into those three days- or into next week if I have to.”

“Then you will have to work extra hard next Monday, won’t you,” came the haughty reply as Stolas opened the Study door. 

“Yeah guess so- the fuck.” Blitzø stood in the doorway, frowning at the mass of binders and stacks of books that near-enough littered the room. He turned to the owl who cleared his throat before removing the tomes that were on his chair. 

“I may have been trying to work around the need for the Grimoire before finally accepting that the Crystals are the way to go,” Stolas admitted sheepishly and Blitzø clicked his tongue with a soft huff. 

“You suck,” he griped, pushing the door-to and immediately reaching for several tomes. He glanced at the shelves and ended up doing a double-take of them.